#wish i could change legally easier again to name most people call me now

[ateezmakemeweep]

broken (part 2).

san x reader

word count: 12k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of domestic abuse and rape)

(part 1)

no matter how many times you tried to change your thinking patterns, you still classified your life into two parts: before the abuse and after.

you thought, after watching your ex-boyfriend being escorted out of the courtroom with a one-year prison sentence, that you wouldn’t be scared of him anymore.

you thought that moving out of the house and living in your new apartment would make day to day life easier, not needing to see the floor you were beaten on or counter you were forced to have sex on every day.

you thought that having san would make you feel happy and loved and enough. that having a whole new family unit consisting of seven other crazy boys and a crotchety old lady would be enough.

but as you sit curled up on the bathroom floor with tears in your eyes, you’re seeing you severely underestimated everything. 

underestimated just how much trauma you still had to sort through and how badly that asshole really did mess you up.

six months ago:

“so we have the surveillance footage and witness testimony from your neighbors,” your lawyer explains gently, an older woman with kind eyes and soft-spoken voice that quickly transforms in the courtroom. 

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

the harshest sentence being one year, a measly 365 days compared to the 1,825 he subjected you to every kind of abuse: sexual, emotional, mental, physical. 

hitting and grabbing and slapping until your skin was littered with bruises and cuts. 

talking so harshly to you that you believed dying was the best option, stripping you from any sort of confidence or self-esteem you once had. 

making you feel completely inept and useless, solely viewing you as a piece of property he could boss around and use at his disposal. 

you had left the office with shaking hands and a pounding heart, barely being able to dial san’s number before he answered after one ring. 

this was the first appointment you’ve went to without him, insisting he can’t and won’t miss his midterm for this. 

“hi, love. everything go okay?” he asks softly, with the sweet gentle voice that has quite literally kept you alive these past few months. 

you don’t know what you did in another life to deserve san but you know that without him, you probably wouldn’t have made it this far. without his constant support and sweet reassurances, you wouldn’t have believed you could ever do this. 

willingly tell police officers and lawyers about what happened to you, break down and expose yourself in such a way that always made you feel weak and pathetic. 

admit aloud that, yes, you’ve been a victim of abuse and no, those bruises and scars on your body aren’t from clumsy falls into the wall or cabinet. 

without him, accompanying you to the police station or lawyer’s office, where you knew jungkook was lingering, you would’ve never felt safe. 

you would’ve broke down and took it all back, told them that you made it all up and to release him because he didn’t do anything wrong.

but he did so much wrong and you and san know that. the police and lawyers and judges know it too, several outbursts from the man in court and at the station proving that. 

it’s what makes the thought of a personal statement so hard, having to look your ex-boyfriend in the face and watch him stare you down with not an ounce of remorse or sorrow.

san must know it too, if your silence through the phone tells him anything, and you can already hear shuffling in the background as he prepares to leave his class and head to your apartment.   

“are you done with your test?” you ask first, voice sweet but mousy in a way that makes san’s stomach sink

he knew today was gonna be rough for you, he knew he should’ve asked his professor to retake the midterm next week. 

“yes,” the boy answers immediately, knowing he’s about to run back into the classroom, circle c for the last three answers and haul ass to his car. 

“san, are you-”

“i was done, it’s fine, y/n,” he confirms gently, feet moving and body desperate to rush toward your apartment. 

because he knows after all of this time, you’ve learned to hold back your pain and suffering. years of practice and keeping tears at bay that he’s noticed have made these months difficult for you two. 

and he hates knowing that you still wait till you’re alone to cry. 

that even though every time you do, he wipes away every tear and holds you to his chest until you fall asleep, you still feel most comfortable being sad alone.

that you’re probably already home now, about to bury your face in a pillow and sob until you hear his car and wipe your cheeks clean like nothing is wrong. 

but there’s a lot wrong. 

a lot wrong with how you’ve been treated and how hard it is to move past it. 

a lot wrong with the legal system that makes this painful journey even more exhausting, forcing you to recount memory after memory and answer question after question about the worst ordeals of your life. 

that’s why san can’t help but turn in his test and rush out the door to his car, speeding off campus and onto the highway in hot pursuit of your apartment above the bakery.

it had seemed like perfect little place to get you back on your feet, the smell of freshly baked bread and pleasant bustle of regulars greeting you in the early morning hours. 

there was no commute for you, just a walk down the stairs and through the yellow door of the bakery, where simple work waited for you. 

“you just need to ring up the customers and maybe clean a table or two. most people take their things to go,” your boss had told you, a divorced mother of three who spent most of her life baking before she was finally able to open up a place of her own. 

it was simple work but it was more than you’d done in years, something as little as small talk with regulars successfully draining you. filling you with a nervousness and fear that you’re still feeling even without your ex’s presence. 

but it’s in the way a man yells on the phone about a business deal going sour while waiting for his morning coffee. 

a woman chastising her kids saying that they won’t get to eat the cookies she’s buying after dinner. 

the slam of the door when a harsh gust of wind howls from outside and rattles the small bakery with light blue walls and pictures of bread and desserts.

you don’t know how many coffees you’ve spilt or plates you’ve broken from jumping at the harsh sounds, realizing little by little how hard this transition was gonna be. 

even with san and his friends and your boss and the crazy old lady who secured this new life for you in the first place, it’s still hard. 

you can’t even imagine doing all of these new things alone, just living in such a simple way that the average person takes for granted. 

but you suppose it’s not all simple yet, going back and forth between meetings with your lawyer and the police for the court date that’s rapidly approaching. 

you can feel that the closer it comes, the harder it is to breathe. 

the mere thought of seeing the man who hurt you for the longest five years of your life, sitting in front of you with not an ounce of remorse on his face. making  this process even harder because how are you supposed to talk in front of him? 

see clear as day that you’re not safe and you never will be. 

that he’s gonna get out in a year, because that’s the harshest sentence possible without you being hospitalized or dead, and hurt you again. he’s never gonna stop hurting you because he always said you were his and he wouldn’t ever hesitate to-

you don’t even hear the jingle of san’s keys opening the front door or his softly spoken call of your name. 

you’re only aware of his presence when you feel his warm, small hands cup your face, his thumbs rubbing over your wet, salty skin as he mutters your name lowly.

“hey, i’m here, i’m here,” he mumbles sweetly, tone soft and gentle the way it always is no matter what the circumstances are.

he plops down on the couch before pulling you into his lap, his hand rubbing up and down your back gently. you hear the quiet but firm “sh, sh, sh,” against your head, the sharp calming hums always in threes as an attempt to ground you.

you try to focus on his calming sounds and even breaths, the hand on your back so warm and gentle as he lulls your panicked body into a calmer state. 

you bury your face in his chest and breathe in his scent, cologne and detergent mixed with his natural scent that lingers on your pillow every morning. 

“i-i’m sorry.”

the words make his stomach plummet, tears burning his eyes because you never have anything to be sorry for. you never have anything to be sorry for and you say it all the time. 

when you bump into him in the kitchen while making food together.

when you sit on the remote and change the channel by accident.

when you burnt the cookies one night and made the fire alarm go off. 

he remembers that being one of the worse nights, the loud noises making you jump while also flinching away when he lifted his arm up to fan away the smoke. and then you immediately apologized again, cookies long forgotten before he grabbed your hand and led you into the living room. 

he just held your hand as you both watched tv, his thumb rubbing over your skin before you spoke words so quietly, he almost missed them. 

“i wish...i would stop doing that.”

he cranes his neck over to look at you, eyebrow raised and eyes soft as he looks  at you questioningly. 

he wants to tease and say that you’ve never burnt the cookies before but anytime you feel comfortable enough to talk to him like this, he never wants to say the wrong thing.

“i...i know you would never hurt me,“ you continue after a few moments. “and i know i’m just...scared easily, i guess. but it makes me feel bad,” you admit quietly, heart pulling in your chest as you look at the man beside you. 

he has gotten you through the hardest times of your life, has been by your side every step of the way with no questions or complaints, and you haven’t been able to repay him. 

not even with a plate of fucking cookies. 

“you don’t have to feel bad, y/n,” san says gently, his hand reaching out slowly to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. 

your eyes close at his feather light touch and the way it makes your heart jump, his fingers lingering on you in a way that makes you feel so safe and content. 

“and i know it’s hard to believe still but you have nothing to be scared of either. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again and i mean that.”

“but i feel like i’m hurting you,” you mumble softly, pulling your knees up as you rest your head on the couch cushion. his brows pull together as his eyes roam your face, a pout on his lips the more he looks at you in silence.

“you’ve helped me so much and i just...” tears fill your eyes as you struggle to find the words and breathe. you’ve only been living in your new house for two months now and almost every day, san has been here. 

bringing you food, helping you clean and decorate, spending late nights with you watching movies, helping you through an inevitable fit of panic when your memories and life become too much. 

he makes it easier to breathe and you’re scared that without him, you’re gonna stop one day.

“i just keep... taking from you. you get nothing out of helping me but you still do it anyway and i...you shouldn’t even bother, san. i-i’m not worth this time and i just want you to-”

“stop.”

he tries to keep the anger out of his voice knowing that all of this is what you’ve been told. you’ve been told your whole life that you weren’t enough, were only deemed worthy by a piece of shit who did nothing but hurt and berate you. 

but it doesn’t make it any less hard to hear. to hear in your voice and see in your eyes that you truly believe you’re not worth the time he wants to put into you. 

“you’re worth the time to me,” he says, voice gentle but firm in a way that makes a lump form in your throat. his finger reaches out to trace small circles on your hand, your eyes following it so he doesn’t see the tears building up. 

“i like seeing you happy, y/n. and i wanna help you.”

your teary eyes meet his and you swallow the growing lump in your throat when you see the look on his face, soft and sweet in a way you still can’t believe is directed toward you. 

“i feel like i need a lot of help,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as you think back to how day to day life is so challenging and draining. 

the loud voices and the screaming kids and banging door that sends you into a panic. the broken dishes and tear stains on your pillow that are there more often than not after san leaves every night. 

but san’s hearing each and every word right now, his heart panging in his chest at how vulnerable you are right now. how you let him see this side of you and continue to despite how hard he knows everything’s been. 

“that’s okay,” he smiles softly, stopping the circles on your hand to intertwine your fingers. “i’m gonna be here as long as you need me, okay?”

you look up to meet his gaze and feel a tear slip down your cheek, a cry bubbling in your throat that you so desperately wanna let out. 

but you also don’t wanna make san any more sad tonight, biting down on your lip as you nod your head before leaning on his shoulder. 

you don’t see the smile that crosses his face or hear the content sigh that leaves him, his hand in yours and presence enough to lull you into a dreamless sleep. 

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you quietly, looking over your face as he wipes at your cheeks. you meet his gaze and your eyes stay locked on one another, his thumb gentle and soft across your skin.

“did you do good on your test?” you squeak out after a few moments of silence, a smile breaking out across his face. 

“of course i did, we studied all night, didn’t we?” he teases, referring to just last night when you helped him with index cards and read them all to him twice before promptly passing out on his chest. 

a blush crosses your face as you look down in embarrassment, a sweet high pitched laugh bubbling out of him. 

“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. your drool only ruined a few of them.”

“i don’t drool,” you mutter, a small smile on san’s face as he tightens his hold on you in his lap. 

“did you eat yet?” 

you shake your head as indistinguishable mumble leaves your mouth, curling yourself into his chest more as his warmth and comforting scent envelop you. 

his lips brush against your hair in a small smile, quietly asking what you wanna eat even though he knows you’re gonna say you don’t care. 

“whatever you want,” you mutter against him, the exhaustion of waking up at 5 am and the draining meeting with your lawyer catching up to you. 

and san knows on days like these that chinese food and watching reruns of old cartoons is usually the thing you need to feel a little bit better. 

pretend that just for a few hours, everything is okay and there’s nothing more pressing than spending the night together in what always turns into having a sleepover. 

because just as you found it difficult to live in that house you once shared with jungkook, san finds it difficult to go back to that block every night. 

stay just a few houses away from where he’s reminded of how you were treated while he was just a few feet away.

watching as the backyard once full of flowers becomes dull and colorless and every window reminds him of what was truly going on behind the walls of that house.

it’s one of the reasons why staying with you just makes sense. that and the fact that leaving you always proves to be the hardest part of the night together. 

you with a pout and sad eyes quietly whining for him to stay and him being completely powerless as he throws himself down next to you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

he’s not surprised when the same thing happens tonight, your eyes drooping and body slacking against him before he quietly asks if he should get going. you look up at him tiredly, eyebrows pulled together and one cheek red from you leaning on his chest in a way that makes him hold back a smirk.

“no,” you say quietly, your eyes roaming his face before you quickly realize he might want to leave you. the thought rips a pang of hurt through your chest but you can’t help but feel that might be the case. 

you ripped him away from his test and cried on him all night. why would he wanna stay with you? 

“unless you want to. i-i don’t wanna force you to stay here if you don’t-”

“of course i want to,” san responds, taking your face in his hands gently and allowing his thumb to run along your soft skin. “i was just checking.” 

because he also never wants to overstep. make you feel too overwhelmed or smothered since if it were up to him, he’d never leave your side again. 

his words and touch send relief through you, the panic and fear that attempted to break through quickly dying it. everything about him makes it so easy to be calm and comforted, a smile making it’s way on your face as you nod. 

you place your head back on his chest, sighing contently when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder a few moments later. you stare at the tv blankly, not sure how long you’re lost in thought about the conversation at the lawyer’s office. 

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

could you really do that though? strip yourself to the most vulnerable degree and proclaim to a courtroom full of people how weak and defenseless you were for five years? how the man who’s gonna be seated just a few feet away over you had that much power over you? 

would you feel better looking jungkook in the face and telling him that you’re gonna be strong and come out okay? that he won’t be able to hurt you anymore and will rot behind a cell for what he’s done?

or would you it make you feel worse? seeing him again and the blankness behind his eyes. the pity and sorrowful looks on the judge and court officers when your voice shakes and eyes brim with tears as you recall your old life.

you’re not even sure if san is awake at this point, his arm heavy around you and breaths even under your head but you can’t seem to stop your tired self from speaking.

“my lawyer suggested i make a personal statement.”

san doesn’t stutter under you, the only sign of him being awake when he hums lowly and gently pulls away from you. the bed dips next to you when he lays on his side, your eyes meeting just as he reaches out to smooth out a messy strand of hair.

“yeah?” he mumbles lowly, his soft eyes roaming your face. “how do you feel about that?” 

the question, despite the serious tension in leaves in the air, makes you smile softly, remembering when your lawyer recommended counseling, you thought back to san waiting in the car and felt as if you already had all the support you needed. 

he has the most patience and kindness of anyone you’ve ever met before and you can’t imagine trusting someone as much as trust him. have someone else hear you this vulnerable and genuine, see you cry and feel all the emotions that come with rebuilding your life after being a victim of domestic violence. 

“i don’t know if i can do it.”

the words make san frown, holding himself up on his elbow as he looks over your face with concern. he can tell you’re tired, eyes hazy and drooping but he also can tell your mind’s been preoccupied. 

more so than usual. 

“i...i don’t know if i could do it with him there.”

“he’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” san reminds you gently, his hand creeping down in between your bodies to take ahold of yours. it’s soft and small and warm and everything about it makes you feel safe. 

“i-i know. but...just him being there. watching me and hearing me say what he’s done when i know he has no remorse. and then telling more people how i let it go on for so long and-”

“you didn’t let anything go on for too long. it wasn’t your fault. y/n.”

tears burn your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, hearing those words from almost everyone in your life but still not having the ability to grasp it. 

it feels like your fault, it feels like you’ve allowed yourself to be treated in a way you knew was wrong for far too long. 

because now look at you. trying to rebuild your life but being panicked when the wind howls just a little too loudly outside. 

you take a few deep calming breaks and swallow as you look at him, eyes hazy and glossy and threatening to close shut; you’re so tired but it’s like your brain never stops going these days. 

“she said...it’d guarantee the harshest sentence. but shouldn’t the evidence be enough? the tapes and the witnesses? why- why do i have to keep going through this?” you whisper, voice shaky and tears building as you look at him. the sight alone makes san stomach sink, rolling his tongue between his lips anxiously. 

“i just want it to be over. i don’t wanna keep recounting what happened over and over and over again. i... it’s so hard, san. it’s so hard and i feel like i can’t do it anym-” 

your words break off as a quiet whimper leaves your mouth, crumbling against san’s body when he pulls you forward and wraps his arms around you. your head falls in the crook of his neck as his hand rests on the back of your head, breathing slowly and evenly as quiet hums leave his mouth. 

“I know, baby,” san mumbles, his lips against your head as he presses a kiss to your hair. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? no one can make you do anything.”

"you're hurting me, jungkook," your broken voice tells him, the cracks and pain behind it familiar to even your own ears.

you don't know how many times you've heard yourself like this. so desperate and defeated.

"i wish i didn't have to, babydoll," he says lowly, "but you never listen. you make me do this."

and you don’t even think about if you’re gonna regret it at the time. not use your own voice and speak up in front of the courtroom about what the man on trial did. 

you can only think about his eyes watching you, your friends hearing your voice quiver and shake, the judge maybe not taking your words into account. it all seems too much right now, the crushing weight of anxiety and fear that’s making you feel too weak to do that. 

“you made it this far. and it’s almost all over, okay?” san reassures, his hand stroking your hair as he tries to calm your cries. “if you wanna do it, i’ll be right there next to you. we’ll all be there for you and you’ll be safe the whole time. but if you don’t, that’s okay too. you don’t have to and everything will still be okay.”

and because it’s like the blonde just knows everything when it comes to you, everything is okay - or as okay as things can be under these circumstances. 

your lawyer didn’t bat an eye when you told her you weren’t sure if you could do a personal statement, her hand on your shoulder as she gently tells you that it’s okay. that the harshest sentence would probably still be given, considering the unusual amount of evidence in a case like this. 

you watched jungkook get taken out of court with a one year sentence, thrashing in handcuffs and cursing at you while you gripped san’s hand tightly. 

you had foolishly thought watching that was gonna somehow heal you immediately. 

no longer make you afraid or flinch at the smallest of sounds or movements, make you feel like now you can take san’s words to heart and feel worthy of the love he showered you with. 

but it was with that love, you started to grow too dependent. let it consume you in a whole new way that made you feel like without san, you couldn’t breathe. 

at first, he didn’t know what had triggered the episodes that followed three months after the trial. 

it had seemed as if you were making a lot of progress over the past few months, truly happy and smiley without an ounce of fear in your eyes that had always seemed to linger. 

you were working hard at the bakery, becoming closer with the regulars and even finding it easier to talk with them. they found you comforting and sweet, always greeting them with a warm smile and remembering how many sugars they got with their morning coffee. 

the same warm smile you gave san when he told you he was visiting his parents for his mom’s birthday one weekend, sending him off with a loaf of bread and an array of cookies. 

“don’t eat them all,” you teased lightly, side-eyeing mingi who was one of your many regulars and could also take your advice as he shovels rainbow cookies in his mouth. 

“i won’t,” san smiles gently, looking in mingi’s direction and holding back a laugh upon seeing the boy. 

he was probably the next closest person you came to trust since you all got to know each other, a soft spot for him ever since the moment he deemed sunflowers ‘sunnies’ during the darker times. 

mingi was the happiness and innocence you think you must have had once. finding the good in everything and being happy just because the sun was out and dessert was on the table. 

“and neither should you,” san chastises the younger boy, smacking him in the back of the head lightly. you smile softly at the exchange, holding back a snort as you clean off the table next to the bickering boys. 

the arm around your waist a few moments later would’ve startled you had you not smelt san’s cologne, leaning into him and feeling grateful you’re the only three in the store right now. 

you look over your shoulder and smile softly at him, heart stuttering at the look on his face. eyes full of such concern, you should know he’s about to ask you if you’re-

“are you gonna be okay tonight?” 

he wasn’t ignorant of the fact, the same way you weren’t, that this is gonna be one the first nights you’ve spent alone in months. 

not falling asleep to the gentle lull of his breathing or his arms around your waist. no one to be there if you wake up from a nightmare, where memories torment your body as you hear the shouts of your ex and feel as if your body is still being bruised.

san not being there to wake you with a gentle peck on the cheek before dragging you back to the warm bed when you try to get up for work. 

but you have to be okay, right? you’ve been doing so good these past few weeks. and you’re an adult the same way he’s an adult, it’s ridiculous to think you guys would have to spend every night together. 

“of course, silly” you poke him gently, smiling when his dimples poke out of his cheeks. “have fun with your parents. don’t worry about me.”

“i always worry about you,” he mumbles lowly, his lips ghosting over your hair as you push his chest lightly. he bites back a smile when he sees the blush on your cheeks, pulling away from him immediately so you can stick your tongue out at him. 

and that night, it actually feels as if you’re okay. 

you busy yourself by cleaning and cooking before passing out to the vampire diaries. your sleep is dreamless and calm, waking up to a good morning message from san consisting of a bare-faced, messy-haired selfie. 

but a few days after his return is when he began to notice the little changes. 

behaviors he thinks you weren’t even aware of that made his heart sink into his stomach; it reminded him so much of the first few weeks you were away from jungkook. 

how despite the fear in your eyes, you clung to him because you knew he’d never hurt you. felt safe in his presence and sought him out when you were feeling uncomfortable or upset. 

and he sees you’re back to the place right now, so obviously uneasy and upset despite the major progress you’ve been making. 

it was like the second he came through the door, you had to be by his side. leaning your head on his shoulder as you watched your shows or grabbing his hand when he got up to go to the bathroom. 

at first, he thought it was cute - your clinginess and obvious affection toward him. he thought it was sweet and it made him so happy, smiling softly and kissing the top of your head as he told you he’d be back in a minute.

but the more the weeks went on, the worse it was seeming to get. 

you asking him after only a few hours of him at school when he was gonna be back. nightmares and bad memories haunting you when you’d fall asleep for naps in between your shift ending and his last class. 

“baby... are you sure you’re okay these days?” 

the words cause you to stop stirring the pasta in the pot, craning your neck to where san is sitting on the countertop. 

he meets your gaze with a soft smile and extends his hand out to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your nose before pulling you up.

you squeal at the sensation, giggling quietly because there you two are just perched on the counter like two cats and no regard for the boiling pot of food beside you. 

you giggle again when he places a kiss to your neck, tightening his hold around your waist.

he relishes in the sound of your laugh because it also seems like these days, he’s hasn’t heard it that much. 

“i feel like i haven’t heard that in a while,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips lingering on your skin. he never wants to say the wrong thing with you or make you feel like you’re not doing good enough. 

you pull back and look at him with a small pout, your fingers toying at the end of his shirt nervously. 

“i...i’m okay though,” you tell him quietly, thinking it’s the truth even though you have felt off these days. 

you didn’t know what it was though honestly. it’s felt like ever since san came back from his parents, you’ve needed him extra. clingy and needy and annoying in the sense that the poor man can’t even go away without you needing him. 

and now he seems to know it, too. 

maybe he doesn’t wanna do this anymore. maybe he didn’t sign up for months of you going back and forth, feeling great and confident one week and then back to being clingy and scared the next. 

because you know it’s only a matter of time before two things happens: he gets sick of you and leaves or starts resenting you. doesn’t wanna waste his time with a battered woman when he could be wth fun and carefree college girls. 

“have i been annoying?” 

your blurted out question throws him off as much as it breaks his heart, immediately shaking his head as he cups your cheeks. 

his lips fall into a pout and your eyes immediately fall to them, about to comment on it before he places a sweet, short peck on yours.

you two, despite your close and intimate relationship full of skin-ship, don’t kiss a lot. you can only count of one hand how many times san has kissed you on the lips, most of the time going for your cheek or head.

but you certainly don’t mind. 

you think it’s good to take it slow, since everything else about your relationship is so intense. that’s why the times he does kiss you, you get filled with such a happy warm feeling that usually makes you feel better no matter what. 

that’s how you know you’re not right. that suddenly, for some reason, you’re not okay again despite being so incredibly lucky that the people in you life now care about you. 

they’re trying so hard to help you and it feels like you can’t repay them in any way.

“no, no, baby, not at all,” san says when he pulls back, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. “i’m just concerned.”

the lump in your throat makes it feel like you can’t breathe, biting your lip harshly as you look up at the blonde. 

“i love that you want me around,” he continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at you. “but i’m just...i also wanna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod your head as you take in his words, slightly calmed by them despite the way your mind is trying to tell you otherwise. 

he loves that you want him around, he just said so. and he wouldn’t put up with you if he didn’t want to, right?

“i’m okay,” you assure sweetly, leaning into his touch just a little bit more. “i guess i just missed you.”

your cheeks flush at the soft, almost touched look that crosses san’s face, his lips falling into a pout as he tightens his hold on you.

“i missed you too.”

boiling liquid splashing onto the stove causes you both to look away, a squeal leaving your mouth as the foamy water overflows the pot. 

“shit!” you squeal, jumping down from the counter to rush over and lower the heat. san watches from his spot with a small smile, chuckling lightly when you throw him a look.

“sorry,” he says sheepishly, a playful roll of your eyes causing him to jump down and hug you from behind.

he presses small kisses and laughs into the crook of your neck as you finish making the pasta, feeding him pieces from the pot to see if it’s cooked enough. 

you eat on the couch and spend the rest of the night watching tv, a relatively calm and relaxed night that makes you feel much better than the past few days. 

you think you just got so used to his presence, the comfort and warmth and light he provides by just being in your apartment and smiling at you. 

you were scared by how attached you’d grown to him, depending on him in a way you think a person who has gone through what you’ve gone through shouldn’t.

but he’s so good and makes you feel loved. it’s such a different feeling than one you’ve ever experienced, after your family and friends and ex-boyfriend let you down time and time again. 

you’ve never had someone like this before but you’ve also never tried to rebuild your life before. never had the chance to be your own person and make your own decisions - it’s something you’re still learning and that’s evident to everyone in your life. 

but the next morning, a pleasant surprise in the form of mrs. kim comes bursting through the door and immediately lights your face with a smile; apart from san and mingi, she’s another person you’ve grown extremely close and fond of. 

she’s the one who made everything possible, rebuilding your life with a new home and workplace. it’s why she always tries to push you further out of your comfort zone and into the real world with gentle prodding and much needed assurance. 

she’s at the bakery for almost two hours before she pulls up a chair behind the register and gets that look in her eye you know all too well. it’s the look she gave you the day you accepted the apartment, insisting you take it and make it your own and to not even think about how to pay her back. 

the look she gave you before the trial as she gave you strength, told you that you were strong and you were gonna get through this, with or without your personal statement. 

and apparently it’s the look she gives you when she broaches the topic of you enrolling back in school. 

“so what do you think?” she asks, tone carefree and excited like she’d been thinking about this for weeks. “is that something you’d wanna do?” 

your immediate thought is yes. yes, yes, yes shout it from the rooftops yes. you miss school and learning and all the experiences that come with getting an education. 

you once loved school and had so many aspirations but then your life apart. the prospect of an education or getting a job was dangled in your face as some sort of manipulation tactic.

that when jungkook went too far and left you especially bloody and bruised, he’d mentioned school like it was the answer to all of your problems as a couple. like that was his penance and would win him boyfriend of the year.

and mrs. kim must see the haunted look in your eye, replaying flashbacks and memories from how choices like that weren’t under your control for the longest time. 

“listen to me, stop staying in there,” she says, flicking at your head and making you wince. “is that something you wanna do? yes or no?” 

“yes but i-”

“but nothing,” the old lady says, wiping out an ipad the boys had been teaching her how to use for the past few weeks; the font is the biggest size you’ve ever seen and has a cat case on that almost makes you burst out laughing upon seeing.

“i was looking at the local school, it’s close and cheap but you could always get some financial aid, scholarships or even a loan,” she begins to tell you, eyes squinted and a wrinkle between her browns as she taps on the screen. “this shit is so hard, i’m still trying to learn. oh, great here it is, okay. look, they even have this major.”

you had mentioned once that you thought about a career in journalism to her, one night when you and her were making cookies in her house as the boys tended to her garden (because they were gardeners now, official, professional gardeners who only know how to plant sunflowers). 

tears almost immediately fill in your eyes as you follow her pruny finger, licking over your lips so you don’t start sobbing. 

she looks up at you after a few moments of silence and it’s promptly followed by her smacking your arm, a scoff leaving her mouth that makes you giggle. 

“what are you crying about?” 

the emotion clogged in your throat makes it hard to speak, attempting to talk through the strange contrast of tears and laughter bubbling in your throat. 

“i just... i can’t believe you remember i told you that. it was so long ago.”

“what? you think because i’m old i don’t remember shit? i’m not a senile, y/n, jesus.” 

a wet giggle leaves your mouth as you listen to her talk about the research she’s done, about how to pay and when you can start and her son’s experience at the local college. 

it all makes you feel very hopeful, excited even, as you think about what once seemed impossible. 

getting out in the world and pursuing a passion you as an individual had. making connections and just conversing with different people and seeing relationships form. 

but all of those doubts and fears instilled in you don’t just go away.

you remember months back when you told san you were writing again, he was the one who recommended going back to school. 

was so happy about it that his eyes were shining and dimples were out and you’d never seen someone more handsome.

but now that you guys are...kind of together, would his mind change? does he not want you talking to other people either now? will he think it’s silly or pointless, since you already have you job at the bakery? 

you know deep down that that’s not the kind of person san is. you knew from the moment you met him and risked talking and smiling and laughing with him that he was good.

but that part of you still scared and broken from what you went through, the prospect of school and freedom dangled in your face as some sort of reward or apology, is scared he won’t approve.

and whether it’s unhealthy or not, all you want is san’s approval. 

“c-can i ask you something?” you ask him later that night, both of you cuddled up on the couch.

a blanket’s thrown over your lap with san’s arm around your shoulder, your head now off his chest as you look up at him questioningly. 

he immediately looks down at you with a soft, curious expression, running his hand through your hair as a small smile makes it’s way on his face. 

“anything,” he hums lowly, already making your nervous body feel slightly more calm. 

you have to try and always remember this is the boy who’s been by your side for months, with no complaints. who saved you from your life before this and only wants you to be safe and happy. 

“i was talking to miss kim earlier today...” you begin, his interest already peeked because he thinks he might know where this is going; he was suspicious ever since the older woman asked him how to make the font larger on her ipad. 

he sees the slight apprehension and fear in your eyes so he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your skin gently and giving you a small, encouraging nod. 

you take a deep breath and try to shake the worry off, opening and closing your mouth before deciding to spit it out. 

“we...were talking about me going back to school. and i...kind of thought that would be something good for me to do. i used to love school and learning and mrs kim. said there’s a lot of things i could do to pay for it and stuff, if i needed to...” 

his chest hurts slightly watching you stammer over your words nervously, your eyes moving from him to the wall as you start to unconsciously hold his hand tighter. 

“but if you don’t want me to or think it’s a stupid idea, i won’t. i just...wanted to make sure it was okay with you.” 

you don’t see the way san sits there in contemplation as you’re too nervous and toying with the edge of the blanket, his face sympathetic but also a little surprised. 

there’s a lot of things that san is still getting used to, the way you’re so vulnerable and attached to him (in a way he doesn’t mind at all). 

but it’s like right now he’s seeing the severity of it, watching as a grown woman asks for his permission for something she absolutely doesn’t.

it makes tears burn the back of his eyes but he quickly pushes the sensation and desire away, his hand lifting your chin so you made his gaze head-on. 

“y/n...you don’t need my permission to do anything. you... you know that, right?”

your eyebrows pull together almost in confusion that he didn’t immediately respond with a yes or no, head cocked to that side as you lick over your lips nervously. 

he can’t help but think if this was a fault on his part. did he make you feel like you have to ask his permission or approval for things? did he maybe at any point make you feel scared or judged when he’s been doing his best to avoid that?

your harsh grip on his hand brings him back to the conclusion that, right now, this isn’t about him. 

whether he did that or not, he has to make sure right now that you know you’re your own person and don’t need to run decisions by him or anyone else. 

“baby, i think it’s great you wanna do that and will support whatever you wanna do. but you don’t have to ask for...my permission to do anything,” san tells you softly, his hand cupping your face as he presses a kiss to your head; the words ‘his permission’ even feel gross on his tongue.

“i’m happy if you’re happy. and if going to school will make you happy, i’m gonna be supportive 100%. you got it, love?” 

you don’t even know why you’re surprised by san’s reaction but it still brings tears to your eyes, only being able to nod before you bury your face in his chest. 

he bites back a smile at the feel of you against him, running his hand up your back to gently rest in your hair. 

“you still wanna study journalism?” he mumbles against your hair and again, you can only nod so you don’t let out the whimper threatening to leave you mouth.

because it still shocks you day after day that everyone in your life now truly seems to care. 

they remember things about you and want to see you smile, always remind you that you can do whatever you want and are slowly making you see that, maybe, you will be okay in the end. 

it may not seem like a lot to someone who’s been lucky enough to have these things but, for you, it’s something you haven’t ever had before.

the ability to giggle and smile and spend your night with someone who you can see really, truly loves you. who wouldn’t do anything to hurt you and always has your best interests in mind.

that’s exactly why when you fall asleep, san can’t help but turn to look at your sleeping form. he runs his hand through your messy hair, moving a strand from your face and feeling his heart lurch at how peaceful and innocent you look. 

he still can’t get the thoughts out of his heads from earlier, wondering if, maybe, this whole time, he hasn’t been doing the right thing. 

maybe these past few months, you should’ve been rebuilding your life on your own. he shouldn’t have been here every, single step of the way to sooth and coddle and protect you. 

it was something hongjoong said just a few weeks after you moved in and he nearly attacked the boy, asking how he could let you cry alone every night and feel lonely and scared in a new place?

but he also knows that hongjoong is more logical than him. he’s always let his emotions get to him, empathetic and caring almost to a fault. 

and with you, he was always even more clouded. 

now, though, he’s seeing that maybe hongjoong has a point. he’s seen it in the way you’ve become more clingy and dependent on him, something he loves and makes him feel warm but also knows, for you, is a part of feeling safe. 

and as hard as it is for him to admit, he knows you need to feel safe without him. slowly rebuild your own sense of self and security without him always being there to wipe your tears or kiss your face. 

but how is supposed to do that? he thinks, watching your sleeping face with a pained chest and burning eyes.

he’s about to get up to get a glass of water before he hears you whine, both his feet not even on the floor before even in your unconscious you can sense his departure. 

“going to get water, love, i’ll be right back,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing the side of your head when you still and roll back over. 

he gulps down the cool liquid before resting his head on the cold fridge, letting out a sigh as he realizes he may need to have another discussion with hongjoong.

even more so when he goes back into the room and sees your face, the slightest hint of discomfort in your pinched eyebrows and frowning lips. 

you turn back over when he crawls in the bed again, your head on his chest and arm wrapping around his stomach. 

he smiles upon hearing your sleepy voice call his name, dazed eyes staring up at him as he kisses the tip of your nose. 

“hi, baby. i’m back.” 

“i love you.”

the confession make his eyes widen and heart speed up, shocked into silence at those three, sudden words. 

because while it’s obvious that’s how you both feel for each other, your sweet touches and words exchanged since the moment you met one another, you two haven’t ever uttered that sentence. 

never put it out in the open and really discussed your feelings for one another. 

but your eyes are shut and breaths turn even before you can even hear his softly spoken, “i love you,” in return. 

and it’s because he loves you that he tells hongjoong about the thoughts he’s been having, wondering if he’s been doing the wrong thing the whole time and just making this transition harder for you. 

“i think you’re trying to make it easier because you love her and don’t wanna see her hurt anymore.” 

san’s eyes meet hongjoong’s across the dining room table at their house, a house san hasn’t slept or eaten at basically since you moved out; everyone knew where he was and they understood it completely but they also missed their friend’s presence. 

“but...she does need to learn to be on her own, san. she’s never done that before and she’s always been dependent on someone. luckily you’re just...so fucking good that it wouldn’t be a problem. but even with her asking you if she could go to school...she’s not okay, yet, san. she needs to sort her shit out.”

“i don’t want her to be alone,” the blonde admits, voice tight and eyes threatening to water. “i don’t want her to think i’m leaving her.”

“you’re not leaving her alone. you’re just not gonna be attached at the hip 24/7. it’s normal for couples to be apart. you still live and pay rent here, you know. everyone misses you.”

the sound of bickering and plates crashing promptly comes from the kitchen, mingi’s harsh yelp of wooyoung’s name causing a commotion of bickering to break out. 

hongjoong looks at san with a half pained, half amused expression, knowing that the dimpled boy  will have to readjust to how loud and chaotic the house is all the time. 

“you don’t have to do right now,” hongjoong says, wanting to finish the discussion before the boys notice san is here and lost their shit. “ease her into it. talk to her about it. see if she feels the same way. but let her know you just wanna help her, because i know you do, right?” 

san’s nod is immediate and hongjoong mirrors him, his eyes quickly widening as he looks over the blonde’s broad shoulder. 

he doesn’t even get to turn around before a slew of bodies bump into him, nearly knocking him onto the floor as six large, excited boys are jumping and squealing around him.

“san! you’re finally home!”

you’re nearly two months into your first semester of college by the time you’ve fully adjusted to your new schedule and pace of life.

classes monday, tuesday and thursdays mornings followed by your shift at the cafe during the afternoons. you miss your early morning regulars dearly and don’t know what to do with the 10+ memorized coffee orders still in your brain but you already love school so much. 

you love learning and talking with your professors and meeting the many different people on campus. you’ve even found a small group of friends, two girls who sat next to you and immediately started up a conversation with you.

you were terffied and shy at first but eventually opened up, giggling and sharing your thoughts with them before class started - you even always made sure to be 10 minutes early so you could get in your chats with them. 

unsurprisingly, san had been nothing but happy and supportive for the entire journey. helping you apply and become familiar with the campus while also assuring you everything was gonna work out. 

your days were busy and packed with work and you truly loved it but night was still your favorite. when san would walk through the door with take out or you’d be greeted with the sight of him waiting for you on the couch. 

it really felt as if your life was finally coming together, happy and at peace in a way you never felt before. it was like you finally had some sort of control over what happened to you, long gone the feeling of knots in your stomach or an uncontrollable shake in your hands. 

but when you notice san is a little more quiet than usual today, you feel that foreign feeling make it’s way back into your body. 

“is...everything okay?” you finally grow the confidence to ask, his hand absentmindley rubbing your leg that’s sprawled out on his lap. 

you can tell the question throws him off by the way he snaps his head up to look at you, brows pulled together and his head cocked cutely to the side as his eyes roam your face. 

“’course love, why do you ask?”

“i don’t know,” you hum softly, leaning the side of your head on the couch as you look at him. “i feel like you’re quiet today.”

“just thinking baby,” he tells you, tightening his hold on your leg before looking your way. “how were classes today?”

“good, i have to start my essay soon,” you tell him, something uneasy still pulling at your stomach; you’re not used to san being quiet or so lost in thought, usually the only time he’s silent is during a new episode of your shows.

“you’ll do great on it,” he says encouragingly, the hand on your leg gently calmingly rubbing your skin up and down. “you’re doing really good, you know that?” 

happiness fills you at the thought of making san proud, a small smile on your face that causes one his own to cross his face. his dimples poke out and it reminds you so much of your first meeting, when the sun reflected off of him and you just knew there was something too pure and good about this man.

“thank you,” you smile softly, a faint blush on your cheeks that has san’s heart breaking in his chest even more.

he doesn’t wanna have this conversation tonight but he thinks it would be the best time. bring up maybe not staying over every night to create some more space for you while also allowing you to be more independent. learning how to fill your time with things other than him.

but you’re so happy tonight. 

you’ve been so happy these past few months and he doesn’t wanna be the person to ruin that; it seems, though, you can see something behind his eyes and in his demeanor already, your body wiggling closer to him as your gaze shifts nervously. 

“are you sure you’re okay?” 

he lets out a sigh and you can’t help the way your stomach drops, watching carefully as his face turns contemplative and torn. like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if you’re gonna be able to handle it. 

and that alone is scaring the shit out of you. 

the silence is probably only fifteen seconds but it feels like hours, your eyes staring wide and heart starting to race as you look at him; you don’t know what you did but you had to have done something, right? he wouldn’t just act like this out of nowhere. 

“did i...do something wrong?” you ask meekly, that feeling of fear and panic you haven’t felt in almost a year creeping back. you almost forgot how debilitating this feeling is, fully consuming your body until you feel like you’re about to completely breakdown and crumble. 

the fear and concern on your face immediately makes him frown, shaking his head adamantly as he pulls you closer to him. 

“no, no, no, y/n, of course not,” he assures softly, his lips brushing against your head. 

you feel his calming breaths in your hair, like he already knows from the slight waver in your voice and look on your face that you’re getting worked up and anxious. 

the few moments of silence should make you more anxious but you can only focus on his breathing and the warmth from his body against you, trying to stay calm as you remember that this is san and he would never do or say anything to hurt you. 

“i’ve just been thinking about some things and i wanna talk to you about it,” san says, breaking the silence and immediately making your stomach flip nervously. “it’s nothing bad, baby, i just... you know i always have your best interest in mind, right?”

you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you turn to look at him, the soft look in his eye making you happy as much as it makes you sad. 

because while you love seeing it, how sweet and thoughtful and truly kind he is, you know it’s also there because he thinks you’re about to lose your shit. and you haven’t lost your shit in quite some time. 

“i-i know...” 

he takes your face in his hands when your eyes start to wander, the quiet hum leaving his mouth making you look up at him again. the look in his eyes truly stirs something in you, tears burning your eyes even though you’re not even sure why yet. 

“and you know i’ll never, ever hurt you?”

you nod again, feeling panic deep within your chest at where this conversation seems to be going.

“so what i’m about to suggest, i need you to hear me out, okay?”

he waits until you nod, his stomach sinking at the glossed over look in your eyes before he daringly opens his mouth again. 

tells you that he thinks you living on your own while you start a new chapter of your life will be a good thing for you both. that learning to be independent and on your own will help you immensely in this new part of your life. 

“you’ve been doing so good, y/n, and i’m so proud of you. you’ve started school and you work full time and you’re doing all the things you want to do. but we’re together all the time, baby, and i...i don’t know if that’s healthy, for either of us, you know?”

and you think to the average person, who hasn’t been abused and neglected and spent the last five years in normal, healthy circumstances, they would hear this and understand immediately. 

that being alone and learning how to be on your own is a good, healthy thing that everyone needs to experience. 

but all your brain can hear is he doesn’t wanna be with you anymore. 

he’s tired of your brokenness and tired of looking after you all the time and needs some space from you; and while, you suppose, you can’t blame him, it doesn’t hurt you any less. 

it doesn’t terrify you or upset you any less, even though you know his intentions are good; you can only feel unwanted and unworthy and like your time with someone so much better than you is up. 

