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seancekitsch · 3 years

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Powerplay: a Marko x Reader fic

part 3 of 3, previous part here

Warnings: harassment, vamp typical shit, cursing, death/killing, smut mentions, reference to the book

Marko was a good boyfriend, it turned out, except for when he wasn’t. You liked the sweet little kisses, the teasing way he snaps his jaw at you when you catch him staring, the way he holds you while you’re falling asleep even though he doesn’t have to.You like that he listens, more than your friends do. You rang another friend the other day, and were left waiting with the endless ringing again. You want to be upset, but they weren't as close as you were hoping they’d be. Your close friends were back in New York, three thousand miles and a year of working behind you. And they were Marko and his brothers now.

You love the way he keeps you safe, your protector being probably the deadliest thing you could encounter. You love the way he laughs, always joking and jovial. You always thought his smile hid a joke like some mystery, but now you're in on it too, and it's the funniest thing. There is no secret joke, just Marko seeing the world with eyes full of humor. He sees the little things, and now he shows them to you. You love the way you can speak without speaking. Silence followed by heavy laughter, kisses, and understanding.

You even love that week you were on your period and every night he ate you out until you screamed yourself hoarse.

“Marko,” you’d say, “lets ride.”

And he would obey, letting you hop on the back of his bike, always after work, always too fast. You'd like to imagine him crashing as the wind whips your hair, stings your face. What that would be like, huh. It's what you assume he feels like when he flies, free and wild in the night. He caters to your every whim, makes you feel the happiest, as long as the sun has set.

He was less a good boyfriend when he was hungry, brooding and refusing to get close to you. He would be irritable, pick fights, silent treatment. He would purposely leave you in silence, but he wouldn't ask for a taste, despite your offering. He respected you enough not to try that. Other times, he would make sure that you could hear every thought in his head. His thoughts sounded like shouts, always telling you to get the fuck away, always reminding you how vulnerable you were, how easy to kill you’d be. It's almost maddening. You never knew which nights he would be the silent ones, or which ones would be the loud ones.

“Marko,” you’d say, “This is just temporary.”

You don't even have to think the words for him to know what you mean. Or those moments during the day when it's highlighted just how different he was, would always be. He would always be twenty and handsome and having fun, with a guaranteed group of friends. With a family he belonged with. You would always age, you would have to find something else to do eventually, and you would probably have to leave Santa Carla, because he wouldn't. You could always bore him, with Marko one day realizing you can't keep up anymore. You would always be weaker, and no matter how often Marko puts you first, he always holds the power. You’re only the decision maker because he lets you be. He could always take that power back. Find someone new when you get old and he stays the same age. He will always be this way, and you will always change.

It's those nights you think of pulling away from him, and you hope he never hears those thoughts. You love him, but he’ll always say it's not temporary. It's not true.

You love Marko today.

The jingling of the bell snaps you from your thoughts, head rising only to be face to face with one of the surf nazis. Huh, guess the boys didn’t clear all of them out. This one was tall, a skinhead with an upturned pug-like nose, wearing a lot of denim with eyes alight with mayhem in his agenda. Oh, please don’t fucking break anything.

“Hey Baby,” he sneers. God, his voice was even worse than his looks and his smell.

“Not your baby,” you deadpan, wishing desperately for him and his friends to leave without stealing or breaking anything forcing a sickeningly sweet customer service tone, “But what can I help with?”

Maybe good customer service will get them in-and-out quicker.

“That hot little body of yours could help me out,” his tone is outright mocking. God, is this how dudes like these think they can pull? You can’t even hide your grimace as you flinch at the words. If there was anyone else, just one other person working tonight, this wouldn’t be happening. You know this. Working nights alone practically invited this brand of harassment.

fuckfuckfuck. It’s way too early for Marko to be sniffing around, and if you can get them to leave the next four hours of your shift will be miserable. The man laughs, and it makes your blood run cold. He leans over the counter, past the little curtain of incense haze; breaching your only barrier of safety.

“I bet it could. Couldn’t it, baby?”

His large arms press against the glass of the counter and your eyes immediately flicker from them to the back room, where your knife is. He straightens up.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You frown, meeting his eyes now.

“Do you plan on buying anything we sell?” The Bauhaus record you have playing over the speaker skips, and you almost jump. It's just enough to break the tension, the rising bile in your throat clearing.

“I come in here for you, girlie,” and he affirms what you already know. Now that half of the surf nazis were gone, they were struggling to maintain their turf on the boardwalk. So harassment and torture at their hands were on the rise. Many people over the past few weeks had been dodging them in the stores around here, and now apparently they had caught wise to that. Done with it, you take a step back, leaning yourself against the back shelf to retreat further into the curtain of nag champa.

“You can fuck off,” you offer, gaining confidence as you realize the bong behind your head was more than affordable, and if you broke it over his head, you could cover it.

He opens his mouth to respond, but-

The bell on the door jingles again. A familiar smile fades into a scowl. Marko looks like one of those greek heroes tonight, maybe if only because his presence saves you from the gross comments (or anything worse) of the shaved head across the counter. He immediately distracts the surfer from you.

“Why don’t you get outta here, buddy? Me and the lady were just discussing me trying her out later,” the man spits, and you almost gag at the mental image of that.

Marko laughs, that high pitched full body laugh you love so much.

“That’s funny, buddy,” He throws the man’s nickname back at him, “Cause that’s my old lady right there.”

You loved and hated when he called you that. Technically, you are a year older than the year he turned. The first time you all realized that, Paul gave himself a stomach ache laughing over the ‘older woman’ Marko brought home. Tonight though, the nickname brings the biggest smile to your lips.

“Damn right I am,” you chime in, “and you couldn’t take the hint.”

Marko seals the deal by striding over to where you are and pulling you into a kiss over the counter. It doesn't take much more for the surf nazi to leave, the jingling of the door opening announcing his departure.

“I’m gonna make sure we kill the rest of them before the week is out.”

He waits the three hours it takes for you to be able to lock up behind the counter with you, loosely holding your hips and following you around, only moving away from you to pick out new records when one ends.

Come over tonight, Marko thinks, and you know it isn't a suggestion. You kiss him hard on the mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to press against you. His arms automatically find themselves around your waist, squeezing you as he eagerly returns the kiss. This wouldn’t be your first time at their dilapidated hotel, with sprawling caves and chandeliers and beautiful spray painted murals on the walls. The first time you were there, he brought you there while the others were hunting. He fucked you on any surface not covered with knick knacks they'd collected or takeout containers, leaving you to sheepishly blush while he proudly talked to the others when they returned, deep red hickies and a bite mark on your collarbone you couldn't hide. The next time, the boys and Star and Laddie welcomed you in with booze and a feast and a fun night where you had to crawl out of the cave at dawn looking like a mess. Either way, he waits for you to agree before he leads you to his motorcycle.

“Star, Why don't you just become one of us already?” Paul whined, holding his half eaten eggroll like a cigar, “You're already living with us, Mama. We just want to be friends forever.”

She scrunches her nose, smoothing the long hair of Laddie’s head in her lap. The boy was tired, their unofficial little brother or not, he was still an eight year old.

“Or maybe,” David starts, dropping down from the rim of the check in counter of the hotel, “Star can just have some fun with them and we don’t even have to do what Max wants.”

The boys all laugh, Dwayne’s shoulders turning inward, while Paul smacks Marko in the chest behind you. Whoever Max was, he was someone that could give the boys orders; something you didnt think possible besides their own little group hierarchy. You'd figured out pretty quickly that David was the leader, Marko was his right hand, Dwayne was the left hand; with Marko enforcing, playful and impulsive, and Dwayne being the level head, logical and the one who often kept the boys from fighting and made them all remember why they loved each other so much. Paul was the baby. Both literally and figuratively. He was the messiest, the most likely to slip up;. He was also the one turned last. So when Star decides to be one of them, she’ll be the new baby. Then Laddie.

“No,” Star affirms, “No, I can’t do that to Michael.”

“Michael,” David tests the name on his lips, tongue darting out to lick them after he says it. The curly haired brunette on the boardwalk had a name. Then his eyes flick to you. There's a sharpness to them that feels so different from Marko’s. David is trying to stare through you, not to look inside of your head, to look past it, to see any weakness. A challenge.

“Who’s Max?” you speak up from your spot on Marko’s lap. You can feel him tense under you, but David smiles.

“You don't know about Max? Marko, you didn’t tell her about Max?”

Marko’s hand wraps around your wrist as David continues.

“Max knows all about you, y/n. There’s a reason you're here.”

Here as in, still alive in a vampire den, or here tonight specifically?

Mind thing? You think, and Marko leans his head down against your shoulder as he nods.

“So he knows Marko and I are X-men? Is he Professor X?”

You hear Dwayne and Paul chuckle from the other side of the circle, and Dwayne mutters, “Yeah something like that,” as he swats his hand at Paul’s mesh-covered chest.

“He sired us,” David clarifies.

“You feel it right?” changing the subject, “You feel like you need to be near Marko?”

Marko squeezes your wrist in encouragement, and you nod.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You know what he means. It's the way you feel Marko before you see him, the way you can never sneak up on him.

You nod again.

“That’s what Max wanted to know. Marko, do you wanna tell her, or should I?”

What does he mean? You think and the man below you perks up.

Come with me. His palms grip your hips and gently push you to stand, and he follows suit before taking the lead.

He leads you towards the mouth of the cave, where you enter and away from any listening ears.

“So you know how David is dating Star?” he asks, voice low and close to you in the shadows.

“If that’s what they’re doing,” you joke, and he laughs along with you.

“Well, he thought they had what we have, and that's why she’s with us.” He reaches for your hands to hold them, dropping any playfulness from before.

“I’m supposed to turn you, Max thinks. He’s a lot older than us, and he says some vampires have mates or something similar to that. Others they have some deep mental connection with. The guys… we can hear each other sometimes if we try hard, because we’re a pack. I don't have to try with you and that's why Max thinks it's different.”

Turn you? Like, capital T- Turn you? Into one of them? If he turned you, you’d never see the sun again; never feel its warmth. You’d have to drink blood, and human blood at that. You’d become a killer, and you’d have to keep killing. While you aren’t innocent, killing kind of seems like it would be a stretch for you. Some of their victims had to be innocent, but would your hunger corrupt your morals one day?

It's like he can see the wheels turning in your head, ability to hear your thoughts or not.

“Y/n, you don't have to. Fuck, this was dumb to bring up. David thought you were ready, but if you don't want to I won't make you…” He trails off, visibly a little more deflated.

But if you did, you would be on the same level as Marko. All of the insecurities you have about your relationship would just… stop existing. Your relationship’s expiration date would disappear, your fears about having to leave him or him leaving you would disappear. You'd have people and a place to belong and lover and guaranteed group of friends to be a new family.

“How does it work, Marko?” your voice surprises him, and in honesty, he brought you to the mouth of the cave to give you an out. If you wanted to leave here, leave him specifically, he was going to let you.

“You gotta drink, uh, vampire blood.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You shrug.

“Are you sure? There's no take backs for this,” Marko’s voice is stern, unlike you ever heard it before.

Deadly sure, Marko.

He smiles, slowly like the moon rising in the night before it crescendos into the wide toothy grin you're so used to seeing.

Marko leads you back into the den of the cave where the others are hanging out.

Dwayne is the first to approach the two of you.

“Everything okay?”

You nod thankfully, offering him a smile.

Paul swoops in next.

“You better be tellin’ me you're joining the fam, chica!”

He tries to drape his arm around your shoulder, but Marko pushes him away playfully, both of the boys smiling.

“Let’s get this girl a drink!” Marko shouts, and the guys start up hollering and laughing.

Marko leads you back to where you had originally been sitting, his designated folding chair. He gestures to you to sit down, while he looks to David for something. Over his shoulder, you can see Star frowning as she watches on.

“Glad you got to talk it out,” David remarks as he hands a bottle of wine to Marko. Maybe you’ll be able to get used to his mannerisms in half a century. Marko hands off the bottle of wine to you, and your hands dip with the weight of it.

The wine bottle is bejeweled, another do it yourself project that the guys seem to love so much. It's heavy in your hands, dark and unseeing down the neck of it, but full. Marko crouches down between your legs, palms flat against your thighs as everyone waits with bated breath. You uncork the bottle, noticing the dark red staining on the cork, and knowing exactly what’s in it now. Two shaky hands bring the bottle to your lips, tilting your head back as you let the contents flow into your mouth, filling it. The ‘wine’ is thick, warm and salty but feels like it's already intoxicating you from just being in your mouth.

“That’s all Marko’s blood, you know,” David remarks, and you swallow deeply. All Marko. He drained his blood for you, weakened himself for you. Your eyes flicker to him, and he smiles up at you from his spot between your legs.

You smile back at him, widely, teeth stained with blood.

#my work #marko lost boys x reader #marko lost boys #marko x reader

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cmzucchero · 4 years

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a love for the ages.

summary: g/n reader wants to take a break from spencer, but things turn out to be more difficult than expected. uses (altered) lyrics from cornelia street, death by a thousand cuts, and i wish you would by taylor swift

requested: yes!! (and requests are still open!!)

warnings: tv 14 cussing, bar scenes and mentions of alcohol

———————————————————————

You make your way back home from the restaurant, alone. This did not surprise you, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t disappointed. This was your two year anniversary. You knew his job came first, and that was one of the things you loved about him- he was loyal. Unfortunately, you picked a man that had an aggressively demanding job he needed to be loyal to as well.

You sat in your car, passing streets, and stopping for red lights. You hopelessly look up and ask the traffic lights if things will be alright. Subconsciously, you think you hear them say ‘I don’t know’. The red glow fills your car as you quietly chuckle. ‘Great Y/n, now you’re really losing it.’ you think to yourself. After some time, you finally make it home. As soon as you walk into the door, you take off your shoes and throw the keys onto the small coffee table a few feet away from you. Finally, you sit down and let out a long sigh. You start listing all the times Spencer had stood you up, neglecting to inform you the plane was late or that there was a case.

Spencer did not like technology, and the thought of texting rarely crosses his mind. However, that did not mean you never crossed his mind. There is hardly a moment he doesn’t hear your voice instructing him to grab something to eat, that he would get more done if he rested, that it’s not okay to mix patterns with his shirt and tie; or that he passes a spot that somehow mimicked your aroma perfectly.

He had a damn eidetic memory, so he cannot believe he forgot about the date. By the time he remembered, he had already boarded the plane and lost cell service. ‘Okay, well, at the rate of velocity the plane travels at, we will be landing by 10:30. The flower shop closes at 11 and her favorite book shop closes at 11:30. The flower shop is 13 miles away-” Spencer’s thought process was interrupted by Derek asking if Spencer could move so Derek could get some “grub”. Spencer just moved his legs over in response, allowing Derek to cross.

“Hey, Reid, what’s on your mind?” Emily asked from across Spencer. “I- uhm- I forgot to let Y/n know that I can’t make it to our dinner tonight.” JJ and Emily share a look. “Spence, isn’t this your two year anniversary?” JJ asked, her voice laced with sympathy and bewilderment. “I know, I screwed up.” “Yeah, you can say that.” Emily said with a bit of a chuckle, but losing it as soon as she noticed Spencer’s reaction. “How do I fix this one?” Spencer asked a bit too helplessly. The girls shared a look again, ending when Emily looked back at the Doctor. “I’m not sure you can.” He just hopes he never loses you, he hopes it never ends.

It was no surprise you became bitter after listing off all of the times Spencer stood you up or stretched you thin. You began to pack your bags and leave Cornelia street, Hopefully you’ll be done before he even knew you were gone. That plan did cut out the rough confrontation.

He told you about his co-worker’s divorce, and you felt for the guy. His wife did not give him a lot of room to wiggle. Now you’re starting to think that was Spencer warning you what this job entails for the romantic partners of the team. You stood looking at the half full suitcase that laid on your bed you share. You want to run and hide, but he makes you turn right back around.

If you were right, Spencer should be over Kentucky. This gives you an hour and thirty minutes to make a decision. You needed a break, but this boy has had everyone leave him in this way, but he answer was clear… you’ve been stretched too thin.

The plane finally landed and Spencer did not take any time to get out of the plane and run to his car.

“I mean, yeah that plane ride was a bit too rocky for my liking, but didn’t pick the kid for a fear of heights type of person.” Rossi said while watching Spencer. “Hell, I would be running like that too if I had an angry Y/n to come home to.” Derek said smoothly walking to get his bags. Rossi made a “I know that story” face and followed Derek.

You didn’t even hit the tunnel before your phone started to ring. You knew it was him without even glancing at the screen. You decided against answering and just turned around. You waited a little bit after making your decision from earlier to test the universe. If Spencer came through that door, you would sit and talk about how you felt, but if not…

You made it to the door and started to look for your key. Spencer pulled open the door before you could fully get the key out. Your face remained unfazed, but you saw how full of worry he was. You’d be just lying if you said you didn’t feel a wave of guilt wash over you.

You push past him and stand between your breakfast bar and living room, facing him. He shuts the door and begins to apologise. You have to fight back the scream you felt bubbling up. You knew it was unfair, but damn it, tonight was supposed to be special!

You see flowers and a book lying on the same coffee table you had thrown your keys onto a few hours before. Damn, he’s playing all the cards in his hands.

You notice he had been quiet for a minute, so you turn and walk over to the window on your left, above the couch. Spencer watched you climb onto the couch and crawl out of the window, onto the fire escape.

You guys took every chance to sit out there for reading, eating, talking, anything. It had a nice view and had a way of calming the both of you rather quickly. Spencer followed you out. You both sat on the roof in silence before he said “I’m so terrified of you walking away, Y/n.” You sat, calming yourself and trying to find the best answer before you settled on “I think we both need to step away for a minute. Nothing permanent yet. I just think that would be the next step for right now. I just can’t pretend everything is okay when it’s not.” Neither of you looked toward each other, but you both knew you shared the silent tears streaming down your face.

Not much time passed before you got up, crawled back into the apartment, grabbed your stuff and left. You wanted to say something more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to it. Saying goodbye was already death by a thousand cuts. You drove back home with tears in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You had trouble sleeping that night due to all the flashbacks you kept getting of your time with him. You knew this was probably not the best decision, but at this point he probably thinks you hate him because he still has no idea what you never said.

Spencer walked into work the next morning, clearly off his usual game. Derek and Emily realized this and started saying some things that they knew Spencer would correct. To no avail, the Doctor still stared blankly at the papers on his desk. “Hey Pretty Boy, what’s got you head in the clouds?” Derek said, now turning his body towards Spencer. No response. Derek bumped into Spencer's chair, snapping him out of his trance.

“Wha-what?”

“Reid, are you okay?”

Derek asked now matching Emily’s worried features. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Has Hotch said anything about a new case?” Derek’s eyebrows are still furrowed as he slowly says no. After his response, Spencer stood up and announced he would be going to lunch early, and walked off.

“It’s 10:38.” Derek said more to himself than Emily. Emily nodded in response and walked over to JJ’s office.

