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everyone but her pt.37

Summary: Wednesday knows, without a doubt, that you weren't the suspect everyone thought you were. And your date nights were getting rather interesting, but she's not entirely convinced about this new date idea.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, grief, past trauma, child abuse (in the past) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Don’t even think about it.”

Wednesday sighed and pulled her hand back from the bag you were refusing to let her carry. Unfortunately, it wasn’t because you were being chivalrous. It was the second week after your therapist had gone missing, and you were still upset with her. She didn’t like it.

“I have already apologised,” she said as she walked behind you. “What more do you want from me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said in a faux sing-song voice that she had heard you use with Ash before. “Maybe to have my girlfriend not assume I’m stupid enough to kill my therapist?”

“No one has claimed you were stupid,” she said.

“And yet no one has agreed that I wouldn’t kill my therapist,” you finished a little too quickly.

She followed behind you, trying to open the door but you wouldn’t move aside for her. Instead, you turned the doorknob with your elbow after more than a few failed attempts and entered the apartment. At least Wednesday had the opportunity to close the door behind you both.

“No one believes you killed him,” she said as she tried to help you put up groceries. All it took was one look before she stepped back. If you were determined to be so stubborn, then she was determined to let you.

“Oh yeah?” You said; you practically threw the apples into the fruit drawer. “Because Bianca didn’t seem too disbelieving of it.”

“Bianca is ignorant,” she said quickly. “Additionally, she never claimed it was you, simply questioned your whereabouts.”

You threw the milk into the fridge next; Wednesday would need to make sure you didn’t bust the container. “Which I specifically told you before I left the apartment.”

Wednesday wasn’t foolish. Even though she truly felt you were being absurd, she was not foolish enough to continue the argument when you became so agitated. When you placed your hands on your hips and furrowed your brows. She would never claim to be an expert at reading physical cues, but she certainly knew yours. Or at the very least, she knew yours well enough.

“Anger metre?” She asked.

“Immeasurable.” You sighed and looked down at the floor. “An 8.”

Your hands fell from your hips rather pathetically. It was a look Wednesday hadn’t seen since those years at Nevermore. Back when you were a little too nervous to talk to her like you did now. She remembered it vividly; every time you would try to talk back, she would shut you down, and you would stand there awkwardly like a scolded puppy before walking off.

It almost warmed her cold heart to see you hadn’t grown out of it.

“Am I really that untrustworthy?” You asked; your voice was soft. Horrifically so. “Do people really think I would kill someone?”

Wednesday wasn’t prepared for an emotional conversation. She had been attempting to get you to relax about the accusations, but she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for what could come of it. A foolish thing, she knew; you were becoming more open about your feelings when they upset you so terribly. It was something she had encouraged in you even though she had never truly thought to grow with you in that regard.

There was no better time than the present, she presumed.

“Can we-,” she sighed, blinking twice before looking back at you, “-can we continue this in the living room?”

You raised a brow and tilted your head.

“You’re letting all the cold air out,” she said.

You frowned before your eyes slowly grew larger. It only took a moment before you shut the door to the fridge, stopping the incessant warning beep that came more often than not when you were in the kitchen. She thought back to when it had started; she had lied to you about the electric bill staying steady after you had panicked. Clearly you took bills more seriously than she had previously thought.

After hearing that it was okay, you hadn’t intentionally left the fridge open each time. It was simply how you were; getting distracted, finally free of the constant nagging and worry about the bills. Yes, Wednesday should have known you would be hyper-aware of such a thing, but she hadn’t imagined you would lose your focus that quickly.

“Come on,” you said quietly, grabbing Wednesday’s hand and pulling her into the living room.

Your hand was warm in hers. Even after all this time, after so much physical contact with you, your body heat would surprise her. There was no reason, she had grown accustomed to it long ago. Whether it was simply your hand in hers, your hand pressed against the small of her back, or your body curling around hers at night. You were warm, almost painfully warm, and it was sensational.

Wednesday sat on the couch opposite you, turning just enough to face you. On the other side, you crossed your legs on the couch, looking like an overgrown child. Or she supposed it was more reminiscent of a rather large dog not understanding quite how large they were. Behind you, your wings strained against the confines of not only the loosened harness, but the jacket you had yanked on earlier in the day.

“Do you think I would kill someone.” It wasn’t so much a question anymore; any hesitancy in your voice had long faded. “Be honest.”

Yes. Yes, she did believe you would kill someone. She remembered the fear and anger in your eyes back at Nevermore when that rogue werewolf had gone after you and Eugene. If it had gone after Eugene, you would have killed it without a moment’s hesitation. Add on to that the looks she had seen you give others who attempted to harm - whether emotionally or physically - any of your friends? Yes, she believed without question that you would kill someone.

But not, however, without reason.

“No,” Wednesday lied effortlessly.

“So you believe I didn’t do it?” You asked. “There’s no doubt in your mind that I’m innocent?”

“In this instance, yes.”

Your shoulders visibly relaxed at her words. There was an unusual relationship surrounding the both of you and your criminal proclivities. While you wouldn’t fault the other for their activities, you were both incredibly willing to tell the other one if they’re guilty. For instance, you had acknowledged her grave digging scandal from last year. Not with shame, but admiration. On the other hand, she would not hesitate to remind you of your underage, international murder scandal.

It was an exceptionally beautiful relationship.

“How’d you know it wasn’t me?” You asked, doe eyes looking up at her through your eyelashes. A faux innocence that did wonders for Wednesday’s imagination.

She shifted in her seat and inhaled deeply. “I taught you better than to leave evidence behind.” You snorted with laughter. “Leaving behind an entire foot is an amateur move at best.”

“And here I thought you’d say I was too kind for murder,” you said. 

Wednesday would have been content to allow the conversation to end as it was. As long as you believed she had faith in your innocence, there wasn’t much else to say. Your anger had appeared to dissipate and there was no need to dwell on the topic. After all, as long as she believed you, could you really be all that upset?

But you still didn’t move from your spot. In fact, you didn’t even move to grab the remote, or to put on some sort of noise in the background of the usual apartment noises. You simply sat there, legs crossed, playing with your fingers. Dread welled up in Wednesday’s chest; she knew those mannerisms.

“So,” you started, drawing the word out long enough for Wednesday to feel not only dread, but pure horror. “Wanna hear my new date idea?”

She sat up straighter, eyes moving around the apartment for nothing in particular. Oh. Well, that wasn’t quite what she had been expecting.

You waited for her to nod once. “Remember when I visited Nicky for Christmas?” She nodded again. “Well, I think I remembered something.”

Another pause as you recollected your thoughts.

“He had this notebook,” you held your hands out like you were holding the object, “or I guess it was a journal.” Your hands squeezed into fists. “He wrote everything in it, and I need to go find it.”

“Why would you need a journal?” She asked.

You sighed. “I think he wrote about everything our parents did and I just- I- I need to know.” Your pupils were blown. “I have to know what happened in that house.”

Wednesday still said nothing.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” you said, “and I need to know what happened before I lose my fucking mind.”

The skin on your knuckles paled as you continued to ball your hands into fists. Even as her outward demeanour remained the same, Wednesday felt the effects of her heart rate increasing. She hadn’t needed Enid to explain what panicking was, though this was getting dangerously close to falling off the ledge of “panic” and into the pool of “desperation.”

If it had been anyone but you, she would have felt humiliated as she so-eagerly reached out to place one of her hands on top of yours. Her small, cold hand couldn’t cover your entire fist. Yet that didn’t seem to matter when she felt the tendons in your hand ease up, and you quickly turned it over until you could lock fingers with hers.

She would never admit such a thing aloud, at least not to anyone but you, but her chest warmed when she was the cause for your relief. It wasn’t the same warmth she felt for selfish reasons; it was vastly different from when she beat Bianca at a game of wits. This was more encompassing, more… more.

“How does that relate to your date idea?” Wednesday asked.

You looked up at her through your lashes again, though your smile was far more mischievous than earlier.

“Wednesday Addams,” you said in a tone that sent a shiver down her spine, “would you like to commit a B&E with me this weekend?”

Now that. That was wholly deserving of her own matching smile. You certainly knew the way to an Addams’ cold heart.

—---

It didn’t take long for Wednesday to realise just how long you had been planning this “date,” or at least something similar.

“They’re never home on weekends,” you said when you dropped the both of you into the yard. “They’re always either at the Catskills, or schmoozing their way through the Senate.”

She admired the way your wings tucked against your back. As much as she hated flying, she wouldn’t deny her fascination with the appendages, especially after the fact. Only when they were still could she see the muscle underneath the feathers and skin; muscle that had to be incredibly dense if they could carry you and her without a larger wingspan.

Maybe it was time she strapped you down and studied your musculature again. Clearly you had grown since the last time.

“There’s a risk doing this in broad daylight, is there not?” Wednesday asked when you stopped underneath a window.

You shook your head without looking away from the house. “Everyone in the area is still sleeping off their hangovers.”

“Cameras?”

“Fake.” You finally looked at her, a certain glimmer in your eye that had Wednesday’s stomach twisting into knots. “They always said just the belief someone was being watched was enough of a deterrent.”

“A foolish mistake,” Wednesday mumbled to herself.

“But helpful for us,” you said with a smile. “The window goes to my room,” you said, locking your fingers together to create a makeshift step. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Silent alarms?” She asked as she placed her hands on your shoulders to steady herself. Your muscles shifted underneath your shirt when you started raising her closer to the window.

“Nope,” you said. “They rely on their fake security cameras and Eddy.”

“Who?” Wednesday asked, her hands stilling on the outside lock of the window. She adored you for saving the lock for her to pick.

“Our security guy,” you said. “He’s sweet, but shit at his job.”

The use of the word “our” did not escape Wednesday’s attention as she pulled herself through the now-unlocked window. It wasn’t often that you would lump yourself into the same group as your parents. More often than not, you attempted to distance yourself as much as possible, even going so far as to call them by their first names. Though she supposed, at the end of the day, they were still your parents no matter what they said or did. You loved too deeply to eliminate them completely.

For the sake of easing her curiosity, she slowly made her way around your room even as the gentle flap of your wings could be heard outside the window. The room itself reminded her of her own room back at Nevermore. Almost no personal items, nothing indicative of who you were. The only thing that would indicate anyone had even lived in the room was a singular photo in a frame; a photo of you and Nicky on a sailboat in a time long forgotten.

“Ready?” You asked over the sound of the window sliding shut. “It’s a quick trip down the hall, unless they moved everything to dad’s office.”

There was an air about you as you crossed the room. After Nicky, you had tended to roam, seemingly without any direction. If someone said jump, you would ask how high. But this was different; you looked like you had a mission and there was a clear physical determination in the set of your shoulders and the glint in your eye.

Wednesday reached out to grab your arm. Your muscles were taut, but quickly relaxed when you looked down at her. She hadn’t forgotten what you were both there to do; she was more than aware of the desperation you kept hidden behind a cocky smile.

It did nothing to ease the growing affection she had for you in that moment. Breaking and entering was a good look for you.

All it took was one firm tug on your arm to pull you down to face level. She simply had to lean forward slightly to kiss you. You were always like putty in her hands when she kissed you. In those moments, she swore you would have done anything she asked, no consideration required. It gave her a sense of control that you so often inadvertently took away.

When she pulled away - though, surprisingly, hesitantly - your eyes fluttered before opening fully. Her amazement at your reaction to her never eased over the days. Back at Nevermore, she had fully believed her body would become accustomed to how you reacted; she had never been so grateful to be wrong.

“If only my parents knew I just kissed a woman in their house,” you said softly, your words tumbling from your lips faster than normal. “They would die from shock.”

Wednesday ignored the flutter of her heart. “Lead the way so we can go home.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a tip of your invisible hat.

You manoeuvred your arm until you could hold her hand, pulling her after you on the way out of your room. Not the best way to stay inconspicuous, but Wednesday had become rather fond of the way her hand felt in yours, so she wouldn’t dare pull away.

The both of you peeked around the doorframe, looking both ways before exiting your room. The house was far too pristine for Wednesday’s liking. How could a family reside in a house with so little belongings? Where was the tapestry of history hanging from the walls? The artefacts that belonged to generations past to symbolise where you came from? Instead they were bare walls, minimalist in a way that even she found tasteless.

It only took a few steps down the hall before you attempted to open the door. The doorknob jiggled, but wouldn’t turn. With a sigh, you pulled Wednesday closer until she had full access to the lock. She was more than aware that you knew how to pick a lock; you had practiced it for weeks after she had mentioned it. But she appreciated your allowing her to have all the fun.

The lock was child’s play; your parents may have been intelligent, but they didn’t appear to take security very seriously. You pulled her with you into the room before turning and closing the door quietly, the click of the lock almost inaudible. She felt the cold air hit her palm as you pulled your hand away.

“Look for a journal,” you said. “A leather one with a black string tied around it.”

You didn’t wait for her to acknowledge your statement before digging around the room. And as much as Wednesday wanted to help, she couldn’t help but watch you. There was a gentleness to your rushed movements, almost as if you were worried you would break something. She knew you still grieved for Nicky even if you didn’t outwardly show it. His items were sacred to you in a way few things were.

“You okay?” You asked, and Wednesday was faced with the humiliation of getting caught staring.

“Of course,” she said, doing her best to sound as uninterested as possible. Unfortunately for her, you had broken her emotionless facade years ago.

Unlike your room, Nicky’s held some semblance of life. Select baseball cards were put in small plastic cases and propped up on the dresser. Under his bed was shoebox after shoebox, filled to the brim with comics, toy cars, marbles, and a menagerie of random Lego pieces. Toys that had been absent from your room.

“I can’t find it,” you said once you finished looking through every inch of the closet. “Just his stupid, stuffy clothes.”

Wednesday was kind enough to ignore the jacket you quickly tied around your waist.

“You mentioned it might be in your father’s office,” she said.

You sighed. “I guess I always did want to see what he hid in there.”

You didn’t grab her hand before leaving the room; she was thankful you couldn’t see her frown at the realisation. But she was quick to follow, closing the door as softly as you had. The new wooden flooring was a blessing, being far too new to make a sound when you snuck down the hall.

The hall opened up to a balcony overlooking the foyer. A large grandfather clock was almost directly below, tick tick ticking away; Wednesday couldn’t imagine hearing the sound every single hour of your life. The marble flooring was beautiful with its golden veins, though it was far from her sense of style. It all looked beyond pristine.

How had you ever managed to live in such a sterile environment?

“Come on,” you whispered, grabbing Wednesday’s hand to pull her away from her staring. “I want to get out of here.”

Your grip on her hand was a little too tight for comfort. You would never hurt her, she knew that, but it was certainly pushing the boundary. She tried to squeeze your hand, only barely managing to do so, but your grip lightened almost instantly.

As hard as she tried, there would be no way for Wednesday to know how you felt about being back in the house. You hadn’t let her know much about what had happened before and after the funeral, but she had seen the damage. The weight loss, the jittery movements, the avoidance. She would admit, she couldn’t recall a time where she had felt so uncomfortable in a location.

It was an unusual feeling, wondering how someone else would feel in a certain situation. It settled deep in her stomach, leaving behind a feeling of… emptiness. Was that how you felt, being in your childhood home once again? Knowing that there were no good memories, only sorrow and grief and a void that you could never fill?

“Y/N?”

You froze, standing up as straight as possible. Wednesday often forgot how tall you were; you took to slouching more often than not. She attempted to see who had called your name, but you quickly stepped in front of her, hiding her from sight.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” you said softly. Your tone was gentle, almost similar to how you talked with your mother. “I promise.”

“Is that her?”

You squeezed her hand. There was a moment where the air was so thick, Wednesday truly thought she would drown in it. Yet another feeling that she was rather unfamiliar with. It only got worse as you stepped aside, turning your body sideways to keep a strategic position between her and this new guest in front of you.

The woman looked homely. She looked older than Wednesday’s own mother, though not as old as Grandmama Addams; the wrinkles on her brown skin gave it away. Even as she dried her hands on the hand towel in her pocket, Wednesday could tell they were well worn from years of use. And yet she still looked at you with a kindness that Wednesday knew you had never gotten from your own mother.

“Mabel,” you said softly, “this is Wednesday.”

Mabel smiled. “You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

The statement left an uncomfortable weight in Wednesday’s chest that she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t believe it was because of the statement itself, it was simple enough. No, it could potentially be from the implication? Perhaps it came from knowing that you had talked about her to someone from your past. The same past that she was blind to, that you actively hid from her.

Someone from your past knew about her and it was… frightening.

“We just need in the office,” you said, “and then we’ll be gone.”

Mabel said nothing. She simply stood to the side of the hall, leaving plenty of space for you to pull Wednesday along. There was a moment where Wednesday met her warm brown eyes; they were filled with a look of motherly care. It made her sick to her stomach.

“Don’t touch anything,” you said when you closed the office door. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Wednesday didn’t think she could have searched for anything even if you had asked her to. She couldn’t get Mabel’s eyes out of her mind. There was a horrifying amount of tenderness when she looked at you. Your head had been turned too far, but she could imagine the same sentiment had been in your own eyes.

What a world you had lived in. To grow up receiving care not from your actual parents, but from your brother and the family maid. Now, Wednesday was not overly fond of how her own parents showed their affection; they were too forward and extravagant. That did not, however, change the fact that they loved their children with their entire beings.

She walked forward while you were still digging around. You weren’t touching things, just ghosting your fingers over the spines of books, the shelves, hesitating before pulling open the metal filing cabinets. There was the smallest tell in your actions; your hands shook not with anger, but with fear.

Her feet stopped her in front of a small set of shelves covered in awards and framed newspaper clippings. Your father’s winning cases littered the wall, each seeming to receive a more extravagant frame than the last. But right in the middle of all of them was a singular picture frame, a misfit amongst the glory with its chipped black paint.

It was a family picture of all four of you. The lot was bundled up in winter clothes. Your father held skis in his right hand, and a young you in his left. Nicky stood between your parents, and your mother was looking regal as always. A snow capped mountain made for beautiful background scenery, but that wasn’t what Wednesday was focused on.

You were all smiling.

Your voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, telling her not to touch anything. But who was Wednesday to deny her own curiosity? Curiosity sparked new thoughts, new revelations, and she was never one to deny herself such satisfaction. Besides, you were far too busy with your own search, how would you know if she simply picked up the picture to get a closer look-

-her brain didn’t even have time to process the shock before she felt the chill of winter whipping around her. She couldn’t orient herself properly, but she recognised the snowy mountain in front of her. The peal of laughter brought her spinning head to a halt; it was higher pitched, but she would recognise it anywhere.

You were waddling across the snow after Nicky, hands outstretched in front of you. The look on your face was so genuine, so pure, Wednesday wasn’t entirely sure she had ever seen it on your face in all of her own years of knowing you. It was almost a peaceful aura about you, as if nothing had troubled your young mind just yet. Perhaps it hadn’t.

A little further behind the both of you, your parents stood together, smiling down at you. It was different from the polite, professional smiles she had seen on their faces before. These reached their eyes. If she let her mind stretch reality for a moment, she could almost see… love in those smiles.

“Come on, you two,” your mother said in her slightly accented voice. “Let’s get inside before it gets late.”

“Coming!” Nicky called, letting you chase him as you both ran through the snow that was starting to pile higher on the ground.

Wednesday followed along behind the four of you, keeping her distance for better observation. Nicky was quick to get beside your mother, while you stayed beside your father. His hand grabbed yours gently, dwarfing your entire body beside him. The look on his face would have been precious if she hadn’t known how he ended up treating you.

She stayed outside of the small cabin when you all went inside. It was nothing fancy, nothing that would indicate the small fortune that you came from. Simply a secluded cabin on what appeared to be a secluded mountainside. Wednesday could appreciate the small structure even as she stood by the window, peering in.

There was a small fire on the far wall, and Nicky was quick to shed his winter clothes to sit in front of it. Your father stayed behind, helping you out of the clothes that probably weighed more than you did. It amazed Wednesday how someone so small could turn into the absolute giant that you were in the present. 

Your father’s hands were so gentle on your skin. If she didn’t know any better, it would have looked like love. Maybe it was. Perhaps it used to be. Surely there had been a time, much like this, where you had been loved so unconditionally that it reflected off your smile. He was so careful with you, helping you with each layer of clothing as if one wrong move would break you. You were cherished, you were loved, you were cared for.

He helped you take off the last remaining layer aside from your shirt. It stuck to the small coat, pulling up until it caught on your head, and Wednesday felt that uncomfortably familiar weight settle in her chest. Your back, untouched by the traumas of the future, was bare. No wings, no indication of anything that would signify you were anything other than a Normie.

Your parents loved you because you were “normal.”

“Wends?”

The chill of the mountain air disappeared, too quickly replaced by the warmth of your home. It was a painful switch, leaving her fingers tingling and burning at the same time. She pulled her hand back to her side, being careful not to move the picture frame. You were sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, your brows furrowed. The crinkle between your eyes was more prominent than usual.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

She nodded once, hesitantly.

“I can’t find it,” you said with a sigh. “We should head out before it gets too late.”

You didn’t move from the desk, just kept looking at her. And all the while, Wednesday couldn’t ignore the way her heart started to race. Sitting at that desk, with your back ramrod straight and arms resting on the mahogany wood, you looked like someone who belonged there. A completely different person than the one she had unceremoniously fallen for time and time again.

You looked just like your father.

She would never say it aloud.

our little secret iii

Summary: All four of you lost the bet, and now it's time to pay up. Thankfully, Maxine and Bobby-Lynn know just how to make sure Lorraine has to pay up too.

Word Count: 8.9k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, religious talk (typical of southern states), religious trauma, period-typical homophobia Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (our little secret i) (our little secret ii)

“This ain’t sittin’ right with me,” you whispered to Beau as you tried, once again, to get comfortable in the back of RJ’s van.

Despite your best attempts, you, Beau, and Huck were currently sitting with Lorraine’s crew on the way to a location. It had been agreed by everyone - except you, obviously - that you had all lost the bet, so you should all have to own up. Although you still found it profoundly unfair that Lorraine somehow got out unscathed from the entire thing that she had agreed to.

And now you were stuck in the back of a hot, sweaty van with a bunch of hot, sweaty people that were one camera away from having relations for pay.

“We all lost, we all pay up,” Beau whispered back even as he smiled at Maxine. You rolled your eyes; he was such a suck up.

“Lorraine ain’t gotta pay up,” you grumbled, but settled back in your spot anyway.

Admittedly, you were being rather rude. You had barely said hello to any of them, and you hadn’t talked to them since the trip had started. It wasn’t their fault though, it was entirely on you. You just… didn’t know what to say to them. This wasn’t your world, and it was completely overwhelming. You didn’t care what any of them did for a living, but you hadn’t expected to be a part of it.

And if Jackson didn’t quit staring at you, you were going to lose your mind.

“You look awful familiar,” Jackson said with the slightest tilt of his head. He never stopped rubbing Bobby-Lynn’s thighs.

“Ever been a few hours south of Houston?” You asked, shifting in your spot to bring your knees up to your chest.

“Don’t believe I have,” he said with a shrug.

“Must just be a resemblance, then,” you answered.