“is it...i just...do you not like it here? with me?”

did you not keep it clean enough? did you not cook enough, were the meals too frequently takeout and leftovers? you remember jungkook hated that, demanding the house be spotless and dinner be ready and homemade. 

san would laugh at the question if this weren’t the current situation, a serious talk he’s been dreading having because he knows how you’re gonna take it at first. 

but he loves being here and that’s the problem. 

he would coddle you and love you and protect you for as long as you let him if it were up to him. but he knows that’s not what you need anymore, that you’re both not helping anyone if you continue to live your life in what became too comfortable and safe. 

you deserve comfortable and safe but you also deserve to live happily and freely by yourself. and maybe that’s not his decision to make, he often thinks, but he certainly doesn’t think he’s helping you by enabling you to depend on him. 

“baby, i love it here and i love you and i’ll never leave you until you tell me to,” san says, pressing a kiss to each cheek he prays tears don’t fall on in the next few minutes. “but i want you to be okay, love. i don’t want you to need me every night to sleep or think you need to ask my permission for things that are your choice.”

“is that- is that what this is about? that i asked you if i could go to school?” you ask meekly, the idea of talking back foreign but something you can’t control right now. “or is it because i’m in school?”

because maybe you’ve been too busy. maybe he feels like you neglected him. maybe he just wanted an out and this is it. 

“of course it’s not because you’re in school,” san says, slight outrage in his voice as you even suggest that; he always tries to control his responses to you, knowing you’re dealing with years worth of manipulative behavior and maltreatment, but sometimes it does also get to him. 

he was always supportive of your career and education, even when you were just friends and he admired you from afar.

“how could you think that?”

“because this is so random,” you squeak out, tears breaking through as the knot in your throat grows bigger. “i...i didn’t even know you were feeling this way and now you wanna stop seeing me.”

“i don’t wanna stop seeing you, y/n, when did i say that?” san asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you contemplatively. 

“you said you don’t want to be together all the time...” you mutter out, feeling stupid and childish but not yet truly understanding what he means. you guys don’t fight at all and you’re always smiling and laughing together - isn’t it okay to be together all the time if good things like that are happening?

“y/n, i love you, of course i wanna still see you. but i just mean...living together the way we have these past months. you’ve never been alone. you’ve always depended on someone, right?” 

you think back to your dysfunctional childhood, depending on alcoholic parents who never taught you how to fend for yourself until you fell into the arms of yet another abuser who you depended on even further.

restricted company and meals and communication, even restricted in what you could do outside the walls of your house. 

“yes,” you nod, sniffling as you wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “but they’ve only ever hurt me. you never do.”

that fact makes san’s chest pang with hurt, his own eyes burning with tears now as he thinks about how much pain you’ve endured. 

“i know, baby, and i never will. but i think this’ll be good for us. good for you, mostly, that’s always my mian concern.” 

but you start to wonder how this could possibly be good the second the front door closes a few hours later, leaving you alone in your apartment that now feels far too cold and far too dark and far too empty. 

his lack of presence is noticable immediately and it doesn’t take long for panic and sadness and all that existential dread you once felt so deeply start to come on.

he doesn’t want you, nobody wants you, and the only people who did want you hurt you. 

it’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you cry silently, splashing your face with cold water after your puffy eyes can’t take it anymore. and when you get a good look at yourself in the mirror, tear-stained and blotchy and a big fucking mess, you can’t help but see that same girl who was trapped in that house with jungkook.

weak and afraid and horribly incapable of doing anything right. so similiar to the current state you’re in now, sinking down on the bathroom floor and crying into your hands again. 

this could be about san leaving, you know it has something to do with it, but you’re also crying because you now see just how badly you’re still effected by everything. 

you could be distracted by school and work and san but there’s still so much under the surface that you haven’t come to terms with. 

so much so to the point that even san had to step in and do something about it, him still seeing signs that you’re not okay despite how much everyone in your life is trying with you.

and it makes you feel bad that you have so many supportive, lovely people in your life but still can’t find it in you to feel okay. to not depend on one singlar blonde man to make you feel happy or act as if without him, you’re gonna break.

because you can see he’s tired of it. if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have-

“y/n?” 

his voice coupled with his fist hitting the door causes you to jump, at first thinking it’s a bittersweet trick your deluded little mind is playing on you. but then he knocks again, his sweet murmur of “y/n, please open the door,” causing you to cry out again.

hongjoong told him not to go, that he’d barely been home for an hour before he was already itching to rush back to you. 

but he felt uneasy leaving the way he did in the first place, and then even more so when you didn’t answer his three messages and two facetime calls; he hated thinking that you were crying alone or feeling upset. 

and it’s heartbreakingly evident when you reach up to open the door, curled up on the floor in tears, that that’s exactly how you feel. 

“baby, no,” san hums lowly, immediately dropping to the floor so he can gather you in his lap.

it’s so much like the scene when you ran there after the final incident with jungkook, when you collapsed on the floor and finally told somebody about what you’d been going through. 

what happened?" he asks desperately, voice strained and wavering.

but you can only shake your head and cry. cry for how long you've been dealing with this alone and how you feel trapped and how if you don't tell someone tonight.

"he's gonna kill me," you sob out as you shake your head frantically now, "i-i he's gonna kill me," is all you can repeat through ragged breaths.

san can only act on instinct, sitting down cross-legged and holding his arms out slightly before you crash into him. he shakily inhales when your head rests on his shoulder, sobs muffled by his shirt as he feels tears promptly soak through the material.

but he can only sit there, hand on the back of your head as he rocks you soothingly in his lap back and forth.

he listens to your sobs with a broken heart, tears stinging his own eyes because he had suspected something was going on for months and just sat here and did nothing. and now here you are, broken and bruised and in fear for your life.

"i can't go back there," you cry out, "i-he's gonna-"

"no one is gonna hurt you, anymore," he mumbles lowly in your ear, "i'm not gonna let that happen."

“you’re- you’re gonna leave me,” you whimper into his shirt, the only sound in your bathroom for the past few minuets your crying and his soothing hums. “you’re not gonna wanna deal with me anymore and leave and then i’ll really be alone and i’m so-”

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m not gonna let that happen,” he mumbles in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses his lips to your head. he rocks you back and forth so similarly to that night, his hand running up and down your back as he tries to get you to calm down.

“we’re gonna get you help. real help. and we’ll all be here for you whenever you need us. you’re gonna be okay, my love.”

one year later:

you look back at the breakdown in your bathroom and are always surprised that you don’t feel embarrassed.

you think that was the moment when you finally realized how much you’d gone through and how much you really had to sort through. that you could distract yourself all you want and depend on san as much as you felt you needed but you still had things to work through. 

it took you about four therapist consultations to find the right one, eventually finding a sweet older woman who reminded you so much of your boss at the cafe. she listened to you and encouraged you and helped you find so much strength within yourself, you regret not taking your lawyer’s advice sooner about seeing a professional.

you still had bad days, of course, but now you’ve learned how to properly cope with them. cope with the stressors of everyday life, like the shouting of voices and the slamming of doors and san not being by your side 24/7. 

and san, little to your surprise, had done the right thing in saying you needed to learn to be independent.

it scared you at first, living alone and being alone with your thoughts and memories that tried to haunt you every chance they got. but now your life is so full of happy ones that it makes everything a little bit easier; you now love the freedom of living alone and have come to enjoy the peaceful silences of your apartment.

you now have so many things to laugh and feel happy about, like mingi and seonghwa’s obsession with gardening (even though they’ve moved on to vegetables now and have yet to combat the battle with squirrels eating their tomatoes). 

you have school and classes and friends that you made, making straight a’s while also balancing time with your study group, the boys and mrs. kim and your official boyfriend san. 

there are still some days when you wake up and feel a sinking feeling in your stomach that you think might be there forever, a certain smell or certain pain richoetting through your body that will remind you of what you went through and survived. 

but you know that you’ll be able to get through it, not only because you’re strong enough now but because you still have san to lean on - the boy in question currently with his arms wrapped tight around your waist and snoring down your neck. 

you can’t help the small smile on your face as you turn in his hold, your finger reaching out to trace the contours of his face. 

the warm, overwhelming feeling in your chest should scare you but it makes you feel even more happy and content with life, shutting your eyes immediately when his brown eyes meet yours. 

his loud chuckle fills the room before he lips attack your neck, quiet giggles leaving your mouth that only spur the blonde on more. 

“i saw that,” he mumbles playfully, smiling against your skin as your giggles get louder. “good morning, baby.” 

you pull back and smile at the boy staring down at you lovingly, the late-morning sun beaming through your window reminding you so much of the first time you saw him. 

heard his sweet, friendly voice that you immediately trusted and probably fell in love with right there.

"those are coming out really nice!" you hear a voice say from the yard next door. 

you shoot your head to the side to see a young man standing there, probably about your age, eyes kind and dimples poking out of his cheeks as he holds an overflowing white garbage bag.

your lips quirk up ever so slightly, probably being mistaken for your mouth twitching before you give him a tiny bow.

"thank you."

tag list: @mochibabycakes​ @atinyarmyx1​ @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich​ @minbinwhore​ @chrryhwa​ @chogiout​ @marksflvr​ @bunbaebae​ @markleeyeosang​ @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @toffee-hwa​

[eunjidrabbles]

can i please request forever, bitter version with gahyeon?

Forever Bitter Ver.

How long is forever, when forever means a different thing to everyone? What more is forever to someone who has an eternity to live? Blessing or a curse, may the fates bring us together each time.

Word count: 2.8k words

-

The way the sun sets everyday changes. Gahyeon has watched it everyday ever since she realized the beauty of it at a very young age. She loved the way the colors moved across the skies as a sheet of darkness swallowed the skies and how the stars and moon come out to play. She remembers that one night when she looked out the window and saw the shooting star, did she put her hands together and wished. That she would get to see the sunset everyday forever. It only hit her what her wish meant when she watched her friends aged along with time. How her girlfriend at the time commented on how young she never had wrinkles, how she never looked a day older than when they first met. It was in her mid forties when her fiancée started complaining about the white strands of hair that were growing rapidly that caused Gahyeon to look into the mirror properly. Her skin was clear and glowing, eyes round and soft, lips full, just as she looked in her early twenties, perhaps even better.

“It’s not normal,” Her wife has once said when they went out only to be called a mother and child. “but you’re still you. That’s okay with me.” It was at her wife’s funeral, age fifty where she took a look at the world around her, and how everyone grew older except her. She showed no signs of aging, and that started attracting attention from her spouse’s family. Gahyeon understood that it was the grief talking, but it stung her when they accused her of stealing their lifespan. She had done nothing but gave her heart and entire being to loving her. The guilt however overwhelmed her and so she left, far away from all the confusing memories the place held, bringing only a single photo frame of their wedding day photo. 

Life goes on, and Gahyeon soon realized that she can’t continue to live as Lee Gahyeon, who is legally over eighty years old but remained the look of her in her early twenties. Struggling alone, Gahyeon somehow managed to live her years, moving across the world each time as her collection of photographs got more and more. They were a reminder to her, of each of her “life” she lived, only to remember each time that she would lose everyone in the end, and go back to being alone before having to move across the world again. It was at number 5 when she broke down completely. It wasn’t fair for her, that she lives on forever, but everyone she loved and cared for fall to time’s clutches. With no tears now left to shed, she bitterly took a look at the photograph and packed that into her suitcase.

It was an easy decision for her to make, when she unpacked her stuff into the new apartment. There was a way to stop all the additional pain. She just have to get over the loneliness and live alone. Detach when she feels attached. Easy as that. Anything else goes.

In the three years of living in the city, Gahyeon had got herself a job as a tour guide. The manager of the company was nice enough to not question when Gahyeon requested for her pay to be paid in cash, From Gahyeon’s experience, the lesser the roots in a place the easier it was for her to leave the place when time comes. There was also no way to track her in case there really was someone watching her. As long as she did her job better than the teens in the city that would much rather be spending their time at home playing games or hanging out with their friends, she kept her food bowl. Her promise to herself had been decently easy to keep too, with casual flings with the visitors of the town before they went their separate ways. No one was hurt, and no attachment were formed.

Coughing as her eyes flutter open, Gahyeon forced her eyes open only to shut it immediately as the sunlight shone directly into her eyes. Her throat was dry, probably from all the alcohol last night, Gahyeon thought. It was one of those nights where she craved someone next to her again, but her trip to the bar only ended with her going home very drunk and alone, completely forgetting her shift the next morning until she checked her phone. Rolling out of her bed, Gahyeon quickly gave her face a quick wash and throwing on some clothes grumbling under her breath about how years of drinking still didn’t help her with her alcohol tolerance before she slammed the door shut behind her. 

A glare shot her way was all she needed to know that she was late for her shift. Yanking the band and lanyard off the hook, she rushed her way outside where a small group of people were seated, some talking to one another and others on their phones. Taking a deep breath, Gahyeon pushed the pain of the hangover to the back of her mind as she pulled out her most convincing bright smile she could and greeted the group in hopes her cheerful energy would get them to dismiss the fact she was late. Her tactic worked perfectly seeing as to how the moment she spoke, all eyes were on her and smiles were shared among the group. “My name is Gahyeon and I am your tour guide for these few days! I hope you enjoy your time here!” Giving a quick scan of the room, everyone seemed to be revitalized by her faux energy except a pair of eyes that met hers curiously. Tilting her head and giving another big smile, Gahyeon continued. “Let’s all get on the bus now so I can break down our schedule more, shall we?”

Ushering everyone in, Gahyeon gave a quick headcount before hopping into the bus herself. Nodding to the driver, she took another deep breath before organizing her thoughts of the details needed to be given to the group as the minibus started moving with a jerk. Being thrown off balance, the woman could only have enough time to widen her eyes in shock and put her hands out in front of her to cushion her fall. It’s her fault, she shouldn’t have drank so much to get a hangover and cause the delay in reaction now she is going to make more of a fool of herself in front of everyone and that’ll be the memory she gives the new group of tourists. Instead of the dusty bus carpet, she landed on something soft, and looking up, she was met with your amused face. “If you like me, you could have just said something, you know. You don’t have to literally fall for me.” The entire bus broke into chuckles and Gahyeon sighed in relief that there was no mean comments thrown her way from her own mistake. With support from the bus seats, she stood up and nodded to you in thanks and settled down on her own seat in front of you.

The rest of the tour went on surprisingly smoothly despite the rough start and nearing the end of the day, Gahyeon let out a sigh of relief knowing that the time to rest her throbbing head was nearing. All that was left was dinner with the group and she could send everyone back to the hotel before heading home herself. Making her rounds once the food was served, she checked in on each table, making sure that the food was to everyone’s liking and that the mediocre tasting food didn’t make anyone sick . Finally setting away from the rest at her own table, Gahyeon sighed and started shoveling spoon after spoon of the fried rice in her mouth not realizing that she had forgone her meals for the day and the dinner being her first. Feeling a presence near her was what got her to pause mid bite and pull away, turning around to meet you. With a wave of a hand from you, signaling that she was free to continue eating, you eyed the empty seat next to her and she nodded.

“You weren’t very subtle, you know. I can spot someone with a hangover a mile away.” Gahyeon watched as you pulled out a small box and placed it on the table and pushed it slightly to her. “These should help with it.” Giving her thanks, Gahyeon fidgeted in her seat, not knowing where or how to continue the conversation. The thought that you paid attention to her and noticed what was going on warmed the woman a little and she relaxed and smiled at you once more, you gave a soft chuckle and stood up from the table and returned with a smile of your own. Just taking few steps away from the table, you turned back suddenly and called out to her. “I think you should smile more, and not that fake grin you do. You look really cute when you smile.” Laughing once again as you turned away clearly amused by how a blush was quickly rising to her cheeks, Gahyeon let out a huff in defeat, shook her head at your comment and went back to her meal.

The next few days flew by quickly, and nearing the end of the guided tours, Gahyeon had softened up to the group and gave everyone a hug at the end of the day. It was always interesting to hear all the stories share throughout time. As everyone else pulled away, you stepped forward with a smirk on your face, leading Gahyeon to groan and roll her eyes before coming forward with open arms. Hugging tightly, there was a warmth that made Gahyeon cling onto you. Reluctantly pulling away, you ruffled the woman’s hair affectionately and turned slightly to watch the rest of the group walk away.

“I still have a few days left in the city.” Turning back to Gahyeon, you licked your lips nervously and pulled out your phone. “Even though you’re the local here, can I perhaps take you out?”

Gahyeon knew she probably shouldn’t have agreed. She knew of her promise, and attachments only makes everything harder and more complicated. Yet there was something that complied her to nod. It was scary to Gahyeon. With each date she went on, with each moment she spent with you, she felt herself slowly losing control. She wanted to get closer, and closer to you. She wanted you to be the first and last thing she sees when she sleeps and wakes up. Every thought eventually linked back to you. She wanted you to be the one she spends time with as she sits by the pier as the sun sets everyday. That’s when Gahyeon knew, with a tear rolling down her cheek as she watched the moon slowly rise, that she has fallen for you.

Her phone blew up with messages and calls from you after a missed date. It stung her heart knowing what she was missing but she knew it would hurt more if she allowed for the relationship between both of your to progress. She knew that the further away she kept you from her, the lesser pain the both of you would have to endure. With that thought in her head she left her apartment to head to her workplace to collect her pay for the month. What she didn’t expect was going into the office and to be met with the managers glare yet again as he passed her pay over. “One of our clients has been trying to contact you, they even came all the way here.” Nudging towards the direction of the lounge area, Gahyeon followed the direction to see you seated on the sofa. Knowing that you probably won’t leave until you saw her, she sighed and nodded to her manager, signaling that you will handle it.

Walking out the staff only area, she made sure you saw her and continued her way out the door, successfully pulling you off the seat and following her out the company doors. Once she deemed that you were far enough, she turned around to face you. “Did you seriously ghost me, Gahyeon?” She knew she had to be harsh to you to make you understand. Sighing, she shrugged. “Look, I don’t know how to put this nicely but I had my fun.”

“This isn’t you, Gahyeon. I see how you’ve looked at me. I-”

“How would you know this isn’t how I am? You literally know me for like, a week.”

“I know because I love you! I want us to work so badly that I was already making preparations to move here to be with you!”

Her throat dried up as you ranted your thoughts at her. It can’t happen again. She would fight the damn world if it meant that no one has to go through the pain again. Tears sprung to her eyes as she fought her heart’s wants. She pushed away the images of the possible future that you two could have. The smiles, the laughter and skipped right to the very end to discourage herself. She’ll just be left alone again, to face the world. The pain wasn’t worth it. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to move, preferably towards you but watching you approach slowly, Gahyeon shook her head and turned to run home. Home, that is a temporary shelter, that is.

Darkness was the first thing you saw when you entered the small, plain apartment while trying to catch your breath from chasing Gahyeon. Stepping in cautiously, you could hear sobs coming from the only other door in the place and you inch towards it. The only source of light there was, was coming from the room so you slowly opened the door to see a wall filled with pictures as Gahyeon sat under it, knees to her chest and sobbing as silently as she could. Approaching the wall, your eyes were drawn to the pictures and how there was a familiar face in all of them. There was a distinct difference in clothing, signaling a different era, but the woman never changed. Gears started turning in your head, trying to find for an excuse of the abnormally but there was no mistaking it. Gahyeon was in each and every one of the pictures, and you could feel the love radiating off each picture. Looking at the woman at your feet, you opened and closed your mouth to try to make sense of what is happening; what Gahyeon was.

“Don’t you see? It’s impossible. Me, you. there is no happily ever after. Only pain as I watch you grow old and die.” Finally looking up at you and meeting your eyes, Gahyeon let out a wry smile before it was pulled into a tight line as the memories struck her again. “I’m cursed to live forever.”

Realization struck at her words, finally understanding what she meant. “I...” You started, trying to find your words while she bitterly stared at you. “I still want this.” Her face scrunched up in confusion, not understanding your thought process. “You deserve to be happy, Gahyeon. Even if its for short moments in your infinite lifespan.” Looking away, Gahyeon bit her lips in thought. “Let me make you happy.”

“I need time to think.”

A part of you wanted to stay with the woman, to show that you weren’t going to disappear but you reasoned with yourself. You knew where she lived now. Judging by the photos, Gahyeon should know to make decisions best for herself. Nodding, you slowly turned to the door.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” Not waiting for an answer, you left.

The sun had yet to rise the next morning, but you were already dressed and well on your way, heart pounding in your chest to Gahyeon’s apartment. You prayed deep in your heart that she’d at least give it a chance for you. For a possible bright future. Although you have no clue what it was like living forever, you had dealt with grief, and you’d do everything you can to help her with it too.

You stop in your steps when you reach the apartment and found the door barely ajar. Gulping, you took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Biting the insides of your lips, you moved further into the apartment, desperate to find signs of life. Entering the room you were in last night, your heart dropped. Everything had been cleared out. Gahyeon had chosen to run from the pain than see what might have become of a future that held the both of you.

“I guess that is a clear enough of an answer.”

[rohondra]

Firsts || Izuku Midoriya

a/n: this is for another bnharem discord collab!! the prompt was “Pen Pals”. I’m pretty content with how this came out and I’m super excited to write a bit more considering I got a computer!! I’m hoping to do a pt2 hehe. god bless the people in my haikyuu server who swooped in and saved the day every time I had a brain far. 

rating: n*fw 18+

word count: just over 2k

warnings: virgin!Reader, daddy kink yes again ok I have a problem, FaceTime sex, mutual masturbation, big buff Izuku

all characters are aged up when I write and I take no credit for the images I post w said writings unless stated otherwise.

PLEASE CHECK OUT EVERYONES AMAZING FICS FOR THIS COLLAB!!!

A notification from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Field Office Discord server you were a part of popped up on your phone. It was an announcement that they would be randomly selecting pen pals as an event to get people more connected during this pandemic, of course you had the option to opt out, but the idea of doing something so “risky” excited you. You held your breath and reacted with a thumbs up, butterflies instantly flooding your stomach.

Just under an hour later one of the admins sent you a pm;

-Hey! Thanks so much for joining our penpals event. Social distancing is a pain in the ass, but hopefully this will lighten your spirits! We paired you with @/izuku#2485. Xx

Being the nosy son of a bitch you were, you immediately typed his user into the server and checked his activity within it- specifically the “#pictures” channel, but found nothing. Just as you were about to send him a friend request, you got a notification of another pm.. Oddly enough from him;

-Hi, we got paired for the penpal event! It’s okay if you don’t want to send your address to a complete stranger, I get it haha.

The butterflies returned as you pressed the request button, and immediately saw it change from “pending” to “send message”.

~Hi! If I’m honest it’s just my college address lol, nothing too risky.

-College huh? Me too. I was afraid you were going to end up being a minor and then I’d feel kind of weird ha. What school?

~Do not fear, I am in fact legal. Even if it is by 8 months lol. ASU! Yourself?

-Arizona huh? Interesting, I’m actually finishing my senior year at Iowa State.

Your stomach flipped, anxiety coursing through your veins at the last message. Senior?! What if this guy was like, 40?? No, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be living on campus at that age.. But he never specified he was living in a dorm. You closed Discord and moved onto what seemed to be the never ending flood of assignments, two of which were due that night.

A notification popped up on your computer mid essay;

-Don’t wanna be pushy. Here’s my address if you decide to write me.(:

You chewed at your bottom lip, weighing the consequences. It couldn’t be that bad of an idea right? He seemed nice, not pervy at all.. Fuck it.

“Hello! It’s your good old pal from the Marvel server. If I'm honest I'm not that good at these things, haha. This letter will be pretty short, but tell me- who’s your favorite Marvel character? Feel free to gush! I’m looking forward to hearing back from you.

From,

Y/N”

-

Two weeks later your RA slipped the envelope under your door, “MAIL!!!” she yelled before hurrying to the next room to deliver. Your heart fluttered as you opened it, admiring his clean handwriting;

“Hi. Alls good, I’m pretty awkward myself ha. My name is Izuku Midoriya! My friends call me Deku. Y/N is a nice name.

Honestly, it’s kind of cliche but Captain America has to be my favorite. I’m a bit of a Marvel junkie. I’ve seen every movie, have the entire Captain America comic series, own a Marvel Encyclopedia, plus almost every Marvel funko pop they’ve released.. Now that I think of it I’m definitely more than “a bit” obsessed ha. How about you? If it’s easier for you, you could just message me on discord.

-Izuku”

You giggled as you opened the app on your phone.

~Hi! I just got your letter. Seems to me you’re DEFINITELY obsessed lol but that’s okay, me too. I’m obsessed with Captain America. Chris Evans? *cheff kiss*”

-Hey. That’s so funny! I aspire to look like him one day haha. Taking it one day at a time, but this pandemic is making it difficult rip. You wanna add me on snapchat? I probably came off as some creepy perv ha. @/deku_zuku.”

From that point on, you two became OBSESSED with each other. Deku was an extremely gorgeous, freckled man with colored, fluffy green hair. You thought your sleep schedule was already fucked because of the pandemic? Sike, now it really was. You were staying up until 5am snapchatting him, interacting with him on discord, texting him, etc. You just couldn’t get enough of each other.

Your favorite snapchats from him were his post workout selfies. You loved the way his skin glistened, his muscular body littered in scars and freckles. More often than not you screenshot them and definitely got off to them, but you could never tell him that. It was embarassing to think about how most nights you laid in bed pumping a dildo inside of yourself desperately calling his name, imagining it was him fucking your tight virgin pussy.

As you were getting lost in imagining scenarios your phone began ringing, oh fuck he was FaceTimeing you.

You quickly sat up, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and setting your phone against a book for support before answering.

“H-hi! Sorry I wasn’t expecting you to FaceTime me ha.”

Izuku grinned ear to ear, “No I’m sorry! I should’ve asked first, but you look great so I mean.. No complaints from me with how you look.”

Red tinted your cheeks, “A-ah thank you. You’re pretty good looking yourself.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed, “Did I catch you at uh- a bad time?”

You tilted your head in confusion, “No? I mean I was trying to catch up on some stuff but other than I wasn’t doing anything important.”

“Ha, that looks pretty important. You also look a little flushed.”

When your eyes followed his on your screen your cheeks immediately lit on fire and you shifted to cover the dildo you carelessly left on the parallel night stand.

“So that’s why you’ve been screenshotting my pictures huh? I never would’ve taken Y/n to be such a slut.” he smirked.

He could feel his cock begin weep at the sight, he couldn’t help but palm himself. What if you got off to him? Thinking about how your little moans might sound when they slip out of your mouth made his cock pulse, he wanted to make you moan. He wanted to be the reason you came undone.

You tried to defend yourself, slightly annoyed by the derogatory term he referred to you as, “I- no. It isn’t like th-”

He cut you off, his voice having dropped an octave, “It’s okay baby, tell me what you think about.. I wanna hear what gets you off with those pictures.”

Hands came up to cover your face, you felt like you were going to puke- this was too embarrassing. His screen went to “paused” and you heard shuffling from his end. Within seconds you received a picture of Izuku in the mirror, his large hand barely covering his erect penis and his shirt between his teeth. He chuckled, “How about now princess? What makes that pretty pussy tighten around your toy?”

Slick slipped from your previously abused cunt, he sounded so delicious and looked even more delicious. When you spoke, your voice came out as a squeak, “I-I uh, I can’t tell you! It’s embarrassing.” If you could light on fire, it would’ve already happened. In fact, you wish you could. If you’re lucky the entire dorm might catch ablaze as well so all evidence is ruined.

A deep chuckle echoed from your phone speaker, “Embarrassed? It’s not like you’re a blushing virgin baby.”

There was a pause as you lowered your hands, your nose scrunched from the humility and one eye shut, “.. And if I told you I was?”

Izuku felt his member pulse yet again, precum gliding from his slit. That almost sent him over the edge, there was no way someone as breathtaking as you hadn’t been with anyone. Fuck, he could take your innocence and ruin you for any other man. He could make you his own and have you milking his thick cock every night, screaming his name and begging for more.

A meak sigh pulled him from his fantasies as you spoke up, “Sorry if that makes me less appealing.” He was quick to follow up, “N-no. God no. That,” he sighed,” fuck that’s honestly hot.”

Boldness coursed through him as his hand lazily pumped his shaft, “That just means I can be all your firsts.. Here, give me a minute.”

Your heart sank for a minute when the FaceTime ended, but fluttered once again when another call from him came through. This time though, it was from his laptop. He smirked before rolling back in his computer chair, his cock twitching against his stomach anxious for attention.

Desire burnt within him at the sight of you, eyebrows raised and eyes enlarged with pupils blown while you licked your lips. Izuku couldn’t help as his hand encircled his shaft once again, “What is it you think about baby? Me kissing and licking all over your body? My fingers pumping in and out of you while my tongue plays with your nipple?” He began a generous pace of pumping himself before his next taunt, “Maybe my tongue playing with your clit?”

A soft moan fell from your lips as you nodded, “A-all of that. ‘Zuku c-can I please touch myself?” You gasped as you watched precum flow from his tip at your words. He nodded, “Please do.”

You sat back, lifting your hips just enough to slip your panties off, nervously looking at him. All caution was thrown to the wind when Izuku groaned, “Ah, be a good girl for me baby.”

You made sure your full body was in view before grabbing the toy and lowering it between your thighs, which were now covered in a thin layer of your arousal. Squeezing your eyes shut you opened your legs and gently pushed until the dildo was fully sheathed inside of you.

Opening your eyes you were greeted with the most sinful sight, Izuku Midoriya quickly gliding his hand up and down his cock with his chest heaving, his body sheen with sweat.  You let a high pitched moan, your name resonating slowly from his chest. With every thrust your wrist made, a coil began to form inside your belly, it all seemed so familiar but was far more exhilarating knowing that someone else was watching.

“Just think about when that’ll be my cock splitting you in half. Shit- close your eyes for me, start playing with your clit and imagine it's me.” You nodded in response, unable to form words.

Obeying his command, it felt like electricity struck you when your finger made contact. The coil was now fully formed and threatened to burst with every movement.

“I need to cum, p-please.”

“Yeah? Only if you beg for daddy to let you.” He smirked as he watched your thighs tense for a moment.

“A-ah.. please! Please let me finish. Please d-daddy, need to so bad.”

Izuku felt his orgasm quickly approaching with each shaky word spilling from your beautiful lips, “Yeah baby, you can cum now. Let me see the pretty faces you make.”

SNAP

You were gone, your body lost to the ocean of ecstacy ripping through you as you rode the waves of your release.

He sat forward, studying the way your face contorted and how your cunt sucked the toy in as far as possible. The thought of you milking the absolute hell out of his cock sent him over the edge, head thrown back with spurts of cum covering his beautifully toned chest and stomach.

Eyes twitched trying to focus from the intensity of your orgasm as you came down from euphoria.

As Izuku  began cleaning himself off he spoke up, “So you’ve genuinely never done that kind of stuff before?” You shook your head before sitting up to sling a large t-shirt over your body, “Nope, when I said I was a virgin I mean like V I R G I N.”

He shook his head and chuckled, “Crazy. I have some assignments I need to do, if you want you could keep me company?”

You pulled a pillow under your chin and hugged it.  “I have some work to do too, so I guess that’ll work.” You giggled. He twirled a pen between his fingers before bringing it up to chew on, “And once we call it quits for the evening, how about we check off some more ‘firsts’ for you?”

[nostalgiabones]

Each Other // M.C

This is a fic for our second Writers Collab, put together by @h0tsos & @maluminspace! Thank you both for arranging this amazing event again and bringing together so many writers! My AU was Neighbour!Michael but I’ve added a single dad spin on it. I’m hoping to create a world on my blog out of this AU so I’d really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think here! ♥️

Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”

AU: Neighbour!Michael

Event Masterlist

“Dad, look! There’s a truck like mine outside!”

Michael’s attention turned to the scene outside of his window, noticing a removal truck turning up in the drive of their apartment building. It had clearly caught Levi’s attention too — the four year old curiously sat in front of the window, small hands pressed against the glass as if it would bring him any closer.

“I see, bubs. That’s so cool, huh?” He replies, a hand running through Levi’s blonde hair — the texture so similar to that of his own. Sometimes looking at his son was like looking in a mirror — the same full cheeks and green eyes looking back at him. “Don’t put your hands on the windows, please. I spend enough time cleaning them as it is.”

Michael looks around the cosy, albeit messy, apartment. Levi’s toys were scattered around the wooden floor — his son has a short attention span and would move from one game to the next, without putting the previous one away until Michael declared it was bedtime. He tries his best to make the apartment feel like home — decorating it with warm colours and framing the many memories he had made with his son, there as a constant reminder that they have each other.

Each other — all they both have.

It had been, ever since Michael had legally been granted full parental responsibility of his son three years earlier. He loves his son more than anything else in the world, would move the earth for him — yet he always worried he wasn’t enough for him. That the absence of a maternal figure was something he could never make up for.

“Sorry.” Levi replies, knowing it was something Michael reminded him of many times. Michael smiles at his son and drops a kiss to his forehead, silently forgiving him.

He resumes his place on the sofa, picking up his acoustic guitar and quietly strumming the tune in his head as Levi gets back to playing. He didn’t get the chance to play properly as often as he’d like to — the studio he used to spend hours on end in a distant memory. His days were now filled with children’s TV shows, Levi’s favourite turkey dinosaurs, and many many toy cars and trucks. He’d find them where he’d least expect to — he couldn’t get into bed without finding a surprise underneath his pillow.

He wouldn’t have it any other way though.

Even though his life had drastically changed from what it used to be — it was also filled with so much love. He can’t imagine waking up without his son pulling at the edge of the covers to join him for cuddles, or having anything less than at least ten hugs and kisses everyday. He loves watching Levi grow up and change, as well as discovering more about the world with him by his side.

“What else is going on outside, bud?” Michael asks Levi, noticing his son was curiously peering outside once more.

“They’re taking things from the truck.” He tells him. Michael knows he wouldn’t care about anything other than watching the vehicle so similar to the plastic one in his hands. Michael glances outside once more, spotting two people lifting boxes from the back of the van — wondering if there would be a new resident in the building.

It was then he remembers the empty apartment next door to his — it had been a few months since their previous neighbour left, and he had been wondering when somebody else would be moving in.

“Levi, come and get your shoes on please bud.” Michael instructs him, grabbing his small waterproof jacket from the hook next to the door. Grocery shopping was something they always do every Friday morning together. Well, they do everything together, but groceries were a part of their routine. “Shall we have another try at tying your laces? I know you’ve been practicing since last time.”

Michael was always looking for something new to teach his son — the most recent task being teaching him how to tie his own shoe laces. He has never been forced to put on his shoes so much in his life, due to Levi asking to practice on him.

“Then that goes there...” Levi’s voice is quiet as he concentrates. Michael watches as he tries — it wasn’t quite right, but he’s definitely closer than the last time he tried.

“Almost, bud! You’re getting better every time.” Michael praises him, kneeling down to securely tie his laces himself. “We’ll keep trying.”

Michael makes sure he has his wallet and keys before taking Levi’s hand in his. He’s met with two people outside of his apartment — the same two people he had seen unpacking boxes outside. The door next to his apartment was propped open, assumingly so it was easier for things to be unloaded inside.

“Look dad! A puppy!”

Levi pulls away from Michael’s hand and runs over to the brown labradoodle sniffing around the hall, making himself familiar with his new environment. Michael turns around quickly, calling Levi’s name to attempt to stop him from getting in the way, or from bothering the dog minding their own business.

That’s when Michael sees you.

“Milo,” You call, worried he would get over excited and jump up at the little boy currently trying to pet him. “Sorry, the attention gets her a little excitable.”

“Don’t worry.” Michael replies, laughing off what you said. “She was minding his own business before my son got involved. I’m Michael, by the way. Are you moving in next door?”

“I am! I’m glad I bumped into you, actually. Much less awkward than me just randomly knocking on your door, I guess.” You reply, chuckling out of nervousness. Michael holds his hand out for you to shake, as you introduce yourself too. “It’s good to meet you. What’s this little guy’s name?”

“My name is Levi.” Levi pipes up from where he was still entertaining Milo. One trait Levi hasn’t inherited from Michael is his confidence — or thereby lack of. Levi would talk to anyone that interacted with Michael, which was something he would never have done at his age.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Levi.” You reply to him, smiling as he stands back next to his dad and grabs a hold of his hand. “Thanks for keeping Milo entertained.”

“We have some grocery shopping to do, but I’m sure we’ll see you around.” Michael tells you, hoping that it was true. He’s happy to have a friendly neighbour moving in, especially since you have a dog — he’s sure Levi isn’t going to forget that. He had been begging for a pet for a long time, but Michael didn’t feel like the time was right. “Come on, bud. Say goodbye!”

Levi waves goodbye to you as you continue into your new apartment, setting the box of your belongings down along with the rest. Looking around your new home, there’s a lot of cleaning and decorating to be done — but it’s all part of the moving fun.

“Looks like we have some nice neighbours, huh Milo?” You think back to the friendly man and his adorable son that you had met moments ago. They had made moving into the building a little less daunting. “I think Levi wants to be your friend, too.”

The last of your belongings were brought into the apartment and you thank the removal company for their help, knowing the move would’ve been much more difficult if you had done it yourself. The apartment already felt homey — the neutral, warm decor giving it a cosy atmosphere. It would feel more like home when you unpacked and added your own spin on it.

In the supermarket, Michael is going through his usual shopping list and making sure they got everything they would need for the next week — as well as a few extra treats for Levi. He’s good at disciplining him when he needs to — he’s learned how to say ‘no’, but he couldn’t lie and say he isn’t a soft touch towards his son.

“Dad?” Levi asks, sitting in the child friendly seat at the front of the trolley. He has a toy car in his grasp, something to keep him entertained whilst Michael shopped — grocery shopping isn’t the most exciting way for a four year old to spend a Friday afternoon. “Do you think I can play with the puppy when we get home?”

Michael chuckles at his words, whilst grabbing his favourite pasta sauce from the shelf. He wishes he could be four years old again — his biggest concern being the ability to pet the dog he had met half an hour ago. He isn’t surprised that it had been the only thing on Levi’s mind since meeting you and Milo.

“We’ll have to wait and see, buddy.” He replies, not wanting to continuously bother you on your first day in the new apartment, knowing you needed to unpack and settle in. “Our new neighbour needs to unpack first I think. We don’t want to bother them.”

“Can we take her some treats?” He asks, knowing it would give him an excuse to see Milo again. Michael isn’t too mad about getting to see you again, either. It would be nice to have some adult company — he’s forgotten what it was like to talk to someone other than his four year old. “Please? Maybe then she’ll want to be friends with us.” Night

He loves the way his son thinks through things — four year old logic just made sense of the simple things in life. Being kind makes people want to be friends with you. It’s something he never wants his son to grow out of.

“Sure, bud.” He agrees, knowing it would be a nice gesture for Milo — even if it wasn’t the best housewarming present. “We’ll pick some up when we get to the pet aisle, okay?”

Levi is satisfied with his answer.

***

“Who’s that Milo, huh? Do we have more visitors?”

A knock on your leads you out of your bedroom, where you were finally making up the bed. It was the last thing you planned on doing that evening — the living room and kitchen were still full of boxes, yet they weren’t going to be unpacked until the weekend. Anything not essential could be done at another time.

You look through the small peep hole in the door — spotting Michael and Levi on the other side. It’s nice to see a familiar face, even though you had only had one conversation with them. As soon as you open the door, Milo runs past you, jumping up at the little boy who had been so eagerly waiting to see her again.

“Sorry to bother you again,” Michael starts, the expression on his face telling you that he had been reluctant to call round — yet the little boy next to him had won the battle due to wanting to see Milo. “Levi here has a present, well for Milo. Not the best housewarming gift, I know.”

“That’s so sweet, thank you so much!” You take the small bag of dog treats from Michael’s hands, opening it and handing one to Levi. “Would you like to give it to her?”

Levi nods and happily takes it from your hand, offering it to Milo and giggling when she ate it from his grasp. They continue to play together, Michael turning his attention back to you.

“I would invite you in, but there’s more boxes than anything else in there currently.” You tell him, closing the door behind you slightly to hide the mess. “I’d be happy to have you round when it looks a little less than a dumping sight though.”

Something about you intrigues Michael. It’s so easy to talk to you, even in the two conversations you’d had.

“Don’t worry, we just wanted to bring the treats round. Levi hasn’t stopped talking about Milo since earlier so I knew he wouldn’t sleep until he got to see her again.” He explains, a hand running through Levi’s messy blonde hair. You can’t help but notice there had been no mention of his mum, yet you’d only bumped into them twice — you don’t really know anything about them at all. “We’ll let you get on with unpacking, but feel free to knock if you need anything. C’mon, bub. It’s bath time for you.”

Levi waves goodbye and they head back next door — leaving you in your own company once more. Something about them is intriguing. They seem like a very sweet duo, although you aren’t sure of their exact situation. It makes you feel more comfortable knowing you had someone next door that you could speak to though.

You spent the rest of the evening making the bedroom more able to sleep in. About to head to bed after a long day, you close the blinds in the living room — a quiet strumming catching your attention. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering what the sound was and there it was coming from.

“‘Cause I’ve got a jet black heart... and there’s a hurricane underneath it, trying to keep us apart,”

It’s Michael singing.

The sound is oddly comforting. It’s only a soft strumming, his velvety voice a quiet murmur — assuming it was to avoid waking Levi up. Yet somehow, you could hear it through the wall. You wonder if it’s just a hobby, or whether that’s part of his job. You can’t help but be curious about their situation.

Michael is stuck.

Ashton had called him in the middle of the afternoon, following a minor drumming incident — a drumstick had slipped out of his hand whilst practicing too hard, splitting mid air and cutting the palm of his hand. It’s not too bad, he’d managed to stop the bleeding — yet he knew it would need some stitches, and that’s where he hoped Michael would come in.

He’d already tried both Calum and Luke, both tied up with something, so they couldn’t help him out either. Michael didn’t fancy taking Levi to the hospital with him, yet he isn’t sure what else to do.

Then he thinks about you.

It had been around a week since you moved in, and he’d bumped into you a handful of times — the conversations flowing just as they had the first few times. He doesn’t think it would be fair to leave Levi with you, since he barely knows you. Yet he isn’t sure what else to do. Levi is napping — it’s not often that he sleeps in the afternoon anymore, but after spending the morning at the park, it had knocked him out.

