#girl put on the goddamn wool sweater

[hotniatheron]

Listening to a podcast at work about synthetic fabrics and I do have to say that we need to bring wool back en force I'm sorry

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pull

Sequel to Push

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The sheriff keeps coming around.

Note: Okay, so probably a three-parter. I didn’t intend for this to go beyond a one shot but same old story, eh.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh what the hell she says I just can't win for losing And she lays back down”

-Her Diamonds, Rob Thomas

🚔

You stared out the window. The trees along the edge of the yard were pale and barren, a sheet of frost laid over the ground. There was a wailing in your head. The tears blurred your vision and your fingernails curled into the lip of the sink.

"Goddamn it, girl," you flinched at your father's voice. "The kettle's fucking screaming."

You pushed yourself away from the sink and shook away the haze. You turned the knob and moved the kettle to the front burner. You took off the lid of the percolator and poured the piping water inside. You left the coffee to brew and turned your back to the stove.

"Are you alright?" Will asked as he cut up his eggs with his fork.

"She's fine. She just ain't wanna do her work." Your father growled through a mouthful. "Way she's been draggin' her ass lately like the rest of us ain't work a lot harder than rinsing a pan or sweeping a dang floor."

"I've been doing all that, daddy." You cringed after you spoke. Not just because you knew you're father wouldn't like it but because that word, 'daddy', tickled that memory in the back of your head.

"Try to do it without makin' a bigger mess," he snarled. "Your ma raised you better. She was still here, she'd be shakin' her head."

Not just at me, you thought but kept it to yourself. You turned and filled the four cups lined up with coffee. You set each before the men at the table. Your brothers thanked you, your father grumbled for the sugar. You set the dish in the centre of the table and backed away. 

You would eat after them. A bowl of porridge with cinnamon as your daddy went to his shed and the boys drove into town. Your only peace for the day although you hadn't had any since that night.

Six days. You counted each in your head. Laying in your bed, sleepless. Even after almost a week, you still felt the Sheriff's intrusion. You were still sore; bruises on your ass and thighs, a hole deep in your being. You closed your eyes and you were bent over the chair or the table. Your skin crawled and your stomach flipped. You couldn't shake the terrible shadow from your mind.

They left without ado, the boys in an argument over Mr. Calver's new car and what year it was. You cleared the table and sat to make yourself eat. It was hard but after a two day fast, you'd almost passed out against the burning stove. So you ate without tasting and washed the dishes.

You found yourself gazing out the window again. Snow began to fall and you shivered. You looked down, your hands mindlessly in the dishwater that had long turned cold. You pulled the plug and dried your pruned hands. 

The gravel crunched outside as the wind battered flakes against the window panes.

Your heart dropped. It used to be weeks between visits, sometimes a whole month. As of late, Sheriff Bodecker had taken to visiting more often. You were never very vain but you suspected it might be on your account. How could it not be?

You went to the door and peeked out the tall window beside it. It was him. The lights atop the cruiser and the emblem painted across the door. It was early but every visit was unexpected.

He looked at the house and you let go of the curtain. You pressed yourself to the door and listened. His footsteps trailed away and he knocked on the shed door. Your father answered in his usual gruff demeanor.

You felt brittle as you pushed away from the door. You walked to the stairs and looked up. The carpet was worn away by years of steps taken up and down. You leaned against the railing as you climbed. Don’t think about the man below and perhaps he wouldn’t think of you.

You took a cloth from the linen closet at the end of the hall and began to wipe down the plates that decorated the wall. Each was painted with a landmark; Niagara Falls, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Pyramids in Giza. You focused on cleaning each, even as your hands shook and your legs threatened to crumple.

His hands on you, his sickly sweet breath, his body crushed against you. You gripped the plate with the image of the Coliseum. You stared at the hundreds of windows, the falling facade. Your eye overflowed and the door below slammed.

You sniffed and set the plate back in the hooks. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater and wiped the top of the side table. Thick soles climbed the stairs and a figure stopped in your peripheral. You turned as Lee peered down at you, fingering the heel of his gun as he neared.

“Your pa said I could use the facility,” he said.

“Behind me,” you said quietly as you picked up the vase and wiped the inside. 

“What’re you doin’? Tryna hide from me up here?” He tapped two fingers on the table.

You shook your head and put the pot down. You looked at the old sepia picture of your parents beside it.

“You know, I was wanting to come back sooner but… duty calls.” He lowered his voice as he leaned close, “There’s not much to do sittin’ around in the cruiser. I end up thinking of you. Wishin’ it was your hand down my pants instead of mine.”

“Sheriff,” you breathed. “Please, don’t--”

“You mad ‘cause I been gone, I get it. Not right of a man to be with a woman than just leave her waitin’,” he touched your cheek as you looked away. “You smell nice.”

“You better do your business and get goin’, sheriff,” you uttered. “I got laundry to do.”

“No point in actin’ all coy anymore,” his hand stretched over your jaw and he forced you to look at him. “And I can’t hold out much longer. You remember the river, where I take my break, you meet me there at midnight, after your pa’s asleep.”

“It’s snowing,” you argued.

“I don’t care if it’s a goddamn blizzard. You come find me or I find you,” he snarled and his hand slipped down to the top of your dress. He undid the top two buttons and squeezed your tits together as he watched them with a lewd leer. “I gotta pay more attention to these… but that ass is so nice.”

“My daddy--”

“Half drunk, as usual,” he huffed, “I could fuck you on his bed right now and he’d be none the wiser.” He purred and admired your tits as he bounced them. “Midnight… I’ll keep the car warm for you.”

He winked and dropped his hands, his palm brushing over the front of his pants and causing him to groan. He turned away and unbuckled his pants as he entered the bathroom. He kicked the door closed and you whimpered.

If your daddy found out what had happened, even if it was the Sheriff, he’d string you up by your knickers.

🚔

You found the flashlight under the stairs and waited until the house was filled with snores. The old standing clock ticked as you counted down the hours sat on the stairs across from the front door. The snow wasn’t thick but enough to make it slippery. With the night, the temperature dropped and seeped in around the windows. It would take you a while to get through the woods.

You opened the front door carefully. You wore the old hand-me-down coat and your heavy boots. You hated the forest after dark. When you were kids, your older brothers like to tell tales of grisly murders and other atrocious acts there. You’d since learn much of those were fantasy but it didn’t make them any less sinister.

You flipped the flashlight on as you neared the trees. You hit it twice to get the bulb alight. You pointed it ahead of you and followed the glow like a beacon. If your daddy knew what you were about, if your mama was alive to know it… you could hardly bear it yourself.

Your teeth chattered as the bitter wind swept under your skirt and you crossed your free arm over your middle. You hunched against the cold as flakes began to fall once more. You heard the river ahead of you and came out onto the dirty shore.

Bodecker’s cruiser sat waiting, his flashlight on the dash as it lit up the interior. You saw him in the yellow haze as you neared. He got out as he spotted you and rounded the car. His breath fogged before him and he rubbed his hands together.

“Got the heat on, not that you’ll be cold for long,” he said, “Come on,” he opened the back door and reached for the flashlight. You handed it to him as he waved you into the car. “On your back.”

He was out of pretense, out of patience. You sat and shimmied back on the seat. He got in behind you and pulled the door closed as he huddled on his knees on the seat. He was bent awkwardly as he grabbed at your skirt.

“Common, let’s get these off,” he reached up and grabbed the waist of your wool tights and jolted them down your thighs. “It’s so fucking cold. I don’t know we can keep to the car through the winter.” He left your tights at your knees and tore down your underwear. He pushed your legs up so they hung around him, the wool stretched across his stomach. “There’s a hotel in town. We can drive in…”

His voice trailed off as he fumbled with his pants. He grunted and planted a hand beside your head as he bent over you. He slapped the tip of his cock against your cunt as you turned your face away from him. You pressed your lips together. Better to have it done with.

“What’s the matter, girl?” He grabbed your chin and turned your head. “Open your eyes…” he rubbed his nose against yours and pushed against your entrance. “Look at your daddy, girl.”

“Please--” You opened your eyes and begged. “Please, don’t make--”

He impaled you and let out a long groan. You yelped and as you curled beneath him and he sank to his limit. It hurt just as much as before. He hit the same bruises as he began to thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said with each tilt of his hips, “You don’t know how I’ve been thinking about you.”

He pushed himself up as he continued to move against you. He unzipped your coat and unbuttoned your blouse with some difficulty. He ripped your jacket, shirt, and brassiere strap down your shoulder. He grabbed your tit as it fell loose and toyed with your nipple. He flicked with his thumb and circled the hard nub.

“You need to dress yourself up, girl,” He purred between thick breaths. “Show off what you got. Just for me, no one else.”

“I can’t-- I can’t--” You squealed as he sped up and sent a pang up your spine. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“I ain’t care about your pa,” he murmured, “I’ll buy you something nice, hmmm? Then I can fuck you in that.”

You blinked away the tears as they threatened. This man could use your body but he wouldn’t see you cry. You hadn’t truly done that since your mama’s funeral. 

The car rocked with him. He crushed you into the seat as his feet hit the door. He was too tall to be crammed in the back of the cruiser atop you but it barely seemed to matter. The leather of his coat squeaked as he hammered into you and the scent of his sweat permeated the air. 

He dropped down on you, smothering you as his hips kept going. He nuzzled your ear and gave a throaty grunt. He came and slapped the seat beside your head. He slowed and went limp over you, out of breath as he shuddered.

“Mmm, can I use my cuffs on you next time, girl?” He lifted his head and tickled your temple. “Hmm? You can be my perp?”

You stared at him, mortified. You nodded, unable to speak.

“Tomorrow,” he rasped, “I won’t wait another week.”

🚔

Your nights belonged to the Sheriff and the days had never truly been your own. Two weeks of his sick game, trekking through the dark, cold woods to his cruiser by the frozen river. Face down on his seat, cuffs behind your back, him behind you, on top of you.

That day, he’d been by to see your father. He found you in the kitchen before he went. “Forget the underwear tonight, girl.” That was all he said before he left you to dread him again.

The same path, the same bobbing light before you, the knot deep in your gut. You were as sick with yourself as you were with him. You let him use you. Maybe you didn’t have a choice but you didn’t fight. You just laid there and waited for him to finish.

As you walked through the woods, you still jumped at every snapped twig and every rustle. It all seemed louder that night. The wind was wild and the branches shook above, no leaves left to block the moonlight.

He took your jacket off that night. You shivered and he cuffed your hands behind your back. He bent you over the hood and hiked up your skirt. Your thigh highs began to sag as he entered you. Your cheek nearly stuck to the cold metal of the car as he pushed your head down.

“Fuck yeah, girl, you like when daddy fucks you?” He snarled as he slapped your ass. The open zipper of his jacket brushed your skin and his pants scratched the top of your thighs. “Hmm, you like being a whore?” He tugged on the cuffs as he fucked you harder. “That’s it.”

He snorted and slowed. You sensed a disturbance and he reached to his loose belt.

“Who’s there?” He called out as he slipped out of you.

“I fucking knew you was sneakin’ around,” Your father’s voice cut through the air. “Might be with a policeman but it don’t make it any better, you tramp.”

You tried to stand and Bodecker pushed you back down. “She’s a grown woman and times are changin’, Rhett. Why don’t you go back home? You know I’ll get her there safe.”

“Home? Uh uh, she can stay out in the cold. I won’t have no whore under my roof.”

“Now, let’s not be rash, Rhett, I’ll take care of her. You won’t have to. I was just--”

“Everyone knows about you, Lee,” your father barked, “This where you take your other whores?”

“I’m a changed man,” Bodecker insisted and you heard a subtle snap. You watched as their shadows got closer in the dark lit up only by the flashlight thrown onto the ground. “She’s--”

“You can keep her. Maybe you can find a man who will buy or sell her when you’re done.”

“Don’t be sayin’ that--”

“You fat fuck, don’t you--”

You were deafened by the sudden bang and your ears rang as your father’s body slumped to the floor. You stood with some trouble and stumbled back. You heard your father gasping as he twitched in the dirt. Bodecker turned and caught you before you could stepped away from the hood.

“I didn’t tell you to get up,” He growled as he bent you over the hood again.

“Daddy!” You cried out. “What did you do? Daddy--”

“I told you,” he pressed the gun to your head and poked around until he slid back inside you, “He ain’t your daddy no more.”

Your boots kicked in the dirt as he fucked you. The cold metal of the gun had you frozen, your eyes on your father’s body as the life slowly drained from him. You closed your eyes as his last, moist breaths escaped him. You bit down; you couldn’t cry, not even then.

You didn’t even notice as Bodecker finished and backed away. As his cum leaked from you and your legs folded. You fell onto the cold ground and he hauled you up into the back seat. He slammed the door and got in the front.

“Daddy…” You muttered.

“Pity. You never know what scoundrels are hanging out in the woods after dark,” Bodecker said as he started the car. “That’s some bad news to wake up to, isn’t is, girl?”

“Wh-why-why?” You stammered.

“Shhhh, you gotta be quiet, girl,” he coaxed, “‘Specially when drop you off. Better not wake any of your brothers, right?” He was quiet for a moment and cleared his throat loudly, “Right?”

“Right,” you whispered as your sticky thighs rubbed together, “Right, right, right…”

🚔

“Now, girl, you go inside and put your clothes in a bag and wash yourself up.” Those were Bodecker’s instructions as he dropped you off. 

You didn’t remember doing it but you awoke with damp sheets and a bag by your bed. You rolled over, stiff from the night spent tense and rolling back and forth. It hadn’t really been sleep. More shock.

You laid there. Numb. You heard the gurgling again. Saw the lifeless black form of your father’s body in the dirt. It wasn’t real. You’d go downstairs and he’d be there. Once you put on the coffee he’d get up and demand a cup. It couldn’t be real.

You sat up and kicked the bag under your bed. You wore the grey dress with the pleats, a black sweater over it, with black stockings, and your mary janes. You descended the stairs one at a time and put the kettle on the stove. You stared out the window. It had snowed more in the last hours of the night.

You got out the tray of eggs and the sausages. You searched for the large skillet and Will walked in with a yawn. He was always the first up. You stared at him as he sat at the table. You tried to say something, maybe you said ‘good morning’, and then you went back to your work.

Arn and Cal came shortly after. None of the three mentioned your father’s absence. It wasn’t that unusual. Sometimes he drank too much, sometimes he had been up for hours or hadn’t slept at all. You served them and added the bacon grease to the jar of lard.

Where was he? He couldn’t be there. In the dirt. In his own blood. Dead. No, he was going to come right through that door.

You heard the tires before the knock. Your heart raced as reality closed in around you. Arn got up to answer it and came back with the sheriff. He didn’t even acknowledge you as he nodded at the men around the table.

“Pa’s not awake yet,” Will said and chewed the edge of a strip of bacon.

“Well, I think…” Bodecker hooked his thumb in his belt, his stomach sticking out awkwardly, “I think we need to talk about your pa. Can I sit?”

