#i bounced back so fast yesterday from my irritability

[lux-scriptum]

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[onlyswan]

summary: in which christmas is upon us and jungkook just wants to say that he loves you.

> fluff / wc: 3.4k

> warnings: poor baby is sick so he’s on vocal rest :( oc loves snow but is scared of slipping on it, a littleee suggestive with an allusion to a hard-on

note: just to be clear the bold texts are the lines jungkook says to you using his phone ^^ + the first scene is inspired by this ask !!! + i had a nap after my finals then started writing this lol my brain is still fried. happy holidays my dear friends <3 stay warm and healthy <3

—

jungkook plops down on the bed, about to slide his sweatshirt over his head until it gets forcefully ripped away from his hands. a yell of his dog’s name dies down on his tongue as bam’s fast paws slide all the way across the living room floor. releasing yet another crestfallen sigh, he follows after his stolen piece of clothing.

however, the path gets blocked by you, standing infront of him with a hand over your waist.

“and why are you walking around only wearing boxers?” you ask him quizzically, raising your eyebrows. “baby, please don’t get sicker than you already are.”

he pouts sadly, pointing at the couch where bam stands tall, his two-weeks-old sweatshirt hanging from the dog’s teeth.

“bam!” you turn to look at bam, and he tilts his head to the side innocently. “come here. give it back to your dad.”

jungkook scratches his head when bam drops the sweatshirt on the floor, stepping on it as he jumps off the couch to jog towards you. he can’t even point out the fact that it was just fresh from the laundry because he left the whiteboard in the kitchen and his phone is in the bedroom. oh my god, he can’t even complain about how much he fucking hates being on vocal rest.

well, he did try once this morning, using the whiteboard. with eleven exclamation points and the sad emoji drawn with extra details to be exact. okay, maybe twice. he erased the sad emoji to replace it with a crying one when you caught him making coffee, which the doctor told him he isn’t allowed to drink until his throat heals because it can dehydrate and irritate it. to be fair, having coffee every morning has been a part of his daily routine. he didn’t even realize he was making coffee until you started scolding him.

due to the cold weather and his intense recording sessions for the past week, he woke up with a sore throat and hoarse voice yesterday morning. aside from taking the prescribed medication, he was advised to go on a vocal rest, too. what makes it absolutely hellish for him? it’s not difficult to obey doctor’s orders. because it’s not like he could actually use his voice even if he wanted to. almost nothing comes out when he tries.

this gloomy situation reminded him why he religiously drinks vitamins and takes good care of his voice in the first place. it’s one thing to take a break from singing . . . but to completely abstain from talking? the last time he said ‘i love you’ was almost two days ago. he wants to curl up into a ball, cry, and scream.

and just like what he’s been doing since yesterday to express his misery, he sighs, lazily draping his arms around you. bam ends up lying down on the floor behind you when he realizes he won’t be getting any attention.

“oh, my poor baby. i love you.” you coo, tenderly rubbing his naked back, hoping it provides him a little more comfort and warmth. “you’ll be better in no time. just give your voice the rest it needs, hmm?”

you feel him nod against your shoulder. his embrace becomes tighter as he slumps, leaning more of his weight on you. you plant your feet firmly on the ground to prevent the two of you from falling, and you allow him to hold on to you for however long he needs.

“are you sure calvin klein hasn’t offered you guys a deal yet?”

and that’s when he pulls away. he stares at you for a second before shaking his head, fluffy hair bouncing as he does so.

“maybe it got lost in the mail?”

he shakes his head again, a bunny smile creeping on his face because of how adorably serious you’re being over such a random topic. how do you possibly miss a mail from the calvin klein? your teasing touch travels down to the curves of his waist, until your fingers trace the waistband of his boxers, sparking tingles in his abdomen and all the way down there. only then does he realize that he’s still half naked.

your nose scrunches as you smile innocently. what a minx. you never give his poor heart a rest. “then i guess you’re for my eyes only.”

body, heart, and soul— for your eyes only. but he wouldn’t say it even if he was able to speak because it sounds too cheesy outside of the song he hasn’t played you yet, so he kisses your cheek to say i am.

you pat his butt twice, urging him to head back to the bedroom. “go get dressed now, or i’ll change my mind and leave alone.”

he narrows his eyes at the sweatshirt left lying on the floor, and you click your tongue when the realization dawns on you.

“i’ll wash it later. it just had to be the white one, huh?”

—

“oh, baby, wait! forgot your scarf!” you rip your hand away from the doorknob, bolting back to the bedroom.

jungkook waits by the door, holding up his phone in landscape view, the words ‘but i don’t have a scarf?’ flashing on the screen. he only sees this at concerts, having done it himself before— a fan using their phone as a makeshift banner. and here he is, using it to his maximum advantage in his daily life.

“well, i do!” you enthusiastically respond to his message when you return, holding up the two scarves you managed to find in your cabinet. “pink with black checkered pattern or indigo? it’s shibori.”

he points at your right hand, and his heart flutters inside his ribcage when your face evidently lights up. you drape the pink scarf over his nape, wrapping the longer end twice around his neck to make it even with the other end. you take a quick step back to check him out, and it matches perfectly with his all-black outfit.

“nice and warm.” you say sweetly as you stroke his shiny hair.

he types on his phone before showing you the screen: ‘it’s so cold outside wear a scarf too :(’

you wear the indigo scarf without tying or wrapping it around your neck, leaving both ends draping down almost the same length as your jacket. this makes your boyfriend tut. he mimics your actions from earlier, making sure it’s warm but still breathable. you hide a pout. this scarf doesn’t match your outfit at all, but just like how you also ate soup for dinner last night so he wouldn’t feel sad and lonely about eating bland food, you do it anyway.

you look down when you feel a poking at your thigh. “oh. hi. be a good boy, bamie, okay? we’ll be back before dinnertime.”

despite the dirty white sweatshirt in the hamper, jungkook gives bam his good boy head pats before locking the front door.

—

you hum along to the christmas songs playing in the stores you pass by, restraining yourself from skipping along the pavement so you won’t slip on the unswept snow that fell almost the entire evening. jungkook is holding your hand firmly as you share a heating pad. his free one is tucked in the pocket of his padded jacket to shield it from the cold. you made sure that he was leaving the house as warm as possible, even stuffing earmuffs in your bag incase he starts complaining about freezing ears, too.

you pull back the khaki knitted bucket hat a little over your head so it won’t block your vision. he can’t see the rest of your face, but the way your eyes crinkle as your cheeks rise beneath the mask makes him copy your smile. you’re not usually happy with walking crowded streets, but the holidays seem to be an exception.

you always marvel at the giant christmas trees they display in the middle of the cities. you watch hanging christmas lanterns in awe, the swirling colors dancing in your dilated pupils. you gush about the christmas sales, and the discount bundles. you insisted on owning two christmas trees, green and white, to use them interchangeably. and by insisted he means you went home one november night hauling a giant box without him having a single clue what was inside . . . and he was afraid to find out.

you tend to decorate a little late because you’re both usually busy by the end of the year, but you leave it up until you’re reminded that valentine’s day is nearing.

this year, it’s the white tree’s time to shine again. it was jungkook’s idea to go with the theme of pantone’s color of the year, very peri, a shade of periwinkle. you already decorated it with a purple star on top and christmas balls all around, with light blue flowers and candy canes as the accent. now you’re on a hunt for lights to wrap around it, and hopefully also toss in some of those little gift box ornaments you just can’t seem to goddamn find online. (spoiler alert: you fail to find them in person too)

“ah! they have all the colors.” you giggle as you grab the first box of lights you saw, which is green.

jungkook is walking to the other end of the shelf as he inspects the boxes of lights he brushes past, until he finds something you’d definitely love. he takes out the first two boxes to grab the one behind them, because well, many other people most probably already touched those.

“baby, please help. should we get white? or green? or pink?” you ask without looking at him, squinting at the three boxes infront of you in serious contemplation.

he catches your attention by bumping his arm against yours, proudly presenting the item he found with the words ‘this one has a remote control with twelve colors ^_^’ flashing on his phone screen.

of course, it goes to say that you feel sad about your sweet boy having a sore throat, because this man’s life literally revolves around his voice. you were anxious about how you were going to comfort him when you found out that he needs to be on a vocal rest. but you didn’t expect that it would end up with you being hopelessly endeared by his written communication and cute little emoticons.

you beam at him excitedly, taking the box from his hands. “i like these round bulbs better. i didn’t think they’d have this type of st-”

you flip it over to check the price, and the amount of numbers comically make your shoulders drop. “aaand that’s also twelve times the price of the regula- jungkook!”

you yelp in surprise when he tightly wraps his arms around you from behind, whisking you away before you can convince yourself not to get it.

after the employee tested out if the product is working well, you finally made your peace with the price tag. you can choose the colors for the lighting modes and patterns? sick.

it doesn’t come as a surprise when you find long lines extending past the belt stanchions that separate the two counters. jungkook glues himself to your back again, resting his chin on your shoulder. the beeping of the barcode reader sounds too loud for him, and he wishes they would turn up the speakers so he can hear the jazzy christmas songs better.

he behaves for the most part, gently swaying you back and forth to the music. at some point, he almost falls asleep on your shoulder while resting his eyes. he regrets not wearing his glasses today. when he opens them again, you’re already fifth in line. jungkook estimates that a good 10% of your relationship is spent waiting on cash register lines, and it may sound tiresome if you put it that way, but oddly enough, he doesn’t hate it at all.

he pulls up the notes app in his phone, and you instantly look down at the screen knowing that he has something to say to you.

‘i’m thirsty :( my throat is getting dry again’

“aw, my love.” you coo at him sadly, rubbing his forearm. “want chamomile tea with honey again?”

you feel him bob his head, his cheek brushing against yours as he types his response. ‘yes. it magically makes me feel better ㅠㅠ but the pain still comes back ㅠㅠ’

“it’s gonna be fine. just let me take care of you, okay? drink your tea at the bakery we passed by, then let’s cuddle when we get home.”

jungkook briefly pulls down his mask to press an appreciative kiss on your temple, a small smile forming on his lips because you taking care of him makes him feel significantly less shitty. about generally everything, really. but you just get extra fussy over him when he’s in pain and he adores it.

your cheek kisses? addicting. asking him how he’s feeling every hour with your sweet, nurturing voice? brings him to tears. scolding him about being stubborn? makes him feel loved. religiously refilling the humidifiers? he must marry you. burning his midnight oatmeal because you had to help him look for his whiteboard marker? funny.

“oh wait, it’s already 4pm. so you should eat dinner and take your meds first before cuddles.”

the medicine makes him drowsy, and considering that he is already drowsy, he knows he’s going to pass out to sleep as soon as his body gets tangled with yours. having a sore throat fucking sucks, but he’s kind of excited to get his longest sleep of the year yet.

—

jungkook heads straight to the table beside the window, letting you order alone so he doesn’t get charmed by the wide array of christmas-themed desserts displayed by the counter. the seductive smell of sweets permeate through every corner of the room, and it’s more than enough to have him drooling, really. but if he eats sugar, his voice’s time in prison will be extended.

he takes off his jacket, scarf, and mask to enjoy some warmth without the heavy layers. while he waits for you, he distracts himself with checking his inbox. he giggles quietly as he scrolls through the conversation between his members that took place earlier this noon. he was taking a nap at that time, courtesy of the medicine he took after breakfast. however, his attention gets torn away from the phone when he hears a gasp from another table.

it’s snowing pretty heavily again, engulfing the vibrant street in thicker piles of pure white. winter can sure be a nuisance, but god, is it breathtakingly magical. it’s fascinating how ice falling from the sky can transform a daily scenery into a wonderland of unadulterated joy. to jungkook, the human’s ability to breathe life into earth’s many natural processes gives him the enthusiasm to live through another cycle of the four seasons.

“snow is so pretty.” you sigh dreamily as you sit down beside him, sinking on the (personally, too) soft couch. “here’s your tea, babe. be careful. it’s still hot.”

mesmerized by what he calls his magic potion, he carefully picks up the cup by its handle. as he blows on the piping hot beverage, his gaze falls upon the saucer infront of you. it’s a blue donut with a snowflake intricately drawn on it— too pretty, he would feel bad about eating it.

“stop watching me. i feel bad.” you whine halfway through your donut, wiping the corners of your lips with a tissue paper.

your boyfriend feigns innocence, making a confused face before taking another sip of his tea.

“what do you want for dinner?”

with that question, he goes back to scrolling through his phone to look for a restaurant. craving to feel his warmth, you hold his waist as you rest your cheek on his toned bicep, curiously watching him navigate the food delivery app.

he shows you the chicken noodle soup from the family restaurant you’ve ordered from several times in the past. “yeah, that should be fine. as long as the meat and veggies are soft. put it as a request in the notes.”

he does as you told, explaining that he’s sick so he can only eat easy-to-swallow food. before he can proceed to the payment, you sneakily tap the plus sign beside the quantity to make order two servings. he look at you in question, because you always prefer rice over noodles.

“i’ll eat it with you. i want something warm in my tummy.” you smile sweetly, gesturing at the snow-covered street to reiterate your point.

you finish the rest of your donut while singing along to jingle bell rock, thighs bouncing along to the beat. your boyfriend watches you in amusement, laughing to himself when you mumble gibberish then sing louder when you know the lyrics again. after sending in the order, he shows you that it should arrive at your doorstep by 6pm.

he picks up his cup to finish the rest of his tea. he takes a small sip to find that it’s already at the perfect temperature. “mhmmm, so good.” he moans, eyebrows knitting in sheer delight as the warm liquid soothes his sore throat.

“jungkook!”

oh shit. right. he has a sore throat. that hurt.

his hand flies to cover his mouth, ‘oops!’ written all over his face.

you release a sigh. it’s the first proper sound you hear from him since the other night, so you can’t say that you’re mad. “is the tea that good?”

he snaps a thumbs up with a wink to confirm that ‘it’s the best!’ as he usually says. you conclude that the tea here is better than what he has at home, and so, you decide to secretly go here early tomorrow morning. his throat hurts the most after sleeping, and you’re hoping it would help put him in a good mood for the rest of the day.

jungkook wears his jacket again, and then the pink scarf. as it’s snowing harder and it’s getting colder, you take this opportunity to put the earmuffs on him.

“so cute.” you mutter quietly, kissing his cheek because it’s impossible not to shower him with love when your heart is overflowing with it. you roll your eyes when your boyfriend leans closer to wordlessly ask for another. nevertheless, you cup his face with your warm hand, kissing the mole on top of his cheekbone.

jungkook opens the umbrella the moment you step out of the bakery, and the sound of chimes get muted when the door closes on its own. the green eco-bag where the christmas lights are in gently swings as you walk back to the car parked three blocks away. parking was full almost everywhere so you had no choice but to go with whichever empty spot you saw.

you make a noise of confusion when jungkook suddenly grabs your arm to stop you from walking. he dishes out the phone from his pocket and begins typing using only his thumb. you remain standing there, motionless, waiting for him to communicate.

he pushes back his earmuffs a bit before showing you the screen. ‘baby do you want a pasta maker?’

“why would i want a pasta ma- do you want a pasta maker?”

‘they’re on sale at the store we went to :D’

you fail to hold back a laugh when you realize that he’s probably been thinking about it since you were waiting in line back at the store. “want to go back and let me buy it for you?”

‘i love you <3’

you hide a stupid grin under your mask, shyly pushing down the screen to hide it. “yah, we’re in the middle of the sidewalk.”

jungkook only giggles, stubbornly raising the screen to show it to you once more. you pull him over to the side when you see a big group of people about to walk by, accidentally stepping on a pile of snow that makes you an inch taller.

“i love you more.” you brush off the snow that fell on his hair, and you share a sincere smile that can be recognized even only through the eyes. “you promise that you’ll use it more than once?”

he replies with a fervent nod. and it’s his eyes again . . . it’s always those wide eyes shimmering with love and optimism. they make you feel as though you are capable of moving mountains and parting oceans and turning dust into gold. and as long as it’s for jungkook, those might just be true.

“alright. let’s go then.” your boyfriend takes that as the green light to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he excitedly tugs you back to the opposite way.

“walk slowly! i’m scared of slipping!” you whine in panic as you and jungkook leave behind footprints on the snow, temporarily carving the memories of today into stone.

—

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[guy-writes]

CBF!König x GN!Reader (Chapter Three)

Warnings: no pronouns but 'you', König has a name, implied physical punishment (on König)

On the first day of suspension, Alexander and you become closer.

Working on formatting + new blog (Hello!)

Age: 12

Memory Four

“Apologies”

You and Alexander were hanging out in front of your place, on the porch. You both were sitting side by side on the steps. Alexander – of course – put space between you two, not that you minded. He was bouncing his left leg and spacing out, while you were looking down and rolling a pebble under your shoe. You guys were actually having a decent conversation though it came to a lull.  

“How much trouble were you in for yesterday?” Alexander asked suddenly. It was the first day of being suspended, you had never been suspended before in your life but Alexander said this was his third time. 

“For the same reasons…” He explained earlier. This wasn’t his first time fighting with both Felix and Max. The only difference, he said, was that you were there, he didn’t elaborate if that was a good thing or not. You didn’t ask for much details considering he looked pretty fed up about it and you didn’t want him getting more irritated. 

You learned pretty fast he could get frustrated easily.

“I didn’t get into much trouble… Just a stern talking to, plus my dad made me finish that essay before I could do anything,” you finally spoke. You remember sitting in the kitchen all evening yesterday, staring at a blank piece of paper and remembering how dumb this punishment was. Sure, you could write an essay about why fighting with your classmates was bad and how you wouldn’t do it again…

But clearly that didn’t work, and the principle couldn’t care less. 

Alexander had actually told you this was his third time writing the essay, and he was pretty sure the principal didn’t even read them. He mentioned he wrote the same paper twice using the same exact words and it was never once mentioned. 

“Oh…” Alexander faltered, softly wringing his hands together. You finally noticed he had three angry red marks on the back of his hands. You knew those weren’t there yesterday when you last saw him… and once he noticed you staring at them, he hid his hands in his jacket pockets. He looked slightly uncomfortable now as he stared out into the sky. You decided to just leave him be and continued rolling a pebble under your shoe. Recently, it’s been getting very cold, but today wasn’t so bad. You could see the little puffs of air when Alexander breathed out, his nose and cheeks were pink though he didn’t seem to be cold. You remember in your very short conversations with him you asked what his favourite season was and he answered:

“Winter.”

Alexander never elaborated on why, but you supposed he didn’t need to… although you were still curious.

“You mentioned your favourite season was winter… Why is that?” You asked. He perked up slightly from whatever slump he was in, glancing over at you before nodding.

“Wow- You… remembered?... Well, I don’t know…” He started fumbling over his words, fidgeting with his sleeve, but he powered through. 

“I find winter to be very pretty, I like the lights that they put up around town, and I love playing in the snow… plus my family seems… happier,” he smiled, like he was remembering a fond memory. You smiled along with him, satisfied with that answer, though you couldn’t help but wonder what his last statement meant… but that was a question for another day. 

“Uh, what’s your favourite season?” He asked, he looked a bit flustered from talking your ear off. You smiled more at this, you were making progress. 

“Hm, definitely fall… The leaves always change into the prettiest oranges and yellows. The weather gets cooler and brings about a change that’s comforting and familiar- plus, it’s when people whip out the coolest sweaters I’ve ever seen,” you beamed, Alexander gave a shy smile at that, seemingly agreeing with you. He looked down at his boots, a slight frown making its way to his face as he thought over something. 

“Um… I just wanted to…” There was a sudden change in the conversation as Alexander pondered for a moment. He shifted slightly, frowning like this was the greatest challenge known to man- whatever that was. He looked out into the neighbourhood before he mustered up enough courage. 

“My sister mentioned I should probably apologise to you for how I acted on the first day… So, sorry for you know, getting mad at you… ᴮᵘᵗ ᶦᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵏᶦⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳᵘᵉ,” He muttered out the last part. You rolled your eyes at that, but gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“That’s fine I guess…I just wanted to help a friend out-” you spoke before he interrupted.

“What-We’refriends?” He spoke so fast it took you a moment to process what he said.

“Uh, yeah… unless I assumed wrong?” You looked over at him, feeling embarrassed. Alexander was already looking at you with a wide eyed stare, then he squinted his eyes in suspicion. It was like he was studying you, to see if you were lying. When he didn’t seem to find anything, he nodded his head in approval. 

“...Okay… sure we can be… friends,” he seemed hesitant, making you think maybe he really didn’t want to be friends.

“Ah- we don’t have to be… You sound unsure, I don’t know, it’s fine." 

At this point, you were just trying not to feel hurt. 

“It’s not that! I just- well…” He hesitated with his words again.

“Maybe it will be weird… getting used to you… but,” he took a pause, sighing heavily and furrowing his brow. You were getting confused, was he not already used to your presence over the months you’ve been here?

“Ugh, okay all you need to know is that we are friends,” he looked fed up with where this conversation was going. 

“Alright…” was all you managed to say. The conversation ended there, on an awkward note. You weren’t satisfied with how it ended, Alexander was still so confusing. You looked up at the sky and saw the sun setting. Your dad tapped at the door, earning your attention before opening it, which you found weird… It's not like you were inside. 

“Hey, Alexander, your mom called and said to head home ‘cause it’s supper time,” your dad relayed Mrs. Lina’s message. Alexander nodded his head, standing up from his spot and brushed some dust away from his pants. He turned to look at you when he was at the gate. 

“Um, see you later?” He mumbled, he looked a little unsure, like you rejected him already. You gave him a reassuring nod and gave him a thumbs up. He perked up, waving at both you and your dad before meekly running off towards his house. You watched him go, and saw him disappear in the blue house. 

You’ve gained your first friend here, and hoped your friendship would last forever.

"Borderline" Masterlist

Words: 1152

Chapter Four

Reblogs & comments divider by @reveriesources

[sukirichi]

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy 

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places.  “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 9: Closer

...in which Ezi has her first kiss.

Word count: 5.4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Please tell me what you think about the chapter! Reblog if you could :)

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“Do you know why there’s a true love’s kiss and not a true love’s hug?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I was asking you.”

Harry sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He had to keep his eyes on the road, but Ezi would keep distracting him with her shifting in her seat every two seconds and rambling on about silly topics he had no interest in. However, he’d promised to not be a dick whenever she talked to him, so he wouldn’t.

“Can’t you see that I’m driving?”

“So?” Ezi snorted. “Just answer the question.”

Harry sighed again. “I guess that’s because a kiss is more special than a hug...romantically.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why not not? You’re just exchanging saliva.”

“It’s special if you’re exchanging saliva with someone you care about.”

Ezi still wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. “Okay, but what if the person won’t let you kiss them? How will you know if it’s true love?”