Before your shift at the library, you went back to Spencer’s apartment and grabbed anything you thought you needed. Hopefully he wasn’t there. Why would he be? I mean he’s been out and at work for about two hours. You stuff some clothes, hygiene products, and books into a bag. For the past couple of years, he had always been at the back of your mind. Hell, he still is. Your heart, your body, your hips, your love..you're trying to find a part of you that he didn’t touch. Your time, your wine, your spirit, your trust..trying to find a part of you he didn’t take up. You begin to rethink your decision until rushing out before you have an unwelcome meeting with Spencer.

Spencer didn’t quite know where to go. His body and mind just followed his feet. Before he knew it his nose was hit with a musty and sour smell and his eyes had to adjust to the contrasting dark room. He was at a bar at 11:15 in the morning. ‘...great’ he said to himself. He slowly walked up to the almost vacant bar and climbed up onto the seat.

“Hey sugar, what are you having?” Spencer slowly looked up “Just a water please. I’m still on the job.” The bartender curtly nodded and slid a glass of water and a small cookie to Spencer. She sweetly smiled and turned around to top off the only other customer he saw in the bar. Spencer took a sip of the water and stared at the cookie, starting to smile a bit to himself. The sweet bartender came back and started talking to Spencer.

“So who was it? You still got a job that you’re loyal to. You seem too put together to be a regular day drinker. Wasn’t a death. So, who was the one who broke your heart?” Spencer looked at the bartender for a few seconds before answering.

“I can’t blame them if I’m being honest.” He said, diverting his eyes down to his glass of water. He chuckled to himself about what the bartender said about his job “And yeah, you can say I’m loyal to my job. That was the thing that caused the ‘break’” The bartender looked Spencer up and down “The only job I can think of that is that demanding would be the police force, but, no offence, you don’t look like you belong there.” Spencer laughed, picking at the cookie. “Yeah, I’m sorta the police. I figure out the psychology behind why people kill and my team and I help solve cases with that knowledge.” The bartender raised her eyebrows. “Intense” was all she said. Spencer nodded and dropped his eyes back down to his water.

After an hour or two, Derek walked into the bar. He looked around and moved towards Spencer. It wasn’t that hard to spot him since he was the only other person at the bar besides a trucker on the other end.

“Hey kid, you okay?” Spencer didn’t acknowledge Derek. They sat in silence until Spencer finally said “I gave them so much but it wasn’t enough.” Derek nodded and ordered a glass of water for himself. He knew they would be there for a while.

“Do you want my advice?” Derek said after a sigh. ‘No, I really just want her back.’ Spencer thought, but decided to remain silent. They stayed in the bar for a bit longer.

“Sure.” Spencer said meekly.

“You’ve got to win her back.”

“And how do you suppose I do that, Derek?” a more snappy response from the Doctor.

“Well, you could go to the library. She’s working today, right?”

Spencer nodded but was still confused about how going to their work and suffocating them when she wanted a break would win them back.

“I’ll go with you and we’ll say we need a book for a case.” Derek said, hopeful.

Spencer sighed. “They’ll know it’s an excuse.”

“No they won’t. What makes you think they will?”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

“And you’ve never read twilight.”

“What?”

“You’ve never read twilight. If they asks, we say that one of our unsubs is mimicking something from it.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, then gathered his coat and bag and made his way for the door.

“Alight!” Was all Derek said, grabbing his coat and following Spencer.

You were talking to your coworker about Spencer, not noticing the bell ringing from the front of the door.

“I mean it hasn’t even been 24 hours but I already miss him too much to be mad anymore.” you say, shaking your head, thinking you were being just a bit too pathetic.

Your coworker tried getting your attention by tapping her pencil rapidly. She wishes she chose a better distraction cause you kept going on while the certain FBI agent kept getting closer. Suddenly, Spencer ducked behind a bookshelf, leaving derek looking around confused after realizing his friend disappeared.

“I just have a feeling this will be the kind of heartbreak time will never mend, you know. I don’t know, I just wish he was right here, right now, and it’s all good again.”

“Well your last wish is granted!” Your coworker whispered, slightly agitated.

Your eyes grew as you looked around, looking for Spencer. The only thing you saw was Derek Morgan approaching the check-out desk with an alarming smug look on his face.

You felt your face heat up and turn red while you grab the book he slid over the counter.

“Hello Derek, what brings you in.”

“Oh, Pretty Boy and I have to get some books for a case.”

Your heart dropped. ‘Shit! He’s in here!’. Alarms start going off in your head. Derek leans over the counter and whispers “Don’t worry, I don’t think he heard.” Your eyes widen, but you are slightly relieved knowing Spencer didn’t hear your pathetic rambling.

You clear your throat and ask if that was all Derek was getting. He looked around, what you guessed was him looking for Spencer, and nodded. “Good bye, Pretty.” he said with a wink, then turned around toward the door. You continue to watch and see Spencer practically run out of the aisle closest to the door, following Derek out. You can’t help chuckle, despite the pain in your heart.

“Thanks for the warning.” you said to your coworker, Anne, while you were still facing the door

“I tried to tell you!”

“Yeah, sure” you chuckle, finally turning towards her.

“You wanna grab a drink tonight. No offense, but it seems like you need it.”

“Jee, thanks. I will take you up that offer.”

Anne was the only person you thought would have room to have you as a roommate until you find another apartment. You felt bad for barging in, but you didn’t think your car would suffice. Besides, she owes you for all the shifts you picked up.

Spencer ended up going back to work with a stupid book and a large dent in his pride. The rest of the day was slow. There was no case and the other members apparently took most of his files. He didn’t argue with them, though. He was drained and thankful they took that load off of him. He finished his stack about an hour before he was supposed to leave, but Hotch allowed him to leave. He felt weird about going back to the bar, so maybe he’ll just camp out at his apartment. After a moment of thought, he decided just to ride around in his car. He knew the apartment would remind him of you too much. It’d be like sitting in a haunted room, waiting for a sign of you coming back.You haven’t even been gone for 24 hours. How could he feel this raw and vulnerable?

“What are you wearing?!”

“Uhh, some clothes.”

“Those aren’t clothes for the bar!”

“I mean they do sorta meet up the dress code. I’m not trying to get any guys. I don’t want a rebound. Just want to forget for a while.”

“The only way to really do that is with another guy, Y/n.”

“No, Anne. By the way, you’re wearing two different earrings.”

“Oh- thanks!”

Anne rushed back into the bathroom while you stood in the middle of the living room. You felt a bit awkward, so you pulled your phone out of your jeans. ‘What does she mean ‘these aren’t bar clothes’?’ you thought. You were wearing jeans, converse, and a jacket over a shirt. What else are you supposed to wear?

You were broken from your thoughts by Anne walking out and hollering. You two weren’t very similar, whatsoever, but she was your closest friend in D.C., besides Spencer, but that doesn’t really count right now, does it? Anne was ushering you out the door with her, only pausing to lock her apartment door. You had no idea how this night was going to play out.

“C’mon, you came here to forget- shot.”

Anne was persistent trying to help you forget Spencer. You would’ve complied if you knew that you getting drunk wouldn't be enough. Once the morning came, you would be hit with the realization that he was not yours.

You endured a few more shots before sneaking away from Anne. You left her in a booth while you climbed up into a bar stool.

“Hey hon, whatcha want?”

“Just a water please”

The bartender gave a nod and slid the water over. She tended to a few other customers before she circled back to you.

“So what’s got you in the slumps?”

You’re a bit taken aback from her blunt demeanor, but at least she wasn’t giving you shots.

“I asked my...my boyfriend? I don’t know, I asked for a break.”

“And now you’re upset?”

“Yeah, I am. Sounds so stupid, but I think it’s too late to go back to him. I just got so frustrated! He’s more loyal to his job than to me. I mean, it’s a noble job, I’m not that upset about that, he just doesn’t communicate well!”

The bartender looked like she knew something when you talked about how Spencer was loyal to his job. You brushed it off as her being familiar with the same situation.

“I don’t think it’s too late. I actually think he might be just as down in the dumps as you are.”

“I don’t know. What makes you think that?”

“Cause there was a tweaky little guy in here earlier today. Eileene gave him a glass of water. I was eavesdropping from the booth. He barely talked- just poked at his cookie.”

You felt your heart start to race. Spencer was upset! ‘Of course he is, idiot.’ you cursed yourself.

You looked back up to the bartender, thanked her, slid a 10 across the bar, and rushed over to find Anne.

Spencer had been driving for a while now and he figured he should probably brace himself to enter the apartment.

He felt a painful ping in his chest when he passed the street the apartment complex rested on. All the memories started flooding back in. The dinners- cut to the break up. The Doctor Who marathons- cut to the breakup. All the whispered questions asking what someone meant in a movie- cut to the breakup. He knew he wouldn’t be able to pass the bathroom without smelling you.

Spencer opened the door and stood in the doorway for a minute, taking in the picture. You weren’t cooking, or dancing to Dean Martin; you weren’t lying on your stomach, reading; you weren’t hunched over your laptop, writing; and he didn’t hear your soft snores from the bedroom. It was colorless, silent, and empty.

After a few shaky steps towards the living room, he shut the door. He felt like a stranger in his own apartment. Without you, it was so bland and different. He couldn’t stomach any food, and he had already completely marked out the idea of going anywhere near the bathroom for a shower.

Spencer fell onto the couch and just stared. Your shoes weren’t by the door with your socks kicked several feet from them. Your keys were missing from their usual spot. Your presence was gone. And until yours came back, Spencer’s was gone.

You have two choices. Keep your pride and learn to live without Spencer, or, you would swallow your pride and go back home. Between the pain in your heart and the rain, you chose the latter.

He was upset, he skipped work, he came into your library. You stopped in your tracks. They had a case. He shouldn’t be home. He wouldn’t be there. If he’s not then maybe that’s just the universe- ‘No, Y/n, last time you thought the universe would choose for you it was wrong. It’s the thing that got you into this shit show.’ You began to walk again, quickening your pace every block you pass.

Spencer didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard a knock on the door. He slowly got up, trying to piece himself together for Derek or anyone else on the other side of the door. He had gotten to the coffee table when he heard keys jingling. His entire body halted, then jerked forward. He swung the door open as soon as you stuck the key into the lock.

You and Spencer stare at each other before, in unison, you practically leaped forward. You missed his smell. You have gone weeks without seeing him, but you never missed him as much as you have in these 24 hours. Spencer felt his spirit recharge the longer he held onto you. It made no sense to him, but he didn’t question it. He just wanted to stay like that, with you, forever.

“I probably smell like a wet dog.” you say, muffled, into his chest.

Spencer let out a laugh and pulled you out, arm length away, and still holding onto your shoulders. “Yeah, but I don’t really care right now.” You both break into ear-to-ear smiles while he pulls you back in to shut the door. He wanted both of you to stay in that apartment forever.

Both of you awkwardly stood in the hall between the living room and kitchen.

“I’m sorry.” you practically blurt out “I was just mad and childish. I wanted to be alone but I didn’t necessarily want to break it off. I think that was the anger. I don’t know. I just want that to go away. I’m sorry-” your rambling was cut off by spencer.

“Y/n, it’s in the past. It’s over now. You’re back. I’m back. It’s fine.”

You weakly laugh and just step back into him, tucking your head into his chest. He wraps his arms around you.

Spencer had always said it was a great love you two shared. You’re just so glad that the pages are still being written.

AN: Hello, thank you so much for reading!! I hope you liked it!! I always accept constructive criticism!! This one was a challenge! Between making 3 breakup songs have a happy ending, and all the technical difficulties, it was a bit hectic, but SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE!! I love challenges, so if you have any requests, send them my way (guidelines are in masterlist)!! Hope everyone has a day/night!!! <333

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alicenttully · 3 years

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Friends in Bravvos

It might never have happened at all, if she hadn’t always felt a little lonely.

It wasn’t fair. It was not as though Helaena lacked for siblings, being the tenth-born. But by the time she is born Aegon and Daenerys are long dead, the would-be heir and the beloved first daughter; who did not live long enough to fall short in their parents’ eyes. The others- Aemon, Baelon, Alyssa, Maegelle, Vaegon, and Daella are men and women grown by the time Helaena is a maiden flowered at twelve. They led their own lives, and had as custom decreed married appropriately to preserve their Valyrian bloodline – Baelon to Alyssa and Aemon to their half-aunt, Jocelyn. Maegelle and Vaegon took vows too, but not to each other. Maegelle became a Septa, and Vaegon had chosen life at the Citadel. Little Daella, as Jaehaera had always thought of her, for her small stature and fragile but loving spirit, might have had a happy life as Lady of the Eyrie, but Daella is dead. The same as Alyssa and Viserra. The former had none of Daella’s timidness but in the end both sisters met their end in the birthing bed. Of her siblings, Helaena had been the closest in age to Viserra, but it still felt like there was a world between them. Helaena always felt a little imitated by Viserra. She was hardly the loving older sister in the way Maegelle or Daella or even Alyssa at times, but Helaena had trailed after her as a little girl, hoping to win her favour. Viserra could be as cruel-tongued as she was beautiful sometimes- but she had been her sister, and it was remembering the way Viserra would sometimes allow her to come into bed, or occasionally indulged her in a game, or told her a wicked joke, that Helaena wanted to remember.

Or it might not have happened if she hadn’t been always a bit careless. Forgetful, absentminded. She was always misplacing things. Perhaps if she had been better, she would have remembered to take the moon-tea. She had once misplaced a book of Vaegon’s, and he had stopped talking to her for a month. Her Maester had told her she needed to be more careful with her work- but honestly what was the point, when she is neither the heir or the oldest daughter? She is a princess, is a Targaryen. She might be the tenth-born, and not as brave as Alyssa or beautiful as Viserra or bright and diplomatic as Maegelle but she is the blood of the dragon. Targaryens were special. They weren’t like other men – because the gods had deemed only them fit to mount dragons. Such a power was the very reason Jaehaera was a princess – her great-grandfather Aegon the Conqueror hadn’t simply asked nicely to have control of the seven kingdoms; which back then truly was seven kingdoms before it was formed into one. It was part of the reason why she couldn’t understand at times why Maegelle wanted to be something as ordinary as a Septa.

Perhaps it was just always meant to happen.

II.

It was her maid who noticed the suspicious curve of her stomach as she prepared Helaena for her bath, and thus went to the queen. Alysanne comes to her, white-faced and grips Helaena by the arm. “Please, Helaena.” Her voice is tight, almost as if she is crunching on broken glass. “Please, tell me you have not laid with a man.”

Helaena wrenches free. “I have not laid with anyone.” She hates the tremor in her voice. But she is frightened. She remembers Viserra, and even Viserra hadn’t done what she had. Helaena wants her mother to take her into her arms and whisper that it will be all right. Had Viserra secretly hoped for the same thing, that their mother would tell her she did not except her to go through the match with Theomore Manderly anymore?

Alysanne shakes her head. “You and I both know that is not the truth.” “You did not ask for the truth. You wanted me to tell you that I am a maiden still. So, I did.” Viserra was always truthful about wanting to be a queen.

III.

Her father’s anger is a storm. “Helaena, do you realize what you’ve done? If this gets out- do you understand what it will mean for you, in terms of getting a match?”

King Jaehaerys is breathing heavily, his arms crossed. Even afraid, Helaena wants to laugh. “I’m the tenth-born. I’m so far down the succession line I might as well not be in it at all. What match were you going to get me, Father? Were you going to marry me to lords who already had children of their own like Viserra and Daella? At least Alyssa’s children would have been their own heirs.”

Her mother, who is standing beside him flinches at the vehemence in Helaena’s voice. Her father’s mouth remains a taunt line. “Your match was mine and your mother’s concern, girl.” He sighs. “There is only one thing to be done.” “You will be sent to a mother-house to have the child.” It is her mother who speaks, gentle and soft, as if they think it will be easier to hear from her. “Once you have given birth, if the child lives arrangements will be made for them. If you have a girl, she will be promised to the Faith. If a boy, he will be sent to the Citadel.”

“Will I be able to write to them? Visit them?” Helaena whispers. “It is my wish that you do so, but your father….” “It is better that you do not.” Jaehaerys interrupts.

“Why?” Helaena wails. “First you decide my child’s future- what if they don’t want to be a bloody Septa, or a Maester? But now I can’t – I can’t…” Helaena is crying, and she furiously wipes her tears away. She had promised herself she would not cry. “Your child is a bastard and will count themselves fortunate to have stability.” Jaehaerys snaps. Then, his voice softens. “If they do not take to the Faith or the Citadel, I promise that other arrangements will be made to make sure they are taken care of. As for you, you will be married to someone I deem appropriate.”

Appropriate. What they had thought appropriate for Viserra was an old Northern lord who had already lost four wives in childbed.

IV.

Of all the septas at the Mother-House in Old-town, only Septa Alerie was different. Septa Alerie was once Alerie of House Rosebud. She even looks rosy, with bright red cheeks and a rosebud mouth. When Helaena had first arrived, she had refused to speak to anyone. The other septas had said nothing, perhaps thinking that she needed to be alone in her thoughts. Septa Alerie is unperturbed and happily chatters away.

“I was promised to the Faith, like many other girls.” She says, while Helaena pretends not to listen. “You see, my older brother almost drowned as a boy- and it happened to be our Septa who saved him. My mother was so grateful she promised herself that she would give one of her children to the Seven when the time came. And well, because I was the third-born- it came down to me. Leo was the heir and it is easier to find matches for an elder daughter than a second-born.” If Alerie feels any sense of resentment over this, she does not show it. By all accounts, she seems happy enough. Maybe Helaena’s daughter will be the same- if she has a daughter. Perhaps Helaena is being stupid.

Over time, Alerie breaks down the wall Helaena has carefully built. “I don’t want to give away my baby.” She whispers tearfully to Alerie. Alerie bites her lip, and turns away. There is a sad, far-away look on her face; as if she remembering something, she wishes she didn’t. “It will be all right. You will have other children.” Alerie tries to assure her, but her voice is doubtful.

“I don’t want some stupid old lord’s children! I want the child I already have!” She is sobbing, now.

“I don’t want my child to not know who I am.”

Her despair must have touched Alerie so deeply that when her sister visits them, she gives Helaena hope. “My sister was wed to wealthy lord, and she has a generous heart.” She tells the princess. “For the years I have been here, she has sent me some gold each month. I’ve been using it to help the Mother-House and our services for the small-folk. My sister and I have talked, and we have decided to give you some gold, and send you to some trusted friends in Bravvos.”

Helaena’s heart flutters, but she is still afraid. “But if my father finds out…”

“Acts worth doing sometimes mean there’ll be terrible consequences.” Alerie locks eyes with Helaena. “I do not make this decision lightly. And neither should you. You realize what this means, don’t you? If you go through with this, you cannot go back. Our friends will care for you, but not always- you will put your talent with a needle to good use and an apprenticeship will be found for you. It will not be easy, sweetling. I ask again, are you certain princess?”

She is right- if Helaena does go through with this, then she is entering a life when she will be a princess just in name. Her life will be filled with uncertainty, in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people.

