#he cut and grew his hair like fifty times since i started this piece

[napuleh]

baby tell me why, je te voglio bene assaje

two days late for 25 April but Vincenzo is finally done (after six years)🌋🌋🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

#hetalia #aph south italy #aph: south italy #hws romano #aph romano #art by me #he cut and grew his hair like fifty times since i started this piece

[winter-leftovers]

Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter Four: To Catch a Changeling (4/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Y/n visit Douxie’s library

Word count: 1902

Warnings: no!

(Season 1 Episode 7)

Song?: Crush by Tessa Violet

Previous — Next

Masterlist

“You look like shit” Randy hit the counter with some papers distracting Y/n from her computer.

“I feel like shit” Y/n closed the seventeen tabs she had opened looking for information about Killahead, all useless “I haven’t been sleeping well”

They shared a look for awhile. Y/n rolled her eyes. She knew her coworker very well by now. There was only one reason why he didn’t interrogated about her sleeping schedule: he needed something

“What do you want, Randy?” Y/n looked back at the computer, a picture of a rat eating a fry stared back at her.

“Okay, remember my idea of a battle of bands?” He didn’t give her time to answer “Well, I need to help to set it up and I know you are a musical genius so your input would be much appreciated and I won’t be able to do it without you…”

“Aha” She cut him off “Would I get paid?” She raised a brow.

“Yes! And…and the free afternoon right now so you can sleep”

“Wow! you really want me to help” she started to pick up her stuff before he could change his mind.

“Great! Thank you! Here, have flyer”

She took the piece of paper. The colorful flyer made her smile.

Randy always loved music. She remembered when his mother told her the story of how Randy had threatened to steal a guitar if she didn’t buy him one. Music was everything to him and he saw the same emotion in Y/n when they met. She always loved music, even before she could remember.

When she was six, Barbara took her to school for the first time and there, on music class, she touched a guitar for the first time and it felt like coming home.

Y/n doesn’t remember her biological parents but as a kid she liked to think that they loved music as much as she did but, as she grew, she stopped thinking about her biological parents and at seventeen she stopped playing completely until last year. Three months into college she got lost, hopeless. She didn’t like what she was studying and didn’t know what she wanted to do. One weekend, while visiting her family, Y/n heard a piano. Someone was trying to tune a piano and awfully failing. She felt like the strings were calling for her, asking her to end its misery.

Entering the music store she had spent too many hours browsing back in high school she saw two guys not much older than her debating if that is how the key was supposed to sound.

“It’s really not” Y/n got close to inspect their work.

“Hello? You need help looking for something?” The man with the long blonde hair asked.

“You’re doing a shitty job” she pointed to the man with his finger in the key.

“No shit. I don’t know I’m doing” he laughed.

She looked back and forth between them.

‘Maybe I can make a quick buck’ she thought.

“How much for tuning it?” She crossed her arms.

The blonde man looked at his watch and back to his friend and said:

“I’ll give you twenty bucks to tune it in half an hour”

Y/n laughed

“It can take up to two hours to tune it after god knows what you did”

“Hour and a half for thirty bucks”

“Forty five minutes and sixty dollars” she stretched her hand.

“Fifty”

“Deal” They shook hands.

She took her jacket off and started to work.

“I’m Y/n”

“Randy” the blonde said.

Tuning the piano made her feel something she thought lost, the feeling of home and she’ll always be grateful to Randy for that.

“Hello, Y/n”

“Hey, Douxie! How are you?”

“I’m fine. How about you?” He looked concerned.

Y/n knew she wasn’t looking her best. No one would be after the night she had.

“Oh, this awful eye bags? Courtesy of my little brother” she laughed.

“I didn’t know you had a brother”

“Yeah, he is still in high school. How about you? Got any siblings?”

“Nah, it’s just me and Archie” he point to the window of the library where a black cat was grooming himself.

“Oooh he is so cute” Y/n crouched down in front of the window.

Archie meowed and rubbed himself on the window as a response, melting Y/n’s heart.

“Don’t feed his ego too much. He’s a total diva”

Y/n laughed “I thought the guy with groupies would be the diva”

Douxie blushed.

She chuckled. She thought guys like Douxie didn’t blush.

“Are you jealous, love?”

Now it was Y/n’s time to blush.

They stood there, smiling at each other. Y/n found Douxie so intoxicating: his hazel eyes, his blue hair, that smile that brought her down to her knees. Even though they saw each other a few times, she was enchanted by him the first time.

“Would you like to say hi to him…you know…without the glass” Douxie broke the silence. He seemed nervous.

“That would be nice” she smiled.

Douxie opened the door to the library, the smell of books, tea and something else filled her lungs making her warm inside.

The moment she stepped inside, Archie rubbed himself between Y/n legs, stealing her attention from the beautiful library.

“Hello, sweet boy” she sat on the floor to pet Archie more comfortably.

“He likes you” said Douxie. He was leaning against one of the few walls that wasn’t covered in books “He isn’t usually that nice, you know”

Y/n swears she saw Archie roll his eyes but assumed her tiredness was playing tricks with her.

“He seems super nice to me” she rubbed Archie’s cheek and he let himself fall onto her hand.

“Oh, don’t let him trick you. He has a temper”

They both laughed and shared a look. The power Douxie has on her made her crazy. Ever since the day they met at Benoit’s, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every time she saw him she would stare at him like if she moved her eyes he would disappear.

“Battle of the bands? Are you entering the contest?” Douxie pointed to the flyer long forgotten on the floor.

“No, I’m just helping set it up. Are you interested?”

“Yes, I have a band…”

“Oh! Ash dispersal pattern, right? Randy is a big fan” she tried to play it cool. She couldn’t tell him that she knows most of his songs by heart “I heard some of your songs. You’re good”

She saw a red tint in his cheeks and this time, she was sure her tired brain wasn’t playing tricks on her.

“Thank you” he scratched the back of his neck “I heard you play the piano you have at the store. I thought you’ll enter”

“Mmmh, I’ve played since I’m kid but I don’t think I’m good enough to enter. I’m helping cuz Randy asked” she looked at Archie, he was belly up between her legs, napping.

“What?! I heard you at the store! You’re nuclear!” Douxie crouched next to her.

Y/n turned her head and looked at him “You think?”

With Douxie so close the world seemed to slow down. They were the only people in the world. Their faces just inches apart. So close that a small breeze could change everything.

“Of course” He smiled

The door opened and the world was no longer theirs. Douxie stood as fast as he could and assisted the customer.

Y/n looked down at Archie, who was already looking at her and smiled. Her face was so hot that she thought it would explode.

She yawned and Archie mirrored, the last of her energy left with Douxie.

“Sorry, Archie but I have to go” she stood up and petted his head one last time “Maybe I’ll see you later. Tell Douxie I said goodbye”

—

Y/n fell on her bed like a bag of sand. Her body gave into sleep before she could take her shoes off.

When she opened her eyes, she was in a forest. Civilisation was nowhere to be seen. The air smelled fresh, familiar.

She kneeled in one of the trees and saw a heart with H written inside. A smile erupted from her chest. She mindlessly caressed the indentation, trying to remember something, someone, but she just couldn’t reach it. Only finding a warmth feeling in her chest.

“Y/n! Where are you?” A man’s raspy voice distracted from the tree “Come home, little bird”

A sword made of sadness and forge by loneliness stabbed her chest. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t know where I am” she whispered as a tear fell down her face, burgundy streaks of light surrounded her. Electricity ran through her body burning her fingertips and heart.

She looked at her hands, they were surrounded by red smoke.

Y/n woke up covered in sweat, her heart was racing but she felt fully rested. She looked at her hands and when she saw no red smoke, she relaxed.

Outside the sun had already set. She looked through her phone to see if her brother or mom had sent a text. Jim sent her a text telling her about her study date with Claire. She smiled. Jim had a crush on this girl from his class for a while now and apparently it was going somewhere. She wished him luck even if hours had passed. When she went to answer a text from Randy Toby called.

She couldn’t understand what he was saying, only the words: changeling and dental hygienist.

“Ok, Tobes I’m on my way”

Y/n jumped out of bed and drove as fast as she could to Dr. Muelas office. She would probably get a lot of tickets but she didn’t care. Knowing what she knows now, she couldn’t risk disregarding a call from Jim or Toby.

“Toby? Jim?” She screamed as she followed the sound of struggle.

She got to the door and saw her brother stabbing a troll followed by a flashing blue light.

“There goes proof” said Aaaargh!.

“Oh, my gosh! She’s in my mouth!” Toby coughed. The troll’s ashes were everywhere.

Y/n couldn’t move.

“Oh no! I killed our only evidence of a changeling in Arcadia” Jim pulled his armour off.

“And my dental hygienist” Toby screamed.

Y/n laughed. Toby could make her laugh even on her worst days.

“You finished the fight, Master Jim, and in self defense, for that matter. Vendel may continue to have his doubts but we continue to have our lives. A fair bargain, I’d say” Blinky tried to comfort him.

“He’s right, Jim” Y/n grabbed his brother by the shoulders trying to make sure her eyes didn’t deceive her and he was ok.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Toby called”

“And just out of curiosity, what are you doing in Toby’s dentist office?” Jim looked at the trolls.

“I thought it was possible that danger may come to either of you should you cross paths with the wrong changeling. So, we followed Tobias as a precaution” explained Blinky

Aaaargh! Fell from the ceiling making Y/n jump.

Blinky started talking about how he was curious about human’s oral hygiene but Y/n didn’t listen. She was more worried about dusting the troll off her brother before getting to her car.

A/n: 👀

#douxie x reader #tales of arcadia #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux x reader #trollhunters #toa #my writing #Til The End Of Eternity

[theferricfox]

[[A/N: Hi, hello! I'm alive (figuratively speaking) and I wrote a thing for the first time in a long long while. Writer's block has been eating me alive for a spell, but then I woke up on morning and said, well, if it isn't Whumptober, my dear friend.

So have a Whumptober Trigun piece. Yes, Trigun! I've fallen back in love with it lately and I have no regrets. I grew up with the '98 series on late night Toonami, and it coming back to my life has been a big boost of juicy nostalgia (and psychological damage iykyk).

Content Warnings! Smoking, Drinking, Canon-typical violence, vomiting.]]

IN THE LIGHT OF THE MOONS

He wakes up to the taste of blood on his tongue and pain surging through his chest. He’s been shot; he knows he has, and he jumps up in bed to inspect his bare chest, even as he reaches into the small pouch on the bedside table, fumbling for the small glass vials within. 

But he’s not bleeding, and there’s no metal lodged in his body. His skin is as smooth and flawless as it’s ever been, save for the odd small scar he got as a child. The ones from before don’t go away, even as the blue liquid wipes away any chance of a new one.

He sighs, frustrated and unsettled. From next to him on the bed – why doesn’t this hotel room at least have a couch? – comes a soft snore, frills of blonde hair peeking out from under the sheet. He knows he won’t sleep again for a while, so he reaches onto the table again, this time for his smokes. He’s surprised to find his hand is shaking somewhat as he lights up, and inhales deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs until they start to burn. The plume that he exhales curls and drifts towards the ceiling, vanishing to join the rest of the stuffy air of the room.

When did he even pick up smoking? He can’t remember anymore. He remembers stealing from the adults a few times when he just hit his double-digits, but he knows he didn’t truly start smoking until after. And the last six years since he left the orphanage are largely a blur. They’re filled with a constant need to move and to keep moving, pulled from one job to another. They’re filled with gunfire and blood and little glass ampules. 

When he first started, he drank them like the honey-sweet drinks of his childhood, even for injuries that were far from fatal. Even if the fight was over and he could have just as easily rested in a hospital for a few days, he would choose instead to crack the neck of the little ampule and gulp down the mouthful of liquid. He was told not to – this was a path that led to something like an addiction; a reliance on the serum would cause his body to stop healing as well on its own. He was warned of the potential for an overdose; the serum throwing his body’s chemistry into overdrive until it practically burst at the seams. But for the first few months after they cut him loose, he ignored the warning. 

There’s something innately satisfying about the feeling of the glass cracking under the enamel of his teeth, but that feeling is amplified when the liquid slides down his throat and the power surges through him. The feeling of invincibility that comes from watching the bullets that were once lodged into his skin, his bones, his organs, harmlessly falling to the ground as though they were nothing more than paper… that’s intoxicating. 

He was an orphan once. Unwanted and worthless. And now, he’s survived a total of fifty-eight otherwise fatal gunshot wounds. Compared to the dirty child he was, growing up in the sand and dust, wondering if he’ll ever be good enough to get adopted, he’s a god. The kid he was should look up to him with awe and reverence. Should.

Now, he’s haunted by scars that only he can see. The bullet that pierced and collapsed his left lung. The place where his flesh was rendered to shredded meat by heavy machine gun fire. The 9mm slug that barely grazed his heart and sent his vision spiraling and blood into his mouth. He knows all those marks are there, hidden under his skin. He sees them every time he undresses, little phantoms skittering along his skin like insects; blink and you’d miss them. When Judgement comes, they’ll all light up on his broken body, like the feeble lights of the orphanage beating back the dark for the kids afraid of the noises of the night.

He traces one of these phantom scars, once a long gash from an eight-inch blade straight into his gut. He’d scrambled to keep his intestines inside of him, fear and adrenaline racing through him as shit and blood spilled onto the floor. He’d flopped onto his back, eyes wild and hazy, and cracked open the vial so haphazardly that he drank glass alongside the liquid. It burned down his throat, a macabre cascade of flesh rending and healing, but by the time his gut had healed, it didn’t matter. He could shit glass and it wouldn’t matter; not anymore. 

He’d beaten that asshole’s skull in, slamming the arm of the Punisher into his face over and over again as he bellowed some animalistic sound from deep in his chest. It was too messy, in the end. He’d spent days cleaning blood and brain and skull out of the crevices of the Punisher, every new piece he found lodged in the weapon filling him with a sense of disgust. 

Now, as he sits on the bed, his cigarette halfway burned through, he wonders what the man sleeping next to him would think if he knew of all these phantom scars, or the stories of how he got them. For all he knows, Spikey can see them, too. The man has an uncanny way of seeing through people, of knowing them with just a few glances and firm handshake. Still, all the scars on Vash’s body suggest that he can’t read people for shit. They speak of betrayal, countless deceptions for which he has paid the price. And still, he continues to trust. Or maybe, he always knows he’ll be betrayed and continues to trust them anyway, deciding that the alternative is worse.

Wolfwood can’t decide if that makes him incredible or stupid. What kind of heart is crushed and smashed and burned and stabbed and shot that many times and still finds a way to wake up with a smile? He knows most of those smiles are fake, and they’re painful to look at, so painful that he’s debated punching Spikey in his stupid face every time one of those false smiles creeps onto his lips. 

But still, some of those smiles are real… especially when he’s around kids, and those are the times Wolfwood really can’t figure him out. It’s almost unsettling, really, seeing that genuine smile and hearing the tinny laughter from a man so used to faking it that it’s practically his middle name. There’s no doubt that Vash has a thing with kids; they love playing with him, trust him intrinsically, and they seem to know exactly how rough and tumble they can be with him, with not a care for his reputation. Wolfwood can’t help but feel a strange clenching in his chest, watching the so-called Humanoid Typhoon around children. He knows what Vash is or, he thinks he does, and there’s something simultaneously monstrous and beautiful seeing everything that makes him inhuman melt away as soon as some kid tugs on his coat or pelts him with a ball. 

Wolfwood pulls deeply from his cigarette, flooding his lungs with nicotine and smoke and exhales again, his gaze aimed at the ceiling. He exhales, idly poking the cloud of smoke with a finger as it drifts upward, and he scoffs. Who is he to call Vash monstrous? He is a monster in his own right. If he were to visit the orphanage now, he’d have no right to hug the children there, or to play with them. He couldn’t call his old friends by name and rekindle the friendships that made life bearable back then, not with his hands so soaked with blood he’s practically marinating in it. Hell, if Miss Melanie even recognized him, she’d probably beat him to death with a broomstick before he stepped foot in the building.

She would see right through him, he knows it. She would see the blood coating his skin and the scars marking the last six years of his life and she… well, she would never forgive him. Not that he expects forgiveness; he knows exactly what he deserves, has come to terms with it. But to picture Melanie, the only person he’s known as a mother, terrified and appalled by what she would see in him… the thought is almost enough to make him put a bullet in his brain.

Wolfwood crushes the cigarette into the ashtray with a soft grunt and gets out of bed. He’s aware that Vash’s soft snores ceased minutes ago, meaning he’s probably awake and trying to hide it, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to see those sad blue-green eyes tracing over him with concern. He doesn’t want to answer questions or ‘talk about it.’ All he wants is for the silence of the night to smother his thoughts. 

He walks to the bathroom, silent as he can through the creaking of old wooden floorboards, and shuts the door behind him, the latch softly clicking into place. The darkness of the bathroom, with just a small window opposite the shower, facing away from the light of the moons, is stifling and freeing all at once. In here, it’s so dark that he can’t see his phantom scars. If you can’t see them, they aren’t real and they can’t get you, just like he used to tell the kids who thought they heard monsters in the dark. Big brother Nico, always there for the little ones, until he wasn’t. Now, he’s the monster in the dark, reaching into the night to pluck the souls of the living from their bodies.

The thought makes him retch, and he barely manages to maneuver over to the toilet before he vomits, the taste in his mouth acrid and vile. He heaves, over and over again, his eyes watering, snot dribbling miserably out of his nose, until there’s nothing left but empty gasping and an aching stomach. He grabs toilet paper and wipes at his face, spits into the toilet, and flushes the mess away. He sits against the cold glass of the shower door, panting into his hand, trying to stay quiet.

It doesn’t work. There’s a small, tentative knock on the door.

“Wolfwood?”

Of course Spikey heard him. Damn him.

“What is it?” He tries to smooth over the acidity in his voice, play it cool, like he didn’t just puke his guts out. 

“I um… I gotta go.” There’s that tiny laughter. The one that says, This is the best lie I could come up with.

“Yeah, yeah, hang on.” Wolfwood hauls himself up from the floor and turns on the sink. He washes his mouth out, washes his hands. He wonders distantly if he should have changed that order of actions.

He walks out, casual as he can, the door revealing Vash with his hair down, shirt off to reveal all those horrific scars. Vash laughs, his hand immediately at the back of his head, all shy and quiet cunning.

“Sorry to rush you, I just really gotta go.”

Wolfwood grunts and pushes past him, walking over to the table in the room. There’s still some of the cheap whiskey they brought up earlier in a bottle on the table, thanks be to whatever god might still exist in this godforsaken world. He pours himself a shot and takes it down fast, grimacing from the taste before pouring another, nursing this one a little more. He knows what’s left in this bottle isn’t enough to get him drunk, not with his metabolism. He doesn’t care. He just needs the burn to distract him.

Vash makes a show of taking the loudest piss on the whole planet, running the water for ages afterwards to wash his hands. When he comes out, he’s all nervous giggles and wiggling, unthreatening movements.

“Man, I was sure I was going to wet myself for a moment there!” Vash starts.

“Can it, Spikey.” Wolfwood gulps the rest of the shot and pours another. After a moment’s consideration, he pours one for Vash, too, moving the glass to the other side of the table. An invitation. “I know you’ve been awake for a while now.”

“Yeah?” Vash sits obligingly, taking down the shot with as much hope of it doing anything as Wolfwood has and holds out the glass for another. He sips the second one when it’s poured.

“You’re too damn obvious. That’s your problem.” Wolfwood sips again. 

Silence stretches into the room, neither man moving. The stage has been set for a macabre sort of quick-draw, but it’s one neither of them want to win. 

“Can’t go back to sleep?” Vash asks as casually as he can, as if he hasn’t already guessed what woke Wolfwood up in the first place.

“Nope. You?”

There’s another moment of silence, one that Wolfwood didn’t expect. Finally, he sees Vash raise his left arm in the dim light of the moons that pokes through the curtains.

“My arm hurts. It happens sometimes. Makes it hard to sleep.” Vash rubs the forearm of the prosthesis as though rubbing out a muscle cramp.

“But your arm isn’t there, Spikey. It’s fake. It’s not supposed to hurt.” It’s a question, one that Wolfwood think might have a very uncomfortable answer.