“If they don’t want to kiss you, it means they’re not interested, and therefore, it’s not true love,” Harry said. He couldn’t believe he was actually giving this some thought, but oh well, it was a long drive to the manor anyway. “For me at least,” he added, “true love must come from both sides.” Then he stole a glance at her and did a double-take. “Are you taking notes on your phone?”

Ezi flinched and put her phone into her bag right when she made eye contact with him. “No.”

“Liar. You were.”

“I’m learning to be human.”

“Just say you wanna kiss me.” Harry smirked. “We’re the only people here. This is a safe space.”

“It’s never a safe space when you’re in it,” Ezi said.

Harry’s eyebrows went high. “Excuse me? Yesterday you almost attacked a child for cutting the line in the supermarket.”

Ezi gave a firm nod without showing any remorse. “And the child would have deserved it. You, on the other hand, are deadly with your words.”

“How?!” cried Harry. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we started fake dating.”

Ezi rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Yeah, your new record of being nice to me is two hours. Congrats.”

Harry exhaled, his shoulders slumped. “Okay, I think we should go over what to do when we see my mum, because if we act like this in front of her--”

“Why are we seeing your mother again?”

“Didn’t Jeff tell you?”

Ezi shook her head. She seemed quite confused, so Harry guessed Jeff had forgotten. To be honest, Harry found it funny and a little concerning that she had no idea why she was in the car after having been in the car for two hours. Someone could just kidnap her one day, and she wouldn’t even realise until they told her it was a kidnap. Or, maybe she just trusted him not to drive her to a government lab and donate her organs to science.

“Well, Jeff wants some new PR content of you hanging out with my family,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked, face scrunched up.

He lifted his shoulders. “To humanise you.”

“Good luck with that,” Ezi scoffed, rested her elbow on the window on her side and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It takes a lot to humanise me.”

“Well, not literally. Just in the public eye, because a lot of people suspect that this is a PR relationship. We’ve only been seen together as friends or co-workers.”

“That’s not true. We’re not even friends.”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed. “So if we can convince my mother that we’re dating, we can convince the whole world. Trust me.”

Harry didn’t even exaggerate it; his mother could detect a lie from miles away. He could count the number of times he’d got away with a lie to her on one hand. However, he had never lied to her about being in a relationship. So hopefully, she’d be too happy with the thought of him not being a player like his dad to tell the whole thing was fake.

And so for the rest of the drive, he and Ezi tried acting out scenarios for when they met his mother again. They broke out laughing most of the time because Harry would say something too cheesy or Ezi would use some lines she’d learned from those Netflix originals that Harry had rated one star. Now that they were standing on the steps of the manor, they had to keep it together. Because no one would shout ‘cut!’ if they messed up their lines. This was almost like going in for a blind audition, and Harry knew his mother would be the toughest judge to impress.

“Harold!”

“Niall?” Harry’s eyes went wide when his best friend shoved the butler aside and embraced Harry at the door. Mikasa, Niall’s girlfriend, was standing right behind him, wearing a dark green satin dress that fell loosely to her knees. She gave Harry a lopsided smile, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approached.

Harry hadn’t talked to her for weeks, but he assumed she already knew about Ezi. Hopefully just as much as his mother did. Unless Niall had broken the bro code and told Mikasa everything.

“Mimi, long time no see!” Harry said as he went in for a hug.

Mikasa eyed him up and down with her big smokey eyes. He always imagined those eyes having a special power that enabled her to stare right into his soul and read him like an unsealed letter. She was a psychiatrist and always making her friends feel like they were having a regular session in her office.

“So this is your girlfriend?” Mikasa asked, smiling at Ezi.

Harry’s gaze jumped to Niall, who subtly locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder. Niall knew about the PR relationship, but Harry could always trust Niall not to tell anyone, even Mikasa. Especially Mikasa.

“Darling, you made it!” exclaimed Harry’s mother as she descended the stairs. Harry was just going in for a hug when he saw who were following behind her. And he froze.

Dawson and evil Aunt Beatrice. Dawson was wearing a simple black suit, completely made invisible by his mother in the tackiest neon orange sundress Harry had ever seen. He could hear his stylish crying just from seeing this outfit.

“What are they doing here, Mum?” Harry quietly asked his mother as they hugged.

His mother kissed his cheek and whispered back, “Since you invited Niall and Mikasa, I thought I should invite Dawson and his mother.”

“How is that the same thing?”

“Harry!” Aunt Beatrice said in her glass-breaking voice as she pulled him in for a suffocating bear hug. “Ah, you grew up so fast! I hardly recognise you!”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Aunt Beatrice.”

“I know, right? Kids these days.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Harry,” Harry’s mother reminded him, so Harry took a deep breath and went to stand beside Ezi. She looked at him like a deer in front of headlights. This couldn’t be good. His family must be overwhelming for her.

“Hey, Ezili!” Dawson waved at her with a smile, and suddenly, her face brightened, and she enthusiastically waved back. Traitorous little fish, Harry thought as he watched the two greet one another.

“Congratulations, you two,” Dawson said.

Ezi opened her mouth to reply when Harry threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to his side. He gave Dawson the best grin he could fake. “Thanks,” was all he said.

“Picture, everyone!” Niall interrupted the awkward interaction and pulled out his phone.

Everyone gathered together, and Niall winked at Harry. “Now, Mother Styles, could you stand closer to Ezili? Closer! Thanks. There we go. Looks like Ezili’s a part of the family.”

Once the picture was taken, he nudged Harry with his shoulder. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Harry patted him on the back. “Send it to Jeff for me.”

“Boys, are you coming?” asked Mikasa, who was walking ahead, holding Ezi’s hand.

“Coming, lovebug!” Niall shouted at her and told Harry. “See? She likes Ezili.”

.

.

.

“So what do you do for a living?” was the first question Harry’s mother asked Ezili when they sat down at the lunch table. They were eating in a glass house in the flower garden by the lake. There were people dressed in uniforms serving them tea and appetizers, and Ezili felt like she was Alice having tea with the Queen of Hearts and her courtiers in Wonderland.

“I work at a bookstore,” she said when one of the maids filled her cup with Jasmine tea.

She didn’t understand Harry’s mother’s appalled reaction and why Harry had to add, “Ezi owns a bookstore.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry’s mother said, sounding strangely relieved.

Irritated, Ezili leaned in and whispered to Harry, “Why did you lie?”

But he didn’t answer and only shushed her before smiling at his mother again.

“Can’t believe I get to live to see Harry bring home a young lady!” said Aunt Beatrice. Dawson opened his mouth to interject, but she didn’t give him a chance, “I always thought you were gay!”

At that, Niall choked on his tea, and Mikasa had to rub his back as he coughed violently into his fist. Ezili knew what gay meant, but why was it a bad thing?

“What if I were?” Harry asked his aunt. “I don’t see the problem with me being gay, which I’m not.”

“These biscuits are so nice, Aunt Annalise,” Dawson told Harry’s mother, probably trying to save the conversation from turning into a fight. But it seemed like Dawson’s mother was out for blood this morning.

“Harry,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and Ezili saw Mikasa and Niall sink into their chairs. “You’re a celebrity and the heir to this manor and your father's business. It’s so...unexpected of you to be dating some girl who works in a bookstore.”

Ezili wasn’t dumb. She might not understand a lot of things humans said, but she knew sarcasm like her mother tongue. It was her time to say something.

“What’s wrong with working in a bookstore?” she asked, making direct eye contact with Aunt Beatrice, who was shocked by the question. Everyone at the table seemed to be holding their breath.

“How much could you possibly do and make by owning a bookstore these days?” Aunt Beatrice laughed.

Ezili smirked and shook her head. “You could do and make a lot if you knew how to read.”

Harry kicked Ezili’s foot under the table, but she didn’t pay him a single glance. She believed she’d said nothing wrong at all. It was only the truth. Because why look down on people who worked at a bookstore unless you hated books because you couldn’t read?

Seeing his mother’s face turning red, Dawson burst out laughing. “Oh my God, she’s so funny!” Mikasa and Niall started laughing, too, and Harry’s mother awkwardly joined in.

“That’s what they call dark humour, Aunt Beatrice,” Niall told the angry giant lady. “Ezi’s a true Gen Z. She’s all jokes.”

Aunt Beatrice said nothing else. She shot a glare at a smiling Ezili and lifted her cup to take a sip.

“Oh, there’s my new cook!” said Harry’s mother as she waved at the door. “This is Dolores' first day at work. Come say hello, Dolores dear.”

“Good morning. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time.”

Ezili’s entire body went stiff. Her eyes almost popped out of her head and dropped onto the plate in front of her. She knew that voice. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage as she held her breath. She felt the person’s presence beside her heavy like a weight ready to crush her bones into dust. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked up.

Her sister Koa was grinning down at her.

“Ezili, are you okay?” Dawson asked, snapping Ezili out of her numbness.

Koa’s devilish grin remained as she circled the table after wishing everyone a pleasant meal, then disappeared out of the entrance.

Why was she here? Why did she have legs? How had she found Ezili?

“Okay, let's get straight to the point,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and everyone groaned at once. “How much did he pay you?”

“Mum!” cried Dawson.

“Excuse me?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“It’s PR, isn’t it?” Aunt Beatrice said to him. Ezili was having a hard time paying attention to the argument while her heart was still pounding in her head. Her sister was here, either for her, or after her.

“You can’t do that to your mother, Harry,” Dawson’s mother went on. “She might be easily fooled but I’m not.”

“We should’ve gone for mini-golf,” Mikasa muttered to Niall, who exhaled into his hand.

Harry turned to his mother. “You’re just gonna let her disrespect my girlfriend like that?”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his aunt was faster. “If she’s your girlfriend then kiss her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry scoffed and threw his hands in the air.

Ezili immediately stood up. All eyes fell on her.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I must go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you--”

“No, Harry, you stay.”

Harry slowly sat back down as Ezili pushed her chair out and headed straight for the door. Thankfully, he didn’t follow her.

She crossed the garden and asked one of the employees where the kitchen was. As it turned out, they had a separate kitchen for when they served food in the glasshouse. Ezili couldn’t see the point of having more than one kitchen, but this was no time to question it.

When she found Koa, no one else was there but them. It seemed as if Koa had known Ezili would follow her here, so she’d asked everyone else to leave.

Ezili stood at the door while her sister stood by the counter with her back turned to Ezili. The first thing Ezili noticed was the knives within Koa’s reach. Ezili must be wise when confronting her sister.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Koa in Séren.

Koa slowly turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m a cook. Can't you see?”

“How did you find me?”

The corner of Koa’s lips curled as she unbuttoned the collar of her white shirt and revealed a gold necklace. Ezili sucked in a breath when she saw the shiny trident-shaped medallion on her sister’s chest.

“Is that--”

“Mother’s trident,” Koa sneered. “Yes, it is.” Then she buttoned up her shirt to cover it. “Now we can see who mother trusts more.”

“Why--”

“Aunt Nerissa came for a visit last week,” Koa said. Ezili knew that name could never be associated with anything good. “Mother doesn’t trust her, so she asked me to go on land to find you, but also to keep the trident away from Nerissa’s clutches.”

Ezili swallowed hard, her fists tightly glued to her sides. “What happened to the cook?”

Koa clicked her tongue. “She’s swimming with fishes now. Like the ones swimming in her pot just then.”

“You drowned her?!”

“In the lake.”

Ezili gripped her head and advanced towards Koa. “How many humans have you killed?”

Koa chuckled and took a few steps forward until she was dangerously close enough to hurt Ezili. She stood with her back straight and arms folded, her silver eyes flickering in the sunlight. “The important question is…” She stared Ezili down. “How many have you killed?” Ezili bit her lip when Koa poked her chest with her long nail. “Or are you too busy dating now? People are talking about it everywhere.” Ezili said nothing, so Koa went on, “It’s a fake relationship, isn’t it?” She leaned in, taunting. “Come on, Sister. Admit that you’ve failed. That you can’t make the human fall in love with you. Why so quiet? Is it because if you admit it, you’re an embarrassment and you lose the trident to me, and if you deny it, then it means you’re becoming way too human to kill him.”

At that, Ezili shoved Koa away and stabbed a finger at her. “Leave me alone. Mother gave me a year for this mission.”

“We won’t have that much time, stupid,” Koa snorted. “Narissa is onto something. The queendom is already in danger as we’re speaking. And you’re here having...brunch?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Pathetic.”

“Ezi?”

Both of them whipped their heads around and saw Harry, who stiffened in the doorway.

“Ezi?” Koa cackled, hugging her stomach. “Is that your human name? Are you his pet now?”

Though confused, Harry stepped into the kitchen anyway. “Ezi, you’re alright?”

“Harry, watch out!” Ezili shouted, but Koa was already on top of Harry on the floor. She sank her fangs into Harry’s arm with the rolled-up sleeve. Harry yelped in pain as Ezili dragged her sister off of him and slammed Koa’s head against the table. Hissing, Koa grabbed a knife on the counter and aimed it at Ezili, but Ezili was fast enough to kick it out of her sister’s grip and sent one more kick into Koa’s stomach. Koa was stronger than Ezili had thought as she plunged at Ezili again.

“Harry, run!”

But Harry didn’t run. He was back on his feet, grabbed a vase and smashed it onto Koa’s back. “Do not hurt my fake girlfriend!”

Koa rolled off of Ezili. The last thing Ezili could see was her sister’s bloodied face as she stumbled towards the door and ran off into the light.

Ezili lay there until her vision cleared again, and Harry helped her back to her feet.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled. “Who the fuck was she?!”

“My sister,” Ezili said, still holding her aching head.

“The one who tried to drown me? Why is she here?”

“To kill me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Harry--”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was pacing back and forth like a mad man. “This isn’t good, Ezi. This is bad! Your crazy sister is gonna expose us!”

“Expose us?” Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “She almost killed you.”

It seemed as if Harry had forgotten that his arm was bleeding until Ezili had brought it up. He suddenly winced and fell into a chair.

Ezili scanned her eyes around the messy kitchen, panting as she tried to make sure that Koa had escaped. Then, she got down on her knees beside Harry and reached for his wounded arm.

He stared down at her in confusion, then his expression turned horrified when she leaned in.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed and yanked his arm away.

She glared up at him in annoyance. “Let me help!”

“Hell no! You’re not gonna lick my blood.”

“You need to clean the wound!”

“With water! Not by sucking it!”

Ezili huffed and aggressively got up while silently cursing Harry in Séren.

“There’s a--” His voice cut off when she tore off a piece of her dress “--towel over there,” he trailed off. She ignored him and went to the sink to soak the piece of fabric in water. He shook his head and blew up his cheeks. “Nevermind. You do you.”

Still glaring at him when she returned, Ezili got back down on her knees and started cleaning Harry’s arm. The place her sister had sunk her fangs into had turned dark red. It would definitely leave a huge bruise tomorrow.

“Lucky for you Koa was distracted and didn’t aim to bite your whole arm off,” Ezili whispered and glanced up, meeting Harry’s gaze. “You sure you don’t want me to lick your wound?”

“Well, now that you’re already in this position, you could just lick something else,” he chuckled.

Ezili’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

To her confusion, Harry covered his face and shook with laughter. “Sorry, that was a dumb joke. I just couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, that’s how a joke loses its funny,” he sighed then snapped his fingers. “Ooh, maybe I should just pretend that I don’t understand whenever someone tells me a joke, so that they gradually lose their funny.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Ezili remarked.

“What do you mean?” Harry pouted. “I don’t get it, babe.”

Ezili rolled her eyes at his childishness, still, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

Once she had wrapped the piece of her dress securely around his arm, Harry pulled down the sleeve to cover it as he got to his feet. “That should do. Let’s hope my mother won’t suspect that we just got attacked in her kitchen by her cook, who was your evil siren sister in disguise. Damn, that sounds crazy even for me.”

Ezili stood with her arms crossed. “Do you think your mother can tell we’re not really dating?”

“Nah, my mother totally believes it.” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I think we’re doing a great job pretending we’re in love when we can’t even have a conversation without insulting each other.”

“I don’t get paid enough to call you babe so many times.”

“Neither do I. This PR relationship is harder than I tho--”

Harry’s sentence got cut off by a sound at the door. When they both turned to it, Dawson was standing there, his eyes wide with shock.

Ezili was hoping that was the reaction to the messy kitchen and not to what she and Harry had said. However, luck wasn’t smiling at her tonight. Dawson’s appalled gaze jumped from Harry to Ezili. “What do you mean by ‘PR relationship’?”

.

.

.

“I can explain,” Ezi said, reaching for Dawson, but he backed away while staring at both her and Harry in disbelief. Harry believed Dawson wasn’t shocked that Harry could pull something like this, because Harry hadn’t been exactly the good kid growing up. What Dawson hadn’t expected was Ezi being part of this plan. Ezi must be an angel in Dawson’s eyes.

“So my mother was right,” Dawson said, flicking his finger between Harry and Ezi. “You were lying to everyone.”

“Dawson--” Ezi began, but Harry pulled her back by her wrist.

“Please don’t tell my mother,” he told Dawson and received stunned looks from both Dawson and Ezi. They probably hadn’t expected that coming from him. “This means a lot to her, and I don’t want her to be any more let down,” Harry continued. “Also, Ezi needs money, and I’m just trying to help. She’s also writing the next album with me, so it’s all good business.”

Dawson peered at both their faces for a long moment as if he was psychoanalysing each of them. Then, he breathed, “So you two don't have feelings for each other?”

“No.” Ezi shook her head fast and tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Harry, tell him.”

Harry opened his mouth. Suddenly, he thought about how frightened he’d been when he’d thought Ezi’s sister was going to kill her. He could’ve run off and let her deal with it alone since he hadn’t asked to be part of her family drama, and he wasn’t brave, either. Nevertheless, he’d jumped in to help her.

“No,” he said, only to realise he shouldn’t have taken such a long pause to say only one word.

“See?” Ezi smiled at Dawson, who seemed less sceptical now.

“Okay,” Dawson said, his face relaxed as he put his hands on his hips. “Who else knows? Niall and Mikasa?”

“Mikasa doesn’t know,” Harry said. “Only Niall.”

“Alright.” Dawson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you guys are really bad at pretending to be in love,” he told them after another moment. “I’ll try to tell my mum to stop being rude to you. But just to be safe, you should make it more convincing.”

Ezi heaved a sigh of relief and placed her hand on Dawson’s arm. Harry swore he saw Dawson hold his breath as if Ezi had the Midas touch, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Thank you, Dawson,” Ezi said in the softest tone Harry had ever heard.

“Your dress,” Dawson pointed out while eyeing her and then the kitchen. “What...what happened here?”

“There was a rat,” Harry blurted.

Ezi joined in, “Harry tried to kill it then it knocked over the vase, and I fell and pulled him down with me and ripped my dress on the glass.”

Dawson furrowed his brows as he nodded at the piece of Ezi’s dress in her fist. “That’s your blood?”

Ezi shook her head. “It’s the rat’s.” Then, she looked over at Harry, suppressing a grin. He stayed quiet and glared at her.

“Oh, God. That’s disgusting,” Dawson made a face. “Need me to help you clean up?”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Harry said. “I’ll take Ezi upstairs to clean up. Could you distract everyone for a while?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawson nodded, gave Ezi a tight-lipped smile and turned to the door. “Now, where the hell is the cook?”

.

.

.

Harry could hear every single word of the Jonas Brothers song playing downstairs. It seemed like everyone had finished brunch without him and Ezi, and now Niall was turning the manor into a concert. Niall and Mikasa had met at a Jonas Brothers’ concert years ago, and they would not let people forget about it. What they had was cute, but Harry could not imagine being with someone for that long. A PR relationship was tiring enough; he didn’t think he could ever handle a real one.

Back against the wall, he stared at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently before he came to knock on the door to his mother’s walk-in closet. “Ezi, are you done?”

“I don’t know how to put this on!”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah!”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Cover yourself. I’m coming in.”

Just to be safe, he had his hand over his eyes when he opened the door.

You'll say my name like it's been on your lips

Familiar in ways I can't explain

You got a heart that I know I can miss

Hold me like that and pull me right back again

The music outside became muffled. Harry peeked through the gap between his fingers, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Ezi standing there topless with only jeans on. “I told you to cover yourself!”

“Oh, please, there’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

“It’s different every time.”

“How? I’ve only got one body.”

“No, seeing you feels different every time. It’s weird.”

Time stands still and it's only us

What we feel started way before we ever touched

Just imagine only us

Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

Ezi said nothing, and Harry lowered his hand, feeling glad that she was facing away from him now. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Help me with this shirt!”

He ruffled his hair and padded over to take the shirt from her hand. “You got the button stuck?! This is my mother’s favourite Chanel shirt!”

“It was like that when I found it.”

“Liar.” Harry shook his head and started examining the stuck button. Ezi turned around, hugging her chest so her breasts weren’t exposed to him. He was trying his best not to look. Maybe he shouldn’t have put her in a dress that didn’t require a bra. He guessed he’d played himself.

“Harry.”

“Damn, maybe I should get you another shirt and buy a new one for my mum. I don't know how to fix this.”

“Harry,” Ezi repeated and tapped Harry on the arm. He looked up, face heating when he saw her.

I just saw the lightning strike

Knew it right then when I looked in your eyes

And I said to myself, "It's no surprise we ain't strangers"

Strangers tonight

Still, he acted indifferent. “What?”

“I think we should kiss,” she said, making him flinch.

“Why?” He was already sweating through his palms. His mother’s shirt could no longer be saved now.

“To make it more convincing,” Ezi said as if them kissing wasn’t a big deal to her. “Maybe if there’s a picture of us kissing--”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

She froze at the question and blinked at him.

I came here looking for another excuse

To run away from something beautiful

It's like it's driving me closer to you

Every step back pulls me right back

At this question, Ezi’s whole life up until that point flashed before her eyes. She had lost count of all the times she’d kissed sailors before drowning them. But she wasn’t going to kiss Harry to kill him. Not yet at least. He would still be there, alive, when she opened her eyes. He would still be aware of her lips against his. And she would, too.

“No,” she lied.

And he believed it. He cleared his throat. Suddenly, her standing there topless wasn’t weird anymore. “Okay, it’s pretty easy.” He put the shirt aside. His fingers were shaking so he opened and closed his fists a few times before beckoning her over. “Come here.”

She took a step forward.

“Closer.”

Another step.

Harry’s face reddened with a small smile. “Ezi, closer.”

He’d never talked to her in that tone before. It was soft and firm at the same time, and she completely forgot having sworn to herself that she would never let him tell her what to do. She came so close she could not tell his breath from her own. His eyelids fluttered, and his pink lips parted, yet no word escaped. Then, he leaned in.