Viserra died because she wasn’t careful.

No, Helaena thinks furiously. Viserra died because she wasn’t given a choice. Helaena wants her choices, whatever they may be.

“I’m certain.”

Helaena will never be able to repay Alerie’s kindness, but Helaena promises herself as she sails away on a ship with gold and a guard (“I trust Byren with my life” Larissa tells Helaena, “So I trust him with yours”) towards Bravvos, that one day she would pass on the kindness that Alerie and her sister had shown her to someone else. Helaena feels ashamed for her feelings of superiority, for thinking she was better because she was born a Targaryen. Alerie’s actions is proof that she isn’t – proof that her father isn’t, in his unthinking cruelty. Neither is her mother, who makes promises that fall through.

Helaena loves her parents, still. She loves all her family; she does not want to leave them – but she wants her child more.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #got #house targaryen #fire and blood #anti jaehaerys i targargaryen #anti alysanne targaryen #self indulgent writing #alternative universe

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shnuggletea · 4 years

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InuKagWeek 2020

Alright, to those of you still here, thank you! To those of you who left... eh, it's your choice. Anyway, here is chapter two day two of InuKagweek 2020! Loyalty. @inukag-week thanks for the poster art and here’s my day two! Still working on my own art for this piece. Something I was working on a while ago and quit. Hence why Kagome looks way better if you ask me. Thank you @petri808 for showing me a few tricks for my posts on tumblr!

Chapter 2 of 8 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Fanfiction link HERE

AO3 link HERE

Or if you’d rather, just reading reading!

Loyalty

If I'm being honest, I never had a job in food service. But I had to assume they were all the same mostly. Things like learning the names of the drinks and the regular customers as well as how to handle a tray filled with heavy things were to be expected. However, given my place of 'work', getting grabbed, touched, and pinched wasn't. Two weeks later and I was as used to it as you could be. When you go from living in a girls home, sharing a room, and counseling sweet innocent children to your own space in a mansion and bringing drinks backstage to the dancers, it would never feel normal.

The girls were nice enough though and I never saw Inuyasha which I was fine with. Mostly.

I'd even made friends with most of those that worked there. Some were just there to strip and make money so a little inexperienced waitress wasn't worth their time. Which was fine. But my favorite was a girl named Sango.

Her eyes brightened at the sight of me, a smile on her pretty face as she paused in putting on her fake lashes. I handed off the other drinks, giving Sango her whiskey sour last. "Oh, I do love the nights you're working Kagome."

"Which is every night?"

Sango giggled, taking a sip and moaning her appreciation of the flavor. "Yes. But you are so quick with our orders. The others take forever."

"I just don't want you guys going without some liquid courage. I couldn't do what you guys do."

Sango tisked her tongue at me as I leaned against her vanity table. "It's not that bad. I mean, the audition was a little awkward."

"Audition?"

Sango went back to her makeup, lining her lips with a dark red lipstick. "Yeah. Having to get naked in from of the boss? That was nerve-wracking, wasn't it? Naomi told me she had to do the same thing even as a server. You had to too right?"

I shuttered. So everyone had to do that? Inuyasha had slept with every single girl in this place as an audition? Was that what that was? I lost my virginity to a man like that?

I swallowed my disgust and the rising vomit in my throat, suddenly feeling a desperate need to get checked for STDs because he definitely didn't wear a condom with me, and pushed off the table. "I should get back to it."

"Yep yep. Don't want the boss to catch you slacking!"

As if he could, he was never here. Too busy 'auditioning' more girls. The only one here every day, giving me a hard time, was Koga. He was always somewhere around the club, waiting to bark at me for doing something wrong or touch me. It was never in an inappropriate place but it was still unwanted. A hand on my shoulder or a push to my back. Once, he patted my butt and I nearly tore his arm off. He hasn't done it since but I see him do it to the others all the time.

Returning to one of my tables, I leaned in to be heard over the loud music. The girl on stage now was talented for sure so I was always surprised when anyone gave me their attention over those on stage. Probably thanks to the required low cut top I had to wear. It wasn't even a top really, it was a vest and I barely fit in it. There definitely wasn't room for a bra. And the pants sat low on my hips so my skin showed all the time. Every time I leaned over, I waited for a breast to fall out. Not that anyone would mind, save for me.

Plastering a smile on my face, I listened as the guy I was attending rattled off a drink order as slowly as he could to keep me there longer. It was a struggle to keep my fake smile up. He finally finished, certain he was touching himself under the table the whole time, I fled to the bar. Far from safe, it still had fewer men ogling me at it.

I rested, waiting for my order and Naomi stood next to me. "Hey, Kagome? I'm not really sure I should say something but...there's a guy here who keeps sitting in my section and watching you."

I suppose stalkers were a normal thing here. It didn't mean I was okay with it. "He's watching me? With that going on?"

I thumbed towards the stage as Sango did a super sexy split on the pole. Not sure what I'd do with myself if I was ever that sexy but it was nice to dream. "Well...I've only been here a few days but yeah. I wasn't going to tell you until I was sure. I mean he's far less creepy than the other guy that watches you…"

"There are two guys watching me?!"

She grabbed my shoulders to reassure me. "I'm not really sure! I haven't even been here a week yet. But it seems like this guy is definitely here to watch you. He sits in the corner booth in the back so he can see you but you never seem to see him…" I gently pulled from her hold and made the quick decision to face the creep. "Wait, Kagome!"

I waved back to her, heading off towards the mentioned table. "Don't worry, I won't get you in trouble."

I didn't have to go all the way to the table, figuring out pretty quickly who it was. Shaking my head and growling a laugh in irritation, I walked right up to Inuyasha who looked a little taken aback that I seemed to notice him. Crossing my arms over my chest served two purposes; hiding my overexposed breasts and showing him how pissed I was at him in general. How the hell did Naomi not know who this was? She auditioned for him last week!

Setting his drink down carefully, he cleared his throat over the loud music and adjusted his seat. "I just wanted to check on you, that's all. See how my investment was holding up."

That wasn't good enough for me and I told him as much by not changing or saying a thing.

"This is my club, damnit, I can come in and do whatever the fuck I want."

"Yes you can, Boss," Koga said, coming up from behind out of nowhere. "Everything up to your standards?"

There was something about Koga. He said one thing but clearly felt another. Inuyasha had to be ignoring it, no way he missed the indignation in Koga's demeanor. "Everything is fine, Koga. Except for your customers getting too handsy with the wait staff!"

To my added irrigation, Koga put his hands on my shoulders as if to hold me steady. Never did I ever need another to keep me steady or still and now wasn't the exception. I glared over my shoulder at him but he ignored me. But then his hands popped off me as if burned and I turned back to Inuyasha who looked ready to kill someone. And that someone was Koga so he stepped further away from me.

"I'll..uh...I'll see what I can do about that, Sir."

Just the two of us again, I turned to leave but Inuyasha called out to me again. "Looks like you're blending in here. A real chameleon or just within your element here?"

Turning on my heel, I stormed back up to his table. Leaning over I put my finger as close to his face as I could. "I survive. It's what I've always done and those girls back at the home wouldn't if they were tossed out on the street. So remember that when you think I'm okay with any of this. With you, this place, getting my ass grabbed daily, or even going through your audition. I'm a survivor and I will survive this."

He had backed up a little in his seat but I'd rid the distance in an instant. Big golden eyes danced between my finger, eyes, and lips. "I can see that." I slowly removed myself from his bubble and he crossed his arms over his chest like he was the one wronged. "I said I was sorry the other night. I lost control and took things too far…"

"Do you say that to all the others too? Is this your blanket apology for using women the way that you do?"

He had been looking toward the exit but snapped back to me with my words. "What are you talking about?"

I huffed, pissed to the point of tears. "Fine. Play dumb. Stop coming here and watching me. I'm not going to screw up your stupid club."

He tried to say something but I really wasn't interested. It wasn't like we didn't live together, not that I ever saw him at home either. If he really wanted to talk to me, he could do it there.

I caught Koga grinning at me as I stormed away, feeling Inuyasha's glare on my back. All I could think was that I really had fallen into a den of demons somehow.

oOo

Checking every day, every hour, I didn't see Inuyasha return. A week had passed and he hadn't come back to the club. Meaning things went back to the way they were, not seeing or hearing from him at all. This time I was glad.

That is until I got to work on another Friday night.

The place was packed and Koga was far too pleased about it. "Kagome you're going on stage tonight."

"Wait, what?!"

"We're short-staffed and I've gotten requests. So you're dancing tonight. Be ready to go on after Kiki."

I was numb, staring at my reflection at the vanity that Sango let me use. She was doing something with my hair but I felt none of it. The only man I'd ever been naked in front of was Inuyasha and I was fine with that. It was a livable condition to my servitude. But now I was going to be naked in front of a ton more. As I said, the place was packed tonight so easily 50-60 people were going to see my bush.

"It's not that big a deal, Kagome, I promise."

"That's easy for you to say! You can dance! And you're super sexy."

Sango sat down beside her and frowned. "You're sexy!" When I frowned in return, she kept on. "You are! Plus, dancing isn't so bad. You're alone and no one is touching you. It's easy to pretend you're just dancing in front of your mirror. Stay out of the champagne rooms though. They touch a lot in there."

I'd heard about those rooms and had stayed clear the entire time I'd worked here. But I was a server. As a dancer, if someone paid to take me in there, didn't I have to go?

The question was bouncing around in my brain when the door to the dressing room slammed open. Inuyasha took a quick look around and when his eyes landed on me, they went from bronze to molten metal. The others squealed and ran while I was frozen in my seat, Sango stuck by me even as he stormed up and ripped me up from my seat. The only thing he said or did before dragging me out was grab a robe and throw it at me.

"Cover yourself."

In the bra and panty set I had worn there that night, cause no way in hell was I borrowing from anyone else, it was nearly my turn to go on but Inuyasha was taking us towards the exit. Koga stood near it, shaking with anger and...fear?

"I told you. I fucking warned you. She's not to go on the fucking stage. Ever. She can't even dance!"

"Look, I got requests, what was I supposed to do…"

"Tell them to fuck off, that's what! Jesus, what the hell do I pay you for?! When some asshole with a few bucks tells you what to do and you listen to them instead of me?"

Koga's head hung low but I didn't feel any pity in the slightest. "Sorry, Boss."

Inuyasha still had my hand in a death grip but he put his free one on Koga's shoulder. It was the kindest act I'd ever seen him do. "If anyone bothers you, you call me. Got it?"

I didn't get to see how Koga reacted, Inuyasha pulling us out into the night. He stopped, only to wrap his coat around me before shoving me into his car. The ride was silent until I could take it no longer. Anger was surging in me. Sure, he saved me but who asked him anyway?!

"I don't get you at all. You put me in a strip club to work but then get pissed because people want me to take off my clothes?"

"You're a server."

"IN A STRIP CLUB! What did you think was going to happen?!"

"I thought you'd do your fucking job!"

A dark laugh escaped my lips and Inuyasha turned to glare at me. "My fucking job? Interesting words coming from you. Considering you bought me to fuck you."

"I told you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to …"

I wanted him to stop apologizing because it made the loss of my virginity a regret to him. I didn't regret it, I had enjoyed it until he opened his fat mouth! "It doesn't change a thing! Your apology doesn't change that night and it doesn't make my hymen magically grow back! And it doesn't change your complete lack of care for my feelings on the subject either!"

"Lack of care?!"

"I know I should be thankful...that things could be a lot worse…" I really tried not to, because I didn't want to give him my tears, but I couldn't stop them either. "But it's hard to feel anything but resentment when I went from being surrounded by angels all day to working for the devil."

I cut my sobs off after five escaped and Inuyasha listened to each one. It made me wonder if he got off on them until he spoke again. "The devil huh? That's how you see me?"

Nothing more was said even as we split off to our rooms. The devil going silently into his and I could honestly say for the first time that I hated someone. Cause I hated Inuyasha.

oOo

I half expected Inuyasha to show up at the club again the next day. But with him nowhere in sight two hours in, I considered him a no show and went about business as usual.

Sango was happy to see me, jumping up as soon as I entered the dressing room while everyone else seemed surprised to see me as well. "Oh man, last night was intense. You're okay, right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Inuyasha is just...weird…"

"Weird? I thought it was hot as hell. I wish I had a boyfriend that protective. I was wondering why you were just a server all this time but now I get it…"

"Wait," I stopped her ramble with a gentle hand in her face, "that guy is not my boyfriend."

"Huh? Then who the hell is he? The way he dragged you out of here I thought for sure he made you quit…."

"What the hell do you mean, who is he? He's the boss!"

Sango's face and those eavesdropping around us twisted in confusion. "No, Koga's the boss."

I looked around, finding faces that agreed. "Wait...so when you said you auditioned for the boss…"

"Yeah, Koga. He made us all strip for him in his tiny little office. I was scared he'd do more but that was it."

I felt faint, my head getting light and my breaths feeling shallow. "But I thought… Inuyasha…."

"Kagome? Are you alright?"

Sango was holding me up off the floor and I gripped her shoulders tight. "Yeah, I just… need some air…"

If she didn't have her first set in five minutes, I was sure Sango would have gone with me. As it was, I wasn't sure I wanted the company anyway, following her finger to the back door of the dressing room.

It was freezing out, middle of January, and snow falling lightly from the black sky above. The cold helped my brain though, forcing the sticky feeling inside it to freeze so it would function.

So when Inuyasha said he was sorry...what had he said? He didn't mean to, that he lost control. Did he never intend to sleep with me? He was Koga's boss but not the boss of the other women? How did that make sense? It was if he had some kind of loyalty and he was actually showing it to me but I didn't understand or know how to take it.

Damn, now I hated him a little less.

"Hey."

So lost in thought, I missed the guy standing nearby, smoking. He took a step closer and I took a step back. It pushed me into the dark and him into the light. The bright red bulb at the end of his cigarette as he took a long drag and then tossed it. His features were sharp and dangerous looking, even with his long, wavy locks that softened his appearance. It was his eyes really, they were dull and lifeless and set on her.

"You're...Kagome right?" I really didn't like that he knew my name. "I'm a bit of a fan of yours. I'm Naraku."

He stuck out a hand but I refused to remove mine from their wrapped position around my chest. Naraku chuckled as he dropped the offer, digging in his pocket for something so I took another step back. A new cigarette and lighter in his hands, I still didn't relax, trying to slide towards the door. If he noticed, he said and did nothing as I grabbed a hold of the handle and pulled with all my might. But the door didn't budge.

"It's locked from the outside. Usually, the girls leave something to block the door but I guess they didn't tell you about that, did they?" he was grinning while my skin was trying to find a new home far from him. "Why don't you dance? You have a killer body and are so damn sexy. Does Inuyasha have a reason for not letting you? I must admit, it has me curious about your relationship to him."

"We don't have a relationship past employee and employer."

He shook his head, clucking his tongue at me. "Koga is your boss. Or...isn't he?" I fidgeted, looking for a way out. "Oh...I see… you belong to Inuyasha, don't you? Just what is your title then?"

My only choice was to walk around the building to the front, which I was about to do when the door popped open and Sango's head appeared. "Kagome? There you are! Sorry, I forgot to warn you about the lock…"

I was breezing past her, not worrying about the slip-up and Sango was glaring at Naraku. "If you ever want a change of pace, Kagome, let me know."

The door slammed heavily behind us and I couldn't be happier. Sango was still looking behind us as if Naraku had a key he forgot to mention. "You should stay away from that guy, Kagome. I'm not sure why he's even allowed near the building."

"Why do you say that?"

She looked back at me, her face pale. "Well...he snaked away a few of the girls that worked here a few years ago to work at his house or something. He promised them more pay and no stripping. But the last I heard he was sleeping with all of them and only some of them were willing."

I didn't bother hiding my disgust, nearly vomiting on the dark tile below us. Sango looked sick too. We were making our way back towards the front, Sango required to 'meet and greet' after her show and get tips. I was supposed to get tips too but I think they all went to Inuyasha or something. They could all go to the home for all I cared, I was loyal to the cause.

Naomi ran up to us as soon as we made it out of the hall and into the main floor. "Kagome, someone is here for you."

If it was Naraku again, I was just going to slug him and call over Koga. But it wasn't him. It was Mother Kaede.

And Naraku shows up, so you know there's going to be issues. Drama. Angsty drama. Weeeeeee...

#inukag week #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fandom #inuyasha x kagome #angsty #fluff coming soon #no lemons today

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amusedyan · 5 years

Text

Over Your Shoulder

A gift for @yandere-love-love-love (an absolutely awesome writer who produces q u a l i t y yandere content and is super indulgent w/ their followers) who mentioned in a post wanting to see Endeavor purposefully making his secretary uncomfortable.

I’m working on another one from that post, but I do love me some yandere Enji!

TW: sexual harassment, light stalking, threats of violence, yandere behavior

Special thanks to my friend and mod Kleos for taking a look and giving me feedback on this.

Srsly look at that man- would you want him over your shoulder?

Also, note, while normally I try to keep my insert characters gender neutral, I made this one female just because it worked better with my idea.

When you first got hired, the secretary you were replacing had given you a heads up on her, figurative, way out.

"Do your job and Endeavor will leave you alone."

She'd been leaving to get married, had been working at Endeavor's agency for nearly 10 years. She'd stayed on an extra week to train you (and give you some advice).

The former Ms. Kikuchi had told you how the complicated filing system worked, what numbers he wanted routed to him immediately and which ones to handle on your own. She showed you how to arrange the meetings and who to call for each (and where to find them in the directory she'd compiled for easy access). You learned how he liked his coffee, when he'd prefer tea (and what kind) and his preferred lunch habits.

You'd been overwhelmed but more than appreciative. How could you be anything but? It was your first job at an agency, and you were working for Endeavor! The new Number One! You’d be a fool to be anything but happy for the help, and You made her a "congrats on getting married and thank you for training me to handle this" cake on her last day.

So Ms. Kikuchi had told you how to do your job.

But then on your first day handling things alone Endeavor had appeared at your desk within the hour, sneering down at you through his flaming facial hair.

"I expect my employees to dress professionally." You could feel your face turning red, even through the confusion.

What was wrong with slacks and a nice cardigan?

"I'm sorry sir, but what's wrong with my outfit?"

"This is a professional environment. Because it's your first day, I'll let it go, but I expect you in a skirt or a dress starting tomorrow." He said lowly, and you nodded, trying not to sweat at the heat coming off him. "Am I understood?"

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir." You said quietly.

Endeavor nodded and returned to his office. You breathed a sigh of relief.

(You had to go shopping after work for skirts and dresses appropriate for work. Plus an extra pair of stockings. You winced at the total but paid anyway.

The next day you came in dressed neatly, feeling vulnerable in the new skirt.

When Endeavor came in he looked at you in passing, took in your outfit and nodded.

You figured that meant you were in the clear)

The next week, on his orders, you brought him lunch from the expensive deli that Kikuchi had said he preferred.

She'd left explicit instructions- he ate one thing from there, and if it wasn't right you would have to deal with it.