“Yeah.”

Silence seeps into the room again, broken only by the sound of glass on glass and glass on wood as the bottle is drained. They don’t talk about what wakes them up at night.

It’s just not what they do.

#i have been tossing this around for so long you don’t even know #i just have a thing for how tragic these two are #subtle vashwood if you squint really hard #whumptober 2023 #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #tw: smoking #tw: drinking #trigun #ferricfox writes

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part I

Ahh I can’t believe it’s finally done! After a year of working on this beast, it’s finally ready for me to share. This is something I started way back last summer, and I decided to finish it as my project for this year’s @geraskierbigbang. It will be ten parts in total, and I will post one part per day until it is complete! There are several art pieces that were created by the wonderful @herostag​ and Miranda.draws for this story, which I will link when the appropriate section is posted. For a summary and further links, please see the masterpost.

Next | Ao3 | Masterpost

“Alright,” Geralt said. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Yennefer looked up at him with bright eyes, curious and already mirthful. She was sitting across from him in his quarters, reading through a tome she’d found in Kaer Morhen’s disheveled library. Geralt had just come from a bath after hours spent training Ciri in the yard, and the room was filled with the warm evening light, supplemented by the fire crackling in the hearth. Yennefer had insisted on carting dozens of tapestries and drapes to hang around the drafty keep, and the room was nearly stuffy with their bulk keeping the heat in.

Yennefer gave him an amused smirk. “I will make no such promises before I even know what you’re going to say.” The gentle teasing brought a fond smile to Geralt’s face. After the events of the mountain all those years ago, things had been understandably tense. Yennefer had been reluctant to join them when she had finally met up with Geralt after Sodden, but had eventually agreed to seek refuge in the witchers’ keep and teach Ciri to control her magic. Once she’d met the girl it had all been a wash; it was clear as soon as their eyes met across the room that Yennefer was as much a part of Ciri’s destiny as Geralt was.

Geralt had expected that to either mend the rift between them enough for things to go back to the way things were, or make things even more awkward. Instead, they found themselves in a sort of in-between. Over the years his affection for Yennefer had only grown, but he found himself looking to her more and more as a friend—maybe his best friend. After Jaskier, of course.

Speaking of. “I was thinking about Jaskier.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes obviously. “As you are so frequently wont to do. The thaw will come soon enough, dear, and you can run off in search of your bard.”

Geralt felt his ears grow warm. Witchers couldn’t blush, not truly, but he still felt the tingle of it as he fidgeted with embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, absently tracing a finger against the grain of the wooden table. There were two goblets of wine sitting between them, but so far neither of them had begun to drink. “Do you know how many winters it’s been since I found Ciri?”

If she was confused by the odd turn in subject matter, Yennefer didn’t show it. Instead she looked thoughtful. “Two, perhaps three? You know I don’t follow the seasons with diligence.”

“Neither do I,” Geralt agreed. “I was thinking the same though, two or three years since the fall of Cintra. Which means Jaskier is…” He paused, trying to do the math. “He was a few years past forty, during the dragon hunt, I think. He must be closer to fifty now than not.”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow at him. “I recall mentioning something about his crows feet. What of it? Humans age. Are you only just discovering this?”

Geralt forced himself not to grumble. In a way, he was only discovering it. He’d known humans across the years, of course, and knew that many that he’d once been acquainted with were no longer alive or were in their twilight years. For decades Geralt had wandered through the world, changing no more than a ghost would, touching the lives of regular mortals for a brief instance, maybe a few times if they were particularly unlucky. No one had stayed by his side, dedicated themselves to a relationship with him, the way that the bard had. The amount of devotion that Jaskier showed to him had made Geralt antsy, in earlier years, and then confused and angry by turn. He had hated the idea of someone needing him, had hated needing someone in return. The way his chest felt heavy when he and Jaskier parted ways had left him furious with himself and the bard.

And then Ciri came into his life, and everything had changed so quickly.

With Ciri, it didn’t matter whether Geralt felt like he should care for her, or if he wanted to. He needed to. Without him, the girl would die, or be kidnapped by Nilfgaard for who knows what purpose. He had to feed her, and clothe her, and teach her, and he had to love her for her to thrive.

She made it very easy. It was only afterwards that he realized how much of an idiot he’d been to Jaskier, and the thought of how he’d treated the bard over the years had plagued him. It had been months before he could find him to apologize, but Jaskier forgave him almost immediately—which Geralt found both relieving and infuriating at the same time. This was the first winter they’d spent apart since. Geralt left the keep more rarely now, heading out on the Path only when the months grew truly warm and returning at the first hint of falling leaves. Ciri was safe on her own, he knew, but he missed her when he was away. And he could admit now that one of the forces driving him back into the world over the last few years had been the itching desire to find Jaskier again and settle the yearning in his chest for another year. He was less inclined to venture forth when his bard, his daughter, Yennefer and his brothers were all in one place.

This winter Jaskier had begged off, saying that he had “work in the south,” which could mean anything from spending a decadent winter in the court of some noble or sludging through the front lines as a Redanian spy. Geralt had learned not to pry too deeply into Jaskier’s business when he wasn’t around. It was often either too explicit for him to stomach or too confidential for Jaskier to share freely.

It worried him, being away from the bard for so long. He could get hurt, or captured by Nilfgaard, or worse. But what really terrified Geralt was the idea that he would find Jaskier in a tavern along the Path and realize that the bard had grown old, to find silver in his hair and wrinkles beside his eyes. “He’s getting too old,” Geralt said to Yennefer, who looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“You must have known when you started travelling with him that he would eventually leave you,” Yennefer said, not unkindly. “Humans are so short lived.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice about becoming his muse,” Geralt said with a huff. Despite his improved relationship with Jaskier over the past few years, he still found it difficult to admit that he had always been more than willing to let the bard tag along. If he’d wanted to travel alone, he would have. But he never had. “I just didn’t realize…”

“It always comes sooner than you think it will,” Yennefer sighed. She set her book aside and picked up her goblet of wine, turning to look out the large window their table sat in front of. It faced west out of the keep wall, towards the mountains and the forest beyond. The sun had set below the craggy peaks, throwing the snow covered valley below into darkness. Geralt could just make out the ruins of the old tower, its stones dark against the white landscape. “You can’t cure his mortality, Geralt.”

“We did.”

The look that Yennefer gave him was sharp, almost angry. The firelight in the room turned her violet eyes darker, like mulberry wine. “At great cost,” she snapped. “I can’t imagine you would put him through the Trials.”

A stab of panic shot through his gut at the thought. “No. Of course not. He wouldn’t survive it anyways. Only children stand a chance at all.”

Yennefer nodded, apparently satisfied that Geralt hadn’t completely lost his mind. “The boy hasn’t got an ounce of Chaos in him, in spite of his rather chaotic nature, so I highly doubt they’ll accept him as a late trainee at Ban Ard.”

“There must be other ways,” Geralt said, feeling petulant. “Less conventional.”

“I cannot believe we are actually discussing this,” Yennefer said, rising to her feet. She picked up her book from the table as well as her glass. “There is no way to achieve immortality, especially not without sacrifice. You know that, Geralt. Drop this foolish line of thought.”

Geralt rose after her, reaching out to catch her retreating wrist. A grasp loose enough that she could break it, if she wanted, but Yennefer paused. “Please, Yen. Just… look into it for me? I can’t—the thought of—” He cut himself off, dropping his hand away from her arm. The look she gave him was more pitying than he would have liked.

“I’ll do some research, but nothing more. Don’t get your hopes up, Geralt. There’s a reason there are so few of us,” she said. Her face softened slightly, as much as it ever did. Despite Ciri, Yennefer was still made of more glass and fire than anything else. “I know you love him, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. I promise, I will do my best.”

Geralt nodded wordlessly as she left and wondered if Jaskier's eyes would be as bright next time he saw him.

*

For weeks Yennefer said nothing about his request, and Geralt refocused on spending time with Ciri and preparing to depart for the spring. Lambert and Eskel had already left a month before, as soon as the road down the mountain began to thaw, but Geralt had hung back. The roof needed repairs, a difficult job to do in the midst of winter, and it was a hard task to leave for Vesemir alone. It was always like this, now—him looking for odd jobs to keep him at Kaer Morhen, with Ciri, making excuses until Jaskier’s jitteriness or Vesemir’s raised eyebrows forced them on the road again. Some of that was mitigated this season by the silence he heard when he found himself listening for the sounds of lute strings strumming gently in the background, and Geralt’s increasing anxiety about Jaskier’s wellbeing. Even so, it was hard to leave Ciri behind.

The girl was progressing rapidly as she entered her teen years, the chubbiness of her youth morphing into lean if awkward muscle as she continued to work on her swordsmanship. When Geralt and his brothers weren’t pushing her through drills, she was studying monsters and alchemy with Vesemir, or practicing her magic with Yen. She never seemed to tire, eagerly absorbing any lessons passed on to her and desperate to prove her worth. The only person she seemed to let her guard down around was Geralt, who found himself often goading her into mock wrestling matches (which he refused to throw on principle) and humoring her when she became restless and wanted to explore beyond the keep. Kaer Morhen was dangerous in the winter, but as spring approached and the deep snows on the surrounding mountains began to thaw, the duo spent more and more time trekking through old ruins and sleeping beneath the stars.

He could put off his journey south no longer.

“I’m going to be fine, Geralt,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. He wondered if he’d been this petulant as a teenager. Certainly Lambert had. “I can take care of myself, and Yen will be with me.”

Geralt tapped her wooden training sword with his own, indicating that she should prepare to go again. When he was a boy he’d trained against the other foundlings, stumbling around like pups through drills and sparring matches. Ciri trained against full witchers, and only Eskel ever faked a misstep here or there to allow her to get in a good hit. When she won a fight for the first time, it would be on her own merit.

The girl raised her sword into a decent fighting stance, and Geralt moved to correct her footwork. Her sword work was exceptional above the belt, but she consistently forgot her stances, throwing herself off balance. They’d begun putting her on the pendulums to force her to focus, dancing between posts to attack the dummies. Geralt had spent many a night rubbing salve into her bruised shoulders, gained from taking fall after fall from the low poles. No one forced her, but if there was one thing Ciri hated, it was admitting to weakness in herself. “Sword up,” Geralt said, and launched into his attack.

He stayed on the offense, forcing her to practice the defensive drills they’d started going over recently. “I know you’ll be fine,” he said, continuing their conversation. His breathing was relaxed, almost meditative through the slow exchange of blows. “Just seems cruel to leave you with only the old man and Yennefer for company.”

Ciri giggled despite herself, and Geralt found himself grinning back before he smacked her lightly in the ribs with the training sword. She swore—Lambert, Geralt thought with chagrin—and danced back a few paces. “Gotta focus,” he said, still smirking at her.

She poked her tongue out at him childishly and reposted off of one of his blocked attacks. He easily swayed out of the way, but the movement was fluid and smooth, which meant someday it would be fast, faster than he could dodge. He gave an encouraging nod.

They continued to spar for another half an hour or so before breaking, heading to the well to fill their water pouches. Geralt sat on the short ring of stones and Ciri slumped on the ground beside him, leaning against his leg. The simple trust and familiarity she exhibited around him still took him by surprise, sometimes. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said, rubbing a hand over the top of her head. Her hair was almost as white as his.

She sighed, wiping dripping water from her chin as she tossed her water pouch down. “I figured,” she said. “Say hello to Jaskier for me, when you find him? I missed his songs this time.”

Geralt’s caress turned into a playful ruffle. “I will. Any requests for books?”

“Ones about Elves,” she said immediately, “and Skelligan alchemy. It’s different from ours, did you know? The Druids—”

Geralt chuckled. “I know. You’ve said half a dozen times. No fairytales this time?”

The girl hummed, reminding him for a brief and touching moment of himself. “Just bring Jaskier back. He tells about your adventures so much better than you do.”

“He’s certainly made a career out of it,” Geralt grumbled, feigning annoyance. “I’ll do my best. You know how he is.”

“You missed him too,” she said, hitting his knee with one closed fist. “I know you did. You get all…Well, more grumbly and mopey than usual, when he’s not around.” She wrinkled her nose up at him in exaggerated disgust. “It’s gross. But I do want you to be happy.”

Geralt knocked back against her gently with his knee, swallowing around the feelings that rose in his throat. “You just think I’m a boring old man who won’t help you put toads in Eskel’s bed. But you never even ask. I’m the expert, not Jaskier.”

Ciri laughed, bright and crisp in the morning air, and Geralt felt warm despite the fading winter chill. Tomorrow he would leave, and he would find Jaskier, and next winter he would tell Jaskier that he had to stay at Kaer Morhen. For Ciri, if nothing else. And if it was more for Geralt’s sake than anything, well, no one had to know.

*

Yennefer found him before he left, saddling Roach in the stables.

“Go to Triss,” she said by way of a greeting. Geralt knew what she meant by the gravity in her tone and the tension sitting in the corners of her mouth. “Ask after Ida. I don’t know where she is or if she’ll speak with you, but a Sage is the only one that might be able to give you anything.”

Geralt reached out to grasp her hand firmly in his own. “Thank you, Yen,” he said honestly.

The sorceress sniffed. “Well, you owe me one, I suppose. I hope you find what you're looking for. But be careful.”

“I won’t do anything that might put him in harm’s way,” he promised. “I swear it.”

“Good.” She gave him a slight smile before leaning in to brush a kiss over his rough cheek. The simple touch warmed him from inside out. “Say hello to the bard for me. Tell him I heard about that disastrous competition in Vizima. Ought to have him stewing for a good long while.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I’ll give him your love as always.”

“Goodbye, Geralt,” she said, patting his arm lightly. “Be safe. You know how to reach me, if you have need.”

“I do,” he said. “I will. Take care of Ciri.”

“It’s more the other way around, I’m afraid,” she said with a soft smile, and Geralt understood exactly what she meant. Ciri had saved them both, in more ways than one. Every time he left her was more painful than the last. Someday, he knew, they might travel the Path together, a witcher, a sorceress and their daughter. Maybe even a bard, if he was extremely lucky.

Geralt hoped he would be.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #big bang #geraskier big bang 2021 #multichapter #fic #fanfic #the witcher #witcher #writing #my work #geraskierbigbang #me lamh

[lag1995-fics]

Hii. Can I request a fanfic for the song and Evan character thing? Could it be That's all by Genesis and Kai Anderson please?

I hope you like smut cause this one came out spicy 🌶. Apologies in advance I suck at writing Kai.

That’s All

Pairing:Kai x female reader

Warnings:Kai Anderson being Kai Anderson. Stalking, murder, derogatory language towards women, unhealthy relationship, language, smut

Words: 2190

Summary: Kai and reader share an unhealthy relationship but hey they love each other

Song Fic Masterlist

You were a self professed nasty woman, you had voted proudly for Hillary. She had clearly been the lesser of two evils. Plus it was about god damned time a woman broke that glass ceiling. You were pretty much everything Kai Anderson hated about women in general.

Kai should hate you, he should want to torment you but you intrigued him. It had started simply enough, hun being the entitled creep that he is had watched you do yoga in your backyard. You didn’t know of course, not then at least, that you had gained a stalker.

It hadn’t taken Kai long to realize that he wanted you to be his. He wanted to possess every part of you, he wanted you to be his and only his. He had a very unhealthy obsession with you.

That wasn’t all though he had also caught your eye. You had been out getting your mail one day dressed in nothing but a large t-shirt and shorts so short they couldn’t be seen beneath the hem of the shirt. You had seen him staring you down his blue hair thrown messily up into a bun on top of his head.

You were struck by his Beauty, he truly was a beautiful man. With brown eyes so dark they looked like two pieces of coal staring into your soul. You waved, flashing him a bright grin. He flashed you a grin of his own and as much as it made your panties dampen it also had an unhinged quality.

When you had got inside an uncharacteristically girlish giggle escaped your lips. Your roommate looked at you like you had grown three heads. You could feel your cheeks fill with fire. You were supposed to be a strong woman that didn’t need a man to complete her. Your neighbor was something else though.

“Who is this person giggling like a schoolgirl, that replaced my good friend y/n.” She cackled and you could feel the fire in your cheeks spread to your chest and ears.

“Our neighbor is kind of cute,” you replied waspishly.

“No really where is my roommate, the man hating feminist activist?” She joked.

“I don’t hate all men. I just think that men in general are problematic at best,” you defended huffily.

“He’s probably a raging trumpy,” she teased, lightheartedly.

“Oh is not he had long blue hair that was in a bun” you defended despite not knowing anything about this man. You didn’t know why you felt the need to defend him like you were.

“Oh you got it bad!” she collapsed into a fit of laughter when you threw a throw pillow at her.

***

It was another two weeks before you saw your mysterious neighbor again. He was talking to a shorter girl who was wearing a t-shirt that had “pussy power” emblazoned on her chest. This gave you the burst of confidence you needed as you strode over to them before you could talk yourself out of it.

“I love your shirt” you addressed the girl and she flashed you a grin.

“Thanks,” She replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head and flashed him a smile as well. You couldn’t help but admit to being a bit disappointed when he rolled his eyes.

“Ignore him. I’m Winter and this is my brother Kai” she introduced herself holding out a hand for you to shake which you did.

Kai the name rolled around in your head. You couldn’t help but entertain some mild fantasy of screaming out his name as he fucked you into a mattress. You shook the dirty fantasy from your mind.

“Nice to meet you I’m y/n,” you held out a hand to the blue haired man letting yourself take him in up close.

He had messy stubble along his chin and his blue hair hung around his face. His eyes were even more haunting up close and you felt like you could get lost in them. He took your hand wrapping his larger one around it, he had a firm grip. You couldn’t help but physically gulp from the skin to skin contact.

“We’ve met before, you live across the street. You like the power puff girls right?” He teased and you suddenly remembered what shirt you had been wearing.

“The power puff girls are fucking rad Kai” Winter defended and you smiled at her. Something in the way he looked at you made you want to submit to him. It was overwhelming to say the least.

“Whatever” he rolled his eyes again.

***

You and winter only grew closer and she quickly became part of your friend group. You tried to forget about Kai after finding out his political affiliations. He was everything you fought against. He was proud of being a chauvinistic pig.

You had decided to move on after a heated debate on men’s rights. You had tried to point out that all feminists wanted was equality. Men in this country as it stood right now had more rights than women did. It was a travesty.

He wouldn’t listen to you at all and went out of his way to call you a Misandrist. You had boiled over at that loudly proclaiming that you had really liked him up until the point he started spewing this nonsense. He was a pig and didn’t deserve the time of day you had already given him.

You would think that the polar opposite political opinions would cut the sexual tension like a hot king through butter; it didn’t though. If anything you were even more attracted to the man and Kai who normally had minimal patience for mouthy women was even more interested in making you his. He didn’t want to break you the fighting was too much fun but he definitely wanted to bend you to his will enough that you would never leave him.

You on the other hand had forced yourself to start dating other people. None of them compared to the man who fucked you everynight in your dreams. Kai Anderson was a force to be reckoned with.

***

Kai was sitting in the basement when Winter trudged down with her arms full of pizza. His eyes snapped to his sister and he couldn’t help but ask about y/n.

“Is y/n coming for dinner?” He asked, eyeing the pizza. Winter couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her brother who had developed an unhealthy obsession with her newest friend.

“No she’s got a date tonight some dude called Brad” Winter shrugged nonchalantly, knowing it would rile up her brother.

“What the fuck, she can’t go on a date with another dude” Kai spat possessively.

“Well tell her that because she definitely went on a date tonight” Winter laughed leaving her brother to stew in his resentment before he could snap at her.

“BULLSHIT!” He roared, flipping the coffee table in his anger.

He angrily grabbed his laptop logging into Facebook, whoever this Brad fucker was; was a deadman. He found your profile going to your profile ignoring the hideous cat eared beanie covering your beautiful hair in your profile picture. There were only three Brads on your friends list, one of them was well into his fifties and married, the other shared your last name and was probably a cousin. That left only one option, the man who appeared in the photo was everything Kai wasn’t. He was clean cut and wore a goofy ass bow tie.

He made a call ordering a hit on him but only if he was alone. He couldn’t risk you possibly getting hurt in the crossfire.