It led him to your door. He knocks lightly, desperately hoping that you were in and not busy, although he feels guilty for even asking you to help him out.

“Hey, Michael. What’s up?” You ask, a friendly smile on your face as he stood anxiously at the door. He doesn’t have the same relaxed demeanour as he usually did. “You okay?”

“I’m so sorry to ask, but is there any chance you have an hour to spare? Levi is asleep, there’s something I have to go and do and I don’t know who else to ask but I can’t take Levi with me an—“

“Michael, Michael... calm down.” You interrupt him, seeing how he was getting so worked up over something so trivial. “Of course I can, no problem at all. Levi is a sweet boy, and I’m sure Milo will appreciate the attention.”

Michael sighs in relief.

“Thank you so much.” It seems like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Levi is asleep, he might wake up but he’ll just play with his toys, probably. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I really appreciate it.”

You grab your phone and whistle for Milo, making sure you had your key before following Michael into his apartment. The layout is very similar to yours, although he had decorated quite a lot — the living room was calming and comfortable, mainly black and white, with a deep blue feature wall, and wooden furniture. Toys are littered around the room, as you expect, the trail clear from where Levi had moved from one to the other.

“I shouldn’t be too long.” Michael explains, throwing on a jacket and grabbing his phone. “Can I give you my number so I can keep you updated?”

You nod, handing your phone over so he could add his contact into it. He says goodbye and you watch him leave, before awkwardly lingering in his apartment — not really sure of what to do in the unfamiliar space. You consider watching TV, yet you don’t want to wake Levi up. You’re slightly nervous as to how Levi would react to waking up with you there, instead of Michael, although he had been nothing but friendly with you since meeting. He’s a very confident child, you had noticed.

Taking a seat on the plush brown sofa, you can’t help but look around the room.

It’s obvious Michael had put a lot of effort into decorating. The photo frames lining the shelves and hung on the wall catch your eye — filled with photos of Michael and Levi together. One where Levi was a tiny baby, cuddled up in Michael’s arms, another where he was on his shoulders, tiny hands holding onto a hat that said “MC” in white letters on the side. There’s a few family shots, with people you assumed to be Michael’s parents. Yet, none with someone who could’ve been Levi’s mum, or Michael’s partner. At that point, you’re 90% sure that Michael and Levi live there alone.

Milo curls up next to you on the couch, making herself at home after exploring the apartment. You run your hands through her soft fur, wondering how else to kill time before Michael returns. His record collection catches your attention too, stacked up on a shelf way above ground level — seemingly out of reach from Levi. Maybe the music was just a hobby, an escape for Michael in his spare time. It’s something you want to ask about in due course.

“Hello?”

A soft voice appears from behind you, making you jump slightly and turn around from your spot on the sofa.

“Hi, Levi.” You greet him, smiling at the sight of the four year old — standing in his dinosaur print pyjamas, cheeks rosy and rubbing at his sleepy eyes. “Your dad had to go and do something, so I said I’d stay here and hang out with you for a while. Is that okay?”

He nods, still not comprehending exactly what was going on but agreeing all the same. In his sleepy state, he hadn’t noticed Milo wagging her tail and making her way over to him. He giggles excitedly as she nudges her nose against his leg, hoping for the attention he usually gave her.

“Milo is here!” He exclaims, kneeling down so the soft puppy could jump up at him.

“I thought you might like to play with her.” You tell him, smiling at their sweet interaction. “She’s probably more fun than me.”

Levi is happy to give Milo all of his attention — giggling when he's smothered in puppy cuddles and kisses. She’s a good way to break the ice between them, even though Levi isn’t a shy child — Milo gives them something easy to talk about.

“Where did my dad go?” Levi asks a little anxiously — twiddling one of his toy trucks in his hands, his nerves coming out in his actions.

“I’m not sure actually,” You reply, realising Michael actually never said where he was going. “He said he wouldn’t be too long, but it was an emergency.”

He nods slowly, almost like he didn’t believe you.

“Me and Milo will keep you company until then, okay? I won’t leave until he gets back.” You reassure him, hoping to put his mind at ease. It makes you wonder why he’s so worried about being left alone. You hand him Milo’s favourite toy. “I brought this for you to play with.”

“I want to get a dog, but Dad says we can’t,” Levi says, throwing the ball across the room and watching as Milo chases after it. It gives you the chance to ask a few questions. You don’t want to overstep, yet do want to get to know them.

“Is it just you and your dad that live here?”

“Uh huh.” He replies. That confirms to you that Michael is a single dad, if anything. “He’s my best friend.”

You don’t get the chance to ask him any more questions before Michael bursts through the door.

“Hey, you.” Michael smiles at his son as Levi runs towards him, wrapping his arms around his legs. “Did you have a good nap? Sorry I wasn’t here, bud. Your uncle Ash had a bit of an accident.”

“It’s okay.” Levi replies, throwing his arms around Michael’s neck as he picks him up. “I had fun playing with Milo!”

“I’m glad you did, bubs.” He smiles, reaching down to greet Milo too. “Thank you so much for watching him. I really appreciate it.”

You wave off his thanks, reassuring him that it wasn’t a problem — you enjoy spending time with Levi and want to get to know them more.

“Don’t worry about it,” You say. He sits down next to you on the sofa — Levi cuddling up next to him. “Is everything okay?”

Michael thinks back to the chaos of the last hour — having to drive Ashton to the hospital in a hurry and then hang around in the waiting room whilst he got it stitched up.

“Yeah, my bandmate just had a bit of a drumming incident. He’s fine, though.” He replies, and the word ‘bandmate’ catches your attention. It makes you think back to the previous few nights, when you’d heard him playing guitar through the wall.

“Oh, you’re in a band?” You ask curiously, hoping it doesn’t seem like you’re prying, but you’d been wanting to ask about his musical abilities.

Sometimes Michael forgets he’s in the band, especially now his sole focus is Levi. They hadn’t been able to tour for a long time, leading to them all focusing on their own personal interests — it had given Michael some space to breathe and focus on being a dad.

“Yeah, well, we’re kinda on a hiatus at the moment.” He explains. It’s not a lie. It’s an unofficial one — they never collectively decided to take a break, but life had just turned out that way. They were all itching to get back into the band, though. Michael just wanted to get Levi in school first. He didn’t want him to have to spend his days cooped up in a studio whilst Michael worked. It didn’t seem fair. “We’ve been together a long time, but we all kinda took a break for a little while to focus on our own things. I had Levi to take care of, so it kinda worked out.”

“I see,” You nod as he speaks. “That explains the guitar then?”

He furrows his eyebrows at you, like he knows what you mean, but he’s not sure.

“You heard that?” A blush arises on his face. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you awake. It’s just the only time I really get to practice, after Levi is in bed.”

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s nice, actually. You have a nice voice.” You reassure him. Michael seems to worry a lot, you had noticed. He always felt the need to explain himself, or apologise for what he was doing — it made you sad in a way. “I don’t mind at all.”

Something about you made Michael feel as though he could breathe a little more. He wants to spend more time with you. It feels comfortable and easy.

“Dad, what’s for dinner?” Levi’s voice pulls Michael’s attention from thinking, back to reality.

“I’m not sure bud, what do you want?” Michael asks him, running his hands through his fluffy, sleep tousled hair. He turns his attention back to you. “I have to get his dinner, but you’re welcome to come round later tonight, if you’re free? We can talk properly then.”

“Sounds good to me,” You stand up, whistling for Milo so she’d follow along behind you. “I’ll see you tonight.”

***

It’s around 9:00pm by the time Michael texts you.

He could’ve knocked, but he didn’t want to disturb Levi. It had taken him a little longer for him to settle — almost as if he knew that Michael had plans. It was often Levi was plagued with nightmares, ones of Michael leaving him alone or him being somehow abandoned. Michael assumed it came from his mum leaving at such a young age. He had some memories of her, since he was just over a year old when she left — he knew her. He knew her enough to know that she was gone.

“Hey, sorry it took so long to get Levi to bed.” Michael apologises once more. “It sometimes takes a little longer to get him to sleep.”

“It’s no problem.” You reply, walking into the homey apartment — the floor now clear of evidence of Levi playing all day long. It has a relaxing energy. “Is he okay? And are you?”

“Yeah, it’s just ever since his mum left…” The words trail off as he realises what he's saying. He doesn't want to offload on you, yet something about you made him trust you. “He has nightmares a lot, we’re trying to deal with his fear of the dark too.”

“It must be tough doing it alone.” You comment, sitting on the end of his sofa as he stands in the kitchen, opposite you. “Levi is such a sweet boy though, if that’s any consolation.”

Michael smiles as he thinks about his son.

“Thank you,” He replies genuinely. “I’m used to it being just us now, but it was really rough in the beginning. I just worry that I’m never gonna be able to give him what a mother could, you know? Well, what she did.

“I think you worry about a lot of things.”

Michael chuckles at your words.

“Probably,” He sighs, yawning quietly as he adjusts his fringe over his forehead. “Another thing I’m used to doing. The band used to help me get out of my head, but I don’t really get the chance to do that anymore. Well, not until late at night.”

Michael used to spend his days locked up in a studio, perfecting harmonies and recording guitar solos over and over. He loved it, though. It was his passion, the one thing he truly loved — yet none of that compared to how he felt about Levi.

“Did you want to get back with your band?” Michael moves around the kitchen, pouring himself a drink before offering you one too, as he thinks about your question.

He did want to. A part of him aches to get back to being creative, to satisfy the lyrics and melodies floating around his mind. He has a lot to write about, that’s for sure. After the time he had taken away, he’d never be short on inspiration.

Ashton, Luke and Calum feel the same way too.

They’d be back in the studio in a heartbeat if Michael agreed. He’d have to agree for any of them to go back into it as a band — it was all or none. They understand though. The last few years had been rough on both Michael and Levi, and they’d never rush him into anything if it wasn’t the best thing for both of them.

“Yeah. The guys really want to, but it’s just when I can.” He explains. “I don’t want Levi’s life to turn into being stuck in a studio all day, it’s not fair on him. I was planning on waiting until he starts school in September.”

You don’t know Michael that well, apart from living next door to him for the past week or so. Yet something about him made you want to help him. He’s just a single dad, trying to do the best for his son — yet he's trying to juggle far too much at a time, leaving no time for himself. You want to help with that.

“This might be completely crazy since we don’t know each other that well and I just moved in next door…” You start, Michael cocking his eyebrow at you — unsure of what you were going to ask. “I’m still looking for a job, I don’t really have much on during the day. I could watch Levi for you if you wanted to go to the studio again. If Levi would feel okay with that, of course. And as long as you’re comfortable too.”

Michael thinks about your proposal for a moment.

On one hand, it seems like a crazy suggestion. You had only lived next door for around a week, and hung out with them a few times, yet Levi did seem to be comfortable when you had taken care of him that day. Milo would help too. Levi could be convinced to do anything if there was a puppy involved somehow.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Michael sighs, already feeling the ‘dad guilt’ at the idea of leaving Levi with someone else. He’d have to talk to Levi before agreeing — he had to make it clear that he wasn’t leaving him, since that would do nothing to help his abandonment issues. Michael couldn’t do that to his son.

“You’re not asking me to.” You move a little closer to him, resting your hand on his thigh, as if to ground him. Michael looks directly at you, suddenly feeling emotional over how much you wanted to be able to help him. “I’m offering to, because I want you to do something for you. I know I don’t know that much about how you and Levi ended up in this situation, but I do know that it’s about time you did something other than be a parent.”

“You’re sure?” He asks again, tears lining his eyes at your words. It had been a long time since he felt able to do something for himself. He had wanted to find someone to babysit Levi for a long time, yet he worried they wouldn’t bond and it wouldn’t work out. He had been too worried to reach out to someone. Maybe it was time he did something for him, now that he had the opportunity.

You nod.

“Me and Milo need the company anyway.” You tell him, moving forward when he holds his arms out towards you, to pull you into a grateful hug. His touch is gentle as his hands settle on your back. He’s warm and smells like clean cotton, fresh and comforting. It had been a long time since Michael felt so comfortable around someone, and he doesn’t know what makes him feel so secure.

“I need to talk to Levi about it.” He pulls away from the hug, but didn’t move further away. “I need to make sure he’s okay with it before we arrange anything. I just… I need to make sure he knows I’m not leaving him.”

“I understand, Michael. Take as much time as you need.” You assure him, squeezing his hand in yours in a comforting and reassuring gesture. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

“Your bed is all nice and cosy, ready for you to have a good sleep.”

Michael pulls back the soft astronaut—themed duvet as Levi yawns, climbing under the covers. It’s an earlier bedtime than usual — Michael hoping it would be a good time to talk to Levi about your proposal of babysitting him.

He had spent all day thinking about it — what to say, how to explain that it was okay if he didn’t want it to happen. He just wants Levi to be happy and comfortable. If that meant him never being able to make music again, that’s what it would have to be — yet he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“Levi,” Michael started, pushing his damp fluffy hair away from his face — drying after an evening bath. “I need to talk to you about something, okay? Me and your uncles have been thinking about making music again, which would mean me having to go into the studio for a few hours sometimes.”

He continues to explain what would happen — that you would take care of him when he had to go.

“But if you don’t want to, that’s okay, I promise. I don’t want you to be sad, bud. If you want me to stay here with you then I will. You just let me know, okay? I promise that’s okay.” He reassures him. Levi’s big green eyes looked up at him as he spoke, melting his heart. He tries to ignore how much he looks like his mum, even though she had always told him Levi was a clone of him. He did look like Michael in many ways, yet he’d never stop seeing her in his son. “I love you so much, you know that. I’d never leave you. If you’re not ready for me to start making music again, I won’t, okay?”

Levi had grown up listening to Michael playing the guitar. Back when he was a baby, it soothed him — he had spent hours by his crib just playing soft songs to soothe him back to sleep. He loved hearing Michael play.

He looks at Michael for a moment, as if he was trying to take in all of the information he had just received. Michael can almost see the cogs turning in his mind. He isn’t sure what his response was going to be.

“Does that mean I get to play with Milo all day?”

Michael laughs at his son’s words, whilst simultaneously sighing in relief. As long as there was a puppy around, he’d agree to anything.

“Yeah bud, it does.” He replies, smiling at him as he tucks his covers up to his chin. “Is that okay, though? You’re sure?”

“Uh huh.” He nods, cuddling up to the various soft toys surrounding him in his bed. “I like hearing you play guitar.”

“Maybe I can write a song about you.” Michael bops his nose on the ‘you’ and smiles at the giggles he receives in response. “Love you, bub. Have a good sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

They don’t quite make it to the morning before Michael sees Levi again.

It’s Michael’s least favourite way to wake up. He hasn’t been a deep sleeper since long before Levi was born, so any sound would wake him — especially the familiar cries of fear from his son in the middle of the night.

“Hey, hey.” Michael murmurs, voice heavy with sleep. He’s met with the sight he had seen many times before — Levi sat up in bed, sad sobs escaping as he rubs his heavy eyes, as if it would remove the awful sights plaguing his sleep. “You’re alright, bud. It’s okay.”

Michael perches on the edge of his bed, scooping him up from the soft mattress and setting him down in his lap. Levi instantly clings to him, curling up in his arms and hiding his face in Michael’s neck. His cries make Michael’s heart ache. Especially when he has an idea of what has caused them. He worries if the conversation they had before bed had led to his distress.

“Shh,” Michael whispers into his hair, rubbing his back softly. He just has to let him feel it out, let him calm down and realise he was safe. “You’re okay, Levi. I’m right here, okay? I’ve got you.”

He needs the reassurance that someone’s there, since that was the main theme of his usual nightmares — that he would be left alone forever.

The soft night light in the corner of his bedroom did nothing to soothe him. Michael knows there’s little chance of him going back to sleep in his own room — waking up from a bad dream usually resulted in a night in the big bed.

“I know bud, I know.” He murmurs to him, fingertips running up and down his pyjama covered back as Michael carries him into his own bedroom. His heart aches with the sound of his tears. “You’re okay, I’m right here with you.”

Michael sets him down on the bed, Levi immediately crawling under the covers and pulling them up to his chin. Levi’s tears reduce to quiet sniffles, rubbing at his heavy eyes as he cuddles into Michael’s pillow.

“What’s scaring you, huh? Do you want to talk about it?”

Michael had always encouraged Levi to talk to him about how he was feeling. It was so important to him that Levi knew he could tell Michael everything — he had been through his own mental health struggles, and talking was the one thing he knew that helped. Even when Levi had tantrums, he’d always take the time to help his son work out exactly how he was feeling, so he could understand and process it. He wanted him to be able to talk openly about how he felt and why.

“Everyone left.” His voice is quiet against Michael’s shoulder. Michael was expecting that answer — it wasn’t the first time he’d experienced that particular dream. “I couldn’t find you or anyone else.”

“You know I wouldn’t let that happen.” Michael reassures him, fingertips grazing his cheek to get him to look up at him. “I promise you, I’d never leave you alone or not tell you where I was going. You’re stuck with me, okay? Whether you like it or not.”

Levi smiles at his words. He nods, cuddling up to Michael as he fights sleep — his eyes eventually winning the battle. Michael stays awake until Levi is fast asleep — stroking his hair and holding him close. He thinks about how badly he wishes he could take his fears away. He hates that Levi has ever had to go through the pain of abandonment, his own mother being the one to cause it.

***

Michael decided to stay home for another week with Levi before leaving him alone with you.

You had spent more time with the two of them, knowing it was important that Levi knows and trusts you. He hasn’t had any more nightmares since the night that Michael talked to him about what would be happening, which was a good sign.

“Okay, you have my number,” You could see Michael going through a mental checklist of things he was meant to remind you of. “He’ll probably want a snack soon. If you need anything at all, please call me. I can be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Michael, don’t worry.” You know the words are meaningless, as Michael will definitely be worrying for the rest of the day. “We’ll be absolutely fine, I’ve got everything under control. Enjoy yourself, okay?”

He nods, taking a deep breath before Levi hugs his legs.

“Bye, buddy. I love you, alright? Have a fun day.” Michael kisses the top of his head and ruffles his hair before grabbing his car keys and leaving the apartment.

Levi waves with a small “bye, dad” before sitting on the couch, almost as if he’s waiting for you to do something to occupy him.

“So Levi,” You start, catching his attention. “I thought we could hang out here for a little while, have some lunch and then take Milo to the park. Does that sound okay to you?”

You’re met with an excited nod, Levi happy at the prospect of spending the day with you and Milo especially. You didn’t want to bore him on your first day together, not if you were going to be able to give Michael the chance to make music once more.

“Do you want to play dinosaurs?” You ask, trying to think of something that can occupy him for quite a while before taking Milo out. Michael had told you that it’s one of his favourite games.

Levi looks at you with a reluctant gaze.

“We don’t have to.” You reassure him, unsure of whether he was going to say anything.

“That’s mine and my dad’s game.” He says, almost like he’s worried about offending you. “I only like playing it with him.”

“Oh,” You reply, sending him a warm smile as a reassurance that you understood. “That’s okay then, we can do something else. You choose, okay? Whatever you want.”

It made you think about how close Michael and Levi must be, after it being just the two of them for so long. There was a lot you didn’t know, that you wanted to ask Michael about.

The afternoon was going smoothly — Levi happily holding onto Milo’s leash as he walked her, happy to be in yours and her company. Michael texted you every so often, just to check in — it was clear he was worrying about Levi and whether he was okay.

Levi was curled up in your lap when Michael got home.

He bursts through the door like he was expecting something to be wrong. You could see the relief in his face as his eyes fall upon the scene in front of him, seeing Levi be so relaxed cuddling up to you.

“Oh,” He sighs, quietening down in order not to wake Levi up. “He’s okay.”

“Did you think something was wrong?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at why he looked so panicked.

A bashful and slightly embarrassed gaze tinges his face.

“You weren’t answering your phone, I just… I panicked.” He admits, gently smoothing his hand over Levi’s face as he watches him sleep. “That’s the longest time I’ve been away from him pretty much since he was born.”

“You did it though,” You remind him. “It’s only going to get easier from here.”

Michael wants to cry at the feeling, knowing Levi was okay without him — it made his heart ache a little that he was growing up so fast. He also felt relieved that he was able to get his own life back to some degree.

“I’ll go put him in bed, then we can talk.” Michael murmurs, gently scooping Levi up from the sofa and cuddling him in his arms. He whispers a soft “it’s just me, bub” against his hair, making sure he has a good hold on him before moving to his bedroom.

“Hey,” You reach out for his hand when he sits next to you on the sofa, squeezing it gently. He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours as he finally allows himself to relax. “He’s fine, Michael. Although he wouldn’t let me play dinosaurs with you, that’s your game, I was told.”

Michael laughs at your words.

“Really? He said that's our game?” His eyes lit up at the thought.

“He also said you’re his best friend.” You informed him. Michael worries far too much about his relationship with his son. Levi thinks nothing but good things about him. “You’re the centre of his world, Michael. He loves you so much.”

“I always think that no-one is ever going to be able to replace his mum.” Michael admits, nervously running a hand through his hair. “I try to give him everything, but I know I can’t replace her.”

“You’re right, you can’t. You don’t need to though.” You squeeze his hand in yours once more. “He has everything he needs in you, trust me, Michael. He’s a very happy child and that’s down to you.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as Michael takes in your words, reassured that the day went smoothly. There was something else he wanted to do, too.

“Can I tell you something?”

You narrow your eyes at Michael, with no idea of what he was about to say. You nod, waiting for him to continue.

“Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it too. With him right in front of you, being so open about how he feels is almost too much to take in all at once.

Michael almost regrets the words as soon as they come out. That’s until you lean forward, your face so close to his that he can’t help but focus on anything but your eyes. It feels like forever until he moves closer, softly pressing his lips against yours, his hands moving to cup your cheeks gently as he kisses you.

“What are we doing?” You giggle softly against his lips, pulling back for air for a second before kissing him once more.

“This, apparently.”

You have no idea where things are going to go with Michael, what would happen between you both after the moment ends. Yet as he focuses on kissing you, you struggle to think about anything else.

The moment ends far earlier than you wanted it to, Michael pulling away as he murmurs “maybe you shouldn’t go home tonight. It’s too far to walk.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, leaning forward to rest against his chest and bury your face in the soft material of his hoodie.

“I think you’re right.”

***

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Masterlist

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

The Bad Guy, pt. 3 - Haunted (Gang AU)

Summary: Grayson’s attempt to pull out of his gang related business seems futile as his past comes back to haunt him. Deciding to keep it a secret only brings more issues as it creates a distance between him and Y/N he can’t bridge.

Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT, injuries, blood, death, swearing...

Word count: 18.5k

The Bad Guy - Series Masterlist

Frowning, my eyes struggle to adjust to the light basking my skin, squinting to try and get a better view of the perpetrator although I know it's him.

If anything was certain about Grayson Dolan it was his love for sunrise and while I'm far from a morning person, waking up to watch his mesmerized gaze has become the epitome of a full life.

Quietly, afraid to startle him and ruin my favorite view, I stand up too, fighting the lightheaded feeling swaying me from side to side, nearly blinding me for a moment or two.

And I stand there, silently watching this beautiful, handsome specimen I still can't believe is mine. I watch him with fervor, with a fire unequaled to any volcano. And I admire him - every muscle, every scar, every mark life had left on his body.

He could have any woman he lays his eye on and yet he chose me? Sometimes I think it's a dream, a cosmic joke to give me everything I ever wanted before ripping it away once reality sets in, but it's not. He's here and he is mine and even after countless, nearly lethal obstacles, I can't fathom regretting being a part of his world.

Meeting Grayson Dolan has been the highlight of my life and I count my lucky stars every day as I thank the universe for giving me a chance to not only love a man as magnificent as him, but also be loved by him.

To be loved by Grayson Dolan is a powerful thing, a force of nature that is all consuming. It's a blessing and he might not agree with me on this, but if I had a chance to do it all again? I'd choose him over and over until I am nothing but ash and dust.

Perhaps we aren't the luckiest lovers in the world, but we're far from Romeo and Juliet. They had tragedy sown in their souls, but we have the space to make our own destiny and I am determined to make it a happy one.

Stalking toward him on my tiptoes, I smile when I'm almost behind him, my arms instinctively reaching for his waist and I sense his gentle gasp as my hands glide under his arms and over his stomach. I lay my head to rest between his shoulder blades, listening to the soft breathing reminding me how lucky I am to be alive - how lucky I am he's alive.

His arms reach back and his hands rest awkwardly on my back, and I know he's smiling. He's appreciating the beauty before him as much as the tenderness of my love for him.

If Grayson knows one thing for sure it's how my love for him will always trump my love for sleep and I'm not sure he will ever truly get used to that.

We remain silent, enjoying each other's company and sweetness of another morning we get to spend together, all until the alarm clock screeches and we both jump at the loudness.

Turning around, his hands move to my hips and while I've always felt insecure about the fat he'd actually rest his hands on instead of my bones, Grayson simply gave me a reassuring squeeze, almost as if he could tell I'm once again struggling with my appearance and the latest weight gain I couldn't explain certainly didn't help my body dysmorphia.

"All my favorite days started and ended with you." His raspy voice brings chills, awakens my heart and I've always said he's better than caffeine in the morning.

"Cheesy." I remark, almost teasing him with a raised eyebrow and a swift, playful wink. "You're lucky I'm into cheesy romance."

Rolling his eyes at me with the slightest inkling of a smirk upon his plump lips, Grayson is quick to pull me closer, making me squeal and not in the attractive ways girls do it in movies, rather a pig like way.

Our noses collide before our lips firmly press together, finding our normal rhythm easily. Hands roaming his chest, fingers playing with his chest hair, I can feel my mind turn numb to our surroundings, the rest fading away. Grayson always had that effect, making me forget about the world and he didn't have to try, even one look was enough.

"Y/N." He whispers my name in between kisses spelled with our lips, my teeth sinking into his bottom lip, nibbling on the soft skin until an exasperated groan leaves him and I know his morning wood has begun to bug him and our kisses certainly didn't make it any easier on him.

"I can help with that." Coy, I inch away, breathing heavily. He's smilingly shaking his head and I can't help the disappointment on my face for I know what he's going to say.

"I want to, TRUST ME, but I have an early meeting." Apologetic as ever, Grayson steps back as if distance would somehow stop some sort of an imaginary spell I've cast on him. But this has become a rather common occurrence. It's why I wake up so early, hoping to steal a few peaceful moments in his arms before he leaves for work and more often than not, he's not back until late.

I'm not better with my intern year exhausting me all the time either, but I miss him ALL THE TIME and he seems to lack the same emotion. Sometimes I wonder if he misses me too or if his job, as legal as it’s supposed to be, is still his number one priority. He changed his tune on the matter, but his actions are faltering that belief in my heart.

I want to believe in him – in us, but love is a flower that needs to be watered and lately, there’s been a draught. And we are still intimate…a lot, but we lack the kind of quality time we spent together back when we had the world against us.

Sometimes, as selfish as it may be, I wonder if having my life threatened is the only way to have his undivided attention.

"Sure. I should get ready too." Biting my lip, I thread my fingers through my hair and sigh, avoiding his eyes to hide my dejection. It's not easy realizing we're officially becoming like any other couple where we don't seem to prioritize each other and if I'm being honest, it's killing me.

Grayson is the one to break the silence first. "Doll, have you seen my shirt?"

"Pretty sure I ripped it off you last night. Might want to grab that hoodie instead, because I'd rather not have you flaunting those flawless abs in public." I smirk, stopping once my eyes catch the horror in his.

"You. Want. Me. To. Wear. A. Hoodie? I can't be seen in a hoodie!" Grayson's words only make me chuckle, reminding me that behind his bad boy facade truly is a drama queen with a notable fashion sense. It makes me feel normal, and maybe being normal isn't always a bad thing. Maybe I’m just addicted to thrill of danger we were stuck in for so long I’ve forgotten that we’ve finally found serenity – a reality that should be more comfortable for me.

"Yes?" It was more of a question than a statement, paired with an amused look in my eyes and once my teeth sunk in the left corner of my bottom lip, Grayson's heart skipped a beat.

"The only reason I own a hoodie is because I bought it so you, my girlfriend, could steal it and we'd have some sense of normalcy as a couple. You know? No bloodshed, no tortured souls or kidnapping, just the old run of the mill girlfriend stealing her boyfriend's hoodie." Grayson justified, only making me giggle.

"And it worked, so now you can do what every boyfriend does and steal it back while giving me a glare for stealing it in the first place only to kiss me and tell me I look better in it than you anyway." I retort, enjoying his casually entertaining sauntering toward me, both his eyebrows raised.

"Well, it isn't even mine anymore, it's ours." He rolls his eyes with a cheeky smile, making my heart melt. This is how it’s supposed to be when two people love each other - easy as breathing. This, right now, just him and I and no obligations tearing us apart – this is how it should be.

Grabbing the hoodie, he shakes it before me, granting me a teasing glare. "I'm not gonna wear it but stealing isn't nice. Even if it does look better on you." Reenacting my little speech, Grayson pecks my lips before continuing his morning ritual and I draw a deep breath, shuddering at the thought of losing him.

I didn't come home that night, forced to pull a double shift at the hospital yet my phone didn't ring.  Most nights, Grayson would call and check up on me even though I know it’s mostly to hear my voice – he explained it was soothing, a comfort he never takes for granted.

Sighing, I lock the screen and chase a few peas across the plastic plate, wondering what Grayson is doing, if he is hungry or tired, if he's wishing he could be next to me as much as I am. I’ve almost never been to his company, my hours at the hospital too long and Grayson always volunteers to come for lunch a few days a week anyway. He hadn’t been around for two weeks now.

Perhaps I've become codependent, maybe he coddles me way too much, but something is different and I'm hoping it's about our jobs and not about his feelings shifting, a familiar fear creeping in - he wasn't the type to stay with one girl for long, so what if my time is up?

Could I ever say goodbye to Grayson?

Shaking my head, I remind myself how important communication is and how I fucked up the last time I allowed out relationship go down a rabbit hole - maybe there's an explanation for this too?

Chewing on the inside of my lower lip, I roll my eyes and set aside my pride like he has done for me so many times before. Dialing his number is easy, but the wait for him to pick up is what makes my eyes water.

Grayson always picks up before the third ring, I'm on the eighth now.

And when he does pick up, I realize it's not him.

"Sorry hon, he's busy with me."

Eyes wide, breath caught in my throat, I try to speak but the line is dead before I muster enough bravery to move my lips.

Slapping a hand over my mouth trying to hold back a sob, I realize how unnecessary that action is as my throat closes with emotions shaking my entire being.

There has to be some explanation for this. I should have some faith in him after everything we've been through, right?

Fear, hate, anger, anxiety, love, sadness, an insurmountable amount of emotions and thoughts overwhelm me, dragging me through the past and every time I was told I simply wasn’t enough – pretty enough, smart enough, ambitious enough, creative enough, sexy enough – all of the times I was reminded over and over again that no one would love me, especially not someone as grand as Grayson who can certainly replace me in a moment’s time and I’d be left on the outside looking in, seeing his many girls on the front pages of every tabloid which would slowly kill me.

I want to wash my brain in cold water, cool the whole thing but I can't. I want a coffee but the caffeine will put me over the edge.

Regardless, I find myself dialing Ethan's number, seeking advice. If anyone would be honest with me, Ethan Grant surely would even if Grayson is his brother.

Does the truth imprison us, or does it set us free?

One thing I know for sure, the truth can hurt. Especially when the truth bears what can break a heart in half.

But I have to know.

3rd person POV

"Who was that?" Grayson frowns as he sees his assistant put down his phone, wondering why would she answer his personal cellphone when it isn't in her job description.

"Wrong number." Smirking slyly, she revels in the world of pain she was certain she caused to the woman on the other side of the line, enjoying it as much as she's enjoying the way Grayson pulled his sleeves up, accentuating his biceps.

Licking her lips, she watches as he sits in his chair, exhaustion in every line of his face and she can't imagine a better moment to make a move she had been planning for a few months now. Sliding over to him, she wasted no time in moving her ass onto his lap, her lips hungrily covering his.

"Bro!" Ethan busts inside, worked up after hearing from a clearly upset Y/N, willing to reassure her it's only a misunderstanding but when he sees a woman in his brother's lap and her mouth on his, one of the women he remembers from Grayson's past? That's when Ethan loses it.

Grayson is quick to push her off and on the floor mercilessly, growling as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand, but Ethan has no patience, slamming the door behind him with enough strength that it breaks the tinted glass, shattering it all the way to the woman's floored ass.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Ethan screamed, not even flinching when he feels a piece of glass graze his left forearm, the cut superficial. He’s red in the face, his eyes narrowed and if looks could kill, Grayson and the pathetic excuse for a woman would need CPR.

Gripping the woman by her shoulders, Grayson sets her back on her feet, the pressure of his hands on her enough to leave a mark. Shaking her like a doll, he gets in her face, spraying spit as he makes his intentions clear.

"I am a taken man and if you ever, EVER, try that again, I will have no mercy. Understand that?" Shaking her again until she managed to mumble a clear YES, Grayson pushed her toward the door.

"What the fuck are you looking at?!" Grayson screams in outrage, his eyes set aflame with ruthless self-loathing shimmering under the surface. His rage had always made men cower in fear, but never Ethan.

He wasn’t calm either, willing to spill blood for every tear Y/N shed and while he could easily start an altercation, Ethan realized violence begins violence and he can’t turn on his own blood. Not while they’re still so vulnerable to the criminals that want them both dead.

Apparently, no one is happy to let a gang disband without bloodshed and they’ve both been working overtime to make sure that doesn’t turn into a new gang war where their loved ones would be at risk. To be honest, Grayson has been overbearing and Ethan was wearing thin, but they have to find a solution before they end up burying their mother or sister, Y/N or even each other.

"Y/N called me in tears asking if you're cheating on her and I promised you'd never do that. Was I wrong brother?" Asking calmly, Ethan surprised himself with his poise. If he could, he'd at the very least land a few punches, damage the pretty boy look Grayson attracts attention with, but he realized Y/N might not want that.

Even if he transgressed, she’d want Grayson unharmed. She’s that kind of a soul – innocent, naïve and untouched by the madness surrounding her. And she hasn’t been quite the same since the ball but Ethan noticed her getting back to who she was when they first met her at that shady club.

She is his sister now and he can’t stand the thought of what pain this might cause her.

"No. She kissed me and I ended it as soon as I could. Y/N doesn't have to know." Grayson decides, his head a chaotic explosion of fear, anger and frustration - fear of losing the only woman he ever loved, anger over the way he was completely unaware of the situation and frustration because he's clearly not as scary as he used to be and damn it, Grayson absolutely loved instilling fear in people around him. It made him feel powerful and invincible, something he gave up for a quiet future with the love of his life...something he still missed.

"I won't lie to her." Ethan says through gritted teeth, shaking his head as his fingers thread through his hair. "She deserves better Grayson." Sighing, Ethan swallows thickly. "Do better."

And while Ethan said he wouldn't lie, he called Y/N back, faking amusement.

"No worries, sis, his assistant picked up the phone and they've been working like crazy today." Pausing, he pinches the bridge of his nose as if that would wash away the shame of lies he speaks, but what good would it do to hurt her with the truth?

He is a reasonable man and bringing this up would break her heart, besides, Grayson said it's a one-time unwanted occurrence and he wanted to believe him. He needed to.

"Are you alright, babe?" He feels a familiar pair of arms slide down his chest, holding onto the hands firmly.

"Yeah. Just my brother. Same old shit." Studying her, Ethan can't help but smile at the woman Y/N hired for him just a few months ago - at first to help him after he got shot and now to help him around the office...a woman he had taken a liking to.

"Anything I can do to help?" She smirks, pecking his nose from above, implying exactly what she wanted and Ethan wasn't about to protest.

"I can think of a few things."

1st person POV

The weight finally off my chest, I smile to myself. Of course Grayson isn't cheating on me. He loves me. He does no matter how hard I found that hard to believe before.

Perhaps it's time I trust him on that.

Barely able to stand, only a few hours of sleep in a thirty-something long shift keeping me alive, I stumble into the penthouse, kicking off my sneakers immediately.

I've been tired lately, feeling queasy and faint but it's probably the long hours and worsening eating habits. I should definitely drink more water too, but admitting this to Grayson would end up with him asking me to take some time off and take care of my health but that’s not an option. I need to finish this internship so I can get a first-rate fellowship. I may be stuck in a crazy environment, but I have every intention on finishing my journey.

Groaning, I manage to find my way to our bedroom and I wonder why was I ever so stubborn about living together. I didn't want to be seen as gold digger or an opportunist, I wanted to earn my own money but after we got cornered with paparazzi in my dorm more than once, the choice was obvious. Thankfully, I graduated just in time to start an internship not too far away from his luxury penthouse, reducing the commute.

Besides, waking up next to him is better than being alone.

The moment I enter, I see something is different - a dress laid out on our bed, rose petals around as well as a bouquet on my nightstand.

Reaching for the note, I sigh, aware Grayson planned a romantic date and while I'd rather sleep and have him rub my back, I remember relationships last only if both parties contribute to its growth and for a few months, neither of us did our part.

I can't be the one to say no.

'An exquisite dress for an exquisite woman. Put this on, doll and meet me up on the roof'

Smiling, I shake my head lightly, feeling my heart skip in my chest because even if I am about to faint, the gesture is incredibly sweet. The dress is even better - the one I had my eye on but refused to even try - red as blood, back open and lacy sleeves down to my elbows.

Managing to push my swollen feet into heels a size too big for me even now, I force my legs to take the few stairs toward the roof, a smile upon my weary lips. The wind pushes my unkempt hair back, revealing a faint scratch just below my ear that I earned in the ER.

"You look magnificent. As expected." Grayson's compliment makes me look away, smiling at the ground. It's impossible not to blush when a man of his caliber tells you how amazing he believes you look.

Pecking my lips, Grayson's finger lifts my chin, gracing me with one of his disarmingly charming looks.

"Don't go all shy on me now." His smirk is devilishly handsome and now I understood how the devil cheats humans out of their souls. It's not hard to fall for a smile like that.

"I missed you." Smiling back at him, I allow him to lead me to the table he set for us, devouring the food with my eyes already.

"And I love you for this food. I'm starving!"

3rd person POV

As soon as dinner ended and the conversation became rather nostalgic, Y/N couldn't help her smile as Grayson dedicated himself to her. It’s exactly what she’d been craving, worried that their romance might be wavering after the time they had to each other.

Holding her hand, his fingers brushing her knuckles, Grayson leans his forehead on the back of it, drawing a deep breath before letting out a heavy sigh.

"You're scaring me." Y/N giggles nervously, her right leg bouncing on her knee, making it a little uncomfortable since her heel keeps slipping off thus reminding her she really needs to buy a new pair - one that actually fits and on a day Grayson is too busy to come along. Shopping is a nightmare when the big bad CEO ex mafia boss that is also known as Hellhound joins because she refuses to let him pay for it all but he always insists.

"Do you know how it feels to love you?" Grayson asks, a rhetorical question from what she can tell and he's quick to continue, confessing all that's in his heart.

"It's a consuming, fiery passion." Smiling, he tilts his head ever so slightly to his left shoulder.

"It's a need, a primal drive to protect you, make you laugh and... well, I'm not going to sugarcoat this doll, but an essential desire to give you pleasure." Raising an eyebrow, Grayson licks his lower lip, leaving it shining under the candlelight, rendering Y/N speechless.

She's already trembling, confused with his current emotional gushing. It's not like she's unused to his love proclamations, it's that she can feel it in her bones that this one means something more than all the ones before and after the recent scare and fill of self-doubting, Y/N wasn’t keen on more surprises.

"Gray", she starts softly, worried it would discourage him or somehow hurt his feelings.

As soon as she tries to interrupt, Grayson interjects again, determined to finish his speech.

So, when he stands up and smirks at her widened eyes, Y/N only grew more confused and a little frightened when he suddenly dropped on one knee, opening a tiny box with a stunning, flower themed sapphire ring.

"You've given me hope, something to fight for, a reason to live. You've made me happier than I believed is possible and you've reminded me of what it means to be human. You make me want to be a better man." Swallowing thickly, he noticed she's barely blinking, perhaps in shock with his unexpected proposal, but he couldn't ignore how he feels and what he wants.

And he wants her.

He wanted Y/N to look at him with love in her eyes from the moment he first saw her in that tacky bar, he simply couldn't wait any longer. "You...you're everything - fun, thought provoking, caring, independent and merciful and exceptionally tactful when need be. You're spring and you're summer and you're a woman any man would be lucky to call his."

Lips parting, Y/N tries to speak, to articulate anything that she knows she feels in her heart for this incredible man, but she can't. All she can think of is the why. Why is he, a man who said dating wasn't even his thing, a man who struggled to open up for the longest time is now proposing?

She couldn't help but feel it's to appease her, but that only made her sad. She didn't want him to appease her nor did she want to succumb to society norms. She loves him, he loves her, so why complicate things?

Besides, how can she ignore the unwavering doubt in her mind? Ethan swore it was a false alarm, but her heart told her something is wrong – a sudden romantic gesture of this magnitude is suspicious, isn’t it?

"Will you marry me?" The hopeful look in his eye dwindles almost immediately when she reaches out and closes the box.

"No." Standing up, she throws the rags onto the table, her arms fold over her chest.

"We don't need to get married to love each other and be together, okay?" She could tell by the way his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together he felt a little humiliated, but she couldn't allow him to entirely change his view on life and love to make her happy and she was certain he wouldn't ask otherwise.

In fact, she was certain he’s using this proposal to hide something she’s not supposed to know and an affair was currently on her mind. She couldn’t accuse him; she didn’t want to. But she needed to make sure the motive behind his proposal is love, not guilt.

"But I want to." Grayson stood, willing to argue on this but he could tell she's not ready and while he didn't understand why, he realized he will have to wait a little while longer.

Maybe she is right, maybe this is just his guilty self-consciousness pushing him into proposing and officially claiming her as his...most of all, allowing her to claim him as hers.

"I really do. But if you're not ready I will wait. As long as it takes." Noticing his flushed cheeks and desperation laced in his voice, Y/N caved…a little.

“Can I think about it?” And while it wasn’t even close to the definite YES he expected, Grayson had to settle for a maybe, regardless of the way it tore his heart to bits. Yet he felt this is much better than the reaction he’d get if he came clean.

Being with her is all he can ask for and he wasn’t ready to give up on her, on them. And maybe he should have told her the truth about everything, she’d probably be understanding, but he couldn’t be sure. He had put her through so much shit that Grayson feared she had too much and would use the latest troubles as an excuse to finally do what he fears the most – walk away from him.