“Course, sir,” Cal said, “Should be enough fixins if you want some.”

“No, no thank you,” Bodecker sat heavily and sighed. He was an effective actor. “Look, your pa… well, we don’t know exactly what happened but… we all agree he must’ve been drunk.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Arn snipped, “What do you mean? Pa is here--”

“You remember when he went to bed last night?” Bodecker asked.

“Well…” Cal frowned and looked at his brother. “Well, I think I laid down before him.”

“Me too,” Arn said.

“I’m always the first asleep,” Will added. “Same with my sister.”

You gulped as the sheriff finally looked at you. “Well, you know we had them flyers around town for the longest time about the woods. About the criminals we got hangin’ around these days and there’s really no easy way for me to say it but it looks like your pa ran into one of them last night.”

“All the way out in the woods? But why?” Cal asked.

Arn’s nostrils flared as he shook his head. “Because he got no sense. You remember last summer. We found him face down in a bog out there. Took the three of us to get him out.”

“Yeah, but so late…”

“You know how he’s been since ma.” Will intoned.

You were dizzy. You grabbed onto the counter as your legs turned to liquid and you cried out. “No!” You fell to your knees and touched your forehead. You knew it was real, you’d seen it, but you had wanted so badly for it to have been a dream. A nightmare.

Will was the first at your side. Bodecker helped him lifted you back to your feet and get you to a chair. Arn and Cal watched in concern.

“You sure it was our pa?” Arn asked.

“I’ll save you the sight. I can assure you it’s him.” Bodecker said as he rubbed your shoulder and Will stood over you. “She should be fine. Get her some water. It’s the shock. You know the ladyfolk and their temperaments. They aren’t so equipped for things like this.”

“Any idea who? Why?” Arn prodded.

“Don’t think your pa had the sense to take his wallet but his belt buckle was gone and we can’t be sure what else they took,” Bodecker took your hand and caressed the back of it, “Honey, you drink tea? You want your brothers’ get you some?”

“I-- I--- You--You--” You stuttered.

“Come on, boys, let’s get her laying down,” Bodecker said as he stood. “She’s just havin’ a moment.”

Will and Cal lifted you out of the chair and carried you to the sofa in the front room. You were stiff as a board as they angled you onto the cushion and you could only babble at the ceiling.

“Go get that tea going, Will,” Bodecker ordered, “Cal, you go get her something to keep her warm.” Arn stood in the doorway and watched. “And Arn, get some wood for the fire. We should get it going.”

The boys dispersed as you laid across the couch. Bodecker touched your shoulder and you latched onto his wrist.

“You--” You hissed.

“Shhh, I only did what I had to. What you made me do,” he whispered, “‘cause you weren’t careful.”

You turned your head back and forth and squirmed. “No, no, no! You raped me! You killed my daddy!’

He covered your mouth and leaned over you. “Shut up! Shut up!” He sneered and his other hand went to your throat. “Now you got your clothes in a bag.” You nodded with wide eyes. “Good. I’m gonna take your brothers into town and you’re gonna burn them. Got it?” You nodded again. “And you’re gonna shut up.”

He released you roughly and stood as Cal came in with a blanket and tossed it over you. Bodecker helped straighten it and looked around.

“Think y’all should come back with me. We can get you sorted at the station then see about the caretaker.”

“All that already?” Arn asked.

“I ain’t rushing. Bodies don’t keep long, though. Investigations neither. We’ll get some statements from you boys and you’ll be free to choose what you wanna do from there.”

🚔

Will stayed home from school to keep watch over you. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. When your ma died, you didn’t feel this empty. You had cried for her, mourned for her. But now all you could do was sit there. Was it your fault? Even if Bodecker had pulled the trigger, you had brought your father there. You had been so concerned with keeping the sheriff from telling your secret, you had failed to hide it yourself.

Bodecker stopped by almost daily. He claimed it was to ask more questions or check on the family but you didn’t miss the way he looked at you. The way he made the excuse to be in the same room when he talked to your brothers. The way he shifted on his feet and peered around the house in silent triumph.

On the fifth day, you made Will go to school. He shouldn’t miss class because of you. He was the only one out of the boys who had ever read a book full through. So you saw them off, a proper breakfast for them for the first time since that horrifying morning, and you went about the list of undone chores.

You looked out the window at the shed. Your daddy never said much to you but you were used to his presence; the noise of his activity just outside. You couldn’t blame him for his faults, he’d fought a war, he’d worked hard, and he’d lost a wife. And now he was dead because of you.

You were scrubbing the floor when you heard the engine and the rubber treads on snow. You didn’t stop as you tried to scour away the salt stains and layer of dirt from the hallway. Boots clambered up the stairs and you kept your head down. 

No knock, no warning as Bodecker opened the door. You looked up at him as he kicked the snow off his feet.

“You’re up and about today,” he said in a pandering tone.

You said nothing and focused on your work. He took off his jacket and hung it on the rack in the corner. He wiped his boots on the mat and watched you. He hummed as he tapped his toe.

“I like that. You on all fours.” He taunted.

You sat back on your heels and dropped the rag in the bucket. “I got cleaning to do, Sheriff, and if you don’t recall, my daddy’s gone… for good.”

“Oh, I know it,” he said as you lifted the pail and he followed you to the kitchen. “But do you? Do you really know it?”

You dumped the water down the sink and plunked the empty bucket on the floor. “I know it and I know who done it. I saw you. How could you?”

“Your brother Arn’s gonna get the house in the will. He’ll be lookin’ for a wife soon. Means Cal’s gonna have to get his own place, take Will with him or get a wife of his own. And you? Where does that leave you?”

“There’s jobs for me out there, I can clean, I can cook,  I’m sure I could waitress,” you argued as you crossed to him. You grabbed his arms and tried to shove him. “Go. You don’t need to worry about me. I’d prefer it if you left me alone all together. You got what you wanted, Sheriff.”

“Not all of it,” he smirked. “You gonna drive yourself mad with all this.”

“What do you care?” You slapped his chest with both hands. “You don’t care about no one but you. You killed him!” You hit him again, “You killed him!”

He grabbed your upper arms and shook you. “You shut up about that now. You say anything again and you’ll be lyin’ beside him. If that ain’t enough, I’ll put your brothers there first.”

You reeled as if he’d slapped you. Your lip quivered and you sucked it in to keep from sobbing. “What do you want from me? I never wanted any of this.”

“You can’t know what you want, girl,” he wrenched you back and turned as he dragged you through to the living room. “So let me show you what you want. What your new daddy can do for you.”

“Get off of me!” You wrestled with him as he angled you around the couch. He shoved you and you fell back onto the cushions. “Leave me alone!”

He forced you back as you tried to stand and grabbed your chin. He squeezed as he looked down at you.

“Take them bloomers off now,” he ordered. “And hush your mouth.” You gaped up at him. He turned his hand and rested it against your cheek. “There’s one sure way to knock some sense into a woman,” he slapped you lightly, “You can decide if this lesson is an easy one or not.”

You sat back as you shrugged away his hand. You winced and lifted your pelvis and slipped off your underwear. As you did, your stockings bunched at your knees. Lee watched you with thick breath and purred. He knelt down and pushed your legs apart.

“Put your arms up. Just across the couch. Relax.” He directed as he got closer. “I wanna show you somethin’ makes the girls happy.”

“What are you--”

“You stop asking questions before I make it so you can’t. Now,” he squeezed your knees and his hands slipped up your thighs as he urged them further apart, “Just don’t think. Just sit there.”

He lifted your skirt over your head, one hand still on your legs. His warm breath tickled your pelvis and you squirmed. He pinched you and you exclaimed. You stilled and he slid his tongue down your cunt and poked between your folds. You choked on air as he dragged the tip of his tongue around your bud and your legs tense as your feet tried to arch in your flats.

He delved more firmly into your pussy and you grabbed onto the sofa. Your heart sped up and you pushed your pelvis out without thinking. You looked down at his head draped in your skirt as his mouth made sloppy noises. You felt a strange tingle as he kept on and your neck was pricked as you filled with guilt. It should feel good, whatever he was doing.

“Stop, please, Sheriff,” you begged.

He lapped hungrily as he ignored you and his hands gripped your hips. He pushed you into the couch as he devoured you and drew your pleasure to a point on his tongue. Your breath hitched and you moaned without thinking. You wanted him to stop but more, you wanted him to keep going.

And he did. He seemed to enjoy it just as much as your core pulsed. Your fingers dug into the cushion and your toes curled. You cried out, a voice that didn’t sound like yours, and rocked your pelvis against his face as you were overcome with delirium. You’d never felt so delicious.

Every ounce of strength drained from you. You panted as you slouched against the couch and he pulled away. Your skirt slipped from his head and his lips shone with your juices. He rubbed your legs and watched you writhe as your nerves were overwrought.

He stood with a grunt and unbuckled his belt. He licked his lips and tilted his head. “I knew you wanted me and now you know it too,” he said, “Now you show me that ass. You know I can’t resist.”

[heli0s-writes]

Eat the Rich*

Summary: You’re just a girl in a bar way above your tax bracket and Ransom  really doesn’t care for what you’re wearing.

A/N: There are no spoilers for the movie. But, there IS... Smut. Dirty talk. Class warfare in the form of hate-fucking. 2.9k words of FILTH. I need to be exorcised for this. Thank you @evanstarff​ and @tropicalcap​ for sending me straight to hell.

The entire lounge seems to turn when you enter. Eyes slide back and forth your way, mid-conversation mouths dipping into low frowns. Amidst the old-money frat boys from Cambridge, Beacon Hill Barbie socialites, and Downtown business young bloods, you’re a flagrant contrast in ripped jeans and an old hoodie.

A favorite hoodie. An incendiary hoodie.

The kind of hoodie that is worn with pride around these West End parts. Even the group you arrive with tried to hackle you out of it— bachelorette party decorum, they cried, will you please take that thing off?

Your cousin might be marrying Silverspoon Asswipe and stringing herself up pretty next to all his call-girl friends, but you are a Jamaica Plain girl through and through and you will not stuff yourself into a glitzy cocktail dress before this hoodie.

She waves her hand at the hostess to distract her from your outfit, rustling the satin sash over her glossy sweetheart neckline, “Reservation under Prentiss; it was booked this morning?” And then a sharp look at you as if to say, you made the reservations, right?!

Duh. Your eyes respond when the hostess begins to lead your party back. You follow the tail end of the throng, veering off towards the bar; the miasma of Chanel perfume is enough to gag, and the cigar smoke is only a tiny bit better. Not like they’d care or even notice.

“Do you have PBR?”

The bartender stutters and before you can make him any more uncomfortable, a deep voice from beside you nips it in the bud.

Broad shoulders turn until you see his face. Amused, with a single raised eyebrow, mouth just barely tilting up at one corner. Mid-thirties and extremely well-groomed. Slicked back brown hair and classic Ray Bans hang from the collar of his sweater. Too handsome for his own good with the unmistakable swagger of someone grown up filthy rich.

“She’ll have the Glenfiddich. Neat.”

Certainly smug enough to butt in like you’re old friends.

“Will she?” You ponder defiantly at the pursed lips nestled over a strong jaw.

His own thick crystal glass is easily tipped into his mouth when he takes a too-large swig. Signet rings on two left fingers glimmer, and with a low exhale bordering a growl, he hisses through his teeth, “Yeah. I think you will.”

Bold blue eyes roam over your top and the statement printed there for a second before he scrutinizes your face. Then, purposefully—and knowing that your eyes are on him-- he looks back down to the swell of your chest.

A hum of approval before he faces forward again, only giving you his side profile.

“Wow,” you scoff, “Dick.”

The grin that splits his mouth for a second looks angelic if angels could be full-grown men with full-grown egos to match. “Close. It’s Ransom.”

Amber sloshes when the bartender returns, and you chance a sip because even your pride isn’t stupid enough to pass on a free glass of Glenfiddich.

The whiskey bites for a second before rolling smoothly down your throat. There’s an inherently superior taste to these luxury drinks, but you pull a face all the same, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Ransom chuckles, head turning just a tad as he looks to you from the corner of his eye.

“You making a statement with that thing on, or what?”

“You’re the one making a statement with that ladies wool scarf from Drake’s.”

Ransom jerks to you fully now, attention snatched by your wit as he leans in, “Where’d you come from, little girl? Not everyone walks into Carver’s dressed in rags.”

He really is a piece of work. When you tell him your neighborhood, as expected, he snorts with disdain, but his eyes fall back on you again, highly intrigued. “There’s more to you, isn’t there? My scarf, that attitude. Someone taught you a thing or two, didn’t they?”

The single-malt mouthful is singing in your veins and if your confidence was thinking about simmering down for a second, it’s forgotten itself inside the furious swirl. The hand around your empty glass clutches just a tiny bit tighter.

“Oh, come on,” Ransom waggles two fingers for another round, “Let’s see, I’m thinking… blue-collar parents, siblings, maybe with shared rooms in your dilapidated Jamaica Plain home?” A tap of his finger to that pink bottom lip too damn pretty to be on his wretched face, he pretends to mull a thought over.

He looks you up and down, taking just enough time to where you feel violated under his gaze, “I know: Public college. Two-year community. Working a day job in Back Bay made you bitter, didn’t it? Hence, statement piece.”

“Asshole,” you snap, unraveling at the seams with rage, and the bartender quickly flits away again, “Full ride to Northeastern, four years with honors. Back Bay can’t fucking afford me.”

You don’t know how he does it, but his derisive silence incenses you even more. He couples it with a slow flick of his tongue over teeth, flagrant staring, and the piercing blue of his eyes spotlight a trail—across your shoulders, down your arm, jumping from your fingertip to your thigh, and then it dips between.

Every inch of your body prickles alive with reaction, so naturally, you spit, “Fuck you.”

Ransom’s smile grows until it nearly looks genuine, but then the sharp points of his canines sink right into your gut.

“When?”

There is something ugly and incredible simmering behind his thick curtain eyelashes. A clear ocean grows stormy, sizzling like a cruel tempest rushing to life. The yellow gaussian blur from dim scone lights suddenly cast shadows over his sharp nose.

He slaps too many bills on the polished ebony and the swish of his scarf flicks over your knee when he stands. Ransom towers over you, light pink flush of inebriation and excitement growing hotter on his sculpted cheeks. He leans in, the open flaps of his overcoat falling around your shoulder, threatening to swallow you inside all his dark.

Low timbre and dusky spice goads, “Put your money where your mouth is, scholarship; that sweater’s not all talk, is it?”

Dick!

-

Big hands yank the hem up over your head for a second before something changes his mind. The heavy steel door is latched twice over and he’s pushing you into it with his imposing frame. Your skull hits the metal as his knee parts your thigh, leg shoving itself up in-between until you’re on your tip-toes, with nothing to do but land on him. The heat of it rushes all the way up to the top of your head, pouring from your mouth in a choked mewl.

Ransom rucks the top over your breasts until the words scrunch up at your collarbones and you think it must bring him some masochistic satisfaction to know their unforgiving glare:

Eat the Rich

His warning chills your spine.