***

It was only two days after your disastrous tinder date that you found out Brad had been murdered. You were sad for his family. The date hadn’t been great but he had been nice in a dweeby, Silicon Valley sort of way. It seemed Kai had ruined you for all other men. You couldn’t help but compare them to him.

Winter had called you telling you how sorry she was. Winter was sorry she hadn’t thought Kai would murder someone just for dating you. She had only meant to piss him off; she didn’t want to be responsible for this man’s death.

***

You were at the Anderson’s again eating Chinese this time. It had almost become a every other day ritual. She would go hang out with Winter and argue with her brother.

“Women should be put back in their place,” he had started in before you cut him off glaring at him.

“Oh and what place would that be because I think it should be in a place of power. You know like the office of the presidency,” you snarled.

“Oh my god would you guys just fuck already and get it over with?” Winter who was fed up rolled her eyes walking up the stairs leaving you alone with Kai. Your eyes flashed to Kai’s and you could clearly read the hunger in them.

“She’s got a point,” he said lowly, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. You didn’t even realize you had unconsciously been walking toward him until you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist pulling you into him making you squeak.

“Fuck” you whispered looking into his eyes.

“A pretty girl like you should use such whorish language, I might have to wash that dirty slut mouth out with soap,” he groaned pushing his need against your pelvis.

“Oh god,” you whined grasping at his strong shoulders for stability.

“Say my name whore,” he snapped, his hand reaching under your comfortable sweat shirt and undoing your bra.

“Kai,” you breathed before pressing your lips into his own. He quickly took control of the kiss fighting your tongue and biting down sharply when he won.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this to you since you started teasing me with your slutty little yoga moves” he ground himself into you.

You couldn’t find the right words so you just moaned as he started stripping both of you of your clothes. When he slipped your yoga pants from you body and saw that you were wearing any underwear underneath he got a maniacal look in his eyes.

“Fuck you are a little whore,” he slipped his fingers into the folds of your sopping cunt.

“You like that slut?” He punctuated each word with the curl of his fingers against that sweet spot. When you didn’t answer he proceeded to add two more fingers and you could feel the burning stretch.

“I asked you a question,” he demanded fucking your pussy with his fingers and rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“I love it,” you managed to choke out, “please Kai I need you”

“Fuck,” he his pulling his finishers from you wet pussy lips and shoved them into your mouth to suck on them, slowly thrusting them into your pretty little mouth.

“That’s what a woman’s mouth should be used for, not mouthing off,” he chuckled darkly.

You gasped as you felt the blunt head of his cock against your pussy. Without warning he slammed into you to the hilt sending your already sensitive body off the edge and into a wave of pleasure.

“That’s right cum on my cock bitch,” he gasped as he pounded into you hard and fast. You could feel the build of another orgasm cresting. Your walls began to flutter around him causing him to lose some control as his thrusting became erratic. The two of you sailed off the precipice together.

With more care then you would have expected he pulled out of you kissing your forehead. He grabbed his soft t-shirt using it to wipe you as you lay cuddled to his chest. Your mind was whirling at the fact that you had just let Kai fucking Anderson fuck the shit out of you while he called you every name in the book. It would be easier to find someone that held the same viewpoints as you. They just never seemed to strike your heart strings the way Kai did. You could be wearing a white shirt and prove to him it was white and he would still say it was black. You were yin and yang, and you knew now you wouldn’t be able to leave.

“Y/n, I love you” he said and if you hadn’t been listening you wouldn’t have heard it. Your eyes widened, Kai didn’t love anyone, not even Winter. He also wasn’t a liar and if he said that he loved you , it was true no matter how unhealthy their relationship was.

“I love you too. It had slipped out before you could think about the consequences of this. What the two of you had was pure and primal.

“You do know that I will never stop arguing with you though?” You added. You still believed wholeheartedly that women deserved the same advantages as men.

“I’d be disappointed if you did” he confessed and you leaned up to kiss him melting once again into his touch.

——//////———-//////———

Send me a song and an Evan Peters Character and I’ll write you a fic.

#kai anderson x reader #kai anderson #kai is a jerk wad #kai x reade #kai x reader #kai #ahs cult #possibly triggering #evan peters #reader insert #ahs fanfiction #fanfiction

[sortasirius]

Half Yours, Half Mine

AN: *LIGHT SPOILERS for FATWS ep 3* Hello they are very much in love are they not?  That pining energy from Bucky is just off the charts in ep 3.  This is VERY angsty lmao

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Words: 1569

One AO3 here

The day Steve gave Bucky the notebook, it was two days before Steve was meant to step on the new quantum tunnel.  (Let’s call it what it is, a time machine.  Bucky swears he’s living in a sci-fi novel sometimes.)  He and Bucky were up late, talking about the things Bucky had missed in the last five years, the time heist, the support group Steve had started, the incredible Italian restaurant in the Upper East Side that Bucky simply had to try, when Steve suddenly had pulled the worn little book out of his pocket and handed it, wordlessly, to Bucky.

“What’s this?” Bucky turned the notebook in his hands, looking up at Steve, whose soft smile was enough to melt anyone, even a super-soldier.

“It’s something I started when I came out of the ice, something to help me…catch up with things.  Like food, movies, music, historical events, things I missed when I was under. Things that people suggested, things I saw myself.  I want you to have it.”

“Why?” Bucky had tried immediately to put the notebook back in Steve’s hands.  He could feel this coming, ever since Tony’s funeral, he could feel Steve pulling away, making subtle, slight preparations for his absence.  He had been giving things away: his worn books to Pepper, a simple gold chain to Morgan, a strange little collection of postcards to Bruce, picked up throughout his time on the run, all little pieces of his life, little pieces that, Bucky realized, would be to remember him by.  Steve didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.

“You’re not coming back are you?”

Steve’s face twists just slightly at Bucky’s words, reaching forward and pushing the notebook back towards him, refusing to take it.

“Come on, Buck.  You know I don’t belong here-”

“Neither do I, I don’t belong here any more than you do,” Bucky can’t help the slight color of desperation, of anger in his voice.  How can Steve even think of leaving him here?  Leaving him behind?

“I- I’ve thought about this for a few weeks.  I don’t want to leave you, I never want to leave you, but I just, I don’t think I can stay,” Steve is staring at the ground now, the guilt palpable in his eyes, his posture.  He knew what his absence would cost the world, would cost the Avengers, would cost Bucky.  Did he know how much it would cost Bucky?  Did he really know?

Bucky can feel panic rising in his throat, the idea of being left alone in a big, wide world, a world without Steve?  How does he tell Steve to stay?  How does he tell Steve that he can’t live without him?

“Steve-”

Steve cuts him off before he can even start, like he can read his mind.  There were days that Bucky had wondered if maybe he could.

“I know how it seems, that I’m running away.  From the world, from you.  I’m not Buck, and I don’t want you to think- I just...I saw her, Peggy, when we went to get the stones, and I swear I saw this vision, this future of my life with her, what my life would be.  And that’s what I want.  Natasha, Tony, they sacrificed everything, and maybe I have too.  They told me to get my own life…this is a way I can do it.”

Bucky doesn’t say the words bubbling like acid in his chest, words that he had kept down, hidden, away from everyone since he was sixteen years old.  Words that he wanted to say to Steve, things he wanted Steve to know, he way he felt about Steve, the way Steve made him feel when he looked at him for a second too long.  Words that would be left forever unsaid except inside Bucky’s head, before his dreams turned to flashes of long-dead nightmares.  He had never been a hero, only a coward, and his inability to say these words proved it.

Now was no time to be a hero.

“Okay, Steve.  Okay,” is all that comes out of his mouth, and even though he can feel his heart rip into two, the smile that Steve gives him is almost worth it.

“I’m still with you.  Always.  Til the end of the line,” Steve points to the little book in Bucky’s hands, “I’ll be right there.”

Bucky can’t say anything, and Steve is watching him with what looks like longing in his eyes.  Does he want Bucky to beg him to stay?  Bucky wants to, he wants to with all his heart, but if this is what’ll make Steve happy…

They lean forward at the same moment, and Bucky tries to let all his feelings, all those unsaid words that were trapped in his throat bleed into the embrace.  He’ll never be able to say them, never be able to look Steve in the face and tell him everything, tell him the whole truth, but if he could let the contact with his skin be some kind of reminder, maybe he would learn to accept that that was enough.

Steve is the one to break the embrace, and Bucky can feel the heat of him lingering on his skin, and Bucky clings to the feeling, trying to commit the way Steve held him to memory, placing it in the empty space where the Winter Soldier used to be, letting this memory bloom and sprout like a beautiful garden, filled with forget me nots and daffodils, the perfect mixture of blue and blond.  Bucky swears to himself that he’ll tend this garden, feeding it with the memories of Steve, the memories that not even HYDRA could take from him.  He and Steve spending all day at the movies, laughing at the commercials and eating too much popcorn.  He and Steve getting their apartment together in Brooklyn, sleeping on the floor for three weeks because they couldn’t afford beds.  Finding each other again in the middle of a war-torn Europe, Bucky accepting that Steve was suddenly taller than him.  These memories would be the water, the sun in the sky to the garden in his mind, the garden of flowers that would be a constant reminder of Steve.

“You’ll be fine, Buck.  I believe that.”

“I’d like to believe it too.”

Steve smiles again, reaching out to run his hands through Bucky’s long hair.  Bucky closes his eyes at Steve’s touch, leaning into the warmth of his fingers.

“Just take a look at the list if you feel lost,” Steve pulls Bucky in again, hugging him tightly.  

“I’ll miss you, Steve,” Bucky blurts out, still holding onto the sleeves of Steve’s jacket with all his might, refusing to put any more space between them.  Steve huffs a little laugh, meeting Bucky’s eyes with a smile, with acceptance, with anticipation, with joy.

“I’ll miss you too, Buck.  But it’s time for me to go.”

The notebook had become the piece of Steve that Bucky could cling to, that and Steve’s dogtags, which had been folded tenderly in the back with a scribbled note from Steve:

Keep these safe for me.  I’ll see you on the other side.  Always, S.

Bucky had gotten better now, he only read that note ten times a day instead of fifty, a hundred, a thousand.

He had taken his time, going through the pages of things that Steve had wanted him to see, sometimes imagining that Steve was there with him watching Rocky for the first time, trying Thai food from a restaurant down the block from their old building, or listening to Nevermind. Steve had been right, he was with Bucky in everything he did, every new thing that he tried. His garden of memories continued to bloom, all blue and yellow and gold, maybe with just a hint of green.

Maybe this was why Bucky had put his list to make amends in the same notebook.  Maybe, just maybe, Steve would be with him when he spoke to these people who he had so deeply wronged as well.  He liked to think it worked, that Steve’s warm hand was on his shoulder as he worked to make amends, even if sometimes he had to work up to it, or made the wrong step (though really, was what he did to that Senator really the wrong step?). Steve’s notebook became their notebook, and it was a living memory of Steve, one that grew like the garden in Bucky’s mind.

Bucky also makes a list, in the very back of the book, next to Steve’s last note to him, of things he wanted to tell Steve.  

There was a bluebird outside my window today, you’d have loved it.  

I was thinking of buying an old motorcycle and fixing it up, remember when we almost died that summer trying to race our old ones around the block and the brakes gave out?

Thai food is definitely a yes.  So is Star Trek.  You’d be a gold shirt, I think I might too.

Bucky keeps the back of the book a secret, never writing one of these notes in front of another soul.  These were for him and for Steve alone, a reminder that, no matter where in time and space Steve Rogers was, Bucky would always be thinking of him, always growing that garden of blue and blond memories in his mind.

#stucky #my writing #not spn #marvel #mcu #fatws #spoilers

[kanonsarchivedblog]

Hair Cut

Writing Example Word Count: 1430 Rating: T Warnings: Brief description of wound care. Characters: Yumichika Ayasegawa

Shortly after joining the Eleventh ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Each step felt like fire shooting through his legs, starting at the soles of his feet, racing up through his calves, only to settle in his thighs, as if that were its bed for the night. Even so, he dragged himself along, cold night air filling his burning lungs with each breath he drew. His side was white hot, as if a coal had been pressed into the skin and left there, sitting and burning away. It was such a good pain. A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips as the sight of his barrack came into view. His room, his bed- where he could tend to his wounds without feeling shame for grimacing. Where he could see the full extent of the damage done. After all, sparring with your captain was either a great idea if you were in another division, or the absolute worst. Lucky for Ayasegawa Yumichika, it was the latter of the two. He had to prove himself, that’s what he’d been told. He’d come along with the other new recruits; Ikkaku had proven himself two days ago. Today? Today it had been his turn. Watching Ikkaku fight had been amazing, wonderful- it brought back memories of their time in the academy, sparring together and meeting one another blow for blow. The feeling of the blade reverberating within his grasp, the way his blood seemed to sing within his veins, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Yes, this was what he was made for. He was made to fight, to survive. Survival was key in the world he grew up in.

A hand covered with dried blood reached up to grasp the edge of the Shōji, carefully sliding it open. Distantly, he could hear laughter; other members of the Eleventh celebrating. He, too, would celebrate- just not now. Now, he needed to change out of the torn and bloodied shihakusho he wore and make sure nothing was actually broken.

Broken bones meant making a trip to the Fourth, and he’d rather avoid moving any further than necessary. Door closed soundly behind himself, Yumichika took a moment to simply stand and breathe. The fight had lasted longer than he’d expected, Zaraki-taichou pushing him further than he’d pushed the others earlier. But by the Soul King, it had been amazing. Perhaps this would solidify a numbered rank? He certainly hoped so. A numbered rank meant more respect, a better chance at advancing, and a better chance at surviving. He knew his own reiatsu was certainly stronger than some of the grunts that had ended up here; not larger than Ikkaku’s, though. Head tilting, he noted that the ache was beginning to spread throughout his entire body. It felt like he got his shit rocked- and not in the fun, rolling around in a bed sort of way. Then again, that is what happened- he got his shit rocked in front of fifty others. But he’d lasted well over two hours before he finally collapsed. And the smile hadn’t left his lips since then. Gaze drifting around his personal quarters, he paused as he took in the old flowery kimono he once wore. It had been beautiful, well taken care of, and his most prized possession aside from his zanpakutou. Now? Now, it paled in comparison to the shihakusho he donned. A sense of pride swelled within as he limped to the mirror in the corner of the room. A cushion sat before the large mirror, and beside that lay an ivory comb, a small bag containing little pieces of makeup he’d managed to get his hands on through the years, and a much larger bag of first aid supplies. Bloodied fingers grabbed the bag as he settled onto the cushion with a long-suffering sigh. “Shit.” Yumichika murmured, wine toned gaze widening in surprise at the utter mess he was presented with. Carefully, the shihakusho was shrugged off, a hiss escaping his lips as the fabric clung to wounds, the dried blood acting as glue. Head tilting this way then that, he studied the bruises that bloomed along his jawline and torso- and the utter mess that his hair had become. The deep navy locks were a tangled mess, matted and, in some places, uneven. Brow pinching, he turned his attention away from his hair to study the scratches and scrapes along his arms. “Double shit. He really did a damn number on me, didn’t he?” He asked the empty bedroom, staring down at the gash on his side. It wasn’t deep, so it wouldn’t require stitches or any sort of healing. Teeth gritting, he steeled himself for the inevitable sting that would come from rinsing it out. At least he’d had the foresight to ask for water to be delivered to his rooms. He wouldn’t be able to get to his bathroom even if he wanted to, not now. Sitting up on his knees, he grabbed hold of the towels he’d set aside just for instances like this. He needed to flush it first. Kenpachi’s blade didn’t look to be the cleanest, and it obviously wasn’t the most well-kept, given how jagged the gash appears to be. Then again, this wasn’t the worst scar he had. No, that one was on his left thigh, and even now when he looks at it for too long, his stomach twists with the memory. Shaking his head, he drew in a breath before beginning to flush the wound out with clean water. “Fuck, shit, damn it, maybe I should’ve gone to the Fourth,” he muttered under his breath, jaw clenching. “But that’s one long fucking walk that I really don’t want to take. Get it together, Yumi.” Next step, cleaning it with a rag and water. Tears pricked at the inner corners of his eyes from the sharp sting that came with agitating a fresh wound. It took a good few minutes before he was satisfied enough to set the rag aside and slouch, a tear sliding down a pale, unblemished cheek. Ouch. “Tomorrow. The Fourth.” Damn his pride. Angrily, he began to wrap his midsection up with gauze and a white cloth bandage, which only caused the wound to hurt even more, which caused more tears to fall from the pain. By the end of it, he looked a proper mess, bandaged up and crying. Even so, as he studied his reflection, he couldn’t find it in himself to be truly mad. Until he began to try to comb out his hair, and then, reality hit. A lump formed in his throat as he stared at the uneven length. When had Kenpachi even grabbed his hair? Or had he even? Yumichika couldn’t remember; all he knew now was that the waist length locks had been butchered. The hair he’d spent so long growing out, that he’d taken such careful care of- Half of it was cut to his collarbone. The other half was still long. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he reached out, taking hold of his zanpakutou’s hilt. He could hear the spirit whispering to him, wondering what he was doing, what he was planning. He didn’t answer. Instead, he settled the blade on his lap and took out a hair tie, reaching behind himself to gather the mangled, navy tresses into a ponytail that settled at the base of his neck. Wine toned gaze trained upon his reflection, wine toned hues were strong, steeled. Ruri’iro Kujaku hissed as he left his scabbard. The moonlight settled upon the floor beside him, causing the metal to glint in the darkness of the bedroom as he raised in behind his head, the edge settling between the ponytail and his neck. He pulled. Navy locks fell to the ground around him, the remainder swinging forward to settle just below his chin in an asymmetrical bob. Head tilting, he studied his reflection. So much lighter… He shook his head, and the tresses followed the movement. It made a little laugh bubble up. Cutting his hair- that had felt oddly freeing. A smile curled his lips as he reached up and touched the ends. It felt smoother, healthier. Lighter. “Beautiful,” he whispered, a hand cupping his own cheek as he studied his reflection. A tear slid down his cheek, the last bit of mourning leaving him with it. This was who he was. Yumichika Ayasegawa of the Eleventh Division. He will become a seated officer. He will earn the respect of his peers. He will survive this. He will survive.

#m's scribbles #non-ask #yumichika ayasegawa #bleach imagines #bleach fanfiction #bleach

[enmy-writes]

My Rock Star

Request: Anon: hii can i request a zuko x reader fic where the reader is in a famous girl group (like blackpink for example) & the whole gaang is backstage while the reader is getting ready for a performance & its just super fluffy & cute? Thanks!!

Word Count: 2,646

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: All fluff. It’s some nice fluff time

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse (not detailed though), suggested themes but nothing bad

****My first request!! Sorry, anon, if I didn’t capture everything you wanted, but I hope it is! I am a sucker for music and bands, and instead of a blackpink approach, I gave the band instruments because I simp for instruments lol I might do a part 2 if this turns out well so lmk! Also, I learned how to make the “keep reading” line show up so that’s exciting yay me. Enjoy :)****

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It was about two hours before the show was supposed to start and Y/N was doing her normal self-routine before she had to go to her ‘Band-Team-Gang’ (or BTG as her and the girls liked to call it) pre-show rituals. 

Y/N was a part of a famous girl group who had just recently started making it big in Ba Sing Se and were on their first huge tour. Normally, this would make any performer nervous of the attention and putting on a big show, but this was the environment that she thrived in. 

Suki, Mai, Ty Lee, Azula, Yue, and herself all knew each other from an all-girl’s private school that they grew up in together and bonded immediately over their love for creating music. It was inevitable for them to become a group. 

They spent most of their high school days writing songs and joking around in Y/N’s backyard bungalow her parents had gotten her for her twelfth birthday. To this day, they still go back there and do hot (dumb) girl shit.

“Why would we stop? That’s our home, of course we’d still go back there!” Ty Lee answered the interviewer with her signature hair flip and giggle. 

Azula rolled her eyes at the girl, hiding a fond smile. “At this point, It’d be weird not to go back to that little corner of hell we made.” Yue smacked her arm quickly, “Azula! Don’t act like you haven’t written most of our top hits in the bean bag we definitely didn’t steal from the school lounge.” 

