#‘’ so dark i can’t see the light anymore ‘’ // lisa

[eridanidreams]

WIP Wednesday

Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, @therealgchu, @staticpallour and @artemis-crimson

from stars through my fingers like grains of sand

Sam paused in the doorway, his lips stretching in a slow smile. “Well, now, darlin’,” he drawled. “What have you been up to?” The lights were dimmed to almost nothing. Instead, candles burned on almost every flat surface—the bar, the end tables, the dresser—filling the room with a soft radiance that limned everything—Cait included—in a warm glow.

“Dinner got pre-empted,” she said softly, “and I’m not in the mood to argue possession of the beach with the crocodaunts, but I thought a candlelight dessert might be a down payment on that package?” A bottle of Velocity (luminescent in the near-dark), two glasses, and a covered plate had been neatly set out, and she lit the last taper as she spoke.

God, he loved her, loved her so hard his heart was fit to burst. He didn’t bother trying to hide it—hell, he wanted her to feel it. “All this for me? You don’t waste any time, do you?”

Cait flushed and ducked her head a little, and he knew she’d gotten his silent message. “Not anymore,” she said, a little cryptically. “Not if I can help it.” She glanced back up at him and tilted her head toward the couch. “Pour you a drink?”

“Don’t need one,” he said easily. He hung the hat up, then flung himself down on the couch and stretched out his legs comfortably. “You’re better than any drink known to man.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “There you go again,” she murmured, “saying things like that to me. Meaning them.” Her eyes shone with more than the candlelight; impatiently, she dashed the tears away with the back of her hand. “I can’t shake the feeling that when I wake up tomorrow, this will all have been just… a dream. A glorious, terrible dream. And—” she gestured around the room. “I wanted to keep the magic alive. For a little while longer.”

“If you’re dreaming, I’m dreaming too,” Sam said. “And I ain’t minded to wake up from it any time… ever.” He let his gaze linger on her openly like he'd always wanted to, just drinking in the sight of her. Candlelight suited her. Made her hair shine like it was spun from pure flame and her eyes shimmer like pearls. Cait by candlelight, he decided, had just earned a permanent spot on the list of things he wanted to see again and again. "Fact is, darlin', if there's anything magic here, it's you." She colored at that, but she couldn't deny his sincerity. "So why don't you come over here, and we'll start making some inroads on those cuddles I promised you?"

"Tempting…" Cait said, offering him a half-smile. "But I need to tell you something, and when we're that close, I'm likely to lose my train of thought. You're, um, good at that." She sank gracefully down into a nearby chair.

Now wasn't that the sort of thing a man liked to hear from the person he loved. "That's only fair, then," he teased. "Seeing as how you play merry hell with my attention span sometimes." She looked utterly surprised, like the idea hadn't occurred to her. "Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "Haven't you noticed? I can get real lost in you." Her smile, and the little dimple that showed up when she did—her eyes and their ever-shifting hues… he shook himself a little. "You see? There you go, doing it again." Her look of confusion reminded him of something; he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "Cait, I gotta ask—how could you not know?"

Cait ducked her head, and he could see the embarrassment plain on her face. "I knew you were falling in love with someone," she murmured. "Just not…"

"You?" Sam supplied the final word, his heart aching for her. "Yeah, I guess you did say that. I just—it's hard for me to wrap my head around." His lips twisted in a wry smile. "But then, I didn't exactly figure out that you were feeling the same way—I mean, I thought I saw a few hints, but—" Realization hit him. "Ah, hell. You thought I was in love with someone else, and you didn't want me to know." He let out a sigh; he still didn't know what had kept her from realizing he'd loved her—and it didn't matter. "Well, we know now, and that's the important thing to be moving forward with." He reached forward to capture one of her hands in his—then pulled back at the last minute. "Doc said physical contact could make things more intense for you. Am I—would this—?"

"Sam..." She looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You can't—I don't want you to try to protect me from myself. Or you. I need you to trust that I have it handled." She let out a disgruntled breath. "Mostly, anyway."

He jumped on that mostly. "Which means there's room for me to help figure things out. And make things easier on you. Partners, remember?" He caught her eye. "Don't ask me not to do for you what I damn well know you'll do for me."

Cait growled, "And aren't you just loving that whole turnabout and fair play nonsense?" There was very little heat in it. "Okay. Fine. It's just... you have such a big heart, and big feelings come with that, and I do not want you to make yourself smaller because of me!" Now he did wrap his hand around hers. "Especially," she added more quietly, "when I'm not sure it would make a difference."

He squeezed her hand gently. "Gonna have to unpack that one, darlin'."

"That's what I wanted to tell you," she said. "When I said I knew from the moment we met? That wasn't hyperbole. You, um, looked me in the eyes—no one ever did that—and something—I still don't really understand."

"Not love at first sight?" he teased her gently.

"Nothing so clear." She was struggling to find the right words, and so he didn't interrupt further, just rubbed his thumb soothingly across the back of her hand. "It was like something in me, I don't know, recognized? Something in you?" She shook her head in frustration. "Stars, I hate trying to put words to this. Like a rusted lock that finally found a key, but the key was... stuck."

Sam frowned in puzzlement. "That doesn't sound like anything to worry about, then."

Her next words were a bare whisper. "It didn't stay that way. All this time, it's been getting... stronger. More… real."

"Okay," he gave her an encouraging nod. "So, I guess, at some point, the key turned?"

"The key turned, the circuit went live… something." Cait took a deep breath. "Most people, I only catch surface emotions, and most of those I can block out pretty easily. But I'm—connected to you." She looked genuinely scared. "Sam… I can't block you out. The other day? On Neon? I knew you were heading back to us while you were still down in Ebbside. Here?" Her lips tightened. "They were giving you hell after I left, weren't they?" Well, that answered the question as to whether she'd felt his indecision earlier.

"I took care of it," he said firmly. "So please don't worry about it."

"I'm not," she replied. "I figured you'd tell me if you needed to. But that's the problem. I'm trying, but right now I can't not know things like that. And that—It's not fair to you."

"Cait," Sam tugged on her hand. "C'mere. Don't need to be an empath to know you need a hug." And if she didn't, he did. Slowly, she stood up, and he pulled her down into his embrace. Where she damn well belonged, he thought with no small amount of satisfaction. "There," he said, as her head settled against his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her waist, but she still seemed tense. "Is that better?"

She still seemed tense, even a little fidgety. "Why aren't you more… upset?" She sounded part-curious, part-appalled.

"Why should I be?" he countered. "So you've got a direct line to my heart. Don't see how that's a problem, darlin'." He grinned and waited for the inevitable—

"Why not?" Exasperation had been added to the mix, and he couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"Why should I worry about you knowing what's in it when it's already yours?" Sam said. "Whole and entire. Just been waiting for you to accept it."

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt.18

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13, pt14, pt15, pt16, pt17, pt19

A/n apologizing in advance 😋 credits "every day" by david levithan.

Day 6026

I feel guilty about how relieved I am to be a normal size the next morning. I feel guilty because I realize that while before I didn’t care what other people thought, or how other people saw me, now I am conscious of it, now I am judging alongside them, now I am seeing myself through Hanni’s eyes. I guess this is making me more like everyone else, but I feel something is being lost, too.

Lisa Marshall looks a lot like Hanni’s friend Yeeun—light brown hair, mole on her left cheek , dark brown doe eyes. She is not someone you’d go out of your way to notice if you saw her on the street, but you’d definitely notice her if she was sitting next to you in class.

Hanni won’t mind me today, I think. Then I feel guilty for thinking it.

There’s an email from her waiting in my inbox. It starts like this:

I really want to see you today.

And I think, That’s good. But then it continues.

We need to talk.

And I don’t know what to think anymore

The day becomes a waiting game, a countdown, even if I’m not sure what I’m counting down toward. The clock brings me closer. My fears pound louder.

Lisa’s friends don’t get much out of her today.

Hanni’s told me to meet her at a park by her school.

I’m early, so I sit on a bench with Lisa’s copy of an Alice Hoffman novel, stopping every now and then to watch a jogger push by. I’m so lost in the pages that I don’t realize Hanni’s here until she sits down next to me.

I can’t help but smile when I see that it’s her.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” she says.

Before she can tell me what she wants to tell me, I ask her about her day, ask her about school, ask her about the weather—anything to avoid the topic of her and me. But this only lasts for about ten minutes.

“Yn,” she says. “There are things that I need to say to you.”

I know that this sentence is rarely followed by good things. But still I hope.

Even though she’s said things, even though she’s implied there’s more than one, it all comes down to her next sentence.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

I only pause for a moment. “You don’t think you can do it, or you don’t want to do it?”

“I want to. Really, I do. But how, Yn? I just don’t see how it’s possible.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re a different person every day. And I just can’t love every single person you are equally. I know it’s you underneath. I know it’s just the package. But I can’t, Yn. I’ve tried. And I can’t. I want to—I want to be the person who can do that—but I can’t. And it’s not just that. I’ve just broken up with Minji—I need time to process that, to put that away. And there are just so many things you and I can’t do. We’ll never hang out with my friends. I can’t even talk about you to my friends, and that’s driving me crazy. You’ll never meet my parents. I will never be able to go to sleep with you at night and then wake up with you the next morning. Never. And I’ve been trying to argue myself into thinking these things don’t matter, Yn. Really, I have. But I’ve lost the argument. And I can’t keep having it, when I know what the real answer is.”

This is the part where I should be able to say I’ll change. This is the part where I should be able to assure her that things can be different, show her it’s possible. But the best I can do is to give her my deepest fantasy, the one I’ve been too self-conscious to share.

“It’s not impossible,” I tell her. “Do you think I haven’t been having the same arguments with myself, the same thoughts? I’ve been trying to imagine how we can have a future together. So what about this? I think one way for me to not travel so far would be if we lived in a city. I mean, there would be more bodies the right age nearby, and while I don’t know how I get passed from one body to the next, I do feel certain that the distance I travel is related to how many possibilities there are. So if we were in New York City, I’d probably never leave. There are so many people to choose from. So we could see each other all the time. Be with each other. I know it’s crazy. I know you can’t just leave home on a moment’s notice. But eventually we could do that. Eventually, that could be our life. I will never be able to wake up next to you, but I can be with you all the time. It won’t be a normal life—I know that. But it will be a life. A life together.”

I’ve pictured us there, having an apartment to ourselves. Me coming home each day, kicking off my shoes, us making dinner together, then crawling into bed, with me tiptoeing out when midnight approaches. Growing up together. Knowing more of the world through knowing her.

But she’s shaking her head. There are tears becoming possible in her eyes. And that’s all it takes for my fantasy to pop. That’s all it takes for my fantasy to become another fool’s dream.

“That will never happen,” she says gently. “I wish I could believe it, but I can’t.”

“But, Hanni—”

“I want you to know, if you were a person I met—if you were the same person every day, if the inside was the outside—there’s a good chance I could love you forever. This isn’t about the heart of you—I hope you know that. But the rest is too difficult. There might be girls out there who could deal with it. I hope there are. But I’m not one of them. I just can’t do it.”

Now my tears are coming. “So … what? This is it? We stop?”

“I want us to be in each other’s lives. But your life can’t keep derailing mine. I need to be with my friends, Yn. I need to go to school and go to prom and do all the things I’m supposed to do. I am grateful—truly grateful—not to be with Minji anymore. But I can’t let go of the other things.”

I’m surprised by my own bitterness. “You can’t do that for me the way I can do that for you?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

We are outside, but the walls are closing in. We are on solid ground, but the bottom has just dropped out.

“Hanni…,” I say. But the words stop there. I can’t think of anything else to say. I’ve run out of my own argument.

She leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

“I should go,” she says. “Not forever. But for now. Let’s talk again in a few days. If you really think about it, you’ll come to the same conclusion. And then it won’t be as bad. Then we’ll be able to work through it together, and figure out what comes next. I want there to be something next. It just can’t be …”

“Love?”

“A relationship. Dating. What you want.”

She stands up. I am left stranded on the bench.

“We’ll talk,” she assures me.

“We’ll talk,” I echo. It sounds empty.

She doesn’t want to leave it like this. She will stay until I give some indication of being alright, of surviving this moment.

“Hanni, I love you,” I say.

“And I love you.”

That isn’t the question, she’s saying.

But it’s not the answer, either.

I wanted love to conquer all. But love can’t conquer anything. It can’t do anything on its own.

It relies on us to do the conquering on its behalf.

I get home and Lisa’s mother is cooking dinner. It smells amazing, but I can’t imagine having to sit at the table and make conversation. I can’t imagine talking to a single other person. I can’t imagine making it through the next few hours without screaming.

I tell her I’m not feeling well, and head upstairs.

I lock myself in Lisa’s bedroom, and feel that’s where I’ll always be. Locked inside a room. Trapped with myself.

Day 6027

I wake up the next morning with a broken ankle. Luckily, I’ve had it for a while and the crutches are next to my bed. It’s the one thing about me that feels newly healed.

I can’t help it—I check my email. But there’s no word from Hanni. I feel alone. Completely alone. Then I realize there’s one other person in the world who vaguely knows who I am. I check to see if he’s written me lately.

And indeed he has. There are now twenty unread messages from Haruto, each more desperate than the previous one, ending with:

All I ask is for an explanation. I will leave you alone after that. I just need to know.

I write him back.

Fine. Where should we meet?

With her broken ankle, Kasey can’t exactly drive. And since he’s still in trouble for his blanked-out joyride, Haruto’s not allowed to use the car, either. So our parents have to drop us off. Even though I don’t say it is, mine just assume it’s a date.

The hitch is that Haruto is expecting me to be a guy named Akira, since that’s who I said I was last time. But if I’m going to tell him the truth, being Kasey will help me illustrate my point.

We’re meeting at a Mexican restaurant by his house. I wanted somewhere public, but also somewhere our parents could drop us off without raising eyebrows. I see him walk in, and it’s almost like he’s dressed for a date, too—even if he doesn’t look sporty, he’s certainly trying to be his best self. I raise one of my crutches and wave to him; he knows I have crutches, just not that I’m a girl. I figured I’d save that for in-person.

He looks very confused as he’s walking over.

“Haruto,” I say when he gets to me. “Have a seat.”

“You’re … Akira?”

“I can explain. Sit down.”

Sensing tension, the waiter swoops in and smothers us with specials. Our water glasses are filled. We give our drink order. Then we’re forced to talk to each other.

“You’re a girl,” he says.

I want to laugh. It freaks him out so much more to think he was possessed by a girl, not a guy. As if that really matters.

“Sometimes,” I say. Which only confuses him more.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you,” I reply. “I promise. But let’s order first.”

I don’t really trust him, but I tell him I do, as a way of inspiring a reciprocal trust. It’s still a risk I’m taking, but I can’t think of any other way to give him peace of mind.

“Only one other person knows this,” I begin. And then I tell him what I am. I tell him how it works. I tell him again what happened the day I was inside his body. I tell him how I know it won’t happen another time.

I know that, unlike Hanni, he won’t doubt me. Because my explanation feels right to him. It fits nicely into his own experience. It what he’s always suspected. Because in some way, I primed him to remember it. I don’t know why, but when my mind and his mind concocted our cover story, we left a hole in it. Now I’m filling in that hole.

When I’m done, Haruto doesn’t know what to say.

“So … whoa … I guess … so, like, tomorrow, you’re not going to be her?”

“No.”

“And she’ll …?”

“She’ll have some other memory of today. Probably that she met a boy for a date, but that it didn’t work out. She won’t remember it’s you. It’ll just be this vague idea of a person, so if her parents ask tomorrow how it went, she won’t be surprised by the question. She’ll never know she wasn’t here.”

“So why did I know?”

“Maybe because I left you so fast. Maybe I didn’t lay the groundwork for a proper memory. Or maybe I wanted you to find me, in some way. I don’t know.”

Our food, which arrived while I was talking, remains largely untouched on the table.

“This is huge,” Haruto says.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I remind him. “I’m trusting you.”

“I know, I know.” He nods absently, and starts to eat. “This is between you and me.”

At the end of the meal, Haruto tells me it’s really helped to talk to me and to know the truth. He also asks if we can meet again the next day, just so he can see the switch for himself. I tell him I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll try.

Our parents pick us up. On the drive back home, Kasey’s mom asks me how it went.

“Good … I think,” I tell her.

It’s the only truthful thing I tell her the whole ride.

[thebibliosphere]

I’m writing this down for posterity before I forget it but I just woke up from the most bonkers dream involving @natalieironside, an art heist and the National Gallery in London, except it wasn’t like, London London, it was more like the domed city in Logan’s Run.

Basically, the powers that be were shutting down art museums across the globe because art was banned and considered to be a radical and dangerous expressions of self and a threat to Rational Thinking.

This was a phrase that kept coming up, over and over. Rational Thinking. Rational Thinkers understand the value of work. Rational Thinkers understand why we need rules and restrictions. Rational Thinkers don’t waste their time on art and literature—you don’t need those things. You want those things. And wanting things is selfish. You already have three meals a day and a place for your families to sleep. Why do you want more? Why are you being selfish? Why can’t you just be Rational and be happy with what you have? Don’t you realize how much worse things could be? Because we can make them worse…

Anyway, it was fucking horrific, but instead of destroying priceless pieces of artwork that were deemed a threat to Rational Thinking, the Powers That Be were selling them off into private collections. And @natalieironside and I were part of a global resistance to steal them back.

It was all very surreal, like a cross between the aforementioned Logan’s Run and a 1940s noir film, the world occasionally turning monochromatic depending on where we were and who we were with, and looking like a 70s sic-fi at others. @natalieironside never looked the same more than twice, I assume because I have no idea what she actually looks like, but it was also one of her skills. You couldn’t put out wanted posters for someone who never looked the same more than once, so it made her perfect for walking into rich people’s houses and liberating the Mona Lisa from wherever they’d hung it. Except because of dream logic, she’d been made somehow, and couldn’t get past some sort of bio-sensor that allowed you entry into the city proper, and that’s where I came in.

