love how john wick actors always serve when they’re on set. so good at body language and understanding their characters so much<33

and america likes me (politician!matty x reader smut)

i don't even know what to say about this. it's 3.5k words of matty if he was US president, and it's so filthy i feel like the shame nun from game of thrones is going to start following me around. like... there's butt stuff in here lmfao. that said, there's also fluff. idk. blame lana del rey for this, and enjoy <3

"matty, slow down, for fuck's sake, these heels are too high for me to run in!"

your husband scoffs and comes to an abrupt halt, releasing your hand from his own. before you can say anything, he scoops you into his arms and keeps moving down the marble-floored corridor, albeit more slowly than before, kissing you quickly to muffle the involuntary shriek you let out as you're flung into the air. "honestly, baby, i don't even know why you persist in wearing heels to these events - it's kinda inevitable that we'll run off somewhere we won't be interrupted, yeah?"

he's right. the two of you have been sneaking out of dinners and dances and drinks receptions together for the better part of twenty years, in search of lockable rooms where dresses can be hoisted up and underwear yanked down with nobody else finding out. but this isn't a university ball. it isn't a charity gala. it isn't a congressional dinner. christ, it isn't even your wedding. 

you press a gentle kiss to the underside of matty's jaw, savouring his little hum of contentment that follows. "well, i thought my husband being sworn in as president was an event that deserved six inches of stiletto."

"i can think of something else that deserves six in-"

"i swear to god, matthew, if you finish that sentence i'm turning around and going back to the party without you."

matty laughs and kisses your nose. "we both know you're not going to do that, sweetheart."

"oh, do we, now?" you ask, raising a brow. "and what evidence do we have of that, mr. president?"

a smirk, the same one that's weakened any and all resolve of yours since you were eighteen. "because i'm ridiculously hot, that's why."

you roll your eyes as matty laughs, but - once again - he's right. he is ridiculously hot, especially in this moment: the moonlight streaming through the big windows catches the grey hairs threaded through his dark curls, his slightly stubbled jaw and cheekbones sharpened by the shadows it casts. the tie he was wearing earlier got lost somewhere between your first official dance as president and first lady and now, the top few buttons of his dress shirt coming undone in solidarity with it. speaking of the shirt - despite its expensive price, the white fabric is still sheer enough for the black ink on matty's sternum to be visible. although, you wonder, the transparency of the shirt might have less to do with fabric thickness and more to do with the fact it's being slightly stretched over your husband's muscle-wrapped chest, and the strong arms currently tucked under your legs. either way, it's really working for him. and you, as a result.

"mmm, i concur," you smile. "i think the evidence is quite satisfactory."

matty's turn to raise a brow. "quite?"

"well," you say, trailing a manicured nail down his neck and chest, stopping as you reach the first closed button. "i've only had a partial look. i think you need to be a bit more… uncovered."

"oh, believe me, sweetheart, that'll be happening. for both of us, actually," matty grins. "as much as i love this dress on you, i do in fact need to get you out of it as soon as possible."

"i'm cool with that."

"excellent. in that case, hang on tight."

you do as asked, and matty runs down the rest of the corridor, stopping when he reaches an imposing oak door. he gently puts you back on the ground, giggling with you and holding your hand as you readjust to standing on stilettos; he brings it to his lips quickly, before pushing open the door and beckoning you to step inside.

as you enter the warmly-lit entryway, a young man dressed in black leaps up from his seat behind a desk. "evening, ma'am, mr. president, sir."

matty gestures for the man to sit down. "evening, sam. i take it they radioed to tell you we were coming down here for a bit of peace and quiet?"

"yes, sir."

you squint at him. "you look pale, sam. have you had any dinner? or any sort of break, at all?"

"well… no, ma'am," sam replies, hesitantly. "i've been here since noon."

"almost twelve hours? that won't do at all," you gasp. "i really think you should get something to eat. and some coffee. the sooner, the better, because you look dead on your feet. no offence."

"none taken, ma'am. but i can't leave the vicinity of the office here until the shift change at 2."

"you don't have to," matty pipes up. "there's cake and coffee in the chief of staff's kitchen. and chairs that are much more comfortable than the one you have here - i'll sort that out for you tomorrow, actually. go, have a bit of a rest for an hour or so."

sam still looks hesitant. "are you sure, sir?"

matty nods, smiling. "that's a direct order. we'll ring you if we need anything."

"thank you, sir. oh, and speaking of the chief of staff," sam replies, pulling out a bottle of champagne from under his desk. "he left this for the two of you."

"ah, adam. always so kind," you grin, taking the bottle. "thank you, sam. have a good night."

"thank you," sam nods, making his way to a plain side door as you and matty make yours towards another imposing one in the opposite direction. "and you too, ma'am, mr. president. congratulations again."

"much appreciated, sam, thanks. see you tomorrow," matty waves, before gently pulling you through the second door and closing it behind you. "finally. alone at last."

you lay the champagne on a nearby sideboard and pull your husband into a tight hug. his arms find home around your waist, while your head buries itself in the crook of his neck. "alone at last, in the oval office. which i am very excited about decorating, by the way. this room is going to look beautiful once i'm through with it."

matty laughs, pulling back to look at you and caressing your face softly with his thumb. "it already looks more beautiful with you standing in it, darling, in your pretty dress and all your jewels." 

as he speaks, he lightly brushes his fingers over said jewels adorning your hair and earlobes and neck and wrists and fingers. you smirk, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "you forgot one."

matty's head drops onto your shoulder, and he trails kisses along into your neck. one of his hands begins to knead your asscheek, while the other slips down the small of your back and past your tailbone and presses - gently, but still enough to send a rush of heat to your core. "i can assure you i did not, dirty girl."

"your dirty girl," you say, pulling matty in for a kiss. he eagerly accepts, tongue immediately slipping into your mouth; matty always kisses like he's trying to completely consume you. as if he hasn't already - your heart, your thoughts, your dreams… they're all devoted to him. and you want to demonstrate that devotion now. "who's about to get on her knees for you in the middle of the oval office."

matty moans into your mouth, but shakes his head. "nah," he says, pulling back, breathless and wild-eyed. "s'not what i want right now."

you pout. your husband laughs. "later, sweetheart, i promise. but for now - will you go and sit behind the desk for me?"

a rush of excitement passes through you. unlike matty, a political career has never been your dream, but the thought of getting to sit at the presidential desk in the oval office and experience the illusion of having that much power is undeniably thrilling. so you oblige, looking up at a smiling matty from your place on the butter-soft leather. "what exactly are you planning on doing, baby?"

another kiss, then matty speaks against your lips. "pledging my allegiance."

before you have time to react, matty's on his knees in front of you, unclasping your heels and carefully lifting your feet from them. then, sliding a hand up the expanse of your leg visible through the slit in your skirt, he gently lifts the top section of fabric away and spreads your legs as much as the dress allows. his pretty eyes light up at the sight of your lacy white panties; you whimper as he runs a finger down them, to which he responds with a "so responsive for me, fuck".

"take them off," you whine. "please, need you."

"and you'll get me, darling, whatever you want," matty coos. he slides the damp lace down your legs and places it on the desk - a disgustingly erotic sight, it has to be said - before placing a thigh on each of his shoulders and leaning in. 

with a flat tongue, and with those dark eyes locked on your own, matty slowly licks upwards from your entrance; you moan in relief as he meets the wetness he coaxed out of your body by nothing more than just being. but relief is short-lived - his tongue points and swirls as it meets your clit for the briefest of moments, before matty takes the sensitive bud between his lips and just sucks.

pleasure shoots through your nervous system, releasing a wail from your throat, sending your hand straight into matty's hair, and forcing your hips to jerk upward. matty tries to stop the latter by pressing a hand on your stomach; combined with the way he's practically making out with your cunt and the way he moans into it when your fingers wrap themselves around his curls, though, it has the opposite effect. 

but your husband doesn't seem to mind your hips writhing, your stomach clenching under his hand, your cunt grinding against his face. in fact, he seems to fucking love it - the way he's palming himself through his dress trousers with his free hand certainly corroborates that. when the realisation of what his arm movement is breaks through your sex-addled brain, a heady mixture of pride and more pleasure courses through your body. one of the most powerful men in the world is on his knees before you, as you're perched on the literal seat of his power, eating you out like a man starved and enjoying himself so much he can't help but get off to it like a horny teenage boy.

the thought alone would be enough to make you cum. and in conjunction with the actual feeling of matty fervently mouthing at your cunt, you're imminently heading that way. "matty, i'm - oh, fuck, that feels good - m'gonna cum, baby. please, please, make me cum, fuck, oh my god."

matty's eyes roll back in his head at your words. he abandons his self-pleasuring to wrap both arms around your thighs and tug you even closer to his mouth; you don't quite understand how that's possible, given how enthusiastically he's been tongue-fucking you for god knows how long, but, somehow, he manages it, burying the deft muscle up to the hilt inside you and bringing a calloused thumb to your clit. you let out a choked sob, digging your nails into the arms of your/his/the federal government's chair as your hips continue jerking and the elastic band of ecstasy grows ever more taut in the pit of your stomach. with a final suck of your clit, it snaps, spilling whines of your husband's name from your lips and warm liquid from your core onto his waiting face and tongue. he gently laps it up so it doesn't spill onto your pretty dress, cooing praises and reassurances in the moments in between when he comes up to catch his breath.

once he's satisfied with how clean you are, matty releases his vice grip on your thighs and rests his head on the left one. he's just as breathless as you, and probably just as fucked-out-looking, but you've never found him more beautiful, all messy and bright-eyed and covered in you. smiling, you run a shaky hand through his curls and watch him close his eyes in contentment; when he reopens them, he presses a kiss on your inner thigh and looks up at you. "hi."

"hi," you reply, smiling sweetly. "i love you."

"i love you too."

you grin cheekily. "the way you just went down on me suggested that, yes."

matty laughs. "honestly, baby, i think that was the most fun i'm ever going to have in this office."

"nah," you say, sitting up and leaning down to kiss him. the tang of yourself on his tongue sends another burst of heat between your legs. "i'm about to return the favour."

"jesus christ," matty groans, squishing his face into your thigh. he inhales, then looks back up at you apologetically. "as much as i'd love that, sweetheart - and i really, really would - i think if i'm not inside you in the next two minutes i might actually pass out."

you giggle, stroking his cheek. "noted. can i ride you, then? at least for a little bit, and then you can take me however you'd like."

"fuck, yeah. but i need to get you out of that dress first, need to see your tits. that alright with you?"

"mhmm," you nod. "can i get you naked, too, baby?"

"'course," matty smiles, pulling himself up to stand and helping you up onto your shaky legs. "turn around for me, gorgeous." 

when you obey, he presses little kisses across the back of your bare shoulders, while simultaneously working on undoing the little buttons lining your spine. your dress falls to the ground once the final button is undone, leaving you bare save the jewels dotted around your body; swearing under his breath, matty brushes the one only he and you know about. "some day, i'm going to fuck you there, in this room."

gleeful, you spin around to face him,  shoving his suit jacket off and beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt. "that better be a promise."

"oh, you beautiful, filthy girl," matty coos. he takes your face in his hands and kisses you, as your fingers move to unfastening his trousers. breaking the kiss, matty kicks his shoes off as you rid him of his shirt and attach your lips to the tattoo of your first initial on his ribs. "of course it's a promise. but first, i need to fuck that tight little pussy of yours, alright?"

"i can see that," you tease, as you yank down matty's trousers and boxers in one fell swoop and see his presumably achingly hard dick for the first time that evening. "take a seat, mr. president. let me make you feel good."

matty does as you ask, settling down in the chair and holding his hands out to help you climb on too. it's a big chair, the seat wide enough for you to comfortably kneel on either side of his hips, but matty doesn't look small in it by any means; he's assured, powerful, imposing… and sexy. you tell him as much, and his cheeks go pink as he shakes his head. "enough flattery, more fucking, please, sweetheart."

you smirk. "whatever you want, sir." with that, you slowly sink down onto matty's dick, both of your jaws dropping in tandem as more and more of him slides inside you. as he bottoms out, you blink dazedly, already slightly overwhelmed from how full you feel.

matty notices, and brings a hand to cup your jaw. "you alright, darling?"

"yeah, just full," you reply breathily, smiling sweetly at your husband. "feels good."

a smile in return. "feels amazing, baby. d'you want a hand moving?"

in response, you rise up on your knees and sink slowly back down, eliciting a moan from matty and a grin from yourself. "i've got it."

matty watches as you continue to bounce on him, your pace increasing with every meeting of your bodies. as you speed up, your tits begin their own bouncing; with a groan of your name, your husband takes one in each hand and squeezes gently, making you whine when he rolls your nipples between finger and thumb. "too fucking right you've got it, babe."

the praise shoots straight to your head, egging you on enough that you speed up your bouncing even more, as best you can. matty can't tear his hooded-with-pleasure eyes away from your tits, but even in his fucked-out haze he still manages to bring his thumb to your clit and lightly circle it; you whine and clench around him as soon as he makes contact, which rips a throaty groan from his lips. "shit, baby, just like that. so fucking tight around me, so fucking perfect, christ, feels like you were fucking made for me."

"love the way you feel inside me," you whine. "want you - fuck - everywhere."

matty closes his eyes for a second as if to compose himself - when they reopen, the beautiful brown is almost completely gone, replaced by the dilated black of lust. the hand not already preoccupied with your clit sneaks across your hip, deft fingers quickly meeting the jewel decorating your peachy ass. "oh, baby, i want that too. can't tonight, though, because we don't have everything we need. but we can still play a little bit…"

keeping his eyes on your face the whole time, matty slowly starts to pull the jewel out of you, just enough that the ring of muscle is stretched ever so slightly by the thickest part of the glass, before working it back in and repeating the motion. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling, the third level of simultaneous stimulation driving you deeper into your already sex-addled state, and your voice shakes as you whimper. "oh my fucking god."

despite being just as sex-addled as you, matty's cheeks lift into the most smug, most shit-eating grin you've ever seen him wear. "you like that, baby?"

you can't answer, your brain too hazy to send the signals for speech to your voicebox. but it's alright - matty's doing one of his telltale rhetorical 'orgasm is imminent' monologues: "yeah, i know you fuckin' do, shit, clenching around me like that. fucking love it when you do that, fucking love you, my girl, my favourite girl. such a good girl for me, fuck, just so perfect. you're getting close again, aren't you, sweetheart?"

still riding, despite your burning thighs, you nod. the elastic in your stomach is tightening again, far quicker than it did before your previous orgasm; your ability to talk hasn't quite returned, so you settle for burying your head into the crook of matty's neck and digging your nails into his back, tethering yourself to him in a wordless attempt to tell him you're about to cum. 

luckily, your husband knows you and your body so well that he understands instantly, shuffling underneath you so he can fuck up into you and get you both off. "need you to cum for me, darling," matty murmurs into your hair. "need to feel you cum all over me. please, sweetheart."

it's the plea that does it. on top of the clitoral stimulation, and the attention on both holes, and the dirty talk, and the previous orgasm, and the sheer fact that it's matty underneath and inside you… it's his desperation that knocks you off the precipice. the elastic band doesn't so much snap as it completely shatters, sending a wave of total pleasure throughout your body that's so strong you actually black out for a second, after managing to finally croak out your husband's name.

you're brought back to earth by said husband whining directly into your ear. "oh fuck, babe, m'so close, m'so fucking close - shit, where do you want me to cum?"

"inside me, please," you reply, still panting from the aftershocks of orgasm.

"fuck, you want me to fill you up? i'll fucking do it, sweetheart," matty groans, hips beginning to stutter as he nears his climax. his speech, though, still flows out unencumbered. "might even put a baby in you, if we're lucky. you like that idea, darling, a picture-perfect little presidential family?"

you hum contentedly, too tired to do anything but nod into matty's neck. against your temple, you feel him smile. "then i'll fucking give it to you - shit, m'gonna cum. gonna fuckin' fill you up, give you what you want. give you anything you want, whenever you want it, my wife, my perfect girl - oh, fuck, i'm there. fuuuuuuuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

matty wraps his arms around your waist and pushes down slightly with his shoulders, keeping your bodies flush as he pulses heat into you. he keeps his arms there even after orgasm wears off, and yours stay loosely wrapped around his neck; for a few minutes, you stay just like that, the room silent aside from the tandem heavy breathing. you're first to break it, pulling back from matty's neck to look at him. "hi."

"hi," matty giggles, leaning up to give you a peck on your pouty lips. "so… we just absolutely desecrated the oval office."

you giggle too. "indeed we did. worth it, though."

"absolutely," matty brushes a stray strand of hair - still miraculously mostly intact, despite it all - from your forehead. "you feeling alright, baby? you need anything?"

"honestly? a drink would be nice."

matty throws his head back against the leather and laughs, before looking back at you and stroking your cheek. "give me a minute to recover, sweetheart, and then we can crack open that champagne from adam and toast the incredible sex we just had, yeah?"

"absolutely, mr. president."

Small Heath, Through and Through (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Still not finished with the next part of Marked, so have this oneshot. Was originally going to be some angry smut, but morphed into something else completely. Enjoy!

A lot of people didn’t understand how you tolerated Thomas Shelby. The constant smoking, his one-track mind, and his intimidating presence were just a few of his many perceived flaws. However, you didn’t mind them. You knew who your Tommy was, deep down. He was smart, attractive, good intentioned, and funny in a dry way. He was your childhood best friend, and the owner of your heart. You loved him more than anything in the world, and stood by him through everything.

         But, this. This was testing you. You see, in his never-ending ambition, Tommy has hatched a grand plan to climb up the political ladder. Which was fine, really—the world needed to change, and your Tommy was going to see to it that it did. However, an unexpected side effect of becoming a politician is galas. Fancy parties where you had to dress up and pretend you trained your whole life to be prim and proper. Parties where you had to play nice with the pretentious wives of important men.

         You are a woman from Small Heath; a girl who spent her whole childhood with mud caked under her fingernails. A girl who knows that sweat is a side effect of hard work, not something to be sniggered at. A girl who feels most at home in the dim lighting of the Garrison, surrounded by raucous laughter and unhindered dancing.

         Not only do you not belong at galas, you do not belong within six feet of these snakes that call themselves women. You straighten your black dress as you sip your champagne, trying to tune out the unproductive crosstalk. Across the room, you lock eyes with Tommy, who is currently in conversation with two very important members of Parliament. You sit up a little and subtly roll your eyes. The corners of Tommy’s lips quirk up in a very small smile.

“And you, Mrs. Shelby? Have you had the pleasure of being tailored by Mr. Bennett?” The minute feeling of calm in your chest is quickly replaced with anxiety. You turn back to the five ladies standing around you and put on your best friendly look.

“I don’t believe I have, Mrs. Allen,” you say politely, and the other women make noncommittal noises.

“Yes, I suppose he has not gone out of his way to visit Birmingham,” Mrs. Allen replies, wrinkling her nose.

“Ah, yes, are there even tailors in Birmingham, or did you have to travel to London for your dress?” A lean brunette-Mrs. Edwards-says, and the other women giggle. Heat flares in your belly. All right, if that’s how she wants to play.

“I noticed Mr. Edwards is very close with young Beatrice. I noticed him walking her home last night,” You change the subject, nodding towards one of the caterers that is no older than twenty, “Are they related?” Mrs. Edwards gives you a dangerous look, and you smirk.

“Y/N, I suggest you do not speak of things you know nothing about,”

“Oh, I think I know enough. Excuse me,” You turn to walk away, and as you do so, the women huddle closer.

“I, for the life of me, do not understand how Mr. Shelby tolerates such an indecent woman. He should know such a woman has no place in civilized society,” Mrs. Allen murmurs, and the other women hum in agreement. Oh, fuck this. You see red as your blood boils hot underneath your skin. You whip back around and come face to face with Mrs. Allen.

“I don’t appreciate those who use their tongue for such devious pursuits. This indecent woman knows how to work for what she wants, which is more than I can say for you all. I didn’t spend my youth training to sit around and fill my head with gossip while my husband ignores me. I may be from Small Heath, but I will have more of a legacy than any of you,” You spit, glaring daggers at all of them. The women look back at you wide-eyed with shock, as if nobody has ever put them in their place before--that figures.

You down the rest of your champagne as you stalk across the room, placing your empty flute on a nearby tray. It does nothing to quell the rage in your veins. You finally make it through the grand entryway and out into the cool night air. You breathe in deeply, looking up at the stars. God, you hate these galas. A warm hand wrapping around your waist makes you jump. It’s Tommy, the sneaky bastard.