The rest of the girls laughed, remembering how they had to hop the gates and sneak past the night guards to be able to get the bean bag. The plan would’ve been a total waste of time and definitely would have gotten them all expelled if anyone had caught them, but thank Mai’s ability to pick locks (which no one knows where she learned to do but they do not question it). 

“Plus,” Suki chimed in. “Y/N’s dad makes the best snacks and meals for us. It’d be a federal crime to not take up that offer for as long as we can.”

Needless to say, the six girls were so comfortable with each other that every performance was just like every group practice with, like, thousands of extra guests of honor. They even have a couch lounge area as part of their stage set props. It just makes sense.

Even though those were her best friends ever, sisters even, Y/N had another friend group that she was super close with. Azula had introduced Y/N to her brother, Zuko, back when they were in their sophomore year of high school and the two instantly clicked. It had only taken a year of being friends and hiding crushes for them to get together, and the two were still going strong. Through him, Y/N met a gang of (crazy) people that he had spent his whole public schooling years.

Aang, an enthusiastic and bald, vegan kid who loved life and enjoyed everything around him; Katara, his pre-med and feminist girlfriend; Sokka, her hilarious and amazingly smart brother (though, sometimes his ideas are questionable); and Toph, a blind and tough girl who is on her way to ruin the top 1%. With Zuko, they were the tightest and happiest little family that automatically accepted Y/N when Zuko brought her over one night. 

She was there when he went through a pyromaniac phase, his varying hair styles, and when he tried to get his father’s love back.Ozai, their father, was the owner and CEO of a massive weapons corporation. He had burned Zuko’s face on a hot stove and kicked him out of the house for suggesting that he raise the wage of all his employees to a comfortable living wage because many of his employees struggled to provide for their families even though they worked their asses off. Thankfully, his kind Uncle Iroh instantly picked the boy up off of the streets, letting him live with him and run his successful tea shop called the Jasmine Dragon. 

Azula had been shoved away by her father mostly for sexist reasons. Ozai would never pass his company down to his daughter, no matter how smart and dedicated she was. He threw her in the private school where she lived year round. She had never told Y/N or any of the other girl’s any of this, Y/N had found out through Zuko.

Y/N’s mother was a successful lawyer and her father was a district attorney who were very very passionate about bringing justice to those of racial discrimination, domestic abuse, abuse in general, and orphan rights. Her mother was an orphan who was plain lucky to get adopted by a loving old couple who used their life savings to get her the education and life she deserved while her father was a victim of domestic abuse. 

So, after months of convincing Zuko, Y/N told her parents about the two siblings. Long story short, they got Ozai arrested for his abuse crimes, bribery history, employee mistreatment, and many more crimes. They also adopted Azula herself and gave full custody of Zuko to his uncle. 

Since then, the world has been peaceful for the group. Azula has started to recover from her trauma with the help of her friends, therapy, and love from two caring adults; and Zuko was glowing year round in the company of his uncle and friends. 

A smile forms on her face, thinking of her large family and all they’ve gone through to get here, when the door to her personal backstage room opened up. The loud voices from Aang and Sokka met her ears next. 

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU REMEMBERED THE HAM SANDWICHES WITH NO CRUST.” A kiss to her cheek and Sokka is instantly at her snack table.

“Y/N! How’d you know I was going to bring Appa and Momo?!” Aang walked his huge, white dog and lemur (don’t ask how he has it. It might be illegal, but no one can tell him no) to the pet bed corner she had put in. 

Not answering them, Y/N just smiles at her friends who barged in and turns back to her mirror where she’s trying to decide her earring combination for the day. Warm arms snake their way around her waist, a body sliding up against her back soon after. 

“What’s your ideas for tonight?” Zuko’s voice speaks quietly into her ear, causing her to hum and lean back against his chest slightly. 

“I’m not sure. We’re going for the edgy look tonight, but we all know Ty Lee is still going to wear pink. Man, our manager is going to kill her...again.” They both laugh. “Ugh, why did you let me pierce my ears, like, ten times. There’s too many combinations to choose from!”

“Me?! I did-- never mind. Just grab a handful, no one can see them from the stage anyways.” Despite his attempt to seem like he doesn’t care, one of his ring-clad fingers starts moving his favorite pieces over into a little pile by themselves. Y/N rolls her eyes and starts putting his choices in random holes in her ear, pushing him back lightly so she can bend over closer to the mirror to see better. 

“It’s the fit Zu… if the fit is a vibe, the confidence is there. If the confidence is there, nothing can stop my hot girl shit.” Her words cause him to let a huff of jealousy, flicking her arm playfully. 

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and he can clearly see the mischief in them. Calming down, he jokes back. “Yeah, well, you may do your ‘hot girl shit,’ but no one can steal you from me. We’ve been here too long.”

Toph cuts in from across the room with a loud laugh. “Please, fire brains, I could steal Y/N if I tried.” 

He whips around to face the short girl, “No you could not!!” 

“Actually, she makes a point.” Katara says, nodding along in hopes to pick fun at the boy. 

Sokka adds his two cents. “Honestly. Toph would just have to pick Y/N up and slam her against the wall or something and she’d tell her manager to send you a letter of resignation.” 

The whole group laughs, save for the angsty boy, and Y/N wraps her hand around his wrist. She pulls him towards her and reaches for a peck on the cheek. “While that may be true,” she gets a glare. “I’m too big of a simp for you… and Uncle Iroh’s dinner and game nights.”

While the rest of them laugh, Zuko’s eyes soften and he presses his lips to hers in a short, soft kiss. Uncle Iroh adores his girlfriend and everything she has done for Zuko and Azula where he had no power to do anything. The man calls her more than he does Zuko himself, and he’s pretty sure Y/N convinced him to download Words With Friends on his phone to play with her for when she can’t make it to the weekly game night dates. 

Y/N smiles up at him and pats his cheeks lovingly before moving to the wardrobe area of her room. She pulls out ‘Cards Against Humanity’ from a duffle bag on the floor before joining the rest of her friends around the lounge area, patting the seat beside her for Zuko to join them.

Everyone cheers at the sight of the black and white box with the many expansion packs that they have collected over the years. While Katara deals, everyone else makes bets on who is going to win this time. Y/N slides back into Zuko’s side as his arm comes to rest around her shoulders, playing with the ends of her H/L hair.

It’s about fifty minutes before the show is starting, and Y/N knows she has to start getting dressed and ready for the concert. Sighing, she slips from her boyfriend’s grasp (a small whine coming from him) and moves to her dressing corner. Suki, Ty Lee, Mai, Azula, and Yue had made their way to the room shortly after they started due to Sokka texting his girlfriend (Suki) to come over and join. 

The rest of the girls notice you get up and leave as well, much to everyone else’s dismay. You reassure them to keep playing a few more rounds, not wanting to ruin their fun with you putting clothes on. Y/N quickly shoves her outfit choice on which is very hot, black, and riddled with chains. To top it off, she had thick-heeled combat boots on with numerous buckles on them. Her hair, makeup, and accessories have already been done so she heads back to the group.

‘Cards Against Humanity’ has been packed up neatly and her friends are lounging around, getting last minute snacks and quality time before they go to their special seats right in front of the stage. Nothing but the best for her friends. Sokka and Katara are the first people to see her, and the former lets out his own wolf whistle in his own way to hype Y/N up. 

“DAMN, my best friend is HOT AS HELL. Zuko, you lucky ass man.” Katara hits him, but shoots her a wink as the rest of the gang look over. Y/N laughs giddily through their praises and hyped words (Toph in good spirit rather than actually seeing her outfit), as she makes her way back to her spot on the couch.

Zuko, who hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her yet, quickly grabs her bare waist and tugs her onto his lap to hold her tight. “So… this is what you meant by ‘hot girl shit.’” Letting out a loud laugh, Y/N turns her head and gives him a quick kiss. “I’m a rock star, baby, what can I say.” 

Aang cheers out of nowhere. “Yes! I’ve always wanted to be a groupie!” More laughter and jokes ring throughout the room, keeping the atmosphere as light as always, 

A knock at the door interrupts them. A man is standing there in all black with a headset on and a sleek, red (with little sparkles that only gleam in the light), electric guitar carefully caressed in his hands. While they are a girl group, their success has mainly come from being a girl group who also plays all their instruments. With Mai on the drums, Ty Lee on the keyboard, Azula and Y/N on electric guitars, Yue on the acoustic guitar, Suki on the bass; the band is truly a sight with all of them sharing the vocals and their enthusiastic (near crackhead) energy that give their crowd a good show. 

“Miss L/N? This is your five minute warning.” He tells them, not bothered by the usual group of people who are constantly in these rooms with her.

“Thanks Lee!” Y/N hops up to get her pride and joy (her child as Suki and Mai like to joke about). “I’ll be right out.”

Knowing these are the last pre-game minutes, everyone starts getting up to leave the room as well. Zuko lingers by Y/N who’s busy making sure her instrument is tuned perfectly for the numbers she’s about to perform. 

“I can feel you staring, Zu,” She smiles, still looking down at her strings. He huffs out a laugh, reaching out to push a piece of hair back to see her face.

“Good luck out there, my rock star. Don’t do too much hot girl shit.” 

“Oh, I’m doing all the hot girl shit.” A glare. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding… unless…?” She laughs at his fed up face. Reaching up, she presses one last, lingering kiss to his lips, enjoying the feeling of his fingers clutching her sides firmly and the feeling of his heart beat under her palm that’s resting on his chest. 

“Bye, love. I’ll see you after the show.” She whispers, sealing the promise with a kiss before moving back. “Alright kids! Get the hell out of my dressing room.” Y/N shouts at her friends and they all leave together, laughing away. 

The rest of them wish her luck before moving away, Sokka sprinting to find Suki one last time. Zuko holds onto her free hand, watching her laugh at ‘Simp Sokka’ with his small smile on his face. He kisses her hand, pulling her attention back to him. 

“Bye, rock star. I’ll see you after the show. Break a leg, yeah?” His cliche words make her laugh more, pulling away from him and towards the rest of her band who are chanting “BTG! BTG!”. 

“Zu… I don’t break legs. I break hearts.” And with one last mischievous look, she mouths ‘hot girl shit’ and struts away in that way that makes Zuko want to make her cancel the show completely. 

His phone buzzes a few minutes after he caught up with his friends in their special closed off section on the floor. He opens the notification and it sends him to Instagram where Y/N had tagged him in a post. The smile grows on his face with every second he takes in the post. 

Katara must’ve taken the picture. The angle, lighting, and quality could only be done by her. Y/N was on his lap, dressed to go on stage. Zuko’s mouth was almost touching her ear, definitely when he was whispering to her, and her face was wide in a smirk. They looked good, perfect even. The caption is what made him laugh, warmth and pride that she is his spreading through his chest. 

“Y/N_L/N: for him? I’m always on my hot girl shit”

#zuko #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #atla x reader #atla #fanfic #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla fanfic #alta x reader #atla x you #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #x reader #enmy-writes atla

[libsterslobsters]

The Wanton Song

Summary: How do you broach the topic of sex with the 90-something super soldier you've found yourself dating? That's the reader's question. Luckily, she and Bucky are no strangers to awkward conversations...

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions and understands all languages)

Warnings: SMUT, tiny bit of angst, lotsa fluff, maybe some past dub!con if you squint

Author's note: Wow... here I am posting smut on the internet. Never thought that would happen. Tmi, but I'm married, so I have a good amount of sex 🙀 and I actually had a great first time, but some people don't, and that's what I tried to represent. That, and CONSENT!!!! Consent is sexy, y'all. Safe, sane and consensual all day every day.

As always, the reader's name isn't stated so that you can read as a self insert, but I've written so much at this point that I refer to the Reader as Violet in my own mind.

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 Life has been going swimmingly these past few months. Better than ever before in fact, or at the very least, better than in a long time. She’s still a fugitive, living life looking over her shoulder, but now she has a steady job, a steady paycheck, and oh yeah, a steady boyfriend. Those three things have never aligned for her before (especially the last one). Overall, she’s pretty happy. But, because she’s her, there’s still a question niggling at the back of her mind.

 The transition from “you’re my only friend” to “we’re together now” went smoothly, helped in part by the fact that Barnes had been at that particular juncture the whole time. From the outside looking in, the only major changes have been the addition of those three simple but very key words and an upping the anti in the cuddles department.

 Speaking of cuddles, that’s a very mild term for what’s going on these days. It starts out innocent enough. The usual location is on the couch at one or the other’s apartment. There hadn’t been much distance between them since that first time where they ended up talking more than watching the movie playing from her laptop, but now, the space is nonexistent. As a general rule, within the first ten minutes, her legs somehow end up over his lap or in some way intertwined with is. The intention is always to pay attention to what’s on the screen but, well, when you’re that close, it would be rude not to snuggle up. And, when the other person looks that damn kissable, it would truly be insulting not to take the plunge.

 Now, considering the angle, one of them has to lean in. Otherwise, it would be awkward. That generally determines who, somewhere from two to ten minutes later, is on top of who. Of course hands wander, and even though it’s understood that the word “no” can be employed at any time and immediately obeyed (not to mention the copious amounts of “Is this okay”’s being asked), she can’t remember a time either of them have said it.

 If she had to attach a term to what comes next, it would be ‘dry humping.’ And then… nothing. It always ends far too soon, leaving her flustered and with her heart racing. At first she thought it was because he simply didn’t want her, but, well, there’s certain physical signs that point to that not being the problem. Her next guess was that he’s simply being respectful. Well, as sweet as that is, she’s ready to get on with it. She’s only human after all, and as such, has needs. Sure, she could take care of them herself, but if she had to guess, he’s experiencing those needs too, and from what she’s heard, it’s more fun to take care of it together.

 The only issue: how the hell do you bring something like this up, especially when the person you’re bringing it up with grew up in a much more repressed era than you did? She’s been debating it for the past week, and despite having multiple visions, none of them have given her that key insight into what to do.

 Finally, she decides to just say it. They’ve made a point to be honest with each other, and it’s probably best to get it out of the way. They’re adults, after all. They can have this discussion. She’s going to come straight out with it.

 “Hey, can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal, and maybe a little uncomfortable.”

 “Sure, Doll.” The response is immediate. “Fire away.”

 Glancing up to make sure they’re not at a pivotal scene in tonight’s movie (they have a system; at his place, watch something he grew up with, at hers, something made literally anytime after 1945), she spits out the whole sentence in one breathless go. “Are we ever going to have sex?”

 It feels like a branding iron where his arm is still wrapped around her shoulder. Still, it’s comforting. At least he’s not moving away.

 “I gotta admit, that’s not the question I was expecting. What brought this on?”

 She shrugs, carefully keeping her eyes trained on the wall behind his head instead of on him.

 “Nothing in particular. Just…” is there a delicate way to put this? “...I think things are going well between us, and sometimes when we’re together… I’ve noticed that there’s a physical response.” She’s really hoping that’ll suffice, because she can’t think of a good way to say “I can feel that you’re hard when you’re on top of me”.

 “Oh.”

 Apparently, her meaning is indeed clear enough, because he removes his arm from her shoulders. She’s about to apologize (all the while mentally berating herself) when his hand closes over hers.

 “I’m sorry about that, Doll. I’ll try to stay calmer.” Wait, that’s not- “It’s just an issue guys have. Don’t think it means you have to do anything that you don’t want to, because I would never-”

 “I know you wouldn’t.” Without thinking, she cuts him off. “And I want to.” It feels like she’s sitting in a sauna, she’s so flustered from this conversation. “But only if you do, and I understand if you didn’t-”

 “No.” It’s abrupt, cutting her off. A definite answer that leaves no room for questioning. “No, I do. I just-” He clears his throat. “-I didn’t want to bring it up, in case we weren’t on the same page. “ This seems to be a recurring theme, so far. “And it’s not a must. If you change your mind-”

 It’s pure instinct. There’s no thought involved as she closes the gap between them, this time with her on top, and presses  her lips against his. The response is immediate and enthusiastic. She considers just going on, not putting a stop to things, but realization hits that, although overall she’s ready for this to happen, she’s not ready for it to happen tonight. There’s still things she needs to take care of. Most importantly, protection.

 So, gasping for breath, she pulls away. “I’m calling for a rain check, but if after that, you still think I’ll change my mind-” she pushes back her hair and forces herself to take a deep breath. “-then you may just be beyond help, Barnes.” If the chuckle is anything to judge from, she’s made her point.

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 Wow. Bucky thinks to himself as he exits out of the browser tab on his phone. That’s enough internet for one day. Too much, actually. He knows that it’s the information superhighway, but good god, no one needs THAT much information. He really needs to be more specific with what he googles… or less… or just not at all.

 He’d never admit it (and really, who the hell is gonna ask him anyway), but he spent the last hour looking up how to have sex. He’s engaged in the act before, yeah, but it was seventy years ago. Plus, it used to be this huge taboo thing that you suspected was going on behind closed doors, but no one (not even the married couples) owned up to it. If you were ever found out, there were severe consequences. As a man, he didn’t have to worry as much, but if whoever the woman was had her dirty laundry aired… oh boy. She’d be a pariah, a “scarlet woman”, unfit for marriage or to even give the time of day. That led to limited encounters, and, well, it just seemed smart to brush up on what information is out there. As it turns out, people have written a lot about the fine art of love making. Unfortunately for him, most of it is absolute garbage. Some of the positions he just read about (because at that point, the article was like a train wreck; he badly wanted to look away, but he couldn’t) don’t even sound possible, much less pleasurable. He’s all for society being freer, but good grief!

 He’s halfway through a bottle of straight vodka (it won’t have any effect, but he’s hoping maybe the alcohol will travel to his brain and sanitize his eyeballs from most of the shit he just read) when his phone rings. Great. He’s always happy to talk to her, but right now… wow. It’s gonna take him some time to recover, so he hopes she doesn’t need him to say much.

 “Hey, Doll.”

 “I am so fucking pissed off right now.” That sounds promising.

 “At what?”

 “The city of Bucharest, my apartment, the landlord, whoever the fuck did the plumbing in this building! God!” She’s clearly out of breath, so it takes a minute before she can speak again. “I’m sorry, Buck. It’s just that I came home from work, and one of my neighbors told me the entire sixth floor is under a good inch, inch and a half of water.” Wait-

 “How-”

 “I don’t know. Busted pipe. It’s leaked down onto the fifth floor, so I’ve got about fifty other pissed off people for company.”

 “Jesus.” 

 She chuckles harshly. “Yeah, we could use him right about now to perform a miracle. This is a shit show, and I haven’t even told you the best part.”

 “So the spontaneous flood wasn’t the highlight of your day?”

 “I fucking wish! So, naturally, I tried to call the landlord, along with basically everyone else. Get this: since it’s after five o’clock on a Friday, he’s not gonna do anything. Told us collectively to suck it up! And of course, when there’s a leak, they have to cut the power…” He’s starting to see a pattern here.

 She sighs. “I really needed to get that off my chest. How are you?” Still slightly weirded out by the information overload, but feeling a little more steady now that he’s got a good catastrophe to concentrate on. However, that’s probably not the best answer to go with.

 “Better than you are.”

 “What, the sky isn’t falling where you are?” He chuckles.

 “No, it’s right where it’s supposed to be.”  Which reminds him… “But since it seems like you’re short a functional home, why don’t you just stay here until they sort things out?” He’s got a couch that, while it doesn’t have anything on an actual bed, he can manage to sleep on for the next few nights. Or maybe they can share his bed. He shakes his head. That thought needs to be put to the side, even if it’s meant in the most innocent way possible. Of course, in case she decides to cash in that rain check…

 “Yes. I mean, that would be great, if you’re sure.”

 “I’m sure.” Actually, he can’t think of a better way to spend the weekend. The plan was to meet up either Saturday or Sunday, possibly both, so this isn’t that far out of the ordinary.

 “Okay, but just a warning: They’re not letting us go up to our floor in case there’s been electrical damage as well-” That’s smart. If the pipes are in that bad of condition, who knows what the wiring looks like. “-so all I have is my purse, backpack, and what I wore to work. No toothbrush or pajamas, or anything like that.”