I was also me, but I wasn’t. For one thing, I could eat chocolate (weirdly enough I can still taste it on my tongue now I’m awake. Bodies are weird) and for another I was more like myself in my 20’s. Less incapacitated by pain and still able to run a fair distance if necessary. But I knew my current health status was coming, and I wanted to do something important before it hit. So I was going to rescue Van Gogh’s Sunflowers painting from the National Gallery in London before it could be sold off at a private auction to the highest bidder.

I don’t really remember a lot of the run up to it except that there was a lot of downtime spent just trying to survive. We spent some time walking through the park next to my parents house, discussing strategies. At one point I remember asking if I’d need a gun and @natalieironside turned to me and said “no, I promised @mothman-etd I’d get you to Prague safely and that’s what we’re going to do.”

I have no idea why Prague or why I wasn’t allowed weapons. Dream Logic.

Anyway. I was paired up with a faceless man (I literally don’t remember what he looked like) and we were supposed to pose as wealthy benefactors going to this private auction being held to sell the Sunflowers off to the highest bidder. We had an invitation @natalieironside had stolen from someone else. Once inside we split up, him to sit in on the auction, and me to sneak off to where the painting was being kept hidden and broadcast via television. A lot of chicanery I don’t really remember happened. I remember @natalieironside talking to me through an ear piece we’d cleverly disguised as an earring. While walking through the underbelly of the crumbling National Gallery, I found more paintings that’d been damaged because they weren’t deemed valuable enough. I tried to save some of them, cutting them out of their frames and rolling them up to store inside the hollow space inside my walking cane (the more the dream progressed the worse my health deteriorated to more of what it’s like now) But there was only so many I could save and still have room for what I came for.

Weirdly, the room where the Sunflowers wasn’t guarded. It was like they thought no one could get past the barrier of wealth they’d erected around the place, and that was enough to keep poor people from reclaiming art. Just as I was about to cut the painting loose, it turned back to liquid paint, slithering off the canvas like a living thing and reforming in my hands as literal actual sunflowers that kept turning toward the lights. Unperturbed I said “got them” into my earring, and took off down the dark hallways again. I walked right out the building without anyone stopping me. After all, why would they? I wasn’t carrying a painting, I was carrying flowers.

I have no idea what happened to the faceless man. Only that I made it back to the underground where @natalieironside was waiting to drive us back through the tunnels to the place where people that refused to be Rational Thinkers were hiding. It looked like a giant white train terminal that’d once been used for global travel around the globe under the ocean, but had been shut down because it allowed for too upward mobility.

The place where the art was being stored was a literal train car that’d been turned into a traveling museum. Presumably to make it harder to find. Once there, I put the sunflowers into a vase. I tried to explain how the painting had melted, but no one seemed to mind. The important thing was the Idea of the painting remained, and was free for people to look at. The other paintings inside my cane were also rescued and put back into frames. They would all be part of the moving museum, and people from all around the world would get a chance to see them.

Things began to fade at that point. The dream dissolving around me like the painting had. But I remember looking at the Sunflowers and seeing that they’d dropped seeds everywhere, and more flowers were growing up from the seeds wherever they landed, their happy yellow heads turning to face the glimpses of sunlight as the train broke the surface of the ocean briefly to take in clean oxygen.

The last thing I remember from the dream was @natalieironside offering me a bar of chocolate. I said “I can’t eat that anymore” and her response was “save it for the next life” and then I woke up to a Shih Tzu snoring in my ear like the rumble of a train and the light of the air purifier across from the bed blinking in my face.

Dreams are weird.

[venicebixch]

Devil in Miami part 4

smut (spanking, squirting, strong sexual language) with a little fluff and some angst. enjoy! :)

I sigh and turn over in bed, looking out of my window. I can see the street light dimly lighting the cars parked up and down the sides of the road.

I turn on my back and stare at the ceiling.

Should I call him? But he’s probably asleep.

I pick my phone up and look at the time. 1:16 am. I laid down to sleep at 10 but haven’t slept yet. It’s been 2 weeks since I talked to Vinnie. I haven’t stopped thinking about him.

“Fuck,” I groan quietly and stand up, walking across the room. I start fumbling through my purse in the dark, and pull out the piece of paper with his number.

I dial it. It rings a few times.

Shit, why did I do this?

Just as I take the phone away from my ear to hang up, I hear a voice.

“Hello?” He answers.

I’m silent for a moment, wondering if I should still hang up while I have the chance.

“Y/n, is that you?”

“Yes,” I say quietly, being careful not to wake Lisa up in the room beside me.

He laughs a little bit. “Hey, princess. I was beginning to think I’d never hear from you again.”

My heart starts to flutter at his nickname for me and I smile.

“Is this a bad time?” I ask.

“Not at all, I just got home from a dinner party with some colleagues.”

“Can I come see you?”

“Tonight?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, of course. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, I have a car. I’ll be there soon. Maybe 30 minutes,” I say.

“Okay. You remember which unit?”

“I think so.”

“Alright, the door will be unlocked. I’m gonna take a shower in a minute so I might be in there when you get here. Just come on in.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Passcode on the safe was changed, too, so good luck,” he adds.

I start laughing, trying to stay quiet. “Are you ever gonna let that go?”

“You literally tried to rob me.”

“And you held a gun to my fucking head, but you don’t see me still bitching about it.”

He starts laughing. “You held one to my chest!”

I’m silent for a moment. “Well damn, you’re right.”

He laughs harder.

“Whatever, I’ll be there in 30,” I say, still smiling.

“Alright, asshole. I’ll see you then.”

I giggle again and hang up the phone. I put some sweatpants and a t-shirt on, sneaking out of my bedroom.

Lisa is asleep in her room with the TV still on. Hopefully it hides the sound of the door.

I creep across the kitchen to the back door, holding my breath as I open it. Relief fills me as soon as it closes behind me without having woken her. I just don’t want to have to explain myself to her.

—

Once I arrive, I make my way into the condo. Sure enough, he’s in the shower. I go knock on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” He asks over the water.

I slowly open it and peak my head in. I can see him through his glass shower door, rinsing soap from his hair. “I’m here,” I say.

“Okay, I’m almost done.”

“Also, the new passcode on the safe was too easy to crack.”

His eyes shoot open and he looks over at me.

I start laughing. “I’m just kidding. I haven’t tried it, yet.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass, y/n,” he says, smiling.

“I’m sorry, did you said you’re gonna lick my ass?”

He starts chuckling. “That too, if you want.”

I smile and bite my lip. “I’m gonna go sit on the bed.”

“Okay. Feel free to grab a snack or something to drink.”

“Thank you,” I say, shutting the door.

I get comfortable under the covers. After a few minutes, he comes out. His hair is wet, but not dripping. He had a black towel wrapped around his waist. I can see the outline of his cock through the towel. He looks so fucking good.

My heart rate and breathing start to pick up and I feel my cheeks flush. I close my legs tightly to create the feeling of pressure, adding to my pleasure as I watch him.

His towel comes off and he slides his boxers on along with some black sweatpants. I can’t take it anymore.

“Vinnie,” I say, quietly.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking through his dresser for a shirt.

I’m usually never this bold but I swear, something about him makes me almost feral.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” I smile.

“Yeah?” A wide grin spreads across his face as he turns to face me.

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about your cock too.”

“Oh really?” His face flushes to a light shade of pink.

“Mhmm. And I’ve been thinking about you bending me over the bed and fucking me senseless,” I say, biting my lip and crawling to the end of the bed, stopping on my knees

“Oh,” he says in a deeper tone. His eyes flicker down my body. “I can do that.”

“Right now?”

“Say please,” he says, with a serious face.

“Please?” I give him my best pouty face. “And be rough with me.”

He smiles again and walks over to me, gently grabbing my throat. “I can do that too. How rough?” He asks in a whisper.

“However rough you want it,” I say, wrapping my hand around wrist. “You can anything you want to me.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” I smile. “Smack me, choke me, put me on my knees and gag the fucking life out of me. Bruise me up, make it hard for me to walk. Whatever you want.”

“We need a safe word,” he says, his hands moving down to my collarbone.

I think for a moment. “What about red? ‘Red’ for stop. ‘Yellow’ for give me a minute.”

His mouth pulls up in the corners. “Perfect.” He kisses the tip of my nose then grabs my hair, pulling me off the bed. “Get on the ground.”

I drop down to my knees and look up at him, waiting for instructions.

“Sit on your ass with your back and head against the bed,” he says in a low voice.

I get into position and he takes my shirt off over my head and unclasps my bra.

“Take your pants and underwear off,” he says, looking down at me.

“Yes sir,” I say, sliding my bottoms off.

“Spread your legs.”

I spread them.

He smiles and walks over to sit in the chair across from me. “Touch yourself.”

I nod and move my hand down, rubbing my clit, moving in gentle circles. I slide my middle finger inside of me, and start pumping slowly.

His cheeks flush even redder and his cock starts to stick up in his pants.

I stare into his eyes, biting my lip and start to pick up the pace. I slide another finger inside of me and press my palm against my clit to add to the pleasure.

Throwing my head against the bed behind me, I start moaning. The more I work myself, the wetter I get. I bring my free hand up and pinch my nipple, then move up to my neck to gently choke myself.

I feel that familiar pressure start to build and my stomach tightens, then the release.

“Fuck,” I say, looking down at my hand as it gets soaked along with the floor.

“I fucking love when you squirt, baby,” he says. His eyes are glued to my pussy, closely watching what I’m doing to myself. His mouth is slightly open and I can see his breathing is quick and shallow.

“Mmm, fuck,” I say again with a smile, throwing my head back again.

He stands and walks over to me. I start to get up, but he stops me.

“No, pretty girl. Sit there. Lean your head back again. I don’t want you moving too much while I’m doing what I’m about to do,” he says, pushing me back down in my knees.

He drops his pants and boxers, kicking them to the side. He brings himself up to my lips.

“Open,” he says.

I open my mouth and he slides his cock in as far back into my throat as he can get it, causing me to gag.

It almost becomes too much and I push my hands against his thighs, but he won’t budge.

“Take it like a good girl,” he says softly.

I close my eyes and open my throat trying to suppress my gag reflex. I start moaning against him and finally he pulls out until it’s just his tip in my mouth.

“Fuck,” he says, smiling. I take a deep breath in. He grabs the top of my hair to hold my head still as he starts thrusting himself in and out of my mouth.

Gargling noises mixed with both of our moans fill the room. Tears start streaming down my face from gagging and drool drips down my chin and on to my tits, soaking his cock.

After a while he pulls out and pulls me up to my feet.

“Bend over my lap,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I nod and climb across him, my ass up toward him.

One of his hands hold my head down against the bed and his other rubs my ass cheek and teases my soaking wet core.

I begin to let out a soft moan when he suddenly lands a hard smack to my ass. The feeling catches me off guard and causes me to yelp out.

“Mmm, fuck,” I moan. He smacks me 10 more times, alternating to each side of my ass.

He laughs a little and reaches around, gripping the front and back of my neck, rolling us so that my stomach is on the bed and my feet are on the floor with him directly behind me.

“Stay right here,” he says.

“Okay,” I say lifting my head toward him.

He pushes me back down. “And don’t fucking look back here,” he says. “If this is something we’re going to be doing often then we need to get the proper equipment. Some toys, restraints. All that shit.” He starts walking across the room.

The thought of this being a permanent arrangement between us makes me smile. “Yeah, we should,” I say softly.

“Whatever you have of your own, bring it over here.”

“Okay,” I say, closing my eyes. I can’t see what he’s doing but I hear the sound of a belt buckle as he walks back over to me.

“Do you have any toys?” He asks, standing behind me again.

I open my eyes again. “A few vibrators.”

“You won’t need those for yourself. I’ll be taking care of you from now on,” he leans over me and kisses my temple. His hard cock presses against my outter thigh.

A wide smile spreads across my face and I nod. “Okay.”

He stands back up straight. I know what’s coming so I bite the sheets beneath me and grip the edge of the bed. I feel the belt run down my back gently, then the feeling disappears. It’s quiet for a brief second, and then a sting rips from my ass up to my back. The slap sounds like a whip.

“Fuck Vinnie!” I moan.

The belt runs down my back once more before he hits me again. And again. And again.

I lost count in my head after 10 but I think we’re around 30 smacks now.

“God damn,” I whine. Tears are streaming down my face from the pain but it excites me at the same time. My heart is racing and I can feel the heat spread from my ass to my back and thighs.

“Have you had enough yet?” Vinnie asks, grabbing my hair and pulling my head off the bed. I see my mascara smeared against the sheets.

“Yes sir,” I say.

“Too bad,” he chuckles and lays another 10 smacks to me.

My ass is almost numb now, and my moans have turned into desperate whines.

Finally he stops and grabs my hands and brings them behind me, wrapping the belt around them. The position causes discomfort in my shoulders but I don’t care at this point. I just want to please him.

“Spread your legs for me, pretty girl,” he says in a low voice.

I do as he says and he lines himself up with my entrance. Without warning, he pushes himself all the way inside of me and starts thrusting hard. I’m barely able to keep my feet on the ground as he picks up the pace.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight. I love your pretty pussy,” he groans.

My face is partially buried in the mattress, muffling my loud moans. “It’s all yours,” I barely manage to say.

“All mine?”

I take a deep breath. “Yes! I’m all for you!” I whine.

The mascara in my eyes is starting to burn, causing even more tears to form.

“That’s right, baby,” he laughs. “Look back at me.”

I move my head around as much as I can to look at him.

“I love seeing those pretty eyes cry for me,” he moans.

I feel my core start to tighten around him. I let out small groans as my eyes roll to the back of my head and my breath stops. Euphoria washes over me as my mind goes blank, only focusing on the feeling between my legs.

“You cumming, baby?” he asks, picking up the pace a bit more.

I’m too wrapped up in my orgasm and can’t answer him. Once my high passes, I let out a pornographic moan. “Fuck yes!”

He pulls out of me, and grabs my arms to make me stand. “On your knees,” he says. “I’m gonna paint that pretty face of yours.”

I drop and look up at him with a smile and a wide open mouth.

“That’s right,” he says smiling as he stroke himself over my face. His moans get louder and his head falls back as he cums in my mouth and over my face and hair.

I can’t help but giggle out of enjoyment. I fucking love seeing him like this.

Once he’s done, he takes his cock and shoves it into my mouth, pushing to the back of my throat a few times before slowly pulling out. I wrap my lips around him, swallowing what’s on my tongue.

“God damn it, y/n,” he says, looking down at me. I smile and gently kiss the tip of him.

He takes a few deep breaths and I stand back up. He turns me around and undoes the belt around my hands.

I bring them back in front of me, rubbing my red wrists and moving my shoulders in small circles to get my range of motion back. My whole body is sore but so fucking satisfied.

He smiles and kisses my forehead. “Come in here,” he says, putting his hand around my waist and leading me to the bathroom.

He starts the shower and grabs a rag from his closet, wetting it under the sink.

He wipes my face clean and checks the water to make sure it’s warm and then guides me in.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he walks back to the closet and grabs a towel. “Here’s this when you’re done.”

I nod as he closes the shower door behind him and leaves the bathroom. I rinse off and wash my hair and body.

Once I’m clean, I stand there enjoying the warm water for a while. I look around and start to admire how nice the bathroom is. It’s huge with marble floors. A built in seat sits in the corner of the shower, and the shower head is one of the ones that hang from the ceiling, drizzling over you like rain. Separate from the shower is a large jacuzzi style bathtub. 2 sinks connected by a long counter sit on the other side of the room. Everything is so new and clean.

My mind flashes back to where I live and I imagine my tiny bathroom and tiny shower, with the nozzle that’s barely hanging in the wall and barely has any water pressure. I imagine the ugly peeling wall paper that lines humidity ridden bathroom ceiling, the cracked mirror of the medicine cabinet that never stays closed, the sink that always clogs, the paint splatters on tiles from the half assed attempt to touch the place up however many years ago, and the ugly tan color of the shower walls with the hard water stains that never stay clean no matter how many times I scrub them.

The feeling of envy creeps back in and I take a deep breath.

Maybe it’s materialistic and shallow of me to feel this way, but I grew up seeing the high rise condos lining the beaches, like this one. Seeing the nice cars on the streets and watching people party every weekend on million dollar yachts. Seeing people on jet skis and in helicopters, making their way up and down the coast and vacationing on the massive cruise ships that stay anchored in the bay and a few miles offshore. Living their life completely free of financial worry. Thriving in their youth, traveling, getting a good education. Not working overtime at a soul draining job for barely enough money to pay rent for a shitty apartment, but instead experiencing life at its fullest.

The lifestyle of the wealthy is one I’ve always been surrounded by, but never able to live myself. Always so close but so fucking far.

I wonder how Vinnie grew up. What got him into this lifestyle. Did he grow up like I did or did he come from privilege? He’d be fucking stupid to get in the business of crime if he didn’t have to. So in some sort of twisted way, I hope he struggled like I did. I hope he had a good reason to lead him to what he does now.

I sigh, realizing I don’t know anything about him. I don’t even know his last name.

After a few more moments, I turn around and shut the water off, reaching outside of the shower door to grab the towel he provided. I dry off and step out, wrapping it around me.

I clean my face of what what’s left of my smeared makeup in the mirror and walk out into his bedroom. He’s laying on the bed, watching some anime.

“Hey,” he smiles at me.

[let-them-read-fics]

Dancing In The Dark

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!5thMember!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,641 😌

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: BOP BOP BOP 💃 Here's a Lisa fic for you guys!!! This isn't the request I got for her, but recent events inspired me to write this one and I really hope you enjoy it. More content will be coming in the near future :) Thank you all for the continued support, and as always... ♡ Happy Reading ♡

Follow-Up Part: Worth It

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Tense isn't quite good enough of a word to describe how you've spent the past week and a half. For some reason unbeknownst to you, Lisa's been hostile and standoffish whenever you've tried to communicate, always giving you short answers and snide remarks instead of being mature and confronting you about whatever issue she has. So, of course, it's only natural for the bitterness to have rubbed off on you as well. 

What's worse is that you're not even sure why you're fighting. Anytime you rack your brain for a reason to explain the anger, you come up with nothing. 

