#Kane fic

[lunarwritesthings]

here's a fic idea(kinda) that I had

We know Kane can switch between "normal" Kane and demon Kane. What if Kane can truly feel other than those shows with the demon. For example, feeling like guilt, happiness, sadness, and more. Like what if young Kane, the one before the fire, the one that loved his family is still alive but has just been buried so deep within Kane that it's locked away with most if not all the memories from that time because of all the trauma that happened during and after the fire, but that part still knows normal feeling that are anything but normal to Kane so he's confused by the feeling that can sneak through the walls and affect him but there someone that can unlock that part of him with the help of his brother.

That's all I came up with mainly because it was multiple thoughts that came together. Tbh, anyone can use this. Just give credit, I probably wouldn't write this very well.

[everwalldigan]

Bruce: *waking up in a hospital that he drove himself to after having a heart attack and telling absolutely nobody* hey…

The entirety of the batclan looking over him with Dick in the centre, an absolute terrifying grin on his face:

Dick: hello Bruce, nice evening isn’t it? Got something to share with us?

Edit: the fic is now out on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57780508

[veryrockyraccoon]

I think the Batfam acts differently outside of Gotham than they do in Gotham

They’re more intense in Gotham, lean more heavily into the cryptid/eldrich horror thing. They move in a way that’s not quite human, their words are just too close to chirps and whistles.

Outside of Gotham they behave like normal humans, well as normal as they can be with all their training.

This leads to theories that they’re all pretending to be human but because Gotham is their home or because of all the cursed/supernatural things there they can’t hide their own supernatural nature aswell. People also believe this is why they’re more aggressive in Gotham.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

there’s been lots of requests and comments so here it is PART 3!!! (SHE’S HERE first anon, hope you survived this long second anon and it was not a dream third anon, I’m posting/making it now fourth and fifth anon)

some of you were going feral for part 2 so I hope this lives up the expectation 😭😭 if not I’m severely sorry

title: the dancer and the angel part 3

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has just admitted to kissing lyra kane, the girl you’d been worried about, the girl that was stunning, the girl he said didn’t matter… he chose her over you so now what??

parts: part 1 part 2 part 4

warnings: swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: okay so I hate switching POVs but I felt it was necessary here and I know the start is the same as the part 2 but in Gray’s POV but trust me there is lot more

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

GRAYSON’S POV

Guilt has chewed me up and spat me out the whole walk back to our shared room. There’s a pulsating lump in my throat that aches relentlessly, reminding me of what I’ve done. I am a terrible person. I never deserved her and now I’ve done the worst thing I could’ve possibly done, that anyone on this whole planet could’ve ever done. And she will never forgive me for it. I wish there was a way to turn back time and alter certain events. As soon as the time machine is invented, no doubt by my very own brother Xander, I’m coming back to moments before now to stop my idiot brain from-

I can’t even think it. Maybe it’s because it makes it more real. It’s like the last few moments of my life have been erased from my brain, it’s a blank canvas and I have no paints. I know what I did but I can’t remember exact details. Still, I can taste her on my lips, an over sweet taste that was almost too sickly has now morphed into something bitter. Her perfume lingers on my clothes and adds to my ever growing headache. I don’t want to smell her, I don’t want the reminder of the awful human I have become. The monster that now inhabits my body, lives in my skin, breathes my air and poisons the people I love. The ones I truly love.

Y/n. At one point she was the only reason I was still existing, still carrying on. She somehow managed to give me the fight to keep carrying on. I got up most days because I knew I would get to see her face. And now I’m going to throw everything away, our whole relationship. Everything we’ve been through or planned to go through together. It will reduced to nothing in a few minutes.

I’m outside the door, my feet have carried me here through muscle memory. I must go in, I must face her I’m aware but I’m afraid. I’ve never felt so pathetic. I wonder if she is still asleep. Though, I can’t work out whether I’d rather she be awake or asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at her angelic feature either way. Those wide eyes, round lips, heavenly- I can’t bear it, I’m going to lose her, all of her.

I fiddle around with the key, hoping the door will just never unlock so I don’t have to face this. The mechanism clicks, mocking me. I step in silently and face the door to lock back up again. I don’t understand why, I know I’ll be kicked out in a matter of seconds, what good will a locked door be? And yet I’m still facing the door, fumbling with the key, my back towards her. Though I can hear her getting out of bed. She’s awake. My body’s immediate response is to go into a state of paralysis. I can’t move as the guilt ridden cement hardens over my body, creating an outer shell of the cruel creature I’ve become. Her body is behind mine. I can feel her bright presence radiating her usual tentative nature.

“Are you okay?” I hear her whisper as she touches my arm so gently it stings.

It stings so sharply because I know what I’ve done. The shameful crime I’ve committed. I jerk away suddenly.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, deep concern in her tone.

It kills me. It’s a poisoned dagger wedged deep within my heart, hitting every vital artery. Her voice is so soft, so melodic. She cares so much, too much and I’m about to destroy it all. And as much as I could not say a word I couldn’t live a lie, the guilt would eat me alive. How could I look her in the eye and tell her she’d always been the only one when I know she hadn’t? She’d already noticed earlier today my distant mood. She had always been observant, vigilant about those things concerning me and I’d always been grateful. I wouldn’t have that anymore. Lyra had been on my mind earlier and I couldn’t tell her. Now she would realise.

“No,” I reply.

My voice is unfamiliar to myself, it’s sharp and blunt. It sounds horribly harsh. I could feel it hurt her, the air ripples with a touch of dimness when I hurt her. Even with my back to her it’s obvious to me. I know her so well, too well and from this day on we might drift to perfect strangers. That thought hurts me more than anything.

“Where have you been?” she says. Her voice so sweet, so innocent, cruelly naïve.

I don’t want to break her, I don’t want to do it. It would be like smashing a glass ballerina. Something so beautiful, something so delicate should be preserved not purposely broken. I force my eyes to meet hers. I immediately regret it. The soft mellow colour all melts into one, clawing at my heartstrings and ripping the organ to shreds. She’s so beautiful. How had I ever looked at any other? How had I let myself?

Suddenly I’m drowning in guilt. I don’t know how, it just comes over me suddenly. Like a tidal wave I had my back to. I’ve been swept under by an endless ocean of shame. My lungs swollen full of my own black sin. I don’t know how but I manage to choke out two shaky words.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracks. My voice never cracks. She knows that. I’m sturdy, I’m strong, I’m the rock that never breaks and here I am. Here I am crumbling into dust. She’s too smart to miss the signs, she’s too clever not to immediately know something so horribly wrong, her mind is too sharp not to have worked half of it out. She’d already been suspicious of Lyra. She’d already seen what might happen between us even before I did, before it did actually happen.

“Gray?” she asks, my name sounding too sweet on her tongue. The next time she says it will taste bitter, I’m sure of it. She barely whispers the word but I hear her, it rings in my mind. It forever will.

I’m full of pure regret and guilt, it wracks my soul, shaking me relentlessly back and forth until I’m dizzy with it. Remorse’s doors suddenly burst wide open, ready for my grand entrance. My hopes and dreams snicker and smirk smugly as I walk down the runway, my head hanging in embarrassment.

I need to tell her. My heart races in my chest and there’s a lump stuck in my throat, so large it’s started to block my airways. I don’t know how to get the words out, I don’t know how to talk. I feel like I’m suffering some sort of aneurysm. She looks at me, her eyebrows pinched in and eyes narrowed and then I see it. Her eyebrows part and slowly sink. She knows already.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice of an angel shaking.

I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. I haven’t cried in years I’ve forgotten this feeling, this heavy weighted agony that ripples through me causing water to infiltrate my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and still my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, an uninvited raw desperation ripping through my voice, “I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” she grits through her teeth sharply, her eyes glitter so beautifully fierce and fiery, like she wants to kill.

But I know she’s trying to steady her rising sadness by covering up with her fury. I can see through her, like she can see through me. I freeze and the pause elongates. The aching silence is deadly, it’s fatal. I wish she didn’t have to make me say it.

“I kissed her,” I murmur, the words making me feel sick as I say them.

“Who?” she asks, he tone low and ferocious, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

I’m twisting a knife into her heart and I know it. But she wants me to cut deeper. She’s a woman of principle, I’ve already hurt her, I might as well do the job properly in her eyes. And I can’t deny her this. Not I’ve stripped her of her dignity, her trust, her love, her everything.

“I kissed Lyra,” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks.

A sour taste fills my mouth. The words send lightning sparks across my jaw, sending ribbons of agony down the sides of my face. The truth hurts. Literally. Tears are rolling the side of my face, but I don’t bring my hand to wipe them and nor do I stop them. I’ve never felt more broken.

But she doesn’t care, there is not pity in her eyes. Good. I don’t want he to pity me. She should hate me. She should want me to miserable and hope for me to have a lifetime of the torture I’ve just forced her to endure.

“Get out,” she murmurs, the anger bringing out her natural stunning features. A flicker of boldness in her eyes, the striking angles of her eyebrows, her strong thick lashes and her full lips.

“I’m sorry.” they’re the only words I remember how to say, through my internal fit of torment.

I expect her to hit me around the face, a good strong punch I know she can make or a sharp smack that’ll leave a red hand mark pressed against my cheek. I imagine she might scream at me and ask me all the questions I wish I had answers to. But she does none of that. She only looks at me darkly and utters two last words.

“Leave Grayson.”

I can hear the tears she’s trying to hold back, through the numb façade. I know her better than she’ll ever realise. But it’s not fair for me to stay, not after this. She’s only asking one thing of me when she should be doing so much more. So I do. I turn my back on her again. And I leave.

***

Tears pummel down my cheeks like never before. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this. I’m blinded by them as I stumble sideways. I don’t know where I’m going. I stand on the edge of the cliff and sink to my knees, letting out a loud guttural scream. I’m there until my throat is so raw I can’t feel it. I bite my lip so hard it draws blood. And then I’m up again and running, following a path my footsteps are dragging me towards. I can’t think straight, I’m dizzy with pain. Before I know it I’m outside the safe house on the island. My hands tremor on the handle and I swing open the door, falling to the floor for my sobs to take me over. My chest aches and burns and tightens. That’s when I realise I can’t breathe properly. I fumble around for my phone, a tear splashing into the illuminated screen. With uncontrollably shaking hands, I typed no words. Just three numbers.

911

***

The wait feels like years, maybe even decades. Each second taunts me, with a mocking tick. I’d crumbled into the corner of the room at some point and stayed there, curled up and choking on my own sorry sobs. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?

The question circles around my head like the nostalgia of a distorted tune of a merry go round. I’ve never made such a big mistake and my life and deep down there’s a sinking sensation that is telling me I’m not going to be able to make this better. I sob, loud harsh sobs that hurt my lungs and knock the air out of my stomach. My whole being shakes with every strangled noise that escapes my lips. Grieving. I’m grieving over something I chose to throw away. It’s cruelly ironic. But I think part of me is also grieving the good man I once thought myself to be, that she made me believe I could be.

I turned my back on the one and only person in this world who just cared about me, took me for who I am and believed I could do anything. She only wanted the best, she only wanted happiness and she deserved so much more and here I am, stabbing her in the back and dancing in her blood like a madman. She was my everything and I managed to mess it up, just like everything else in my life. I can’t have normal relationships, I can’t do something without messing it up. I’m one big screw up the opposite of how the old man raised me to be. He’s looking down on me now and I can feel his disappointment, like an infection coursing through my bloodstream. I failed him, I failed my brothers, I’ve failed her, I’ve failed myself.

She thought I was better, she believed I could be more than his expectation. And I was stupid enough to believe it, encourage it and let her belive the lie too. We’re all idiots.

I can recite her favourite song, her favourite flower, her favourite food and favourite colour. I can tell you all about her favourite novels and how she orders her books on an endless bookshelf. I know that she tells people her favourite film is ‘it’s a wonderful life’ but it’s actually secretly ‘tangled’. I know she prefers to stay inside and cuddle under blankets rather than have a night out. I know she’d rather reason a thousand books than watch a thousand movies. I know she wanted a library in her dream house and two, maybe three children with her husband and I know she’d sometimes debate about getting a cat as well. I know how she loves brownie batter more than the actual brownies and can’t sleep with any lights on. I know she still uses the bunny rhyme to tie her shoelaces and how she fiddles with her collarbone when she’s nervous. I know exactly what diamond she wanted in her engagement ring and her favourite country. I know what people she despises and I know what people she adores. I know every inch of her face, every hair on her head, every sparkle in her eyes and every cell on her skin.

I know her.

I know her, but that can’t help me now. Pain ripples across the left side of my chest and my hand clamps over it as I grit my teeth to try and bear it. I hear the door creek open and can’t tell whether it comforts me or not.

“Grayson pookie!” Xander calls out, “we’re here.”

His cheerful voice doesn’t provide me with the cushion to this pain I thought it might.

“And we have some in incredibly strong whisky,” Jameson adds, I can here the mischievous grin in his voice, it’s been the same all of his life.

“My nose hairs are officially burnt off,” Xander agrees.

I can’t speak. I try to call out for them but the words die in my swollen throat.

“Where are you Gray?” Nash calls out, he sounds a little more worried than the other two but is concealing it well.

“Here,” my voice is hoarse and laboured, even I can’t recognise it.

The mood immediately shifts, you can feel it. The air becomes tainted with concern as their footsteps approach my cowering figure. The case of whiskey is dropped as there is an audible thunk as it hits the floor. I can feel their bodies enveloping around mine creating something of a circle of safety. I look up to worried face and shiny eyes.

“Help me,” I gasp for air, greedily trying to gulp down the oxygen that I feel so deprived of, “please.”

“We’re here to help you Gray,” Nash murmurs softly. His voice had always been something comforting, especially when I was younger. I wonder if he will be so kind when I tell him what I’ve done. He’s going to hate me, there’s nothing he despises more than a man who can’t respect a woman.

I shake my head and choke out another struggling sob, instead of the words I don’t know how to say. Jameson’s eyes flit between mine and Nash’s, the concern rippling across his features. He’s never looked this concerned for me in his life. I think to all the times as children I’d helped him settle after a nightmare and wiped his tears that he hated falling when the old man had humiliated him. Oh how the tables had turned. Now it was my little brother wiping my tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his touch so gentle it shocks me.