 “That’s alright. All you have to bring is yourself.” He’ll have to look, but he’s pretty sure he has something in his closet that’ll work okay for her until she gets the all clear to go into her apartment. Plus, there’s a laundry mat just around the corner, not to mention a pharmacy.

 “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” 

 “Not a problem.” He glances at his bedside clock. Five thirty-four. It takes roughly half an hour to get across the city by bus, so… “I’ll see you around six fifteen?”

 “See you then.”

 As soon as the line goes dead, he springs into action. First thing’s first: make sure there’s no dirty clothes, old dishes, or trash laying around. That takes all of five minutes. He should probably check that he does indeed have something she can wear so they won’t have to fumble around later. Tshirts are pretty universal and… yes, he has a few pajama bottoms that have a drawstring waist. How much time does he have left? The phone screen lights up, giving him his answer. Twenty-seven minutes. More than enough time to run around the corner and pick up a few things.

 His intention is to buy the basics: spare toothbrush, deodorant, hairbrush, maybe a different shampoo than his three-in-one body wash (it’s convenient for him, but she might prefer something designated for hair specifically). But, well, there’s quite a few aisles, and he gets sucked in. Does he need to buy razors, or is that rude, like he thinks she’s hairy? What about aspirin? How often do most people get headaches? He honestly can’t remember. 

 By the time he realizes that he really needs to get a move on, his basket is full and he has no idea what aisle he’s on. Desperately, he looks around, and his eyes land on… huh. So they just have them out in the open these days. Last time he was in the market for that, he had to beg a married friend to make the purchase for him. He briefly wonders if he’ll need to produce proof of marriage or something similar, but pushes the thought to the side. It’s the 2000s. He can probably just go up to the register and pay, and no one will give him a second look. But there’s just one problem: which brand? He should google… suddenly remembering his adventure from earlier today, he decides to just go with his gut and pick one. There. Now, he needs to pay and get the fuck out of here because there’s only ten minutes left, and he’d rather not have these out in the open, in case she thinks that’s the reason he’s asked her to stay over. If it happens, great. If not… well, he’s made it for the past seventy years. What’s a few more?

___________________________________________________________________________________

 She was still pretty shaken up when she arrived at his apartment, carrying her backpack and purse, slightly damp from the drizzle of rain now covering the city. But immediately receiving a long hug, being instructed to make herself at home, and hearing the offer to take a shower so she could warm up did a lot to restore her good mood.

 It was one of the sweetest thing she’s ever experienced in a lifetime where most people have showed her their worst, going into that bathroom and finding a new toothbrush, stick of deodorant, nail clippers, hairbrush, and even shampoo. That and Barnes bashfully informing her that, “I’ll stay in the living room until you’re done. Take your time.” She almost suggested that he just join her in an attempt to broach the subject they left off on two nights ago, but thought better of it. She’s just started to strip when a knock comes from the other side of the wall.

 “Sorry. I just remembered that I forgot to give you a change of clothes. Can I leave them outside the door?” A smile forms on her face.  

 “Sure. Go ahead.” No one’s given this much thought to her comfort or boundaries before. Yet another reason she knows this is the right decision.

 She doesn’t stay in the shower for long, just enough time to wash and stop shivering. After toweling off and brushing out her hair, she cracks open the door. Sure enough, a worn but clean tshirt and pair of pajama bottoms are waiting for her. The familiar scent of the laundry detergent he uses envelopes her as she dresses and, at long last, leaves the safety of the bathroom.

 True to his word, he’s still sitting on the couch, thumbing through a book she gave him some months back (he’s missed so many feats of literature that have made their way into pop culture; today’s choice is The Hobbit because, while it was out before everything happened to him, he’s never read it) when she emerges. Just in case he’s so absorbed that he hasn’t heard her, she repeats his gesture from earlier and knocks softly on the wall.

 “Hey. I’m out. You can have your apartment back.”

 “Hey.” That smile always makes her feel slightly unsteady on her feet. “Find everything okay?”

 “I did.” She settles into the place next to him. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to go out and get supplies.”

 “I know.” He nods, hand closing around hers. “But I wanted to make sure you had whatever you needed.”

 They chat for a while about their days, discuss what they should do with the weekend ahead, even throw out ideas for dinner. The entire time, she’s trying to figure out the best way to bring up that she’d really like to finish what they started the other night. However, by the time he’s left to grab some sort of takeout, she’s still no closer to an answer.

 Fortunately, their dates usually follow a pattern. Food, a movie, and then the not-so-innocent cuddles. This time, he’s on top of her when she feels the tell-tale sign that he’s as fired up as she is, so she suggests,

 “Do want to maybe move to somewhere more comfortable?” His already dilated pupils grow even larger, and he nods.

 “Yeah. That sounds like a plan.” She waits for him to roll off of her and head towards the bedroom before she grabs her purse and, digging around inside, grabs one of the foil packages she bought after their last date.

 It’s only once she closes the door behind her, shutting them into an enclosed space with a bed (not to mention it’s pretty damn clear what both of their intentions are), that nerves get the better of her.  He takes a step towards her, and she leans up to kiss him, but he ducks his head out of the way.

 “You’re shaking.” His hand ghosts over her arm, making it obvious that, by comparison, she’s practically vibrating on the spot.

 “Sorry.” She chuckles nervously. “It’ll pass.”

 “It’s alright.” As he says it, he meets her eyes. “We can stop. Nothing has to happen.”

 “I know.” She nods, swallowing hard. “But I want it to.” Their lips briefly meet before he pulls away again.

 “Let me ask you, just before we get started, is this-” He stops short, eyes darting from her face to the wall and back again. “...have you… before?” Oh. “Not that it matters, not to me, I just wanted to know so that-”

 “I have.” She nods, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “Once. I was eighteen, and-” It was awful. She’d been seeing the guy for a few months and he kept whining about her not putting out, so she decided to get it over with. He went in dry without any warning, and when she asked him to stop, give her a second to adjust, he told her he couldn’t. She was bleeding and in pain for days afterwards, and to top it off, when her period was late, she thought that, even though he’d pulled out, she was pregnant. That turned out not to be the case, but it, along with the fact that she usually doesn’t stay in one place for very long, has put a damper on her ever wanting to do that again. Except for now. “-it wasn’t a great experience.”

 “I’m sorry.” On instinct, she searches for the judgment in his face, the disgust. It’s nowhere to be found, only genuine sympathy. “I’ll do my best to make sure this time is better. That is, if you’re still up to it.”

 “I am.” Not waiting for a reply, she wraps her arms around him and starts trailing kisses up his neck towards his ear. “I am. I trust you.” She hears his breath catch, but before she can comment, he’s hoisted her up and is carrying her in the direction of the bed.

 As he sets her down, she pulls him on top of her, letting her hands wander over his sides, up his back. After a few moments, she feels his fingers move from her hips to toy with the hem of her… his.. shirt.

 “Is this okay? Can I take this off?” She starts to nod, but remembers just in time that he’s so close, they’d butt heads.

 “Please.” She expected to feel exposed once she was at least partially undressed, but instead she feels… adored. His eyes are roaming over her newly exposed skin, though his hands have respectfully returned to her waist. In a moment of confidence, she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra. There. Now she’s completely shirtless.

 “You’re so beautiful.” The flush from her cheeks is spreading down her neck, but she still smiles.

 “Care to make things even?” It’s brief, but she catches the look of hesitation.

 “Sure.” Before she can offer to do it, he shrugs his shirt over his head, revealing to her, for the first time, the entirity of his metal arm. She must look for a moment too long, because with a shrug, he informs her, “I can put my shirt back on. No big deal. I know there’s some scarring…” That’s not going to fly. She needs to reassure him, make him feel as desired as he’s made her feel.

 “Or if you want to stop-” She stands and, after briefly making eye contact, places a kiss on the most prominent scar.

 “Don’t you dare think that way for a second.” They’re flush against each other, chest to bare chest. “Not for one.” Slowly, she slides her hands from his shoulders down to his waist, hesitating just over the button. “Is this okay?” Another shakey breath.

 “Yes.”

 Going forward, it’s much less awkward. The rest of their clothing is shed, and soon they’re back to their previous position; on the bed, with him on top of her. She feels his fingertips brush the inside of her thigh and gasps.

 “May I touch you?” She nods.

 “You’d better.”

 It’s gentle, more of him feeling her out than anything else. Still, she can’t help but think this is infinitely better already than last time around. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away, and it takes all her effort not to whine at the loss of contact. Before she can ask if something’s wrong, does he want to stop, he’s flat on his stomach, head between her legs.

 “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

 “What-” Her breath catches as it becomes infinitely clear what he’s doing.

 Again, she’s expecting pain when, after several minutes he eases a finger into her, but at this point, she’s so wet that there’s absolutely no difficulty.

 “Are you okay?” She nods.

 “Don’t stop.”

 The process is agonizingly slow, he’s so intent on his task. When, finally, he pulls away, she’s so close that she can almost taste it.

 “Do you still want to-”

 “If you don’t stop asking me that, I’m gonna slap you.” It’s a joke, and she thinks he knows it, but just to be sure, she siezes his hand (the metal one, which is usually cold but has now warmed from being held close against her body. “I’m ready, so long as you want this too.”

 “I do. You wouldn’t believe how much.” Yeah, she thinks she would. “Just give me a second.” Perfect timing. He rolls off of her, which gives her the opening she needs to grab the packet she managed to hide under the pillow while he was… otherwise distracted. When he returns from digging inside the wardrobe, she holds it up, only to realize-

 “Oh.” He’s got one as well. “Seems like we both came prepared.”

 He chuckles. “Just in case, although that wasn’t why I asked you to stay.”

 “I know.” She nods and pats the space next to her. “Not why I said yes either, although I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

 He returns to the bed and drops his packet onto the nightstand. “Save this one for later?”

 “Definitely.”

 There is a bit of discomfort once he starts to push inside her, but it’s not painful. Just… overwhelming. Slightly embarassed she asks,

 “Can you wait a second? Please?”

 “Of course. Are you alright?” She shifts her hips slightly, making them both groan.

 “Fine. You can move now.”

 She may have only done this once before, and she has no idea what his experience consists of, but as she hits her peak mere seconds before he does, gently coaxed over the edge, she can’t help but think some things are better the second time around.

 “I love you.” It’s whispered against her neck as, once she cleans up and returns to bed, she settles herself against him.

 “I love you too.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 The first thing he thinks when he realizes that he’s not alone in bed is that HYDRA’s found him. He’s being activated. His eyes shoot open although apart from that he doesn’t move a muscle, and that’s when he recognizes the person next to him. It’s her. She’s here.

 The events of last night come back to him all at once, and he feels a smile forming on his face. It’s been a while, and in any case, it would be wrong to run a comparison, but what they shared, the pure intimacy of it both physically and mentally was incredible. Maybe he should feel a sense of shame. That’s what he was taught growing up. But instead he feels… peaceful.

 That is, until her eyelids flutter and she rolls over, shifting the covers so that he gets a good view of her still naked body, and with it, the bruises on her thighs and hips. Bruises unmistakably left by his fingers. Dammit. He’s done the last thing he ever wanted to do: he’s hurt her.

 “Good morning, sleepy head.” She yawns, the teasing words muffled. “It seems like we overslept.”

 His mouth goes dry, and all he can manage to choke out is a simple, “Yeah.”

 She frowns, sitting up slightly, and lets out a small groan. “You alright there, Bucky? You look a little off.” The late morning light only serves to highlight more marks he’s left, this time on her shoulders, neck, and breasts. Stubble burn. Hickeys. Why the hell was he so rough? At the time, he thought he was being gentle, but obviously he’s just as much of a monster as Bucky Barnes as he is once the Winter Soldier takes over.

 She’s still staring at him, brow furrowing in concern.

 “Fine.” He clears his throat and begins to sit up. “Stay here. I’ll make you a cup of tea, maybe some oatmeal.”

 “Alright. Don’t be gone too long.”

 Her words follow him out of the room, and into the kitchen. Fuck. He should’ve known better. 

Maybe once upon a time, he was a decent man, one who could be with a woman like  her and not do her a disservice. But now, it’s clear that he falls short in every way. In an act that was supposed to be pure pleasure, a way of communicating how much they mean to each other, he’s hurt her.

 “I trust you.” The words from last night ring in his ears. He shouldn’t have let her. It’s pretty damn obvious that, even at the best of times, he can’t be trusted.

 “Tell me what’s going on.” Even with his enhanced senses, he still jumps in surprise as the unexpected words come from behind him. He turns around slowly, not wanting to startle her. She’s standing there, clad in only one of his shirts, arms crossed over her chest (now bearing his marks), staring him down.

 “Nothing.” He shakes his head.

 “Bullshit. I had a vision of you staring off into space, and here you are, jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” At another time, her choice in phrases would make him chuckle, but right now, he can’t muster it.

 “Last night-” Her eyes widen, but she stays silent. “I hurt you.”

 “No, you didn’t. Not at all.”

 “I did.”

 She frowns. “Bucky, I think I’d know if you’d hurt me, and I’m telling you, I’m fine.”

 “Doll, look at yourself!” He reaches out to take her arm, but immediately freezes. “Go in the bathroom and take off your shirt. Take a good look in the mirror and then tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

 “Alright.” Her jaw clenches, and she marches off in the direction of the bathroom. A deep sickness gnaws at the pit of his stomach and, completely worn out, he sinks into a kitchen chair.

 Not thirty seconds pass before she walks back into the room, this time completely undressed.

 “Tell me you’re not talking about a few love bites.”

 “And bruises! You may not have noticed, but they’re in the exact shape of my fingertips.”

 “Oh my god!” She shakes her head. “It’s a sex injury. A minor one at that! If you didn’t heal so damn fast, you’d probably have nail marks all over your back!”

 “That’s not the same thing.”

 “How is it not the same thing?”

 “I’m a monster! And you’re not.”

 She takes a determined step towards him, and he leans as far back as the chair will allow.

 “Bucky, you are not a monster, and I am not afraid of you.”

 “Then you’re stupid.” He hates himself for his sharp words, but she needs to take this seriously. Underestimating how dark, how evil he can be, is a mistake. A deadly one.

 “Hey!”

 “Don’t you get it?” Without any input from his brain, he stands. “They could find me, and with a few words, I could stare you dead in the eyes as I murdered you! If you were my mission, I wouldn’t even hesitate, and you’d be dead before your body hit the floor!” Her mouth falls open, but she immediately closes it again. “This isn’t something that can be worked through with some patience and a positive attitude! I could kill you!”

 “So could a million other things!” Her voice rises in volume, and before he can contain it-

 “But they’re not in the bed sleeping next to you!” He’s shouting at her. God. Everyone is right. He’s beyond saving.

 A few tense seconds pass before she looks up at him, a steely look in her eyes.

 “Look, I get it. I know what you could do to me.” As she speaks, she pulls out a chair and sits. “But I could also get run over when I cross the road, or the room could fill with carbon monoxide while I sleep. I could have an aneurysm and drop before anyone knows what’s happening.”

 He opens his mouth to tell her the likelihood of any of those things happening is far lower than the chance that he’ll hurt her, this time in a major way, but she holds up a hand, silencing him.

 “I’m gonna be cautious, but I’m also not going to live my life in fear that the ceiling is going to collapse or nuclear war is going to strike, or that someone is gonna turn up and say the magic words that make you go cuckoo for cocoa puffs-” What? “-and I just realized you’re too old for that reference.”

 “That’s another thing-” He’s about to remind her exactly how big their age gap is, that although he’s physically close to her age, chronologically, he’s closer to the age of her great grandfather, but she lets out a sudden groan of frustration, and that makes him bite his tongue.

 “Oh, fuck off, Barnes! If you’re about to start in on how you’re too old for me, then I’m not gonna wait for you to go full Winter Soldier before I kick your ass!” Out of all things, that’s what snaps him out of it, makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance they can make the best of things.

 Smirking, he asks her,

 “You think you could kick my ass? Really?” It must be the breaking point for her too, because she snickers.

 “Of course. It’s the little bitches you have to watch out for.”  That’s it, he’s laughing, nearly doubled over, and from the looks of things, she’s in much the same state.

 “You’re something else, you know that?” He asks between stilted breaths.

 “I think we both fit in that category, Pal.” Her smile fades, but only slightly. “Bucky, if you really want me to go, if that’s what’ll give you peace, then I’ll do it, but I meant what I said. I trust you.” Never. He’ll never want her to go, he’s sure of it. Well then, that only leaves one option.

 “I know what we’re doing today.” It’s an abrupt segue, but it’s the only thing he could come up with on short notice.

 “And what’s that?”  The microwave dings, reminding him that he needs to stir the oatmeal, and he pushes past her.

 “Sit down and have your tea. You’re going to need all your energy if I’m gonna show you how to use a gun.” If she’s staying, then at least he can teach her how to defend herself beyond the basics she already knows.

 “So I guess this means you’re keeping me around for a little while longer?” It’s spoken like a joke, but he turns to her, meeting her eyes to drive the point home.

 “Yeah, Doll. As long as you want me."

#marvel #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #pre civil war

[aenwoedbeannaa]

Pretty Words | Geralt x Reader

Requested by: salmonbutter 

Summary: Geralt may have needed some help finding a book, and the bookkeeper's apprentice may be the reason he keeps coming back. 

Word Count: 2,319 

Warnings: Implied smut.

The first time he came into the rather blandly named Book Emporium, you had been an Apprentice, still shaking with nerves every time the bell on the door announced the coming of a customer. Now, of course, you can handle curious visitors with ease--you know every nook and cranny of the shop. You know where to find books on monsters, from alghouls to wyrvenns. You know which books identify plants and their magical properties, and which books can help an herbalist use those very same plants to create poisons.

But, on the day that the Witcher first walked into the store, you were probably more lost than he was as you dashed between the stacks, trying to find the book he was looking for. You could feel your face blushing, your cheeks positively on fire, when he gave you a playful feline grin and pulled a book off of the shelf that you would not have been able to reach without stepping up onto the battered wooden ladder.

You were scared, because this was your first time alone in the shop, and you didn't want Artur to think you incompetent. You wiped your sweaty palms on your apron, feigning nonchalance. You were desperately trying to think of something to say, anything to break the tension.

Thankfully, you didn't have to.

"Well, with it being all the way up here, it's not a wonder that you didn't see it," he said with a smirk. 

****

The second time the bells chimed and you looked up to see his familiar white hair, you were thankfully much more composed. It had been at least a couple of months since you had last seen him, and you wondered if he had used that book on wraiths to kill one. He was a Witcher, after all.

You maneuvered around the few stray piles of books behind the counter and stepped around front to greet him.

"Geralt!" You exclaimed, a bit too brightly.

Mentally cursing yourself for looking, you assumed, like a star-struck villager. "How can I help you, Sir?"

"You can start," he began slowly in that gravely tone that you'd been playing over and over in your head since the last time he'd been here, "By dropping the Sir." 

You nodded--too eagerly, once again. "Of course! Sorry si--Geralt."

"Second, I didn't catch your name last time, Miss."

Given that you had spent most of your life lost in books, you were not used to that question. You were invisible to most people, it seemed.

"Y/N," you answered timidly.

You weren't sure if it was the fact that you were not so great at hiding your emotions or whether he could hear your hammering heartbeat with his Witcher senses, but either way, you heart leapt into your throat when he leaned over on the counter, bringing his face only inches from yours.

"Are you always this nervous, Y/N?" He leaned slightly closer, a seemingly out-of-place grin on his lips. "Or are you scared of Witchers?"

It was a rhetorical question, but you answered anyway, conversation coming easy despite all of the awkwardness.

"No, not afraid of Witchers," you said, a vivid memory coming to mind. "Once, when I was little, I was sitting out in the field--on the hill--you know, the one outside the town a ways away?"

He nodded understanding, so you continued on.

"Well, I was reading, and all of a sudden, this thing... " You shuddered at the memory, losing your train of thought for a moment.

"A Drowner?" the Witcher interrupted your strangled thoughts. "The stream there is teeming with them. They usually stay well away from settlements, though." His amber eyes hinted concern as he looked at you expectantly.

You nodded, pushing the unpleasant memory out of your head.

"Yes, a Drowner... And anyway, there was a Witcher... He hacked it up pretty well."