"Are we still on for practice later?" You ask, picking up a piece of bacon from the breakfast tray that sets on the counter. 

"I'll be there." She says simply, not even bothering to look up from the bowl of cereal she decided to grab. You clench your jaw and give a curt nod, determined to give her the same energy she's giving you. 

Jisoo notices the air of aversion that's quickly taking over the room, so she speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I can't wait to meet more Blinks at our fansign later this week. Aren't you guys excited?" The mere thought of meeting your supporters makes the unnie unbelievably happy, and all the hard work seems worthwhile. 

Despite herself, Lisa lightly grins and mutters a phrase of agreement around her mouthful of food. 

"At least they know how to make conversation." You respond pettily, glancing across the counter at Lisa as you take a bite of your bacon.

"I know how, Y/N. I just lack the desire to do so," she shrugs, seemingly unaffected by the cold words that slip past her plump lips. 

You click your tongue, now used to her behavior. Had this been one of her first times saying something like that, you probably would've been sadder than you currently are.

"Awww," you coo. "You come up with that one on the spot? You'll have to do better than that if you wanna hurt me." You lean against the marble countertop to whisper that last part, throwing a goodbye to Jisoo as you set off to your room to get ready for the day. 

Later That Day -- 7:49 PM

The bright red numbers displayed above the elevator doors tick on, changing with each floor you put behind you. A heavy sigh bounces off the walls and you rub the back of your neck for comfort. 

Why does Lisa have to be such a good dancer? The only reason you arranged this practice with her in the first place is to ensure that you know all the proper choreo for your upcoming Inkigayo performance. Your fans matter more to you than any disagreement you could be in, and you're determined to put on the best show possible for them. Lisa just so happens to be a critical factor in that process, unfortunately.

"Level 6," an automated voice announces before the sleek doors open, revealing a nearly uninhabited floor of practice rooms. They branch off on both sides of the long hallway that stretches out before you, and you get started on your journey down it. The only occupied studio sets at the end, emitting a soft glow through its translucent door as one of your song's choruses thumps through the speakers. 

You don't bother to knock before walking in, far past keeping up with the niceties any longer. Lisa's eyes dart from the wall of mirrors that borders the front of the room to glance at you, momentarily stilling her movements. 

"Don't let me stop you," you say, moving your hand in a "shoo-ing" motion at her until she picks back up with the song. You turn around to shut the door and take off your jacket, missing the way her eyes slowly rake over your body. 

You join her in the middle of the room, making sure to stay far enough away so that neither of you accidently hit or bump into each other as you run through the songs. The next hour or so is spent doing just that, repeating the ones you have issues with until you're performing the moves expertly. Every approving nod and shout from Lisa works to boost your confidence, and you actually find it a bit easier to enjoy yourself in her presence again. The two of you trade jokes, and sometimes it seems as if the hostility is fading away.

"You did well with all the other songs, so let's practice the one where we have the male backup dancers. I'll fill in for them." 

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of Lisa dancing so sensually with you, but you quickly dismiss it and get into position. 

"From the top?" You ask over your shoulder, feeling her eyes on you as she approaches. 

"Of course." She says it like it's common sense.

The song starts up, and she sets her phone down on a nearby chair that she dragged closer earlier. She watches as you perform your solo moves, offering tweaks and scattered praises all the while. About midway through, the song shifts and she rolls her sleeves up in preparation. 

You take a deep breath as she settles behind you, reaching an arm around your front to rest her fingertips on your jaw. When the next hit of the sensual bass vibrates across the practice room, she coaxes your head to the side, moving hers forward just enough to brush her lips against your neck. 

You're aware of every twitch of her muscles, every breath she takes -- her body is flush up against yours, radiating that heat that you've missed so much. Her heart beats quickly like yours, and you can feel the way it pounds against your back.

Perhaps this is the moment you should step away; some distance is sure to clear the fog that settles over your brain, clouding your judgment more than ever. But she's holding you like she used to, and you can't muster up the energy to put an end to something that feels so good. 

"Arms up," she coaches, lifting your hands above your head before trailing her fingers back down your arms, lower and lower until they skim over the warm skin of your abdomen. In one fell swoop, she tangles her thumb into one of the belt loops of your jeans and uses her other hand to assist you with the next move: a spin. Her hold is steady, and your hair cascades over your shoulders as you lean your head back, twirling effortlessly. Given that your eyes are closed, you fail to notice the way she traps her bottom lip in between her teeth, doing all she can to keep dancing and not kiss you. You feel her palm press to the small of your back as her arms tighten around your waist, allowing you to dip towards the ground without falling.

"Good, just like that." The praise is like music to your ears as she raises you back up, and she audibly swallows when she sees how mussed your clothes have become from dancing. 

Turning your attention back to the front, you meet her gaze in the mirror; it's calculated and intimidating, but she looks aroused. You watch as her eyes scan over your body, lingering in the places that she's spent hours worshiping before. A smug smile tugs at your lips; despite being mad, her attraction to you is undeniable. With that in mind, you decide to tease her; in time with the music, you push your hips back. 

"I think I still need help with this next part." You purr, lulling your head back to rest against her shoulder as you slowly drag your hands over your body. Lisa lets out a low moan when you arch your back, grinding your ass further into her while you innocently toy with the buttons of your shirt. Having her in such a state is great enough, but knowing that you're the reason she's so turned on is something else entirely.

"Y/N…" she warns, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress anymore noises that run the risk of selling her out. 

"Lisa…" you tease back, playfully matching her tone as you watch her face scrunch up in response to the way you wind your body along to the music. 

She turns you around, her grip on your hips tightening as she works hard to restrain herself. Your chest rises and falls with slightly hurried breaths, partially from the dancing you've been doing and partially from the effect she has on you. Keeping her hands from roaming is proving harder than she imagined it'd be, and her mind goes into overdrive to find a way to make sure things don't slip too far out of her control. 

Her plans are stalled when you grab the material of her shirt in your fists, lightly yanking her forward by the collar of it until her lips ghost dangerously close to yours. You fake her out, only allowing them to brush against each other for a moment before you tilt your head and drop your mouth down to her neck. 

As you begin to leave a light hickey on her pulse point, she somehow manages to come to her senses and knows what she has to do. It was a hard fought battle, though, and part of her still wants to relent and let you have your way with her. 

She puts her hands on your shoulders and shoves you backwards, being careful not to push too hard. The look in her eye is predatory, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't thrill you. 

With every advancing step she takes, slow and deliciously torturous in its nature, you take one backwards, only stopping when the cold surface of the mirror presses against your skin. 

"You wanna know why I've been short with you?" Her darkening eyes scan down to your lips before coming back up to look into yours as she waits for your answer. 

Why would she bring that up right now? The question sours your mood, effectively ruining the moment -- that's exactly what Lisa wanted (she's still bothered by whatever's been plaguing her lately, and as much as she wants you, she can't get over it yet).

"Yeah, because it's really unfair. I haven't done anything wrong." The anger and hurt you've been feeling for the past week returns now, bubbling up in your chest when the memories of some of her more harsh words replay in your mind. Your voice conveys the growing irritation you feel, but Lisa’s expression remains unreadable. The effects of your desire are beginning to border on frustration now, dancing on the line as they threaten to cross over it.

"I didn't particularly appreciate finding you at the studio with Jung-hoon when you were supposed to be with us."

A singular exhale leaves you, short and unbelieving as you roll your eyes.

"That's what this is about?" You scoff. "You know I was held back to record my part for the newest track; and besides, I wasn't even that late to dinner. The girls weren't mad, so why are you?" Your arms come up to cross over your chest defensively, and you narrow your eyes at her.

"You should know." She says it like it's the most obvious thing known to man.

"Well clearly I don't, Lisa, so why don't you enlighten me?"

"You're so oblivious," she bites back, rolling her eyes like you just had, "He's practically in love with you."

"What?"

"You heard me. He doesn't even try to hide it. Why else do you think he made sure to schedule you for the last slot of the day? He wanted to get you alone." Her tone is laced with bitterness, and a grimace crosses her face. Even the thought of him puts her off.

"So what if he did? I'd rather be talking to him than getting this shitty treatment from you." 

"Is that so?" She challenges, pursing her lips with a tut as she tilts her head up. 

"It sure is. You'd never know it, considering you seem to hate him so much, but he's actually pretty nice. He even bought me a tea when I complained about my throat being sore that night."

"He sounds like a winner," she says sarcastically, voice void of sincerity as it drips with contempt instead, "Why don't you go spend some time with him, then, if I'm just so horrible to be around?" 

You shake your head as a humorless laugh slips past your lips. She's unbelievable. Before you can think of a good response, she continues her train of thought. "Maybe he'll bribe his way into your pants like he's been trying to for the past month. Tell me, Y/N, would he have to buy you dinner first? Or would another tea suffice?" 

The second those words leave Lisa's lips, her chest tightens; she draws a breath in, keeping it held tightly in her lungs as guilt begins to course through her. She feels the aftershocks of her statement in the painful silence of the room, and she finds it nearly impossible to look you in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time. 

Her words slowly sink in, rendering you momentarily speechless as you simply blink a few times. Your eyebrows sit higher up now, aiding your slack jaw in conveying the surprise you feel. You have to fight the urge to shove her; had you reverted back to being the less mature version of yourself from your teenage years, you would've done so in a heartbeat. But you're older now, and you realize your words and actions have consequences; clearly she hasn't learned that quite yet.

"Lisa, I'm gonna make this as simple as I can for you: if you ever say something like that to me again, we're going to have some real problems… You're such an asshole."

"I shouldn't have--"

"No, you shouldn't have. But you did. And I don't know what the hell has gotten into you lately, but it needs to stop."

"I'm sorry."

Her apology feels meaningless right now, and it falls on deaf ears. You don't allow yourself to believe she means it -- maybe she does, maybe she doesn't; regardless, she might try to sweet talk her way into forgiveness if you stay here right now, and you can't let that happen. "I don't think it's smart for me to be here -- not after that. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to me when you get back to the dorm later, either." The conversation sounds more formal than you're used to with Lisa, but it's fitting given everything that's happened. Her eyes remain trained on the floor as she nods sheepishly; she's ashamed of herself.

When you stride over to retrieve your coat from its resting spot, the sound of your shoes hitting the hardwood echo around the rehearsal room, serving as the only noise to cut through the tense silence. It's like a hot knife through butter, and Lisa feels her heart break a little more with each passing second. Your footfalls are a bit heavier than normal now, and you pop your knuckles out of habit to soothe yourself. 

She stops herself from reaching out to you as you brush past her on your way to the door. Had things gone her way, none of this would've happened at all: she even planned to apologize and attempt to make things official with you tonight -- but life always seems to deny us of what we want most. 

The handle's smooth surface rests in your palm as you linger in the doorway, keeping your back turned to her. You're not sure what you're even waiting for in the first place. When Lisa remains silent, unable to think of a fitting way to rectify the situation, you nod to yourself and slip out of the room. 

The dancer releases a breath now that she's alone, and she runs her hands over her face. Her dislike for Jung-hoon was never meant to override her love for you, and it sure as hell wasn't meant to get in between the two of you. In some ways, Lisa's still that young girl she used to be when you first met as trainees: she still gets jealous and annoyed when she doesn't get what she wants, and although the years have made her far more mature than what she once was, old habits truly do die hard. She blames herself for hurting you, but she doesn't blame herself for disliking him. On one hand, you're completely innocent in the situation and undeserving of what she put you through -- she should have trusted you; but on the other, she can't help but be angry at him for trying to steal you away. You're hers, if only in her dreams, and he has no right to flirt with you like that. 

So, with hundreds of thoughts swirling around in her mind, Lisa decides to do what she does best; for the next couple hours, she remains at the studio, releasing the pent up tension and frustration she's been holding in for so long.

~~~~

Back At The Blackpink Dorm

"Can today get any worse?" You groan loudly, tugging at your hair out of frustration. The worn pages of your song book flutter slightly as you push it off of your lap, sending it onto the bed with a soft thump. A couple minutes later you hear movement in the hallway, and you decide to investigate. Carefully, you feel your way through the dark and eventually reach your bedroom door, which you subsequently open. 

"Help me look for some candles, please." Jisoo requests from the hallway, just a little ways away from you. A small flashlight is clutched in her hand, and its surprisingly bright beam does well in illuminating the shelves of the closet as she searches through it. You retrieve a spare light from her before making your way down the hall to search the bathroom. 

"We probably won't have power until tomorrow night; maybe even later. The storm caused a blackout and parts of the grid are down right now. At least that's what management told me." She informs, raising her voice slightly so you can hear her well. She doesn't have to try too hard, though, considering a blanket of silence has fallen over the dorm; with no power, no appliances offer any background noise to drown out the jarring quietness.

Steady sheets of rain pound against the window of the bathroom, momentarily stealing your attention away from the task at hand. As inconvenient as storms of this caliber can be, it's hard not to be in awe of the power of mother nature; occasionally, bolts of lightning streak across the sky in various places, offering a peek at the angry clouds that loom overhead. It's almost like peering into another world: the vivid colors of the lightning contrast with the darkness of the sky, making it appear as a raging sea as the clouds trek across it in waves. 

"I'm already cold." The distant sound of Jennie's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you release a sigh as you draw open more cabinets. She and Rosé are now seemingly out in the hallway, talking with Jisoo about the storm and how you're all going to deal with it. For a moment you wonder why Lisa hasn't joined them; perhaps she's asleep and didn't even notice the power go out. 

Unbeknownst to you, the maknae hasn't done much of anything besides overthinking. Ever since she came home earlier, she's abided by your wishes: she kept quiet during dinner, and retreated to her room without so much as a word to you. It hasn't been easy by any means, and her heart has been aching to apologize to you -- she wants to make things right, but upsetting you further isn't a risk she's willing to take. So now, she lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling as she listens to your other members talk out in the hall. 

"I found these," you approach them, holding up a few medium sized candles that Rosé bought for when you guys need a spa day. 

"Ah, not the good ones!" She whines, disappointed that the luxury items have to be wasted for such a lame purpose. 

"We could always just sit in the dark," you remind her with a chuckle, quirking a small smile at how she's acting. She seems to forget that you guys are rich and completely capable of getting plenty more of them. 

"No, I'll order more," she sighs, adding, "...just don't use all of them." 

"Aye aye, captain," you salute, grinning wider when she lets out a soft laugh. 

"Let's go set the stuff up in the living room," Jisoo says, slipping in between the two of you on her way. When you raise an eyebrow at the other girls, Jennie speaks up, "We might as well just hang out there. We can stay warmer that way and not die of boredom." 

You cock your head to the side and nod after considering the offer, quickly deciding that you have nothing better to do anyway. "What about Lisa?" You ask, the waver in your voice going unnoticed by either of them. From inside her room, Lisa holds her breath, tensing up as she waits to hear their answer. 

"I think she's sleeping, so we don't have to wake her up right now. She'll realize it's out eventually." 

You seem to accept her answer, and Lisa relaxes into the cushions of her bed as she hears three sets of footsteps getting further and further away. There's no way she can face you yet -- she's still working on a good enough apology. Besides, pretending that everything's okay was hard enough at dinner -- the girls were growing suspicious, so it's only a matter of time before they ask about it. None of you like to see each other sad, but there really seems to be a soft spot in all of their hearts for you: they always try to keep you happy and protected in order to repay you for taking such good care of them. You may not be the oldest unnie, but you're dedicated to your members, and their loyalty isn't something to be taken lightly. That undisputed fact works to make Lisa even more nervous; she knows she's been bad to you, and the girls aren't afraid to give her a piece of their minds. Their combined disappointment is only rivaled by her own, and she knows she'll have to work hard to get things back to where they used to be with you. 

~~~~~

As you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, you take in the sight of your reflection staring back at you. Bags rest underneath your eyes from what little sleep you've gotten so far, not quite dark enough to make you cringe but visible enough to show that things aren't going your way. You and the girls spent what was left of the evening chatting and playing board games to keep yourselves entertained, but eventually sleep became unavoidable and you retired to the large pillow fort that the 4 of you had constructed earlier. Without any power going to the dorm's heater, you've been forced to rely on extra blankets and each other's body heat to stay warm. 

A glance at your watch lets you know that it's a little after 3AM now, and you can only hope to fall back asleep soon. Your mind is exhausted from all the thinking you've been doing -- the toll it's taking on you coming through as a physical pain, pulsing steadily to remind you of everything that's happened -- but somehow sleep doesn't seem to be attainable. Despite being so drained, your body and mind would rather stay at odds than just compromise and let you rest. It's like something is telling you to stay awake -- like some quiet voice with ulterior motives is calling on you to look beyond yourself and fight sleep. Whatever the reason may be, you're annoyed with it. 

Frigid water meets your face, stealing the warmth away from your cheeks as it slides its way downward. You lean against the sink, sighing softly as your chilly fingers press into your temples and rub small circles into the skin there. The storm continues to rage on outside, drawing parallels to the war being waged in your heart. You're torn. Part of you is so overcome with the love you hold for Lisa that you just want to forget she even said anything at all -- you almost care more about having things go back to the way they once were than the fact that she's been breaking your heart more and more everyday. But another part of you is tired of her shit -- she shouldn't be able to get away with saying that to you, and you're strong enough to stay away from her until she steps up and makes things right. It's hard, no doubt, to keep your distance when she's the one person you want to be with most in this world, but you respect yourself enough to set a standard for what type of treatment you're willing to accept. 

As if on cue, a loud burst of thunder roars out, quite literally shaking the house with how strong it is. You jump, feeling your blood run cold at the unexpected scare. A yelp from the living room can be heard, and you have to bite your lip to contain the snicker that threatens to escape; you love Jennie to death and hate to see her frightened, but sometimes it's funny. Comfort comes to the brunette in the form of soothing words groggily whispered by the other girls as they hold her close. 

For what seems to be the millionth time tonight, Lisa crosses your mind; should you check on her? Despite what Jennie had suggested earlier, the maknae failed to leave her room at all. You wonder if she's cold; surely she is, considering she didn't have many blankets in her room to bury herself under. Worrying is apparently your strong suit, because the thought of her staying curled up in bed to grant your wishes, alone and shivering, saddens you beyond belief and convinces you to see how she's doing. 