“I can’t-“ I barely get out, wrapping my hands around my neck.

“Gray…” he trails off, unmasked emotion hitting his face like a train.

“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze as the invisible blanket that was set out to suffocate me tightens over my nose and mouth.

“Hey, Gray, look at me,” Nash says, his voice smooth and reassuring, “in and out okay, in and out.”

“I can’t,” I pant, my limbs shaking embarrassingly uncontrollably.

Xander takes both of my hands into his and squeezes them until they still, “yes you can, follow Nash’s instructions okay?”

“Slowly, do it with me,” Nash nods, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I do. In and out, a rhythmic pattern. Each time Nash reminds me how to breathe. There’s an aura of calmness about his voice that lulls my panic into a narcoleptic sleep. Once my breathing is halfway regulated I look at him, dead in the eye, with shaking sorrowful lips.

“I fucked up,” I sob, “I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

They all share a look, this is the worst state they’ve seen me and we all know it. I begin to pathetically sob uncontrollably once again, the feelings building up in my chest and tearing me apart from the inside out. It’s like a rabid pack of wolves had been set loose to feed on my internal organs. I don’t know how to stop the ocean of tears, I don’t know how to shut my mind off, I don’t know how to help myself. Reel myself in from this abominable mess I’ve become. I’m hyperventilating, my chest throbbing up and down unevenly. Nash nods towards Jameson, a short, soft, sharp nod of approval.

“Hey! Calm down!” Jameson snaps, giving me a hard slap around the face, “snap out of this!”

The shock shuts me up and the sting stops my tears. I’m back to reality instead of a wallowing mess. Nash must’ve been approving the slap I realise in the sudden cleared head I’d obtained

“Sorry,” Jameson mumbles at me, looking a little guilty.

I massage my jaw, “no I think I needed that.”

He grimaces and then softens his tone, “what happened Gray?”

I tense, growing very still, “I can’t say it out loud, I can’t, I’m awful, I’m horrible-“

“What happened?” Nash drawls.

I choke out yet another unnatural sound. Seems the slap didn’t snap me hard enough into reality. I exhale slowly. I have to say it, now or never.

“I kissed Lyra.”

The words hurt even more this time, that they did when I’d admitted it to y/n. Neither one of my brothers can mask their honest reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Jameson blurts out, “you cheated?”

Anger. He’s fuming with me. I can see the rage trailing through his eyes and blossoming into his expression.

“I didn’t mean to,” I reply, feeling like a small child.

Jameson’s eyes widen and fury flashes across his face, “how can you not mean-“

Nash shoots him a look and his mouth glues shut. Then he turns to me and I can’t quite read him yet. I gulp.

“No one does that kind of thing for no reason,” he says sternly, “I never thought you’d be the one of the four of us to ever do that, seems I was mistaken little brother.”

Disappointment. He’s disappointed. A horrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Nash is disappointed in me. It’s one of the worst feelings imaginable. There had only been few times in my life when he had been and I remember the feeling all too well. Shame has me in a chokehold an it’s succeeding in strangling me. I can‘t bring myself to meet his eyes, I don’t want to see that look I can feel is on his face, that look of pure disapproval.

“How did she find out?” Xander asks quietly.

Shock. He hadn’t said anything until now, but his lips had been slightly parted and he’d paled a little. He never thought I’d do this to anyone, he’s yet another person I’ve let down.

“I told her,” I murmur, “the guilt was consuming me.”

“As it should,” Jameson snaps, twitching with a fiery ferocity.

“Jamie,” Nash says, trying to keep some kind of diplomacy.

“No,” he growls, “you don’t do that to a girl, your girl, you can’t do that!”

“Don’t take the moral highground now,” I spit.

“When you’ve cheated on your girlfirend? Yeah I think I will,” he replies, the bitterness rolling off of his tongue like a deadly poison. He doesn’t know I’ve already poisoned myself with my own actions, his words can’t hurt me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I falter.

“Bullshit,” he grits through his teeth, in two definitive and threatening symbols.

“Careful Jamie,” Nash warns.

“All this is your fault anyway,” I continue, ignoring the warning.

“So it’s my fault, you kissed another girl, yeah, okay Gray,” he nods his head with a sarcastic smile.

“It is!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, “if you hadn’t locked me in a room with her-“

“So it’s my fault you couldn’t keep up dick under control,” he quips, interrupting me.

“You could’ve locked me with my one of my sisters but of course you just had choose the only girl who isn’t related to me,” I seethe.

“Odette isnt related to you,” Xander pipes up. I’d forgotten he was there, that anyone besides me and Jameson were there.

“Odette is old enough to be my grandmother,” I scowl at him, immediately feeling bad as the words leave my lips, but don’t dwell on it as I turn back to Jameson, “why did you make me a player in your sick excuse of a game?”

“You can’t use the game as an excuse,” he laughs darkly.

“I will,” I reply sharply, “this is your fault and Avery’s fault too.”

“Avery? Don’t make me laugh,” he rolls his eyes.

“The game never should’ve been created by her,” I yell, “that’s why I’m in this mess!”

“No, you’re in this mess because of you,” he shouts back, “but don’t you dare bring Avery in to this it’s not her fault.”

I feel like I’m one of those circus acts, the ones that lay on a spinning board and get knives hurled at them. Only in my case the knives are the truth and they actually hit me.

“Why did you make me a player?” I ask quieter now, my voice hoarse, “why?”

“I didn’t know making you a player would result in this,” he says.

“It was so irreverent,” I snap becoming angrier by the second, a sudden burst of red overriding any rational sense in my head, “I never needed to play.”

“You can’t pin this on me Gray, if it didn’t happen with Lyra, who knows who else it would’ve happened with,” he hisses.

“So you think I’m just like this? You think this is me?” I ask him, prodding the hollow space where my heart used to be.

“I didn’t before….” he trails off, sighing, “but now I don’t know what the fucking think of you.”

“Jamie,” Nash repeats again, in the same warning tone as before. We both ignore him.

“Just because you and Avery are all peaches and roses-“

“Leave Avery out of your anger issues,” he roars defensively.

“No,” I counter, raising an eyebrow, mirroring his usual argument demeanour, “you think you’re so perfect now you’ve got your dream girl and the two of you are so much better off than the rest of us, because your love is undeniable or whatever bullshit people feed you about it-“

Jameson’s features twitch for a split second. He’s hurt, but won’t show it. He’ll refuse but I know that it hit a nerve that won’t heal for a long time. I stop mid-sentence.

“I am far from perfect, I think we both know that,” he says, in a low voice, “look you’re hurting, I get it, but I’m not going to mollycoddle you and tell you it’s okay when it’s not. I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face because as your brother that would be the worst possible thing for me to do to you.”

“My brother would try and understand what it’s like from my side,” I say, desperation clawing at my voice.

“You’re looking for a fight Grayson and it’s not going to end well, not with me,” he warns, shaking his head.

“Maybe I do want a fight, but you know you do too,” I growl rolling up my sleeves, “so fine, I’ll give you a fight Jamie.”

“I don’t want a fight, I want some justice for y/n,” he states simply, “she did nothing to deserve that Gray, she’s been so good to you, the sweetest soul on this earth and she’s helped you through a lot of shit and this is how you’re repaying her?”

“Jameson,” Nash says.

He ignores him for the third time and I can see his calm facade beginning to drop, “you think because you called a 911 and you’re here crying that I should feel sorry for you?”

“I thought you were going to be here for me,” I reply numbly, my tone dead, “clearly I’m mistaken.”

“I can’t be there for someone with no morals,” he replies, “you cheated and you’re the one who’s upset about it, how do you think she feels?”

“You think I don’t know her?” I fire back, my throat burning, “you think I don’t know exactly what she’s doing right now? I hate myself, I hate myself for doing what I did!”

“Good you should!” he screams back.

Before I know it I feel myself charges towards him, ready to throw a good punch but Nash and Xander launch onto me to quickly and managing to hold me back. Nash’s grip is so tight I don’t dare try and budge.

“Out. Now.” Nash says sharply to Jameson, “go and cool off.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine that I won’t admit to. Jameson opens his mouth to argue.

“Jameson.”

He skulks away, with a sullen face. We all wait frozen until the door has been slammed shut. Nash lets my arm go, dropping it harshly and Xander follows suit.

“And you’re no better,” he turns to me, placing his cowboy hat on a nearby surface, “I’m only sending him away because you can’t be left alone in this mess and so the two of you don’t rip each other to pieces.”

Silence stills the room. His voice echoes but makes no sound all at the same time.

“Take a second, take a breath and we’re going to talk this through like adults,” he says, “if you want to carry on being a child then leave. Calm down, you’re not a toddler having a tantrum, you’re a grown man, act like it.”

Nash has a way of snapping me back to reality. I nod shakily.

“Talk.”

I begin, “I don’t even know why I kissed her, I didn’t mean to it just-“

“Happened?” he guesses, “no little brother, that doesn’t just happen.”

“The I don’t know Nash,” I say, tipping my head back and resting it on the wall behind me.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. It just did. She was there, just stood there. Her hands looped naturally around the back of my neck, warm and gentle, “someone sent me that ticket Grayson. I thought it was Avery but if it wasn’t…”

She trails off, her voice small and tentative. Her golden eyes filled with the utmost worry. I wanted her to know she’d be okay, that she’d have someone to keep her safe. Her arms get more comfortable around my neck. She’d felt it too, the electrifying spark between us. It was exhilarating but something about it was off, synthetic.

“Then who the hell was it?” I questioned, my hands magnetised to her cheek all of a sudden.

Lyra didn’t pull away and neither did I. I lower my head and she raised onto her toes and titled hers back a little. She was graceful, like a dancer. My lips brushed over hers. They were sweet like honey. For the first few moments it was bliss and the realisation hit, like a stone to my stomach. I jerked backwards suddenly, shaking my head.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my fingers trying to wipe her taste off of my lips, “I don’t- this isn’t-“

I was tongue-tied, not able to explain to her how wrong it was. The words wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to.

“Gray?” Lyra murmurs, a tender voice. Her amber eyes are widened and slightly confused.

“No,” I yell. She flinches and another wave of horribly strong emotion rushes over me, drowning me. “No I’m in love with someone else. I don’t know what that was. I can’t-“

I stumbled backward a few steps and the turned around and ran. Like the coward that I am.

“It did just happen,” I murmur, lifting my head from the wall to look my older brother in eye, “I swear to god, I didn’t intend for it to happen, I didn’t even know I had feelings for her.”

I can see he disagrees still and isn’t convinced. I don’t know how to prove it to him.

“Let’s establish one thing here, who do you like?” Xander asks me.

“I like Lyra,” I say slowly, “but I love y/n.”

Nash shakes his head, “if you loved her you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I made a mistake,” I press on.

“And you will pay for it and regret it for the rest of your life,” he shrugs, “it’s not what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. Listen, I love Libby and loving someone means so many things. One of those things is that I don’t even look at other women, to me they don’t even really exist. Libby is my world and no one else even comes into the equation, so the fact is someone else came into the equation for you, meaning the love wasn’t there.”

“But it was, I felt it,” I say, my voice breaking as I press my chest.

“What do you feel for Lyra?” he asks plainly.

“I don’t know, she’s intriguing and smart and beautiful,” I murmur, “and I like her, but I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

“Comfort? Lust? Greed? Selfishness? I don’t know it just happened,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Stop using that phrase as a get out clause,” Nash shakes his head, “you have to admit to yourself more than anyone that this didn’t just happen.”

“I leaned in and I put my lips of hers, and I didn’t stop it, it didn’t feel wrong straight away,” I admit out loud finally.

“It didn’t?” Xander says, looking wounded.

“No, it didn’t feel wrong until I realised what I’d done,” I say, looking down, suddenly finding my shoelaces to be the most interesting thing in the world.

No one replies for a long while. That’s when I realise how exhausted I truly am and how much I crave sleep.

“I vouched for you,” Xander says quietly, “I told her that you’d never do that, that you weren’t that guy.”

“I’m not,” I say, in denial at first. I take a moment to analyse his sentence and then come to a sickening realisation, “oh my god I am…”

“She was already anxious about where your loyalties were Gray,” he winces.

“I proved her right, I proved every worry she had right, I just proved to her that she shouldn’t have trusted me,” I spiral, hating that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

Xander looks to Nash for support for a reply.

“Yeah,” Nash sighs, “you did.”

“I need to fix this, there has to be a way-“

“Grayson,” the acuteness of his voice cuts through my sentence like a machete.

I freeze and clamp my mouth firmly shut.

“This isn’t a broken vase, you can’t glue it back together or buy a new one,” he tells me softly.

He was referring to a time where Jameson and I had been seven and eights years old. We’d been brawling of course, Hawthorne style and accidentally smashed a vase. Usually it wouldn’t matter, there were vases all over Hawthorne House and they were smashed frequently. But this wasn’t just any vase. It was nan’s priceless vase that had belonged to her daughter, our grandmother, Alice. We were never allowed within a five mile radius of it, but like the rebellious children we were, we didn’t listen. Through our fight we’d smashed the whole thing, it was truly destroyed. The two of us stayed up for nights on need gluing together the pieces only to realise it was never going to look like the original again. So we’d hunted to buy another, problem was, this vase was one of a kind. It turned out after four weeks or trying to ship a similar one in that nan had known the whole time. She didn’t speak to either of us for a good few months.

“This is real life, she is a real person and you hurt her,” he explains, “fixing this isn’t an option. There isn’t a way to fix it, there are no pieces to our back together, okay?”

I’m silent but it’s the loudest voice in the room. My face pinches together in agony. For the first time, a little of the disappointment fades and my brother’s face softens. He wraps a strong arm around me and I flop into him like a lifeless bag of nothingness. I bury my head into his shoulder and try to cry but there seems to be no tears left. He understands and holds me for a moment. Suddenly I’m six years old again and crying in Nash’s in my arms over Jameson hiding my favourite teddy bear at the time, then I’m eleven in his arms with pneumonia after being stupid enough to get caught in the rapids un the dead of winter wanting a good photograph of a rare fish, then I’m seventeen, crying over a redheaded girl who I thought I’d managed to murder. And now here I am, at twenty-two years old in his grasp once again, having made the greatest mistake of my life.