“I’m gonna fuck that line from your brain. Fuck it right out.”

He yanks everything south of your waist to your ankles and pulls himself free from his pants, effortlessly tearing a condom from inside his leather wallet and slipping it on. Between the time he gets your bare ass on the counter and the sound of the rubber snap, he’s already branded a purple streak onto the side of your neck and you’re embarrassingly wet.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see his length rising from beneath his cable-knit. Bright pink and angry, and so goddamn thick it makes you whimper. Ransom smothers it with his demanding and hungry mouth, impatient at being empty, stinging with whiskey and force. He’s probably never waited on anything in his life and within a short fifteen minutes of meeting him, you know that to be true.

Not a care in the world is given as goosebumps break out all over your arms.

He spins you into the sink countertop and then the two of you are staring at each other in the mirror’s reflection. His hands return to your hips with a bruising clutch and those thick fingers begin to rub the slick between your folds all over your thighs. Fucking A-- It’s good. Idiot rich boy does have the Midas Touch.

One long leg kicks your jeans completely off, sole of his shoes stomping all over them. He’s unforgivingly large and he knows it because everything about Ransom Drysdale is a statement: his clothes, his attitude, his dick. There’s a joke in here somewhere about him being the very epitome of it, but he’s glaring at you with that pretty bottom lip stretched between perfect white teeth and maybe you can forgive the fact that he’s leaving boot marks all over your jeans and bruises in the shape of fingerprints on your back.

“Tell me,” he teases, slipping one finger in, the metal of his ring pressing up against your clit, “Tell me you’ve had it like this before.”

A slow roll of his hips against your ass, letting the weight of his cock pressed hot and tight between his body and yours. You find yourself inching higher, micro-movements attuned to his, staring but unseeing at his face, buzzing with the raw need to be clenching around more than one finger.

“Not like this, not off Glenfiddich, in Jamaica Plain…”

And without thinking, because there isn’t much to think about, you hiss, “Oh, fuck you!”

Ransom chuckles into your ear because your voice breaks just a tad and he’s going to win this fight. Claws and teeth out sharper than knives, he bites down on your shoulder and slips in another finger. The distinct sensations—soft, slippery, strokes and the sting of his teeth—are scrambling your brain.  

He grips himself tight, pushes in with uncharacteristic restraint, and you’re so desperate and aching for it all you can do is push back and pray the sound you might be making isn’t loud enough for everyone in the damn place to hear.

You stifle a grunt with his next languid stroke and Ransom raises an eyebrow, “What? You suddenly shy now?”

It might be just a restroom, but it’s one of the nicest places you’ve ever been inside. Carver’s cigar room’s private single occupancy nook and he’s usurped it to screw you senseless. As if reading your thoughts, he rolls his eyes and continues, glaring at your half-lidded reflection.

“Who gives a shit?” Then, another smirk, “If you’re gonna scream, get my name right.”

Your belly is quivering from the pressure, holding yourself together as best you can before he takes you to pieces. The grooves in his rings cut into your skin. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers crawling up your chin to shove inside your mouth.

Like everything else he’s ever wanted in his life, he’ll own this, too.

And then it’s only punishment. Ransom twists your hair around one fist, other forearm pressing like an anchor on your sternum, wrist shoved through the neckline, hand splayed open and clutching your throat and it goes nearly all the way around. The reflection of your panting mouth and bouncing breasts matching his every thrust is lewd and vile and so goddamn good.

“I bet you fuck on top, don’t you, scholarship?” He releases your throat to pinch your cheeks together, tipping your head derisively, making you nod yourself stupid—awful and humiliating but it unexpectedly thrills.

“Bet you’re too proud to ask.” He makes you nod again, “Bet you want someone to fuck you open just like this—all filthy and sloppy—“

And he doesn’t have to make you agree that time, you’re already limp in expectation and your reflection, damn her, she nods.

He’s still fully dressed, coat swaying to cocoon the both of you in what is probably a hundred thousand dollars. His watch, his rings, his fucking boxers. That stupid cable knit sweater.

A yelp leaks out with your orgasm- unexpected and high and quick, like a wounded animal as you tip your head back onto his shoulder. He doesn’t stop, even for a second. Ransom thrusts deeper, and on the cusp of your second undoing, he licks an errant bead of sweat down the back of your neck.

“You got one more. Yeah, that’s right— one more— God, your pussy loves it. Squeezing me fucking good.” He’s sick. He’s sick and Jesus Christ, aren’t you, too? “Yeah. Push back on my cock. Fuck yourself with it…”

He guides your fingers to your clit with his free hand and begins to rub in motions. Your eyes flutter when he breathes into your ear, “There you go, scholarship, you’ll never get dick this good again—so go ahead and be selfish. I wanna see you all fucked out, fucked stupid, coming all over my dick.”

With two fingers sluiced with your spit, Ransom crams them up next to his cock and you can’t believe how he did it so easily but maybe you can. Yes, filthy and sloppy and never like you’ve had before. Your hands grip the counter top so tightly the tips look white and bloodless and the strained coil inside snaps clean in two.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! God!”

You slump backwards, fingertips to toes shocked tingly numb, boneless and empty of all thought, but he holds you up with ease. Ransom shushes your gasps, paws your breasts and fluttering sternum, runs his hand over your face and throat. The pinch of his fingers returns to your cheeks and he drags his other hand from inside your pussy up into to your mouth. Slick and dripping, a little rubbery from the condom, but otherwise just like yourself.

“Well, look at that. Aren’t you just…”

He pauses to view your blissful face, covered in a sheen layer of sweat, head resting on his shoulder, slanted just enough so that the tip of your nose brushes his jaw. A quick laugh, strangely knowing and a bit sweet or maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, before he turns cold again.

“Make good on your slogan. Get on your fucking knees.”

His hand looks ridiculous, big and strong and wrapped around the best part of him, completely filthy with you smeared over his fist and you slide to your knees, forehead resting briefly on his knee. His pants have fallen around his ankles, boxers still midway, and you’re so exhausted you can hardly do much more than give him a light kiss to his inner thigh—God knows why—before you peel the rubber off.

It lands into the toilet and you obediently stick out your tongue, still panting to catch your breath as Ransom aims toward your open throat. “There you go,” he groans, fisting himself, “That’s it. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”

And you don’t.

-

“So,” your old mentor asks, familiar low drawl of his voice crackling with the tone of a lifelong smoker, “What do you think?”

A hum passes through from your end as you think about all the ways Ransom Drysdale Thrombey pulled you apart and in all the ways you’ll probably think about for at least a couple of months.

“He’s exactly who you think he is.” You rock back and forth on your feet near the curb, “Disrespectful…” Scholarship, Ransom’s voice sneers, “Selfish…” Who gives a shit? “Manipulative.”

Well look at that… aren’t you just… And the glimmer of those big blue eyes half-crazed with lust and control, drinking in your reflection in the mirror, makes you clench up right there in the parking lot.

“You think he’s a killer?” Blanc asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” You reply, “Depends. He takes what he wants when he wants it… Could care less if he burns the world down with him. You divine the rest.”

Benoit Blanc’s frustrated sigh is all the response you expect him to give. This case with the Thrombeys really has gotten him all twisted up. He wouldn’t have called you for a favor if it didn’t. Of course, when he asked you to check Ransom Drysdale Thrombey out, he’ll be at Carver’s tomorrow around ten, he probably had other scenarios in mind…

“Well,” he mumbles, “Thanks again. These people sure are hell to be around. Give the new Prentisses my best, won’t you?”

You say your goodbyes and tuck your phone back into your pocket, shifting with a wince when the soreness between your legs throbs again. With a sigh into the dark autumn night, you shove your hands inside the center pouch of your hoodie, keeping your head low but still wary enough to find your Uber.

Ransom left you in the restroom about ten minutes ago, sitting on your haunches, still trying to remember how your lungs work. Right before the door shut, he had turned around and gave you one last smirk, pointing right at your top with glee. “How’d I taste, baby?”

Blanc needs to be careful, not that he isn’t— because he always is, as nutty as his brain works, he is. But Ransom is the only Thrombey you’ve met and if there are ten more of them… Blanc would do good to watch his ass and maybe get some extra help.

A jangle disrupts the quiet when you begin to play with what you’ve taken. Jagged metal edges. Heavy iconic insignia laying benignly in your palm before you tug it out.

Idiot. Good dick or not, an idiot is an idiot is an idiot— especially his kind. Didn’t even notice you slipped these right out of his coat pocket. You swing the ring around your flexed pointer in swift, angry circles, keys clanging together before your hand shuts it up.

With a hard wind of your arm back, you fling the set long into the night, satisfied when it lands behind a building some distance away.

Ransom Drysdale, you think, enthusiastic smile growing on your face as your ride pulls around the corner, have fun looking for those tonight.

Dick!

-

Ransom tags: @mermaidxatxheart @dumbubblegum @sapphirescrolls @gothambrat @southerncross47 @bubblegumpeeeach @fiercephantasmagoria @saliarheva @amberakawolfie

Perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes​ @crist1216​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xoxabs88xox​ @imsoft-barnes​ @momc95​ @typicalangel​ @wretchedgoddess​ @readeity​ @iwannasail​ @ya-lyublu-tebya​ @geeksareunique​ @wildefire​ @satanxklaus​ @jhangelface0523​ @wkemeup​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​

[swiss-cheeze]

What Gube Wore || Matthew Gray Gubler

Request: YES/NO: I asked the Instagram account whatgublerwore if I was able to use a few of their posts (as well as a few I asked for specifically) and they agreed!

Gender: they/them, none.

Warnings: uh, cute? Kissing, Gube being Gube.

———

‘Can we go for a walk?’ you had asked, ‘of course, after I finish learning this scene babe,’ he said. Oh yeah, walk, AN HOUR AGO. All you wanted to do was to take a walk in the nearby park, frolic in the flowers and then walk home in the dark with Matthews arm wrapped around your shoulders as you try not to fall asleep on him.

That's it, that's all.

You loved him with every fibre of your being, for five years of course you did, DO. But goddamn can Gube be annoying.

------

Puppy.

Fish.

Matthew at a red carpet two years ago.

Criminal Minds.

Cosplay.

Puppies.

This is what graced your instagram page as you scrolled through that little magnifying glass at the bottom of your screen. Scrolling. Scrolling. Scrolling. God, it was endless! You let out a little huff as you put your arm down beside you, phone still in hand, and let your head fall back on the top of the couch. You could hear Matthew rehearsing upstairs for one of the newer movies he recently got cast in; Gube did allow you to rehearse lines with him every now and then when he needed it, bounding down the stairs with a ‘BABE HELP’ before shoving the paper into your chest, telling you what to read and where to end before bounding back up to his office for another few hours, however that was not the case today. Picking up the dreaded block of wires and battery you scrolled to the top of the discovery page, pulled down and waited for the pictures to load, however as soon as the pictures did load, one caught your eye. You cocked an eyebrow as you pressed on it; a half picture of Gube and the shirt he had on and the other half was the shirt he was wearing in the picture.

‘Whatgublewore’, was the name. You cocked an eyebrow as you clicked onto the profile, and sure enough there was 29 posts of shirts that Gube had worn, that teddy bear face coin purse (you swore you saw that purse not a day ago), sweatshirts, jackets, a cup and that orange and black scarf of his you loved. They were all there including the real names as well as ebay listings or prices from the actual website, you couldn't help the smile that spread on your face as you went through every single post, looking at the listings as well as the names and liking the ones you, well...liked, obviously. It didn't cross your mind that yourself and Matthew had been out about your relationship for the past 4 years and whoever ran the account would see that ‘(Y/n)_Gube’ would be liking their posts...whoops? You shrugged at the thought as you finally got to the end of the posts, and followed the account as a devious plan crossed your mind, an evil grin replaced the previous happy smirk as you got off the leather couch and bounced to Matthews office.

“Guuubbeeee~” you sang from outside the door with the ‘shave and a haircut’ knock. You could hear the rustling of Matthew as he put down his script, possibly his journal, what sounded like a few pencils and another book? (possibly his art book?). The oak door opened and you were met with a disheveled looking Matthew; hair sticking in every angle and matted, sweaty, but still smiling.

“Hey darling, you okay?” he asked, you gave out a laugh as you pushed Matthew back into the room and walked straight for the unopened window.

“You have to learn to open the window in this room Gube, remember last time?” you questioned as you opened the window, a nice gust of wind rustling the sill, curtains and loose papers as Matthew let out a soft sigh from the sudden coldness in the room.

“What? Me passing out? No not at all,” Matthew said with a laugh as he played with his shirt before sitting back down in front of his desk and picking up a blue colour pencil, you shook your head as your devious plan rolled itself onto its back in your mind.

“Gube, you said we would go for a walk when you finished the scene!” you huffed softly like a little child as the scratching of Matthews pencil came to a halt and he placed his head in his hands on his desk, your face fell. He was exhausted, “oh...babe,”

“Im sorry,” the small whisper came from Matthew as he rubbed his hands over his face, “Darling i am really sorry,”

“Oh sweets,” you mumbled as you padded softly to the man in front of you, your hands coming onto Matthews shoulders and rubbing the tension and knots out of them, Matthew groaning appreciatively, “come on babe, it's not too late; let's go for a walk to the park and get some ice cream” you kissed the side of Matthews head softly before going lower down his ear. Leaving butterfly kisses to the side of his neck, down his collarbone before giving a little nip and quickly kissing your boyfriend's cheek, his hearty laugh bubbling from his throat.

“Yeah come on, grab some shoes let's go to the park,” Matthew said happily as he stood up but you blocked his walk way, a cocked eyebrow was all you got.

“Can I wear your Coach Western Parka with fringe from the 2018 fall slash winter collection?” you questioned with a shit eating grin, Matthews mouth dropped open for a moment before closing, opening, closing and opening again as his finger came up to point at you, took a breath before clothing his mouth again.

“My what?” Matthew questioned, completely oblivious and confused, you giggled.

“That jacket you wore to the Horse Girl premier earlier this year!” your excited voice rang out, Matthew winced slightly with a laugh.

“Right, that one, of course! How could i forget” Matthew said with a laugh as he put a finger in his ear and wiggled it, “huh? I'm sorry? What? I can't hear you, my girlfriend made me deaf” Matthew said with a laugh as you giggled with him, giving a little ‘im sorry’ before Matthew shook his head and quickly picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and walking to your shared bedroom. Your loud screams of ‘GUBE’, ‘PUT ME DOWN’, and ‘TWIG’ seemed to go on deaf (pun definitely intended) ears as you hit Matthews butt softly, after a few seconds of Matthew walking (seemingly taking the long route to the bedroom) you started to just play with his nice rounded butt, hitting it like bongos while making ‘boop boop boop’ sounds. “You good back there?” Matthews asked, aliebt loud so you could hear what he was saying.