They laid in each other's arms, holding on with a sense of uncertainty - Y/N felt guilty for making him believe she needed him to change, about the sordid lack of faith she has in him and Grayson felt guilty about the kiss he kept from her.

When he opened his eyes the next morning, Y/N was already gone, just a note left about being paged early even though she was supposed to have a day off. He planned to use that day to spend some time together and rebuild their relationship he just realized isn't as unbreakable as he thought before.

1st person POV

Days passed and Grayson never mentioned the proposal again. In a way I was grateful because dealing with a stomach flu and that night wasn't easy. Though he stayed quiet, I knew he was going back to old habits - using sex to change my mind.

It wasn’t difficult to understand Grayson is angry with me and my decision or lack there of. His usually sweet caress had become hard, gripping. Fists in clothes, shoving me against a wall hungrily, as if he’s trying to make me see that without me he’d be nothing more than this – a rampant animal out for blood even when he loves the one he hurts.

Unfortunately for him, I’m not a dainty little snowflake. He made sure of that. I can do both soft and angry and even if he tries, he’s never that violent with me even when I ask.

And as his fingers dig into my hips, I find myself thrown on the bed, enjoying the look in his eye as he takes me in – lips plump, almost bruised, cheeks crimson and desire behind my lustful gaze – something I practiced in front of a mirror but never knew if it works until he laid on top of me, keeping his body weight off just barely – he wanted me to feel dominated, trapped even, but his kisses, as always, melt away from that fiery, blinding passionate rage.

They turn into brushes of lips between shaking breaths, his hips meeting mine in a slow rhythm, allowing every inch of him to fill me to the brim and he wanted me to feel that. His lips are slow until they’re out of energy and parted, until we are left just lying there, holding each other, fingers carding through hair.

Blowing a few of my hairs off my neck, Grayson settled in the crook with a plagued look in his chestnut colored eyes. I could sense something is tormenting him, a secret he keeps and I’m not exactly talkative either. I’ve never asked him about the girl that picked up the phone…I’ve rarely been to his office at all.

“How are things at work?” Sliding my hand over his forearm, I can sense the sharp intake of breath through his nose and while it would be far too easy to just ignore it, the fact I could surely pinpoint his lack of verbal communication created an unsettling feeling in my stomach.

Pecking my shoulder, Grayson spoke – his voice oddly cool as if nothing happened moments ago and I am once again reminded Grayson isn’t just any guy I met off the street – he used to deal with people much scarier than his curious girlfriend.

“A lot of work but it’s been wonderful. The transition is going smooth and while there are a few minor issues to deal with, the company is officially legitimized and honest.” Lying is easy for him and that scares me. Maybe he’s not lying to my face, rather omitting the truth but isn’t that just as bad?

Waves of nausea force me to sit up, feeling my mouth salivating as bile rises at the back of my throat and I’m running before I even know what is happening, running to keep myself from ruining the ridiculously expensive rug Grayson splurged on a few months ago.

Sinking to my knees, retching until only clear liquid was coming up. My stomach kept on contracting violently and forcing everything up and out but the hand on my back and forehead keeping me from falling face first into the toilet kept me earthed. I could only imagine how my face looks, white and dripping bile, sweat, and tears.

“Can you leave? I don’t want you to see me like this.” My voice is hoarse and the pungent stench invaded my nostrils and I heave even though there is nothing left to throw up. My throat feels sore from the stomach acid that was layering it and my mouth tastes of vomit.

As if he could read my mind, Grayson quickly flushed the toilet and helped me lean back against the wall, rushing to fill a glass of water to help me rinse this horrid feeling out of my mouth.

I can’t remember the last time I got sick like this and I certainly can’t remember someone being there to help me and while I wanted him to leave initially, I was so grateful he decided to stay.

“You scared the crap out of me.” Sheepishly admitting to it, Grayson presses his lips together, looking ahead than at me. “You’re seeing a doctor first thing in the morning.” He adds and I scoff, giving him a quick glance.

“I am a doctor. Sort of.” Chuckling, I lean my head on his shoulder, hoping I’m not smelling like a combination of sweat and vomit, but hey, we both need a bath after what we’ve done an hour ago. Besides, making him worry won’t do him much good. There are more pressing matters he needs to dedicate himself to.

“Still. Doll, I never want to risk your health or wellbeing. Okay?”

“I’m aware which is why I know I’m fine and this was just a fluke.” I lied. This is more than just a fluke and the nausea has been going on for a month now, I just never actually had to throw up. And I understand why. My period’s late, long enough to make me fairly certain of what I plan on confirming in the morning – I’m pregnant.

I never understood how women miss their pregnancy for so long, how they don’t notice not having their periods or any other pregnancy symptoms but after everything – thinking we might die, Ethan being shot, starting this internship and then the worry about how solid our relationship is, I just assumed it was late due to stress.

I don’t think that’s the case anymore and I know I have to be more responsible now when I suspect it.

Hands folded in my lap, I interlock my fingers for comfort. Imagining this moment in the past included Grayson, excited and asking me if I'm okay about a hundred times, but never could I imagine being alone, asking a colleague for discretion after having my blood taken.

The thought of being pregnant is daunting, especially at an uncertain time for Grayson and I - another thing I never imagined happening. If anything, I could swear we finally got our happy ending. We were supposed to be stupidly in love while working toward our goals, being a power couple. Instead, we got separated by our schedules, seeds of doubt planted in this time where we were supposed to be stronger than ever.

Is the thought of having a gun held to my head just to have Grayson back too crazy? Probably.

"Hey." Looking up to see the nurse holding a paper in her hand, one I'm sure has answers to my questions and if her smile is anything to go by, the news are supposed to be happy. "Congratulations Y/N. If you need anything, just ask."

For a moment my heart stops, feeling it sink at the thought of telling Grayson and have him be anything but happy. But I am. I am elated.

Placing a hand over my stomach, a smile creeps up on me, spreading until my entire face lights up and I can't help the cheerful giggle escaping me.

"I'm gonna be a mom."

3rd person POV

Standing in front of his windows, looking down at New York with a pensive smile, Grayson thought about how he needs to step up. His first attempt at a proposal failed, miserably, but he wasn't planning on giving up.

She means too much to him to ever give up on her.

The way she said no told him there is more to the story. It was painfully obvious she loves him with all her heart but Grayson wondered what would make a woman in love refuse a proposal.

"Bro, we have a huge problem." Ethan's out of breath, stepping beside his brother with mouth open, still heaving. "And when I say huge problem, I mean a massive, colossal fucking problem."

Looking at his brother, Grayson's jaw clenches with resolve because the blood on Ethan's face is speaking volumes of their issue.

No matter how often he tried to tie up loose ends, it turns out it's nearly impossible to entirely pull out of a decades long criminal history.

"Who the fuck is it?" Fists tights at each side, Grayson's face hardens and his lips press together as Ethan sighs.

"We don't know yet. It's a paid hit, that's sure." Wiping the blood of his bottom lip, Ethan smirks. "But I intend to find out who hired him and I plan to do it the hard way." Raising his eyebrow mischievously, revealing a side of him that's usually dormant but it's awake now and Grayson already knows this would be a fine line to walk on. "You in or what?" Ethan's snarkiness makes Grayson roll his eyes as well as his sleeves.

"I actually liked this shirt." But then again, Grayson is worse than Ethan could ever be and he was about to make that man regret the day he was born. Grayson ‘CEO’ Dolan was gone and Hellhound took over.

"Oh well, I'll buy another one." A cold smile upon his lips, he reverts back to the man he was and he couldn't find it in himself to regret it.

1st person POV

Chewing on the inside left corner of my lower lip, I knew this anxiety wouldn't be good for the baby. Isn't it odd how quickly a mother starts to love her child? Even before it's a formed human being the love is so great you can't put yourself first.

I'm already daydreaming of the day I get to meet my baby, to hold it and see it looking back at me with Grayson's eyes. I'm imagining all the things we'll do together and all the ways this baby could change the world.

Drawing a deep breath, I close my eyes and smile, resting my head on my propped up hand and make a choice - I have to tell Grayson and no matter how he reacts, I will not be hurt by it.

If he wants nothing to do with us, I will survive.

Dialing his number, I tap my nails against the metal table in the canteen. Waiting for him to pick up seemed as fruitful as waiting for rain in the Sahara Desert.

Rubbing my forehead, I sigh and lose a little bit of my resolve before realizing I'll have to call his office instead.

"Dolan enterprises, who am I speaking to?" The gentle, feminine voice on the other side of the line makes me tense up, recognizing it immediately. Isn't this the same voice that picked up that night I had nearly lost my mind and frantically called Ethan, weeping as if someone had died? It's the same voice that made me doubt Grayson and the doubt never quite left me despite Ethan's reassurance.

"Y/N Y/L/N. Mister Dolan is expecting my call." I cringe at the mister part, especially since I use it way too often in a sexual manner in private.

"Oh. Well, I have no record of that. Beside, mister Grayson is a very busy man. He has no time for frolicking whores." And the next thing I hear is her hanging up on me, the line going silent.

Looking at the phone in shock, I hold onto it with a death grip. The nerve this bitch has is definitely irking me. I'm most certain she knows who I am and this disrespectful behavior is going to get her a slap - a bitch slap for a bitch.

Gritting my teeth, I let out pent up air through my flared nostrils. Usually, this sort of thing wouldn't leave a dent - perhaps I thought we were stronger than that before but now? Now when I can tell he's keeping secrets and lying to me? It's impossible not to question everything, and that doubt is exactly what breeds jealousy, possessiveness and utter hatred for the woman picking up MY MAN's phone.

3rd person POV

The last thing Y/N expected is to come home before Grayson, a little after three past midnight, courtesy of a chain car crash. What she expected less is to have him come up to their penthouse few minutes after with his normally white shirt drenched in blood.

Swallowing thickly, Y/N tried her best not to lose her mind over the sight, walking toward Grayson who looks like a deer caught in headlights. He hoped she'd be asleep by now, giving him a solid chance to hide his extracurricular activities he never wanted her to find out about.

Yet, he can't seem to find it in himself to lie to her. He's not ashamed of who he is or who he was. He's not ashamed of those he killed to protect his loved ones, her included.

She knew who he is when they fell in love. She loved him when he was drenched in blood as much as when he was picture perfect, her prince charming...from a much darker fairytale.

"Doll, I..." Before he could make an excuse or apologize, Y/N interjects, her hands cupping his scruffy, bloodied cheeks, her eyes boring into his bloodshot ones.

"Are you okay?" That's all she cared about. She didn't give a shit whose blood is on him, as long as it isn't his or any other Dolan's.

She's not supposed to condone his behavior, she's not supposed to blindly accept the fact that he made her a promise and he just broke it, yet she wanted him safe more than she wanted to safeguard her beliefs. More than she could focus on the future well being of the heartbeat under hers.

"Yeah." Grayson nods faintly, managing a weak smile for her sake but also in admiration. If it were any other woman, he'd be arguing right now, but it's not. It's Y/N, his doll, his soulmate. She simply takes his hand, as gory as it is and leads him toward the bathroom.

Sitting him down on the toilet, she works on unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it off his perfectly chiseled body. His eyes are fixed on her face and tired eyes, realizing she may not be screaming at him but this - him and his choices are wearing her thin. She's fading and he's doing nothing to help her and that makes his chin tremble, making her glance at his lips.

It would be easy to ignore it, to ignore him, but she couldn't ignore the desire to kiss his plump lips, the very lips that signify both heaven and hell to her.

Grayson stands, his fingers hooking the bottom of her shirt, pulling it off with ease, especially since her hair is up in a fish braid as it always is when she's at work.

Leaning in, his forehead rests upon hers, noses brushing as he waits, giving her a chance to bail, to choose if kissing him now would compromise her sanity. And it would. She knows that her sanity is compromised either way, which is exactly why she kisses him, giving him a hard and needful, so incredibly emotional kiss that it used up every last bit of oxygen in Grayson's lungs and he smiles against her lips because she is the only woman that has ever been capable of making him lose his breath. No one ever came even remotely close until she came into his life and claimed him hers for the rest of his life.

"Take your pants off." She commands, slipping her own off along with her panties in one try, walking into the shower without looking back.

She knew he would obey.

Starting the water, she smiles when she feels his hands on her hips, swiftly turning her back to face him in all his glory.

Her hands gripping his forearms, Y/N uses the chance to pull him under the running water, rubbing the blood off him carefully without making eye contact.

The blood pooled around their feet, making Y/N wonder if this is the rest of her life - consuming passion and cleaning the blood off him, no questions asked because she might not like the answers.

She couldn't deny the lure of darkness, of loving a man who is capable of horrific acts that seems to care for her more than anyone else in the world.

Grayson could see the wheels in her head turning, overthinking as always and once again, it is his fault. So, he does what he always does when he wants her to stop thinking - he slams his lips against hers, his left hand at the back of her neck and right one delicately sliding down her back to grip her ass.

“You’re so perfect.” He whispers against her lips, pushing her back against the cold tiles behind them.

“Really?”

A growl escapes him as if her words anger him. His hands leave her ass and move to her stomach. His lips finding hers in a rough kiss. One of his hands move lower, fingers playfully flicking over her clit before he pushes a finger inside her.

“Really.” 

She moans softly at the feeling of his oddly cold fingers in her warm folds. Grayson pushes another finger in and starts moving them in and out at a slow rate.

“Faster”, Y/N moans impatiently, bucking her hips against his hand. Moving his hand faster coaxes soft moans that spill from her lips.

“Tell me what you need”, Grayson smirks, enjoying how easily he can make her his, how even when she should be screaming at him, she’s screaming for him.

‘‘You’’, she responds, her breathing fast, shallow and unpredictably paired with faint gasps that make him shiver with his own need growing.

‘‘Be specific, doll’’, teasing, Grayson slows his fingers down.

‘‘Your dick in my pussy’’, she groans with irritation, gripping his hips as if it would make him stumble into her. Yet, Grayson grins at her and his kisses grow sporadic as his hands grip his length, carefully holstering her up.

Pushing inside, he can’t help but snicker at how wet she is and how easily he fit this time around. He’s loving the ego boost, knowing she craves him with all her being and she’s taking him so well.

However, neither of them can focus too much on anything but the arising orgasms and while Grayson tries to keep a steady rhythm, celebrating every moan and pant passing her glorious lips, he can sense her clenching around him before he’s quite there. 

Holding her in place until the aftershock waves pass her body, Grayson litters her neck with tender kisses.

“Let me go.” She orders, her voice a little shaky and while Grayson wanted to hold her a while longer, not even in a sexual manner, he obeys. Assuming she’s leaving, Grayson shuts the water off only to raise his eyebrows when she goes to her knees.

“Didn’t really think I’d leave you high and dry, did you?” Smirking, her hand grabs a hold of his base and slowly sucks the tip into her mouth.

Looking up at the amused man through her eyelashes, she takes more of his hardened length in her mouth. She never really saw the point of blowjobs, especially watching it on porn where it looked like every girl acted as if they’re eating the most delicious treat and would gladly choke on a guy’s dick, but with Grayson, she came to realize it’s not about the act or about it tasting good – it’s about how badly you want the other person to be puddy in your hands, how even a man as powerful as Grayson will resort to begging when she’s edging him to the brink of insanity.

It’s about power, about pleasure and most of all, it’s about love.

“Y/N”, he moans, grabbing her hair before pulling on it. She glances up at him coyly and he grunts, nearly coming because of the mere sight of her.

‘‘Doll’’, Grayson moans, bucking his hips into her mouth.

“I am going to cum”, he warns in an attempt to pull out, letting go of her hair but she holds his hips firmly, allowing him to come into her mouth, swallowing every last drop.

Panting, he stares down at her as she wipes her plump lips, unable to let the moment pass him by. She’s everything he ever wanted. "Marry me." His words make her choke on her own spit, her eyes widening.

"You're asking me while I'm literally on my knees in front of you? Was the orgasm that mind-blowing? Is it because I swallowed?" She continued berating him with a coy smile, taking his hand on her way up, allowing her hands to travel his body with care, teasing him with her fingertips fanning across his skin.

"Ah, maybe?" He chuckles, groaning as her lips connect with his collarbone only to grunt when her teeth come to play and she nibbles on his skin.

Realizing he won't get anywhere with her if she keeps on working him up, Grayson pushed her lightly, enough for her to pout but understand he means business.

"Seriously though. I asked you once and you told me you'd think about it, but can you honestly imagine a day where we aren't together?" And he made perfect sense, she knew that. But ever since she nearly died...more than once, Y/N wasn't sure about anything in her life except Grayson and she loves him, so much so she can't breathe when he's gone for too long but marriage? It still didn't seem like something he wanted nor needed.

If she is being completely honest, she's still scared he's only asking to please her, to make her happy, not because he wants to be a husband, or that he might resent that down the line.

And most of all, she’s terrified of him doing this to cover up he cheated on her. Something she’s been agonizing over that for a while, trying to have some trust in him. He’s earned that much.

"No, I can't imagine a life without you. But that doesn't mean we have to get married, Gray."

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her, Grayson scoffs. "You really don't want to marry me, do you doll?"

"I do. But the thing is, are you asking because you can't imagine not marrying me or because you think I won't be with you if you don't? Because that piece of paper means nothing to me if it's pressuring you to do something you aren't comfortable with. I love you too much to do that to you." Holding back some of her concerns, she finally leaves the shower with a little help from the naked specimen before her.

"I'm doing this because I want to marry you, doll. I want to be your husband, to be yours in every possible way."

"Sure you're ready to part with that bachelor title?" She cocked an eyebrow, smirking at him as her hands form a protective circle around him, pulling them closer together.

"I've been ready since I met you."

Maybe telling him she’s pregnant won’t be such a disaster after all.

Watching him run into their bedroom, Y/N follows with a new wave of certainty. He loves her. She loves him. Any of the doubts her mind created are likely due to her insecurities and she was done letting them drive her insane.

For the first time in forever, her mind was clear and she was happy to give her hand to Grayson, watching him slip on the ring officially with no regrets.

“Can we talk though?” Y/N draws a shaky breath, hoping to finally shed some light on the second fear.

“Always.” His comforting reassurance made her smile, but her heart quivers in fear.

“Did you cheat on me with your assistant?” Holding his gaze, she notices a slight shift in his pupil, lips parting.

“No. Kerry works for me. That’s all. Why…Why would you think that?” It’s not the best solution – lie right as he put a ring on her finger, even worse to make her feel guilty for asking, but Grayson panicked and he needed the suspicion gone. All this time, he assumed he was in the clear after Ethan said he lied about it after all, but he never once realized it was eating away at her.

“Maybe because she keeps messing up our lunch dates? Or how when I call I’m suddenly called a frolicking whore or how when she picked up your phone she said you’re busy with her and it didn’t sound like it was work kind of busy and I might be overreacting but I swear that woman makes my blood boil and I want to break her like a twig. You trained me!        I could do it!” Rambling, Y/N started to laugh at her own jealousy, especially when she realized she’s arguing while they’re both naked. In fact, they just got engaged naked and if anything, Y/N surely couldn’t ever think they’re normal or boring.

Pulling her closer, Grayson kisses her temple. “I promise Kerry isn’t an issue. I’m devoted to you. So, don’t worry. I’ll deal with her myself.”

But happiness can never last forever. In a week’s time, exactly on the day the pair planned to escape their duties for lunch and longer, Y/N was ready to share the news with Grayson. She was prepared to tell him he’d become a father in about six months or so and she was even more excited to see the confused look on his face when she takes him to the doctor’s with her, allowing him to see the baby and connect the dots himself.

But, that didn’t happen. As always, when one makes plans, destiny sure loves to fuck with them.

"Kerry, can you please let Y/N know I'll be a few minutes late for our lunch date? Just let her into the office." Grayson smiles at his assistant, his eyes bright as they always are when Y/N is on his mind and while he would kill, literally, to be there on time, she's the very reason why he can't do that anymore. He can't be that person and love her at the same time. She deserves better than that. She deserves the man he's trying to be. The man only she brings to the surface - someone he's proud to be.

"Of course." Kerry returns his smile, a little wider, her eyes unblinking as they always are when he's around - filled with emotions Grayson never gave any fuel to. She watched him leave, her grin reduced to a wicked smirk as he disappears behind the corner, just in time for Y/N to arrive.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You don't have an appointment with the boss." Fake pleasantries and smiles never fooled Y/N, though she struggled to understand what exactly made Grayson so certain Kerry isn't an issue.

Ever since she met the snake, well, talked to the snake, Y/N was painfully aware of her attempts to drive a wedge between her and Grayson and the worst part? He's either too daft to see the truth or he's willing to drag her through hell for another woman.

"I don't need an appointment to see my boyfriend…Well, fiancé." Y/N remarks, folding her arms across her chest, glaring at the blonde before her with confidence she's having difficulty maintaining.

Kerry is breathtakingly gorgeous, incredibly well built and perhaps part of the issue stems from the fact that Y/N still can't understand why a man like Grayson would ever settle for her. Because she truly didn't know if someone like Kerry would eventually make him see how plain she truly is.

"Either way, he's not in his office. Something about a lunch date with his new client. Feel free to wait around." Chuckling, Kerry smirked, her words dripping with venom.

"Be more pathetic than you already are. Because in the end, he will come back to me." Clicking her nails against the solid wooden desk before her, Kerry bore a sly smirk, almost victorious once she realized Y/N is clueless and she finally has something to hurt her with.

"He didn't tell you. Did he? How he used to fuck me. Or how he kissed me recently." Raising her eyebrows, expecting tears and maybe even a full breakdown, Kerry wished she could take a picture for gloating.

Y/N stared at her for ten seconds, maybe more, holding her breath in order to hold back her anger, disappointment, and most of all tears. She couldn't afford to show weakness, not even in front of the secretary. Grayson might not be the scariest person in New York anymore but she couldn't allow any trace of emotion show. Perhaps it's all she went through with Mikhail or the Serpents, but she had hardened, her face remaining impassive even in the face of certain death so what is just another woman who plays with her claws.

"That's the key difference." Y/N smiles coldly, stepping closer to the desk with an air of confidence around her - fake it till you make it, she thought.

"He fucked you but he makes love to me." Planting both her palms flat against the desk, leaning closer to the woman who is hell bent on making her relationship crumble and she speaks through gritted teeth: "Get in line bitch, before I make you."

"Ahh, doll! Hope I didn't keep you waiting." Grayson comes up from behind her, placing a hand on the small of her back and she straightens up, faking a smile for Kerry before turning back on her heel, her lips finding Grayson's instinctively.

She let her frustrations free, consuming his lips shamelessly, rather unlike her in public and Grayson knew.

"Tell me you have some time for me?" She whispers against his lips, aware of Kerry's glare at the back of her head. In fact, she hoped the bitch is paying attention because if she has to stake her claim again, she'll need nose surgery. She couldn’t focus on her claims of recent events, but to learn he bedded her destroyed her.

“Actually, you have a meeting in ten.” Kerry interjects but Grayson shakes his head.

"Always have time for my favorite girl. Already took the rest of the day off." And that was an official win in her books, pecking his lips again with genuine enthusiasm.

“Reschedule Kerry. And make sure Ethan calls me back once he’s done…with his current client.” His voice is deep and authoritative, starkly different than when he talks to her. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if he purposefully speaks in a softer tone when he is with her.

Walking off with their arms linked, Grayson decided to ask about the palpable anger once they’re out of the building. So, the moment they found themselves in the limousine Grayson liked to use lately, the gloves were off.

"Want to tell me what that was about? And don't tell me nothing because I could feel you wanted to slap a bitch." Chuckling under this breath, he noticed her lips press together, her eyebrows furrowing and her gentle, warm gaze turned icy, dangerous.

"Your secretary told me you cancelled lunch and then she proceeded to tell me we wouldn't last because she's apparently so fuckable and you know that from experience." Pursing her lips, she could tell he wasn't happy with Kerry and her revelation.

"She's lying. Right?" He swallowed thickly, blinking a little too fast for an innocent man.

Avoiding her gaze, Grayson cursed at the day he took pity and allowed Kerry to be his secretary after closing his gang related business. There was no way around it, his past coming back to haunt him. No matter how hard he tries to run, to hide, it always finds away to ruin his present.

"There was a time we were friends with benefits." Admitting the truth, Grayson could see her horrified expression, the ache it caused.

"Oh my God, WHO HAVEN'T YOU FUCKED?" Grayson once admitted to an array of one night stands, she just never realized she'd be surrounded with them on daily basis.

"I'm seriously asking! How many of them do I see every day and smile kindly at while they discuss how I'll be just another girl on your list?"

"You're not another girl on my list." Grayson interjects, unaware he'd only make it worse.

"Why does she even work for you? She's been nothing but trouble since the day you hired her! She lied about our lunch date, so what else had she fucked up for us?" Shaking her head, Y/N pulls her hair back, feeling suffocated under the weight and warmth it exudes, making her sweat profusely.

"I owe her. Okay? Because when I was recklessly aiming to kill anyone who'd harm you, her brother got murdered as retaliation. Can you not understand that?" Frowning with the memory of his friend's lifeless body, Grayson let out a heavy sigh, one that reminded him of the weight he only ever feels lighten around Y/N. She was usually his cure, a medicine for all that ails him but for the first time since she came into his life, she added onto that weight.

"And that justifies leaving her in a position where she will do anything to break us up? Because if that's so, at least I know your priorities now." Turning away from him, unable to escape while driving in the back of a limousine on the highway, Y/N wished she could jump out and risk it, anything to avoid looking at him or even breathing the same air, but she couldn't. Not with a new life inside her. Not when her worst fears came true – she wasn’t his fiancée because he loves her, but because it’s convenient for him to ease his guilt.

1st person POV

“I’m pregnant.” I admit, deciding to air out all the secrets I’ve been carrying around, all the pain I’ve held inside. If he wants to end it, this is when it happens because even when I tell him news he should react to, all I get is a faint nod.

“I know. Saw the labs in your purse.” And that’s when everything comes barreling down.

Is this why he proposed? Is this why he stays?

“I wanted you to tell me on your own. I found out this morning which is why I took the rest of the day off. Thought we could go up to the garden.” But I couldn’t listen to him anymore nor his lies. The ache in my chest had torn my heart to pieces and I was so tired of holding it together, allowing a single tear to slip past my defenses.

"Grayson, I know." I frown as my voice cracks and he furrows his eyebrows. His hands are close, forming fists. His eyes focus on me, unblinking and empty as if all emotions drained from them when I spoke up, sharing what's eating at me.

"Know what?" His calm, almost political response didn't anger me like I expected, I didn't throw a fit. Instead, I simply shake my head and press my lips together, holding my breath in hope of holding back tears.

"When did you stop loving me?" Speaking is hard, especially with a growing lump at the back of my throat that's making it harder to even breathe.

My words anguish him, terrify and confuse him and I wish I could believe the sudden show of emotion but it's impossibly sad how much I wish I didn't doubt him. I wish I could trust everything he says or does, perhaps I do, but I can't allow myself to immerse in his charming, murky brown eyes again. Not when the uncertainty is gripping every inch of my aching heart.

"I didn't. I love you so, so much! Doll, I love you more than life." He speaks with such conviction, his hands quickly taking mine for reassurance. And it’s romantic and all I needed to hear, yet I can't help but wonder if that's only because I'm pregnant with his child...his heir.

Is that something I'd want for my baby? To live with a target on its back, being groomed to take over an empire their father can't seem to dismantle?

I clear my throat, fixing his fearful gaze with my softer one. "Never love anything more than life." Unless it's our baby. Love our baby more than your empire if you can't love me as much, I think but don’t say.

Wanting to do the right thing is far from doing it.

"Why did you kiss her?" I finally clarify my initial statement, because now I know and no matter what the goal was...I know and there's no going back.

"I didn't want to.” Grayson tries to clarify before I can get another word in, almost pissed I’d ever doubt him. But how can I not. How can I just ignore the signs?

“She kissed me. I pushed her off. I did everything right!" Raising his voice makes me flinch and I hate that. I hate how easily I submit when someone raises their voice and he knows that. He’s aware that’s why we talk and not yell at each other, but emotions are running high and I’m praying he’s not doing this on purpose.

"That's not the point, Grayson! The point is…why did she feel so comfortable to get so intimate? Why would she think you'd kiss her back?!" Folding my arms across my lower stomach, I try to ignore the slight ache spreading inside.

It’s impossible not to worry about the baby, if this argument is something that will cause an unfortunate event and I draw a deep breath, looking at Grayson who is shaking his head as if I’ve asked the most ridiculous question in the world, but I’ve gotten to him. His pause is simply because he is out of excuses.

"Because she's a psychopath? How should I know?! Doll, I love you."

"Don't fucking call me that!" I snap, wiping my chin to clear the spit that escaped me when the anger burst and if I could, I’d have hurt him in that moment too. I’d show him my wounds, but I stop, trying to compose myself.

Not only is my fiancé lying to me, but he’s had his brother help him cover up his deeds as well.

"Don't push me away. Don't use your insecurities as excuses to push me away and break us apart. We're supposed to be happy! Engaged and expecting!"

The audacity!

"Well, I'm not the one who lied. I’m not the one throwing your flaws in your face. Had you told me the truth or at least tried to nip it in the bud, I'd be fine with it. But you felt the need to lie, to force Ethan of all people to support your lies and I... there must have been a reason for that. You're keeping things from me and I thought it was my fault and this is the second time you've made me feel guilty for the issues that stem from your inability to communicate like a normal human being and I'm so fucking tired of it. I'm fucking tired of picking up the pieces every time shit goes down because you believe you're blameless." Looking away, I bite my lip and for a moment I wonder if I went too far. But I did mean it. All our issues come from his secrecy and lack of communication and it’s impossible not to wonder if it comes from a lack of trust too.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was never my intention to make you feel like that." Reaching for my hand, he sighs when I move it away, disgusted with him at this point.

"Does that actually matter when the result is pain? Fuck, Grayson, I thought you said it would be different now. I thought I'd be your priority for once, but it remains a verba, not res thing."

I can hardly stomach his presence, let alone touch and the pain in my stomach isn’t letting up.

“Gah!” I scream out, the sudden sharp pain making my defenses fall, revealing the vulnerability beneath as I grasp his hand, desperate to have him close.

No matter how much pain he causes, I still look to him for a cure. How fucked up is that?

"Are you okay?" His free hand braces me, holding me as if I’m made of porcelain, not steel.

"I feel like I'll be sick." I mutter, cold sweat running at the back of my neck and forehead, my hands shaking as they grip his as if he would save me. As if he would make it all better.

Shortage of breath is the first sign my pain has caused a panic inside, the thought of harm coming to the baby draining every bit of sanity I’ve got left. I'm breathing but the air just won't go in, like my lungs are caged birds. Next comes the rising panic I wanted to avoid, the dizzy feeling and the need to get low to the ground.

“Breathe.” Grayson whispers and I soon feel the car stop, the door opening and our driver giving me a look of pity – the kind I hated most of all.

"I'll help you out." Grayson all but carried me out, allowing my feet to touch the ground simply to save my pride, probably afraid I’d make him let me go if he tried anything more. Perhaps I would if the pain and panic didn’t blind me entirely, leaving me gasping, my mind spiraling as I look down in fear of what I might find. Noticing no blood, I manage a faint smile and tilt my head up to meet his dazzling, warm eyes.

Damn those eyes I love so much.

Swallowing my pride, I decide to thank him as the pain gradually subsides. Holding me close, keeping my heart beating, Grayson had managed to calm me down, my breathing synchronized with his and I realize my blood pressure must have skyrocketed during the argument and it must have caused pain.

"Tha –“, but I don’t get to say it. Not when a deafening sound of gunshots leaves me breathless. It takes me a moment to fully understand what is happening, the screams around me fading to nothingness as Grayson spins us around, his arms firmly around me as if they’re my armor.

Gasping for air, I feel the arms around me loosen, a loud thud following and the warmth disappears only for horror to take its place.

“GRAYSON!"

3rd person POV

Y/N’s scream rippled through the street, the raw intensity of her fear cracking the heart of any human close enough to hear. She falls to her knees, helpless as her fingers grip his white shirt lacking evidence any harm came to him.

Her eyes lay upon his, desperately searching for signs of life and while the driver dials 911, Y/N needed someone else. She needed Ethan but she couldn’t move, her entire body shaking violently.

“Doll”, Grayson breathes out and she no longer remembers the anger in which she told him to forget that nickname. It’s a distant memory as she sobs, her vision blurred with tears. His hand clutches her right one, forcing a smile to ease her mind but even he knows that’s impossible at this point.

“It’s – It’s”, a cough interrupts his need to comfort her, yet she knew exactly what he wants to tell her. She knows exactly what he means and it only breaks her further, especially when she notices the blood pooling under her knees – his blood – the blood he needs to survive. And she’s practically a doctor, she’s supposed to help him, but she can’t – there’s nothing she can do. She can’t even move him.

“It’s not fine! None of this is fine!” Inadvertently screaming, she wipes her left cheek with the back of her hand, pissed and so, so in love with him for trying to calm her down and give her some hope and while she can hear the sirens in the distance, he is fading right before her eyes and the terror of a thought invaded her mind – he will die.

“I don’t want to live without you. Grayson, we have so much more to do and I…I’m so sorry I didn’t accept your proposal the first time you asked!” Her voice cracks, forcing her to stop and swallow for a moment, long enough to catch a crooked smile on his quivering lips.

“I’m so angry at you Grayson Dolan! You don’t get to die if it’s not by my hand! Do you understand that?!” Squeezing her hand, Grayson’s lips part with intent to tell her he understands.

He wanted to tell her he loves her and always will and that she will never be alone even if he doesn’t survive. For the first time ever, Grayson looked up at Y/N with fear because he knew whoever did this to him was aiming for his girl and the baby inside her. Grayson Dolan, the Hellhound, the man who fears nothing found himself frozen in fear as his Y/N stood above him, almost hysterical. And he couldn’t do a damn thing. He couldn’t do more than he already did – save her.

He couldn’t hold her and make her tears dry and he couldn’t manage his last I love you nor a meek smile.

What he could do is imagine if she would be happier if he just let her go when he had the chance?

If he never came back into her life once she walked out that door?

She made him happier he had ever been, but did he do the same for her or is the danger he put her in by loving her worth it? She could have done all the things she wanted to without him holding her back and yet she stayed. She stayed and loved him so well he actually saw a future past the life he was born into.

She’d be happy without him, he knew it. Maybe happier than she ever was with him, but he was too selfish to allow it, too possessive to imagine another man’s hands upon her.

She isn’t happy now, he’s certain of it. The tears in her eyes tell him that and all he wishes is to take back what he said in the limo, to remind her how they were and not their last day of screaming…of blur.

Eyelids growing heavy, Grayson’s smile fades, praying she find happiness she deserves once more.

All that he kept thinking throughout their whole flight is it could take his whole damn life to make it right because he knew he had wronged her. They had gotten through so much worse than this before and he wondered what's so different this time that she just can't ignore? He could see her saying it is much more than just his last mistake and had the pain nor this shooting happened she’d have asked for some time apart for both their sakes.

And Grayson doesn't know where to look, his sight fading. His words just break and melt, there’s not enough time to ask for forgiveness. There is never enough time and he prays, for the first time in a long time, he prays for someone to save him from this darkness. All he needs is one more moment to make things right, for his last words to be of love and not a fight.

Closing his eyes, he feels his shoulders are shaking with force, realizing it’s Y/N and her attempt to keep him awake but he can’t do it, he can’t open his eyes. He can’t even hear her anymore, but he senses her hands on his face, the olive hand cream he bought her invading his senses and he’s grateful – he’s in the arms of the one he loves most – not a bad way to go for a man with his past. 

“Grayson?” Y/N croaks, shaking him once more before her shaky hands grip his cheeks and her tears fall down on him as well.

She’s gasping for air that simply isn’t there. Her throat burns, forming a silent scream. The pressure inside her chest pushes forth, releasing the most hysterical cry, the screaming sobs only interrupted by her need to draw breath.

It’s a deep, primal sound, one humans are programmed not to ignore. Those who hid previously finally continued on their way, turning their heads toward Y/N, some of them even filming the scene. Caught between an impulse to help and another to stay out of bother, some simply looking for something to gather followers on Twitter, people gathered around them.

But whatever they chose their day had been altered. To be so close to such pain changes a person, even just temporarily. Their own pains come a little closer to the surface; their empathy is triggered.

Y/N can’t remember when the ambulance came, still checking his pulse – the only part of this keeping her breathing. His pulse is faint, but it’s there and she selfishly thought it’s her man fighting to stay with her.

For her.

She stepped away as they dragged him away from her, as if she wasn’t even there. Stepping up into the vehicle, she sat beside him and grabbed a hold of his hand, struggling to keep herself afloat. His hand is cold, something she never once felt in all the time she knew him and it only deepens her emotional breakdown.

It was all happening so fast, she couldn’t keep up. They got to the hospital rather quickly, taking him away from her without even giving her a chance to kiss him one more time.

Just in case.

She shakes her head at that thought, refusing to think so negatively at a time where Grayson needed hope. She needed hope too.

Pulling her phone out, she calls the one person she knew could give her some.

“Ethan?” Her hoarse voice is a dead giveaway something happened all while Ethan was in much bigger shit, blood up to his elbows after executing the last man they captured after procuring vital information.

“Who died?” It’s all he can say, realizing the answer may just kill him. He was calling Grayson minutes ago to tell him of a shooting they planned to kill Y/N in order to break him and he didn’t pick up. Shivers run down his spine as Y/N’s pause chips away what sanity he has. And it’s not much at this point.

“I need you.”

Ethan didn't think, grabbing his gun and jacket, his heart sinking at the sound of her voice. "Tell me where you are."

His assistant jumped as he barreled through the hallway, blood still fresh on his hands, a telltale sign he's losing his mind and someone might suffer for it.

"Where do you think you're going like that?" She hissed, stepping in his way confidently, refusing to buckle under his ruthless glare.

"Move." Ethan growls, his jaw clenching and his lips pressing together. He's furious, but he doesn't scare her. So, instead of moving away, she moves in, her arms wrapping around his tense body, ignoring the fact he's not returning the hug. Instead, she takes a whiff of his cologne, comforting herself since he didn't allow her to comfort him.

"I'm coming with you." Is all she says, taking her bag and his hand firmly, disallowing his near attempt at pushing her away. After months of caring for him and catering to all his needs, Selena wasn't about to abandon him when it counts the most.

Ethan wanted to thank her, to say he appreciates her kindness but the lump in his throat is too big and he fears speaking would make him crumble and he can't afford to be weak now. He can't break when he has to be the rock. So, instead of saying a word, Ethan grips her hand tighter and leads her into the company car, deciding it's best if he doesn't drive.

"Take me to the hospital." He orders the driver, turning to Selena with uncertainty in his eyes. She's trembling, he can tell, yet she's there with him - no questions asked.

Better yet, she's opening her bag and grabbing wet wipes, rubbing the blood off him meticulously to hide his crimes instead of reporting him and he never understood why Grayson was so keen on protecting Y/N before.

Truth be told, he loves Y/N like a sister and he can't imagine not having her in his life, but he finally realized the reason why Grayson loves Y/N, as selfish as that emotion is in their line of work.

Everyone needs someone to lean on and Ethan never expected to find someone he wanted as much as Selena, but in that moment he thanked his lucky stars he did. He wanted to kiss her like the moon does sea, weightless with the ability to move the deepest parts of her soul.

Ethan no longer wanted only sex and companionship, he wanted romance and vulnerability.

A faint smile appears on his lips as he shakes his head at the crazy thoughts plaguing him. Getting shot isn't always a bad thing, is it?

But reality isn't going anywhere and it weighs on him heavily.

"It's Grayson. It was a drive by shooting." Ethan tells her, noticing her pause in shock, unable to look in his eyes.

Selena lets out a shaky breath, glancing up at the tormented expression on Ethan's face and she can't help the tears forming in her eyes.

She knows Y/N and she knows Grayson and if they hadn't hired her when they did, she wasn't sure what her life would be now. She liked them, enough to make her heart ache but what made her cry is Ethan - if he hurts so does she.

And while she never thought of herself as a violent person, she discovered there is a lot more she doesn't know about herself in the past few months. Seems like Ethan is a man who is allowing her to reach into the depths of her very being, finally in tune with her own soul. So, before she comprehends it, she speaks with no remorse.

"Kill the bastard who did it."

Nodding, Ethan cracks a pained smile. "I intend to."

"Sir, we're here." The driver pipes in, ending the moment they shared effectively. Ethan had just gotten his hands clean but as he stepped out of the car, he could already tell his hands would be bloody yet again.

He didn't wait for Selena, making great strides toward the emergency room with his mind screaming at the possibility of what he might find.

He couldn't breathe until his eyes find Y/N, swallowing thickly as he sees the state she's in. Her hands are folded in her lap, bloody as are her legs. There is no light in her once bright eyes, the dash of spring her usual smile brings now turned into a harsh winter chilling everyone who dares glance at her.

Black tracks on her cheeks are constantly watering down with new streaks her unyielding, sorrowful tears create. And it breaks his heart to see her so lost, so beaten down that he can't help but remember the last time he saw her in that state - the day she rushed into his arms when Mikhail was killed and that was after a long while of torture.

This seemed worse.

Much worse.

"Y/N." His voice is deep, low, as if speaking in any other way would be disrespectful, as if her pain matters more than his.

Looking up at him, Y/N's eyebrows furrow and her eyes narrow, almost as if she can't believe Ethan is there...little did he know her mind played a trick on her and the light above his head nearly made her believe Grayson had come for her.

Standing up with the last atom of her strength, Y/N throws her arms around Ethan, holding him so tight he could have sworn she wanted to kill him. But she didn't.

She closed her eyes and pretended. She pretended it was Grayson, just for a moment. She couldn't cry anymore, not in heartbreaking sobs like she did when it first happened; the tears fell silently and her lips quivered on their own.

"He thinks I hate him." She whispers, her voice raspy and emotional, putting more weight on Ethan's shoulders. "We were arguing before it happened and", letting go of Ethan, she takes a step back only then noticing Selena behind Ethan.

Glancing at Ethan, she pressed her lips together, drawing a shuddered breath.

"If there is one thing I know it's that he loves you and he doesn't doubt your love either. He'd die for you." Ethan places his hands on her shoulders, bending enough to force eye contact she avoided as if she is ashamed of what Selena heard.

But Ethan's words rattle her, only reminding her when Grayson told her he loves her more than life. She warned him not to say that. It was heartfelt, she knew that and today she saw he truly meant it.