“Christ,” You murmur, running a hand through your hair. He just blinks at you with one eyebrow raised. It’s a look you know well-the explain, please one.

“I hate these parties. Everyone’s so fucking condescending. I know I just blew your chance with those people by storming out, but if I didn’t, I would’ve shanked those-” You can’t finish your sentence because Tommy’s just pulled you into a passionate kiss. You reciprocate, roughly because you’re still angry, but Tommy doesn’t seem to mind. When he breaks away, he holds your chin in his hand and stares into your eyes.

“Fuck ‘em. They didn’t have what I wanted, anyway. Besides, I need you, not them,” His words fill your heart until it’s fit to burst. Tommy has never been the sentimental type, so this is like a sonnet coming from him. You nod slowly, leaning forward so your forehead is pressed against his. Fuck ‘em.

         The car ride home is companionably silent. The two of you share a cigarette and listen to the comforting rumble of the engine as make your way home. It isn’t until you’re in the house that Tommy speaks again.

“The wives looked upset when you left,” He’s staring out the window of your bedroom as you take off your jewelry. You snort.

“Well, I said some things I probably shouldn’t have,” You wander over to the window, hugging him from behind.

“What things?” You bite your lip, pressing the side of your face into his back. 

“I may have called them empty headed…And I may have pointed out Benedict Edward’s affair with Beatrice Atkinson,” You feel more than hear Tommy’s huff. He turns in your arms, and you look up just in time to catch his smile.

“The caterer?”

“They were snogging in the hallway beforehand!” You say defensively, but Tommy’s grin only widens. He shakes his head before leaning down close to your ear, whispering:

“So that’s where the white stain on his suit came from,” 

Your responding cackle echoes throughout the entire house.

Taglist: @fireghost-x @captivatedbycillianmurphy @octaviareina

*busts in the door* ANTONI SUFFERING PROMPTS? may I offer any combo of 8: pour salt in my muse’s wound(s), 5: drug my muse, and/or 23: trip my muse for my favorite ashtray 😍

One Two Three Four Five

CW: Burns, salt in wound, cigarette smoking, internal and external dehumanization, pet whump, emeto mention

"Sssshhhh." His whimpers have gotten too loud again, and there's a hand in his hair, rough petting that feels more like another kind of violence, opening new wounds. It's Quiet One crouched in front of him, head tilted, eyes sparkling in the graying darkness as dawn comes closer and closer. "Hold still. There we go. Good boy."

A shiver of pleasure runs down his spine, the simple pure sense of doing what he is trained to do, made to do. Made for, what he wanted, to make up for whatever sins are buried deep inside his ruined memory.

"How do you know all this shit, anyway? Not just the movie. They didn't get into half this shit in the movie." Deep-Voice is back in the wrecked kitchen, going through cabinets with doors that hang off broken hinges.

The ashtray is in what was the living room, his hands tied behind him with his own t-shirt, ripped to long strips. He's sweating, even in the chilly empty room, sitting up but slumped over. They've tied one bit of his shirt around his neck with a little bow.

A droplet of sweat runs down his collarbone, dips over his chest, finds a new burn and the ashtray hisses, biting on his lower lip to kill the sound until he feels blood burst free of him again. How many times has he bitten his lip tonight?

Lookout sits over by the front door, miraculously still intact right down to its frosted glass panels. He keeps looking outside and then back, chain-smoking, one cigarette after another even after his face seems green around the edges. There are five from him, five new circles of pain for the ashtray to focus on.

Three with his eyes sparkling, two with a growing uncertainty. Then Lookout went and threw up outside in the bushes someone had once carefully landscaped along the front of the house. He had to be convinced to stop panicking over DNA, Quiet One had to lecture him on not listening to the fucking true crime podcasts any longer.

They're not gonna test your goddamn puke, asshole. Besides, does that look like somebody who's gonna call a fucking detective? Get back in here.

Now Lookout sits by the door, and the butts of the cigarettes he has already finished lay scattered around his shoes.

"My uncle," Quiet One says, using the ashtray's hair to lift his head again, looking over the glazed, empty obedience written alongside the suffering, worn openly on his face. "Works for WRU. They're not supposed to talk about it, sign like the world's most ironclad NDA, but he tells me stories sometimes."

"Ron?" That's Lookout, voice shaking. He looks like he wants to throw up again. The ashtray blinks at him, dazedly. How can he look sick when the ashtray is the one whose skin is burning for his crimes? "Ron works for-"

"Hey! What the fuck did I say about names?" Quiet One rolls his eyes. Deep Voice comes back in, shoes crunching on glass and rocks and bits of crumpled paper and everything else that's been dragged in here over time. He crouches next to Quiet One, holding out a thick cylindrical... something.

The ashtray's eyes can't focus enough to understand.

"Look what I found," Deep Voice says, softly.

Quiet One grins. "Oh, yeah. Do it, man."

Deep Voice flips open a little metal thing along the cylinder's lid, and the ashtray's eyebrows furrow, confused. His thoughts move slowly, fighting through deep water.

He realizes what it is just as Deep Voice tips the canister of salt and pours it over the new constellation they've made on his stomach, reaching out with his other hand to rub circles, pressing the grit deeply into the burns.

The ashtray's back arches, every muscle locked, choked sounds coming from a throat that won't open enough for a scream. Quiet One keeps a hand in his hair to hold him still, watching with bright avid eyes, glittering with fascination as he looks at the veins in the ashtray's neck standing out, the blood smeared along his chin from his lower lip.

"Jesus Christ," Quiet One says, softly. "You're fucking gorgeous, buddy, you know that?"

"What if he gets, like, infected from this?" Lookout asks, hands shaking so hard he drops the lighter when he tries to light up again. "And like. Dies?"

"What if he does?" Quiet One shrugs one shoulder. "Sucks to be him, then, I guess." His eyes move over the ashtray's face, watching with intensity as Deep Voice pours salt on another set of burns, listening to the ashtray's hitched sobs, watching the tears track through dirt down his cheeks. "Fuck, man. Those cheekbones. I can see why some old fucking perv wanted you."

It wasn't for his cheekbones. The ashtray would tell them if he could remember how to speak. It was for his crimes, it was because he had done something so terrible he would give anything to escape it. It was because he had to pay for what he'd done. It was because-

Abruptly, Quiet One lets go of his hair, letting his head fall back down, chin nearly to his chest. "Hey. Get over here with the lighter, man."

"Why?"

"I want to do one more. I'm tired, I want to go to bed. Come on."

The ashtray catches Lookout's soft oh thank god as he gets to his feet and shuffles over, dropping the pack of cigarettes and the lighter into Quiet One's waiting hands.

"What the fuck, dude?"

"What?"

"You smoked like the whole damn pack! This shit costs money, you fucking baby."

"Fuck off, I'll buy you more. Just. Finish it up, I want to go home, too." Lookout looks away, out the broken windows towards the street. "People're gonna be fucking waking up soon. Let's get out of here."

"Yeah, yeah. Asshole."

Quiet One turns back to him, using one finger to tip his chin up, almost gently. The ashtray looks back at him, blank but for the pain. It fills his body, the throb of each individual new mark joining the itching aches of the old. The oldest scars are so faint they hardly mar his skin, the newest are bright red burns, skin buckling and bubbling under heat it isn't made to withstand.

"Pozhaluysta," He whispers, lips barely moving. "Pozhaluysta, Mr. Davies, ostanovites'."

"Mmmn. That's Russian, isn't it? Sexy. One more, pet. Think you can handle one more burn for me? Take it quiet and we'll leave. Can you do that for me?"

The ashtray nods, frantically, in desperate need for it to end. He can go back to his room, with the bars on the windows, and sing himself to sleep. He can go back to his room.

"Good boy."

The ashtray stares at the little red circle of light as the cigarette is lit, the flickering flame. The click of the lighter as it shuts again, the smoke blown into his face. Familiar and wrong, this smoke is bitter and acrid and Mr. Davies always smelled sweet and almost herbal when he smoked, the deep clove smell in the ashtray's clothes, his hair, lingering on his skin.

They untie his hands from behind his back and the bow from his neck, Quiet One rubbing at the deep red marks left behind, thumb moving back and forth over the ashtray's Adam's apple, breathing softly. "Shit. God, I wish I had one of these for mine."

"Well, unless you discover a shitload of money, you'd just be stealing. Or... like, committing a bunch of fucking felonies."

"Yeah, yeah. If I clean up a bit I bet my uncle could get me in at WRU. I heard they have a handler there who fucking killed like four people before he got the job."

"Jesus Christ, dude, seriously?"

"Yeah. Peters or something. My uncle doesn't fuck with him. Nobody does. Said he's fucking gross but he gets Employee of the Month like all the time. I could be gross for money."

"Man, who wouldn't be gross for money."

"Ha, right? All right, let's finish this shit up." Quiet One sighs, looking back at the ashtray. "You were a good fucking time, man. Enjoyed the hell out of this. Here we go. Stay quiet for me now."

Quiet One presses the cigarette into the inside of the ashtray's wrist, right in the center of his barcode, the one place that Mr. Davies never touched.

The ashtray bites his lip until it bleeds, whining deep in his throat as new tears fall, but he doesn't scream. He's quiet.

He's good.

He can be good.

"There we go." A ruffle to his hair and Quiet One stands, Deep Voice following almost immediately. Quiet One relights his cigarette and walks to the door, where Lookout moves outside before them.

Quiet One is the last to leave, looking over his shoulder at the ashtray still sitting on the ground, slumped over, in the ruined house. He lifts up his cell phone, turns on flash, and takes a photo.

The ashtray flinches at a sudden blinding light he barely registers as what it is, and Quiet One and Deep Voice laugh.

Lookout is already out by the street, bouncing on his toes, looking back and forth like he expects sirens any second.

"Maybe we'll see you again sometime," Quiet One says, and then they leave, their voices and laughter fading along with the crunch of gravel under their shoes, until the only sound left is the ashtray's ragged, uneven breathing.

He doesn't know when he gets to his feet, or how. He pulls the sweatshirt back on and leaves the shreds of his t-shirt behind. The front door is open, and when he stumbles outside, the sky is pink along the edges of the horizon.

The ashtray moves down the sidewalk, and he doesn't know where he's going, or what he'll do when he gets there.

He ends up standing, swaying a little, next to a stop sign in a place that looks familiar but he doesn't know at all. The pre-dawn light has everything slightly eerie and unsettled in his mind, shapes crashing into each other, puzzle pieces that don't quite fit.

A hand touches his back and he spins around with a gasp, staring down in terror at a short elderly woman with dark brown skin and thick hair a blend of silvery white and black pulled no-nonsense at the nape of her neck.

She looks up at him, her own eyebrows knitted. "I said good morning. Did you hear-" She goes quiet, and her eyes move over his face with too much understanding.

She knows.

Everyone knows what he is. Everyone has always known. It was a mistake to believe he could be safe anywhere outside the four walls of Nat's home. It was a mistake to think he could build a life that might involve leaving here, living on his own.

Everyone will always know.

Antoni swallows, and shudders as it makes the fresh burn on his throat ache and throb in reminder. He struggles to move his mouth to speak. "M-... Miss Ruth. D-Dobroye utro."

He realizes only then that his sweatshirt is still unzipped, and she can see the line of scars, the new burns and old, and heat rushes to his cheeks underneath the dirt already caking them.

"Oh, honey. What happened to you?" Ruth's voice is low, and she looks to one side, and then the other. Then she sighs and steps back, gesturing. "Come on inside my house, sweetheart. Just me this week, no one else to bother us. Let me patch you up, your people are still sleeping no doubt."

His people.

He is safe with his people, inside the house. But he has never been safe when he leaves. It is too easy to read what he is in every inch of his skin.

"Spasibo," He whispers as he follows her up the steps.

"Doppelganger" *Part 23*

WHOO, y'all. I don't know what it is about this story but I am just...rolling it all out with the tragic backstory. No angst, I promise-- It ends happy chill out. But damn. Maybe I'm working out my own issues in here...lulz.

This gif will make so much sense you have no idea.

PART 22

Part 24

Tag List

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@objection-argumentative

------

“....And how did that make you feel?”

You tried not to laugh out loud as the question left Dr. Crestview’s mouth. Did she really just ask you that?

“...I mean it makes me ‘feel’ bad,” You rolled your eyes with a laugh while looking out the window. When you turned back to the doctor she was not laughing, and she was writing something down.

“...That was a joke,” You clarified.

“Oh yes, I get it,” She nodded as she continued writing.

“Do you?” You asked her frankly. The question caused her to stop writing and look at you.

“Mrs. Barba--”

“Ms. YLN,” You corrected. “I’m not married yet,”

“...Hmm, interesting,” She wrote something down. Seriously? She even had an insight on what-- technicalities?

“I’m sorry, was that some sort of test?” You asked sarcastically.

“Actually, it was,” She said to your surprise.

“Excuse me?” You looked at her, baffled.

“You know when most women get engaged, they start imagining their last names as their husbands. You know such as changing their signature, gathering documents, and the like,”

“...Are you serious?” You laughed again. “This is 2021 lady, half the women I know didn’t even take their husband’s last name at all,”

“And is that what you’re going to do?” She asked. “Keep your last name?”

“...If I say yes are you going to psychoanalyze that too?” You crossed your arms.

“In my experience Ms. Y/L/N, women who don’t want to change their last names tend to do so because they want to keep their independence, their…’identity’. They think taking a man’s last name is ‘giving up’ something. Giving up their identity,” She explained.

“...And?” You gestured with your hand as if waiting for her to continue.

“And in my educated opinion, it also signifies a woman going into a marriage with one foot out of the door already,” She simply stated.

“Wow,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “Did I come here to resolve my trauma, or for marriage advice?”

“I think they’re one and the same, Ms. Y/L/N,” She stayed completely calm and emotionless.

“Are they?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Given what you’ve told me in our last few sessions, you’ve given off a tone that you don’t think you deserve good things. Maybe you’re keeping on foot out of your relationship so that when it falls apart, you’ll be ready,”

“Wow....wow,” You started to stand up and storm out of the office, but she stopped you with a question.

“I’m sorry if I offended you with my observation Y/N, but be honest. Am I wrong?”

You thought about all the talks you had with Rafael about ‘not being good enough’ for him, or ‘stealing his love’. And on the one hand you felt that you were ‘connected’, you felt safe and secure. After everything you’d been through, it was almost impossible not to be, right? Right?

“....And what is your magic solution to this feeling, doctor?” You crossed your arms.

“You need to forgive yourself,”

“...Jesus Christ,” You rolled your eyes with another laugh as you paced the room. “Really? That’s your solution? Telling me something I already know?”

“No, my solution is this: You need to apologize to your parents,”

“EXCUSE ME?” You practically screamed.

“You blame yourself for their death, correct? You think that because of their desire to make you happy they risked their lives driving into the city and therefore got into their accident,” She looked over her notes from past sessions with you.

“...Right,” You looked down at the floor.

“And I don’t think that you have ever forgiven yourself for that. And in not doing so, you haven’t forgiven yourself for anything you’ve done since then. All these things you say you’ve ‘done’ to Mr. Barba that you should be ‘punished’ for-- he doesn’t see it that way. Other people don’t see it that way. Your parents' accident wasn’t your own doing, getting kidnapped wasn’t your fault. I think that you need to find closure with your parent’s death before you can even begin to ‘forgive’ yourself for whatever transpired between you and Nevada Ramirez,”

“....So you want me to apologize to my parents? How are they going to ‘forgive’ me?” You asked her.

“I think you’ll find Ms. Y/L/N that just the act of apologizing will bring about its own form of forgiveness,” She smiled.

“.....Right…” You tried not to sound condescending, but for a shrink she sure sounded crazy.

“Or don’t listen to me, I can’t force you to do anything. But that is my advice,” She shrugged.

“Noted. Thank you, doctor,” You nodded and walked out the door.

----

You walked out into the streets of the city from your doctor’s office and thinking about just how or when you’d have a chance to go to your hometown where your parents were, when you were stopped by a young girl on the street.

“Oh my god...you’re Y/N!” She gasped.

“...Yes?” You stared at her blankly.

“You’re that girl who killed Nevada Ramirez!” She squealed, causing a few people to stare and take pictures of you as they walked past.

“Oh good lord…” You muttered nervously. “Yeah well um--”

“Can I get a selfie with you?”

“Um--” You looked around, not sure of what to do. You wanted to run down the street screaming, but you thought better of it. You turned back to her with the fakest smile you could form.

“Sure!” You threw an arm around her and smiled as big as you could as she snapped a selfie with her phone.

“Thanks!” She beamed at you. “ And by the way, your fiancé is REALLY sexy,”

“Oh girl I know,” You faked a laugh and a toss of your hair as she walked away with a laugh.

It really creeped you out that girls were ‘fangirling’ over your fiancé. As if you weren’t worried about keeping a hold of him all on your own. Also how did she even know what he looked like?

The article.

You grabbed your phone and did something you told yourself you’d never do: You googled yourself.

The first thing that popped up was an article on the NYTimes.com front page:

“Fairy Tale Romance Or Horror Movie?”

...What the fuck?

The article contained your video as the main focus. Then under it the article basically dictated the video, with Tasha’s opinions thrown in here and there. Then most of the photos from the photoshoot of you and Rafael were at the bottom of the page. They were gorgeous, you had to admit. Granted you were both airbrushed to hell, but Rafael in a suit drove you nuts. Even if it was just on a screen. You dialed his number as you continued walking down the street.

“....Hola, mi amor. How is my pinguino feeling?”

“Well she’s currently feeling like she’s got the sexiest man in New York City,” You grinned.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” He asked you curiously.

“Check out the picture I’m texting you,” You grinned as you texted him one of the photos from the spread.

“Oh Christ…” You heard him mutter through the phone, causing you to giggle.

“Oh yes, you even have your own fangirls now,” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No I do NOT,” He argued in disbelief.

“Yeah I’d be careful leaving your office there counselor, a group of tweens might be waiting outside,”

“Oh my god...they’re breaching the doors!” He acted terrified, making you laugh harder.

“Oh I think I see one,” You whispered as if you were sneaking up on someone. “She’s holding a ‘Barba 4Eva’ poster board,”

“You better be kidding,” He warned.

“No, in fact I think she’s right outside your door,” You bit your tongue with a smile.

“Oh well I’d better call security then,” He chuckled as he sauntered over to his office door and swung it open.

“Oh my Gooodddddddd it’s Rafael Barba!!! The sexiest ADA in New York City!!” You giggled wildly, jumping into his arms like a crazed fan.

“I should definitely look into some armed guards at my door,” He laughed as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Oh most definitely, wouldn’t want to let the crazies in,” You nodded as you kissed him again.

“Well I think it’s too late for that…” He teased you while tousling your hair.

“Shut up,” You playfully hit his hands away.

“Speaking of crazy, how was therapy today mi amor?” He asked cheekily.

Wowwwww, sexy AND sensitive, how did I get so lucky?” You rolled your eyes. “Actually, she gave me homework,”

“Did she?” He inquired.

“Yes,” You suddenly got very serious. “She um, she told me I need to go see my parents,”

“...Your parents?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, something about needing to ‘apologize’ to them or some weird shrink thing like that,”

“....Do you think it will help?”

“I mean...” You sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t know. But I’d like to try,”

“Bueno,” He nodded walking closer to you and kissing the top of your head. “So are you going to go now or--?”

“Well I was kind of hoping you’d come with me,” You bit your lip. You didn’t know if asking him to come along on your shrink homework assignment was allowed, but you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Maybe that was the point.

“Really?”

“I mean, I met your family,” You half laughed, trying to make light.

“Right,” He nodded his head with a chuckle. “Well then, let’s go,”

“...Now?”

“Why not?” He started to walk towards the door.

“Don’t you have a job?” You pointed to his desk.

“Oh they just like to pay me to sit in here so nobody robs the place,” He joked as he grabbed his coat. “I have nothing going on today baby, they won’t miss me.”

“Okay then,” You shrugged uneasily. “Guess we’re going to Jersey,”

----------------

After a train ride and a taxi later, you arrived in your small town of Shallow Meadow.

“Christ Almighty, I knew Jersey was in the dark ages, but not even having Uber??” Rafael grumbled. He hadn’t been in the back of a dirty cab in such a long time, and now he remembered why.

“Alright Daddy Warbucks, chill,” You laughed as you started walking with him through town.

It was a quaint little town; one stop light, one grocery store, two bars, something out of an old movie really You know the movies where the car breaks down in the tiny shitty town and all the townspeople are flesh eating zombies or something. The people of Shallow Meadow were pretty much like that. Well, to you anyway.