After drying your face and hands, you sneak back to the living room and grab the fluffiest blanket you can find. Your feet dodge the creaky spots in the floorboards, having already memorized them after years of tiptoeing to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning for snacks. Before long, you stand in front of her door and attempt to prepare yourself.

Lisa's eyes fly closed as she hears the door to her room being opened. The weathered metal hinges groan slightly with effort; over the years, it's been thrown open in times of excitement and subjected to it's fair share of slamming during arguments. 

She does her best to play the part, but her act almost falters when she feels your soft hand brush her hair out of her face. The pad of your thumb strokes her cheek slowly, and she can practically feel all the emotion your gaze holds. Her eyes remain closed as you reach out to feel her arms, making sure they aren't frozen solid from being exposed to the chilly air. The fact that you still care enough to make sure she's comfortable makes her feel even more guilty, and her eyelashes have to work twice as hard to keep her tears from escaping. They dampen as the salty liquid builds up, serving as a dam that could break at any moment, but thankfully you don't notice. You splay the cover over her and tuck it slightly, leaving her plenty of room for movement -- you remember her telling you in passing that she doesn't like being tucked in completely because it makes her feel restricted. 

Her breath hitches as your hands fiddle with the collar of her shirt, fixing the ruffled material so that it covers her better. The bed dips as you sit down next to her, letting your eyes trail over her body. 

"How can you sleep right now?" You whisper out, thinking she's lightyears away in dreamland. A stray tear rolls down your cheek, but you're quick to wipe it away. 

"You're so stupid Lisa," you breathe out, releasing your lip from between your teeth. "I can't believe you think I'd want to be with Jung-hoon and not you."

"But hey," you say with a bitter laugh, the sound almost inaudible in its softness, "I guess I'm the oblivious one, right?" 

After spending a few more moments torturing yourself, you slowly stand up and return the blankets to the state they had been in before you sat down. Unable to resist the urge any longer, you lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. You have no idea where the two of you will stand with one another when she wakes up, and you want to have this memory before you're forced to be at odds again. 

As you push your tired body up, prepared to turn around and leave, you're instead met with her deep brown eyes peering up at you.

You freeze, feeling your muscles tense up as the tears in her eyes become more visible. Her features look even more beautiful now, somehow, in the pale moonlight that streams into the room. It's lustrous, seeming to sparkle as it casts down on her perfectly, kissing every inch of exposed skin that it can. She looks like a dream, and for a second you wonder if you're just imagining this. Her skin appears even softer than usual in the gentle glow of the room, but she looks as striking as ever with her defined collarbone and sharp jawline standing out. You feel her hand brush against your wrist, and you're reminded of all the times she would draw you in close and kiss you until you were breathless. 

"How much of that did you hear?" You swallow, a slight nervousness taking over now as you run a hand through your hair. 

"Enough," she utters simply, indulging herself in a few more seconds of the intimate staring contest you were in before breaking eye contact to sit up in bed. She leans back against the headboard and pulls her feet in some to give you plenty of room to sit. Selfishly, she wishes you'd sit right next to her again; she can't say she's surprised when you put a little space between the two of you though, opting to sit further down on the mattress. 

Neither of you say anything for a little while, too busy trying to locate the right words and how to phrase them. The situation is delicate, and neither of you want to mess it up; Lisa's more afraid to speak than you are, but she eventually finds her voice.

"I know sorry doesn't cut it, nor does it solve anything. But I really am sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out how it did, and I haven't been treating you right for awhile now."

"You can say that again," you quip, nodding singularly. 

She sighs, a bit discouraged by your demeanor but still just as determined. 

"Seeing you with him just scared me, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but that's exactly what I was. When I saw the way he was looking at you and sitting so close… it just hurt. A lot. I like you more than I want to admit, and you're completely capable of pulling anyone you want. Especially a 2 like Jung-hoon." 

You almost smile at that last part: even when apologizing, she can't help but clown on him. 

"That was a fucked up thing to say, back at the studio. It made me feel cheap, Lisa, and I never thought you would be someone who'd make me feel like that. I don't care if it was in the heat of the moment or not -- it was uncalled for." It feels good to finally voice your feelings to her, and you don't waste time by skirting around them or softening the blow.

"You're right, and I wish you could understand how much I regret it. I wanted to run after you so bad… you have no idea. I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth." She hangs her head now, feeling the shame rise in her at the thought of her past actions.

"You can dislike Jung-hoon as much as you want, but you're right about one thing: you have no right to be jealous. I refuse to be your reason for hating someone, especially when your logic is as flawed as it is." 

She can sense that you have more to say, and she's more than willing to listen; so, she waits for you to continue. 

"First of all, you and I aren't dating, Lisa. And even knowing that, you still didn't trust me, evidently. I don't owe you anymore of an explanation than the other girls, but I'll give it since you seem to want it so bad: we really did just work on the song. He was nice to me and treated me well, but he never overstepped or made me uncomfortable. Regardless of whether he likes me or not, he was kind; the same can't be said for you." Your voice is taut with the pain you've been through because of her, and the brutal honesty behind your words hangs heavy in the air. 

"I deserve that one. But can you please try to see it from my point of view? When you're in love with someone, it's easy to get jealous," your heart pounds harder at her use of that four letter word, but you don't let it show, "...especially when the other person isn't even yours to begin with. At least that's how it works for me. I feel like I have to work extra hard to keep your focus on me, because I'm afraid anyone can come by and take you away. You have no obligation to even be with me."

"I may not have an obligation to, Lisa, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you. Do you know how excited I was to finally get home and see you and the girls that night? I was dying to pull you into the kitchen and sneak a kiss when I was grabbing my plate. But you'd never know that, because you cared more about your insecurities than believing me."

"Wow." Your confession surprises her, and the simple utterance is all she can manage at the moment.

"Yeah." You say, solidifying your words. 

"I really am an idiot, aren't I?"

"To put it kindly, yes."

She pauses for a beat or two to really process your words. "Can we get past this?" She asks gently, playing with the frilly edge of the blanket you brought in earlier that's now worked its way down into her lap.

"I think so," you say honestly, releasing a steadying breath, "but you have to work for it." 

"I will, everyday. I want us to be okay again." 

"I do too, Lis. I really do." Her gaze softens at the nickname, and she can tell you're being truthful. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"You just did." 

"I-" She starts, only to be cut off by the small giggle you let out.

"Shoot, Manoban."

"Does this mean I can ask you to be my girlfriend?" She notices the way your face falls as you begin to stutter out a response, so she quickly clarifies, "Eventually?" 

"Eventually," you affirm, thankful that she understood that you're not quite ready yet. You crack a small smile as you say, "So long as you don't give me a reason to say no in the meantime." 

The two of you share a much needed laugh, happy to finally begin clearing the air between you. 

Not long after, Lisa says, "One more thing, Y/N." 

You lift your head to look at her and respond, but her lips meet yours before you get the chance to say a word. The surprised noise you make is muffled, but it soon gives way to something crossed between a sigh and moan as her hand travels up your thigh. It rests there, the heat of her palm seeping through the material of your pants as she waits to see how you react, still pressing innocent kisses to your lips. She wants to continue, but you deserve to control the situation. 

Wordlessly, you tilt her head to the side to deepen the kiss, languidly moving your tongue against hers. It's a dance you've spent hours practicing before, and your bodies fall back into the familiar rhythm they've been craving for the past week and a half. When you take her hand and lead it under your shirt, allowing her to touch wherever she pleases, she lets out a guttural noise of approval that has you pressing your thighs together in search of friction. Already, Y/N? You think to yourself; she's barely touched you and you're already so responsive.

Lisa smiles at the shuddered breath she feels you release, and she tugs at your bottom lip to tease you further. 

"If you keep this up, that 'eventually' will come sooner rather than later," you say shakily, swallowing as you press your lips together. They taste like her, and you're convinced you're addicted. 

She lets out a throaty chuckle at that, the action garnering a smile from you. Your cheeks are flushed, and she secretly loves the effect she has on you.

"You're beautiful," she declares, the smile on her lips coming through in the phrase. She strokes your cheek with the back of her hand, and you let out a little "pshh" sound at her sweet comment. Taking compliments has never been something you're very good at.

Determined to show you that she's genuine, she takes your hand and places it against her chest, right over her heart. It beats wildly, untamed and unpredictable as her emotions course through her. "It always gets like this when I'm around you. I can't control it; you just drive me crazy." 

"You're really trying to kill me, huh? Soft Lisa is far hotter than petty Lisa, just so you know." You say, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her hands tighten around your waist as she pulls you into her lap, slowly grinning at your confession. 

"Noted. Now come here, baby." 

You close what little distance is left between you, not having to be told twice. Her lips move in time with yours as she flips you over, laying you on your back beside her. In your preoccupied state, you don't even realize that she's tucked your legs under the blankets and brought the material up to cover the two of you. 

"I'm gonna take care of you, okay? I'm done being an ass." 

"It's about time," you joke, rolling your eyes. "Better get to work if you want to lose your status as a dickhead by the end of this century." 

"Hey! Century? That's a little long, don't you think?"

"Tread lightly, Lisa," you warn, half teasing and half threatening. She catches a hint of the menacing look you send her way, and quickly gets her act together. 

"Yes ma'am." She nods, attempting to contain the smile that tugs at her lips by pressing them against yours again. 

[yikesharringrove]

Egg the Cat

Chapter 3

Read on Ao3

-

Billy had to double-check to make sure he hadn't accidentally followed someone else home from the party.

Because Steve lived in a fucking mansion.

“Jesus Christ .” Billy stared at the house. “You didn’t tell me you’re fucking royalty .” Steve rolled his eyes, leading Billy towards the house.

“Can it. You got the booze?” Billy shook the bottle at him.

Steve looked better. Like maybe he had gotten a bit of a handle on himself.

Billy followed him into the pool of light cast over the porch, the unmistakable scream of a very excited cat sounding from inside.

Steve pushed open the door, bending immediately to scoop up his purring cat, holding her close to him as he went inside.

Billy gave a low whistle as he took off his boots, lining them neatly next to Steve’s shoes.

Steve just climbed the stairs, assumed Billy was following.

Steve’s bedroom was nice enough.

Felt as impersonal as the rest of the gaudy house, but there was a cat tree by the window, and a cat bed Egg ignored in favor of curling up on Steve’s lap as he settled in bed, sitting up against the headboard.

Billy didn’t know what to do with himself.

Last time he was in another boy’s bedroom, very different things were happening.

But then Steve gave him an odd look, eyes flicking to the spot next to himself, and Billy took that as his cue.

“I can’t drink a lot. Gotta be home in three hours.” His dad had a very clear rule about curfew: You miss it, don’t bother coming home.

“This is for me, anyway.” Steve gave him the weakest smile Billy’s ever seen, taking the bottle from Billy’s hand, and taking a long pull.

He grimaced at the taste, gasping for breath.

“That’s fucking rank .”

“Not used to cheap liquor?” Steve swatted at his arm, but took one more pull before passing the bottle to Billy.

Egg was still settled in his lap, and Steve ran long fingers through her dark fur.

“She can always tell when I’m feeling bad. Gets extra snuggly.”

“More snuggly than at the diner?”

“Nah, that was the more. She could tell I had been freaking out looking for her.” Her ear twitched and her tail swished, like she knew they were talking about her. “She’s the smartest cat in the world, I think.” He was quiet for a few moments as Billy took a drink from the bottle. “Took better care ‘a me than Nancy ever did. That’s for damn sure.”

“Sucks that she dumped you like that. All drunk and shit.”

“Isn’t there an expression? Drunk words are sober thoughts? Wish she had gotten drunk a year ago. Woulda saved me a lot of fucking trouble.” Egg perked up, standing to pace on Steve’s lap, curling up again, her chin resting on his tummy. “See? Has a fuckin’ sixth sense for when I’m upset.” She purred, her eyes closing as Steve scratched between her ears, down her back.

“How long have you had her?”

“Like five years? Someone was just, giving her away. Said he didn’t need bad omens, or whatever. ‘Cause she’s a black cat. I think that’s fuckin stupid. She’s brought me nothing but good.” Egg purred again, blinking slowly at Steve, nipping playfully at his fingers.

She really was cute.

Billy had never been much of a cat person, always favored dogs a bit more.

But Egg was so human, the way she tracked their conversation, like she could understand it.

“Man, don’t laugh.” Steve took the bottle from Billy, taking another long pull, shuddering halfway through. “I’m already feelin’ this. Haven’t drunk in so long .”

“Pussy.” Steve huffed a laugh, Egg meowed as his stomach shifted, jostling her head. He let the silence sit for a moment, just watched Steve’s fingers stroke through thick dark fur.

“So, uh, are you like, friends with Tommy?” Steve’s voice was way too measured, his tone far too light and casual.

“Who?”

“Tommy. The guy that was parading you around all night.”

“Oh, uh Karate Kid, guy?”

“Yeah.”

“No. He just kinda started talking at me, told me to do a keg stand. Said the guy that still held the record was a poser.” Steve outright laughed at that.

“Yeah, you broke my record tonight. I’m the poser.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

Billy turned to look at Steve, found him smiling this stupid fond smile at the cat on his lap. The room was dim, only one lamp clicked on, throwing a warm glow around the room.

“Can I ask you what happened? You said you used to be hot shit.”

“Nancy.” Steve’s smile evaporated like a flash. “I used to be a real douchebag. Ruled that fucking school. I mean, it’s not like I liked myself. I could definitely be called a bully, like, which sucks. But, you know. I had friends. I was popular. All that.”

“But she didn’t like that.”

“Nope.” Steve made sure to pop the ‘p’. “It’s not like she blatantly said that, but I could tell. I think that, I think that the changes have been good, like I’m nicer to people now. But I kinda cut off all my friends. Just hang out with her most of the time. And now-” Steve trailed off, taking another swig of shitty tequila. “Guess it’s just me and Eggy.”

“You say that like I’m not sitting right here.” Steve smiled at him, a real one, not the tight ones he’s been using all night.

“You hang out with me, you’re gonna be a fucking laughing stock, new kid.”

“Oh, come on. Have you seen me? I could literally never be a laughing stock. If anything, I'll make you cool again.” Steve just hmmmn ed at Billy, his eyes going a little far away.

“I don’t know if I really, really care about that anymore, if I’m being honest.” He swallowed thickly. “Some major shit went down last year. Like, more than Nancy shit. Kinda put things in perspective, I guess.” Egg had sat up, kneading at Steve’s stomach, making a noise like a little cat alarm.

Egg was so in tune with Steve it was utterly fucking ridiculous. They must be wired directly into one another’s brains.

“What kinda major shit?” Steve was quiet. Egg began walking up him, stepping softly until she settled on his chest, her chin resting on his shoulder, little pink nose tucked into his neck.

“Just like, major shit. Like, like people died kinda major.”

“Damn.”

“Like, I legally can’t talk about it kinda major.” Egg sniffed in his neck.

“What, you get mixed up in some kinda lawsuit or some shit?” Steve just sighed.

“Man, I just said I legally can’t say anything.” But he had a ghost of a smile on his face when he turned to look at Billy. “Can I ask you something?”

“Free country.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Why Hawkins ?”

“You asked me that like, three times yesterday.”

“And you never answered.”

“I said my dad remarried and wanted a-”

“Fresh start, yeah. But you could move one town over and have that. You could stay in the same damn state and do that. Why Hawkins ?”

There was something more behind Steve’s voice, something strained.

Billy just looked back up at the ceiling.

He had to take a breath, talking himself out of actually telling Steve. Telling him how Neil wanted him out of California, where gay bars were only a short drive away. Where Billy could cruise the piers, where a carefully toned you goin’ my way? could lead to a sloppy blowjob in the car.

Hawkins wasn’t necessarily specific, but Neil had wanted a small, God-fearing town. One where he would know if Billy got up to anything unsavory.

“He found a job here,” he said lamely.

Everything in him was screaming to trust Steve. To tell him the truth. Which was just a fuck of a lot. Billy doesn't trust people. He just does not.

He blames Steve.

Blames those soft brown eyes.

“Well, that’s thrilling .” Billy rolled his eyes, smiling a little to himself.

“What were you expecting?”

“Something more exciting. You moved here from California. That’s like, the coolest place ever .”

“I lived in L.A., too.”

“So like, the coolest place in the coolest place.”

“You ever been?” Steve just gave him a dark look.

“Last time I left the state was ten years ago. My parents took me to Chicago.”

“Damn. You’re like, a true hick, then. Only know this little town.”

“That’s me. Pure hick .” He scratched Egg’s back hip. She purred softly. Billy took another long drink, officially calling that his last one. He needed to be sober by the time he went home. Couldn’t be loud and clumsy as he made his way to his room.

He just pressed the bottle into Steve’s hand.

They spent the rest of the time before Billy had to leave just talking.

It was nice, Steve filling him in on the Hawkins drama, told him which gas stations had better candy selections, that the liquor store on the corner of Haven and Burbank didn’t card. He told him that Andrew Conner always had good weed, but it was cheaper to buy from Lisa Kendle.

And the more Steve drank, the more his eyes drooped, the lazier his smiles got, the closer he scoot to Billy.

He was warm, pressed up to Billy’s side, cat still curled on his chest.

He listened with rapt attention as Billy gave him stories about California, about the boardwalk and metal shows, told him stories of his best hookups, told him they were girls.

He was in the middle of one story, switched out the name from Daniel to something more appropriate, when he looked over, found Steve knocked out, mouth hanging open, tequila dangerously close to spilling, cat sleeping soundly on his chest.

It made Billy falter.

He just took in the scene, wanting to remember it.

He moved slowly, tried not to shift the bed too much, and turned out the light in Steve’s bedroom as he left.

[test-tube]

Author’s Note: i was gonna be salty and make this angst but instead i decided i needed a comfort fic (although the beginning of each could be considered angst) (this could also be considered as a cry for help) Pairings: Diluc x GN!Reader Word Count: 475 TW: mention of attempted suicide/depression/mental issues/it will be triggering for some people who have had these issues before so if you have i don’t recommend reading thanks Background Info: (probably need this for it to make sense) you’ve been off on a mission for almost a year now and you’re starting to slip. you just can’t handle being alone anymore.