"I'll have to thank him," Geralt said so seriously that you believed him wholeheartedly.

"Vizimir was his name," you added, surprised you could still remember. "He wouldn't even let me pay. I offered him the book I was reading--I didn't have any gold, you see."

"So, the old man doesn't always follow the Witcher Code," he said with a gleam in his eye.

There was a moment of silence before he finally broke eye contact and leaned back, eyes scanning the stacks of books behind you as if searching for something to focus on.

"I am here for a book about similar things," he said. "Would you happen to know if you have a book about alghouls, would you?"

This time, you knew exactly where to point him. He still stuck around to hear your explanation of three different volumes and the slight difference between.

He bought all three.

***

The pattern continued over the next few months. Every few weeks, the door chime would sound and you would look up to see your silver-haired friend.

One time in particular, you were surprised to see that the afternoon had faded to twilight and the candles had burned down nearly to stumps as you poured over books with Geralt. He was researching a Witcher potion, or something like it that was more suitable for humans. He didn't tell you what for, but it didn't matter much.

He ended up purchasing one of the rare texts, the ones you had to fish out from the back room.

Another time, he caught you off guard, while you were completely wrapped up in the novel you were reading. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard his voice from just over the counter. Your embarrassment only grew when he asked you what it was that you were so interested in that you hadn't even heard the door chime and you had to give him a brief synopsis of a fictional kingdom... and a princess and a knight.

It was really quite mortifying.

***

Though you will never admit it, your favorite section of the store is nestled in the back corner, where the deceptively large collection of fiction is stacked on crowded shelves. Your mentor is always telling you that you should be reading books of more importance. But those books, as important as they may be, are of little interest to you. You know enough about history and mankind to know that the history books are full of only war, pestilence, and suffering.

Reading is your escape. So, important or not, you spend many a quiet afternoon nestled in the back of the shop on one of the old chairs that has been scratched to pieces by the bookshop's cat, Erasmus. (An old, fearsome looking but completely harmless thing with a bad habit of sharpening his claws on the furniture and chewing on the corners of priceless manuscripts.)

This is where Geralt caught you this time. Though, to be fair, you heard the door chime, and you'd had to scramble out of your warm little corner. It was actually just past closing hours, and there had hardly been a soul in the shop all day. It was one of those early winter days, where the weather seemed to be reminding everyone of the bitter cold to come.

"Y/N," Geralt grinned, "I found your lair." He had somehow managed to cross the length of the shop in only a couple seconds. How Witcher-y of him. You told him so.

By now, you had slipped into an easy friendship with the Witcher. You no longer stammered when he talked. At least, most of the time you didn't.

It took you a moment to realize that he was carrying something this time--a book. You raised an eyebrow, also immediately realizing that it was not a book from the shop. This one had a ribbon tied around it. Artur was not one for such frivolous things. There was not a scrap of ribbon or wrapping paper in the entire shop, you were sure. So he must have brought this with him.

Clearly aware that you were staring curiously, he offered it to you--for once, he was the one with a slightly bashful look on his face as he waited for you to take it.

You took the book in both hands, blushing slightly as you pulled the ribbon loose and inspected the cover. It was well-worn, just like most of the books in the shop. You recognized the author, though, and your eyes sparkled as you teared up slightly. You didn't even remember the last time someone had given you a gift.

"But..." You stammered, flipping through the pages in disbelief. "This isn't even supposed to exist!" It was a continuation of the book that he'd caught you reading before. It was published only once, so there were an incredibly limited number of copies. Sure enough, you saw the words 'first edition' printed on the yellowing page. "I mean... there are only, maybe, fifty in all the world!"

The Witcher's amber gaze was fixed on you as you poured excitedly over the text. "Well, I see a lot of the world," he said. "With my job, and all."

His words only served to fill you with more emotion. You wiped your eyes quickly, not wanting to look stupid for crying over a silly book. "Thank you, Geralt," you said, eyes fixed on the book so that you wouldn't have to look up at him with tears in your eyes. "Truly."

You registered the feeling of his calloused fingers under your chin at half-speed. The world seemed to slow down has he titled your face up to his. He brushed a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. His touch was gentle even though his skin was rough. Your knees nearly buckled.

"Don't cry on me, Y/N," he said, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "I'm glad you like it."

For what felt like an endless time, but was probably only a few seconds, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other, unable to look away as if held by magic.

Tension pulled tight as a rope when he spoke next.

"I'm not an expert on these kinds of things, but a when there are no monsters to save the Princess from, it only seems right that the Knight brings her a present."

"I...Gera--" he cut off you stuttering by pulling you firmly into his arms and pressing his lips to yours.

You responded immediately, so quickly that the book slipped from your hands as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. Breathing seemed basically out of the question when one one of his arms snaked around your waist and the other tangled itself firmly in your hair.

You had to admit, you certainly felt like a princess when he picked you up, avoiding the stray stacks of books littering the floor. You were absolutely certain, though, that the cold of his Witcher medallion pressing against your chest was a far more pleasant feeling that chain mail would.

You had approximately a millisecond to catch your breath when he pulled away to lay you on on the oversized chair and strip off his weapons and then he was on top of you, with his lips on your neck.

You had no idea how much time passed between that first kiss and when you lay with your head in his lap, his fingers stroking your hair, out of breath and utterly spent. All you knew was that you'd knocked more than a few piles of books over. There was lots of moaning--you? Him? Your head was still too clouded to remember.

Finally, though, you had to get up and pull your clothes back on. You couldn't very well sleep in the store, no matter how much you wanted to just lay there, curled up against his warmth.

Geralt stayed with you as you did your final rounds around the shop, extinguishing candles and placing loose books, abandoned by customers in the strangest of places, as usual. Thankfully, this was a relatively simple task considering you knew the bookshop like the back of your hand. Admittedly, it was a task you usually did in the morning before the shop opened. But Geralt was here now, and you wanted to stretch your time with him as far as you could.

Soon enough, however, every stray book was in its place, and all but the candle glowing on the wall next to the door were long-cold. You hesitated in the doorway, keenly aware of Geralt standing only inches away.

You blinked up at him, feeling uncertain of what you should say next. This was not a position that you were often in. In fact, it was a situation that you were never in.

Finally, you manage to cobble together a sentence out of the thousands of words in your head.

"I do hope to see you again soon, Geralt."

The Witcher's amber eyes are fixed on yours, looking like liquid gold even in the faint light of the single candle.

"Well, it is winter," he said thoughtfully. "And I was thinking that this year, perhaps, I'd like to do my wintering somewhere away from Kaer Moren."

You smiled then, tentatively reaching out to touch him, but pulling back at the last moment. You chewed on your lip for a moment, heartbeat racing in your chest.

"I know a place that you could stay."

Geralt's gaze had not left you for a moment, but now he reached to pull you to his chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head, stopping for a moment to breathe in the smell of your hair.

Geralt pulled away slightly, one large hand resting on each shoulder.

"Please, lead the way, Princess," he said as he blew out the final candle. 

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #fanfictions #the witcher fanfiction #request

[chilling-seavey]

AN ANGRY PAPA D PLEASE

Thank you for this incredibly heartfelt and literary ask, my sweet Jocelyn. Always coming in clutch in the middle of our late-night conversations LOL Anyway, for those who don’t know, we were talking about that little part in Clementine’s character profile where it mentioned that one time she couldn’t charm her way out of her father’s anger… this is that story 😳

Clementine went through a bit of a phase when she was fourteen where she really knew her way around getting in trouble, especially around her father. As mentioned in her character profile, to Daniel it felt like Clementine could do no wrong as all she had to do was bat her baby blues up at him and she was forgiven. That only lasted so long, however. It was a warm September evening and Clementine had planned to go to the mall with a few friends from school where they would grab dinner together and do some shopping and hang out.

Daniel and Florence permitted her to take the subway with her friends to the mall after a bit of a discussion on safety and being aware of your surroundings, especially in the city come nightfall. She was only fourteen after all and had just started her first year of high school, but as she grew up, Daniel and Florence knew they needed to start to give her a bit of independence. She of course had her cell phone that she had received for her thirteenth birthday the year before and her parents made her promise to answer it if they called and for her to text them when she was off the subway or heading home again.

Things were going fine, Daniel received a text when she arrived to the mall as promised and they let her have her evening out. Back at home, the rest of the family ate dinner together and Penelope and Lucy worked on a bit of homework afterwards before watching a show together before bed. As the evening continued, Florence and Daniel hadn’t heard from Clementine since she had arrived at the mall and it was already approaching 9:00 – the time at which the mall was supposed to close.

Daniel sent his daughter a quick text to ask if everything was okay and he got back a quick response of ‘Yep. Leaving soon!’, but it was sent with text message rather than iMessage which meant she wasn’t in a Wi-Fi zone. Daniel and Florence grew increasingly worried as the time went by and soon Penelope and Lucy were both in bed and there was still no sign of Clementine and it was nearing 10:00 and she had stopped replied to any texts and their calls were going to voicemail.

“I’m this fucking close to calling the cops.” Daniel said as he paced the living room, his phone in hand and his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Florence stood in the doorway between the foyer and the living room with her arms crossed over her chest and she was biting hard on her bottom lip, watching her husband pace anxiously.

“I’m scared, Dani. Where is she?” Florence breathed shakily.

“I don’t know. Should we call the cops? I don’t want to jump to conclusions but she’s not answering. I swear to fuck if she gets home in one piece, she’s never leaving this building ever again.”

“Maybe give it fifteen more minutes and then we’ll call.” Florence suggested, walking across the room to look out the window as if she could see anything going on along the street from fifty-six floors up.

It was exactly 10:00 when the front door opened, only moments later, and the parents let out a breath of relief before their anger was overpowering their thankfulness of their daughter’s safety. Clementine rushed inside and kicked off her shoes, breathlessly stopping in the doorway to the living room to see two pairs of eyes glaring at her.

“Sorry I’m late. I’ll get right to bed.” she said quickly and started to turn down the hallway.

“Not so fast, young lady.” Daniel called; his voice stone cold enough that it made Clementine stop in her tracks before turning back slowly, her backpack still draped over one shoulder and she tightened her hand around the strap. “Where were you tonight?”

“The mall.” Clementine frowned, glancing between her father and his crossed arms and serious glare and her mother who was stood slightly behind him silently.

“The mall closed an hour ago. Where did you go after?”

“We just hung out.” Clementine shrugged. “But I’m back now so no need to worry.”

“Hung out where?” Daniel tried again.

“Dad, relax.” Clementine scoffed. “We just hung out at the park.”

“Which park?”

“Oh my God, enough questions. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Which park, Clementine?”

“High Park.”

“You went all the way to the west end alone?” Daniel gaped. “At night?”

“We were safe and I’m home now, so you don’t need to worry.” Clementine said.

“We almost called the police to send out a search party because you stopped answering us-”

“I couldn’t answer you because I don’t get signal on the subway!”

“Don’t cut me off.”

Daniel’s sudden volume made her take a small step back in surprise.

“You promised us that you would tell us where you were at all times and you completely broke our trust. You are not old enough to be going around the city wherever you want, do you not understand that?”

“It was just the park! We weren’t doing anything bad!”

“You did! You lied to us!”

“You’re treating me like a child!”

“Because you are still a child, Clementine! You’re only fourteen! We don’t have to let you out of this building if we don’t trust you, which, now, won’t be for a long time.”

“Dad!”

“Give me your phone.”

“Dad, come on. Mom!” Clementine turned to Florence.

“Don’t talk to her. She’s not going to help you here.” Daniel snapped. “You have worried your mother enough tonight. Give me your phone.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” Clementine grumbled, pulling her phone out of her pocket and trudged over to smack it into his open hand.

“You better watch your language, young lady.” Daniel scolded.

Clementine only rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared up at her father in front of her, “Is that it?”

“I don’t know where your disgusting attitude is coming from, but you better knock it off fast.” Daniel said sharply. “Your mother and I deserve an apology.”

“For what?”

“You’re smart enough to know exactly for what.”

Clementine finally pulled her pout up at him, “I was just having fun with my new friends, Daddy.”

“We’re not doing this, Clementine; you’re not sweet talking your way out of this one.”

She pouted deeper, now with frustration, her shoulders slouching.

“Now get to bed. We’ll be expecting an apology in the morning.”

“And if I don’t?”

Daniel narrowed his eyes at her, “You don’t want to know.”

“You only say that because you don’t have a punishment.” Clementine tried.

“You really like testing your luck, don’t you? Consider yourself grounded for two weeks.”

“Grounded?! That’s not fair! All because I went to a park instead of the stupid mall? I couldn’t text you on the subway so it’s not my fault!”

“Four.” Daniel retorted.

“Are you kidding me?! God! I should have just never come home!” Clementine shouted.

“Then make it six.” Daniel snapped back.

“Dad! The school dance is in five weeks! This isn’t fair!”

“And you won’t be going. Keep talking to me like this and you’ll be pushing eight weeks here, Clementine Ophelia.”

“Ugh! Whatever!” Clementine turned on her heel and stomped down the hallway to her room and slammed the door behind her.

Daniel let out a long, frustrated breath and raked both hands through his hair before turning to Florence who was still standing nearby having watched the entire argument.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Daniel grumbled, shuffling himself into Florence’s open arms and she rubbed a hand over his back as he buried his face in her neck. She could feel the angry heat from his cheeks against her skin and he was shaking a little, clinging onto her tighter as he tried to calm himself down.

“You did well.” Florence whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. “I know that was hard for you.”

“I can’t do this three times over.” Daniel breathed. “They’re all going to be teenagers at the same time…we’re doomed when that times comes. The entire building might combust.”

Florence only laughed lightly and pulled him back from her to look at him, holding his face in her hands, “I’ll make us some tea to calm down, okay?”

“Okay.” Daniel breathed, welcoming her quick kiss to his lips. “I’m glad I have you.”

#daniel seavey #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we #why dont we imagines #anything but mine

[devdevlin]

“Don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay” I feel like this is more sinister Tom than a sincere Tom...

Ummmm WHY do you ask me to do these things, you KNOW how much I love evil Tom and you KNOW how carried away I get with him ahaha (big warning here for bad Tom being bad and a traumatised, returned timetraveller Hermione)

Hermione pushed the front gate open and hurried up the front path, tackling the porch steps with a spring in her step.

The healers wouldn't give her any more potions? No problem. She could brew a potion for dreamless sleep in her sleep. She'd picked up everything she needed from Diagon Alley—even a shiny new benchtop cauldron—and was ready to start brewing. She had everything she needed: bottles, for preparing enough of the potion to keep her sleep dreamless for at least a month at a time; enough ingredients to ensure she wouldn't need to pester the apothecary for at least three brews; a fresh ladle, because hers had gotten so mangled from her years at school that it was almost in two pieces; and she'd even picked up some treats for Crookshanks that were out on special.

A successful shop, indeed.

She pulled her key from her pocket and let herself into her family home, not bothering to be quiet or careful as she did so.

It was a Thursday, and it was only her Mum home at this time of day, anyway. It wasn't like she'd be interrupting anything.

"Mum?" she called, unwrapping her satchel from around her shoulder and hanging it on her designated hook next to her father's unworn hat he'd bought on their last family trip.

There wasn't a reply, and so, Hermione assumed her mother must've been at work in the kitchen. She could never hear anything over the sound of their kettle.

She sighed and tucked her wand away in her bag, before trekking though the living room toward the kitchen.

"Mum?" Hermione repeated, voice echoing. "Mum, I'm ho—"

Hermione barely made it to the kitchen doorway before she froze.

At the sight before her, her blood instantly ran cold. Her mother was in the kitchen, all right, but she wasn't alone.

And who she was with, was not her father.

No, sitting calmly opposite her mother with his long legs neatly crossed was the face of the man she left behind six months ago after her catastrophic incident with the timeturner at the Ministry. The one she'd barely managed to escape, the one she thought, wished, prayed she'd never see again.

"Hello Hermione."

Her breath hitched. His voice was just as she remembered it, the same smooth, lifeless tone that still haunted her in her sleep, and it was solid. It was clear in a way that her dreams weren’t, and when Hermione blinked, he didn’t go away.

"It's been a while."

Hermione didn’t dare to breathe as her eyes passed between Tom and her mother, over the set table between them, the still-steaming pot of tea.

It wasn’t possible.

It wasn’t possible, and yet—

"M..." She swallowed, and in the quiet kitchen, it sounded oddly loud. "Mum?"

Her mother sipped at her cup of tea and stayed silent, not showing any sign of having heard her.

"Mum?"

Her voice had the beginnings of panic in it, and across from her mother, Tom smiled.

It didn't reach his eyes.

"Why don't you join us?" He gestured to the pot of tea, to the empty chair beside him. "Jean was kind enough to make some tea and some scones. There's plenty left for another cup."

Hermione stayed where she was, eyes trained on her mother. "What... what have you done to her?"

He didn't answer her. Instead, he tapped his fingers impatiently against the tabletop, and said, "I think we have quite a bit to catch up on, don’t you? Sit down, and we'll talk."

Hermione remained in the doorway, muscles refusing to shift.

Tom sighed impatiently through his nose and turned to her mother. "Jean, darling," he said softly, and her mother glanced up, hummed receptively. "Would you mind taking my cup over to the sink for me?"

"Of course," her mother said brightly, and still without showing any sign that she'd noticed Hermione in the doorway, she sprung up and began to clear the table.

"Mum?" Hermione tried when she passed her. "Mum, can you hear me?"

As if she were invisible, her mother passed her as if she weren't there at all.

"Mum?!"

Hermione's accusatory eyes turned back to find Tom watching her.

He raised his eyebrows suggestively before giving his attention back to her mother. "Oh, and while you're over there, Jean, I'd quite like it if you were to open your cutlery draw and fish out the sharpest knife you own."

Hermione’s pulse thrummed loudly in her ears. "Stop it. Whatever you're doing to her, stop it."

Tom didn't respond, and her mother obediently clawed through the top draw under the kitchen island.

"Tom." Her mother didn't stop, and Tom stayed silent. "Tom, stop it. I mean it, stop."

The corner of Tom's lips quirked. "Do you have it, Jean?" Tom asked after a moment, still ignoring Hermione.

"Yes," her mother chimed happily before she turned back toward Tom to show him a long knife with a white hilt that she'd found. "I've had this one since John and I were married. It was a gift from his grandmother. We were very lucky she made it, really. She passed away only two months after..."

“Tom.”

Tom continued to ignore Hermione and when he smiled at her mother, it was almost warm. "Yes, that is most fortunate. Family is… so important." he said, and then without turning his head, his eyes met Hermione's. "Now Jean, I'd like it if you would use the knife to remove one of your fingernails."

"No, no, Mum—"

"Which one?" her mother asked, speaking over Hermione.

"Oh, whichever one you'd like, it doesn't bother me which," Tom answered pleasantly.

"Mum!" To hell with it. Hermione forced herself to move, to step past Tom and toward her mother to take the knife from her herself. "Mum, don—"

"Take another step, Hermione, and I'll have her cut her own throat."

At once, Hermione halted.

And then, without anyone to stop her, her mother started on her own index finger.

Her mother was under the Imperius curse—she had to be—and though she obeyed Tom’s will obediently, she still screamed at the pain of it, and she still clutched her bleeding hand to her chest when she was finished.

Hermione felt like she was going to vomit.

When she turned back to Tom and found that he was smiling at her, the feeling only grew stronger.

"Oh." Tom cocked his head to the side. "Don't look at me like that, like I've just skinned a kitten before you. Sit down, and your mother will be perfectly fine."

Her mother whimpered and sniffed from behind her, and Hermione glanced back to see her blood dripping down onto the tile.

"But... her hand—"

"She's hardly going to bleed out, Hermione," Tom said in mock amusement as though she'd just said something he thought was very stupid. "Now sit."

Hermione was shaking now, but she did as he said, and with each inch that vanished between them, her stomach twisted.

She took the seat he’d gestured to, and that close up, she could see the lighter flecks of brown in his eyes, the individual hairs of his eyebrows, the faint, but present light freckling on his nose—all of the things that she’d once been drawn to, all of the things that had once convinced her that he was human.

But she’d been wrong—so, so wrong—and now, they were the same things she’d been trying so desperately to forget.