"And no one likes it when Endeavor's in a mood," Kikuchi had told you. You could believe that.

(He might be a hero but he wasn't...he made you want to flinch. Eye contact was best avoided. He took all the attention in a room, commanded a presence and smelled like smoke.

But the job paid well)

"What is that?" He said, the moment that you shut the door behind you.

"Your lunch?" You offered, a sinking feeling dropping into you.

"I didn't tell you what to get."

"No, but Ms. Kikuchi left a list of what you like. And since it was the deli, she said-"

"I don't care what she said. Unless I tell you what to get, don’t refer to the list!” He snapped, and you nodded. Endeavor took a deep breath, and you watched the flames on his face flicker and calm.

It was a conscious fight not to tremble as you stood there- if your knees started knocking than you were risking your balance in those ridiculous heels that completed your outfit.

“Leave the food. Don’t do it again.”

“Yes sir.”

(You didn’t call him out on the fact that he hadn’t told you what to get him.

And you didn’t repeat your mistake)

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You blinked up at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“A boyfriend? A husband? A sexual partner?” You were blushing so hard, you knew.

“N-no, I, no I don’t- why does it matter...?”

“I need to know that none of my employees are distracted.

It’s a continuing pattern in the following weeks. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t do your job, so Endeavor didn’t leave you alone.

Strange questions, personal observations, weird requests and orders that he deliberately made impossible to follow.

His looming figure was always over your shoulder, pointing out your mistakes, calling you out for the smallest of details; all those preparations that Kikuchi made to help you were useless, because unless Endeavor gave the order he didn’t want you doing it.

The problem was that Endeavor was not an easy man to ignore. He burned like a furnace directly at your shoulder, and you have to worry about sweating your makeup away because of it.

(And oh, the makeup- a little eyeliner and some tasteful gloss didn’t cut it for this man, no, professionalism always, which led to youtube tutorials...)

You were stressed. Very, very stressed.

One morning, though, you felt him shift behind you, and suddenly that heat was very intense right behind your head-

“I’m not a fan of green apples. Change it.”

Did...did he seriously...

“You just...sniffed my hair.” You said softly, face red and heart pounding. How- what? Enough was enough, this was...

You sat there in silent rage; was steam coming out of your ears? You thought it might be. How ironic.

How dare he- why did he think he had the right?

You thought long and hard about it that night and came to a decision.

The next morning you knew people were whispering about you, and who could blame them? You were wearing virtually the same outfit from your first day- pants and minimal makeup included. One last major show of defiance as you knocked on Endeavor’s office door.

“Come in,” he called calmly; it was funny, he’d never outright threatened you or even hurt you, but the sound of his voice, low and pretend polite, made you shiver with fear.

But you stood straight and stepped in, closing the door behind you.

“I wasn’t aware it was casual Friday.” He remarked, and you felt your lips twitch, just a bit. You sat down without waiting for him to ask. Endeavor was just the kind of asshole who wouldn’t, just to prove his dominance.

“It’s not,” you promised calmly, handing over your printed letter. “I just came to give you this.”

Endeavor’s hand dwarfed the paper it was so large, and you watched his eyes scan the printed type before they flicked back up to meet yours. “You’re resigning?”

“Yes. I wanted to give it to you in person.” It was only polite- besides, your mother had warned you about burning bridges.

He nodded and hummed. There was a pregnant pause as you watched him finish the letter. You thought that might be the end of it, had prepared for being thrown out of the building. You had enough money in your account to scrimp together for a bit, and well, you’d figure out what would come next. Customer service was still an option.

Then Endeavor incinerated the paper in a burst of fire that, had you jumping half out of your seat.

“Sit back down.” He ordered, and you meekly did so, heart pounding as he very calmly got up from behind his desk, strolled around and past you- when you heard the heavy thud of the lock your heart jumped up into your throat.

“Endeavor, sir-”

“Shut up.”

He was behind you again, but this time his too warm hands were on your shoulders, gentle, mocking restraints.

“You aren’t going to leave. You’re going to go home and you’re going to change into something professional, come back and resume work. I won’t even dock your pay.” Endeavor’s voice was low and quiet and it thrummed in your bones and made you shudder.

“You can’t make me. I’m not your employee anymore, sir.”

He hummed again. “That’s true, but it would be very hard to find employment if I spoke against you.”

No, he wouldn’t-

“That’s illegal,” you countered, trying to stay calm. He was a hero, for all his faults, he wouldn’t break the law. Would he?

“That’s true. But you know how rumors are, don’t you? I mean, my agency’s seen the way you dress, the way you look at me, how you constantly make mistakes for my attention-”

You tried to stand, but his hands forced you back down.

“But I don’t!”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is what people think. Now, if you’re a good girl and go home and get dressed, like I told you, things will be fine. We can even have a long discussion about it. Do you understand?”

He had you trapped. That rat bastard, he- he was actually-

“Yes. Yes, sir.” You whispered softly, closing your eyes at the feel of his lips on the top of your head.

“Good girl. Stay after work and we’ll have a nice long talk about your responsibilities as my secretary. I’ve let you twist in the wind long enough.”

#yandere #fanfiction #yandere fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere bnha #yandere mha #enji todoroki #endeavor #yandere enji todoroki #yandere endeavor

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madlori · 5 years

Text

Unveiled - Chapter 1

Unveiled, Chapter 1

by MadLori Word Count: 3300 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

Read this on AO3

[there will not usually be this many notes, it’s chapter 1]

Biology note: This is mpreg but NOT omegaverse. All genders have both reproductive systems, meaning anybody of any gender can get anyone else pregnant. Men and women exist, but gender presentation is a result of how things are arranged/presented. I'm not super into getting into a ton of details about this. Handwave, handwave.

Note about language: I made the conscious choice not to render anyone's dialogue in a particular accent or dialect, as I felt that in this setting it would be a distraction. We're gonna go with "everyone in the story is fluent in whatever language you'd like them to be speaking."

Note to my existing readers: This is my first story in this fandom. If you have followed me here from Sherlock or another fandom, please take note of the tags - this is unlike anything I've ever written before. My first foray into mpreg or RPF. If those things don't work for you, that's fine, then this fic isn't for you. No need to inform me.

Thank you to burning-up-a-sun and luckie_dee for excellent beta services, and to ljummen and right-of-the-curve for reading and reacting as I banged this out in record time.

-------

Zhenya had hoped to sleep in on his last morning as a bachelor, but his eyes flew open just past dawn and would not close again.

His wedding day. The culmination of several years’ work -- the selection of his consort-to-be, the negotiations, the contracts, the preparations...all of which he’d had minimal part in, because one simply didn’t arrange their own marriage, let alone their own embargoed marriage.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, going over and over it in his mind. Ceremony, blessing, consummation, and then...life as usual? Regular people had celebrations after their weddings. They gathered together with their friends and families, ate and drank, danced and celebrated along with the person they’d just married. Lots of photos, smiling faces, Instagram posts and hashtags.

For embargoed spouses, such celebrations were pointless. It was hard to rejoice with your new life partner when you weren’t allowed to see or speak to them, or even to know their name.

All that he knew about the consort was that he was from New Scotland, was Zhenya’s age, and of noble blood. It had been tempting to at least Google him, but poking around an embargo like that was inappropriate, not to mention insulting to the significant sacrifice being made by his new consort. This man had agreed to a restrictive situation to become Zhenya’s husband and bear his child -- the least Zhenya could do was respect his decision. Besides, the consort’s entire online presence would have been digitally embargoed by the palace tech team, which was really meant to shield him from the rest of the world’s snooping, but also served to thwart tempted spouses.

Zhenya’s parents had asked for quite a bit of input about what sort of person he hoped for as a life partner. They had already known that he preferred a male spouse, and had accepted his one additional condition for a match, but beyond that, he trusted them. He’d known since childhood that his marriage would be arranged and had accepted it, was even grateful for it. It was difficult to meet people when you were a Prince. Zhenya had dated his fair share of men, but he was never sure about their motives -- was his money a factor? his status? his fame? -- and his dates were often put off by the press attention, not to mention the trappings of royalty. He thought his chances of finding happiness with a spouse selected by his parents were possibly better, and certainly no worse. Besides, he didn’t really have it in him to rebel. Refusing to have an embargoed arrangement would be a serious break with tradition, and the very idea was just -- exhausting.

Sasha, his boisterous, gap-toothed valet, banged into the room at 7:00 a.m. sharp; Zhenya groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. “None of that, now. We have to make you look royal, so God knows we need every last second.” Sasha grabbed the blankets and yanked them off. Zhenya yelped and curled into a tight comma on the bed. “Up, you lazy, posh twat.”

“Why did I make you my valet. Why,” Zhenya said, muffled into his pillow. Sasha had not come up through the ranks of the palace staff, as most valets did. He had been a teammate of Zhenya’s on their university hockey team, and some fit of insanity had led Zhenya to conclude that his total lack of finesse in matters of protocol and politics was appropriate for the job.

“Because you knew I wouldn’t put up with your bullshit and you were right. You’re getting married today, so let’s try and fool all these rubes into thinking you’ve got class, eh?”

Zhenya slumped out of bed, only to be manhandled out of his pajamas by Sasha. “Hey!”

He snorted. “Like I’ve never seen your dick before. And a lot more people are going to be seeing it today, so get over it. Shower, now.”

Zhenya spent the morning being scrubbed, polished, trimmed, neatened, and perfumed to within an inch of his life. Breakfast was brought in, an unusually light meal. “Are they afraid I’m going to throw up?” he grumbled, eating his toast.

“Probably. Are you?”

“No.”

“You’re not nervous?”

“I’m a little anxious. Excited. What’s to be nervous about?”

“I mean…” Sasha made vague gestures all around him at everything.

Zhenya swallowed and sipped at his tea. “Have you heard...anything?”

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

He rolled his eyes. “About my betrothed.”

“Even if I had, I wouldn’t be allowed to share it. If you want to know, you’ll have to hire a hacker to un-embargo his Instagram.” Zhenya just looked at him. Sasha sighed. “All I know is that he and his entourage arrived two nights ago.”

“‘Entourage?”

“His parents are with him, and he’s got his own guards. He’ll have the guards until he’s unveiled. You knew that, right?”

“I know.”

“Other than that they’re all keeping to their quarters. He’s not supposed to be seen until the wedding.”

“He’s not going to be seen after the wedding! Not that anybody knows what he looks like. He could be walking around the palace in a bathing suit eating peaches and nobody would know it was him.”

“The embargo is for your own good, and his. And the kingdom’s.”

“I get it.” And he did, really. If his consort hadn’t conceived within a year, he would be replaced, and that process would be a lot easier for everyone involved if he, and the citizens, hadn’t gotten attached to him. Hence, the embargo. At least, that’s what the clerics said. Endlessly. “I understand the principle. It’s just going to take some getting used to, being married to someone and having sex with him without seeing his face or talking to him.”

Sasha snorted. “C’mon, Zhenya. You’ve had more than your share of hookups.”

“So?”

“How many of their names can you remember, or even their faces? You’re telling me you had deep conversations with them?”

“That’s different. This man will be my husband.”

“I heard that the prince of Patagonia and his consort broke their embargo and fell in love. She didn’t get pregnant so she had to leave, they were both heartbroken, he almost abdicated his throne, it was a horrible mess, he wouldn’t sleep with the new consort and so she had to be replaced, the first consort was disgraced and went into hiding, nobody knows what happened to her and he’s a giant ball of depression.”

Zhenya blinked. “That’s terrible.”

“Honor your embargo, Zhenya.”

He sighed. “I intend to.”

Embargoed marriage ceremonies were small, private affairs. The unveiling was really the big public spectacle, when the kingdom could at last meet their prince’s husband. The wedding was more for the clerical blessing and the witnessed consummation, and a huge gathering for that was considered unseemly. Zhenya had been trained since childhood not to feel immodest for this occasion, but he was still glad that there would only be a few witnesses present.

He walked to the chapel in his custom-made marriage robes, simple but lush as was the current style. Standing outside the chamber were six of his consort’s guards. Their uniforms were pleasingly clean-lined, black and tailored with deep gold trim, and they snapped to attention as he approached, disciplined and in perfect formation. Zhenya nodded to them -- he imagined he’d be getting to know them soon enough -- and passed through.

A heavy drape hung in the center of the dais with a small hole cut in it for their hands to pass through. Zhenya took his place on the left, nodding to the head cleric. He heard rustling from the other side of the drape and a shadow fell upon it; his new consort had taken his place on the other side.

They did not speak during the ceremony, as their embargo forbade them from hearing one another’s voices. The cleric spoke to them; they acknowledged his words with nods of assent to his questions and directives. When he bade them do so, they joined hands through the hole in the drape. Zhenya noted that his betrothed’s hand was square and strong, and gripped his without hesitation, exhibiting no sign of a nervous tremor. A promising start. He shut his eyes and sent up a prayer to whatever deity might be handy...please, let me like him. Please, let him get pregnant quickly. Let him be smart. And if it’s not too much to ask, please, let him be...not hideous.

“You are joined,” the cleric concluded, simply. Two deacons appeared and removed the drape.

His consort was dressed in elegant marriage robes of his own, including a cape and a veil that hid him from view entirely save for his hands. The only new information Zhenya received with the removal of the drape was his consort’s height, about half a head shorter than Zhenya. He smiled at his new husband and they bowed to each other. Zhenya watched as his consort made a silent greeting to his parents, the Duke and Duchess of New Scotland, who Zhenya did not know at all. With over seventeen thousand peerage titles in the world, one couldn’t meet them all, or even a tiny fraction. The consort’s guards had materialized in the chapel and now surrounded their master and escorted him off the dais and off into the chamber where the next and final step would happen.

Zhenya turned to receive his own parents’ congratulations, and a back-slapping hug from Sasha, wildly overstepping his role as a valet as usual. Zhenya’s father rolled his eyes but didn’t chastise him; his parents loved Sasha as they loved Zhenya himself. More, he sometimes suspected.

The cleric hovered at Zhenya’s elbow. “Your Royal Highness, you are awaited in the antechamber.”

Sasha winked at him. “Good luck. Do it right the first time and this embargo can end quickly.”

“I don’t think it’s entirely up to me,” Zhenya said, but he hoped for the same. He couldn’t imagine waiting for months on end, walking on eggshells every day, everyone looking askance at him if it dragged on and wondering at his virility if he failed to impregnate his spouse. As if it would be for lack of trying.

He followed the cleric into the antechamber. His consort would have gone on ahead to be prepared and arranged by his personal attendants, although Zhenya wasn’t quite sure what that meant, beyond the obvious. This situation was generally not intended to produce arousal in both parties, so he damn well hoped that his consort’s “preparation” involved vaginal lubrication of some kind, for both of their comfort. He’d find out soon enough, but first there was still all manner of ceremonial mumbo-jumbo to attend to.

Zhenya wasn’t particularly devout, a fact he kept mostly to himself. At minimum, a visible attention to custom was expected and valued by the citizens, and Zhenya had no wish to disappoint them, or more accurately, to give them cause to distrust him. He respected the beliefs of his parents (mostly his mother) and of the clerics, but he’d have dispensed with the whole rigmarole if he’d had his choice. But this was his duty, so he stood quietly and allowed the clerics to say their blessings over him and waft their burning herbs as his outer robes were removed.

Underneath his robes were his tunic and trousers, which had been made with a flap at the front (“easy access,” Sasha had joked). He wouldn’t undress further than this, at least not for this ceremonial consummation. He’d be expected to achieve a minimum objective today, the most that could be hoped for in these high-pressure and decidedly not private circumstances.

One of the sub-clerics stood at his side. “Your Royal Highness, will you require assistance readying yourself?” he asked, quietly. Sasha, lurking behind him, snorted.

“Assistance?” Zhenya said, puzzled...but then it hit him. He was being asked if he’d need help getting it up. It stood to reason that he might, with people watching and the Fate of the Kingdom Depending and blah blah blah. Anxiety was not typically the friend of erections. The sub-cleric was offering a helping hand, so to speak. Zhenya had heard stories. Supposedly there’d once been a groom nervous enough that the sub-cleric had to use his mouth on him before he could manage it.

Zhenya didn’t think he’d need quite that much assistance; indeed, he hoped he wouldn’t need any. “Let’s...proceed, and we’ll see,” he said. The sub-cleric nodded and went to the door into the main chamber.

It was dim inside, fragrant with burning herbs. Several clerics were lined up at the far side of the room, chanting quietly. Behind a screen stood half a dozen shadowy figures; witnesses, drawn from the nobility and the royal family. Zhenya didn’t know who was back there and he didn’t care to know. He would likely never know; it was considered rude to disclose one’s presence at such an occasion. Zhenya had himself been a witness at his cousin’s consummation five years ago. You really couldn’t see much at all, through the screen and the awkward angle.

At the moment, however, his attention was captivated by the bed in the center of the room, and his consort upon it. He was laid out on his stomach, covered in drapes even including his head -- Zhenya worried for a moment if he could breathe adequately under there. Two of his guards stood at the head of the bed, eyes fixed firmly forward. The drapes extended from over his consort’s head past his feet, and in the center was an oval-shaped cutout exposing what was, without question, the most fantastic backside Zhenya had ever seen in his life, and he’d seen his fair share.

No. He would not be needing assistance. In fact, he felt himself swelling at the sight of just this one part of his new consort’s body. It was odd, and unexpectedly titillating, to be presented with a more-or-less disembodied ass, even if he could see the shape of the rest of the man under the drape -- but, he supposed, that titillation shouldn’t really be unexpected; why else did glory holes exist? Not that he’d ever partaken of such things, in clubs, in his slightly-wilder youth, absolutely not. But this was his husband, not a late night quickie. It wouldn’t be like this all the time, he assured himself. This was just for the ceremonial bit. Future couplings would be much less...ritualized.

They were all looking at him, waiting for him to get to it, but there was a step to be taken first. He glanced at the cleric and nodded. The cleric hesitated, then moved to the head of the bed. This was Zhenya’s personal addition to the ceremonies, and the cleric had been reluctant to deviate from the traditional sequence of events, but Zhenya had insisted.

He had no interest in a spouse who’d been forced into marrying him, as he’d made sure his parents understood before they set out to find him one. “I do have one condition, and it is non-negotiable,” he’d said.

His father had looked surprised. “What is it, son?”

“I require absolute assurance that any consort of mine enters into marriage to me of their own free will, and not under duress.”

His parents had exchanged a glance. “That should not be difficult; marriage into our family is considered very desirable.”

“Be that as it may, I need you to promise me, Father..”

His father had nodded, and seemed even pleased by this directive. “You have my word, son.”

And now, the cleric spoke to the consort on Zhenya’s behalf. “Your Highness,” he said, using the man’s new title -- after the embargo was lifted, he would become His Royal Highness, the same honorific that Zhenya received. “Prince Evgeni wishes me to ask you for your consent before he joins with you.” Zhenya saw the consort’s head turn to the side. “He values your agreement to this consummation.”

The man hesitated. Zhenya saw the surprise in his shoulders. His head turned further, seeming to look back over his shoulder at Zhenya, and he nodded.