“Perfectly fine besides the dizziness of my blood rushing to my head!” you said with a laugh before Matthew finally got to the bedroom and placed you down on the shared bed, walking to the wardrobe he found the jacket you requested and threw it to you from across the room before the two of you started moving around the room/house; grabbing shoes, keys, purses or wallets as well as Matthew quickly shoving on a jumper he left from earlier in the day before heading out the door for a nice relaxing walk...plus ice cream!

-------

About a week passed since you asked specifically for Matthews clothing and since then you hadn't asked for them by name, just taking what you wanted because you knew Gube wouldn't mind either way, but as the two of you where getting ready to go shop in a few new thrift stores as well as the newly opened ‘The Smell Of Old Books And Coffee’ cafe; buy, read or rent books while drinking your favourite drink or cakes, only rule? You spill it, you buy it. You grinned as you swiped through that same instagram page before finally landing on something good, you liked the photo, read the title a few times and then closed the app and your phone and shoving it into your jeans pocket as Matthew walked into the bedroom.

“You ready doll?” Matthew asked as he put away a few of your stray shirts, you smiled.

“Yeah, can i just borrow your Vintage Tuak Canada Wool Sweater?” you asked with a devilish grin as Matthews face broke out in a smile too.

“Okay, what's up with you?” Matthew asked as he stood in front of you, “how do you know all these names suddenly that I can't even remember or know?”

“I have my ways~” you singed, “gray zip up sweater with what looks like brown snowflakes on it,” you said describing the jacket, Matthews eyebrows rose in confusion.

“Gotta give me-”

“You spilt orange juice on it when we went on a breakfast date in the winter two years ag-”

“YEP OKAY” Matthew said quickly, remembering the embarrassing moment instantly, you laughed as you put a finger in your ear and wiggled it.

“I'm sorry? Did you say something? I think my boyfriend screamed so loud HE MADE ME DEAF” you yelled at the end of your sentence jokingly as Matthew rubbed the sweater on your face, muffling your laugh.

“Blah blah!” Matthew said as you took the jumper and slid it on, zipping it up halfway before walking out with Spencer to the shops, your evil plan still dwindling in your mind.

-----

You waited another two, almost three weeks before asking for another article of clothing; this time it was for an radio interview for the both of you, ‘celebrities and their relationships: Matthew Gray Gubler and (Y/n) (L/n)!’.

“BAAAABBBBBEEEEEEE” your loud voice rang out from the kitchen as you heard the tell tale sign of Matthew footsteps moving towards you, his head popping out from a doorway making you laugh as his hair bounced.

“Wassup?” Matthew questioned.

“Can I wear your blue blue japan woven rayon MT. fuji & sakura fubuki short sleeve shirt?” you questioned, “jesus christ that was a mouthful i didn't even think i would get out,” you said with a deep breath and a laugh, Matthew was laughing too with that beautiful smile of his.

“You gotta tell me what shirt that is love,” Matthew said as he finally came to lean against the door frame.

“Blue shirt, you wore it in japan for your book tour,” you said with a grin, “cherry blossom petals-”

“GOT IT” Matthew exclaimed from the hallway as he ran to the bedroom, you waited a few moments and sipped at the juice you had in front of you before hearing Matthews footsteps coming back and into the kitchen with the shirt you requested.

“Thank youuu~” you kissed Matthews cheek on your tiptoes before pulling the shirt over your head and tucking it into your pants.

“You gonna tell me how you know the names of all of these shirts or still keep me in the dark?” Matthew asked as he fingered the collar of your (his) shirt.

“Imma keep you in the dark a little longer” you said with a sigh and sweet smile before Matthew rolled his eyes teasingly and beant to kiss your forehead.

“Alright fine, you gotta tell me soon though” Matthew mumbled softly, you kissed the man's chin as it was the only thing you could reach with his lips on your forehead.

“I will, promise” you said softly, “I just like messing with you, you know that,” Matthew finally released your forehead as you looked at him, your eyes beamed with love and mischief as Matthew smiled before tugging you out of the house and towards the interview.

-------

Again a few weeks past before you asked for another article of clothing of Spencers, this time it was for a cute little local carnival that the two of you agreed to go to, and you just thought this little number would be cute for people to see, so, you bounced to Matthew who was in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee.

“Oh no, did the body come back alive?” Matthew asked as he added sugar with a grin.

“Oh shit yeah, i had to uh, kill someone else cuz they saw me burying the other one” you said with a laugh, this was an inside joke of course and you two didnt actually kill anyone, Matthew laughed as he took a mouthful of his coffee and leant against the kitchen counter.

“Okay, what do you want this time my little duckling?” Matthew asked, the nickname made you grin wider at the irony.

“Since we’re about to leave for the carnival~” you singsonged as you cozied up to Matthew, him looking down at you with such love and adoration, “could i wear your Ralph Lauren Mallard Sweater?” you asked with a knowing look.

“And what sweater is this exactly?” Matthew asked as he kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you, coffee cup still in hand.

“The ducks!” you happily exclaimed, Matthew made a ‘ah’ sound.

“Should've known,” Matthew laughed, “i'll go grab it while you pack the car?” your boyfriend asked, you gave a nod, kissed his cheek and bounced off to the car to start packing. A few minutes passed and of course Matthew came out with the sweater of your request, handed it to you, gave you a loving kiss against the car and then got in; driving off to the carnival.

-------

The two of you flopped through the door of Matthews ‘haunted tree house’, showbags, teddies and food tucked under each of your arms and a few bags in your mouth for extra space (Matthew had laughed when he asked where the last few bags would go and suggested a second trip but of course, you being you said two trips where for losers and simply opened your mouth, and of course Matthew didn't say no). The bags rustled as they where put down on the couch and you stood around for a little, taking in the day as you pulled out your phone and scrolled through the numerous photos you had taken; on the ferris wheel, darts, milk bottles, a few with fans (those made you smile the most).

“Why are you smiling at your phone doll?” Matthew asked as he somehow morphed next to you, you grinned.

“The photos from today,” you showed the photos on your phone to Matthew who giggled at a few and pointed into some others at peoples passing faces that he thought was funny, but, his laugh was caught short when you swiped across for another photo without realising that that new photo was of Matthews Cherry Blossom shirt, and it was an instagram screenshot.

“Babe whats that?” he took your phone as you protested against him, swiping for the piece of tech, Matthew swiped a few more times and sure enough there was more, specifically of the previous items of clothing you'd asked for in the passing week. He turned to you with a confused look, “okay, cats out of the bag, what's this?” Matthew questioned, you huffed slightly but agreed, the cat was indeed out of the bag.

“Okay okay, i found this account,” you paused and took the phone from Matthew and moved it to Instagram, “here,” you showed the account to Matthew who idly scrolled through the few hundred posts, “they came across my suggested page and i thought they were so cool,” you shrugged feeling slightly embarrassed, “they do a lot of research for what you wear and have and i think it's just a really cool thing that they do and other people also buy what you've worn and it gets those brands out to more people and all of that good stuff and...yeah” you shrugged, “i'm sorry” you mumbled.

“What? No sweetheart, don't say sorry, this is like amazing!” Matthew exclaimed as he brought you in for a hug, “this account is amazing,” Matthew reached into his pocket and brought out his own phone and found the clothing account, “‘Whatgublewore’?” he laughed, “that's one way to put it,” and with that Matthew followed the account as he handed back your own phone.

“You do realise the heart attack you're going to give that person who runs that account right?” you asked with a chortful laugh as Matthew had realisation all over his face.

“Shit,” he thought for a moment.

“Send them a message Gube,” you said knowingly with a laugh.

“RIGHT, yeah that would be a good idea wouldn't it?” Matthew said with a laugh and a smile as he brought up the messaging box.

‘Hello!

Yes this is the real Matthew Gray Gubler.

Thank you so much for this account! It's amazing that my fans do these sorts of things, it's slightly weird but weird is good. (Y/n) found your account and for the past few weeks has been asking for certain shirts, jumpers and sweaters with their exact names because of your account!

It's amazing that you've done this and I encourage you to continue.

Don't be afraid to message me if you get stuck, i can send photos of the tags and...stuff, lol.

Thanks,

Gube.’

“How's that?” Matthew asked you, you scanned the message and smiled.

“I think they’ll love it,” you said with a nod, Matthew grinned as he sent the message and turned off his phone.

“Well i think that's enough phone time for one day,” Matthew said he he plucked your phone from your hands amongst your protests, “how about we go up to our room with all the candy we've got, watch movies and eat ourselves into a sugar rush slash sugar coma”

“That sounds brilliant” you agreed as the two of you started gathering the candy into one bag (leaving the others on the couch for you to deal with tomorrow), grabbing a water bottle each from the fridge you always have stored (reusable don't worry) and headed up to your shared room to start binge watching...well, whatever you wanted really.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Hayloft - Part 2

Series Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: A young girl finds a soldier hiding in the hayloft on her father’s farm. Intrigued, she visits him more and more until her father finds out and puts him to work. As they grow closer, something else grows too.

Pairing: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes x OC Jenny Richelle “Ricky” Hill

Warning: Strong language, inaccurate war description

Author’s note: Based on the song Hayloft by Mother Mother and the lovestory of my grandparents. I am Dutch and the war was a bit different here, so I will be basing this on the stories I’ve heard about my grandparents.

Word count: 2433

‘What are you reading Jenny?‘ ‘What’s it to you James?‘ ‘Just curious, that’s all.‘ He watches as a smile starts tugging on the corners of her lips. She tries to surppres it, but the sparkle in her eyes is clear as day. ‘Of sons and lovers,‘ she hums, showing him the front, ‘do you know it?‘ ‘Heard of it, haven’t had the chance to read it,‘ he answers, ‘will you read it to me?‘

From that moment on, she’d read to him every Friday and Sunday. Sometimes on Wednesdays if he’d look at her nicely. Though Jenny’s father would rather have her spend time with other lads who are a little more wealthy, he didn’t mind for the time being. After all, the two seemed to be great friends. Meanwhile, Jenny was falling hard and fast. She hadn’t known this feeling before. The butterflies in her stomach when he’d wink at her, the racing of her heart when he’d touch her skin, the way she got light headed when he’d tease her. She could deal with Michelle, the pictures, and the fear of being caught if she knew she could come home to James.  The pictures on the cork board at her work kept changing. Eventually, Timothy’s picture disappeared as he lived a town over and couldn’t possibly still be here. James and Johnny’s pictures were moved up to make them more prominent, but with their messy stubble, weathered faces, and much longer locks they were barely recognizable from them. Jenny continuously send secret letters to James and Johnny’s relatives and friends under her own name. When anyone asked about it, she just said she was catching up with pen pals. Then one day a strange letter arrived. Jenny hadn’t seen the handwriting before. As usual, she gathered the men in the living room to read them their letters and burn them right after. They weren’t allowed to keep them in fear they would be found if they were searched. And so she got to the strange letter. It read.

“Dear Jenny,

Thank you for your wonderful letter. I am grateful to hear you are safe and sound. It has been a while. Please say hi to him for me and tell me that I miss him. Tell him I’m not angry anymore and I understand why he left us when he did. There’s no shame in it, I just wish I could visit to see his face again. Tell him I got into the army. It’s not the position I wanted, but I get to represent my country. Please don’t laugh at me when you see my face.

I hope to hear from you soon,

Yours sincerely,

Steve Rogers“

‘Who is Steve Rogers,‘ Jenny asks James, but when she looks up from the letter she can see the tears in his eyes. ‘Are you okay James?‘ ‘He’s my best friend,‘ James sniffles with a smile, ‘I used to be better at everything, but now he’s finally outdone me.‘ He looks proud and nostalgic as he swallows his tears away. ‘You know, I haven’t heard people call me James in such a long time because he always used to call me Bucky.‘ ‘That’s a nice nickname,‘ Jenny smiles and takes a seat next to him on the couch while the others leave, having thrown their letters in the fire. She hands James his. He laughs when he reads it again. ‘He probably spend hours on this,‘ he chuckles, ‘he never knew how to use his words. I always had to help him find friends or a date. Last time I saw him we went to a fair and I was supposed to leave for the war the next day. He wanted to fight so bad, but he’s build like a toothpick and there’s no way they’re letting someone like that in.‘ Jenny hands him a piece of paper. ‘I wrote down the return address for you, might you ever want to write him again,‘ she tells him. James looks at her in disbelieve. ‘You are a goddamn angel,‘ he smiles and throws his arms around her, engulfing her in a tight hug, ‘you are the best thing that could’ve happened to me.‘ She laughs and pushes him off a little. ‘You’re crushing me,‘ she chuckles when he lets go of her. Alpine wanders into the living room and jumps onto James’ lap. Jenny scratches her behind her ear with a smile while James admired her. ‘I like Bucky. It’s a nice nickname. Fits you way better than James.‘ ‘How come?‘ ‘James is way too smooth,‘ she eyebrows knit together a little while she tries to explain it, ‘it’s what most of those soldiers walking around town look like. Bucky is a bit more rugged and strong. It’s a handsome name.‘ He watches her face change to a bit of mischief. ‘You’re going to be the death of me,‘ he chuckles. ‘I thought I was an angel,‘ she bats her eyes innocently, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. ‘Don’t forget to burn that letter. I’m going to help mother out with dinner.‘ And she’s gone while James feels his cheeks heat up. Alpine looks up at him with a judgmental look. ‘Don’t say it, I know,‘ he sighs, talking to the cat, ‘this isn’t going to end well.‘

‘Good morning gents,‘ Jenny chirps, opening the door to the shed to bring their breakfast, ‘I got some jam for you today.‘ Johnny almost jumps out of his bed. ‘Good morning Jenny, how does it feel to be old,‘ he teases her, poking at her side. ‘Ah, stop it,‘ she laughs at the tickling, ‘I’m not old. Call James old!‘ ‘I’m 23, not a fossil,‘ he chuckles in a rough morning voice. ‘Is it your birthday,‘ Timothy asks, peeking from under his covers. ‘Yeah, I’m 22 today,‘ she smiles, pushing Johnny’s face away, ‘so my father bought jam from the neighbors and my mom is making a cake.‘ ‘Cake,‘ James asks in disbelieve. It had been ages since he had eaten cake. Most people don’t have money to acquire the ingredients. ‘Don’t expect too much from it,‘ she smiles, ‘it’s just custard and rusk.‘ ‘Honestly, that’s better than I expected,‘ he smiles, ‘I’ve heard people make fig cakes these days.‘ ‘Oh, I’ve heard of those,‘ Johnny laughs, ‘heard they’re hard enough to bash someone’s head in.‘ James watches Jenny’s smile a she talks to Johnny before her shift. She looks so good in her navy, knee-length skirt; navy, fitted waistcoat; and ivory blouse. As for today she’s holding a jacket in the same navy color over her arm. The nights had become colder and longer. Winter is coming and they all know it. The shed will be a lot colder in the following months. ‘I’ll be back earlier today, I only have a half shift,‘ Jenny tells them with a smile, ‘enjoy the jam.‘ ‘Thank you.‘