Suddenly I feel another set of arms wrap around the both of us.

“Group hug!” a familiar voice sings.

Leave it to Xander to make me crack a half smile in the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced. After a while I pull away and sigh.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I ask, pulling away.

“Honestly?” Xander asks.

I nod

“No,” he says. I wish I could see that little glimmer of a lie in his eyes, but I can’t. And it kills me.

“Think about it like this,” he sighs, “would you forgive Eve for what she did?”

“This is not the same thing,” I reply coldly.

“Eve cheated your trust, she betrayed you,” he explains gently, “that’s exactly how she feels.”

Dread fills my every pore as I murmur lifelessly, “I’m as bad as Eve.”

“No wait,” he says, looking guilty and panicked all at the same time, “that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” I reassure him so some of his guilt subsides, “but it’s true and now I’ve just realised.”

“Look Gray, you aren’t Eve. You’re never going to be Eve, but think of how you felt then. That’s how y/n feels,” Nash soothes, “she’s not going to just forgive you, that’s not how it works.”

“You just broke her heart Gray,” Xander adds, careful to keep his tone as light as a feather, “for a girl you just met.”

“Why am I horrible person? Why do I always find a way to mess to something good?” I groan, smacking my head on the wall behind me. There’s an audible thump as pain spreads through the back of my skull. I wonder if I can concuss myself to forget all of this, but I don’t attempt the idea.

“You don’t-“

“No I do,” I say firmly, cutting him off, “I’m not meant for love, to love or to be loved, I’m not built for it. I’m not a good enough person for it. I’m never going to find my Libby or my Max or my Avery.“

“Grayson-“ Nash begins.

“Emily knew it and now so does y/n,” I snap.

My brothers still at her name, not moving a muscle. I never bring up Emily.

“Listen to me,” Nash says sharply, getting my attention, “you are meant to be loved. You are meant to love. I love you, Xander loves you, Jameson loves you and y/n loved you too…”

The change of tense makes my soul ache.

“…but this time around, you made a mistake, a costly mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

I nod numbly, robotically.

“What can I do to make it up to her?” I ask, my voice beginning to tremble, “to show her I’m sorry? Something there has to be something.”

Nash gives me a grim look and Xander’s face remains blank, they’re the only answers I need. My head sinks into my hands. The door reopens and I look back up. Jameson has returned.

He meets my eyes, “Avery’s with her.”

Blood surges through my heart and I can almost smile. He checked on her. For me.

“Is she okay?” I ask quickly.

Jameson looks at me and for a split second I almost see the ghost concern is his eyes. He shakes his head softly, “no, but she will be,” he replies, it’s an attempt to comfort me and I am grateful.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“I’m not apologising for what I said, because I still stand by it and you won’t change my mind,” Jameson says, “but I am sorry for being so angry about it.”

“You were right,” I whisper, “you were right about me. I never deserved her, so was nothing but an angel to me and I just turned around and threw it all away. I abused the luxury I had, I stabbed her in the back and then gifted another with the knife, I’m a horrible person.”

“What you did was wrong, but that’s doesn’t make you a horrible person,” he sighs, “you need time Gray, this is going to take a lot of healing. On both sides.”

“I don’t deserve to heal, I deserve to be in pain,” I murmur, the dullness in my tone echos around the empty walls.

“Oh no, we’re not going back to emo Grayson,” Xander says quickly, shaking his head.

“I agree with Xander on this one,” Nash nods, readjusting his cowboy hat.

“I don’t want to hear you blasting my chemical romance at three a.m and then denying it later again, you came out of that phase we’re not going back there,” Jameson tells me.

I bark out a laugh that thaws my icy chest. I then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” I say, looking at the ground,

Nash shakes his head softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed,” Xander says.

“You’ll get through this Gray,” Jamie agrees, “I know it.”

The room grows still.

“Can we drink that whiskey now?” I ask, to cut through the silence. I feel like getting drunk, I feel like I need some relief.

“Big brother,” Xander nods at Nash handing him the bottle.

“Little brother,” he tips his cowboy hat in reply before taking the bottle into his hands and cracking it open.

“Let me pour these things properly,” Nash grins, “Jamie, come help.”

“Wait me too!” Xander jumps up,

“Stay with Gray,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” I grumble, annoyance written all over my face.

“I want to watch them pour whiskey properly,” Xander explains, “so I can impress Max.”

My eyebrows fly to my forehead, “Max drinks?”

“No I want to impress her though,” he grins.

‘You’re an odd human,” I almost laugh, tilting my head to the side.

“Why ta very much!” he says, almost skipping away.

Once I know they’re all gone, I lean back on the wall, my heart feeling a tiny bit less heavy. The pain isn’t gone. I think I’ve just gone numb. I feel hollow, empty, nothingness. Guilt is still gnawing at my insides but slower. A satifying clink against the fragile rim of the glass takes me out of my own head for a split second. There are hushed voices from the kitchen, I notice. I walk over to the door that lay ajar, I lean in to listen.

“We need to tell him,” it sounds like Jameson.

“Not now,” the accent indicates Nash.

“Then when?” Xander’s voice asks, “how long can we prolong it.”

“I can hear you,” I tell them, raising my voice a little.

They turn to face me, awkwardly remaining silent. The expressions on their faces don’t offer me comfort.

“Whatever it is, spit it out,” I say, “it’s not like tonight could get any worse.”

They share a look. Apparently it can. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can barely breathe, “who died?”

“No one has died,” Xander says quickly, “yet.”

“What?” I say, my tone deadly,

Nash glares at him, then turns back to me. There’s sorrow laced delicately, deep within his hazel irises.

“Gray,” he says gently, “Gray we hate to do this but…”

“What? What is it?” I ask urgently.

“Gigi’s missing.”

The words shock me to my core. I feel my throat begin the close up as panic returns with a smirk and triumphant greeting. My whole world has collapsed in less than 24 hours.

***

YOUR POV

I don’t hate him. Call me naive or call me stupid. But I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. The kind of love I have for him is unconditional, irrevocable. Time can’t heal a wound this deep and although it is still fresh now, I can tell. But if he were to say sorry I think I would forgive him every time. And if he asked me back I’d fall into his arms into an instant. And I hate myself for it, it’s stupid and it’s a little cruel. How easily I would take him back after what he did. I know I shouldn’t but something inside of me is drawn to him. Like an invisible magnet has been planted in our hearts. I wish I didn’t love so hard, fall so deeply, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt so badly. But it’s in my nature, it’s who I am. I wonder if he knows how much pain I’m in, the rippling agony that rolls across my chest relentlessly with no hint as to when it will cease. I’m tired of being the second choice but unfortunately I wouldn’t mind being his. And I know it’s completely stupid of me to think that way, completely wrong but love makes you do stupid things so they say. I sit on the beach, by the sea in a state of numbness. Silent tears roll down my tears as the waves lap my feet. Deja vu washes over me and the memories of Grayson and I the night of the game flash through my mind.

I grip his hand and run with him as he guides me the just beyond the shore. He sits down swiftly on the sand and pulls me down to sit between his legs. I lean my back onto his chest and let him nuzzle his face into my collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, “only you.”

Only me, huh? Only me…

The waves crash against the rocks, hurtling a salty spray towards me. I hear footsteps and turn around. Avery stands there, a mournful expression over her delicate face. She knows. I stumble towards her and collapse into her arms in a fit of uncontrollable sobs now and she holds me. Her touch is gentle and warm but it’s nothing compared to his. I realise he might never hold me in his arms again and I cry even harder.

***

I don’t hold Lyra accountable. She is not to blame. Some girls in my position might dream about different ways to brutally murder her but I can only ask what comfort would it bring me? My feelings are already dead, what good is more pain doing?

There was a choice that Grayson Hawthorne was given: his dancer or his angel. He chose his dancer and I hope he’s happy. Because angels have wings and we rise up stronger.

idk guys I think I wrote Grayson’s POV really awfully to be honest… also I feel like the 911 meet up was not like their normal ones where they try and like do something (e.g drink or dare) and then talk about the pain but that’s bc Grayson was in such a mess and then they had to drop the bomb that Gigi was missing. so anywayyyss…

I am sorry this took so long and I hope it lived up to any expectation you wanted it too (sorry if it didn’t) and I hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍 thanks for reading as always

TIG masterlist

[applysome]

Things that broke my brain in Gif format: part 1

The Dream Synopsis - Europavox Festival

[ultraxavbo]

It makes me laugh a lot to think that most people have this idea that Bruce Wayne doesn't know how to do household chores, such as cooking, washing his clothes, etc. But if you think about it, I'm very sure that if he knows how to do household chores because when he had to leave to be able to train like Batman he had to be completely independent since he didn't have Alfred to help him with that.

[johnlennon-as-a-tv-chef]

Reminder that Alex Turner knows about Milex fanfiction and had the most bizarro response when a journalist asked him about it. He said,

"I’ve been told about it… Stories where we slip into one another. Does One Direction have that? And who fucks who? They fuck all at once? And they don’t want to write stories where we fuck the One Direction? Like Cadbury who puts in the same packets Dairy Milk and Ritz crackers?”

[aeturnum-mendacacium]

the justice league had an undercover mission where a they try to track down a intergalactic intruder who is introducing alien drugs to humans, to do so some members attend a masquerade gala in pairs to find and interrogate a high society couple who have been in close proximity of the drug before and most probably got effected by it without their knowledge, but they aren't the safest people so they have to take some samples and and ask them questions about it without them getting suspicious, basically have to get them to trust you, so the justice league figured that someone who Is good a infiltration and interrogation should go! So they decide on batman with a bit of hesitation cause they don't know if he can act or not, batman realises this and tells them he will bring batwoman with him to make it look more believable

And so they go to the gala and and the justice league (some on coms and some actually there but just spying on them incase something bad happens) asks him how in the world would he get close to them, he simply replies "I am aware I have a flattering face and body, and I'm willing to use it" the justice league goes crazy after calming down just a bit (they didn't) they think "we should have realised batsy would be willing to do anything for a mission but GODAMN" and they expect batman to chat up the women and batwoman the man

Batman however approaches the man and batwoman the women

To their horror batwomen is flirting with the wife and the husband is now on top of batman

What the fuck is going on

[tsartistry]

When Lester has amnesia, he falls in with Carter and Sadie, and starts learning Egyptian Magic. Set has opinions to share.

[werewolfsmile]

The Eliot Spencer Details Masterpost

I have been recording details about our beloved Eliot Spencer on my latest watch through. And now, it's finally time to reveal the details!! If I have gotten any details INCORRECT, I beg of you to correct me, at which time, this post will be updated and credit given. (Note: S1 was aired out of chronological order. I am going by chronological episode numbers - aka the correct order - and providing the episode titles as well to minimise confusion.) !! This post contains details from Leverage: Redemption! Read the episode references carefully if you are wanting to avoid certain spoilers !!

Shirtless Moments

S1 E7 The Two-Horse Job: The flashback scene when Aimee asks Eliot what his excuse was for not coming back to her, we see him being dragged/tortured, shirtless. "Tell us what you did with the monkey!"

S2 E2 The Tap-Out Job: Eliot is shirtless for the fight match.

S4 E9 The Cross My Heart Job: Ehh he's not completely shirtless here but whatever. At about 16 mins in, Eliot and Parker are getting changed together, Eliot strips to a singlet then throws his shirt at me the camera. (I didn't include other scenes of Eliot in a singlet here because in this scene he's actively undressing, whereas in others he's not.)

Necklaces

The earliest sighting of his guitar pick necklace is S1 E2 The Homecoming Job. It continues to pop up frequently in episodes, though noticeably less in S1. I thought about recording every occurrence of it here but ... lmao it's in legit waaayyyy too many episodes for me to bother.

S2 E10 The Runway Job: Honourable mention of the necklaces Eliot wears with his fashion week outfit. The longer one is kinda dogtag-esque, the shorter one is ... I think it's a fleur de lis? He also wears a range of chain necklaces later in this episode.

S4 E18 The Last Dam Job: Bird pendant (possibly kingfisher) visible at 34 mins 39 seconds. Full credits to @wolves-in-the-world for this one including the time stamp! You can check out their reblog of this post with more details here!

Dammit Hardison

S1 E13 The Second David Job: The FIRST INSTANCE of dammit Hardison in the entire show! Said upon discovering each other in the gallery, around 4 mins 15 seconds.

S2 E1 The Beantown Bailout Job: Said around 22 mins 30 seconds, immediately following, "What are the odds that Eliot's crotch will actually explode?" Iconic.

S2 E6 The Top Hat Job: When setting up for the magic show and discovering the rabbit missing, roughly 19 mins 45 seconds.

S3 E3 The Inside Job: Running from security, around 31 mins 30 seconds.

S3 E4 The Scheherazade Job: Trying to enter McRory's at the same time, around 1 min 30 seconds.

S3 E5 The Double Blind Job: This is an honourable mention because this time NATE is the one to say dammit Hardison! 9 mins 15 seconds.

S3 E6 The Studio Job: Upon discovering the master tape isn't in the case, roughly 32 mins.

S3 E7 The Gone Fishin' Job: Eliot and Hardison running in the woods for their lives, arguing as always. This one is a bonus 'dammit' because Hardison says it straight back to Eliot after Eliot yells it at him! Around 21 mins.

S3 E12 The King George Job: Discussing Hardison's forgery work, followed by Eliot regretting touching anything. Around 23 mins 55 seconds.

S3 E13 The Morning After Job: Pretending to be cops and accidentally ending up with a prisoner to take back to jail, around 16 mins 20 seconds.

S3 E14 The Ho Ho Ho Job: Honourable mention of Chaos mocking Eliot by saying dammit Hardison. Roughly 21 mins 15 seconds.

(phew, S3 was rough on Hardison! given what Eliot was going through with the whole Moreau thing.... ooh that's delicious angst)

S4 E5 The Hot Potato Job: Honourable mention for Sophie saying it this time! While playing the role that was meant for Eliot, around 24 mins.