“So why didn’t we just have the Mayberry Express drop us at the cemetery?”

“...Because we don’t have roads you can drive on up there,” You answered with a nervous smile.

“...Right,” He shook his head as he noticed people coming out of shops to stare at the two of you. “...Do I have some kind of weird sign on my back that says NEW YORKER or what?”

“No, but that thousand dollar suit screams “moneybags” out here,” You smirked. “Besides, they’re not staring at you they’re staring at me,”

“...What? How do you know that?”

As if it was answering his question, a girl with bright red hair dressed in farm clothing and holding a baby on her hip came sauntering up to the two of you.

“Well lookie here,” She smirked. “Miss Prissy Pants brought back herself a Prissy Papa,”

“Excuse you?” Rafael was taken aback by such rudeness by such a poorly dressed person.

“Marla back off,” You scowled at her. “Just because you’re upset I found treasure and you’re stuck with trash--”

“OH, is that what we are now? Trash?” Marla spat. “You have a lot of nerve coming back here and saying that, murderer,”

“WHOA,” Rafael stepped in front of you. “I’m sorry, what-- what did you just call her?”

“Did she not tell you the story? Oh no wait I bet she did, her version. The version where she’s the victim and we’re all just the villains. Isn’t that right, Prissy?” She glared at you.

“...I never said you were--” You tried defending yourself.

“Really?” She scoffed. “Then why did you not even bother to show up to your folks’ funeral? Their ONLY daughter, the ones they DIED for. Couldn’t even be bothered to leave her high rise in the city to pay respects to the parents she KILLED,”

“It wasn’t like that and you KNOW it, Marla! And why was I going to come back? The only two people left in this town that tolerated me were gone--” You got up in her face.

“AND WHY IS THAT, Y/N?” She got back in yours, her baby almost falling out of her arms.

“Alright lady I don’t know who you are, but you’re going to back the hell off my fiancée--”

“Oh good God, your fiancé?” Marla laughed. “You would find yourself a sugar daddy, since you killed yours,”

“Alright you know what we’re leaving--” You grabbed Rafael’s hand and stomped away towards a huge hill that had a sign reading “CEMETERY” at the top.

“I hope you’re heading up there to beg their forgiveness Y/N, ‘cuz you sure as hell ain’t getting any down here!” Marla yelled angrily after you.

--------------

“...Well I think we just figured out where your forgiveness issues came from,” Rafael tried making light of the situation.

“Ya think?” You nodded.

“This whole time,” Rafael shook his head. “This whole time I thought you just had it in your mind that you were responsible for their death. But-- but you had an entire town telling you that,”

“...Yeah,” You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, baby?” Rafael took your hand as the hill got steeper.

“Because I thought they were right, Rafael!” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I tell you that an entire town thought that I was a murderer? That’s not really a selling point on a partner,”

“...You thought they were right?”

“...Well, yeah,” You nodded softly with a small smile.

“And now…?”

Before you could answer, you reached the entrance of the cemetery. Luckily it wasn’t that big; you were ashamed to admit you didn’t even know where they were buried. But you found them in a small corner under a shade tree. You walked up to their mutual headstone:

“Y/M/N AND Y/D/N: Beloved Husband And Wife, Mayor and First Lady.”

“...Mayor?” Rafael looked at you in surprise.

“Yeah, well--” You shrugged. “You see why they were so beloved, and I was the hellish daughter that killed them?”

“Y/N…” Rafael put a hand on your shoulder.

“I was supposed to want to ‘take over the city’, like I would ever want to be in charge of anything in this stupid backwards hick ass town,” You scoffed angrily, tears stinging your eyes.

“...But didn’t you say that your parents wanted you to go to Juliard? Pursue your dreams?” Rafael asked in confusion.

“They did! My grandparents-- they had a different view,” You shook your head. “The...the hierarchy here it’s-- well it’s not really a democracy,”

“...How so…?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Because everyone just loved and accepted my family as, I don’t know, the ‘royal’ family?” You felt so stupid comparing your family to the Royal Family, but you didn’t know how else to explain it.

“The Mayor and First Lady titles were just...passed down, in my family. And not because they were dictators or something,” You quickly added the last part, you didn’t want Rafael to think any less of your family than he probably already did.

“People here are just...simple,” You sighed. “They accept things the way they are, they hate change. So it was just assumed that my family would always be... "the family’,”

“But you didn’t want that,” Rafael said again.

“Of course I didn’t want that!” You scoffed. “I didn’t want to just get a high school degree and then marry some ‘Cletus’ redneck man from here and have ‘heirs’ just to keep the family going!”

“But your parents understood that,” Rafael reiterated.

“It didn’t matter what my parents did or didn’t understand. My grandfather had more clout with the townspeople here,” You rolled your eyes. “My dad was the ‘mayor’, but his dad controlled everything. His father had been the mayor for over thirty years before he passed it onto my dad, who didn’t really want it either” You walked up to the headstone and ran your fingers over your father’s name.

“....So when he tried to ‘save’ me from that life, my grandpa wouldn’t hear it. He blamed me for...for manipulating them into giving me anything I wanted, like I was a spoiled little child. He blamed me for them giving me their life savings to go to Julliard instead of putting it back into the town treasury. Then he blamed me when they got killed, and he just reinstated himself as mayor! Which, I haven’t checked but I’ll be damned if he isn’t still rattling around his old ass bones in our house! He’ll just haunt this place forever!” You threw your hands up and looked down angrily at the town down below.

“Carino…” Rafael came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You took his hands in yours and kissed them before turning to face him. You looked into his sparkling green understanding eyes for a moment, before directing your attention back at the headstone.

“....This is Rafael Barba, mama and daddy,” You pulled him gently forward. “We’re getting married soon,”

“...Nice to meet you folks,” Rafael said awkwardly.

“...Raffi they’re dead,” You smiled jokingly.

“Right, right,” He shook his head with a small laugh.

“...He’s a very good man, daddy. I know you always wanted that. And he’s very handsome, so you’ll have beautiful grandchildren mama, just like you wanted,” You smiled while Rafael softly chuckled.

“...I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come,” You finally said with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I should have been here sooner,”

“But you’re here now,” Rafael softly rubbed your back.

“Yeah…” You nodded softly. This was the hard part.

“...I’m---I’m sorry, that I made you feel like horrible parents that night,�� You tried not to cry, but the memories of that night flooded your memory the more you spoke.

“I’m sorry that you thought you needed to come see me, that you weren’t good parents if you didn’t,” Your lip trembled, you fell to your knees.

“...I’m sorry the last words you heard from me were ‘I hate you’,” You finally broke down sobbing.

“Y/N…” Rafael knelt down next to you and held you in his arms as you cried.

“Do you get now why...why I don’t think I deserve you? Why don't I think I deserve anything? Why I think I have to take everything? Fake everything? Because I am such a terrible person my own parents died thinking I hated them because I was that horrible to them!”

“They didn’t think you hated them, carino,” Rafael rocked you back and forth. “They knew you loved them, I know they did,”

“You know you’re probably right, Rafael. But it--I needed them to hear it,” You nodded at the gravestone.

“And?”

“...And I feel a lot better,” You smiled as Rafael wiped tears from your face.

“Really?”

“Yeah…Really,” You chuckled. “I guess that therapist really knows what she’s doing,”

“She should for the amount of money I pay her,” Rafael shook his head with a laugh as he helped you stand up.

“...Thank you for doing this with me, amor,” You sniffled, pressing your forehead against his.

“Of course, penguino,” He kissed you softly. “And, for what it’s worth--” He added as you two walked back down the hill towards town.

“I think that if your parents were alive, they would be proud of you,”

“Oh, I know my mother would take one look at you and be DAMN proud,” You both laughed at that.

“And I also think they would be appalled to see how their townspeople treat their daughter,” He glared at the town.

“Yeah well,” You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” He took your hands as the sun started to go down in your sleepy little town. “Now can we please get back to the city before I catch something out here?”

“Yes,” You giggled, staring at him lovingly.

“Let’s go home,”

Misread: Dark

Summary: Kurtz/Reader; You start at Riverdale High and people get the wrong impression of you and Kurtz

You’re not surprised when your cousin Sam and your uncle are standing outside the fence. “Heyyyy Y/N. You have a good time at camp.” Sam winks and you roll your eyes stepping past the barbed wire fence of Centerville Correctional Center. “You got out early. We have time to grab breakfast before school if you want.” He smiles and you laugh nodding.

“I’d kill for a burger.” Sam holds his hands up. “You did according to the yard gossip right?” He barks laughing when you smack his shoulder. “I know, I know, it was a joke for Christ sake. We need to thank that lawyer by the way; what do you think we should give her?” You shrug. “I can think when I’ve had food.”

Sam’s decent enough not to comment on your clothes, what you had been brought in wearing; a painfully short skirt and an almost see through top. “You’ll have to change before school. Well at least grab a sweater or some shit. Pretty sure Kurtz left one in the car you can steal.” He nods to you and you tug over the half stack of pancakes he ordered. “Those are mine!” He smacks your hand and you pull one over drowning it in syrup as you push the rest of the plate over. “I think I might puke looking at that.” He snorts as you finish it, dipping the sausage into the leftover syrup. “I haven’t had anything besides prison eggs for breakfast for almost four months. I would drink that entire bottle if I wouldn’t puke from it.” Sam nods. “Come on then, school time, you’re gonna sugar crash if you have more of that shit.”

You weren’t surprised when Southside High shut down; although you were surprised both you and Sam had been transferred to Riverdale; he’d said something about the rest of the Ghoulies being in Greendale. You avoid walking with the other Southsider’s, who move from Pop’s; you avoid the buses and slip into Sam’s car. “You know he’s going to kill me right? For not telling him you’re in town.” Sam scowls as he pulls into the parking lot. You roll your eyes. “He won’t; he’ll be too distracted with me. Don’t worry. What class is he in now?” “English, you have math with me. Come on, I’m sure the teacher’s going to love you.” He smirks and you grip onto Sam’s arm. “Hey; you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” You nod settling next to him as the teacher isn’t in. No one moves to greet you but you tap Sam’s arm. “What?”

“Nobody here knows I got in trouble right?” He shrugs. “Most of them don’t know who you are. And really ‘trouble’ you could at least hint at the whole criminal vibe you’re oozing, you look like you rolled off a prison bus an hour ago.” He says as the teacher comes in and starts the lesson. You catch a few people looking at you, but you reason it’s either the fact you’re new or that it looks like all you’re wearing is an oversized hoodie.

“Lunch now; he usually sulks around the Serpent’s.” You nod and Sam’s hand tugs your shoulder. “He might not be to happy to see you.” You turn frowning at him. “Why?” “Because of what happened.” “I didn’t do anything!! He knows that!” You stomp your foot and Sam snorts rolling his eyes. You snarl shoving him, before he shoves you against the wall. “Try me Y/N. I dare you.” You see someone’s hand push against Sam’s shoulder and you’re confused as he lowers his arm.

“You’re new right?” The Serpent turns to you smiling. “Yes. Sorry about Sam, my cousin has a bit of a short temper; he hasn’t given you any trouble?” You ask. “No Kurtz is more trouble.”  He laughs half shrugging. “How?” You tilt your head and Sam smirks. “He tried to kill me. I’m Fangs, pleasure.” You nod side stepping Sam and Fangs. “Would you like a proper apology?” You ask Fangs as he walks with you and Sam towards where ever he eats lunch. You’ve already spotted Kurtz in the student lounge.

“I don’t get why you’re so uptight about the stupid rules, you’re not even the official leader you still have to-“ Kurtz trails off and you know he’s spotted you. “I heard you tried to kill him. What happened?” “No it wasn’t like that we were-“ “What happened?” Kurtz swallows you look unimpressed as he stays quiet. “I dropped him from the second floor.” “Did you apologize, at the least?” “No I-“ You arch an eyebrow and he swallows cringing. “I’m sorry Fangs.” “That’s not a proper one.” You arch your eyebrow again and he scowls, sighing as he stands, you whack at the back of his knee and he kneels after he stumbles, glaring at you as you nod to Fangs.

“Please forgive me. I’m sorry for trying to kill you.” Fangs nods as Kurtz stands, his hand brushing against yours. “I missed you.” He says and you roll your eyes as he pulls you into a hug, face against your neck. “I missed you too.” He sighs against you nodding, and you look expectantly at him. “Well who’re these Serpent’s you’ve cozied up with; I can’t just name them based on how they look like you used to.” You smirk as they narrow their eyes at Kurtz. “Ooh look it’s neck boy; you’re right he is tall enough to climb like a tree. Not bad looking either, you didn’t tell me they looked like a boy band.” “Sweet Pea.” He holds his hand out and you smile.

“Y/N, pleasure.” You name each of the serpents, they seem to take their nicknames in stride and welcome you into their group as Kurtz had been. You meet Jughead’s friends Archie and Veronica and his girlfriend Betty; as well as Josie and Kevin. You sit draped half on the chair half over Kurtz, his hand running through your hair. They watch you oddly and you assume it’s based on the fact you’re a ghoul. Kurtz smirks seeming to enjoy there discomfort and you wait for an explantation that doesn’t come. You notice his hands linger on you more when someone’s watching. You joke about him being a voyeur and Jughead visibly gags. You can’t help but laugh joining Kurtz in whatever odd game he’s playing with the Serpents. Your favourite is when Betty caught you kissing him and tripped over the trashcan when she tried to leave. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen her look so disgusted and it makes you dissolve into a fit of giggles every time you picture it.

“Y/N Walters.” You raise your hand, you can tell someone is watching you but you ignore it. “They’re siblings, I swear. I think Y/N took the fall or got transferred out or something to do with jail, but they’re siblings.” Betty hisses as you walk by. You try your best to keep a straight face, but you text Kurtz to let him know what his friends seem to think. He meets you outside, sliding into the back of Sam’s car with you. Sam glares fixing the mirror so you know he can see both of you. “You’ll have to tell them.”

“But it’ll be funny to watch them guess. I bet it’ll take a week.” “I’m still surprised they haven’t caught on, you think the rings would be a dead giveaway. I really think there’s only so many times they can catch us making out before it boils over.” “Well to be fair they’ve seen me wear mine for months without mentioning you.” “Ooh what about necklaces?” “No that’s too hard they’re Serpent’s remember, dumb as a sack of bricks.” Kurtz laughs. “Yeah they gotta be dumbasses to let you in.” You grin when he smacks your shoulder. “That’s it, no welcome home meal.” You laugh more. “And you knew I was coming today?” “Well you’re not going to be now.” “Will you two shut up about-“ Sam glares from the front seat. “You know what they say about people who get out of prison right Sam?” “I swear if you-“

“They’re incredibly sexually frustrated.” You have tears in your eyes at the disgust on Sam’s face. “She’s my cousin Kurtz, I don’t want to hear anything involving my cousin again.” “You do know she’s my wife right so we’ve-“ “Shut it!” Sam slams the breaks on and Kurtz gets shoved into the back of the front seat grumbling. “Fine, Y/N’s a god damn virgin, you happy?”

You’re not trying to hide it but still the panic that shoots through you when you hear some clear their throat is unavoidable. You know you weren’t being discreet, curled on Kurtz lap in the student lounge tongue in his mouth was about as public as you could get besides going at in the middle of class, which was something you had shot down when he suggested it. You shiver slightly watching as Jughead glares at the two of you. Kurtz nudges you behind him and you peer from around his shoulder, his arm snaking around your waist. “What Jones?”

“You two are related.” He states nodding and you can see the rest of the Serpents and his other friends gathering around. You roll your eyes. “We really taking advice from Mr. I’m dating my half sister?” Jughead narrows his eyes. “Charles shares one of our parents and-“ “He’s your sibling, so you’re dating your half-sibling. Not to mention didn’t your parents fuck when your dad was off being a serial killer?” You comment and both him and Betty glare. “We’re not actually siblings, unlike you two.” You assure them. “You two are brother and sister! You have the same last name, and you call your dad, well dad! The same dad!!”

“Kurtz do you want to tell them? I think they’d get a kick outta you saying it.” “Say what?” Jughead eyes Kurtz warily. “When I say dad, I mean my father in law.” “We’re not siblings, we’re married. You idiots” You chime in and everyone stares, as you hold up your ring, waving it slightly. The Serpent’s stare; turning to Kurtz. “You’re married!??!” “Yes? Why do you guys think I never dated anyone..” “You’re psycho! No one would want- Why? How would you even-“ “You go down to the court and sign the certificate? We both had parental permission; totally legal. Also I love her, it’s not that hard to think or do.” He shrugs at them and you loop your arm in his. “Why is that so surprising?” He asks and Jughead shrugs. Sweet Pea speaks up.

“Just never thought you’d find someone so well normal.” “Oh they don’t know; Sam was right.” “Right?” “I spent my summer in the Centerville Corrections Center. Wrong place, wrong time and all that.” you smile at them and they hesitate. “Why was it the wrong place at the wrong time.” One of them asks. You turn to Kurtz and he shrugs. “Your call.”

“I used to be a runner, not track, I got caught up on a pretty big job near Greendale, didn’t make it out at the right time is all.” “So you went to jail?” Jughead states and you nod. “Basically. I mean they let me out pretty quick, just gave me tons of community service. Which I still have to do, so that’s how I’m spending my summers.” “Y/N; you can’t just tell them that. The full story.” You glare rolling your eyes. “I was in the wrong place and the wrong time, with a knife; and one of the other runners got stabbed at the same time, it was a really weird coincidence.” “Oh my god?” “Yeah I get it I stabbed someone and-“ “You married Kurtz, like you actually chose to marry him? Him of all people.” “You’re insulting me in front of my wife after she just admitted she stabbed someone? Jesus the Serpent are dumb as fuck.”

Support My Writing?

Noriaki Kakyoin x Reader: Glitter Freeze Part 3

A bit more plot wise, but hey, that’s what we are here for.

It’s the best feeling in the entire world…

Outside, it’s freezing. Like the Arctic tundra. You can almost hear the roar of the wind and feel the harsh flakes obliterate the land, but inside your blanket it’s nice and toasty warm. Let the wind howl, you think, you can’t remember the last time you’ve been this warm. A cool hand strokes your forehead. You’re cuddled on someone’s lap like a cat, head cushioned by soft silky skirts and the plush of her thighs as your caretaker continues to pet you. Even though you’re highly aware of being in a dream, everything feels so real... As if this is a routine, predictable…

“Are you still cold?” she asks.

Her voice is so soft. So kind…

“I’m ok…” you coo. “Is it time to get up?”

She chuckles, smoothing your locks down as soft snowflakes kiss your cheeks.

“You don’t have to get up if you don’t want to.” She assures. “Just rest.”

The kiss she places on the bridge of your nose is so warm… So familiar… You murmur softly, a name you’ve heard only in vague snippets of whispers. A smile is apparent in your caretaker’s voice as she sings you a soft lullaby, one that makes you feel as though you are in another place and time with the way she speaks so fancifully.

“Just rest darling… nothing will harm you so long as I am near you.”

“Mmm… gra-…”

“HOLLY! WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!”

… God fucking dammit.

“HOLLY!”

Your eyes snap open when you hear your grandpa’s booming voice echoing throughout the whole fucking house. Mama is a firm believer in simplicity she says, but you know better. Your deadbeat father doesn’t give her enough money to treat herself nicely, therefore the expanse of the house that your grandpa bought for her is sparse, and the acoustics makes his screaming sound like he’s in a fucking cave. There’s no choice but to get up. No chance of rolling over in your empty bed and ignoring him, it’s already too late. Even your mother has decided to get up, you notice the side of the bed she was sleeping on is tucked in at the edges.

“HOLLY! I CAN’T WEAR JOTARO’S PANTS EVEN IF THEY FIT ME, WHERE DID YOU PUT THE REST OF MY CLOTHES?!”

Jesus jumped up Christ… You reluctantly open your screen door leading to the outside, squinting in the bright sunlight. Grandpa is lumbering around, looking for your mother in every room that has an open door. Fuck… your family and their negligence in opening doors. Son of a bitch… Before you go after grandpa you have to pull the duvet from your bed and wrap it around your shoulders. You’re still so fucking cold, as if the warmth never happened and your Stand was still breathing down your neck. You can hear your grandpa muttering angrily to himself, looking every which way in confusion.

“Wait… Is she still wanting to be called that Japanese name…? Is that the only way I can get her to come out? What was that name… Sa… Sade? No… I gave her a beautiful name, and that was all by myself. HOLLY!”

“Stop screaming!”

Grandpa jumps nearly ten feet when you croak out your reproach. Your throat is still a little sore, and you look positively disheveled in your pajamas as you rub your eyes.