“Leave her be,” Bobby-Lynn said as she playfully smacked Jackson’s chest. “Can’t you see you’re making her uncomfortable?”

“Do we make you uncomfortable, sweetheart?” Jackson asked.

Oh. Oh, yeah, that was very uncomfortable.

“You were in ‘Nam, right?” Beau asked, thankfully pulling the attention away from you. You supposed he was good for something.

“Yes sir,” Jackson said with a smile, pulling his dog tags out from under his shirt. “Two tours.”

“North or South?” Beau continued. Okay, maybe you didn’t want to hear so much about this anymore.

“South.”

“Y/N’s brother was in South Vietnam,” Huck chimed in. “Maybe that’s where you recognise her.”

Oh, you wanted them both to shut up. You wanted them both to hush right that instant. You looked up and instantly met Lorraine’s eyes from across the van. She was still sitting beside RJ, going over the script and whatever else she usually did. But there was the smallest tug at the corner of her mouth when she looked at you.

I hate you, you mouthed, to which her smile grew before she went back to the script.

“What’s your brother’s name, sweetheart?” Jackson asked, pulling you back into the conversation that you desperately wished would end.

Although you liked the adorable little frown Lorraine sent Jackson’s way at the use of the little nickname. Maybe you were okay with talking with Jackson. If it could get Lorraine’s feathers ruffled, then it was worth it. It was about time the tables were turned.

“Roy,” you said. “Roy Y/L/N.”

“No shit,” Jackson said. “I served with that son of a bitch.”

“Seriously?” You pulled your knees up to your chest and leaned forward. “Which tour?”

“My first,” he said with a smile.

You smiled back. “So you knew him before he…” your voice trailed off into nothing as your eyes slowly lowered to the floor of the van and your smile fell.

Before he went crazy. But you couldn’t say that out loud, could you? Your daddy had done his best to make sure you all knew not to mention Roy’s “affliction.” A test from God, he had called it. He used it as nothing more than a piss poor excuse to remind everyone that that’s what happens when you fall from faith. What would he say about you?

You just kept your mouth shut and rested your chin on your knees.

“He caught the combat trauma,” Huck said in a far softer tone than Beau ever could have managed.

“Now that’s a shame,” Jackson said with a shake of his head.

“Heard it happens more than you think,” Maxine called out from the front seat. It was probably the first thing you had heard from her since… Well, it was the first thing you had heard. “They all come home different.”

Oh, you weren’t so sure you liked this.

“You can’t come back different,” Bobby-Lynn said with a humourless chuckle. “Besides, it ain’t even real, is it?”

“They said it is,” Maxine continued, finally turning around to face everyone. “Put it in their little book last year, called it PTSD or somethin’ like that.”

You didn’t like this topic at all. The hair on the back of your neck stood up and your grip around your knees tightened. They didn’t get to talk about this like it was nothing of impact to you. Hadn’t they just heard Huck say Roy had this… this combat trauma? And they were going to act like nothing was wrong?

Everyone around you continued to talk about this new PTSD thing that was starting to make its rounds. It felt like someone was watching you. Without lifting your head, you looked up and were instantly met with Lorraine staring at you with that look that she had never grown out of. A look that she gave you every time you would be forced to talk about Beau as if he were the love of your life. A look of pity. 

And you hated pity.

“Hey,” Jackson said, a little softer than everyone else’s ongoing conversation. He nudged your foot with his to get you to look over. “If you want me to talk to him, man to man, just let me know.”

His smile was more genuine than you had seen from a stranger in a long time. But there was no comfort in it because his offer was empty. You had no doubt he was being genuine, but how were you going to invite him over and have him talk to Roy without Daddy figuring out? The times were changing, but Jackson was a… certain type of man that you knew Daddy would never happily allow in his home. You and Roy were already scourges upon his land - though he still didn’t know your secret - so how could you possibly invite Jackson over with a clear conscience?

“Thank you,” you said instead, your smile far more convincing than your own thoughts.

The rest of the trip was, by all accounts, uneventful. That blasphemous talk of trauma and war had changed when Lorraine decided it was time to talk about the script. And even as she and RJ went over everything with their stars, and you were faced with the reality that you were truly, painfully alone, you still felt some sort of peace.

You would almost go so far as to say you felt comfortable.

Until you got to the shooting location.

“Are you serious?” You whisper-yelled at Lorraine when you both got out of the van. “You should have told me.”

“Would you have come?” She shot back, quickly shooting a fake smile to Beau and Huck when they passed. “Besides, we’re usin’ the building beside it.”

“You’re full of shit,” you mumbled as you looked up at the steeple of the small chapel.

By all accounts, it was a splendid little church. With a single steeple at the front of the roof and an elevated cross in the back, it almost reminded you of the one at home. Double doors that doubtlessly opened into a small worship room that held eight pews at most before ascending into the podium. A setup not unlike your own church back home, except this one didn’t house the guilt you couldn’t shed.

Beside the church was the parsonage, looking just as you knew them to look. Small, a little run down, painted a white that felt forced upon the environment. The paint was chipped and the window shutters were slightly askew, but it seemed to fit the rather bleak landscape behind it. Not ugly, but not exactly pretty either.

“Whatcha think?” Wayne asked. You jumped, but quickly regained composure. “Ain’t she pretty?”

“It looks cozy,” you said with a shrug. “You’re filmin’ in the parsonage, right? Not the church?”

Wayne laughed. A big hearty laugh that reminded you of all the sweet older men out at the rodeos. The ones that told you you were being ridiculous, but they were going to do their best not to openly tell you. It was a joyous laugh that was both humiliating and comforting simultaneously.

“I nearly forgot Church Mouse said you were a preacher,” he said once his laughter had subsided enough for him to talk.

“Church Mouse?” You asked.

“We’re usin’ the parsonage,” he continued, practically ignoring your question. “We’re not intendin’ to disrespect you.”

He clapped you on the shoulder and cocked his hip. You could see why Lorraine liked him. Overconfident, cocky as hell, but his smile always seemed genuine. Somehow, some way, he had seemed to be in a good mood the entire trip and even now. Optimism at its finest. You wished you could match it.

“Although I do have a favour to ask you,” Wayne said, his voice carrying a lilt that had your stomach churning.

“Yes?” You asked even though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know.

“Think you can pray over this little set of ours?” He asked. “Help us break this bad streak we got goin’ on?”

“Oh,” you said with a huff, followed by a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I can do that then.”

Wayne smiled with his teeth and tipped his hat. “Thank ya kindly.”

You kept your eyes trained on the doors of the chapel while Wayne walked away, presumably to help set up whatever it was he was needing to set up. You could pray over the set. It was a little blasphemous to use prayer for something so… risque, but you weren’t a prude. After all, Daddy had always said everyone could use a little prayer.

The handle on the door was a beautiful polished silver; spare no expense for a house of God, of course. Hypocrites, the lot of them. But it was nice to open the doors without even the slightest resistance. Nothing was more terrifying than a run down church with creaky doors. It was like walking into a horror movie.

Your boots echoed off the empty wooden walls of the chapel as you walked down the center aisle, taking in everything about the building. It was a rather beautiful church, you wouldn’t try to deny it. A single, small stained glass window hung above the podium. It would cast a beautiful coloured light where the preacher would be standing on Sunday mornings.

There were three steps up to the podium before you stood behind the lectern and looked out onto the ghostly congregation. Not a single soul was inside the building, but from your spot above the room, you could feel the eyes on you. Momma, Roy, Jimmy. Granma and Granpa were in the back, followed by friends, family, everyone in the congregation that knew you excruciatingly well.

Then there was Daddy, sitting in the aisle of the front pew, watching you with that judgmental look. The one that he gave when he was condemning someone to hell for their sins. And he was looking at you, like he could see through your physical form, all the way to the filthy soul you hid underneath it all.

“You can’t wash away sin,” Daddy said.

You couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t-”

“-There you are.”

The entire congregation disappeared as soon as you saw Lorraine standing in the doorway. Light from the setting sun illuminated her outline, almost a perfect copy of the angel painted above the doorway. And she was. She was an angel, one that you would worship even as you were cast into the pits of hell.

“Thought we lost you,” Lorraine said as she walked down the aisle with far more confidence than she had at home.

Your breath caught in your throat when she finally stepped out of the light in a startling white dress. It looked far too close to a wedding dress. It didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t quit staring. She looked so beautiful. Her smile was illuminating; it left your palms sweaty and your chest hurt-

-you gasped and pulled your hand away from the wooden lectern. The smallest splinter was stuck in your right index finger. It was easy enough to pull out, leaving behind a scarlet drop of blood that grew until dripping down your finger.

“Are you alright?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but when you looked back up Lorraine was in normal clothes. The very same ones she had worn on the trip over. The one she had never changed out of. Right. Maybe you really were crazy.

“I’m fine,” you said with a simple nod. “Just-” you sighed “-doin’ what Wayne asked.”

“Didn’t think he was a praying man,” she said with a frown. “Want some company?”

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile. “Yeah, I do.”

As you walked down to the bottom of the three steps to meet Lorraine, the blood from your finger smeared across the finely polished wood. You left a stain on that church, same as your own. A stain that, as your Daddy constantly preached, you could never wash away.

—---

“You’re lookin’ a little green, sweetheart,” Huck whispered as he walked up to where you were standing in the back of the room.

“I’m not green,” you whispered back even as you continued to watch the scene unfold before you. “I just- I didn’t know the body could do that.”

“You’re such a preacher’s kid,” he said with a teasing lilt. Thankfully that was all he said before he crossed his arms over his chest and looked forward.

It wasn’t your first time seeing people having sex. You weren’t a complete fool, you had seen it before. Kind of. Okay, maybe it was the most tame sex in the world, but you had seen it! And you weren’t some sort of virgin either, so you weren’t totally in the dark. But you certainly hadn’t seen this before and it was… fascinating.

And a little concerning. Your head tilted. How did it even fit? Did Bobby-Lynn even genuinely find it enjoyable? Well, okay, after that noise you could believe that maybe she did. But all that other stuff, there was no way. No way at all- wait, that actually looked interesting. You wondered if Lorraine would like that.

"You're starin'," Huck whispered.

"I can't help it," you shot back. "It's like when you pass a car wreck. You can't look away."

"I think they would die if they heard you compare watchin' smut to a car wreck," he laughed. It was a little loud, you hoped the boom mic wouldn't pick it up.

"Where's your little boy toy?" You asked, hoping to take the awkward attention away from yourself. Even though you still couldn't look away from the scene. God, you hoped it was over soon.

"Your boyfriend," he said pointedly, "is downstairs talkin' with Maxine."

Oh Maxine. You had only known her for a few days, but you were starting to think she enjoyed stirring up trouble. Within moments of getting set up in the parsonage, she had made friendly with Huck and Beau. A little too friendly. You would have laughed about the whole situation if you hadn’t been attempting to act jealous to keep up the facade.

“Reckon I should go act the part of the jealous girlfriend, huh?” You asked.

“Yeah you should,” he whispered. “Though I doubt anyone will believe it with the way you’re watching your dear Rainey over there.”

You hated him for even bringing it up. So what if you had stopped watching Bobby-Lynn and instead watched Lorraine? The way she gently blew a few strands of hair out of her face while she held the boom mic as steady as you had ever seen. She wasn’t muscular by any means, but you could still see the tone in her shoulders. Or the… the little crinkle between her brows when she focused…

Okay, Huck was right, you needed to leave.

“Told you,” he said as you backed out of the room with a hellish heat in your cheeks.

As soon as the door closed behind you and the pornographic sounds muted, you could finally breathe again. Your mind was clear and you could walk down the stairs without a thought in your head. Well… maybe you had one or two thoughts, but it was okay. You could repent later at the chapel.

Maxine’s laughter was… almost adorable, if she wasn’t trying so hard to seduce Beau. Her nails lazily scratched up and down his bicep, and her face was embarrassingly close to his ear. If you had loved him the way you were supposed to, you would’ve been furious. Should have been furious.

You pictured Lorraine in Beau’s position. Sitting there with Maxine all over her, laughing at the unfunny jokes, leaning a little too close. It made your stomach turn. Your skin was hot and clammy and something pounded inside your head, screaming to be let out. There would have been no shame in your body for grabbing her and dragging her away.

Okay, there you go. Now you had the right feelings.

Your mind had already forgotten Lorraine wasn’t there when you sat in Beau’s lap. Like a good girlfriend should do, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, inhaling his scent. Sawdust. Something you supposed other women liked, which made him a downright tease.

“How’s your first smut viewin’ goin’?” Maxine asked, which instinctively had your nose scrunch before you regained composure. “That good, huh?”

“It ain’t bad,” you said. “Don’t think I really understand the appeal, though.”

“What part is… unappealing to you?” She asked, her voice far softer than necessary. 

The way she leaned in closer, trailing her eyes over every inch of you… and maybe you could see the appeal. It was something about her hand that had moved from Beau’s arm to yours. Soft. Almost too soft, but you didn’t want it to stop. And she held eye contact like it was an art-

-oh, Maxine was dangerous.

“Oh,” Maxine said with a small smile, “so that’s what it is.”

What was that supposed to mean? You opened your mouth to ask, but the stairs started creaking from the heavy footsteps. The skin underneath Maxine’s fingers felt terribly cold when she pulled back. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t pull back before Lorraine appeared, her brows furrowed and eyes glued to her coworker.

Maxine just smiled.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” Lorraine asked. Anyone that didn’t know her well would have missed the slight elevation in her tone. A dangerous tone.

“Just learnin’ a bit about each other,” Maxine said. Her hand rested on your arm again and you felt a heat in your cheeks. “Since we’re stuck here together and all.”

Like the dutiful girlfriend, you hid your head in Beau’s neck and tried to ignore his slight shake of silent laughter.

That tension didn’t end even as the sun set and stars came out to play. Everyone relaxed and had their fun and it reminded you of nights with just the four of you. Laughing, teasing, seeing Huck and Beau get closer than when they were at your house. Not too close, but it was still enough. Hell, it was almost enough to ease the usual anger from Lorraine being with R.J.

Until a few days later when it was time for everyone to start paying up on their lost bets.

The days had already started off miserably. Since you were “officially” Beau’s girlfriend, you were set to share a bed with him. But when Huck snuck in and you all tried to fit three people on a twin size mattress? Well, that was just borderline impossible. Clearly it wasn’t fully impossible, seeing as how you all made it work, but that didn’t mean you actually slept at all through the night.

Tack onto that Lorraine and R.J. coming down at the same time each morning, and you realised that you were horribly, terribly alone? You would have killed someone to get even just a single blanket and a big empty spot on the floor. Let you lie like a dog while everyone else became stars.

The first to suffer was, of course, you. Now, you would admit, you had offered to pay up first. In your convoluted train of thought, the sooner you watched Lorraine’s scene, the sooner you could forget it. At least that was what you believed would happen. You hoped that’s what would happen.

But in the moment, as you watched Lorraine getting ready, you knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple. You had to watch her move, see the look on her face, listen to her moans. She certainly never sounded like that when you were with her. Was this something that she genuinely enjoyed? Were you nothing more than a pleasant distraction when she was practically forced to go back home?

“I can’t do this,” you whispered to yourself. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as everyone watched you back out of the room, practically tripping over your own feet in your haste. Each step felt like the ground was rushing up to meet you, even as you stayed perfectly upright. You wished you would just trip down the stairs, maybe then it would ease the spiraling of your thoughts.

Downstairs wasn’t much better when you were still aware of exactly what was going on upstairs. Did you mean anything to her? Really, truly? Surely you did, Lorraine was hardheaded, she wouldn’t entertain your presence if she didn’t want you there. On the other hand, she kept RJ around for nothing, so maybe you were on the same level.

You picked up one of the books you had found the other day; some book called The Dead Sea Scriptures. It wasn’t all that fantastic, your daddy actually had a copy in his office at the church. But at least it was a distraction. Just like you. Okay, that certainly wasn’t helpful. Maybe you needed a stiff drink too.

The Hollywood grade acting you did was enough to convince everyone you were just peachy. No one batted an eye when RJ, Wayne, and Jackson left the parsonage after finishing Lorraine’s scene. To get some more groceries, they had said. You didn’t care, it really didn’t matter one way or another where they went.

“So,” Maxine said as she sat down beside you on the couch. Well, she practically sat on you. “You’ve got some explainin’ to do.”

“I’m not explainin’ the book of Job,” you said without looking up from your book. “Jackson already believes there’s a dragon in it and I can’t have that argument again.”

“Not about that, silly,” she said; her hand was hot on your knee. “About you bein’ a third wheel.”

Oh you were not getting into that kind of conversation with Maxine. The past few days had been wonderful, and truthfully you had enjoyed it. They were all a bit… extravagant, but they were kind. As odd as it sounded to you, they felt more like family than most of your own family. You could see why Lorraine spent so much time with them even when she didn’t have to.

But you enjoying their company did not mean you wanted to get into the whole relationship conversation with Maxine.

“Your boys are some of those queers, huh?” She asked. “That’s why they’re up there filmin’ some fake scene while you’re down here.” Her hand squeezed right above your knee. “Readin’ some nerdy little book.”

“It was a bet,” you said. “We’ve always paid up, ever since we were little.” She smirked. “And my book ain’t nerdy.”

“It bother you that you gotta share your man?” She asked, as if you hadn’t even said anything in the first place.

“I-”

“-did you really start without me?” Bobby-Lynn asked when she appeared in the downstairs living room.

You did your best to conceal your displeasure when Bobby-Lynn practically ran over to sit on the other side of you. Her legs were bare, her denim shorts barely covering any part of her. She swung them over your own legs quickly, leaving you officially trapped underneath the both of them. You would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“How far did ya get?” Bobby-Lynn asked. She was practically bouncing in excitement.

“We just started,” Maxine answered with a smile that would have made you squirm if you weren’t so focused on trying to figure out what was going on.

“Don’t y’all have scenes to shoot?” You asked in a desperate attempt to get them to leave you alone before they really got started.

“Don’t you have someone you should be thinkin’ about?” Maxine asked.

You opened your mouth instinctively, ready to argue, especially when Bobby-Lynn continued to lean closer. They both had some nerve to believe they could catch you off guard with their interrogation that was only just beginning. They had known you for, what, all of a few days? And still they thought they could get something like this out of you? They were pornstars, not detectives.

“Of course I’m thinkin’ about her-”

-maybe they were detectives.

You threw your head back against the couch, a groan leaving your lips. On either side of you, both women practically cheered, giving each other a high-five. It was disgusting, were you nothing more than a pawn in whatever game they were playing? Your daddy was right; couldn’t trust sinners.

You actively ignored the fact that you were one of them.

“Why the long face, sweetheart?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

“It’s not like we couldn’t tell,” Maxine said.

What was that supposed to mean? How did they even notice? As far as you could remember, you hadn’t even spent hardly any time in the same room as Lorraine. How could they get some sort of scandal out of that? Let alone the fact you thought you had said maybe three words to her after she had helped you pray over set on that first day. No, none of that made sense.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you said as you finally pulled yourself back upright, ignoring that Maxine’s and Bobby-Lynn’s faces were so close to yours they could kiss your cheeks if they wanted.

“You think every girl is fine with their boyfriend hookin’ up with another guy?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

You knew that would be the issue. You knew it, and you had told all three of them that it was shady at best. There was no logical reason for it, even if it was from some stupid bet. It may have been the 80s, but not everyone was as easy going as the four of you were. Not everyone was as understanding, and though that wasn’t the current issue, it still played its part.

“Not to mention all the lookin’ you’ve been doin’,” Bobby-Lynn chimed in. “You certainly ain’t lookin’ at Beau that way.”

“I-” you closed your mouth just as quickly as you had opened it. What were you going to say to argue? What could you say?

“Honey, we ain’t judgin’,” Maxine said. Her hand felt warm on your neck. She was far too close for comfort. “But this whole thing is pretty sad.”

“It ain’t that sad,” you pitifully attempted to argue.

“Darlin’, it’s downright painful,” Bobby-Lynn said. Her going back and forth with Maxine was giving you whiplash. “Ain’t never seen anyone pine like that.”

“It’s a bit pathetic,” Maxine said.

“Hey,” you said, your eyebrows instantly furrowing. “Hold your horses, that’s unnecessary.”

“Don’t be gettin’ so defensive,” Bobby-Lynn said with a smile that was to die for. “We’re here to help.”

“By throwin’ my self-esteem out the window?” You asked.

“Oh no,” Maxine said with a slowly growing smile, “it’s much better than that.”

This time, when your stomach twisted into knots again, you didn’t feel quite so dreadful about the upcoming plans.

—---

After Bobby-Lynn and Maxine had told you about their sneaky little plan, the parsonage had felt a little less like a prison. When all the guys got back and everyone finished upstairs, you almost felt at peace. There was still the lingering tension when both Lorraine and RJ were in the room, but you could work with it. And for once, you didn’t feel quite so bad when you met Lorraine’s eyes.

“How many scenes we got left?” Wayne asked when everyone settled downstairs for supper.

In a very selfless move, you had offered to cook. It certainly wasn’t because you didn’t want to have to look at anyone while Bobby-Lynn and Maxine got to work on their plan. That would have been selfish, and you were nothing if not a good, selfless, Christian girl.

“Only two or three, we can finish them tomorrow,” RJ said from his spot beside Lorraine on the couch.

“Me and Maxine have an addition to make,” Bobby-Lynn said.

“An addition?” Wayne asked. “What kind?”

“Well,” Maxine said, drawing out the word for longer than necessary, “we were thinkin’ our little Preacher would look awful pretty on her knees.”

“Excuse me?” Lorraine asked.

Suddenly, the food you were cooking required the utmost attention. It would be quite the shame if you burned something. After all, everyone back there was working rather hard on their scenes, they deserved a good meal, didn’t they? And if it gave you an excuse to not see the look on Lorraine’s face then, well, that’s just an added bonus.

“Fitting, ain’t it?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

“And we’d take good care of her,” Maxine drawled. Oh, they were really testing the waters.

It seemed to be working.

“She’s not part of this,” Lorraine said.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” RJ said. “Might draw more attention to the film.”

“It’s smut, RJ,” she continued, “it draws enough attention on its own.”

“Well hold on now, let’s talk this out,” Wayne said.

Everyone started talking - except, you noticed, for Maxine - and you almost wanted to laugh. If you had known this was all it would take to get Lorraine on edge, you would’ve said something like this ages ago. It sounded like she didn’t even care that RJ was in the room. It was… a nice feeling.

“Did you plan this?” Beau asked, suddenly appearing beside you.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you said softly with a shrug. “Everyone here has a mind of their own.”

“Well keep it up,” he said as he rested his hand on the small of your back, “because I think it’s workin’.”

“The answer’s no,” Lorraine said.

“Well why don’t we ask her?” Bobby-Lynn said.

Silence fell over the room quickly; it was suffocating. If you could have, you would have slunk away to the room you shared with the boys. Even before turning around you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. Maybe, if you were really lucky, you could get away without actually answering the question.

That possibility was struck down the moment you turned your head to look out into the room.

Lorraine was looking at you expectantly, most likely believing she knew what you were going to say. In any other situation, she would have been right. You wanted no one but her, and everyone was more than aware of it. Well, everyone but Wayne, RJ, and potentially Jackson. Though judging by the way Jackson was looking at you, he knew too.