S4 E6 The Carnival Job: Mixing chemicals for a distraction, roughly 25 mins 30 seconds.

S4 E17 The Radio Job: Hardison running away from being thrown off a high floor, around 5 mins.

S4 E18 The Last Dam Job: Sneaking around at the Bellington Dam, roughly 13 mins 35 seconds.

S5 E1 The (Very) Big Bird Job: 'Accidentally' putting a brew pub menu in front of Eliot, around 10 mins 20 seconds.

S5 E15 The Long Goodbye Job: Emotional scene that we do not speak about, around 12 mins 40 seconds.

RS1 E1 The Too Many Rembrandts Job: After knocking Harry out and asking Hardison to help carry Harry, and Hardison refuses. 11 mins 40 seconds.

RS1 E2 The Panamanian Monkey Job: Upon discovering that security is headed to the vault where Parker is, and the only way down there is through the vents. Around 34 mins 10 seconds.

RS2 E1 The Debutante Job: We get 3! In this whole episode! Probably to make up for Hardison being gone for most of Redemption. Anyway! First one when Eliot and Hardison are in Ralphie Roy's place and Hardison has no idea who Ralphie is, around 23 mins 15 seconds. Second is when they're breaking into the elevator and Hardison won't help fight or move the unconscious guards, roughly 37 mins 40 seconds. And third, after the job when Parker says that Hardison was the one who took out all the guards. Around 45 mins 10 seconds.

RS2 E3 The Tournament Job: Right at the start after Eliot says gaming isn't a sport and Parker texts Hardison, so Hardison starts blowing up Eliot's phone. Lmao. Around 4 mins 20 seconds.

RS2 E4 The Date Night Job: After realising Breanna stole his truck, Eliot says dammit, then aims it at a grinning Hardison, since Breanna is already running away. Around 46 mins 50 seconds.

Dammit Parker

S1 E4 The Snow Job: Parker jumps out of a second floor window, Eliot catches her. 15 mins. (Parker gets a dammit from Eliot before Hardison does!!)

S3 E8 The Boost Job: Parker driving erratically, Eliot thrown around in back seat. (Technically there's a pause between dammit and Parker but I'm still including it) 35 min 35 seconds.

S5 E12 The White Rabbit Job: Searching the mark's house, Parker wants to steal a shirt. Again, this isn't technically a proper dammit Parker, as Eliot instead says, "Put it back! Dammit." But I'm still including it because it was aimed at her. 21 mins 20 seconds.

RS1 E9 The Bucket Job: Parker is pretending to be a hacker heavily modelled off Hardison. Not a proper dammit Parker as, again, Eliot only mutters "dammit" under his breath, but still counts to me. Just after 18 mins.

RS1 E10 The Unwellness Job: At end of episode, after Parker admits that she didn't even learn Eliot's name till after the team broke up the first time. 44 mins 30 seconds.

RS1 E13 The Hurricane Job: After washing up on shore and entering the Beacon Inn, Parker and Eliot are bickering about Maria. He doesn't strictly say dammit Parker but there's absolutely no doubt who he's directing the dammits towards. 3 mins 30 seconds.

RS2 E6 The Fractured Job: When farewelling Billy and Parker says next time she'll finish telling him about the robot bodies. Again, it's just dammit not dammit Parker but it's close enough. 41 mins.

RS2 E8 The Turkish Prisoner Job: Another standalone dammit that is most definitely aimed at Parker! When breaking Romero out, Parker says she's a firefighter (with far too much glee), around 14 mins 30 seconds.

RS2 E10 The Work Study Job: A full dammit Parker this time! When Parker reveals that it's super easy to steal from a university and produces a whole bunch of stuff, roughly 22 mins 40 seconds.

Very Distinctive Moments

S1 E2 The Homecoming Job: Eliot ID's the weapon from the gunshots, around 8 mins. Later, he ID's a guy off his knife fighting style, around 18 mins 50 seconds.

S2 E6 The Top Hat Job: ID's a CIA guy from his stance, roughly 7 mins 45 seconds.

S3 E11 The Rashomon Job: ID's the smell of peppermint on Hardison's breath, around 21 mins.

S3 E12 The King George Job: ID's former British paratroopers by their haircuts, 30 mins 10 seconds.

S4 E1 The Long Way Down Job: ID's a former spetsnaz guy by his footprint, 13 mins 45 seconds.

S4 E5 The Hot Potato Job: Honourable mention of Eliot ID'ing ex-military personnel by their stances, he just doesn't say very distinctive. 18 mins 50 seconds.

S4 E11 The Experimental Job: Honourable mention of Eliot ID'ing a helicopter by the whumpa-whumpa (there's 7 of them did you know). Around 7 mins.

S5 E3 The First Contact Job: ID's military satellite transmission by the static, 7 mins 20 seconds.

S5 E9 The Rundown Job: ID's a Navy Seal who enlisted between '90-'95 by his watch, around 16 mins.

RS1 E2 The Panamanian Monkey Job: ID's a drone (Breanna's) from the sound. 11 mins 50 seconds.

RS1 E3 The Rollin' On The River Job: ID's Russian mob by the tattoos, 36 mins 30 seconds.

RS1 E7 The Double-Edged Sword Job: Honourable mention for Maria ID'ing the way Eliot disarmed her gun, 7 mins 50 seconds.

RS2 E4 The Date Night Job: Eliot ID's a guy as not having a distinctive anything - which is what is so distinctive. 20 mins 40 seconds.

RS2 E13 The Crowning Achievement Job: ID's MI6 off their search pattern, 6 mins 50 seconds.

Known Family

S1 E6 The Miracle Job: When discussing Bibletopia, Eliot says his nephew would like it. This is the ONLY mention of a nephew in the entire show, Redemption included; nor is there any direct mention of a sibling beyond this (which leads me to believe that this nephew is actually the son of a close friend/cousin/military buddy, rather than a direct family relation, but that's just my headcanon).

S2 E3 The Order 23 Job: When talking to the abused boy, Randy, Eliot says he has an uncle named Randy.

S5 E11 The Low Low Price Job: Eliot's dad owned a hardware store and he wanted Eliot to take over one day. But Eliot wanted to get out of that small town, so he joined the service. Fought with his dad the night before he left and hasn't been back since. He goes back at the end of this episode and knocks - but his dad never answers the door 😭

RS1 E9 The Bucket Job: While interrogating/torturing Eliot with Red Haze, Bligh says that Eliot's dad's friend from Vietnam has invited Eliot to join them for Christmas. At the end of the episode, Eliot goes to join them for dinner, only to get a message from 'J' that his dad was a no show. This 'J' is widely accepted as Eliot's unknown sibling but that is incorrect! 'J' is Eliot's dad's buddy from Vietnam!

RS2 E6 The Fractured Job: The ultimate Eliot family backstory episode!! (if you haven't seen it yet and don't want spoilers, skip this one!) Eliot was adopted by a black couple, Billy and an unnamed woman, after being abandoned/surrendered at a hospital as a baby. His father was a war hero who got none of the glory and sustained a wound, ruining his civilian career path, so Billy never wanted Eliot to follow in his footsteps. Eliot loved the stories of his dad in the military so joined up to be like him. His mother died while Eliot was on an op and he couldn't get leave to come back for the funeral, deepening the rift between him and Billy. Ultimately, they reconcile, (Eliot says his dad was always a hero to him, Billy say's he's proud of Eliot, they hug), and I cry every time 😭❤️ [Edit: Eliot being a baby at the time of being found at the hospital and consequently brought home by his adopted mother is unconfirmed and my presumption. We have no clear info on his age at adoption. Thanks to @nival-kenival for picking that up!]

Phrases: Ain't

S1 E4 The Snow Job: Said to Nate, right before Nate tells him to go skip some rope.

S1 E9 The Stork Job: Says it twice while conning Irina.

S1 E10 The Juror #6 Job: Upon being told to go help Parker instead of watching a sports game, Eliot takes his beer back.

S2 E2 The Tap-Out Job: Discussing the fights the mark runs, says they ain't the UFC.

S2 E3 The Order 23 Job: Said right before threatening to throw Randy's abusive father over the railing of a stairwell.

S2 E4 The Fairy Godparents Job: Upon spotting a hitman sent to kill McSweeten and Taggart.

S2 E8 The Ice Man Job: After hearing Hardison call himself the Ice Man, says he won't bail him out when things go wrong.

S2 E9 The Lost Heir Job: While trying to get Parker to the court room and end up cut off by the police.

S2 E11 The Bottle Job: When Hardison wants help to clean up Nate's apartment and Eliot refuses.

S2 E14 The Three Strikes Job: When Nate says to meet outside the ballpark but Eliot refuses because now he's sucked into the sport.

S3 E3 The Inside Job: Twice while arguing with Hardison about how to rescue Parker, once when Parker offers him a lift down the stairwell with her on her harness rig and he refuses. This is the most he says ain't in a single episode!

S3 E7 The Gone Fishin' Job: Once when the militia try to make him kneel, later when the militia kid catches him and Hardison near the train tracks.

S3 E11 The Rashomon Job: When Sophie changes her story to mock Eliot's accent and mannerisms.

S3 E15 The Big Bang Job: When confronting Moreau with Hardison.

S4 E1 The Long Way Down Job: Upon arriving at the base camp and complaining to Nate.

S4 E7 The Grave Danger Job: When looking for a buried Hardison and hearing the sprinklers.

S4 E10 The Queen's Gambit Job: At the end, swearing revenge on Sterling.

S4 E12 The Office Job: Arguing with Hardison about Eliot's sandwich while searching the warehouse.

S4 E13 The Girls' Night Out Job: When trying to convince Nate to socialise at the very start.

S4 E14 The Boys' Night Out Job: Exactly the same as the previous episode, so this one barely counts.

S4 E17 The Radio Job: In the patent office, when trying to figure out who lured Nate into this situation. The same scene is used later as a flashback.

S4 E18 The Last Dam Job: Warning Nate of the consequences of taking a life with your own hands.

S5 E2 The Blue Line Job: When ambushed by Marko when leaving the ice rink.

S5 E9 The Rundown Job: Once when going to wring information on the hit out of Riley, once when Hardison steps on the trigger plate of the claymore.

S5 E13 The Corkscrew Job: First time talking to Betty about how Leonard's a jerk.

RS1 E1 The Too Many Rembrandts Job: Twice when ambushed by RIZ thugs in the warehouse.

RS1 E2 The Panamanian Monkey Job: Once when discussing Ryan Corbett at the start, once when refusing to let Hardison have a turn with the diamond-tipped drill.

RS1 E3 The Rollin' On The River Job: When warning Breanna to be certain of her calculations for how to get him and Parker out of the casino's vault.

RS1 E8 The Mastermind Job: Once when discussing hiring people to overthrow a government, once when discussing how they're going to do like 6 things at once, including saving Harry.

RS1 E9 The Bucket Job: Said twice while talking with Blanche, after Blanche helped rescue Eliot from RIZ.

RS1 E14 The Great Train Job: While digging through the tainted soil with Harry.

RS2 E1 The Debutante Job: When trying to get to Volkov's plane with Parker and seeing that two guards are in the way.

RS2 E5 The Walk In The Woods Job: Talking to Paul after rescuing Harry, who was pretending to be Eliot.

Fun fact: for every ain't that Eliot says, Hardison says at least two more. And that's too many for me to bother recording!

Phrases: Y'all

Never. Not even once.

Hardison, on the other hand, says y'all all the damn time - every season, multiple times, sometimes even multiple times in the same episode.

Honourable mention for Chaos saying y'all as an incorrect mockery of Eliot's accent in S3 E14 The Ho Ho Ho Job.

... Okay, okay! So Eliot says it a few times in Redemption! But only in ONE episode!

RS1 E1 The Too Many Rembrandts Job: Said 4 times when playing a character and convincing people to clear out of the auction house.

That's it.

Aliases

These are all the names that Eliot's gone by or used on cons that I could find, not just full blown aliases.

S1 E1 The Nigerian Job: Detective Lieutenant Carden (the scene with this alias was cut from a lot of versions of this episode)

S1 E4 The Snow Job: Vince Fetkey, Hans Von Schwesterkrank

S1 E7 The Two-Horse Job: Brad Mackie

S1 E9 The Stork Job: Dale

S1 E12 The First David Job: Professor Sinclair

S1 E13 The Second David Job: Professor/Dr Adam Sinclair

S2 E2 The Tap-Out Job: Kid Jones (on the fight match poster)

S2 E4 The Fairy Godparents Job: Coach Brewer

S2 E5 The Three Days Of The Hunter Job: Earl

S2 E9 The Lost Heir Job: Officer Hilts

S2 E10 The Runway Job: Julian

S2 E14 The Three Strikes Job: Roy Chappell

S3 E1 The Jailhouse Job: Dr Abernathy

S3 E2 The Reunion Job: Lloyd Hickey

S3 E4 The Scheherazade Job: Guy Hamilton

S3 E5 The Double Blind Job: Phil

S3 E6 The Studio Job: Kenneth Crane

S3 E7 The Gone Fishin' Job: Agent Quint

S3 E8 The Boost Job: Skeeter

S3 E9 The Three-Card Monte Job: Detective Moffat

S3 E10 The Underground Job: Eric

S3 E11 The Rashomon Job: Dr Wes Abernathy

S3 E16 The San Lorenzo Job: Ray Laroque

S4 E2 The Ten Li'l Grifters Job: Charlie Siringo

S4 E4 The Van Gogh Job: Lieutenant (only granting him this one because CK played him in the flashback)

S4 E5 The Hot Potato Job: Tom Boonen

S4 E12 The Office Job: Mr Dennis

S4 E14 The Boys' Night Out Job: Luigi

S4 E15 The Lonely Hearts Job: Jackson Cooper

S4 E16 The Gold Job: Tobias Bowden

S4 E17 The Radio Job: Cowboy (*cough* John McClane *cough*)

S5 E2 The Blue Line Job: Jacques "Jack" Labert

S5 E3 The First Contact Job: Willie Riker

S5 E5 The Gimme A K Street Job: Steven Turner

S5 E6 The DB Cooper Job: DB Cooper/Young Steve Reynolds (again, technically not an alias but whatever it's here anyway)

S5 E7 The Real Fake Car Job: Barry McElroy

S5 E11 The Low Low Price Job: Archer

S5 E14 The Toy Job: Carl

Honourable mentions of Eliot being called: "Rambo" by Hardison in S1 E2 The Homecoming Job [thanks @independent-fics for this!]; "Emeril" by Parker in S1 E3 The Wedding Job [thanks @aardvaark for this one!]; "Sparky" by Parker in S1 E10 The Juror #6 Job and by Tara in S2 E15 The Maltese Falcon Job; and "Skippy" by Hardison in S3 E7 The Gone Fishin' Job.