Must be from a different life

Been here before and it just feels right

No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers

Strangers tonight

But it was her who took his face between her hands and kissed him first. He froze for a second, then started kissing her back, his arms circled around her waist, pressing her against him.

Harry’s entire body grew hot. The voice inside his head told him to stop, but it only made him bolder. He liked that she’d taken charge. Her hands were under his shirt as his roamed across her naked back. His eyes went wide when she unconsciously let out a moan.

Strangers

Strangers

Strangers tonight

“Ezi,” he breathed against her lips. But before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door.

“Harry, are you in there?”

Ezi pulled away as Harry threw his head back and exhaled harshly. “Yes, Niall?”

“Is Ezili there with you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a croaked voice and quickly cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated, sounding more stable. “Why?”

“You missed all the fun stuff. Your mother scolded your aunt for what she’d said to you and Ezi, and Dawson had to take his mother’s home.”

Harry looked over at Ezi, expecting her to be thrilled by the good news, but she only gave a small smile, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself to cover her breasts. Was she...shy?

Yes, yes she was. Ezi didn’t think she could ever be shy. But here she stood, blushing all over from a stupid kiss.

“Are they in there?” Harry’s mother’s voice outside the door made Harry and Ezi jump.

They looked at each other, scared when Niall told Harry’s mum that they were in the closet together.

“Not in my closet, Harry!”

“I’m just helping Ezi get changed, Mum!”

“You better!”

And then their footsteps faded down the hallway, along with his mother’s laughter.

Ezi and Harry made eye contact with each other and looked away at the same time as silence ensued. Suddenly, Harry started sniffing.

“What is it?” Ezi asked, worried.

Harry leaned in and started sniffing her neck, and she pushed him away. “What the hell?!”

“You smell.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No.” Harry shook his head fast. “You smell good. But..you didn’t have a smell before.”

Ezi quickly lifted her arm to smell herself. “I smell nothing.”

“That’s because it’s your own smell, so you don't recognise it. But--” Harry cut off midsentence and picked up a strand of her hair and brought his nose to it. Then, his lips curled. “Aww, my kiss turned you a little more human.”

“Shut up!” Ezi shoved at his chest. “I’m not turning more human! That’s not true!”

“It is true! Kiss me again. I’ll prove it.”

She said nothing, only glared at him as he burst out laughing and tossed her a t-shirt.

[lilhwahwa]

White Hemlock - 𝙋.𝙎𝙃

WARNING: mafia au! Strong language! Kinda angst? Liddol fluffy too. 

MASTERLIST

Next part

Your hands trembled with nerves, coated in a thin layer of cold sweat as you watched your lover through the glass windows of his home office. The light and golden tray you gripped onto harshly was now also trembling in your hands, shaking the tea in its white porcelain cup.

Your breath caught in your tightening throat as his sharp eyes met yours. Seonghwa raised his eyebrows in puzzlement, wondering why you weren't entering through the door with that shy smile of yours and a playful glint in your pure eyes like you always did.  

You swallowed dry air, trying to restore your calm form before pushing the door handle down with one hand and taking a step inside his well-decorated office. Your eyes scanned the dark walnut bookcase lining the entire right-hand wall before moving onto the black leather sofa pressed to the wall.

Seonghwa was still on the phone, no doubt a business call, as you placed your tray on the round glass coffee table by the couch. You took a seat carefully, leg bouncing with nerves. As Seonghwa talked, his delicate digits reached over and straightened some stuff on his desk, making sure everything was square and appropriately spaced to please the perfectionist in him.

Yet, his darkening eyes never left your stiffened form. Had he figured it out already? That fast? There was no way. Thoughts of doubt clouded your mind so much that you hadn't noticed Seonghwa had put his phone down on his desk, now silently watching your spaced-out form.

"Did darling bring something for me?" His voice was low but loud enough for it to make itself heard even across the room. Seonghwa's face was unreadable, as unpredictable as always. That quality of his made you uneasy at times, but today, it terrified you as you remembered the reason for being sat in his office at this hour.

"Oh um, you're working so hard, so I thought you'd want something to drink..." Your lips turn upward into a forced smile. Would Seonghwa fall for it? You were never awake at four am, specifically not to serve a coffee-person, a cup of tea. Seonghwa hummed and pushed back from his desk, spinning in his office chair to face you.

"Let's see then." he encouraged and nodded to the tray you had brought with you. It took you a couple to realize it was time to act. You scrambled up onto your feet, bringing the cup of tea over with you as Seonghwa reached over to place his large hands on your hips.

"Sit," he said simply before pulling you closer and down onto his lap, letting you get comfortable. "And what did my darling bring me at four am?" his voice was amused, almost mocking your nervous state as his digits ran down your hip to rest on your bare thigh.

"So since you were- you are working so hard, I brought you some tea," you chirped, looking straight ahead to avoid making eye contact with him. Seonghwa's eyes trailed down to the small cup of dark liquid in your trembling hands.

"Very well, hand it here," he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You quickly raised the cup for him to take and forced a smile in form of a reaction to his kiss. Seonghwa ignored the cup as his lips continued pressing small kisses up the expanse of your jaw.

"Why won't you look at me today? Is something making you uneasy?" he asked, tone silky and smooth, too smooth for someone with eyes colder than ice.

"N-no, of course not!" you replied, turning your head quickly to face your lover, way too quick. He'd notice, it was too obvious. Your eyes nervously scanned his face, heart starting to ache at the thought of what you were about to do to him. "I'm just tired," you lied and looked down at the cup of tea in your hand. Seonghwa reached down and wrapped his hand around the cup, lifting it to his face. Smooth ropes of steam lifted into the air from the hot liquid, making Seonghwa hum at the scent.

You sat dead silent, body frozen as you patiently waited for him to take a sip. You felt almost relieved as he seemed to turn out clueless to the poisonous herb in the tea. The plan was going to be successful.

Just a few weeks prior, you had started getting threatening messages on your phone. They started short, coming in once or twice a week with messages asking about your day and if you had enjoyed your meals. While it was slightly creepy to know someone held information about you and what and when you had eaten a meal, you thought nothing about it as you blocked the number. It wasn't until a week ago when you received pictures of your family members in their home, doing everyday things with messages threatening to hurt them. You knew going into a relationship with Seonghwa would hold its risks, and you promised yourself that no matter what, your family's well being would come first.

That's why when the number told you to slip the poisonous herb into Seonghwa's tea and intoxicate him temporarily in exchange for your family's lives, you agreed with a heavy heart after sleepless nights of thinking. Even though you considered going to Seonghwa or even his fellow members, the instructions were clear. Should you tell anyone, then that would be the end for your family right then and there.

"You do seem tired, baby. I have an idea hm? Why don't you take this cup of tea to bed with you and I'll come to join you soon?" Seonghwa smiled and placed the cup of tea down on his desk. Your relieved chest was once again filling up with anxiety and guilt as you wasted precious time. He had to take the poison by sunrise.

"B-but I made this for you, why don't you at least try a sip? Please?" You beg silently, heart beating loudly in your ears as you reached forward to wrap your arms around his neck in hopes of coaxing him into drinking it.

Without breaking eye contact, Seonghwa stretched his hand towards his desk. You didn't dare to look away from his face as you pouted, desperate in convincing him.

"You seem to be forgetting who I am" Seonghwa's voice was once again low and amused as he watched you swallow nervously. The office was still dark despite the sun starting to rise. His blinds were shut and only the little desk light was on for you to make out his sharp features. Nevertheless, his words brought confusion to your face and for a second it felt like he had known about your plan all along.

"H-huh?-" you opened your mouth to question him but froze when you felt cold metal make contact with your temple. It took you a second to realize what it was before you started thrashing around on his lap in desperation to get away from him. "Stop or I won't hesitate to shoot" his voice was clear and even lower than before. Memories of him taking you out to the mall and the park came flashing back before your eyes. Him, a sweet and loving man who blew on your finger when you had accidentally hurt yourself and the man who scolded the kitchen counter when you hit your hip on it, now pressing a gun to the same person he had sworn to protect with his life. He wouldn't shoot. With furrowed brow and determination, you kept moving and trying to escape the hand that gripped onto your hip harshly. Your heart stopped when the sound of the gun cocking made you finally realize that you could be a second away from never being able to wake up to him in your warm bed and seeing your family for New Year's.

"H-hwa-" you stuttered, eyes glazing over with tears as you finally froze in his hold. Seonghwa chuckled coldly, in disbelief at your behaviour. His own eyes held hurt in them and had you been able to read minds, his would be screaming in agony and betrayal as he watched his loved one trying to hurt him.

"I promised to protect you, as long as you did the same." He stated coldly as if reading your mind, eyes leaving yours to look over at the teacup on his desk. "Take the cup, and take a sip" He ordered, gaze never leaving yours. "Do it now" he raised his voice when you sat still in his lap, trembling in fear and shock at this side of your lover. No matter how much he wanted to drop his gun and hold you closer in his arms to comfort both of you, he knew it would be an important lesson to learn.

A few tears fell from your eyes, bottom lip quivering in humiliation and fear as you slowly turned your head to the side, gun still pressed to your temple as you saw the lonely white cup on the dark desk. Your hand shakily reached out to take the cup, bringing it over to your chest.

"Now take a sip" Seonghwa murmured, eyes dark and stone-cold as his jaw clenched, making hin look almost deadly. You looked up at him with irritated red eyes, begging him silently to stop.  "Hwa please-" you cried as his hand came up behind to harshly grip your hair, making you tilt your head back sharply.

"Thought it would be smart slipping white fucking hemlock into my tea? Do you think I was born yesterday Y/n?" he laughed coldly, trying to hide the hurt in his voice. "Is this what you call trust?" he spits, digging the gun harsher into your temple as his face changes to one in disgust. "Unthankful fucking brat, you should be happy I didn't tell the others about your little sneaky plans, they'd have you strapped down in our basement and tortured for hours with no pause. Think twice of who you choose to betray" he spoke harshly, hurt clouding his mind as he intended to scare you up enough to never try it again. He knew deep down he wouldn't be able to let you go, but a lesson wouldn't hurt, too much.

You let out a choked sob, letting the teacup drop and smash into small pieces on the carpeted floor below. "Please, Seonghwa, I'm sorry- they said they'd hurt my family and- and that the poison isn't lethal please-" you cry, eyes closing as you felt yourself lose control of all the emotions building up, breaking out in loud sobs as your body shook in his embrace. Seonghwa swallowed harshly, letting out a sigh before putting his gun to the side and wrapping his other arm around your waist. He let go of your hair, catching your head on his shoulder as your exhausted form went limp in his arms. He hushed you as you shook from the overbearing shock, hand sliding over your back as you kept sobbing into his neck.

"Next time, you tell me what's going on right from the start, understood?" he questioned strictly even though he knew you wouldn't be able to respond. "And also, don't throw the package out in the trash bin."

[one-boring-person]

Cut Myself Shaving.

Stuntman Mike (Death Proof) x reader

Warnings: death, violence, injury, swearing , mention of nsfw

Context: Mike has a little helper in case things go awry.

A/n: I watched Death Proof yesterday and now I'm obsessed with Kurt Russell's character in it...he's such a creep but he's charming at the same time and for some reason that means I'm attracted to him 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ basically, I need help 🤡😅

Masterlist

"Fucking idiot." I curse to myself as I watch the two cars speed past me, both battered and in desperate need of new paint jobs, dust flying out behind them. From my carefully hidden spot in a side road, I can easily tell that my friend's plan hasn't worked: the white car is pursuing the familiar black one, one of the passengers - the blonde woman - leaning from the window, screaming and shouting at their quarry. It sends a wave of irritation through me, that the bastard would get as sloppy as he has done in recent months. His...habits...have always annoyed me (it's totally unnecessary and it means I have to watch him go after beautiful young girls) but he gave me a job out of it, so I never say anything. Somewhere along the line, he managed to fuck up, and picked me as his next target, only to find that when he tried to outdrive me, I drove much better than he did, with just as little care for what happens to the car as he has. The fucker let me in on his secret and I've been his backup ever since, in case anyone ever gets in the way of his little game. 

Now, it seems, I'm gonna have my work cut out for me.

Cursing again, I put the car into drive and gun it down the road, staying hidden behind a treeline, quickly moving through gears with smooth rapidity. Hanging onto the steering, I keep my breathing relaxed as the tyres screech beneath the speeding vehicle, my foot slamming down on the accelerator to get me level with my own targets. Engine roaring, the car jerks and bounces on the rough road surface, my harness keeping me from going through the windscreen a couple of times, the whole vehicle vibrating underneath me. 

Glancing out of my window every few seconds, I make sure I know where Mike and his pursuers are, swearing colourfully to myself as I realise that they're headed towards a busy main road, meaning it'll be harder for me to keep my presence unknown. In my head, I make a note to scold the stuntman for it later, planning a new route as I go, smirking as I figure out exactly how I'm going to save his sorry ass.

For once, I'm glad I looked at and memorized maps of the surrounding area, plus the construction records (I get a lot of free time) so I know what's coming up on this road, the split coming into view just as I expect it to. Taking the left road, I take a deep breath and slam my foot onto the accelerator, pressing a button on the steering wheel. Immediately, a new, more powerful thrum in the engine below me comes to life, growling like some rabid animal as the car springs forwards, the speed dial tapping uselessly at the far end of the spectrum.

Unable to help myself, I let out a cry of exhilaration, hanging onto the steering wheel as I take a bend far too fast, the wheels skidding slightly, only to straighten again under my expertise. With my new route in sight, I grin wildly and brace myself, listening to the car roar at me as I gun it over the edge of the roadside. 

The ground falls away beneath me, the car hurtling through the air towards a similar break in the road down below, where the two cars are just lifting off of the ground, going at a slower speed than mine but posing no less threat. My hands grip the wheel tightly, stomach dropping as the car starts to tip forwards, my muscles tensing in anticipation of what I know is coming.

Time seems to slow as I near them, my pulse pounding deafeningly in my ears, adrenaline coursing through me with the knowledge of what comes next. Staring through the windshield, I feel a smirk of satisfaction cross my face as one of the passengers of the white car turns and sees me, an expression of absolute fear and panic contorting her beautiful features, her eyes wide even as her mouth opens into a scream…

The cars slam into each other violently, the impact throwing me forwards into the harness, the straps jerking me back into my seat. My head falls forwards, heading for the steering wheel, though I manage to get my hands up before anything can happen, despite my knowledge that the safety harness will keep me from sustaining any real damage. Painful lines circle my arms and lap now from the straps, the wind knocked out of me from the sheer force of the collision. Glass flies into the car itself, the windows and windscreens of both vehicles shattering as we go hurtling towards the ground, many shards scraping over my bare arms and hands, leaving bloody wounds in their wakes.

The second impact throws me forwards again, my lungs struggling to force air into my body as the cars smash into the ground, rolling over each other roughly. Holding my arms closer to my body, I lift my hands up to protect my face, grunting as my shoulder is slammed against the side door. Nausea floods my system as the cars continue to roll a few times, my vision blurring over until we eventually come to a complete stop, mine resting just beside theirs. 

Taking a moment, I regain my composure, breathing deeply to fight off the shock threatening to overwhelm me, ignoring the violent tremor in my hands as I scramble for the buckle of the harness. Blood on my fingertips makes it hard for me to grip the clean metal, the digits slipping off of it a few times before I can unclasp myself, pain rapidly spreading through me as the adrenaline starts to wear off. Having unbuckled myself, I try the door beside me, sighing in relief as it comes open under my hands, allowing me to leave the death trap that is the wreckage. 

As I climb out, I grab my first aid kit from the glove compartment, hobbling from my trusty car with a slight sense of bitterness, knowing what I'll have to do to make sure Mike and I really are out of trouble. Glancing back at the main road, I'm glad to find that the crash site is not visible to the road users, so what I'll do now won't get me in any grief if someone were to see me. 

Approaching the crumpled white Dodge, I stoop down to look through the passenger window (the car is upside down), lifting an eyebrow as I realise the occupants are still alive...somehow. As I get closer, the passenger feebly looks up at me, confusion trying to creep into her agonized expression.

"Wh-who are you?" She croaks out, her voice totally shot.

Managing a cruel smirk, I reach into my pocket and bring out a box of matches, taking one out for her to see. 

"The Devil's sidekick." I rasp at her, relishing in the confusion in her eyes, watching as it turns to realisation and horror as I strike the match, lighting it. 

Straightening, I ignore her pleas for mercy, stepping away as I throw the match at the warped hood, adding a second to the undercarriage for good measure, knowing the fuel will catch soon enough. With some difficulty, I limp away from the two cars, getting about ten metres away before a deafening crack splits the air, the wreckage going up in flames in mere seconds. Now it's just a matter of finding my way to the person I've destroyed my car for. 

Thankfully, it doesn't take me long to find him, though when I do, I have to fight back a sound of exasperation. 

Stuntman Mike has pulled over into a deserted side road, just a mile down the main road, making sure he's well hidden, though the amount he's screaming and crying isn't going to keep him like that for long. He's still in his car, but he's left the window open so I can hear every sound of agony and frustration he's making, my heart tugging slightly at the cries of pain. Sighing, I make my way over, holding onto the roof of the car for support as my leg finally gives a little, my face twisting into a grimace. I must've made some noise when I did so, as Mike suddenly shouts in horror, the car engine starting to splutter as he tries to get the beaten vehicle to move again. Quickly, I reach the open window, which I now realise is smashed in, grabbing hold of it and ducking to look into the interior.

"It's me! Mike, calm down, it's me! (Y/n)!" I reassure him as he turns terror-stricken eyes on me, his face pale and bloodied from a blow to his cheek. 

"(Y/n)? What happened to you?" He breathes out, eyes roaming over me as he realises back into his seat, only to tense in pain again. 

"Cut myself shaving." I mutter in response, pulling the door open and moving to help him out, having noticed that he's in worse shape than I thought he'd be.

Taking his weight, I bite back a sound of discomfort as my leg protests, my shoulder aching from where it connected with my car but I ignore it, dragging him from the driver's seat. Slinging his arm over my shoulders, I help him hobble over to a nearby rock, setting him down on it with a sigh, standing back to look him over, glad I brought my first aid kit now. 

The stuntman is cradling his left arm, where a patch of his t-shirt has come away to reveal bloodied skin, his face splattered with the crimson stuff. Purple bruising blooms on one cheek, curling up over his gnarled scar and around his weaker eye, skin grazed away in places from the ferocity of the blow. He looks thoroughly shaken, eyes wide, breaths coming hard and fast, body trembling with the fading adrenaline. 

Sighing, I go closer, kneeling beside the rock he's sat on to look at his injuries, looking up at him as I reach out to touch his arm. Reluctantly, he nods, his ego bruised as I gently place a hand on his bicep.

"Careful, I'm pretty sure it's broken." He murmurs, wincing as I feel over the tensed muscles, trying not to get too distracted by the proximity. 

"Yeah, got it." I mumble, chewing my lip in consternation, "You're gonna have to take this off."

Gesturing to his shirt, I lean forwards to help him out of the garment, pulling it carefully over his head. Mike gives me a slightly embarrassed look, but I dismiss it and open the first aid kit, swallowing as I look over his torso. For a guy his age he's really not a bad looking guy - the man has stayed somewhat in shape over the years - making it hard to concentrate, especially as I realise I'm going to have to kneel between his legs in order to get to the wound properly. 

Blushing, I pull some gauze and rubbing alcohol out of the kit, taking up a position between his thighs where I can easily reach the bloody puncture wound in his shoulder. He watches me closely as I reach up and feel over his back for an exit wound, glad to find one even as he tenses and hisses under my touch. Knowing I need to work quickly, I get started, cleaning up the puncture as best I can, wiping away blood enough so that I can plug the hole and tape it up, sticking a bandage over it. I go to repeat this on his other side, working quickly. 

"How the hell did you get shot?" I ask him after a moment, finding the silence between us awkward. 

"One of those bitches pulled a gun on me.  Shot at me a couple of times, before it hit me. Hurts like a bitch." Mike explains, hissing again as I prod the wound a little too hard. 

"She pulled a gun? How did you even get close enough?" I'm confused as to his story, having only seen that it ended in him being chased onto the freeway. 

Allowing me to continue working on his injuries, Mike recites his version of events, voice strained in pain and fatigue, eyes never leaving me as I move around him, cleaning up his scrapes and bruises. After a while, I end up at his face, carefully dabbing at a few grazes with an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze. Standing this close to him, I can feel his every breath on my cheek, vaguely aware of the fingers clutching at my jacket every now and then as I go over a particularly painful spot, my pulse picking up slightly. 

"...next thing I know, you're at my window looking like you just walked through hell." He finishes, licking his lips to wet them again as he pulls his shirt back on.

"Feels like I did." I laugh dryly, leaning back as I finish on his face, "I'll be back in a sec, hang on."

Quickly, I limp over to his car again, rifling through his things in the compartment by his seat before pulling a small bottle from the rubbish. Going back to him, I stand in front of him and hold it up.

"Mind if I…?" I gesture to him, pointing at his arm, which I've now put in a sling to keep out of harm's way.

The stuntman nods, tilting his head back as I step into his personal space again, standing between his legs. Carefully, I open the bottle and lean over him, gently placing a hand on his face to steady myself, trying not to let the butterflies in my stomach disturb me as his blue pupils fix on me. Slowly, I drip a few drops into his eyes, using a thumb to wipe away any stray droplets, almost smiling as he leans into my touch slightly. I pull away reluctantly, screwing the bottle back up and chucking it at the first aid kit before I take a seat beside him, inadvertently sitting close enough that our thighs are touching. 

Sighing, I reach into my pocket, pulling a pack of cigarettes out and removing one, offering them to him as I grab the box of matches from before again. He doesn't take one, saying something about sharing mine, watching me closely as I light it. Taking the first breath of smoke, I close my eyes and enjoy the burning of the cloud entering my lungs, slowly breathing it out again a moment later. Wordlessly, I hand the smoke to him, willing to share with him as I've always done, keeping my eyes closed for now. 

After a while, Mike hands the cigarette back, letting me take it as I stay blinded, placing the roll of paper and tobacco between my lips to puff on it languidly. It's not too long after that I feel a hand gingerly come to rest on my knee. Confused, I keep my eyes closed, not minding the contact and curious to see where this goes, holding back a gasp as he moves the strong grip further up my leg, closing his fingers over my thigh. A rustle and stifled grunt of pain alerts me to his movements, though it still shocks me a little as he leans in to smooth some hair from my face, removing the grip from my leg. Opening my eyes again, I look over at him, surprised to see him gazing at me with an intense expression on his face. 

Upon seeing me look, he cups my cheek, stroking his thumb over my cheekbone in a gentle manner I've never seen him display. I don't know what comes over me, but I suddenly find myself talking.