“Might be fun,” you said with a shrug and turned back around. “I can always repent next door.”

“Are you serious?” Lorraine asked.

At that you turned back around and leaned your hip against the counter. Was she really going to question you? After what she did for a living? Not once had you ever judged her for it, you had even helped her make light of it when she felt guilt creeping in. She had the nerve to question you?

“Like a heart attack, honey,” you said with far more confidence than you felt.

The look Lorraine gave you was deadly.

“Seems we got our answer,” Maxine said.

Lorraine missed the look she gave Bobby-Lynn.

—---

You hadn’t been asleep for long when the door of your room creaked open. Part of you wished it would have stayed closed; it was the first night you weren’t sleeping on the floor while Huck and Beau took the bed. Maxine was becoming a godsend; she’s the one who had convinced the boys to sleep in the van outside.

“Are you asleep?” Lorraine asked quietly after the door had clicked shut.

“Yes,” you said even as you sat up and looked at her.

She was in the nightgown you remembered getting her for her birthday. Her other one had been so old, there was no way it had even been comfy anymore. Not to mention she had made sure to let you know at every opportunity how badly she needed a new one. Clearly RJ hadn’t listened, so you had gotten it yourself. It was mighty cute, if you did say so yourself.

Lorraine tip-toed her way to the bed, whispering a quick “scoot over” before crawling underneath the covers with you. Even though the temperature outside was mild, her feet were freezing. Which she made sure to make you aware of when she stuck them against your legs, her smile taking over when you yelped and shivered.

“Were you serious about doin’ a scene with Bobby-Lynn and Max?” She asked as she reached out to force her folded hands between yours. She was freezing all over.

“Depends,” you said even as you started trying to warm up her hands. “Were you bein’ serious about tellin’ me no?”

“Of course I was,” she said indignantly.

“Then so was I,” you said.

Lorraine groaned. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack,” you said just as quickly.

Even though you weren’t serious at all. That was never the actual plan. The plan was simply to get Lorraine jealous enough to come into the room and, what would you know, that’s exactly what she had done. Even if absolutely nothing else happened, you would be happy. At least you got to spend a night with her without having to keep it a total secret.

“Why would you want to do this?” She asked. “It’s not like you don’t know how it works.”

“Maybe I want to learn a few things,” you said with as much of a shrug as you could do lying on your side.

“What could you possibly learn from smut?” Lorraine asked. “It’s all fake.”

“Were all those noises you made fake?” You asked. “Cause you never do that with me.”

The look on her face was almost offensive. Her eyes lit up like she was in on some little secret. Was she really going to laugh at you? She never laughed at you, not even when she rightfully should. Her hand now cupping your jaw was not enough to distract from the fact she was laughing.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” She asked. “You think I don’t like havin’ sex with you?”

“Not that you don’t like it,” you said quickly. “Just that,” you sighed, “you don’t like it as much.”

Her thumb brushed against your bottom lip. “You make me feel things none of those guys could even dream of.”

“Well you have to say that now,” you said as you leaned further into her hand. “Otherwise I wouldn’t let you put your cold feet on me.”

Her smile slipped to something a little different, a bit more seductive. You didn’t put up any resistance as she used her elbow to push your shoulder until you were laying on the bed. With the same ease as you had seen numerous times, she followed, her legs on either side of you and her weight resting comfortable on top of you. A position you very much loved, even without the arousal that came with it.

“Is there any way I can convince you not to film tomorrow?” Lorraine asked, lowering her tone in such a way that had you squirming underneath her. “What can I do?”

God you were pathetic, she hadn’t even touched you yet.

It was supposed to be a simple question, but you took it to heart. Of course she could convince you, you weren’t planning on filming anyway, but what could you get out of this arrangement? There had to be something you truly wanted, especially now that you had some sort of leverage.

Ah. That was it.

“Somethin’ we haven’t done before,” you said. “Somethin’ you like.”

Her smile slowly grew as she thought of what she wanted. The weight on top of you shifted until her hands pressed your shoulders further into the mattress. You felt her breath on your lips before you felt her kiss, quick and soft and eager. It was enough to get your heart racing even when she pulled away. She was off you in a moment, practically running out of the room.

You sat up on your elbows and watched the open door. What was she doing? Surely she wasn’t going to just leave, right? No, she wouldn’t do that. Right? That had been one of her more mischievous smiles, and she was absolutely one for payback. But you also knew Lorraine was nothing if not eternally aroused, so surely she wouldn’t just leave.

At least she better not, because if she teased you like that only to go and get back in bed with RJ, you were going to lose your mind. You weren’t usually one to make a scene, but you could always make an exception. The wrath of God, and all that good preacher nonsense.

You’re in a house of sin.

Yes you were, and you were going to partake in it for the night. Repentance was only 50 feet and a few hours away. If Lorraine could remove her cross necklace during scenes, surely you could remove the guilt from your chest for a few hours. God may have been in the walls, watching your every move, but He could look away for the time. You were far past the point of caring.

By the time Lorraine came back into the room, you were already jittery. Her hands were behind her back as she closed the door quietly, the click almost inaudible. that mischievous smile was back, but you noticed the way she tapped her foot against the floor, still in the same spot.

“You promise you wanna try somethin’ new?” She asked, her voice uncertain, carrying over the thick air.

“I’m sure,” you said, “just get over here.”

Her steps were slow, methodical on the straight path to the bed. The whole way her hands stayed behind her back. You wondered what she had, but you couldn’t think too hard. Hell, the sway of her hips could have made you forget your own name.

That familiar weight settled on you again as Lorraine straddled you, placing whatever was in her hands off to the side, just out of your sight. When  you tried to twist and look at it, she pressed down against your shoulders again, her lips instantly finding yours.

Her nightgown rested high on her thighs, and you were never one to keep your hands to yourself. She sighed when you slid your hands under her nightgown, resting on her hips. Her breath tickled on your cheek. You couldn’t hold back your quiet chuckle, which Lorraine returned, smiling into the kiss.

“Don’t tickle,” she mumbled against your lips.

“What,” you said just as softly, “that ain't romantic?”

She laughed again, eliciting the same sound out of you as your hands continued up. Your knuckles brushed against the underside of her breasts, transforming her laugh into something a little more breathy but no less joyful. A sound that, you decided, was much better than anything you had heard during her scene.

“Take it off, Raine,” you said.

“What's the magic word?” She said before sitting up straight.

“Please,” you said breathlessly.

She barely waited for the word to leave your mouth before she pulled the nightgown over her head. Every time you saw her undress was like the first time. Your heart raced as she uncovered every inch of skin, from her thighs to her hips to her breasts. Not a single space had been neglected by you in your times together, and you weren't going to start that night.

You sat up, keeping a hand on Lorraine's back to keep her in your lap. She didn't hesitate to grab your face and pull you into a kiss. It immediately shot a wave of arousal down your spine, pooling in your lower abdomen. And for once, that usual spark of guilt was absent.

“Yours too,” she barely managed to say between kisses.

You couldn't speak, simply nodded as you fumbled around like a teenager. Or course the hem of your shirt would hide from you on the one night you not only had Lorraine, but a bed. She laughed again and pulled away. You tried to chase her - you would always try to chase her - but she pulled back again and placed a finger to your lips.

“Let me help,” she said.

Her fingers were so light against your skin that it tickled. She found the hem of your shirt quickly but took her sweet time pulling it up. Those delectable nails of hers scratched against your skin the entire time. Over your sides, the sides of your breasts, the underside of your arms as you held them up for her to finish pulling the shirt off.

“Is this Beau’s?” She asked.

“It’s comfy,” you said meekly.

She tossed the shirt to the side. “You should wear one of mine sometime.”

“I thought you liked me better shirtless,” you teased.

“Maxine has a word for people like you,” Lorraine said when she pulled you back in for a kiss. “She'd call you a minx.”

“I like it,” you said, kissing her back and running your knuckles over her nipples. Her shiver was delightful. “Sounds downright sinful.”

“Stop talking,” she said.

And oh god you did. How could you even consider doing anything else when you were enveloped by her? Her scent, her taste, the feel of her skin, warm against yours. If kissing her was the final nail in your coffin, you would accept death gracefully and with no regrets.

She nipped your lip when you lightly pinched her nipples. Never hard enough to hurt, no, but just enough to draw the most perfect little yelp from her lips. In return, her hands fell to your ribs, pushing against you until you were laying on the bed again.

You shifted, pulling your knee up until you pressed against her. She let out a breathy sigh, but otherwise kept kissing you. There was just something mesmerizing about the way she tasted. An ambrosia not for the gods, but for you alone. A sustenance for your very mind, body, and soul.

“Take these off,” Lorraine said, pulling lightly against the pants that you had also stolen from Beau.

In your defense, he was your fake boyfriend.

“Will you take yours off?” You asked even though you had already started trying to take your pants off.

She nodded hastily. “I want to feel you for a moment.”

You would've happily let her feel you for as long as she wished. All she had to do was give you the smile she was giving you in that moment. The one she had before the accident, the one she saved exclusively for the times she was alone with you. If she looked at you like that for the rest of eternity, you would be in heaven.

Her skin was hot against yours as she laid completely on top of you. On instinct, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and back as she tucked her head into your neck. Her breath tickled your collar bone, but you couldn't have been happier.

How could such peace be a sin? Such pure love, something that would not only be applauded but praised if you had but been born a man? What difference could there truly be, aside from the shape of your body. The guilt sparked in your chest once again, but this time, you quickly stomped it out.

You would not be shamed for loving Lorraine. Not that night.

The position you were both in was comfortable and, quite frankly, innocent. But that didn't ease the inferno that was still raging inside you. If you had the ability to have Lorraine to yourself more than once in a blue moon, you would have been satisfied. But the “lust of the flesh,” as daddy called it, was as present and angry as always.

Thankfully, Lorraine seemed to feel the same when you felt her hips move and you felt her arousal on your thigh.

“Wanna try somethin’ new?” She asked, placing a seemingly innocuous kiss behind your ear.

“With you?” You asked. You placed your finger under her chin and lifted her face until you could see her eyes. “Always.”

She smiled and kissed you quickly before sitting up. You tried to sit up with her, but she used her bad hand to push you back down with ease. Not that it stopped you from trying to look around her to see the thing she had brought into the room. Her smile turned nervous, but no less excited as she finally turned back around.

“Is that-”

“-Maxine and Bobby-Lynn used one like it a few times,” Lorraine started to explain while she started pulling straps around your hips and thighs. “I asked ‘em to get me one not too long ago.”

“Jesus, Raine,” you said as she pulled the straps tighter.

“It works the same as-”

“-I can guess how it works,” you interrupted.

Her hands slowed to a stop as she finished securing the… phallic toy in place. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Lorraine,” you said as softly as you could, finally sitting up - as best you could without feeling too awkward - and placing your hand on the scarred side of her jaw. “I’m more than okay with it.” She leaned further into your hand. “If you asked me to wear only my boots and spurs, I would do it.”

“Oh yeah?” She asked, her teasing smile coming back in full force.

“Don’t push your luck, Day,” you said before leaning forward to kiss her again.

She moaned softly into the kiss. “If I did it right, you should feel it too,” she said as she lifted herself onto her knees, hovering over you. “So let me know.”

You nodded and pulled her into a kiss. As curious as you were to watch, you wanted to feel her lips against yours. You knew the moment she lowered herself onto the toy; her gasp was to die for. Shorty, breathy, almost inaudible if you hadn’t been kissing her already. The sound alone was enough to leave you soaking and needy.

But then you felt the toy press against you, and you knew you were a goner. Lorraine stayed still in your lap, catching her breath, and you would have been more than happy to keep her there. If she moved, you swore you would cum on the spot. It wasn’t a feeling that was so much better than everything else, but simply the knowledge that you were both feeling something together.

“I guess it works,” Lorraine teased even though she could barely keep herself in control.

“It does,” you said through clenched teeth as you tried to stay strong when she started moving again.

She didn’t have to move for long before you pulled her into a kiss, holding her tight against you. You did your best to move your hips with her. It was awkward and clumsy, and you both laughed a little when, more than once, you moved wrong and the toy slipped out. But you were okay with that, because it meant you got to hear her little gasp again.

As wrong as it felt, you had to picture Jackson to get a good rhythm going, or at least to get started. Specifically, you thought of the way his hips had moved with each thrust. You knew you got it right when Lorraine moaned, her head falling to your shoulder. If you hadn’t been so focused on not cumming or losing your rhythm, you would’ve moaned just the same.

“Baby,” she mumbled against your neck. Her nails dug into your shoulders; you would have to cover the marks up in the morning.

You knew what she wanted; she only ever truly called you “baby” when she was almost ready to cum. And you were more than happy to oblige. You kept one arm wrapped tight around her waist, holding her in place while your free hand slid down her stomach. Past the almost unnoticeable scatter of scars and through that small patch of hair.

Her hips jolted against your hand when you brushed against her clit. It was sloppy work; you would need to get used to the unusual angle later. But clearly it didn’t matter, because while her moans stayed quiet, they got higher in pitch until she bit down on your shoulder.

You used that as your sign to follow her, not even needing three more thrusts before you tipped over the edge along with her. You held her tight, hyper aware of every inch of her skin against yours. Of the slick sweat that coated both your bodies. Of the sting of her teeth and nails, but you would rather die than have her stop. Of your breaths intermingling between you until you were of one breath, one heartbeat, one soul.

Heaven existed, and it was right in that moment with Lorraine.

“You’re bleedin’,” she said softly. You didn’t have to look to know what she meant.

“It’s alright,” you said, pressing a light kiss to the side of her head. “You can nurse me back to health later.”

Lorraine giggled. A light sound that reminded you of when you were all kids and you would do anything to get that sound out of her. It was a reminder of simpler times, back when you were too young to understand that everyone believed what you felt for each other was wrong. A sin. Back when love was just that; love.

You let yourself fall back onto the bed, pulling Lorraine with you. She made a small noise when the toy moved inside her, but quickly settled back onto your chest. Her nails felt good scratching lightly against your skin, more comforting than ticklish. A nervous habit of hers.

“Did you learn all that from Jackson?” She asked.

“Don’t remind me,” you said; she chuckled. “I ain’t proud to say I had to picture him there for a minute.”

“Well, you gave him a run for his money,” she said.

“Think so?” You asked; you felt her nod against your chest. “Cause you still didn’t make the same noises.”

“Because these were real,” she said. Her voice grew quiet. “Everything with you is real.”

You wished she wouldn’t say things like that. That she could just let you both lie there, comfortable in the silence. Everyone was aware of the situation, but just once you wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. That you actually did get to love her without feeling shame or guilt.

You just pulled her closer.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” she repeated.

It wasn’t enough, but for the moment, you were going to pretend it was. For the moment, you could pretend this was your daily life. Being in the same bed as Lorraine, showing her just how much you loved her, how much she truly meant to you. Holding her tight until you were of the same body and spirit, because no matter what the world thought, you were.

It wasn’t enough. But it would do.

“Are you really goin’ to film a scene tomorrow?” Lorraine asked.

“Absolutely not,” you said. “Bobby-Lynn and Maxine just wanted to getcha all riled up.”

Lorraine lifted her head from your chest and lowered her brows.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” you said with a smile.

“Sometimes I hate all of y’all,” she mumbled, quickly ducking her head back underneath your jaw. You still managed to catch the smile on her lips.

“I love you too, darlin’,” you said, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

Now this. This was enough.

everyone but her pt.36

Summary: It's the new year and you're determined to start it off better than the last. But really, how smooth could it go when you associate with an Addams and her group of Outcasts?

Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: swearing, mental instability, mental illness, grieving, murder Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“How was your new year?” Mama Weems asked. “Do anything exciting with the group?”

“We did “exciting” last year and have been suffering for it ever since,” you said. “We stayed in and played Jackbox Games.”

If you had been sitting across the table from her, like a normal person would, you would have seen her smile over the lip of her coffee cup. But you weren’t a normal person, and you weren’t sitting across the table. No, you were sitting right beside her, so close that you could feel the warmth from her side. A warmth that you didn’t really get from anyone else.

Not that it was Wednesday’s fault, of course. She was just… a little cold-blooded. And she had the audacity to get stingy with her kisses around this time of year.  Which was rude, honestly, and partially why you had ditched her to hang out with Mama Weems instead. It definitely wasn’t because she was hanging out with Enid.

“How have you been, darling?” Mama Weems asked. Her arm felt nice wrapped around your shoulders. “Truthfully.”

Don’t admit to anything, the voice in the back of your head practically growled. If there was anything you hated, it was that stupid voice. Never leaving, somehow always chiming in when you didn’t want it to. There really wasn’t anything about it that made you feel it was necessary. Or even wanted. Why couldn’t it just let you make your own decisions?

“I’m tired,” you said in a soft voice. Humiliating. “I just want things to go back to how they were.”

Mama Weems’ pulled you the miniscule distance closer. She wasn’t as warm as Enid, but no one was as warm as Enid. It didn’t change much, warm was warm. And you had been feeling so very cold lately. Not the kind of cold that could be fixed with a blanket and someone to hold, but a cold that reached into your soul and refused to let go.

A coward. That damned voice was getting more and more demanding. More vicious. It was almost clawing at the back of your mind, gauging ravines into your brain and devouring anything in its way. Like a feral beast trapped in a cage, desperate to escape.

Wow. That was almost poetic. Maybe Wednesday was rubbing off on you.

“I wish I could say it was all part of growing up,” Mama Weems said, bringing you back to the situation at hand. Right. Coffee.  “But I wouldn’t wish to diminish your experiences with a simple solution.”

She shouldn’t impart such wise words. You didn’t want pity, you didn’t want wise words, you just wanted a hug. A warm hug that was a little too nice and that could make you forget about everything just for a few seconds. Hugs weren’t exactly Wednesday’s thing, even though she tried. Oh she tried, the sweet thing, but you couldn’t make her uncomfortable for something that wouldn’t even fix anything.

“How has therapy been going?” She asked. “Has it been helping?”

“A bit,” you said with a nod.

It wasn’t a lie; it really was helping a bit. Shaun was nice, you supposed. And he at least outwardly seemed to care, so that was nice too. And you were even starting to learn to open up! Okay, not a lot and it was still an uphill battle, but you had told Wednesday two things about your parents. Oh yeah. You were making progress.

Except.

“Really need him after the holidays,” you said softly.

The holidays themselves were fine. You weren’t necessarily the biggest fan of Christmas, but you enjoyed spending the time with your family. And Wednesday, but spending time with her was a given. No, you wouldn’t deny that the holiday time was something worth interrupting your routine for.

It was the murder.

If no one had turned on the news that Christmas morning, you never would have known. You weren’t even sure who had actually done it, if they had even done it on purpose in the first place. All you remembered was you had all been getting ready to play No Mercy Uno, and the TV was on.

Murder on the Polar Express. That was the dumb title the news station had written on the little banner on the bottom of the screen. A title that had nothing to do with the grisly murder of some poor college girl in DC. Some girl that was apparently associated with Kristi, because she was the one who had come forward for the press release.

There was no proof that it had anything to do with you. No proof at all, in any direction. But you would admit, it was starting to get creepy. First Mr. Hart and then this new girl? You had plenty of reasons to hate Marcus and Kristi, but that didn’t mean you wanted anyone to get hurt.

You like when they suffer, the voice in your head had growled when Kristi let a tear slip. Probably fake, but you couldn’t prove it.

“Are you seeing him again soon?” Mama Weems asked.

Right. You were at the cafe. You really needed to stop letting yourself get carried away, it was starting to make you think that maybe, just maybe, you were starting to lose your mind.

“I need to,” you said with a sigh.

“I’m proud of you,” she said softly, pulling you tighter and pressing a feather-light kiss on the top of your head.

Now that was worth coming back to the present for.

—---

“Would you consider me mentally unstable?” You asked as you expertly flipped the pancake in the skillet. Maybe you should be a chef.

“Of course,” Yoko answered without hesitation.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” you emphasised, “I was asking Wednesday.”

“Then be more specific next time,” she said.

You grumbled, but supposed she was right. It’s what you got for inviting the trio over for breakfast. That was what happened when you didn’t listen to Wednesday. She had warned you not to invite them. Sure, it was because she just didn’t want to put up with anyone, but still! Maybe your girlfriend was always right!

Not that you would tell her. You couldn’t have her getting a big head.

“Do you have reason to believe you’re mentally unstable?” Wednesday asked as she appeared beside you. Back at Nevermore, her silent movements would have scared you. But not anymore, you were a professional now.

You shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Then no,” she said, holding the plate out for you to finish sliding the last remaining pancake onto the rather impressive tower.

“Don’t say it,” you heard Divina whisper when you and Wednesday walked over to the table where the three were sitting patiently.

Well. Except for Enid.

“Damn Wednesday,” Yoko said anyway, “Big Bird has turned you soft.”

“Yoko,” Enid and Divina scolded simultaneously.

“I’ll give you one chance to repeat that belief,” Wednesday said. Her glare at the vampire was phenomenal. Fuck, you loved her.

Yoko looked at Wednesday. “These look delicious,” she said instead, instantly grabbing food from the plates laid out on the table.

“Coward,” Divina chuckled lightly.

“You try shit talking the goth girl over there,” Yoko whispered back.

“I believe Enid is the only one of you that has any survival skills,” Wednesday said.

Everyone looked over to the pup, and you had to do your best not to laugh at her. Even though everyone had only gotten settled not even two minutes ago, Enid was already finishing off her third pancake and was in the process of grabbing more. The berries had been haphazardly pushed to the side of her plate, and all the bacon and sausage had not-so-mysteriously disappeared.

It was a good thing you still had plenty of batter. This might end up being only Enid’s breakfast.

The woman herself froze after realising everyone was looking at her. “Did you guys want some?” She asked with her mouth full.

“Eat away, E,” you said with a quiet laugh. “I can always make more.”

She just smiled - as best she could with a dry pancake nearly to her lips - before continuing to tear into the food. Everyone else was quick to follow, though they all managed to be a little more… civilised. Or they did. You struggled to maintain much more composure than Enid. Thank gods you made the both of you some protein pancakes so it wasn’t another breakfast massacre.

As much as you knew Wednesday loved to gripe and complain about having people over, it was easy to tell she loved it. There was no overt way to notice, and truthfully you weren’t even sure if Enid would know. But it was there. In her small outward complaints about what everyone was doing, even though you had never seen her hands so relaxed. In the open judgement of everyone’s opinions while that furrow of her brows all but disappeared. In the comfort of her willingly holding your hand and letting it rest on the table where everyone could see.

It was nice. Not anything extravagant, nothing that most would consider memorable, but for you? The mundane feeling of it all? It was one of the best moments of your life. Your family was all together in one spot, you were all just existing and it was perfect. No worries, no cares, nothing amiss. A perfect morning.

It’s going to come crashing down, the voice said.

You looked down at your plate and refused to look up. The pressure in your head left a fuzzy haze around the edge of your vision. But you knew better. Nothing could get you to look back up at the carnage that you would undoubtedly see. It was like a filter, covering everyone in blood and gore, setting the scene of a bloody massacre that wasn’t even real.