RS1 E1 The Too Many Rembrandts Job: Will Gallagher

RS1 E6 The Card Game Job: Glenn the Savage

RS1 E7 The Double-Edged Sword: Emmett Milbarge

RS1 E8 The Mastermind Job: Frank Farmer

RS1 E10 The Unwellness Job: Hank

RS1 E12 The Golf Job: Reed Wilkins

RS1 E13 The Hurricane Job: Calvin

RS1 E15 The Muddy Waters Job: Armus Vagra

RS2 E7 The Big Rig Job: Kris

RS2 E8 The Turkish Prisoner Job: Nick O'Brien

RS2 E10 The Work Study Job: New Blood, Caterpillar

Honourable mention of Eliot being called "Skipper" by Hardison in RS1 E16 The Harry Wilson Job.

Known Associates

This is in direct reference to hitters/people from the criminal world that Eliot knew or was aware of prior to the Leverage Team. Quinn is not included in this list due to that distinction (sorry Quinn).

S1 E3 The Wedding Job: The Butcher of Kiev

S2 E7 The Two Live Crew Job: Mikel Dayan

S3 E11 The Rashomon Job: Gutman

S3 E15 The Big Bang Job: Chapman, Damien Moreau

S3 E16 The San Lorenzo Job: Damien Moreau

S4 E4 The Van Gogh Job: Frank, Randall

S4 E6 The Carnival Job: Roper

S5 E4 The French Connection: Rampone

S5 E9 The Rundown Job: Riley

Trivia

S2 E6 The Top Hat Job: Eliot claims he only sleeps 90 minutes a day, and that he cured his claustrophobia as a kid by locking himself in the woodshed behind his house for a couple nights.

S3 E6 The Studio Job: Eliot is nervous to perform in front of an audience, to the point that Parker startles him and she's surprised that she did. Interesting to note that he seems to have no issue playing sport in front of crowds.

S3 E7 The Gone Fishin' Job: Eliot says he hates beets.

S4 E5 The Hot Potato Job: Eliot chews gum. He does this throughout a LOT of episodes across the seasons but I've only noted down this one episode for it.... thanks, past me 🙄 [Edit: thanks @nival-kenival for more info! Another confirmed episode is S1 E2 The Homecoming Job, and S3 E13 The Morning After Job!]

S4 E9 The Cross My Heart Job: Eliot says he fought a guy with a Nerf sword in Damascus, 2002.

S5 E11 The Low Low Price Job: Eliot drives an F-150 to his dad's house in Oklahoma. This is a THIRD vehicle that apparently belongs to Eliot, in addition to the Chevrolet Silverado and Dodge Challenger we see in other episodes. The F-150 is not seen again.

S5 E12 The White Rabbit Job: Eliot has 'special sedatives' aka a little psychotropic he picked up outside of Bogota.

Eliot mostly walks at the back of the group, presumably to be the rear guard and make sure no one falls behind. See ... just about every damn episode for evidence.

RS1 E3 The Rollin' On The River Job: Parker says that Eliot has cut his way out of an ice cave, escaped a gorilla enclosure, and catered a wedding for the mob.

Eliot is seen wearing glasses throughout various episodes. A flashback in S1 E1 The Nigerian Job shows him wearing presumably his own glasses. All other instances of him wearing glasses (that I can think of) are when he takes someone's glasses for a con. It is unconfirmed if Eliot actually needs glasses to correct his eyesight or not, but is a fandom headcanon. In S3 E1 The Jailhouse Job there is an interaction where Nate ribs Eliot for taking so long in a fight, and Eliot says it's because of new glasses. An argument could be made that this means Eliot does require glasses. [Thanks @independent-fics for picking this up - for pretty much all the details pertaining to Eliot's glasses!]

And there you have it! All the details that I've spent the last 3 months collecting!! Now it's time for me to take a good, long break because my brain is fried! 😂

Once again, let me know if you find any errors so I can update the post. Data from Redemption S2 is where I've most likely missed things, since I don't have it on DVD and it's sooo much harder to scrub through streaming footage to find things. When will they release RS2 on DVD I need itttt.

If you've made it this far, thanks for reading! I hope this post can be a helpful reference for you!

[arias-archive]

can u write a one bed scene between Grayson and Lyra which takes place right after the scene where they kiss in tgg

a/n: Hiiii! Yes ofc! I’m so SO SO sorry it took so long but I wanted to make sure I got this as perfect as I could for all the anticipation it built :) (there was also another anon who asked for a graysonlyra fic so I hope this is okay!). I really hope I didn’t let anyone down and once again, thank u for waiting and supporting <3

this is set right after the graysonlyra kiss in tgg!

warnings: swearing, panic attck, kissing, slight tgg spoilers?

description: 12 hours until the next game and what a coincidence the asshole got locked out of his room

tig masterlist | masterlist

catch me if you can (a graysonlyra fic)

Lyra thought about the danger of touch. She thought about all the reasons she had not to do this. But as Grayson lowered his lips, Lyra rose up on her toes, tilted her head backward, moving like a dancer, needing this—and him.

Her long-held memory of that kiss gave way to this kiss. And this kiss was everything.

His tongue coaxed her lips to part, slipping inside, sinfully exploring every inch, ravishing her in a way she never had been before.

He wasn’t a gentle kisser, but he wasn’t rough either. This kiss was greedy and passionate and everything she needed. Her lips tingled with the memory of their first kiss, but that was practically a peck compared to this.

She knew this was foolish, kissing Grayson Davenport Hawthorne when she had every reason to hate him. She wanted to forget about that for a moment, letting the kiss deepen while her thoughts ebbed away- with nothing but him plaguing her mind.

As she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, she really didn’t want to stop. She felt like she was burning from the inside out and all she wanted was to burn with him.

They stood there, desperately fused together with the burning orange sunrise illuminating them. He held onto her waist, her chest pressed up against his in a way that made her want to get impossibly closer. He pulled away for a breath and her mouth instinctively followed him, pressing against his lips again.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, fused to each other but it was her who pulled away first, face flushed and breathless. But It was the sound of a couple of breaking branches that jolted her out of her fantasy.

She was still standing in the frame of his arms when they pulled apart, his fingers digging into the smallest part of her waist as if she could vanish at any moment. She whipped her head around, brown locks whipping her face as she searched for what could’ve possibly disturbed them. She saw nothing though.

Nothing except the charred ruins of the great mansion that one stood here, a skeletal frame bordering them. Nothing except the burnt remains of the papers containing her father's names scattering the ground.

She was surrounded by papers bearing her father’s name, someone had given her a ticket and it wasn’t the Hawthorne’s and Odette-

The realisation of what she’d been trying to actively avoid slammed into her like a truck.

And then the kiss just felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Her lips burned with the intensity of it all, desperate to fall back into him but she couldn’t. She felt sick. She jumped back. Still high on the adrenaline from that kiss, she turned and ran.

Okay, maybe worse than just ran. She practically sprinted from the ruins, running towards the House, leaving the silver-eyed boy alone in the trees.

She heard him shout her name, she heard him sprint after her but she still ran. She was still reeling from everything that had taken place from last night to now. She was in shock that she ran away from the kiss without saying anything to him. What the hell was wrong with her?

She ran until everything hurt, and she was gasping for air. And then she ran some more. Her feet pounded against the dirt in time with her racing heart. But running was all she knew how to do at the moment. She needed to get away, from everything. She needed to think. To process everything and what would happen next.

She shouldn’t have kissed Grayson to push away those thoughts. And she shouldn’t have ran away after that. That was stupid. She didn’t want to use Grayson like that. Her heart ached at the thought of the asshole becoming a distraction for her. Something to use to solve the mystery of her father.

She might admit she cared about Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

She was still dressed in her beautiful masquerade ball dress, the frothy waves of her skirt swishing around her as she kicked up stones and twigs and leaves in her wake. These were the wrong shoes to run in, she thought, as she felt her feet throbbing painfully.

She was so close to the House, just had to push past the overwhelming desire to stop and breath, when she felt strong arms wrap around her, her feet dangling off the ground.

“What the fuck?’ She exploded incredulously, glaring down at the freaking asshole who was holding her captive. She thrashed her body against his hold like a fish out of water. She already felt exhausted from sprinting all that way, and she really needed a drink of water but she couldn’t stop wriggling in his hold. Who did he think he was?

“Why did you run?” Grayson huffed, grappling for calm. He had a vice-like grip around her body and she couldn’t help but be reminded of the chandelier task, her body arcing into his instinctively-

Nope. She wasn’t going there right now.

She stared at him in disbelief, tightening the unsteady grip she had around his shoulders to balance herself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?”

“You’re the one who ran after we kissed!” He defended astutely, “Did I do something-”

“Put me down,” she interrupted him sharply, aiming a swift kick towards whatever body part she could reach with her beautiful ballet flats.

He lowered her down gently, before she could actually connect her foot with its intended target, letting her stumble back a few steps. He stood there, waiting for an answer to his question. He didn’t repeat it though, just let her answer when she was ready.

She bent over double, hands on her knees as she grappled for air and trying to make sense of her own emotions.

He didn’t do anything wrong. She really liked that kiss and she really did want his help in finding out the truth about her father. But it was his family, his grandmother, that had something to do with this. She couldn’t do this, she just couldn’t.

“No, you didn’t do anything,” Lyra finally replied, her gaze baring into the ground. She couldn’t bring herself to look into his stony eyes. Afraid the see the judgement there.

“Then why did you run, Lyra?” His tone was calm, like he already knew everything but was waiting for confirmation. She hated that he always sounded so self-assured. She hated that she was so uncertain again.

Like she was remembering that birthday all over again.

Her entire world had been thrown off-kilter again, sending her mind battling for possibilities to make sense of this twisted joke. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled quietly, eyes stuck to the ground in embarrassment. “This isn’t about the kiss. I just needed to think-“ She paused, unsure of how to explain why she actually ran when she wasn’t sure herself.

“If this is about your father,” Grayson said with unshakeable promise, “I vow I will help you find out what happened, Lyra. You have my word.”

Even just the mention of her father from somebody else’s mouth stung like acid. She nodded, her eyes still glued to the dirt floor as she straightened herself up.

Her unease still clung to her, her father’s names rattling around her head like gunfire. The coppery tang of gunpowder and blood coated her senses, preventing her from sucking in air.

Her vision blurred, her ears ringing like the aftermath of gunfire. She thought the situation could’ve gotten better now that she had the help of Grayson. She had someone on her team.

But she’d lived so long being the only person on her team that she couldn’t rely on someone else to help her. She didn’t know how.

Her sense of vision and hearing were impaired, her sense of smell clogged up by blood. But she hadn’t lost her control on touch. She leant into Grayson, digging her face into his shoulder.

His arms wrapped around her back and the back of her knees, lifting her up softly. She couldn’t hear the reassurances he was murmuring into her ear, but she could feel his comforting presence around her- reminding her that he was on her team from the start. Even though she didn’t want it.

She must’ve spaced out because next thing she knew, she was in her temporary room, fingers digging into the sheets beneath her, sobbing into Grayson Hawthorne.

Her sobs were ugly, ragged and breathless. She was just mumbling incoherent nonsense until Grayson shushed her.

He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her and Lyra’s temper flared. Why did he think he could just silence her?

Her furious gaze snapped to his, glaring into the endless abyss of gray. His lips twitched as if he knew that would get her attention. That just made her angrier.

“You will stay here with me,” he murmured, her brain remembering the words from the panic attack she had earlier on. When he had first seen her vulnerable. “Right here. Right now, Lyra.”

She liked the way he said her name. The way it rolled off his tongue with precision and charm and surety. The way the syllables bounced off his tongue, as if he savoured the very words.

She focused on that, on him, on where she was. Here and now

“When I was 13,” he started, his gaze locked onto her panicked eyes, a calmness that she didn’t possess right now. “My brothers hid glitter on top of my bathroom fan, then proceeded to cover the entire bathroom in glue.”

She snorted, lips twitching in amusing at the thought of a clueless Grayson wandering inside her bathroom and being met with a sparkly surprise.

He lifted her palm to his chest, pressing it against his steadily beating heart. It was calm and orderly, just like Grayson. So she tried to match her breathing to its pace, syncing up the him.

“I turned on the fan,” he continued, rubbing his warm hands against her arms, grounding here to the here and now. “Obviously glitter exploded everywhere and stuck to everything.” He still sounded so bitter about it that she actually burst out laughing, in midst of her tears.

Grayson’s lips tilted upwards after listening to her laugh, unable to stop the quiet chuckles eliciting from his own mouth. Lyra focused in on his lips, they were fuller than they should be, and sinfully beautiful. The memory of his lips pressed against hers tingled painfully, aching for more.

Grayson tried his best to control his amusement as he schooled his features back into a bored expression. “That isn’t funny,” he huffed with an eye roll. “There’s still glitter in my bathroom.” 

She shook her head, her breaths slowing down, matching with his own calming pace. She pulled away from him, turning her face away as she dried her wet face. She was slightly embarrassed now. 

But before she could ever let that embarrassment fester, his fingers found the bottom of her chin, tilting it up towards his face. “Don’t do that,” he murmured with a small shake of his head. “I’m on your team, Lyra.”

“Do what?” She asked after she cleared her itchy throat, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

“Put those walls back up.” There it was again. The way he said her name. Like it was a prayer, whispered over and over again. She liked hearing her name come out his mouth.  

She managed to drag her gaze away, eyeing the barely furnished room. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and just sleep for a bit, but she couldn’t. Not until she properly apologised.