You clutched the last letter you received from your beloved. Tears formed in your eyes at the thought of him. Of home. You longed for his warm embrace, his soft “I love you”s.

You wanted to see him. The actual him, actually talk to him. Not only read his impressive calligraphy on parchment.

What stopped you from leaving? Dropping the mission? Your god forsaken pride and disappointment issues. You didn’t want to let anyone down. No one noticed your anguish, so clearly it wasn’t a big issue.

That made you think otherwise. No one noticed. What didn’t they notice? Your struggles? Or just you in general? What if you didn’t come back? What would they do then? Carry on? Probably. The thoughts snowballed, getting worse by the second.

Your twisted fears of abandonment and disappointment planted the seed of worry in your mind long ago. Now the plant was fully grown and starting to fester.

Would they care if you didn’t come back? You thought not.

You had been moving this whole time. Clutching the shard of glass in your hand. You didn’t hear the door open with a click.

You were met with a hug from behind. The warmth was familiar, yet the body trembled.

“Please don’t leave me behind.” Your lover’s voice quivered.

The shard clattered against the ground. Tears formed pools in your eyes. You melted into Diluc’s form, starting to full on sob. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Diluc shushed you, embracing you further. “It’s alright, ok? It will be alright.” He said softly. “You’re coming home with me. Mission be damned.”

You wanted to protest but couldn’t. Going home was like a light opening up in a dark room. You longed to see people once more. You needed to talk to people. Shake hands. Give and receive hugs. Have pleasant conversations over tea. You wanted to see old friends! Jean, Barbara, Kaeya, Lisa. Amber, Diona, Klee. Bennett, Fischl, Razor. Sucrose, Timeas, Albedo. Even seeing grumpy Wagner would give you so much euphoria right now.

What had you almost done?! Of course they would notice your disappearance! They’d always pass your favorite spots with remorse, feel awful doing your favorite activities. Guilt clouded your mind and you started to bawl uncontrollably.

Diluc got down to face you, tilting your chin so you’d look back at him. “Listen. It’s not your fault. Don’t let anything tell you different.”

You looked up, barely able to say anything through your tears. You managed to choke out a “Thank you.”

“Let’s go home.” Diluc whispered in your ear, hugging you close. He seemed afraid he’s already lost you, begging you to remain in his reach.

Home. The place where you felt happy. Surrounded by those you adore. You seemed to glow at the idea. Home was nice.

“Take me home.” You agreed.

[svnflowervol666]

Crisp Trepidation (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Author’s Note: Here she is! The promised “Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready” fic. I ended up liking this a lot more than I thought I would, so I hope you all do as well! Take care and TPWK. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I don’t, actually. I’m being honest when I tell you she is the cutest baby I have ever seen in my life. Those curls! Are you kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers. 

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Lisa, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it correctly into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

She lovingly squeezed the extra chub around her thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, but it’s even better to breastfeed when you can. Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?”

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Harry’s giant head, though, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Lisa laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, knowing good and well what Y/N meant. She scribbled notes onto the file attached to her clipboard, checking off the baby’s progress and coinciding what the nurse that came in before her documented about her length and weight.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Harry’s really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Lisa re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Lisa’s head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Harry been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Lisa was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, she thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Lisa was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Lisa’s face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

//

Harry came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the curry that she’d been oh-so so excited about earlier in the week and swaying along to the playlist they’d curated together as she stirred a pot filled with vegetables was. Their grocery store had been out of coconut milk for several weeks and she’d nearly tackled him to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with it the night before, so he found it awfully strange that she’d yet to start cooking it. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Her coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?”

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times. 

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Harry could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff that was teetering on the line of becoming a full blown beard to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. Or maybe she was keeping to herself peacefully somewhere else in the house and she was being so quiet that he just couldn’t hear her.

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the wooden door tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife. 

Good. She was sleeping. 

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings about his tour schedule that forced him to dress nicely. 

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects about his everyday life with his family like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Or maybe it was the understanding that by this time next year, he’d be halfway across the globe and physically unable to hold her in his arms. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his rings into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quite yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Honey? ‘S that you?” Harry peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door. 

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“Ye’ sick? Can hear ye’ snifflin’.”

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Harry cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Harry tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for her again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk t’ me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Harry could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so. 

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.” 

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Harry asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib.

“‘S she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Harry worry.

“I was telling Lisa about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list. 

“And?” he asked after a solid sixty seconds of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Harry whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, H,” Y/N quipped.

“‘S not what I meant,” Harry fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many curly-headed babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present was going to be the gift of being a big sister. 

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. None of tha’,” Harry shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her shoulders tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of joy and celebration and relief after having tried for what felt like years. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled blouse, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“Wha’ do yeh mean, pretty? Of course yeh can. I’ll move some things around and we’ll make it work. We’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her back in attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Harry.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“You have to move everything around. You’ve already been gone for almost two years. This sets you back at least another. You can’t keep pushing shit back.”

“Erm,” Harry paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Yes I can? I couldn’t care less about tour...Did yeh think I was gonna leave yeh here on your own with a fuckin’ newborn?”

“No. I didn’t think you were just going to leave,” she almost sounded annoyed, which didn’t sit quite right with Harry.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there t’ do? Tour can wait.”

“People are counting on you, Harry. Millions of them. We’re not the only ones that matter in this situation.”

“Will you please tell me what yeh gettin’ at, because I’m starting t’ get upset.” 

Harry’s lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this? 

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And yeh think I’m not? ‘M tryin’ my best to keep it together for your sake if yeh haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending how the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one carrying our fucking child. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to push a football-sized human out of your vagina and just lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Harry was yelling now.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting tha’ it was. ‘M not sure what it is that yeh want me t’ say though. I’m sorry? ‘S that it? Sorry for gettin’ yeh pregnant? Sorry for havin’ a job that were well fuckin’ aware of when yeh met me? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fuckin’ planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Harry,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not makin’ any fuckin’ sense! Are yeh tellin’ me yeh don’t want t’ keep it? ‘Cos I never fuckin’ said that yeh have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands. 

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Harry’s hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe f’ me. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Harry peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just encountered had stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Harry’s hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Harry’s hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Harry the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

//

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with chocolate brown curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Harry’s. Her nose? A perfect, narrow line down her face that led to a button-shaped tip akin to Harry’s. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of bubblegum pink as Harry’s. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother were the color of her eyes, which was funny considering that was the one thing she’d wanted Harry to pass down to their daughter; Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Harry before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. He had changed out of his dress clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of joggers that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistant on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it, nothing sexual or erotic whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Harry loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Harry’s continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“‘M sorry for yelling at yeh,” Harry started.

“It was uncalled for.”

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“’S not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one havin’ the baby. It’s you that’s got t’ do all the hard stuff. Should’ve listened to you more.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?”

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Harry could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his. 

“I love you so much. Yeh know that? I know it’s difficult always having t’ think about everyone else, but you’re what’s important t’ me. I’d drop everything for you if I had to. End it all today.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you.”

“Well, just know that I would if yeh wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want t’ be here f’ you. For her. Don’t want t’ miss anything. I finally got my shot at bein’ normal when I met you and I hate myself for even thinkin’ about going back on the road and leavin’ yeh.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“You’re a good person, Harry. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Harry’s chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Lisa to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his jumper against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face. 

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Harry jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Harry spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She clearly wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known she was pregnant up until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have t’ have one birthday party ‘cos they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go t’ the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Based on the fact that you’ve already picked out the outfit this one is wearing on her first birthday that’s still six months away, I highly doubt you’ll stay keen on them sharing a party.”

Harry pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the garment he’d spotted during one his fittings with Gucci that he vowed to have for his daughter.

“Guess you’re right about tha’.”

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Harry could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Harry’s heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together, but it’s possible that the topic might not have even come up if he had been in the room with her and the pediatrician.

“Found coconut milk at the store the other day, remember? Want me t’ make that curry for yeh?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately purked up at the thought of warm spices and rice.

“Starting to wonder if curry was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?”

Harry giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought tha’ was a bit weird that yeh wanted it so badly, but I didn’t dwell on it too much.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“‘Ve got it, mama” Harry quickly refuted.

“Take a bath or somethin’ and I’ll bring it up t’ yeh when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Harry used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now. 

Of course, she wanted more children with Harry. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did. 

With two babies.

[vendettacanons]

⚔️ The Things They Carried ⚔️

⚔️ For @maximuses ⚔️

She’d come in just a few days after his initial diagnosis.

The doctors came and told him that he was no longer fit for service but that he’d spend the rest of his life carrying the war with him wherever he went. He’d carry the memories of the bulldozers, the memories of the hands when they stopped shaking beneath the sand, the memories of others just like him fresh out of childhood bleeding out in his arms, the memories of realizing those little white blips on his screen he was firing at were people. They told him there’d be aftershocks, like a cloud of sand being kicked up after a grenade explodes. Only that cloud would never go away. It would always be there, lingering. But it could be dispersed. Could be minimized in its density, thinned to the point of being able to go through life without constantly choking on the old dust of it. But it would take work. Work, and time, and patience that the doctors simply did not have, for he was just another soldier in a line of many.

So they called someone who might be able to help.

“My name is Miss Pearson,” she introduced herself. “But you can just call me Lisa. And this,” she gestured to the dog sitting beside her, “is Silver. He’s going to be your new Emotional Support Animal and I’ve been tasked with helping you get accustomed to him.”

And that was how it started.

The days crawled by slowly while he was recovering. Lisa was shyer than most he came to find. Very soft spoken. But she was a bright woman with a kind soul. She glowed with happiness, seemingly untouched by the madness and cruelty of the world he’d grown up with. The room brightened whenever she walked in and she genuinely cared. She put her heart into teaching him every gesture, every command he could give Silver, and showing him what kinds of alerts Silver would give him whenever he was getting too distressed. She worked with him and his therapist, practiced grounding him, and then helped actually ground him when his thoughts began to spiral. She was there for every sunny day and rainy night. Sometimes she’d even bring her own home-cooked meals for him to enjoy. And when the money ran out and the hospital threatened to put him on the street, Lisa opened her door for him. She welcomed him with open arms and the kindest smile.

The first day she’d brought him home had been the strangest. Silver trotted in without hesitation, right at home on her comfortable little couch. The apartment was fairly spacious yet still remained cozy. She guided him down a small hallway and opened a door for him. “This’ll be your new room.” She smiled, gesturing to the modest looking bed, side tables, dresser, and closet set against a backdrop of a pleasant-looking peach color and birch-wood flooring. It wasn’t much, and she knew that, because she followed up with, “I know it’s not much but for right now, just go ahead and get a bit settled in. Then we can work on making it your own place.”

[missymurphy1985]

The Umbrella Girl (part 3)

What is Cillian hiding from you? Why is Lisa so set on keeping you away from him? (Rewritten as I accidentally deleted the original, I tried to rewrite it as it was, I apologise if I've missed anything...)

Warning - mention of baby loss, slight smut, swearing

Taglist @queenshelby @peakyscillian @being-worthy @janelongxox @cloudofdisney @noctvrnalmoth @elenavampire21

You decided to avoid Cillian as much as possible, since Lisa's revelation. You were in his trailer the following Monday while he was in makeup sorting through his laundry. One of the PA tasks he wouldn't let you do as your back was so weak since your epidural when Emily was born - he didn't want you making it worse. You refused to allow him to give you any more preferential treatment though, so here you were sorting his pants and socks into light and dark piles. You heard the trailer door open and your heart caught in your chest.. he wasn't supposed to be back for an hour..

"Hey... I didn't see you for coffee this morning, everything okay?"

"I was busy, sorry. Had to collect your interview schedule for later, then Sophie's as her PA is sick, just.. just busy."

"Okay.. and why are you sorting my laundry? I thought I did that with your back and all -"

"You can't give me preferential treatment anymore. All the other PAs do their actors laundry Cillian. And my back is fine." You stood up and lifted one of the bags, before the pain in your lower back caused you to stumble. Cillian's arms caught you before you hit the counter.

"And this is why I do my own laundry, y/n." Still in his arms, he held your gaze. You looked into his eyes - all you could see was kindness, how could Lisa possibly think he was anything but? Your mind was distracted suddenly by his lips gently meeting yours, taking you by surprise. You responded to the kiss, it quickly becoming heated. He pulled you up to your feet and lifted you to sit on the counter, you opened your legs to let him stand inbetween them, his arousal pushing into your core.

"Fuck... Cillian..." His hands were roaming across your back and waist as he ground his hips lightly into you. Suddenly he stopped, pulling away. Catching his eye again, he moved away to lock the trailer door, before moving back towards you. You closed your legs, reality suddenly coming back to you, Lisa's words echoing round your head.

"I can't do this Cillian... I'm sorry..." He looked out the window and rested his hands on your thighs.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, I shouldn't have done that.. I don't normally do this y/n.." you scoffed at his words. "What's so funny?"

"I was warned this would happen, and I let it happen anyway, that's what's funny." You jumped off the counter, angry at yourself.

"Warned? By who?"

"Lisa told me what you were like. Sleeping with anything with a pulse. I'm not a notch on your bedpost Cillian." He looked both stunned or angry, you couldn't tell. You didn't stick around to find out, quickly leaving the trailer, tears in your eyes.

Later that afternoon, your phone rang. Cillian's name flashed on the screen. Despite your reservations, you answered it, but he wasn't talking to you - at least you hoped he wasn't..

"You're a fucking RAT, you know that?"

"What's the matter Cill? She turn you away? Didn't fall for those ocean blues like you thought she would?" Was that Lisa? Has he pocket dialled you?

"Was destroying my marriage not enough for you? Now you're set on destroying any chance of happiness I'll ever have again, is that it?"

"You destroy my life, I destroy yours. Seema like a fair trade. I have dirt on you that will ruin your 'Golden Bollocks' image Murphy, do not fucking test me."

"You're insane! It was a mistake, a stupid mistake!"

"A mistake with consequences!! Consequences you wanted nothing to do with, remember?!"

"There was no guarantee that baby was even MINE Lisa! You were fucking half the crew!"

"Well there is no baby now, is there Cillian? No baby because of YOU!" You gasped, a little louder than planned because you suddenly heard Cillian swear, a rustling sound and the line went dead.

What baby?? What the fuck was going on??

[anonthenullifier]

Tommy get caught making out with his girlfriend pls

Thanks for the ask! I hope you enjoy!

———

With a soft click the last light on the main floor extinguishes, leaving Vision to bask in the serenity of lumenless solitude. It’s a simple joy he gets each night after the others are in bed. Satisfied with the main floor, he rises an inch off the ground, hovering above each step instead of touching it, ostensibly to keep the wood from creaking and waking either of the boys, but truthfully he finds it soothing. 

At the top of the stairs he glances to the right, checking that the doors are shut and the lights off, particularly the bathroom since Tommy has a habit of leaving everything illuminated. It is all blissfully shrouded in night. Vision’s lips curve ever so slightly up, the evening remarkably calm, no squabbles between their sons or unnecessary name calling. Even Tommy managed a mumbled Love you on his way up the stairs. It’s almost too calm. 

Vision shakes away the thought, not even certain where it came from, and begins to head towards his own bedroom. That’s when he hears a pathetic whine from behind, body whipping around until he spots the culprit. “Did he shut you out?” Sparky's ears perk up at the attention, little tail giving a forlorn wag. “That is an easy fix.” Vision hovers back to Tommy’s door and goes to open it, except the handle doesn’t move. “How odd.” They don’t have a locked room policy but neither of their sons has ever locked anyone (especially Sparky) out, likely because a locked door stands little chance against any of their powers. 

As if attuned to his own confusion, Sparky stares up at Vision, head cocked to the side in anticipation of his solution. He could easily phase the lock open, but privacy is a right he wishes to allow his sons. “I suppose you can sleep with us tonight,” the words are meaningless to the dog, head still held at an adorable forty seven degree tilt, one fine tuned to get treats and balls thrown. “Come along,” Vision nods towards the master bedroom, the joyful tapping of nails on the hardwoods hard not to smile at. When they get to the door, Vision sets a single cheeky ground rule, “Keep your paws off my wife, understood?” 

A little sniffle and wag of his tail accepts the rule and Vision opens the door, Sparky racing in and immediately leaping into the bed, trouncing across the duvet until he is laying with his head on Wanda’s stomach and paws on her arm. “Why hello there you handsome man,” Wanda pets his head and Vision provides a good-natured glare at the rule breaker who lacks any sense of regret, or so the lolling tongue suggests, “and hello to you as well Sparky.” Vision shouldn’t feel a sense of victory over a dog, but he can’t help it, especially when Wanda’s eyes alight in flirtatious glee that draws him to sit on the bed. 

“You can thank Thomas for our company.”

Her “Oh?” is cooed at the dog, who has flopped sideways for a belly rub, his back paws discourteously shoved into Vision’s pillow. 

“He locked him out.”

Wanda leans down so that her nose is almost touching Sparky’s as her fingers scrunch behind his ears. “That wasn’t very nice of him.” If one were to imagine the expression of a customer being pampered at the world's most luxurious spa, it would no doubt pale in comparison the overflowing exuberance on the dog’s face. “Probably safest not to be in there anyway.” 

The comment is said with an air of knowingness and a tinge of innuendo. Vision had not even thought about that possibility, truthfully he hadn’t even thought much of the door being locked but it’s likely not an unfair assumption, the boys are teens now, a time he has read is filled with raging hormones and exploration. Perhaps they’ll need to have another talk about boundaries if this becomes the norm.  For now he’ll simply not think anymore about it. 

“Sparky, may I,” he attempts to scoot the paws away from his pillow, but they spring back immediately, forcing Vision to lay down farther than he’d like from Wanda. “This is why he sleeps with Tommy.”

Wanda shrugs, still playing the role of world's best masseuse, “I’m comfy.” 