Something cold rested on your thigh; one of the few times you were thankful that Wednesday naturally ran cooler than most. The smallest change in temperature, even for just a moment, had the fog dissipating and the almost inaudible rumbling fading back into nothing.

“Breathe,” Wednesday whispered, so softly that you weren’t even sure the werewolf and vampire senses could hear it.

Her thumb rubbed against your knee. A constant, feather-light touch that would have been infuriating in any other sense. But when it was drawing you back down to earth, it was a godsend. Something to focus on. Even just the sight of her shiny black nails kept you grounded.

“Good girl,” Wednesday said with a light squeeze to your thigh.

You almost wished she would have left you in that mental hellscape, because you knew everyone else had heard that phrase.

“Don’t,” Divina said, and you looked up just in time to see Yoko’s shit-eating grin.

“Why am I not surprised?” Yoko asked anyway.

“I hope you enjoyed breakfast,” Wednesday started.

“Because you’re never getting invited again,” you finished.

“Can I still come?” Enid asked.

“Yeah, don’t make us suffer because she can’t shut up,” Divina chimed in, still taking her time in eating her breakfast. Which… you supposed everyone else was too, aside from you and Enid.

“You’re both throwing me under the bus?” Yoko asked incredulously.

“Seems they have some common sense,” Wednesday said before taking a sip of her coffee that you couldn’t guarantee was still hot. The slight grimace on her face gave you the answer.

“You two can still come,” you said as you stood up and grabbed the coffee pot. “It would be lonely without a bit of company.”

“Wednesday isn’t enough for you?” Yoko asked.

You glared at her while pouring the coffee into Wednesday’s mug. Then Enid’s, then Divina’s. You purposefully ignored the mug Yoko held out for you, and you didn’t feel the least bit sorry for it. If she wanted to be a dick, you were going to treat her like the nuisance she really was.

“Keep your girl in line, you two,” you said with a raised brow before standing up, grabbing empty plates to take to the sink. “I’d hate to see Wednesday end her bloodline.”

“It would be the wisest option,” Wednesday agreed. A few more plates clinked against each other before she appeared beside you, carefully placing the small pile of plates into the sink.

“Can your bloodline end like that?” Divina whispered from the table.

“Shut up,” Yoko whispered back, “you’re both leaving me to Wednesday!”

Divina laughed.

“Enid, help me out here.”

“Huh?” You heard Enid mumble around what was probably another pancake. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

You did your best not to laugh at the bickering continuing behind you. From your peripheral, you could see Wednesday was in the same boat. Not that she laughed aloud, but you could see the smallest uptick of the corner of her mouth. Most of the time she would try to hide it, but she wasn’t even trying even as she got started on assisting with the dishes.

And by god did you fall just a little more in love.

The rest of the morning went by quickly. Not that anyone really had any plans aside from hanging out. Kent and Ajax popped by to bring some of the veggies from their little in-apartment garden. As usual, Wednesday was severely disappointed that they weren’t poisonous. You made a mental note to ask her mom for dangerous plant advice.

“If you feel concerned about your stability,” Wednesday said after everyone was gone and you had both laid on the couch, “you should go meet with Shaun.”

You sighed. “I know.” You pulled her closer until you could rest your chin on her shoulder. “I’ll go tomorrow morning.”

“A wise decision,” she said softly. “You can go to coffee with Casey and Devan after.”

You froze. How did she know?

She’s watching you, the voice taunted. She doesn’t trust you.

“They called you over Christmas,” she said, almost as if she could sense your discomfort. “You had not yet decided if you were going or not.”

Right. Right, you remembered that. Of course it was that simple. Something heavy settled in your stomach. Had you really nearly believed that stupid voice that Wednesday, your Wednesday, was spying on you? Why? Why would you trust something that, so far, had said nothing good to you since its appearance?

Wednesday’s cold lips pressed against the inside of your wrist. She had to bend your arm a little awkwardly to do so, but you didn’t care. If it meant you could feel her mouth over that pulse point, you would bend any way she wished. You knew she was sparing with her physical affection, and you were going to enjoy every little moment of it.

“Tomorrow will help,” she whispered against your skin.

Yeah, you thought as you pressed your own kiss to the back of her neck. Tomorrow will help.

—---

It was a lie. It was all a lie. Tomorrow, as you and Wednesday had initially thought, would not help.

You and Wednesday had both fallen asleep on the couch, which was weird enough on its own. Usually, she would wake you both up to move to the bed, even if it was only for an hour or two. But when you both woke up, you were still in the same place you had been the night before. Even the TV was still on the same channel, running some reruns of Star Trek.

Then your phone had been close to dead. Seeing as you had fallen asleep on the couch, you hadn’t plugged it in. When you had finally gotten up, you noticed your phone only had a small bit of battery left. Only enough to set up a time with Casey and Devan, and to call Shaun. Perfect.

“When will you go to the coffee shop?” Wednesday asked as you hopped around the room, trying not to die while you pulled your sweats on.

“My appointment is at nine so… sometime after 10, I guess?” You said.

“How will I know where you are?” Wednesday asked. She placed her hands on your hips to keep you still for a moment. It was nice.

“If I’m not at Shaun’s or the coffee shop, then I’ve been kidnapped or murdered,” you said with a nod. “Exact revenge as necessary.”

Wednesday nodded once before leaning up to press a quick, chaste kiss to your lips. You loved those kisses. They were rare, and they were cold, and they sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to call Shaun and tell him you couldn’t come in anymore. But when Wednesday ushered you out the door, you knew you had to go be an adult, at least for a little while.

And then you had nearly been late to your appointment. Because gods forbid something goes right.

“You’re still frazzled,” Shaun said from his stupid therapist chair.

Yoko had scolded you once for calling it a therapist chair, but she couldn’t argue that it was anything else. It was! It was the long half-chair-half-sofa thing that you thought only belonged in a rich person’s house and was used for nothing but showing off. From looks alone, it wasn’t even comfortable.

“It’s just,” you shrugged, “a lot.”

“Well,” Shaun sighed, “you’ve mentioned your parents, that intern’s murder, and your frustration with the world at large.” He waited until you met his eyes. “Anything else bothering you?”

Everything, you wanted to say. The cruelty of a world that refused to let you rest. Your brother’s ghost that haunted you so irregularly that you may as well consider him nothing but the occasional jumpscare. Knowing that no matter what, you couldn’t actually keep anyone safe.

You’re a coward, the voice said. You will let them all burn in the fires of your mistakes.

Never mind. You knew what to talk about.

“There’s a voice,” you said as you tapped your finger against your temple. “It’s like the devil on your shoulder, except it won’t shut up.”

Shaun tilted his head and shifted in his seat. “A voice?” You nodded. “What does it sound like?”

“The first few times it sounded like Nicky,” you said, as if it wasn’t as terrible of a feeling as it truly was. It was like the words flew right out of your mouth. “Then it was…” you sighed. “Almost him?” You questioned. “But distorted?”

“What does it tell you?” Shaun asked.

“It-”

-Tell him, the voice said. Far too eagerly. Tell him of all the things we talk about. You shivered. Tell him of all the things I show you.

Why was it so eager to be known? How was it going to benefit from being exposed? Now that it wanted you to, you wanted to keep your mouth shut. You were a conspiracy theorist at heart, and Wednesday had given you some useful paranoia, so you could pick out a bad idea from a mile away.

And this now seemed like a very bad idea.

“Just… things,” you said.

Coward.

“What kind of things?”

He sounded too eager. Way too eager. You did your best to hide your “suspicious face,” as Wednesday had called it, before turning around to look at him. Something uncomfortable crawled over your skin when you saw him leaning forward in his chair. Elbows resting on his knees and eyes wide and if you really let your mind go crazy, maybe even the smallest hint of a smile.

Tell him, the voice said. Tell him tell him tell him-

-the little chant in your head continued to speed up, carving the words into your skull. It felt like the incessant words were making your teeth vibrate and your eyes ache. Maybe if you told him, it would stop. You could have some peace and quiet for once.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something would go wrong.

“You should listen to it.”

“What?” You blurted out.

Shaun blinked hard before sitting back in the chair. You knew false relaxation when you saw it. Wednesday had taught you all the tips and tricks of a liar. But this? This was different. That glint in his eyes had disappeared and he almost looked… lost? Like he didn’t know where that had come from.

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he did. You weren’t sure which answer you would have liked better.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I think I need to cut this short.” He scratched his head hesitantly, now no longer even looking at you. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded but didn’t leave. Did he mean it? Did he really want you to leave? But when he still didn’t look back up and instead let his head fall into his hands, you recognised the position. Hell, you were in it all the time when your brain was overloading. He meant it.

Never again would you say therapy was boring.

—---

Casey and Devan were cool. And you weren’t just saying that because they had bought you your coffee. Although that was also pretty cool, because you had maybe three dollars in your wallet. But now that you could actually just sit and talk with them? It was nice. It reminded you of sitting with Nicky.

They knew stories about Nicky that you hadn’t even remembered. Stories that, most likely, you had never known in the first place. You had known him as your big brother, as your best friend. But really, he had a whole life outside of you. He went on adventures, had two partners, experienced things that you hadn’t been old enough to experience with him.

Part of it hurt; you wouldn’t try to act like it didn’t. It sounded like he was happy. Really, truly, genuinely happy. Why wouldn’t he have told you about any of it? Did he not think you would be happy for him? That you wouldn’t be proud of him for having a life outside of the horrifying upbringing you had both been subjected to?

“You’re gonna leave me just like mom and dad.”

Oh. Right. That was why he hadn’t told you.

But the other part of you was still happy to get to hear the fun things he got to do. To know that he did get to live a fairly normal life. He got to be a teenager, got to grow up and actually enjoy things. He went to movies, went on dates, did fun things without having to worry about things.

Without having to worry about you.

Maybe meeting up with Casey and Devan wasn’t as fun as it originally sounded.

“How’s it going with your girlfriend?” Casey asked. He was the one that did most of the talking, though you had at least finally gotten a few things out of Devan over the course of coffee.

“Good,” you said without hesitation. “It’s going well.”

And it was. Aside from the typical issues with your fucking brain, you couldn’t really ask for more from Wednesday. In public she was still nearly as cold as she had been in Nevermore. Only close enough for people to know the two of you were in the same company. If you hadn’t already agreed to allow her to maintain her scary dog privileges, you would have teased her for the fact that she still stood just a little too close and let her knuckles brush against your thigh.

But in private, it was something entirely different. She still wasn’t incredibly physically loving, which you had known and accepted from the very beginning. No, her love was still something subtle, showing itself in the most subtle of ways. Back in the day, you wouldn’t have thought it would be enough to push past all the beliefs that you would never be loved. But now? No, now you knew it was more than enough; it was exactly what you needed.

“You met her at Nevermore, right?” Casey asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You nodded. “Did you go there?” You asked. “Is that where you met Nicky?”

“Met him at a bookstore,” Devan said. Their gruff voice never failed to surprise you.

“That’s disgustingly cute,” you mumbled before taking a long drink of your coffee. “So you’re Normies?”

Even looking into your cup, you noticed the slightest flinch from Casey.

“We’re shapeshifters,” they said.

“The both of you?” You asked. They nodded. “Haven’t met very many of you.”

“That you know of,” Devan said.

You laughed humourlessly. “Suppose that’s a good point.”

The doors to the little cafe opened, jingling the little bell that hung from the doorframe. You all turned to look to see who was coming in - for no other reason than to be nosey - but your face fell when you saw Wednesday. She looked frazzled; that wasn’t right.

“Wends?” You asked, your head tilting slightly.

She looked around the room, and her shoulders only relaxed after meeting your eyes. But there was still something on her face that you couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t a typical look for her, far more… uptight? Her knuckles were more pale than usual as she practically ran to where you were sitting.

“You’ve been here the whole time?” She asked you, not even paying attention to Casey or Devan on the other side of the table.

“I mean, after my appointment, but yeah,” you said. “Are you okay?”

“You were here?” She asked again. “You left therapy?”

“Yes, Wednesday, I left therapy,” you said. You shifted until you were facing her from your place in the booth. “What happened?”

She hesitated. And it wasn’t like Wednesday to hesitate.

“Wednesday,” you said, a little louder. Not for the whole cafe to hear, but to grab her attention.

It worked.

“Shaun’s receptionist called a few minutes ago,” she said.

You let out an airy chuckle. “If that’s all, it’s probably because my card declined-”

“-They found a foot in his office.”

Oh. So it wasn’t a courtesy call.

“He was fine when I left,” you said softly, not really even speaking to anyone in particular. “Surely no one just… snuck in, right?”

Wednesday didn’t say anything.

Why was she not saying anything?

“Wednesday,” you said. Your tone sounded harsh; you didn’t mean to. “Did she accuse me?”

She didn’t answer, and it finally clicked what the look on her face was.

It was fear.

the city can wait

Summary: You had promised your girlfriend one night of not disappearing. Of course, it just had to be on the craziest night of the year.

Word Count: 2,6k Warnings: swearing, drug and alcohol mention Pairing: Vada Cavell x Reader

Halloween. The one time of year where you didn’t really have to hide anything, you could roam around the city, only making excuses to leave instead of why you were dressed… a certain way. Not that your girlfriend ever really seemed to notice. It was probably the single greatest thing about her proclivity for weed; she never noticed.

“How does it look?” The woman herself asked as she finally stepped out of the bathroom and into the small apartment living room.

“How-” you covered your mouth with your hand “-how did you sneak that into the apartment?”

“How did you not notice it?”

Your mouth closed with a snap, and you nodded slowly. That was a very good point. How you had managed to miss a bright pink bunny costume was beyond you. Maybe it was because, much like you, Vada was a random variable. There was never any way that you could prepare for something she did, so you had quit noticing the “weird” things.

“At least you’re cute,” you said with a shrug and a smile. There was no point in arguing when she was right.

“I know I am,” she said with her own smile that took over her whole face.

God, she was adorable. Yes, she was grown, and yes, she was wearing what would technically be classified as a children’s costume. But did you care? Hell no, she was precious. If anything, it made you love her even more. Her childish side kept your head above water when things were getting tough, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Are you going to keep staring?” She asked. “Or are we going to that party?”

“Let me grab my mask and we can go,” you said.

You practically hopped up from the couch, stopping just long enough to kiss Vada on the cheek before running to your shared room. It was stupid to hide your mask in the closet of your room, you knew that, but it was easy enough to play off. It’s a cosplay, you had explained the first time Vada had found it. It worked. She claimed you were just weird enough for it to be believable.

Which was a little rude, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The mask still smelled of smoke from the week before. A smell that you were starting to become numb to. Hell, if Vada hadn’t brought it up the next day, you wouldn’t have even noticed. What did you smoke last night? She had asked. Because it wasn’t weed. You couldn’t remember which bullshit answer you had given her, all you remembered was that it was enough to get her to drop it.

How often, you wondered as you worked your way back to the living room, had she noticed something was off? It wasn’t like you were the sneakiest person around. If she behaved the way you did, you hoped you would notice. There was no way to not notice the bumps and bruises and unusual “work” hours. Well, you really did work, but that wasn’t the point!

“You’re so slow,” Vada called from the living room. “You’re the worst Spider-man ever.”

“I’m sure you could find worse,” you called back as you finally saw her again. Her smile never failed to get your heart racing. “Nick wouldn’t even get up to help anyone.”

“That’s why you’re the one I keep around,” she said. She reached over and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the apartment that you hoped was locked. If it wasn’t?

Well, at least you knew a good superhero.

“You don’t keep me around for anything else?” You asked once you were both downstairs and walking down the crazy streets of New York City.

Everyone was dressed up for Halloween. There were kids running around, adults seeming tired even though it was barely 7:30, and teenagers and college kids acting like they owned the place. Which they kind of did, but it was fine. You and Vada were one of those college kids, so you couldn’t really complain. At least everyone seemed to be having a nice night already.

And hopefully not causing any trouble.

“I mean,” Vada started, “I guess you’re a good kisser too.”

“I am?” You asked. The smile on your face was… rather humiliating.

“But only when you’re not running off to go who-knows-where,” she continued.

Oh. Well that wasn’t as exciting.

“Speaking of running off,” she said when you both pulled up to the apartment building. She pulled you off to the side and stood in front of you.

God, just looking into her eyes? You loved her. Everything about her. From the sparkle in her eyes to the goofy half smile that she would get when she did something a little silly. It was in the soft yet needy way she held onto your hand, almost as if you would run away if she let go.

“No running off tonight,” Vada said, pulling you out of your admiration.

Right.

“I wouldn’t dream of it-”

“-I mean it,”  she continued, gently jabbing her finger into your chest. “We haven’t had a full night together in months.”

You sighed. Maybe she was right. Each time you had attempted to set up a night with Vada, something serious had gone on around the city. Hell, there had been serious riots just the other week! But you wouldn’t argue that you were getting into the nasty habit of running without any hesitation.

Perhaps you weren’t quite so good at balancing hero life and personal life. At least not like you thought you were.

“You may be Spider-Man tonight,” she said, her tone already turning softer, “but the city can wait.”

Oh, if only she knew.

“Yes ma’am,” you said anyway.

“Pinky promise,” she said.

If she wasn’t trying to act so serious, you would’ve laughed at the insistence when she held her small fist in front of her, pinky finger attempting to stick straight up. She was hindered by the rabbit gloves, but it was the thought that counted. See? That was another thing you loved about her. You may have lost most of your innocence, but she had enough for the both of you.

“Pinky promise,” you repeated, reaching out with your own hand and locking fingers with her as best you could.

“Seal the deal,” she said.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile on your face. It wasn’t going to stop you, though, as you leaned down and placed a light kiss on Vada’s lips. Her hands attempted to grab the front of your suit, but she was thwarted by the giant gloves. You nearly choked on a laugh but managed to keep your cool. Mostly. A little. Okay, you laughed, but it was fine!

“Come on, Spider-dude,” Vada huffed, “let’s have some fun.”

Surprisingly? You did. Not surprising in that you didn’t enjoy parties, or being with Vada. Hell, being with Vada was the best part of your life. Any time with her was a good time, and you would do anything to stay with her. But it was surprising in that, for the first time since discovering your, uh, condition, you could relax.

For the first time, you weren’t spending every second wondering if someone was being hurt, or if there was something you could do to help. You didn’t have that desire to swing between buildings, looking for even the slightest indication that something was wrong. No, none of it was on your mind, and you could finally act your age. You could be a normal kid.

Until you couldn’t.

“Did you two see this?” Mia asked as she came up to where you were sitting with Vada on your lap.

“See what?” You asked.

“Put it away,” Vada said instantly before Mia could hand her phone over. “You pinky promised.”

“I just wanna know,” you tried to argue.

“You’re not actually a hero, you know,” she said.

Oh, if only she knew.

“But I am nosy,” you tried to defend. Tried being the key word. “Let me see.”

Vada groaned loudly, but didn’t bother stopping you from taking Mia’s phone from her outstretched hand. The news app was opened to display a fire raging in what appeared to be a residential building. At the top of the screen, the banner read “Queens apartment fire still ongoing.”

Your stomach dropped. Were there people trapped in the building? If the fire was still raging on, did the fire department need any help? Surely they couldn’t handle it all on their own, they probably needed a hand. After all, who better to find trapped civilians than you? It would only take about 20 minutes, then you could get back and spend the rest of the night at the party like you were supposed to.

Vada shifted on your lap. Oh. Right. You couldn’t just leave. You had made a promise that you wouldn’t leave all night. And as silly as it might seem, you didn’t take that promise lightly. Even though she turned it into a joke and something that wasn’t really a big deal, you knew otherwise. Thanks to the shooting, Vada hid most of her “serious” feelings, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t see the subtle ways she showed them.

“That’s a shame,” you finally managed to say, handing the phone back to Mia. “I hope no one gets hurt.”

You felt Vada’s arms tighten slightly around your shoulders.

“Wow,” Mia said with a slow nod. “I thought Spider-Man would rush off to help.”

“Yeah,” you said, chuckling humourlessly, “but I can’t help anyone if my girlfriend kills me.”

“Good answer,” Vada said before placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek. She was far more into PDA when she was drinking.

You loved it.

What you didn’t love, however, was all the crime and chaos that apparently decided to wait until you couldn’t leave. Fires, robberies, shootings, everything that could happen? Happened. Each time Mia walked up to you and Vada, your heart jumped into your throat before you even saw what was on her phone. And each time, you had to fight every instinct in your body to rush out and help.

And Vada always gave you a kiss immediately after.

The kisses made you feel a little better about internally saying no to leaving. Vada would get the biggest smile on her face and pull you down for the kiss. She tasted of cheap alcohol and questionable chasers and the tiniest hint of weed. But she was warm, and her lips were soft, and each kiss had you more and more convinced that you just needed to take her back home and remind her how much you loved her.

By the time you were both attempting to leave the party, you didn’t even feel so bad about taking the night for yourself. You weren’t even paying attention when Mia came back up to you and Vada for the last time of the night, phone in hand and news app open.

“One more for the New York Chaos?” Vada asked.

“Ending Halloween with a bang,” Mia said with a shrug.

Something at the back of your mind told you to look at the phone. To see how bad it was. The night was practically over, you had kept your promise and had stayed throughout the entire party. Would it count as breaking the promise once you were out of the apartment?

But you felt Vada’s hand squeeze yours, and you looked at her. She had pulled the hood off her bunny suit about an hour ago, claiming it was too hot. Her hair was slicked back with a few strands sticking to her forehead, but she still looked absolutely stunning. She was your Vada.

“Leave it to New York to let the crazies out tonight,” you said without even taking the phone.

Mia smiled. “Stay safe going home.”

You both bid Mia a goodnight, promising to stay safe, before Vada led you out of the apartment and back to the streets. It was a quick walk home, a little quieter than normal thanks to the alcohol coursing through both of your bodies. But it was comfortable, and you were happy. Truly happy. It was a nice feeling.

“Tonight was fun,” you said when you closed the apartment door behind you while Vada started pulling her costume off.

“See what happens when you stay?” She teased.

“I know, I know,” you huffed, letting out a sigh when you tried to move. The suit was chafing.

“I have to admit something,” Vada said. There was a tone to her voice that you didn’t hear very often. A tone that meant trouble.

“What?” You asked.

She licked her lips before biting her bottom lip. You stepped forward, placing your hands on her hips. Whatever it was, you didn’t want her to think you were upset with her. Clearly something was bothering her, or at least making her think twice. You weren’t going to make it harder than it had to be.

“You know all those news reports tonight?” She asked slowly.

You nodded.

“None of them were… real.”

“What?” You blurted out before you could even stop yourself.

“They weren’t real,” she repeated with a nervous giggle. One that she only used when she knew she was in trouble.

“What do you mean they weren’t real?” You asked, doing your best to keep your voice level.

“We were testing you,” she continued.

“For what?” You asked again.

“I know this isn’t a cosplay,” she said, pulling lightly on the collar of your suit.

“You-” you exhaled harshly. What did she mean, she knows? There was no way. You weren’t the most sneaky, but you weren’t stupid. How could she possibly know? Maybe you were just a really committed cosplayer, did she ever think about that?