She wasn’t good at apologising though. Especially not to assholes like him. The words caught in her throat, refusing to push past her lips. 

So she changed the subject with a breezy tone. “I liked the first story you told me,” she considered with a small scrunch of her nose. “The one about the cello and the kitten and the long sword.”

“And a crossbow,” he added. His hands never left her arms, soothing her even if she didn’t want to talk about it yet. 

“You have to tell me how that happened-“

“I will not.” He replied firmly. 

“Oh come on,”

They bickered and chatted for ages, Lyra slumped against Grayson’s shoulder as he just chatted on about whatever she wanted to hear next. His voice was grounding. It pushed away the sticky blood and the metallic tang of gunpowder and the burnt remains of those notes. 

Eventually, Grayson stood up, pulling two keys out of his pocket. “I should leave now,” he said, dusting imaginary dust off his vintage suit, tugging at the sleeves.

He handed one key to her, her own room key which he must’ve taken from the trays back downstairs. She held it firmly, letting the cool metal of the intricate designs press patterns into her skin. 

She wouldn’t beg him to stay, despite her wishes. It wasn’t in her nature to plead. She was fine now, better than fine. She was ready.

She nodded at his words, opening her mouth to apologise before he left but the words stuck to the roof of her mouth, heavy and weighted. He waited for her to speak but she couldn’t. She waved him off with a small smile, flopping back onto the bed. 

He turned to leave, casting one last glance at the dark haired girl before gently shutting the door behind him. She strained her ears to listen to his retreating footsteps until they faded completely.

She didn’t know how long she lay on the bed, simply staring at the ceiling contemplating everything until she heard a firm knock at her room. 

She furrowed her dark brows, sitting up with a yawn, hair cascading down her back. She needed sleep desperately.

“Who is it?” She called, stifling her yawn with her hand. 

“Grayson,” the smooth voice replied back, so quiet yet so loud all at once. “Can I come in?”

She nodded before realising he couldn’t actually see her so she called out, “Yeah. Is everything okay?”

The door was pushed open as Grayson re-entered the room, walking with authority and power wherever he went. He shut the door behind her, arms crossed over his chest. 

She raised a questioning brow, signalling for him to talk about why he was here. 

He cleared his throat before speaking. “It appears that our lovely game makers have locked me out of my room,” he said coolly, his jaw ticking in annoyance.

“Oh,” Lyra replied with pursed lips, biting the inside of her cheek. Only now did she notice he was keyless. 

She didn’t know what to say to him just standing there, basically asking for help even if he would never outright demand it. His way of relinquishing some control, she supposed. Dare she say even trust her a bit?

He had helped her, throughout the whole night and going forward. Hell, she was sobbing in his arms not too long ago. So before she could even stop the words from coming out her mouth, she said, “You can stay in here,” before hastily adding, “if you want.”

He assessed her and then the room, nodding once. “Only if you are sure.” His voice was monotone, but she felt the undertone of hesitation there too. It was almost comical to her.

She looked around the room, taking in the sparsely furnished room. There wasn’t a chair, or a couch, or even a rug for him to sit down on.

Only the bed. Where she too was planning to lay. But she couldn’t tell him to get out now. Not after kindly offering her room up. 

So she wordlessly shuffled to one side of the luxurious bed, pulling off her ballet flats and disposing them beside the bed. She lay down, still clad in her beautiful ball gown, waiting for him to do the same.

He paused, as if waiting for something. A moment later,, he bent down to take off his own shoes and lined them up neatly at the foot of the bed. He robotically lay down on the other side of the bed, facing the ceiling, stiff as a board. As if he were laying on a bed of nails.

She rolled her eyes and couldn’t resist teasing him. He looked like a grumpy cat. “Everything okay, Hawthorne?”

“Splendid,” came his bored reply, his eyes meticulously tracing the ceiling. 

“You look like you’re going to fall off the bed,” she stated, propping herself up into an elbow, nudging his shoulder with her other hand. “Move closer.”

He was quiet for so long Lyra wasn’t even sure he was going to reply but then he moved. Only slightly. The barest centimetre. 

Lyra rolled her eyes again, poking his shoulder harder. “Never slept in a bed with someone before?” 

His scowl only intensified, only adding to her own enjoyment. But he moved closer, albeit only slightly. She kept up her taunting and teasing until he was only a few inches away from her own position on the bed.

She lay back down properly, rolling over her other side to get comfy. Her eyes fluttered with exhaustion and she was eager for sleep to take her. 

Just as she was about to drift off, she felt an arm drape over her midsection, clutching her closer to the warm chest pressed against her back. Her cheeks heated at the proximity. She could feel his heart racing, even through the layers. 

She stayed like a statue at first, unsure of what to do or how to react. But she meant what she thought earlier. She did like Grayson. And she wanted someone on her team. To be in her corner. 

So before she lost the nerve, she flipped around in his embrace and pressed a long, hard kiss to his lips, her tongue coaxing entrance to his mouth. 

Sparks ignited from the contact, their bodies creating an unholy inferno daring to be burned out. He pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss fully. 

Her fingers threaded through his blonde locks as his caressed her face, thumb rubbing her cheek softly. 

This kiss wasn’t like the first, or even second kiss. This one was better. As if they had never kissed before yet had kissed a hundred times before.

 It felt like two people dancing, moving simultaneously to the music only they could hear. It felt like a battle, each treading more deeper into greed.

This time it was her who pulled away for air first, his mouth following hers only to be stopped by her finger held against his lips, effectively stopping him.

She could see the protest flash through his eyes so she forced the words out her lips. So she could properly apologise, not the half-hearted explanation she gave earlier.

“I’m sorry for running, Grayson,” she whispered softly, her lips dewy with saliva. Her eyes bore into his eyes with sincerity, using her other hand to push hair away from his face. “It wasn’t about the kiss at all-“

He pushed her finger down impatiently, cutting off her apology with another kiss before pulling away. “You run, I run, Lyra.” 

She grinned, wrapping an arm around his body as she let her eyes flutter shut. And for the first time in a very long while, she had felt safer than she had ever felt.

“Catch me if you can, asshole.”

[incorrectbatfam]

Im writing a road trip AU and I need some advice on what each of the batfam's favorite music genres are. And some prompts if you wouldn't mind!!

I have a number of character playlists on my Spotify which you can check out as a starting reference, or you can search up the music tag on my blog as I've answered a number of music-related questions

For some prompts:

If you want fluff and humor...

Tacky roadside attractions

Trying strange local delicacies (looking at you Rocky Mountain oysters)

Hotel room shenanigans

Taking turns driving

Joint trips with other superhero families

Unique family vacation traditions

Accidentally ending up at the border

If you want emotional hurt/comfort...

Late-night campfire talks

Leaving someone behind at a stop

Someone breaking off from the party

Vacation fatigue

Someone/something getting lost

Bringing work on the trip

If you want mystery and heroics...

Cryptid towns like Point Pleasant or Roswell

Seedy motel criminals

Haunted places

Team-ups with other local heroes

Getting stranded in the middle of nowhere

Facing the North American wilderness

Encountering lesser-known urban legends

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

love your writing! Can I request a fic where Gigi and Savannah keep stealing Lyra for girls night or girl time and Grayson is getting jealous? And Acacia thinks is hilarious?🤭

Jealousy and Stolen Moments

disclaimer: this ended up being WAY longer than i thought. so if ur in for a short read, im sorry 😭

——————————————————————————

MONDAY:

Grayson adjusted his tie, before glancing down at the new heels he had bought for Lyra in their closet. An idea crossed his mind, and he stepped out of the closet, walking towards Lyra who was sitting down at the vanity and doing her makeup for work.

“Lyra, how do you feel about going out for dinner tonight?” Lyra turned around to face him, a smile touching her glossy lips. Grayson was moving closer without meaning to now, drawn to the breathtaking girl in front of him. “You’ll get to wear your new heels.” She made a face at him, before speaking.

“I would, but Gigi and Savannah invited me over for dinner and a sleepover. They want to do a book marathon, spa day, and movie marathon in one day.” Lyra said with a shrug. A smile touched Graysons lips at the thought of Lyra bonding with his sisters. It warmed his heart in a new and unfamiliar way.

“Alright then.” He said, smiling. Lyra smiled back, and Grayson bent down and, putting an arm through her knees and another around her upper back, picked her up.

“Grayson!” Lyra exclaimed with a grin, writhing around in his arms. Grayson couldn’t hide his love for her as he pressed a kiss to her lips, trailing more on her jaw and down her neck. He pressed one last soft kiss on the space just below her ear, taking in her sweet and addictive perfume smell, before raising his head and giving her red cheeks a teasing look.

“You can put me down now.” Lyra stated, crossing her arms and raising a brow at Grayson, despite the red blush on her cheeks. Grayson returned the brow raise, before adjusting her in his arms and gently tossing her over his shoulder. That got another shout out of her as he placed a reassuring hand on her thigh and used the other hand to grab her purse.

“Can I?” He replied, walking over to the kitchen in the apartment they were currently renting.

“Yes!!” She shouted, her legs gently kicking his chest. Grayson was wearing an amused expression as he set down her purse, grabbed his cup of coffee, and put Lyra down one handed. As soon as her feet touched the floor, Grayson noticed the blush growing on her face, and tried very hard to hide his smile.

“Just for that,” Lyra grumbled, snatching Grayson’s car keys off the counter, “I’m driving.” Grayson made no move to stop her as he followed her graceful steps towards the door, sure that he would follow her anywhere as long as she asked.

TUESDAY:

Grayson parked in the parking lot of Lyra’s workplace, watching her walk out and towards the car. Grayson got out before she did and moved to open the door for her. Lyra didn’t object, but was grumbling “ever the gentleman” with a smirk on her face as she climbed inside. Once Grayson was inside too, he was quick to ask the question that had been flashing through his head since he was at work.

“Do you want to go out for lunch?” He asked her. Lyra shook her head, a sorry expression on her face.

“I wish, but I have plans. Gigi has been begging me to do blind, mute, and deaf baking with her and Savannah. Apparently she hasn’t stopped talking about it, and Savannah called me begging for us to just, and I quote, “get it over with”.” Lyra said, smirking. Grayson was surprised for a moment, before a ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“Of course. Do you want me to drop you off there?” Grayson asked her. Lyra glared at him.

“No. I want you to leave me on the side of the road so I can go hitch hiking with a group of old guys that are probably trying to molest me.” Lyra deadpanned. Grayson’s lips twitched.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And I assume my presence isn’t needed in this “girl time”?” Grayson asked her. Lyra smirked.

“I’m afraid not, sweetheart.” She said, tossing back the use of Graysons pet name for her. His smile only grew as he kept driving, finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes on the road.

WEDNESDAY:

Normally Grayson would be working on Wednesday, but he got an off day due to some holiday that he honestly didn’t keep track of anymore. With a soft smile playing on his lips, he waited outside of Lyra’s workplace to again offer the lunch idea. Lyra stepped out of the elevator and made her way towards the door, before looking surprised once her eyes met Grayson’s.

“Grayson!” Lyra says, her eyebrows shooting up as she stepped outside and closed the space between them. Grayson kissed her softly and slowly, placing his hands on her hips as she brought her arms around his neck.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He said, the ends of his lips ticking upward as he wrapped his arms around her lower back and enveloped her in a hug. If only they could stay that way forever.

“What are you doing here?” Lyra asked once she pulled away, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before taking his hands in hers. Grayson shrugged, giving her hands a squeeze.

“I wanted to offer up the lunch idea again. How does that one salad bar place that you love sound?” He asked her. Lyra’s eyes widened, as she groaned and smacked his shoulder playfully.

“So good! But unfortunately..” Lyra said, trailing off as she made a pained face. “I’m busy again.” There was the slightest look of disappointment that flashed across Grayson’s face, and as subtle and quick as it was, Lyra still noticed it.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, but with Acacia’s birthday coming up, Gigi and Sav want to go gift shopping. They have a bunch of ideas, but want mine and each others’ help to narrow down a few,” Lyra said apologetically, before her features changed and she took on a proud expression. “And, because my boss loves me, she let me take a two hour long lunch break, which should give us enough time.” As glad as Grayson was that his sisters and his girlfriend seemed to be getting along very well, there was still a sting of disappointment that came along with being rejected three days in a row.

“That’s nice of her.” Grayson said, using the moment to pull Lyra to his side and press a kiss to her temple. “Can I at least walk you to your car, or are Gigi and Savannah going to snatch you away before I can get the chance?” There was a flicker of movement on Lyra’s brow, just the slightest twitch, but it was so quick that Grayson wondered if his brain was just making things up.

“Nope,” She said, swatting her hand at him as if swatting away a pestering fly. “Begone, you.” But still she made no move to leave him, and the slightest laugh came from Grayson’s mouth as he opened the car door for her and watched her climb in. Only when she was waving at him and driving away did he notice that the pang of disappointment had grown, mixing with another swirl of emotion that he felt stupid to feel.

Jealousy.

LYRA:

As soon as Lyra had driven off, her mind was racing as she giggled mischievously and called the group chat with her, Gigi, and Savannah in it.

Was Grayson…. jealous? That she was hanging out with his sisters and not him? It was noticeable that Grayson tended to become possessive and protective when it came to her, but only if you could read the signs.

And Lyra, having dated him for 8 months now, could read the signs.

As soon as they picked up, Lyra didn’t let them speak before talking herself.

“Guys,” She said, unable to contain her giggles, “We have to hang out tomorrow.” Gigi whooped in the background, but Savannah was more quick to protest.

“Again? I don’t mean to be rude, but this is the 3rd time in a row that we’ve hung out. Another day and I’ll grow sick of you.” Savannah said. Her tone was so serious that Lyra almost didn’t know if she was joking for a second, but living by two broody people made her able to spot the signs.

“Yes, yes, I know, but trust me, this is different,” Lyra said, grinning. “This is about Grayson.” Savannah paused, and Gigi took that as her sign to speak up.

“How so? Has he finally given in to my persuasion and is getting a cat?” Gigi asked hopefully. Lyra sighed.