“That is a relief.” A throw pillow is tossed at his face with a flick of her wrist, except, having been married for so long and understanding the statistical patterns of her reactions, he is able to catch it, pointedly fluffing it before sliding it behind his neck. “Thank you, darling.” What he expects to see next is the purse of her lips, a sign she is striving not to laugh. Her lips are pinched together but there is no amusement to be found on her face, even her hand stalling in petting Sparky. “Is something wrong?”

A tilt of her head to the side sends his autonomic system into action. “Did you check the perimeter?”

“Of course.” He waits for more and when it stays locked behind her lips, he presses on. “Why?”

Scarlet wavers along the blanket, her fingers rising and falling like a puppeteer until she seems to reach a conclusion. “There’s an extra mind in Tommy’s room.” 

The locked door becomes menacing instead of a minor annoyance. “I will check the outside and you—“

“Inside, yep.” 

Vision leans back, phasing through the bed and the wall until he is eight feet above their deck. Through controlled trial and error he knows the best density for stealth, his molecules bursting into a frenzy until he is lighter than air. Only then does he dare fly towards Tommy’s window. It is wide open, concerning and not economical since it will increase their energy costs, not that it is a concern at the moment, but for later.  Window ajar. 

Door still locked. Confirmed second mind in his room. Not Billy. 

If Wanda recognized the mind, she would alert him. I will proceed inside. Vision breathes in, always wanting just a second to settle all raging thoughts, and then he phases into the room, Mindstone glowing faintly so as not to alert the intruder. With hushed breath, Vision inches forward, noting what appears to be Tommy on his side, pajama clad back facing him. 

Nothing seems amiss, other than the open window and extra mind. It is unsettling. Vision increases his auricular and ocular sensors as he continues to investigate, hands lifting into stance #5 of Natasha’s recommended hand to hand combat defenses.

There is a quiet smacking noise, a recognizable one though he can not place it, and then there is a...giggle, not belonging to his son. It is when he notices the splay of dark hair on the pillow that it all clicks. Oh. Vision begins to back up, not desiring to intrude further even if he also has this instinctive need to interrupt, but he quells that. 

I’m coming in. The three quarters of a second it takes him to process Wanda’s comment is half a second too long, his abort mission not arriving until after the door opens with a very noticeable click 

This is when everything erupts into chaos.

A pillow is thrown through his face simultaneously with a, “What the fuck, dad!” and what sounds like a shriek from Tommy’s bedfellow. Then a blur of green fills the room, Tommy grabbing onto Vision’s semi-transparent waist and hauling him towards the door, just as Vision’s politeness kicks in with a cheerful, “Terribly sorry for interrupting.”

And then they are in the hallway, the door shut behind Tommy, whose face is contorted in rage and breath is uneven. Wanda stands frozen, hands raised and shimmering, her eyes bouncing between Tommy and himself. Tommy only looks at Vision, voice shaking, “What are you doing coming through my wall?”

“Was that,” Vision mentally reconstructs everything as best he can, “was Lisa in there with you?”

All at once the anger is knocked off their son’s face and replaced with a completely fake innocence, “Who’s Lisa?” It doesn’t even take the entire time for Vision’s brows to rise for Tommy to realize the misstep. “I um meant, um,” 

Wanda doesn’t allow him to flounder, oddly. “Is she still in there?”

Perhaps it is the Young Avenger’s training on being interrogated or the fact Tommy’s thoughts are always racing away from responsibility, but he won’t even answer this question, “I don’t um know what you’re talking about.”

A deep, disappointed sigh comes from his wife before she wraps Tommy in red and drags him from the door. “I’m taking her home.” With that she disappears into the room, light peeking out from under the door and muffled words floating through the wood. 

All Vision can do is stare at Tommy, lost in what exactly to say in this situation. Unfortunately, Tommy doesn’t share the same hesitation. “You know Billy does this all the time,” the door to his twin’s room opens slightly, “he just can block mom’s powers from noticing” and then it shuts with an aggrieved click. Wonderful. 

“Um well,” Vision isn’t sure why he falters so gloriously, as a father he’s expected to handle these things and yet this wasn’t in the books he read while Wanda was pregnant nor in the literature on problem behaviors at school, “perhaps you help your mother take Lisa home and we will discuss this in the morning.”

-----

“I think we just ground him for a couple days,” the last word is muffled and more syllables than necessary, ending only when Wanda stifles her yawn. 

This is what she suggested before leaving to take Lisa home and what he has been mulling over until she returned. “But under what rule is he being punished?”

There is not actually any rule thus far uttered in the Maximoff household concerning sneaking in significant others. An oversight, clearly, and yet Vision knows that what happened is wrong, he just cannot find a suitable reason beyond that it feels wrong. “Curfew?”

This he considered. Unless otherwise specified, the boys must be back by 9pm on a school night and 12am on the weekends. “But he was home and we never explicitly specified that curfew applies to their friends or partners.”

Wanda does not suffer this sort of agonizing rumination, “He was hiding it, he knew it was wrong.”

A truth and annoyance because it’s not like they don’t allow their sons alone time when their significant other is over. He recalls and empathizes with the thrill of young love and the need for solitude. Which brings him to the next point of scrutiny, “But does it not feel hypocritical to punish him for this when we broke international law to do the same thing?” 

“I thought you said that was a false equivalency?”

It is, insofar as there are too many confounding variables for their lawbreaking tryst to be considered equal with the current indiscretion and yet…”Tommy will leverage it against us.”

“Good thing he doesn’t know how often we break compound PDA rules...”

Another hypocrisy if they hand down a harsh sentence. “Again, does it not feel incongruous to punish him when we commit the same offense? We did sully the billiard table last week…”

“That was fun.”

“It was.” The way she stretches out, head propped up on her hand and robe fluttering open along her thigh, he’d recidivate in a heartbeat. Which is why he stops his heart long enough to finish their conversation. “But how can we hold him to a higher standard than us, when we, as cognitively mature individuals act similarly? Authoritative parenting requires us to explain the logic of our punishments.”

Their eyes meet in joint contemplation, the weight of the topic forming endearing wrinkles on his wife’s brow. “You say we act similarly,” her voice is steady, distant as if it is hauling the reasoning in though isn’t sure it will make it, “but you always calculate our odds of being caught or harming someone else with our actions.”

It is a structural equation model he keeps to himself, one that even the thought of calculating sends electric thrills along his spine. “I do and we tend to have a threshold set of when it is and is not acceptable.” The billiard table, for instance, had an 87% chance of not being caught and, with proper sanitation, a relatively low impact on others. 

“Do you think Tommy put much thought into tonight?” Knowing their son the extent of effortful planning was likely how to get her into the house. “He seemed surprised when Lisa’s dad was furious.” 

Vision isn’t surprised at the man’s reaction but is perturbed that was not even a thought to Tommy. When entering all the variables into his model, Tommy had a dismal 10% chance of success and a rather high 87.5% chance of harming someone else. “How do we handle this alongside the accusation lobbed at Billy?”

Deviousness parts her lips, hair dancing along her shoulders as she nods, “I have a great idea.”

----

This formation, with mom and dad in the armchairs, hands linked over the chasm between the armrests, and Billy next to him on the couch is the formation of doom. The silence that lays heavy over the room is the warm up to the interrogation. Tommy braces himself for what’s to come. 

“Would you like to explain your reasoning for last night’s actions?” Dad is always so damn calm, irises not even budging to betray any sign of how bad this will go. 

Tommy knows there isn’t a right answer here, and honestly, he doesn’t exactly have a good reason and annoyingly Billy played dumb last night when he begged him for advice. Apparently throwing him under the bus was an asshole move. After the bad lie last night, Who’s Lisa a fantastic way to piss everyone off (especially Lisa), he defaults to short and sweet (fingers crossed) honesty. “Thought it would be fun.” It was, until dad interrupted. 

There’s no immediate response, not even a blink, the entire room focused on his continued idiocy. “I see.” That’s never what he wants to hear from dad. 

“You two have to understand that!” His arms sputter about, trying to drag their attention to what they all know. “At least I’m not breaking the law.”

Mom scowls. Shit. “Very different circumstances.” 

“Yeah, yours was way worse.” No no no, why can he not just shut up like Billy, that Grecian statue next to him, ramrod straight and eyes dead to the world. 

The shared look, one that means the infamous mind voodoo is at play, an entire conversation occurring between mom and dad that only he can’t access, assuming Billy is brave enough to tap into it. If he is, he’s not sharing with Tommy. “You are right.”

Wait…”What?”

Dad isn’t capable of something so casual as a shrug, but the leisurely blink of his eyes and dip of his chin is roughly equivalent. “We understand the reasoning. Your mother and I are intimately,” gross, “familiar with the thrill of skirting rules of affection.”

If this isn’t his punishment, heaven help him. “No details needed.”

Billy’s “Please,” is practically silent. 

Mom smirks and he fears the worst, until she speaks, “Which is why we aren’t grounding you,” hallelujah, “this time,” fair enough. “But going forward you can’t do this. Either of you.” 

An I hate you drops into his mind. Tommy tries to send back a No you don’t but Billy has already shuttered their connection. “Agreed, so…” Tommy stands from the couch, hands brushing away the discomfort of the meeting, “we’re good, right?”

Dad’s “No,” ties itself around his waist and yanks him back onto the cushion. “Given Lisa was not so fortunate in her punishment,” she’s been forbidden from seeing him again, but Tommy isn’t planning on abiding by that, assuming she wants to see him again, “I believe a long talk about respect for your partner and the need for consensual, in depth decision making when it comes to risk taking is in order. You both are still too young and cognitively immature to fully weigh impulsiveness and so we would like to walk through a variety of scenarios to work through this topic.”

He’d rather die. “Can I just be grounded instead?”

Scarlet outlines mom’s pupils as she stares him down, “No.”

Dad clears his throat, needlessly pulling a painfully thick packet of stapled papers from behind him. The transition into his academic voice is only the first sign that their torture will be unrelenting. “Scenario 1: you and your paramour are driving down the road when they suggest a rather risqué activity…”

Tommy accepts that today marks the loss of his soul and all ability to feel alive, all to the chorus of Billy’s reaffirmation in his mind: I hate you so much. 

[let-them-read-fics]

Worth It

Requested By: You guys!

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!5thMember!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,543

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Suggestive Themes

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! A bunch of you guys have been requesting a continuation to the previous Lisa fic I did, so I thought I'd provide for you 😌 I really hope you all enjoy this little addition ♡ Happy Reading ♡

Previous: Dancing In The Dark

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You should've known. It was all too good to be true -- too close to being a fairytale as it teetered on the edge of perfection, just waiting to fall off that mythic pedestal. 

Lisa's eyes meet yours the moment you walk through the front door, opening widely as she scrambles to collect herself -- she clearly hadn't expected to be caught. 

"Seriously, Lisa? Wow." Part of you is shocked, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't see this coming. The bags in your hands hang heavily, weighed down by everything YG sent home with you for review, and their plastic straps uncomfortably dig into your palms now. You don't put them down, though; they serve as a good distraction for what you're witnessing. 

"Y/N-- I can explain, I promise!" Lisa walks around the counter and tries to reach for you, but you're quick to step away before she can. 

"Don't," you say, glancing down at her outstretched hand. She gets the memo, giving a subtle nod as she obediently puts it back at her side to appease you. 

"I can't believe you."

"Baby I'll go pick up some more, any kind you want!" Her eyes are pleading now, scanning between yours with purpose as her brows furrow more and more. She's desperate to make it up to you. 

Her bargaining piques your interest, but you don't show it. She's not getting off the hook that easily. "How could you eat the last one?" Disappointed, you give her a hurt look. "You know I've been craving them and you still ate it! I didn't even get one!" 

"I'm sorry! I didn't realize that this was the only box of them we had." 

Your favorite donuts, all gone. And when you're on your period, no less. The audacity that your girlfriend possesses really blows you away sometimes. 

The pout on your face eventually fades a bit as you see the sincerity in her eyes, and with a small huff, you crack a smile. After stepping around her to place your bags on the counter, you turn around and wiggle a finger at her. "We're getting 2 boxes, and you're paying." 

"Of course, babe. You can get as many toppings as you want, too." She adds, her smile widening obnoxiously as she wraps her arms around you. 

"You're lucky you're cute, jerk." Your arms loop around her neck as she pulls you in, rubbing your back to soothe you. Despite joking around, she really does feel guilty -- she knows how bad your periods can get, and those sweet treats always seem to make things at least a little better. 

"Come on, let's go get them." She whispers against your temple.

You raise your head to look at her, eyes wide in shock. "Right now? I thought you meant we'd go tomorrow… it's getting late, Lis."

"Why would I miss out on an opportunity for a late night drive with my girl? Besides, it's still open for…" she glances at her watch before looking back into your eyes, "...2 more hours. I think that should be enough time for you to choose." She teases, narrowing her eyes at you playfully. You can be pretty indecisive at times, but a lot of that uncertainty seems to fade for you when you're hungry enough. 

"They have so many good options, though. You might have to help me pick." 

"Okay, but do me a favor? Remember this moment when you want to yell at me again for not getting enough of your favorite kind." She cracks up when she sees you hide your face behind your hands, laughing at yourself. 

"I do get pretty cranky sometimes, don't I?" You tilt your head to the side, looking at her with a soft smile.

"That's an understatement, but I'll let it slide. You're adorable." 

She plants a sweet kiss to your cheek before grabbing your hand and leading you out to the car. 

---

Where you go I follow

No matter how far

If life is a movie

Oh you're the best part, oh oh oh

You're the best part, oh oh oh

Best part

The windows of Lisa's car are rolled down, allowing the warm evening air of Seoul to flow in and gently ghost over your skin. Vibrant city lights pass by leisurely, blending together in the distance to create a breathtaking skyline, and Lisa has no desire to rush anything. She keeps the car at a cruising speed, enabling you to relax and enjoy the smooth ride. Her thumb strokes over your knuckles as she sings along with the song, both of you knowing who she's aiming the words at. Occasionally she brings your hand to her lips, laying soft kisses to your skin. 

The heat radiating from your seat warmer fends off any possibility of a cramp, further putting you at ease. Today was a long day of rehearsal and interviews, only broken up by meetings that you didn't particularly enjoy sitting through. It drug on mercilessly, paying no mind to how exhausted you were or how eager you were to be home. Every time you'd sneak a glance at the clock, nodding along to whatever your manager was saying without actually listening, you'd find the time creeping by, the minute hand barely further than what it had been during your last check. It was boring and monotonous, but now you're here with Lisa and you couldn't be happier. 

The open sunroof allows for you to peek up at the stars, seeing them twinkle brightly for you, as if to say hello again. The sky surrounding them is rich; its velvety darkness serves as the perfect backdrop for them, making their colors pop in all the right ways. It's a gorgeous sight, and although you hate to admit it, maybe you're not too incredibly angry at Lisa for eating your donuts after all. 

"We missed you back at the dorm today," she says with a soft smile, her eyes still trained on the road as she lazily rubs her cheek against your intertwined hands. 

"Yeah?" You ask, turning your attention to her. "I missed you guys, too. I couldn't wait to get out of there; Jiyoung barely gave us a break, and we were practically buried in all the paperwork we had to go through. I've never signed so many things in my life." A grimace tugs at your features at the lame memory, and Lisa sports a very similar expression. 

"I'm so glad I'm not you," she says with an amused smile now, chuckling when you flick her. "We're so proud of you though, baby, and all of this work will be worth it. Your solo is gonna blow everyone away." The fleeting look she throws over her shoulder to you makes your heart swell with pride, and you're reminded of how far the two of you have come. 

Through trials and tribulations, hidden feelings and repressed desires, the two of you eventually found your way to each other in the end. You'll never forget the day that she asked you to be hers:

"Lisa, we can't get another cat right now! You know I love them just as much as you, but we don't have room." You try to reason, running a brush through your hair as you continue getting ready. 

"You're no fun," she groans, throwing herself back onto the bed like a frustrated toddler. In a perfect world, she'd have a house filled to the brim with little kitties scurrying around, rolling and playing with each other -- she doesn't understand why some people try to put a limit on how many she can have.

"Stop complaining or we'll be late," you warn, giving yourself a final once-over in the mirror before walking over to the bed. You stand between her parted legs, gazing down at her until she realizes you're there and opens her eyes to look at you.

For a moment, she doesn't say anything; she just takes in the sight of you before shaking her head. She's smiling like a giddy teenager, and you can't help but question her with a breathy laugh. 

"I'm so in love with you." 

She's implied that before -- her words usually accompanied by nervous fidgeting and an avoidance of eye contact -- but something about this time is different. Her gaze holds a softness that you've never quite seen from her, an added layer of tenderness and care behind her words. 

She's not afraid anymore, and, truthfully, neither are you. 

You've turned her into a more gentle person - one that thinks before she speaks and doesn't act so impulsively anymore - and a sense of accomplishment settles within your heart. It's not that you wanted to change her -- she just naturally adopted some of your mannerisms, shifting into a better version of herself. 

"I've never loved anybody like I love you, Lisa." You confess, a look of pure adoration on your face as you realize how true your own words are. She's evolved into a better person to be with you, knowing that she couldn't function as her old self any longer, and that alone makes her different from all the rest. 

You see her release a little nervous breath as she moves to sit further back on the bed, coaxing you into her lap. You have a sneaking suspicion of what's coming, but you bite back the smile that threatens to break out on your face and allow her to speak next.

"Well, then, I think it's only natural that I ask that question." She starts, referencing back to the night that you all made up. You're glad you didn't jump into anything then, when you were high on your emotions -- both of you needed time to grow individually first, but now the stars are finally aligned. You know the time is right now, and you're ready to be together.

"Go ahead," you nod with a smile, playing with the baby hairs on the nape of her neck as your arms rest against her shoulders. 

Part of you wants to mess with her and say no, but all of that goes out the window once she asks the words she's been dying to. 

"Jagi, will you be my girlfriend?" 

"I'd love to, Lili." 

Smiling like an idiot, she wraps her arms around you and lays back, falling onto the cushions with a soft bounce as she pulls you in for a kiss. She peppers your face with hundreds of tiny pecks, giggling when you squirm and squeal at her ministrations. 