Though the days might be colder as winter approaches, the work has gotten harder. It’s harvest time and the boys are busy beyond compare. They work until they’re covered in sweat and only stop when misses Hill comes outside to give them water. The two younger boys in the family help them with some smaller tasks while Penny, the other daughter, sits by the tree behind the farmhouse and knits. Around twelve, misses Hill comes outside with lunch and sets it down by Penny. They boys sit in a circle with her while she continues to knit. James watches what she’s doing and notices the small mountain of knitted materials next to her. ‘Say Penny, what are you making?‘ She looks up from her work. ‘Oh, mother told me to knit some sweaters because the weather is getting colder,‘ she tells him, ‘mother normally does it, but she’s busy sewing jackets.‘ ‘Sewing jackets?‘ ‘Yeah, you don’t think we’re going to let you guys freeze to death do you,‘ she grins and hands him one of the sweaters to show him, ‘you should be happy Jenny has a job. She’s terrible at knitting and sewing.‘ James takes a look at the sweater. They’re just simple, white sweaters. Probably made from the wool of the sheep that stand in the stables. ‘We’re going to dye them once they’re done so you all have your own,‘ she hums, continuing with her work. ‘How wil you dye them? Isn’t that terribly expensive these days,‘ Timothy asks her a bit concerned. ‘It’s fine. We’re going to use wild berries and some other things like coffee grounds,‘ she explains to him, ‘we’re not exactly short on money, but it’s good to be creative in these times.‘ ‘How’d you guys end up hiding stowaways,‘ James ask, taking a big bite out of his sandwich. ‘Well, Johnny was here with Jenny when we heard soldiers were going to check every house for young gents who didn’t join the army,‘ she says, giving Johnny a small smile, ‘so we made him hide in the crawl space under the house until things calmed down, but it turns out they weren’t going to check us because we need the help on the farm so the men that were here would be safe. Besides, they already took our brother away.‘ She doesn’t look far as sad as Jenny does when talking about him. ‘So who wants what color? I’ll be able to make brown, blue, and red.‘ ‘I’d like brown,‘ Timothy mumbles. ‘I’ll take blue,‘ Johnny grins. ‘I guess that leaves red for me,‘ James smiles at her, eating the last few bites of his sandwich before getting up again. ‘Let’s get back to work.‘ Johnny sighs loudly. ‘No fun that one,‘ he jokes to Penny. They hear something on the gravel and Wesley and Nathan jump up. The group sees Jenny stepping off her bike and putting it against the fence like she does every day. James looks at her like the world just got a little brighter. The sunshine in his life returned and seems to just look at him. ‘Ah, did I miss lunch,‘ she laughs as her brothers pull her towards the group, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.‘ She presses a kiss to everyone’s cheek, but stops for a second after kissing James’ cheek and smiles. She starts rubbing his cheek with her thumb and he can only think of what her lipstick stain on his cheek might look like. ‘It’s fine,‘ he grumbles, ‘how was your day?‘ Without realizing it, he puts an arm around her waist while she keeps scrubbing at his cheek. ‘Gosh, terrible,‘ she grins, ‘they took half the pictures off the cork-board. It’s horrific to see them take them off and see the poor lads being dragged down the street. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.‘ She looks satisfied at his cheek and takes a step back, realizing they all have stains on their cheeks. ‘You guys should wash up.‘ ‘Why don’t we get the same treatment as James,‘ Johnny whines. She steps over to him, grabs his jaw, and violently scrubs his face. ‘Wait, no, I surrender. Stop!‘ The group laughs for a second. ‘Oi, back to work lads,‘ mister Hill calls as he steps out of the house.

After dinner it’s time for the improvised cake. Jenny turns an, to James adorable, shade of red when they start singing Happy Birthday to her. She looks with bright eyes at the candles on top of the cake and closes her eyes with her hands folded together before blowing them out. James can’t take his eyes off of her. Misses Hill divides the cake evenly between the nine of them and everyone is quiet at the sweet taste. ‘It’s great mom,‘ Jenny smiles at her mother, ‘perfect birthday.‘ Misses Hill walks over to her daughter and hands her a small, wrapped package. ‘Your grandmother send this over.‘ Jenny’s eyes shine as she opens the package. Everyone looks curiously at the small box as she opens it. Inside is a dainty, golden necklace with a golden coin on it. Jenny flips it over to see the back of it and smiles. ‘She got it engraved,‘ she smiles, tears of joy poking her eyes as she shows her mother. ‘That’s wonderful sweetheart,‘ her mother answers, ‘shall I put it on for you?‘ Jenny nods and hands the necklace to her mother who helps her put it on while she holds up her hair. The whole scene looks enchanting to James. In fact, it looks enchanting to all of them. She lets her hair fall down and shows her sister the coin. ‘Look, its an angel riding a Pegasus,‘ she smiles. Penny gives it a small glance and shrugs. It’s not special to her, but it means the world to Jenny. 

The dinner comes to an end and James and Jenny end up reading on the couch as they often do these days. Alpine is curled up between them and comfortably purrs as both James and Jenny pet her gently. But is James actually reading? He seems to be awing at Jenny’s foccussed face. Heart shaped eyes almost pop out of his skull. ‘Stop looking at me,‘ Jenny whispers at him. He closes his book and pretends to be offended. ‘I was not looking at you.‘ ‘Oh please, you’re a terrible liar,‘ Jenny says as she puts her book down as well. ‘Do you want to go look at the stars from the hayloft?‘ She sighs and puts her book on the coffee table. ‘Fine, but bring a blanket this time. I found hay everywhere last time,‘ she sighs. Alpine follows as the two make their way to the hayloft and open the small window to look outside at she night sky while laying on the hay. James puts the blanket over the hay and arranges it so they can sit comfortably. He sits down first and takes her hand to pull her onto his chest. She turns a bright shade of red when she lands and looks up at his face. ‘You’re adorable,‘ he smiles, feeling tingles going through his whole body. ‘S-stop that,‘ she mumbles, trying to push herself away but his arm has her captured. ‘Hey, where’d my confident Jenny go,‘ he teases.  ‘Oh go fuck yourself,‘ she grins. ‘Gladly, through I’d rather fuck you.‘ She stares with wide eyes into his as a smug smirk plays on his lips. ‘Fuck it,‘ she mumbles and straddles him, dipping down to connect his lips with hers. ‘My dad is going to shoot you.‘ ‘Angel, that only makes it more exciting.‘

[deviant-chant]

i saw you and wondered the chance of you becoming mine

Keith’s never been in love, but seeing Takashi Shirogane in the library among the stacks of books has Keith reconsidering what little he knows about the elusive emotion. It’s just that…Keith is Keith. He’s nothing special. Shiro on the other hand is their university’s golden boy with a bright future ahead of him. It would just seems a little too good to be true that Shiro would be interested in Keith, especially when he’s good friends with Dick Grayson, who’s gorgeous, clever, and alluring. Dick, however, has his eye on Jason Todd who inspires something unseen within him, something exciting and exhilarating. Either way, Keith just hopes Shiro wants him half as much as Keith does.

Two love stories; one experienced, another one only seen.

alternate reading here

Keith’s eyes were burning.

He’d crammed studying weeks of material into a night of productively that was all too common for him. Keith wasn’t a good student in a conventional sense; of course, he got his work done, passed his classes with the bare minimum of what he needed to achieve, and tried not to skip a class more than once a month. He might not be a shining example of the time smart and conscientious college student, but Keith didn’t rightly give a damn to be honest.

“Your face looks like it got run over by a fucking bulldozer, man.” Jason Todd teased as he came up besides Keith. He startled slightly, not having heard Jason’s approach, which was unacceptable and told Keith how out of it he really was.

Maybe pulling an all-nighter and chugging Monster energy drinks until his heart noticeably pounded inside the cavity of his chest hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had.

Keith didn’t spare his friend a look as he continued reading up on Microbiology and Macroeconomics—both classes he had exams in today. Keith’s books were piled high in a semi-circle around him, and in the middle, was his laptop, sticker bombed to high heaven with bands Keith unironically listened to and liked despite Jason’s distaste for Bring me the Horizon and My Chemical Romance. The only band they could actively agree on when sharing a car was Fall Out Boy, and Keith supposed that simple similarity in good music was how they remained friends.

His eyes had a manic, red rimmed look to them as he tried continuing with his studies, but it was an uphill battle that he was steady losing with each stinging blink.

Jason whistled lowly with sudden understanding and as much sympathy as a guy like him could give, which wasn’t much. It was widely known how much of an asshole Jason was.

It was a wonder how anyone, let alone Jason Todd, could remain completely sane while going to school full-time, working a part time job, and still manage to have social life on the weekends. Honestly, it was a complete wonder how they were friends. Even on good days, Keith could barely function enough to keep himself regularly fed on a diet of Coke Zero and chicken and shrimp flavored ramen noodles.

“Goddamn Keith, how long have you been at it?” Jason asked, sipping at his coffee.

Keith hated Jason for that short moment, at how well rested and refreshed his friend looked, while he on the other hand probably smelled like yesterday’s BO. His hair was also limp with grease, sticking up in every which way as Keith had pulled and tugged at the roots in frustration when a question wasn’t easily solvable as he would’ve liked.

Keith sighed, recognizing himself as a mess.

“Since nine last night,” Keith murmured. “I took a couple of breaks in between to get some Monsters and piss, but that was pretty much it.”

Jason winced.

“When’s your exam?”

That was a good fucking question.

Keith checked the right-hand corner of his laptop screen, brows rising with false surprise.

“Oh. In fifteen minutes. That’s just great.”

Jason snorted, shaking his head with fond disbelief.

“You gonna even make it? You honestly look like a zombie, and that’s without the stench.”

Keith made a face. He flipped Jason off as sniffed self-consciously at his red hoodie, finding it to be…okay. It wasn’t horrible or anything; no nose hairs were going to singe when he walked into a room. He’d shower and take a nap after the exam was finished. He had a five hour break in-between today’s classes and thanked the lord for small mercies.

“Let me at least walk you.”

Keith agreed and began packing up his things with a subdued finality, hoping that his all-nighter had been worth the crippling exhaustion—that he knew a little more than when he’d begun. Keith at least hoped he did.

While Keith and Jason walked through the stacks towards the exit, Keith’s eyes caught and lingered on a set of broad shoulders and a wide back, admiring the muscles that no doubt resided underneath that thick crème colored cable-knit sweater.

The weight of Keith’s eyes must have been a tangible, heavy thing because almost as quick as he caught sight of the man, those eyes were turning, shifting onto Keith with his unkempt hair and frumpy appearance, and the stranger studied him up and down indifferently before he smiled empathetically at the bags under Keith’s eyes.

His attention turned back towards the book he’d pulled from the shelf, flipping through the pages, paying close attention to whatever he needed to find as his hand smoothed slowly down the page.

It was a shame, really when those eyes left him. Keith had never seen someone as attractive as the man, and those eyes on him had made Keith feel a spark of interest that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was both concerning and exciting, like being on a roller-coaster and feeling your safety belt give when you were upside down in a loop.

Keith could barely keep his curiosity contained as he elbowed Jason in the side, gesturing back towards the library with a lazy jerk of his head as if to seem completely aloof.

“Who was that guy?” Keith asked, trying to put a cool edge on the eagerness in his voice. “And why does he make that white streak in your hair look 10 times cooler?”

Keith snorted loudly when Jason had the gall to look legitimately offended.

“Oh, fuck you Keith.” Jason cursed, running a hand through his tuff of hair self-consciously. “At least I’m not rocking an 80’s mullet, loser.”

“Touché.”

***

Takashi Shirogane, Keith learned over the past few days, was the textbook definition of a star on the rise.

Honestly, it was kind of both amazing and sad at how Keith hadn’t heard of him despite Takashi being so integrated within the campus’s student life, but maybe that was the reason why. Keith had no interest in joining clubs or making friends.

Takashi obviously did not feel the same. He was an active participant in Student Government, the president of the Asian Student Association, and was the ace of the goddamn swim club.

He was everywhere and Keith was suddenly starting to notice.

“The whole school has a hard-on for him basically,” Jason said offhandedly as they were walking across campus towards the cafeteria. The wind was relentless, a biting chill that cut through Keith despite wearing layers upon layers and a thick wool scarf that covered the bottom half of his face.

Born and raised in Arizona, Keith didn’t fare too well with the cold. Keith ran on a permanent dial of hot it seemed. However, the Bachelor of Music program offered in Buffalo excelled anything that had been in Keith’s neck of the woods and moving, while daunting, had been a no brainer.

Even though Keith probably would never admit to it, the change in scenery had helped him a lot with his feelings of inferiority and self-doubt. They still lingered of course, but they weren’t as crippling as before in his small town.

Keith looked to his friend, wondering.

“So, does that mean you do too?” Keith asked, curious.

He knew Jason was openly bisexual, but had never seen his friend take an active interest in someone of the same sex. Keith often contemplated what kind of guy would make Jason Todd a blushing, stuttering mess, shattering that devil-may-care attitude. Keith would pay to see it.

Jason snorted and gave Keith a skeptical side-eye.

He was dressed in a red and white biker jacket, zipped up to his neck, and a dark gray beanie covered his studded ears. Jason didn’t seem to notice or care when random people passing by stared at him, used to the appraising looks. Keith got his fair share too—he knew he wasn’t a bad looking guy—but it always made him feel awkward and too-small for his body.

Keith had to resist the urge to give one his jackets to Jason in fear that he was going to freeze right down to his boots. He had to remember Jason was a New England native and was used to these brutal winters and dressed rather unwisely because of it.

Jason shook his head. “Nah, golden boy really isn’t my type.”

That threw Keith for a wide loop because Takashi Shirogane was attractive enough to shatter anyone’s “type” deviation.

Jason was just crazy.

Keith looked at the other man with narrowed eyes because that had to be utter bullshit. Keith wasn’t buying it. His gaze seemed to communicate that same sentiment and Jason threw his hands up in a defensive manner, eyes wide.

“What? It’s fucking true. He’s not my type.”

Keith threw his hands up too, but in an exasperated manner because this was it—he couldn’t be friends with Jason Todd anymore, it was final.

“How is he not your type?” Keith practically yelled, probably looking enraged by how the girl in front of them turned her head because of the outburst, then proceeded to quickly shift her attention to anything other than Keith’s passionate eyes.

Jason sputtered, tripping over his words as he tried coming up with an explanation that would satisfy Keith.

“Holy fuck, you gremlin. He’s just not,” Jason said, rubbing shyly at the back of his neck. “For one, he’s like…my size, maybe even bigger, and I’m just not into that. However, I can appreciate him on a purely aesthetic level, so I can understand your little school boy crush.” Jason teased with a shit-eating grin.

Keith scoffed at that wording—school boy crush—but he was fascinated enough with this sudden insight into Jason’s sexuality to ignore it.

He only knew Jason was into guys because of that one time, when they’d first met last year at a typical frat party and decided they were going to fuck, but then Keith had thrown his guts up all over Jason’s shoes and passed out right after in a heap on his floor. Keith had been lucky to find the one guy out of hundred that took care of him instead of making him into another tragic college statistic. He nursed Keith back into excruciating sober health and had even made him pancakes in the morning.