"And that's exactly what he did today. I want to believe, E...I want to so bad but...this was different than the first time. This was different than you." Holding her breath, Y/N felt a wave of desperation flood her and her eyes brought forth faster, anguished tears that drew their force from the very essence of her pain, so much so they don't fall but crash.

"I want to know who is responsible. I want them dead." Y/N's eyes harden as she spat hate, anger taking over as her hands form fists and Ethan could see she's out for blood. He wants to act too, he does. But she can't be a part of it.

The last thing Grayson would want is his sweet Y/N getting her hands dirty.

"I'll take care of it. I already know who it is." Ethan assures her, meaning well but all it does is set her soul aflame.

"We will take care of it. This is personal."

"No, no, no. Stay here and I'll come back when it's done. I promise." Ethan insists, pushing her back when she chuckles dryly, trying to pass him as if Selena knew the information she needed, as if she could do this herself.

Speaking though gritted teeth, Y/N stepped closer. "You can take me with you or I can follow you. Really wanna risk that?"

Licking his lips, Ethan couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her stubbornness. He’s heard how it usually troubled his brother but being confronted with it wasn’t exactly a picnic.

Her eyes are red and puffy but the determination in her eyes honestly scared him. Y/N isn’t bluffing and he had no possible way of controlling her decisions. If Grayson couldn’t, how could he?

Sighing in exasperation, Ethan rubs his chin, aware this is happening and he can’t escape. Well, he could, but it would include using force and Grayson would kill him if he even tried. Hell, he’d kick his ass just for considering it even if it was just a thought.

“Selena, can you please stay and keep us informed?” Ethan glances over his shoulder at the sweet brunette, smiling when she nods. He wished to hold her, even for just a moment but the last thing he needs is Y/N telling Grayson about them after all this is done, and it would be – Grayson would live to yell at him for inappropriate work relationships again. He knew it in his heart.

“I’ll call the boys to pick up the guilty party. Let’s go.” Y/N had to run to keep up with his stride, annoyed but unwilling to nag him when he’d given her the best possible gift – revenge.

Sitting in that waiting room would have drained her entirely, the guilt eating away at her. Y/N needed to do something to forget about Grayson’s current state, to ignore the fear’s iron grip.

The drive to their usual warehouse was longer from this side of the city, giving Y/N plenty time to think. Too much time.

It didn’t take long before her mind began to remember all the things she loved and hated about Grayson.

Ever since they moved into the penthouse, she absolutely hated his habit of spending all the hot water and forgetting to warn her about it. She hated how often he’d keep her up snoring and even more how he loved to frighten her when she’d come home from a night shift. It was a constant battle to teach him to wash the dishes properly and not just throw them away saying he’d buy new ones. Same thing applies to his clothes. She also hated how meticulous he was about the way his clothes were to be folded and especially about the way he’d insist the thermostat is supposed to be.

But there are so many things she loved about him too. She loved how sweet he is, how he’d cuddle her every day even when she was too shy to ask. He’d just know she needs it and his arms would already be around her. She also loved how he’d cut up fruit for her because he knew how she loves to snack on it, or how he’d leave her hearts on the mirror every time he’d finish his showers only for her to discover them after he’d gone to work. She adored how much thought he’d put in every word, every touch, every single gift he’d given her including his unwilling attainment of a singular hoodie for them to have a sense of normalcy. And most of all, she loved how he dismantled his gang related business just to make sure they have a bright future together.

Smiling, she realized every single action he does is to make her feel safe and loved. It’s his way of telling her he loves her without a single word passing his tender lips.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she hated herself with such ferocity over her last words spoken to him in undiluted anger. Their last interaction should have been filled with love not rage.

She never quite realized it before, but she was always his greatest achievement, the one he was proud of the most and now when they were inches from their happily ever after, from becoming a real family, they took him away from her – they ripped her heart out and she wanted to repay the favor.

“If something happens to me, you’d protect her, right?” Grayson tilts his head, hoping his brother would give him some sign he’d make sure his doll would be safe even if one of his enemies take him out. He’s tried to retire and forget the world he was born into but to do so isn’t up to him. It took him a while to understand that he will never truly be retired.

Even if he isn’t a criminal anymore, they still remember him and he’s still the symbol of the undefeated gang – The house of the rising sun ruled over New York for decades and many wanted to dethrone them, unfortunately that is possible only through slaughter.

“I would. She’s like a sister to me. I’d never let any harm come to her.” Ethan responds, not even thinking about it. It’s true, his affection for Y/N is strong and platonic.

“Promise me.” Grayson demands softly, aware he shouldn’t be distrustful toward his twin but he couldn’t help but be irrational when it’s Y/N’s life at stake.

All the signs and latest assassins have made him paranoid, spending so much of his time making sure none of them ever get close to Y/N and he wasn’t sorry.

When Y/N is at stake, he’d let blood run until there’s a river flowing through the streets. She’s his weakness and yet the reason why he remains Hellhound to any with intent of using her against him.

Those who tried are all dead now.

Ethan understood, though, willing to make his brother a vow. “I promise.”

He didn’t feel like he’s upholding his promise anymore. It felt like he broke it before his brother had even died, even more when he saw Y/N reach for a gun in her purse.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ethan gave her an incredulous look, nearly having a stroke when he saw her take the safety off.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Her impassive response only made him more anxious and he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“I thought he bought you a taser not a fucking gun!” Shouting, he tried to pry the gun from her hands but he found resistance.

“He did. But I took his.” Pulling away from Ethan, she rolls her eyes at his paled face.

“He thought me how to use this as well how to fight. I’m not a damsel in distress and I’m done waiting for someone to protect me and the baby.” Opening the door, she stepped out swiftly, setting off to where Grayson once took her. Granted, he took her against his will because she demanded to know everything.

“BABY?!” Ethan’s gruff scream had made her stop, waving him over to quicken his pace.

“Yeah. Congrats on being an uncle. Well, you’re not one yet but you will be.” She chuckles and Ethan can’t help but wonder if she’s completely mad at this point.

There’s one thing to put her in danger but the baby too?

Grayson will surely kill him when he finds out.

“You’re going to get me killed.” Ethan complains as she opens the door and is found face to face with three people, all tied up and gagged. Two men she had never seen in her life and a woman.

“Fucking Kerry.” Y/N spat, walking over to her, backhanding her without remorse.

Kerry seems almost amused as she shoots Y/N a wink only sending her into a fit of rage. “You fucking bitch!”

No one dared to hold her back as Y/N screamed, throwing punch after punch, not even when Kerry’s nose was clearly broken and bleeding and Y/N’s raw knuckles weren’t much better.

Ethan grabbed a hold of her, pulling her arms behind her back seemingly the easiest way to stop her without harming her or the baby.

“I will fucking kill you!” Y/N screamed as Ethan dragged her out and away from the situation. Before the door closed, Y/N could hear three distinctive gunshots. It only made it worse.

Ethan didn’t care if she hated him, he protected her as he promised his twin. Rage often makes us do what we regret when our mind is clear once again and he knew she’d regret it eventually. Killing is never easy and someone as pure as her would be haunted by it as he and Grayson are.

“WHY?! I WANTED TO DO IT!” Her venom turned to tears and before Ethan knew it, her body shook with new sobs breaking through the surface. “I can’t do this without him, E. I can’t!” She wailed, allowing Ethan to carry her back into the car.

He cradled her like a child, holding her close, his own tears showing. They truly understood one another, their pain is the same. “Shh.” Ethan whispered, worried about the baby and the stress this day had brought. “You won’t have to. My brother is nothing if not stubborn. He won’t leave us yet.”

The two returned to the hospital, neither capable of speaking anymore. There’s nothing to say anymore, nothing to do, just wait.

“He’s out of surgery but we won’t be able to see him for a few more hours until he’s stable.” Selena explains, only then receiving a hug she craved for the entire day. Ethan’s chest had become home for her and it felt indescribably good to be home again.

Y/N watched with envy, wondering when will she be able to return to her safe place. “Can I at least see him through the glass?” Y/N pipes in, weary of interrupting them in a moment they both needed. She was happy for Ethan but she couldn’t help but be bitter about her own unhappiness.

“I’ll make it happen.” Selena promised, ducking out of there quickly, a woman on a mission and she never fails.

“You lied to me.” Y/N accuses, her tired eyes giving him a bleak look of disappointment but there is no more anger left inside her. She’s desolated and the only one who would ever make it better is unconscious in a hospital bed.

“About Kerry.” She clarifies as confusion settles. “I asked you if he was cheating and he told me they kissed…Well, she kissed him. It was obviously a ploy to separate us.” Y/N musses, fixing Ethan with her gaze and he shifts uncomfortably, feeling as if he had let her down.

“I know. I saw it happen and Grayson explained. I thought the pain would be unnecessary. Besides, her motive was to break him. She admitted it to our men who took her. She wanted him to lose you, me, the company…everything before she could kill him herself. She blamed you…and him for what happened to her brother.” Ethan explains, taking her hand in his for comfort she so desperately needs but she shies away.

“It wasn’t. Anyone’s fault, I mean. Her brother knew what he was getting himself into when he joined us and Grayson avenged his death. She used their history and her brother’s death to manipulate Grayson who is drowning in guilt, but he loves you Y/N. He’d never cheat on you.”

“I know.” She manages a meek smile, averting her eyes toward the door they took him through – the door that took him away from her.

“I lost sight of it along the way, allowed that psycho to get in my head and I’m just dreading losing him now. It’s always been my worst fear…to have him choose another or lose him to death…I guess I really need to start working on my insecurities and believe in him more.” Shrugging, she glances at Ethan who nods, ecstatic she isn’t holding his lie against him.

“But you can’t lie to me like that again, E. I love you like a brother, but lying isn’t something I enjoy. Not about the psycho bitches kissing my man and not about the obvious issues regarding his past. He’s always gonna be haunted by them, won’t he?” She tilts her head to the right, sucking her bottom lips in and Ethan realizes she’s right – it’s more dangerous if she doesn’t know.

“Yes. I don’t think we’ll ever truly be rid of them. But it isn’t as bad as it seems. Not many dare come after him and those who did have all died. I expect a long while before there’s another issue. But when it comes, we will deal with it. I promise you.”

Sniffling, Y/N offers a crooked smile in gratitude though her words are borderline sarcastic. “My heroes.”

“You can see him. Go through there and they’ll take you to him. Just gotta put on those clothes, you know that better than me.” Selena’s words are like rain after months of draught and Y/N’s legs move quickly, nearly stumbling as she rushes toward the door.

1st Person POV

Shaky legs, trembling hands, I try my best not to cry as I follow a nurse on the way to where my heart lies. It’s impossible to keep my head up high anymore, this had defeated me – today had nearly killed me.

Resting a hand on my lower abdomen, I draw a quick breath to keep my mind clear, as clear as it can be considering the circumstances. What I’m certain of is that today had the power to break me yet I’m still standing and he…he’s still breathing.

Putting on the cap and gown, I’m fast to enter his room despite what I’ve been told. No one could keep me away from him in this moment, not even death.

His skin is ashen, far too pale in comparison to his usual tan. The eyes I love so much are closed shut and while he’s not dependent on a breathing tube, his state is shocking. The ever-present smirk is gone from his lips, no more teasing or sass leaving them and that’s probably the scariest part of it all – he’s quiet, eerily so.

When we first met, Grayson was a man of few words but when he gave me his heart, his trust and undying loyalty, Grayson never really shut up and while I used to be annoyed with his incredibly long stories while I was trying to study, I’d trade everything to hear them again.

"Thank you for saving me." I murmur, delicately placing my hand on his cheek, terrified it would somehow hurt him. But it doesn’t, in fact, Grayson’s eyelids flicker, his struggle to open his eyes taking my breath away.

"It's nothing." Grayson sighs; his voice raspy, his face twisting in agony as he attempts to move his hand to encase mine.

"You could have died! It’s not nothing, Grayson! Kerry could have killed us and you protected me. You kept me safe. " Helping him, I take his hand and give it a light squeeze, the one that ensured he knew how much he means to me. He manages to open his eyes, his gaze longing and sweet, no anger about Kerry or our argument from before reflecting in his brown hues.

Grayson's lips twitch as if a smile would hurt him but he wanted to try for my sake. It's as if he found my words to be ridiculous. "Dying to save the woman I love? My child? There are worse ways to go, doll. It's the most honest thing I have done in my entire life. But next time you warn me about someone, I’ll believe you."

Turning his head so his lips would press a tender kiss upon my palm, Grayson lets out a heavy sigh. "I'd have done it a thousand times over if I had to. You mean more to me than I can say, especially with morphine making me question what's real and what's a dream."

Licking his dry lips, he succeeds and smirks. "Sometimes I worry you're just a dream. You're far too good for me."

Chin quivering, I shake my head and lean in. Resting my forehead on his as gently as possible, my nose brushing his cheek, I feel my heart clench in wake of his words. I've always felt he's too good for me, but never had it crossed my mind he might feel that he's unworthy of me.

I love him very much. More than I can trust myself to say. More than words have the power to express.

“Never. We’re just right for one another.” My whisper brings about a goofy smile on his face and I can’t help but reciprocate, holding back tears I know would only weigh on him.

“Soulmates.” He speaks as his eyes close again.

“I guess you could call it that.” I nod, chuckling, receiving no response. I lean back with a fond smile, realizing he’d fallen asleep again, his relaxed smile remaining put. “Sweet dreams, handsome.”

Grayson’s recovery had certainly been difficult, especially when I once again imposed the ‘no sex’ rule until his wounds healed. “This really isn’t fair.” He’d argue but even if I did desire him, I wasn’t as easy to break.

Another thing that bothered him greatly is being unable to return to work. Ethan had taken over the business for a while, allowing me to confiscate Grayson’s work phone thus ensuring he’d take it easy for a while. However, I soon realized Ethan had a hidden motive for doing that as it protected his secret as well. Unlucky for him, one moment in the same room with him and Selena and Grayson was up to speed.

“You’re fucking your assistant, aren’t you asshole?” Grayson whisper shouts, using the first alone moment with Ethan to chew him out.

“Literally not the bigger issue here.” Ethan chuckles, watching Grayson’s face turn red and that vein on his forehead appear only signifying his frustration.

Trying to sit up, Grayson swings at Ethan in hopes of catching him and pulling him closer to do some actual damage but Ethan maneuvers around his attempt easily.

“No fighting and no getting up!” I reprimand him from outside the room, not even pretending I’m not listening in. I mean, can you blame me?

“THIS IS THE THIRD ONE IN A ROW!” Grayson growls, already seeing the headlines once a reporter catches a whiff of the story and oh the lawsuit that would follow that could bankrupt them wasn’t far in his mind either.

“At least I didn’t impregnate anyone!” Ethan retaliates and I can’t help but pipe in, slightly offended.

“HEY!”

“Sorry sis, I’m still happy for ya!” Ethan’s apology makes me smile but it also makes me walk into the room with my arms crossed.

“He’s obviously serious about Selena and from the way she handled everything that day, I’m rooting for them. So stop being a grumpy old man and start be encouraging. Love love Gray.”

Needless to say he pouted for a few days for taking Ethan’s side in the argument, but he was still the cuddliest human being on the planet. I didn’t really mind. It had given us plenty time to genuinely talk and revise what we’ve gone through and for once, neither of us had any reservations about our future.

“I never really imagined myself having kids.” Grayson admits, quietly as if it’s a sin as he lays on my chest, my fingers threading through his hair. “I mean; this life we have now is…let’s just say the old me would never believe it’s real. I still struggle believing in it.” His hand moves down to my stomach, rubbing soothing circles over my shirt.

Smiling, I pull his hand lower where the uterus is, causing him to chuckle in the process. “I hope our baby gets your brain.” He whispers, warming my heart.

“I hope she gets your eyes.” I add and in seconds, he lifts his head and looks at me with a confused look on his face.

“She?” He questions and I shrug, running my knuckle along his sharp jaw fondly.

“Just a feeling. You’re gonna have one tough girl on your hands.” I respond, enjoying the way he pales this time around.

“I can barely handle one of you. Oh, God.” Plopping his head between my boobs, he groans once more before pulling himself up and beside me. “I love you, but I’m not sure I’ll survive this fatherhood thing.”

“You ran a gang, you still run a company. You’ll do just fine you big baby.” I remark, earning an earnest cackle.

“You’re badass. More badass than me from what I’ve heard. A force to be reckoned with. Untamed, nothing but flames.” Raising his eyebrow, Grayson leans in, his eyes undeniably set on mine wishing to lean upon them with passion and fierceness.

“Thought you liked me being innocent and all that.” I roll my eyes, dragging my tongue across my lips as if to lure him in and I can tell it’s working, his gulp and dark, piercing gaze speaks volume of it.

“I supposed I was wrong. I still love all of you – innocent and ferocious. A perfect combination.” And with that, his lips meet mine and I’m in heaven once more. The happiness Grayson invokes is infectious.

It starts as a tingle in my fingers and toes, a lot like the feeling I get when I'm anxious, but instead of worry it brings forth warmth. I feel it pass through me like a warm ocean wave, washing away the stress of my days to leave me refreshed inside. As the wave fades I savor the memory of its gentle touch. The feeling is a blissful evocation of time spent with Grayson on the beach when he whisked me away to Hawaii and we dared to dream how we’d could run away and forever be as carefree.

How I loved those days when we walked on the sand and simply talked, laughed and made silly jokes as well as the long, fiery nights filled with nothing but intimacy and pleasure. But they can continue here as well, our love can remain as strong as it was back then.

There will always be another who wants to take the crown of the Hellhound – the king of New York and I was afraid. I was terrified.

Not anymore.

Grayson is no longer the only one with a taste for blood and God help those who try to harm my family.

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Tags: @voidgray @dancingstardolans @love-mysterious-love @kayla20448 @purplelilac0223 @whotfiskate @yellowitsmendes  @lanadeldolans @reblogdolan  @graysdiabla  @cuteunicorns11  @its-pickle @ancoraesisto @mutuallynotmutual @annyanns @beinscorpio @fallinginlove-16 @dxlansfxck @yazziemp3 @usdolans @bqbyyhoneyy @dolanficrecs @sugarfootdolan @heyits-claire @godlydolans @accalialionheart @lacydolans @starrydolan  @g-e-dolan @kaiadolan @jeffxchella @mmmmmgd @livelongdolan @woeitsaly @stephdolan @dangerouslybitchyb  @grayson-dolans-dangly-earring @sparklydonkeyhandsdeputy @hey-graysondobrik @cheepwine @smileygrayson  @sadboidols @needysposts @soontobecool @r3sil3nc3 @chvrrydolan @ahoneybeing @daddygraysonsbitch @dolandolll @prettymuchdolansbitch @babyboydxlan @blueporschedolan @mindlessdolan​ @mmoonx​  @giggling-grayson​ @ethanhes​ @harryigprompt​ @ancoraesisto​ @kpoppindolans​ @dolansmith​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @peacedolantwins​

[phebia]

Making Family, Prologue

So, I can’t really write for shit but I love to do it. Normally, I just write for myself and don’t publish any of my fics but I figured posting a few couldn’t hurt. I’m almost done watching On My Block (I know I’m late to the party ya’ll) and I’ve had this fic idea bouncing around my head for a while now. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it hehe.

People like to pretend that family is all about blood. The DNA in your core is what decides who your family is, and that's just how it is. Few people know the truth behind that rule. Know that it's a blatant lie. Blood doesn't mean shit. The people I shared my blood line with were far from what family should be. My parents were never physically abusive. A hand never struck me and I never had a bruise courtesy of them. That didn't mean that they were good, though. Words can hit just as hard as fists. Every syllable knocked me to the ground and it got harder to get to my feet each time. Neglect wasn't a word I liked to use, but it was exactly what the lawyer explained it as in court. My parents were mean when they were present but most of the time they were gone. Their presence in my life wasn't strong or positive. I wasn't quite sure how it started. If I had to guess, I'd say that Ruth and Arthur Connelly- the elderly couple next door, finally decided to speak up. They didn't know anything for certain. Not that they had to. It wasn't hard to notice the empty driveway and hear the screaming echoes. It had been a Thursday when she showed up. Caroline Jennings was a fresh-out-of-college social worker. I would eventually learn that I was just her third case. She had blown into my life like a storm, her blonde hair looking more like sunshine. The first thing I noticed about her were her straight teeth, shining as she smiled sweetly at me. I didn't know that taking a few minutes to talk to her would change my life. Dragging an almost 18 year old from a group home to court and back again was harder than Caroline had thought it would be. Her past two cases had been a 5 year old and 2 year old respectively. They hadn't known what was going on. I did. I knew exactly what was happening at every point in time. Caroline had shown up in late April and the judges gavel slammed down for the last time in the end of August. I spent my 18th birthday in a group home full of strangers. Katrina was a kind hearted Latina woman with stern eyes who ran a relatively recent group home all on her own. She didn't ask for help from anyone and she surely didn't need it. I had been there for months but that didn't mean living in a home that wasn't really yours was easy. I wasn't close to the other girls that called the old farm house home. Teenagers were filled with mean comments that would leave a mark if they chose to say them out loud, and they always chose to say them out loud. Apparently mean things were okay as long as it wasn't your parents saying them. I kept out of their way. Minded my own business. Tried to make my plush form as small as possible no matter how fruitless my efforts were, all in an attempt to be ignored. It was funny that after so many years of being alone, I became comfortable in the isolation. In the months it took for the lawyers and social workers in charge of my case to find someone willing to take me in I had legally become an adult, but Caroline had kept my case open as a favour to me. I may have been legal, but it would've been nearly impossible for me to survive on the streets of Waterdown alone. I didn't know much about my extended family and it was impossible to blame anyone for not wanting to take in an 18 year old stranger, but that didn't make the ache of being unwanted any less painful. It was on a late May day that I first heard the name Geny Martinez. Caroline had sat me down and did her best to explain how exactly we were related but all I caught was that it was through my mom's side and she could be referred to as a distant aunt of mine. That also seemed to be the only Caroline understood herself. The tremor of surprise that first hit me when I learned I had family in California looking to take me in lingered for days on end. It still clung to my nerves during the first week of summer when I first met Geny and her husband Ruben. Caroline had told me they were being flown out but it didn't make looking into her brown eyes any easier. Behind her beautiful face there was stress and concern, Ruben on the other hand seemed much more relaxed. Leading them through town was awkward, but sitting down in the local Starbucks and actually having a conversation was much worse. Geny had confessed she didn't know who my mother was or how we were related (a trend that seemed popular) but she was still willing to take me in. I couldn't help but laugh when she had warned me about Freeridge and told me she wouldn't blame if I refused their offer. The thought of living with strangers pulled my stomach into knots of anxiety but it was a much better option than fending for myself on the streets of Waterdown, which I undoubtedly knew I'd have to do soon if the Martinez family didn't work. The next day the couple was gone, but they had taken my phone number with them. I didn't hear from Ruben very often, Geny on the other hand texted me multiple times a day and slowly filled me in on her family and Freeridge. The first time I visited Freeridge was in the early days of June and I visited once more over the summer. My last visit had ended in the early weeks of July and I left feeling decently comfortable with my new... I wasn't sure what to call them, but family seemed to be the easiest word to use. I was set to return in a month, this time for good.

My first introduction to California had been a blast of hot air to the face. A part of me had been hoping that Los Angeles would've cooled down in the time that I was away, but Ruby had drilled the weather patterns of Freeridge into my head and I should've listened to him. He even suggested I get my hands on an entirely new wardrobe if possible. According to the young Latino all of Canada was frigid year round and no clothing suitable for my hometown would be fitting for my new one. I had laughed at the harebrained boy but my tie dye hoodie and black leggings earned me some looks from strangers in the airport and I quickly decided I probably should've listened to him. My slight familiarity of LAX made grabbing my luggage a less anxious process than it was the first time I had done it, despite the fact that I now had a few more bags with me. My life may not have been grand, but I needed more than a single suitcase to move it to a new country. With a small grunt I heaved my final suitcase off of the baggage claim belt, and after a brief scan of my belongings I turned, starting to look around for Geny or Ruben. However, I quickly froze in place when my eyes landed on a small familiar form marching towards me. My sunglasses gave Ruby a green tint but he and his scowl were unmistakable. "Hey..." My hopeful greeting faded off as my distant cousin stopped before me and gave me a judgemental once over, then turned his attention to my luggage without a word. "I told you not to wear your cold weather clothes. No one listens to me!" All I could do was stare as he shook his head to himself and struggled to get a good grip on a couple of my bags. "I knew that you'd mess up. You're lucky I brought these for you." With a large flounce of his arms he had dropped the bags and turned to hold a pair of simple, two strap, white sandals in my face. I quickly snatched the shoes from him with an unimpressed grimace and uncomfortable slouch in my shoulders due to the attention he had gained us. Ruby ignored my displeasure and went back to my belongings with a dramatic roll of his eyes, now muttering to himself in Spanish. "Easy on the Spanish, bro. She's a gringo, remember?" A new voice took my attention off of Ruby and it only took me a second to recognise Mario, who had wandered up to us at some point during his brother's rambling. A relieved smile pulled at my lips at the sight of him. Mario was my age and his laid back demeanour had made him much more approachable than his younger brother, or anyone else in Freeridge really. His mom had coerced him into showing me around Freeridge during my first visit and our time spent together had turned us into surprisingly close companions. He was undeniably my first, and best, friend in town, and he'd be damned if anyone tried to take the title from him. And although his words were true, I couldn't help but scowl at the term while I moved to embrace him. "Teach me Spanish, then." It was a discussion we had often, ever since I had expressed a desire to learn the language after quickly feeling out of place in the Martinez household. Mario had always laughed at that and claimed that I would be a terrible student, whomst he would never waste his precious time on. "I have no time." He shook his head and smiled at me as we both pulled away from the hug. This time though, his words were true. He was headed off to Berkeley tomorrow and although it was a huge accomplishment, a part of me couldn't help but wish he wouldn't go. With Mario gone I'd likely be stuck hanging out with Ruby and his friends. There was nothing wrong with the soon to be freshman's, other than the fact that I was a good four years older than them. But that was something I'd have to get over. Ruby was mature for his age and I was in no position to be selfish. Mario already put off his departure by a full day just so he could take a few hours to help me unpack and, in his words give me, "A real welcoming home." I rolled my eyes at his ever persistent refusal, shaking my head and turning away so that he wouldn't be able to see the smile on my face. "I'll teach you Spanish, Selina." Ruby had joined my side, looking up at me with my black and white backpack slung over his shoulders, seemingly over his earlier fashion fury. "You already have the name for it. Selina." The thick Spanish accent he accentuated my name with and tilt of his head brought a loud burst of laughter out of me. "Ah, so you're over my wardrobe." I placed a hand on his head and gestured at my hoodie, managing to grind my knuckles against his head and mess his hair up before he escaped my reach. "You know what? You can find a new teacher." He sassed, spinning around and marching way without hesitation, leaving me to grab a suitcase and catch up with him, both of us leaving Mario behind to take care of the rest of the bags. In a few long strides I caught up to his short form, wrapping my arm around his neck from behind and pressing my cheek firmly against his temple. "I missed you, Ruby." I smiled softly, tilting my head to press a swift kiss to his forehead, remaining quiet about the goofy smile I spotted forming on his face. Together we walked in silence, the constant noise of the airport drowning out the way my black vans scuffed against the linoleum floors. "Hey, do you think we should help your brother?" My sudden remembrance of Mario caused me to stop and glance back. My brown eyes scanned the crowds around us, the younger boy also turning to look for his brother. Eventually Mario walked into our sights, scowling harshly and dragging more bags behind him than both Ruby and I both had combined. "Nah." Ruby decided, shaking his head and beginning to walk once more, dragging my plush form along with him. "I still can't believe your mom let you two come pick me up, alone." I had been talking about my surprise airport escorts for the majority of the ride back to Freeridge, and I was sure both boys were overly irritated with me. But, knowing Geny meant knowing how protective she was of her children, even if one of them was an adult about to move away. Things just weren't making sense. Ruby had interrupted my constant musing with stories about what had went down while I was gone, but the distraction didn't last nearly as long as he had hoped. After his brother's failed attempt at silencing me, Mario resorted to steadily cranking the radio up until it drowned out my voice. But all that did was give us all a slight headache and I was still talking as we pulled up to the house. "What? Why? I'm responsible." My eyebrows raised at Mario's offended voice crack, choosing to share a silent look with Ruby instead of doing my teasing aloud. Despite my effort, the older Latino caught the exchange and scoffed loudly, practically shoving me out of the car. "Get out of my sight." I lingered, watching him and Ruby move to the trunk, hesitant to leave the brothers to lug all my things inside themselves. "We got this." Mario caught me looking and waved his hands at me, shooing me away from them once more. "Let the muscle handle it, Selina." Ruby nodded at me and flexed his arms, and that was all the encouragement I needed to leave them be. With a grin and shake of my head I shuffled up the walkway, and debated knocking on the door for a moment but Geny had scolded me whenever I did that so I ending up opting to walk in unannounced. "Surprise!" Confetti was popped in my face and a loud gasp burst out of me at the sudden shock. My heart raced in my chest as my shoulders heaved with uneven breath, my eyes wide and looking over the group of people smiling widely at me. I recognised most of them within a second prompting a laugh of relief to spill past my lips, my laughter causing everyone else to cheer once more. "Welcome home, mija." Geny was the first person to move, rushing towards me with her arms open wide and a glowing smile on her face. "Hi, Aunt Geny." I groaned into the hug but forced a grin onto my face, nearly sighing in relief when she released me from her iron grip. She continued to coo over me, her hands holding my face and squishing my cheeks together until Ruben arrived to greet and save me. I watched the couple walk away with soft eyes until the sound of someone tsking reached my ears. Turning my head to the right revealed Ruby's friend Jamal shaking his head at me, his lanky arms crossed over his chest. "A hoodie? Girl, in this weather? You must be crazy." I sighed and looked to the popcorn ceiling, pushing the sleeves of my sweater to my elbows. Maybe I was starting to sweat a bit, but I'd never admit it to any of the California natives who were just waiting for my admission of defeat with baited breath. "Save it. I already got the lecture from, Ruby." I held my hand out to silence him before he could get another word out, a tiny grin warming my features. "I bet you did." He shook his head but a moment later he was smiling back at me. "Welcome to Freeridge, Selina. Permanently this time!" I thanked him sweetly and promised to come back later with my review of his dad's barbecue. I weaved my way through the house, greeting neighbours with varying levels of enthusiasm depending on my familiarity with them. At some point the twins had stolen me away to play with them, but I was sent right back into the fray when Geny walked in on me being forced to help build a block castle. Not long after leaving the youngest Martinez's behind I collapsed onto the couch next to the oldest one. My head lazily rested against the back of the couch, tilting so that I could look at the woman beside me. Her brown eyes were already fixed on me and she reached out to squeeze my cheek, much like her daughter had. The two of us looked at each other in silence for a minute, Abuelita eventually breaking it. "You want a hit? My stuff's in the basement." I laughed at her offer, nodding my head and promising her that we were on for tonight. The silence between us was a welcome break from the surprise party and there was no need to interrupt it. We were both more than content to watch the people milling about, her hand gently resting over my own which was sat in my lap. I had been focused on watching Ruby and Jamal do their best to ditch one of the neighbourhood girls around their age, who was very obviously invading their personal bubble, when I was distracted by the woman to my right once again. "I think you're going to like it here, mija." Abuelita's voice was quiet and soft but it rang out in my head clearly, a reminder that there was no more going back to my old life. "I hope so."

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

10. Simon’s Deal

3878 Words. Trigger Warnings for self harm and inappropriate sexual joke content. I think that’s all in this one, actually.

I feel like I need to clarify something - I am continuing this story until I finish it. But, the chapters will no longer be standalone pieces. The rest of it will be directly a sequential story that would need the previous chapters in order to make the story coherent. Thanks for understanding. Happy reading, and please, if you like what you read, let me know. If you don’t, keep it moving, Shawty. Because, I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit.

Previous

Simon got up fairly early every day. He fed Samantha and let her out. She came and went as she pleased, and in the times that she returned, she would come to his window and yell. He… was probably going to have to bring her with him when he left home for good. He hated to do it. He never wanted a cat, but they had bonded over having the worst mom in common and it wasn’t her fault that the person who purchased her did so on a whim. 

He had a very strict exercise regimen, breakfast schedule, and things that he did every morning before starting on his day. Whenever he left home, he usually packed what he needed, and tended to use his mother’s old car. Was he legally supposed to be driving? No. Was he teaching himself how to anyway, because he knew he would need that skill and nobody else was gonna teach him? Absolutely. 

His summer had a lot of things packed into it, but he had everything plotted out in such a way that if he followed his schedule, he would still have plenty of time to rest well and even to keep up with Grace. 

She was having a blast. "I asked Ghairrisahn if I could smell her hair to tell my friend how it smells and she gave me a piece of it! I collected YOU a gift, this time!"

"You… have… some of her hair for me???" He asked excitedly.

"She pulled it out of her hairbrush! She says that it isn't even the first time. Her hair and her feet are apparently people's favorite parts." Grace held up a little baggy with curly hair in it. "I'll keep it safe for you. In the meantime, she smells like… geranium, bergamot, frankincense and myrrh."

"I… what?"

"Geranium, bergamot, frankincense and myrrh. Those are her go to essential oils, so everything she wears is one or a combination of those and no other scents, ever, so that she doesn't smell TOO strong. But, it's nice. I actually smell her hair for myself, now. Since she’s got all these oils on her body, I just say that I’m doing it for wellness."

"So jealous," he said, with a smile. “I saw that you gave her a lipstick print. She’s Apex now!”

“She said that she’s been a fan of my videos!” She sighed, "I wish you were here."

"Me too. I miss you."

"Are you holding up okay?"

Actually, my mom had the most violent outburst whenever I tried to get her into my grandmother's car and Samantha has been gone for far longer than usual. I don't know if she's coming back, I don’t even know if she’s alive…

"I'm fine," he said and saw an incoming call… from Mr. Monroe? "I...I've gotta go."

"I'm calling you tomorrow!"

"Yes, Ma'am." she hung up and he smiled, "Mr. Monroe! I didn't plan on hearing from you..."

.

Simon was at his journalism workshop whenever Shana sat next to him. He raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. "Problem?" She asked, turning to look right at him.

"Girl, leave me alone."

"Why are you so rude? Have I ever actually done you something, or do you just hate everybody that doesn't worship your girlfriend?"

"What difference does it make?" He and Grace never corrected people on the girlfriend bit. It was easier that way. They'd have to explain why they're so close and always together and never dating anyone else… like they couldn't JUST be friends? 

"You stole from me. I'd like to know why." 

"I've never stolen anything in my life. Your dad, on the other hand…" 

She gasped and he could tell from the look on her face that was a low blow. She looked like she was going to cry. "Wow. You're just as ugly as she is. I actually thought you were the nice one."

"You are the only person who's said that. Therefore, I'm going to presume that you're lying," he said, with a slight blush. People didn't often say that he was nice at all, and especially not when choices were between him and Grace - the professional people pleaser and part time peacekeeper. The number of times that she had to keep him from cracking something over somebody’s head alone was enough to warrant at least a collective “unfriendly.”

"Doesn't matter now. You're a complete asshole." He laughed at the bold declaration. It had been a while since someone dared to insult him, much less straight up call him out of his name. He didn't know if he had ever really noticed Shana before this moment. But… she and Grace had similar features. He'd heard her referred to as "Chemical Grace" before, because she straightened her hair and wore a lot of makeup and stuff (and was the only other Black girl besides a a handful of biracial ones). 

But, honestly… if Grace contoured her face, had straight hair, maybe less full lips and high cheekbones, the two of them looked a lot the same… to the point that Simon's imagination insisted that they were related.

Oooh… what if Mr. Monroe had a torrid affair once upon a time and had this daughter some months before Grace? That would explain their enmity too! 

"What are you looking at?" She asked, annoyed.

"You and Grace look like you could be sisters."

She glared at him, "I don't know if you think that we all look alike or if you just miss that dragon for whatever reason, (because you're a weirdo for genuinely liking her in the first place), but if you ever say anything that insulting to me again, all bets are off. I'm going to fuck you up, Simon."

"It was a compliment. Grace is the prettiest girl in school and you're like… a close second, on the grounds that you look like less organic her.."

"Please shut up. Why are you talking to me? Are you even allowed to do that?" She rolled her eyes, but he noticed that her skin tone changed just a little bit. He knew that look too. She was blushing. He caught Grace doing so a time or two. It didn’t look the same as whenever he did, for sure, but he definitely noticed. He smirked and texted Grace. She would be in rehearsals, but she’d see it afterwards. 

“Chemical Grace thinks I’m cute. (Smirk emoji)” 

A few short minutes later she replied, “Nothing else to do. Gotta set yourself on fire, bruh.”

He laughed and Shana looked over, but he just gave her a hard stare until she looked away, annoyed that she had even turned towards him. 

They were going to have to work together in journalism club, but he had always been surrounded by people he didn’t too much care for. At the time, he couldn’t imagine the amount of time that they might have to work together, with her being the managing editor and him being the copy editor (and photo/graphics editor, until someone else stepped up for that). 

"I still can't figure out if she's lucky or cursed to have you, but I'm sure hoping for the latter," Shana said as they walked out of the workshop, practically shoulder to shoulder. He just smirked. Her insults were… kinda fun for him. 

.

He had a couple of weeks between his engagements. Grace wanted him to fly out to meet her and fly back in a couple of weeks. She just needed him to agree and she would make sure that the tickets were purchased. He never minded accepting things from her before, but since she’d left him, things felt off for him. 

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was still a little bit hurt that she decided to go on the tour. It was a chance of a lifetime. He wouldn’t have wanted her to turn it down… but he did want that. He wanted her to be nearby and available, so that when he wasn't busy, he could have her to himself to recover from everything. 

That was no reason that he couldn’t go meet Ghairrisahn and see her shows for free for two weeks, though. So, he went!

Grace danced backup for some numbers and under the spotlight a couple of times too. Ghairrisahn praised her on the mic, hyped her up during her performances, thanked her by name at the end of each show, with the band and other important creators, and seemed to genuinely appreciate her. 

For Simon, it was like watching a shooting star go in reverse. Like… when he met her, she was beautiful, but just sitting in a crater, and he dug her out and she shot up and was flying into the night's sky. Beautiful to behold, but also… he doesn't know why he's not with her - Why they weren't one anymore. He doesn't know why she's so out of his reach now.

They clung to that old dynamic, for a few years that it wasn't working, and now, they were shooting in different directions. Where could he possibly want to go if Grace wasn't going with him? Why was it so easy for her now to go where she was going, without him? She used to… she used to wait for him. She used to shine a little less, if only to give him a moment to catch up. She used to care…

That's unfair. She still cares. She's just having fun and she deserves some fun… even if she never would have made it this far without your support. You built her a fan base from a bunch of snobby kids who wanted high school cool points into a public figure with a massive Internet presence. You took the photos that landed her a lucrative business deal at age 14. You turned her parents' heads in her direction every chance you got, just so she could be noticed by them and get a sparkle in her eyes. She owes you everything… and she won't even look at you as anything other than her favorite accessory. Something she never wants to leave home without, but if she does, she could just smile and keep dancing…

He didn't realize that he was shaking until one of Grace's team members asked him if he was okay. He nodded and then went to find some place to be alone. He took off his hoodie and pulled a dull pen from his pocket. His thoughts were racing and his emotions were such an overwhelming cluster of negativity rushing about that he almost felt immobilized by the onslaught. He sat down, lifted his arm and began to sketch. The pen scratched him, lifting the line on his skin, with minimal blood, but a few specks. He drew tally marks. There were a few older faded ones that he had counted. 

Whenever he felt hurt or weak or scared… things he couldn't say he felt. Whenever those feelings became too much. Grace had told him, "You just have gotta try to count up the good things about stuff."

"And how am I supposed to do that whenever my mind can't focus on anything but the bad stuff I'm going through?"

She made an "I don't know" sound, with the shrug of her shoulders, closed her compact mirror, looked at him with the warmest smile and said, "But, you're the smartest guy I know. You'll figure out a way to get on the path to thinking positive when your brain is mean to you." She smiled and a bird landed on her shoulder. She was petrified. "Oh my God… get… get this thing off of me Simon!" He swatted it and when it began to fly, she screamed, dropped her bag and ran. He laughed at the image as he picked up her stuff, but for that brief moment that she smiled, with an agent of nature perched on her shoulder, he got his moment of clarity. He found his way. It was her. It had been her.

Whenever he felt this way, he would center himself with a little bit of pain and just make a little mark of the good things about her that he could think of.

He hadn't done this (over her) in a while. Usually, she was the alternative medicine for hurt that his mom caused. Grace didn't hurt him very often, and the times that she did, he always made a tally to represent that she would never try to hurt him on purpose. 

That's where he began his new tally of marks. 1 She's not hurting me on purpose.  2 She doesn't know that I'm hurt and I'm not going to tell her because she needs this. 3 I'm proud of her. 4 At least I get to come along. 5 She tried to bring me with her and I had to decline. 6 She never would have left me behind on purpose. 7 It was my choice and she respected that. 8 She still loves me because she wanted me here as soon as I had time. 9 We're still the Apex…

"Simon, are you in here? They told me that you rushed off and you didn't look too good?" 10 She came to check on me as soon as she heard I wasn't okay… 

"Yeah. I just got overheated…" he said, pulling his hoodie back over himself.

"That's why I don't understand why you always wear a hoodie! It's summer and you sweat a lot! You're gonna make the bus musty."

"I'm gonna get washed up!" He opened the door and there she was, sweaty and musty herself, with full concern on her glowing features. She glanced at the pen and he put it away. "Fell outta my pocket," he said and covered the back of his neck with his hand, laughing nervously.

She doubted him for a moment. He saw the flicker of it in her eyes, but she smiled anyway, wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him along with her, "Come on, Your Ripeness." Simon wrapped an arm around her as well. He didn't feel any more distress. He wasn't overwhelmed or sad or angry. He had gotten “back on his positive path after his brain was mean to him.” He kissed her on the temple and she smiled and blushed. "What was that for?"

"For always being my best friend."

She tugged him down to kiss his temple too… since that's what they were doing tonight, she guessed. She winked at him and mused, "Back at cha, Gray Eyes." He melted against her and rested his head on the top of hers. Grace was… confused, but she just stood there, with his arms tightly wrapped around her. She didn't understand his sudden need to be affectionate, but she didn't want to interrupt it either.

.

His last night on the tour, after everyone was asleep, they snuck away, just to explore and spend time alone.

"So, guess what your dad and me discussed…"

"Ugh. You've been talking to my dad, still?"