"Please don't do anything like that again." I murmur, voice quiet, "I don't know what I'd do if something happened."

Mike looks taken aback, shock clouding his features as he regards me, as if he never expected this level of closeness with me.

"Please, Mike. I don't know why, or how, but I've come to care about you, and I couldn't bear it if you weren't around." I inform him, looking down in embarrassment, blushing furiously. 

It's quiet for a long moment, before he suddenly leans in closer, breath ghosting over my face until he seals my lips with his. Tenderly, the stuntman kisses me, gently coaxing me into moving with him, one hand slipping round to tangle in my hair. Shocked, I feel my eyes close in surprised pleasure, body melting into him as he pulls me closer, our lips moving in perfect sync, his slightly rougher ones warm against my softer ones. It's not long before I feel his tongue slip out to flick against my lower lip, but before I can open up for him, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine.

"I'll be more careful, I swear." He hums, stroking back my hair with his good hand, "For you, I'll be careful."

Smiling, I lean back in, kissing him softly on the lips, moving with him as he gently encourages me to sit on his lap, my legs straddling his as he wraps his arm around me. Pulling me flush against him, he kisses me passionately, swallowing the sounds of pleasure leaving me, splaying his hand on my back as I card mine through his thick hair. This time as he licks at my lips, I let him in immediately, letting the slick muscle slide inside to explore and rub alongside my own. Avoiding his bad arm, I moan into the kiss and pull on his hair, eliciting a groan from him. 

He pulls away again after some time, staring into my eyes with a care and love  I've never seen in them before, my heart skipping a beat as he smiles up at me, a genuine smile. Not his usual scheming smirk.

"Come on, let's go home. I wanna show you just how careful I can be." Mike smirks, his hand skimming down to squeeze a handful of my ass, making my hips rock forwards suddenly into his. He groans, helping me stand.

With his words in mind, I help him over to the car, opening the back door for him to climb in.

"I'm not letting you drive with one arm, and this is safer than the passenger's seat." I say as he shoots me a questioning look.

Mike shrugs and mutters an agreement, climbing into the seat behind me, waiting for me to get into the driver's seat and fasten myself in before talking again. 

"What happened to your car?" He asks, his good hand reaching round to run his fingers over my arm.

"Used it to blow up those bitches coming after you." I inform him, somewhat saddened by the loss of the vehicle - I had loved it.

"Thanks, sugar." He says, using his favourite nickname, most likely aware of the effect it has on me, especially as I feel him lean closer to the back of the seat, nosing at the side of my neck. Deftly, his tongue flicks out to lick over my pulse point, lips pressing against it to suck a mark, there drawing a moan from me.

"Gonna have to get you a new car, hm?" He almost purrs into my ear, biting my ear lobe before retreating again.

Feeling heat rushing to my core, I reluctantly put the car into drive and start to pull away, going slow as I wait for him to settle back into his seat and buckle himself up.

"That would be great." I chuckle, shakily.

"Yeah, it will be. Means I'll have somewhere else to fuck you besides mine and the bed." I blanch at his lewd words, feeling a heated need explode inside me at the idea of what he's suggesting.

As I pull away, I can't help but go faster than usual, using all my expertise to get us home as quickly as possible.

-

Tag list- @feirceangel @xlmonster-mashlx

[imagineredwood]

Mommy’s Friend

Summary:  Coco finds out through his son that his ex who is also the mother of his child (you) have a new friend named Carlos, and he's not happy about it.

Pairing: Coco Cruz x reader 

Warnings: Talks of break ups, co-parenting, Coco fucking up with his kids etc 

Word count: 2.5K

***This is just an idea that i’ve had floating around my head for a while. Ask @breanime how long i’ve been talking about this lmao. I’m wanna do a part two but I’d like to hear what y’all would like to see happen so let me know please ❤️ ***

“You ready to go, baby?”

“Yep!”

Your son Sebastian smiled and bounced on his feet, his backpack secured on his shoulders as you held his hand and walked him to the living room.

“Daddy’s just running a couple of minutes late, but he’ll be here ok? You want some juice before you go?”

His nod was exaggerated, and you chuckled, going into the fridge, and grabbing the apple juice. Looking back over at him as you poured, you watched him hop up into his chair at the table to sit down, his bulky backpack not letting him lean back.

“Take your backpack off, honey.”

Your son shook his head as you walked over to him, giving him his juice in his favorite new Spiderman cup. He took it from you and brought it up to his lips in slow motion, still being careful now that he was promoted to drinking out of a cup that was open with no lid. He took his sip and then answered you, licking the juice from his top lip.

“I can’t. I gotta be ready when Daddy comes. I don’t want him to leave without me.”

You frowned as you looked at him, a small bubble of anger igniting.

The last time Coco had come to get him, he had left no more than five minutes after arriving. What was supposed to have been a fun father-son day had been canceled once again by Coco’s duty to the club. He said it all the time since you had first gotten to know him all those years ago.

“The club comes first.”

You knew it, but you had always assumed that the more serious you and him got, maybe that would shift. Not that you would be his number one priority, but that you would get picked first every now and then. That had not happened and thus you had split, feeling that you deserved better. Then you had found out that you were pregnant, and things had changed entirely. You had been even more strict, giving Coco certain boundaries and one non-negotiable rule.

Be a good father and don’t break his heart.

It had sounded easy enough and Coco had stuck to it for the most part. Except for last Friday. He had promised Seb that they would spend the entire weekend together doing everything fun under the sun. A call from Bishop had ruined that and with your son nearly ready to go, running to his room to grab his backpack, Coco had to explain that he couldn’t take him anymore. Now here he was thinking that he had been left because he was not ready fast enough.

You squatted down before him, reaching up to take his chin in your hand softly, looking into those brown eyes that looked so much like his father’s.

“He’s not gonna leave without you. I promise. That day he got a very important call and he had to leave without taking you with him because it wouldn’t be safe. That’s why. He didn’t leave you because you weren’t ready, or you took too long ok?”

“Oh. Ok.”

He perked up some then, but you were still irritated, the mother in you never wanting him to feel responsible for the shitty decisions of his father. In the distance, Coco’s bike could be heard, and your son jumped off of his seat with a gasp, trying to race over to the front door, only for you to keep him in place by the backpack.

“Finish your juice.”

The four-year-old grabbed the cup and tried to drink it quickly, coughing as some went into his nose. You reached for a napkin as the doorknob to the front door turned, Coco stepping into the house just as you finished wiping off your son’s face.

“Daddy!”

He was taking off then, racing over to his father, barreling into his legs, and wrapping his arm around. Coco stood there for a moment, a smile coming to his face as he laid eyes on Seb. He kneeled to get eye level and then hugged his son tightly.

“Hi, papi. Ready to go?”

The child nodded excitedly, his arms tight around his father’s neck. They separated after a moment and Coco stood back up, his eyes on you.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Looking down at Seb, you gave him a smile and pointed to the kitchen.

“Go put your cup in the sink real quick.”

He groaned but listened anyway, you using the moment to quietly scold Coco.

“Make sure that you actually spend time with him this weekend, please. He thought that you bailed on him last time because he wasn’t ready in time, so he’s had his backpack on for the last hour.”

The Mayan winced as he apologized.

“I’m sorry. Bishop said I’d have the day off and then something came up, so we- “

“I don’t want to hear about your club business. Just keep your word and take care of him. He’s looking forward to being with you.”  

There was a certain irony behind him having always kept everything from you when you were together and always wanting to tell you what was going on now that you had split up. Your son was back then, cheeks full as he grinned, reaching up to hold Coco’s hand.

“Are we ready Daddy?”

“Yes, we’re ready. Let’s go.”

Your son waved to you as he and Coco walked out, joy on his face.

“Bye, mommy!”

“Bye, baby. Have fun. See you Sunday.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

“Is that sandwich good?”

Sebastian only nodded, knowing that he was not supposed to talk with his mouth full. Coco grinned and took a bite of his own, leaning against the counter as he looked at his son.

“What do you want to do today?”

The child tilted his head back and forth as he thought.

“Maybe we can go to the park and play catch? Or we can go visit Tio Angel! And we can play water guns again.”

Coco laughed as he remembered how good his son’s aim had been, Angel losing more often than not in the game of tag.

“Yeah, maybe don’t tell mom about that.”

“Ok.”

The father and son agreed and then there was a comfortable silence as they continued to eat lunch.

“How is mom?”

Sebastian took a sip from his cup and then set it down with a smile.

“She’s ok. She made me chicken yesterday. It was good.”

Coco laughed and took another bite.

“Anything else going on?”

The child thought for a moment to find something interesting.

“Me and mommy got a fish. We named him Gilbert. He’s green and blue and black with the floppy fins. She let me keep his tank in my room, but I have to remember to feed him. Oh, and she got a new dress! It’s really pretty, bright red like an apple. I liked it. I think Carlos will like it too. He thinks mommy looks pretty in red. She does.”

He was taking another bite of his ham and cheese then, Coco’s jaw still as he stopped mid-chew. He swallowed quickly and then inquired, leaning closer to his son whose eyes were more focused on his lunch.

“…Who’s Carlos?”

“Mommy’s friend.”

Coco could feel his fingers tingling. He knew he had no right to be upset, you and him had been separated going on five years. He still loved you though, even if he never had been good at showing it. He loved you then and he loved you now. Only difference was that he couldn’t show it to you now even if he wanted to. He had been with plenty of other women since you had split and in the back of his mind, he knew it was only a matter of time before you did the same. It was different to have it confirmed now though.

“Have you met him? Carlos?”

Seb nodded, finally finished with his sandwich.

“Yeah! We went to the park with him the other day. He was playing catch with me and mom. She’s not really good at it but I am!”

Whatever little bit of patience Coco had was gone now as he envisioned his family out at a part with another man. His son playing catch with a man that was not him. The mother of his child being made to laugh and smile by another man. Coco knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t help it no matter how hard he tried. Maybe in the back of his mind he had always held onto the hope that one day things would go back to how they had been. That one day you would forgive how foolish he had been, and your family would be back together the way it was supposed to be.

Yet here you were with some man named Carlos, and Coco felt like his chance was slipping away from him. He knew he wasn’t perfect. In fact, it would not be incorrect to say that he was almost on the exact opposite end of the spectrum from it, but one thing that no one could ever say about him was that he didn’t try. Even if it did not work, Coco always tried, and he never gave up when he set his mind to it.

And as he sat there at the counter, he set a new goal.

He was going to do everything possible to try and get you to see how much he had improved over the years and how diligently he would work to get your family back together.

But first, he needed to figure out who this Carlos was and get him out of the picture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The weekend had gone by quickly, Seb and Coco enjoying their time together. It was now the afternoon on Sunday though and Coco had to take him back. Normally he simply stayed at the door that was it, giving Seb a hug and a kiss before heading back home. This time would be different though.

As soon as you opened the door you were on your knees to hug your son, missing him like crazy even if it had only been two days.

“How’s my baby?”

You held him tightly, leaving a million kisses all over him, his shrill laugh making you both smile. Standing back up, Seb hugged his father and then raced into the house, you holding your hand out to get his bag from Coco. He didn’t give it to you though, opting to point inside.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

He could see that the question had caught you off guard as you hesitated for a moment.

“Sure.”

You pulled the door open and allowed him to walk inside, your brows furrowed in confusion as you locked up behind him.

“Is everything ok? He didn’t misbehave, did he?”

Shaking his head, Coco denied it, reaching up to run his fingers through his waved hair.

“Nah, he was fine. I just wanted to…catch up, I guess.”

He could see that you were apprehensive, and he held his hands palms out in defense.

“I’m not here to start any shit, I promise. I just wanna talk.”

You agreed after a few seconds, letting him place Seb’s bag down on the counter and follow you into the living room. You both sat down on the couch and the distance you placed between you and him was not lost on him. With a sigh, he figured he had to choose his word carefully.

“How are you?”

He could see you begin to give your usual cookie-cutter answer and clarified.

“Like, how are you really?”

You hesitated, eyeing him.

“It’s not a trick, I’m asking.”

Here were a few more moments of silence before you shrugged.

“I’m fine, I guess. Work has been shitty lately but what’s new. I’m getting out a little more now that Seb’s getting older.”

Coco had to bite his tongue in order not to bring up Carlos right then and there, but despite his best efforts, his will wasn’t strong enough.

“Seb told me about Carlos.”

You laughed but there was not any humor in it.

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

He could feel you putting your defenses up and he tried to halt it quickly.

“I’m not trying to start anything, I’m just trying to make sure that you and my kid are safe.”

“We’re safe, Coco. You don’t have to worry. I would never bring a man around Seb if I didn’t think he was safe.”

He cringed slightly, not having meant for it to come across like you weren’t thinking of safety.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just…”

You stared at him as he tried to find a way to word his thoughts, in the end deciding to just say what he was feeling. That was what you had always wanted anyway, right? Honesty? It all poured out like a flood then.

“It just scares me because I feel like I might lose you guys and I don’t want that. I know you would never keep him from me, I know that, but shit is a lot different with both of us being single than it would be if you and this dude got together. I was fucking stupid to let you go in the first place and I know that now. You were there for me and I wasn’t there for you. It’s fucked up that it took you having Seb to open my eyes, but it did, and I can see what I lost now. I could’ve had you and him and we could’ve been a family, but I fucked that up just like I fuck everything else up. I swore I was gonna do it right with this kid and I didn’t. I’ve been wasting time seeing how things played out and now the thought of another man coming in and being what I wasn’t is just…”

Coco huffed and stood from the couch, your eyes wide as you looked at him, the Mayan starting to pace.

“I blocked you out to protect you, but I hurt you by doing that. Story of my fuckin’ life. I just need to know where we’re at.”

He turned to face you again, watching as you stood up from the couch.

“Me and Carlos are just friends right now. I’ll be honest, there’s chemistry, but nothing’s happening right now. We went to the park with his dog just to get out and do something. I can’t promise that we won’t end up together. No matter what though, no one is going to replace you, Coco. You’re Seb’s dad and that isn’t going to change. We’re still a family even if we aren’t living together or in a relationship.

You shrugged as you looked at him, not ever having known that he had felt that way. Maybe if he had told you, things would’ve been different. Sighing and looking over at Seb’s room momentarily, you extended the offer.

“Look, why don’t you stay for dinner. Hang out with him here, spend some time with us, maybe we can watch a movie or something together. If you can’t stay today, that’s fine. I know it’s short notice.”

Coco shook his head, his fingers itching to reach out and grab your hand.

“I’ll stay.”

General taglist @piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @elcococruz​ @fanaticfangurl21​ @ifoundmyhappythought @encounterthepast @iambabyharry​ @svintsandghosts​ @starrynite7114 @saturnsaree @multiyfandomgirl40​ @destynelseclipsa​

Mayans taglist @dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24​ @angelreyesgirl​ @wrcn9fvlcver​ @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Love On-Set (Pt. 07 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

Word count: 3 K

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{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

Kisses

The only reason why you didn't talk to Dacre at the airport was because you thought you'd have a couple of hours before shooting. But you were wrong. The flight was terribly late, and you had no choice but to go straight to set, and as soon as you got there, you and Dacre were pulled apart so you could get ready.

Already in your outfit, you stare at the mirror as your hairstylist gives the final touches, mumbling in response to whatever she's talking about. Your leg is bouncing nervously, as you regret not having called Dacre yesterday night. Or driven to his house. Anything really. Maybe it would a lot easier if you two had some time, but life has a way of complicating things.

“And you're ready,” Laura says and you manage to smile and thank her. “Now go before James comes yelling at us again.”

“Alright.” Mumbling under your breath, you stand up and leave the dressing room only to be rushed into the parking lot. Dacre is already there, talking to James. The wind makes you shiver and you brace yourself... Well, you think it's the wind that makes you shiver, what else could it be?

“...despite the delay, we'll get everything done in time so–” James swallows the words when he sees you. “(Y/N), great. Hope you made a safe trip here. I was just talking to Dacre about the upcoming scenes you two will shoot. There's just so much chemistry that I had to add more kisses.” Oh... You should've read the new script. “But I'm sure it won't be a problem since you two seem to be getting along very well.”

“Yeah, of course...” The first thing you'll do when you get to your hotel room is read every single line of this scrip. It'll be better if you're mentally prepared for what's to come.

But you're not prepared for this.

“Alright, everybody into position.” The director announces before walking away, leaving you and Dacre alone. Well, not exactly since you can't ignore the camera guys, the microphones... All the rest.

“Sorry, we couldn't talk before... This.” Dacre apologizes, but you shake your head slightly.

“But we will.” Nodding more to yourself than to him, you hope nobody is listening to this conversation. “Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, guys, c'mon,” James says and Dacre walks away as you take a deep breath. Thinking over the lines, you let yourself fall into character, remembering the backstory that leads to this moment. “Everybody set? Ok... Action!”

Turning around, you look at Dacre as he crosses the parking lot. “I can't believe you took almost an hour to get here, Hargrove!” You yell, walking to end the distance between the two of you. “There's a freaking Demidog in the pool!”

“The thing is dead. So why the hurry?” He flashes Billy's a cocky smile, and you struggle to keep the irritated expression on your face. “Chill.”

“Don't tell me to chill. Can't you miss one single date?” Giving action to Amy's jealousy attack, you punch Dacre in the chest, and he gives a small step back as he rolls his eyes. “Not even when there's an interdimensional monster involved?”

“Why the hell you always think I'm with some girl?” When you move to push him again, Billy grabs Amy's wrists. This was improvised, you think. Or is it on the new script? Dacre's grip is soft though, and you put on an annoyed face as you try to set free, uselessly.

“Because that's where you always are.” Putting a frustrating undertone in the sentence, you sigh. “But it doesn't matter. We have a much bigger fish to fry.”

“The damn thing is dead, it can wait.”

You get why Amy falls for Billy. Or are your fellings for Dacre clouding your judgment? Putting up a fight, you try to free yourself of his grip, making sure to stumble backward until your back hits a car. “Let go of me! I'm tired of this shit.” Slowly, Amy gives up fighting. Physically and emotionally. The moment you stop moving, Dacre let's go of your wrists, his arms coming to trap you in between the car and his body.

“I know you're jealous. I just need to figure out why.” Billy leans closer, and you can feel yourself drowning in Dacre's eyes, more beautiful than the ocean.

“I said it once and I'll say it again. I won't be one of your many flings...” Your voice is low, and as the cameras move closer, you know it's about to happen. God, it's so damn hard to keep up the act. You can feel Dacre's chest every time he breaths in, and you want to pull him even closer. “...so... Back the hell off.” Putting your hand on his chest, you know that the action that would make more sense here would be Amy trying to push him away again... But you fail to do that, Amy slowly disappearing as you break character for the hundredth time. Instead of pushing him away, your fingers slowly clench around the collar of his jacket, grabbing it. Dacre's eyes burn on you, and you know he wants it to.

“Who said I want you to be a fling?”

Then you don't know who moves first. If it's Dacre who leans forward or if it's you, pulling him. But it happens, fast and needy. First kisses shouldn't be like this. They're supposed to be short and sweet, shy even. But part of you is thankful for the situation you're in right now, because it justifies how you cling onto him, how deep the kiss is, hot and passionate. Billy and Amy were both craving for this moment, but so were you. And so were Dacre because his grip around you is tight, his lips keeping a quick pace, one that you're more than happy to follow. You hand find its way to his hair, as he holds the small of your back, needing to have you closer, if that even possible. The cameras are long forgotten, and there's no set, no show, nothing. Just his taste, fresh and sweet, inebriating. There's something in the background, some familiar sound trying to reach you, but you push it away, ignore it, tiptoeing even more to try and match Dacre's high, wishing he would lift you up.

“CUT!” James' voice sounds like a freaking thunder, and it wakes you up. With your heart beating insanely fast, you suddenly go back to reality, probably blushing harder than ever as you step away from Dacre. He takes a while to let go of you, intense eyes locked on yours as he tries to catch his breath, falling out of the stupor too. “That was... Good. That was good.” James says, and when you look around, you notice people staring. That wasn't... Discreet, and now you know that what you heard was James yelling ‘cut’ half a dozen times.

Running a hand through your hair, you have to fight back the urge to touch your lips, the kiss burning in your head... You really hope James will need another take.

“Are you ok?” Dacre asks, taking a quick look around before taking your hand in his.

“Yeah...” Biting your lip, you nod, staring at him. This just gave you a rush of adrenaline, making you feel brave. “More than ok, actually.”

Dacre's lips break into a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Well, judging by James' obsession with the perfect lighting, I bet he'll need a couple more takes to get it done.”

“I really hope so. I–” You're cut short for a commotion. Several people move to surround James, who soon starts cursing. “What's going on?” You mutter, exchanging a glance with Dacre before walking over the sea of people. That's when you see the rest of the cast, and you just now remember they were here too... And they just saw everything... Millie won't let you hear the end of it.

“Who the hell did this?” James shouts, and a lot of people start apologizing. Giving the others a glance, you notice they have their eyes glued to their phones.

“Oh, no...” Something leaked, you're so damn sure. Rushing to the guys, you stand beside Noah, taking a look at his screen. “What happened?”

“The kiss. The first you shot. Someone here recorded and published on YouTube ten minutes ago.” As Noah speaks, he hands you over his phone and you read the news article he was reading. ‘Exciting scene from Stranger Things 3 leaks: Amy Halpert and Billy Hargrove are definitely a couple’.

“Shit.” You mutter, leaning closer to Dacre so he can read it too. “Who did it?”

“We have no idea,” Natalia answers, looking up from her phone. “But I watched it. Whoever did this stopped recording right before the cameras fell.”

This sucks. Giving Noah his cellphone back, you sigh. “It's really mean to do that. There's a lot of operations to keep the set free from curious eyes and someone from the inside leaks it? That's ridiculous.”

“James will sue whoever did this,” Dacre adds.

“Excuse me, guys.” Ryan comes, a tablet on his hand and a very worried expression on his face. “James wants you to stay here until we find out who did this.” He says, giving you a quick glance before looking back at his tablet. “You got the trailers here so... I think you'll be comfortable. Sorry, but James is–”

“RYAN!”

“James' orders. Sorry.” Rolling his eyes and sighing, he gives his back at you.

“We'll have to stay? I didn't do it.” Gaten exclaims, clearly pissed.

“Me neither. I was too busy watching the kiss with my own eyes.” Natalia complains but gives you a glance.

Well, you would like to get to your bed, but complaining won't help and you're exhausted from the flight. “I'm calling it a night.” You mutter, upset that this whole thing happened. The leaking, of course. “I'll take a shower to wash the 80's from my skin and I'll go see my trailer.” You haven't seen it yet, since it's meant for the Battle of Starcout scenes, which you'll probably shoot throughout the night.