“Unfortunately not. But you know how we’ve been hanging out these last few days?” Lyra asked, a wicked grin crossing her face. “Graysons getting jealous.” There was a pause, before I heard a snort on the other end of the line that was definitely Acacia.

“Grayson is jealous that you’re hanging out with his sisters and not him? Now that’s hilarious.” Acacia teased from somewhere in the distance, her mind already have connected the dots. Gigi bursted out laughing as well.

“He’s pathetic.” Savannah snickered. And when that got a complaint from Acacia, the snickering ceased, and Savannah spoke up again, saying, “I’m joking, mom.” in complete deadpan. Lyra laughed as well.

“I’m going to see how long it’ll take before he breaks and finally says something. You guys ready to have me over every day until that point?” Lyra asked, only half joking as she didn’t want to intrude.

“We would never mind, baby. You’re apart of the family now.” Acacia said again, making Lyra’s heart warm. Gigi giggled, and Lyra heard a slapping sound from the call. She didn’t have a single doubt that Gigi was currently rubbing her hands together like an evil mastermind.

“Get ready, Grayson.” She said menacingly. Lyra snickered.

Get ready Grayson, indeed.

THURSDAY:

Grayson didn’t stop by Lyra’s work today, as he was sure that she was probably busy. Again.

A pang of annoyance hit him at the same time a pang of sadness did, and just for a moment, he wondered if she was blowing him off on purpose. Then he shook off his annoying thoughts and decided to just give her a call. He hit the call button and was ready to hear her harmonic voice, but instead was met with the line stretching on, and then, her voice mail.

“Hey it’s Lyra!” The voice mail said, her voice bringing Grayson a sudden sense of peace. “I can’t come to the phone right now-“

“SO STOP CALLING!!” A voice that Grayson immediately recognized as Gigi’s spoke over her, which brought a laugh from Lyra. When did she change her voice mail, Grayson wondered. Was it when she was with Gigi and Savannah?

“Or, just leave a message.” Lyra offered with a laugh. “Which, by the way, you can leave after the beep.” Suddenly, there was a beep, and an automated message asking if he wants to leave a voicemail. Grayson hung up before the robot was done talking, wanting to at least say something, even if it’s in a voicemail, but also not wanting to bother her at the same time. Grayson just set his phone down with a sigh and tried to focus on his work, although he knew his mind was elsewhere.

FRIDAY:

Grayson got off work at 9, a bit later than usual although he also went to work late in the morning, and was excited to finally see Lyra. She had been hanging out with his sisters the entire week, and as much as he hated to admit it, jealousy was truly eating at him alive. It was terrible, but his head was getting foggy and his heart heavy at being away from Lyra for this long. And of course, he didn’t want to say anything, for if he did, it would look like he didn’t want Lyra to have a relationship with his sisters. It was all too confusing.

Grayson got in his car and drove home, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel impatiently. It was ridiculously embarrassing to admit, but he truly goes insane when he’s not with her.

Grayson got out of his car and speed walked up to their apartment entrance, stepping inside the building and going as quickly as he could to their temporary room on the 3rd floor. Grayson stepped inside, a smile touching his lips, as he called out for Lyra. The smile slowly dropped when he didn’t get an answer.

“Lyra?” He tried again. Even though there was again no answer, Grayson didn’t want to lose hope. He searched the entire apartment, and then he came to the conclusion that she wasn’t home. Again.

Too bitter and filled with disappointment and jealousy to feel tired, Grayson got back outside, got in his car, and drove to the closest bar he could.

One glass of wine became 3, and 3 became 6, and soon enough, Grayson was drunk. Very drunk. He wondered how he was supposed to get a ride, and when he tried getting up, immediately sat back down. Okay, he was drunk. And dizzy. And tired. And where was Lyra?

Grayson just stared at his cup of wine until he felt a hand on his back.

“I have a girlfriend and I love her.” He said in deadpan, trying his very best not to slur the words.

“I have a boyfriend and I love him.” A beautifully familiar voice replied simply. Grayson whipped his head to follow the voice, blinking hard as he took in the beautiful woman standing in front of him. Lyra. Suddenly, he seemed very intent on standing, and, raking a hand in her hair, he kissed her. It was soft and gentle at first, and then became more passionate.

“I missed you.” He murmured against her lips. “When you were with my sisters.” Lyra froze, before separating, a grin playing on her face.

“You did?” She asked, looking shocked. Grayson put another hand on her neck, very suddenly needing to be close to her.

“Yes. You were gone every day.” He said, a pang of hurt swirling in his chest even now.

“Really?” Lyra stretched out, gasping dramatically.

“Yes, and-“ Grayson cut himself off, freezing as he realized what had happened. He was drunk, but he wasn’t stupid.

Lyra had realized that he was feeling left out. She knew, and she was hang out with the girls on purpose as a way to tease him. He just hadn’t realized.

“There you go.” Lyra said as he put two and two together, grinning.

“Oh.” Grayson said simply. He was beginning to sober up more now, his brain blinking through the week and not knowing how he hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh.” Lyra replied with a smile, before taking his arm and hooking it over her shoulder. “Okay, Handsome, time to kidnap you.” That got a few looks from some girls, but Lyra just made a face as she walked him to the car. The rest of the night was a haze, with Grayson passing out on their bed as soon as they got home, and once he did, dreaming about Lyra.

SATURDAY:

Grayson awoke suddenly, stretching his arms before checking the time. 9:04? It wasn’t like him to sleep in, even though it was a weeken-

The night before flashed through his mind, and Grayson groaned while rubbing his forehead, suddenly aware of why it was pounding.

“Hungover?” Lyra asked, suddenly coming into the bedroom with a plate of breakfast and a cup of coffee. Graysons eyebrows raised, as his heart warmed.

“Lyra, you didn’t have to make me breakfast.” He said, as he sat up and pressed his back to the headboard of their bed, eyeing her as she put the food down on his nightstand. Lyra shrugged, before leaning over and kissing him on the forehead. Grayson caught her wrist as soon as she pulled away, bringing her lips to his. His hands moved to her hips, and suddenly, he was picking her up, sitting her down with her knees in his lap. Lyra just giggled into his lips, and just that made him want to kiss her harder.

“Okay, okay,” Lyra said, swatting his chest as she pulled away, although Grayson was reluctant to separate. “You can calm down now. What I was going to say was it’s my little way of saying sorry.” Her eyes shimmered as Grayson raised a brow.

“What for?” Grayson asked her. Lyra made a face as she took Grayson’s phone off the nightstand, and held it up to him. Grayson blinked as he stared at his notifications. 12 missed calls from Jameson, 3 texts from Nash, 15 from Xander, 7 calls from Gigi, and 1 missed call from Acacia. Grayson felt his cheeks burning up as he checked his call log and realized last night he sent Lyra 17 voicemails.

“Why so many calls?” Grayson said, raising a brow at her. Lyra snorted.

“Gigi may or may not have called all your brothers telling them about the prank we played on you. And Xander may or may not be making a short story called, “Grayson Hawthorne: How the Human Form of Bland Oatmeal Got So Mushy and Gushy with his Feelings”.” Lyra said. Grayson blanched, but she just shrugged. “The crowd goes wild when you start showing emotion.” He just stared at his phone with a shocked look, before it wore off and he smiled at Lyra.

“That’s okay. They can say what they want.” Grayson asked, kissing her nose.

“Really?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Grayson said. “You’re here anyway.” He left the rest of his words unspoken, as he felt more content than he had in years. Still, the words were on the tip of his tongue, the words he wanted her to understand more than anything. Suddenly, they rolled off, too powerful to be stopped.

“And I love you.”

——————————————————————————

[megamindsecretlair]

Cold on Me, Part 2 - Final

Pairing: David Kane x Atlantean!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Plot with smut, cursing, fingering (female receiving) , teasing, orgasm denial, PIV, dirty talk, Atlantean reader. Established relationship.

Summary: On a mission to recover an artifact sacred to your people, you journey through Rome to meet up with your contact. When David steals the very item you came to collect, you make a plan to retrieve it. You never could trust easily.

Word Count: 4,494k

A/N: Sorry it's been so long, my loves. But I finally circled back to David. He's a hard character for me to get down, but I'm with it. Toss a coin to your blogger with a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @00aijia00 @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal @harmshake @ciaqui @liyaah02 @monaeesstuff @papichulojustice @tvchi @multiversefanfics @thecapodomme

You waited until much further in the night before turning on the tracking device in your bag. You made it to one of the safe houses stashed around the surface world, for you and your sisters to conduct business when need be. 

You cleaned yourself up and changed into something more flexible. You wore an all black ensemble to help you blend into the night time. It was so dark here. Back home, you were never without some source of color or light. You missed it. You missed home. But you could not return home without the artifact. 

You were still fuming about David’s betrayal but you couldn’t fault a shark for baring its teeth. You sipped on water while you waited for the contraption to pinpoint his location. He was still in Rome, on the far edges of the city. Far from any kind of water source. He was learning.

You huffed as that eliminated a few of your plans for getting the knife back and returning to the water. You looked up the coordinates. He was in an abandoned warehouse. Your fingers flew over the keys, zooming in or out, studying the layout wherever you could. 

Why the hell would he go there? What was his goal? Why wasn’t he in the air, flying to a rendezvous point? 

You didn’t like this. Not one bit. But if it were a trap, it was a piss poor one. You gathered your weapons. A blaster from Atlantis and your dagger, a gift from the Elder when you graduated to become a Collector. You grabbed a few more items, just in case.

Satisfied, you left the apartment under the cover of midnight. There were less people out now. Less cars on the road or people spilling out of restaurants. Less tourists. Speed was the name of the game so you would take your bike, but keep it under the speed limit. At least, until you made it to the more industrial side of the city. 

The helmet went on smoothly as you fired up your bike and pulled away from the curb. You let the rumbling of the engine beneath you settle your nerves. You were not going to let him play you like that again. You would remain strong. No matter what he tried to say. That…part of your life was over. What you shared was over. Buried at the bottom of the unforgiving sea. 

Out of the inner city, you increased your speed and didn’t let up until you arrived at the warehouse. It looked familiar. Something about the shape of it, the placement of a particular beam, tickled your memory. 

You got off of your bike, taking off your helmet, and shaking out your hair as you glanced at the building. Why did this place seem familiar?

You knew you were wasting too much time standing outside of the building, but there was no sign of David. No car or motorcycle of his own. No sign that anyone was around. You debated on if it was worth going inside. For all you knew, he found the bug anyway and left it here while he was in a different city by now. 

But you had to at least follow all of the clues to the end. You secured your helmet to the back, keeping a watchful eye out for anything amiss. The abandoned yard had cracks in the ground, wild weeds and grass growing in between. The railing was filthy, caked up with layers of grime, gum, and who knew what else.

You took the short steps to the door and inspected it. Nothing out of the ordinary. Still, you took out your blaster and tested the door. It was open. Warning bells went off in your head. This was too easy. Too simple. Too mundane for the likes of David Kane. 

You were a daughter of Calypso, you better act like it.

You steeled yourself and opened the door, sweeping both sides with your blaster. There were no tricks. Inside, the corridor was dark. The red exit sign above the door illuminated enough of the space to determine that you were in some kind of office area. 

You took slow, measured steps towards another door. There was a window cut into it that overlooked a wide open space, filled with hundreds of empty shelves. You looked as best as you were able, searching for any sign of David. 

Seeing nothing, you entered the room, blaster still at the ready though you were starting to feel silly. If David had a trick up his sleeve, some dastardly plan, you couldn’t see it. Couldn’t anticipate what it was he had planned.

You swept across the room, going down aisle after aisle. Curiosity got the best of you as you passed by box after box. You stopped, using your left hand to open it while your right hand kept your blaster at the ready.

Inside the box, there was a funny looking mask. Painted in shades of red, blue, and orange, it looked old. Sacred. Realization dawned as you looked around with renewed interest. This was one of David’s storage facilities. Where he kept the spoils of his pirating.

Heat burned in your chest. Anger rising like the tide that he thought he could sell the Atlantean artifact. To some useless businessman who’d brandish it like a child playing with a toy. No respect.

Your teeth ground together as you moved deeper into the warehouse. It was becoming more and more apparent that you weren’t going to find him. You made it to the end of the last aisle, having peeked into more boxes. Jewelry, weapons, masks, pottery. There was nothing that his ass didn’t try to take.

Up ahead, there was a set of stairs that led to an office. Probably for the manager or something. The light was on and you could just make out a figure. If it was David, he either didn’t see you or was waiting for you.

You took the stairs quietly anyway. At the top, the door was cracked open as David sat in a chair, facing away from you. The room looked like an ordinary office, complete with a desk, bookshelves, chairs, and a sofa. 

No personal touches were left in the room, save for a stress ball on the desk. You nudged the door open and trained your blaster on David’s head. To his credit, he only lifted his hands.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” he said.

You pushed the blaster into his head, making him bow forward. “I should kill you for what you did,” you said.

“For taking the knife or not finishing you off?” He asked. Only David could sound so fucking smug while a gun was on him. 

“Please, that was nothing to write home about,” you said and rolled your eyes.

“So the moans…were, what? For my benefit?” He asked.

“You seemed like you needed the ego boost,” you said.

David laughed and finally turned in his seat. You took a step back, staring down the length of the blaster. David looked at the weapon, but then flicked his eyes back to you. He smirked. “You were always a bad liar.”

“What the fuck is this, Kane? Why are you playing these games?” You asked.

David held up his hands, showing you that he was weaponless. He could still have a gun hidden somewhere. As if he could read your thoughts, he sighed. “You welcome to search me,” he said and winked at you. 

You sighed through your nose. He was infuriating. Childish man. You didn’t dignify his words with a response. 

“Where’s the knife, Kane?” You asked. 

David didn’t let his smirk falter as he stood up. He kept his hands palm side up, but brought it closer to his sides. “Close. Safe.” 

“It doesn’t mean anything to you. You can’t even sell it on the market.”

“That’s not why I took it,” he said. 

“Then why?” You wanted to shout. To scream. To hit him. His arms were longer and he would just best you again, super strength or not. You didn’t want to break him. You just wanted to be done with him. 