The cleric straightened up. “Does this satisfy Your Royal Highness?” There was just a touch of “are you happy now?” impatience in the cleric’s voice which Zhenya chose to ignore.

Zhenya nodded. He removed his gloves and handed them to Sasha, who was being appropriately quiet and invisible for once in his life. He unbuttoned the flap on the front of his trousers; he was half-erect already and filling fast.

He knelt on the bed. He wasn’t supposed to make any unnecessary contact this first time, but he couldn’t help but run his hands briefly over his husband’s smooth, muscular rear. Just like that, he was fully hard and more than ready. He placed his knees within the drapery cutout on either side of the consort’s hips; the man shifted slightly, spreading his thighs a little bit to give him room. Zhenya reached back and tucked his cock down and against the man’s entrance, relieved to find that he was, indeed, slick. He pressed forward and entered him; Zhenya stifled a groan and felt a shudder pass over the man beneath him. He was tight and warm; Zhenya held still for a moment with his eyes closed and hips pressed against his consort’s impossibly plump ass.

He braced on his hands and shut his eyes, making smooth, even thrusts. There’d be time later to investigate what kind of sex his husband enjoyed, but now was the time to be quick about it and get the job done. He tried to visualize success, as the clerics liked to say during their instruction, and picture his seed finding its target and blossoming in his consort’s womb. The minimum embargo time was three months; even if he conceived right now, early pregnancy was so delicate that it wasn’t considered official until the three--month mark. After carrying to three months, the consort was accepted into the family and unveiled, even if the child was subsequently lost.

Zhenya had often wondered about consorts who failed to conceive and were replaced. Who was to say that it was their fault? Both parties underwent pre-marriage medical testing to minimize this risk, but bodies were unpredictable. Of course it might not be the consort’s fault; the would-be sire could just as easily be the one whose biology failed them, but such a thing could not be admitted for a royal scion. He’d heard one tale, possibly apocryphal, of a prince whose consort hadn’t conceived -- unwilling to accept defeat, the prince had asked his consort to get him pregnant, which she had done, and their embargo was released.

The contemplation of such machinations was premature, he knew. He and his new consort had only just begun.

As keyed up as he was, it didn’t take long for him to finish. He thrust in deep and spilled, clenching his teeth against the desire to cry out. He felt his consort sigh and press back against him a little, a welcome signal of acknowledgment. Zhenya let his head droop for a moment, then straightened up and pulled out. Sasha was right there with a cloth for him to clean himself before he refastened his pants.

The cleric stepped forward and blessed the union, prayers for the success of the joining, yadda yadda. Zhenya barely paid attention. Sasha was replacing his robe on him, but all Zhenya could do was look at the draped form of his new husband, especially the one part of it that he could see, and hope that it wouldn’t be too long before he could see the rest of it.

He let Sasha lead him out of the chamber, glad that was over -- but in another, very real sense, it was just beginning. He was now a married man, with a responsibility to his consort, who was at something of a disadvantage in this situation. He hoped he could be a good, supportive husband to him, until at last the day came that he’d be allowed to see his face.

Next Chapter

#sidgeno #sidgeno fic #hockey rpf #unveiled #my writing

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acsversace-news · 6 years

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June 1995, Milan. Gianni Versace "casually" informs Donatella that he's "arranged an interview" with The Advocate. When she doesn't react, he mumbles, "For gay readers." "To say what?", she asks challengingly. "That the built-ins on this season of ACS are as envy-making as your stereotypically Versace pink butterfly blazer is hideous," Gianni does not say, although he could,

because these floor-to-ceiling jobs make me want to book a ticket to Italy like now. Mystifyingly, there is no sideways-rolling ladder with which to reach tomes on the higher shelves, but of course this isn't the point of the scene; the point is that Gianni has never said in so many words that he's gay, and that Donatella doesn't think he should do so "to print, to publish." Antonio D'Amico smirks as Donatella picks up her cigarettes and crisply points out that she handles publicity for the company. Gianni shrugs disingenuously that it's not about her, but Donatella isn't going for it: it's about more than him. She's annoyed that he didn't consult her, and now he's annoyed, clanking down his espresso cup and snarking, "What would you advise?" Yes, Antonio echoes, "What would you advise?" Donatella side-eyes him and theorizes aloud that it's Antonio's idea, that he wants to "be famous" as "Versace's lover." For 13 years everyone's mistaken him for Gianni's assistant, he grumbles, and Donatella snorts that apparently his pride is more important than the company. The sniping continues, Antonio saying he's not trying to become a public figure: "I know my place. Unlike you." Donatella cocks her head and asks at four degrees Kelvin, "And what is my place," at which time Gianni bangs a chair and snaps, "Enough!" No more fighting over this: it was his idea.

He asks Donatella to walk with him, and she stalks after him with that weird colicky gait women get who wear too-high heels every day. He wants her support, but she notes that his company supports all the people working around them -- and they have stores opening in countries where homosexuality is illegal. What if he's denied a visa? What if the stores can't open? Gianni is momentarily taken aback, and asks what she really thinks could happen. She says the rock stars, the actors, "the royalty whose endorsements we cherish" might not want to associate with the brand. Gianni shrugs, "Unless we keep Elton," but Donatella doesn't see the humor; he lives "in isolation," and has forgotten what the real world is like. He tries to argue that the women they design for are "fearless," and when Donatella says it's not the same, he asks, "Is the brand Versace braver than the man?" She doesn't have an answer for that, but when he stalks to the other side of the atelier, she follows, asking if he's angry at her, or the world. She goes on to wonder what his "admission" will cost when they take the company public. Gianni says, not terribly forcefully, that she's exaggerating, but she reminds him of Perry Ellis's final show, Ellis dying of AIDS, too weak to walk on his own. "His most important show" in many ways, Gianni murmurs, and certainly it is as far as its value as a reference in this season of ACS -- Ellis, who died in 1986, remained in resolute denial about his illness and that of his longtime lover, whom he had seen into the ground earlier that year; at that point in the life of both the epidemic and the culture, that approach was probably the default, at least for public consumption -- but Donatella's point is that, after that, people stopped buying Ellis's clothes. "Some people," Gianni says. Many people, Donatella retorts. Some, Gianni insists, and walks away from her again.

Why now, she wants to know. "Because I was sick. And I didn't die," Gianni says. It's a miracle. He has a second chance now. Why is he alive -- to be afraid? No. He's here, and he "must use it."

After the title card, we return to 1997 -- four days before Jeffrey Trail's murder. In a crappish motel in San Diego, Andrew Cunanan is seated in grimy underpants on a nubby chair surrounded by trash bags, prepping a needle full of drugs and grandly reassuring an American Express account representative that he just needs enough money to get to Minneapolis.

He's going to visit his "two best friends," one of whom owes him more than ten grand; then he can go back to being the best customer ever. As the Amex rep skeptically repeats that he's asking them to extend his credit so that he can…repair his credit, the camera lingers pointedly on an expensive watch on the floor. Cunanan distractedly taps the needle to rid it of bubbles as the rep verbally eye-rolls that she has to consult her supervisor. Cunanan chirps that he'll hold, and injects himself between his toes. I assume this is included to show both his alleged drug involvement and his much-ballyhooed ability to charm all and sundry, but I ran into some American Express credit trouble in college and was on the line with their reps almost daily, assuring them that my latest low-double-digit payment from my pizza-delivery job was winging its way towards them and please don't make me declare bankruptcy as a 20-year-old. Like, if I convinced them to let me chip down my balance 13 bucks at a time? I'm...not that charming. This is eminently doable by civilians.

Cunanan gets up, surveys his closet, and starts taking down armfuls of suits and shirts, still on their hangers. Do people actually do this? It seems like an only-onscreen thing. In any case, the removal of the last armload of blazers reveals a mini-crazy wall consisting of the very Advocate article the Versaces were arguing about before.

That pic at the top left, that looks like IRL Cunanan, should maybe have been cut, no?

In a warehouse, Jeff Trail is hoisting heavy canisters onto shelves. Later, he's not laughing alone without salad at a picnic table above the work floor when a co-worker joins him. Jeff notices the guy's tattoo as an armed-forces design; the guy notices him noticing and asks if he served. He did, in the navy, and kind of overshares about the USS Gridley and how he's sort of sad she got decommissioned. So he misses it? Every day. Why'd he leave? "I dunno," Jeff grits, and admits he regrets it, but when the guy begins to say he was never going to become an officer, it gets awk in a hurry with Jeff interrupting that he was an officer, and adding that his brother and sister are both in the armed forces. "You married?", the guy asks, probably concluding that it was Jeff's spouse who wanted him to leave the service, then. Jeff parries that, but the guy asks again why he left, especially to work "in a place like this." This place is okay, Jeff glares, but the guy's like, but for an Annapolis grad?

Jeff, icily: "I made the decision." The guy tries to smooth it over by saying his wife always tells him he asks too many questions, but Jeff just repeats over him, "I made the decision -- okay?" The guy apologizes for offending him and offers to "leave it there," but Jeff can't, leaping to his feet and shouting again that he made the decision, loud enough for other co-workers to look up from their lunches.

After lunch, Jeff is loading canisters, zoned out, when he's told "an Andrew called" -- he says he'll see Jeff at the airport.

That's where we see him next, as he greets David Madson with a fond arm-squeeze. David didn't think Jeff would come. Neither did Jeff, Jeff says disgustedly. David doesn't get why Cunanan's coming there, but Jeff's like, he has nothing and no one and everything he's told you is a lie. David gets that, right? David: "Do you even like him?"

Jeff sighs that Cunanan was "there for" him once, and he owes Cunanan, but it's not the same. David feels "kinda sorry" for him. "Don't." He's lonely. "For a reason," Jeff says, adding that after this "for old times' sake" weekend, he's done with Cunanan. David's like, he's here for three nights, ugh, and Jeff says Cunanan can have his apartment, Jeff will stay with his sister, and not to victim-blame here, but if you don't want to deal with Cunanan because he's a grifter, you put him up in a hotel, not at your house when you can't keep an eye on him and/or your belongings. Cut to Cunanan emerging from the crowd with a step almost Michigan J. Frog in its peppiness as Jeff asks David not to tell Cunanan where he is: "He's so crazy, he might just show up."

Asterisking this point is Cunanan's desperately cheerful sing-songing of "The three amigooooos!" and overly handsy hug of David. He hugs Jeff next, choosing to ignore Jeff's stiff reaction, and burbles about how much fun they'll have this weekend: "It'll be just like old times." Jeff's all, nah, and says he can't hang out with them. Cunanan asks why not. "Aside from everything you've done?" David looks down as Cunanan feigns ignorance.

Jeff says he's away 'til Sunday at a sales conference, but he'll be sure to send Cunanan a postcard. Cunanan lamely asks if Jeff's "still annoyed" about the postcard he "accidentally" sent to Jeff's dad signed "Drew, kiss kiss." "I made a mistake!" David rolls not just his eyes but his entire head as Jeff brings out his keys, saying Cunanan can stay there tomorrow night. Cunanan doesn't get why he's not staying with David; David says without much conviction that he's busy "seeing a friend." "Wh-who, what friend?" Cunanan presses, but despite this inability or unwillingness to take a hint re: David wanting to get it in with, y'know, not him -- or, more to the point, David's obvious trepidation at drawing that line brightly, or at all -- Jeff still hands Cunanan his keys, then walks off without another word. Again, I don't mean to cast aspersions on Jeff Trail; nothing he did either doomed him or could have saved him, or any of the others. I've found myself in similar situations, feeling like it's easier to just go along this one last time and then get down to the ghosting once s/he's left town -- especially when s/he's presenting as a dishonest but not noticeably dangerous asshole. I have the benefit of a hindsight of which Jeff was deprived by Cunanan, as well. That's the frustration: that it can't be undone, couldn't have been undone. Or that maybe it could have gone differently -- if Cunanan weren't so easily able to leverage the doors of the closet against his targets.

Sometimes they swing back and hit him, though, as we're about to see when he and David return to David's loft. David snuggles with Prints for a minute, and Cunanan takes the opportunity to fish that expensive watch out of the top of his duffel and make a big show of having "gotten" (read: stolen, we'll no doubt see in a future ep) David something. "Open it!" he says with an antsy body twitch that is almost endearing, except that he's horrid. David seems to know that it contains an emotional bomb as well as whatever's literally inside, and is initially speechless at the sight of the watch. Cunanan has assumed that awkward stiff-armed stance again

as David struggles for words. I'll note here Orth's Vanity Fair piece's assertion that, "though Madson was at least two boyfriends away from Cunanan by the end of April, he continued to accept gifts from" Cunanan. I still haven't read Orth's book, and perhaps she's more nuanced therein, but I'm finding implied judgment in that locution, to the effect that David "shouldn't" have taken gifts from a man he wasn't involved with, because it sent mixed signals -- or meant that David wasn't a quote-unquote perfect victim, the saint the newsmagazines are always looking for. Well, it probably did send mixed signals, and David probably wasn't perfect, because none of us is -- but here again we see Cunanan's victims a) not knowing what we know, because it's not what anyone tends to assume, and/or b) accepting overly generous gestures from Cunanan because it's less uncomfortable than rejecting him or questioning the gifts' provenance. The scene we're watching/cringing at here perfectly illuminates not only why Cunanan's victims might have had over-the-top "presents" from the killer among their possessions, but why Cunanan for the most part continued to skate on outrageous behavior.

Behavior like…refusing to read the room, because when David snaps the watch box closed and pulls a nauseated face, then goes to refill Prints's water bowl, Cunanan bustles over, picks up the box, and goes into cheesy-proposal mode. David's response is a glorious "ehh-whennnnhhhh?!" look from Cody Fern

at which Cunanan has the presence of mind to stammer that he doesn't have to answer right now, he can think about it "for the next few days." David's like, it's against the law, so. Cunanan shrugs: "Who cares about that?" "Everyone," David exasps. "Well, I…don't!" Cunanan says, and Darren Criss throws in a tiny shoulder shimmy here that is so eloquent vis-à-vis Cunanan thinking this damn-the-homophobia-torpedeos declaration will win him his case. David's like, again: no, "it's insane," and Fern's unwittingly Australian inflection of "in-sein" is rather winning. Cunanan is hell-bent on ordering a sweet roll, however, and babbles that they can call it a commitment ceremony, then. David tries to explain that "it's not -- the term" as Cunanan Manson-lampses at him and blares, "Then what is it." "The idea of you and me," David finally is able to say. His expression unchanging, Cunanan pauses, then tells David to keep thinking about it over the weekend, and then "if for whatever reason it's a no," he can keep the watch as a thanks. ..."Whatever reason," indeed. Thanks for what, David asks, exhausted. For turning Cunanan's life around, Cunanan duhs, then shares that he got a new job, a claim David doesn't believe; as Cunanan keeps lying about his new condo in San Francisco, David wearily closes his eyes and nods to himself. "I'm a whole new person!" Cunanan desperates, fastening the watch onto David's wrist. "And all I need -- is someone to be a new person for."

At his sister Laura's gorgeously porched house, Jeff surveys the family pictures (including one of Laura in uniform) in the hall, then takes the linens he'll be sleeping on from his pregnant sister; he doesn't want to be any trouble. "It's no trouble, I love that you're here. Why are you here?" his sister asks, easing herself onto a sofa. Jeff admits he's avoiding Cunanan. She snarks on Cunanan's postcard "mistake" trying to out Jeff to their dad. Jeff says grimly that he's not going to hang out with Cunanan, but Laura has Cunanan's number and Jeff's, telling Jeff he shouldn't let Cunanan have "that kind of control" over him and that Cunanan "was threatening" Jeff with the postcard. Why doesn't Jeff just tell their parents he's gay himself? Jeff knows what they're going to think. "They love you," Laura snorts, which, no doubt, but also: easy for the het sibling who's furnished grandchildren to say, even if she's correct. Jeff changes tacks, saying it's not the right time: they're so happy about the baby. It's her baby, Laura says, so as his superior officer she's ordering him to do it. "I'll think about it," Jeff says. "You've thought about it enough," Laura grumbles. Again: yeah, probably, and she's not a bad guy here, but…you know. Your loved ones' coming out is not about you. Jeff rolls his eyes, then tells Laura's belly, "I'm looking forward to being an uncle, so. Much." He smooches the belly -- aw -- and rests his head on it, listening…

…which makes the overlapping cut to the polka palace in the next scene pretty hilare and cuts the sadness nicely. Too bad we're about to be marinating in uncomf. David and Cunanan climb the stairs into the joint, Cunanan babbling that it's such an original idea, and it feels "special -- memorable." David quashes that line of thinking ASAP, saying it wasn't his choice -- his friend picked it. Said friend is his co-worker Melinda, who appears out of the crowd to greet David, and he introduces Cunanan as his "friend, Andrew." "'Friend,'" Cunanan repeats with a full "this guy, amirite" head-and-shoulders eye-roll, and says he's more than a friend. Everyone's "…k" faces do not deter him from grabbing David's wrist, still with the watch on it, and raising it to eye level to brag that he got it for David "to show how much he means to me." He adds quote casually, "It's worth ten thousand dollars." Melinda says, "Wow," and shoots David a quick, merry "by which I mean 'wow, you're gauche'" look. The silence in which nobody knows how to respond to Cunanan goes on for quite some time…

…and then we mercifully cut to David and Melinda polka-ing amateurishly and laughing a lot. Then it's into slo-mo, and the distorting of the soundtrack, as Cunanan tries to arrange his face into a "isn't this a hoot" shape but ends up Starmanning, as usual.

Later, David orders more beer and speculatively watches Cunanan from the bar as Melinda heroically tries to make conversation: "So what do you do?" Almost daring her to call him on it, Cunanan lies that he makes movie sets; he's working on Titanic down in Mexico. "And you're here for David?" "There's no one I love more," Cunanan confides, which at least is in the same area code as true. David returns with three steins, and Melinda fills him in, giving gorgeous "pfft" tone to "We were just talking about movie sets in Mexico!" "Mexico?" David says, glaring at Cunanan, who thinks for a second before grabbing David's hands: "Let's go dance!" Melinda watches them carefully as David gets free of Cunanan's grasp and says he doesn't need the whole weekend to think about it. "I can't hear you, the music's too loud!" Cunanan says through a desperately fake chuckle. David tries to repeat himself, but Cunanan's sticking with the can't-hear-you bit, bobbing frantically and shouting, "Let's just dance!" They can't get married, David says. "Even if we could -- we can't." The smile drains off Cunanan's face as David says he's really sorry, he doesn't know what else to say. He leaves Cunanan standing on the dance floor, other couples whirling around him. Oof.