“No one coincidentally disappears before every disaster in the city,” Vada said. Her hands smoothed your suit down, resting on your shoulders. They were soft. You loved the feel of her hands.

She knew. She knew. Oh god, she knew. What were you going to do now? Was it going to put her in danger? She said “we,” did that mean Mia too? Oh god did that mean both of them were in danger? They were both trouble on their own, let alone when they were together. How were you going to keep both of them safe?

“When did you find out?” You asked, ignoring the fifty million other questions running through your mind.

“A few months ago,” Vada said with a sheepish smile. “Mia was over when you snuck in and passed out on the couch in the suit and mask.”

Oh.

Oh, maybe you were stupid.

“I kinda think it’s hot,” Vada continued when you still couldn’t find anything else to say. “Have anything that would be fun in bed?”

You looked at her in shock for only a moment before lifting her up. Her legs wrapped around your waist before she rested her hands on your neck and leaned down to kiss you. You didn’t have to look to know where the bedroom was. If she wanted to learn a few things, then you would show her.

The city could wait for one night.

Let The Light In |6|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Six: Knight In Shining Armor

Summary: Tension rises between you & Tara when you, once again, find yourself protecting her—old habits showing themselves

Warning(s): Swearing, angst, Fr*nkie, grief (if you squint), intoxication, mentions of social anxiety & underage drinking

Notes: Took a while but it's finally here! Also throwing it out there that my face claim for Charlotte is Sofia Wylie<3

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

Tara was walking down the streets of Manhattan, finally done with her classes for the day. It had been a long week and Tara was just thankful it was finally the weekend. She walked with one earbud in while her other hand subconsciously clenched her keys in her right pocket. It was a habit she had picked up not too long after what happened back in Woodsboro; that plus the pepper spray, taser, whistle, and expandable baton Sam always made her take before leaving the house, meant she was more than ready to defend herself if needed.

As she continued to walk, she felt something fury brush up against her. She looked down to find a gray cat, brushing itself against her. Tara smiled to herself before crouching down to get a better look at the cat. “Hey, there…do you have a name?” She looked for a collar but didn’t find one. 

Just then, the sky let out a loud grumble. She looked up at the gray skies then back at the cat, thinking. “I can’t just leave you out here to get drenched. Come on, let me take you home,” she gently picked up the cat, who didn’t protest.

By the time she got home, she was soaked. Her mascara was running and her hair was damp. She was freezing cold; she had wrapped her jacket around the cat so he wouldn’t get wet.

Sam began to walk out from the kitchen as she spoke, “Hey Tar– you’re soaked.”

“Yeah no shit, Sam.”

“Is… Is that a cat?”

“...Yes…” Tara said with a sheepish smile; she had completely forgotten about the ‘needing to convince Sam to keep him’ part.

“Tara, no.”

“Sam, yes.” 

Sam sighed as she made a quick trip to the bathroom, coming back with a towel and wrapping it around Tara. “You can barely take care of yourself–”

“Not true!”

“–How do you expect to take care of a whole ass cat?” 

Tara rolled her eyes, still holding the cat protectively in her arms. “Come on, I’m not a kid. I can take care of a cat. I’ll buy his food, change his litter box—all that stuff!” 

“I don’t know…”

“Please, Sammy,” Tara begged, pouting out her bottom lip. She gave Sam the same look she’d give her whenever she wanted more cookies when they were younger.

“Alright—alright, fine, you win,” Sam huffed and an excited smile broke out on Tara’s face.

“Yes!” Tara looked down at the cat victoriously.

“But Tara, I swear, I better not step in cat shit.”

“No cat shit. Got it.”

—

Dook.

That’s what Tara named her new found cat—named after the Babadook. It had been only a few days since she found him and he’s earned the title of, “my little menace,” from Tara. In the few days Dook has been here he has scratched Chad five times, ripped up Mindy’s sweater in five different spots, and constantly hisses at Sam during the most random times. Why? Sam has no idea, but Tara made the theory it was, “just to mess with her.”

So far, the only person Dook has been even remotely soft to was Tara. She didn’t mind that at all; she enjoyed coming home to Dook’s company—her room feeling less empty than it usually feels.

It was the following Tuesday; she sat not too far from the door as she re-watched Fear Street 1994 while waiting for you. Just as she was about to check her phone for the time, she heard a couple knocks on the door. Before Sam could call out for Tara to answer it, Tara jumped up and made her way to the door. Sam only raised an eyebrow before going back to what she was doing.

Tara counted five seconds in her head before opening the door.

“Took you long enough,” she said with a slight eye roll. 

“Afternoon to you too, Carpenter. So, you're gonna let me in or…”

“Well you’re as patient as ever,” Tara remarked sarcastically as she opened the door wider, letting you inside. You placed your bag down, sitting on the couch and taking out your notes as Tara sat a couple cushions over.

“So, I was thinking we could start with Friday’s notes and work our way to today since I couldn’t make Friday—” You suddenly heard Tara let out a dry chuckle, causing you to raise your eyebrows as you looked at her.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Ms. Carpenter?” You quipped, looking up from your papers and at her. 

“Oh nothing…just that you’ve been missing a lot of study sessions lately and–”

“I wouldn’t call two a lot–”

“–and I don’t know why I have to suffer through extra work all because you wanna swap spit.”

You let out a dry laugh, looking at the younger Carpenter before realizing she was dead serious. 

“Oh—Oh you’re serious? Well, how about those two whole weeks you missed over some petty reason—I don't know what the reasoning was, but I know for a fact it was a hundred percent petty.”

“You know what, screw these notes,” Tara said before grabbing your binder from you.

“Hey—Hey! Wait just a minute there—what are you–?”

“We’re watching a movie,” she informed—not asking—after shutting your binder, putting it somewhere you couldn’t reach unless you stood up and walked to it. 

“We're a week and a half behind on study sessions.”

“Not my problem.”

“It’s literally your problem—our problem, actually.”

“Gosh, could you just not stress out for, like, two seconds? You’ll be fine. Now, a little birdy told me you like The Nightmare Before Christmas?” Tara told you, reaching for the remote.

“Yeah… I do.”

“Great. We’ll watch that.”

You didn’t need to know how boring she found the movie; she wasn’t looking at the screen much anyways.

—

Sam sat in her room, reading her book as she enjoyed the silence—wait. It’s silent. Why is it so quiet? It’s never so quiet when you’re over. The most she’s heard in the last thirty minutes were hushed voices, but nothing loud enough she could make out. She suddenly started to think about what could possibly be going on in the other—unsupervised—room. She could no longer concentrate on her book as her protective side took over.

You slightly leaned forward as you watched the screen with all your attention. Tara couldn’t help but wear a small smile when she noticed your intense focus. She pulled out of her gaze when she noticed you make a double take at your foot; just then, she saw a certain furry haired animal brushing up against your leg. 

To her surprise, Dook didn’t claw at you. As a matter of fact, he seemed…fond of you? 

“Hello, there…” You greeted Dook before gently picking him up. If anybody else had picked him up, they would’ve been clawed at in seconds. Tara furrowed her eyebrows as she watched you interact with her cat; the same cat who’s been an absolute ass to anybody who wasn’t her—well, before now.

You scratched him behind his left ear, causing him to let out a satisfied purr. It was then when you finally said something to Tara. “Since when did you have a cat?”

“Got him pretty recently, actually. He was just roaming the streets of Manhattan and had no collar so that’s how he ended up here.”

“Well, does this adorable face have a name?” You asked, looking at the cat as you complimented him.

Tara failed to fight another smile, showing off her dimples as she answered, “His name’s Dook.”

“Like, Babadook?”

“Yeah…” She watched as you continued to be sweet with Dook; he sat comfortably in your lap, looking a lot less grumpy than he usually is.

Suddenly, Sam abruptly enters the living room, causing Dook to hiss at her before moving back into his original position on your lap. 

“Sam, hey. Something wrong?” Tara asked her older sister.

“Uh, I just wanted to check up on you guys; it’s been pretty quiet.”

“Oh, yeah, we decided to watch a movie instead.”

Sam looked at the scene, recognizing the movie—her curiosity increased.

“Nightmare Before Christmas? But I thought you–”

“Have no harsh judgment regarding the movie? Yeah. I know.”

“No, I mean, don’t you find it really bor–”

“Entertaining? Yes, Sam. We know this.” Tara let out a dry cough, hoping Sam would just drop the topic all together.

“Okay…well I’m going to order some pizza. Are you staying over for dinner, Y/N?” Sam inquired, moving on, much to Tara’s relief. 

You looked at the time, thinking as you did, before looking at Sam from where you sat. “If it’s no trouble.”

“Of course not. I’ll order it right now,” she said before walking away, pulling out her phone as she did so.

“What was that about?” You asked Tara with a raised eyebrow, referring to what her and Sam were going back and forth about. 

Tara opened her mouth, not even sure what she was about to say, when she heard someone knocking. “Oh, I should probably get that,” Tara quickly got up to make her way to the door, relieved at being excused from answering.

“What are you guys doing here?” She immediately asked after opening the door to find Chad, Mindy, Anika and Ethan on the other side of the door.

“Good to see you too, T,” Mindy quipped.

Tara rolled her eyes, “I just mean, I wasn’t expecting you guys today.”

“We made plans last week for movie night.”

“And since it’s my turn to choose, we’re watching 10 Things I Hate About You,” Anika added in a cheery tone. 

“Um,” Tara looked over her shoulder to you, before looking back at her friends, “One second.” 

“Wait, who were you loo–” Before Chad could finish his question, Tara shut the door, making her way towards you.

“So, uh–”

“Heard the whole thing.”

Tara lightly nodded, holding her wrist in her other hand behind her back as she continued. “Does this mean… you’re going to go?” 

You were about to say yes but the words caught in your throat when you finally looked at the expression Tara wore.

You thought for a moment, putting down the bag you were just packing.

“Do you want me to?”

“Well…want’s a strong word–”

“Yes or no, Tara,” you said, looking at her.

Tara mumbled something incoherent, looking away from your gaze. 

“You’re gonna have to speak up, mumbles,” you teased the younger Carpenter.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “I wan—I want you to stay. Happy?” She huffed, not even sure why she puts up with you.

You smile smugly at her, “Fine. ‘Guess I’m staying.” 

—

It was awkward—at least, for you, it was. Tara and her friends seemed to get each other, which is great for them, but you felt almost like a chaperone the entire time you were there. You tried to distance yourself as much as possible and when you did find yourself surrounded by the group of friends, you stuck by Anika. 

You always found yourself gravitating toward a familiar presence whenever you got caught in social situations like this. You spent most of your own fourteenth birthday party—that you didn’t even want—attached to Henry’s side, following him around like a puppy. You often stuck by people who you found comfort in. You’ve known Henry since daycare years and Anika has been there since she’s entered your life. 

You look at the time to see only an hour has passed as you sigh to yourself. Why were you here again?

“Hey,” you heard Tara say, opening her bedroom door to find you on her bed.

Oh, that’s why. 

“Hey.”

“You’re not enjoying yourself,” she said as a matter of fact, feeling a little defeated for some reason.

“Hm? Oh no—no this is, uh, great. Yeah, I just love hearing about the same football story over and over again while your curly haired friend continues to make passes at me…so fun,” your voice couldn’t be any more sarcastic. It started out as you wanting to lie, telling her it was going alright—truly! But you can’t help but be your usual sarcastic self, especially around Tara. 

“You’re having the worst time ever, aren’t you?”

You looked at her apologetic expression, exhaling as you adjusted your posture a bit. Tara walks over to sit across from you. 

“Look…Tar, it’s nothing personal. I’m just—I’m just not good with this stuff.”

“What do you mean?” Tara inquired genuinely.

You sighed, pressing down on your thumbnail with your index finger as you spoke. “I’m not good with…unfamiliarity I guess, or whatever. And—and socializing and all that shit just doesn’t come naturally to me—at least not like it does for people like Anika, and Chad—or you.”

Tara continued to listen to your words, giving you her full attention as you opened up to her. You blinked back at Tara, feeling like you just overshared far too much.

“This was stupid. Forget it.” You got up to leave but just as you reached for the door handle, you felt slender fingers wrap themselves around your wrist.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard Tara speak. You turned your head to look at her. “If you ever want to talk about it more… I’m here. That won’t change.” 

You swallowed, taking in Tara’s words as you processed what she was saying. You didn’t trust your voice, only settling for a light nod before leaving Tara’s bedroom.

By the time Tara also left—waiting a couple minutes, wanting to give you some time—you had already made your escape. 

When you got home that night, the feeling of dread took over you. It felt like there was barbed wire wrapped around your throat as you tried your hardest not to cry, because you knew if you did there was a chance you’d never stop. Memories of him flashed through your mind as you tried to shake them away, but it was no use. No matter how much you tried to escape it, Dewey's voice continued to ring in your head.

Dewey placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking at you with  genuine eyes as he spoke, “I’m here. That won’t change.”

—

Tara looked around with furrowed eyebrows, looking at the sea of people. She was currently at a Halloween frat party; she chose to go with a pirate costume this year. 

Tara was feeling indecisive about her costume this Halloween but then she got the idea when she remembered something you told her; for your first seven Halloweens, your mom had you dressed up as a pirate. Tara could tell you would not be wearing a pirate costume again any time soon.

Because of your high-sea past, Tara thought dressing up as a pirate would be a fun way to mess with you—well, if you were actually here. You were nowhere in sight. Tara squinted her eyes as she tried looking through the crowd—still no sign of you. 

Mindy noticed her friend looking around the room from her seat, which was odd. By this time Tara would be drinking, dancing, or even playing beer pong with Chad—but not sitting down.

Before Mindy could ask anything, Tara turned to Anika, asking her something that answered Mindy’s unspoken question.

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Tara asked, her voice was slightly raised due to the blaring music. 

“At home. She couldn't—or rather refused to make it,” Anika answered the younger Carpenter.

“Oh,” Tara let out, turning to look ahead. 

Mindy and Anika glanced at each other, already being on the same page. “Why? Missed her?” Mindy inquired, smirking behind her beer bottle right before taking a sip.

Tara lightly scoffed, “Pfft no.” Tara dramatically rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“Y/N?” Tara heard Anika say; she immediately sat up, uncrossing her arms and fixing her demeanor. Her expression instantly dropped when she saw who you were with. 

She did not know much about Charlotte. She seemed nice though. Nice enough. Tara heard from Anika that you’ve been “hanging out” with Charlotte for a few weeks now but haven’t exactly assigned labels yet. That made sense; you were never one for labels. 

She suddenly snapped out of her gaze when she realized you and Charlotte were walking towards them. 

“Hey, guys,” you said in an anything but enthusiastic tone.

“Hey, Y/N. Thought you weren’t coming,” Anika pointed out, not unkindly.

“Me too but this one,” you pointed with your thumb to Charlotte, “is quite the debater.”

“I was captain of the debate team back in high school,” Charlotte smirked. 

“Of course you were,” there was a slight teasing tone in your voice as you and Charlotte shared a look. Tara didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all. You teased her. You gave her looks nobody else knew the meaning behind except you two.

Tara cleared her throat, causing you and Charlotte to look away from each other and at her. “So, you're gonna actually act like you’re here as a college student or a chaperone?” Tara joked and a small but soft smile grazed your face. 

“The night’s still young, Carpenter,” you replied, the smile she had been missing never faltering.

“Oh! Daisy’s here, I’m going to say hi. Catch you later?” You heard Charlotte speak from beside you. 

You looked over at her and lightly nodded, “Okay.” She placed a quick kiss on your cheek, catching you off guard, before going to her friend. 

You sat down in the seat between Tara and Anika—who was sitting in Mindy’s lap—and exhaled, already exhausted from being here.

“You’ve got,” Anika said, pointing to your cheek where there was a lipstick stain. You raised your left hand to your right cheek as your roommate shook her head.

“No the other—” You, once again, completely dodged the spot she was pointing at and Tara groaned.

“Dude, you’re helpless,” she said with an eye roll before reaching over and wiping the spot for you. She softly rubbed your left cheek as you looked at her. It didn’t take long for you to notice how close her face was to yours.

“There…” Tara trailed off, suddenly growing shy when she too realized how close her face was to yours.

Mindy and Anika look at each other before getting up. “We’re gonna dance. You kids behave,” Mindy said before walking away with her arm wrapped around Anika. 

“Let me guess… you’re a homicidal maniac?” She looked at your casual attire.

You smiled at her, tilting your head back and turning it to look at her, “You know me too well.”

You both shared a short laugh before it went silent again. Suddenly, you two realized this is the first you’ve both spoken to each other since that night at Tara’s place.

“Hey, so, uh, you didn’t say goodbye…” Tara said sheepishly, refusing to meet your gaze as she played with the hem of her costume. She didn’t have to specify what she was talking about, you just knew.

“Oh yeah, I was just tired so I decided to call it a night.”

Tara nodded understandingly as you looked down at her hands that toyed with the fabric of her costume. 

“So…was this,” you gestured to her costume, “planned or…? You both laughed again before she answered you.

“Course’ not. I just…happened to have decided on being a pirate a couple days after you told me your ‘first seven years of dread’ story.” Another laugh was shared between you two.

“Well, you look good,” you complimented. Tara couldn’t fight the heat that rushed to her cheeks as the compliment hit her ears. She was about to respond when suddenly you felt your phone vibrate.

You pulled out your phone, reading the text to yourself before putting it back in your pocket.

“It’s Charlotte, she wants me to meet her by the pool.”

“Oh. Yeah, totally.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, princess.” You smiled at her as you sat up from your seat, Tara’s head tracked your movement. 

“Me? I would never.”

—

One thing. 

You asked her for one, very simple, thing. And now? Now, Mindy and Anika were calling you back inside because apparently Tara had the luck of being near Frankie of all people tonight. 

By the time you made your way inside—as quickly as you possibly could—you could see Chad also trying to stop the situation. You made your way over to the staircase, appearing from behind Chad.

“Let’s stay down here,” you said—not asking. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Frankie said, causing you to let out a humorless chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did,” you remarked, feeling your hands start to ball up into tight fists. Before you could say anything else, Tara walks down a couple steps and is now standing in front of you as Chad keeps a careful eye on Frankie. “No, Y/N it’s fine. I want you,” you heard her say in a drunken voice. Far too drunk to consent. 

Frankie walks down, getting close to your face as he wears a disgusting grin. “Yeah, see Y/N? It’s fine. She wants to.” He turned around, roughly grabbing Tara’s arm. His grip causes Tara to let out a sound of pain, tripping on the stairs.

Without a second thought you pull him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him roughly against the wall; picture frames come crashing down but don’t give them a second look as hear glass shatter. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You pushed your right arm harder against his throat, pinning him against the wall as your free hand tightly gripped his shirt. “Serousily, where the fuck do you get off!” 

Chad checked on Tara as you had Frankie pinned to the wall. You wanted to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him so bad. What was stopping you? You could do it. You look down at the shards of glass, itching to grab a piece. Suddenly, you saw that sinister smile. His sinister smile. That’s why you couldn’t.

But when you looked back at Frankie, you quickly forgot about everything that was stopping you. All you had to do was press into his throat a little harder and–

“I got it from here, Y/N.” You turned around to see Sam holding a taser. You immediately got the hint, getting off of Frankie.

“Hi! Sorry to interrupt, I'm just going to tase you really quick,” Sam said before tasing Frankie right in the crotch.

“Fuck!” He dropped to his knees, holding onto his stomach as he groaned in pain.

“You bitch!” He yelled, earning a swift kick between his legs—making the pain worse—from you.

“Watch your mouth,” you said before making your way towards Tara. “You okay?”

“It’s that psycho girl from reddit!” Someone shouted from the crowd that surrounded you. 

“Hey, don’t you have something better to do rather than stand around here all day?” Anika shouted at the crowd as Mindy shooed them away.

—

Tara walks ahead of the group as she feels her frustration take over. Sam tries to catch up to her as she calls for her, “Tara, will you stop!” Tara rolls her eyes, refusing to stop as she responds. “I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!” 

“I was trying to help you!” 

Tara suddenly turns around, “And look what happened!” Her voice raises as it runs hot with anger. “You're out of my life for five years then you can't even leave me alone for five seconds,” Tara shouts with a throw of her arms. 

“Because you're not dealing with what happened to us. Have you ever gone to see the counselor at least once?”

You looked at Tara, studying every expression she wore on her face. You wanted her to be okay. You knew it wasn’t that simple, but you still couldn’t help but want it. You hated seeing her like this. You never liked seeing her like this.

You checked up on her when she was at the hospital, relieved she was asleep when you got there. You didn’t want her to think it meant anything. You were just making sure she still had a pulse. Who else would you get into fights with?  That’s what you told yourself, 'cause it’s true! You weren't overly concerned or anything. But it was the bare minimum amount of concern to have when you found out somebody you knew was recently used as somebody else's pin cushion. 

She’s Tara Carpenter, she’ll bounce back in no time, you told yourself. You can still remember the shock on all her friends' faces when they saw you sitting by her hospital bedside. They entered the room and when you saw them, you immediately stood up.

“Sorry, I just found out about what happened and wanted to check on her.” You put your hands in your pocket, feeling uncomfortable with the eyes on you. You couldn’t tell what was going through their heads. “But she’s breathing, so I’ll get going now.” When you’re about to walk out the door, Chad puts his hand on your shoulder which causes you to stop. Was he about to punch you? “You’re welcome to stay, dude.” Oh. 

You were welcome to stay. Did you want to? 

You shook your head,“No, it’s okay. You guys should spend your time with her—unbothered.” You said before walking out of the hospital, not waiting for a response.

Maybe you cared little more than you’d ever admit.

You snap out of your thoughts as you hear Tara’s voice again.

“Because I know what mine is—I’m going to get my degree, become a lawyer, and live my life, my life,” Tara’s voice was firm. Certain. 

—

Two soft knocks could be heard from the other side of the door. Tara was about to tell whoever it was to go away, but then she realized who those knocks belonged to.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” you greeted, carrying a bottle of ibuprofen and a cup of water.  

“Hey,” she replied, head tracking your movement as you put the items down and got closer to where she sat at the edge of her bed. 

“Mind if I…” You gestured to the open spot next to her and she patted it. You sat down, knees touching hers as you looked down at your hands that rested in your lap. Tara’s gaze from you only broke when she felt the feeling of embarrassment all over again.

You noticed a change in her demeanor, causing you to finally glance at her. “I don’t think she meant for to…make you feel embarrassed or anything,” you tried to comfort. You were never good at this kind of stuff. 

“I know… I just—I just completely embarrassed myself out there. You guys probably think a lot less of me now…”

You lightly nudge her shoulder, getting her to look at you again. “Hey, no, okay? We just wanna make sure you're safe,” your facial expression matched your honest tone as you spoke. 

Tara turned her head away, a smirk slowly growing on her face. She turned back to look at you, ignoring how close your faces were. “We?” 

You rolled your eyes as Tara kept hers on you, smirk never falling. “Don’t let it get to that big ass ego of yours.”

“Aww, you caree about me,” Tara teased. You felt your cheeks warm up as you grew flustered.

“I care about you the—bare minimum amount,” you said unconvincingly. 