“Me too,” Dacre says, then turning at you. “I'll find your trailer after if that's alright.”

“Sure.” Smiling, you blush to feel all those eyes on you. “See you soon, then.”

• • •

You're lucky to have your baggage here. Maybe the flight being delayed wasn't so bad as it seemed. After showering and handing the outfit back to your stylist, you follow her directions to where the trailers are. They're in the very back of the set, in a large area, set side by side. You're surprised to see the trailer doesn't look like a trailer on the inside, but like an actual house, only a little tiny. There's a main space with a couch, a table, and a TV, then a kitchen with a stove, an oven, and a sink. A bathroom with a shower. And on the very back, the thing you needed the most after this long day. A well-equipaded room with a huge bed. Smiling, you let your piece of baggage fall as you climb on the bed, lying on your back and sighing in relief.

Jumping back to your feet, you decide to change into something more comfortable. So you exchange your jeans for light gray sweatpants and a black spaghetti strap tank top before lying back down. You're happy you ate on the plane, or else you'd be starving right now.

But despite all the thoughts in your head, you can't help but come back to the main event of the day. Your fingers come to touch your lips, as you close your eyes to bring the memory back. You're upset you didn't get to do more takes. The cold and nervousness you were feeling vanished so quickly, at the same moment his lips collided on yours. So hot and intense. Breathtaking.

You're dragged away from your thoughts by a knock on the door. Dacre. He told you he'd come. Taking a deep breath and fixing your simple clothes the best you can, you make your way to the door, thinking you should've picked something better to put on. “Hey.” You mutter when you swing the door open, gesturing for him to come in. “Did you see your trailer?”

“Yeah. I stopped by to leave my luggage.” He answers, stepping inside and looking down at you. “These things look bigger from the inside.”

“Definitely.” Clearing your throat, you gesture at the back of the trailer, to the bedroom. You know how awkward it may be, but there's a burning on your back that won't let you sit on the couch. “I hope you don't mind but could we talk while I lie down? My back hurts real bad from the five hours we had to spend at the airport.”

“I don't mind at all.” Nodding, you walk back to the bedroom, throwing yourself on the bed. “So. Who do you think leaked the video?” Dacre asks as he sits on the edge.

“I have no idea. All I know is that is wasn't me. And it wasn't you.” Staring at the ceiling, you try not to feel very self-conscious right now. “I was too busy on scene.”

“Me too.” He mutters. “Where does it hurt, by the way?”

“On my shoulder blades.” You answer, looking at him. He looks very handsome, as usual, despite wearing a simple white T-shirt. “Those airport chairs weren't very nice to me.”

“I can give you a massage if you want.” Dacre stares at you dead serious, which means he's not joking.

You wish you had the adrenaline rush from earlier, so it'd push the words right off your mouth, and maybe you wouldn't be blushing. “Uhm... If you want to.”

“Alright, lie on your stomach.” He says, taking off his shoes and climbing on the bed.

“Fine.” Mumbling, more to yourself than to him, you roll over, grabbing a pillow to rest your head. Breathing deeply, you feel the mattress moving under Dacre's weight as he places himself beside you.

“Let me know if it hurts, alright?” The moment you nod, you feel his hands on your back. And he must know what he's doing because it does feel good. The butterflies on your stomach are wide awake now, since Dacre has his hands on you, strong but delicate at the same time, rubbing and softly pushing your muscles.

“If I knew you were good at this I'd have asked.” You say with a smile, pulling the small amount of hair that still falls on your back out of his way. Dacre gets this as a permission to put a little more pressure, just enough to make you relax. His fingers slide under the fabric of your shirt, but you don't mind.

“Glad I can help.”

You just mumble in response, suddenly feeling your tiredness taking over as you close your eyes shut. Falling asleep now is the last thing you want because it's so good to be around Dacre, and you think you may finally understand where you both stand in all this situation. What you're feelings are and if they can take you somewhere.

“It's ok, I'm alright now.” You speak up, moving to lie on your side. “If you continue I'll fall asleep in a matter of seconds.”

“If you're tired I can go.” He gestures at the door, already moving.

“No. Stay.” Bursting out, you sit up, grabbing his arm. You can't believe what you just said. What you just asked of him. “If you want, of course.”

Dacre stands still for a while, frozen before he settles down on the bed again. “Alright.” You can tell he's tired too, by the way his eyes are heavy.

“Let's play a game. Who sleeps first loses.” The idea comes suddenly to your head, and it seems to lighten up the mood.

“And what will I get when I win?” He has a cocky smile on his lips as he lies down, facing you.

“When? Don't get overconfident.” Moving a little to get comfortable, you take a deep breath when your eyes set upon his. Blue and calming. “I'm gonna win.” You say, winking at him.

“I really doubt that.” As he speaks, Dacre brings his hand to your face, fingers sliding from your forehead to your eyelids, forcing you to close your eyes. “You'll lose, so better start making peace with that.” His voice, low and deep, sends a shiver down your spine.

You were just about to answer, to say something, when you notice how his hand lingers, moving to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing the soft skin on your jaw until it reaches your chin. Slowly, painfully slow, it comes to your lower lip. His touch burns, making your head spin around. The memory of the kiss fills your head, and you know you want to do that again.

Swallowing hard, you gather all the courage you can to move closer to him, ending all the space between your bodies and, being really brave for once, going for the thing you want. That you need the most right now. You connect your lips to his, feeling relieved as if a burden was suddenly lifted when you feel him kissing you back. Dacre's hand remain on your cheek, and yours rest on his chest, feeling his muscles under the soft fabric of his shirt. The kiss is slower this time, as if you're both discovering, unrevealing each other. But you don't mind. You love it as much as you loved the other one.

It sucks when you have to break apart to breathe. But when you do, you remain close, your foreheads touching because you just can't force yourself to pull away from him now. “Sorry, I... I had to.” You mutter under your breath.

“It's alright.” Dacre's hand comes to encircle your waist, keeping you close. “If you didn't, I'd have to.” He giggles. “I've been dying to kiss you, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You whisper. “What you said in the message... I feel the same way. That kiss... I really wanted it and that wasn't Amy, it was me.” Maybe it's the sleep winning over you, but the words just come out. You need him to know. You need to let it out and you hope it means something to him. “Dacre, I... I really like you. A lot.”

You blush when he smiles, but soon enough a giggle escapes your lips. “Then I'd like to take you on a second date. As soon as James lets us out of this set.”

“I'd love that.” Giggling like a teenager, you kiss him again, a peck on the lips that linger a little too long. But not long enough. “Uhm... You can crash here if you want.” You decide to offer since you just noticed you're already on the bed, all tangled on each other. “I think we already reached the point of no return here.”

“I agree...”

“Are we... Are we going to sleep like this?” You ask, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“However you like.”

Biting your lip to hold back a smile, you turn around. Dacre is fast to hold you, a strong arm pushing your back against his chest. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” You both move to get more comfortable and you lay your hand on top of his, on your stomach.

You've never been like that with anyone, so close, so... Intimate. But you like it. And you can't believe it's Dacre who's holding you this way.

×

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelaninn @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines @peakascum @thisbreakableheaven

[amesstm]

Nice Receive!

WC: ~2K

A/N: So... I couldn’t figure out Social Dummy, because I am a dummy :D And since no one told me if they wanted an actual schedule or not, we will now work around my work hours which is a lot because my gm is evil :)

~series masterlist~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weekend passed quickly with much needed rest being earned. Yet, there was that voice in the back of your mind urging you to do some form of exercising. After all, this was your last year in high school and the last time you could go to nationals.  

In fact, your volleyball team had been mourning the loss of their libero loudly in the group chat. Everyone joked that they would have to take down the 189.5cm man somehow. It seems that you had an army now, with your cousin Yu as its commanding general.  

For now, that wasn’t your concern because all you could think about was the upcoming exams. Yuki was studying more often with her boyfriend, which meant that you had the dorm room to yourself. Even Yuki was putting her studies before her volleyball practices because she skipped the one yesterday. So here you were with your text books and notes all laid out before you as if the words would jump off of the page and into your brain.

But after an hour of trying to focus on what was literally right in front of you, you gave up from the sensory overload. You sighed and collapsed onto your bed, hoping that the bed would swallow you. You closed your eyes and breathed slowly to prompt your muscles to relax. Perhaps you should start meditating.  

A soft knock interrupted your thoughts, immediately causing the irritation to return. But you opened the door and saw it was your whole volleyball team. Of course, the coach wasn’t there, but the manager looked like she led the brigade to your room.  

Your manager Tamako bowed with a smile, “We come in peace.”

She held up a pompompurin kotatsu plushie and you quickly forgot about your past irritation. You waddled towards her and clutched the plushie in your arms. “I accept your peace offering.”

The volleyball team cramped into your small room. The first-year opposite hitter Hana leaned in with wide curious eyes like that of a newborn baby, “Is it true that you and Ushijima-san like each other?”

Hana’s adoptive-mother, second year setter Karin shushed her, “They don’t know it yet!”

Hana poured and whined, “But it’s so obvious!”

You tilted your head and blinked, “What do you mean?”

Captain Hoshimi, the mountainous middle blocker, sighed, “You two are so oblivious.”

“Anyways,” Tamako cleared her throat, “Yuki says that she knows you’re dying to be on the court again. Obviously you can’t but you can watch!”

A part of you felt bad, knowing that Yuki was worried about you this whole time. You were about to open your mouth but she added, “Hoshimi has noise-canceling headphones.”

“Oh, okay that should work!” You grinned and sprung with life.  

Finally, you were able to be in the gym again. It wasn’t a formal practice, so everyone was just playing together. Unfortunately, you still had to sit on the bench. Of course, you were used to it since you were the liberal and weren’t always on the court; but every time the ball hit the floor, you couldn’t help but think that you could’ve gotten it.  

You watched Hoshimi block Hana with great speed and height. Although Hana had immense talent for her age, she needed much refining. You were sure that Tamako’s fast scribbling was notating all of this down even if she was off-duty.  

Still, you couldn’t hear what was going on. Everything you absorbed was purely on seeing the ball fly or land and feeling the vibrations of the ball landing or being smacked. So, you also didn’t hear someone approaching you and calling out your name. 

A light tap on your shoulder finally caught your attention. You whipped your head to see Ushijima talking to you, but you only saw his lips moving. Although you couldn’t hear, you said, “I can’t hear you. These are sound-proof.”

He nodded and sat down next to you instead of trying to find a way of communicating. It’s not like you two could learn some form of sign language or Morse code in a few minutes.  

Yet, there was that comforting silence. Sure, you were always flustered around Ushijima but now? Now, you’re on a different playing field – or court for this scenario. The embarrassment and hesitation scattered away, and the confident and radiant personality Ushijima always heard of came to light.  

After Hoshimi’s team won the set, Hana came panting to see how you were doing. She also wanted to check on her ship but that’s besides the point. Karin wandered towards you three, like a mother hovering around her chick. You decided that it’d be safe to remove the headphones since there weren’t ball smacking across the court now. “You guys did really well!”

“Did I?” Hana asked, red from huffing. “I think I could do so much better.”

“Try opening up your shoulders to Karin more,” you said, making the young spiker tilt her head. “You limit your options when you close yourself off from your setter. You’re only a few centimeters taller than me, but you’re still considered short on the court. Opening yourself up should make a difference.”

Ushijima watched you, observing the way you speak like a coach. No, nothing like Coach Tanji. On the contrary, your advice was constructive and kind, but still precise. Your voice’s volume didn’t raise above speaking level, which was another big difference. In the short time that Ushijima was considered “short”, he had to learn how to spike in ways similar to how you would have to.  

Once you were done advising Hana on what to do, the next set began. Soon, Hana was scoring more points. With each one, she would smile at you with all the brightness of the sun. You would smile back and raise your thumbs up in pride.  

Tamako tapped on your shoulder and asked if you could follow her a bit towards the back. You whispered in Ushijima’s ear, “I’ll be right back.”

It took him a minute to process that you were just that close to him that he could feel your lips almost on his earlobe. After controlling his rush of emotions, he nodded. Ushijima wondered what you two were talking about. Maybe it had to do with Hana’s improvement or the earliest you could return to playing. Either way, Ushijima continued watching the girls play, waiting for you to return to his side.

Hana soon excelled quickly, getting in quick spikes that couldn’t be received soon enough to get back into play. They’d smack onto the floor and then fly away. As Hana got more and more in the game, her spikes became quicker but also more forceful. There was no doubt that Hana would become the ace of the girls team when she got even better.  

But then one of her balls went astray. Ushijima noticed that this ball had a certain angle to it as she hit it at a cross. Knowing where the ball would go next, Ushijima rushed off of the bench just as the ball was about to hit you. He managed to receive the ball in time.  

On the other hand, you were also prepared to come in contact with the ball as you placed yourself in position. Of course, you might’ve been scolded for playing before you were allowed to, but you were sure that you could handle it. But Ushijima got to it before you could.  

After his dig, the ball bounced back into court but no one went to catch it. He looked behind towards you, eyes wandering over your face to see if you were shaken. Yet you didn’t look fazed at all. Instead, you grinned, “Nice receive!”  

Now, you definitely noticed a change in Ushijima’s stance. His shoulders drooped in relief and his features softened. His eyes looked at you as if you were the only one he cared about.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Hana asked, running towards you in worry. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she examined your state.  

You shook your head with a soft chuckle, “I’m fine, Hana. That was a really good spike!”

Hana crumbled underneath your compliments. Then, she turned towards Ushijima and bowed deeply from her hips. “Thank you for receiving the ball before it could hit her!”

Ushijima stated with seriousness etched into every centimeter on his face, “I won’t let another ball hit her ever again.”

To the team, it was practically a declaration of protecting you – which they swooned over. To you, it sounded like he didn’t want you playing. “But I’m the libero?”

With your confusion, the team sighed with dejection. Hoshimi groaned, “You’re so dumb.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You complained, eyes aimed towards Hoshimi.  

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Karin said, sticking out her tongue.

“I’m literally older than you,” you replied with a raised eyebrow.  

“And denser, too,” Karin jabbed back, earning a snicker from Hana who followed her mother’s behavior.  

You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore the duo. “Anyways, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You returned the headphones to Hoshimi and started to walk towards the exit. But you felt a presence behind you and saw Ushijima looking at you expectantly. “May I walk with you?”

“Of course,” you smiled.  

As you two walked, you were surprisingly calm. Perhaps that moment in the gym reminded you that the superstar of Japan was just another human being. Of course, he was someone with fans who would do anything to be with him and recruiters who would fight to have him on their team. But something about him seemed more human to you.  

Another thing that surprised you was that Ushijima was a slow walker. Perhaps you were always used to walking fast because you always rushed to catch up to your taller friends, but walking with Ushijima was a different pace. Now you could take the time to absorb the scenery around you.

When you approached a ledge that had a brilliant view of the sunset, you just looked at it in awe. Was the sunset always this beautiful? Japan was known as the Country of the Rising Sun. Then again, you wouldn’t be awake enough to enjoy the sunrise even if you were awake.  

But this sunset? You actually took the time to look at it. You didn’t walk past it like you would usually do because the sun would always set. But as the pinks and oranges cascaded from the sun to the rich purples and indigo of the night sky, you couldn’t just walk away. “Has it always been this beautiful?”

Ushijima noticed that you stopped to admire the sunset, so he stopped, too; but all he could look at was you. Something about the way the spring breeze brushed your hair away from your face so the golden hour could paint your features was captivating. “Always.”

You looked behind your shoulder to see that Ushijima got closer to you. “Haha, sorry. I didn’t realize that I had stopped.”

“No, it’s fine.” Ushijima said, opting to sit on a rock that laid along the side of the road. “Sit with me, we can watch it longer.”

You took the opportunity to sit on the rock closest to him. Again, with that comforting silence. There was no need to speak because you two could just enjoy each other’s company. Then Ushijima spoke, “Will you play volleyball professionally?”

Of course, you had contemplated it but it didn’t seem completely viable. Sure, you were among the top three liberos in the country. Yes, you would love to continue playing the sport that you’ve dedicated so much time to. But could you really do that? “I’m not sure, yet.”

Ushijima’s gaze left the sunset to look at you, so you returned his gaze. “It’d be a waste of talent not to.”

The breath you were intaking halted dramatically. “You’re right. It would be.”

“Will you at least play in university?” Ushijima asked, hopeful that you would at least continue then.  

“Absolutely,” you chuckled. “I don’t want to say goodbye to years of my life just yet.”

“You should play professionally,” Ushijima stated, his confidence in your ability making your heart flutter. For some reason, the sentence felt really familiar but you couldn’t remember why.  

Anyways, you didn’t know what to say. When you finally spoke, it was to say goodnight. Ushijima left you at your dorm room and with plenty to think about.  

When you finally collapsed onto your bed, you pulled out your phone. There was a notification from Hana. You opened your phone to see it was a picture of you and Ushijima watching the sunset. Underneath was a caption saying, “Nice receive ;)”

[thran-duils]

Dubious Representation (P.1)

Title: Dubious Representation (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Hank Palmer. Reader's husband is facing jail time and although Hank Palmer entered the counsel for pro bono, he is still going to get a form of payment. Recently single, he’s been lonely and he’s looking for some comfort. Even if it means obtaining it from less than savory means. Words: 1,768 Warnings (for entire fic): Eventual smut, sexual coercion, infidelity, mention of past domestic violence, verbal abuse Author’s Note: This is going to be a two parter at least. This is pure shameless smut since I just rewatched the movie yesterday....

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You bounced on your feet, waiting outside the court room. Your husband Rich was sitting nearby you on a bench, as nervous as you. You were not even the one who needed representation, but you were feeding off of his energy. You two were a team and this was big. He had been high and someone had tried to drag you into a back room at the party. You had put up a fight and of course Rich had retaliated spotting it across the room. Now he was facing aggravated assault and drug charges.

The two of you knew the reputation of this attorney and he rarely lost a case. You could not let Rich go to jail for something that had not been his fault. He had just been trying to protect you.

Hank Palmer walked out of the court room, throwing his sunglasses on.

Rich was up in a moment, taking strides towards him quickly, hands wringing.

“Mr. Palmer!” he called. Hank ignored him, continuing down the hallway. He tried again, louder, “Mr. Palmer!”

Hank slowed and turned on his heel, looking completely unimpressed.

“What? Do you need a quote for your newspaper? Here’s one, ‘Cohen loses another case to Palmer: Not a surprise to anyone’,” Hank quipped, before trying to turn around again.

“N-No,” Rich stammered, reaching him with his fast pace. Hank stopped his movement, facing him. “That’s… I’m not a journalist. I am looking for help.”

“For what? Therapy? Direction to rehab?” Hank asked callously. Rich blanched at that, and Hank nodded, “Rehab, then? Look, I’m a counselor but not that type. And you look like you can’t afford me, so… can I go?”

Rich pleaded, “Please. Just hear me out. My case, it shouldn’t be a thing. It was self defense for my wife. And no, I don’t have the money probably to pay you. But I know you are good and I really, really need good representation. I can’t leave my wife.”

Hank was staring at him, head cocked. He looked to the courthouse security next to him and pointed at Rich.

“I’m sorry, is he asking for charity?” Hank asked, laughing wryly.

“Don’t you have to do that legally? Pro bono?” you asked, irritated, stepping forward to be in his sights for the first time. “You don’t seem the type to just do that willingly. I am sure people have to seek you out.”

He hesitated in his belittling, seeing you. His eyes flicked to your husband before coming back to you. He straightened up, and asked sounding far more interested, “You with him?”

“Yes, he’s my husband,” you stated, not breaking eye contact.

Hank studied you for a few moments more before telling Rich, “Write your number down.” He held out one of his business cards between his index and middle fingers towards Rich. Rich looked at loss taking it from him, and you inhaled sharply before digging in your purse, pulling out a pen. You were always prepared. Hank noticed, amused, his eyes still running over you unabashedly. “You can come to.” The way he said that sounded lewd and your mouth fell open slightly. He smirked briefly before adding, “To the meeting. Game plan and all between us. We’ll need all the noggins we can get probably.”

Without breaking eye contact with you now, Hank snatched the card from Rich’s outreached hand.

“You’re right, people do have to seek me out. Good on you for being so assertive, sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

<><><>

Sitting in the office, you were trying to avoid keeping eye contact with Hank. He was staring at you more often than not, watching you while Rich was trying to explain what was happening. He was getting the gist, you believed, but he was distracted still. They reached a plan of defense, Hank insisting he could get Rich off the hook for the assault but not the drugs. That was already screwed. But that did mean less time.

The hour was coming to a close and Rich stood up from his chair, holding out his hand. Hank took it reluctantly, shaking it weakly. Rich turned to you, gesturing for you to get up.

“Hey, can I keep Y/N here for a moment?” Hank asked quickly, catching both your attentions. You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately suspicious of his motives considering how he had been eye-fucking you for the last hour. “Something her and I need to discuss. Regarding this whole representation situation.”

Rich looked at you before shrugging, “I-I guess? Do you want me to wait outside?”

“You got it the first time,” Hank winked at him, flashing a smile. He was being condescending with that and you held back rolling your eyes, seeing Rich not pick up on it.

Rich nodded with a “sounds good” before turning and walking out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Hank’s eyes slid to you, and he relaxed back into his office chair. Chewing on the end of his pen, he ran his eyes over you for the millionth time.

“You know, for someone who got aggravated assault for trying to protect you, he seems pretty stupid when there’s a nonphysical threat in the room,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Are meatheads like him just triggered by someone laying hands only? They can’t pick up on other things?”

“If you’re just going to be insulting, I’m gonna leave. The two of you can work on this together,” you told him, beginning to stand up.

Rich was daft sometimes, but he was your husband and you loved him.

Hank held out his hand, “Whoa, whoa. Hold your horses.”

Irritated, you sat down again, glaring at him across the desk. You hated how handsome he looked even when he looked as smug as he did.

“There’s something else I want to discuss with you. Personally,” Hank told you, placing his pen back on the desk. “Payment.”

You flushed, immediately mad. “You said you were going to do this pro bono—” you began to argue.

“Chill, chill, chill, doll,” Hank purred, leaning forward. You clenched your jaw at his calm tone; he was trying to corral you. And calling you ‘doll’? He was handsome but he was sure an ass. “Don’t get riled up now. I am not asking for money.”

“You’re not asking for money?” you asked disbelieving. “You’re telling me you didn’t drag us in here just to waste our time before pulling the shade back up to ask for money? Cause that’s what it seems you’re doing.”

“No. I’m not doing that,” Hank told you, his fingers interlacing, leaning on his elbows on the desk. “I don’t want money from you.”