“Grandpa…” you hiss in your weirdly accented English, “It’s unholy hours of the morning.”

“Honey it’s already eight-…”

“Unholy… HOURS. Stop fucking screaming!”

“You watch your mouth young lady! I’ve had enough of you and your brother acting like wild animals. You don’t talk that way in front of your grandpa. And what are you doing out of bed?!”

You’re not in the mood to be babied and you hiss like a cat at your grandpa, pulling out of his strong grip and waving him away as your face scrunches in a positively grumpy scowl. No matter how much you protest or complain that you’re fine it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t back off, and he keeps griping for you to get back into bed with the threat of carrying you back there himself.

“Please stop it Papa!” you whine like a baby, and it’s the tone of voice that makes him soften. “I’m fine. I don’t want to be babied.”

“Honey this is serious. I need you to get back into bed. Please? For your Papa?”

“No… I can’t think of laying there rotting in my room for another minute. I’m starting to get sore.”

“Bedsores?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a whole spot on the side of my body, look.”

That’s not a lie. You show him the bruises and red marks of developing bed sores from huddling under the covers trying not to freeze to death, and it does seem to bring some understanding the more you open up to him.

“Alright baby…” he finally concedes. “You don’t have to get back into bed, but you need to get cleaned up. Do you want me to help you?”

“I’ll be fine, besides it looks like you need more help than I do. I took your suitcase Grandpa.” You lead him by his warm hand to another part of the house.

“Where’d you put it baby?”

“I woke up last night and I couldn’t sleep. Figured you’d get tired of rooming with me so I put everything in the guest room.”

“I think your Papa is going to stick with you, at least your futon is comfortable. Why doesn’t your mother want any real beds in the house?”

You have to think of a good lie and think of it fast. If you let on now, your mother will be distraught. Of all the secrets you kept from your grandparents this one was the worst. Your mother often begs you not to say anything to them if they ask. Just tell them everything is fine, she insists, we’ll be ok honey. Your daddy will get a big break and send us more money soon. But he never gives anything so much as a second thought. All three of you live in poverty compared to your multi-millionaire grandparents. The bills get paid solely because your father doesn’t want to ever come home to a non-functioning house, cheap asshole doesn’t like paying for hotels in Japan, and he only sends money for food when he remembers he has two kids to feed. Other than that, you all are on your own, and your mother has to keep everything hush hush.

Otherwise… Well… You’ve figured it out by now. Grandpa can make it look like an accident if he finds out.

“I don’t know.” You groan, and the second you say it you quickly save yourself, “She thinks it’s the Japanese way to sleep on the floor, and I told her that’s only if you’re dirt poor. I hate sleeping on the floor. I’m too delicate, even cats sleep on beds.”

While you’re walking with your grandpa passed the hall leading to the front door, you hear a gruff voice calling out “going to school, don’t bother with-“only to be cut short when you pass by with your grandpa.

“She’s not here to kiss you, so if you’re leaving just get on with it!” you snap in Japanese.

Jotaro turns to look at you, and there’s an unreadable look on his face as you stare him down. Thank the good Lord that grandpa never learned a word of Japanese (he insists that you, Holly and Jotaro speak only English to him), otherwise you know you’d be in a world of trouble if he could understand the harsh words that you tell your brother.

“Are you heading to school Jotaro?”

He nods vaguely, eyes trained on you as you glare him down. You won’t forgive him for this. You can’t... The past few weeks echo like a nightmare in your head and no matter what, you can’t let it go.

“Go on and get out.” You tell him in Japanese.

He doesn’t move an inch. Scoffing, you skulk off away from both your grandfather and your brother, the former calling out your name while the latter just stares after you.

“I’m going to take a shower.” You call back to your grandfather. “Jotaro, see you later.”

“That’s not how you say goodbye baby!” Joseph responds. “Come here and kiss your brother goodbye!”

You turn around and your scowl chokes up your grandpa’s words.

“He’s a grown ass man.” You snarl, this time in English. “He got sent to big boy jail I heard because he’s so big, so he’s grown. He doesn’t need anything from me.”

You have to leave. You can’t even look at your brother anymore. It’s too painful… Not when your grandpa is only going to try and pry more because of your anti Jotaro sentiments and possibly make you blab now that you’re left feeling raw and exposed. Last night when you were talking with Kakyoin he’d asked you the same thing, how come you were screaming at Jotaro for leaving you? And you simply told him you thought he was the world, and then you found out it was a lie. Why keep up a lie perpetuated by everyone else? You were content with being lonely if you had to.

“What difference does it make anyways?” you had asked Kakyoin before you left. “Everyone has someone they say, but that’s a damn lie. Nobody has anybody because at the end of the night when you’re laying there alone in that bed like me, absolutely sick and only getting worse, no one comes to get you. It’s just you there alone with your thoughts… And no one would ever understand what those thoughts do to you…”

“Good morning Miss Kujo, how are you feeling today?”

You look up, hearing a rather diplomatic accent address you. It’s Grandpa’s friend, one Mr. Avdol, and instantly you feel yourself perk up just the tiniest bit. He’d introduced himself before and told you briefly of the string of events connecting everyone together. For some reason you decided in the night that you really like him, maybe it’s his warmth that draws you in, like a fire in a hearth beckoning in a snowstorm. Whatever it is, your cheeks turn pink and you smile for the first time this morning.

“Hiya Mr. Avdol!” you grin, and you’re excited to see him smile warmly. “I’m alright. A little cold, but I think that’s just left over from being sick. Look, I don’t have ice anymore!”

Proudly you hold out your hands to him, but you’re too excited to berate yourself for the childish action you’re performing. You want someone to be proud of you for keeping your ice lady under control, and you can feel her happiness fluttering in your heart alongside your heartbeat. Now that she’s no longer perceiving anything as a threat, it feels like she was always meant to be there with you.

“Very good.” He praises, and his nod makes your heart skip a beat. “In fact that’s just what I wanted to talk to you about. You thought about what I told you about Stands, yes?”

“Why do you have to call it that?” you whine like a petulant child. “That’s literally the most uninspired name I’ve ever heard, like really? It stands next to you, so you call it a Stand? Why can’t you call it something else?”

He chuckles in that deep brooding voice and you have to break the pout to smile.

“I was coming to that, seeing as your lady can manifest into a physical form, and has inexplicably tied you to this string of fate, I’d like to give her a name.”

Avdol reaches into the many folds of his clothes and begins to shuffle a very old looking deck, well worn, and he’s even able to do that really cool casino shuffle Grandpa Joseph does whenever you watch him play cards. You’re captivated, like a five year old, but it suddenly doesn’t seem very fair that he wants to give a name to the lady living in your soul.

“How come I can’t do that myself?” you cock your head. “She’s my Stand isn’t she? I thought maybe I’d call her Jareth the Goblin King.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, can you imagine if everyone had free reign to name their own Stands?” he shakes his head when you huff indignantly, handing his cards out to you face down so that you cannot see what you are getting from the large hand.

“Pick a card from this deck.” Avdol instructs you.

“What’s it supposed to do?”

“The card you pick will determine your place in this web of fate, and will decide your Stand’s name and ability. No peeking, and don’t worry about trying to pick the best of the bunch. Just let your hand rest on the first one that feels right.”

You try not to think about it, but your fingers still tingle uncertainly when you reach out to the proffered deck and ghost your fingers over the cards. It seems like it should be something to think of for days, but he did say not to worry about it. Yet how could you help but worry anyways? That’s just who you are, too many secrets rest inside you to even allow you to have no thoughts. Constantly you are deep in contemplation, hell even now you’re starting to worry that you cannot even do something as simple as pick a fucking card.

But your body reacts automatically, settling down on a card and drawing it towards you to see.

“What’s this one?” you ask, frowning at the card.

Avdol looks down, taking the deck back up together and studying the card with a slight frown.

“Interesting…” he murmurs.

“What’s so interesting about this lady on the chair?” you ask.

“That lady is called Queen of Swords, an air element and the most masculine of the tarot queens.” He says, more to himself than anyone else.

“She sits high on a throne in the clouds, that no one may trick or fool her. In her left hand she holds her sword as if to strike, while her right hand extends outward as if in offering. She offers the gift of judgement in determining every day decisions, as well as the flexibility and strength to take in knowledge from others. But if you look here, you will see she’s reversed.”

“Huh?”

“The card you have drawn is upside down. The reversed queen can often be seen as coldhearted, resentful… Most certainly familiar, don’t you think?” Avdol told you, flipping it right side up and back again to show you the distinction.

“Is… Is that why she can make ice?” you ask.

He nods gravely, taking the card from your hand and looking it over, and then looking back at you for quite some time to think.

“You think too much with your heart, and the situations at hand will manipulate your emotions, clouding your judgement and making you act brashly. You’ve been doing that so much, it’s beginning to deteriorate both your physical and mental wellbeing.”

This whole thing is starting to sound scarily familiar. So much so that you begin to deny it to yourself. The cold was a cold, the Stand was… The Stand was…

Is there even an explanation for it?

“If I may little one,” he says, taking the card from you gently and laying his hand upon yours, a warmth exudes, and you swear you see another hand engulfed in flames appear. You didn’t know when the ice came back, only could feel the cold dread of anxiety when you realized Avdol could read you like a fucking best seller, “If you wish to have complete control over your Stand you need to start thinking more objectively. Use your head, not your heart, emotions will always lead you astray and cause misunderstandings. You’re strong, but you must learn to use that strength to your advantage. Otherwise you might find yourself impaled on your own sword.”

The flames lap at the ice, dripping water down to the hardwood floors as you avoid looking up at the stranger. Once he realizes you’re not going to respond, too busy trying to process everything said to you, he leaves you without a goodbye.

You stand in the hallway trembling, wondering, contemplating your place in this abysmal fantasy…

And then you hear Avdol scream your mother’s name.

…

“If I could, I would marry someone like her. She calms everyone around her, a shelter from the storm...”

Great. Now turn the knife counter clockwise in your chest.

You can’t even bring yourself to go to your mother. Not now… Not when you’ll just get hit with those whammies every five seconds if you let yourself be exposed to them. Kakyoin has shown his true colors… Avdol found your mother collapsed and said she had a Stand too, except this one was slowly killing her instead of manifesting like yours or Jotaro’s… You can’t breathe, banished outside of your mother’s room, the ice skips the crawling and straight up freezes your limbs in a vice. Letting it take you is tempting. Maybe there was a good reason that your Stand wanted to keep you isolated from everyone.

It takes a lot of effort to go back to your room. When you finally push the door closed, rushing and shaking to get under your blanket, you can’t even think clearly. Your mind is swimming with irrational thoughts. Maybe it’s easier to give up, you think as the tears dribbling down your cheeks begin to freeze. Possibly you would find that the pain would end if you just surrendered yourself to the cold. It’s creeping further and further towards your heart and you think maybe this will be easier. Let it take you… Just let it take completely over… Let you go into the storm of the cold…

“Ora, ora…”

You can’t open your eyes, they’re frozen over with tears. A very warm pair of arms wraps around you, the breath of the one holding you tightly begins to emulate the breathing technique Avdol coached you through. You don’t want to breathe. You want the cold to just take you over and let you go, let you go with Mama into that dark void. The only parent you’ve known is dying and you want to go with her. You barely survived when Jotaro shunned you, you don’t even have a friend in Kakyoin who probably thinks you’re a fucking animal. Even Avdol told you, you were dying at one point, but it had been all your own fault because you couldn’t control yourself. And Grandpa... Grandpa hadn’t done anything to you but care, but the thing with him is that he will always go back to New York with Grandma, the visits where they shower you with affection always have an expiration date, and they don’t even have the decency to take you away from all this suffering… The only one you had… That was Holly…

You cannot imagine what life will be like without your mother. She was the one constant in your life. Never did you ever question where your deadbeat father was or when he would come home and love you. Not when she was there being both parents at the same time. All the times you didn’t mean to take her for granted came flooding back to make your stomach hurt, but deep down you knew she was the pillar holding you up. What will it be like to not have her there anymore? If she is no longer there to hold you, no more soft lipstick kisses, no more fussing over you to make sure you’re eating properly, no more laying your head in her lap while she ran her fingers through your hair… is life worth living without your mommy?

“Ora…”

Who the hell… You don’t know… You just don’t know anymore. It seems whoever is holding you wants you to breathe, to fight back the cold. Take control back, if not for your sake for… for whose sake?

Someone wants you to keep living. You don’t know how you feel it, but you do.

“Please…” you whine, “Please let me go.”

“Ora.”

“Stop it. Just stop it, I don’t… I don’t want to… Not… Not my mommy… First my Bubba and now my mommy… I can’t… Please!”

It won’t let up. You’re forced through chattering teeth to take a breath in, then exhale. Your breath is like a snowy cloud when you exhale, only stopping once you’ve got the repetition down to four seconds breathe in, four seconds hold, and finally four seconds exhale. You can feel your Stand’s hand caress your arm, bringing down the ice from your elbows back down to your fingertips. There’s another soft lull of “ora ora” as the one holding you rocks you gently, your Stand whines by your side.

You want to let go, but it seems you cannot escape this vice grip no matter how hard you to try to.

DOUBLE DARE

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Harrington!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Summary: In which Billy isn't 'King Billy fucking Hargrove' after the events at the Byers house, he's remorseful and in so much more pain than anyone ever seems to notice.

Song: Dizzy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing, symptoms of PTSD

Words: 2.8K

feedback is always appreciated

Hawkins wasn't the kind of place a teen could take angsty strolls, look up at the sky for a while and all their life problems would be solved. Winter lasted until February, and summer started at the end of July, the months between left void of the joy of sun or snow. It was within this time that Y/N and Billy found solace in each other's chaotic existences.

They'd met a couple times before their relationship had a label, once not knowing each other, and the next, knowing too much.

The first was in the bitter winds of a November night. Y/N Harrington was forced to transfer to Hawkins High after fighting with another girl at Lakewood Academy over something nobody knew. She wasn't happy about it, after working her arse off for the last seventeen years of her life, only for the dream to be someone special and someone her parents would be proud of, to be ripped away from her.

Steve never made it any better, it was fine when he'd bring home random girls while their parents were away (which was more often than not), at least then her record player was loud enough to shut out the moans.

But Nancy had to come along and fuck everything up. Y/N was sickened at the idea of her brother dating her childhood best friend. That wasn't even the worst part though, the sick fucker had to go break his heart too.

Having Steve wallow in self pity for a few days was one thing, but hearing him cry himself to sleep days on end was entirely another.

She took her eye off the ball to make sure it was a sound that never met her ears again. And people at Lakewood began to talk, next thing she knew, Y/N was thrown out when Bethany Wyatt somehow fell unconscious and woke up with a black eye and busted lip.

Her older brother was surprisingly comforting, but the house felt all too suffocating, even without their never-to-be-seen parents around. It took six days for her to finally snap- being cooped up in the same four walls, sappy romcoms playing in the background whilst Steve tried to shrink her after getting an 'A' on his latest psychology paper.

"Leave me the fuck alone, for Christ's sake I'm not one of those kids you babysit! Go piss in Declan's cereal." Y/N roared, cartoon steam clouds escaping her ears.

She and Steve weren't close like some siblings, they didn't do hugs or say 'I love you'. They clashed and fought; the older boy thinking he's always right and that he knows everything, only setting off Y/N's explosive anger.

Steve groaned and stormed up the stairs, following his sister to her room, "His name's Dustin- fuck! You're so immature, you know that? Maybe I do need to babysit you, maybe then you'll learn to accept that you're sad about being kicked out of Lakewood, instead of biting my head off like a little bitch."

Y/N looked up at him incredulously, as if he'd just killed six puppies. She got up from her bed and stood right in front of him, pressing her index finger against his chest accusatory, "I'm not sad, dickwad, I'm furious because I defended myself against a bully and I'm the one who gets punished. It's not my fault she learnt to fight with her words and I fight with my fists. It's not my fault I'm like this, Steve!"

He stared at her for a few moments, watching his little sister's entire body move as her breathing became laboured and heavy.

She pushed past her brother and ran downstairs, "If I'm not back before you wake up, the demogorgon attacked me!"

"That's not-." Steve shouted, only to hear the front door slam shut halfway through his sentence, "funny."

It had been three months since Eleven had returned and saved Hawkins for the second time, Y/N knew they were no longer out there. She also knew it would strike a nerve in her brothers damaged soul and in that moment it was exactly what she wanted. The Harrington girl would probably regret it when she arrived back home in the early hours, knock on Steve's door and he'd tell her he was the one out of line and that it was okay. After all, he was the reason behind why she got expelled.

Y/N found herself running towards the school. In her short pleated skirt, fishnets and combat boots, the girl sprinted all the way through the woods until she found a clearing, and began walking on the side of the road. She should've been terrified to be out in the darkness all alone after the sights that had scarred her eyes, but it calmed her disturbed mind. Her problems faded to insignificance at the idea of being attacked by an inter-dimensional monster.

Her anger had dissipated after an hour or two of strolling back up and down, and she finally began to feel at ease in the cool midnight winds. That's when the sound of a turbocharged engine collapsed her serenity. She turned on her heel, letting the asphalt crunch under her foot as she squinted into the oncoming headlights.

Numbness had spread far enough over her body not to care whether the driver was Steve, a total stranger, or maybe even a creature from the upside down ready to kill her. Y/N shrugged it off and continued wandering, moving into the forest clearing so the muscle car didn't hit her if the driver wasn't paying enough attention.

Her steps became hurried as she heard the engine quieten, gaze kept forwards until the car picked up enough speed to pass her then completely stop. The air in her lungs felt trapped, feet planted to the broken up edge of the road.

"Hey!" A young yet deep male voice called, a mop of gentle dirty blonde curls appearing over the roof as the sound of the metal door opening and shutting cut away at the silence Y/N found herself stuck in. She didn't dare to move, eyes wide in a hazy mix of fear and intrigue.

He began moving around the car, closer to her frozen figure and stopping at what he deemed a safe distance. Billy looked her up and down, not in his usual 'I wanna fuck you' way towards the opposite sex; he checked over every inch of her exposed skin to make sure there were no signs of injury. When he finally met her eyes, he was stunned. They were the colour of milk chocolate edged with a deep forest-green. The two colors seemed to swirl together like moss creeping over rich soil.

Beautiful, he thought, not noticing the deep violet bags which sat beneath them. Y/N hated her eyes for them, yet they hadn't crossed his mind.

"Are you okay, Bambi?" Billy asked cautiously, taking a small step closer to her. His voice felt soft like a warm hug, yet she knew how it could easily be laced with venom. She'd seen his type before, knew how they could act so smooth then at the flick a switch be encased by rage if the word 'no' was introduced to them. She'd dated that type, been manipulated by their silver tongue and soft touch.

"I'm fine." Y/N's voice found the courage to speak, her body pushing past his and continuing its disassociated roam down the empty road ahead. She didn't feel like speaking to anyone, didn't feel like doing anything. Her mind was a wormhole of desolation and all she wanted was some peace away from home life and school life.

"If you want me to get in my car and carry on, I can. But, chances are you're feeling alone and don't-" Billy tried his best to do what he thought was right, he didn't have to stop when he saw her shivering figure at the side of the empty road. Hell, he probably shouldn't have.

"What you do doesn't really affect me, kid." Y/N snarled with no enthusiasm, her words falling hollow and getting lost in the wind.

The girl noticed he didn't speak after that, yet she hadn't heard the distinct sound of a car door opening and shutting either. She turned her head a fraction, not wanting to give him the attention he seemingly so desperately wanted from her but interested to know if she was about to get killed. Y/N rolled her eyes irritably as his taller figure appeared beside her own.

A few minutes passed as they ambled along the never ending barren road side by side without a word exchanged. Y/N felt oddly comfortable, more so than she did in that stupid private school or at home with Steve in constant seldom silence or rage filled bickering.

This silence was pleasant and held no secrets. Mostly due to the fact they were perfect strangers, no lingering expectations to be great or even good. Y/N stole another glance at him through the dark moonlight, his thick shoulder length hair appearing soft in its naturally curly state, and his flawlessly chiselled face hidden by plump cheeks and long eyelashes.

He could've committed some kind of atrocity for all she knew, but is company felt comforting and she wasn't one to judge.

"D'you just plan on following me around all night, then?" Y/N's voice sounded much more mellowed and velvety, her heartbeat no longer erratic in her ears allowing her mind some peace.

Billy sighed and rubbed a hand across his face before stuffing both into the pockets of his denim jacket to find some kind of warmth, "Haven't exactly planned that far ahead, gotta be honest with you. I don't know, I just needed to clear my head, and it seemed like you were doing the same."