Tara shoved you a bit, “Liar.”

You shoved her back, “Most honest person you’ll ever meet.” 

Tara shoved you back again. “Liar.”

“Oh, you really wanna play this game?” You inquired, turning your head to her. 

Tara still smirked as she responded, “I could do this all night.”

Your faces were, once again, inches apart. Tara’s eye line meets your lips as tension builds in the room. Then suddenly the door opens, causing you and Tara to pull apart.

“Oops, sorry I didn’t mean to cock block you,” Quinn said as you and Tara silently cringed.

“Please...don't say cock," Tara said while slightly grimacing.

Quinn shrugged then looked at you. “Don’t believe we’ve officially met. I’m Quinn,” she held out her hand. You glanced at Tara before accepting the red head’s hand. 

“I’m–”

“Y/N? Yeah, I’ve heard lots about you.” You couldn’t tell what that could’ve meant, not noticing the shared look between Quinn and Tara.

“Don’t you have, like, a guy to see or something?” Tara asked, trying to get Quinn out of here as soon as possible.

“Well, Tara’s right, I should get going,” Quinn said, immediately getting the hint. “See you around, Y/N,” she winked at you.

“That was…” You trailed off, not able to meet Tara’s gaze.

“Embarrassing? Oh, extremely.” 

—

“Is Tara okay?” Charlotte asked over the phone. You held your phone to your ear as you grabbed a box of leftover pizza from the fridge with one arm.

“She will be…” You thought about the younger Carpenter as you spoke.

“I’m glad.” There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “I uh… didn’t know you could fight like that.”

“What do you mean?” You placed the box on the table, sitting down.

“You had Frankie pinned. A man with his frame and build was completely defenseless under your hands. It was impressive,” her last words came with a flirty tone. 

“Oh, yeah?” You decided to match her tone.

“Yeah… Do you want to come over tomorrow? My roommate's visiting his boyfriend so I’ll be pretty lonely—some company would be nice."

You bit your bottom lip, thinking as you looked at your calendar. “Yeah—yeah, that works. What time should I stop by?”

“Six good?”

You looked at your calendar again.

“Can’t do six…” You said, looking at Tara’s name on your calendar. “How about eight?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, super soldier.” 

You let out a light laugh, “Yeah, yeah. See you then.”

—

Tara was on the phone with Mindy, intensely debating over American Psycho, when she heard a couple knocks on the door. 

She got up from the couch as she said goodbye to Mindy, hanging up. She opened the door to see you standing there with your bag on your shoulder. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Tara realized it had been a full ten seconds since she opened the door. She moved to let you inside, and you sat in your usual spot. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Tara inquired as she sat, hugging her knees.

“He didn’t really give us much to work with on Friday so, uh, just whatever we missed last time,” you said, not even looking at her as you looked around your stuff.

“Looking for something?”

“Yeah my pen. It was here five seconds ago–”

“This pen?” Tara said, pulling something from behind your ear. You looked at her and realized she was holding your pen. She hands it to you as you let out a timid chuckle, embarrassed at your lack of attention.

“Are you…alright?” She asked, looking at your features as you spoke.

“It’s just exams and stuff. I’ve kind of been all over the place trying to prepare—but that’s why I’m here. To study. So let’s begin,” you pull out your binder, flipping to the right folder.

Tara hesitantly followed along, keeping an eye on you. 

After an hour and a half, you looked at the time and silently cursed as you got up and gathered your things.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I’m meeting Charlotte around eight. So, I gotta get going,” you packed everything, racking your brain for anything else you could be forgetting. 

“Oh..okay…”

You turned to look at Tara, “What is it?”

She cleared her throat, slightly shaking her head. “Nothing, have fun—oh, and don’t forget your pen,” she dismissed as she held up said pen to you. 

You wear an embarrassed tight lipped smile, slowly taking the pen from her. “Thanks,” you put the pen in your bag before zippering it up.

“Uh, hey,” you heard Tara call out.

You stopped your movement, turning back to Tara. “See you later?” 

You lightly nodded, a small smile on your face. “Of course.”

—

Tara found herself blasting Lana Del Rey as she wore a pout. Why was she wearing a pout? She had no idea. It was just there, and for some reason she was in a sour mood. She also knew she despised you. Possibly more than she did before; she was just starting to adjust then you had to go and make things even more confusing for her. 

Tara Looked at her seeing as she laid in her bed, petting Dook who rested beside her. She suddenly remembered the beer in the fridge. 

Sam was in therapy, Quinn was seeing another one of her hookups—what’s the harm?

Five beer cans later and she was more than buzzed. The urge to call you was getting harder and harder to resist with each can. She knew she shouldn’t, but she just couldn’t stop herself from opening your contact. 

“Tara?” You asked, confused as to why she’s calling you so randomly.

“Y/NN,” she slurred into the phone. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

“I—uh, where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” She said, followed by a hiccup.

“I’m coming over.”

—

You knocked two times; you could hear Tara struggling with the door knob from the other side before finally opening it.

“What are you doing here?” Tara inquired with a raised eyebrow. It seemed she forgot about your call from just ten minutes ago.

“Goodness, you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk.”

“Oh, yeah? Then tell the time,” you crossed your arms as you looked at her. She turned to the nearby clock, “I am not drunk!” She literally told it.

“Jesus,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you walked over to her but then unexpectedly felt a shove to your chest.

“I don’t—I don’t need your help.” 

You exhaled, knowing all too well about the venomous look she wore. “You don’t mean that, come on.”

“I do! I don’t even want you here,” she slurred as she shoved your chest again.

“Too bad then. Cause’ I’m not leaving you like this.”

Tara had used up all the energy she had left to shove you, so she couldn’t even fight you off as you tried to walk her to her bedroom.

“Fuck you,” she gritted. 

“I know.” 

“No. You don’t know!” Tara yelled. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor,” she continued as you looked down at her. “I’m not a princess who has to be saved all the time.”

“Come on, I know you’re no–”

“This is what you do,” she pulled her arm away from you, “you just swoop in when everything’s fine and completely ruin shit. You think you’re pleasant to be around? Just when I think I have my life figured out, you have to come in and ruin it,” Tara spoke with pure conviction, no slurring in her voice.

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

She let out a dry laugh before saying, “When do you ever.” 

“You’re drunk, Tara… Please just let me get you to bed so you don't say anything else you’ll regret in the morning.”

“I don’t regret anything—and I’ll bring my own ass to bed.”

“Okay,” you softly said. You watched as she walked down the hall and to her bedroom. You waited a few minutes, getting the ibuprofen and water ready, before entering her bedroom carefully. Just as suspected, she was already asleep. You silently place the medicine and water on her nightstand before looking at her resting demeanor. 

Oh Tara, what am I gonna do with you?

-----------

A/N: I 100% know you guys aren't expecting the family member reveal I'm gonna do for R at some point (clues are scattered...)

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax @andsoigotabutterfly

movie night viii

Summary: Tara finally starts to believe that it's possible to heal and move on.

Word Count: 6k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, Scream typical violence, scars, trauma Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

It had become apparent to Tara over the past two months that you were impossible to deal with.

She knew she couldn’t be too frustrated with you. After all, your nonstop talking had been put to a halt by whatever injuries had been inflicted upon you. The frustration was evident in your eyes when you would try to write down a response to something before the topic changed. More often than not, you never got a word in.

And, Tara would admit, she felt for you. Not only had your regular life been turned upside down because you couldn’t bicker back and forth with your family, but now? Now you had to deal with the fallout of Ghostface. A fallout that not even she and Sam had gotten over, and their initial attack was over a year ago. She distinctly remembered her own feelings immediately after, and now you had to deal with those feelings without even being able to tell anyone about it.

You tried. God, Tara knew you tried. You would do your best to write how you felt, or even draw a picture, little kid style. But it never worked, and you got more frustrated than she did about the whole thing. You would get irritated and storm off, locking yourself in the bathroom for hours at a time on bad days.

There were days Tara tried to help you act like everything was normal. Yes, you still had wounds you were recovering from, but she tried to act like nothing had happened. Putting on your favourite movies, playing your favourite scores when cooking, whatever she could think of. During late nights of studying or working, she would make sure to leave plenty of kisses on your cheek, the top of your head, your hands, everywhere she could reach.

She didn’t know what you two were exactly, but she tried.

It didn’t stop you from hiding away from her. Mercy had told her to help you change your bandages, especially before you had the stitches taken out. Yet every time she offered, you quickly shut yourself away and didn’t come back until everything had already been cleaned and changed. It made her feel like you didn’t want her around, like you didn’t want her help. Tara knew that wasn’t the case, but it very much felt like it.

The only thing you let her help with was cleaning all the damage from the gunshot. The gunshot that Gale still couldn’t talk about, and that you pretended didn’t exist. Hell, if Tara and Sam didn’t practically force you to let them take care of it, you would’ve let it fester. All in all, Tara felt utterly and completely useless.

“Give ‘em time,” Martha had said one night while you were all at your parents’ house for dinner. “They’re a bit too proud to accept help.”

And she was right. You didn’t ask for help. Not even when you started dragging Tara with you to your last appointment with Mercy. She knew it was about time for you to remove the bandages once and for all, but after how you had hidden from her? Well, even Sam agreed it was fair to assume you wouldn’t be bringing company. But then you had practically refused to let go of her hand the entire trip, and Tara was more than happy to stay.

“You sure you want Pipsqueak here?” Mercy asked. The wink eased the slight annoyance bubbling in Tara’s chest.

Your eyes darted to the side before you nodded slowly.

“Then here we go,” Mercy said.

Tara tried not to stare, she really did. After all this time, she knew it would be a sensitive topic for a while. But she hadn’t seen your smile in weeks. She hadn’t been able to see your crooked, toothy grin after a battle of wits with your family. There had been no closed-mouth smile when your favourite movie score surged through the speakers.

You hadn’t even been able to kiss her.

Okay, that last reason was a little selfish, but Tara didn’t really care. She had been through hell and back not once, but twice. Her first real girlfriend had tried to kill her before then attempting to kill her sister and Sidney fucking Prescott. If anyone deserved to be a little selfish, it was her.

At least that’s what she told herself as she tried to keep her eyes off of the slightest glimpse of scar tissue. Don’t humiliate them, she thought to herself as she waited patiently - or not so patiently - for you to turn around. The small smile on Mercy’s face when she tossed the bandages was comforting.

“See?” Mercy said. “Still as fetching as ever.”

Tara didn’t have to see your face to know the exact look you were giving Mercy. Judging by the set of your shoulders, you were giving her your best, most unimpressed look that you could muster. Complete with a downturn of your mouth and a single raised brow that was convincing enough to get even Sam to hush at least once.

“Don’t give me that look,” Mercy said, confirming what Tara already knew, “I’m sure your little girlfriend would agree too.”

Now that. That had your entire body stiffening almost painfully. There was an instant, immediate tension in your back. Tara knew if she simply walked forward and touched you, there would be nothing but the hard surface of muscles that wouldn’t, or couldn’t, react.

Would you ever be okay with her seeing you again? She hoped this was temporary but… what if it wasn’t? What if you realised all of this was too much and she wasn’t worth it? Tara had only truly had you for a short time, she couldn’t lose you to Ghostface. He had taken too much from her already.

“I’ll leave you two for a bit while I finish your paperwork,” Mercy said with a smile that was directed at Tara.

She left the room swiftly, leaving you and Tara alone. It wasn’t the first time she had been left alone with you since the incident. But it was the first time she had been left alone with you without the bandages as a barrier. She wanted to see you, to see what carnage you had endured for the simple sake of keeping people safe. Did you know that just the fact you had done all of this for everyone else made her feel so uncomfortably warm that she wanted to scream just to feel something different?

“Do they hurt?” Tara asked after a little too much awkward silence. Her footsteps were the only thing echoing through the room as she stepped closer. Hopefully not too close to make you uncomfortable.

She heard your squeaky attempt at speaking. In any other situation, she would have laughed first. Teased you, “just now going through puberty?” Part of her wished she could tease you about it; at least that would mean you were okay and back to normal. You cleared your throat.

“Not much.” 

The first words Tara had heard you say since she had bid you goodbye outside the abandoned movie theatre. Your voice was weak, croaky, almost even painful sounding. But it was you, and the fluttering in Tara’s chest had her trying to catch her breath.

Just her luck, she had left her inhaler at your apartment.

“What are you thinking?” Tara asked when you stayed silent and still didn’t turn around.

“I think,” she heard you exhale. “I think I’m nervous.”

Nervous. A feeling Tara knew all too well even if she managed to hide it. It wasn’t something one could just look past, not when the underlying cause was Ghostface. What would other people think? Would they look at you and see nothing more than scars and trauma? It sat in the pit of your stomach, festering until you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ball as the world passed you by.

But it was also a feeling that she had managed to keep under control when you were around. Even before Ghostface. She would never have admitted it, of course, but you always made her forget, even momentarily, about all the scars, and trauma, and insecurities left behind. You had made her feel like just a normal kid again.

Wait. That gave her an idea.

“Remember that first date in my apartment?” She asked, stepping a little closer. Not in front of you, not yet, but behind you so she could brush her fingers against the back of your arm.

You shivered.

“When Sam walked in on us?” You asked. It almost sounded like you were smiling.

“No,” Tara said with a huff, “when you cooked and pretended to watch Pearl with me.”

“Oh.” You nodded your head slowly. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Remember what you said to me?” She asked. She inched closer and slid her hand up, resting both on your neck as gently as she could. “On the couch?”

You sighed heavily. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Do you trust me?” 

There was a moment of hesitation, and Tara’s mind started running through every possible way to backtrack and act like this hadn’t even happened. But then you nodded slowly, once. It was like all the pressure around her heart lessened and she could breathe, at least for the moment.

“Then close your eyes.”

Tara couldn’t see your face from her current position, but she gave you more than enough time to close your eyes. Only when your shoulders relaxed under her hands did she try to shake the thoughts out of her head and maneuver herself until she was standing in front of you.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting. Maybe some deep, horrific, dark scarring that covered your entire face. For all she knew, maybe you didn’t even have a bottom jaw anymore. Each thought that crossed her mind was worse than the last. What she saw, the fresh scars stretching from the corners of your mouth to the middle of your cheeks? It wasn’t as gruesome as she was expecting.

That didn’t mean her heart didn’t break inside her chest at the sight of the still-irritated skin. Underneath her fingers, your pulse raced; she understood that too. Slowly, gently, she let her hands move up your neck, feeling every inch of skin she could. If she really focused, she could almost feel your trembling. Her hands stopped their short journey when they cupped your jaws, holding you carefully even though she was still worried you would break.

How could she possibly convince you that the scars changed nothing about how she felt? You were still hers. Someone she would trust with her life. That she had trusted with her life. How she admired you for staying with her even through the literal threat of death? That she was in- that she admired you so?

There was only one thing that she could think of that would possibly convey everything she was feeling. Tara exhaled slowly before she leaned forward and ghosted her lips over yours. You stiffened under her hands, but she didn’t move. She wanted so desperately to kiss you until you couldn’t think, but you had to make the final move.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. It tickled her cheek. But then you relaxed, and your hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer until you could return the kiss. Genuine, almost hungry, like you were letting out all the pent up emotions from the past six weeks. Like you were trying to convey everything you hadn’t been able to say.

“Don’t fuck in my office,” Mercy said, appearing almost out of nowhere.

Tara jumped, but your grip on her waist stayed firm. She quickly hid her head in the crook of your neck when you turned to face Mercy to do… well, honestly, you probably flipped her off. If Tara knew anything about you, it was that you would jump at any opportunity to harass your siblings, and now? Oh, now you had free reign again.

“Told you she’d still like you,” she heard Mercy said.

You simply pulled Tara closer.

—---

“What happened to your back?” Tara asked.

You froze with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. There was a single speck of toothpaste on the corner of your mouth, and she wanted to reach forward and brush it away, but she knew the scars were still sensitive. Thankfully, you did it yourself and licked it off. Which then left more toothpaste, but she wasn’t going to mention it.

“You said only girlfriends got to know that information,” she continued, “and I’m very much a girlfriend now.”

“Are you?” You asked. That stupid smile gave you away, but she made sure to elbow you in the side for extra measure.

“Your side bitches don’t count,” Tara said. “They’re not girlfriends.”

“I can barely keep up with you,” you chuckled, “how am I supposed to keep up with multiple?”

“We’re getting nowhere,” she mumbled before continuing to brush her teeth.

Your body shook with silent laughter, but you otherwise stayed silent. It was a peaceful evening routine that you both knew not to interrupt. Tara did everything she needed to, you almost did more than her, and it was nice. Comforting, even. You both moved around the small bathroom in sync, never getting in the other’s way. Something that, surprisingly, hadn’t taken long to achieve.

But the question kept nagging her.

“Tell me what happened to your back,” Tara demanded again even as she crawled into bed beside you.

You lifted your book just high enough for her to wrap an arm around your waist, being careful not to jostle you too much. As much as you claimed the mostly-healed injuries didn’t hurt, she knew better. Especially when you flinched when she got too close to the scars.

“You really wanna know?” You asked without taking your eyes off the page.

“No, I’m asking because it’s funny,” Tara said with a huff. “Yes I want to know.”

“You’re so aggressive,” you said. Tara wasn’t looking up at you either, but she heard you putting the book down. “It’s not even that exciting.”

“I don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “I just want to know now.”

“It was just a meet-up gone bad,” you said. Your hand rested on top of hers; it was warm. “I followed Martha to meet a client who turned out to be a narc.”

“And you got shot,” Tara mumbled to herself.

“I’ll admit,” you continued, “I don’t think he meant to actually hit me.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’d be committing career suicide,” you chuckled. “No one survives shooting a 10 year old.”

Tara didn’t find it as funny. In fact, she didn’t find it funny at all. You were a child; hadn’t even hit puberty yet. And you had already been making runs with your family? She knew your family, there was no way in hell they had known you were following. They weren’t stupid, they took everyone’s safety seriously. If Martha had known you were following, she wouldn’t have continued.

You were young, you could have died. Did you ever stop to think about that on those nights when you were uncharacteristically quiet? Did it ever haunt you that just one wrong decision, one case of curiosity had nearly gotten you killed? Because it would haunt her. It would haunt her until the day she died that she could have missed out on having you around, simply because you had been curious.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you said as you pulled her closer into your side.

It didn’t matter. The scar hurting now didn’t matter because it had happened anyway. You had gotten hurt anyway. She could feel you moving with each breath, but you almost hadn’t had that. You were alive now but what if?

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” you said softly. She felt you kiss her forehead and closed her eyes. “I promise.”

That was a rather bold promise to make. Especially because she wouldn’t let you go anywhere even if you wanted to. You were hers, and she was yours, and nothing was ever going to take that away from her. Not again.

—---

“They got blood on my new shirt,” you whined for what was probably the 10th time since you had started the walk from your apartment to Sam’s.

“I told you not to wear it to work,” Tara said even as she smiled at your ridiculousness.

She knew you had known better, because she had gotten you the shirt. A fresh, pastel pink button up that looked rather stunning on you. But you had decided to wear it to work because “I don’t want to come home and change,” and what happened? Dicky got you into a scrap and now you had blood on the cuffs.

“It was Dicky’s fault,” you mumbled. “I had it handled before he butted in.”

“I’m sure you did,” Tara said, reaching over to grab your hand in a half-hearted attempt to stop you from fidgeting with the cuff of your left sleeve.

The rest of the walk was spent in a comfortable silence. You kept squeezing her hand, pulling her this way and that to keep her out of the way of most pedestrians. Granted, it helped that everyone gave you both a wide berth; your scary dog privileges had increased tenfold thanks to the scars. At least it gave you a bit more confidence in them.

“So,” you said as you knocked on Sam’s door three times. Always three. “Who is this new boo?”

“Someone from back home,” Tara said with a shrug. “I think they went to school together?”

“Sounds suspicious,” you said with a frown and your arms crossed over your chest. “Sure they can be trusted?”

“Without a doubt,” Tara said.

You hummed in reply before the door opened. Sam gave you the most polite smile she could muster before pulling Tara into a hug. If she heard your grumbling complaint, she didn’t say anything. But that was okay, because Tara got a little tighter squeeze before she backed away.

“Give us one second,” Sam said.

“We’re gonna be late,” you called through the door that Sam had left open. “If Ma interrogates us, I’m throwing you under the-,” you froze when they both came back. “-hey!”

You pointed directly at Kirby, brows furrowed and your mouth practically hanging open. Tara couldn’t tell if you were surprised, angry, excited, anything. She just knew you were feeling something. At least until Kirby smirked at you as she pulled her jacket on, and your expression turned into a pure frown.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” You asked, your accent coming out in earnest. “You can’t come.”

“Yes she can,” Sam said as she ushered everyone out of the apartment and locked the door. “You already said we’re late.”

“How you doin’, Vitale?” Kirby asked.

“You better put that badge away, Reed,” you said. Tara felt your hand grab hers and give it three squeezes. “This is a family dinner.”

“This is pleasure, not business,” Kirby said as she similarly took hold of Sam’s hand. “If you ignore the badge, I’ll ignore the blood on your sleeve.”

“I really liked this shirt…”

Tara tried not to laugh as you looked down at your sleeve, that frustration instantly transforming into upset. You chewed on your bottom lip until you were all back on the street. But you regained your composure quickly and pulled Tara forward until you could lead the way.

Everyone was, quite frankly, glad that you were leading the way. Sure, Tara and Sam had been to your family’s house a few times, but that didn’t mean they could tell anyone how to get there. Which was probably due to the fact that you took them in a different direction every. Single. Time.

“You are a guest,” you said when you finally marched up the steps of an indiscriminate brownstone. “Everything said in this house is sacred.”

“I’m not here to learn your sketchy family secrets,” Kirby huffed. “It’s a safe zone.”

“Damn right it is,” you said definitively.

But you continued to stand there, scuffing your shoes against the ground. There was something else you wanted to say, Tara could feel it in the slight trembling of your hand in hers. You were turning clammy and your tongue impulsively licked out to the corners of your mouth. A habit you had picked up on once the bandages were off for good.

“Thank you,” you said softly, “for coming with Sam.”

Tara’s head tilted slightly. That was rather big of you. Not that you hated Sam, quite the opposite actually. But you both had this predestined sibling feud going on that neither one of you was willing to budge on. And now you were being nice? To Sam’s girlfriend, of all people?

“Thank you for having me,” Kirby said with a kind smile that you made a point to reciprocate.

“If any of you mention that again, I’m killing someone,” you said quickly before turning around to open the door.

That was much more like it.

The house was pandemonium, as it always was. Kirby seemed hesitant, but everyone else acted like they practically owned the place. Thankfully, Sam was wise enough to keep hold of Kirby’s hand and guide her around the house to find Ma and Pop. You, on the other hand, pulled Tara with you to the kitchen where Martha and Mercy were cooking.

“Thought you’d never get here,” Mercy called out. “Hey, T.” A smile in Tara’s direction.

“Did you know Sam’s dating a fed?” You asked immediately, letting go of Tara’s hand to start helping. “She could do so much better.”

“You know, Sam said the same thing when I brought you home,” Tara teased.