In Keith’s fucked way of making amends, he had even shamelessly offered his ass as a means of saying ‘thanks for not being a piece of shit, now he’s your reward’ without having to say any of that embarrassing spiel. Jason had politely declined the offer and they went about their day, finding that they meshed quite well as friends, and friends only.

Ever since then, Jason had only gone out with a few girls here and there, nothing serious. He didn’t talk much about what he liked and Keith was curious.

Currently, he was connecting the dots alarmingly fast, like a kid with a bright red crayon and a mission.

“So…” Keith drew out, deceptively light, thankful his scarf covered his self-satisfied smirk. “You like your boys smaller than you…” Keith deduced like a perverse wannabe Sherlock Holmes. “That tells me two things: you either like to completely dominate these guys or…” He left the implication to dangle in the air over Jason’s head like a carrot, watching the realization transform his face as the tips of his ears suddenly went red. “Or you like being dominated by them.”

Keith’s eyes indulgently took in Jason’s six foot two frame, bulky shoulders, wide chest, and narrow waist in a slow eye sweep and hoped in a pure platonic way that the latter was truly Jason’s preference.

Jason’s eyes went comically wide, hands coming up in half-aborted motions as if to cover himself from Keith’s prying eyes. He had a good laugh at Jason’s expense.

“You’re absolutely horrible,” Jason said weakly.

Keith shrugged without a care.

From there on they walked in companionable silence as Keith checked the time on his phone, along with his non-existent messages from his non-existent friends. Keith wasn’t paying attention as he neared the entrance and collided hard into a solid frame. Papers fluttered around their heads before several books tumbled onto the floor with a heavy crash.

Keith’s head shot up in mortification, uselessly trying to catch papers that fell right through his fingers.

“Shit,” Someone cursed. “This would be just my luck.”

“Oh shit, dude—fuck—I’m so sorry.” Keith said, crouching to pick up several Criminal Law textbooks and several papers that looked like complex, detailed essays. Some of the terminology Keith managed to spot was enough to make his head throb with on oncoming headache.

He looked at Jason out of the corner of his eye, wondering why his friend was just standing there and being completely useless. Jason would’ve at least helped a bit or would’ve called Keith an idiot or a klutz by now, but he was still as a steel pole on a windy day. It was odd, uncharacteristic behavior, but when Keith raised his head to hand several books back, Keith understood why Jason was utterly speechless.

The guy he’d bumped into was pretty, obnoxiously pretty, so pretty that it immediately pissed Keith off. His eyes were also distracting; a shade of too-blue that made his irises look like they were made with an intense kind of consideration, giving him an unnerving penetrating stare.

The man was dressed in a black turtle neck sweater and a deep navy blue pea-coat, looking like he’d just stepped out of a GQ photo shoot rather than attending class. He was sleek and lithe, delicate in a masculine way that inspired respect and attention.

Even though Keith had been the one to bump into him and was offering his things back, the man’s eyes had settled onto Jason and lingered before he shifted his attention onto Keith, which Keith saw took effort. Those eyes dimmed a bit when they turned onto him, but the man still kindly offered his thanks as he took the books and papers into the cradle of one of his arms and offered Keith his free hand to help him back onto his feet.

“Thanks, man. It’s no big, just be more careful next time.” The man said. Keith was sure that if it had been anyone else, he would’ve scoffed and rolled his eyes at the big brother tone that the man used, but it was honest and sincere and Keith couldn’t help the obedient nod of his head.

“Thank again,” He said to Keith kindly, but his eyes strayed to Jason when he said. “Hopefully I’ll see you around.”

“…Uh, yeah,” Keith said after a moment because Jason was still staring at him with this dazed, awed expression and it was embarrassing and awkward if the silence remained otherwise. With a subtle shove, Keith nudged Jason with his shoulder and only then did Jason nod his head, garbling out some abomination of a word that was a mix between cool and great.

The man laughed softly as if charmed by Jason’s nervous fumbling and the effect he obviously had on him. He bid Keith and Jason goodbye and strolled away with a noticeable pep in his step.

Keith’s lizard brain instinctively watched his hips subtly sway side to side and he whistled low enough for just Jason to hear. He turned expectant eyes onto Jason who was watching as well, except his eyes were lidded and his teeth dragged along his bottom lip with a low, appreciative sound.

“You wanted to know my type,” Jason began, voice noticeably breathy in quality. “There he just went. Goddamn.”

***

Keith didn’t see Takashi for two weeks after his first glimpse in the library.

There wasn’t a dire, all-encompassing need to see him, but the hope remained that Keith would somehow spot him from the corner of his eye and admire him from afar like everyone else probably did.

There was an eatery on campus that Keith was in the mood and had money for and walked the ten minutes to the stir fry joint that was nearly packed. Keith got his food and sat down at one of the few open tables that was slightly sticky, but Keith didn’t mind as he began to dig in, not having had breakfast before which consisted of anything he could find laying around; a granola bar, a bottle of orange juice, half a candy bar shoved down deep inside his backpack.

It was a decent meal for eight bucks—worth it, Keith thought.

Jason would be proud that he’d wasn’t chowing down on ramen noodles for a change.

Keith easily tuned out the chatty buzz of the restaurant with his own insistent thoughts about nothing and everything as he drifted on white noise. He tried not to feel self-conscious about eating alone as he noticed everyone else where in groups of two or more.

He checked his phone absentmindedly while he ate, re-reading the funny texts from Jason’s morning rage because he’d just been assigned a butt load of homework for the upcoming weekend and that interfered with plans apparently. After Jason ran out of his brand of colorful phrases, he’d reverted to using knife and fire emojis.

Keith wanted to feel bad for him. He really did, but it felt good to know Jason was like the rest of them—drowning in school work and deadlines.

“Hey man, I know this is kind of weird, but do you mind if we sit with you? We’ve kind of already met when you think about it.” An oddly familiar voice said.

Keith’s head jerked up, almost dropping his phone as he shortly fumbled with it. He felt his mouth gape as the pretty boy with the unnerving blue eyes that he’d run into a few days ago and Takashi Shirogane, of all fucking people, stared down at him expectantly, waiting for his response. Takashi stood some ways away from the table unlike his friend who sort of hovered over Keith, like he didn’t want to assume or put pressure onto Keith to say yes. A considerate guy.

Keith’s eyes darted quickly around the restaurant; the place had only gotten busier and Keith was sitting at one of the bigger tables that seated four.

“Uh,” His head swam for a response. “Y-yeah, no problem.”

As they sat down, Takashi right across from Keith, he hurriedly moved his items closer to him so they wouldn’t seem so big and obvious. He was suddenly self-conscious about this backpack, decked out in patches that he collected over the months that clearly showed his thoughts on several political matters, his love for 80’s movies like The Lost Boys and The Goonies, and his taste in music.

He caught Takashi staring and had the resist the urge to fidget.

“Rites of Spring are one of my favorite bands too,” Takashi said. “There was just something about the music back then that was just electrifying and inspiring—made you wanna go fight the government and set fire to corrupt institutions.” He softly brushed over one the patches on Keith’s backpack. He watched Takashi’s fingers, practically drooling over how beautiful and strong they were, at how delicate they touched Keith’s property. “I’ve never heard of this one through. They any good?” Takashi asked, brown eyes incredibly warm as he looked up at Keith and he felt himself being caught like a fish on a hook.

Keith couldn’t form words, not yet, so he nodded his head, swallowing down the huge lump in his throat and hoped the heat he suddenly felt wasn’t too visible on his face.

“Sorry, I’m forgetting my manners.” Takashi said as he collected a big, heaping bite on his fork. “I’m Takashi Shirogane, but everyone calls me Shiro.” He gestured towards his…friend, the pretty boy who had already began stuffing his face like he hadn’t eaten in years. “This is—”

“I’m Dick!” Pretty boy interrupted excitedly, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes, I know. Please hold off on the jokes. I’ve heard them all.” Dick good-naturedly teased and Keith didn’t know what to say, so he relied on the first thing that came to mind.

“God, I at least hope your last name isn’t Johnson.”

He was horrified, but then Dick snorted loudly, the power of it rocking his shoulders and Shiro in turn, laughed with him.

“I know, right?” Dick said. “The name of my birth certificate is actually Richard John Grayson, though. My parents have a wickedly sick sense of humor and the nickname just took. I can’t get rid of it now.” He shrugged like there was nothing he could do; however, it didn’t sound like he wanted to do much.

“What about you?” Shiro nodded at Keith, taking a bite.

Oh. Right.

Having the brunt of his attention was highly distracting.

“Keith. Kogane.” Keith said. “I know. Very basic, dry first name and then that little bit of ethnic spice hits you with, Kogane.” Keith tried for a smile when he realized he was being weird about his name. “Uh, nice to meet you both.”

Shiro smiled at him and Dick offered the same sentiment through a mouthful of food.

“Don’t worry, it’s a nice name. Has a nice cadence to it,” Shiro told him and Keith blushed, averting his eyes.

“Thanks.” He mumbled out.

They lapsed into comfortable silence as they traded conversation for eating.

Keith was too aware of himself, of his movements no matter how big or small. He almost sighed in relief when his phone vibrated in his pocket; Jason wondering where he currently was so he could come hang out. Keith tried to keep a cool calmness about him as he practically vibrated in his skin because Jason was going to freak.

me: i’m @ the stir fry place up the street…you’re gonna shit your pants when i tell you who asked to sit with me

jason: who?

Keith slyly took a picture, taking care to make sure the flash and the shutter were off and sent the picture to Jason.

jason: HOLY SHIT

jason: HOW THE FUCK

jason: WHAT THE FUCK

jason: IM ON MY WAY.

jason: IM RUNNING.

jason: PEOPLE ARE GIVING ME LOOKS

Keith cleared his throat, trying to mask the laughter that wanted to rack his shoulders.

He tried not to watch the door in anticipation, but then Jason arrived an impressive five minutes later, looking wind blow and rugged in his motorcycle jacket, looking like he just come back from an afternoon ride. He raked a hand back through his hair, smoothing down over his undercut as his eyes roamed the restaurant. His eyes sparkled when he spotted Keith’s table and waved with a two-fingered salute, a gesture Keith returned half-assed.

Shiro and Dick noticed and curiously turned their heads. It was both amusing and interesting to watch the full body shutter the racked over Dick’s back at the sight of Jason practically strutting up towards their table. Keith and Shiro seemed practically non-existent in that moment.

Jason caught Dick’s eye and held it captive before shifting onto Shiro, sizing him up.

Shiro did the same, but with a bit more delicacy, taking in their obvious similarities and differences.

Keith grappled for what to say.

“Uh, this is Jason. Jason Todd.” Keith began. “He’s kind of an asshole, but he means well…” Keith’s mouth took on a wiry twist. “Usually.”

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Jason greeted charmingly, unfazed. He coolly fell back into the seat besides Keith, picking through the food that remained on his plate. He apparently found nothing worth scavenging as he pushed the plate back into Keith’s direction.

“Jason, this is Dick Grayson and Takashi Shirogane.”

“But Shiro’s more than fine,” Takashi softly reminded him. It seemed like it was more for Keith’s benefit than Jason’s as their eyes met and held. Keith’s heartbeat sped up because of what he saw in Shiro’s gaze, a look that made Keith’s face heat and his body tingle, and he startled when Jason interrupted the moment with an amused snort.

Keith’s head shifted quickly in his friend’s direction, frowning when he saw Jason looking indulgently between the both of them, gaze heavy with implication and meaning. Before Keith could ask him what he found so fucking amusing about the situation and potentially embarrass himself further, Jason’s eyes fell onto Dick’s, completely ignoring Keith and Shiro like they were mere place mats set for decoration.

The other man hadn’t taken his eyes off Jason yet and Keith shifted, feeling like he was intruding on something private because they both oozed a particular kind of sex appeal and when that came together, Keith was sure it would explode.

He wanted to be far away as possible when it did happen.

“I’m being forward here, so forgive me, but you’re not dating him, are you?” Jason asked Dick, gestured to Shiro who’s eyes went wide. Keith was sure his eyes went wider though.

“See, this is what I meant about him being an asshole,” Keith murmured.

Dick only laughed, tilting his head in careful consideration.

“No, Shiro and I aren’t dating, we’ve never dated.” Dick began slowly. “Actually, I’m not seeing anyone now. How lucky for you…” He pointed to Keith. “Are you dating him? Dating anyone?”

Jason bit his lip and shook his head. “Completely free.” Jason proudly announced as the corner of his mouth quirked. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

A throat cleared.

“Should we leave? We can leave.” Shiro said blandly. It sounded like he was used to this kind of occurrence, that he was often the third wheel when Dick caught the eye of someone who interested him.

Keith sighed like he was suffering and put his head into his hands.

Jason and Dick just ignored them.

“Yeah…” Shiro began skeptically, eyeing them back and forth. “I’ll catch you later Dick. It was nice meeting you Jason.”

“See you tomorrow, don’t do anything I would do.”

“Yeah, catch you later, swimfan.”

Shiro paused at the nickname, then chuckled as his eyes turned onto Keith expectantly.

“I don’t know if you drink coffee, but there’s this really nice bakery two blocks from here that has amazing cappuccinos and croissants.” Keith was still reeling from the sound of Shiro’s laugh to truly understand what Shiro was about to ask him. “My treat, you know, if you’re up for it. I’ll have you back home before dark.” Shiro joked, shyly scratching at the back of his neck.

It didn’t occur to Keith that he was technically being asked out on a date. The presumptuous idea that Shiro might be interested in him almost made Keith’s head combust right there on the spot.

It took effort keep his voice calm and cool, retaining that aloof nature he was known for.

“Oh. Yeah, that would be cool.”

“Alright then, it’s a date.”

[lizzieraindrops]

all the lines, all the lines (2208 words)

Niki Lintula is determined to find Veera again, and neither her boyfriend, her gal pal, nor international borders are going to deter her. Mostly offscreen during Helsinki issue #4. Canon verse.

Title from the Hayley Kiyoko wlw anthem for the lovely, canonically bi Niki.

Also on AO3.

"We have to go find her."

"What?!"

"You heard me," Niki said shortly.

"You have got to be kidding me. First you let her talk you into going to goddamn Poland - which I had to pay for - and now you want to go to the Russian border -"

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you didn't talk me into leaving her there!"

"Oh, so now it's my fault for trying to keep you safe from some wacko who's killing people who look like you?" Aleks folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe of Niki's room, watching her rummage in her closet for a duffel bag. "How do we know that wasn't them calling on the phone this afternoon, trying to lure you out?"

"Because, it was Veera." Niki finally spied the strap of her duffel bag dangling from the top shelf in her closet.

"She said it was Veera. It could be anyone, faking her voice."

"It wasn't. I know her." She stretched to the full extent of her meager height, reaching for the strap with groping fingers.