"You could say that." Y/N scoffed, her numb mind somehow still managing to make her legs move forwards without stumbling. The biting cold air pricked at her paled skin, but she enjoyed the feeling. It was better than feeling nothing at all. "Fucked up shit happens a lot considering nothing happens around here."

"Did someone hurt you?" The words filled with unease tumbled from his mouth before he had the chance to catch them. Billy couldn't tell himself why he cared, why he was still walking along side this stranger in the dead of night on a Tuesday. Wednesday, now. But after the events at Mrs Byers' house, he had realised he'd become the monster he feared most- his father. If there was anything he could do to stop that, it was all he had done for the past three months.

Y/N smiled at her own stupid actions coming back to the forefront of her memories. She shook her head, still smiling, "That's too complicated to answer right now. Unfortunately, I managed to fuck things up pretty bad all on my own this time."

"I'm listening." Billy's eyes wandered across the unending tree border as he let the girl gather her thoughts and decide whether to indulge him or not.

She did.

"A couple weeks ago I overheard some skanks from my school trash talking my family; you see my brother slept with this girl named Rosie once ages ago so she put herself on a pedestal and thinks her words are gospel now. She was joking with her friends about how we're basically orphans. And then, this is the real kicker, she made up a rumour saying I'd got crabs from sleeping with the gym teacher. Which is hilarious because I'm a virgin still. So, I confronted her, she denied it, and I may or may not have blacked out and beat the living daylights out of her. Last week the dean decided to kick me out, so as of next Monday I'll be back at the shit show they call Hawkins High."

It felt easy to spill her thoughts to this oddly handsome person she'd never met before. Y/N felt like adding, 'oh and there's supernatural demons running around trying to take you to another dimension and kill you, but don't worry, our telekinetic friend saved us. Twice.' But she liked him enough in that moment not to want to scare him away.

"I would've hit her, too." Billy chuckled dryly, realising this girl was stronger than she seemed. His voice picked up after a beat of silence, "Billy, by the way."

"Y/N." She smiled her first warm, genuine smile for a rather long time, and it felt strange and satisfying all at once. Silence fell upon them once again after that, not feeling unpleasant in the slightest. They walked side by side with no destination in mind, Y/N's body bumping against his every now and again. The fist time was an accident, after that she kept on doing it to see the small smile pull at the corners of his lips from the contact.

Her combat boots halted on the torn up asphalt, kicking up small stones a few feet across the road. Without indication to her newfound friend, she switched direction and began walking back towards the other end of the endless road back towards Hawkins away from Lakewood.

"Alright then." Billy quirked an eyebrow at her odd behaviour as he followed and fell back into aimless step with her.

"Billy," she enjoyed the way his name rolled off her tongue, "could you drive me home?" She looked up at him with hope in her eyes, half feigned half real. Y/N was a shell of a person, broken and cold after what her eyes had witnessed, but she really liked the way her mind felt at ease around this boy with fluffy hair and muscular arms.

"Sure."

They made their way up to the car in silence, time running by much quicker with Y/N's spirits lifted. Billy unlocked his Camaro and the two settled into their seats, the heater almost instantly turned up to the highest setting.

"Where are you from, Billy?" Y/N couldn't help herself but ask, she had a knack for wanted to know everything and managing to know everything one way or another. She enjoyed the ever so slight accent in his voice, certainly not from these parts. His olive skin, probably once a lot more tanned and bright, gave it away too. Nobody here got enough vitamin D to look that pretty.

She told him to take the next turning, filling the space his answer was about to fall into. Y/N noticed the sounds of AC/DC playing quietly, one of her all time favourite songs. Steve would buy their albums and she'd buy Madonna when they visited the mall together, then swap when they got back to his car.

"California, my dad remarried and they both wanted a new start, so we ended up here." Billy answered calmly, voice tinged with anguish. The girl gave him another direction and told him to pull up two houses down from her own.

"If my brother saw someone giving me a lift home I think he'd murder you then me, so for everyone's safety it's best not to let him in on our little secret." Y/N grinned halfheartedly up at Billy, realising Steve wouldn't have gone to sleep yet and it was her fault. He was a real dick sometimes, but she wondered if he was the only person in the world to actually give a shit about her.

"Sounds like a real buzzkill." Billy joked with an unknown lightness to his tone, turning the ignition off and settling his gaze on her devastatingly brilliant eyes again.

Y/N nodded and leant over the centre console, wrapping her arms around Billy's much larger torso, he didn't react for a moment, not entirely sure what was happening, but he eventually returned the hug.

"Thanks for stopping earlier, tonight would've been a lot more lonely if you hadn't." Y/N unclasped her seatbelt and unlocked the door, sending the boy a truly heartfelt smile before they said goodbye to one another. He watched her walk down the road and disappear into her driveway, making sure she was safe before he left.

The Harrington girl quietly entered her house, taking off her rather muddy boots and making her way up to her brother's bedroom. She knocked quietly on his door out of politeness but didn't wait for an answer before opening it.

"Steve-" her voice was remorseful, this is how it always went.

He groaned a little from his work desk, eyes failing to stay open consistently, "I know, I'm sorry." Steve sent her a weak smile, knowing how hurt his little sister was at heart.

"Yeah," she sighed, "me too."

Y/N climbed into bed that night with the scent of Billy's strong cologne still clinging to her too, and it made her feel at ease. She slept well for the first time in a very long time, mind for once not plagued by creatures from another world.

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Roguish Women Part 12

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 11: Tommy confides in Kate, telling her that he suspects Alfie isn’t loyal. 

            “I tell you, Esme, he’s really something else. I mean fuck’s sake I’ve seen Jewish gangsters before but Alfie Solomons.” Kate let out a low whistle. “I’d have to have an army behind me if I ever wanted to cross him. Knocked a man out cold with one blow. I mean Jesus Christ, that has to be some sort of talent of his.”

            Back in Birmingham, Kate was at the betting shop, alone with John’s wife who she got along well with. She was in the kitchen with the curtain open so she could talk to Esme while making something quick to eat for lunch.

            That’s when she heard the door open and suddenly, she realized Esme was focused on something else.

            “Es?” Kate walked out to see a well-dressed woman walking inside. The room suddenly became tense as the woman appeared out of her element and Esme was on guard. “Don’t think we’ve met.” She tried to break the discomfort in the air.

            “May Carleton.” The woman greeted in a posh accent. “I have an appointment with Mr. Shelby.”

            Kate subtly glanced at Esme who shook her head. “Here? He’s got an office, I mean. And it’s a lot nicer than this place.”

            “Oh, yes, I asked for this address. He said he ran a gambling den and I-” May looked a little pink in the face. “I wanted to see one but I see now I’m early and I don’t know how to behave.”

            “Well, it helps if you can hold your ground. Men ‘round here are a bit aggressive when it comes to placing bets.” Kate smiled and sat down.

            Esme still seemed suspicious of the wealthy looking woman but curious all the same. “What do you do, then?” She went back to her daily tasks about the shop.

            “Oh, I’m going to train Tommy’s horse for Epsom,” May answered as she took a look around the place.

            Kate sat down with her snack. “So that’s why he was asking if I knew anything about horses.” She realized. “He got himself a horse and someone to train it.”

            “You know horses?” May wondered.

            “No, Esme does.”

            John’s wife smiled and nodded. “Most gypsy girls do. We’re born riding horses.”

            “There’s a fucking great Riley parked out there and nobody’s watching it!” John entered the shop loudly, as he usually did.

            “That’s a nice car.” Kate gave May an impressed look. Apparently, her wealth wasn’t limited to just clothing.  

            “John,” Esme stepped in before he made any plans on nicking the car while its owner was in the room.

            “Hey!” Kate smacked his hand away as he tried to snatch her lunch instead. “Fuck off and go find Tommy, Miss Carleton here is looking for him.”

            Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Tommy entered the shop through the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late. Take a look around?” He wondered.

            “Because there’s just so much to see,” Kate mumbled. She couldn’t blame anyone for the monotonous surroundings. Small Heath wasn’t much to look at. Neither was London but at least Alfie Solomons kept Kate on her toes. Returning to Birmingham was like settling into a tepid bath. It was familiar but the same old thing. It didn’t help that she was back to the place where Santo knew she was.

            Tommy ignored the comment. “So, you’ve come to get my girl, aye?”

            “Yes.” May seemed a bit glad to get out of the betting shop.

            “Kate, I’ll be needing a word with you once I return from speak with Miss Carleton.”

            She brushed her hands off and stood up. “I can walk with you now. Unless Esme needs me here.”

            “No, she’ll keep it locked up for now.” Tommy lit up a cigarette. “Walk with us.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            May seemed to take the hint and lagged behind so Tommy and Kate could converse in private on the way to the Yard.

            “You got along easily with Alfie.”

            Kate crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. “I get along easily with a lot of people. It’s called being outgoing.” She replied deadpan.

            “What I mean, is he seems to trust you.” Tommy reiterated to get his point across. He didn’t want to talk in circles with her, not when he was so busy.

            “I don’t like where this is going, Tommy. You asked me to conduct business with the man, that’s what I’m doing. You asked me for contacts in America, that’s what I gave you. I wouldn’t double-cross that man for any sum. So, don’t even try bargaining with me.”

            “Those words never came out me mouth, now did they?”

            Kate rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t play games with me. I know what you were hinting at.” She stopped walking to face him, making sure May wasn’t in earshot. “I know you like to play your pieces and strategize or whatever.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “But you’re not putting me in those cross-fires. I spelled out what I’d do for protection. Getting myself killed seems to be counterintuitive.”        

            Tommy cleared his throat and reached into the inside of his pocket. Inside an envelope were a train ticket and a roll of cash. “Go to London and pay him a visit. Don’t need to say anything, just discuss business as usual. If you notice something’s wrong, you bring that information back to me.”

            Kate’s hear tbeat rapidly in her chest. It was obvious Tommy knew something she didn’t. “No, no fuck off. I’m not doing that.” She stepped away from him and pushed the envelope back into his hand.

            “He requested a meeting, I said you’d go and see him.” He insisted.

            “And why don’t you go?” She demanded. “You go and find out what you want to know.”

            “I’m busy.”

            “Busy.” She scoffed. “With what?”

            Tommy sighed and glanced over his shoulder to May who was waiting patiently a few yards away.

            Kate let out a sarcastic snort. “Oh, I see you’re too busy with the pretty horse trainer. And here I was thinking you had sworn off women for good.”

            “For the Derby.” He clarified firmly. He didn’t want her going around toting off rumors that he was involved with May. Even if it was the intention, sort of.

            Kate wrinkled her nose in disgust and snatched the envelope from his hand. “Don’t fucking understand what all this fuss is about this Derby. One horse race and Tommy Shelby is going to end up with a key to the world? Isn’t that easy.” She snapped before walking off with the ticket and money in hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            “Y’know, I’ve always had issues with Italians.”

            Kate clicked her tongue as she tried to keep track of the numbers on the ledger in front of her instead of Alfie’s out of the blue comment. If Tommy hadn’t said anything about Alfie’s loyalty, then she would’ve gladly accepted the trip to London without a second thought. She enjoyed the man’s presence. He was interesting, to say the least.

            “Is that right? Is it a preference? I knew many Jews in America who didn’t feel the same.”

            “Call it experience.” Alfie idly cracked his knuckles over his cane. “You must have the same preference, then, that right?”

            “I tend not to focus on ethnicities, Mr. Solomons.” Kate didn’t spare a moment to look up from the report he’d given her upon the start of the meeting.

            “’Less they’re hunting you down.”

            That made her set the ledger aside. She laced her fingers together and rested them on her knee. “I thought we had an understanding, Alfie. I like you and you like me. I don’t ask for a list of your enemies and you don’t ask about mine.”

            Alfie ran a hand over his beard a few times as he studied her face. “See, thing is, Kate, if I do business with someone, I do like to know whether there’s any sort of, well, liabilities.”

            It was like Tommy was there in spirit, pointing out all the little tells that something was wrong. Even in the roundabout way Alfie spoke, Kate could see he wasn’t being entirely honest. “Have you been speaking with Italians?” She asked in as casual of a manner she could muster.

            “We don’t ask about each other’s enemies, yeah?” His right hand twitched.

            “Would you like to talk about my enemies, Alfie?”

            He held his arms out as if embracing her from across the desk. “I’ve got all the time in the world, love.”

            That was enough of an answer for Kate. The answer that Tommy was right. There was something Alfie was planning behind the scenes. “His name is Santo Leoni, but I’m sure you already knew that. He’s from Boston. Runs everything on the Italian side, but you knew that as well. Something you might not know, Alfie,” She leaned forward. “but something I know and know very well. He leaves a trail of ash behind him. Everyone he wants dead, dies. He’s after me but he’s also after anyone I’ve been in contact with, anyone he thinks has been hiding me, helping me.”

            Alfie wasn’t scared, obviously, in fact, he looked completely unbothered. “So that’s what you give the Shelbys then, yeah, in return for giving you a bit of work?” He asked. “You set them up to be burned, that right?”

            “No.” Kate stood up and gathered her things. “Because I think they’re the only ones capable of taking him down.” Their eyes met for a moment, almost in an understanding. Alfie knew that she knew. And Kate knew that he had figured her out. “Good afternoon, Mr. Solomons.”

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            At the train station, Kate phoned the office. Lizzie answered immediately.

            “Liz, I’ve got to speak to Tommy, it’s urgent.”

            The secretary paused. “He’s left for Surrey. I could try to find the number for the address but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

            “Fuck, what on Earth is he doing in Surrey?” Kate threw her hand up in disbelief. The man was always on the move it was hard enough to pin him down when he was just in the office.

            “Visiting the racehorse for the derby,” Lizzie answered.

            “Visiting the-for the love of-too busy for-” She held back a frustrated scream. “Too busy to attend meetings but he can fuck off to Surrey with that woman. Jesus Christ, I need to speak with him now.” She insisted.

            “Arthur or John might be around, want me to get them?”

            “No, no, I-I don’t know what Tommy’s told them.” Kate ran a hand over her face in frustration. She wasn’t enjoying all the secrecy and hushed plans. It made it difficult to know where she stood. “I’m coming back to Birmingham now. If he calls, you tell him that he was right about Alfie.”

            “Right about…”

            “Just say those words exactly, he’ll know what it means.” Kate hung up the phone to hurry off to board the train. “At least I hope he knows.”  

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Masterlist

Mr. Handsome Stranger

Pairing: Yeosang X Reader

Tags: cursing, shitty attempts at comedy, fluff

Words: 1.7k

A/N: YAY my first fic! Go easy on me HEHehehe... ahem. ANyways, I hope it’s decent. The Ateez boys deserve more love and Atinys need more content dammit. Even if it’s my shitty writing hahahaHA. I promise to (try) to get better with my writing. Like seriously I feel like this is so shitty, but I’m having some blocks on ideas and having trouble starting stories. Also If I didn’t decide to just post this, nothing was going to be posted. ALSO, gotta give credit where credit is due of course, I got the inspiration for this story here. Well, enjoy?

"Okay, deep breathes. In and out. Inhale...exhale." I was currently parked curbside waiting for the time to hit noon. I had a job interview at my local library and was in the process of trying to psych myself up and calm my nerves at the same time. I glanced at the clock on my dashboard and it read 11:02 A.M. They like it when you show up early right? It shows that your punctual and responsible and shit. I rolled my eyes at myself. Why the hell did I show up so early? 

I wanted this job so bad. Working at this library has always been a dream of mine. They also have never had an open position here for years. Sure, you could volunteer your time here, but it has always been the same women working here for more than a decade. One of the ladies is good friends with my mother and knew that I would jump at the chance to land a job at my favorite place in town. I sighed and looked at the clock again. 11:06. I whined to myself and turned the heater on in my car. If I wasn't going to woman up and get my ass out of this vehicle, I might as well get cozy since I seem to be too chicken shit to hang out in the building I've spent the majority of my life in. I know I could just go in and browse through the isles of books before my interview. All the librarians know me by name, I know all of theirs. Like my mother and Thalia, my mothers friend who works at the library, said when they told me about the job opening, I'm guaranteed to get it. But, I still have anxiety and it seems like one of my favorite things to do is worry and assume the worse. I wrapped my cardigan tighter around me and turned up my heater. It was definitely a cold one today. It wasn't raining just yet, but the sky was steely gray with storm clouds. It was pretty calming actually, my favorite weather was stormy weather and grabbing a hot chocolate from the neighboring cafe and snuggling up in the warm library was sounding so good right now. Yes, keep thinking that way, maybe it'll actually get you to get the hell out of this car. As I was convincing myself that a hot chocolate sounded perfect a car pulled up and parked behind me. I didn't pay much attention to it, at least not until the person who was driving the car got out of it. I herd the door slam shut and glanced at my side-view mirror. Well, shit. The man that had exited the car was probably one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. His hair was light brown. Dark blonde? Light brown. Whatever, you know what I mean. He had on a silky looking dark brown button up tucked into black skinny jeans and a black suit jacket to complete the ensemble. A simple black string wrapped around his throat. Damn, he has no business looking that good. I chuckled to myself. Thirsty bitch. I watched as he pointed his key fob at his car to lock his door and started walking to my side of the car. Wonder where he- My eyes widened and my heart sped up for a second when he stopped at my car door. What is he...? He turned his body towards me and bent over slightly looking right into my car window. I started to freak out when I remembered. Wait, my windows are tinted... holy shit, he can't see me. I smirked, enjoying a better look at this handsome man. It seemed like he decided to stop and use my car window as a mirror to check himself out. I observed him as he straightened out his shirt and ran his fingers through is hair. Damn, he looks even better up close. He seemed to have a bit of a nervous air about him. Maybe an important meeting? Maybe a ...date? I was tempted to roll down the window and scare the pants off him. (Oh, Mister Handsome Stranger with no pants...okay (y/n) get your mind out of the gutter for once.) And so I did. The look he had was absolutely priceless when he noticed the window start to roll down. Shock and embarrassment were written all over his perfect face. I plastered on a giant grin as most of my face became visible. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fishy Adonis and before he could say anything, I somehow had the confidence to say, "Don't worry, you look really good. Honestly you are unnaturally beautiful for a man. Like, seriously, you're prettier than my sister; and trust me, she's so pretty that she got a acting gig for a commercial advertising medicine for genital warts.", but you know, I have absolutely no confidence in myself to get a job that I'm almost guaranteed to get. Mister Handsome Strangers face turned red and he started busting up laughing. Oh no, your laugh sounds as beautiful as you are. "Thank you, I think I should take that as a compliment?" He said through his laughter. Jesus Fucking Christ, your voice sounds even better. "Oh yeah, it's definitely a compliment." Once he caught his breath he cleared his throat he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry." he told me. "I had no idea someone was in the car- your car. I-I mean- I didn't know you were in..." he stuttered out. I chuckled as his cheeks became just a little pinker. "It's alright really. My windows are obviously tinted so nobody would be able to tell that I'm just sitting in my car being a creep." He slightly smiled at me. "Why are you just sitting in your car being a creep?" he asked. Is he really starting a conversation with me? I glanced at the clock on my dash. 11:14. "Oh. I'm sorry." He let out a nervous chuckle. "I'm probably keeping you from something, and also being a creep I guess just randomly asking why your in your own car. I should-" "NO! I-I mean, no, it's okay. I just have a job interview at the library at noon and I was just making sure I wasn't going to be late for it." I let out a small breathy laugh and rubbed my hands on the steering wheel. His shoulders looked like they lost most of their tension and he sent a small smile my way. "Well your awfully early. Don't want to make them think your too eager now do you?" I snorted. "Well I haven't even entered the building yet. I have to leave the car for them to think that now don't I?" He grinned at me. "I guess that's true." Your smile is giving me heart palpitations. I took a deep breath as discreetly as I could. Bad Idea. Holy shit, he smells like heaven. "SO STRANGER-" Dear Gods, could you have been any louder!? "Ahem- so, you look dressed for some sort of occasion." His eyes widened and he had the look like he just remembered something. "O-oh, right, I'm-" He coughed into his balled up fist. "I-uh I have a... blind date at noon." I raised my eyebrow at him then grinned. "Well your awfully early. Don't want to make them think your too eager now do you?" I could tell he tried to suppress a grin and he rolled his eyes. "Ah, but I haven't even entered the building. I have to be in the cafe for anyone to think that now don't I?" I laughed and he laughed along, when we both calmed down he told me that him and his blind date were actually supposed to meet at 11:00 but that she was running late and texted him before he left and that she'll be at the cafe a little before noon.  He took his phone out of his pocket, glanced at it, and sighed. He looked almost.. disappointed. "I should probably head in, just in case she gets here a little early." I nodded a little too enthusiastically. Don't make your disappointment obvious. You have literally known this man for like 20 minutes. "Well, I hope you have a fantastic time on your date, who knows, maybe she'll be the one." I winked at him and immediately regretted it. By the Gods, why are you so lame. That was so damn cringey. My cringey-ness seemed to go over his head as he softly smiled at me and said, "And I hope you get this job. You're going to do great in the interview. Make sure to tell them about your sister that was in that genital warts commercial, you'll get the job for sure with that." This boy is making my cheeks hurt with all the smiling he's making me do. "I'll be sure to lead with that. It was nice to meet you..." He held his hand just outside my car window. "Yeosang." I took his hand in mine and softly shook it. I want to hold your hand forever. "Yeosang..I'm (y/n)." "(y/n)...it was a pleasure to meet you too." he said softly. My name sounds incredible coming from you, please say it again. He smiled at me and backed away, walking around my car to get to the sidewalk and making his way into the cafe that was neighbors with the library. I watched Yeosang enter the cafe and I took a deep breath. It wasn't often that I met someone that was literally perfect. I rested my head against the seats head rest (I mean that is what it is for right?) and closed my eyes for a moment. I couldn't believe I struck up a conversation (If you could even call it that.) with a random stranger. I don't do that. Why did I do that? I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. 11:34. If I have the confidence to do that, then dammit, I have the confidence to kill this interview. An interview that I'M GUARANTEED to kill in the first place, but still. I shut my car off and grabbed my phone and wallet from my center console. I exited the car and smiled at my future place of work. Alright, lets do this shit.