At the loft the next morning, Cunanan is sitting, staring into space, still wearing the same clothes from the previous night. David comes out in a tee and boxers and asks if he couldn't sleep. "No." David half-rolls his eyes and goes into the bedroom to fish the watch out of his top drawer; the camera pans up to find Cunanan in the doorway, having Nosferatu'd his way into frame once again. David startles, then murmurs that "there's something great" about Cunanan; he's always thought that. He's generous. But it's not right to keep the watch, he says, handing the box to Cunanan. "I know money is tight." Cunanan badly lies that it isn't. David says it's okay to ask for help instead of telling "all these crazy stories," but Cunanan isn't going to admit to anything, asking through another super-fake chuckle, "What crazy stories?" David girds his loins and runs down the list: he's not making movie sets, he doesn't have a condo in San Fran…he's unhappy. He should let David help him the way Cunanan has helped other people. Cunanan looks genuinely baffled and fearful at this idea as David clarifies that he doesn't mean by marrying Cunanan -- that's not possible, it's not real. It's not what, Cunanan prompts, giving him the Manson lamps. "Another crazy story," David says reluctantly, and holds the box out for Cunanan to take.

Cut to both men heading for the elevator. As the door is closing on Cunanan, David stops it with his arm and guiltily says he can cancel on his "friend" for that night, if Cunanan needs to talk, "about anything." Cunanan tries for cheery, but ends up sounding robotic as he says again that he's starting a new life in San Francisco. "I need someone to share it with." David pulls a "yeah, still a hard pass" face and says he'll see Cunanan Sunday. Now it's Cunanan's turn to stop the door with his arm, and his face has darkened to one of Dawsonian accusation: "Is it Jeff? That friend you're seeing?" David waits a beat too long before denying it. Andrew releases the door silently. David turns away from the elevator all "Fuuuuuu."

It isn't Jeff, but whoever it is, he's cozy with David That Way when they return to David's building -- as Cunanan can see from his creeper stakeout spot across the street. When the other two head inside, he marches robotically across the street for a closer view.

From there, he heads to Jeff's apartment. It takes him a second to get the lights working, but alas, almost no time after that to come across the photo of Jeff and David, Prints nestled between them, tucked into the frame of another photo on Jeff's bureau.

The picture looks merely friendly, to my eye, but Cunanan is already paranoid about the possibility of a…"Tradson," I guess, and starts rifling through Jeff's drawers. It's not totally clear what he's looking for -- proof of a relationship; blackmail fodder a la what he unearthed at David's in the previous episode -- but when he pulls out Jeff's Navy uniform box from the closet, it seems like it's maybe both. Disrespectfully donning Jeff's hat, he digs under the dress whites and finds an unmarked VHS cassette. It's a news broadcast, interviewing active-duty servicemen about gays in the military, and the interviewee onscreen drops a few f-bombs as Cunanan keeps going through Jeff's stuff, eventually finding the gun. He's quite expertly loading a clip into the gun when he hears Jeff's voice coming from the TV; it's Jeff, in an identity-masking shadow, telling an interviewer that any gays in the military must serve in the closet. Cunanan kneels in front of the set and strokes Jeff's darkened face as Jeff says his career is probably over anyway, because he saved a gay fellow sailor from getting beaten to death by his peers, which tipped off said peers that Jeff too is gay. Cunanan sights the gun at the TV. Jeff, near tears, confesses that he's dreamt of taking that "good thing" he did back, letting the other guy die, so that the others wouldn't "suspect" him. (This interview did take place, around the time Jeff met Cunanan; the segment of it I found doesn't contain any mention of this incident.)

After the break, we're in 1995 in San Diego, aboard the Gridley. Jeff heads below decks, and comes upon a fight, or rather one seaman punching another repeatedly in the face. Jeff pulls the puncher off, and the puncher says that "that f***** brushed against" him. Jeff helps the punchee, Williams, to his feet, and as the puncher is threatening Williams if he ever touches the puncher again, Williams knocks him down with a right cross and sneers, "I'm sorry -- did I touch you?" Jeff scatters the combatants and their audience.

That night, a hand puts a bar of soap in a sock (we don't see the item, but per my father, this is how barracks justice was handed down as of the sixties, so let's assume), and Jeff awakens to hear the sounds of a blanket partyalready in progress. It's Williams, no surprise, and the gag they've put on him is no match for his wails of agony. Jeff rushes over to break this up too, telling the participants to scatter or they'll get written up, and helps Williams into the shower to clean up -- and to convince him to go to a doctor, which Williams doesn't want, because he'll have to write a report and make a complaint. "You're hurt, you need a doctor," Jeff says patiently, but Williams hollers, "I need out! …Get me out. Get me reassigned. Please!" He's near tears, and panting from the pain. Jeff cups his cheek. Williams meets his eye, then grabs his arm and pulls Jeff down onto the shower bench with him and cries on Jeff's shoulder. Jeff nurturingly busses Williams's head, and the generous comfort Jeff offers Williams is painful to watch, because you know no good deed goes unpunished, on earth as it is in American Crime Story, so of course Jeff glances up to see a NASCAR-looking dude giving them a disgusted glare from the doorway, then flip-flopping away.

The next day, Jeff goes through the lunch line and into the mess, and the shot follows him as he looks for a spot to sit, then locks eyes with NASCAR mustache guy from the night before. (The actor's name is Ric Maddox, and I'd like to note that he has also played the Joker in a short film called Gay Batman. The sort of dialogue he has here can't be an enjoyable day at the office, and Maddox is good, doesn't sell it out with ham like he might want to.) Finn Wittrock gives us a flicker of "let's get this over with" as he walks over and sits firmly down at the last empty seat at Mustache's table. Mustache can't wait to launch into a story about a guy getting caught at a "hook-up place for f**s," asking if Jeff knows it. Jeff's like, um, no, and Mustache goes on that the MPs went in undercover and busted the spot. Great use of your budget there, y'all. Jeff asks if the guy got discharged; Mustache says no, not if he agrees to name "every f** he's ever blown," but the guy doesn't know names -- so he's going to provide a list of tattoos. Cut to a super-tight close-up on Mustache's beady eyes as he asks with subtle relish, "Got any tattoos, Jeff?" Jeff glances around the table and chuckles all "FOH with that," but…

…the next scene is Jeff in the showers again, this time with an exacto knife, his issued Zippo, bandages, and a Costco bottle of rubbing alcohol. This is painful to watch, but I have to wonder what kind of clandestine blowjobs everyone else is giving that they'd see, much less take note of, a tattoo on the calf. I mean, don't the pants stay pretty far up in that instance? -- unless that's the point, that Jeff's paranoia is that far-reaching (and perhaps justified). Anyway, he takes the blade to the Martian and starts carving, but only gets about a third of the way around before he has to stop.

The next day, we're in a handheld shot of Jeff supervising other seamen, including the puncher from earlier, who glares at him. He's told the captain wants to see him, and as he's heading for the captain's quarters through a warren of hallways, it seems like everyone he passes -- and needs must nearly brush up against in these tight quarters -- along the way is eyeing him suspiciously. He takes a quick breath and reports in to the captain, and maybe this got fixed for the air version, but we probably shouldn't see what looks like a Studio City parking lot out the porthole.

Jeff is told to have a seat, and does, at which time he spots blood seeping through his pantleg from the tattoo wound -- also apparently added in post, as it doesn't move when Jeff's leg does, so I assume they fixed that too. He tries not to freak out, but then the captain hands him a booklet entitled Dignity & Respect: A Training Guide On Homosexual Conduct Policy.

This comic book -- yes, "comic book" -- also existed, which might seem hard to believe if you haven't served or don't have family members in the service but is all too credible if you have/do. Like, the parachutist at the top right…"irony-free up-fuckery," is what my vet uncle would call this. Jeff too-quickly asks if there's some reason the captain's giving it to him. It's being circulated to all officers; does Jeff not think it's important? Jeff's like, of…course, sure. Does Jeff have any questions? "No sir!" Jeff gulps. "You haven't looked at it." Jeff then grimly recites the section of the…Uniform Code? Not sure if that applies here, actually, but it's the regulation that prohibits engaging in or even admitting to "homosexual acts." The captain stares at Jeff, then asks if he knows all the regulations by heart. "Most, sir," Jeff says, which tracks. "Open the book," he's told, so he does, staring dully at a page that overexplains what "Don't Ask" means. The captain asks again if he has questions, and when Jeff answers again that he doesn't, the captain goes on about a code of conduct, without which they're "nothing." "Nothing," Jeff repeats. So they're understood? "Yes, sir."

Nighttime. Jeff's in the shower again, this time poring over the comic. He pauses when he thinks he hears footsteps, then resumes, this time at the Don't Tell portion of the book.

Daytime. He's dressing in his whites, buffing his cap, shining his white shoes. I didn't even write a note about the visual reference to Lt. Col. Markinson in A Few Good Men, because that character's about to shoot himself, but maybe I was onto something, because then we're back in the shower, Jeff standing in his whites on the bench and contemplating the belt he's looped over a ceiling pipe.

Wittrock looks about twelve years old in this shot and it is buh-rutal. Jeff puts his head through and leans on the belt, but he can't go through with this either, although it's a harrowing couple minutes, and the mood isn't lifted by his despair as he sags, crying, onto the shower bench.

He's only slightly happier about the prospect of visiting a gay bar called Flicks, but he does it, albeit with baseball hat pulled fairly far down and a body language suggesting deep conflict. Company B's "Fascination" blares in the bar as he hesitantly orders a beer and looks around at the men smiling, the men smoking, the go-go boy with the American-flag briefs smizing at him. Beside him is Cunanan, who spots him as a rookie immediately. "Was it that obvious?" "There were a few clues," Cunanan smirks, and introduces himself.

Later, they're yukking it up at a table with a few empties as Jeff reveals that he's never gone to any gay bar before. Cunanan's shaggy-dog joke about the bartender setting off fireworks that make the shape of Jeff's name to mark the occasion wigs Jeff out momentarily, but Jeff sincerely thanks him for making the night un-humiliating. Cunanan preens that it's his honor, and he feels like he's part of Jeff's history. He asks if Jeff is military, and murmurs that it must be hard. Jeff agrees that it is. Cunanan switches gears, saying rules require him to buy Jeff drinks for the rest of the night and insisting Jeff put his money away. Jeff smiles to himself. At the bar, Cunanan watches him fondly.

Another time, at the same bar, Cunanan asks how it happens that CBS wants to interview Jeff. They came to the base and canvassed the straight soldiers, Jeff says; his part is sharing "the other side." Cunanan sputters that Jeff is crazy, they'll kick him out, but Jeff says they'll keep him in shadow so he can't be identified. "How humiliating," Cunanan breathes. Jeff doesn't get it, so Cunanan notes that the bigots get to stand in the light, uniforms on, proudly; Jeff gets to stay in the shadows with his voice distorted, "like a criminal." "Yep," Jeff says grimly. Of course this is how Cunanan thinks of it, and that the Navy will witch-hunt Jeff, that nobody cares what he has to say and it's not worth it, but it's something Jeff needs to do. He can't explain it.

He pulls up to a motel in his Jeep and gathers himself, then approaches one of the rooms.

Gianni and Antonio do the same, at a different hotel.

Jeff listens at the hotel-room door.

Gianni breathes, "My heart," and puts Antonio's hand on his chest to feel the hammering. "Mine too," Antonio laughs. Gianni wonders how many interviews he's done. Antonio puts Gianni's hand over his heart and says he can't count. "None like this," Gianni says. They kiss. Gianni knocks.

Jeff shakes hands with his interviewer.

Gianni shakes hands with his interviewer. As he's posing for pictures, Antonio stares into the middle distance; he's snapped out of the reverie by Gianni coming over for help zhuzhing his shirt.

Jeff's reassured that viewers will only see his silhouette, and that the MPs can't make the interviewer reveal his sources.

Gianni's interviewer confirms that Gianni understands he's on the record.

Jeff explains that the military is his life; it's all he ever wanted to do. Asked if anyone serving is out, Jeff says the majority are closeted, "and will always be closeted."

Gianni interrupts his interview to introduce Antonio in so many words as his partner, and to ask if they can do the interview together. The interviewer smiles warmly, knowing what he's witnessing, and says absolutely.

Jeff, meanwhile, isn't so optimistic, saying that he thinks talking to CBS is probably the end of his career. But at the same time, his career probably died a long time ago, he says, choking up. They know. They've never promoted him, even though he's a good sailor. "How do they know?" Jeff tells the story of saving Williams's life. It's slightly different from what we heard before in the phrasing, but we're still seeing these two men, both struggling to do the right thing, and the hopeful version of the right thing. Both killed by a guy who couldn't see any way to get love except to never tell the truth and to trade in shame instead of pride.

The day of Jeff's death. He comes home to find his apartment in bad-guest disarray and Cunanan performatively eating Froot Loops, four of which he probably left in the box, because: dickhead. Jeff sees his uniform hat on the table, stares at Cunanan, and heads into the bedroom without a word as Cunanan scrambles to his feet. Jeff finds his uniform on the bed and stalks back into the living room: "You went through my stuff?" Cunanan non-answers that he was going to tidy up, but Jeff interrupts that he touched Jeff's uniform. Cunanan was going to put it back: "So what?" "'So what'?" Jeff snarls. Cunanan's eyes narrow as he says he doesn't get why Jeff keeps it. Cunanan didn't serve his country; he'll never get it. No, Cunanan doesn't, not after how the Navy treated him. "You've never believed in anything except yourself," Jeff says, but Cunanan protests that he believed in Jeff, "didn't I," when the Navy didn't? "Everything you gave me, the bars, the meals, the men, it means nothing -- I want my life back!" Jeff says. He means his real life, as a soldier. Cunanan croons in an oh-honey tone that they never wanted him -- Cunanan wanted him! Jeff's like, pass, and says he doesn't know who Cunanan is; he doesn't stand for anything. He isn't anything, he's just a liar. "You have no honor," Jeff finishes, heading back into the bedroom.

Now Cunanan's pissed, and tries to take control of the situation/Jeff, sneering that Jeff's not in the Navy anymore, "sweetie" -- he's a washed-up [slur] with a shitty job, in a shitty condo, "bitching about how you could have been someone." This is Cunanan, really, not Jeff, but Jeff says he's right about that. Cunanan attempts to pull rank by announcing grandly that, when Jeff walked into "that bar," he saved Jeff. Jeff: "You destroyed me!" He wishes he'd never gone into that bar; he wishes he'd never met Cunanan. Cunanan switches gears, saying Jeff's confused and can't see it, but Jeff can see it: "I see it, I feel it, I hate it." I think he means that what he sees and feels keep him from what he truly loves, serving in the Navy, but I'd hear arguments. In any case, Cunanan is still trying to work the tractor beam, putting his hands up to Jeff's face and starting to say he loved Jeff so much, but Jeff swats Cunanan's hands away, knocking him back a step: "No one! Wants! Your love!"

Cunanan Starmans out of the room, gathering his bag (with Jeff's gun on top) and leaving without a word.

David is opening the door to let his "friend" out and finds Cunanan just standing there. Cunanan brushes in, in between David and the friend, without being invited in. "Andrew!" Cunanan parks it on the coffee table: "Yes?" David didn't hear the buzzer. Cunanan didn't want to bother (read: alert) David, so he "just slipped in behind someone else." The friend's like, yikes, and David has to whisper that he'll call. He fastens his bathrobe tightly, and is about to get into it when Cunanan fake-haltingly mentions what David said "about needing help." Can they talk tonight? "Sure," David this-fucking-guys, and goes into the bedroom. Cunanan schemes.

Jeff irons his uniform and folds it neatly away.

While David showers, Cunanan calls Jeff to neener that he has Jeff's gun; he borrowed it to protect David from a stalker who's back in town. As Jeff is bitching at him about having a license and how the gun never leaves the apartment, Cunanan smiles smugly at the trap he's going to spring. Jeff says he'll come over and retrieve it, but he's done with Cunanan -- done. Cunanan tries to grade-school that Jeff said that already, but Jeff hangs up on him. Cunanan wanders into the area of David's loft that's under construction and eyes the hammer.

Jeff's downstairs now, banging on the broken buzzer. Cunanan asks if David's going to get the door, but this time, David asks if he's joking, and Cunanan grumps that Jeff is "very hostile at the moment" and he'd rather not get into it with him in the foyer. As David's letting Jeff in, Cunanan is selecting the hammer and taking up his lurking post. We see him hear Jeff say he never wants to see Cunanan again, and again here the dialogue is somewhat shuffled from what we saw last week, but it may air differently -- or be a "what Cunanan 'hears' and what's actually happening aren't the same" thing. It doesn't change the ending, unfortunately, and we cut from the door swinging shut and Cunanan rushing Jeff…

…to Jeff's sister getting wheeled into labor, hollering in pain. Slow pan across Jeff's empty apartment as his parents leave various messages about the labor and delivery; fade out on Jeff's hat, neatly atop the uniform box, as Jeff's parents inform him that he has a niece, and everyone's healthy.

#acs versace #previously tv #epic old school recaps #2.05 #recap #review #article #february 2018

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fourtrisheafanfic · 7 years

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Under the Stars CH 3 (Jonerys fanfic)

Chapter 3: Hiking ~ Day Three

Summary: Modern AU, a camping trip in Colorado ends up being more than originally planned. There will be four chapters total.

Links: Chapter 1 (X), Chapter 2 (X) or Ao3 (X)

Rating: Mature

Words: 9,000+

+++o+++

Chapter 3: Hiking ~ Day Three

*Dany POV*

I'm pulled from sleep by a familiar sound I know too well, the bugling of elk. A smile touches my lips as I lie still and enjoy. The bugle of a bull elk is a distinct sound that begins deep and resonant, and becomes a high-pitched squeal before ending in a series of grunts. The herds of elk that roam the Rocky Mountains has always been one of my favorite parts of camping here.

I know once I open my eyes it will be time to start the day. Rising early is normal for camping, but I find myself waking up even earlier when not sleeping in a tent. I enjoy the noises around me and realize it must be super early, as I do not hear any of the usual hustle and bustle of large campgrounds.

I finally roll onto my back, slowly opening my eyes as they adjust to the sun. The morning is still cool, but I know the July heat will soon be here.

I really need a shower. Should I go now, or wait until someone from the group wakes up so I can tell them where I am? Decisions, decisions.

Lying still, I unexpectedly feel Ghost's snout nudging my chin, silly dog! It was nice of Jon to let his dog sleep with me last night, not that I worried, but having a guard dog is always nice

As I stretch out my arms, another sound catches my attention - soft coughing. I quickly turn to the left, and my mouth falls open. Sound asleep, Jon lies on the other side of the fire pit. His sleeping bag positioned in a way that we can see each other's face and nothing more.

Why is he sleeping out here? For me?

Suddenly, I feel butterflies flying in my chest. I close my eyes to breathe in and out and push those feelings away.

He's amazing. But he's not for you.

Graduate student and teaching assistant Jon Snow is a well-known name in the Integrative Physiology department. Aside from his academic reputation, he's known for being an amazing teacher, having a great working relationship with the faculty. He's extremely smart and career driven - and lastly, he's the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on in my life. It should be a sin for one man to look so damn good. Gazing at him as my eyes settle on his mouth, I fantasize about kissing him and how I'd bite his lower lip. Don’t get me started on his hair - raven black and those curls. My hands long to touch his hair every time I am around him. I know I shouldn't just sit here and ogle him, but when else would I have the chance to stare to my heart's content?