"Us too,” Martha said. She looked so much happier now that she was no longer pregnant. Tara couldn’t really blame her.

“You love me,” you said with a smile before planting a quick kiss on Martha’s cheek.

“More and more each day,” Mercy said.

Tara enjoyed spending time with your family. She loved the chaos that came with it, even as she listened to the children screaming and running around upstairs. You all gave each other hell for every little thing, digging into the little wounds that you all left open for the intent of digging. Your brothers were the worst offenders, and you gave it just as ruthlessly.

But she couldn’t deny, it was nice to hear them remind you that you were important. Their tones had changed quickly after the whole Ghostface incident last year. They had tried to tease, to keep up the image. All it took was one poorly timed joke for you to practically explode, practically devolving into tears.

Now, they made sure to remind you how much they cared for you. They would still tease, sure, and they still took it a bit too far at times. Tara couldn’t complain, you started it just as often as they did. But no one could deny that you just seemed all the happier when you were occasionally reminded of the fact that yes, they loved you. Yes, they had played it off well, but they had nearly lost their minds when you had been hospitalised.

“You two go set the table,” Martha said, pulling Tara out of her thoughts and back to the present.

"Come on," you said softly. You handed her half the plates before walking past her. And of course, as usual, you kissed the top of her head on the way.

Tara would be the first to admit she hadn't given you a proper chance in the beginning. Yes she had her reasons, and no she wouldn't go back on them. Even now, the aftermath of Amber would have her waking in a cold sweat, pushing you away in case it happened again. She couldn't be hurt like that if she kept you at arm's length. It was something she was working on with her therapist.

But now? Now that she had given you a proper chance to show her that you were both more than just each other's drunken hookup? You were extremely physical. Not inappropriately so, but always holding her hand, or touching her back, or sitting so close your thigh pressed against hers. You talked a lot of shit, but you showed your affection through touch.

And Tara? Oh, how she lo- adored you for it. Every time she was stuck in her darkest thoughts, with her biggest fears, all it took was your touch to bring her back to the surface. To know that she wasn't alone, and you weren't going to leave. All her fears and worries and insecurities were nothing you weren't willing to help with. You showed her what Amber never could.

You truly cared for her.

“Hey T, I think your chair’s over there,” Joel said with a pointed finger. Tara followed until she saw exactly where he was pointing.

“You’re a dick,” she said as she did her best to shove him aside.

“The kid’s table is perfect!” He called out. “It’s your size!”

“Yeah, come on, Auntie Tara!” More than one kid cheered. 

Tara would be honest, she didn’t even know which one it was, she was still learning everyone’s names. All she knew was that there were five kids, one of which was too young to talk. Three spouses that she was friendly with, but didn’t talk to. Except for Linda, who always kept her updated on if you had been into the police station again or not. You always let her know, of course, but it was nice to hear someone else say you were safe.

Slowly, and with no one stopping their conversations, everyone sat down at either of the two tables. She made sure to smile and wave at Chad, Anika, and Mindy, who were thankfully being watched after by Gale. You frowned when Gale sat as far away from you as possible. Gently, Tara placed her hand on your thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.

She didn’t even try to keep track of all the conversations going on around her. The kids were, thankfully, too busy eating, but everyone else continued. You managed to hit up a conversation with everyone at the table, sometimes even yelling to the other table to include them too. Hell, at one point, you even struck up conversation with Kirby, who was sitting directly across from you.

Even though you had made it a point to harass Kirby, Tara could still see the slightest upward tilt of the corner of your mouth. Most had admitted - without you around, of course - that they couldn’t detect your teasing as accurately anymore thanks to the scars. They gave you a perpetual smirk or smile that was hard to look past. But she could tell.

And you were finding clear joy in teasing Kirby.

Tara had to look away to stop herself from laughing with you. She looked down at her plate and pushed a few things aside; as delicious as it was, she wasn’t exactly in the mood. Something warm brushed against her knee, but she settled quickly when she realised it was just your hand. Oh, the embarrassing comfort you could give her with a simple touch.

“Anyone ever call you Joker?” Kirby asked.

Oh no.

“Not twice,” you said with a raised brow as you took another bite of your dinner.

“Only to scare the kids,” Dicky chimed in with a full mouth.

“Or threats,” Alfie mumbled with a nod without looking up.

“How’d you get them?” Kirby continued. “Deal gone bad?”

The few of you at the table slowed down, heads turning slowly to look at Pop. He was sitting in his usual spot, with the usual cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth. The look he gave Kirby was scrutinising and, even though it wasn’t directed at her, even Tara felt herself shrink under his gaze. You squeezed her knee again, and she quickly reached down to grab your hand.

“Are you asking as a fed?” Pop asked slowly. “Or family?”

“You’re Sam’s family,” Kirby answered without hesitation. “Which makes you my family.”

“That’s so gay,” you mumbled. That stupid, endearing smile was back and you didn’t even try to hide it. Tara did her best to kick you under the table, but you just smiled even bigger.

Pop nodded slowly before raising his brows at you and gesturing toward Kirby with his head. You cleared your throat and sat a little straighter in your chair. With a roll of your shoulders, you looked back at Kirby.

“It was Ghostface,” you said with a shrug that tried a little too hard to be casual.

“What?” Kirby asked, her head quickly turning to look at Sam.

“Last year?” You continued. “Surely you knew.”

“You kept that from me?” Kirby asked.

“Oops,” Dicky said before trying to choke down his laughter. Which he failed miserably at.

“I wanted to leave it behind,” Sam tried to explain.

“You are in so much trouble,” you mumbled.

“I’m guessing you caught him?” Kirby asked, slowly turning to look back at you.

“Caught him?” You asked. Underneath her fingers, Tara felt your thigh tense up.

“We don’t catch criminals,” Alfie said.

“Plata o plomo,” Dicky said.

“Okay, Escobar, calm down.” If there was one thing Tara appreciated, it was your insistence on turning things into jokes even after the incident. “We killed the sons of bitches.”

“You shot them really quickly,” Sam said.

A question popped into Tara’s head as the entire scene replayed through her mind. She had done her best to act like it hadn’t happened - outside of therapy, at least - but Sam brought up a good point. You all had shot them almost immediately. That wasn’t how it usually went.

“Why did you shoot them so fast?” Tara asked.

You inhaled as if you were going to answer, but quickly shut your mouth and looked back down at your plate. She squeezed your knee lightly before your leg started to bounce. It was a nervous habit that you rarely displayed, at least out in public. Usually you kept it reserved for the apartment where no one could see the internal turmoil you so desperately wished to hide.

“Your little “movie algorithm” says to hear ‘em out, scuffle, and win, right?” Alfie asked.

Sam, Tara, and Kirby nodded slowly in response.

“This ain’t a movie,” Dicky said.

“Because the movies don’t matter,” you said.

Kirby pointed in your direction. “No they don’t.”

Your leg slowed its bouncing before coming to a restful stop as conversation turned back to normal. The frown that had attempted to make an appearance turned back into a hesitant smile as everyone started to laugh and talk and scream once again. And the entire time, Tara could do nothing but look at you with only a single thought in her mind.

—---

The sounds of your movie came through the shitty little speakers you had hooked up to your TV. Martha had brought the kids over so she could do some work, and you had agreed in an instant. Without consulting Tara, who had planned on having a wonderfully exciting evening in.

She shouldn’t have even been surprised, being interrupted was basically foreplay for you both at that point.

“Why is Auntie Tara so grumpy?” The oldest asked. Which in turn made Tara even more grumpy. She was starting to hate these kids.

“Because she didn’t get what she wanted,” you said with a poorly concealed smile. “So now she’s upset.”

“Do you need a hug?” The middle one asked.

She knew she had to be nice to the kids, she knew she did. But she very kindly wanted to tell those kids to fuck off. What she needed was to resume your previous activities and to have your hands on her skin. She needed a kiss and a genuine fuck.

But no, that wasn’t allowed, she had to babysit a bunch of kids that weren’t even hers. Meanwhile, Sam and Kirby had forever been excused from babysitting duty because they were… well, they were honestly shit at babysitting. Which was rather ironic considering Sam used to babysit as an actual job back in school.

Clearly she had played the system better than Tara had.

“I would love a hug,” is what she ended up saying.

She was glad she did, because that kid? Gave amazing hugs. Clearly he had learned from you, because he hugged the exact same way. Arms over the shoulders and chin resting on the top of her head. She couldn’t help but smile into the kid’s chest when he squeezed her a little tighter before letting go.

“Better?” He asked.

“Much,” she said.

The movie continued to play on, and the kids moved from the couch to the floor. You had both decided to play it smart and make a pallet in front of the TV. It wasn’t anything big or special, but some blankets and pillows? Oh man, the kids ate that shit up, they almost didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Which left plenty of space for you to lay down on the couch and pull Tara down with you. Your chest pressed against her back while your arm snaked around her waist. It left her with a comfort that she couldn’t quite place. She felt safe when you held her like that, like nothing could get to her because you were there with her.

The whole situation was entirely too domestic. You were holding her, the kids were nearly asleep on the floor, and she felt safe. It made her feel like she was home. A warmth spread through her chest and she could practically feel her heart beat in rhythm with yours. Was that what it felt like? Was that what it really was?

Should she say it?

“You’re thinking really loud,” you whispered into her ear. The kids were completely passed out. “What’s in that pretty head of yours?”

She shouldn’t say it.

Maybe she should.

It could backfire.

But what if it didn’t?

“I love you.”

She thought she would have to wait for a response. That you would stiffen, back off, try to play it off like you either hadn’t heard her or you wanted to change the topic. But you giggled - practically giggled - and shifted behind her. You pulled her just enough so she could look at you and that stunning smile of yours.

“Oh thank god,” you said. “I thought I was going to have to say it first.”

“What?” She asked.

“I was gonna tell you ages ago and got cold feet,” you continued.

“And you just didn’t tell me?” She asked. You both fell silent when the kids shifted, but they quickly settled once again. “What is wrong with you?”

“I can’t let you win,” you answered quickly. “I need you to chase me back.”

“I-” she closed her mouth quickly. She supposed you were right; she had let you make the first move time and time again. But no way in hell was she going to admit that to your face. “You’re a dick.”

“I love you too,” you said, your smile impossibly bigger.

Tara rolled her eyes. Of course you would turn this whole love thing into a competition. Maybe it was one of those things she loved about you. Instead of letting you know, she just grabbed you by the face and pulled you down into a kiss that tasted of the capri-sun you had stolen from the kids.

She was glad you were the one she loved.

Let The Light In |5|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter 5: Shit-faced

Summary: It's been weeks and Tara was still avoiding you, but that doesn't stop you from looking out for her

Warning(s): Swearing, smoking, mentions of underage drinking, intoxication & panic attack

Notes: I reaaally hope this suffices. I tried my best, I swear. I think this is the longest chap I've done for this series so far (5,162 words, usually it's right under 5k words) Shoutout to @iamnodens for giving me some inspiration. Sparked an idea for a plot-line I wanna pursue

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

Anika saw you check your phone for the millionth time that night. “Come on, this is supposed to be a movie night. Not ‘check your phone a million times’ night,” Anika spoke up. You faced your phone back down. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. Anika looked over at you then back at the TV before speaking again. “Who has you so anxious?” She asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“No one,” you say in a dry tone before grabbing the popcorn bowl and shoving a handful in your mouth. Your roommate let out a doubtful hum before turning her attention back to the TV.

Your right leg began to bounce as your thoughts once again led you to an overthinking spiral. It didn’t take long for you to think of the worst. You didn’t want Tara to never talk to you again. As much as you hated to admit it; along the way you started to enjoy Tara’s company. 

There were times where she could brighten your mood when no one else could. Tara may not have known, but the weekend you were in Brooklyn you were having a panic attack when she messaged you.

Texting back and forth with Tara seemed to eventually calm you down. You would never forget that moment, and although the younger Carpenter had no idea how much she had helped you, you knew. 

“If you bounce your leg any harder you’ll put a hole through the floor,” Anika remarked, pulling you from your memories. “Sorry,” you muttered back.

“Don’t be…what’s got you like this huh?” You start to play with your fingers. You sighed, debating whether or not you wanted to open up to Anika. 

“It’s just that– girl from before still hasn’t talked to me and I guess you were right; it’s a hundred percent getting to me.” 

Anika raised her eyebrows at you before responding,“She really must be if you’re admitting you were wrong. Have you tried confronting her about it?” 

You let out a frustrated huff. “She always swerves away from me. I sent a text but I don’t wanna seem desperate.” You looked at Anika to see her giving you a deadpan look. “What?” You asked, feeling clueless.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose before answering. “Okay, listen up. I know you have never been a bright communicator, but come on. Only sending one text? At this point you might as well just corner her if you refuse to send her no more than that,” she chuckled dryly.

You sat there, genuinely considering that as an option. Anika watched as you thought about it and started to shake her head at you. “Y/N…no. I didn’t mean to literally corner her.”

“Fine.”

—

You patted your hands dry in the restaurant’s restroom. You looked in the mirror—making sure you were put together before walking out—but then suddenly saw a familiar face in your reflection. It was only for a moment but in that single moment you felt your breathing grow ragged, heart racing and stood frozen. You tightly gripped the counter, closing your eyes and murmuring to yourself. 

“He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here. It’s all in your head. It’s all in your hea—”

“Y/N?” You heard. You exhaled and turned to face the voice.

No, no, no, no…Why is she here?

“Tara.” You replied, you were on the brink of tears as you tried to control your breathing. She quickly noticed the state you were in and carefully walked up to you. You took one step back, moving away from her. She looked at you again before gently placing a hand on your bicep.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Tara asked you in a gentle voice.

“Fine.” You murmured before quickly walking out of the bathroom. You ignored the worried glances you received from Henry and Anika, walking outside and leaning against a pillar. 

You tried everything; you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you counted, and even tried the three three three rule. But nothing was working. You felt your right hand creep up your chest as it subconsciously gripped it. Your knees felt weak, as if they would buckle from under you. 

You fumbled in your pocket for a cigarette and lighter. You held the smoked cigarette to your lips, breathing it in and out. Your free hand’s fingers anxiously tapped on your thigh as you smoked. You felt like the world would collapse from beneath you, nothing to catch or save you. You started going down another spiral when suddenly you heard someone. 

“Hey…” You looked to your left to see Tara once again. 

“I swear I didn’t know you were gonna be here. Sam and I just decided to eat out since it’s not everyday she gets off from both jobs.” Tara said, moving to lean beside you.

“That’s nice,” you replied, putting out your cigarette and throwing it.

“Yeah…it is.” Tara smiled to herself as she said that. “Are you doing a little better now?” She asked you with a light nudge to your shoulder as she looked up at you.

“I guess.” Was all you answered with. Tara slightly nodded, before looking back ahead. 

After a couple minutes of silence, you finally spoke up. “Why’ve you been ignoring me?” You asked without looking at her, your voice quiet. You looked down at your shoes, both hands in your pockets.

“I haven’t been…” Tara trailed off. She knew she was. She was fully aware of it. But, she wasn’t ready to tell you why.

“Yeah…okay,” you sighed, lifting yourself up from the pillar.

“See you around, Carpenter.” You made your way back into the restaurant. Tara stayed outside a little longer before going back to her own table.

You both glanced at each other from across the room while the other wasn’t looking. 

—

You sat on the random couch while wearing a grumpy expression. Henry had, once again, dragged you to another party. The place was too crowded, sweat was everywhere, the burning smell of the alcohol was stronger than usual—to you at least—and Henry had gone off to God knows where. You just wanted out of this frat house.

The only thing keeping you sane was the company of Anika and Mindy. You didn’t talk to Mindy much in high school but she seemed cool. Anika and her were discussing couples costumes for halloween when suddenly you heard your name.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Your roommate asked as she sat in her girlfriend's lap on the love seat beside you.  

“What do I think about what?”

“You think we could rock a zombie bride and groom for a couples costume this year?” Mindy asked for Anika.

“Yeah, you’d guys be awesome for that,” you answered in a monotone voice. You didn’t look at them as you spoke, staring off at a random spot in the room. Suddenly your eyes caught something that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” Anika asked. Mindy also furrowed her eyebrows at you, but then all their answers were answered when they followed your eye line.

There Chad was with his tongue down Tara’s throat.

There was no reason to have cared as much as you did. There was no reason the pain in your chest should be growing. There’s no reason for this to hit you as hard as it did. You and Tara weren’t dating, you didn’t like her—no, you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were just caught off guard. Yeah, that’s it. You never thought about Chad and Tara together so you’re just in some form of shock.

What about the chest pain? The feeling of your heart being ripped out–

Heartburn. 

It was just heartburn, that was all it was. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Suddenly you felt a hand touch your arm. You lightly flinch before looking to your left, seeing it was Anika. Why did they both look at you with such pity?

“Hey, how about we call it a night, yeah?” You nodded.

After Mindy and Anika kissed each other goodbye, you two started to make your way out before a thought told you to reach into your pocket. Empty.

“I think my phone slipped out of my pocket while I was sitting on the couch,” You told Anika and she waited in the car as you went inside to get it.

By the time you got back to the couch somebody was already sitting, and of course it had to be Tara. “Looking for this?” she smugly asked, pulling out your phone and showing it to you.

You let out a sigh of relief before trying to reach for your phone, but the minute you almost grab it, Tara pulls it back behind her back.

“Tara, not right now.” You really weren’t in the mood for this. 

You sighed as you saw multiple stains on her shirt. “Someone’s in a mood,” she remarked, still looking up at you with a smile you couldn’t quite read.

“I’m not—” you sighed again, “—you have stains all over your shirt by the way. You’re a complete mess right now,” you murmured the last part, sitting down next to her trying to reach for your phone behind her but she’s quick. She pulls away again without thinking before responding.

“You know you pronounce your R’s in a funny way? Like, you say stuff like shirts and shorts but when you say them they sound the exact same. And then it’s, like, which one is it?” Tara rambled on. 

You sat there, silently listening to every single word. You couldn’t help the slight smile that grazed your face. It was nice hearing her voice again after so long. 

“Then I remembered you’re from Brooklyn, and you know what that means?”

“No, tell me,” you said, wanting to hear her ramble for a little longer.

“Brooklyn accent. So, that’s why you do that cute thing with your R’s!” You suddenly felt heat rush to your cheeks. Cute? Tara had used you and cute in the same sentence. She is completely plastered. 

“Tara! Ethan and I are gonna play beer pong!” You both looked over to see Chad calling from the other side of the room. 

You looked back at Tara, “I should go. See you, princess.” You got up, but suddenly felt a hand gently grasp your wrist. You looked down at her as you stood. She opened her mouth for a couple seconds before shutting it.

“You probably need this,” Tara pulled out your phone and placed it in your hand for you. The amount of contact she was giving you caused a flutter in your chest. 

“I’m probably gonna head home,” she slurred. You bit the inside of your cheek as you grew concerned about her going home on her own in the state she was in.

“Mindy said you drove with Chad?” 

“Mm, yeah. He doesn’t mind me driving myself home though. He said he’d—” she hiccupped, “—get a ride with Ethan.”

“Well I do mind. You’re too drunk to drive Tara.” She just stared up at you as you spoke. “You can stay over,” you lightly sighed as you offered your hand to her.

Tara bit her lip as she continued to stare up at you, but after a beat of silence she took your hand—not without tripping, causing her to fall into your arms.

“You okay?” You asked in a soft voice, and she simply nodded her head as she continued to look at you.

Tara had so much to tell you, but she stopped herself before she could.

You both walked out to your car—Tara clinging on to your arm as she walked like she had two left feet. You never thought Tara Carpenter could be any more clumsy than she already was, but here you were. 

You opened the car door, “Sorry that it took so long.” 

“I see you didn’t just bring back your phone,” Anika remarked, not hiding her knowing look. You strapped Tara in the backseat, making sure she was comfortable, before going to the driver’s seat.

“She’s too drunk to be her own ride, so I offered,” you responded. You gave Tara one last glance from the rear view mirror—which didn’t go unnoticed by Anika—to see that Tara was already passed out. You started to pull out and made your way to your apartment. There wasn’t much talking on the ride over. The only sound coming from the car was the music, but even that was put at a low volume. You tried your best to avoid the holes so Tara could sleep fine. You cursed your government for not using your taxes to fill holes with more cement. 

By the time you got to your apartment Tara was still sound asleep. You told Anika she could get a head start and that you would catch up with her. After she left you got out of our seat and walked around your car to open the door to Tara’s seat. You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Tara…we’re here,” you whispered in a soft tone. Tara only shuffled slightly but never opened her eyes. You lightly squeezed her shoulder, “Come on. We’re here…”

You slightly shook your head.

“...You’re so lucky I live on the second floor.” You scooped her up and she subconsciously nuzzled her head in the nook of your neck. You carried her up the apartment stairs, and once you got to the door you knocked with your head—since your hands were obviously full at the moment.

That night, you didn’t mind sleeping on the couch.

—

Tara woke up with a pounding headache, causing her to groan as she slowly sat up. She rubbed her eyes, yawning. Suddenly everything came crashing down on her like a tidal wave.

“Shit shit shit,” she looked around for her phone. She couldn’t believe how stupid she was. Sam was going to kill her for sure—if she was actually home? Yeah…she’s going to kill her for sure. 

It didn’t take long for her to realize where she was. “Fuck, not again,” she groaned into her hands. 

If Tara had a nickel for everytime she woke up in your bed she would have two nickels—which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. Before she could retrace her steps there were two knocks on the door. 

“Come in,” She said and you opened the door slightly, peaking your head before fully coming inside. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I see you’ve, uh, woken up.” You awkwardly stood with your arms crossed.

“Yeah…”

Tara turned her head, closing her eyes and letting out an inaudible sigh before turning back to look at you. “Listen, I’m sorry this is, like, the second time. You shouldn’t have to take care of me while I’m shitfaced.”

You slightly pouted out your bottom lip, faintly shaking your head and waving her off. 

“No problem.”

After a moment you finally break the awkward silence, “Why do you do this?”

“What?”

“This? Go out to parties so often, and have drink after drink?” Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you, not understanding where you were going with this. 

“What do you mean by that?” She asked, feeling offended by the question. 

“I just mean, don’t you get tired of it?”

Tara let out a faint scoff, “I like my life, thank you very much.” She now sat up a little straighter as she looked at you from where you stood. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Come on, Tara—you know that.” 

“No, I don’t actually,” Tara got up from your bed, making her way to the door. She reached for the handle but you blocked it.

“Stop it, Y/N.”

“No, you stop it. What’s your problem, Carpenter? You really think I wouldn’t notice you ignoring me?” 

Tara opened her mouth to speak but you quickly cut her off. “You even changed your seat in history. How is that nothing?” You hated how vulnerable you felt right now. The hurt was noticeable in your voice.

“I– I just need space…” Tara sighed, running her hands down her space.

“What—why? ...Did I do something?” You asked, feeling yourself grow smaller as she looked back at you. 

Tara saw you staring down at her like a lost puppy. She hated what that was doing to her. She hated how you were able to make her feel things so easily. 

“No! No, I just need space, okay? Not everything’s about you!” Her raised voice caused you to flinch and take a step back; Tara hated herself at that moment. 

“Okay,” you replied in a quiet voice. 