David licked his lips at your question, face softening. “I had to make you see. If I told you I’ve changed, you’d never believe me. Do you remember this place?” 

Oh yeah, you remembered. You remembered that nearly a year into your dalliance with him, he trusted you with this place. He thought you shared a love of artifacts. He thought you’d be impressed by his “collection”. You were not. You ripped him a new one. 

It wasn’t a secret that he was a pirate. He told you as much when you first met. In fact, you were here under similar circumstances, recovering a plate that belonged to Atlantis when you ran into him. The danger, the intrigue, the meet ups were all so exciting at first. But that argument spelled the beginning of the end for you.

You couldn’t see past his greed. When would enough be enough? When would he be satisfied with his hoard? Satisfied with the money he made? Satisfied with himself? 

You only narrowed your eyes but David nodded. “Remember how full this place used to be? I had a pretty good operation here. Rome was critical to my business. Now look at it. Really, look.” He pointed out of the windows, down at the floor. Down to the aisles where you had searched through boxes.

“Some I’ve tried to return to where they really belonged. Some I’ve sold to fund my research into who should really own these items. Some can’t be returned yet. But I’m working on it,” he said.

You glanced at the floor below but immediately returned your eyes to him. You didn’t trust him. You didn’t trust his words. For all you knew, he moved his operation to a different warehouse in a different city. 

“What do you want, a cookie? I want what you stole from me so I can leave,” you said. 

“Can you acknowledge that I’m trying?”

“You did this for you. Don’t try to put it on me,” you said.

“I did this because you were right. This stuff isn’t important anymore. I just want you. I should have never let you go in Miami,” he said.

Just saying the name hurt you as if he had stabbed you in the chest. You didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think about the hurt in his eyes as you jumped into the water and vowed never to speak to him again. 

“I mean, think about it. I thought I’d never see you again. Why would I bother with this? Seeing you tonight was unexpected but I knew that if I could just show you…” 

You sucked your teeth. Your arm was starting to cramp from keeping it in this position. You lowered the gun but you kept it pointed at him. He took that as a sign to lower his arms to his sides. You watched for any signs of betrayal, any hint of deception.

He used to be so easy to read. Full of life and energy, David was always quick with a word or a kiss. You glanced at his lips. David took one step closer and you lifted the blaster. If he couldn’t get close, he couldn’t confuse you. 

David pushed on, stepping closer until his chest was flush with the blaster. “Hand over the knife and maybe I’ll think about believing you,” you said. 

This was nuts. It took a year to get close to him, to feel any type of connection with him. In the years since you’ve seen him, you learned to forget what he looked like fresh from a shower. What he smelled like when he was wrapped around your body. The sound of his heartbeat as you fell asleep beside him. Now, in his presence, you were right back to the thick of it. As if you had merely suppressed the emotions. Cast aside the memories.

It all came flooding back, confusing you. Distracting you. You pushed him with the end of your blaster until he held up his hands again. David had his own agenda and he was not going to give you what you were looking for. Not until his goal was achieved. 

If you were an ancient artifact, where would you be? David wouldn’t be stupid enough to have it in a place he couldn’t get to easily. Somewhere near his person but not on it. The room had plenty of places to hide such a small thing. 

“Just tell me if I have any chance at all. If there’s any part of you left that cares about us,” he said. 

David was good. But not that good. At the mention of the knife, his eyes darted to the right. For the briefest of moments. You sighed and holstered your blaster. Your arm was getting tired anyway. If he was going to harm you, he would have done it already. 

“You really want to start this again? You really want to go back to the fighting, the differing ideologies, the fact that I live in the ocean?” You asked. 

David nodded once. “I’ll take all of that over all the money in the world,” he said. 

You sighed, regarding him. You let yourself remember. Remember his voice. The subtle growl in his throat when he first slid inside you. You bit your lip, getting closer to him. He wore black jeans and a black T-shirt. You placed your hand on his chest. Let the warmth seep from him. 

He tilted his head at you. You pushed on his chest, walking him backwards. He lifted an eyebrow at you, not quite trusting what you were up to. 

“Do you mean it?” You asked softly. You looked into his eyes. He nodded once again, his jaw flexing.

“Then kiss me and make me believe it,” you said. 

With no hesitation, David captured your lips with his own. He cradled your head in his hands, holding you exactly where he needed you. You moaned into his mouth, hands flying to his belt. You toyed with the hem of his shirt, grabbing at the hard expanse of his chest. 

David sighed against your lips. He kissed just like you remembered. Like you truly were the only thing in his life that he wanted. Needed. You took hold of his jeans, unbuttoning, and pulling his zipper down. He groaned, tried to break the kiss to see what you were doing.

You closed the distance once more, smashing your lips together. You palmed his fat dick, feeling it twitch beneath your hand. 

“You sure?” He asked.

You pulled away to look at him. Nodded. “I’ve never been more sure,” you said. You gave him a small smile. 

David grinned and returned to kissing you, renewing with an increased fervor as if he held himself back before. You walked with him until he hit the chair he was previously in. You pushed him to sit down. He flopped with a smirk on his face. 

You made a show of getting to your knees. David caressed your face, thumb tracing the line of your lips before pushing his thumb inside your mouth. You sucked greedily, offering him a little moan. 

He groaned and then removed his hand so that he could take off his shirt. Your eyes lit up as you got a closer look at his chest. He kept up with working out. Or maybe pirating kept him that well in shape. 

“Missed the fuck outta this,” he groaned. His eyes were half mast. Drunk on lust. Consumed by it. 

You rubbed his thickening bulge with one hand while you extracted your cuffs with the other hand. David was too blissed out to notice. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open as you pleasured him over his storm gray briefs. He gripped the arm rest giving you the perfect opportunity to cuff him to it.

Hearing the clink, David’s eyes flew open. He tugged on the cuff as he looked at you with horror in his eyes. You wrestled with his other arm, kneeing him close to his groin as you pinned it to the other armrest and cuffed that one as well. Knowing him, he probably should be restrained by his legs as well.

But you didn’t have time. He’d find a way to escape soon. You only hoped that you were back on your bike before then. 

“What the hell!” He growled. 

You smirked. “Gotcha bitch,” you said and flipped him off. You walked away from him, searching the file cabinets, desk drawers, and bookshelf for the knife. He wouldn’t keep it on him. That would be too stupid. And one thing David was not, was stupid. No matter how much you wished he was.

“Let me go,” he growled.

You hummed to yourself as if you had all the time in the world. But in reality, your nerves were shot. Getting close to him like that made you feel icky. Like you used him. He used you first, but even that was a cold comfort. 

Pulling out the ratty desk chair, you searched for hidden compartments. You felt along the underside of the desk, hand ghosting along a button. You pressed it. A soft popping noise alerted you to the secret drawer beneath the desk.There, in all its glory, was the death ritual knife. 

You sighed in triumph and opened the bag to reveal the knife still wrapped in its cloth. “Why didn’t you just tell me that I had no chance? I would have given you the knife.” 

You looked at David. He didn’t even look that angry anymore. You zipped the bag up, and slung it around your shoulders.

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

“Do you really think I’m a monster? That I’m not truly capable of loving you?” He asked.

It took effort, but you finally looked at him. Really looked at him. “I think you loved me once upon a time. But I’m not sure if you loved me or what I could do for you.” 

“How could you say that?” David’s voice cracked as he looked at you, jaw slack, eyes wide. Was this just an act? Was he serious? It was so hard to tell with him. 

“Do you remember what you said to me? That you’d rob the world blind if it meant that you got yours. That doesn’t leave a whole lot of room in your heart for anything else!” You didn’t mean to shout. But you never truly did get that closure you needed from years ago. “I trusted you. I loved you! I loved you with everything I had in me. But you were never going to stop. You just expected me to follow you to the ends of the earth with no consideration of how I felt. Like I was some prized pony that gave you clout. You had a real live Atlantean on your arm. You loved parading me around!” 

“Because I was proud of you! Of you! Because I felt so damn lucky to be with you that hell yeah, I wanted the world to know it! Let somebody say something! I would have burned everything down for you!” 

You…did not have anything to say to that. Your mind raced back to every interaction you had. Every time he introduced you. At the time you felt like a trophy. Was he really that damn proud at the time? 

“You were always showing me off. Even when I wanted to stay in,” you said. 

“I wasn’t perfect. Was there a part of me that liked having a super girlfriend? Yes. But I swear to you, all I wanted was you. You leaving…it just made me realize that I didn’t only want the money.” 

Your hands shook at your sides. The endless screaming matches. The lectures. You were no picnic either. Picking at this filthy world with its stale air, weird food, and strange customs. You were miserable because you missed home. But you did feel loved in his arms for a while. For a while at least.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, looking away from him. Even if you wanted, you couldn’t go back and change the past. Couldn’t undo all the hurt and pain you’d caused each other.

“Don’t say that,” he said, just as softly.

“We can’t change the past,” you said. You walked over to the door. This was why you got in and out and left the surface world alone. It was too loud. Too messy. 

“We can change the future. Let me go, we’ll fix this.” He said.

“No. You’re just trying to get in my head,” you said. 

“If that were true, I’d be yelling and screaming now. All I’m doing is asking for a chance. Just one more. I can’t promise to be perfect. I can’t promise that I won’t piss you off. But I won’t do it on purpose,” he said. 

You fought with yourself. Head spinning with indecision. Could you trust him? Could you not? 

You looked at him. You would never be able to trust yourself around him. And that was the scariest thing of all. 

David widened his eyes as if he saw the decision on your face. You had to learn to school your features. You couldn’t be big and bad if you couldn’t maintain a poker face. 

“Sunflower,” he said suddenly. 

“What?” You asked.

David licked his lips. “When we first met. You had a sunflower in your hair. I asked you why, and you said that you’d never seen one before. So I always brought them to you. So many that the whole house had too much pollen and you sneezed so badly, you had tears running down your face. I’d never seen someone so beautiful as they were covered in snot.” 

Your heart thundered in your chest. He remembered that shit? Hell, you’d nearly forgotten yourself. As he spoke, you remembered everything vividly. You were miserable. You’d seen flowers before and knew their qualities, but you didn’t think it’d affect you so badly. 

You stared. He stared. “I swear by the goddess…”

“This isn’t an act. Damn, can’t you see I love you, woman?” He asked.

You crossed back to him and stood in front of him. “If you ever betray me again…”

“Let me go and I’ll show you that the thought would never cross my mind again,” he said. 

You hemmed. You hawed. But in the end, you were weak in the knees. You let him go from the cuffs. David remained in the chair, rubbing life back into his wrists.

Done, he took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. He kept kissing, flipping your hand over and placing it against his cheek. He kissed your wrist, pulling you closer. He pulled until you straddled him, legs on either side of his. 

He tilted his head and stared into your eyes. He pushed the sling bag over your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then, he unzipped your jacket and pushed it from your body, tossing it onto the couch. Your thumb moved back and forth over his cheek while he continued to undress you, pulling off your knife and blaster from your hip. 

He gripped the waistband of your leggings, pulling until he could fit his hand underneath. He found you soaking wet. He lifted an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t get cocky,” you warned. 

He smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He began to caress your pussy, dragging your wet essence achingly slow over your clit until you were a shivering, desperate mess on top of him. He kissed along your jaw.

“You don’t have to fight it. Let it go,” he said.

“I can’t help it,” you said around your chattering teeth. His hands felt too good. He remembered exactly how you liked it. Exactly what to do to send your mind reeling and your moans escaping your lips. 

“Yes you can. You don’t always have to fight me. Let that shit go,” he murmured against your skin. His lips found yours as you slowly relaxed. Forced your shoulders to drop. Your hands to slide across his exposed skin. 

A tingling settled in your thighs as you felt the approaching orgasm. Usually your lovemaking was rough. Fucking just as rough as you fought. But this was different. More intimate. Scarier. 

You opened your mouth, eyes closing, as the sweetest wave of pleasure washed over you. You sighed and panted through it.

“There she is,” David cooed. “Let it all go. Surrender to it,” he said.

“I hate you,” you moaned, rocking your hips on his exploring hands. 

He bit your lip and chuckled. “I love you too,” he said. 

You stood up long enough to remove your pants and panties. He stayed seated as he scooted his pants and briefs low enough for him to release his fat dick. It was just as huge and pretty as you remembered it. Thick in all the right places. From tip to base. 

Your mouth watered. You climbed back on top of him. “I’m clean,” he said. But he still reached into his pants pocket for a condom. 

You couldn’t wait to get tested with him to ensure that was the case so that he could slide in bare, no barriers between you. Filling you up. He rolled it on and then lined himself up, pushing in with little resistance.

His hands roamed across your back, pushing your shirt up and off of you. He captured your nipples in his mouth, alternating between each titty while he gently rocked inside of you. Whichever nipple he wasn’t sucking, he used his hand to knead the other. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him to you while you both chased that freedom. Chased that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

You came first, lifting your head to the ceiling. It was all too much and overwhelming. And yet it felt incredibly right. It had been too damn long since you were with someone like this. Hell, who were you fooling?

No one else did it for you. The minute you swam away from him, he became the only one capable of stretching you out. Giving you what you needed without having to ask. Without having to think. You clenched around him and he groaned, dick twitching as he reached his own climax.

You stayed together for a beat, maybe two, as your heart settled. You kissed his cheek. 

“Now , about this knife…”

You chuckled. “Do not even play with me right now.” 

You rested your head on his shoulder and listened to your favorite lullaby, the sound of his heartbeat.

The end.

The Secret David Kane Files

[demigod-shenanigans]

This is an extremely stupid crack fic concept that I will absolutely never write (or draw because I have zero artistic skill) but a while ago I was chatting with a friend about both the Jason ends up in the wrong afterlife-concept and Orpheus Eurydice AU (separately obviously) and she ended up joking about combining the two

So Leo traipses into the Underworld, and Hades tells him “I’d let you take Jason but awkward story I actually have no idea where the guy is which is odd because he’s definitely dead”

Cue series of images of Leo, who becomes increasingly more disgruntled in every picture, visiting different afterlives of more and more obscure ancient religions because he has no clue where the hell Jason’s soul ended up

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

four walls: moodboard

(alex’s moodboard | miles’s moodboard)