I had the biggest crush on Jon when I first met him, when I was a student in two of his classes last fall. Just like dozens and dozens of other girls in my school who are crazy about him. As cute as he is, listening to them carry on and on about him grated on my nerves - to the point that I determined a crush on him was a waste of time and could not even be enjoyable. So I let it go and just put him out of my mind. I have this game where I'd pretend he was a married sixty-year-old-with eight grandchildren anytime I would talk to him.

He was consistent with his rejections of the numerous girls that pursued him. He wasn't cruel but he was direct. His rebuffs were always the same, "I don't date my students, so it's never going to happen. I am taken, ladies, sorry." And then he would go right back to the material he was covering that day. I was impressed at how calm and matter-of-fact he was, probably something learned after years and years of dishing out countless refusals.

Although one time he was so kind to me, that it still makes my heart do somersaults when I think about it.

++o+ Flashback +o++

I'm numb with grief. My brother is dead.

I desperately run through my to-do list because I must get it all done. My family needs me, and I need to get home.

I glance at my watch as I'm walking quickly through campus, sporadic tears escaping my eyes as I trudge forward with my face down. I have one teacher left to speak to, and then I'm headed to the airport. I wrap my coat tightly around me, but nothing is helping fight the chill in my bones. It's the middle of February in Colorado.

I cringe when I think of Drogo, my boyfriend.

How could he?

I know Drogo's disappointed that I'm flying to Chicago, but he offered not one kind or comforting word for me. He only hissed his displeasure regarding the Valentine's formal for the Leeds Business School because I've left him without a date.

"Damn it, Dany! This will ruin my summer internship chances. You know I can't work for my father's company again. It's all about appearances," Drogo grumbled. "Now I'll look like a loser who can't get a date."

I found myself apologizing, and I was sorry but... my brother just died in a car accident. I didn't get to say goodbye. He was the only sibling I had left, now there was just me.

The United Airlines customer service rep that got me a seat flying direct from DIA to O'Hare offered me more comfort than my own boyfriend.

I shake my head, pushing thoughts of Drogo away. I can't worry about him right now. This may be the end of us.

I wouldn't care.

I arrive to the Integrative Physiology main building and stop in a restroom on the first floor to splash water on my face so I don't look like a drowned rat. I knock on Jon's office door, entering when I hear his voice. Although he shares the office with numerous other TAs, he sits alone at the moment.

I walk in and spit out my practiced explanation verbatim, ready to plead for a later makeup of the exam I'll be missing. Jon's eyes study me, but he says nothing.

I stand still and wait. After a moment he nods with a small frown.

"I'm sorry for your loss Daenerys," he says. "We'll figure out the test when you get back. Take this time with your family now."

His hand slips into mine, his thumb gently tracing the small bones on the back of my hand. The small act of kindness broke through my walls. I turn away, trying to bite back my sobs, mumbling a thank you while yanking my hand away so I can leave quickly.

Jon catches my hand again and pulls me to stand in front of him, a concerned look on his face. His other hand on my cheek, I realize my tears have started again as he wipes them away.

"Daenerys, is there anything I can do?" he says quietly. I try to bite back the sobs and fail.

He pulls me into his arms and holds me while I sob. Suddenly I don't care about anything except my grief and being held by him. He rubs my back while my arms hold him tightly. I stand still, except for the sobs that make my shoulders shake, with my face buried in his chest. We stand that way for I don't know how long, and then I have to pull away. I wipe my tears before looking up, Jon's hands still on my shoulders.

"Thank you," I murmur, our eyes locked, mine still swimming with tears. "Also, please call me Dany. I've gotta go, now. My flight..."

He swallows hard."Be strong, Dany."

++o+ Flashback End +o++

Jon clears his throat, snapping me out of my thoughts, my eyes meeting his instantly now that he's awake.

"Hey," he smiles.

"Good morning," I smile back, "Thank you for sleeping out here with me."

"Oh, I felt like giving it a try," he says, faltering a bit. "Not because I was worried about you, or anything like that."

His eyes now look around the campsite, anywhere but at me.

"Uh huh," I laugh at him while sitting up. He smiles at me and rolls his eyes.

"I'm dying for a shower, it's super early so there shouldn't be a line," I start. I'm about to ask him to tell the others if they wake before I return.

"I'd like one too, let's go," he responds.

+++o+++

It was a far walk to the entrance of the grounds, and we walked quietly as most people were sleeping.

I gasp seeing the shampoo-conditioner bottle he has, one of the joys of car camping. He chuckles when I jump up and down with joy. I hate when my hair is oily, it drives me nuts. He even has an extra towel I can use, that's not something I packed for hiking. The showers are unisex, but we agree neither of us want any surprises. We'll take turns and the other person will stand guard. I tell him to go first, as I need to still organize my clothes in my pack.

"Jon, let me know when you're coming out. I am just going to wrap myself in this huge bedspread you call a towel and only bring in my clean clothes," I call, while moving behind a wall for privacy as I quickly strip out of my dirty clothes.

"Bedspread size, huh? Do they make special towels for especially tiny women?" he snickers at me.

"Shut up," I snap while laughing.

The water turns off and I imagine him drying off with his towel. Stop, Dany. I push those thoughts out of my head. I wish he'd come out in a towel....

"Dany?" he calls.

"What?" I say.

"Make sure you're decent, I'm coming out," he says.

"I'm ready," I say, as we slip past each other in the narrow hallway. The hallway is so narrow our bodies awkwardly brush against one another as we move past.

Jon glances away from me, the tips of his ears flaming red. I wonder what happened.

"I'll be quick, I promise," I say, once I'm in the shower stall and hanging my towel and clean clothes on the far door.

"Take your time," he says, but his voice sounds strained.

I don't want to hold up breakfast, and we still have to walk back to camp, so I rush through my shower, only taking time to concentrate on scrubbing my hair.

Suddenly I hear a woman's voice right outside the shower door. I can't not hear them.

Woman: Hey Jon, you look nice and clean.

Jon: Um, hi. Yes,well. A shower tends to do that to a person.

Woman: My friends are still sleeping. Come back to my tent, we'll have some alone time.

Jon: (Silence. An uncomfortably long silence.)

Oh my God, are they already fooling around? Maybe he just walked off with her?

Woman: Why so shocked, Jon? Come on, I know you were checking me out yesterday. Let's have some fun. There's so much I can-

I've never gotten dressed so fast in my life! I roll up my towel, tucking it under my arm and opening the stall door without raising my eyes, afraid of what I'll see.

"Excuse me," I interrupt.

Out of morbid curiosity, I steal one glance at the voice. Damn, she's gorgeous. Who the hell looks that good and sexy when camping? This chick, that's who.

"Dany...um..." Jon stammers, he sounds stunned.

Without looking at anyone, I swiftly grab my backpack off the floor and walk out of the showers area while prattling away.

"I'll find my way back," I say. "Bye guys!" I cringe at how awkward that was, and how stupid I just sounded. I shake my head, it never ends with this guy.

Once I've put in a good amount of distance between myself and the showers, I laugh to myself. It's class all over again. I get it...he is really handsome, like weak-in-the-knees hot. I don't know what went down with his ex, but I don't envy her. She probably had to beat women off with a stick! Who'd want to deal with that shit every day?

Not me.

"Hey!" Jon grabs my elbow and stops me. "Why'd you leave like that?"

Is he joking? I look at him, confused.

"You looked busy," I respond.

Jon frowns, releasing my elbow as we both resume walking to camp.

"I just met that girl yester-" he starts. I can hear the embarrassment in his voice.

"It's not my business. You don't need to explain," I shrug my shoulders and smile at him. "Just drop it."

It really has nothing to do with me, I'm just relieved they didn't start hooking up right outside my shower.

"Okay, got it," he frowns.

I shrug my shoulders and chuckle at him, now that I'm not trapped in a bathroom, afraid they were gonna get it on two feet from me. It's at least a little funny.

"I'm starved, I want to offer to cook too," I say seriously. "Let's hurry."

I'm eating all their food, the least I can do is all the grunt work. I still feel guilty.

Jon nods, still frowning. I hope he didn't pass up on tent sex with that girl because he thought I shouldn't go back to camp alone without him, since I'm not really part of the group. Ugh.

We walk in silence, but it feels a little uncomfortable - awkward, even. I start planning ways to get out of the Bear Like hike. I'm starting to feel like a third wheel. I just want to go home.

It's early and this is a busy campsite, I'm sure someone could give me a ride out of the park. One of my friends would be willing to come get me from Estes Park. Missandei is going to have a fit when she hears what went down with Drogo, and I can already hear her "I told you he was bad news." And she'd have every right to say it, she has been asking me to dump him. I should've listened to her.

It'd be even better if I could catch a ride with someone heading to Boulder.

"Dany, just wait. I want to talk for a minute." he says, his hand slipping into mine, and then leading us towards the side of the main path. What's he doing?

I look at him curiously and smile. He can't possibly be mad at me, right? I didn't tell him he should leave that chick behind. I force a smile and wait for him to talk.

He drops my hand and runs his fingers through his hair. He seems flustered. Once he looks at me, locking eyes, I feel a small flip in my chest, and it's not from fear of him being mad. I want to drag him into a tent myself!

Stop it, Dany!

"I get you don't care, but Melisandre is a girl I met for three minutes yesterday, and I was just stunned at how forward she was," he says. "And of course I knew you'd hear her. I was caught off guard," Jon frowns. He's now staring intently at me.

I fight the urge to squirm. Should I apologize for something? I could just try to say a general sorry. Like an umbrella apology to cover everything and anything.

He slowly releases the breath he's been holding and chuckles nervously.

"I'm sorry if I somehow ruined your moment—" I clear my throat.

He frowns deepens, which is not what I was expecting. Why do I feel like I'm making things worse?

"If I wanted to screw her, I would've done it yesterday. You didn't ruin anything," he states matter-of-factly.

I bite the inside of my cheek and ignore the warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach.

"Okay, got it," I smile and nod. As we start walking back to camp, I knock my shoulder into his and tease him. "It must be so hard having pretty girls throwing themselves at you! Poor guy, what a difficult life you live."

He shakes his head, dismissing my joking comments. He does smile though. I smile too, as I push away the pang of jealously I feel.

Ugh, stop. I'm being silly.

Get over it, Dany.

++o++

I'm so excited to do this hike. I've gone around Bear Lake countless times, which is awesome, but I've never hiked from Bear Lake to Bierstadt Lake. All Drogo and his band of misfits wanted to do was sit around all day drinking.

Our group walks to the front of Aspenglen to catch the shuttle service, it runs through a loop of the entire park and will drop you off so you can do a day trip, and then take the shuttle back when you're done.

As we board the bus, I notice that the couples sit together, Ghost lying on the floor between their seats.

"Dany, let's sit here," Jon's breath tickles the back of my neck, sending chills down my back. I didn't realize he was standing so close to me.

I turn to look at him, he is not that much taller than me so our faces are just inches apart. I gulp and nod. Once we're sitting in the seat our arms and knees touch, these shuttles are not designed for comfort. He feels so warm next to me. I control my urge to lean into him.

We disembark the bus at Bear Lake. Good weather is predicted for the afternoon so we all packed light. We plan to eat lunch out here, so we have our food and water too.

"Guys, let's do a loop around the lake before we start, okay?" Gilly asks.

"I want to warm up too, before the off-path hike. Around the lake will be perfect." Tyrion says.

We all quickly agree and start our walk around Bear Lake. It's obvious quickly who the couples are. Bear Lake has a well-established path around it, but it's usually two people side by side - which leaves me and Jon walking together. We both roll our eyes at all the happiness around us.

Jamie slips his hand up the back of Brienne's shirt to guide her around someone, and I almost gag.

"You look like you are about to hurl," Jon quietly teases.

"That obvious?" smiling back at him, I nudge him with my shoulder. He chuckles and puts his arm around me for a moment. He then frowns and pulls me back a little from the group before we keep walking.

"It didn't occur to me that you and Drogo broke up like five minutes ago. Is it hard for you to be around all this happiness and sappy crap?" Jon asks me seriously. He looks genuinely concerned.

Could he be any nicer?

I think it through before answering him, I want to be honest with him. "Drogo and I were together a few months, and things were never really right. If what we had was 'good' then I would just give up and go the convent now."

Jon chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of "That'd be a waste." We are walking again, we've fallen behind the group by a few yards so we can speak privately.

"You're sweet, thank you for that," I say as our eyes meet, for a moment I forget where I am. Am I imagining this? The way he looks at me...it feels...

Yes. It's your imagination. Get over yourself, Dany.

"My parents don’t have the best relationship," I say softly. "The most important advice my mom gave me was that it shouldn't be 'that' hard."

I see Jon's brow furrow as we walk along, but he is looking straight ahead.

I slip my hand in his to get his attention. He seems startled for a moment and then smiles at me, his grip on my hand tightening.

"I'm not doing a good job explaining this. My mom didn't mean that relationships should be all roses, believe me, my parents have had some serious issues deal with but... The problems between them had always been there. She wanted me to learn that dating, is just that... dating." I pull my hand away to nervously wring my hands, why am I telling Jon all of this? "I just realize that things with Drogo were hard from day one. But he had this way of pulling me back in, with his best behavior bullshit."

Jon frowns, and then he opens and closes his mouth as though he wanted to say something.

"So after all of that blabber...to answer your question, it's not hard hanging with you guys, happy couples and all. I accepted a while ago that Drogo was not the right guy for me. I just made the poor choice of staying as long as I did. But no, I don't feel sad or yearn for him. Or anything like that," I smile at him, "Hopefully that doesn't make me sound like a heartless bitch...since we broke up five minutes ago."

"Not at all, thank you for talking to me about that," Jon says seriously. I notice he is brooding again, something I’ve noticed he does often. "My parents...well, my mom died before I even turned one," I feel my stomach drop with sadness. He was just a baby, that's awful. I nod to show him I'm listening. "My dad remarried when I was really young, but I never felt a connection with his wife. Well...that’s a really long sad story. But that aside, I can admit they had a very solid marriage.”

I give him a sideways glance, he has a dark look on his face. This time I grab him, I give his hand a firm squeeze. He doesn't look at me, but I see a small smile on his face.

"What's your story with the now ex-girlfriend?" I ask cautiously, afraid I'm being too nosy. My worry washes away when Jon starts laughing.

"That bad?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Probably even worse than you're imagining!" Jon laughs.

"Worse than a belligerent drunk boyfriend that couldn't deliver 95% of the time because he'd blackout drunk, but then decides a public romp at a camp site is what he wants?" I scowl, remembering Drogo's pressure the night we broke up. Wait, did I just say that outloud?! Damn it, why did I just admit to Jon how pathetic my sex life was? What the hell is wrong with me?

Jon's eyes are dark for a moment and my cheeks flush. "Sorry, TMI," I mumble.

"Dany, you can tell me anything. Never feel like you have to hold back with me." He says firmly, and I believe him. I blush and nod.

Jon then tells me that his story is worse. He gets me up to speed with his ex, named Ygritte. I'm laughing hysterically as he explains her antics to get engaged.

"You have to be lying, or at least exaggerating," I say between peals of laughter. "She did not do that!" I actually have to stop to grab my side as I am getting cramps from laughing. At this point we are really far behind our group. Neither of us seem to care.

"Are you tired already? Do you need me to carry you?" Jon teases as he scoops me up and carries me. "I thought you would be in better shape."

I wrap my arms around his neck to steady myself. I’m immediately impressed at how very strong he is.

"I can walk, but I need to you stop exaggerating about Ygritte," I say. "She did not log in to your online checking account to figure out how much money you had available to spend on a diamond."

I can't even say it without laughing. That would be crazy!

"On my life, Dany! I didn't figure it out until the breakup argument," Jon explains. "She let it slip that she knew I wasn't serious about her ring because I had just spent $637.42 on a white water rafting trip. She knew the amount to the penny. You know, the same argument that it was somehow my fault that she cheated on me all weekend."

My mouth falls open. Ygritte makes Drogo look like a catch. "Wow," I say, "You deserve so much better, Jon."

"I think so, too," Jon stares directly at me, and I feel a pull in my stomach.

"Um, you can put me down now..." I say meekly.

"You sure?" Jon says seriously, staring at me.

I giggle, and nod yes.

He smiles and puts me down.

"Are you sure you're up for the hike to Lake Bierstadt? I was expecting you to have better stamina—"

"Shut the hell up, Jon," I snap and shove him. I try to hide the smile on my face.

"I will only shut the hell up under one condition," he smiles.

"Which is...."

"You need to stay with us for the rest of the camping trip, and then I'll drive you home Wednesday morning," Jon says seriously, all joking forgotten.

I bite my lip. Can I stay? This isn't my trip, and these aren't really my friends. How could I not be infringing, but I want to stay.

"Are you sure?" I start. "I mean, what about..."

Jon pulls me in front of him, his hands holding my shoulders.

"Dany. Stop it. Look at me, I'm sure," he pleads. "I've already talked to the others, and everyone wants you here. Please stay."

I blush, feeling the heat on my chest as well.

"Okay, I'd love too!" I say happily.

Jon pulls me into his arms, lifting me up and squeezing me tightly. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck. Suddenly our friendly hug feels like something different. I can't think of one time that Drogo held me, and made me feel this way.

Shit...I'm so screwed. Jon's hands slowly roam up and down my sides and I freeze. I wasn't expecting any of this. He puts me down, his cheeks red too.

"Um..." Jon starts.

"Come on guys, pick up the pace! Less laughter and more brisk walking, we can hear your girlie giggles all the way up here," Tyrion yells from ahead.

+++o+++

The hike to Lake Bierstadt was incredible, better than I imagined it would be. I'm entertained the entire way with the banter between Tyrion and Jamie. They are both hysterical. I notice that anywhere I go, Jon seems to gravitate towards me.

When we sit down on a huge boulder to eat lunch, everyone takes out different parts of the meal that they carried. Jon gets up and brings back a sandwich and apple for each of us, smiling as he sits down next to me.

"Listen guys, tonight I'll handle dinner and clean up. It's the least I can do," I say firmly. "I still feel bad I didn't contribute to food and drinks."

Everyone tells me not to worry, they had more than enough.

"Actually, I paid for a fourth of all the food and drinks, so actually I have already paid for you Dany. You can consider yourself my plus one. So no more feeling bad, not one second more," Jon insists.

Before I even think about it, I lean over and kiss Jon on cheek. Jon immediately blushes and lowers his eyes. I worry I’ve made him uncomfortable.

"Aw, how sweet!" the group cheers and teases us. I'm so embarrassed, I wasn't thinking when I did that.

We end up playing cards and relax during the break from hiking. When it's time to pack up the trash, I jump up to do it, Jon immediately gets up to follow me.

"Sit, Jon," I insist, "I've got this."

We need to pack up the trash and carry it out until we find a park trash bin, basically super heavy-duty trash cans that will not attract wildlife.

When I'm on the outskirts of the group, Brienne and Gilly pounce.