A/N pt2: spEAKING OF PT.2, I wanna do a pt. 2 to this? I’m still unsure of this story but I immediately had a idea of how to continue this as I was spell checking through it? So yeah. Hope you liked it <3 Anyone reading this, feel free to shoot me a request! I could always use new ideas and inspiration to keep me going. Have a good day/night~

TLC

A/N: I wrote this over the span of...forever. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get something to you guys. This goes with a slow burn request and a smut request sooo 18+ my darlings!!:)

Warnings: Smut and cussing 

Weddings. 

Your distaste for them had grown since graduating college. With every friend that got pregnant or hitched, you pushed yourself further into a hole of self-loathing and doubt. 

Unfortunately, this is one particular wedding that you had to be at. Your best friend stood at the alter with a small tear running down his face. You couldn’t help but scoff, he was marrying a woman after meeting her 8 months ago. Something about him knowing that they were soul mates or some other bullshit that you didn’t believe. 

“Jesus christ. . .” you muttered under your breath as the wedding march began playing. You put on a smile, standing up and turning back to look at the woman in a traditional white dress. Her hair was curled perfectly and cascaded down her back in a waterfall. She was perfect, it was no wonder that Bucky was so into her. 

When she reached the front of the alter, Bucky sighed with content. “Hi James.” You heard her whisper. 

God. . . nobody calls him James. Who the fuck does she think she is?

“Hi Jess.” He responded, his smile just as wide as hers. The crowd laughed, Bucky leaning back and fanning his face as he looked over her in the dress. You rolled your eyes. 

“We are gathered here today. . .” and here was the part where your brain shut off. You looked anxiously at your hands, playing with the ring on your thumb while you felt the pit of your stomach drop. 

He looked at her with so much. . . comfort. Like she was her home. You couldn’t help but think back to when at one point you hoped that he looked at you like that one day. 

It was pathetic. Of course you were in love with your best friend, what kind of cliche are you? He wanted you to be one of her bridesmaids, he said he wanted you to be a part of the wedding but you had to politely decline. The hurt in his eyes made you nauseous, but you didn’t necessarily get along with Jess. It’s not like you could fake it until you made it in this scenario. 

Of course you didn’t start off the friendship with an attraction to him. It only started when he called you darlin’. Or when he stayed at your apartment one night while you showed him every one of your favorite video games from Mario Bros. all the way to The Last of Us. 

His admiration for modern technology left a childlike wonder on his face for what was to come. His metal arm was the closest thing he had experienced to “super advanced” until he saw the graphics on the PS4. He would tell you stories about the 30s and 40s, and with every word you couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with him. 

You wanted to tell him, but you kept putting it off and putting it off until eventually he found a girlfriend. As wrong as it was, you hoped every night that they wouldn’t last. That he was meant for you. Surprised was an understatement when he told you of their engagement. “She proposed to me. . . how weird is that?” 

“And does anyone have an objections to this union?” The priest spoke with a light chuckle laced in his words. You struggled to stop yourself from standing up, from yelling at her while Bucky watched, from running up there and throwing yourself on him, confessing your undying love for him. Life doesn’t work like that though. 

“Okay, James and Jessica. I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest grinned, “you may kiss the bride!” 

You looked away, swallowing while meeting eyes with Steve. He gave you a small empathetic look while you shook your head. You could feel your eyes prick with tears but you didn’t want to give anything away. 

The music played again and they walked down the isle hand in hand. Finally, you were able to walk away. You covered your shoulders and walked towards your car, opening the door and sitting in it. 

You debated turning on your car and driving away. You debated never speaking to Bucky again, starting a new life and wishing him the best in life. You couldn’t throw away your friendship though. 

A sigh left your lip while you wiped away the one tear that managed to slip out. Soon, you heard a knock on your window. 

“Hey darlin’,” Bucky stood on the other side of the slightly fogged glass, causing you to panic and wipe your face of any tears. You put on a smile and opened the car door, “Hey Bucky! That was some ceremony, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah! It was gorgeous, better than I could have imagined.” 

An awkward smile fell on your lips and you looked away with a cough. “Hey, so as much as I would like to stay, I’m not feeling very well so the celebration aspect is gonna have to be saved for another time.” You attempted to grin but you couldn’t quite muster up the energy. 

“Awh,” his face dropped, “but how can I celebrate if I don’t have my best friend with me?” 

“You’ll get there.” You sent a wink his way, before you got into your car and started it, leaving Bucky there with an astonished look on his face as you pulled out of the church parking lot. 

Five years had never gone by so quick. 

“Alright Mrs. Willems, we’ll have that ready for you by tomorrow. Thank you so much for your order!” You talked happily into the phone, writing down a cake order and pinning it to the cork board in the back of your bakery. 

After the wedding, you decided it was probably best for you to move on. As much as it hurt to end the friendship, it was better for the both of you. you couldn’t go on in pain. 

It took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears but finally you were able to open your dream bakery. Amazingly enough, the business was booming, and you’ve even taken up catering. 

The New York Tribune named it the greatest bakery on the south side of NYC. You’ve had a few Food Network shows feature you and the business started growing. 

As the night closed off, you began counting the till and cleaning. You told the night crew to head home, they’ve been working really hard and you wanted to reward them. 

“130, 140, 150. . .” It was in the middle of counting the till that you heard a small knock on the door. You looked up and moved the glasses on your nose away from your face, walking towards the lock. 

“Hi, I’m so sorry we’re clo-” you looked up and met eyes with a tall, blue-eyed beauty who you hadn’t seen in quite a while. 

“Bucky?” 

“Hey. . . I saw your face in the newspaper.” 

You swallowed your nausea, not knowing what to do. “I- uhm. . .” 

He smiled, something you wished you could have woken up to every morning for the past five years, “I knew you would be able to do it someday.” 

Your hands started to shake and before you could stop, you found yourself opening the door wider and making room for the super soldier to enter the small bakery. He inhaled through his nose, the smells of freshly baked cakes and breads filling his senses. He remembered you playing around with recipes all those years ago, and it wasn’t until he saw your face again that he realized just how much he had been missing you. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “it took a lot of work.” 

His back was still turned to you as he spoke, “Yeah, but you still did it.” 

You studied the curve of his back, and how he had somehow become even more muscular than you remembered. His hair no longer rested above his shoulders, instead it was cut much like the 30s haircut you remember from the photographs. The ends curled at the top, your breath almost catching in your throat. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You questioned, pushing your hair behind your ear while you stepped from foot to foot awkwardly. 

“Yeah. . . I was wondering if you could make a cake from me.” 

Your chest heaved, “Well usually I’ll tell someone to come back during our operating hours, but I’ll make an exception.” You walked behind the counter and pulled out an order form, leaning forward and taking a pen out of your apron. 

“So, what’ll it be Mr. Barnes?” 

“A vanilla cake, decorated with blue and pink frosting,” of course it was a gender reveal cake. You almost scoffed but you held in your annoyance for a moment, you had done plenty of gender reveal cakes before, “Ah, Jess is pregnant! How exciting. Okay, and the filling? Will it be blue or pink?”  

“What? No, no,” Bucky leaned on the other side of the counter, “Strawberry filling, and across the top I want the words, ‘Happy Divorce Day, Cheater!’ Written in black.”

You looked up, your brows furrowed immediately, “You two are getting a divorce?” 

Bucky nodded, his bottom lip being drug in between his teeth, “She, uh, she slept with her co-worker. Has been since before we even got married apparently,” a chuckle left his mouth, “she hates strawberry filling.”

“Oh my god. . . I’m so sorry.” You knew that bitch didn’t know what the fuck she had. Of course she’d fuck it up with Bucky, and she’s gonna hate herself for the rest of her life.

“You know, I always knew that something was off, but I was so blinded by infatuation that I ignored all the red flags.” He spoke, almost as if this isn’t the first time in five years that you two had spoken. Like you never had left in the first place. 

At this point you put the pen down, clasping your hands together in front of you and listening intently. “I don’t think I ever really loved her. I lost five years of my life on her.” 

You nodded, mostly in agreement but you had hoped he took it as a note that you were listening. He paused, his eyes meeting yours for a split second. You loved him. You knew that for sure. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I can’t imagine that.” 

“Yeah, well you know. . . Life goes on.” Bucky grinned, “I’m 100 years old and 5 years doesn’t seem that long at the moment.” 

You smiled back, the first time you had smiled sincerely since he had arrived. “How about you and I go back and make this cake right now.” You suggested, motioning for him to hop over the counter and follow you to the back where the giant mixer sat, cleaned and untouched. 

“Okay, you grab the-” a screech left your mouth as you felt arms around your waist, “Bucky, wait!” 

“(Y/N),” he sat you down on top of the counter, “I didn’t come here for a cake. I came here to ask me something.” 

You smiled, “and what would that be, Mr. Barnes?” 

“Did you like me back then? Ya know, more than a friend?” Bucky said, his arms on either side of your thighs. 

You laughed off your shocked cough, “Bucky what are we, 12?” 

“Answer the question, darlin’.” 

You looked away from his eyes, “I loved you. More than anything else in the world.” 

“Loved?” he questioned. 

“Love.” You sighed in defeat, your cheeks turning red. 

“I’ve always loved you too. I was dumb and stupid for marrying her. I thought you’d never love me and I thought the only thing I could have possibly done was move on.” Bucky lifted your chin up to meet his eyes and softly and slowly, pressed a kiss to your lips. 

Your body froze, almost as if you couldn’t believe what was happening. Without thinking, your hands found themselves at his shoulders, your palms touching his prominent collar bones as your skin burned against his. With one quick motion, you pushed him away. 

Bucky stepped back, shocked as if he didn’t expect that to happen. He wiped his mouth, the expression on his face made you nauseous with guilt. You knew it had to be done though. 

Your blood burned in your veins, you could feel your ears heating up while you took a deep breath, “Did you really think that you could come here out of the blue and do that?” you hopped off of the counter, “because in all honesty, that shit hurt more than it did help. You think I want to be your rebound girl?”

The shock from Bucky’s face was replaced with furrowed brows, “Reboun- what the hell are you talking about? You’re not a rebound?” 

“You came here after filing for divorce! What do you want? Do you want sex? Because I’m not here just for that.” 

Bucky’s mouth fell agape, “What kind of a man do you think I am?” his voice was much louder than before, “Do YOU think it was nice of you to leave me? Ignore my phone calls and emails, for five fucking years? Our friendship ended, with nothing being said to me! I was oblivious! It took Steve three years to tell me you were in love with me and I had assumed at that point you moved on! So tell me, again, why the fuck you think what you did was okay? I was a mess!” 

The nausea became stronger, “I-” 

“No! I’m not going to give you time to explain yourself, I love you too! Did I ever think the feelings were reciprocated? No! Because you did such a good job at not letting a single fucking person know what goes on inside your head,” he poked my forehead, “I thought I knew what was happening, so I moved on. Is that somehow my fault because you never told me you loved me?” 

“Bucky-” 

“So I come here, yes after five years, professing my love for you and what am I met with? Anger?” Bucky paused, as if he was waiting for a response. 

You swallowed, “I didn’t know how to work with my feelings so I figured I’d let them be. Leave you to be happy with your new life.” 

“Jesus christ, (Y/N), let me kiss you! Please!” Bucky almost cried, his eyes watering with frustration while you struggled internally with things you had masked away behind the facade of happiness for so many years. 

You were the one who tried so hard to forget. You knew it was impossible, but pushing your feelings down was the only way that you knew how to cope with the impossible task of forgetting Bucky Barnes. 

Slowly, you took a step towards him and pressed a small kiss on top of his quivering lips. You expected a lack luster response, for Bucky to smile and pull away. However, quickly his hands pulled you closer and he inhaled your scent as if it was the last time he was ever going to see you. 

You couldn’t breath, but you didn’t care. You were finally in Bucky’s arms and this was something you wanted for so many years. 

He lifted you back onto the table and your hands came to his cheeks, your thumb stroking his cheek bone delicately as his tongue slipped its way into your mouth. Before you could process what was happening, he laid you down on your back and hopped onto the table, straddling your thighs and slipping his shirt off of his body. 

“Bucky this is unsanitar-” 

“(Y/N), shut the fuck up.” He whispered, a grin on his face while his lips met yours once again. It didn’t take long for you to melt back into his touch, his hips grinding on yours. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long baby. You wouldn’t believe it.” His hardening member pressed into your thigh and you could feel yourself becoming more and more wet by the second. 

Suddenly you felt like your chest was being crushed, you pushed Bucky off and stood up from the table. “I- I need a bed.” 

Bucky’s chest heaved, “What?” 

You grabbed his arm and lead up towards your upstairs apartment, “Fuck me, on a bed.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

You walked up the stairs and felt Bucky’s hands on you the whole time. It didn’t take long for you to start throwing off your clothes and rush to the bedroom. 

Before Bucky could take off his boxers, he took a moment to look over your body. You could feel the sense of euphoria he had, his tears were long gone and were replaced with sweat, and love. 

In a second he was back on top of you, ripping off your panties and kissing his way down your body. A moan left your mouth as his lips wrapped around each nipple, his hand rubbing his finger on your clit. Of course he knew exactly where it was. 

His lips continued trailing down, turning up into a smile as he finally met your heat. 

You couldn’t help but let a more primal moan bubble from your throat. There was nothing hotter than seeing Bucky’s face buried in between your legs. Your hands gripped his hair and pulled, resulting in an even bigger moan from him. 

“I have wanted to taste you,” he took a breath, kissing your thigh, “since I first laid eyes on you.” 

“Then keep doing it.” You motioned for him to continue as you could feel yourself becoming so close. He bit his lip before inserting a finger into your sex, curling it upward while using his tongue to skillfully flick your clit. 

Before you knew it, you felt heat rise up from core and your legs shook from around Bucky’s head. “Ah, fuck!” You yelled, crying out Bucky’s name and grinding your hips harshly. 

Bucky didn’t give you much time to recover, pressing his cock against your sex before inserting it slowly. So slowly it was almost painful. 

Bucky didn’t move for a second, instead soaking in the absolute pleasure that the two of you were receiving after years of repression. His chest collapsed on top of yours, kissing you and biting your lip between his teeth. His hips finally started to move, but he stayed low and as close to you as he possibly could. 

Your nails dug harshly into his back and he thrust into you, the speed picking up. His icy blues bore into yours before his lips kissed your neck.

Way too soon, you felt heat build up in your core again. You tightened around him, pushing him over the edge. He fell on the bed beside you, grabbing you close and holding you tightly as you both came down from a long awaited high. 

“I think, that was the greatest sex I have ever had in my entire life.” Bucky stated, his face red. 

“Ah, not so much stamina for the super soldier, aye?” You teased, noticing how out of breath he was. 

“I’ve never felt anything like that before. I had to hold on from cumming while I was eating you out.” He praised, kissing your forehead. You blushed, never really one to be open about these sorts of things. 

“There’s more where that came from.” You whispered, leaning up and kissing his lips. 

Maybe these last five years were exactly what the two of you needed. Some time apart lead both of you to realize your feelings for each other and inevitably, fate would have you two together. 

Sometimes, all love needs is a little time. 

I could really use a body swap right about now, and one of them finding some incriminating evidence that the other boy like him, and confronting him, but don't make it a long body swap, let's just sat they swap for like a few days, cause reasntly I read this other one and the body swap went on FOR-EVER

Billy had a rude awakening Wednesday morning but not in the way he was used to. Instead of a banging on his door and a yell to get up, it was the beep of an alarm clock. The last he checked he didn’t have an alarm clock. In his sleepy haze he’d thrown his blankets aside to see skinny legs in a pair of pajama pants. His heart could’ve jumped out of his chest. What the fuck?? He rubbed his eyes, looking around. That’s not his fucking room. He scrambled out of bed, running to the first mirror he saw in the room. 

Steve Harrington.

Okay so. This is just a dream. Has to be. He pinched his arm. Nothing. Shit. He wasn’t even going to bother trying to figure out what’s going on, he needed to find his body. What if Steve’s in there? He’s not lending his body to fucking Steve. He opened his drawers, looking for the least preppy outfit he could. Jeans, black button down that probably isn’t meant for casual outings, and a leather jacket he really didn’t expect to find. 

The clock read 7:15 am. He definitely had some time to explore the room. Why did Steve even wake up this early? He didn’t think he worked out, he would’ve noticed. He looked through drawers, finding the usual teenager things. Magazines. Lotion. The whole gambit. Yeah maybe he didn’t expect to see a men’s sport magazine under the porn magazine but hey that’s not his business. Billy would do that if he wasn’t so heavily monitored. He shut the drawer of the nightstand and moved onto the little shelf below the nightstand. Not much to see. Some records. A small box. He sat up on the bed(which he took the time to make, your welcome Harrington) and opened up the box. There were several photos of Steve and the kids. Steve and Nancy. Trinkets that probably meant something to Steve. Then alllll the way at the bottom was a picture of him and Steve. He recognized it right away. It was taken after they had won the basketball state championships, there was a crowd of people around them and Billy had hugged him in the excitement of the moment, someone with a camera nearby deciding that was a good moment to capture. He didn’t think Steve would save the photo. He set it back in the box and put the box away, moving onto the desk. He sat down in the chair, opening the first notebook he saw. It was some basic stuff like history notes. He flipped all the way to the end where he found some doodles and little notes.

stupid blond asshole

That had to be him. 

I wish he’d stop smirking at me like that.

He smiled, shutting the notebook. Sounds like someone’s a little frustrated. He wasn’t sure if it was just plain old frustration or sexual frustration but it made him pleased because that’s exactly what he was trying to provoke. he stood up and left the little room, shutting the door quietly behind him. The house was completely silent save for the ticking of a clock that got louder as he approached the kitchen. Jesus, where were his parents? He opened the fridge, grabbing out the carton of eggs.

He’d admit, it was kind of nice not having to rush to eat his food. He hated pulling up to school in the fucking Beemer. He had to tear apart the whole car just to find a cigarette just to find out that Steve doesn’t even have Marlboros, he’s got the weak shit. It was nice not getting bombarded by girls and Tommy. He could see the Camaro further up the parking lot so he started to head inside. He tried not to break into a run. He just wanted his body back. Sure enough he saw himself leaning up against his locker awkwardly. 

“Hey!” He called out. God he hated sounding like Harrington. He didn’t hate Harrington’s voice per say, but he hated that he had to use it until god knows when. It just doesn’t fit him. He could’ve screamed when he saw the get up Steve had him in. A sweatshirt he never wore, jeans, and his hair up. It looked pretty normal but it’s simply not how he dressed for school. Steve looked about ready to lose it himself, which is fair. Billy had to admit, he thought the outfit he picked out looked pretty hot. He watched Steve walk over before he grabbed Billy’s arm and yanked him into the nearest bathroom. 

“What the hell did you do to my hair?” That’s his concern? The hair?