When she was settled, Tom scooted closer, close enough that his knee brushed against hers, and leaned toward her with his elbows on the table.

"Hey. Come on, don't cry." He reached out and wiped the tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. His touch was warm and pleasant, but like everything else he ever did, it was lie. "Everything's going to be okay. I'll be more than happy to leave your mother be if you help me."

She blinked back the building water in her eyes and forced herself not to give in to the urge to get up and run. "What… what do you want?"

His eyes searched her, drifting back and forth between her own, and he tightened his lips in a way that almost seemed melancholic. "Do you remember Abraxas’ wedding night, at the reception at the manor?”

She gave him a single, stiff nod.

“You were beautiful that night.” He whispered the words softly, as if to a lover, and Hermione tasted bile. “And I don’t mean because of the dress, or the makeup, or even the way you wore your hair up, though it did suit you.”

The tip of his finger trailed along the skin of the back of her hand, and she wanted to cut it off of him.

“It was… you were so open. You were so angry with me, and you were just… magnificent. It was the first time I saw you, and to be completely honest with you, Hermione, I haven’t been able to get you out my head ever since. Not you… or what you said to me.”

Hermione tightened her jaw, his reference to that night in the fifties—the one she wanted to forget more than any other—cutting her like her mother’s knife. “Get to the point.”

Tom smiled and glanced at her lips. “You told me I would die. You accused me of being short-sighted, and foolish, and that I would induce my own demise." His whisper was so quiet now that she almost had to lean in closer to hear him. "What I want from you, Hermione… I want you to help me make sure that that does not come to pass, this time."

“No,” she said at once. “No. I won’t. I’ll never—”

“Jean?”

The sudden increase in volume of his voice made Hermione flinch, and from over by the sink, her mother’s whimpers quietened. “Y-yes?”

“Do you still have that knife?” asked Tom.

“Stop it. Tom, please. Your problem is with me, not her, please, don’t—”

“Yes, I-I do.”

“Pick it back up for me, would you, Jean?”

“Okay. Okay, fine!” Hermione snapped. “I’ll do whatever you want, just let her go!”

While her mother did as she was told, Tom’s eyes flicked back between them. Then, after a long moment, he eventually said, “actually… go and clean your hand instead, would you?”

Hermione let out the breath she was holding.

“I… yes. Yes, th-thank you,” her mother stammered before stepping over to the sink.

They sat in silence, and it wasn’t until her mother had her hand fully underneath the stream of water from the tap that Tom turned back to Hermione.

And then he grinned. “I just knew we’d come to an agreement.”

(lmao yes yes I know this is essentially a diet version of trap forty four. What can I say, I liked the premise of him following her back to her time so much I wanted to write it twice haha)

#tomione #harry potter #fanfiction #tom riddle #hermione granger #my writing #fanfic #thanks for the prompt anon #i love youuuu #❤️❤️ #ask me anything

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Doyenne ~ Part 3

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs help from one of Birmingham’s most powerful underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all. 

Warnings:  Violence and cursing. Nothing out of the ordinary

Word Count: 2303

_________________________

“Miss. L/N. It’s on. They’re getting released.” 

The phone call had come much sooner than you’d expected. It had only been two days since the night you showed Tommy your underground gambling den and you were under the impression that it would take at least another day or so to hear that your men were being released. But low and behold, it appeared that Thomas Shelby was capable of being good on his word.

“The men are currently being held at the prison and will be released from there tomorrow at eight am sharp.” He continued to explain over the phone. 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Shelby. I as well as their wives and children appreciate this.” You said, feigning this degree of politeness. It was all part of the act. All he did was keep his end of the bargain, nothing special. You twirled the cable of the phone around your finger, “If I may ask, how did he react to being caught red handed?” A sadistic smirk grew on your face as you bit your lip, anticipating what Tommy was going to say. 

Tommy, on the other end of the line, furrowed his brow. “He wasn’t thrilled.” He had the ‘no-shit-Sherlock’ tone in his voice and you laughed on your end, secretly loving annoying him. You were well aware of the games you played with the man and you loved every moment of it. 

“Really? I thought he would be ecstatic.” Sarcasm was thick in your words and Tommy imagined that laugh playing on your lips. 

“Well if that’s all Miss. L/N, I’ll be going. Remember, tomorrow morning at eight. Birmingham Prison. They’ll be expecting someone there to pick them up. I expect to meet on Friday night with the other $50,000.” He insisted. 

You rolled your eyes to yourself, “Yes, yes, Mr. Shelby. Have no fear, we’ll be there with the other half of your money.” 

“Friday it is.” He confirmed plainly. 

“Always a pleasure.” Your voice was laced with sarcasm still and you laughed when you heard the other end of the phone go dead. 

**

The next morning, Wednesday, at eight am, you were at the jailhouse just as instructed, leaning on your car that was parked across the street in wait for your men to be released. Two minutes passed. Five minutes passed. Eight minutes passed. 

The prisonhouse door never opened. What are they playing at? You checked your ornate silver pocket watch one last time, seeing that it was now 8:20. On one hand, you wanted to knock on the door and retrieve your men yourself. But on the other hand, something felt off about this. Was this a risk that the chief of police really wanted to take? Could you let your men stay imprisoned because of paranoia though? 

You pushed yourself off the cool black metal of your car and strolled across the street to the tall jail. There was a large door that you opened but found locked. Instead, you knocked on it loudly. On the other side of the door, there was a jingling noise and the door opened to reveal a short but strong looking police officer, “Can I help you, miss?” 

“I’m here to pick up two inmates that were supposed to be released twenty minutes ago.” You informed, no hint of humor or anything in your voice. They were wasting your time and it was getting on your nerves. The only games you liked to play were your own. 

The man’s eyes changed, “Ah, my apologies. There was an incident this morning that delayed the release process,” He glanced back over his shoulder into the room behind him, “They’re actually coming right now.” 

He stepped aside for two stronger, larger guards to make their way through the doorway, each one practically lifting and pushing one of your men ahead of them. They pushed them roughly outside and then stopped, undoing their handcuffs and leaving without a word. “Pleasant.” You rolled your eyes, following the two men with a glare. Then you turned your attention to the men who worked for you, “Are you guys alright?” 

They looked like hell. Both of them had messy hair, the blonde one had a fading black eye and the one with brown hair had a busted lip. Despite the disheveled appearances, though, they had fighting spirits behind their eyes and looked like they were more alive than they had in a while. 

“Yeah, we’re fine. How’d you get us out?” The brunette one, Jameson, asked you, rubbing his wrists where they were red and raw from the cuffs. 

“Called in a favor.” You answered obscurely. You turned your attention to Brandon, the blonde, “You good?” 

He nodded before leaning down to hug you, “Thank you so much Y/N. I thought I’d be gone for years.” 

You leaned into the hug, “Of course. I couldn’t let two of my most important men rot in there. Now let’s get you guys home,” You turned and led the men across the street, “The man up front said there was an incident this morning? You guys starting problems in there?” You teased with a small laugh. 

Brandon gave you a strange look, “There was no incident. They just grabbed us from our cells like three minutes ago and threw us out here.” 

You stopped midway across the street and turned to look at them, “What?” Something was wrong. You were definitely right earlier. 

Before you could react, something was pulled over your head and your vision was completely blocked, “What the fuck?!” You yelled, stomping back anywhere and everywhere you could, hoping to land on toes. 

“Get the fuck off me!” Jameson’s voice hollered from somewhere beside you. 

You began to reach into your coat for your gun but you hesitated for half a second, trying to figure out if it was worth shooting blindly and possibly hitting Jameson or Brandon, but in that brief pause, both of your hands were wrenched behind your back. There was a heavy hit to the back of your head and then everything went black and silent. 

** 

There was a pounding in your head as your eyes slowly struggled to come back into focus. As your head lulled forward, your body trying to follow, you found your weight counteracted by your arms that were tied behind the back of the chair you were sitting in. You tried to move but found yourself restrained at the ankles as well. 

You looked around panickedly. It appeared that you were in some sort of storage room. There was a door on the opposite side of the poorly lit room that was shut closed. Large crates and pieces of furniture were scattered across the room. The walls were the same grey as the cement floor and the only light came from a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling above you and three tiny square windows that couldn't have been larger than 1"x1". 

“Well, well, well. I must say that this isn’t what I expected.” An unfamiliar male voice came from somewhere in the shadows ahead of you. You stayed quiet, just trying to gather as much information about everything. How was the room configured? Who was speaking? What were they saying? Where were you? “When I heard that the Chief was being blackmailed, I really didn’t expect a beautiful woman like you to be behind it all.” 

He stepped into the light and you finally saw his face. He was reasonably tall and looked to be in his fifties. His dark mustache matched his dark hair that hid under his hat. Roughly, he reached out and gripped your jaw, “So… who are you?” 

“Fuck you.” You spat, venom in your words. 

He tsked, “That’s not a very ladylike way to speak.” 

“Well, you know, kidnapping isn’t a very gentleman-like activity either so looks like we’re both disappointments.” Before you could say anything else, a hard slap blew across your face. 

You were shocked by the sudden impact and whipped your head back to the man who’d just hit you, blood rushing to warm the area he’d hit. He knelt down in front of you, “Now, let’s try that again. Who are you?” 

“Your mum.” You snorted at your own joke, knowing that it really wasn’t all that funny, but if you wouldn't laugh at your own joke, who would?

He sighed and stood up, “You know, you don’t have to be difficult.” 

“Why don’t you tell me who the hell you are and what you want.” You interrogated back, shaking the hair that had fallen from your updo out of your face. 

The man stood before you and opened his palms as if presenting himself, “Very well. Darby Sabini, at your service. You seem to know a little more than you should about one of my clients. How do you know what you know?” 

You shook your head, “I don’t know anything.” That part wasn’t even a lie. You genuinely didn’t know what Tommy had on the Chief. “But whatever it is must be pretty bad if he’s willing to hire you to kidnap three people over it.” 

Another smack blew across your face, “Does this look like a joke to you? Does it look like I’m playing games?” He yelled. This time, you could taste iron on your tongue and knew your lip had been busted. 

You breathed heavily, trying to ignore the pain in your jaw, “If these are your games, you must be fun in bed.” You laughed, spitting blood on the ground, almost landing on his shoe. 

“No wonder people want you to disappear. With a mouth like that, it’s a wonder no other man has put in your place.” He hissed, snapping his fingers. Another man walked in and flicked a switch knife threateningly. 

You watched the blade for just a moment, trying to calm your nerves and keep up the facade while you formulated a plan in your head, “You’re single, aren’t you? You sound like you’re single.” 

Again, another smack. Your head flew to the side with a heavy exhale. The man with the knife reached down and roughly grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him. Darby stood behind him with crossed arms, “I gave you a chance to answer questions without it coming to this but I’m done playing this game. You’re going to give me information or my friend here will cut it out of you.” 

** 

Tommy found himself and John at the jail that morning. Insurance, Tommy had assured his brother. They needed to make sure that everything went smoothly in order for the rest of your plan to go as scheduled. Even with his older brother’s explanation, John still found it strange that Tommy made them sit outside the jail. Usually, he’d just send Isaiah or Finn but he insisted that he and John do it. John was suspicious of his brother’s intentions but followed along regardless. 

Nonetheless, they showed up at 7:30 that morning and waited, parked just down the street, close enough to see everything but far enough away to be inconspicuous. At 8:00 sharp, they watched your black Bentley slow to a stop on the opposite side of the street and saw you get out. 

“This is taking forever.” John groaned as he watched you check your pocket watch for what had to have been the fourth time. You looked just as exasperated as he felt. 

Tommy flicked open his pocket watch as well, “They’re late. It’s already 8:16.” He didn’t sound happy in the slightest (not that he really ever sounded happy). 

“You wanna fuck her, don’t you?” John laughed, puffing on his cigarette. He looked over at his brother with a smug teasing look, the one that college boys sent each other after a proud one night stand. 

Lines formed deep on Tommy’s face as he looked over at his brother, “We’re out here to make sure everything goes to plan-” 

“No, because if that were the case, you would have sent someone else. But you want to see her. Because you fancy Y/N.” John spoke very matter-of-factly, as if he’d had it all figured out. 

“She’s infuriating-” 

“And you love it!” John laughed, leaning against the window of the car. 

Tommy finally snapped his gaze to John instead of watching the scene in front of him, “She doesn’t seem like the girl who goes for a quick fuck with just anybody. But what we do fuck, eh? What’s it to you?” He asked aggressively. 

John put a hand up and rolled his eyes, exasperated by his brother’s dramaticness “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m only joki-” 

“Wait-” 

“You’re so-” 

“Shut up. Look!” Tommy pointed out towards the street where you’d stopped halfway across and appeared to be suddenly confused and afraid, a combination of emotions he’d never imagined on your face. 

You looked back at the two men that were released, what were their names again? Brandon and Jameson! The said something and your brows furrowed and he saw your lips move to form a single word. What? 

Suddenly, another black car came to a screeching stop on the cobblestone pavement just beside you. Three men jumped out and threw black bags over all three of your heads. “Fuck!” Tommy yelled, reaching for his gun. He watched as you did the same but before anyone could react, you were hit hard over the head with a man’s bare fist and crumbled into his arms. 

“Grab your gun!” Tommy dropped his gun on the seat beside him and gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he could, taking off down the street in pursuit of the car you’d just been dragged into, unconscious and blindfolded.

____________________

Taglist: 

@kiaoizz 

@sweatydragoncloudknight

@hinagiku0

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #doyenne

[one-spidey-boii]

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch. two

read chapter one here

masterlist

an; welcome back y’all. thank you to all who have read so far, even tho it’s only chapter two. i’d love to hear your feedback! enjoy!

**italics indicates flashback**

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 2.2k+

edie's pov

so that's spiderman? seems like a fun guy, i think as i walk through the dark alleyways so i don’t draw unwanted attention to myself. it's late and i'm navigating my way home, still thinking about my run-in with the red and blue clad boy. it's easy to tell he's young by the sound of his voice, leading me to believe he’s twenty at most. that doesn't bother me of course, as i too am considered young for a crime-fighting vigilante.

i turn the last corner before reaching my street and sigh with relief at the sight of my apartment building. the light in my window is off, aiding in the illusion that i'm asleep so my mom doesn't come in while i'm away on my semi-nightly adventures. just before i can touch the brick stones of my building as i pass by, a mechanical swoosh comes down and picks me up off the ground. i let out a small yelp and quickly find myself placed on the roof.

"hey, wolfie." mr. stark says as he walks out of his iron man suit. i let out the breath i was holding and turn around to face him. i offer him a small smile and take my hood down.

"mr. stark, hello, sir."

"school's almost out, right?" before i can answer, he keeps talking, "good. i'm gonna need your help with something."

i wipe away the beads of sweat running down my forehead as i bend down to pick up my throwing knives from the concrete ground. i steady myself and focus on the tattered piece of cardboard nailed to the wall that is my makeshift target. with a small grunt, i fling one towards the center of the red dot, hitting it dead on. i continue this activity until i run out of things to throw and my arms feel like jelly. i lost count of how many times i'd hit the center of the target in a row.

stepping back with a satisfied smirk, i collect my knives, shoving them back into their rightful place in my bag or around my waist and turn on my heel to head home. i manage to take two steps before a voice stops me in my tracks.

"hey, don't walk away now, kid, the next one would have been fifty." my eyes widen at the familiar voice that often appears on my living room television. i slowly move to face the man and gulp, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, not being able to say a word.

"come on, one more. show me what you got." says tony stark, with a loose smile on his face.

without a word, i force my trembling hands to grab my favorite knife from my right boot and brace myself for a throw. my breathing is shaky as i raise my right arm and inhale along with it. i can feel the sweat running down my back as i close my eyes for a moment. don't embarrass yourself, e, i think to myself. with that i snap my eyes open and silently chuck the knife towards the target.

i missed.

"oh for fuck's sake." i groan into my hands before i remember who i'm with and freeze. i keep my head in my hands, making sure to cover my face, only gathering enough courage to peek at tony stark through my fingers.

"well, that's awkward, i won't lie," he says, looking uncomfortable, "but i think i saw what i needed to see beforehand. i'm tony stark, or iron man if you wanna get fancy." he reaches a hand out in my direction.

"edie wolfe, hi." i reply with a defeated and lame handshake. to save both of us from looming silence, he pulls at my hoodie before continuing on, "okay, ms. wolfe." he pauses to inspect my attire, "what is this? leggings? and a hoodie? kid, if you're gonna be throwing knives, you gotta expect people to throw them back at you. this isn't going to cut it." he motions to the thin fabric covering my arms and chest.

i laugh at his words, "oh hey i see what you did there."

not catching on to his own pun, he moves on again, "what? actually never mind, we have a lot of talking to do, wolfie."

ever since that night, he took me under his wing- and a week later i got a package with a brand new suit in it. one that would protect me a whole lot more than what i was working with before.

"earth to wolfie, beep beep boop," mr. stark says as he pokes me in the forehead. i swat his hand away and give him my full attention. he continues on, "so you're in? a summer at the compound, being scary and keeping bad guys away?"

i raise an eyebrow at him, "what makes you think my family will be okay with that?" i ask. mr. stark simply rolls his eyes, "i already talked to your father, need i show you the proof?" i shake my head and he nods with satisfaction.

"okay, kid. see you in a few days." he says, preparing to get back into his suit, but before he can fly away i stop him, a question looming over my head, "am i doing this alone?"

"of course not. i wouldn't leave you alon- well actually i can't leave him alone so that's why you're gonna be there," he explains with a shake of his head.

"and who exactly is this person?" i ask with my arms crossed.

"how about one friendly neighborhood spiderman!" he yells and takes off before i can say anything back.

-

finally, the last day of school was upon us. it seems that the ending of every school year is bittersweet, and to be honest it hasn't quite hit me yet. senior year was way lamer than everyone played it off to be. you're told that you're officially ‘top dog', but let's be real- no real credit is given until you've graduated. but hey, here's to making it this far.

i'm sitting at my usual lunch table, surrounded by peter, ned, and mj. we pass jokes around the group and take in every moment we have left of our time together, yanno, since peter is leaving. but so am i. which is something i still have to share with everyone.

"uh, hey, guys. can i be a debby downer for a moment?" i ask, clearing my throat and disturbing the light mood of the afternoon. the table quiets down and all eyes are on me. "so you know how peter is leaving this summer?" i ruffle peter's hair in an attempt to not make that statement so sad.

"yeah, edie, we know." mj says with an eye roll as she picks at her cold french fries. i roll my eyes back at her and mock her voice. i can't help but notice peter's guilty face sitting next to me, little does he know i am going to make it a whole lot more weird up in here.

i take in a big breath and hold it to up the anticipation, "well it looks like i'll be gone too."

ned drops his chicken wrap and shakes his head furiously, "nuh uh, nope. no way. sorry, e, i can't allow that to happen," he says with a stern voice. peter chooses this moment to negatively highlight my new confession, "edie, how dare you! someone needs to be here to look after the kids."

i lower my head in shame, god this was so hard to do. faking a playful smile, i try to make light of the situation, "hey, c'mon, we all know mj is the mom friend of the group."

mj shakes her head violently and protests against my statement, "absolutely not. i veto that with all of my being, ned is the mom." she insists as she points to the pouting boy. we all laugh at that before falling into an uncomfortable silence. i glance in peter's direction and try to smile at him. doing this to him was the hardest, i tell him everything and knowing full well that i can't tell anyone about my stay at the compound, it just hurts my heart. we won't be able to communicate all summer.

"my mom signed me up to be a camp counselor...at, uh, a self-defense camp." i panic at the last second, realizing i never thought about what kind of camp i would fictitiously be a part of. the whole table bursts out into laughter.

through short breaths and a hearty laugh, ned pokes fun at me, "edie? teaching children how to kick someone's ass? look at you, you're like a soft pillowy little marshmallow." i stick my tongue out at him and cross my arms.

"hey, i wouldn't shut down the idea too fast, remember e's dad is like, an actual fbi agent. i'm sure he's taught her some stuff," peter chimes in, coming to my rescue. i nod along and hum a 'mhm', snickering inside at how much they don't know.