"Dany!" Brienne whispers. I smile at her and raise my brows.

Gilly grabs us both and pulls us further away from the group.

"We know that we shouldn't meddle, but we just have to put in a good word for Jon," Gilly takes the lead while Brienne nods in agreement.

"Oh Dany, he's an amazing guy. Forget about his beautiful face, which come on, we can all admit is amazing. More importantly, he is kind, sweet, loyal -and we think he's crazy about you."

I just smile and shrug. I'm not sure how I feel about Jon. I'm also not sure that I could ever handle being more than friends. I think about that girl at the shower - shit like that would drive me insane. I’m such a jealous person, I always have been. Even as a child my family would say I had the temperament of a fire breathing dragon.

"We should get back guys, it's getting late," I smile as the girls roll their eyes and tell me I'm no fun.

Yeah, I know.

+++o+++

By the time we take the shuttle back to our camp, my stomach is grumbling. Walking through the entrance and taking a break to use restroom and freshen up, I keep expecting that girl to pop out of the bushes and offer to have sex with Jon again. I shake my head, trying to push those thoughts away.

"Penny for your thoughts," Jon whispers, sneaking up on me.

I laugh, because there is no way in hell I'd admit what I was thinking about.

"Guys! There is a warning posted on the board about bad weather rolling in tonight. We better do an early dinner and be ready to go to our cars if needed," Sam calls out.

Jon and I immediately make eye contact. He walks closer and I turn to face him, ready to talk.

"You know, if you insist on sleeping under the stars and in the rain," Jon leans closer to me. "I will be forced to sleep out there too. Or you can sleep in my tent, we can even switch with Jamie so you and Brie—"

"Stop, I'm not that much of prude. I'm not going to separate a couple. I'll stay in your tent...with you. Thank you, Jon," I bite my lip nervously.

"Good," Jon smiles. Then leans down and whispers, "And I'm glad you're not a prude."

I giggle and smack him. He jumps back, laughing.

We all rush through dinner, hungry for cooked warm food. Everyone is so excited for our hike to Ouzel Falls tomorrow. I've never been to the waterfall. I practically make out with my corn on the cob because nothing beats campfire corn. I notice Jon watching me with his eyebrows raised, I am glad my messy devouring of food entertains him. I wink at him and keep eating. He licks his lips in jest, and I laugh.

As soon as we clean up, all the couples start yawning and stretching. Jon and I exchange a look. The couples all want alone time to fool around. So we all agree to take an hour break and then do s'mores by the fire, at least until the rain starts.

Jon leads me to his tent, which is not visible from the fire pit. I end up yawning while we walk.

"You gonna make it for s'more tonight, Dany?" he asks.

"I'll rally, you'll see," I wink at him.

My mouth falls open when I see Jon's tent.

"Wow! Your tent is huge," I say as we step into it. We both slip off our shoes at the entrance to avoid tracking in dirt.

"I'm actually a little claustrophobic," Jon confesses. "Plus I wanted to have room for Ghost to be comfortable. All the good it does me as my loyal dog enjoys sleeping outside and patrolling."

Jon clears his throat, nodding at the corner where he has one large sleeping pad that would fit two bags side by side.

"I only have the one pad, do you mind laying our bags next to each other?" he asks.

I nod in agreement. I know I'll sleep much better if my bag is on top of the pad. I laugh when I see Jon's sleeping bag up close.

"Hey, we have the same style bag, our bags can actually zip up to make one big bag," I blurt. I then think about what I just said and groan. One big sleeping bag…

He chuckles over my embarrassment when I process what I just said!

We end up laying on top of our sleeping bags and talking. The temperature is falling rapidly since the storm is coming. That's the funny thing about Colorado, you can wear shorts one day and have snow the next.

I'm smiling at Jon when I hear scratching and whining at Jon's tent door. He rolls his eyes and lets Ghost in, explaining that he’s noticed that his dog seems to love me most of all.

I laugh as Ghost snuggles right in between us.

"That's it, the dog has got to go!" Jon frowns, motioning to Ghost.

I smile and yawn. Jon tells me to close my eyes and rest. He'll wake me when it's time for s'mores.

+++o+++

**JON POV**

Damn, I'm so tired now, the cool weather is not helping. The temperature is dropping rapidly. I should have taken a nap when I had the chance, but watching Dany sleep was too tempting. I'm officially that guy - I'm completely whipped by this girl. If she were to say jump, I'd say how high. I thought I liked her before, but the more time I spend with her, the more I want her. Not only in a physical way; I know I want her in my life. I want her in every way.

I frown, remembering how dismissive she was when Melisandre basically threw herself at me. Dany didn't care in the least. She seemed to even find it funny, teasing me about all the girls that that chase me.

That's because she's not into you.

I also worry that we'll have this weekend, and then she will disappear. It's not like we are really friends, I don't even have her cell phone number.

"Earth to Jon, your turn!" Sam reminds me. All eyes are on me because we're playing Truth or Dare.

"Um, okay?" I ask.

"Do you pick truth or dare?" Jamie asks. I see the wicked gleam in his eyes.

Shit, so far I've been given simple dares by Sam and Gilly. I know Jamie and Tyrion will push the envelope and do something really embarrassing and it will probably involve Dany.

"Truth, be kind," I state.

"Jon, yes or no...are you currently crushing on someone?" Jamie smiles.

Asshole, that is not something I want to admit in front of everyone.

In front of Dany.

I roll my eyes and refuse to answer. Jamie chuckles and assigns me the job of putting away the folding chairs tonight. I smile and nod.

I steal a glance at Dany who is looking at the fire pit, looking completely uninterested. I frown.

My turn to deliver some torture. "Jamie, truth or dare?"

"Dare!"

"I dare you to go to Dickon's camp and steal their lanterns," I say.

Jamie smiles as he is always game. He succeeds and comes back with three lanterns. He sets them down carefully. They'll figure out it was us, and then come get them, or we will bring them back.

The games goes round and round. The girls are being nice to each other and giving each other decent dares. The boys, not so much.

Everyone laughs. The rules of the game are that you agree to some kind of grunt work assignment.

Suddenly, Ghost is on guard and standing at attention, alerting us someone is coming. Dickon lets us know it is him, and the dog runs over to greet him. Dickon and two of his friends came over to search for their lanterns. I remember that Dany hadn't joined us yet the afternoon we saw Dickon at his camp.

Sam introduces Dany to his little brother. I notice the way his friends' eyes slowly rake up and down her body. He whispers something in Dany's ear, and she laughs at him and rolls her eyes. He then smiles and shrugs. They stay a few more minutes and then say goodbye. The boys wave goodbye to Dany. Dickon mouths her an apology for his friend that has been hitting on her nonstop. I don't think Dany is going to be interested in a high school junior.

We need to keep the game going. It's obvious the rain will start soon. I ask Gilly if she wants Truth or Dare. She takes dare.

I dare her to stand behind Sam and give him a good shoulder and back massage for the rest of the game. Sam laughs and claps happily. She scowls, but I know she really doesn't mind. She is always loving to Sam and doing things like that without him asking.

"I know this game is ending soon. Alright, Dany. Truth or Dare?" Gilly asks.

"Dare, please," Dany replies.

Gilly smiles, sharing a look with Brienne who nods, encouraging her.

"I dare you to take Jon into his the tent for Seven Minutes in Heaven," she says matter-of-factly. As though she had just asked Dany to hop on one foot.

Damn it, Gilly!

My cheeks are red, and poor Dany looks mortified, but she nods and gets up.

"Are you coming?" she asks me quietly.

I nod and follow her, shooting Gilly a nasty look. I didn't want Dany to feel weird or uncomfortable. We quietly step into the tent, my palms sweating because I'm nervous. I quickly find my lantern and turn it on, and once the light is on, I notice Dany is wringing her hands.

I sit down on my sleeping bag I fumble with the lantern, putting the light down as Dany sits down on her sleeping bag.

I clear my throat. "Dany, don't worry about the dare, we can just hang out—" I begin.

Suddenly. Dany has her hands on my upper chest, and she's looking at my lips. She's kneeling in front of me. I'm stunned and gulp nervously.

"Only kissing, okay?" Dany whispers, her eyes searching mine.

"I'd like that," I whisper back, while gently touching the seam of her V-neck shirt with my fingertips.

Before I can think about anything else, she closes her eyes and kisses my lips softly. I feel a spark the moment our lips touch.

Her hands roam up my shoulders and go around my neck to pull me closer. I move my hands to her waist and hold her while we kiss. I desperately want more. Our knees touch as we lean into each other so our lips can meet. She means too much to me. She always has. I control my urges and don't push her. I don't want to pressure her in any way. My eyes are closed as I just feel the energy of her kisses. I feel as though I'm about to combust.

The kisses start out sweet and timid, we both smile at each other, and then I lean down to kiss her again. Our tongues slowly begin a dance, as we kiss gently.

I move my hands up and down her sides, enjoying the feel of her under my hands. I want to let my hands roam, but I will respect her request of only kissing. Dany has one arm around my shoulders, while her other hand gently tugs at the curls at the top of my neck. With each tug of my hair, I deepen the kiss and let a little more passion slip through.

I moan when she gently nips at my lower lip. Without thinking, I pull her into my lap so I can kiss her thoroughly.

"Is this okay?" I ask, my voice betraying how worked up I am.

"Yes, Jon," she says as she kisses me roughly in return. "Very okay," she whispers in my ear and then goes back to kiss my lips.

Our kisses are incredible, full of want and need. My lips are already sore. I've never in my life kissed someone in this way.

I want to devour her mouth and -

"Guys, time is up and it's starting to rain. Sorry! But we need your help," someone yells from a few yards away.

We both smile and then pull away from each other, both embarrassed. Even though we were just kissing, the feelings were intense.

+++o+++

The next ten minutes are a blur because everyone is running around and packing up the gear. Dany helps me do the folding chairs, even when I tell her not to worry. She rolls her eyes at me.

As we say goodnight, and all the couples go to their own tents, I ask Dany if she would like some drinks and snacks for our tent.

"Of course!" she says, laughing at me.

I grab the food I think we'd both like, plus a six-pack of beer. I see the other couples had the same idea.

I make it back into our tent right as the downpour begins, Dany has fixed the lantern and set it up by our sleeping bags. I suddenly feel nervous. I don't want to mess things up. I really like her, a lot. I know from experience that sometimes a kiss is just a kiss, especially when part of a dare. I can't assume anything.

"Cards?" I offer. Her face lights up as she nods.

"Can I get you a beer? " I ask. "Some food?"

We begin our card game of Rummy, and I think she may be slightly obsessed with this game. She really gets into it, getting peeved when I pick up a card from the deck that she wanted to build her set. Of course, this only encourages me to mock her more.

"I've been meaning to ask you, when all of this crap was going down with Drogo what were the other campers doing?" I ask, trying to mask the curiosity in my voice.

I know if I ever got grabby and belligerent with any female, my friends would knock some sense into me - literally, with their fists.

Dany scowls as a scoffs escapes her lips.

"Well, let's see," she starts. "Drogo's cousin is named Margaery, and she would never stick up for me. She avoids conflict at all costs, especially if would make her boyfriend upset. She's also Joffrey's girlfriend."

I note the way Dany' voice changes when she mentions Joffrey, and the way her shoulders tense.

"Joffrey was in your class, Exercise Physiology, last fall semester. He's blond, with an obnoxious face to match his obnoxious mouth," Dany spits.

I instantly remember the student she's describing, I was actually relieved Joffrey wasn't in any of my winter classes. He was one of the most unpleasant students I've ever had to deal with as a TA.

But if I'm honest, that's not the only reason I didn't like him. He was always leering at Dany in class. It was unnerving.

"Joffrey is Drogo's best friend and dating his cousin, so I was always stuck with him. The worst part was he was always after me," Dany says. "It was this sick fantasy of his that we have an affair, which made me want to swallow my own bile. I don't even think it had anything to do with me, it was something between him and Drogo. I even wondered if that was the only reason he is dating Margaery..." her voice trails off.

"What happened? There's more, right?" I push her, I need to know.

Dany takes a long sip of her beer and then sighs. "Joffrey is another reason I had to leave the camping group," she continues.

My stomach drops, if that asshole did anything...

"After Drogo cursed me out and dumped me, I started fixing my bag and gear. Everyone had retreated to go to sleep. I had no doubt Drogo had blacked out for the night." she sighs. "Joffrey came over, Margaery was sleeping in their tent, he really wanted to hook up by the fire pit. He told me that would be the best way for me to get back at Drogo - while his girlfriend was sleeping just yards away!

"I told him he disgusts me and I'd scream bloody murder if he even looked at me again," Dany says with a sneer. "And that I'd have to care about Drogo in the first place to want to get back at him."

Her eyes meet mine for the first time, and she seems upset.

"I barely slept that night, I was so freaked that Joffrey would do something to me while I was sleeping." She cringes at the memory.

"Dany, I'm sorry you had to deal with those jerks. They sound like a bunch of assholes," I say firmly. "I hope you know that you're safe here. I'd never let anyone hurt you."

Her eyes meet mine. She looks at me and it's as though she sees me. Everything about me, everything I work so hard to hide. All of my secrets, including my past I fight so desperately to overcome.

Dany reaches out to touch the side of my face, as my heart races a mile a minute. Her thumb gently traces my lower lip before resting on my cheek again.

"I know, I trust you, Jon," she whispers.

I think about kissing her. I really want to, but I hold myself back. She's just finished telling me how some bastard has been sexually harassing her. Now is not the time. I like her a lot, but I want to be a good friend to her as well.

Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder roars and we both jump, accidentally knocking my beer over and all over my shirt.

My freezing cold beer. “Crap!” I hiss while gasping. Dany’s eyes widen for a moment.

Suddenly, she tilts her head to the side, looking at my shirt. She lowers her fingers to trace the outline of the beer stain. My Adam's apple bobs as she touches me.

"You should probably change your shirt, before you catch a cold," she whispers. She's very observant. I fidget because I have never been very comfortable with nudity. I work out, but I still don’t enjoy walking around without a shirt on. Dany sees everything, I want to be open with her. I need to be.

"Yeah, I better. I’ll take this wet shirt off first?" my voice nervous.

Dany nods, her eyes watching me carefully. I pull my shirt off and fight my instincts to cover myself up.

Dany smiles, and I tense and close my eyes. I hate how uncomfortable I am. I think about Catelyn’s words growing up.

“Ugh, Jon. Put a shirt on, no one wants to see your pudgy stomach. Maybe if you’d stop eating us out of house and home you wouldn’t be so gross!”

"What is it?" Dany asks carefully.

"I don't invite many people to look at me," I stammer. "Any actually."

"I can't imagine why," she whispers quietly. "I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous, Jon. You must know that, right?"

I turn my face to look at her. I want her so badly. I gaze at her lips, and then meet her eyes.

"Um," I gulp with desire, while also filled with self doubt.

I hold still as her fingertips trace along my shoulder and then collarbone. When Dany meets my gaze, I can see that she is trying to understand why I feel this way. I control myself as I fight to keep from flinching under her gaze.

Moments pass and she just smiles kindly, her hands falling back on her lap. I realize she won't ask me. She'll let me keep my secrets. But I don't want that, not anymore. Not with her, at least.

"My stepmother, who is pretty much out of my life now, was not very nice to me when I was a child, ever really. She was this amazing person to everyone, but me. She could barely stand the sight of me. She really harped on my appearance when I was growing up. It’s just something that stuck with me, even when logically I know she had the problem. Not me. It was as though she needed to direct all of her rage somewhere... and that was me," I deadpan. Dany sits up and moves behind me to trace my back muscles, encouraging me to continue.

I tell her about my past. How my stepmother would insist it was for my own good. That I need to toughen up, and not be such a baby. How I'd been made to feel like I was not really part of the family and how Catelyn always hated me, and never let me forget it. All while Dany moves next to me in order to listen. She looks sad, but she remains calm. I see no judgement in her eyes.

It felt good to talk to someone about this - to tell her. I know I'm falling in love with her, which terrifies me. I have no idea how she really feels about me.

Dany moves to sit behind me again, resting her chin on my shoulder as she breathes in and out, as though to calm herself. She wraps her arms around my waist, she leans down to kiss my shoulder. I almost burst, I've never felt as loved as I do in that moment.

"Dany," I croak, as I fight to not break down.

"Thank you for trusting me, I know that wasn't easy for you to talk about," she murmurs. "I promise I will never reveal what you’ve told me."

"I believe you, Dany. I trust you." I say with confidence, turning to face her.

She smiles at me, her eyes shining brightly. Her eyes showing me that she does care about me. My eyes settle on her lips, as our earlier kiss flashes through my mind. I'm desperate to kiss her again.

"Dany, do you think—" I ask quietly before being interrupted.

There is a huge gust of wind, and a small tree branch hits the side of our tent, startling us both. I quickly slip on a new shirt.

We both laugh, Dany wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. I frown, as I notice she's freezing. I hand her my sweater I had been wearing earlier and smile.

"Are you sure?" she raises her eyebrows.

I nod and smile. Dany slips it on and then pulls it up to her nose to smell it. Does she think it will stink?

"Hey now!" I chastise her, while laughing. Her mouth drops open and her cheeks get red.

"I like that it smells like you, I was just checking," she admits and then bites her lower lip.

We hear the rain droplets pounding on the tent as it sways in the wind. I'm really glad I was very careful in staking it to the ground. We will be fine.

"I'm really glad to be in a tent tonight!" Dany laughs and smiles at me.

"I'm really glad you decided to stay for the whole trip. I'm really enjoying getting to know you better," I say.

"Me too, Jon. Me too." Dany smiles.

+++o+++

It is absolutely freezing in this tent. I'm cursing myself for not packing a few of my heat packs. Activating and then tossing them in our sleeping bags would have been a huge help right now. Before bed, both Dany and I dress in layers, and she is even wearing a pair of my sweatpants over her clothing.

We turned the lantern off twenty minutes ago, each of us in our own sleeping bags that are side by side. Every time I hear Dany fidget with cold, I feel a pang. I ache to take care of her, but I'd never suggest we snuggle to warm up.

"Dany, I actually hear your teeth chattering," I whisper.

"I'm glad you're awake. I may be dying I'm so cold," she jokes as her teeth continue to chatter.

"Jon, we're both wearing a lot of layers and still cold. If we attach our sleeping bags and lie side by side we will at least be sharing body heat...if it's ok with you..." her voice trails off.

"I'm glad you said it! I was thinking the same exact thing, but I didn't want to seem creepy," I mumble.

"So I'm creepy now?" she asks.

I can tell she's teasing, so I laugh. We quickly turn on the lantern and reconfigure our bedding. We unzip both sleeping bags and lay one flat. Then we take the second and lay it over, zipping them together on the three sides, leaving the top open so we can slip in together.

Dany and I are lying side by side, and I'm the most nervous I have ever been. My heart is beating a mile a minute.

"Goodnight, Jon," she whispers.

"Goodnight, Dany," I whisper back.

++o+ Chapter End +o++