Rory Glee Novels & Stories

“I’m not deaf, Trent.” “Mr. Trent,” the scarred one said aggressively, stepping toward him. Mr. Trent held up his hand, stopping his goon. To Rory he said, “Question her.” Rory sent a cold look her way. “Question is all I’ll do. I’m getting bloody sick of your games, Mr. Trent.” “Strive to remember what happens when you fail me,” Mr. Trent said coldly, “and remember who gets hurt.” His lip curled, but Rory turned to Rain. Softening a little, he asked gently, “What’s your name, love?”

The way her laugh used to light his world when she leaned against him. He was going to see her. And then—Kael. Always Kael. The thought made Thorne’s teeth grind. His fists clenched as he turned the corner, and that was when he saw it. The door to Kael’s chamber creaked open. Rory slipped out, her hair mussed, her cheeks flushed in the pale morning light. She glanced down the hallway nervously, as though hoping no one would notice, and then hurried away, her steps light, almost guilty.

“I’d be shocked by this point if you don’t.” Rory then eyed Gray with her doe-like eyes in which Gray found uncomfortable. “What?” she said, giving the child an irritated look. “What’s your name?” asked Rory. “Why?” “Rory want friend.” “I don’t,” Gray curtly replied as she stood up. “Whaaaaat?” And like a snap of a finger, tears were forming on Rory’s round eyes. “You hate Rory?” Gray palmed her face. “Here goes a brat’s ultimate weapon,” she mumbled to herself. She reluctantly dropped back on the chair. “Gray.”

*** Rory’s POV I sat at the kitchen table looking over my paper and trying to decide if it was ready to turn in, while my mom cooked in the kitchen. “Honey, do you want some honey on your toast?” she asked. I smiled up at her. “Yeah, that’d be great, thank you.” She nodded and the phone rang wildly. I pulled it out of my backpack and checked the number. I didn’t recognize it. “Hello?” “Yes, hi, is this Rory Hill?” called a very curt and professional voice. I stood up, feeling a bit anxious. “Yes, this is her,” I replied. I exchanged an uncomfortable look with my mom.

I just study her, the tremor in her hands, the way her pupils dilate too fast, the twitch at the corner of her mouth. She’s high. Not gone, but buzzing. “Why are you here?” I repeat, quieter this time. Rory exhales a laugh, but there’s something brittle in it. “Fair. I probably deserve that.” She stubs out her cigarette, looks down at her chipped nails, and then glances up again, almost shyly. “Can I see Guillermo?” The name hits me like a slap, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. There it is.

She looked bright, confident, glowing. Rory actually showed up in a proper white suit. Still had that edge, though. The way he looked at her? Soft enough to melt. They stood under a flower arch facing the sea. No long rituals. No stiff vows. When they asked her, Cleo met his eyes. "I am. I'm marrying the man who lets me be myself." Rory grinned when it was his turn. "I am. I'm marrying the woman who makes me want to be better. She stays gorgeous and raises hell. I'll make the money and have her back."

Kairos smiled and he leaned closer for a sweet kiss on my forehead, "You sure did, but Rory is now living her best life in Switzerland, baby." "Y-You know where she is? How come?"

I finally get to meet the famous duel Taylor Snowfall and Rory John Gates. How complicated it must be for Keenan to love a girl that always belonged to his best friend. Rory is in a black tuxedo and a red bowtie. Unlike Keenan, he keeps no single trace of beards on his face. His hair a little long and its locks fall over his face. He has green eyes, shiny and hot, that can melt the coldest heart. Taylor is wearing an elegant, long, black, handless gown with white diamonds on its hip side. The dress seems to fit yet perfectly and her full curves show with the outlining of the dress. She has a pair of green eyes that are almost the same as Rory's, except hers has a flicker of blue. I remember

His eyes were red and puff from crying which made him look weird because of his pale skin. He signed yet again and headed to the kitchen. Moving like the shadow of himself, he bumped and hit several walls and stair rails before getting to the fridge. He knew he had to confront his father, to beg him to reconsider, to beg him to think again and understand them, or even give them a chance. Rory knew he wasn’t bi. He didn’t like girls; he didn’t feel anything for women. But it wasn’t as though he was apathetic about them, it was just he did desire them as he did men.

Malia mumbled, relaxing back into the bag. "I'll start with . . ." Dani began, looking around the group. "Rory," she completed. Rory, a dark skinned guy with a mass of curly dark hair, dark, deep set eyes, sensual pink lips and a fine jawline with a budding goatee, looked up from the phone in his hand. "Yay," he intoned, waving his hand, obviously not interested in the game. "Would you rather," Dani went on, "jerk off to me or to Kimberly."