You pull away slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, and you grin. "Should we just cancel the reservation? I don't think we'll make it on time and I'm too happy right now to even leave." 

She agrees, deciding that eating takeout on the couch while Netflix plays in the background is a much more tempting offer, and reaches for the phone in your back pocket. 

She lets her hands wander, knowing exactly what she's doing to you, but you allow her to have her fun -- a fitting revenge plan is already being formulated in your mind anyway. 

The fingers of her unoccupied hand flirt with the hem of your shirt, sneaking up under the material to caress your side as she waits for her call to be answered. You brush the back of your hand over her cheek lovingly, reveling at how smooth her skin is. 

"Gorgeous," you whisper, tilting your head down to kiss along her jawline. She sighs as you continue, lulling back into that blissful state of happiness she enters anytime your lips are on her. 

Suddenly, the line picks up and a familiar greeting can be heard. "Hello, how may I help you?" A surprisingly pleasant voice asks, the smile evident in how her words come out. 

"Hi, I'm calling to cancel a reserva-- oh," Lisa starts off strong, only to get blindsided halfway through when she feels your lips against her neck. They tease the tender skin just the way she likes, strategically parted by your tongue every now and then to lick a heated path to your next target area. 

She has to pull the phone away from her mouth when you snake a hand down her body, allowing it to travel to all the places she wants you most. 

"Ma'am?" The hostess asks when the line remains silent, Lisa too busy moving her head to the side to give you more access to respond to her. 

"S-sorry about that," she lightly smacks the back of your head as punishment, but soon groans again when you nip at her pulse point. "Manoban. I need to cancel my reservation." 

The woman begins typing away at her keyboard, searching the list for Lisa's name. Your girlfriend's legs wrap around your waist, and she grinds her hips against you with a smirk on her lips. The little tease is loving this. 

You move away from her neck now, satisfied with the marks you left behind as you follow the path that your hand previously made. You leave no area unattended as you methodically work your way down, making it a point to give attention to all of her most sensitive spots in order to get a rise out of her.

You do, of course, in the form of quiet expletives and breathy mewls of your name in between the small talk she's having with the hostess. 

When you sit back on your knees, momentarily stilling your movements, Lisa's eyes flutter down to where your hands rest: right at the front of her jeans. She gulps at the mischievous look in your eye, but bites her lip nonetheless. 

"--Yes, okay Ms. Manoban, I see your reservation for 9PM? Is that correct?" 

You undo the first button.

"Yes, that's correct." 

You tease her, running your fingers along the material before popping the next one open. Her hips involuntarily buck up towards your hand when you brush it against her center, bringing a shade of blush to her cheeks. 

"And to ensure that we're meeting the needs of all of our customers, may I ask your reason for canceling?" 

You flick the last one open, glad that she's only wearing a semi-high waisted pair of pants -- that little game was fun, but her hushed moans have gotten you riled up. She covers her mouth, sinking her teeth into her palm to silence herself when you pull her pants past her hips and lay needy kisses to her upper thighs.

"Something just… came up. No fault on your part," she rushes out, wishing she could just hang up now and not care enough to be polite. 

Her eyes lock with yours when you push her shirt farther up, kissing across her toned stomach as you tug on the waistband of her lingerie. Its maroon lace is paired with accents of deep purple, contrasting with her skin gorgeously as jagged breaths ripple through her. You admire the bruising patches your lips have left behind that paint her stomach, splashes of darkness to accompany the material that leaves little to the imagination. 

"Ah, I see. Well we hope you'll come back and see us." 

Just as Lisa is about to say a hurried goodbye and hang up, the hostess asks, "Speaking of, would you like to book another now?" 

Lisa's head digs into the comforter, her eyes tightly closed in frustration… for multiple reasons. She tangles her fingers in your hair, her silent way of pleading for you to continue, and she does her best to sound stable as she responds.

"No, no. Thank you, though. Goodbye." The very second that she registers a parting word from the other end, she quickly hangs up and tosses the phone to another part of the bed. 

"That was cruel," she breathes out, though both of you know she isn't upset in the slightest. 

"You loved it," you say, self-assured as you smile against her hip bone. A slight tremble runs through her body, and it works to boost your confidence tenfold. 

"You drive me crazy, Y/N."

You're pulled from your pleasant reverie by the feeling of Lisa nudging your thigh with her hand. You hadn't even realized you closed your eyes. 

"We're here, my love." She says, unbuckling herself. You let out a tired yawn before doing the same, and you thank her when she comes around to open your door for you. You settle against her side, and soon enough the two of you are filtering into the cozy little shop.

Rows of treats greet you, all tucked behind crystal clear walls of glass for protection from any stray kids that may try to snatch one of them when no one's looking. A shorter container sits beside the standing racks, stretching out to reveal an impressive array of ice cream and sorbet flavors. You wander around, studying the different options as if you don't already know them all by heart after being such a frequent customer for so long. 

"I'm debating on getting some ice cream, too. What do you think?" You ask Lisa, only to hear her let out an earth-shattering squeal in response. 

She clears her throat, amusingly composing herself, and acts like the inner 5 year old in her didn't just pop out. "We can get the Super-Ultra-Mega-Shareable Waffle Cone, if you want." 

"Sounds like a plan, babe." You laugh, seeing how ready she is to absolutely demolish some ice cream. You'll be lucky to even get a few bites in, you realize, though seeing her this happy is far more important. 

You spend the next few minutes deliberating with her like you're judges on some Food Network show, deciding on the perfect order as you rack the price up with every gourmet topping you add. Eventually satisfied with your choices, Lisa kisses your cheek and sends you off to find a seat while she pays. Upon scanning the entirety of the dining area, you spot a corner booth that's tucked away from the busy center of the store, and you smile at how intimate it is. It's perfect, and you begin making your way over to it. 

She follows behind you shortly after, shoving the change she just received down into her pocket. The large cone rests in her other hand, and she swipes her tongue along the top of it, gathering up a generous amount of whipped cream as she slides into the seat across from you.

You swear you can hear angels singing as you open one of the boxes, seeing the beautiful spread of yummy treats lined up together in neat little rows. Their delicious aromas waft up, making your mouth water in anticipation. So, deciding not to waste anymore time, you reach for the one that you've been dying to sink your teeth into all day and take your first, glorious bite.

It's made just the way you like it, with the perfect dough-to-glaze-to-topping ratio imaginable. The memory of Lisa specially requesting them to be made fresh warms your heart, and you open your eyes to look at her. 

"Oh mah gahd--" you say around your mouthful of food, attempting to not choke and die when you see how crazy she looks. Ice cream is already messily smeared across her face, reaching just about everywhere -- her cheeks, nose, mouth -- you name it; and her hair is haphazardly pulled back in a messy bun. 

Halfway through crunching on the tasty cone again, she looks up at you. "What?" She asks, sounding as if she genuinely has no clue as to the state she's in. You motion to her face, prompting her to grab her phone and look at her own reflection. Rather than getting embarrassed, she lets out a loud cackle, successfully throwing the two of you into a laughing fit. 

It's the good kind -- slapping the table, making no noise as you egg each other on, filling the shop with those joyous sounds -- kind of thing; and seeing her so carefree is priceless. Any trace of stress that stuck around from the long day you had quickly disappears completely, no longer deserving of the room it was taking up in your brain. This moment with her is perfect, and you're so glad to be sharing it. 

After things die down a bit, the two of you lean back in your chairs, tightly clutching your aching stomachs. Your cheeks hurt, too, but it's the kind of pain you're more than happy to welcome with open arms. 

Lisa reaches for your hand across the table as she looks at you with that special twinkle in her eye, her smile looking particularly swoon worthy. "I'm really happy I ate those donuts earlier." She's teasing, but it's the truth -- this night is a memory she'll keep forever, added to the list of things she never wants to forget. 

"Me too." You squeeze her hand and pull her in, grinning at the taste of ice cream on her lips. The next part (which you knew was coming) still makes you squeal: she nuzzles her face against yours, spreading the sticky sweetness all over you as well. 

"There. Now we're matching." She kisses you again, leaving you to attempt to hide the unwanted smile that parts your lips. 

[loversdelusion]

Days Scattered

Deacon St. John x St. John!Reader

Part 2 of 3

previous- next

Deacon spent the next day orchestrating a plan of rescue, much to his own dismay, Rikki convinced him that he couldn't go in blindly shooting or both of them might not come back, Deacon was deep in thought, his mind constantly racing over what was happening to you.

(Y/n) groaned in pain, her head and wrists were aching, she didn't know why they were aching but she got her answer when she opened her eyes to her wrists being strung up to two thick branches, she was in a candlelit room, words were crudely written on the wall in blood, sharp dead branches littered the room, she assumed it was the Ripper's definition of decoration.

"Shit.." She rolled her head, doing her best to stretch her neck muscles, (Y/n) lazily tugged against the bindings, seeing how secure they were, seeing they were tied pretty firmly against her, she still kept tugging, despite the burning sensation of the ropes digging into her wrists "Dammit!" She exclaimed in frustration, sighing heavily as nothing was happening.

The sound of approaching footsteps sent her alertness to 11, her eyes darting to the door across from her, the door slowly opened, it's hinges creaking steadily, a Ripper was in the doorway, this one seemed different than the others, held a more powerful aura. "Carlos.." She said, weakly as she came to the realization of who this was, Carlos let out a small smirk "Mongrel Princess, when the group I sent out told me they were successful in catching a Mongrel, I never expected it to be you.." Carlos took slow but calculated steps to where she was bound.

Carlos stood two steps in front of her "Oh my, should've told them to be gentle, I would have if I knew I was dealing with precious cargo" Carlos leaned closer, (Y/n) could see his numerous cuts more clearly, she leaned back as far as she could.

"The little St. John" Carlos declared, almost proudly, (Y/n)'s gaze hardened, she looked to be thinking hard, her face contorted into a look of shock "Jessie.." She muttered quietly, Carlos barely picked it up "Jessie Willamson.." Carlos pulled away, sighing lowly "That is not my name, not anymore, I soon won't have a name at all, we renounce our names to rid of our pain" he stated "As do all Ripper's".

"Deacon had a hand in torching your Mongrel tattoo off after you murdered someone in the MC over drugs..I was there, I watched them drag you into the old safehouse, Deacon told me to stay in Jack's car and to turn on the radio while they dealt with you" (Y/n)'s gaze darted at Carlos. "I came out of the car after awhile, Deacon came out of the safehouse and from the second he opened the door, I smelled burnt flesh and I saw your body on the table, bloody and torched, thought you were dead but guess I was wrong" Carlos let out a breathless chuckle. "I have found the path, and soon you, your brother and Boozer..will be forcefully put on the path, as for you..you will be my wife" Carlos sneered, leaning closer to her, she could almost feel his breath on her face "Fuck off, I'm not marrying you" she replied, kicking him in the thigh, Carlos let out a low growl "But first, you must be cleansed" Carlos eyed her left arm which was covered by her shirt, he looked away and down next to her, he picked up a blowtorch.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened at what he was about to do "You touch me with that and I will shove that so far up your ass, you'll turn into a dragon" she tensed against the binds as he lit the torch, it's ominous blue glow lighting the small distance between Carlos and (Y/n)'s facial features. "Princess, you must be cleansed as I have" Carlos held a dangerous look in his eyes, he grabbed a knife, cutting through her shirt's sleeve with ease, he ripped it off once the fabric was thin enough, he exposed her inked skin to his insane stare, (Y/n)'s arm was tattooed with a whole sleeve that reached from her shoulder and down to the back of her hand "My, my..your whole arm is tainted, that's not good" he tutted, bringing the torch back up again.

Sweat was rolling down her face in beads, her chest heaving heavily, Carlos brought the blowtorch closer to her arm, she began to feel the white hot heat of it, nearing closer and closer with every second "You'll pay for what Deacon did" Carlos muttered lowly, (Y/n)'s whole body jolted and tensed at the feeling of the hot flame torching her tattoo off, she screamed, gritting her teeth together tightly, tears welled up in her pained (e/c) eyes.

Carlos brought the torch away, admiring the small patch of melted skin on her shoulder, the smell of burned skin wafted in the air, (Y/n) almost gagged at the scent, Carlos said nothing as he brought the torch back to her skin, burning another patch of her tattoo off, she yelped, thrashing wildly against the ropes, trying desperately to back away from the crazed Ripper, the pain was unbearable and she begged to God that she would black out already. Her head lulled forward, the pain from being tortured mentally and physically exhausted her "No, no, Princess, you stay with me" Carlos patted at her tear-stained cheek, Carlos roughly gripped at her chin, pulling her face to look at her arm.

(Y/n)'s jaw clenched at the sight, more hot tears trailing down her face, it was burned up to the middle of her bicep, words refused to be spoken at the sight of her arm, the top layer of her skin was completely gone, she could just see black charred, bloodied patches of the tissue underneath, it was a stark difference compared to the rest of her untouched arm "Don't worry, Princess..I'll cherish you regardless" Carlos was pressing his face into her hair, inhaling heavily at her scent, but she ignored it, too traumatized at her injury to fight back anymore.

-

Deacon made it into the Ripper's camp, Boozer right behind him on his bike "You remember the plan?" Deacon spoke in a loud voice over the roar of the engine "Yeah, blow the dam, drown the rats, kill Carlos and save (Y/n)" Boozer replied, Deacon didn't acknowledge it, keeping his attention forward on the road. They approached the dam "You know how to do this, right?" Deacon asked, raising a dark brow at the one handed man beside him, Boozer shook his head with a chuckle "Easy as riding a bike" Deacon rolled his eyes "Are you sure? I mean, I know how to do this, I was in the army for God's sake" Boozer shook his head again "I got this, brother, just watch my back".

Deacon guarded Boozer as best as he could, keeping the Ripper's that attacked off of him, Boozer was on the last charge "You sure this is gonna work?" Boozer asked over the walkie talkie "You doubting my plan?" Deacon replied, a teasing lilt in his voice "It's..it's a lot of water, it'll get 'em" Deacon said "If you believe it, I will too" Boozer said, a few seconds later. Boozer approached the last detonation site, Deacon sniping the Ripper's that attacked with ease "How's it going, Boozeman?" Deacon asked, a wary tone in his voice "Hey, it's not easy with one hand" Boozer replied "Just hurry it up" Boozer rolled his eyes "I got it!" Boozer started into a dead sprint, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and the dam "Get the hell out of there, Boozer!" Deacon yelled, waiting for his friend to catch up.

The explosives went off, sending a shockwave and tremors through the surrounding area, the blast knocked Deacon and Boozer on their asses "Christ!" Deacon shouted as he covered his face to protect it from the brief blast of heat, the area darkened as the light from the bomb died down, Deacon and Boozer let out a laugh "Fucking hell" Boozer exclaimed as he sat up, Deacon helping him to a stand. They looked at what was left of the blast, tons of water was still rushing through, big chunks of debris was being swept towards the campsite "Lets get going" Deacon nudged Boozer's arm, both of them setting off into a jog.

-

Carlos left (Y/n) alone for a bit, saying something about Deacon and Boozer needing to be here to change too, her head was hanging, exhaustion taking its hold on the beaten and battered girl, the sound of the door opening was heard but she paid no mind to it, lighter footsteps approached her, she still ignored them. "Hey.." it was a girl's voice, (Y/n) weakly lifted her head, her bloodshot eyes met the worried ones of Lisa, a girl her brother saved a while back "Lisa..?" Her voice was weak, barely there, Lisa was bald, cuts littered her body, the signature 'R.I.P' symbol carved into her forehead. "That's not my name.." Lisa grabbed a knife nearby, gingerly grabbing hold of the uninjured part of her arm "Ripper's are cleansed of their pain, and made into a new person once they completely abandon their name..and I have" she cut the rope and (Y/n)'s arm limply fell to her side, a sharp jolt of pain shot through her body as her shoulder muscles stretched, pulling at her healthy and injured skin, she yelped, hissing at the sensation, Lisa cut the other rope.

(Y/n) was unprepared to hold her full weight, she collapsed into Lisa, who barely caught the older woman "I-..I can't" (Y/n) whispered weakly, Lisa helped her stand fully "Yes, you can" she quietly said words of encouragement "Your brother might be here, the dam was blown, the camp is flooded" hearing the mention of Deacon lit a small fire of hope for her. "C'mon, I know a way out but you need to walk" Lisa held her at arms length again, (Y/n) grunted in pain at the bruising on her legs, she closed her and sighed heavily, willing the pain away "I'm right behind you.." She said quietly, crouching low behind her as she walked out of the room "I'll meet you outside" Lisa said in a rushed whisper, walking ahead of her.

(Y/n) eyed the room she was in now and if she wS being honest at all, she felt a lot safer in the room she was being held in, (Y/n) carefully stalked towards the Ripper slashing up a survivor, who looked nearly dead, she grabbed the Ripper, wrapping her hand tightly over his mouth and slicing his neck open with the knife Lisa left her, she helped the body quietly fall to the ground "So, you wanna find the Path, huh? Let me help you, motherfuckers" she said through gritted teeth, wiping the blood on the knife against her pant leg.

She cleared the whole room, silently mourning the losses of the survivors that she couldn't save, she opened a set of double doors, it opened to a skywalk, she walked into another set of double doors but they were already open, it had a small staircase inside that led into another room. This one had a group of Ripper's in it "There's too many" she said under her breath, she carefully walked towards the door instead, hoping they wouldn't see her, she sighed in relief at breathing in fresher air than what was inside.

-

Deacon and Boozer fought their way into the lodge, killing every Ripper and Freak they saw "What if she's not here?" Deacon rose an irritated brow at Boozer "Like not at the lodge but somewhere else in their territory" Deacon's stare left the one handed man "We look for her, and I don't care if we have to kill every single one of them to do that, they're all fucking dying tonight anyway" Deacon grumbled, venom in his tone.

-

(Y/n) panted, having escaped the area where she was held, she was too scared and exhausted to go look for her little bit of things, she was grateful that she decided to pack light today, bringing merely a boot knife and handgun, her jacket she could part without, again she packed light to just go out on a bounty run, not to get attacked by Ripper's.