“I made you look hot, you should be thanking me.” Steve just looked at him deadpan. Did his face really look like that? I mean damn Billy would admit he’s got the looks he knew that, but he just had this look settled in his eyes. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“No. If I did I would be trying to undo it instead of going to school.”

“Did you go through my shit?”

“Hardly. There’s no time to do anything in your house.” Billy’s heart practically jumped from his chest when he realized that Steve was actually in his house around his family for an hour at least. “Uh..you’re looking a little pale there man. You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna get mad if I ask you a question?”

“Depends.”

“What’s your dad’s problem? The guy’s a complete asshole.” Billy felt like his world was falling apart around him.

“Uhm..he’s just like that.” He’s sure he could brush it off. “So what’re we gonna do until this is..undone or whatever?”

“I don’t know. Just pretend everything’s alright?”

“Okay then you can’t dress my up like that. It looks like I just got home from the artic or some shit.���

“And you can’t flirt with everyone who speaks to you.” Oh great, they’re getting into this part of the conversation.

“I don’t! Do not sleep with anyone.”

“I don’t know that seems out of character for you.” He felt like grabbing and pushing him against a wall but he knows Steve’s got the upper hand here being in Billy’s body. 

“You have to do the dishes after dinner every night. Nobodies gonna remind you but you don’t...just don’t forget to do the dishes. I’ll have my schedule written up hour by hour and we can trade homework after school. If I give you my notebooks you better fucking keep up with the notes in class and do NOT dent my c-”

“Billy! Jesus christ I got it. We can write up schedules and rules for each other.” 

Steve’s schedule and rules were much shorter than Billy’s. Billy spent at least 20 minutes writing and used 2 pieces of lined paper. Billy read over the schedule in the car, surprised to find that he shouldn’t be expecting Mr. and Mrs. Harrington until Saturday, if it even lasts that long. Steve even included his entire hair routine on the back side of the paper. Suddenly Billy understood why Steve needed an hour in the morning. Billy included a mandatory workout routine so he guessed he could stick to a hair routine. He almost forgot Steve drives kids around whenever they need it. So if some Dustin kid called, Billy had to do whatever he needed and do it nicely. He felt like he was in a nightmare.

He got scared when he saw a car in the driveway of the Harrington house. He checked the rear view mirror, just making sure he looked as Steve as possible, before getting out and heading inside. 

“Stephen?” Stephen?? He wanted to burst out in laughter.

“Hello?” He hung his jacket on the hook and made his way towards the voice that had called out to him.

“Did you just get home from school?” This must be his mom. He had nothing to gain from her so he could just be him which was such a relief.

“Uhm..yeah. I thought you were coming home this weekend?”

“I know but I was just so exhausted. I figured we could spend some time together? I know I haven’t really been the best about spending time with you but I’ll be home for a few months so we can make up for lost time!” Billy hated that he wanted to cry. So he just smiled and nodded.

“Alright that sounds good.” 

He watched a movie with Mrs. Harrington and she told him about some guy she met who’s supposedly famous. She hugged him goodnight. She’s a good mom. After she went to bed he, went downstairs and called his place. It rang for a minute before he heard his own voice. Thank god.

“This is weird but do you want to meet up at the quarry?” He’d tell him about his mom at the quarry.

“Sure. I’ll meet you there.” He hung up and was out the door so fast.

He had spaced out, laying on the hood of Steve’s car. He was waiting to smoke until he got his cigarettes from the cup holder of the Camaro. Speak of the devil, he heard his car roll up. It’s hard to not know it’s his car. Before he knew it, Steve had sat beside him on the hood of his car.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Your mom’s home.”

“Awesome. She tell you how disappointed she is in me?”

“No? We watched a movie. You have a good mom.”

“My mom is hardly ever around.” Billy was silent. He wanted to tell him that his mom didn’t even call anymore, let alone drop in for visits. He didn’t want to elicit pity or anything.

“How’s my house?” He doesn’t know why he asked. He already knows.

“Your dad yelled at me for putting my elbows on the table and then mocked me for playing the top 40. Max thinks you’re possessed.” 

“You played fucking top 40? God you’re so bad at this whole acting thing.” He laughed. He’d laugh a lot more if he wasn’t appalled by the image of his own body dancing to that shit. “I hope this is all over tomorrow.”

“Me too. I did some cleaning in your room by the way.”

“And?” 

“Didn’t know you’re into guys Hargrove.” He’s never wanted to jump in front of a moving vehicle so badly.

“If you say anything I will-”

“I don’t mind. It’s not a big deal.” He sat up and looked at him. Did he always have a distant look on his face or is that just Harrington?

“Then I guess you know-”

“I don’t mind that either I think you’re...nice.”

“Nice? Is that all I get?”

“I don’t know, I’m not telling you I think you’re hot.”

“You just did!!!” He laughed. “When we get our bodies back, will you be mad if I kiss you?”

“Not at all.” Steve looked at him, with the most Steve looking grin. 

(they woke up in their own bodies Friday morning. they kissed so much.)

Hathor & Sekhmet

Hathor: About to slap myself so you'll feel it Hathor: wherever you are ain't where you should be Sekhmet: what im sleep Sekhmet: 😴😴😴 Hathor: wake up 👊🏽 Hathor: you asked me to meet you, remember? Sekhmet: I think that's tomorrow Sekhmet: I said Wednesday, right Hathor: That's today Hathor: you blackout past Tuesday? Sekhmet: You're joking Sekhmet: well then, that means I've got a deadline I gotta meet and not a whole lot of time for brunch dates Hathor: you're joking Hathor: I cancelled on a fine boy for you Sekhmet: it's so early you got time to hit it back Sekhmet: I know I didn't tell you I'd meet you at the crack of dawn Hathor: you didn't and you're late af still Sekhmet: chill sis, I'll make it up to you Hathor: yeah Hathor: anyone else'd be offended you don't ever want to have a sober conversation Hathor: but I'll see you in the club Sekhmet: girl, chill 😂 Sekhmet: how fine was he that you're all kinds of vexed with me Sekhmet: don't even care how I'm gonna make it up to you, oh my days 🥴🍆🧠 for real Hathor: he's got prospects, I'm not saying any more than that if you're not coming out 👅 Hathor: I'll care how you're gonna make it up when you next show up for real Sekhmet: ugh! living up to your name 🐮 Sekhmet: bitch I'm busy 😏 the juggle is real Hathor: you know I don't say that shit lightly except once in a blue moon, however fine a lad be looking Hathor: but if you don't wanna hear it Sekhmet: is he 🧑🏾🧑🏿 Hathor: 🥛 Hathor: nobody is more surprised than me Sekhmet: 👏🙌 yay Sekhmet: I told you, white boys are the best Sekhmet: they treat us like 👸 Hathor: It's his Irish accent tricking me Hathor: I gotta take a trip back and cure myself Sekhmet: awh, you're homesick, precious Sekhmet: now it makes sense why you wanna tie me down Hathor: can barely understand him he's from so far north, more likely that Sekhmet: throwback 📟 📠 📺 📻 Hathor: get the psych dept to pull their shrink shit on me about it Sekhmet: You wanna be just like Vee, sorted Sekhmet: take my PhD now 💁 Hathor: be more disrespectful! first you stand me up and then put that out there Sekhmet: 🤭 you've got a ways to go, even if you're rolling mad extra today Hathor: I didn't ask 👼🏽💘 to 🎯 me up in the 🍑 Hathor: got my own things I'm busy with Sekhmet: love is magic 💖 Sekhmet: don't be complaining in my inbox when I'm tragically single Hathor: I've been serving and swerving him for long enough I thought I'd succeeded, there's the complaint Sekhmet: 🙄 you can't ❌ feelings bitch Hathor: white boys are a different animal, I ❌ the fear of Sekhmet: 😍😍😍 Hathor: I'm not here to be treated like a 👸🏽 if that's one step away from being called 'exotic' Hathor: there's nothing sexy about a power imbalance Sekhmet: most girls would disagree, babe Sekhmet: why do you wanna be run of the mill every day when we been #blessed with this 🔥 Sekhmet: all black guys wanna chat about is my light-skin privilege and their black man struggles, I can't 🥱 Hathor: fetishization like that ain't foreplay I'm interested in Hathor: 👑 me for other reasons than my melanin Sekhmet: insecurities SNAPPED, I'm sure he likes you for more than your skin, you crazy Hathor: he likes me for how I pour measures rn Sekhmet: racial Sekhmet: that's why everyone likes you 💃💃💃 Hathor: on account of being a poor student not Northern Irish, don't be biting the hand that feeds your blackouts Sekhmet: my white boys always pay Hathor: #blessed innit Sekhmet: 👸😇 tings Hathor: which white boy you with ignoring your deadline then? Sekhmet: whoever it is they've gone to work Sekhmet: but they left a 💳 with their cute note so I know I'm in a good postcode still 🙏 Hathor: so come meet me and spare mine, that's the right thing to do Sekhmet: just 'cos it's good doesn't mean I'm not lost still, damn Sekhmet: hold on and let me get dressed and get my bearings Hathor: if your phone ain't drained I can use it to get your bearings while you serve a look Sekhmet: who doesn't have a charger in their hoe 👜 PLEASE Hathor: you didn't know what day it was, can't blame me for 👶🏽ing Sekhmet: where would I be without you 😘 Sekhmet: mum hasn't phoned me in ages actually, it's so rude Sekhmet: I missed the last few but still Hathor: I hit her with your highlights, creatively Hathor: like how I won't mention a white boy making me feel like a baby 🐮 that can't walk Sekhmet: 😶😶 Sekhmet: dad would 😥 Hathor: and she'll 🙌🏽 harder than you've done Sekhmet: facts are facts Sekhmet: look at her dad, Vee's... Hathor: cliches are tired and stereotypes are damaging Sekhmet: @ your white boy with the 👋 then booboo Sekhmet: I think dad's in town working today, you wanna come for dinner with us? 🥂 Hathor: he's not mine to command in or out 👅 Hathor: yeah 🍾 will help Sekhmet: I'll teach you Hathor: those twin stereotypes are damaging too, like Sekhmet: oh hush, I only tried to 💋 you ONE time and we were like babies and that boy was the first great love of my life Sekhmet: anyway, you're like hot but not my types type these days, you know Hathor: that boy was trash Hathor: you levelled up fast though Sekhmet: awh, don't be rude, I have fond memories Hathor: I have loads of him trying to ask me out at the same time Sekhmet: oh yeah Sekhmet: I forgot that happened Sekhmet: his hair was gorgeous though Hathor: it was Sekhmet: good times Sekhmet: my new guy, not this one, the actual one, looks like old school Leo, I SWEAR Hathor: Yeah? Sekhmet: like Leo and a bit of River and Ryan Philippe in Cruel Intentions Sekhmet: 🥰🥰🥰 Hathor: love of your life material Sekhmet: definitely Sekhmet: he's a trader in the city and his apartment is 😱😱😱 Hathor: what's the age range this time? Sekhmet: he's only 26, it's mad how successful he is already Hathor: he sounds like the full 🎟 Hathor: any catch? Sekhmet: only technically Hathor: technically he's a 🤖? Sekhmet: ha, he totally has the stamina of one Sekhmet: he can keep up with me, almost 😉 Hathor: 👌🏽 he's perfect Hathor: fucking hell Sekhmet: no need to be jealous when you're 🥰 yourself Sekhmet: what does he look like? Hathor: Tall enough Hathor: more like a 🥊 than a 👼🏻 Sekhmet: you really do wanna do great grandpa Sekhmet: jk, he sounds so you Hathor: he does work for the main brewery that supplies us, maybe I do Hathor: Jesus Christ Sekhmet: 😂😬 processing that Sekhmet: not really though, every boy I've ever dated has been like dad, it's unavoidable tbh 💁 Hathor: in our postcode nobody's trying very hard to be anything else Hathor: 💰💳💎🍾 Sekhmet: why would they? Hathor: they wouldn't and they aren't, it'd be terrifying for any of those boys to step out Sekhmet: 🙄 you aren't going to throw yourself down a ladder when you're at the top, babe Hathor: wouldn't kill them to give other people a hand up though, they just act like it Sekhmet: 🥱 when's your deadline? Hathor: my work's done Sekhmet: then button it, loser Sekhmet: you wanna eat out on this nice rich boy's 💳 Hathor: ETA of 15 on getting to you Hathor: you best 🚿 Sekhmet: way ahead of you 🛀 Sekhmet: door's unlocked, our breakfast will hopefully be on the table when you get here Sekhmet: love ubereats Hathor: 🙌🏽 Sekhmet: you can bring it through, the view in this bathroom is immense Sekhmet: thought getting the driver to bring it to the tub was unlikely Hathor: he probably would but it's unlikely I'd recover from walking in on it Sekhmet: 😘 Sekhmet: do fuck with an asian boy Hathor: you don't know he will be Hathor: might not even be a lad Hathor: but if it is, guarantee they'll send the most unexpected one Sekhmet: it usually is, your stereotypes be damned Hathor: what are you gonna bet? Sekhmet: the Belgian 🧇s Hathor: you're on Sekhmet: sometimes you shock me with how green you are, Hath Hathor: back to putting disrespect on me, what a nice truce while it lasted, like Sekhmet: I mean, you know I can see the driver on my app, babe Sekhmet: no points for guessing where Hassan is from Sekhmet: you can have the 🧇s anyway Hathor: you know I can read your thoughts, the playing field is level Hathor: and anyway I like green, that's my boy's eye colour Sekhmet: been gazing into them longingly across the bar have we🤭 Hathor: maybe Sekhmet: so cute Sekhmet: hope this one doesn't have a fiancee Sekhmet: or a maid who thinks we've broken in Hathor: if he does he better break that eye contact with me Sekhmet: I meant Mr Black Card, don't worry Sekhmet: he's a student, yeah? he won't be Hathor: he's only got a year on us, I don't predict an engagement Sekhmet: yeah, doubt it Hathor: outside of our family people aren't usually that extra Sekhmet: some of the asian internationals are but they usually cheat if their intended ain't here yet so Hathor: Yeah Sekhmet: what even does an engagement mean anyway Sekhmet: not much, right Hathor: a flash 💍 Hathor: what's my course teaching me if I don't know the statistics on how often a wedding follows? Hathor: shows how outdated it is Sekhmet: he gives me that anyway Hathor: I'd take a phone number and be happy with it for now Hathor: but it's probably the party and that whole flex too, right? Sekhmet: the dress Sekhmet: but it's irrelevant if it doesn't happen, like you said Hathor: 🎁🎁 even if it doesn't if people bring them for the engagement as well, but you're not going short of any Sekhmet: right Sekhmet: 😥 if you need a wedding for attention Hathor: Jay's birth mum QUAKING Sekhmet: omg I bet that's EXACTLY what his fiancee is like Hathor: does he ever speak about her? Sekhmet: obviously not Sekhmet: but she must never come up from wherever they're from because I'm like ALWAYS over so Hathor: maybe she doesn't know about this place Hathor: old school Sekhmet: Who knows Sekhmet: can't be my problem Hathor: Yours is the day you've missed, like Hathor: what's the assignment? Sekhmet: design some sportswear line Sekhmet: got to get the sketches in by 5, but all I ordered for me was a shit ton of coffee, it'll be fine Hathor: more productive if I stay or go? Sekhmet: you've already missed your date, you may as well stay Hathor: okay Hathor: am the sportier one Sekhmet: how are you 😂 Hathor: ⚽⛹🏽🚴🏽🥊 Hathor: why dad loves me more than you Sekhmet: now I know you're talking nonsense 😏 Hathor: True, he loves Vee and she never gets off her chaise Sekhmet: and she doesn't even love him back Hathor: poor dad Sekhmet: yeah Hathor: what time's dinner with him? Sekhmet: I'll ask him when he wants to go Hathor: about to come up, so whatever you were planning for Hassan, this is me Sekhmet: regrettably noted

Ash/Athena Crossover AU: Meeting Danny

@whump-tr0pes and I have lost our fucking minds, thanks for coming everyone, now buckle in for cheerful jackassery. We use each other’s characters in this AU with permission!

Direct continuation from this piece Athena wrote! 

“So this is the formal sitting room,” Ryan said, waving cheerfully at a somewhat cavernous space full of comfortable couches perfectly placed to encourage conversation, low side tables with warm lamps, piles of books carefully placed for aesthetic reasons. Big wooden beams cut through the unbroken line of the ceiling above their heads, giving the house an older, worn-in feel. “There’s no TV in here, you’ve noticed, but there’s one in the media room at the back. Oh, and in the secondary family room upstairs.”

“Not a problem, we’re not big TV watchers,” Gray replied smoothly. They were a step or so ahead of everyone else, and Ryan had clearly noticed, directing most of his commentary to Gray first and everyone else second.

“Speak for yourself,” Gavin muttered.

“Oh, nobody speaks for you in the slightest,” Isaac muttered under his breath, without a change to the expression of polite interest he was wearing.

“Ooooh, witty banter,” Ryan said brightly. It was impossible to tell whether he was being sarcastic or if he was genuinely having the time of his life. His eyes ran over Isaac and Gavin with thoughtful consideration, making both men shift a little uncomfortably. “This is going to be a fun weekend.”

“Um. Excuse me?” Sam slowly raised their hand. “Mr. Michaelson?”

Ryan’s eyes had been dancing over the group one by one, but when they hit on Sam they stayed. Ryan’s voice went lower, warm and melodic, and his odd honey-colored eyes locked on Sam’s with real, unfeigned interest. “Okay, first off, you never ever call me Mr. Michaelson, I’m just Ryan to you. And you never have to raise your hand to speak to me.”

“Oh-okay,” Sam said in a voice just above a squeak, face coloring bright red. Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Um. I’m Sam, I just-”

“Sam? Your name is Sam?” Ryan smiled again - at the flash of brilliance, the team stilled slightly. “Sam, I am so glad to meet you, and I will happily answer any questions you have, any questions at all.” He winked. “No matter how... personal.”

“He’s going to kill me with that,” Tori said in a strained voice.

“Jesus,” Vera muttered under her breath. “He’s going to kill us all with that. At least we’ll die happy.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gavin said again, but swallowed hard, jamming his hands in the front pockets of his jeans like an awkward teenager.

“Isaac’s right,” Vera said airily. “No one speaks for you.”

Either not hearing or choosing to ignore them, Ryan’s focus was still wholly on Sam, moving closer with that same bright smile focused entirely on them. “What do you need, Sam? Our house is at your disposal, just absolutely anything you need, we are here to help.” Ryan gestured around himself. “I’m here to help. All of you. We understand the… delicate position you’ve been put in by the Stormbecks-” Gavin went slightly still as Ryan’s eyes seemed to linger on him as he spoke. “-and that asking us for help is probably an even more delicate position. There’s a reason my parents sent me and didn’t just saddle you with my brother and his goddamn knight in shining armor all weekend. They’re the ones currently staying here full-time.”

“I just, um, wondered why the whole house smells like cookies,” Sam said, very softly, still bright red and with their eyes focused on Ryan.

“Ah, right. That. So speaking of my brother…” Ryan sighed, some of the light falling out of his face. He glanced at Gray, clearly pegging them as the person in charge and the one to talk to. “My people filled you in on his situation?”

Gray nodded. “We appreciated you being so forthright,” They said, words carefully chosen. Ryan held their gaze - and his look at Gray was wholly different than it had been to Sam. Instead of flirtatious interest, he looked, for just a moment, calculating.

“I’ll appreciate your… discretion, if you witness anything that we would appreciate not being taken outside the Michaelson territory while you’re here,” Ryan said quietly. “My brother’s past is not a secret, by any means, but he is still in the process of recovering from it and can occasionally… struggle. If you’re on the run from the Stormbecks…” Ryan was quiet for a half-second, and then simply turned, the light back in his face. “Let me show you the kitchen, and you can meet Danny. And…” He sighed, heavily, rolling his eyes. “Nate.”

When he had turned away, Gavin leaned over to Isaac. “Did you see that?!”

“See what?” Isaac was blinking at Ryan’s back, looking nearly transfixed.

“When he said Stormbeck, he looked at me. Twice! He knows who I am, Isaac, I’m dead. I’m going to die in this fucking three-story bungalow!”

“We’ll send flowers to anyone who can prove they’re actually mourning you,” Vera said smoothly. “And he didn’t look at you the second time. You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you coming?” Ryan’s voice called out cheerfully from ahead of them. “Danny says he’s ready.” His voice dropped back into that low, velvety flirtation from earlier. “Sam, why don’t you come on in here first and get a look at just why the house smells so good today?”

Sam started walking without thinking, ahead of everyone else, until Isaac grabbed their arm. “Hey, all together until we know what we’re dealing with,” He said, blinking at the look on Sam’s face.