You stared back at him, the silence growing. You could see it in his eyes, and you felt the worry seeping into your bones quickly. And your fears heightened when he yet again, drug his gaze over you, lust in his eyes at your breasts. He was a pig.

He saw the realization wash over your features and before you could make a move, he grinned broadly. “The contract is simple that I could draw up for you. And it doesn’t have to be an ongoing thing, but if you wanna extend the contract, than sure, I am game. You look like you’ll be fun, and I don’t think I’ll be satiated quickly.”

“Fuck you,” you got out, standing up quickly.

Hank was on you before you got halfway to the door, turning you around. He peered down his nose at you and said gruffly, “Do you want your husband in jail for more years than he’s already going to be? That’s what you want? You’ll put your pride above that?” Slack jawed, you stood there, his hand tight on your waist. “No, I don’t think you will. You’re loyal to a fault.” He blew a raspberry and admitted, “Which is honestly baffling to me considering you’re a ten and he’s a four at best.” You huffed at that before he smirked, “But I think you like me.”

“You’re an asshole—”

“I am. But that doesn’t stop you from wanting to bend yourself over the desk,” Hank retorted confidently.

“I-I would not—” you began to argue, sputtering, but he interjected again, laughing.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re the only reason your husband got an appointment in the first place. But you knew that already didn’t you? You’re not daft. You picked up on that immediately. You were intrigued. And you sat there and let me ogle you – and I could write a novel with the thoughts that went on. Could rival 50 Shades if we are going to be honest.” You said nothing, hating that he was so right. You had known and you had come anyway, not challenging his lecherous looks until it was too late. When he saw you were silent, he stated, “So, let me make up that contract for you, doll.”

His hand fell from your waist, and you stood there dumbly as he walked back to his desk. Grabbing a yellow notepad, he scribbled quickly before tossing it onto the desk.

You came back over to the desk and peered at the paper.

I want representation.

[  ] Yes  [  ] No

Compensation will be provided with solicitation from the below signed party to attorney, Hank Palmer.

[  ] Yes  [  ] No

Sign here: ___________________

“This cannot be legal,” you said irritated. “Prostitution is illegal.”

“Where is there prostitution? I am not giving you money for it, am I? And it’s unofficial now but with your signature, it can be a binding document I can use,” Hank returned.

You slowly reached for the pen, grasping it tightly. You could find other counsel. But no one was as good as Hank. And he was just asking for momentary pleasure in exchange to make sure your husband would not be taken away from you for too long. And he was right; you were attracted to him. As big of a smug douchebag he was proving to be, he was dreadfully handsome. A lethal combination that had usually got you in trouble too many times before.

The pen scratched as you marked yes and yes and signed your name. Tossing the pen back down onto the desk, you took a step back.

Hank ran his tongue along his bottom lip at the sight of your signature and his eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked smile forming. “I’m half chubbed up already. Come back on Friday afternoon. 2:00pm. We will really game plan then.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld 

@agustdowney I saw your comment on one of the posts about him so.... here we go.

[nightshade-minho]

-Blue Book- (2)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: the boys are kind of assholes in this, as most immature high school boys are. mentions of alcohol.

The next day, Chan combed through the hallways of the school, but every time he caught a glimpse of you, you'd disappear in a second.

As the school day came to a close, Chan winced as he felt someone slap his back- he turned around to see Jisung grinning widely at him, throwing his arm around his shoulder.

"How's the little quest going?"

Chan shrugged his arm off, gritting his teeth. "Just perfect." He sighed, exhausted after the day he'd had. He couldn't be bothered to do any more searching. All he wanted to do was go home and take a nice bath, maybe watch some TV and fall asleep on the couch.

"I think I'll just go home."

"Um...you sure about that?" Jisung raised an eyebrow, as he stared past Chan.

"What are you looking a-" Chan frowned, turning and following Jisung's gaze.

What he saw made his blood boil. Miyoung was standing against her locker, pressed against it by none other than Lee fucking Minho himself. He leaned over her, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle loudly.

Chan clenched his fists as Minho looked up, staring right at him. He gave him a smirk, turning back to wink at Miyoung before making his way over to the two boys.

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Hey, we had a deal, didn't we? Let's see the book."

"Wow. You're so mature."

Jisung rolled his eyes. "Please don't start fighting here, I don't want to be caught in between this...this battle of the alphas." His eyes widened as he saw Seungmin, Felix and Jeongin across the hall, beckoning them over quickly. "Thank God, sane people."

As the three made their way over, Chan tried to quell the jealousy rising in him. He knew Minho had zero interest in Miyoung. It enraged him, knowing he was only doing this to irritate him.

"So, hyung? Did you ask the nerd out, yet?"

"Not yet." He said, sighing. He was so done with all of this.

Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you as you quickly walked to the exit.

"Fuck- guys, I'll be back."

Minho followed his gaze to you, chuckling. "Ah, wonderful. Go get her, tiger." He mocked.

"Tell us how it goes, okay, Chan?" Changbin spoke up, appearing out of nowhere along with Hyunjin. "Remember, Felix's basement at 8."

"Yeah, yeah." Chan pushed the boys aside as he made his way over to you quickly, walking as fast as he possibly could.

"Hey! Y/n!"

You stopped in your tracks as you heard his voice, slowly turning around.

"Oh...it's you..."

"Yeah it's me...listen, I was wondering if I could ask you something-"

"Umm..." you bounced from one foot to another. "I'm kind of in a hurry right now."

"Oh-"

"But it's fine! You can ask, just make it quick." You bit your lip.

"Um, well...I was wondering if you're free...maybe we could hang out?" He asked, faking slight nervousness.

Your cheeks heated up as your brain processed what he was saying. You couldn't believe this was happening. Looking past him, you noticed his group of friends, some of them not-so-subtly watching the two of you, others looking like they didn't give a single fuck.

"I...your friends look like they're waiting for you."

"My- what?" He turned around a little, sending a sharp frown their way. Turning back to you, he smiled. "It's okay, they're okay."

"Well...I was actually going to the park again, to sketch. The sun will set soon...Which is kind of why I was in a hurry." You said shyly.

Chan tilted his head, smiling. "Hm, mind if I tag along?"

"Uh yeah sure, okay..." you smiled as he grinned.

"Lead the way."

***

You sat on the same bench as yesterday, using colour pencils you had tucked into your saddlebag to recreate the beautiful sunset in front of you on paper.

The sky looked like a bruised mango, all oranges and pinks. It was really pretty. Chan watched in silence as you drew, occasionally looking up to observe the scene in front of you.

"I don't think I've ever sat down somewhere and watched the sun set." He mused, staring at your side profile.

"Well, there's a first time for everything..." you said softly, looking up briefly at him.

"Yeah...I agree." He said, leaning back against the back of the bench. "How long have you been drawing?" It was really hard pretending to be interested in you, but Chan reminded himself that it wasn't that painful of a task, especially if Miyoung was the reward.

"Ever since I was a little girl." You said, smiling as the lead of your pencil scratched against paper. "I consider it very therapeutic. I draw because...it captures a moment forever. You know, people blaze through life too quickly. They don't usually realize how precious something is until it's gone..."

Chan slowly tuned you out as a vision filled his brain. Him and Miyoung, having their first dance as prom king and prom queen...A stupid, lovesick smile adorned his face as he thought about how pretty she would look, how soft her waist would feel under his hand. Maybe if he was lucky enough, the night would end with her under him...

"...Anyway, that's how I feel. What do you think?"

Chan snapped back to attention, eyes fixed on you as you faced your paper.

"Um, yeah. I agree with everything you said." He nodded, trying to sound convincing. You looked up at him and gave him an incredibly sweet smile, catching him off guard for a second.

"That's nice to know. People...people don't usually agree with me. I mean, they barely listen in the first place. I guess I'm just not interesting enough." You shrugged.

Chan sighed, shifting a little closer hesitantly. God, he truly had no idea how to respond to something like that. So he said what he thought you would like to hear.

"You're very interesting, Y/n, and...I really like you. Don't say stuff like that about yourself. People are just too stupid to realize what they're missing." He said gently, his finger under your chin as he made you look up at him.

You felt your cheeks burn as you avoided eye contact, his words melting you. No one had ever said anything so kind to you.

"Look at me, princess." You obeyed him slowly, eyes travelling to his.

"You have such pretty eyes..." Not as pretty as Miyoung's, but they were alright.

You let out a soft giggle as you looked up at him. "Chan..."

"Yeah...?"

"Thank you." You said softly.

"For what?"

"Um...for being here, I guess. When you could be with anyone else, anywhere else." You said, sniffing a little. "Thanks for being the first person to show interest in me since I got here." You said, a slight edge of vulnerability to your otherwise even tone.

He almost felt bad.

***

"She's wrapped around my finger. Told you guys I could do it."

"Then where's the book?" Minho asked, an amused curl to his lips as he sipped on his beer.

"Well..I don't have it yet. But I will, soon. If she's already so whipped in a day, I'm sure she'll trust me enough in a few more."

Seungmin leaned back, setting down his book for a second. "What exactly makes you think she's so whipped for you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chan rolled his eyes. "It's quite obvious." He sat up a little straighter as he continued talking, regaling them with the events of that afternoon. As Chan finished speaking, Felix spoke up.

"This is cruel." He pointed out.

"You're such a softie." Hyunjin muttered, snatching his can from Jeongin.

"It's called having a heart. Something which, apparently, none of you have."

"Look, if you hate us so much, no one's really forcing you to stay. Besides, if you care so much about her, maybe you should have spoken up before." Minho snapped.

"I actually kind of get where Felix is coming from..." Jeongin said softly.

The sounds of bickering quickly erupted as Chan tuned them out again, a skill which he seemed to be perfecting that day.

He thought about the sincerity in your eyes when you talked about...whatever you had been talking about. The slightest pang of an unfamiliar emotion struck his heart and he frowned, pushing it away.

He just had to stick through this for another few days, and then Miyoung would be all his.

He couldn't wait.

[brightest-ideas]

(Continuation of this fanfic, again pretend it was posted yesterday lmao. Trigger warning for abuse and misgendering)

Jack had been waiting on the porch for roughly two hours now. During the first hour, his eyes had been firmly focused on the road, straining to see against the dark night if the next passing car was his father's, hoping that the next one would slow down and turn into their driveway. That enthusiasm slowly died down as time passed. Now, the middle Bright brother had been leaning against the railing for some time, looking down on the ground below him with his head resting on his hand, the light from his house only dimly illuminating the outside, he could barely spot the dark asphalt road just up ahead. Still, every time he heard the distant roar of the engine and the tires against the road, his head would perk up and he would look over, only to get disappointed once more as the car sped right past him.

He never got why Mikell liked dark, cold evenings so much. The crickets chirping were more irritating than anything, and you could only stare at the same starry sky so much before it became repetitive and boring, not to mention the annoying bugs trying to bite him. Jack much rather preferred staying inside, where it was warm and pleasant, with the yellow light illuminating everything perfectly, no scary dark corners or shadows to be found anywhere. He only ever liked staying on the porch if it were with his brothers.

The boy had long since lost sense of time and was about to head back home, when he heard yet another car, this time slowing down and pulling over into their dirt driveway. Jack's face lit up with the biggest grin and he practically jumped off the porch stairs as he saw his older brother come out of the car.

"Mikell!" He raced over, practically crashing into his brother and almost sending them both flying to the ground, thankfully for them both the older boy managed to catch himself on his crutches before he lost his balance.

Mikell wheezed as his brother made an impact with his chest and hugged him tightly, thankfully not too hard as to not hurt him...much. He visibly winced, but his expression softened as he looked down at the teen who had by now buried his face tightly against his older brother's chest.

"Ow, hey, asshole-" He patted Jack's shoulder. "Mind my ribs."

"Oh-" Jack pulled away slightly, his face flushing in embarrassment as he realised his mistake. "Sorry."

"Jennifer," Before Mikell could reply, their father's harsh tone had gotten both of their attention, Adam walking around the car towards them. "I thought I told you to be in bed before we came back."

"But, I- I wanted to see Mikell." Jack stammered out.

"And for fuck's sake, take that ridiculous hat off your head."

Before Adam could grab the cowboy hat, Mikell had already placed his hand on top of it, holding it firmly on his sibling's head as he met their father's gaze.

"I think it looks good on her."

Adam scoffed and turned back to his car, locking it. "Whatever. Just take the brat to her bed."

"Sure thing, your majesty." The eldest mocked before quickly hopping away on his crutches before their father could make a scene, Jack very quickly following him, leaving their parents to talk near the car alone.

As they neared the stairs, the younger boy started to pull the hat off of his head, only to have it firmly put back into place by his brother.

"You can keep it." Mikell pulled his hand away, grinning. "It suits you."

"It's a bit big for me, don't you think?"

"You'll grow into it." He carefully started to hop up the stairs.

"Or you just have a huge bubblehead."

Mikell laughed out as he stopped at the very top of the stairs, watching his brother climb up after him. "If you think some broken bones are going to keep me from drop-kicking a child down the stairs, you're wrong."

"I think you'd just fall over because of that massive head of yours if you tried."

"Why you-!"

Before he could grab him, Jack had already dived for the door, getting away from his brother as fast as possible.

"I think you'd be surprised how fast I can go on these crutches if you keep testing me, pipsqueak."

"Not fast enough, old man!" Jack stuck his tongue out at him and quickly disappeared into their house.

"Old?!" Mikell huffed, limping after him, squinting a bit as the warm yellow light hit his eyes. "I'm only twenty-two." He turned briefly to close the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, balancing mostly on his crutches as he managed to kick his shoe off.. "If you keep calling me old, you're setting yourself up for one hell of a life crisis in a few years."

He stood back up and hopped ahead towards his brother, but before Jack could even come up with a comeback, they were quickly cut off by a loud pair of footsteps coming towards them from the living room.

"Mikey!"

Mikell yelped as he had almost lost balance once more as he felt his youngest sibling crash into him, thankfully on the side of his healthy leg, and grip tightly onto his waist. He could only briefly look down at the small girl who had buried her face in his stomach before he remembered something, quickly bringing one of his crutches up, stopping TJ in his tracks as the boy almost rammed into the tip of it. A sense of dread creeped onto the eldest's expression.

"Don't."

TJ's face fell, though he stepped away, he knew more than enough what would happen if he made accidental skin contact with the man. "Sorry…"

Mikell put his crutch down with a soft tap as it hit the wooden floor, looking at his brother for a moment. He missed TJ a lot and he was sure the boy missed him too. He laid one hand on Claire's back, still looking at TJ, before he let out a long sigh. "Alright…but be very careful."

The youngest of the brothers lit up instantly, practically jumping over in excitement. Careful as to not touch Mikell's skin, the youngest boy wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled his face against his chest, with a bright smile on his face.

Mikell tried to relax into the hug, leaning back on his crutches and lifting his chin up, trying to make sure that TJ would not touch him. He let out a loud exhale, letting the tension leave his body as he closed his eyes, smiling just slightly. It felt so good to be back home, with his family. He missed the warm light and chatter, he missed their hugs and talking to them, he missed singing Claire to sleep, telling TJ stories and bickering with Jack. He missed it all, even the little annoyances.

"I missed you all too." His tone was soft and soothing, he gently ruffled Claire's hair and even hesitantly rubbed TJ's back as the two pulled away eventually. He slowly readjusted himself, pulling his crutches closer to his body so he could properly stand on them again. He then looked at the teen leaning against the wall and grinned. "Except for you, Jack, you're a nuisance."

"Hey!"

Mikell chuckled and gestured for his youngest siblings with one of his crutches, waving it towards upstairs. "Now come on, it's late and you two should have been in bed a long time ago."

TJ looked at his sister, walking ahead of her with a slight bounce to his step. "Hey Claire, wanna race me to your bedroom?"

"Yeah, yeah!" She giggled happily and ran ahead as fast as her little legs could carry her, her brother quickly gaining on her but sliding on the wooden floor just near the stairs, grabbing the railing to not fall on his face.

"Try not to hurt yourself, alright?" Mikell called out after them, a slight worry in his tone, but it's not like they were going to listen to him anyway. He limped along past Jack and the living room, heading towards the stairs as well.

Jack watched as his two younger siblings climbed up the stairs like a pair of rabid animals then glanced at his older brother with that usual bastard grin of his. "You need help going up the stairs, grandpa?"

Without a word, Mikell brought his crutch to his brother's shin, making him yelp loudly. He fell to his knees, gripping where his brother has hit him.

"Fuck!" He hissed, looking up at his brother who just snickered at his misery.

"That's what you get, I warned you already." There was a hint of amusement in Mikell's tone as he circled around the teen and continued on his way.

"You think you're gonna win this fight, mister cracked-ribs?" The boy quickly jumped up to his feet and raced ahead of Mikell, spinning around to face his brother. He immediately paused when he saw his expression visibly fall, amusement being quickly replaced with worry.

"Jack, your eye…"

Ah. Fuck. He almost forgot. "Oh, it's-" He pulled the cowboy hat over his face in an attempt to hide the mark. "It's nothing. I just fell."

But Mikell wasn't that easily fooled. He reached over and gently stroked his brother's cheek with his thumb, making him wince in pain. "He hit you, didn't he?"

Jack frowned, lowering his head, though his eyes still focused on his older brother. "Please don't get angry at him."

"He hit you." Mikell hissed through gritted teeth, feeling his blood boil.

"You're hurt." Jack had already grabbed Mikell's arm, fearing he was already planning to storm out the front door and scream at their father. And he wasn't exactly wrong. "Please, don't do anything stupid, he'll hurt you."

"Jack-"

"Mikell, please." He pulled himself closer, wrapping his arms around the older man's torso. "Please. You won't win this argument, he's just going to hurt you. Please just let it go…"

"I…" Mikell sighed heavily, letting his frustration leave his body with the big exhale and his shoulders falling, propping his chin against the top of Jack's head. "...Fine. But the second I'm healthy again, that bastard better watch his back."

"Thank you."

"...Okay, well, TJ and Claire are waiting for us. Come on."

[eluminium]

Uh oh it’s a debate! (Fic)

Well uh, I’ve been dead for half a year. But now I’m back! Schools been a bitch but Summer break is here and I’ve written something out! Lets watch two idiots argue! Tracy Spacey belongs to @reginaldcopperbottom go follow them and Lucien Rousselle belongs to @quec-two follow her too

"Conductor, with all due respect, what will we gain from this plan?"

The varying tone of the Council Members' voice felt like acid in the Conductor's ears and the pressure inside her skull only increased. Elg felt a simmering irritation nip under her skin and she swore that she just popped a blood vessel. The sleek figure of her biggest rival, Tracy Spacey, stood with arms crossed across the table, unyielding in their questioning. A predominant frown showed their dislike, along with their stiff but straight posture. The air in Elg's lungs left in a huff, and the soft padding of her fingers traced her temples in circles.

"Didn't the older members of our honorable council teach you that you should never play all your cards on one possibility?" Elg challenge as her eyes traveled over the quarreling Council Member.

"Of course they did and that is why I am objecting to this self-destructive plan." Tracy fired back, a harsh glare treating Elg's larger form as she did theirs.

"To hide a large portion of our loot from our ally is only going to inspire mistrust Conductor, and for someone who fought so hard to establish it, I find it strange you'd risk it based on unfounded paranoia." They continued with a small smirk resting on their lips, the smugness leaking off their words.

Elg's lips were sealed while her form rose from her seat, the wooden chair digging into her hand. Her head lolled to the side, not unlike a curious dog.

"Unfounded paranoia? Mind elaborating on that?" She questioned, her fingers tightening around the rim of the chair.

"Tell me, do we have any reason to not trust The Masqueraiders and their leadership?" They spoke while their legs carried them towards the nearest window, gloved hands moving from gripping the other arm to gripping each other behind their back.

"There is no evidence of backstabbing after all." They continued.

"At the moment...Yes, there is no evidence of betrayal from our ally" The Conductor admitted through grit teeth, feeling the annoyance bubble in her veins as her eyes bore into the Council Member.

A satisfied sneer sneaked onto their face as their body twirled around to meet Elgs, displaying a feeling of victory and command despite standing a fair distance away from the Conductor.

"Then why are we having this debate in the first place? Order the Metallics to cease the transfer-"

The chasm that leaked words abruptly stopped as their gaze locked onto the finger that rose into the air, signifying them to shut up. A simple gesture for most, but those used to debates with the Conductor, it's a warning. Tracy felt a similar rage seething in their veins as the Conductor, but they chose to obey, crossing their arms with a grunt and a glare. They were however curious of what her counter would be.

Elg, satisfied with Tracy's silence, spoke.

"You are correct by saying there is no evidence of dishonesty from our ally-"

A snobbish glint danced in their eyes as they kept eye contact with Elg. In response, Elg's feet carried her forwards, closing the gap between them ever so slightly.

"-But have you forgotten what world we operate in Council Member?" She continued sharply while her steps danced closely to Tracy's personal space. Tracy felt their body react by taking a step back, and their arms sneaked back into a defensive position.

"I don't follow your line of thinking, Conductor" They rumbled as a counter, their asphalt-colored gaze hardening as they were locked with Elg's sharp ocean blue eyes.

With a confident step forward, and a small squeak from Tracy as their personal space was breached, Elg felt a dark chuckle escape her lungs.

"We're criminals, Council Member. We operate in a space where betrayal is rewarded greatly, and so are the Masqueraiders. Yes, they might not plan to betray us now, but in the future? Anything is possible. Besides, they might be planning to stab us in the back right now, we just haven't noticed."

For a split second, the room was silent. Not a single sarcasm-filled sound bounced off the metal walls. The only noises either of their ears could pick up were their own and the other's breathing. The space between them barely existed, their chests squished up against each other. Despite Tracy slightly outclassing Elg in height, Elg's more bulky form made them look quite small pressed up against her. The stillness continued. Tracy's mind drew a blank, Elg waited for a response.

But as the clock in Tracy's pocket ticked, both their gazes averted and both moved back a step, with the Conductor doing it calmly while the Council Members step was more panicky. Despite this, Elg quickly reestablished eye contact, refusing to look away until Tracy gave them an answer. Tracy, in their turn, fumbled a bit.

"D-Don't you think I know that?!" They spat out, flustered, while their body moved into a guarded stance. Their spine was erected and their foot hit the floor repeatedly.

"Well, If you did maybe you wouldn't be so naive!" Elg snarled back angrily, the rage in her blood starting to boil over. Both their tones drowned the room in toxicity.

"Don't patronize me, Conductor! I'm not a fucking child!"

"Stop acting like one then!"

"Oh, I could say the same to you! You're putting the stability of our alliance in peril because of some childish fear!"

"Why do you even care so much?! You were one of the biggest opponents of said alliance in the beginning! You fought tooth and bloody nail to prevent it, constantly calling me a false conductor who doesn't care about her people! And now that I'm actually prioritizing the Bowties you fucking fight me on it! What happened?!"