-

once i'm home, i pack my suitcase with all the things i think one would need to stay at a high tech superhero compound. i grab all of my knives and shove them into a utility pack, along with my suit.

my parents know where i'm going, and lucky for me they’re okay with it. well, at least my dad is.

my father, sam wolfe, works for a hidden branch of the fbi that trains government spies and the occasional assassin. thus being the reason i grew to be so good at combat. he would take me onto the roof of our building and have me shoot at targets and hit punching bags. we would practice for hours at a time, his booming voice critiquing my every move and decision as i worked. i've never been comfortable with a gun, so i stuck with knives and made that my craft.

i haven't seen my dad in a few months now. to 'protect' me and my family, we weren't allowed to know where my dad was going or why he had to leave in the first place. once mr. stark came into my life, he and my father became close, putting his trust in mr. stark to watch out for me whenever he was gone.

my mother on the other hand, she hates everything about it. she’s afraid of the world and all the things that lurk behind closed doors. when dad isn't around, we aren't allowed to talk about anything related to knives or fighting or tony stark. and for my nine-year-old brother's sake, i oblige.

pulling my bag onto my shoulder and lugging my suitcase through the hall, i meet my mother and brother in the living room. she meets my eyes with her cloudy ones and closes the distance between us with a strong hug. i chuckle at her before wrapping my arms around her plump frame.

"mom, it's okay-" i start, before she cuts me off, "shhh, edie. let me have this moment."

i shut up and continue to embrace my mom. i know this is hard for her, but she needs to understand that this is an amazing opportunity for me. i'm being put in charge of the avengers compound for the entire summer. i wish i could share this excitement with my dad, but i know he's happy for me, wherever he may be.

"edie, promise me you'll come home if you can't handle it. no one is going to judge you for that. you're only eighteen. i can't believe your father is letting you do this." my mother rambles as she pulls away from me. i smile at her and just nod my head.

my little brother looks over in our direction with a shy smile on his face. i ruffle his hair and pull him to me for a quick hug, "take care of mom for me, booger." i whisper into his ear. he gives me a simple nod and backs away.

my phone buzzes in my pocket. i pull it out to see a message from mr. stark.

'beep beep, i'm here'

i sigh and look up at my mom one last time, "that's my ride." she lets a single tear stroll down her cheek before wiping it away and shooing me out the door.

once out of the apartment, i lug my suitcase down the three flights of stairs and out onto the sidewalk. mr. stark is pulled up to the curb in his fancy black car. he rolls down the passenger side window and yells at me through it, "time to party, wolfie."

i stroll to the car and pull the back door open to throw my stuff down. then i hop into the front seat and look at mr. stark, "you know, you could have come in."

"yeah, well we all know your mother doesn't like me very much. i don't wanna poke the bear," he says as he pulls his sunglasses over his eyes and revs the engine, "let's get you to your new home for the next three months, shall we?"

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines

#iron man #chaos walking #spiderman homecoming #tom holland chaos walking #avengers #holland #tom holland #tom holland cherry #tom holland imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x oc #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #spiderman #spiderman far from home #spiderman x oc #bummer summer #tony stark #avengers endgame #peter parker imagine #original character #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #original story #read me #tommo hollandy

[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?

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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

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Time for Change (Alec Volturi x Reader)

You giggled as Alec pulled you even closer to him, smirking slightly.  “Will I see you again, tonight?”  “Of course.” You smiled. “It’s the least I can do for you coming all this way to see me.”  “You know i came here with a little bit more purpose, than a visit.” Alec replied.  “I know.” You smiled, a blush rushing to your cheeks. I’ll think about it, I promise. Though i can’t promise you an answer tonight.”  “Of course not, it’s never that easy with the Swan family, now is it?” You playfully swatted at him as he couldn’t fight back a grin. “I knew i shouldn’t have told you the details between Bella and Edward.”  “You say that as though you wouldn’t have told me regardless.” Alec teased.  “That’s true. You’ve got me there.” You admitted defeat on this battle, but no way would you admit defeat on the war. “Besides, Bella wants immortality. Edward is the one who refuses to give it to her.” Alec nodded, as he said, he knew the details thanks to you. “Anyway, your time is running short. You haven’t got long until it’s four.” You sighed. “Yeah, that’s Bella’s fault too.” You huffed. You got grounded also for the trip to Italy.  “Now, now, don’t be like that.” Alec raised an eyebrow. “If you hadn’t come to Italy, you and I wouldn’t have met.”  “Yeah, I suppose i can tolerate being grounded on that perspective.”  “As can I. Now off you go, you’ll be late.” Alec broke away from you with a smirk. “Geez, are you my secret boyfriend or my dad?” You huffed.  “Goodbye, (Y/N).” Alec shooed you with his hand and a playful grin.  “Alright, Alright, i’m going! Can I at least get a kiss first?” You stepped closer with a scowl and Alec chuckled but pulled you in for a kiss. You smiled into the kiss, feeling giddy to feel Alec’s lips on yours. Though he pulled away too quickly for your liking.  “Now shoo.” He whispered into your ear with a smirk before lightly pushing you away from him.  You trudged away comically, to emphasise your dissatisfaction whilst also portraying your playfulness, barely catching Alec’s chuckle before he was gone. 

You continued to trudge your way home, meeting Bella at the front garden. You both eyed one another, both displeased for having to be home at such a time. You personally blamed Bella and couldn’t help but scowl as you saw Edward climb the house and into Bella’s room in the corner of your eye.  “Why do I have to be punished whilst you have only half a punishment?” You nodded to Bella’s now closing window.  “Dad doesn’t know.” Bella nudged you. “Don’t tell him.”  “You know i wont.” You sighed, catching sight of Charlie noticing you both in the garden. You waved to him and he seemed satisfied that you both were back an it was 3:58 pm.  “Hey, I gotta tell you something.” Bella said quietly. You looked back at Bella’s window. “You do know he can still hear you right?”  “I’m not being quiet for him, it’s for Charlie.”  “Alright,” you crossed your arms. “what’s wrong?”  “Nothing, Edward asked me to marry him.” Your eyes widened. “What? Like, marriage?” Bella nodded.  “But you hate marriage.”  “I don’t hate marriage.” Bella responded. “I just don’t...see the point in it. It’s a piece of paper.” 

The two of you turned to walk into the house.  “Are you going to tell dad?” You asked. “No.”  “What did you say to Edward?” Bella only shook her head in response.  “Oh...and he’s alright with it?”  “Actually, i don’t think he’s going to take no for an answer.” Bella couldn’t help but smile.  “Sounds like him.” You smiled back at Bella. You sighed. “Back to biology homework.” Bella smiled. “Were you out with your friends?” You immediately thought of them, very conscious of Edwards prying ears. “Yeah. They were talking about going to the movies soon but i said i had to check with dad.”  “Maybe he’ll let you go.” Bella responded as she closed the front door behind her. 

You flopped onto the couch, your eye barely catching the sports channel on. “I’m going to see Billy tonight. You know the rules.” You heard Charlie say to Bella from the kitchen. You thought over the news. Edward was supposed to change Bella, and somehow it has become a proposal. You thought about Bella’s previous statement. It made you wonder if this wasn’t the first time he had proposed. 

Your mind slowly drifted at the thought of Bella being married. She’d be gone, even a vampire. Charlie would wonder where his eldest went. What she’d be doing fifty years from now.  Would he ask you if you had heard from her? What would you be in fifty years? Growing grey hair, watching you own family or would you be immortal and also gone. That was a sad thought. Charlie started with a family of four to in the end have no one because his two kids were gone living their own lives, his wife now his ex- with another man and happy. 

You supposed there was an element of humour to be had in Bella’s situation. When she’s changed, she’ll be stuck re-living high school on repeat. If that wasn’t hell, who really knew what was hell? 

Your mind travelled back to you. What were you going to do? What path would you take? Maybe there isn’t one, if you’re not changed the Volturi would kill you for sure. It didn’t seem like the Cullen’s would change you since it’s such a bother to do so for Bella. You felt a small smile grow on your face. Though it wasn’t all bad. Maybe Alec would change you. You thought back to his own question. Perhaps you were thinking about an end that would never come. Perhaps Alec was more serious about you than you were thinking and had his own intentions to change you. He had told you about the concept of mates in his kind, though he never said where his mind was with you. It was totally possible he was just having his fun with you and would kill you when he was bored with you. Although...what if he wasn’t? Even if that was the case, you’d be happy. You had never felt so loved before. Though he was very closed off, it wasn’t long before he opened up and you saw so much more of him than you saw in the first time in the throne room.You couldn’t help but remember his signature smirk and the feel of his lips on yours. He was a gift. You couldn’t think otherwise. 

Suddenly your stomach dropped. You remembered Edward was upstairs. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to your feet and ran upstairs. You rushed into Bella’s room, practically throwing the door open to meet Edwards stare, anger radiating off of him.  “Edward-” You began but he cut you off.  “We’ll speak of this later.” He said quietly through a clenched jaw. You simply left the room, tears welling up. You were in trouble to say the very least.  “Hey, you okay?” Bella asked as you passed her in the hall- her response being the closing of your bedroom door. She peered into her own room to see Edward fuming with anger. 

You dreaded the moment that Charlie would leave, because that’s when all hell would break loose. You wanted to ask Charlie if you could come with him but you knew it would be no use. After all, you already had plans... To hell with it. 

You rushed down the stairs and Bella was immediately trailing behind you, her face grim and clearly knowing your secret.  “Dad, can I go with you to Billy’s tonight?” You asked hurriedly. Charlie turned, coffee in hand. “Why?” He immediately saw your tears threatening to fall. “Are you okay?”  “Please!?” You begged.  “Hey, what’s going on?” You pulled him into a tight hug. You did your best to hold back the tears as Charlie wrapped his arms around you. You didn’t give him an answer, only hugging him tighter.  “(Y/N)?” Bella’s voice was low. “I was going to ask if you could help me with my graduation stuff, Alice is coming round to help too.” You wanted to be sick. Alice was coming too.  “I want to go with dad.” You mumbled into his shoulder.  “Well, I need to head out for a bit to the station. How about you help Bells with that and you can come with me when I get back hm? Just make sure you’ve ate, alright?” Charlie kissed your head. “What’s up, (Y/N)?”  “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” You mumbled,breaking away and keeping your eyes to the floor. “I’ll help you Bella.” Bella nodded. “Alice is on her way.”  “Well, i’ll leave you kids to it.” Charlie set down his mug, and grabbing his keys from the counter though sparing a worried glance to you. 

In that moment, there was a knock at the door and through the glass you could see Alice. You hurried back upstairs. Bella turned to Charlie. “I’ll make sure they’re okay. I think they’ve been getting stressed. They’ve had some trouble with friends too.” Bella seemed to find it almost too easy to lie now as she moved to the door to let Alice in.  “Hi Charlie!” Alice smiled.  “Hey Alice. Just keep an eye on them Bella, I’ll be back in an hour.” Charlie looked to Bella who nodded. As the door shut, Alice’s smile dropped to one of concern. Bella and Alice looked at one another in silent conversation before moving to the stairs. 

“Are you kidding me!?” Bella burst through the door of her room where you and Edward were. You were sat on the bed, Edward looking at you from the opposite wall, arms crossed.  “Stop it.” You said, trying not to cry. Alice was immediately bent down to your level, hands on your knees, taking a less hostile approach. “(Y/N), do you realise how dangerous he is?”  “He wouldn’t hurt me.” Edward immediately scoffed. “You don’t know that. You couldn’t even fool yourself.”  “Why him!?” Bella stepped forward. “Of all people, you chose him!?”  “Like you’re one to talk! You had a whole high school of boys and you chose him!” You jabbed a finger at Edward. You grew defensive quick, and things always got worse when you got defensive. “This is none of your business! None of you are saints! Get out of my business!”  “No! We have to be involved because you’re so naive that you think this is alright!” Edward began to yell and Bella seemed to be completely on his side.  “Listen, we’re not trying to attack you! We’re concerned for you.” Alice said much more gentle than your sister and her boyfriend but much more stern than she had began.  “I don’t care!” You yelled. “All you guys care about are yourselves! Not once was i ever considered in anything you guys have done! I don’t have to consult with you on what I do! i don’t want to speak to you about this! I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you when you do nothing but lie!”  “We’re trying to keep you safe!” Bella yelled back. “You’re being stupid! He doesn’t give a damn about you and is setting a trap and you don’t even realise you’re walking right into it! What could possibly make you so different from everyone else!?”  “Oh, so now you’re dumping your own insecurities on me!” You glared at Bella. Edward had to cut the argument short after the forty five minute argument. Charlie had come back and Alice looked worried at the stand off you and Bella seemed to be in complete with a stare down. After a few minutes Charlie was shouting your name. “(Y/N)! You ready to go!?” You continued to stare Bella down for a moment before calling back. “Coming dad!” You wasted no time storming off into your own room to pick up your hoodie, taking the moment to cool off before Charlie could see you full of rage and hurt. Though your rage turned into tears again, fighting them off once more. You hurried down the steps, moving past Charlie to the car. You sat in the front passenger seat waiting for him to come out. 

You looked at the time. Charlie had been exactly an hour, your argument lasting for forty five minutes. After two minutes Charlie came out and stepped into the car. He cast a glance to you. “Are you okay?” You nodded and Charlie turned the keys, reversing out of the drive way. “You know you can tell me if something is wrong, (Y/N). Right?” You figured you were far enough from the house to finally talk without being over-heard. “I feel like i’m living my life but i’m doing it wrong.” Charlie was quiet for a moment. “No one knows the right way to live life.” Charlie began. “For you, as my kid. I want you to be happy. If that means you’re here all the time, or i only see you once a year, as long as you’re doing what you love and are safe. I’m happy. Of course, i’ll miss you but don’t ever have me holding you back.”

Charlie pulled in outside Billy’s house. You unbuckled your seat belt and moved to open the door but Charlie caught your wrist. “Don’t worry so much, (Y/N). Don’t let this stuff get you down. You’re young. Enjoy it.” You nodded. “Thanks dad.” You said quietly who nodded before getting out.  “Enjoy yourself.” Charlie nudged you and Billy opened the door. “There he is!”  “Hope you don’t mind, I brought (Y/N).” Charlie clapped your shoulder lightly. “Of course not! Good to see you (Y/N) Jake and the boys are out back.” You smiled in response. 

It was tradition at this point for a bonfire to be made outside and so you weren’t surprised when you could smell it before you saw it. Not to mention the loud noises of the pack playing around. 

By the time it hit nine, you bid your farewell to the pack saying you had a long day and were ready to simply get to bed. They thought nothing of it. You looked for your father, both he and Billy returning inside to the kitchen for a refill. “Hey dad, i’m gonna head home. I’m really tired.”  “You sure? Take the car. It’s late and not safe. Straight home.” You nodded, taking the keys from him. “See you when you get home...bye Billy.” You waved as you walked away, heading to the front door. 

Your smile fell, keys in hand as you approached the car. You released your grip on the keys, they clattered to the ground. You walked by the car and into the woods. The final lie you intended to tell your family. 

You were running a little late by the time you got to your meeting place and Alec was sitting waiting when you arrived. He seemed happy to see you until he saw your face. “I was thinking you wouldn’t be able to make it. Are you alright?” You fought back your tears, pulling him into a hug, breathing in the scent you had been wanting for hours. “I’ve made up my mind.” Alec pulled back, tilting his head. You stared into your eyes as you dug into your pocket. Taking out your phone, you held it out to him. He looked at it for a moment before looking back at you. You nodded. 

Alice gasped, looking up from her homework. “What is it, Alice?” Jasper was beside her in moments. Alec took your phone from your hand, snapping it in half. You half-heartedly smiled at him.  “Don’t...” Alice muttered. “Don’t...”  “Alice?” Jasper lightly grabbed Alice’s shoulder. Alec’s fingers slowly weaved through yours beginning to walk backward, tugging you along and you complied looking completely entranced by him.  “Don’t...” Alice quietly pleaded, hoping she’d see you break away. A soft smile, grew on Alec’s face as he turned to face the direction he was walking, your hand in his as you walked by his side. The crushed remains of your phone remaining on the forest floor. Alice blinked, facing Jasper who looked concerned. “They’re gone.”  “Who?” Jasper pressed. 

Bella woke up to chaos the next morning.  “Dad?” She called out, heading down the stairs as she saw him pace, as he was on the phone. Immediately, hearing her voice he hung up the phone.  “Did (Y/N) come home last night?” He asked hurriedly. Bella shook her head.  “Not that i know of, I was asleep by the time you got home.”  “When did you go to bed?” Charlie asked.  “Around eleven.” This seemed to panic Charlie even more.  “What’s wrong?”  “I don’t know where (Y/N) is. Their bed is untouched! I can’t get through on their phone. My keys were left on the ground by the car when i went to leave. I told them to take the car! They’re not with any friends.” The phone rang again and Charlie wasted no time answering, eager for any news. Bella was stunned into silence. She rushed up the stairs and into your room to find it empty and the bed untouched, just as you had left it. Bella immediately felt sick.  “Dad, i’ll see if Alice has seen them!” Bella called as she hurriedly got dressed and rushed for her truck. Charlie kept an eye on Bella until she was in the truck, frantically talking. 

Bella was immediately hurried into the Cullen home by Esme the very second she pulled in. She barely got the time to read a text from Charlie telling her he was going to search for you. 

Charlie was exhausted by the time the evening came around. Billy had assured him they’d go out and look for you and in the meantime he should get some rest. He had fell asleep on the couch. Completely unaware of a man with red eyes standing over Charlie. The man was Riley Biers. Riley passed Charlie immediately climbing the stairs. He peered into your room. He had the wrong room judging by the photographs displayed around your bedroom. he checked the next room down the hall, after a quick look. Riley left with a scarf in hand.  Bella returned with Edward that night. She was unable to fully comprehend what was happening. You had ran away, willingly. 

You held Alec’s hand as he introduced you to Aro. “Ah, it’s a pleasure to see you again, dear (Y/N). Alec has been rather enamored with you.” Aro smiled slyly and you smiled in response. “It’s nice to see you again too.”  “Would you do me the honour?” Aro held out his hand. Alice winced as the vision ended. 

Bella didn’t know what to do. Suddenly Edward sensed something was off, and hurried to Bella’s room. Bella barely arrived before he had declared that someone had been in her room. Later that night, after heading back to the Cullen house, she was told Victoria was coming for her. 

You were soon after declared missing, becoming another face on the missing posters. Riley Biers was the first, and then one by one, others disappeared, one of the latest being a girl called Bree Tanner from Las Vegas and now you were added to the list. Charlie could barely stomach your disappearance. He didn’t want to even think about suicide since you were troubled when you had disappeared and in the way you disappeared... it could very well kill him. 

Bella wasn’t prepared to see you again and nearly gasped when she did. You were dressed in black, eyes blood red. You had been changed. You looked completely uninterested to see her again, like you were looking at a stranger.  “(Y/N)...” Bella breathed. Your red eyes darted to her brown ones.  “How could you just get up and leave?” Bella completely forgot what was going on around her, the burning bodies close to her, Edward holding her to his side. Jacob with many if not all of his ribs broken. The Volturi staring her and the Cullens down. All to ask you the burning questions on her mind and it was like she was talking to a ghost.  “How could i leave before you dumped me with Charlie?” You asked lightly.  “What?” Bella couldn’t believe how cold your tone was. She remembered all the horrible things that had been said before and pieced it together. You didn’t forget.  “You’re making a mistake.” Bella spoke up. “It’s not too late. You’ve done this in anger and i know you’re mad at me but-”   "Alec loved me enough to change me. No laws broken. What's your excuse? Besides, Alec knew he could help me be stronger. From what I understand, you're still fighting Edward on that one." You said simply. Jane chimed in, agreeing completely. “Yes, Caius will be interested to know she’s still human.”  “The date is set.” Bella said, refusing to allow the Volturi to know just how heartbroken she was by your decision. None of the Volturi responded which allowed Bella the time to really look at you and the one thing she found hard to stomach was just how close you stood to Alec even if neither of you were touching. It felt definite in that moment. Alec Volturi had taken you from her.

#request #twilight #volturi #the volturi #reader #alec volturi #bella swan #twilight eclipse #one shot #oneshot