"Um.. of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm not even there. What could you two possibly have to even talk about?"

"We have a lot to talk about! I'm very mature for my age and I have a good head on my shoulders."

"You head-butted someone yesterday," she reminded him.

"And I barely flinched. My head is that good...Wait…" she was already laughing at the slip of the tongue. He groaned. She was never gonna let him live that one down. "Let me finish!" He whined, laughing at himself.

"You gotta stop chillin' with my dad, Dude. He's not just an adult, but he's one of the ones that we know can't be trusted."

Mr. Monroe had been very helpful to Simon during the time while Grace was away and his parents were out of reach. Bit like a mentor, but not as warm. They did discuss Grace at times, but mostly the man had been getting him in contact with the right people to help him sort out getting emancipated and for assistance with the home front while there weren't other adults there. They didn't have heart to hearts and stuff, but he was definitely an ally, in Simon's eyes. "He's… not so bad, I think. He just doesn't understand you. But, he loves you. I mean..  I think he does. The way you made them sound is worse than they are. At least they aren't like my parents…"

She frowned. "I don't like it. It's weird that you're taking up for him, too. What have you got a crush on my dad or something?"

"… Did you seriously ask me that?"

"You're going on about how great and misunderstood he is, and I've never seen you date anybody. Maybe that's what you like. Old rich dudes that can be your sugar daddy." She stuck her tongue out and twerked a little.

He laughed, "I am by no means above doing what I gotta do with your dad, if it gets me ahead, but I think your mom would kill me." 

Grace laughed, "I would help her!" 

"Help her? How dead do you think I would need to be? Shouldn't one of you kill him too? He's the adult in this scenario! Besides, your mom wouldn't need any help. That woman could probably kill a gorilla with her bare hands."

"Well, she's always said that she can do anything she sets her mind to with the right pair of shoes." They both laughed about the image of Mrs. Monroe killing a gorilla with a pair of pumps on. Grace thought, she's WEARING the shoes, not using them and Simon thought that she definitely had in her to stab a beast to death with a high heel. 

"Talk about red bottoms," Simon said, trying to stop laughing at all of their add-ons.

"What's wrong with us? We're making jokes about my dad molesting you for money and my mom killing gorillas while staying fashionable."

"I think it poses the question, what's wrong with them?"

"Hmph. According to you, nothing."

"Not nothing, Grayyeeece… they just aren't as bad as a lot of other parents. Some of them never should have had kids." 

The tone was uncomfortable for her. Like, him talking about his parents never having kids made her feel like he was indirectly saying that he didn't like being alive and that couldn't be discussed. She wouldn't be able to handle a conversation like that. 

She smiled and said, "Anyways, what did you and your sugar daddy discuss?" 

Now, Simon's face lit up again and he smiled, "Okay, so get this… We were discussing my busy schedule and everything I have ahead of me next year and he started to candidly speak about your social media and the tour…" she groaned. She knew that her father didn't consider what she did real art. "And somehow, he got it into his mind that you'll need a man to take care of you, a hard-working one with more realistic goals…" she fumed. 

Need? A man? To take care?? Of me???

"Long story short, your dad offered to pay my college tuition, to any school that I want to go to in exchange for wooing you and being your stable man." 

She stared at him, expecting some type of twist. The gotcha or whatever. He laughed, but seemed serious. "My dad wants to pay you to try to be my boyfriend?"

"Technically, his word was to 'tame' you."

"TAME???"

"He thinks that you've blindly rushed into wild dreams and that you need a smart, strong boy to help you stabilize."

"Ugh!!! You know, he ruined my mom's career with that same line of thinking! And she had to live vicariously through me. I can't BELIEVE that he'd pay YOU for that job!" She was furious.

Simon looked offended, "Why'd you say it like that?"

"You're my friend. He expects you to just screw me over and play with my mind for some money."

"It's not THAT simple. For… an education that I work really hard to get, but still may have to settle on a scholarship that might not cover everything. An education that, if I had it, I could finally make something of myself in this world. It wasn't like he offered me a cartoon bag of cash. He offered me a future that I deeply want and need. Nothing cheap or meaningless.."

She intertwined their fingers, "Okay. Then… you'll get that."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants to give you college in exchange for making me your girlfriend, then he's about to pay for your college." 

"Are you suggesting that we officially openly pretend to be a couple instead of leaving it to mystery?"

"I'm suggesting that my father deserves for you to take every dime he's willing to pay you to manipulate me."

"I don't think that you realize that what he wants me to do is change you, and even if we could get one over on him, the act would have to last through my college career…"

"We've unofficially been a couple in people's eyes for almost that long already."

"No we haven't!"

"I am making you a counter offer. It's the very same deal as my dad's, but in this one, we stay the same, but he pays you anyway! So… be my partner, already." She held out her hand to him and he tentatively accepted it and shook it. She smiled. "We'll have to pace it, if he's expecting you to woo me. Gonna have to be a soft entrance and he'll have to notice a gradual shift."

He nodded in agreement. He knew that they were speaking about a fake relationship, but he still felt butterflies fluttering in his gut thinking about it. Being Grace's boyfriend… even if pretend… for years… There was no way that they could pull that off… but, what if it led to something? What if he could woo her, for real? Have her for real?

"Let's go be seen," she said. 

"What do you mean?"

"I'm an internet personality. If people spot us out and about this time of night, they'll talk about it. If we seem like we're trying to be secretive, they'll post about it." She took his hand and pulled him along. 

"We'll have to set some ground rules for this couple project…" he said.

She laughed, "You can set whatever rules you want. I'm doing everything that I've normally done, but I'll be letting my parents think you're my boyfriend so that you can go to school or whatever."

"It's risky. What about affection? What about if one of us finds somebody else that we like?" 

"You like somebody?"

"No. I'm just thinking about the complications to this ruse."

"You're a war buff… Just think about it like a secret identity that you have to commit to for an espionage assignment. The fate of your future depends on it, so in a way, it's a mission of life and death." His eyes twinkled at her and she smirked. He loved when she began to try to speak his language.

"I understand now," he said. 

Next

[kazoo-goddess]

Um hello sorry to bug, just discovered you and your amazing voice, I was wondering if you have put any of your stuff on Spotify? And if not WHY NOT

Okay, hi! I’ve been getting a lot of questions like this, and I basically dread answering them because it’s just... a lot to explain, and usually people just keep asking even when I do, but I’m gonna try again because I Am Tired. Also, this is not to say you’re bugging me! I just get this question a lot, and so I’m going to try and answer it as best I can in hopes of being able to link this to people:

First: To upload to Spotify, I would need to be an Artist account. Those are the people with a checkmark by their names and stuff, very official. But to be an Artist account, I need to be signed with a record label--easier said than done.

So let’s say I get signed with a record label, which I’m trying to do now. That costs a yearly fee. Additionally, uploading cover songs and mashups also costs me money--It’s about $19 per song, and that’s a fee that I have to pay every year. That’s necessary to pay because it basically lets the record label I’m with get the rights I need to upload the covers. I don’t currently make any money off of the things I do on here, YouTube, or anywhere else, so that’s money coming directly out of my pockets that I probably won’t get back. Not that I mind spending some of my money if the stuff I upload makes people happy! But unfortunately, that’s not the last hurdle.

Even if I wanted to, most of my covers and mashups actually still don’t fall under the legal umbrella of covers that can and can’t be uploaded--Why? Because while they use the original melody and all, I’ve changed the lyrics, and that’s actually one of the criteria that you have to fit in order to upload a cover. That means I can’t post my English language covers of Japanese songs, nor can I post parodies like Mr. Sandman--And that’s what people want to hear on Spotify. I have to be honest with myself and say that my original music doesn’t really have much of an audience, lol, and if I only uploaded that, I’d probably lose some viewer/listener faith.

Basically, this is everything that’s in my way of uploading to Spotify/iTunes/every other platform as far as I currently understand it (and god, there’s so much damn text that maybe I don’t, it’s SO COMPLICATED.) I would really love nothing more than to just upload the stuff to other services for y’all and call it a day, but if I got in legal trouble, I genuinely couldn’t afford to pay for it. YouTube is fine, because they do have the fair use law, and almost all of my stuff is parody--for the stuff that’s not, like covers, YouTube just uses their content ID system to find the original artist and make sure that the money from ads or whatever they put on my videos goes to the original artists, allowing me to keep the stuff up mostly safely.

All in all... It’s a frustrating tangle of bull that I dearly wish I could get around, but unfortunately, I am only one Kazoo in a world of this horrible music industry. I hope that at least having it on YouTube can still satisfy you and other people--I promise I’m doing the best I can.

[night-dragon937]

I need to share my experience from a few hours ago (writing this at 2 am aug 24 2020) yesterday but first I'm going to slap a huge tw: abuse, Christianity/gay stuff, anxiety attacks, and yelling/screaming, transphobia/homophobia, self harm/cutting and a lot of cussing/swearing onto this. Like this is deeply religious and I'd rather not have discourse on my beliefs.

That should cover it...

Okay so it started out fine, my mom and i were just talking. She was drunk, and attempting to convince me that my asexuality meant that i was straight... But since she was drunk, I'mma give her that. There was a lot of aphobia but that's not what this is about She started telling me about her experience, and best i can describe it, she's a closeted demisexual biromantic lady with a preference for girls and a shit ton of internalized homophobia ("being sexually attracted to women's bodies more than men's doesn't make me lesbian, I'm still straight")

It was a mostly civil conversation, but it was adding onto my bad feelings from my dad the past several weeks making snide hurtful remarks about our religion and my sexuality and gender. Also using the f-slur against me when i had explained to him in the past how badly that word hurts me, to which he apologized profusely and said he'd never have used that word if he knew how it affected me. Obviously a lie, because he's still using it with full knowledge of the effects.

Back to my mom. She started getting into the religious side of it, but we managed to keep it civil, until the very end when she said she'd be praying for me and i said I'd be praying to help figure out who exactly i am, and she remarked "make sure you're praying to the right person" with a really threatening tone to her voice. At that point, i lost it, let her know that her saying that made me want to go back to cutting (in case she wasn't aware) and said that i needed a moment alone (or something along those lines, i was thrown head first into an anxiety attack and can't quite remember very well).

I ran upstairs as she tried to grab me and pull me back, but i managed to make it to my room. I went into a fetal position, because safe, but she came in and all i remember is her screaming repeating some question, i think, at me, me not being able to breathe, her hands squeezing my wrists way too tight, my wrist pinned to the carpet with her knee, the other with her hand as she tried to grab my jaw and force me to look at her.

Her touching me made the attack worse (hours later i still have marks and scratches) and i couldn't talk, think, or breathe. Somehow i was able to choke out repeated pleas for her to stop touching me because it was making everything worse. I don't know how long that lasted. But at some point she stopped grabbing me and just placed her hands on me and started praying in tongues. Like i was fucking demon possessed. Because i had an anxiety attack. Which my parents have been triggering in me for as long as i can remember.

I managed to sit up and get her to stop touching me, but she refused to be less than a foot away from me, even though i was going through a sensory overload and needed personal space. She finally trapped me into a corner of my room and put her arms on either side of me, one of them holding the door closed. She was screaming in my face and i was yelling over her, asking her to give me personal space and stop being so loud so that i could calm down, which she refused. I ended up very trapped and very uncomfortable and doing my best to not have another anxiety attack while replying to the most outlandish of her accusations, but mostly keeping my mouth shut in an attempt to get her to do the same.

She kept using my deadname, like usual, but it was worse for me for some reason at this point. I mentioned that and got yelled at more. I mentioned her pinning my wrists to the ground and got called a liar and she tried to make it so that i couldn't leave and grab a Kleenex until i admitted she was right and that i pinned myself to the ground (???). So i just started describing what i remembered until she got sick of it and let me go wipe my nose. She must have closed my door when she first came in. My dad (stepdad) was standing outside the door, eavesdropping, apparently.

I got a Kleenex but then my mom started yelling at me again, but i mostly just pretended to listen because i didn't want to have another anxiety attack. My dad started piping in and making me feel so much worse. He ended with saying "you're not a Christian. You don't believe in God. Even the devil believes in God." (Implying that I'm worse than the devil). At which point i started breaking down crying. And then i ran outside to have another anxiety attack but this time my mom just stood on the porch because the grass was wet and she was barefoot, but i curled up under the stars for who knows how long as i forced myself to do breathing techniques, and stim by rubbing the wet grass, which really helped ground me.

I went back inside when i was feeling better and got a drink of water and a Kleenex. And they started telling me how much they loved me and that i might not see it, but they were doing this out of love, because they were concerned for my eternity. I kept pointing out things they were doing that hurt me and better ways to do it (constructive criticism, so they know what's bad for me) and they repeatedly told me how much worse they could make it for me and that i should be glad they didn't make it worse. I pointed out that this didn't make their actions better and they said "doesn't make them wrong, either." Which ????? Victim blaming, abuse, what?

I brought up the times I've cried out to God for answers and the few times He's responded, (refusing my request for Him to kill me, telling me I'm not going to Hell for being gay/queer) bc they kept bringing up a few dubiously translated verses of the Bible and they told me that i was listening to the wrong person. That i was worshipping the wrong one. They heavily implied that i pray and worship the devil (disclaimer: i don't judge those who do, that's your life, I'm not gonna try and decide it for you, also i can admit that the church of Satan makes valid points and treats people right, from what I've seen, this is just a huge insult for them to throw at me specifically because of what I've been taught my whole life). Also invalidating my whole experience just because they don't like it.

They keep bringing up me being involved in the community (following queer people on social media, having one queer shirt, going to gsa-which they told me I'm not allowed to be a part of anymore-, having queer friends) as me seeking validation and attention, and that i shouldn't need validation and it shouldn't be about validation if I really think that this is who i am. Aka, because i am human and seek human things, i must be a total fake and fraud about all I've told them (very little). Meanwhile they do the exact same thing with their friends and social media and each other and everything.

My dad kept piping up with totally unrelated, totally unhelpful comments and tangents while my mom recited the same 5 min spiel for at least half an hour. My dad was saying how my grandparents aren't actually Christians because they agree with me that the world isn't black and white and there are some shades of gray, and because they believe once saved, always saved. That there is nothing you can do, as an imperfect human, to remove yourself from the infinite and unconscious love of God. (... I can't believe he fucking believes that humans have the ability to overrule God because it makes it easier for him to blame and condemn people he sees...)

These are the grandparents who have loved me regardless of my sexuality and gender, even tho they don't agree, and made me feel loved and gave me a place to go when i need to escape from my parents. They're the reason I'm keeping my mom's maiden name (since it hasn't been legally changed) because it's their last name, and it's them i want to honor, not my abusive shitty hateful stepdad. Unfortunately they are moving into assisted living because my papa is in a wheelchair, so i can't move in with them.

He ended that tangent with repeatedly telling me that i was not saved. That i was not a Christian. That i didn't believe in God. And that i was going to Hell. Repeatedly.

My mom made me hug her and made me tell her i love her. I ended up exercising to stop myself from becoming suicidal. I don't know if I'll tell anyone irl apart from the one irl friend i have on here. I'm not sure if I'm going to tell my therapist or not. I reached out to two of my christian friends after everything but they were both asleep. I needed to write this all down and put it somewhere public, just to be safe. I'm not safe in my own home and i can't move out because I'm a. Under 18 and b. Broke as hell

There was a lot more that happened, this lasted several hours, but i honestly can't remember all of the details besides what i typed out. Anyway so yeah i kinda wish i were dead but i also wanna stay alive for spite and show them that i can be a fabulous queer Christian and that the world is colorful, and you can't reduce that to monochrome and expect to have an even partially accurate view of the world. I want to help others like me, and help them feel better about myself.

I'm setting this as a queue so that if my parents take my phone away, they can't stop me from posting it (they have no clue how to look at queued posts) and also so that i can go to bed now and look at it again later and edit it

[yikesharringrove]

tagged by: @lostnoise ty 💕

1. do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? I write almost entirely in this one specific brand of purple pen (I’ve found it helps with ye olde dyslexia) but black is the second best option. I also have a collection of gel pens, so I like those too.

2. would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? City. But like, a smaller city is okay.

3. if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? Um, like any skill? I have none? I want to learn ASL, though.

4. do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? When I drink coffee (which is almost never) I put a lil in.

5. what was your favorite book as a child? The Gaspard and Lisa series.

6. do you prefer baths or showers? I’m the fucking worst bc when I shower, I’ll just like, lay down in the tub for a while. So technically shower.

7. if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? It’s be cool to be a fairy.

8. paper or electronic books? I’m not a huge reader, so I have a LOT of audiobooks lol. I mean, I love paper books, but I also love on electric books how I can change the font size and color and stuff.

9. what is your favorite item of clothing? My banana skirt, or I have a collection of vintage band shirts from my parents, that are pretty cool. 

10. do you like your name? would you like to change it? My legal name is Abigail and I fucking hate it, but I don’t want to go through the rigor of leagally changing it when everyone jsut calls me Abbi anyway 🤷‍♀️

11. who is a mentor to you? One of my professors. She’s an AMAZING woman, and she’s so wonderful. She and a few other women spoke out against one of their old bosses that sexually assaulted several of them, and they managed to get him fired and kicked off the board of a newspaper he was on. She was the first person I opened up to about my own experiencees after that.

12. would you like to be famous? if so, what for? I think it’d be cool to be really recognizable by a certain group, so like be famous for a niche thing where those fans would recognize you, but not EVERYONE in the world would recognize you. I’d like to be an actor or a musician I think.

13. are you a restless sleeper? oh yee

14. do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? Depends. I can be, but I also don’t really care about romantic things in general.

15. which element best represents you? um, idk. Fire, maybe?

16. who do you want to be closer to? my friends that live three states away.

17. do you miss someone at the moment? my friends that live three states away.

18. tell us about an early childhood memory. My earliest memory is of driving in the car listening to DMX with my mom, which describes her pretty well.

19. what is the strangest thing you have eaten? I’ll put really anythign in my maw. I’ve been lucky to travel a lot and I’ll try anything, so I’ve eaten sheep liver, and bull testicle, and pig brain, and cricket.

20. what are you most thankful for? The opportunities in life I’ve had.

21. do you like spicy food? oh yeah

22. have you ever met someone famous? Yeah, I have some good stories lol

23. do you keep a diary or journal? I try to. It’s helpful for me to write things out, I’m just bad at actually doing it daily. I’ve been keeping one for the past few weeks pretty well though, since there’s been a lot on my mind.

24. do you prefer to use pen or pencil? I fucking hate writing in pencil.

25. what is your star sign? taurus/aries

26. do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? Crunchy!!!! I only pour a lil cereal in at a time so that it doesn’t get soggy

27. what would you want your legacy to be? That I was kind.

28. do you like reading? What was the last book you read? I’m not a big reader, so again, audiobooks. I just finished Always Look on the Bright Side of Life: A Sortabiography By Eric Idle of Monty Python and I really liked it.

29. how do you show someone you love them? my love leanguage is giving/recieving gifts, so I give a lot of stuff. Like jsut little things, like nice post it notes, or like, by them a coffee or smthn

30. do you like ice in your drinks? depends

31. what are you afraid of? amounting to nothing, that everyone hates me, being a failure, letting my family down. To name a few

32. what is your favorite scent? I realy like floral scents, or good food cooking, or like, pine.

33. do you address older people by their name or surname? If I don’t know them well, it’s title and surname, but I have a lot of middle aged adult friends, so they’re first names always.

34. if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I’d travel the world.

35. do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? I’ve only been in the ocean a few times and I’ve only swam in it twice, but that was to snorkel and my sister and I swam with leopard sharks and it was amazing, but it’s easier to swim in a pool lol

36. what would you do if you found $50 in the ground? If I saw the someone dropped it, I’d give it back, but if not, mine. 

37. have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish? I’ve seen a lot and I wish on all of them.

38. what is one thing you would want to teach your children? To love, to be soft and kind and giving, but to understand when to be hard and put yourself first.

39. if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I have a lot of plans. The first one I get is gonna match with my sister, in memory of a friend of ours.

40. what can you hear now? I’m listening to some music

41. where do you feel the safest? In my room in my apartment. I’m subleasing to a friend rn bc I had to move back in with my parents for quarantine :/

42. what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? My deeply ingrained feelings of not being good enough.

43. if you could travel back to any era, what would it be? I would like to live in the late 60s-early 70s for a bit. See good artists when they were up and coming, go to Woodstock.

44. what is your most used emoji? 🥺

45. describe yourself using one word. cold

46. what do you regret the most? Moving back home, tbh.

47. last movie you saw? I watched Gremlins. I went to the drive in the other day with my sister and we saw The Goonies and Gremlins.

[psychicprincesscreation]

NUANCE

Edit 7 (7/12): I didn't realize I kept breaking the link when I was trying to come up with a good title lol my bad.

Last two titles: "I'm not your bass-slut anymore." (That didn't exactly fit the narrative.)

"Don't fuck your idols. :)"

Since everyone is talking about accountability, let me put it succinctly: I was 22, this was consensual for me, I was a "groupie" who knowingly emotionally cheated on my then-bf with Bassnectar for months, I broke it off & moved out because I expected more from the relationship than I ever got.

As one person on IG stated: I was just a groupie whose fantasy didn't go the way I wanted it to. Lol it's true, but that isn't the whole story.

I know it's easy to focus on how I was "old enough to know better" and the harmful choices that I made, but don't forget that Bassnectar actively pursued me even after finding out about my boyfriend -- I'm sure he wouldn't have had any problem finding a single girl to talk to instead, given his stature.

He offered me concert tickets, plane tickets, money to buy an apartment, he told me to email him as often as possible, he told me to keep everything a secret and to lie to my boyfriend over and over.

He tried to "save" me with controlling advice about eating, sleeping, not partying (ironic, considering that he is a DJ) not pursuing music journalism, not hanging out with any male friends whatsoever, where I "should" work. This was all before we ever met in person.

People don't realize how hard it is to say no to your idols, especially when they are CONSTANTLY offering gifts that I considered very extravagant at my age.

This wasn't a normal affair; I had absolutely nothing to offer Bassnectar but myself, yet he spoke to me like I was a star. He told me we could "go deep" and that he wanted to "mate" with me.

Of course my dumbass young-adult drug-addled mind is going to fall in love with the idea of him.

CONSENT IS NOT DEFINITIVE. I didn't consent to a relationship as two normal people sneaking around. I became a cheating asshole who was misled by a rich & famous liar. I never said what I did was right -- in fact, I made it very clear that I did something wrong, too.

I also said that my story is NOT as bad as the other accusers'. I absolutely do NOT think that I had it worse than anyone else. I think my story is important because it shows that his behavior wasn't limited to people underage.

Hopefully my candor denotes honesty and by admitting my faults in this situation, people can see that Bassnectar's emotional manipulation was real and calculated, and most certainly did not start or end with me.

Side note: Apparently Bassnectar DOES cuddle... I guess he just didn't want to cuddle me that night. Ouch! :)

Edit 6 (7/12): Too many typos to fix so I'm just leaving them now lol. Added detail.

Edit 5 (7/12): Just because I say I'm slutty and I like sluts, doesn't mean every girl/women who was involved with Bassnectar is a slut. I'm just owning that label to change MY narrative for MYSELF. I really don't think there's anything wrong with being slutty -- it's always the rest of the world that has a problem.

I wrote this stream-of-consciousness, so I wanted to mention that sometimes my statements that involve other women may seem brusque, but I'm on the women's side. I mean to convey disdain for the way Bassnectar treated us (as a secret "harem",) rather than jealousy or annoyance toward the women. I hope it comes off that way, but I don't know who is reading this and how some might interpret my words.

Edit 4 (7/10):

Removed names. A story mentioned in this post wasn’t true. Either just a lie (to make someone look bad,) or I don’t remember it properly ‘cause it’s been so long. If it was my fault: my bad. 

Edit 3 (7/7): 

FIXED SOME TYPOS! 

Edit 2 (7/7):

I like sluts. Stop making us feel bad for wanting love *and sex, too. 

Another thought: Bassnectar probably pursued a relationship with me because I had a boyfriend. Therefore, I would be more secretive and would have to take some of the responsibility and guilt in this situation, too. And that is true. I do feel guilty about the lying and sneaking. I think that it was inevitable that I would break up with my then-boyfriend, but it really wasn’t Bassnectar’s place to accelerate the break-up by giving me the impression that Bassnectar would be my boyfriend instead. This wasn’t friendly advice given to me by someone older, this was tactical. It makes me wonder if a lot of girls/women don’t want to come forward because they are afraid that the truth will come out about their own affairs? 

Don’t be afraid to tell your story because women-hating assholes try to dissect and expose your secrets in an attempt to discredit you! Bassnectar is the one who needs to be exposed for HIS indiscretions -- this is about what HE did wrong.  Edit 1 (7/7): 

- Bassnectar told me that he was coming to NYC and because we had an online relationship, I thought that he was coming to see me. My friend told me today that Gov Ball 2013 was the same weekend, so I think he may have actually been in NYC for that reason (I don’t think he was scheduled to play on the flyer,) but I was delusional about it.  - I removed the screenshot of his phone number from the post because I don’t want to violate any doxx rules. I am still willing to compare this phone number with other women/accusers to corroborate our stories. :)  - This is my story told from my perspective. I was an adult and I’m not posting this with the intent of legal action, or revenge (although I do admit that this relationship was devastating and heartbreaking for me.) I just want people to know what kind of person he is. - My story is not as harrowing as some of the other accusers’, but that doesn’t make it invalid. - Even now, reliving everything hurts me and I wish I could say that it was real, but now that I’m older I am wise enough to know that it was all lies. - I stand with the women who Bassnectar has hurt in similar, or worse, ways.  

----

My relationship was short-lived, but it was so eventful for me that I remember it clearly. I'm mentioning many minuscule details because I think that could help prove the validity of other victims' stories.

Writing in bullet points because it's easier for me to sort through the memories. I'm calling him Bassnectar because the "Lorin" I was talking to is someone that I feel hurt and appalled by now.

• I don't have social media/email screenshots because I deactivated my Facebook and Twitter years ago. Bassnectar asked me specifically to delete our emails because his "girlfriend had caught him" and asked me to get rid of the evidence because she was "demolished." (I will go into a bit more detail about that later on.)  • I don’t have a “smoking gun” that skeptics are looking for, but that’s what happens when someone asks you to keep everything a secret and delete everything that shows you were communicating.

----

• This happened in 2013 over many months, plus Bassnectar texted me a few times about once a year after our "relationship" ended. • I was 22 at the time. I'm from NYC and frequently went to clubs, shows, events, and festivals with my then-boyfriend (who I lived with) & the same group of friends. • Bassnectar was one of our favorite artists and we'd seen him perform several times in several states. • My friends had a private Facebook group where we'd tell each other about shows and make arrangements to travel/meet up/stay over each other's places. • I was very interested in music journalism at the time and occasionally wrote show reviews for my friend's online music magazine. • I actively used Twitter. I basically tweeted at every DJ we liked, and always posted reply screenshots in our private Facebook group to share with my friends. • Things became complicated with my then-boyfriend, but we still lived together. We had recently gotten back together around the first time Bassnectar DM'd me on Twitter.

• Bassnectar responded to a Twitter pic I posted of our mini-fridge with a Bassnectar logo sticker and said that he "liked my fridge" or something. • I screenshotted this and posted it in my group because he was the biggest artist who had responded to me at that point. • I thought I could use this as an opportunity to interview him for my friend's mag. • After I already posted the screenshot in my group and had responded to his DM, he sent another message asking me not to screenshot him because he "hates that." • I deleted the screenshot from the friend Facebook group. I stopped screenshotting and sharing our conversations with my FB group immediately after he asked. • I continued to chat with Bassnectar via Twitter and said that I was a big fan of his merch and that I bought several things at all the shows I've attended. • I asked to interview him at some point in the conversation, and he skirted over the request.  • Instead, he gave me his email (bassnectar2012) and asked me to send him merchandise ideas. • I slapped together a few simple, quick ideas on Photoshop or something and sent them to him.

(I don’t know how to embed a picture on Tumblr lol -- will update.)  • You can see that the image I sent is no big deal, and all the files were similar, but he responded as if they were the greatest things he had ever seen. He definitely made me feel special and talented. • We emailed regularly and relatively frequently for days. • Emails are exchanged back-and-forth and eventually I asked to interview him again and he agreed. • I gave him my number and he called me. My then-boyfriend was aware that I was in contact with Bassnectar, with my original intention of interviewing him. • My then-bf was in the room when Bassnectar called me for the first time. • Bassnectar didn't want to be interviewed; he wanted to get to know me. I agreed to just chat at first. • He told me not to call him Bassnectar because that was his "band" and that I should call him Lorin. • At some point he asked if I had a boyfriend and I told him no, even though things were complicated with my then-bf and we were technically together.       > I know I'm going to be chastised for doing this, but I've learned years ago that I made a bad choice. Honestly, I still wanted an interview, and I am well-known for leading with my sexuality. This is when I started becoming deceitful with my then-partner. Simply put, I was just more enticed by the idea of advancing my career, and eventually the allure of potentially being Bassnectar's girlfriend, so lying seemed best. Just because I’m flawed, too, doesn’t mean Bassnectar did nothing wrong. 

• My then-bf confronted me about not saying that we were together. I felt guilty and the next time I spoke to Bassnectar, I confessed that I was back together with my then-boyfriend and I wasn't single. (I don't remember if it was via text or voice call.) • Bassnectar was upset that I lied, but continued to talk to me nonetheless through text and email.

• He made me feel like my writing was profound and touching, and that we were falling in love. • He would tell me that he wanted to "bring me the sun," or "get me a puppy." He said things that were romantic and poetic and I felt heartened to respond to what I thought was love. • He said he had $10,000 in his mattress and he wanted to get me an apartment in NYC, so I didn't have to live with my then-bf anymore. • He would text me before and sometimes immediately after he played shows then say he was going to sleep by like 12am (typically.) It was easy to keep up with where he was playing via social media.  • He offered to fly me to his show in Red Rocks so I could attend. (I didn't accept.)

• He called me from time-to-time and told me not to tell my then-bf who I was speaking to. • One day he had me call a different phone number, which he said was his "home phone." • He told me a story about a beautiful girl named (removed)? Who he had a falling out with because she mentioned that Bassnectar told her that he didn't like Steve Aoki. (I don't remember that story in detail -- I think he was telling me so I wouldn't tell other people when he talked about other artists.) > Edit (7/10): This person messaged me to say that’s not what actually what happened between them. • One day I was speaking to Bassnectar on the phone and didn't answer when my then-bf called on his way home from college classes (I always answered right away.) He asked who I was speaking to and I admitted "Lorin."

• When I called Bassnectar back, he became annoyed that I told the truth and said that I should tell my then-bf that I meant my girlfriend Lauren instead. • I began to sneak around more, lie more often about who I was speaking to on the phone, and texted or emailed Bassnectar almost every single day. • He said we should skip Camp Bisco 2013 and just spend time together. (Obviously anyone who attended Camp Bisco knows that didn't actually happen lol.) • He was flirtatious, charming, and always offered me tickets to events, or sometimes to fly me to where he was. I didn't accept any of this then.

• He told me that I shouldn't do any drugs, not even smoke weed. All of my friends were casually experimenting back then, and I was equally as candid as I am now about everything I did. He told me not to do drugs at his shows, or any shows, and especially not around guy friends. • Me and my friends traveled to see a show in Philly and stayed with friends. When I texted saying I was mostly with guys (my friend group was mostly guys at the time,) he asked if I "felt safe" and offered to get me a hotel. I thought it was unusual because I always felt very protected by my male friends. • He told me that I shouldn't hang out with guy friends, or have guy friends at all. • He told me that guy friends all wanted to sleep with me and I didn't realize it. • He told me I should eat healthier and exercise regularly -- it was very weird and controlling. He just didn’t want me to be myself.  • He told me that he had a girlfriend who had two abortions. I think because we were talking about relationships?  • He told me that he grew up in a hippie commune and was Christian and he questioned his priest and that his mom was a poet laureate. It just seemed like he wanted me to get to know him at the time. • He told me I was co-dependent with my boyfriend and that I needed to become independent and move out. • He told me I should make lists of my life goals as an independent person and email it to him. • He told me not to tell anyone about us talking. I told all of my girl friends, but it was a "girl code" situation and none of the guys or my then-bf knew what was going on. • We talked A LOT and often, but all of this only happened in a matter of months.

• Time passes and our emotional affair eventually becomes physically intimate when he says that he is going to fly to NYC. This is JUNE 2013! He played at Electric Zoo 2013, but that wasn't until Labor Day, so I'm not sure why he really needed to go to NYC, but it definitely wasn't for a show because me and my friends would have been there. > NOTE (7/7): My friend read this and mentioned that Gov Ball 2013 was the weekend before, so there is a good chance that Bassnectar was already in NYC for some reason and didn't actually come to see me personally like I was led to believe. lol.

• He alleged that he would see me again around Labor Day when he came back for EZoo, too.

• I am from Staten Island, and wasn't totally familiar with Manhattan's layout at the time, but I think that the hotel he was staying at was in Midtown. It's been 7 years since this happened, but I tried my damnedest today to figure out exactly which hotel it was -- there are soo many in that area alone.  • If Bassnectar says any of this isn't true, then he's lying because there will definitely be a plane ticket or something with his name on it to NYC in JUNE 2013. > NOTE (7/7): I thought he was there to see me specifically, so the dates he told me was staying in NYC are probably not 100% accurate, but there is definitely some proof somewhere on his end that he came to NYC for whatever reason. The lies he told me are just coverup to make me lose credibility if this ever came out. 

• He said he had a hotel for three days. I think it was a Mon-Wed? I took off work those days so I could see him everyday that he said he would be in NYC. If he has no record of checking into a hotel around the time I'm citing, then his manager probably did it for him. I believe his name is Carlos. (I'm going by the memory of what Bassnectar told me.)

• Bassnectar met me in person at the Staten Island Ferry (Manhattan side) and we walked to Battery Park and sat on a bench and talked. • I felt extremely shy and awkward because I knew that by meeting up in-person, I had given up with my now-ex. The whole thing was conflicting and unfair to so many people, but it was too late now. • Bassnectar frequently complimented me in person. He said things like, he was dying to smell my neck, that he loved my wrists because they were delicate like a bird's frame.  • He said that he felt self-conscious that he would be recognized because he's used to being recognized in crowds. • He would pet and caress me, but didn't try to kiss me in public. • He told me that he got his hair washed at a hair salon and he gave the hair dresser a ($50 or $100?) tip and looked in the window to see her reaction and she was crying because she was so happy.  • He convinced me to go back to his hotel. We took a cab there. It didn't take that long, which is why I'm convinced it was Midtown. He never told me which hotel it was, but I didn't realize it was actually because he didn't want a trail back to him. I guess it worked.

(I'm about to get very detailed about my memories, so trigger warning for making people feel uncomfortable.)

• When we got to his hotel, he became physical with me very quickly, but he said he wouldn't kiss me first. That I had to do it first. So I did. • It progressed into kissing, cuddling, him touching me all over in bed with our clothes on. He dirty-talked a lot. I also remember that he moaned and grunted a lot, and I wasn't used to any of that. • At one point, I untied his hair and let it down and he joked that I was making sure he was really Bassnectar and not his assistant that I was meeting. • He told me about his go-go dancer friend who had fake boobs. I can't remember why. • I remember him kissing me against the wall, and he said something like, I want to fuck you against the wall and hold you up with only my dick. It was way too specific to forget. (It didn't happen, though.) • We inevitably had full-on sex after the on/off touching/kissing/talking. • He said he didn't want to wear a condom at first, but he thought he should. We did, but it felt like a test to see what I would say. • I remember that he wanted me to have an orgasm, and I instructed him which position worked best for me. • He orgasmed by having sex with me from behind and asked me to look back at him. I remember him draping his long hair over my back. How could I forget that? -_- • One of my girl friends texted me ("How are you plants doing?" was our code phrase) to check in and make sure I was okay because she knew where I was. It was monumental for me, so I told her it was great. • I sat on his lap while he looked at his laptop. • We had these deep conversations about life, and love, and the future and it seemed so real to me at the time. • I remember that I told him I was unsure if we could be boyfriend/girlfriend because he was so much older than me (I think he was 35 at the time?) • He told me about about a girl he loved named X who was also around my age. I didn't think it was that weird because I was convinced he still really liked me best, but he probably had so many "Xs" and I was just another one. • At some point, he commented on Facebook (or Twitter?) in response to someone saying he was Illuminati. Honestly, it was like we were two people hanging out because of how normal everything felt after the sexual tension was gone. 

• I remember having dinner with him at the restaurant across the street and talking about wanting to be a writer and he said I CAN'T WRITE ABOUT HIM EVER. (So it wasn't normal after all.)

• I remember, back at the hotel, he asked me perverted questions like, can you show me how you make yourself orgasm? He asked me to just demonstrate on his hand so he knew what to do next time. • I don't remember much more because I wasn't planning to stay. • My other girl friend had a job interview that day and we decided to meet at the ferry to take it home together. • On my way out, he walked me to the elevator and he gave me $50 to take a cab to the ferry and to use for a cab when I came back to see him tomorrow. (For my fellow New Yorkers who doubt this story, no, that wasn't enough fare for both trips, so the amount is definitely the truth lol.)

• I went to see Bassnectar again the next day. When I asked him for the hotel address or name, he wouldn't give it to me directly. He said it was because of people stalking him or something. I don't fucking know but it was obvious confusing bullshit and I think he gave me an address that was about a block away. I think he even said he would tell the cab driver the address over the phone. There was a lot of runaround to avoid saying the exact address. (Now the reason why seems obvious.)  • My details are a bit fuzzy at this point because I remember meeting him outside the hotel and going up together, but I forget why we met outside and why we were both confused about which street the other person was standing on. • We went up to the hotel room, he worked on music on his laptop, while I sat on his lap and read Trainspotting on my Kindle. • He let me listen to what he was working on, but I don't remember it. I just remember that he was working with female vocals. • He told me he had to meet his guy friend in Williamsburg because his friend was making him lobster. Looking back, it was probably another girl.

• I asked to stay because I wanted to spend more time with him. I texted my now-ex-bf (who I still lived with) that I was staying with my friend. • Bassnectar said that normally he would say no, but for some reason he agreed and left me in the room with the room key and all his stuff. He either really trusted me, or really trusted how much control he had over me to leave me with his laptop. • I left at one point to get pizza, and came back. I watched TV, but couldn't sleep. He got back some hours later and he was drunk off wine, but I just wanted to cuddle and sleep. • He jokingly thanked me for not stealing his things. • Apparently Bassnectar DOESN'T cuddle and made that a point, but he did sleep in bed with me for a bit, before moving to the other bed in the middle of the night. (There were two beds in this hotel room.) • For anyone else who had sleepovers with Bassnectar, you know that he sleeps with his own fans for the white noise. So we slept in separate beds with his own personal fans on. It was all very bizarre. • We didn't have sex this day at all.

• The next morning I went to Duane Reade while he was still sleeping so I could get toiletries and shower since the sleepover was impromptu. • He had a meeting with someone (manager?) who was supposedly coming to stay in the room later that evening? (It was probably another girl though? idk)

• When he got back, he made me go over the list of accomplishments and goals he asked me to email to him. • He told me that I shouldn't be worried about finding someone to be in love with and it should be a lower priority on my list. • He told me that I should get a job at a restaurant or American Apparel or something and get a shitty starter apartment with only girls. • He said that finding an apartment that was pet-friendly shouldn't be a priority at all. I had a pet cat so if I moved out, that meant I would have to leave my cat behind, but that didn't matter to him. • He told me that if I wanted a serious boyfriend, I shouldn't let him see my legs or have sex with him for a long time. • When he finished life-coaching me, we watched a movie together. • He chose Spring Breakers because he was supposedly asked to do the musical score for it and turned it down (that's what he told me.) • At one point in the movie, Vanessa Hudgens jokingly gestures to her friends that she's giving a blowjob, and Bassnectar said he "didn't understand why girls sucked dick." • We had sex once more, more quickly than the first time and with much less romance. I can't remember much because I just remember feeling sad about leaving soon and like he was blowing me off suddenly. • We took a shower together after.

• I packed up my stuff and before I left he gave me $1000 in cash without warning and told me I could use it to help put a down payment for an apartment or something, but I should pay him back because it would be "good for me."    > Looking back, when he left for a short while that    morning, it was probably to take out cash to give    me when I left. • He didn't walk me to the elevator this time and he sat on his laptop while I left feeling very cheap, stupid, and crushed.

• Time passes and we talk less and less. I'm heartbroken, but still make moves to find a job and move out of my ex's ASAP. • I email Bassnectar a diatribe saying I'm feeling hurt and abandoned. I say that I felt betrayed that he made me think we were essentially going to be together after I left my boyfriend and it turned out to be all lies. • I'm having lunch with friends when he calls me and is angry saying that he told me what I should do to make my life better and that he can't just give me a job or do anything for me and that I need to do things for myself. • My friends walk over to the car where I'm on the phone and when I say I'm ready to go, he asks who I'm speaking to and I say, "my friends." • He yells at me and asks why I'm talking to him on the phone when my friends are around (he asked if he could call and I said it was okay, I didn't know we were supposed to be alone.) I tell him I will call him back. • I text him and ask to call back and his mood flipped and he's suddenly super kind and apologetic and tells me he just wants me to be independent. He reminds me that I'M the one who told HIM that he was too old for me and we can't be boyfriend and girlfriend. • I am heartbroken all over again, but I move on with my life and move out within the next month or so.

> I actually did get a waitressing job as per his suggestion and saved money from that + the grocery store I already worked at and moved to BK by August 2013. I didn't use the money he gave me at first because I thought it was a reason for us to see each other again, and I was afraid to spend it in case I couldn't earn enough to pay him back by the time I saw him. (I never saw him again, though.) > In case you're wondering, I did spend it eventually when I started to resent him for blowing me off.

• I speak to Bassnectar very rarely, and only via text. He doesn't call anymore, even when I ask. • One day while I'm at work, he sends me a video of a beach he's supposedly vacationing at. • When we DO speak, he asks for nudes, usually. • When I send them, he says he feels guilty since “he has a girlfriend” and that we should stop. • Contact is so infrequent, when we catch up about my life, he gets annoyed if I mention I'm seeing any guys, but I never think he really cares because he stopped caring about me a long time ago. (If he ever did at all.)

• I still tried for months to maintain any kind of relationship with him because I truly thought we had something special, but he was always too busy for me. It fucking sucked because he was always in the back of my mind now that I was *~independent~* like he said he wanted me to be so many times.