Their feet shifted their balance to their toes as a preventive scoff left them. Their body kept dragging in itself.

"It doesn't matter! People are allowed to change their god damn opinions Conductor!"

Suddenly, something clicked in the Conductors head, and her stare once again traveled over the huffing Council Member. The defensive position, the avoidance of the question, the almost fearful tone in their voice, bouncing around in her ear...

"You gotta be kidding me" She muttered spitefully, her stare turning into a glare.

"Wha-?" Tracy started but was caught off guard by the Conductors' sudden change in volume.

"It's that wasp-looking guy isn't it?! Lucien Rousselle, right?!" She raised her voice, the sound of fury echoing.

"W-What about him?! What the hell are you on?!" Tracy spluttered, a red heat traveling through their cheeks.

"Don't play dumb with me you clock-obsessed moron! It's so obvious even I can see it! I see the looks you give him! You're prioritizing your dainty little feelings over the safety of our faction!" Elg roared, the stomp of her steps slowly approaching Tracy once again.

"U-Uh n-no! That's not true! Uhm...uh...but but BUT WHAT ABOUT WEASLEY? YOU TWO ARE CLOSE! DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK HE'D BETRAY YOU? YOU THINK HE'S JUST ANOTHER LUIGRA?!" Tracy bit back, panic rushing through their bones. They HAD to change the topic, and fast. Even if it meant hitting some weak spots.

Now it was Elg's turn to be completely bewildered. Her footsteps ground to a halt as she was forced to recalibrated her brain.

"What the...What?! Just because we're close and work together doesn't mean I'd sacrifice the safety of my fellow Bowties! And don't you DARE compare him to that...that greedy blue-haired fucker!" Elg stuttered out, confusion and anger dribbling off her voice.

"Well, maybe you should ACT like it then you daft idiot!"

"Hah! Rich for you to say love bird!"

"S-Shut up! I'm not in love with a fucking economics minister! You tried to teach Weasley how to play fucking POOL yesterday!"

"That has nothing to do with ANYTHING-"

"Oh doesn't it-?!"

"Conduta' Elg?"

Both of their mouths clamped shut as that familiar Arabic voice filled the room.

"Y...Yeah, Aynan?" Elg huffed out, completely out of breath from the shouting match.

"We nee' to le'ave tha' area soon, ya nee' to prepa' tha' train" He continued, his words soft and delicate like a cloud.

"Yes, yes of course. I'll head out now" Elg responded, her body taking her towards the door like she was on autopilot, with her Young Soul waiting outside.

Before she left the room, she once again stared into Tracy's thundercloud-like eyes. They were both gasping a bit, exhausted from the dispute turned screaming match. She was met by anger, confusion, and fear. Her own sky blue gaze showed similar emotions. From this, both of them knew this debate was far from over, and that they'd clash again one day soon.

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 16

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

When everyones dates go very well

First< Previous > Next

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“Thanks for dropping us off,” Marion slides out Selina's car, Kagami and Chloe following, “We couldn’t take the same route as them,”

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” Selina teases, with an edge of seriousness.

“Thank you,” Kagami chimes in, getting waved off by Selina as she and Chloe leave to hunt down the targets.

“So you’re going to tell him?” Marion whispers through the open window.

“Yep,” She sighs, tightening grip on the steering wheel, “We’re going to go on a date of out own, completely romantic, then ruin the evening,”

“You really think he’s going to be mad?” Marion cringes, getting a reassuring smile.

“At me,” She clarifies, “Don’t you worry he’ll be thrilled to have more kids,”

Marion holds back a laugh at her exasperated tone, “Have fun,”

“I won’t,” Selina assures, throwing back a, “Have fun,”

“I will,” Marion grins, spying on the totally-not-a-date between two disasters will be nothing but entertaining.

Marion waves at the leaving car before jogging to catch up with the girls. Staying slightly behind to watch them try and talk about plants. Chloe trying to sound more intelligent than ‘look at the pretty flower’, not that Kagami would mind. He resists the urge to drags his fingers through the leaves of ferns and vines as they walk down the winding paths of the botanical garden. Too many times has he touched plant life only for it to wither and die later, a side effect of holding his miraculous too long. So he always made sure Marinette is around to counteract the bad luck.

The urge gets easier to resist as they enter a more open garden area, filled with flower patches and green grass. Probably the cleanest place in Gotham likely thanks to a certain rouge that would hunt you down for littering here. He spots the two lovebirds and directs the girls to a nearby tree well suited for hiding behind as they spy on the little picnic Adrien has set up, in a grassy patch surrounded by flowers.

“Oh my god,” Chloe groans, “How can they be such idiots?”

“Can we just tell them?” Kagami asks irritably, not for the first time.

“No, let their relationship take its natural course,” Marion scolds, not for the first time.

“Do you think they’re going to be just as slow when they’re together?” Chloe complains more than asks, “Will they ever get married?”

“Are you kidding?” Marion scoffs, “The day after they get together someones going to propose,”

“Probably both,” Kagami predicts, watching as they both fumble over something.

“Probably,” Marion and Chloe both agree, as the fumbled object gets dropped.

“Well, hey there!” a high pitch voice shouts through their whispering, “Who’re we spying on?”

Marion whips around coming nose to nose with Harley Quinn herself. He takes a step back to see Poison Ivy standing just behind.

“Um…” Marion debates going for his baton, they didn’t seem hostile but they don’t need to be to cause damage, “Our friends date?”

“Ohhh!” Harley stands on her tiptoes to look over their heads, “Aren't they just precious?!”

“Yes,” Ivy agrees to Harley’s goo-goo eyes despite not having looked over once.

“Let's go say hi,” Harley links her arms with Marion and Chloe’s dragging them over to the picnic.

“What are you doing here!” Marinette shouts as soon as they approach, seemingly more surprised at them than the two rogues.

“I caugh’em spyin on ya and decided to drop in,” Harley releases them and sits down, “This looks delicious!”

Harley takes a cookie from a plate, eyes lighting up when she takes a bite. Marion locks eyes with Marinette as confused as him. It only gets worse when Ivy sits down as well, on the grass not the blanket. Well it’s not like he can just leave. Marion shrugs and sits down, immediately reaching over to steal from Marinette's plate, ignoring the plates around him.

“Sooo,” Harley hums partly around a mouthful of cake, rocking back with legs crossed, “What’s ya names,”

“Marinette, that's Marion,” Marinette hisses his name, as she tries to snatch back half a sandwich.

“Oh! Brucie’s kids!” Harley claps her hands together, “You’re the Wayne twins!”

“Uhhh…” Yes? No? Kinda? Soon? It’s up to him?

“No they're not,” Kagami takes a seat following Chloe, “It’s just a baseless rumour,”

“Yep!” Marion agrees way to loudly, “A completely baseless rumours, no fact here, nope,”

The look he gets from Marinette is expected, but it’s Chloe’s lingering gaze that really gets to him.

“I like what you’ve done with the flowers,” Marinette covers for him, alerting him that Poison Ivy had made many more bloom.

“I didn’t do much,” Ivy says, even as the grass around her is a couple inches taller than it used to be, “They already wanted to bloom so bright at seeing you,”

“Really?” Marinette sweat drops, reaching for her bag, “I do have a bit of a green thumb, I take care of a garden back home,”

“What wonderful things do you grow?” Ivy asks with keen interest, Adrien off to the side looking awestruck at Marinette’s composure.

“She’ll be takin all day now,” Harley spins towards the three other date crashers, “I didn’t hear your names!”

Chloe and Kagami startle as she leans further into their personal space.

“Surely if you’ve heard of the twins you’ve heard of me,” Chloe flips her hair, only getting a blank face from Harley, huffing, “Chloe Bourgeois,”

“Kagami,” She replies curtly, “Marion doesn't appreciate date crashing,”

“It’s alright Kags,” Marion assures, he more had a problem with having to hold her back from yelling at them both when they didn't kiss after fireworks.

“Ohhhh, are you two dating,” Harley stage whispers, making Chloe choke on her drink.

“No not at all,”

“Just friends,”

And not friends in the Adrien Agreste way.

“Ew gross you two dating?” Chloe cringes, “Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

“Oh! Then you two!” Harley exclaims, addressing the girls.

“Umm…”

“Well I….”

“Yes,”

“Rion!” Chloe yells, blushing furiously at his shit eating grin.

“Well let me give you some advice,” Harley sing songs, a not so subtle glance back at Ivy.

“I don’t think that's necessary-”

“Hush now,” She shushes Kagami, “So when you're on a date and some bozo tries interrupting, there's this nifty thing you can do with certain nerves-Or! If you have the tools, a good whack upside the head-Or! My favourite! You get your gun and…”

Marion shifts away, still keeping Chloe and Kagami in his sights, both completely red.

“-And I planted this one three years ago,” Marinette explains, letting Ivy hold her phone, eyes glued to whatever picture was on it, “I know they tend to like partial shade but I found this one prefers to be more in the sun, so I just move it on especially sunny days,”

“Your garden is brilliant they all look so-” Her gaze snaps up to Marion, making him freeze in place, “They do not like you,”

“Um,” It takes a second to realise she was talking about the plants, “I guess not, the plants at home like me,”

“Do they?” Ivy frowns, and Marion desperately hopes she likes Marinette enough to not attack him.

“Well, we have a catnip plant that does,” Or at least Plagg likes it enough to do his best not to let anything, even himself, destroy it.

“You do?” Ivy turns to Marinette, who starts talking about the plant.

Marion takes this opportunity to escape back into the conversation they were having with Harley-

“And if you really want to have fun in bed you can-” Nope never mind.

Marion stands, considers bringing Adrien along to find some more snacks for their bigger group. But he seemed just as enthralled with Marinette as Ivy is with plants. He walks off waving to Marinette as she looks over to check on him. He smiles at the silent desperate pleads for help Chloe and Kagami give him. With a bounce in his step Marion walks off.

He didn’t even realise he had left them alone with two rouges until he was halfway through the gardens. Whatever. Marinette could handle them and they both seemed friendly enough, if not very polite. If they wanted to crash a date he can think of another person that would rather it happen to them.

“So the twins got out of hospital yesterday,” yes because that's a good way to bring up the topic of your illegitimate children to their out of the loop father.

“That’s fast,” Translated means; I’m suspicious.

“Did you look into those Paris heroes?” No she isn’t stalling not at all, this is important.

“I did, they’ve been working mostly alone for years,” Bruce scowls, picking at his food “I don’t know how the league hasn’t heard about this,”

“Didn’t Marion say this Ladybug person fixes everything?” Selina hums, she had been to Paris and never saw anything, they couldn't be that good could they?

"Is that what he meant?" Bruce looks up at her genuinely puzzled.

Selina hides her smirk behind her wine, which she desperately needed for this conversation. She had forgotten not everyone could understand their babbling. Not even Bruce, yet. She merely hums in response, before taking a gulp of wine.

“I plan on contacting her,” Bruce admits out loud, their secluded rooftop table ensuring privacy, “Did they say anything more to you?”

“They’ve had some other things on their mind lately,” She doesn't meet his eye, so they were back to this topic, great.

“Post traumatic stress?” Bruce guesses, she wished- wait no- that's not good.

Selina would rather do this a hundred times over than have her kids suffer like that. Fortunately they didn't seem to be. Which could be concerning in its own right.

“No, actually, they seem completely unaffected by a near death experience,” Selina sighs, they should be right? Thats normal for regular people right? Well they weren't normal, mainly because of the man sitting across from her, who needed to know that, “Just like their father,”

“Tom?” of-fucken-course he had to make this harder, no she will not admit she was purposefully vague.

“No,” Selina feels the anxiety in her chest choke her, “You,”

And nope that last word only made it worse.

“... What?” Bruce pauses, fork still in mid air.

“You,” She places her empty glass down, the clink hitting the table deafening.

“... Selina, what are you saying,” Bruce lowers the fork, halfway between a scowl and suspicion.

“I mean we’ve been at it for years is it really that surprising?” Selina tries to play off, joking tone not overshadowing her panic.

“Selina,” Theres that stern tone, paired with the signature Bat glare.

“... They’re your kids, our kids,” Selina corrects, making sure to meet his eye. No tricks this time.

She lets the silence hang, studying Bruce's face. At first you can clearly tell he's trying to keep a mask on, but it cracks bit by bit. She sees confusion, realisation, panic, anger, disappointment all over lapping. Swirling together repeating over and over again until settling on anger.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” He explodes, pushing her off the ledge she had been on all day, or the last couple days, or hell for eighteen goddamn years.

“Because you-you’re-” She fumbles, so many reasons, mainly relating to Bats in some way, but that wasn't the main reason, “You said you didn’t want kids!”

“You never told me I already had kids!" The realisation hits Selina that he remembers.

If it was just now, or he had for years. He remembered the night she had asked if he wanted a family. He had said no. That he couldn't. That he had a responsibility to the city. So she had left. Not daring to see him when she was pregnant and not wanting to see him afterwards. The next time she saw Bruce he had just adopted a child.

“What would you have done! Huh?!” A child who a year later was chasing criminals around Gotham, “Would you quit? Would you dress them up too and make them fight crime!? I sent them to Paris to avoid that!”

“You know full well I never made them do anything!” Maybe not on purpose, but they do a whole lot for his approval.

“Their kids Bruce! You should have never let them join you out there!” She rants, pacing away from the table.

She gave them up so they would never join her either. Although with how much Marion likes cats he would surely love his own cat suit.

“How would you know what would happen?” Bruce demands, keeping pace with her, dragging his hands through his hair, “I-god- I hadn't even adopted Dick yet and you wrote me off!”

“ Exactly , do you really think you could have raised them!” Dick's his argument for good parenting? Better than Jason.

“Maybe I wanted to!” Bruce yells, anger crumbling, he collapses onto a love seat looking over the city, “Maybe I wanted to raise at least one of my children,”

“I know,” Selina tentatively sits on the chairs arm, reaching over to him, “But they deserved a chance to live without all this ,"

She vaguely gestures to the city and partly to Bruce. Who looks offended at his inclusion.

"They’ve been in Gotham a week Bruce," She slides into the seat, arguing her point before he has the chance, "And they have the press after them, villains attacking, they just got out the hospital ,”

“Hm,” Bruce looks out at the city, not really seeing any of it. “They really are like me huh,”

“Without a doubt,” She gets a slight tug at the lips from Bruce, completely humourless.

They fall silent Bruce looking out at the city. She studies his expression, less of a world wind of emotion now but certainly still in turmoil. He starts to fix his mask back in place, she looks away so he doesn't have to. Looking out at the view they were meant to be enjoying on their date. One that she had planned. Bruce was never going to trust her to plan one again. Or at least he will always be expecting her to spring shocking news on him.

“What do you want to do now?” She asks the question she has wondered for years.

Whenever they were alone and things were calm, unnervingly calm for Gotham. She had thought of telling him. Partly because the calm alarms her, in a life of chaos she felt out of place in it. It would be the perfect way to bring the storm. While cats tended to hate water she has been an alley cat all her life, the calm was meant for house cats. However, thats what the other part of her wanted. For that calm to stay, but to include their kids. Who always sat at the edge of that calm, threatening to ruin it never letting her settle into it. Maybe that was why she could never enjoy it. Maybe now that they were in the storm, the next calm would be with the two of them.

“... I don’t know,” a rarity for the Batman, more common for the man underneath.

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

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month

[dastardlydandelion]

Please post the sickfic prompt turned corpse disposal. 😂

sure! that one’s p bloodless, i can post that one. 

ao3 link 

content warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced spousal abuse, minimally described fresh dead body, illness description 

Billy isn’t sick.

Billy doesn’t get sick. He really doesn’t. Hasn’t had so much as a cold in years, albeit he’s claimed one as cover here and there whenever coke overuse made him maybe sorta sniffly and Neil started to eye him up like he might be suspicious.

Billy isn’t sick.

If he’s feeling achy, well, he’s just sore because Neil laid the belt on him pretty hard two days ago after he got sent home from school midday Monday, written up and suspended. If he’s coughing, well, it’s just because he’s been smoking more than usual. Neil’s been stressed out lately, so that means Billy’s stressed out too.

“No,” his father says sharply when Billy takes a seat at the breakfast table.

And Billy blinks at him, confused but careful.

“You’re not going to sit with us and cough all over the food like a human biohazard. I raised you to show more courtesy than that.” Neil gives him a stern look. “Go back to bed.”

“I’m not even—“

“Go back to bed, Billy.”

Billy hears the warning heighten in his father’s tone. He doesn’t argue. He hauls himself back to his bedroom and it’s whatever. He wasn’t really hungry anyway.

* * * 

Okay, so Billy is sick.

He got himself suspended because he felt something coming on. He knows his body. He was feeling off kilter and sluggish, uncomfortable in the chest when he inhaled too deeply. So he put his boots on the desk in history class and flipped the teacher the bird when she asked him to sit properly. Even went the extra mile and sneered, told her to blow him when her jaw hit the floor.

He figured it’d buy him enough time to recover without having to call in sick, or get in trouble for skipping class. A suspension was one indiscretion and only likely to invoke one punishment. Skipping multiple days would’ve been multiple indiscretions and more likely to invoke multiple punishments.

In retrospect he should’ve just called in sick because the whole point of avoiding that route was avoiding having to admit it, but he can’t really hide it. Whatever he’s got came on hard and fast, doubled-down by Monday evening. It hasn’t gotten any better. Billy feels bad all over, the cough is near constant, and he’s shaking with chills. Puts his leather jacket on before he buries himself under the blankets and still can’t get warm.

And the coughing, ugh, the fucking coughing. Billy knows he’s being loud. He tries to hold it in but he just can’t. Spasm after spasm squeezes his lungs until they’re aching for air. His chest feels like it’s full of swamp muck and all he can do is ride it out, clutch at his ribs until he makes it to the oxygen on the other side.

Billy should get up. He should make himself get off his ass, go buy some cough drops or at least refill his glass of water. He’s going to make it happen. He’s definitely going to make it happen…just maybe not yet.

He never really gets around to it. Spends most of the afternoon slogging through coughs and trying to get comfortable even though it doesn’t really matter which way he tosses or turns, he’s still cold to the bone, chest stabbing with every burdened breath. The day drags and Billy catches snippets of the other members of the household moving about, knows it’s evening when Neil sticks his head in.

“I dug this out of the cabinet for you,” he announces, holding up a blue container. “Vapor rub. It’ll calm your cough down. Help you sleep.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

His father pads across the carpet, sets the container down on Billy’s nightstand, right within reach. He hovers uncertainly, eyes narrowed. Opens his mouth to say something and maybe he does, but Billy doesn’t catch it, snapping upright to bury another flurry of coughs into his closed fist. It’s a forceful fit and before he knows it, his father’s thumping him on the back. He’s probably trying to help but the heel of his hand connects with one of the bruises the belt buckle left and Billy can’t stop himself before he flinches.

Neil retracts his hand, leaves without another word. Billy rakes in breath at the coda of the coughs, air scraping against his roughshod throat. He goes as deep as he can even though it hurts, snatches the container of vapor rub.

Billy begins to unscrew the lid and notices some of the ointment is crusted under the lid. It flakes off. This stuff looks old. Billy checks the date on the label. Sure enough, it’s been expired for close to a year.

He throws it across the room in frustration, watches it bounce off the wall. Lies back down and pulls the covers up to his chin.

At some point Neil bangs on his door and demands he cut out the racket, probably thinking Billy rebuffed his generosity. Billy’s too exhausted to bother explaining the shit’s expired. Instead he turns his face into the pillow and smothers his fits into the fabric, hoping it muffles the sounds.

* * * 

Sometime later Thursday morning, Susan knocks on his door. Billy contemplates pretending to be asleep. Really, he wishes he was. He’s feeling pretty rundown but he can’t seem to get more than a wink before he wakes up coughing.

But if he doesn’t answer it now, she’ll probably just bother him later. So Billy plods to the door and pulls it open.

“What?”

“Um,” Susan begins eloquently, blinking at him as she fiddles with the thin object in her hands. A thermometer.

“Neil tell you to do this?”

“N-No, but, uh. It’s probably a good idea to check your temperature. No offense, Billy, but you don’t sound so good and you’re awfully flush…”

“If I cared, I’d check myself,” he snorts irritably. “Try to stick that under my tongue and I’ll break it in half. Save your mother hen shit for Max.”

With that, he slams the door in her face. They’ve no love for each other. On infrequent occasions Susan will forget this and make some half-assed attempt to get closer to him. Billy’s always quick to remind her where they stand. It doesn’t take much.

Afternoon rolls around without Susan bugging him anymore. Billy isn’t a big reader but he doesn’t feel up to much else between increasingly productive coughing bouts that leave him hacking up gross, greenish globs into his small wire mesh trashcan. So he flips through some music magazines and the book he’s supposed to read for english class until he gathers enough energy to kick himself into gear.

He didn’t bother changing out of his clothes yesterday so he doesn’t need to change now. Just sprays himself with some cologne, figures he probably smells because he’s sweating nonstop. Discomforting drenching cold sweats like getting caught outside in icy rains, an experience Billy was blissfully unfamiliar with until Neil decided to leave sunny California behind.

He browses the small medical selection at Melvald’s, grabs a couple bags of cherry flavored lozenges  and a bottle of cough syrup. Covers a couple fits with the crook of his elbow on the way to the counter. He swallows the gunk that comes up because there’s nowhere to spit it into and scrunches his nose in disgust, feels like freaking slime sliding down his throat.

It’s the town cuckoo who rings him up. Or that’s her reputation anyway but she doesn’t seem particularly nutty to Billy. Hell, seems less weird than Susan does when she’s doing shit like talking to the spiders she takes outside.

“Time to go, Little Creepy Crawly,” she’d singsonged last week, shaking a daddy longlegs out of her tissue on the front porch. “Go be free.”

“You need fucking friends,” Billy had told her after the fact. Sound advice, he’d thought. Susan only ducked her head and disappeared into the next room.

Town Cuckoo gives the amount. Billy digs through his wallet and comes up two dollars short. Ugh. Fucking brandname linctuses. Shit’s a ripoff but there was no generic equivalent on the shelf.

She tells Billy it’s on the house, forehead crinkling just a bit as she studies him, eyes all melty with sympathy. Screw that shit. Billy isn’t anybody’s charity case. He gives her a pointed glower as he stamps a five down on the counter, takes the two bags of lozenges, and leaves.

He eats through half of the first bag until his throat tingles with menthol and artificial sweetness, and actually manages to sleep for a few solid hours. He knows it’s been hours because when he wakes himself coughing, it’s dark out. Nighttime.