She ran through the fields, trying her best to remember which way the lodge was, she prayed to whatever was left out there that Deek would find her or she would find him, she could hear the shouts and yells of the Ripper's, finally discovering that she escaped, this only fueled her adrenaline, running even faster.

She wasn't completely aware of her surroundings, not realizing she was crossing a road or that a Ripper was on patrol there, but the Ripper was aware of her, the female Ripper lunged at her, successfully knocking her to the ground, (Y/n) yelped in pain as she landed on her injured arm, she scrambled to her feet as fast as she could, realizing she was in danger "Where you off to in such a hurry, little girl?" The Ripper rasped, a sickening smirk on her face, (Y/n) growled, clutching her knife as tightly as possible, the Ripper was armed with a club, nails embedded at the tip of it.

(Y/n) sliced through the air, the blade connected with nothing, the Ripper laughed wildly as she swung the club around, (Y/n) narrowly dodging every swing, (Y/n) swung again, the blade cut into the Ripper's skin, the Ripper kicked at (Y/n)'s hand that held the knife, successfully knocking it out of her hand, (Y/n) cried out at the pain, she was now left defenseless, the Ripper still having her weapon. The Ripper swung once more, this time (Y/n) ducked low, the attack barely missing her head, she could feel the swing send a gush of air across the top of her head, (Y/n) saw an opportunity of attack and she took it.

(Y/n) kicked the Ripper in the kneecap, the Ripper's knee easily snapping backwards at the force of her kick, the Ripper doubled over, screaming in pain at her broken leg, (Y/n) hastily came to a stand, glaring down at the Ripper who tried her best to still grab her, she eyed the leg, cringing as she saw the bone protruding through the skin. "Guess eating shit and dirt all day didn't do you any good" the Ripper growled "You little bitch!" (Y/n) took two steps toward her, standing directly above her head "Get low, bitch" (Y/n) said as she stomped hard on the Ripper's head, a chill creeped up her spine at hearing the sickening crack of the Ripper's skull caving in.

(Y/n) kept going, she could see the lodge across the field she was in, the dam was indeed blown up, the damage from the water was strong but they deserved it, they all did, she trudged on, despite her legs protesting. She paused in her steps as she heard a light staticy noise- like from a radio, she scrambled to find it instantly, scrounging around through all the debris and looking around in the vehicles, she found the source of the noise, it was a walkie talkie, she grabbed it and immediately held down the talk button. "Deacon St. John, come back" she said, her voice nearly wavering, nothing yet "Boozer, Deacon, come in" she said again, more static reached her eyes, she sighed heavily, wanting to hit something but she held back "Deek, please come in" she begged, stray tears trailing down her dirt and blood covered skin.

-

Deacon cut through the last Ripper standing between him and Carlos, they went inside the lodge, both sighing in frustration at the lack of stairs "You're never gonna make it up there" Deacon grumbled, Boozer kicked a pillar that was next to him "Yeah, I know, I'll boost you up though, throw in an extra hit for me, will ya?" Boozer got into position to boost Deacon up to the second floor. "-con St. John, come back" Boozer and Deacon froze at the sudden voice blaring through Deacon's walkie talkie.

"Boozer, -eacon, come in" the signal was cutting up badly "Deek, please come in.." The voice came through loud and clear that time, Deacon gripped the device and pressed the button "(Y/n)?! (Y/n), is that you?" He released, white noise filled the air for what felt like forever. "Deacon..?" Her voice was low, Deacon felt like he could burst into tears "(Y/n), it's me..I'm here" Deacon replied, he could hear her sniffle, he could tell she was crying. "Deek, I wanna go home.." She sounded so weak, Deacon swore he'd kill everything here for making her like that "Wh-where are you?" Deacon asked, brows furrowed with worry.

"I made it out of where they were keeping me, I'm outside, on a road" Deacon nodded "Okay, just uh, come to the lodge, and be careful" Deacon pleaded "What are you going to do?" Her voice replied, Deacon's gaze hardened "Something that should have been done awhile ago" Deacon released the button, turning to Boozer "I'm ready".

[poltronova]

fics i read in january

marvel

new dream by writerllofllworlds - irondad, au where tony is kidnapped and one cell over is a kid who has been there a while (18k)

hush (for it is dark) by losingmymindtonight - irondad, pretty immediate post-endgame where peter can’t sleep, i don’t really do endgame stuff anymore but this feels like a goodnight tuck (~4k)

911/lone star

it’s never too late to come back to my side by swiftiediaz - post s5e10 cliffhanger where eddie isn’t with the 118 anymore but is still listed as bucks emergency contact. i see the swiftie title and i click! (3.6k)

right here waiting by blackandwhiteandrose - buck gets a new girlfriend (not taylor) who is perfect and eddie can’t stand her, i really don’t normally do the jealousy stuff but this is so well done (7.5k)

thicker than water by madamewriterofwrongs - post season 4 where anytime someone mistakes buck as chris’s dad he has an existential crisis bc of the will, prerelationship (2.7k)

not too late to talk about it by lasvegas_lights - another post s5e10 where buck gets hurt and eddie isn’t there, includes a gut punching “i barely stopped for red lights” west wing parallel (3.3k)

all we are is skin and bone by zoeyclarke - again i see swiftie title and i click! also set post s5e10 but eddie and chris move back to texas. set a few years in the future when they venture back to LA and see not much has changed while simultaneously everything has. LOTS of complicated feelings, dad!buck but not very taylor friendly so dead dove etc (16k)

the space between the seconds by djdangerlove - s3e2 spec fic with carlos pining at TKs bedside, i NEEDED something after that first episode and this was it (1.2k)

wherever you are, i’m almost there by s1lverwren - eddie gets stuck in a groundhogs day time loop of hallmark christmas eves until he and buck finally figure themselves out (17k)

spn

we’ll find a new home by sleepyvan - food as a love language truthers feat confessions in a costco. post despair/au fix it (~8k)

empty spaces by insanetrolllogic - lisa pov set after the memory wipe, so good but short, DEF would read more if expanded (~900)

somewhere i have never travelled by museaway - au where cas accidentally hits the impala and mechanic!dean offers to fix it up for him. SUCH a good development of the relationship, lots of features from other characters, double check the tags but this was such a lovely read (53k)

[sevlgi]

I need u

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: angst

contents: pyromaniac!reader, based on bts hyyh universe. [26/33]

warnings: fire, mental health issues, mentions of abuse, death, mild violence, suicide attempt

synopsis: Rosé would be nothing without your fire, but what happens when she’s the one who has to rescue you from it?

a/n:  DISCLAIMER BEFORE YOU READ: this is not meant to portray a healthy relationship in any way. this is based off of a music video, the HYYH series to be exact, and is not meant to reflect how I think rosé would act. PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNING

word count: 1.7k

Before she met you, Chaeyoung didn’t think she was missing anything.

Sure, she knew that it wasn’t exactly normal to be so indifferent about everything, to not feel an ounce of passion for a single thing in her life. 

As soon as you first blazed into her life, though, it all became so much clearer. There was so much fire behind your eyes, the intensity of your feelings fueling you in an incredible explosion that was too close to burning you up for comfort. Where she was calm and level-headed, you were impulsive, the fervor you felt for your dreams the direct opposite of her slow pace.

And suddenly, she felt things that she had never had before. Chaeyoung finally experienced the butterflies she read about, something that might even be called love.

Either way, she was fascinated by everything about you. Your fires and your storms, your passions and your anger, everything that formed the blazing light that illuminated her darkness.

She needed you-- Chaeyoung knew that she was nothing without you. Without your fire, she was just a trickling stream, cool and silent in a way that no one would miss.

But slowly, that intensity to you began to scare her. The sheer passion you held burned you up from the inside out, too much fuel and not enough time or room to contain it. The calluses on your hands from playing piano in the middle of the night became the imprint of a lighter’s ridge, the excitement you felt at mastering a new piece becoming fury at the world around you.

You didn’t seem to love anymore, only hate. And that meant you didn’t love her anymore, which was what scared Chaeyoung the most.

Because she needed you, and you were burning up like the last sparks of a bonfire in the last night of summer.

“Does it hurt?”

Shrugging to hide her wince when you touched the bruise on her cheek, Chaeyoung assured you, “It doesn’t. Promise.”

It did nothing to quell the anger furrowing your brow, but you sighed and turned back to the cloudy gray sky, legs swinging over the side of the trailer. Below the two of you, the sounds of your friends playing echoed, scaring away the crows perched opposite you. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What for?” the lavender-haired girl asked, her hand cold compared to your warm one. “It’s not your fault.”

“It might not be,” you agreed, reaching over to brush some hair out of Chaeyoung’s eyes. Somehow, you were unaware of the effect you had on her. “But I still hate it. There’s just so much wrong with the world around us.”

Chaeyoung huffed out a breath through her nose, crossing her legs. “Don’t say that, Y/N. Aren’t you always the one telling me to see the brightness of things?”

Frowning, you got the lighter out of your pocket again, your thumb rolling over the ridge mindlessly. “Yeah. But I was wrong whenever I told you that, Rosie. You can’t believe that. Just look at your face- strangers did that to you, just for bumping into them.”

“It’s not their fault,” she tried, watching as the hem of your jacket was nearly singed. “They were angry. You’re angry, too, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t hit someone if you were mad enough.”

You looked over to her disbelievingly. “I wouldn’t. God, Chaeyoung, who do you think I am? I wouldn’t hit someone, never mind you, not unless they hit me first.”

“Good.”

After some silence between the two of you, you began flicking at the lighter again, the clicks louder than they should’ve been almost a story above the ground. “We should leave someday.”

“Leave?” Chaeyoung cocked her head at you, tapping a stray rock she found on the blue-painted metal of the trailer’s roof. “What, all of us? To where, Y/N? Where would we go that would accept us?”

Sprawling out on the roof, despite all the dead leaves and dirt surrounding you, you watched the clouds go by and sighed. “I don’t know. All I know is that none of us can stay here, jagiyah. Seoul, maybe, or somewhere else in the world. Your English is good, we can survive.”

She let out a breathless laugh, scooting back so that you could lay your head on her thigh. Plucking the lighter out of your hand, she blew the fire out and tossed it aside. “Maybe. Would we go to America?”

“Where do you want to go?” You squinted up at her, the sky reflected in your eyes. “I’ll go anywhere you and the others want to.”

“What about Australia?” Chaeyoung giggled. “I’ve always liked their accents.”

“Australia, then,” you agreed, smiling up at her. It was moments like this that she would forever treasure, just talking about the possibilities of the future with you. No matter how hopeless it was, you had each other to brave through all of it, and it was enough to make her want to keep going.

Jennie appeared from below the trailer, her hands steady on the railing leading up. “What about Australia?” she grinned, Lisa hitting her from behind to make her go faster. “Yah, Lisa!”

“Y/N, stop it!”

Chaeyoung grasped futilely at you as you shattered a glass bottle on the concrete stairs leading up to your bedroom, screaming out as the spray of leftover alcohol hit you. With a shove, all the empty bottles on top of your dresser smashed to the floor, your unhealthy coping methods creating an even larger mess to have to clean up.

She rushed at you, arms wrapping around you in an attempt to stop you from doing anything else you’d regret. You only laughed and swayed, your girlfriend’s hands digging harder into your back. “Let go, Rosie.”

“No, not until you stop,” she panted, feeling her eyes sting as she squeezed. “Please-”

Once you found that your struggling was futile, your hands shot out, pushing at Chaeyoung’s stomach hard enough to slam her into the wall away from you. She gasped, even though it didn’t really hurt, sliding to the floor as you stumbled away. “Told you to let me go,” you snapped, stumbling over your own two feet as you backed away.

Desperation hit her, desperation to bring you out of your alcohol-induced fit, and she lunged forward, her hand bracing on your chest before her fist connected with your face.

There wasn’t much power behind the hit, but under the influence, you collapsed onto the stairs next to the remaining shards of glass, coughing out as you felt blood on the corner of your mouth. Chaeyoung hauled you up, her hands fisting in your shirt as she begged, “Come back, Y/N. Please, I need you.”

“You need me?” Once again, the sheer fury in your eyes was scaring her, seeming somehow cold in all its blazing glory. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to live without me. I’m gone, Chaeyoung, I’m leaving. I’m leaving this-- this shitty town, and you’re coming with me.”

The lavender-haired girl practically sobbed out, “I’m not! I’m still in school, Y/N, I can’t go without you. Don’t do this to me, please.”

Instead of a response, you twisted hard, flinging Chaeyoung onto the couch by the stairs and walking off. “Y/N! Jagiyah, don’t-”

The door slammed behind you, and she could only stare up at the ceiling to push down the boiling tears welling behind her eyes.

Where did it all go so wrong?

The lighter was warm from how long you had held it, an imprint of the switch seemingly permanent in the side of your thumb.

Your initials and your girlfriend’s were scratched in the cheap plastic; every time you bought a new one, you did the same thing. Recently, you’d started using the dull knives you could find in motels and other places.

After the day you threatened to leave, you were evicted. That made it easier than it ever had been to just up and leave, the only possessions you owned being the flannel Chaeyoung lent you and the clothes on your back, but for some reason, you stayed.

She had just graduated the night before, and you had asked her to finally go with you. Even Lisa was ready to leave, and all it took was Chaeyoung coming to your motel room.

Glancing over at the clock, you sighed, realizing that it was 4 hours past when she said she’d arrive. The plan was to pick her up, then go to Jisoo’s, where you could steal her brother’s car and leave, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards any longer.

Hauling yourself up, you seized the open tub of kerosene, splashing it all over the room. It soaked the sheets, the rugs, until your bare feet were wet with the liquid where you stood. Alcohol, anything that could be burned- you poured it all over the room and yourself, staring at the blank screen of your phone. I’m so sorry, Chaeyoung.

The lighter thudded to the floor and orange light lit up the room.

“Shit,” the girl gasped when she saw the smoke billowing out the window of what she knew to be your hotel room. Her bags were dropped to the floor as she pulled out her phone and charged for the motel, banging the door open faster than she needed to.

“Excuse me, young- hey!”

Chaeyoung ignored the receptionist yelling at her, turning the corner onto the stairs as she called the fire department. “H-hi, there’s a fire. Yes, in the motel on the corner of Main, please get here as fast as you can!”

She kicked your door open, gasping when she found you lying on the bed amidst the flames. Covering her face with the sleeve of her jacket, she rushed in, shaking you. “Y/N, get up. Y/N!”

The lighter, she realized, was on the floor. That couldn’t have been a mistake- you never let it out of your sight.

Either way, she looped her arms underneath yours, struggling to pull you out without touching any of the flames. “Come on, Y/N,” she groaned, hissing when she stepped right by the fire.

“I need you.”

[iamslowlyloosingmysanity]

Everyone‘s saying that if Cas was brought back, that it would be an immediate ‘“I love you, Cas, of course I do’” (did you see what I did there?) But I think- I know that it would be slower, more hesitant than that.

Dean is hella repressed, just because Cas was like ‘I love you, bitch.’ and then peaced out doesn‘t suddenly make Dean want to throw himself at the man, he still has unresolved trauma (in theory at least, if he actually has hetero-negative trauma)!

I feel like once Cas comes back, Dean would be scared and nervous, worrying about what his father would do to him if he allowed himself to feel how he really feels about his best friend.

Sam notices Dean’s turmoil and reminds Dean that “‘Dad is dead, he’s not coming back.’” And Dean knows, but he just can’t let himself be free.

And everyday, Cas seems to drift farther and farther, becoming more distant and jumpy, as if the only thing grounding him disappeared.

Until one night, Dean woke up, his face was wet with tears. Why does his brain always taunt him with the fact that he let Cas die?

He didn‘t realize the angel was there until he sat up and saw Cas sitting at the edge of his bed.

”Cas, what the hell?” Dean hissed.

Cas lifted up his head and looked back at him, a solemn look seemed to be engraved in his face.

”You were having a nightmare.” he whispered gently.

Dean sighed and pushed the blankets off of him. ”Well, I still had the nightmare, so I don’t think you did anything, buddy.”

Dean’s heart sunk when he saw Cas wince at the last word.

”I didn’t know if you felt comfortable with me touching you anymore, so I just figured I‘d wait until you woke up to make sure you were okay.” Cas stood up and backed up a little ways from Dean.

Dean shook his head and patted the foot of the bed, when Cas gave him a weird look, he patted it more aggressively until he got the memo.

Cas moved towards the bed carefully, as if afraid he was going to scare him off.

He sat down and adjusted his trench coat. Dean smiled slightly, wondering why Cas could just always wear that.

After a few minutes of a suffocating silence, Dean spoke u. “Cas, I- it doesn’t change anything, you know that, right? You’re still going to be my friend, that’s not changing.”

Cas inspected his palm, it was weird, Cas hardly looked him in the eye anymore.

He nodded and put on a light face, “I’m just glad you’re okay, Dean.”

Dean’s jaw set, he moved closer and pursued his lips. “Cas, please.”

”Please what, Dean?” Cas snapped, when Dean’s eyes widened, Cas’ voice went quiet and he looked away. “I thought I was going to stay dead. But now I’m alive, now I have to face the consequences of my actions. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same way, I never expected you to.”

”Cas, it’s not that I don’t-“ Dean sighed and carded a hand through his hair, “It’s- I like you, Cas, I really do,“ he whispered, looking away. “Something happened- something broke inside of me after Lisa, I don’t know what, but it happened and I don’t think I can fix it.”

When Dean looked back at Cas, he was not expecting to see him curled into a ball, looking down at the floor with tears in his eyes.

”I know what you’re talking about, Dean, when I’m even remotely close to you, I can feel it. You don’t have to do anything, if you’re not wanting to ever be in a relationship again, that’s okay, just don’t force yourself into one and expect it to all be okay.” Cas smiled sadly.

Dean‘s brow knotted and he reached hesitantly towards Cas’ hand, Cas instinctively opened up his hand to lace fingers with Dean’s.

Dean gave him a reassuring squeeze and leaned his forehead on Cas’ shoulder. “Can you give me some time, Cas?”

Dean felt all the tension leave Cas’ body as he leaned his head on top of Dean’s, “I’m willing to wait until the world goes dark.”