• One random day when I was too busy to chat with him, I remember he actually DID call me because he said he lost a sound file and wanted me to record myself saying "I really like it." A few times to use on a track. I guess I took too long to get back bc 15 mins later, he texted to say he got it from someone else. I couldn't do it anyway because I was dealing with some other personal stuff. I forgot about it soon after. • I didn't listen to the album NSVB for a long time after it came out bc I was still hurt, but when I did.... I heard that fucking sound bite in whatever song it's on (I really don't care to know) and it fucked me up. • I was conflicted thinking, shit, did I blow my last chance for "us" ? I was still hung up on this asshole as if he were just some ex because of that emotional manipulation. • Would that have solidified what we supposedly had? Or would that have just been another way he used me? I began to resent him.

• Fast forward a few months and I'm drunk with my girl friend at home and text Bassnectar for the lols. I say that I should ask him for tickets to BASSLIGHTS 2013 in VA to make up for him being such an asshole. • Surprisingly he agrees on the condition that I only go with girl friends, don't do any drugs, and say that the Tix are left for me because I interviewed him. (Don't forget that no interview ever happened!)

• Before Basslights, he texts me and even asks me what songs he should play and I don't realize he's just stringing me along. Presumably it was just another plot to hook up. • Before we leave for VA, my friend who is driving admits that one of her OTHER friends secretly knows Bassnectar so we might be able to get into some party or backstage. Sooooo I guess she was another one of his "harem" that he was having a secret relationship with. (I don't mean anything negative towards that girl/woman, just that Bassnectar probably saw us this way and was playing *at least* the two of us at this time.) • My friends and I drive from NYC to VA and miss Bassnectar's set the first night because we arrived late, but the Tix were waiting for me at the box office. • If you get Bassnectar's guest list for Basslights 2013, my real name is on there. I'm sure a lot of other girls he manipulated are on there, too. • Bassnectar texts me and asks what I think of the show and I say I missed it. • He says he was thinking of me a lot during the show. • He texts me saying I should let him "vroom vroom in my girl power." Obviously he's alluding to sex, and I show the text to the friend who was at my place when I asked him for the Tix. He won't send a cab to get me at my hotel when I say sure, though, because he "has a girlfriend" again and he would feel bad. Maybe he was annoyed that I missed his set, maybe he picked someone else, maybe he actually was with his gf? Whatever. • I told him I didn't feel comfortable texting like that anymore because he said he had a gf. • He tells me I'm a good person.

• I am so hurt that I don't answer his texts at all anymore. • We go to Basslights night 2 and I get suuuuper fucked up with my friends (because fuck him) and have an awesome time and disassociate Bassnectar from his controlling bullshit. • I ignore him all the way back to NYC and just text to say I'm home. • He sends me an URGENT text saying that his gf suddenly found out about his gross infidelity and begs me to please delete all of our emails and texts. • I'm stupid and kind and fucking over him so I do it. He knew I would because he knew I was too nice of a person not to. • Bye bye evidence, though. :(  I regret deleting those emails even now because I knew this misconduct shit would come out eventually with him.

• LOTS OF TIME PASSES. Now and again, Bassnectar would text me just to say what's up and I'd barely respond. This only happened approximately once a year. • I'm pretty sure this was just to make sure he was on my good side and there wasn't a chance that I was going to expose him. • I think the last time he texted me first was all the way back in 2016.

• The last few times we spoke were when he had a cancer scare and I texted to say sorry. • When I went to Moonrise Festival, I asked if we could meet and he blew me off. It's been so long, I didn't really expect him to say yes, but it was worth a try. • When me and my friends went to Electric Zoo and he closed, I texted him saying that we couldn't hear well from where we stood and left early. I think he was offended because he replied saying that no one else complained. • The last time I spoke to him, I knew he was playing at an event near me and asked for tickets again so I could see him and he said he would be with his girlfriend. It was a one-off thing and I thought it was worth the try. •There were no cordial conversations in-between the times I contacted him at all. Just me being lonely and single and still hanging on to this idyllic version of him that never fucking existed in the first place. 

• I'm much older now and I know that a lot of this happened because of choices I made, but I was 22, starstruck, in a confusing relationship, partying, and desperate for an ethereal love that I sought in that music scene.

• I bet Bassnectar specifically targeted girls like me because (at least in my case) I was depressed, pumped full of mind-altering chemicals, pretty, and lonely. He acted like I was a unique, artistic, lost soul and he made me believe that he was the only one who could save me.

• At 22, you don't realize that a man 13+ years older than you shouldn't be asking you to keep your conversations a secret from everyone, asking you for nudes, asking you to lie to/break up with your boyfriend, inviting you to hotels, offering you gifts, and straight up giving you cash that you didn't ask for.

• But that man DEFINITELY knows he's doing something wrong, otherwise he wouldn't be sharing that hush money with you, or asking you to hide and delete everything.

• Because he would text me once in a while saying something like, "You cross my mind all the time," it would be enough for me to hang on to this hope that *maybe* there was still a chance. I couldn't see that it was just another manipulation tactic that worked well on me because I was still feeling the effect of the emotional annihilation from so long ago. :(

• I loathe how he made me feel for so long and it breaks my heart to know that there are so many other girls who were taken advantage of in worse ways by this egotistical LIAR in his position of power. Seriously, Bassnectar, fuck you.

ALSO: not sure if this was his burner phone or what, but here are the last two digits of the # he always contacted me with (sent in the DM). If any other victims want to corroborate by comparing numbers... Let me know.

(I REMOVED THE SCREENSHOT OF THE PHONE NUMBER IN CASE IT VIOLATES ANY DOX RULES, BUT I CAN SEND IT TO YOU DIRECTLY IF YOU ARE CONTACT WITH ME!) :)

---

[your-hurricane]

neon moon || chapter 1 - broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times

A/N:  Disclaimer, I haven’t written fanfic since I was fourteen so please be gentle with me, friends

AO3 link

Fair warning that the only editing this has gone through has been proofreading!

Also, the first two chapters are largely exposition and setting up the various connections between Frankie and the MC (Natalia), but they will finally get to meet in chapter three!

Neon Moon summary: [starts three years after the events of the movie]

Single dad Francisco "Frankie" Morales and former Ph.D candidate Natalia Yevstigneyev-Diaz are trying their best. 

Alternatively: Frankie and the woman about to change his life keep missing each other, until they don't.

“Whoo-wee! Nice one, Diaz!” Benny said from where he’d just been knocked onto his back atop the sparring mats. 

 At her instructor’s praise, Natalia Diaz preened, making a show of taking her long dark wavy-curls out of her workout ponytail and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, always happy to hear my badassery is increasing.”

 “I’d say perfecting. That was solid.”

 “Yeah, haven’t seen him go down that unexpectedly probably ever,” piped up a man with big, kind brown eyes whose name Natalia swore was Frankie. She’d only ever heard him called by his real name once or twice --- Benny usually greeted him as Fish.

 If Frankie was here, that meant the rest of Benny Miller’s military buddies would be trickling into the gym. Pity they seemed to be on time today— flipping Benny was fun, maybe he’d’ve given her a window to do it again. Sometimes if his buddies ran late he’d keep sparring with her past the self-defense session she’d paid for. 

 “It’s thanks to him and his lessons! Wouldn’t know where to begin without him.” Natalia hi-fived Benny from where he was on the floor, now sitting. “Thanks as always, Benny. See you Friday afternoon?”

 “Hell yeah!”

 “Awesome. Well, I’ll get out of your hair before the rest of the guys show up. Later Benny!” She nodded politely to Frankie just as she spotted the man she knew to be Benny’s older brother and...Pope? Santiago? again, she’d only run into these men in passing.

  ~.*~.*~.*~.*

Natalia Diaz’s early life read like an adventure, and in many ways, it had been. Her mother, Anna Diaz, was a first generation Mexican-American of Spanish, Mixtec, and Chinese background who met her father, then in medical school, while studying abroad in Russia. Her father, Gavril Yevstigneyev, was from Yakutsk of mixed Russian, Yakut, and Chuvash background. He was a doctor who gave up the possibility of an ultra-lucrative career to spend most of his life working as a medical officer in human rights organizations, and she was a research assistant in those same organizations.

 Born while her father was practicing in St. Petersburg, Natalia Gavrilovna Yevstigneyeva Diaz didn’t spend too long in one place. She may have been a dual citizen of the United States and Russia but she didn’t set foot in the United States until she was twelve years old, and her earliest concept of ‘home’ was Pakse, Laos. She was educated at international schools across Southeast Asia, and spoke Lao, Khmer, and Vietnamese in daily life depending on where the Yevstigneyev family was living, Russian at home, learned English and French at school, and her mother taught her enough Spanish to understand her abuela’s English-Spanish mix on birthday and Christmas phone calls.

 When it came time to graduate from secondary school - she graduated in Laos, ultimately  - she even applied to universities across Laos, Canada, Cambodia, France, The United States, Switzerland, China, Singapore, Australia, and Russia. At her parents’ insistence she cast her net far and wide. Except, with twenty-two acceptance letters and zero rejections, she almost wished she hadn’t.

 She studied at McGill University and through a combination of scholarships, her parents’ help, and her “waitressing” job (stripping job actually, and Natalia was damn proud of it and the crazy money it made, but knew her parents would flip out on her so she lied), she earned her B.A.s in linguistics with a minor in translation and interpretation, and anthropology.

 She had her pick of the litter as far as where she could settle post-grad: her dual citizenship made the US and Russia wide open to her, Canadian employers were offering to keep her in Canada, her parents still lived in Laos - six years in one place? That was a record for her folks! - and the NGO they were working for straight up offered her a job without her even sending an application. 

 There wasn’t a grad school on planet Earth that would’ve rejected her application.

 Natalia’s life should have been set forever. For a while, it was.

 After a gap year traveling Bhutan, Thailand, Indonesia, Mongolia, and completing the Trans-Siberian railway with her younger sister Mariya, who took a gap year between secondary school and university herself, Natalia prepared to conquer grad school….at motherfucking Yale!

 That same year, her parents and younger siblings (save Mariya who was studying at Yakutsk State University in their father’s home Russian Republic of Yakutia) moved to her mother’s home state of Texas. A part of Natalia felt bad for her eleven year old sister and the three year old twins out of some sense that her upbringing had been, objectively, the best possible. Natalia did not feel Russian, or Mexican, or American, or Laotian, or Cambodian, or Vietnamese, nor did she feel the need to. Borders were an arbitrary thing. People were people just with different languages, looks, and customs, and she believed she came to know that truth early in life because of her childhood as a third culture kid. 

 She understood why her parents made that decision though.

 In her first year of grad school, the Yevstigneyev Diaz siblings were twenty-two year old Natalia, nineteen-year-old Mariya, eleven-year-old Valentina, and two-year-old Alisa and her twin brother, the only boy in the family, Pavel. Alisa had been born partially deaf and their parents, as if they could react any other way, saw it not as a terrible thing to mourn over but as an opportunity to learn. A challenge did not equal a burden in their eyes. When she was two, however, they realized they needed to either move back to Russia or move to the United States.

 The Yevstigneyevs primarily worked and lived in Vietnam and Laos, and there was no singular Laotian or Vietnamese sign language, rather, localized sign languages. As Alisa grew from an infant to a toddler they decided they did not want to deprive her of Deaf culture, and thus, the decision to move to Texas was made.

 Just two years after relocating to Texas, tragedy struck the family.

 A car speeding through a red light killed Anna and Gavril on the way home from volunteering their time to teach Russian classes at the local Russian cultural center. Natalia, then twenty-four years old with a newly minted Masters from Yale and acceptances to three Ph.D programs, had to force out emails declining the offers, pack up her apartment, and move to Texas to raise her siblings.

 Abuela Rita instinctively offered to handle her grandchildren, but Natalia couldn’t possibly make her abuela (who she barely knew at that) raise three children again. Besides, her mother’s youngest sister still lived at home, and this was the same year Hurricane Harvey destroyed one of her uncle’s homes and he, his wife, and their children were also living in Abuela’s home...yeah, no. No, this had to be Natalia.

 It was Natalia or the state of Texas and like hell she was going to throw her three little siblings, two of them just four, and one of them deaf,  into the system. Alisa being able to communicate in ASL was so important to her parents...how could Natalia possibly let Alisa go into a system that wouldn’t care?

 And anyway, it wasn’t so bad. She used her fluency in Russian, Lao, Khmer, and French to work as a book translator. She’d even gone back to dancing four days a week for two reasons. A. You’d think speaking five languages fluently would mean she was making an assload of money, right? Wrong. and B. The inheritance and life insurance policies from her parents wouldn’t last forever and she had four college educations to finance. 

That was three years ago, and two and a half years before she started taking self-defense classes from Benny Miller. She’d only been working at an Austin strip club for about four months when one handsy patron reminded her that she needed a refresher on how to throw a punch.

 As for why she was Natalia Diaz now and not Natalia Yevstigneyeva? Well. She was still Natalia Yevstigneyeva-Diaz, but unless she was filling out legal papers, or at the Russian cultural center, it was just Diaz. Her mother’s last name was just easier for Austinites to pronounce right. You had to be at least a level six friend to unlock her tragic backstory and her full last name.

 Natalia had had everything going for her until one drunk driver took her parents, her Ph.D goals, her planned return to traveling the world, and even her name in one instant. 

 She wished she had it in her to be bitter but that would require her to have time to think about herself anymore. If it wasn’t taking ASL classes with Alisa, it was listening to Mariya complain about her job. If it wasn’t Valentina’s archery competitions, it was Pavel’s gymnastics meets. 

 (Yes, yes, she knew. How stereotypically Russian of them to have a kid in competitive gymnastics. It wasn’t her idea! Pavel loved it and when he begged his big sister to be allowed more than one class a week...she dared anybody to say no to that face.)

Any Natalia time she did have was too precious to spend being bitter, she decided.

   ~.*~.*~.*~.*

“Natasha! Nataaaaaaaasha….NATASHA!” 

 “Wha!” Thud! “Fuck. Oww.”

 Natalia groaned from where she’d fallen into a startled pile on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling and turned her head to shoot a glare at Mariya.

 “Marusya, one day, you’re going to scare me awake to actual death.”

 “That’s impossible.” Valentina said from where she sat at the dining table typing up a paper for school. “If you’re scared to literal death you can’t be scared awake because you’ll be dead. Dead people can’t be awake.”

 “Unless she’s a zombie, Valya!” Shouted Pavel from his room down the hall.

 “Pasha’s got a point.” Mariya said, to which Natalia grabbed her foot and yanked hard, making her shriek as she fell against the couch. “Oof. Anyway, you’re going to be late for work if you don’t hurry up.”

 Natalia checked her watch and let out a swear under her breath. “I really need to not spar with Benny on work nights. Hey, Valya-” she sat up on the floor and whirled around to face her middle sister. “Do I need to drop you off for babysitting anywhere tonight?”

 Valentina shook her head. “Abuela’s picking me up to take me to Mr. Morales’. I’m watching Daniela.” Mr. Morales - whoever that was - lived near Abuela and her taking Valentina to his house gave her some ‘Valone time’ she liked to say.

 Natalia peeled herself off the floor and made her way to her bedroom, stopping by Alisa’s on the way. She grabbed the purple narwhal plushie that lived in a little basket attached to her door - the Get Alisa’s Attention Narwhal - and gently tossed it at Alisa, and when it landed in her lap Alisa tossed it back to Natalia, kept her hands free, and said “I didn’t forget.”

 “Good. If you’re good at the dentist tomorrow morning, I’ll buy you ice cream after.”

 “Isn’t that the opposite of what you should do after the dentist?”

 “So you don’t want ice cream?” “That’s not what I said!”

 Natalia laughed and stepped far enough into Alisa’s room to ruffle her hair and then said, “Be good. Masha’s in charge while I’m at work.”

  ~.*~.*~.*~.*

 “Thought you were day shift on Wednesdays, Natasha!” A black woman with her hair in box braids — Jess, stage name Phoenix — said, throwing her arm around Natalia when she first got to work. 

 “Nah, I talked to Paris, got my hours changed around, remember? Gosh, it’s like you don’t remember everything I ever say to you.” 

 Jess stuck her tongue out and muttered, “Bitch,” before smooching Natalia’s cheek.

 Natalia shoved Jess off of her with a giggle. “Go finish getting ready, ya crazy.” She sat down in front of one of the available mirrors to touch up her makeup before she was officially working, then addressed Jess again. “My 11-8 days are now Sunday and Monday. Wednesday, Saturday, I’m here with you 8 til 4, baybeeeee.”

 “Mm, good call. Wine Wednesday.”

 Half price wine meant more cash for dancers. 

 “Needs more body glitter,” Natalia said in her best Christopher Walken impression, before unscrewing the cap of her body glitter to shiny herself up. 

 “Now in your Zoya voice!”

 “Needs more body glitter,” Natalia repeated, this time, in her stage persona’s stronger Russian accent.

 The accent helped to further distinguish between Zoya the performer and who Natalia was offstage. It also wasn’t exactly offensive, either, because it was just Natalia exaggerating the accent she naturally had and just making it consistently Russian. It was a mess otherwise. Natalia and Mariya...talked funny. Their accents were kind of impossible to place because of how they learned English and which languages they first learned to actually speak in.

 At first listen, their international school education would hint at American- ish . But listen closely and certain vowels come out like an Aussie or a Canadian, courtesy of international school teachers from those countries. Listen for another moment and you’ll hear that Natalia’s tongue, specifically, never learned to consistently make certain sounds that English has that Russian, Lao, Vietnamese and Khmer just don’t. Natalia’s H’s came out harsh courtesy of her Russian father. And both Natalia and Mariya had a habit of dropping articles when telling their younger siblings to ‘close window’ or ‘feed dog and cat.’

For the most part, as Natalia tried to explain to anybody who asked about her accent, English was a language for the classroom. They spoke exclusively Russian in the home and out in ‘the wild’ spoke the local language. Yakutsk was a closer flight from Laos, Cambodia, or Vietnam than Austin was so if they visited any grandparents for Christmas it was their babushka and dedushka in Russia.

 Returning to the US permanently never was the plan, remember. It was only a decision they made for Alisa to live somewhere with a standard sign language -- and the only reason, Anna confessed to Natalia once, that they didn’t go back to Russia, was because Natalia had recently come out as bisexual.

  “We worried for Valya and the twins. What if they also grow up and realize they aren’t straight? The way it is in Russia for people like you...your father and I love Russia more than the United States. But we love our kids more than Russia.”

 She hated how vivid that conversation was in her head. There were some truly beautiful moments with her mother that had already faded from memory. How unfair of her brain to let things like holidays, birthdays, and her mother’s hugs slip. 

“Drive home safe, Jess.” Natalia bid her friend farewell a little after four the next morning, kissing her on the cheek before she unlocked her own car. If she got up to 70 and stayed there, she’d be home in time to count her tips, shower, and fix breakfast for the kiddos before school and in Alisa’s case, the dentist.

~.*~.*~.*~.*

 “Stand still Pasha,” Natalia said as she gently bopped the seat of her baby brother’s pants to knock the glitter off them. “Your butt looks like a glitter cannon exploded right next to it.”

 Pavel giggled and pointed out, “It’s your fault there’s always glitter in your bed.”

 “You shouldn’t lay down in my bed for naps after I’ve woken you up for school anyway. Especially not after you’ve already got your clothes on, you dingus.”

 “ Heeeey, that’s mean!” Pavel pouted.

 “Not if I’m saying it with love. Which I am.” Natalia stood up and pressed a kiss to the top of her brother’s head. “Okay, your butt’s as unsparkly as it's gonna get.”

 “I don’t see what wrong with having a sparkly butt anyway.” Pavel grumbled.

 “Now run along to the bus stop with the other kids. Be good at school, learn lots, I love you kid.”

 “Love you too , Natashe-!” the -nka! came muffled as Pavel had darted out the door to run down to the bus stop. 

 Natalia sipped on her coffee and watched out the window as her brother darted across the field to the complex’s mailbox pavilion to make sure he joined the other children safely. Satisfied he had, she turned away from the window to trudge back to the kitchen and refill her coffee and begin her vanilla work for the day before she had to wake Alisa for the dentist. On today’s docket? Trying to get through editing at least the first third of her Russian translation of the next book in the hottest new YA series.

 There was nothing Natalia wanted more than a nap but she was already cutting her deadline close. Right on schedule was the same as being behind in the literary translation world. If she wasn’t so ahead of schedule she was getting bored then she was nearing panic mode. 

 Logically she knew that only she felt that way. Her boss didn’t, or at least never felt the need to express to her that he did, but just herself was enough to put the pressure on from beginning to end of a project.

 It had benefited her in school. Not so much in her career.

 A life in academia as a linguistics scholar and researcher would have suited her better. The universe didn’t consider that when it let a drunk driver kill her parents and leave her three siblings to raise and Mariya’s academic dreams to finance.

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound Chapter 8

As it turned out, you would not be dashing off on a dangerous quest as the valiant hero determined to save Alternia. Not yet, anyways.

However, you would be helping to prepare for Tyzias’s mission that is planned for tomorrow, which has your blood pumping as the teal whips out a map of Thrashthrust, with one smaller area circled in red marker, and slaps it down in the middle of the carpet you’re all gathered around.

“This is Her Imperial Condescension’s Drone Factory of the General Thrashthrust Area,” Tyzias begins. “In about thirty hours, all drones in the city will report back to the factory in four waves for about one hour each to upload new information to the government’s databases. Information like this includes individuals who are at risk of being culled, cellular data that’s been used to track people as they go about their night, and most importantly, if there’s any signs of rebellion. The drones will also be undergoing their regular maintenance checks.”

Daraya reaches over and taps a claw to the area circled in red. “While there are a few trolls there to make sure everything’s running smoothly, the uploading of data and maintenance checks are done by computers. What we want is to get into those computers and wipe out the data. Bonus points if we can wreck the computers, too.”

“That kind of technology won’t just be out in the open for anybody to get into, much less the information needed to actually access the good stuff,” Mallek says, tapping the pad of his pointer finger to his other fist. He’s tense, and for a good reason.

“We won’t be doing any hacking this time. Maybe if we had more time in between waves, but…” Stelsa shakes her head. “No, we’re going to have to take a more… crude approach.”

Tagora smiles and drums his claws against his knees. “The factory’s heavily protected against things like solar flares, but only from the outside. If something like, say, a massive electromagnetic pulse were to go off inside…”

Mallek raises a brow. “You have electro-bombs?”

“For legal reasons, no. For other reasons… just don’t ask me anything about any bombs, please.”

You grin at Tagora. “Hell yes, Gor-Gor.”

“Hell no, Gor-Gor,” Tirona begs, tugging on his sleeve.

“Try and stop me, you little gremlin.”

Tirona groans dramatically and flops back on the loungeplank with her hands over her face.

You’re absolutely amazed at how much your friends have changed since you disappeared. Who could have thought that Tagora Gorjek, of all people, would join up with a whole-ass rebellion? Or Stelsa, for that matter? Even Tirona seems resigned to the fact that she’s going to end up involved whether she likes it or not.

“So how are we getting the bombs in there?” Wanshi chirps.

“Orginally, I had a plan that consisted of people sneaking in and out of the buildings between waves. Different drones go to different buildings for their business. Now, we have a much easier and quicker way of doing the whole thing.” Tyzias nods to you.

“We understand if you still need more time to recover, though,” Daraya adds quickly.

You meet her gaze without hesitation. “I’m ready.”

This is why I’m here, kiddo. For your future, for all of our futures, for this planet. I just wish I could tell you that.

“... Wait. Before we go any further, there’s something you said earlier that everybody seems to be overlooking. Something very important.”

You turn to Lanque and are surprised by how intensely he’s looking at you. Dark green eyes glint sharply through his bangs.

“What’s up?” you offer.

“When you explained to us what happened to you, you said that you had come back to Alternia, but… in the future. If you went to the future, then you must know how this all turns out,” Lanque states matter-of-factly.

Your heart sinks.

“Believe me, you’re not the only one who’s been thinking about that,” Tyzias growls before you can try to defend yourself. “But the thing is, we can’t know.”

Watching the realization hit your friends is like watching a car accident. You wince as Tagora, Tirona, and Stelsa glare at you furiously. Wanshi and Karako look confused, and then nervous.

“And why not?” Stelsa demands.

Thankfully, Daraya chucks her pen at Lanque with a hiss. “Because, you morons! If we know the wrong things, we could screw up everything! If they tell us we win, we might slack off at the wrong times and get ourselves killed. If we lose, then what’s stopping you from just giving up?”

“I don’t like not knowing things,” Tagora says coldly.

“Tough!”

Lanque grimaces. “This is definitely not where I meant to go with this. I was just hoping for a few words of reassurance from our dear friend that they actually have a plan to help us succeed.”

“And I do!” you promise desperately, shooting to your feet. “Look, I know it’s crazy of me to ask you guys to trust me with something like this, especially since I’ve been gone so long. But in…” You pause to do some quick math. “In seven nights I’m supposed to report back to my friends in the future. If we all work together, then we will be able to do this with the least amount of casualties, in the least amount of time.”

“Can we trust these friends of yours?” Tyzias asks.

“Yes. I wish I could tell you more, but…” you trail off, at a loss for words.

“This is barnacles,” Tirona whispers to Wanshi.

“The thing is, y’all don’t have a choice. They can time-travel. They can provide your rebellion with critical information about what to do next. Like it or not, they are your key to victory,” Mallek snaps, pointing to you with one sharp claw. “If you guys wanna keep whining about them trying to protect the stability of the timeline or whatever then that’s your fuckin’ problem. I trust them to do the right thing no matter what, and so should you.”

You want to hug him again. “Thank you, Mallek.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Adalov’s right. With all the shit they’ve been through, I think they’re more than capable of doing this for us,” Lanque agrees.

There’s a moment of tense silence. You’re nauseous again for an entirely different reason.

“... Fine. I mean… yes. You’re right,” Tagora finally admits, trying to not quail under the vicious stares of Daraya and Tyzias. He glances over at you a little remorsefully, and then sits back down besides Stelsa without another word. Stelsa nods, surprisingly quiet for once. Tirona gives you the peace sign and also keeps her mouth shut.

“I won’t let you guys down. That, I promise you,” you tell them.

“Then let’s go already,” Lanque sighs.

“Oh, yeah… uh, where are they?”

“I had them commissioned from a… special artist,” Tagora admits. “An indigo acquaintance of my kismesis.”

“Oh, worm? You and Galekh are official?” you gasp.

“Yes, yes we are. Now don’t go spreading my business around to just anybody! Anyways, his name is Bovois. After I pay him he will most likely try to kill me.”

“I… yeah, I don’t know why that took me off guard. Continue.”

Tagora smiles thinly. “The plan is simple. Bovois and I complete the transaction, I thank him for his time and walk away. He is a wealthy man and will therefore have somebody do the dirty work once I leave his property. I will be… relying on a few choice trolls to help me make sure they don’t succeed.”

“Or I could just teleport you out of there,” you protest.

“And have him call the drones on us once he sees you? I think not.”

You know he’s right, and it pisses you off. “Fine. I’m still coming, though. Just in case.”

“If you insist,” he says, but you can tell he’s happy you want to go with him. “Lanque and Stelsa will be the backup.”

“I’m taking Wanshi and Karako back to the caverns for afternoon classes. Call me with the results,” Daraya orders as she shoos the kids back towards the elevator.

“I’m taking back our brat, too.” Tyzias opts to just sling a squealing Tirona over her shoulder as she marches past Daraya.

“But I’m strong! I can beat up anybody!” Wanshi argues.

“Honk!” Karako makes his displeasure known with a few low notes deep in his throat, which sounds like somebody playing a rusty trumpet.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on, Bronya’s already gonna kill me for bringing you two outside, anyways.”

“I know how to walk, Tyzias!” Tirona shrieks.

“Stop screaming in my ear, you short f--”

The chaos is shut off when the elevator doors slide shut. You decide right then and there that you’re never going to have kids of your own.

“Tegiri’s missing out on all the fun,” you tell Tagora.

“Tegiri can shove his sword where the moons don’t shine.” He looks over at Lanque and Stelsa. “I hope you two have been brushing up on your fighting skills, because it’s about to get messy.”

You feel something cool brush against your wrist, and you take Mallek’s hand in your own. He’s looking down at you with big blue eyes that say stay.

It’s too much, and you look down at the sign on his hoodie. “I’ll come back soon.”

“... Promise?”

“Always.”

:::

The four of you take the omniscuttlecar-- no, the omniscuttle… the bus. You take the fucking bus to the highblood part of Thrashthrust.

Somehow you guys find an empty car so that nobody sees your alien ass, but even then you stick close to your friends. You take the chance to catch up with Stelsa, who chats animatedly about a case she just won, which is super cool except you know nothing about Alternian law, so you just smile and nod as she goes on about some legislation invented to protect lowbloods except it really doesn’t. Tagora and Lanque launch into a passionate conversation about different high-brand clothes, which delights you until they turn and start making fun of you and Stelsa.

“Okay, okay! But at least my hair isn’t greasy!” Stelsa yells at Tagora.

“How dare you. I’ll have you know all of my hair products are the highest quality a teal can afford in this economy--”

“Economy? Bitch, that’s just caste oppression,” you shoot back.

He pauses for a second. “Shit. Maybe you’re right. It’s a shame about your pores, though.”

“Gor-Gor, I’m homeless, why would my pores be a priority.”

“Your hair is a little greasy,” Lanque snickers.

“It is not! That’s just hair gel--”

“At least Stelsa and I have asses,” you cut in.

Both Lanque and Tagora turn to you, looking so damn offended Stelsa starts cackling and almost falls out of her seat.

“That was low,” Tagora hisses.

“Yeah, I get low every time I do squats. That’s why I have an ass.”

The boys definitely would have taken turns destroying your life after that, but you’re literally saved by the bell when the speakers above you chime, letting you know you guys reached your destination. You feel the bus slow and your heartbeat speed up.

All at once, the fun drains out of the air like water down the drain. You all look at each other before Tagora gets up, pulls the door open, and marches down the collapsable stairs with his head held high. You’re not fooled, though. Tagora Gorjek is afraid, as he rightfully should be, and he’d rather die than admit it.

You fall in close behind him, with Stelsa and Lanque fanning out on either side. It’s easy to see why they were chosen for this mission-- both of them are big and strong.

“Never took you for the fighting type,” you tell Lanque as you walk down a road that leads to a fancy neighborhood. Each property is so large each hive is no bigger than a pencil eraser on the horizon. The place reeks of privilege.

He winks. “It’s called being well-rounded, darling.”

“Where’d you learn?”

“Let’s just say growing up in the caverns isn’t kind to those who… don’t become what people expect you to become.”

You’re not sure what to make of that, but he doesn’t say anything else on the matter, and you don’t push him. Right now, there’s bigger fish to fry.

Tagora leads you around a curve in the road and stops before the first path on Shatterbone Avenue. Charming. It leads up to an absolutely massive hive that makes Vriska’s castle look like a treehouse. Elegantly pointed spires reach up into the cloudy sky like they’re trying to spear the stars themselves, and buttresses line all the outside walls that you can see. The yard’s just as magnificent, with a lavish garden and an assortment of trees and shrubbery lining the property.  

It’s beautiful, but just looking at it makes you feel lonely. How could one person possibly live alone like this, much less grow up in it?

“... Huh,” you say instead of voicing your thoughts.

“Indeed.” Tagora swallows and takes a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.”

“We’ll be ready,” you promise him.

He nods stiffly before striding up the path. You, Stelsa, and Lanque slip into the cover of some dense shrub-thing. You’re glad this neighborhood is so spaced out, because if somebody saw some weird pale creature, a teal, and a jade all trying to hide in a bush the drones would be on you like Zebruh trying to get a date.

Through the brush, you see Tagora knock on the door three times and wait. It’s a solid twenty seconds before anybody answers, which you think is a little rude, but whatever.

You become a little less worried about social etiquette when Galekh’s indigo friend steps out to greet Tagora. The dude is fucking massive, with horns that twist around to the front like a bull’s, and with muscles like one, too. Tagora’s always been a little small, but standing in front of this absolute unit he didn’t look to be much more than a wiggler.

“Holy fuck,” you mumble. “Who let that thing out of the caverns?���

“Wasn’t me,” Lanque whispers back.

“Ssh!” Stelsa hisses.

The two start talking after Tagora bows to him. Bovois’s body language looks friendly enough, but from this distance it’s hard to tell. That, and troll body language is way different than human body language.

“Bovois is about to go get the bombs,” Lanque murmurs in your ear.

You shiver a little and tell yourself it’s because your friend is about to be attacked. “You can hear them from here?”

“Can’t you?”

“No.”

Stelsa flicks the both of you upside the head, and you wince. That was gonna bruise.

Sure enough, Bovois disappears back inside the hive for a moment before bringing out an innocent-looking black bag. Tagora opens it and looks inside. Apparently what he wants is in there, because he steps back to clasp Bovois’s huge hand.

“Are they shaking on it or is Gorjek getting his arm ripped off?” Lanque mutters.

“Pfft.”

Without fanfare, it’s over. Tagora bows again and strides off down the path, slinging the backpack over his shoulders. The door closes behind him and takes Bovois with it.

You hold your breath as Tagora nears the end of the walkway, turns, and looks around.

Nobody else is there. Nothing happens.

Stelsa and Lanque look at each other, then at you, and then you all look out at Tagora before carefully emerging back on to the road. Something stabs you in the thigh, and you grunt as you yank out the offending thorn to rub at the irritated area. Lanque brushes off a dead leaf on his sleeve with a look of disgust.

Without a word, the four of you start power walking back down to the neighborhood entrance. Nobody’s running, except you because you have short-ass legs. Just a small group of friends who got turned around and ended up in a highblood area. Nothing to see here, folks.

The walk to the entrance is the shortest and longest of your life. Somehow, all of you make it there, and no other troll in sight. The bus stop is just down the street, and a scuttlebuggy drives by with the bass turned all the way up.

“... Huh,” you say again.

“You’re gonna give me white hair, Gor-Gor,” Stelsa scolds.

Tagora makes a face. “Well--”

Annoyingly enough, it’s Lanque’s crazy good ears that save your asses when a dark blur comes flying around the corner with knives drawn. Tagora gets knocked out of the way just in time for the jade to take the full impact of the attack.

Stelsa screeches with fury as Lanque and the attacker go horns-over-heels into a tree and flings herself into the fray. You stare in horror as Lanque snarls and bites the shit out of his assailant’s forearm, only to get a knife to the shoulder. Stelsa grabs the attacker and flings them back into the tree with a solid thud. The new troll has to be tough as shit, because they just dodge out of the way when Stelsa goes in for the kill. They’re smaller but insanely fast, and before you can so much as blink they’re lunging for Tagora.

A scream builds in your throat, and then--

Lanque hooks his claws into their side, takes them to the ground just as you skid to a stop in front of Tagora. The two flip around in the turf, clawing at each other and screaming like mountain lions. There’s green and teal blood everywhere. It’s on fangs and hands and clothes and all over the blue-gray grass. Stelsa jumps back in, is slashed across the face, and almost gets stabbed, leaning back just in time to get cut across the nose.

Seeing trolls fight is terrifying to watch, but when they really get into it, it’s like watching wild animals try and kill each other.

The attacker finally kicks Lanque off them and whips around to slam their knee into Stelsa’s stomach. The teal goes down with a ragged wheeze, gray face going white. Lanque doesn’t even get the chance to get back up again before there’s a knife going for his gut.

You don’t even think about it, you just act. With a speed you didn’t think a human could have, you charge and ram into the assassin’s side as hard as you possibly can.

The ground and the sky switch places several times before you’re flat on your back. A million miles away, Tagora is screaming something. A shiny point of a silver blade comes down towards your chest.

You brace for impact.

It never comes.

Two huge yellow eyes are staring down at you, pupils blown out in shock. The rest of their face is hidden by their hood and a mask, but even before it’s ripped off by a shaking hand you know who this troll is. You’re not winded but there’s no air in your lungs.

“Polypa?!”

[lovemesomesurveys]

How have you been feeling lately? Have you been doing ok? Ehhh, ya know how it is.

Are you currently in quarantine? I mean, places have started to open up again and so many people are out living life like nothing and I’m just like....what. Towards the end of last month was the first time I left the house in 3 months and I haven’t left since, almost a month later. I’m definitely still quarantining. We’re still very much in the thick of this thing, it hasn’t gone anywhere and won’t for a long time. Don’t let the fact that places are opening up again fool you.

Do you wear a mask when you go to the store? I absolutely would if I ever went anywhere. And actually, masks are mandatory in California.

Does your state require people to wear masks in stores? ^^^^

Do you know anyone who’s had the coronavirus? A family friend had it a few months ago. She thankfully is fine.

What was the last sweet treat you ate? A couple spoonfuls of frosting lmao. That’s been my go-to treat lately.

Was it a nice day out today? It’s supposed to be 100F today... 

Is the weather nice where you live usually? Uh, most people would probably say that because most like warm, sunny weather. I’m not one of those people. 

What was the last thing you ordered online? A book.

Are you expecting a package right now? Aforementioned book.

Have you ever ordered anything from Wish? If so, what did you buy, and did you feel it was worth it? Nope. 

Are you a youtuber? If so, are you consistent with uploads? and how many subscribers do you have? Noooo. 

What is one thing you hate about summer? The heat!

Did you go outside today? It’s only 6:30AM, but no I won’t be going outside today.

What is the name of your youtube channel, if you have one? I have a YouTube account so I can subscribe and leave comments if I wish, but I don’t make videos.

What was the name of the last store or restaurant that overcharged you? Hmm. I don’t recall.

Is your room more often messy or clean? It’s a little disorganized at the moment. :/

Who is someone you miss? Loved ones who have passed away.

What is something you miss? I want to go to the beach and to the movies again. 

Do you feel like your emotions are often haywire? Yes.

Have you ever received a misdiagnosis from a doctor? Yes.

Have you ever been “diagnosed” with a mental illness from an online friend? who is not a doctor? If yes, isn’t that frustrating? No, I haven’t. 

Do you have any friends that you can trust and tell everything to? Like I always say, you guys honestly know the most.

What was the name of your favorite roommate you’ve had? I’ve never had a roommate. 

Do you have a favorite book that you’ve read multiple times? I’ve never reread a book, actually. I’ve talked about this before, but I just can’t do that for some reason. I can rewatch movies and TV shows, but not reread a book. I guess with the first two it doesn’t require my attention. If it’s something I’ve seen, I don’t have to pay as close attention to it. I can kind of tune in and out or have it on in the background. With a book, that requires your attention. And if I’ve already read it, I know what happens, and I guess it doesn’t hold my attention the same way? Or it’s harder to hold my attention, I guess. But then TV shows and movies, I do like rewatching because I discover things I didn’t the first time and things make sense that didn’t before, ya know? I’m sure that would happen with books, too, so I don’t knowww. It’s hard to explain, man.

What’s one book or book series that you’ve read multiple times?

What was the name of the funniest kid you’ve ever babysat? I’ve only babysat my younger brother and a couple of my cousins when they were kids. 

Do you enjoy babysitting? No.

Do you have any big regrets? Yep, plenty.

Are there things about your past that bother you? A lot of things.

What was the last thing you saw or read on social media that made you angry? There’s a lot to be angry about right now.

Do you often post about controversial topics on facebook? Nooo. I really never do. 

Do you think it’s a good idea to post about serious topics on social media? or do you think that it’s better to discuss serious topics in person? There’s a lot of benefits to doing that. Like, you’re able to reach a larger audience and spread information quicker. For some it’s easier to discuss things like that in that way instead of verbally or in person. There’s drawbacks, too. Misinformation is often easily spread. Things get misconstrued and interpreted wrong. Tone doesn’t come across the same. And some things shouldn’t be aired out for all to see and should be discussed in private. It really just depends.

What was your favorite book you had to read for school? A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley.

Have you ever failed a class and had to repeat it? I had to retake a math course once while at community college.

What class in school did you hate the most? M a t h.

Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? Yeah, when I was a kid. I loved playing school.

What’s one childhood dream that has stuck with you, and one that has not? Hmm. Well, I definitely no longer want to be a teacher.

Would you want to re-live your childhood over again if you could? Absolutely. Take me baaaack.

Which do you like more: being an adult or being a kid? I really miss being a kid. This adult thing sucks.

At what age were you when you started to feel like you were mature enough to offer others advice? I wasn’t at all qualified to be giving advice when I was like 12, but there I was. I actually spent a lot of time on the AOL kid and teen message boards and there was a section to discuss things like mental health and struggles people were going through. I used to comment on those posts and chat with people giving out advice that I somehow had at that age. Or I guess thought I had. People came to me advice. My friends always did, too. I was the go-to friend for advice or to just lend an ear. 

Did your parents smoke or drink when you were growing up? My dad enjoys his beer, and every once in awhile something stronger, but that’s it. My mom will have a drink or two every once in a great while.

Do you enjoy bonfires? Yesss. 

Have you ever stepped on a sparkler? No.

What, do you know of, are you allergic to? Tangerines. Super random, I know.

Have you ever ridden in an ambulence? Yes.

What is your favorite version of the Bible to read, if applicable? NIV. 

Do you follow trends? or are you a trendsetter? I’m no trendsetter. I’m not much of a trend follower, either. I just like what I like and do what I want. 

Has anyone ever described you as a trendsetter? No.

Do you know anyone who used to be loving, but then turned cold? List three people you’ve known whom this has happened to. I feel like I kind of have these past few years. :X I’m not a heartless, non-loving person, but I just feel like I’ve been hardened. I’m guarded. I’m hurt. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m so irritable and moody all the time. I’ve pushed everyone away. I’ve been distant and withdrawn and closed off. I feel I’ve been very selfish, too. I haven’t been there for others like I used to be and should be. I’m not social. So yeah, in those ways I do feel like I’ve turned cold.

What SAT subjects, if any, did you get a perfect score in? I never took the SATs. 

What were your best subjects in school? and what was your favorite subject in school? English.

Have you ever been abused by a parent or legal guardian? No.

Do you have a lot of wounds from your past? Yes.

Has anyone ever called you a jerk? I’m sure my former friends had a lot of choice words for me.

Are you a jerk? I don’t think I’m a jerk. But for the reasons I listed a few questions up I don’t feel I’ve been very nice. 

What color were your bedroom walls in high school? My walls have always been white.

Is there a girl or guy you wish you hadn’t let slip away? Yes, Ty. :/

Is there an old friend that you miss and would like to reconnect with? I miss them, but reconnecting now wouldn’t be right. I’m still not in the place to do so. I can’t give the attention and focus and energy to that right now.