Billy curls inward with the spasms, tries to catch his breath between stabbing pains. This sucks so much. He’s hacking up more gunk. Attempts to rub some of the discomfort from his heavy, congestion leaden chest to no avail.

He just keeps coughing and coughing and he knows before long, Neil’s going to get in his shit about the noise so he forces himself to throw off the covers. His bruises are still healing. He doesn’t need any more.

Billy crams his feet in his boots and drags himself down the hall. To his surprise, Susan’s sitting at the kitchen table. She’s crying. The sobs wrack her whole body the way the coughs wrack his and her cheeks are blotched cherry red just like his lozenges, tear tracks shining under the kitchen light. It throws him, really. He’s lived with Susan for years and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her cry. She just. Doesn’t show much emotion at all, let alone displays like this.  

Billy watches it the way he’d watch a car crash. Susan doesn’t even notice him until he’s coughing again. He curls his fist around his mouth, muffles them as best he can. Fumbles for his car keys when he’s made it through to the other side.

“Where could you possibly be going?” Susan asks, her voice thick, like there’s a bubble in her throat.

Maybe Neil hit her. Billy’s seen it so he knows it happens sometimes even though he’s pretty sure it’s not often. Not like how Neil hits him. Or hit his own mother. Susan is probably Neil’s favorite, obedient like a well trained dressage horse following all of his cues. Isn’t anything like his own mom who defied Neil like a wild mustang he couldn’t tame, who went braless and smoked hash with the hippies, screamed her lungs out at Neil in furious harpy volumes and called him names no matter how mad it made him. Who did her best to give back as good as she got even outmatched, even if it made him madder, throwing things or fists or swinging Billy’s Little League bat.

Susan is submissively behaved and tepid tempered, always wears her bra under the clothes Neil buys her in the fashions he prefers her in. Susan speaks softly and sweetly, never stays out unscheduled and doesn’t smoke anything at all, always smells like floral perfumes and lotions, never ever, ever like cigarettes or marijuana or other men’s cologne. When Neil hits Susan she goes slack and sloth and silent, and does not lift a finger to fight. It is the only thing she and Billy have in common.

“Nowhere,” he answers. “Gonna sleep in the car before Neil gets on me about making noise.”

“Billy, it’s too cold for that…besides, Neil isn’t going to wake up yet.”

“How do you know?”

What, does Susan think she’s a fucking fortune teller now?

Sure enough, she doesn’t have a straight answer for him. She stumbles over syllables that don’t shape into sentences and the last thing Billy feels like doing is indulging her.

“Pfft. That’s what I thought. By the way, you’re ugly when you cry.” Billy glares at her until she turns away, timid, bowing her head. He heads out to the Camaro, gets in the driver’s seat and pulls it back.

Yeah, it’s cold out but he can’t get warm inside under the blankets anyway. Neil’s already in a bad mood. He’d only barked about the racket last night but his father’s bite is worse than his bark and Billy knows better than to expect a second warning.

* * * 

Friday morning, the frosty air scrapes Billy’s throat raw and makes him cough so, so hard. He’s beyond done with this shit, fuck everything. He takes shallow breaths to avoid the pangs of going too deep. The coughing still brings up gunk he spits out and he can feel the congestion crackling in his chest like thick, goopy molasses drowning his lungs, sticking between every rung of his ribcage.

It’s actually. Kind of. Beginning to concern him.

Is being sick normally like this?

Billy hasn’t been sick in so long, he seriously doesn’t know. But it’s been days and he’s not feeling any better. He feels worse. He really does. Breathing has become a grueling travail. Even to his own ears, his exhales sound wet and ratty. The coughing was a nuisance when it first came on but now it’s just downright exhausting.

But.

Well. He’s gotta be okay. He’s too young to be like, seriously sick. It’s probably just one of those things where it’s going to get worse before it gets better. A lot of things are like that, right?

Everything gets worse before it gets better. He’s fine. He’s definitely fine.

Billy goes inside. Everyone’s at the breakfast table and he doesn’t take a seat because he’s a biohazard and Neil already looks dour. Susan’s pouring him coffee. Max nibbles at a piece of toast. She has a cut on her cheek that wasn’t there when Billy saw her yesterday. Doesn’t look bad, just a simple scratch stretched under her eye, but when he peers closer is that…is that a bruise?

Yes. It’s pretty small. Faint. He would’ve missed it entirely if the thin red thread of her cut wasn’t so stark against Max’s pasty skin.

He’s smart enough not to ask in front of Neil. He doesn’t say anything. Gets the juice from the fridge and pours himself a glass. He’s two sips in before he has to set it aside, covering his mouth as another fit takes hold.

Neil is glaring when he makes it through. Right. Don’t cough around the food. Billy isn’t even sitting with them but whatever. He’s not gonna poke the bear. Heads off to Max’s room and waits.

Eventually she comes in to get her backpack, frowning at his presence. “What’re you doing in here?”

“What happened to your face?”

“Geez, Billy, you sound terrible.” Her nose crinkles.

“I asked you a question, Max.” Billy impatiently twirls his finger, slightly annoyed. He already knows he sounds bad, doesn’t need to be reminded.

Max turns away from him with a shrug, starts stuffing her textbooks into the bag. “I fell on the pond yesterday when I was playing with my friends. Where I fell…the ice wasn’t smooth. It was rough and it scratched.”

Billy narrows his eyes and measures her up. It isn’t a particularly unlikely story. But he wants to be sure.

“You’d tell me if it was Neil, right?”

“…of course I’d tell you if it Neil.” Max looks up from messing with her stuff and faces him with clear resolution in her gaze. “Neil hits you all the time so if he hit me, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

Billy keeps his eyes on her as he goes over what she said. She doesn’t look like she’s lying. She doesn’t sound like she’s lying. Besides, Neil’s striking hand probably would’ve left a bigger bruise and he can’t place anything on it that would’ve scratched her skin like that. Neil’s fingernails are short and blunt, smoother than Billy’s, which get jagged when he bites. He doesn’t wear rings beyond his wedding band, and his is smooth silver, no shiny rock cut in the middle like Susan’s.

“Alright,” he concedes, turns to leave.

The coughing fit hits heavy, like a wrecking ball to the chest. Billy hangs onto the doorframe with one hand, covers his mouth with the other. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. It’ll pass.

Christ, he’s sick of being sick.

It passes. Billy keeps his grip on the doorframe as he works on drawing in air.

“You okay?” Max asks from behind.

And he can’t actually answer that just yet, still catching his breath.

“You sound really gross, like you’re literally dying.”

“I’m not…I’m fine…even run you to school, if you want.” Billy relaxes his grip on the doorframe and turns back to her.

“Oh.” Max perks up at that, eyes bright. “Yeah, can you?”

She lowers her voice as she adds, “I’m mad at my mom. I don’t really wanna ride with her.”

Billy doesn’t ask what for. It’s probably something stupid. Susan getting after her for not zipping up her coat or touching yellow snow or some other dumb shit. He’s too tired to care, really.

“Sure I can, s’what I just said, isn’t it? Finish getting your stuff together, bus leaves in five.”

* * *

Billy does’t go home for a long time. After dropping Max off, he just sits in the parking lot for awhile, rests his head against the steering wheel while the heat blasts from the vents. He’s got it all the way up and he’s so sweaty his hair’s plastered to the back of his neck, but he’s still freaking cold.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

Or.

Okay, maybe he does.

Eventually he pulls out of the parking lot, drives around listening to music just to be doing something. Winds up in another lot, an empty lot, where the rumor is they’re going to build a mall next year. Billy hopes so. Hawkins is mind-numbingly boring. Sometimes he just wants to scream about it, set fire to the fucking cornfields and scream at the top of his lungs.

His lungs aren’t really up to screaming right now though. Neither is his throat, really, tender from coughing spasm after coughing spasm tearing it up. Billy doesn’t know if he’s even been this sick.

He’s even considering bringing it up to his dad, maybe even. Asking Dad for help. And that.

That means he’s either desperate or delirious, and neither is a particularly reassuring thought.

Fuck.

Billy despises the fact it even crossed his mind. He can’t go to Neil. He won’t. That’s stupid. Neil would probably just dig him out some more expired vapor rub. Definitely wouldn’t take him to a doctor, at least not until the bruises heal. Maybe he’d compromise and get him the cough syrup Billy didn’t have enough cash for…

Between musings, Billy finds himself squeezed in another fit that pummels his chest like invisible fists. It’s so bad he’s left battling for just a breath of air, so forceful for one very scary second he’s even worried he won’t get it. That the coughing will go on and on, and he’ll never take another breath again. That they’ll find his body right here in the empty lot where maybe the mall will be one day.

Except the coughing eventually does subside and Billy does manage to get some air. But the fit spooks him a little. Takes enough out of Billy that he decides he’s probably going to have to go to Neil. Shit.

He puts it off as long as he can. Doesn’t even go home until he knows everyone is done with dinner. To his surprise, Neil isn’t watching tv. Billy heads down the hall. The light is on under Max’s door. The light is on under the master bedroom door too. Billy hesitates before knocking.

Does he really need to go to Neil?

Maybe he was exaggerating when he was worried earlier. Billy’s hand retracts from the door. It's promptly clamped around his mouth for what must be the hundredth time. He’s hacking hard into his palm, chest throbbing.

He doesn’t actually mean to open the door. But he grabs the knob for support and jerks when the metal is shockingly cold under his fingers. The next thing Billy knows, he’s stumbling over the threshold.

Susan whips toward him, eyes as wide as dinner plates and mouth frozen open in horror. At first Billy thinks it’s him. She’s so disgusted she’s horrified by him and his biohazard germs and any second Neil’s going to pick his head up from the bed and bark at Billy for intruding without so much as a knock, and then—

Then his eyes fall to the long bloodied baiting needle in Susan’s suddenly trembling hands.

“S-Self d-defense,” she quavers, backing away, that needle outward in her shaky, shaky hands almost like she thinks Billy’s going to advance on her. “It was s-self defense, B-Billy, I had to.”

Because Neil’s still motionless, facedown on the bed even though his son’s still coughing, making a racket and expelling biohazard bacteria in his very bedroom. He’s still coughing, fuck, his eyes are watering, but they aren’t so watery he can’t see what’s right in front of him. Billy plants a hand down against the dresser and tries to breathe.

“Self defense,” he rasps at the end of the fit, blinking at the acupuncture kit open inches away from his hand on the dresser.

“S-Slightly preemptive self defense,” Susan amends, swallowing. “Make no m-mistake, I had to. I had to, he— he was right on the verge of a b-blowup. You know your father, Billy.”

That is true. Billy knows his father well. He doesn’t speak to Susan as he shuffles up to the bed. Gulps down some of the gunk in his throat, grazes his father’s cheek with his fingertips. There’s blood welled up in a hole at the base of his skull but he’s warm, kinda, so maybe Susan didn’t kill him after all. He moves his fingers to feel for a pulse.

It isn’t there. Neil’s dead? Neil’s really dead?

“Dad?” he tries. It comes out a hoarse squeak. He clears his throat and tries again. “Dad? Dad, c’mon.”

Billy jostles his father’s shoulder. It yields no response. The bare skin is still warm, deceptively so. There’s not so much as a flicker of life beneath it.

“Holy shit,” Billy gasps.

Susan presses back against the wall, eyes still very wide, clutching that baiting needle so tight her knuckles are blanched. Her hands shake and shake.

“What are you going to do?” she asks in a whisper.

“What am I going to go?” Billy echoes. “I— I don’t know! What are you going to do? Call the cops?”

Because even if her self defense was preemptive, to use her description, maybe it’d still fly. Billy has bruises. Maybe Susan has some too hidden under that deep cranberry dress.

“Cops?” Susan’s mouth tightens as her head gives a firm shake. “Of course not. Don’t you know what police are like? Your father would’ve fit right in.”

Billy considers this as he coughs, stuffing them into the sleeve of his leather jacket. He can’t say his own experience with the law has ever been positive. And Neil was a security guard. What’s a security guard if not a wannabe cop?

“You planned this,” Billy heaves out when he’s done coughing.

“I’m….I mean, y-yes, but I—“

“What was your plan?” Billy interrupts. “Where were you going to go from here?”

“I didn’t expect you to show up,” Susan says, soft and frowning.

“I live here,” Billy points out and he laughs. Strange, strained laughter peals out of him until it triggers another bout of coughing because. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Oh, Billy…do you want some water? Maybe you should sit down.”

“Where?” he rasps between coughs. “Next to my dead dad?!”

“Keep your voice down,” Susan urges, waving the needle like a conductor’s baton. “Max is still awake.”

Billy wipes the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. Stares at Susan as he does his best to take even breaths.

“You’re wheezing.”

“You’re deflecting,” he fires back. “What are you going to do?”

“Um, uh…chop him up,” Susan admits quietly. “I’d p-planned to chop him up.”

“That’ll make a mess,” Billy blurts out, blunt.

“Messy, yes, but it’s the easiest way. I can’t exactly carry him.”

Billy touches the small of Neil’s bare back, skims his fingertips between hair thin acupuncture needles. He probes at the small of his own back, winces when dull pain pulses through the bruise. His throat is thick with something other than phlegm and his heart is racing rabbity fast. In this moment, Billy makes a decision.

“Not by yourself.”

Susan gapes.

“Where we taking him?” Billy asks.

“I…I honestly didn’t have an exact location mind, but farther away. Not here in Hawkins, the town is too small.” Susan swallows again and tugs at her sleeve. “I planned to bag his parts in pieces and drive a few hours out and spend the night disposing of the bags in different areas.”

That makes sense, he thinks.

“Sometimes I go to this gay bar about two hours away. Pretty big dumpster in the back.”

Billy tries to hit it at least once a month, if he can save up enough of his allowance for gas. Sometimes he collects enough chump change from idiots at school who forget to close their lockers, and isn’t above duping people outta their dough by turning on the charm, either. His interest in girls isn’t exclusive, he finds a helluva lotta guys interesting too. It’s just nice to get out of fucking Nowheresville even on the nights he doesn’t end up fooling around with anybody.

Susan looks absolutely bewildered.

“Gay bar,” he repeats slowly. “You know. Pride pub, homo hub?”

“I know what a gay bar is, Billy. Why on earth are you going to one?”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m secretly a drag queen bingo champion,” Billy scoffs in annoyance and it turns into a cough. The one sets off a fit.

“Billy, um…I don’t, um. I’m not judging your preference in partners or your private life, but you’re too young to be going to the bar. Any bar. It’s not legal, you’re a teenager.”

Jesus, he can hardly breathe. He feels like he’s going to fall over. Maybe he actually should’ve sat down next to his dead dad.

“Oh dear. I’m— I’m going to get you some water.”

Billy doesn’t fall over. He has good stamina. He’s hard to knock over, prides himself on that fact. He makes it through the fit upright. His chest is sore from the stabbing and he’s a little dizzy, perhaps from fatigue or breathlessness, but he’s steadfast.

Billy accepts the glass Susan holds out to him upon her return. Her fingers feel like icicles as they brush his and he suppresses a shiver. Takes slow sips and finds a little relief. Eventually sets the glass down on the dresser when he’s done.

“Technically, it’s not me who goes to the bar. You’re right, I’m not twenty-one yet. But Jason Scott on the other hand, well, he’s twenty-five.” Billy fishes his wallet out and frees his fake ID from its fold. “Looks pretty legit, right?”

Susan silently studies the piece of plastic and worries her lip between her teeth.

“But we don’t actually have to go into the bar to put my dad’s body in the dumpster anyway. I mean, going inside would really be a pretty bad idea…”

“Indeed it would, but I’m glad you showed this to me. It wouldn’t be smart to put Neil anywhere you or I associate with at all. But if you’re not actually associated, it’s an option.”

“It’d take less time than the way you were gonna go about it. Cleaner too.”

Susan nods her agreement. “However, I still might…mm, Billy. I’m not sure if you’re going to like this. But in order to prevent him from being identified, I think I’m going to chop off his head…and his hands. Well, perhaps those I’ll just burn with the clothes iron, um. Either way, his fingerprints need to be destroyed.”

Billy’s gut lurches as he soaks it in. It sounds logical. He can’t deny that, but something about the idea of his dad’s decapitation doesn’t sit. Kinda gives him the heebie-jeebies. And that’s weird. That’s really weird because he’s okay with everything else.

Well.

Okay, maybe he’s not okay with it, but. He understands it. It’s Neil. Of course he understands the bruises she may or may not be hiding, the fear in her heart regardless.

“Do you have to chop his head off? Can’t you just smash his face in?”

“I considered that,” Susan says, nodding again. “Those cast iron lion bookends on the shelf are nine pounds each. I weighed them this morning.”

Billy likes the sound of that better. Neil is going to be dead and disfigured either way. He’s not sure why it makes a difference. Maybe it doesn’t, really. He thinks he might have a fever. Maybe the fever’s just getting to him, making him a little loopy and pulling his thoughts in less than rational directions.

“I could do that part,” he offers. It’d probably take him less time to bash Neil’s face in than it’d take Susan. He has more physical prowess, after all, more power to put behind the blows.

“Are you up for that?” she asks, eyeing him skeptically.

“Yes,” he snaps, somewhat defensive. He’s sick but he’s not helpless.

Billy’s claim isn’t undermined by the brief bout of coughing that overtakes him. He halts the reflex to clutch his ribs. Not now, not in front of her. Especially not with what they have to do.

“There’s two bookends,” Susan points out, seems a little nervous as she watches him cough. “We could take turns.”

With that, she disappears from view. Billy hacks some more gross globs into his hand and for convenience’s sake, just wipes it off on his jeans. When Susan comes back, she has one of those big black contractor trash bags. Spreads it out on the bed beside Neil’s form.

They roll him together and Billy doesn’t know what to make of what he feels when he actually sees his father’s face, features devoid and dead. Very, very dead. Tears do not sting his eyes. They just well up watery because he’s coughing again, battling for breath again, so, so wrung and exhausted, lungs like sodden sponges sopped with sputum.

Then he’s holding the bookend, cast iron artistically sculpted, the maned king of the jungle bearing his teeth in a roar. Billy looks at his father’s dead face and hesitates for only a heartbeat. When he brings the heavy object down, he puts all the force he can muster behind it and it makes an utterly atrocious noise Billy will never forget, but—

Some part of him has always wanted to do this. For that part of him, it is the only thing he’s ever truly wanted. And when Susan takes her turn Billy watches her face and realizes, oh, going slack and sloth and silent with the taste of Neil Hargrove’s hand isn’t the only thing they share at all.

* * * 

They wait until late to don gloves and roll Neil up in the shower liner. They stuff him in the bed of his own truck for transport. Billy takes the torso end because it’s heavier, Susan hefts him under the legs. Billy drives because he knows the way even though it’s the last thing he feels like doing.

It goes mostly okay. He only has a paroxysm bad enough to make him pull over once.

Susan reaches across the seats and rubs his shoulder. Billy’s too busy getting his breath to shrug her off.

“I’m sure you’re not going to love this idea, but I think it’s time to see a doctor. This could be bronchitis, Billy, or even pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia isn’t real,” Billy grouses tiredly. “It’s like the boogeyman. Just some story old people made up so their grandkids wouldn’t play in the rain and track mud all over the house.”

“Uh…um.” She blinks owlishly, forehead creasing. “No, that’s not quite accurate…”

“I’m screwing with you, Susan.” Because that’s easier than conceding to her.

It would’ve been one thing with Neil. As fucked up as things were, Neil was his dad. Neil was supposed to take care of him.

But Susan. Susan is different. Susan is mostly Max’s weird mom who displays about as much emotion as a mannequin whenever she isn’t (wasn’t) dancing on Neil’s puppet strings or talking to the spiders as she shakes them free from soft tissues. Albeit tonight is a game changer. They’re very literally partners in crime now.

“We could even go to the ER after this,” she suggests uncertainly, wary edge to her tone.

“That’s for emergencies. I can wait.”

“If you’re sure.” Susan hums in her throat and draws her hand away.

They have good timing. The bar’s been closed for almost an hour by the time they get there and all the cars have cleared out. Billy backs up to the dumpster so he and Susan can stand on the bed and lift Neil in that way, rather than having to drag his deadweight out and struggle to raise his cumbersome bulk up over the side.

He doesn’t want to be out here any longer than he has to. Whole thing gives him the heebie-jeebies. He feels like a cop is about to pull up any second now and frankly, it’s cold as fuck. He’s cold as fuck.

Not as cold as the unearthly chill that seems to pierce through the plastic liner when Billy lifts his father’s trunk for the second time tonight.

“Do you feel that?” he irresistibly asks Susan, watching her adjust her grip on Neil’s legs and searching her face for the eeriness he’s feeling.

“Feel what?” Susan asks, frowning.

Death itself? Billy doesn’t know.

“Nothing, it’s…just cold, I guess.”

“Oh, Billy, I think you have the chills.”

And he knows he does but it’s not the same thing. He doesn’t comment any more on it. Together they get Neil up on the metal rim of the open dumpster, push him over. Garbage crunches and crinkles beneath his deadweight. Billy feels another coughing fit coming on and manages to suppress it until he gets back inside the truck.

“Do you want me to drive home?” Susan asks.

“No. I know the way better, it’s easier if I do it.”

“You could, um. I mean, you could direct me if I get a little turned around. You’re looking pretty tuckered out.” It’s dark but Billy can hear the frown in her voice.

“Alright,” he sighs out. “Fine.”

Because she’s not wrong. He’s drained at this point. Shoving his dad’s body in the dumpster spent the last store of energy he had. He and Susan swap places. She doesn’t have much trouble once she actually gets back on the main road.

“Thank you,” she murmurs eventually. “If I had to do this myself, I’d still be in the middle of it.”

“Yeah…sure thing, I guess.” She killed his dad. No big deal. Billy blinks, isn’t sure what else to say.

“…so, um…you like the fellas, huh?” she asks, voice light and not a bit unkind.

“Uh-huh." He shrugs. "Guys, girls, I mean, I'm not that picky. A hole’s a hole, a mouth’s a mouth, fingers are fingers.”

Susan chokes on a scandalized gasp and Billy gets a chuckle out of it, even as it turns into a cough.

“That’s, uh. T-That’s certainly crude.”

And it’s funny really, that Susan seems more creeped out by a boorish comment than she did by holding his dead dad’s corpse legs.

By the time they get home, Billy’s so beyond spent he knows he can’t even make it to his room. Doesn’t bother to try. Collapses on the couch cushions without attempting to take his boots off. Smothers what has to be the goddamn millionth round of coughs into the throw pillow.

When he picks his head up, Susan’s standing there, fiddling with the thermometer again, fretful expression on her features. Oh, fuck it. Fine. Billy bites the bullet and takes it from her, begrudgingly jamming the thing under his tongue.