“Oh, uh, r-right,” Sam murmured. “He’s, uh, he’s very… nice, isn’t he?”

“He’s nice all right,” Gavin hissed. “Nice and ready to commit murder.”

“Gavin,” Gray said, reaching out to put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. Gavin flinched, but didn’t pull back, setting his jaw and staring angrily at the ground. “I know this is awkward for you, but these people are our best chance to get through this territory alive. You need to try for politeness while we’re here. It’s just a few days.” They stepped ahead, moving towards a set of wide, rustic wooden doors that clearly led to the kitchen, where the sound of Ryan and another low male voice speaking could be heard. 

“If I die, I’m haunting all of you,” Gavin mumbled.

“You’re already haunting us,” Tori said. “You won’t stop haunting us.”

“If the Michaelsons don’t kill us before this weekend is out,” Finn said softly to Ellis, “there’s a distinct chance we’ll just kill each other.”

“Hopefully we get a room to ourselves,” Ellis replied. “We’ll stash a bunch of food and water in it and maybe if we don’t leave we’ll survive the world’s stupidest massacre.”

Ryan popped back out the doors to open them up with little doorstops along the bottom, gesturing inside. “Here we go, illustrious guests! Meet… my brother!”

“And Nate!” The second male voice called.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “And Nate.”

The team had steeled themselves to attempt to survive the charisma of yet another version of Ryan, and what they saw instead had them come to a stop, blinking. 

Standing at the huge, industrial-style oven and stovetop was an incredibly tall, thin man with pale freckled skin and wavy, bright-red hair that hung over his eyes where he stood prodding at one of the cookies he’d lined out on a baking sheet, testing it for how soft it was. He turned to look at them with bright blue eyes in a handsome, heavily freckled face, a shy, nervous smile on his face.

“Hey, everyone,” He said. His voice was low and deep, and wavered just a little.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to his face?” Gavin whispered under his breath. Isaac elbowed him in the ribs.

A deep scar ran along Daniel Michaelson’s skin, cutting into his jaw and cheekbones, a divot dug deep into the bridge of his nose. Between those points the line was more faded but still prominent.

“Shit, his neck-” 

Isaac elbowed Gavin again, harder this time, but he found his eyes drawn there, too.

There was a ring of scarring around Daniel’s neck, just above the high neckline of the heavy knit sweater he was wearing, the obvious marks of a collar worn too tight for too long.

“You’re Daniel Michaelson?” Gray asked, not impolitely but with evident confusion. 

Gavin’s eyes went to Ryan and back, blatantly staring. “How can you be his brother? You’re super wh-”

“Gavin,” Isaac said with a groan, “Shut the fuck up or I will tape your mouth shut.”

“He’s adopted,” Ryan said smoothly, apparently unoffended. “As a child. It’s a whole thing. Let’s not talk about that right now. This is Danny, and it was actually his idea to let you stay in this pretty summer house and not one of the clapboard shacks we put our own people up in when they fuck up with other syndicates, so be grateful.”

Danny’s smile hadn’t faded under the scrutiny - nervous and eager-to-please, he seemed smaller than he was in the moment, his shoulders hunched forwards. “You don’t have to be,” He said softly. “Grateful, I mean.” 

His eyes ran over all of them, pausing on Isaac and Vera - something in his expression shifting slightly looking at the two of them. It seemed like he lingered a few moments longer on Isaac. “It just seemed like, like the right thing to, um, to do. Nate and I rattle around this house, I thought it might be nice to have… to have company. Do you want a, um, a cookie? It’s chocolate chip, I figured stick to the old standby… everyone likes chocolate chip, I did half of them crispy and half of them soft - and some have M&Ms, I know people like that, and then some others I put walnuts in, and-”

“Can I eat a cookie?” Sam asked, eyes widening at the sheer variety of them. “Please?”

Danny seemed to nearly sag in relief, and he nodded quickly, stepping back from the oven. “Go, um, go ahead! I made, I made a bunch.”

“You made like a hundred,” Sam breathed out, moving forward and tentatively picking up one of the M&M cookies, biting into it with a sigh of pure contentment.

“He cooks when he’s nervous,” Ryan said sidelong to Gray. “Get ready to gain like ten pounds in four days. He spent four hours putting a meal plan together for you.”

“... a meal plan…?” Gray blinked. “We, we couldn’t possibly expect you to-”

“I told you.” Ryan shrugged. “He cooks when he’s nervous, and he’s never not nervous. He had to cook for… for them. Before. Picked up the habit and he’s never dropped it. Trust me, it’s going to be the best fucking food you’ve ever eaten, and if I catch anybody not being effusively grateful, you’re sleeping on the lawn with a gun to your head.” He paused, then grinned. “Just kidding.”

“Are you just kidding?” Tori asked, voice wavering.

Ryan blinked at her. “Honey, I am just kidding if you’re asking about you. As for everyone else…” Ryan looked over the team. “I’m kidding if the ungrateful person is them-” He pointed at Sam. “... or if it’s what I’m guessing is your girlfriend who can kill me with her pinky finger-” He winked at Vera. “Kidding if it’s… well, you I just like-” He shot his brilliant smile at Gray again. “I get the feeling the Silent Types back there would never be so impolite.”

He waggled his fingers at Finn and Ellis.

Finn, baffled, slowly raised a hand to waggle fingers back.

Then Ryan considered Isaac and Gavin, eyes narrowing a little in thought. “Jury’s out on that one,” He said softly. It wasn’t clear which person he meant. 

Then he clapped his hands together. “Okay! I need to go confer with our people - sorry, I know this is going to make you nervous, but Mom and Dad insisted our people be crawling over every inch of space outside the house. You understand, we need to keep it all very locked down while you’re here. So, y’know, talk to Danny, me, or Nate if you want to go outside, we’ll make sure everyone knows you’re good to be out there. But go outside without letting someone know, things could get… shoot-y. I’ll be back!”

He popped back through the doors, heading for outside, leaving them there.

“He n-never introduced m-m-me,” A deep, rumbling voice said from the corner. 

Danny was the only person in the room who didn’t jump. Instead, his nervous smile shifted into a very, very real one, looking with real love in his eyes to a man who had been sitting, the entire time, at a table in the corner being so perfectly still he’d gone absolutely unnoticed.

He was older than Danny, with green eyes and black hair, and had a look of bored hostility on his face that didn’t change in the slightest as he slowly stood and met their eyes. He was considering each of them - weighing them as a threat that needed dealt with. Gavin shrank against Isaac under the intensity of the stare - until Isaac very discreetly stepped to the side and away from him, leaving him alone.

The man moved with a slight limp to stand in front of them. He was wearing the first gun they’d seen on any of the Michaelsons so far, clipped into a small holster along his right hip. 

“I’m N-Nate Vandrum. Danny is d-d-doing a nice thing f-for you. Don’t f-fuck it up,” He said flatly. Over by the oven, Sam picked another M&M cookie up and said something in a low, enthusiastic voice to Danny. Danny grinned and relaxed a little in return, picking up one of the ones with walnuts in it and taking a bite himself. 

Something of the hostility in Nate’s face softened, as he looked at them. Then he turned back, and instead of deferring to Gray as Ryan did, Nate’s gaze landed - and stuck - on Vera. “You used to b-b-be law enforcement,” He said, thoughtfully. “You h-h-hold yourself like you w-were, at least.”

Vera nodded, crossing her arms under her chest and looking him right in the eyes. “So did you.”

“Hm. Was g-g-going to be a teacher. My grandp-... parents thought it wasn’t s-safe, with all the s-s-syndicates having different education s-systems now.” Nate twitched a slight, sarcastic smile. “So I w-w-went into the force. Great g-gig, until someone d-d-decides you’re meat.”

Vera nodded again. “That’s a damn fact.”

“I k-killed the last person who hurt D-Danny. Keep it in m-m-mind.”

Vera’s eyebrows raised, slightly. “I’ll do that. Same for my people.”

“I’d expect n-nothing less.”

The two of them looked at each other for a long, long silence, broken only by the sound of the rest of the team shifting awkwardly. Then Nate looked over his shoulder at Danny. “I’m g-g-going to help your b-brother. Are you oh-okay without me?”

Danny, in the process of pulling down a cookbook to show Sam - who was either interested or great at pretending to be - looked back at Nate. For the first time, his smile had the same brilliance in it that came so naturally to Ryan. “I’ve got this. I’m going to get them something to eat and then show them their bedrooms, we’ve got enough for everybody as long as some people don’t mind bunking up. Go on.”

Nate nodded, then looked back at the team. “Like I s-said. Don’t f-f-fuck it up.” 

He walked past them without looking back, towards the door.

“I don’t like him,” Gavin muttered.

Vera watched him go, a slight smile on her lips. “I do.”

Coffee and Cigarettes

Yes, finally! Here’s the second chapter, sorry it took so long!

--

As the days passed, the further Roger seemed to fall further down the rabbit hole. 

It had been manageable at first. He could shove things to the back corners of his mind, lock them up only to be revisited when he was alone and could express his emotions however loud or quiet or sappy as he liked.

It had gotten to a point, though, where it was becoming slightly obvious. Well, maybe more than slightly, but he was still in a little bit of denial over that part. As a matter of fact, he was still in a bit of denial over the entirety of this whole… thing that had wrapped itself around his heart. It had been a hot minute since he’d felt anything like that, something so fragile and terrifying and wonderful and confusing all at once.

He still wasn’t too sure if he liked it or not.

Freddie had started to pick up on the whole thing, which wasn’t really surprising. It was almost like he had a sixth sense for those sorts of things. Freddie could tell you if you had feelings for someone before you even knew about them yourself, he could tell you who you’d end up liking months before you met. He was just odd like that.

The thing that told him how obvious he was really being about the whole ordeal, was the fact that Brian was picking up on it. Brian who was more interested in the stars in the sky than finding a star of his own to love. Brian who didn’t seem to understand the purpose of human emotions the fell on the sappier end of the spectrum, who was so dense he couldn’t tell someone was flirting with him until they came right out and said it. He was more of a brick wall than he was a human when it came to these sorts of things, really.

If Brian had started to notice, then things were going in a downward spiral, and they were doing it fast. It wouldn’t be long before he hit rock bottom now.

Granted his “rock bottom” was more or less something that some people would wait their entire lives to find if they had the time, but.. He was in distress, he was having a crisis, alright? He was allowed to be all negative and grumpy about the matter.

Well, not really, but he would insist he was instead.

Every moment spent with John was as agonizing as they were wonderful and it was quite possibly one of the most annoying things he’d experienced in his adult life. (When he’d told that to Freddie, he’d simply snorted and told him that he’d lived a good life if falling in love was one of the annoying things. He’d just insisted that he wasn’t falling in love, even if he knew he was lying.)

He wished that he could feel the same torture he was inflicting upon Roger, the same confusing whirlwind of emotions that seemed to move in a direction every single time he thought he was getting the hang of them.

At the same time, though, he’d never wish that upon John, because he would never want him to hurt like that. It was truly infuriating, this stupid “catching feelings” thing he’d managed to do to himself. It made everything horribly complicated, which was quite annoying.

He almost wished Mr. Bernes hadn’t quit his job and fucked off to France with a younger woman.

Only almost, though.

As annoying as his feelings were, he did rather like John, and he didn’t smell like chalk dust and B.O. He smelled more like… coffee and cigarettes. A dab of some sort of cologne too. Which sounded like it would be disgusting, but it wasn’t. It was nice. It was very distinctly John, so, of course he liked it.

He hated that he liked it at the same time, though, and it was all… ugh. Yeah, that was a good way to put it, a better way to put it. The entirety of the thing was just.. Ugh. But it also made his heart explode into a million little pieces, but in a very, very good way. Which was weird and something he’d thought to be impossible, but it wasn’t.

And he thought that was a good way to sum up having feelings for someone. Hell, even the definitions he’d managed to at least attempt and outline were confusing as hell.

All of these together had made him grow to hate and love his lunch period. He and John just so happened to have it at the same time, so they would normally gather in one of their rooms and throw peanuts or wads of paper at each other while they ate. They also enjoyed smack talking a student or two, even if that was technically against the rules. He couldn’t name a single teacher that didn’t do that. 

“What’ve you got today, Mr. Taylor?” John plopped down in a chair next to his desk and dropped his brown bag lunch down on it.

“Well, let’s see. Leftover lasagna from when mum was visiting over the weekend. An apple. And the ever so exciting water.”

“Wow, how fancy. Much more interesting than a bologna sandwich and crisps.”

“Ah, well, that’s what happens when parents visit, they make you too much food so you have leftovers to make sure you’re actually eating, even if you are a grown adult.”

“Very true. My mum always complains about how thin I am. Thinks I’m out here starving or something like that, I think.” He shook his head. “What’s her name?”

“Who’s?”

“Your mum’s.”

“Oh. It’s not a very common one.”

“Makes it unique.”

“Winnifred.”

“That’s lovely. That was my great aunt’s name.”

“Really? Was it? Huh. Winnifred Deacon.”

“Baker, actually.”

“What?”

“Her last name. It was Baker. She was my grandpa’s sister.”

“Ah. I see.” 

They lapsed into a sort of quiet silence after that, simply enjoying each other’s company. It was nice.

John suddenly speaking drew Roger out of his thoughts.

“Sorry, what? I was spaced out. What did you say?”

“I asked you if you were busy this weekend.”

“Oh.” Was he busy? No. Probably not. “No, I don’t think so.”

“No? Neither am I.”

“Cool.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh for a moment. “Did you-”

“I was wondering if maybe you’d want to come over, then.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to, I just though it might be nice to be together in an environment outside of school.”

“No. No, yeah, I’d like that, I’d like that.”

“Thought maybe we could watch a movie or something. Or just hang out, if you’d like that better.”

“Whatever is fine with me.”

He chose not to say anything about the pleased little smile on John’s face as he ducked his head under the guise of putting his tupperware away. “Great.”

--

Roger was more nervous to just ‘hang out with a mate’ than he would have liked to admit. Then again, he’d never had these sort of feeling towards someone who was just his mate before. John was most certainly the exception here, there were… some sort of special rules that applied to it or something like that.

He supposed that was fair enough. There were a certain number of rules you had to follow for different situations. It was one thing when you thought someone was attractive and you wanted them to know it. It was another thing entirely when you had feelings for someone that you knew you weren’t supposed to. It was like the forbidden fruit or whatever from the bible with Adam and Eve. And his feelings were the snake.

Something like that, at least. He’d never been a religious man, never paid attention at Sunday school when his parents had made him go.

Anyways, the point was that John was something he couldn’t have, he was just out of his reach. And if he tried to grab it, then he knew, he knew that it was going to disappear and he wouldn’t even be able to admire it from afar.

He realized he had been standing outside of John’s door longer than was strictly necessary. Probably long enough to look suspicious. Maybe his paranoid elderly neighbor would call the police on him or something.

That thought was enough to get him moving, though, his hand coking up to give three knocks in quick succession.

When John opened the door and saw him, a rather pleasant looking smile spread across his face and Roger could faintly hear the barking of a dog from behind him. “Oh, hey, Rog. You’re early.” His hair was still a bit tussles, looking a bit like bed head, as if he hadn’t had the time to brush it. It wasn’t bad, though. Roger quite liked the way it looked, actually.

“Yeah. It would appear that I am. Thought traffic was gonna be worse than it was and all, you know? Didn’t want to be too late.”

“Right. Right, right, I see.” He stood there for a moment before seeming to realize leaving your guests out on your door stoop wasn’t the most polite thing to do and he stepped aside to let him in. “You can come in, if you’d like. Or if you want, you can just stand out there all day. But it’s your call. But Mrs. O’leary might call the cops on you if you do that,” He called over his shoulder at him as he walked away.

He knew it.

He stepped inside after him and looked around for a moment. He had a nice place. Not too big, but not small. Very homey and lived in and quaint. He liked it. “You’ve got a nice place.”

“Oh? Thanks. I’ve been looking for a new one, actually.” He commented from where he was in the kitchen and appeared to be putting his kettle on. “D’you want a cuppa?”

“That’d be nice, thank you.”

The flat filled with a comfortable silence for a few minutes, other than John’s quiet humming, the happy bark of a dog when John would stoop down to pet her, and the eventual whistle of the kettle. John sat down a mug in front of him, his own clutched in his hand. “I put some milk and sugar in it. Nobody drinks straight tea unless they’re an alien.” The mug which he had given to Roger was black and covered in little lightning bolts, and the one that he had clutched in his own hands had the words ‘World’s okayest bass player’ spread across it. They were both very… John and that alone was enough to have a little smile curling onto his lips.

God, he was falling, for Christ’s sake, they were mugs.

“Did you hear me, Rog?”

His head snapped up. “What?”

He gave a little roll of his eyes. “I was asking if there were any good movies that you might want to watch.”

“Oh.” He smiled sheepishly. “Oops. My bad. Well… y’ever seen A Clockwork Orange?”

He grinned. “I have, as a matter of fact. My favorite movie, really.”

“That so? It’s a favorite of mine.”

“Might see if there’s anywhere we can see it.”

They settled back into the comfortable silence as John flicked through the TV, seeming to have finally found it after a seven minute search. “Ah, here we are. Been a minute since I watched it, though. Never really have time to sit down and watch a film, you know? Life’s all busy and fast paced and then when you have free time, then there’s a million other things you’ve been meaning to get to that get done instead.”

“I get what you mean. Remember when we thought things would be so much more fun as an adult?”

John snorted. “I remember when I was a kid, I thought I was going to be able to do all these things when I got to be older, and now… here I am, stuck with work and bills and lessons and fixing things up and calling my mum and all that, and I’ve hardly got any time to do anything for myself if I want to actually sleep. Just aren’t enough hours in the day, you know?” He looked down into his mug.

“Do you ever wish for more?” Roger asked after a few minutes.

“Do I ever wish for more?” He seemed to have to think about that one for a minute, fingers tapping out a rhythm to a song only he could hear on the side of his mug. “No.” He finally decided. “No, I don’t. I like where I am. I like the things that I do. I like being a teacher, and I like making music and showing other people how to. I like having a dog named after a journalist that nobody understands, and I like putting Robert in the sweaters that my mum knits for him and I like living in a cozy flat that’s not too big or too small. I could have gone a lot of different directions in life, there’s a reason I chose to walk the way that I did.”

He pursed his lips and nodded his head. John was a lot more sure of himself and the path he had paved for himself than Roger was. He had wanted to be a dentist, but that was disgusting. Then he had wanted to be a biologist, but he hadn’t been able to find a job that stuck there, and he knew a local high school was looking for a new biology teacher and that he had the qualifications, so he’d ended up there. And he loved teaching, he loved the kids, but at the same time he couldn’t help but wonder what could have been from time to time. “That’s… it’s good to know why you do the things you do.” He said after a moment of careful consideration. “Not everyone can think like that,” He added after a moment.

“Do you like where you’re at?”

He sucked in a quiet breath and mulled over his words for a few minutes. “I like being a teacher.” He finally said. “And I think I’m in a pretty good place right now, actually.”

“That’s good, that’s good.”

Their attention turned back to the TV, focus returning to the show.

As the night went on, their mugs of tea were replaced by bottles of beer that John retrieved from the fridge, and he let the dog go with him that time. She settled herself on the couch between them and seemed to rather like Roger, letting her head rest on his thigh as he ran his hand up and down her back absentmindedly.

One beer turned into two and they were both pleasantly tipsy, floating the line between drunk when they hit halfway through their third beer. Roger’s mind wasn’t really clear anymore, but at the same time it wasn’t entirely clouded. Not quite.

It had gotten to the point, though, that he was starting to stare a little bit. At his smile, the little gap in his teeth and the way his eyes scrunched up at the corner. How he was always moving, fingers tapping, legs bouncing, feet knocking together.

And the alcohol probably hadn’t been helping what he did next.

John made some sort of dumb joke, and when he turned his head, he was laughing, and Roger couldn’t help himself.

He leaned forward and he kissed him.

When John didn’t immediately pull away, he thought it was okay, that he had made the right move.

Then he felt a hand on his chest pushing him back, and his heart sunk down into his stomach. There was a conflicted expression on his face, like he didn’t know what to say, what to do. “Rog. I think… I think that maybe you should go.” He finally said, eyes looking anywhere but at Roger.

“I… Yeah. Yeah, okay, I… Yeah.” He swallowed thickly and stood up from the couch.

Neither of them said anything as he put on his shoes and walked to the door, giving John a parting glance before stepping outside.

Well, fuck.

Misread: Dark

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