"For three days," her boyfriend said, unimpressed. "And what are you doing? If you need help reaching something, just ask me."

Niki's eyes narrowed, and her fingertips just barely caught the strap. She drew it incrementally closer and clenched a fist around the blue nylon. Her jaw clenched, too. She pulled, heedless of the extra blankets and unused sweaters that cascaded down on top of her along with the body of the bag.

"So what?" Niki said loudly. "I know it was her, and she needs help. Every time I don’t take her seriously, something bad happens. She literally begged me not to go, back in Gdansk. But I left her, and she got kidnapped. Before that, I didn’t believe her about her creepy uncle, and he nearly kidnapped me. I'm not doing it again." She didn’t say the rest of her thoughts, because she knew they would only make Aleks more defensive. But Veera was the one who had saved her from ‘Uncle’ Matti and his tranquilizer needle, not Aleks or any of Niki’s other friends or family. And Veera was all alone. Who else was going to help her?

Niki shoved the fluffiest of the fallen sweaters into the bag, and shoved a revolting chenille Christmas one into the surprised Aleks' chest with some force. "If you're not gonna help me, then Suvi will." Suvi had been her best friend since grade school, and even if lately she’d been becoming more something.... else, Niki was sure she would help. Pretty sure. She grabbed Veera's computer from where it lay on her pink bedspread and threw it into the bag along with a few granola bars. She tugged on her gray coat with the fur-lined collar, and stormed down the street to Suvi's house in the chilly late afternoon.

She was three-quarters of the way through convincing the reluctant Suvi to "borrow" her dad's car for them when Aleks finally caught up to her, his own car keys in hand. By that point, Suvi was insisting on coming along, too, unhappy but unwilling to let Niki go without her. Niki could have given herself the world's biggest facepalm for getting herself stuck in a car for hours with her two - whatever-they-were's - but Aleks couldn't be allowed to wonder. So she set her jaw and folded her arms and sat subtly seething in the passenger seat, meeting no eyes.

It didn't matter that much, really. As long as she was going to get Veera.

***

When she saw her again, Niki couldn't help rushing the barbed-wire fence that separated the deep woods into two forests: one with her and Aleks and Suvi in it, and one with Veera, who was supporting another girl who appeared wounded and emaciated, yet unmistakably familiar. Another twin.

"Veera!" Niki said. It was less a shout and more an internal cry unintentionally expelled as a whisper.

"Help. Help us over the fence," Veera called to her. Her voice was tired but steady, and the sound of it and the sight of her still wearing that same hooded jacket filled Niki with warmth. The fence evidently wasn't electrified, since Veera and the wounded girl were both resting a hand on it, so Niki reached out to clasp one of her own over Veera's as she came up against it.

"Oh god, I'm so glad you're okay," Niki said breathlessly, squeezing Veera's hand. Veera let go of the wire to interlace her cold fingers with Niki's warm ones. They held that living linkage threaded between the strands of twisted metal, each assessing the other briefly in the chill evening shadows cast by the surrounding pines. Beneath the familiar purple awning of that hood, Niki could see what must have been only the second smile she'd ever seen Veera make. Due to either the scarring across her cheek or just her quirky personality, it was slightly lopsided, and narrow but piercingly genuine. Somehow, it was already as familiar to Niki as her own home. She found herself mirroring it in her own toothier fashion, before she let it fade and turned her attention to the new girl. She stood as if her bones were heavily burdened with the task of keeping her thin frame upright, and she was bald and covered in tiny cuts on her skin and clothes, like she'd crashed through a glass window.

"Who's this?" Niki asked quietly. Two sets of approaching footsteps scuffed the cold ground behind her, announcing Aleks and Suvi catching up to her.

Veera's ephemeral smile had vanished, too. "This is Jade. She's another one of us," she said unnecessarily. She let go of Niki's hand. "But she's hurt. I - I messed up. And her ankle's twisted. I couldn't get her over the fence. Can you..."

"You can't be serious," Aleks said. "Another one?"

"This is just..." Suvi said, at a loss for any other words.

Niki turned away from the fence toward them, flicking her blonde hair out of her way with a toss of her head. "Aleks, could you grab our wool blanket from your car so we can cover the barbed wire?"

"You're serious? You wanna smuggle a couple of your creepy twins across international borders right now?"

"Aleks, we can't leave them here! Please," Niki said, laying a hand on his arm. "Can you just help me out here? Then we can go home."

Aleks stared into her eyes for a moment, then sighed and trudged back toward the car, hidden not far back in the trees.

"Niki..." Suvi said slowly. Her beautiful green eyes were watching her uneasily, wide with the beginnings of real fear for the first time. "What is this? What does all of this have to do with you? This is dangerous."

Niki sighed heavily. "I don't know." She stared down at the brown, needle-covered ground. At least there hadn't yet been any snow to show where they'd been. Not that that would have stopped Niki, anyway.

"Jade knows a little," Veera said through the fence. Niki turned back to her. Her hand was clamped around the wire again, and her other arm was still supporting Jade, who held her injured foot in the air gingerly.

"I know more than a little," Jade said in a small but irritable voice. It was in the same range as Niki's and Veera's, but had a brittle sharpness that neither of them possessed.

"Jade knows some," Veera amended. "And I may have a lot more. I stole one of their hard drives. But I won't know until I can connect it to my computer. Did you bring it?"

Niki had to smile again, letting out a little huff of amazement at Veera's resourcefulness. She'd not only escaped the creepy lab she'd mentioned over the phone, but successfully made off with evidence and an injured fellow prisoner. "Yeah. I did. Don't worry," Niki said. "It's gonna be alright."

Once Aleks came back with the blanket, they ended up sending him over the fence to help boost the weakened Jade over it and into Niki and Suvi's arms. Niki started helping the limping girl toward the car, since Jade didn't seem too keen on Suvi, and Suvi's face made it all too clear that the feeling was mutual. Aleks would have boosted Veera over the fence, too, except that she refused to let either him or Suvi touch her. She insisted on awkwardly scaling the blanket-padded wires herself, while Niki helped settle Jade into the backseat of the car with the fluffy spare sweater she fetched from the duffel bag.

By the time Jade was as comfortable as Niki could make her, the other three had all gotten back onto the Finnish side of the fence and taken the blanket down. Aleks tossed the blanket into the trunk and slammed it shut. He paused only long enough to give Niki an unhappy, troubled look before clambering back into the car. Suvi quickly followed suit, obviously eager to be gone from the incriminating scene. The closeness of the tall trees muffled the twin thuds of the driver and passenger doors closing. Niki hated seeing both of them like this. She hated being the one who put them in this position. But what choice did she have? She shut Jade's door, too, and turned around.

Veera was there, standing quietly a few meters away with her arms hovering at her sides. She was leaning slightly forward, as if wanting to step closer but unsure of whether she was allowed. Unsurprising, given Aleks and Suvi's cold welcome. The girl might have difficulty reading people as easily as Niki did, but she was all too aware of when she wasn't wanted.

Maybe, then, she'd also be well aware of it when she was. Niki ought to make it crystal clear, though, just in case.

Niki trotted over to her, hesitating only an instant to check that Veera wasn't drawing back before throwing her arms around her. She was rewarded with an immediately returned embrace in the form of arms locked around her midriff, surprisingly strong. Niki simply clutched her close, one hand on the back of her head and one flush against her back, ignoring the sharp corners of what was presumably the hard drive hidden in Veera's jacket digging into her ribs.

"I missed you," Niki whispered sideways into the soft purple fabric of her hood.

"Mmm," was the only sound that came out of Veera's tight throat. She merely held on tight.

"I'm so, so sorry I left you there. I'm never gonna do that again." Niki gently released her and smoothed her shoulders down a few times, and let her hands rest there lightly. Veera's arms fell to her sides to hover uncertainly again. She was shivering a little. "I'm sorry," Niki says again, "I only brought the one spare sweater and Jade's got it, you didn't tell me you had anyone else with you - do you wanna wear my big coat for a bit? It's really chilly out here -"

"No, no, it's alright. I'm alright." Veera lifted a hand to hold onto one of those clasping her shoulder. "I'm just. Glad to see you."

Niki felt another smile crinkling at the corners of her mouth and her watery eyes, and pulled Veera into another hug, softer this time. They found themselves sharing a long, deep sigh in the same breath.

Despite the way that this mystery twin conspiracy was looming larger and scarier than ever, Niki felt almost as light as a cloud, now that the worry of the past twenty-four hours was falling away from her. The tension that had lingered in her muscles since Gdansk was suddenly released by the deepening realization that Veera was safe and here and real, and more or less okay.

The intensity of her own emotional reaction surprised Niki. She wasn't sure when in the past - was it really only three or four days? - that Veera had become one of her closest friends. Maybe it was that very first night in the treehouse, when Veera had saved her life. Or the second night, on the ferry, when they'd shared secrets, like sisters. The sister Niki never had and had always wanted. Someone who was there for her in a way that no one else was, right from the start. Someone who believed her ‘crazy’ memories and cared about the truth as much as she did; who didn’t even blink at the idea of her and Suvi, but who understood what hiding felt like. Someone, Niki realized, that she really, completely trusted. This - this made every awful thing that had brought them together worthwhile.

"Thanks. For coming to get me," Veera said, leaning her head sideways against Niki's.

"Hey. What did we say?" Niki said, pulling back and holding her crooked pinkie finger up between the two of them. "I've got your back."

Veera linked a finger with hers, and smiled a third time. It was even smaller and subtler than the first two, hardly disrupting the filigree pattern of scarring that detailed the right side of her face. Still, it filled Niki's chest with sunlight even in the gathering dusk.

"You too."

[theemmataylor]

A Frozen Medley || Sebastian, Gaston, Emma, Evelyn, Alaric, and the Mikaelson Brothers

I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI

Once the sun had started to set and the temperature dropped, it was time to put everything away where it would be stored every night and then crawl into the tents. After waking up at nearly four that morning, and then literally running from the start, there wasn't an ounce of reluctance or argument from any of them.

Sebastian had a silent alarm that vibrated on his wrist to wake him every three hours to make rounds, but he crawled into his sleeping bag, his back to the brothers, and worked to settle his mind enough to allow him to sleep.

As for Kol, his back was also to Sebastian and he was staring at Niklaus, waiting to feel like the gunman was sleeping so that maybe they could talk a little more. In the meantime, he inched closer to Nik, as close as he could manage, then inched his fingers out of a space in his sleeping bag and reached to slowly, gently, boop his brother on the nose. "How are you?" he whispered.

In the other tent, Alaric had been far less shy about snuggling up next to Elijah, nose nuzzling against his jaw, nipping. He was careful to restrain himself as much as sharing a tent with two others might need. But nobody particularly seemed interested in making conversation.

Emma's sleeping bag was about a size too big for her, and she could disappear entirely inside of it. Trying to give the boys a little privacy, knowing that things had only just started for them and maybe they would like the opportunity to kiss without everybody watching. She didn't know. But just in case. Though her body was exhausted, her eyes were open, studying the figure she was now facing in the growing darkness.

"Is it weird that I feel an incredible compulsion to tell everybody goodnight? Also, this kind of feels like the first night of summer camp when I'm exhausted but I'm supposed to stay up all night. And... I'm sorry. I'm going to sleep now." She bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered again.

Emma got warm, soft, genuine laughter out of Elijah and the sound of his laughter got Gaston going. Elijah had been lying on his back for a while, comfortably snuggled into the furs he used instead of a bag, and he shook his head, grinning. "No, it does. It really does feel like that. My body is completely worn, but my mind is racing a million miles a minute, and all I want to do is be up with all of you -- kissing Alaric, talking to you, Emma, irritating you somehow, Gaston."

Gaston was still laughing and it took him a minute to even shut up. He wiped at his eyes, laughter a little softer now, and then shook his head. His sleeping bag crinkled as he moved in it, turning to look at Emma. "This is the worst summer camp I've ever been to. Are you warm enough, Emma?"

Elijah turned his head to look at Ric and, as soon as he could make him out in the gloom of the tent, he grinned and touched his forehead to Ric's. "Hello."

Emma had giggled, but muffled the sound in her sleeping bag. She somewhat looked over her shoulder in Elijah's direction But Gaston's voice, speaking, was enough to pull her focus back in his direction. "It is kind of the worst summer camp, isn't it? And the other tent are the adults, if they can really be called that. And here in like, five minutes we're going to get really loud shushing sounds coming from them." Her arms were wrapped around herself as she shrugged at Gaston. "I'll be okay. I'm small. My circulation is... kind of lame sometimes. I stay cold. But I'll warm up in the sleeping bag eventually."

Alaric had smiled when Elijah turned to him, licking his cheek. "Hello," he whispered, his voice perhaps a little too sultry for the light air the tent had just held. He cleared his throat. "How are you?" His question couldn't be more cheesy. But he was happy.

So. Goddamn. Happy.

"I am fine. A bit concerned for Emma, though. Emma," Elijah turned back to her. "You haven't an ounce of fat on you. Come out of your bag a moment and crawl in with me while Gaston zips your bags together."

Gaston snorted quietly at the way Elijah didn't ask if he was alright with doing that, although they both knew the answer was yes. Sometimes, the man's casual authority was irritating, something it was entertaining, sometimes it was inspiring, and sometimes all of the above. Tonight, he decided entertaining was the right word.

Emma peeked out of her sleeping bag at Gaston, her eyes were large enough that he might have been able to see them in the darkness. "I... That's not necessary. Really. I don't want to make things difficult for him. And you... know that I might have a tendency to be drawn to the heat source while I'm sleeping."

"I won't do anything untoward," Gaston assured her, "but if you're cold, we should change that. Besides, I would much rather be able to just curl up around you and have us both be warmer for it than know that you're next to me and cold. I'll be getting up every three hours," his schedule was different from Moran's, so only an hour and a half would pass without one of them being up, "but I should be able to slip in and out without waking you completely."

"I didn't... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that I thought you would..." Finally, Emma nodded, crawling out of her sleeping bag in what couldn't have been anything by way of helping her stay warm (cotton draw-string pajama pants and a sweater. Though she did at least manage to wear socks. They would likely end up kicked off by morning.)

She hurried to dive under Elijah's blankets, brushing his skin with her cold fingers and finding herself giggling again. "He's going to hate me by morning. He needs rest tonight. And I'm not going to be able to stop giggling."

Elijah was only wearing boxers, but it in between the animal skins was as warm as an oven. "You poor thing, you're freezing," he murmured. "Alaric, we're going to have a tiny little popsicle on our hands by the end if we don't watch this one." He caught her hands and held them between his to try and warm them for a moment while Gaston rustled around with the zippers. After a few minutes and a few soft curses, there was a long zipping sound and then Gaston climbed into their now much larger bag.

"Done. Come here, Popsicle. I won't hate you. Giggle away."

Once Emma was out of his little fur bed, Elijah turned and nuzzled Alaric again, then bit him on the earlobe -- delicate, teasing, more intimate than he probably should have been.