Who has hurt you the most? Myself.

Have you been bullied? No. The only person who has been mean to me and put me down is myself. 

Which talent show, if any, would you most like to audition for? and have you auditioned for one? I have no talent. 

Do you know anyone who’s auditioned for American Idol? Nope.

Is there someone you think should audition that hasn’t yet? No.

What time of day do you usually feel your best? I haven’t felt my best in a very long time, but I like the time of day when I have my first cup of coffee and in the middle of the night when I’m doing surveys and listening to ASMR. 

What’s one way in which you’ve changed within the last ten years? Oh, man. I’ve changed a lot and not in a good way. 

Do you feel like time goes by fast, or slow? It’s weird. In the moment, day by day, it feels super slow. Some days it literally feels like the time froze or is moving extra slowly. But then before I know it, another week has gone by. Another month. Another year. Like, we’re already almost done with June and it feels like it just started. The past few months have felt that way to me. But then at the same time 2020 has felt like 84 years???

Who do you know who has died of cancer? No one, thankfully.

Has there been cancer in your family? Yes.

Have you ever stayed overnight in a hospital, and if so, what for? Yeah. I’ve had to stay months in the hospital after surgical procedures.

Have you ever been a victim of police misconduct? No.

Have you ever been so angry you wanted to sue someone? Uh, no. I’m angry with you, so I’m gonna sue! lol.

Have you ever been a victim of racism? I’ve never felt that, no. 

Have you ever deleted a friend on facebook for making racist comments? No, I haven’t had anyone on my Facebook make such comments.

What was the last thing you ate? Ramen. Surprise, surprise. 

What was the theme of your senior prom? I actually don’t remember.

Did you go to prom? I did.

Have ever been engaged or married? Nope.

Are you an aunt or uncle? No.

Do you live to glorify God and to do His will? Yes. 

Are you happy with the way you are living your life day-to-day right now? Absolutely not.

Do you feel like your life was better or worse six years ago? Wow, 2014. It was so different. I was in college and I wasn’t dealing with some of the health stuff I’m dealing with now. I’ve always struggled with depression, but I wasn’t in the low place then that I’ve been in the last few years. I actually had friends back then, too. I didn’t let myself go and neglect myself at that time. 

Have you ever made a huge, catastrophic mistake? It sure feels that way to me.

Do you feel like you are currently in a state of suffering? and that not all of your basic needs are being met? If so, how long have you been in a state of suffering? My basic needs, such as food, water, shelter, and clothing, are met. I’m very fortunate in that way. 

Do you hate social injustice? >> Nah, I love it. It’s just great. It’s the best thing ever– <<< Right?? What a dumb question.

Are you happy with the current social class you are in? Like I said, I have food and clothing and a roof over my head. I have the necessities. I also am able to have a lot of things that I don’t necessarily need, but just want and enjoy. That’s not to say that my family and I don’t have financial stressors, but we’re doing fine. 

Life isn’t fair. True or false? It’s not always what we think of as fair. It’s also subjective. What’s fair or unfair to one, isn’t to another. 

Do you hate that life is so unfair? There are definitely a lot of things that I don’t feel are fair and yeah, it sucks.

Name a few people who seem to have everything handed to them. I don’t really know anyone like that, personally.

Who do you go to when you’re upset? No one, usually.

Do you pray less or more than you did 5 years ago? Five years ago I didn’t pray at all.

Do you pray a lot? No. :/ That’s something I really want to work on.

Do you frequently have back pain? Yes, I have chronic pain.

What’s the worst side effect you’ve experienced for a medication? and what’s the worst withdrawal effect you’ve experienced from a medicine? I haven’t liked the way the anti-depressants I’ve tried made me feel. I also didn’t feel they were working, so it wasn’t worth it to me to continue taking them. Perhaps I just didn’t find the right one for me, but I’ve been afraid about trying more. I also worry about getting on and then eventually getting off them. I’ve heard about withdraw side effects like brain zaps and that doesn’t sound pleasant. I was fortunate that I hadn’t experienced that from the ones I was on. On another note, I have been on vicodin for several years for pain management and that would definitely cause ugly withdrawal symptoms. 

Have you ever used an epi pen? No.

What’s a name that you like but probably wouldn’t use for one of your kids? I don’t even plan on having kids, so.

What’s you name, and do you like it? Stephanie. Yeah, it suits me fine. 

Would you prefer to give your kids common names or unique names?

Do you feel like anybody values you in the way that you deserve? I don’t value myself, so I don’t feel I deserve to be valued.

Who have you felt the most valued by? I know my family does.

Have you ever been treated like you were inferior? Yes.

What was the name of the biggest bully in your high school? If there was one, I didn’t know. High school for me wasn’t at all like how it’s portrayed in movies. There wasn’t the snobby popular girl or clique that walked around campus and owned the school. There were popular kids, sure, but it wasn’t like that. And there also wasn’t the big bully who went around stuffing kids in trash cans or lockers or knocking their books down or something. I can’t say no one was bullied, but again it wasn’t like how it’s shown in movies and TV shows.

Do you ever sleep outside? No.

How many siblings do you have? Two.

Are you the oldest, youngest, middle, or only child? I’m the middle kid.

How many kids do you want to have? Zero.

Do you want to get married? No.

Best date you’ve been on? Coffee shop and bookstore dates with Ty.

Dream date? Beach/boardwalk and Disneyland.

Ever kissed someone on New Year’s? Nope.

Have you ever had an experience so good you felt like you were flying? When I had too much of an edible.

Have you ever been in so much pain you prayed that you would die? Yes.

What brings you the most joy? My doggo.

What is your passion; what is it that would bring you the most joy and fulfillment in life? I don’t know. 

Have you ever laid your dreams aside because someone else wanted you to? No.

Who supports you in everything you do? My family.

Who always tries to stop you whenever you try to go after your dreams? No one. The only thing that has stopped me and got in my way is me. And my health. 

Do you believe in following your heart, in going after your dreams? Yes. If you have dreams and a passion, you absolutely should go after them. 

Do you wish other people would want you to be happy? Other people do want me to be happy. It’s my brain that doesn’t.

Do you wish you had someone who loved and supported you? I do.

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 27

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Errors (trying to stay awake to switch to night shifts), pain, detailed violence, quite nasty hints, angst, fluff, sadness, basically everything horrible you can imagine. A/N: You’ll find the previous chapters through my masterlist. Lots of love for liking and reblogging!!

27 - Kick Ass and chew Bubble Gum

It’s a tension at the back of your knees. It’s muscles itching to work overtime – fight or flight. It’s a sour taste at the back of your mouth at the point where no amount of water can wash it away. Still it doesn’t matter because what you’re doing, your mission of sorts, is going to be worth everything.

It’s taken much too long to get to this point where your walking up the dusty lane towards an inconspicuous house in the outskirt of…where’s this again? Somewhere in Sierra Leone. You had known, memorized the town’s name as well as anything else. Memorized the plan. Now, however, it’s replaced by a memory of something that hasn’t even happened yet, making your skin crawl as cold shivers run down the spine. Red sand clings to the boots (much too warm for the temperature). Like blood.

“Something nice…” you mumble, grasping at a flicker spark of joy before it’s swallowed, “…something nice…”

Red like fiery hair. And suddenly, it’s possible to recognize the blue of the sky in the teasing sparkle of a pair of grey eyes capable of looking into your very soul, making you feel safe and at home. The churning lead in your guts lessens. Now you can let the shoulders sink and even look up towards the goal: a heavy door painted green behind which Rumlow waits.

 …   Rumlow   …

Every single note and stick-figure drawing Brock has received from [Y/N] is kept in a tin as evidence. At first her replies had been brief, hesitant in the wording and quite confrontational…but that was to be expected. She has still to admit her feelings for him, but it’s obvious as the communication extends how she recognizes the true nature of the Avengers. Why spend resources on catching someone, when they are willing to come on their own.

Brock isn’t a fool. Far from. There’s always the risk of a double-cross, his own plan mirrored to out him or more of Hydra. And regardless of the reasoning for [Y/N] to come today, she will have to be processed and vetted before he will allow himself to trust her. But it will be much easier this time.

Watching the screen, the ex boyfriend sees the hesitation melt away from the figure to be replaced with resolution. Come to me, baby. All the other screens show…nothing. No, would-be heroes. No pesky Mister Rogers with a shield and the American flag so far up his ass that he can’t relax. No red-head traitor. All alone? It’s hard to believe, so Brock doesn’t, flicking a switch instead that light a tiny, orange diode in the two free-rooms, as the team have started calling the scan-blocking basement sections. On your marks.

There’s a muted sound of footsteps outside preceding the knocking on the door. Twice, a pause, and once. Good girl.

He’s smiling as he unlocks and pulls the door aside just a crack to see the nervousness on [Y/N]’s face, but it’s not enough to drown the stubborn set of the jaw or the air of…excitement? Eager to come home?

“What’s a girl like ya doin’ in a place like this…?” Such a cliché, but it rolls off Brock’s tongue with a neat drawl.

The hint of an eyeroll also hints at times passed. “Girl’s just wanna have fun. Nice decoy to free me up from ‘em.”

Them. Not Natasha or Steve or whatever. “Only the best for ya, as always.” She has said the password but hesitates to enter when Brock opens the door fully. “C’m’on in, babe.”

“How long we got?”

“They’re smart, but th’ain’t that smart…I’ll guess an hour.” There’s a tickle of something he can’t place in the woman’s smile. “The cool air’s escaping, get it.”

Like in a dream, she really does step over the threshold, carefully keeping a bit of distance between them. I should’ve expected that. It still gnaws inside Brock, tugs at the side of him that needs the bitch to understand, to accept her place. But he bites it back. All the anger and possessiveness is shoved deep down somewhere dark because he knows he’ll bring her to her senses. Soon.

Brock casts a brief glance to a screen out of the girl’s view showing a mix of live feeds from local and global news stations, a few of them covering the draught and the lack of safe drinking water while the majority heralds the wedding of some celebrity. No breaking news. It’s not typical of the Avengers to work quietly, especially not if the glorified tin can is flying around blasting rock music. Well…at least one of those idiots has style. Haven’t they taken the bait?

“All alone?” There’s an air of something studied mixing with the playful tone. “I’d half begun to think I was –“

“Shut up.” Thankfully, [Y/N] does as told, body ripe with fear to the point where he almost can smell it. “Why’re ya here? Really?”

“Really?” Perfect confusion. Innocence. “’Cause we’re not over yet, Brock.”

Something beeps from the console of screens and the hydra agent is about to turn to see what has caused the alarm to go off when [Y/N] reaches for him. Such a simple gesture, still it sparks an old habit in the man and he takes the hand in his for a long second – one he would wish could last forever. But he has to let go, hand slightly sticky from her sweaty touch. Another alarm begins, and he can hear the sound of the agents in the free-rooms banging on the doors though an oceans rush in his head. The world sways, unfocused. What the fuck? Oh, yeah, there comes the sea sickness even if he hasn’t felt it since he was a kid.

“You know,” [Y/N] softly whispers from far away into his ear, “when I said we’re not over…” She has a stronger grip than expect on his arm and shoulder, somehow forcing him on his knees. “I should’ve said I’m not done with you, Rumlow.”

The world might be reduced to a stormy sea, but he can still feel the nauseating pain as the shoulder dislocates. I’ve had…worse. That much is true. It’s not even the pain, really, making him sick to the stomach, rather the knowledge of what [Y/N] wants to get even for.

“[Y/N],” he slurs, the tongue too thick in the mouth, “I-I-I…lllo’ ya…” That lands his face pressed onto the dirty floor at an uncomfortable angle. She’s…holding my ass…

“No, Rumlow, you don’t love.” There’s a sound of metal against metal. “Let me demonstrate what you do.”

 …   Romanoff   …

“Damn, sweetie…”

Even Nat is impressed, and slightly grossed out, at the creativity her girlfriend has shown. So much so, she almost feels sorry for Rumlow who’s passed out on the floor in a sticky pool of almost every bodily liquid of his own. Well if almost means not at all.

Sam had taken one look and then gone outside to hurl, and even Thor looks shocked. “My lady, your enemies will surely know not to stir your wrath from this day forth.”

“My track record with coping mechanisms isn’t great…so…” Tony can’t look at it either, but at least he hasn’t lost the bad humour. “Let me know if’t works, ‘kay?”

“Oh, it feels very…cathartic…” [Y/N] looks at the guy with a distanced calmed.

Too calm. Cathartic or not, this will undoubtedly have consequences both legally and emotionally for Rumlow’s former prisoner. None of it can be explained away as self defense. It can’t be by the time the person is face down, ass up, and the metal sheathed where the sun don’t shine.

“I’m gonna take her to the quinjet, you guys stabilize him and see if he can talk…ever…”

And so Natasha leaves the men behind, steering a dazed woman by the arm across the uneven terrain through a patch of dried out shrubs behind which the plane is waiting.

Once onboard, she observes the mechanic reactions as [Y/N] complies with every order without uttering a single word. Come back to me, baby. The former assassin can only hope that the words reach far enough, somehow breaking through the shell her girlfriend’s mind has build in record time to prevent any of the grotesque happenings from settling. Eventually the good advice of reason are spent, leaving nothing behind but an insufferable ache.

You were doing so well, why did I let you go? “I’m sorry, love,” Nat whispers hoarsely, fingers stroking the blank face, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been here. It’s my fault, please come back. You can get through this too, alright?”

On and on, the pleas dripple out similar to a hushed prayer that knows no end. The tears falling aren’t [Y/N]’s this time because for once Natasha can’t be the strong one. Kneeling before [Y/N], she wraps her arms around the living statue’s waist and buries the face in the heat of the soft breasts where she can hear the heartbeat. Slow and steady as opposed to Nat’s own that beats so frantically, she couldn’t hold her hands still if she tried.

Some things change the very foundation of a person.

In the Red Room, the girls were taught not to show mercy, to follow orders unblinkingly even if it meant the death of an other. Though the first fatalities weren’t at the students’ own hands, they knew what the consequences were once they forced another child to give up or be flunked. The changed had already started. By the time a girl graduated, became an adult though never a woman, the transformation was completed. It was expected. A flinch. A faint taste of regret in the dark of night. Nothing more.

Outside the Red Room, for people growing up in normal lives, only a low percentage of people are prepared for the Graduation, and most of those never have to complete the change themselves. For the lucky ones, violence and unnatural death will not become a habit of theirs.

[Y/N] had been one of the lucky ones until the day Hydra captured her, placing her at the mercy of Rumlow. Her change had been forced upon her, nearly killing her in the process. Perhaps Natasha, the team, even the victim herself had been fools for thinking she would be alright and the metamorphosis never would be complete. My fault. Today had been Graduation, and the ex-Russian brought the student to the test.

“Shhh,” gentle and soothing against red hair, “It’s okay, Tash, I’m here…it’ll be okay.” Gentle fingers cart through the fiery strands, nails scraping against the scalp in a calm rhythm. “I know what I did…I’ll never do it again.”

They’re both crying as they lock gazes.

“Do you know that?” Be honest. “Have you seen it?”

“This is the first time you ask me what I’ve seen.” The smile is gentle and almost reaches the [Y/E/C] eyes. “I have to continue therapy, but yeah…never again.” Soft lips kiss the salty water away from the upturned face. “I’m all yours now.”

 …   Reader   …

Of course the clock isn’t ticking. After ages of therapy, you should be used to that…instead it makes the silence way heavier than strictly necessary. Or maybe it’s because this session is so important? Double session, actually. Pinching your brows, you manage to divert the attention from the missing tick-tock to the bit of dirt under a nail as you wait for the team consisting of a psychiatrist and a psychologist to ask the question they want to. It’s silly really. Anyone can rehearse an answer fitting with the “need”.

“So, how are you feeling, [Y/N]?” one of them final begins, glasses dangling from between to fingers and a pen in the other hand.

You take a moment, do a mini body scan. “Right now I’m nervous…” They both nod at your answer. “Generally speaking…pretty good. Still get the odd nightmare where it’s like I’m back.”

“Back?”

“M-hm.”

They want you to define the term, but it’s fun to see them try to be correct and direct at the same time. “To when Rumlow first held you against your will or…?”

“Or when I took revenge? Both.” You give them time to scribble ferociously before continuing, “I don’t think there’s some specific reason it’s one situation instead of the other…not always at least. And the technique to guide myself away from the nightmare is beginning to work a bit.”

The glasses are pulled down again, so the Psychologist can look at you directly. “Is there a difference in the intensity?”

“No. Both…events were horrible. For different reasons, sure, but horrible. What I did…” Both doctors hold their breaths as you ponder your words. “There’s an explanation for it…but no excuse. I know that.”

With all the nodding they’re doing, it seems only fair if they get a kink in the neck eventually. Sometimes the bobble-heads ask more questions, about the house arrest in the tower or your relationship with the Avengers. They never once get into specific about Natasha and you, although it’s there like some elephant in the room. Even professionals can have issues.

By the time the two hours are up, you’ve got them smiling genuinely. Perhaps, maybe, if you’re lucky…will they clear you?

…

“Who sends letters nowadays?” Tony scoffs, dumping a big, brown envelope on the newspaper you’re reading.

Justice Department! It’s damn near impossible to tear open the thick paper because your hands a shaking so much, and when you finally do, the words barely make any sense, so you don’t protest when the genius billionaire snags it out of your hands.

It feels like forever, longer than the months you’ve waited to hear what the psychiatrist’s and psychologist’s decision is, before Tony finally looks up. “Jarvis!”

“Yes, sir.”

You can’t read his face, allowing the nerves to run amok. “Call the team, Pepper, and Happy.”

“May I inquire as to the occasion?”

“Yeah.” Finally, his face splits into a huge smile. “We’re gonna celebrate.”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “The Aftermath”

Summary: Y/N has to deal with the aftermath of the incident in the server room, and not only does she have to worry about losing Elliot’s trust, but she has to navigate through the dirty layers of what it means to be a “Wall Street darling.”

Story Summary,  “The Server Room, Part I”,  “The Server Room, Part II”  “The Long Weekend, Part I”,  “The Long Weekend, Part II”

Word Count: 5300

Tags: @sherlollydramoine  @rami-malek-trash  @teamwolf2411  @limabein   @txmel  @hopplessdreamer  @ouatlovr  @backoftheroomandnotbelonging  @alottanothing  @moon-stars-soul  @free-rami

If you want added, let me know.

A/N: HUGE thanks to @alottanothing for helping me through this chapter. I couldn’t have done it without her cheerleading and feedback 💕

It took an extra coat of concealer to cover up the purple under my eyes from not sleeping at all, and to top off not sleeping, my beauty blender broke, the top tearing off just as I finished a light blend of my foundation. I threw it in the trash, hoping it wasn’t an omen for how the day was going to go.  

The train ride into work served as nothing more than calisthenicsfor my mind. I replayed my plan over and over again and tried to predict as many outcomes as I could before I found myself swiping my badge to get into CIStech.

I was early and not even Jayne was there yet to set a meeting with Miles, so I headed into the server room and performed a few more patches on the OS. Other than that, everything seemed to be operating as normal. Looking around the room, it was like nothing had ever happened. Once again, I found myself thinking about how absurd life is, just how complicated it can become in a single moment.

Speaking of complicated, things with Elliot were now permanently complicated. We had definitely moved from work-friends to friends, and then there was that kiss on the rooftop. The one I initiated after lecturing Elliot about waiting to know if what he felt was real—if I was this confused, I couldn’t imagine what he was feeling.

I shook my head and tried to tamp down the series of questions running through my mind—nothing could be answered until I dealt with the aftermath of the server room. When I asked Elliot to kiss me during the fireworks, this was why—today, everything would change. I just didn’t know if it would be for the better, the worse, or like most things, somewhere in between.

As I made my way back to my office, I startled Jayne who was just settling into her desk.

“Good morning!” she said, her eyes wide, her voice pitched high.

“Sorry to scare you,” I began as I gave her a quick smile. “I need you to set a meeting with Miles—his earliest convenience. Then, I need a meeting set with Colin and JaLeah as soon as they walk in the door.

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.”

I sighed as I entered my office, my thoughts returning to Elliot. I thought about the way he looked in that server room, how scared and confused. I thought about the way he acquiesced and just let me take care of him—the way he seemed so desperate to know someone cared. I thought about the way his hair felt as I ran my fingers through it when we were stoned. I thought about the feeling of his lips on mine. And I thought about the way I felt so lonely once he was gone.

I pulled out my lime green sticky notes, and I quickly scrawled, No matter what happens today, I still owe you a night that ends with making s’mores :)

I walked out and slid it under Elliot’s keyboard so just the edge was peeking out.

An hour went by as I checked my email and compiled the data I knew I’d need for my meeting. Franco had sent his bill, so I printed it out for Miles’ approval before it went to accounting.

The office came to life as the early morning waned; although I hadn’t forgotten about what was ahead, I did enter a zone of deep concentration. When Colin and JaLeah walked into my office and shut the door, my stomach dropped as reality immediately sharpened back into focus.  

“What the hell happened, Y/N?” Colin demanded, his hands shoved in his pockets while his eyes drilled into mine.

“Take a seat. Both of you. I was hoping Miles would be here so I’d only have to tell this story once.”

“It would’ve been nice to have known something before I got bombarded in the elevator by half of my team.”

“I’m sorry, Colin. I didn’t see any reason to alert you over the weekend because I took care of the damage.”

“Damage?’ JaLeah asked, her eyebrow raised.

I pushed back from my desk and walked over to the round table. Instead of joining them, I stood and leaned onto the chair in front of me, my sweaty palms resting on the edges.  

“A few of the white hats thought it would be easier to lock Elliot in the server room than actually do their job and fix the holes he kept finding.”

JaLeah’s eyes widened and Colin’s fingers began to drum on the table.

“While Elliot was locked in, four towers were damaged. I came in yesterday and set up four new servers, so everything is up and running smoothly. It’s like nothing ever happened, minus the bill for new servers.”

“Howwere the servers damaged?” Colin asked, even though it was clear he already knew the answer.

I was quiet for a few seconds, wishing JaLeah was in charge of the white hats because she didn’t an aversion to Elliot, unlike Colin.

“Elliot had a bad reaction to being locked up,” I said, keeping my voice even.

“You call smashing four towers to bits with his fists a ‘bad reaction’?”

“They weren’t smashed ‘to bits.’” I said, my fingers clutching at the top of the chair while I fought to keep my voice even.

“What the fuck is it with you and this guy?” Colin said, pushing back from the desk, his leg bouncing as his agitation grew.

“He needs fired. Now!”

“Fired because he got bullied at work? Do you watch the news, Colin? That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,” I said, knowing Elliot would never put himself at the mercy of the legal system, but also knowing I could use this angle to help save his job.

“That’s what happens when you hire an anti-social freak who’s probably a part of some underground hacking ring!” Colin yelled, his face reddening.

I pushed off the chair and rounded on Colin.

“Elliot is not a freak, and once again you’re proving yourself to be a real jerk.”

“I don’t give a shit, Y/N. I’m tired of listening to my team complain about him. We never had this problem before.”

“And since we put Elliot on the team, how many tech issues, you know the ones we get paid to fix, have we had thanks to his automation scripts, huh? Did you forget my job is to track all of that? I just presented those numbers to you last week or were you too busy shoving your own head up your ass to listen?”

“Don’t you talk to me like that, Y/N. You may have your job because of who your father is, but I earnedthis position after years of doing good work.”

“Go ahead! Start proving my incompetence, Colin, since I’m only here because of my last name,” I said, gesturing at the chair behind my desk. “Sit down. Give it a whirl!”

“I don’t want your job, Y/N,” Colin said, finally taking his eyes off my face. “I just don’t want unnecessary stress because one person can’t play nice.”

JaLeah, who had been watching our confrontation with a cool, steady gaze, spoke up.

“Who locked Elliot in?”

“Aaron, Julia, Maurice, Corey, and Ali are the ones who signed out the latest, at the same time, mind you, on Friday night,” I said, careful to hide the fact I had more information, careful to preserve Elliot’s trust I had worked to gain.

Colin immediately asked, “So that’s it? You walk into a destroyed server room—”

“Damaged. Not destroyed—”

“And that’s all Alderson tells you? He got locked in? I call bullshit. No way the guy didn’t rat out who did it.”

“Fill me in, then, because you sure as hell seem to know a lot considering you weren’t there,” I bit back.

“What doyou know, Colin?” JaLeah said, her interruption reminding Colin and me we were in a professional setting, not a back alley gearing up to throw fists.

Colin huffed and rolled his eyes.

“I talked to Corey—it was just a bit of hazing. They were going to go back in a few hours and let him out, but he was gone—”

“Bullshit. No one else entered the building until I came back on Monday.”

Colin shrugged his shoulders, “They knew he’d gotten out.”

“Five adults locked another adult in a secure room, knowing there was no way out! Elliot didn’t have his phone or his badge on him and I guarantee they made sure of that.”

“What did they do—steal them?” Colin asked, a chuckle in his voice.

“You’re a fucking bully,” I said, my temper rising again.

“And you’re spoiled—just another Wall Street darling,” Colin spat.

“Colin, you are out of line,” JaLeah said just as the intercom buzzed and Jayne’s voice interrupted.

“Mr. Hanson is here to see you, Y/N.”

I moved to my desk and answered, Miles entering even before I even pulled my finger from the button on the intercom.  

“What’s going on?” Miles asked as the door closed behind him. “You assured me it was nothing you couldn’t handle, Y/N.”

I gestured to the table for him to have a seat as JaLeah rose and said, “I should get back to supervising my teams since none of them were involved, right?”

I nodded and we were all quiet as JaLeah walked out.

Miles’ bright green eyes flicked between the two of us and settled on me. He plopped his phone on the table and waited, his perfectly manicured nails not yet drumming, but clearly itching to.

Miles was no-nonsense and valued numbers far more than people; in other words, he was just the sort of corporate guy that would one day rise to the top. His main concern was keeping his reputation spotless so nothing would serve as an impediment to his climb.

“There was an incident on Friday,” I began as I shot Colin a warning glance. He knew he couldn’t play his little game in front of Miles because it would publicly call out that Miles may have promoted me because of my father. It took a long time, but I had myself pretty convinced Miles hired me because of my abilities. But at times, especially at times like this, I couldn’t ignore the niggling reminder that I knew it wasn’t wholly true. All I could do was my best work to remind everyone I was deserving—yes, I was born lucky, but I worked hard to be deserving.  

Miles kept his eyes fixed on mine as I sighed and took a seat at the table. I recounted every detail of Friday night, up until the part where I took Elliot home.

“So, an employee destroying company property is what this boils down to,” Miles said in his matter-of-fact tone.

“I think the circumstance warrants some pretty heavy merit, Miles.”

“Colin?”

“I expressed my distrust of Elliot on the day Y/N hired him—I just knew something was off. I knew something like this would happen.”

“I don’t deal in feelings, woulds, or coulds. I only deal in facts,” Miles said, giving Colin a pointed look.

“The fact is,” I said, “Elliot was a victim of workplace harassment. Events like this are taken seriously now.”

Miles gave me a measured look before nodding his head.

“What do you suggest, Y/N?”

“Colin and I conduct a formal investigation into the events surrounding what happened in the server room on Friday night. When the guilty parties are found, we fire them.”

“Oh, no way!” Colin interjected, his voice panicked. “Elliot Alderson should be fired. The others should get letters of reprimand in their file for unbegetting conduct in the workplace or something like that. Theydidn’t destroy company property!”

“The last time I checked, Colin, you didn’t have the authority to fire anyone.”

“You’re impossible, Y/N. You’ve turned this Alderson kid into some sort of charity case.”

“Charity? The fact he outperforms every single member of your white hat team has nothing to do with it, right? I am an expert in data analysis in case you’ve forgotten,” I said as I stood up and grabbed a file off of my desk.

I spread out the charts I had used at our meeting and focused on the parts I had revisited this morning to highlight Elliot’s performance. Elliot’s numbers spoke to his brilliance behind the screen, his outperformance of his teammates clear.

Miles looked over the charts, his eyes scanning every piece of information.

“Is this when Alderson was hired?” Miles asked, pointing to a date.

“Yes.”

“Impressive. Not only has our overall performance in prevention increased, but it looks the flaws in our security network have decreased by 32% since his hiring. Do you really think that can be ignored, Colin?”

Colin’s mouth was drawn into the tiniest line I had ever seen. I was pretty sure his lips had become a part of his face, completely absorbed into the skin surrounding his mouth.

He settled for a headshake no.

“I’m not going to spend any more time on this. Y/N, I want you to compile a job performance chart like this for each of the other employees in question. Set an example of them, but make sure it’s one that impacts CIStech the least. Any questions?”

“How is this fair? She could make those numbers show anything she wants!”

“And why would she manipulate data, Colin? Is there a shortage of cybersecurity engineers in New York City I am unaware of? An example must be set because we can’t run the risk of a lawsuit. I question just how closely you have been supervising your team, if I’m being straight with you.”

Colin’s mouth popped open and I watched as his lips reappeared. I did my best not to grin because Miles had put Colin right in his fucking place.

“Will that be all?” Miles asked pointedly.

“Yes,” Colin said.

“Thank you, Y/N, for ensuring our operations were not disrupted.”

“Elliot helped me set everything up yesterday—he feels terribly about the whole thing.”

Miles paused on his way out and added, “I want everything taken care of today. I’ll be checking in with HR at the end of the day to see what action you’ve taken. Work together.”

I walked behind my desk and sat down, sighing.

“It will take me about an hour to compile performance assessments on the five of them.”

“Don’t bother. I can tell you how this is going to go.”

“I’m not firing Elliot.”

“Of course that’s not an option now. You know how to play the right cards with Miles.”

I raised my brow and asked, “So how, then, is this going to go?”

“Julia, fired. She couldn’t hack her way out of a paper bag. She’s only on the team because Aaron recommended her and carries her workload. Aaron, now he’s good. I would like to keep him. Maurice, he can go. No real loss there. Ali and Corey,” Colin said, chuckling and shaking his head. “Well, you’re fucked. Corey’s dad is the CEO of Wells Fargo, so Corey gets to have any job for any length of time he wants it.”

I huffed, but before I could speak, Colin continued.

“And Ali,” Colin said. “Ali is the son of the first female to run a publicly traded bank in Saudi Arabia—

the family’s damn near royalty. Do you know what people will say about us if wefire Ali Olayan?”

I knew that a lot of people who worked for CIStech or for Precision Machining had connections, especially people in management. I did not know the extent of Ali and Corey’s connections, but it made sense. Neither of them had gone to college, yet they immediately secured positions with us.

“Why the hell are they even working?” I asked, my voice biting into the still of the office.

Coling laughed, an actual laugh so that his eyes crinkled at the corner.

“Why are youworking?”

“I work because I need to,” I said quietly as Colin ceased his laughter and turned a pointed glare to my face.

“I’d love to live off of daddy’s money--travel, do what I want, live how I want.”

“It’s not in my nature. I need to have direction. Purpose. Without either of those things, I’d end up in an asylum.”

Colin frowned, unwilling to make eye contact.

“Other people’s problems always look much better than your own.”

“Give me an hour to compile the reports.”

“You’re the boss,” Colin said as he got up and walked toward the door.

“Do not say anything to your team other than giving the directive to finish patching the holes Elliot found on Friday.”

Colin gave me a wave of acknowledgement as he left.

I gathered the performance data, and as I waited for each report to print, I thought back to Friday night. Elliot deserved to know there was good in the world—it just sucked that good always seemed to come with a limit. Sure, we can dole out some justice, but only some. Society isn’t ready, may have never been and may never will be, to house anything that is truly good.

And that just fucking sucks.

I pulled the charts from my printer and went over to the conference table and got to work analyzing each one. As it turned out, Colin wasn’t wrong. Julia was definitely out of place amongst the white hats, but Aaron had done a damn good job. While Maurice outperformed Julia, he underperformed Aaron, so Maurice was neutral territory.

Ali, as it turned out, was a damn good white hat, his numbers second only to Elliot’s. However, Corey seemed to perform somewhere in the in-between along with Maurice.

If we went by numbers alone, Ali and Aaron should stay, while Julia, Corey and Maurice were fired. However, I knew I couldn’t escape Corey’s connection. The wave his firing could make for Miles would end my own career.

I buzzed Jayne and asked her to send in Colin.

I relayed my findings, and Colin said, “What about Alderson?”

“We’ve been over this—”

“No, we haven’t. All you’ve said is, ‘I’m not firing him.’ Fine, but something has to happen.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Letter of reprimand so it’s on file for the next time something goes wrong.”

“Colin—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Seriously, though. I’ll accept Miles’ suggestion of listing it as ‘damage to company property.’”

I sighed, knowing I had to agree.

Colin was also quiet for a minute before he said, “Not that I care, but I do want to say this so I can say I told you so; Getting too close to Elliot Alderson has probably never ended well for anyone.”

“Don’t worry—I’d never think you could actually care about my life. But look at how well isolating him has worked out,” I added.

Colin shrugged. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Jayne—can you send in Julia?”

As it turned out, none of the five were surprised at being summoned into my office. While it was clear Julia and Maurice expected a repercussion, it was equally as clear they didn’t think it would be as severe as being fired. Julia sat stone-faced, her leg bouncing as she listened to the reasons CIStech was choosing to part with her services, and Maurice’s eyes filled with tears. I assured both of them they would get letters of recommendation from Colin.

Aaron, perhaps the most humbled and humiliated out of all of them, issued a thoughtful apology to us and as I would later learn, to Elliot. Instead of accepting a letter in his file, Aaron issued his resignation. I knew Miles wouldn’t be particularly pleased because someone else would scoop him up, but an unblemished record was important to Aaron.

When Corey walked in the room, I would more accurately describe it as a saunter. He knew he was untouchable and it finally occurred to me that that’s what I didn’t like about him—his arrogance. Corey wasn’t arrogant in an obvious way, well, not until he pulled his little stunt with Elliot.

Corey was subtly arrogant. It was in the way he smirked, in the way he took control of conversations to direct them to something he wanted to discuss. It was the kind of arrogance that was bred into a person—the kind of arrogance that got his father his job.

“Well, Corey,” I began. “I assume you know why you’re here.”

“Actually, I’m a bit perplexed,” he said, barely containing a smirk.

“Cut the shit, Corey,” Colin began, and for a minute, I actually liked him.

Corey gave Colin a measured look before turning his eyes back to me.

“It was a joke. We didn’t mean for it to get out of hand.”

“Corey, why do you work for CIStech?” I asked, throwing him off his game a little.

“I have an affinity for computers—always have.”

“But why thiscompany?” I said, careful not to push it too far, careful not to say, when you could get any job you want in your own father’s company.

“I like that it’s a mid-size company. I like the job I do and the people I work with, for the most part. I feel like I can learn a lot about the way a big company like Precision Machining operates by how it works to protects its assets.”

I listened, trying to get a read on how much of what Corey said was a truth or a lie, and how much was grey. I had a feeling Corey lived in a world of grey, of always pushing to see how much he could do without suffering a consequence.

“Corey—you’re off the white hat team. . .for obvious reasons. As of tomorrow, you will report to JaLeah for your duties,” Colin barked, uninterested in my question or Corey’s reply.

Corey nodded, his eyes roaming the room as if he were bored.

“Please consider this letter a memorialization of the conversation we held today. Note that any further transgressions against any personnel in this company will result in your termination,” I said.

“Where do I sign?”

I swallowed my disgust as Corey left the office, the scratching of the pen as he signed his name the last noise issued from him. No apology, no thanks for the leniency—nothing.

“Why do you hold such disdain for me and not for him?” I asked, knowing I shouldn’t care about Colin’s opinion, but also knowing my mind would never give me peace until I asked.

“Oh, it’s equal amounts of spite for all of you Wall Street darlings. It’s just I still have some power over Corey. For whatever reason, he listens to me. Plus, the dude’s a beast at our pick-up games on Saturdays and I like to win,” Colin finished, smirking at me.

He continued, “Get over it, Y/N. He might be your boss someday and we will lick his bootheels just like every other clown that came before him and will come after him.”

Nope—shouldn’t have asked. Should’ve just let my mind wonder,I thought.

“Jayne,” I said into the intercom. “Send in Ali.”

While Ali was as visibly unshaken as Corey, he lacked Corey’s arrogance. Ali was much smarter than Corey and his family was quite strict. His family trusted Ali to conduct himself with propriety and to maintain the legacy his mother was working to build.

Ali apologized and readily signed the letter; however, Colin was keeping him on the white hats.

“If you ever even sneeze in Alderson’s direction, you’re off the team.”

“I understand, sir.”

There was only one more meeting left, and my stomach was clenched in knots. I did my best to maintain a front of only casually caring, but I wanted to get this over with as painlessly as possible.

“Jayne—send in Elliot.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and hoped against hope that Elliot would be okay, that this moment wouldn’t ruin the trust we had begun to build.

“Hello, Elliot,” I said as I gestured toward the empty seat at the conference table.

“Hello,” Elliot replied quietly without looking up at me.

“Sorry to interrupt—” came Jayne’s voice over the intercom. “Mr. Hanson is here.”

“Send him in, Jayne,” I said after walking over to answer her and wondering why the fuck Miles was coming in for thismeeting.

If Elliot didn’t appear nervous before, he certainly did now. I could see the movement of his eyes beneath his lids as he examined the floor, probably counting the fibers in the damn rug under the conference table.

“Carry on,” Miles said, as he took a seat at the table, his eyes glued to his phone.

I cleared my throat, praying to god my voice didn’t give out.

“I understand several employees conducted themselves in a manner unbefitting of CIStech’s code of ethics. Those employees’ behaviors have been addressed, and we apologize for the stress endured as a result of their actions.”

When I said, “we,” Elliot looked directly at me. I averted my gaze, shame reverberating through my mind for what was about to come next.

“However, even though your actions in the server room were a direct consequence of their actions, we must issue you a letter of reprimand for the destruction of company property.”

Miles set aside his phone and interrupted, finally providing an answer for why he unexpectedly dropped in.

“Listen, Mr. Alderson,” Miles began. “Y/N is as professional as they come, so I wanted to drop in off the record. Your job performance is outstanding, and we don’t want to lose you as an employee. I am sorry this happened to you, and I want to do anything I can to help you think of CIStech as an ideal work environment.”

Elliot just looked at Miles, his eyes unnerving and unblinking before he finally said, “You’re lucky to have someone like Y/N in charge. I’m sure nothing like this will happen again under her supervision.”

I couldn’t believe Elliot was defending me—I was so shocked that I almost laughed out loud. Here I am, on the opposite side of the table, having agreed to his reprimand, and he’s defending me.

“I agree. She’s proven herself an asset time and time again,” Miles said, shooting me a brief smile.

Colin hmphed, a noise that did not go unnoticed by Elliot, but I’m pretty sure only I caught the quick flicker of his eyes in Colin’s direction.

“Just don’t be surprised to see our appreciation for your skills reflected in your new contract after the next round of employee evals,” Miles added, smiling briefly at Elliot before he turned his head to me, waiting for me to finish the reprimand.

I cleared my throat again, and said,“This letter serves as a memorialization of the conversation we held today. Please sign and date.”

Elliot’s eyes flew over the words on the page and he picked up the pen and scrawled his name and the date.

“That’s it, Elliot. Again, you have my apologies on behalf of CIStech and if you can offer any suggestions to better the working environment, I would look forward to talking with you,” Miles said, once again looking up from his phone.

Elliot nodded, but said nothing as he stood to leave.

The three of us watched him exit before Miles then dismissed Colin.

“Damn, Colin really bugs me. I shouldn’t say that, but he’s really such an—”

“Asshole,” I finished.

Miles chuckled.

“Exactly. Listen, I need to have my secretary put all this paperwork through to HR, but what do you say we leave at 5:00 and hit up that bar on Cedar Street?”

I had to admit that after today, a drink or two did seem in order.

As I walked out to meet up with Miles, much earlier than my usual quitting time, I met Elliot’s eyes. He paused his typing to watch my movement, his eyes quickly taking in my handbag and my tote.

I gave him a small smile, but turned my gaze forward, not wanting to draw attention to him or to myself.

By the time I got home around 7:00, I had a bit of a buzz. I probably shouldn’t have drank as much as I did, but it felt good to unload some of the day’s stress. After changing into some comfy clothes and rummaging around the fridge, I texted Elliot—my fingers had been itching to do it since the second I walked out of the office.

While some of the day’s stress was over, I still had no idea how much damage I had done to my relationship with Elliot.

Y/N: Hey—not sure what the appropriate greeting is for someone I just gave a letter of repri to?

I prayed to whatever higher power that existed he would answer. Just as I popped some leftovers into the microwave, my phone buzzed.

E: Hey about covers it.

Y/N: I’m sorry. I didn’t want anything to go on your record.

E: It’s okay. It’s not like I exactly used my head on Friday night.

Y/N: I really am sorry, Elliot. But I also want to thank you for what you said about me. You didn’t have to say that.

E: I meant it, Y/N. You did more for me than I deserved and I just wanted someone to know that even if they can’t ever know just how much you did. 

I stared at my phone and wished to god text messages were capable of conveying emotion. I wanted to know what Elliot meant by that. Was he implying I was ashamed of our friendship? Did he think I crossed line by helping him? Or was he just expressing gratitude? Maybe I was overthinking it like usual.

I jumped a little when my phone buzzed because I was so deep into asking myself unanswerable questions.

E: Actually everyone’s been nicer.

Y/N: Omg. Did people actually ask you about Friday night?

E: Not outright. It was like everyone just knew. Said they heard something went down and that it sucked. Said they were sorry people were such assholes. Aaron apologized and offered to take me to lunch.

Y/N: No way that you went lol

E: lol nah. But it was a nice gesture.

I waited, wondering if Elliot would text me anything else. I felt unsatisfied by our conversation, but didn’t want to force him into talking to me. I fiddled with my phone, typing and deleting, typing and deleting, eventually just tossing it on the counter and sighing.

E: Lol is there something else you want to say?

I laughed. Of course Elliot was watching his phone, probably almost-laughing in that way of his at my indecisive text bubble.

Y/N: Honestly? I don’t know…I just don’t want to stop talking to you.

E: Then don’t : )

My stomach did a little flip and a grin spread across my face. I settled in on the sofa, thinking of what to say next, knowing that it didn’t really matter because Elliot didn’t want to run, didn’t want to retreat inside of himself even though it was a difficult day for him.

I hadn’t ruined our relationship.

And now the aftermath was over. Elliot wasn’t fired, and even though I wasn’t happy with keeping Ali and Corey, I was only one person in a huge company and a Wall Street darling myself.

How much could one person really change in a day?