Alaric's gasp was quiet. Silent. And his hands slipped from under his own blankets -- being the exact opposite of Emma and always sleeping warm; he slept on his sleeping bag, but only ever under a blanket not entirely uninspired by Elijah's -- and over to touch Elijah's chest. "We will have to keep an eye out for her then," he whispered. "At least tonight she'll be well taken care of."

When Emma crawled into the new giant sleeping bag, her sock had already started to twist so that it wasn't quite on right, but she didn't bother fixing it. She was careful to try to keep her hands to herself, knowing that cold fingers on someone's stomach might be the worst thing. "Thank you," she said happily, already feeling a little warmer thanks to him. Emma inched closer. "You really didn't have to offer to do this."

The touch made Elijah's insides seem to twist in a wonderful way. He loved Alaric so much that it genuinely hurt, and he loved that ache. He moved over closer, then slipped his arm around Ric's body and gave him a sweet, soft, gentle kiss. "We will,” he murmured.

"If you two are going to make out," Gaston said, "at least have the decency to be obvious about it." He was grinning and he shook his head, entirely unperturbed by the two of them, and then he turned his attention to Emma. "Oh, I didn't offer, but you're welcome. We are a team, after all. Here." He turned her away from himself so that he could spoon her -- unlike the others, Gaston was dressed, in thin wool pants and a tight poly-fleece shirt -- so at least it wasn't entirely indecent... although nothing he wore really left much to the imagination.

At all.

Still, he was a furnace, and as soon as he was settled around her, he wrapped one of his big hands around both of hers, trying to warm them, and tucked his chin over her head.

"Thank you all the same," she said feeling almost shy about how easily he'd turned her over and then pulled her against him. He was incredibly warm. And... jesus are those his ab muscles I can feel through his... She had only shifted a little, and if she had been in literally any other frame of mind, she might not have started giggling. But the night was a relatively happy one. And she was feeling giddy. "I'm sorry," she whispered, shyly, trying to calm herself. "I told you. You're going to hate me by morning."

Alaric had smiled at Gaston's words, his cheeks maybe warming a little bit and he was just on the verge when Emma had laughed again. "Now I feel like we're the adults who are left out of any inside joke and will have to drug the girl with Benadryl to get her to sleep here in an hour."

"Oh, I could find a way to help her sleep," Gaston purred, there was no other word to describe what just happened with his voice, but then he laughed softly, in all innocence, and nuzzled the back of her head. "I won't hate you by morning. It's an odd situation, to be sure, laughter can help ease the tension."

Elijah smiled sleepily and shook his head, then turned on his side so he could put his back against Alaric -- and drape his hand behind him to brush his fingers over the front of Alaric's sleep pants, just once, before he tucked his arm back where it ought to be and just relaxed. "Goodnight, you two. Goodnight Alaric." He turned his head and called out, "Goodnight Kol. Goodnight Sebastian. Goodnight Nik--"

"Sod off!"

"Klaus." Elijah grinned and flopped his head down onto his pillow.

"If you are going to be an insufferable tease this entire month, I might not survive," Alaric whispered. His stomach had twisted and again he'd found his breath caught in his lungs, holding tight as he wrapped an arm around Elijah’s waist, then bit softly at the curve of his neck and shoulders, quickly turning it into a kiss. "Goodnight, darling," he whispered in return after all the rest had responded.

Emma's jaw had actually dropped at his words, though the intention behind them seemed... obvious? He didn't really seem to be flirting with her. Which was fine. She needed to focus on this month, on her story. And on just trying not to die of any of the six thousand things that could likely kill her out here. As his hands over hers seemed to relax, Emma pulled one arm free and rested it over his, holding on to him. "Goodnight, guys," she said softly before finally letting her eyes close so she could settle into this warmth.

Gaston nuzzled her softly, then closed his eyes as well and settled in for his nap.

Meanwhile...

Nik had almost fallen asleep until the giggle fits had started, and then Elijah just had to go and say goodnight to every blessed one of them. He stared at Kol again, sulking now, before he got up and leaned over his brother -- on his brother -- to look at Sebastian and see if he was sleeping.

Sebastian hadn't replied to the goodnight wishes, and Kol had only chuckled at Nik's response. He hadn't really been close to falling asleep yet, though he didn't really seem to be weighed too heavily about what had happened the night before -- jesus was that only last night?

The sniper didn't react to the proximity of his tent mate, though it remained unclear if he was actually asleep. If someone so much as whispered his name, there was a chance that he would wake, or so Kol figured. But Elijah had just yelled it. But a man like this, trained like this, had to know how to shut everything out in order to get the most out of the couple hours of sleep he was given, right?

Kol's hand rested against Nik's ribcage as his brother laid across him. "And what is it you're trying to accomplish, brother?”

"Conducting a scientific survey," Nik replied. "I'm waiting to see how long Sebastian can handle my staring at him. When he reacts, I have a question for him."

The words were enough for Sebastian to sigh a little heavier than sleep might deem necessary and then just opened his eyes.

Nik's eyes sparkled in the dark as he smiled, and he held still another moment, just watching the sniper, before he asked: "Do you know?"

Of course I know. You two were drunk, which means you weren't half as quiet as you thought you were, and I walked down the hall at just the right time.

"Know what?"

"About my brother and I. What we did last night."

Sebastian's lips twitched into a smile, but the expression was gone as quickly as it came. "Are you asking my permission to continue things?"

That hadn't been Nik's intention -- or so he thought until Sebastian asked, and then he realized that was exactly why he'd asked. He tensed up a bit but then gave a tight, small nod.

"Were something to happen between he and I... it would very likely be while you're here," he murmured, voice too soft to carry to the other tent. "Or when you're just coming back in, or.. you get the picture, I'm sure. If it... would truly... repulse you.. that he and I were -- so close, I'm sure we can refrain for a month. But if you wouldn't terribly mind perhaps walking in on it.."

If you know what we're doing, perhaps it won't wake you up if you hear a soft, furtive rustle from one of us.

"Do as you wish." Sebastian's voice was equally as soft and low. "I'm here to make sure you don't die. And I'm better than most at keeping secrets. Mostly because I don't care enough about anything to share it with the next person. So long as I get to sleep my three hours, which you're interrupting now, and you don't put yourself in mortal danger, then your business is none of my concern."

With that, Sebastian shrugged and turned over onto his other side, giving them his back and all the privacy he could afford them.

Nik resolved to kiss Moran in the morning.

He slithered off of Kol and flopped down next to him again, although he stayed close; Nik was never as warm as either of his brothers. "You heard the man," he whispered. "Perhaps, tomorrow night, when we're a bit less exhausted, you might let me kiss you?" he tried to keep his whisper as soft as possible for Sebastian's sake.

Kol thought of a dozen different ways to respond to that question -- not all of them in the affirmative -- and decided instead to stretch forward to press a soft, lingering, careful kiss to Nik’s lips. They had done this since last night. The kissing. But it hadn't really been... There had been too much question and hesitation in each one. And they hadn't really answered any of his questions except by letting him know that he didn't hate the feeling of Nik's lips against his own.

His lips parted just enough that he could brush Nik's bottom lip with his tongue, and was surprised when he felt something closer to relief than he had expected at the simple act.

Nik shivered with pleasure at that time before he nipped at Kol's lip and retreated down into the depths of his sleeping bag with a soft hissing sound. "Goodnight, brother."

Kol smirked and rolled onto his back, heavy eyelids lowering. "Sod off," he teased, mimicking Klaus himself with the response.

In what felt like moments later, Sebastian felt the alarm on his wrist begin to vibrate and his eyes were instantly open. He slid silently out of his sleeping bag, into his clothing he'd left sitting out so he could dress quickly, and finally his boots, and pulled his face covering and hat on as he exited the tent, being sure to close it behind him as quickly as possible.

The glasses he put on were thermal. High quality, but the logistics were simple enough. The full circle they'd made earlier was saved for daytime. At night he knew he couldn't be out long enough to even run that quick mile circle. He had told Gaston no more than five to ten minutes checking for signs of any heat or life around them. Listening, most of all. And he knew he shouldn't miss anything with these on. When Gaston woke in an hour and a half, he would do the same. And their shifting schedule kept it so that they never went too long without protection

Sebastian checked his ammo and then headed out into the night air, cursing quietly. He stayed the full ten minutes, but found nothing to report, and returned back to his sleeping bag and instantly back to sleep in a matter of moments.

Trouble didn't come until the last watch, which happened to be Gaston's. The sun was nearly up, which was the only reason he decided to exceed his orders. He moved out and went to check the perimeter, but moments later, he was back.

"Moran," he whispered, crouched outside of their tent. "I need you. I'm sorry."

Sebastian was out of the tent before even being fully dressed. He did that on their way, cursing at the biting cold on his ears and nose. But if Gaston needed him, a little frost bite didn't matter. Besides, he was ready quickly. On his way out he grabbed an extra round for his gun and then met Gaston's eyes.

"What happened?"

"You have time to get dressed, I think." Gaston's back was to the tent and he was crouched on the ground, rifle ready, looking out. "The perimeter system is down. Somehow. Without causing any alerts. There are prints all around each stake. The fence has quit, too."

Stars shone out beautifully from the strange, twilight sky, and there was no ticking from the fence. There was no wind, not a sound, nothing but a deep and biting cold and a sense that something was very, very wrong.

Fuck.

He got dressed fully, his stomach twisting. "I'm three seconds from waking their asses up and making them get in the cage."

He tried to think of what could cause this. But nothing, nothing that he could think of would take that much down without an alarm going off.

"I swear to the gods, LeFevre, if you tell me they're wolf tracks, I'm sending them home."

"They're human," Gaston said, meeting his eyes for one brief moment once Sebastian was back out there with him. "Small. And barefoot."

There was another quiet rustle and then Elijah came out, fully dressed. He closed the tent behind himself and looked as if he was about to say something before his eyes widened as he registered the silence where there should have been ticking. He looked at Moran in question.

"Exactly," Sebastian whispered. "While we stand guard, how fast can you put it back online?"

His attention turned back to Gaston. "The girl in your tent... she helped put the fence up. She's not a sleepwalker, is she?"

"No. We were in the same sleeping bag whenever I was there. When I wasn't, I rolled her up against Elijah... and her feet should have been bleeding from that much walking around on the snow and ice."

The deep silence felt like a menacing companion all its own as Elijah moved to the power panels for the fence. His heart was racing and he was far more awake than he had been a minute ago; he'd awoken when he heard the other tent moving, but hadn't really thought anything would be wrong. Now, he could feel it pressing in on them, all around -- the weight of the strange Arctic twilight, the silence, the cold, the promise of predators. The fence was one of the very few things that made this expedition possible, and without it, their lives would only last as long as the bullets did, if the bears they had come here for found them.

Which they would.

Elijah closed his eyes and held his breath for a moment, focusing his fear, focusing himself as he started resetting the panels --

But when he energized them, there wasn't so much as a single blip of power.

"Fuck," he whispered, then got up and turned to Moran. "I need to walk around and inspect the fence. I'll be out of sight if I go behind the tents. Will one of you come with me?"

He knew they should have been bleeding, but was LeFevre certain they weren't? He didn't ask. She felt like a stretch anyway.  

"Gaston. You are guarding these tents. Do not, for an instant, hesitate to shoot anything that moves that isn't us. You know the path we're taking."

He tossed his thermals. "You're guarding more people than I am. Even if we're not going far."

Sebastian hated this. He hated all of this. Their first fucking night. "This is your only chance, Mikaelson. This one round. If it doesn't work I'm calling for an evac instantly, you understand?"

"I understand and agree. Without the fence, our lives will be measured only by your bullets." Elijah got into a bin and pulled out a flashlight. He rubbed the button against his cheek to be sure of which it was, then hit the switch, turning on the dim red beam. He shone it over the fence as he began circling it, looking for any sign of damage, but there was none.

On the opposite side of the tent doors, however, there was a small, white Arctic hare's foot perched atop one of the poles. Frowning, Elijah reached up and took it. He turned the bloody little thing over on his mittened palm, then continued the inspection of the fence as an icy wind began to pick up.

When they got back to the gate, he went back to try the panels one more time.

Nothing.

Elijah looked up at Sebastian and nodded. "We have to call this off. I'll take it apart and try to repair it while they dress and pre..."

Nik came out of the tent, mostly dressed, a little confused, and he held up the satellite phone -- the only satellite phone.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he asked. Even against the twilit sky, the wires sticking out of the phone were all too obvious.

Elijah checked his watch and then looked at the horizon, seeming untroubled by the phone. He shut off the flashlight, unplugged the panels, and started disassembling one of them, moving quickly and with familiarity.

"Oh, lovely, Elijah, you don't care, but I do. Moran, please, tell me you had an encounter with the phone that you're just dying to be able to explain?"

"Pack your things." He didn't know how to get them out. "At the very least you all are going into the cage. All of you. Now, Niklaus. Get your brother."

He kept his eyes on Elijah and nodded in the direction of the other tent. "Wake them. I want them unreachable. We can hang blankets and make them stay low so they're not visible by outside eyes..."

Something has already been here.

We are already compromised.

Sebastian knew he couldn't let that show. Because if they lost faith or hope, all was lost. "Carry them if you have to. Just get them in that fucking cage."

Elijah dropped what he was doing on the spot and nodded, going into the tent. "Alaric, Emma," he said, kneeling between them and shaking both. "I need you to wake up and get dressed. Put on all of your warmest clothes, but do it quickly, and then you're going to come outside with me."

Nik stood there outside still, looking stunned. "What's..?"

"Klaus. Questions later. Fucking move."

By this time Kol had awoken and was standing behind Nik. He heard the commotion and groaned. "Not fucking again. Haven't we already been rudely awakened enough times for this damn week?"

Still, the tone in Sebastian's voice told him he wasn't kidding. He took the Satellite phone from Nik, and pulled him inside to start getting as much clothes on as possible. With his brother in tow, they were the first in the cage.

Ric woke with a start and took a breath to remember where they were. But he dressed quickly, helped Emma pile on more layers, and they all moved out into the cold where the cages were.

There were hooks at the corners of the cage and Sebastian immediately started hanging a tarp while Gaston kept watch. "Lay down if you can. And fucking stay in here."

He returned to Gaston and quietly spoke to him, watching his back now, standing shoulder to shoulder. "Anything?"

Elijah had refused to go into the cage. He buried the others in sleeping bags, but then he went right back to working on the panels, on his knees in the dark.

Gaston shook his head, scanning with Moran's thermals one more time before handing them back to him. "Nothing."

"You should knock the tents down," Elijah suggested as he worked. "They're two blind spots. You don't need to disassemble the poles, just undo the clips, the tent will fall down, leaving the poles intact. Incidentally, gentlemen, the sun should have been fully above the horizon seventeen minutes ago." And yet, of course, the sky was still dark, the stars still twinkling, the sun forgotten.

"What?" Nik hissed from their cage huddle.

Elijah continued working on the panel, taking everything apart and reassembling it with the same familiarity and confidence Sebastian or Gaston would have used with a rifle.