“Y/N I didn’t—”

“If you need anything, Anika’s up.” 

Before Tara could say anything, you were gone. 

—

You knew very little about the person who now sat where Tara previously did. Tara either paid her to switch or the woman really just didn’t mind. You haven’t introduced yourself to her yet.

You heard her name being called once; Charlotte. You were too stubborn to actually ask her for her name. It didn’t take long for Charlotte to pick up on your silence. Truth be told she noticed you in class before. So when Tara approached her about a seat change, she asked no further questions and agreed.

“Hey,” Charlotte finally spoke up one class. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.” You turned your head slightly to look at her. There was no denying her beauty. 

“Y/N,” you simply responded before turning back to your notes. Charlotte turned back to her own work while she mustered her next words. 

“So, you’re not much of a talker huh,” she nervously chuckled. You looked at her from the corner of your eye before averting your stare back to your notes. “I guess,” you murmured.

Throughout class you resisted looking back at Tara, and occasionally Charlotte would miss something so she would politely ask you for your notes, which you then would silently turn your papers for her to see.

You kept your head down and didn’t meet her gaze as you did this, but if you did you would have seen her warm smile; in a way you felt it.

After class you heard footsteps running up to you. You turned around to see Charlotte. “I just wanted to thank you for the notes,” she told you. 

You spared a faint smile before responding, “No problem.” You watched as she took out a little piece of paper and handed it to you. When you took it you could see numbers written on it. 

“I’d love to thank you over a cup of coffee or even dinner or something. That’s my number, so you can call or text whenever you want.” You lightly nodded at her as you looked at the paper.

“See you around, Y/N,” she smiled at you again before taking off. 

“What do we have here?” The voice causes you to jump a bit, before rolling your eyes when you see the culprit. 

“Geez, Anika. Quit sneakin’ up on my like that,” you sighed as you two started walking.

“Maybe if you were more self aware, you would notice your friend being right next to you,” Anika commented. 

“Whatever.”

“Anyways, who was that?”

“Just some chick from my history class,” you said in a nonchalant manner. 

“Does she happen to have your…interest?” She asked you with a quirked up eyebrow. 

You thought for a second before answering. “I guess.”

“ ‘I guess’? Gee. How descriptive.” Anika remarked sarcastically. You rolled your eyes at her, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“I don’t know, okay? I’m still figuring some shit out, but maybe I do.” You shrugged, you and Anika taking a turn.

“By ‘figuring shit out’ do you mean, Tara?” She asked knowingly. That made you do a double take at your roommate. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed dramatically. 

“You know I overheard that argument you two had, right?” 

“I don’t know exactly what you heard but it’s not what you think,” you sighed, eyes looking everywhere but Anika. You hated when she was right.

“Really? Cause’ it seems like she’s the girl that has you so worked up.”

“Stop it.” You said with annoyance in your tone, growing slightly flustered from being called out.

—

You sat at the seat across from Charlotte . You both eventually had decided to go out on Friday night for dinner. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to take up her offer. So, that’s where you were; sitting in a diner with her across from you. 

Your hands rested on your lap as you listened to her speak. She had cinnamon skin, gorgeous hair and dark brown eyes. You couldn’t help but admire dark brown eyes; they were so easy to drown in. 

“So, enough about me. What about you?” She suddenly asked.

“What about me?” You echoed, taking a sip of your milkshake.

“I want to get to know you. Right now you’re just the quiet girl who I sit next to in history, and cute at that,” she winked at you. 

You lightly blushed at the compliment before replying. “I don’t really know what to say. Mind giving me some starter questions?”

“Okay, you got any siblings?”

“Yup. Two brothers, Stephen and Oliver.”

“You like them?”

“Tolerate’ em.”

She let out a giggle before continuing. “Are you the oldest or youngest?”

“I’m in the middle, actually. Oliver’s the oldest and Stephen’s the youngest.” 

You soon found out she had two sisters and two brothers, both her parents were doctors, and her favorite color’s purple. As the night went on you two found out a little more about one another. It was nice just talking. You weren’t sure if this was a date but the thought hung around in your head.

Would it be so bad if it was?

You walked the city’s streets with Charlotte, your jacket hung from your arm as she hugged her own closely. 

“This was really nice, I’d love to do it again sometime,” She spoke up.

You looked at her then back at the ground, a small smile starting to graze your face. 

“Yeah…that’d be nice,” You said genuinely, before she stopped at an apartment building. 

“Well, this is me.”

“I’ll see you around?”

“Of course,” she smiled at you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” she said before leaving. 

You stood there, slightly stunned from the kiss. It was no secret that it had been a while since you’ve been in a genuine relationship. 

Maybe—just maybe, Charlotte could be the one to change that. 

—

The next day you went to work your shift. You passed the time like you usually did; if you weren’t serving customers you had music in your ears and cleaning counters that you’ve already wiped down a hundred times before that same day.

The bell above the door rings, but you don’t look up as you say, “Welcome to The Coffee Club.” Your voice was monotone. 

The person stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw you. It wasn’t until they were shoved to the counter by someone beside them that you looked up. 

You opened your mouth as you lifted your head, but quickly shut it as soon you saw the person.

“Oh. It’s you.” Your voice wasn’t laced with bitterness or rudeness, just a slight shock from seeing her here. If your voice was not a give away of that then your expression definitely was. Your eyes were widened a bit, your eyebrows were raised and you almost looked…flushed? 

“Uh, what can I get you?” You asked, clearing your throat and trying to sound unfazed by her presence.

“Um, just a…” Tara trailed off as she suddenly forgot what she came here for. Mindy looked between you two.

“Hot chocolate?” You finished for Tara. All Tara could do was nod at you. 

“And I’ll have a hot coffee; milk and sugar please,” Mindy spoke up, breaking whatever staring contest you and Tara had going on.

“I’ll, uh, get on that right now.” You put your pen behind your ear. Tara and Mindy sat at a table nearby as you prepared their orders. 

“What was that?” 

Tara groaned at her friend, holding her face with her hands. “I don’t know. I had completely forgotten she works here most days,” she answered, her voice coming out slightly muffled due to her hand still covering her face. 

“You’re still giving her the silent treatment, aren’t you?” Mindy asked even though she already knew the answer.

“Well, I uh…kind of made it worse…”

“How?” Mindy asked, slightly dragging out the H while furrowing her eyebrows.

“We had a bit of an argument last week,” Tara answered, the memories of that morning painfully flashing through her mind.

“About what?”

“I snapped at her over something really stupid, and—God I can’t stop thinking about her face when I did that.” Tara let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in. 

“By snapped, what do you mean, like, you yelled at her or something?” Tara sighed and nodded, looking away—feeling ashamed of herself.

“I think you two just need to talk, for real this time.” 

“I don’t want to—” She inhaled, looking down at her hands. 

“Don’t want to what?”

“Hurt her again…” Tara answered in a quiet voice. 

“Tar, listen to me, you’re one of the best people I know, and you can be gentle when you want to be. Just be you,” Mindy told her honestly.

“Maybe when you two finally make up you can make that dream you had a reality and make out already—”

“Mindy!”

Before Tara could say anything else, you walked up to the table with their drinks.

“One hot coffee with milk and sugar, and a hot chocolate,” you repeated their order. Mindy said thank you, and so did Tara—not without Mindy kicking her under the table to do so—before taking a sip of the steaming hot drink.

The mug covered her eye line, so she didn’t see you sneak a Strawberry donut with sprinkles—or as she likes to call it, a Homer Simpson donut—in front of her. By the time she did notice you were already gone.

You had a habit of disappearing without saying goodbye. 

When Mindy and Tara finished, they made their way back to the apartment. They walked into the apartment to find Chad and Ethan playing Resident Evil four. 

“You’re still playing this game?” Tara inquired, pulling off her jacket and throwing it somewhere. Mindy let out a slight chuckle before making her way to the kitchen.

“All. Fucking. Day.” Sam replied, coming into the living room. 

“I don’t blame them. Have you seen Ada?”

“They haven’t gotten up in seven hours.”

“I got it,” was all Tara said, before walking away.

Five seconds later she came back with a spray bottle.

—

The doorbell rings, interrupting you mid sentence as you were on the phone with Anika. 

“Hey, I gotta go. Talk to ya later?” You said your goodbyes to each other before walking up to the door. You weren’t sure who could be visiting but whoever it was was growing impatient. 

“Alright, alright! I’m coming,” you called out, walking up to the door. 

You finally unlocked and opened it to—unexpectedly—Tara. This took you by surprise which was evident from your expression. There wasn’t much to go off from but Tara’s known you long enough to read even your littlest details. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” There was a beat of awkward silence before Tara finally spoke up again.

“Can I come in? I need to talk to you,” she told you. You responded by opening the door wider, letting her inside the apartment. 

Her eyes wandered around the room before landing them back on you. You quickly averted your gaze, realizing you have been staring at the younger Carpenter a little too long. 

“Been a while since I’ve been here,” Tara said, sitting down on the couch.

You let out a dry chuckle before responding. “You’re telling me…” 

Tara noticed you were still standing, choosing to lean against the wall rather than sit near her. Just then, she remembered why she came here.

“So, what do you want?” You asked unkindly. 

Tara took a second to muster what she wanted to say. She didn’t want to mess this up. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing this time. 

She didn’t want to hurt you again.

“I’m sorry.” 

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, not expecting an apology. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, and I’m sorry for blatantly avoiding you for the past few weeks,” she said in one breath. 

“Wait—I wasn’t expecting an apology. I thought you were gonna yell at me again or something,” you poorly joked with a dry chuckle. 

“That wasn’t my best moment,” she said with shame in her voice. She could never forget your face that morning or how you backed away from her as if she would hurt you. 

You looked down at your shoes, considering Tara’s words. You should get your revenge—make her pay for the past few weeks. But instead you decided against it, for whatever reason, you decided against it. Maybe it was her voice as she spoke, maybe it was the bags under her eyes, or maybe it was just simply her. Whatever it was, it caused you to let her off easy.

“I’ll accept your apology on one condition.”

“Anything,” Tara replied, a little too quickly. 

“Stop avoiding me,” you said in a softer voice, and you slowly began to take the seat beside her. 

“Deal,” Tara promised, looking at you.

“Pinky swear?” You held up your pinky, for her take.

Tara couldn’t help the smile that grew as she took your pink in hers. 

“Pinky swear.” 

“Now that you’re not avoiding me anymore, you wanna go over last class’s notes?” Already moving on as if she hadn’t been giving her the silent treatment for the past for weeks, and you weren’t still curious as to why.

Your pinkies unlocked, Tara missing the contact.

“Well, you know how much I looove doing that,” Tara sarcastically answered. 

“Ha. Ha.” You got up from the couch, “I’m gonna go get my binder. Give me like two seconds.” You said before rushing away to your room like a child who was having a playdate, rushing off to grab a toy for you and your friend to play with. 

Tara couldn’t stop smiling to herself at the sight of you. It had been far too long since she’s seen you one on one like this. She hated to admit it but she missed you more than she realized. Now that she was thinking about it, she missed a lot of things about you; your smile, your voice, your humor, how you lit up a room with just your presence, even that fuzzy feeling you gave her.

Oh.

Oh, Mindy was right. Tara had somehow found herself crushing on you.

“Fuck.”

-----------

A/N: Platonic!Chara>>> (dw gonna do that justice later)

I wonder who R saw in the mirror...

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax @andsoigotabutterfly

everyone but her pt.35

Summary: Holidays roll around, and you and Wednesday are spending them with your family. It's full of chaos, bickering with Ash, and the usual feelings about a certain family member missing. At least something about the cold months makes Wednesday's heart a little warmer.

Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: swearing, grief, mentions of murder, police Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Where are you two going for Christmas?” Ash asked as she forced herself between you and Wednesday on the couch.

“Get out of my apartment,” you said without turning your eyes away from the television.

“It’s technically Wednesday’s apartment,” she said quickly. “You’re just the local freeloader.”

Wednesday genuinely enjoyed having Ash around. No one else could create such a look of pure malice on you. It was a stunning look. Wednesday always felt her chest tighten at such beauty when you were only moments away from strangling Ash for whatever comment she had made. Oh, how she would kill for you.

“I believe we will be going to Y/N’s home,” Wednesday answered when it was clear you wouldn’t.

“Perfect, then I’m riding home with you,” Ash said with a tone of finality that seemed impressively identical to yours.

The front door creaked open, and you all turned to see Bianca walking through the doorway. She froze with her hand on the doorknob, but quickly regained her composure to finish walking in. Wednesday frowned when she just let the door inch shut instead of just closing it on her own. But judging by the smile on Bianca’s face, it had been done on purpose.

“If you say you’re coming too, I’m strangling you,” you said, still not looking in the direction of anyone in particular.

“I was invited,” Bianca answered with a shrug before promptly sitting on the arm of the couch. It seemed she had lost all sense of decorum.

“Not by me,” you grumbled.

“Oh please, it’s not even a big deal,” Ash said. “You ride the bus.” She jabbed her finger into your chest. “The public bus.”

“For your information, Ashley,” you finally turned to look at her. “I fly and Wednesday rides the bus.”

“You let your poor, defenseless girlfriend ride the bus alone?” She asked with the slightest tilt of her head.

“Defenseless?” Wednesday asked.

“I refrain from any motor vehicle on four wheels now, thank you very much,” you said as if Wednesday hadn’t even spoken.

She was still beyond offended at the insinuation that she was defenseless.

“Do you two do anything other than bicker?” Bianca asked.

“No,” you and Ash both said simultaneously before ceaselessly continuing your bickering. Which, Wednesday would add, had nothing to do with the trip anymore.

“They do this all the time?” Bianca asked, locking eyes with Wednesday and raising a single brow. Wednesday just nodded once. “And you tolerate it?” Wednesday nodded again. “You’re much better than me, Addams.”

Both you and Ash continued your bickering as if there was nothing else going on in the world. As if Wednesday and Bianca weren’t still sitting on the couch, watching the show that you had put on that they very clearly had no interest in. If Wednesday was right - which she always was - it was your favourite dinosaur show at the moment.

It clearly emphasised how distracted you got when Ash came to poke the sleeping bear that was your fragile temper.

Bianca sighed, and Wednesday would have laughed at the expression on her face. If she did that sort of thing, of course. She would consider Bianca her friend nowadays, it was true. But that didn’t mean she didn’t still have those “nemesis” emotions still within her when it came to the Siren.

“So are we going together or not?” Bianca asked, and both you and Ash stopped mid-sentence.

“Obviously?” You said with the most disgusted look on your face. “Weren’t you listening?”

“You and Addams are perfect for each other,” Bianca said quietly. She reached out to grab Ash’s hand and pulled her up. “We have to study for tomorrow.”

“See you later!” Ash said quickly, practically running after Bianca.

“See ya,” you mumbled with a half-hearted wave before instantly turning back to the television as if you had not just griped and complained for the past 10 minutes.

Wednesday knew better than to try and question you about the entire thing with Ash. Not that the curiosity didn’t tug at the corners of her brain, but you would never explain. Something that in the past would have driven Wednesday to near insanity. Now, however, she simply found it typical. On a good day, she would even go so far as to say it was admirable how tight-lipped you could be.

She said nothing before she moved until she was sitting directly beside you, her thigh touching yours, as she laid her head against your shoulder. Your instinctual flinch was one of the shortest in a while. An improvement of the highest quality, Wednesday believed. It brought a certain, not unwelcome warmth to her chest.

“I’ll ride the bus on Saturday,” you said. Out of the corner of her eye, Wednesday noted you hadn’t even turned your attention away from the television.

You had such funny ways of saying “I love you.”

—---

For all intents and purposes, you behaved spectacularly on the bus ride home. Of course you had practically forced Ash and Bianca to sit in the row ahead, and you had grabbed Wednesday’s hand without even hinting at asking for permission, but you behaved. And as far as Wednesday was concerned, so did the other couple. She could forgive you for the utter indiscretion of the hand holding.

“Do they always do that?” You asked, gesturing your head forward.

In front of you, Ash was resting her head on Bianca’s shoulder. Nothing too dissimilar from when Wednesday would lean against you.

“Yes,” she said simply before continuing reading the book you had gotten her just the day before.

It was a rather fascinating book, one that she never would have picked up on her own accord. Something about a detective following some serial killer with certain tones of depravity that she could appreciate. Her pride would never allow her to admit it was spectacularly written and utterly captivating, but she didn’t have to. The speed at which she was soaring through the pages made it clear.

Perhaps you knew her interests better than she had perceived.

“Why did you know before me?” You asked. “What about you said “yeah, tell me the gossip before anyone else?” It’s not fair.”

There was no point in even attempting to read her book. Clearly something was on your mind, and if Wednesday ignored you, you would only continue getting more agitated until someone asked you to speak your mind. Though if you wanted a real answer or you were simply venting, she had no idea. That wasn’t something she had learned to differentiate quite yet.

“They believed you would react like this,” Wednesday said. A little white lie, harmless. “Seemed they were right.”

“Who do I give the shovel talk to?” You mumbled. “They’re both my friends.”

Wednesday had to bite her tongue to keep from asking what it mattered. They were both your friends, sure, but was this really the most important thing to you at the moment? A shovel talk? Shouldn’t you be more concerned with the police investigation that somehow always found its way back to you? Or that you still had nightmares from Mac’s death?

“Then talk with them both,” she said instead, “and be done with it.”

“That’s no fun,” you grumbled, but otherwise settled back into the seat.

Wednesday had gotten to page 233 before the bus pulled into the station in your little town. Thankfully no one had too much luggage and it was easy for the four of you to get off and wait patiently. There was very little talk, everyone seeming too tired due to the late arrival and the long trip. It was the preferred option, Wednesday would admit. She appreciated her friends, but she preferred them to be silent.

“You youngins need a lift?”

Your shoulders relaxed instinctively at the sound of Pop’s voice. It was a much welcome change, though it left an uncomfortable feeling in Wednesday’s chest. Rarely did you fully relax when she talked to you. Not that she cared nor minded, obviously. Whatever it took to ease your worries.

She did not care.

You introduced your Pop to Bianca before hastily pulling Wednesday into the bed of the truck. Like that first visit, you held your hand out for her to take, leaving yourself as an assistant to climbing up. You stayed steady even as she used you to pull herself up. Out of a desire to hide the embarrassing heat in her cheeks, she refused to look at the painfully gentle smile you gave her.

Pop dropped Bianca and Ash off at Ash’s family home. Wednesday did not fail to notice the easy-going look on your face when they had turned their backs to you. Why were you so insistent on not showing them that you cared? Or perhaps it was strictly Ash that you refused to show. Wednesday knew she did the same thing, especially when it came to her friends, but it didn’t seem characteristic for you.

“Welcome back, baby bird,” Pop said when he reached over to pat your shoulder. You gave him a quick smile before continuing to pull the bags out of the truck.

“Everyone asleep already?” You asked.

“Out like a light,” he said, making an unusual movement with his jaw while he talked. It was only then that Wednesday noticed the toothpick sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

“We in the living room?” You continued even as you all started walking up to the house.

Wednesday happily invited the warm feeling in her stomach when you switched the bags to one arm and held her hand with the other. If she would allow herself to be so bold, holding your hand was probably one of her favourite things, especially out in public. It was subtle, but there was something strangely intimate about the act.

The subtle intimacy was something her parents could stand to learn.

“Basement,” Pop said. “Your Abuelita made up the pull-out couch.”

“Our own little apartment,” you said with a smile far more appropriate for the teasing tone.

“Just don’t tell your Grandpa,” Pop grumbled. “He’ll behave, but you know he don’t like it.”

“I’ll behave,” you said.

For some reason, neither Wednesday nor Pop believed you.

It only took a few more minutes to get inside, say goodnight to Pop, and go downstairs. Wednesday hadn’t seen the basement of the house yet, but it felt homey. You had mentioned on occasion how you and Nicky would have sleepovers with all the others down there. Watching movies, playing games, karaoke nights. With how much space was down there, it was no surprise it had essentially become the “kid hangout.”

“Bathroom is through there-” you gestured in the proper direction with your head, “-and I’ll finish getting everything ready.”

Wednesday nodded once. Getting ready was like a well-oiled machine. You handed her the overnight bag without looking up, and she took it. There was the slightest tremble in your hand when her fingers grazed yours, but you otherwise remained focused. Without even an ounce of hesitation, she leaned over to press her lips against your cheek, sighing softly to herself at the warmth, and quickly left you where you were standing.

She sneered after she shut the bathroom door. A kiss on the cheek; yet another subtle intimacy that she swore her parents would never understand. They were so convinced that every bit of romance or intimacy had to be over the top. But something as simple as what she had just done? That was more than enough to send a warmth from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Warmth. Now that was something Wednesday hadn’t ever anticipated desiring. Yet, with each passing day, she found herself practically craving it. Not just from anybody, though, of course not. Simply from you. Whether it was your presence, or the warmth of your hand in hers, or the weight of your wings draped across her. Just… you.

Haphazardly, she wiped the speck of toothpaste from the corner of her mouth and locked eyes with herself in the mirror. What were you doing to her? The scowl that she had carefully crafted over years of practice had lost its edge. Now she almost looked… approachable. It was like you had taken her sharpness and carefully sanded it down to something soft, something that could be held without fear of injury.

It was decided. She was going to smother you with a pillow.

You were in the process of attempting to put some sleep pants on when Wednesday came out of the bathroom. She waited, watching silently as you hopped around, nearly tripping over the bags that you had unceremoniously dropped on the floor. The smallest of grunts left your mouth when you hit your foot on the couch after forcefully pushing it through the bottom of your pants. It was ridiculous.

She liked you being ridiculous.

Her body froze.

Scratch her earlier plan; she was going to strangle you in your sleep with her bare hands.

But the moment she saw your crooked smile, and felt your arms wrap around her when you both lay down in bed? That was all it took for her nefarious plans to disappear. Instead, they were replaced by that warm feeling in her chest and the tickle of your breath against the shell of her ear.

Maybe she wouldn’t strangle you just yet.

—---

It was breakfast two days later when there was a knock on the door.

All the kids were out in the back, while everyone else was either working or in town. That simply left you and Wednesday in the kitchen, another pot of coffee already in the process of being brewed. She looked at you when the knock came again. You just shrugged.

“Might be Santa,” you said with a poorly concealed smile before getting up and walking to the front.

Wednesday stayed in her spot on the kitchen bench, her second book resting open on the table as she took another sip of her coffee. She was unsure what brand your family used, but she enjoyed it. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but that was precisely what she preferred. It was dark and bitter and helped roughen up some of those edges of hers that you had been softening.

She didn’t bother listening in to the hushed voices at the door. You were more than capable of answering a guest. Besides, she was fascinated with the book that Daniel had loaned her. It was simple, yet entertaining. Some book about a fictional doctor studying Outcasts. And she was even more impressed with the drawings. They almost got the wing anatomy right.

At the sound of numerous pairs of footsteps on the wooden floor, Wednesday looked up from the words on the page. You gave her a quick kiss on the head when you walked past her and started rifling through your mug cabinet. There, standing awkwardly in the doorway, were Ash and Bianca. Ash’s eyes looked bloodshot, and Bianca had a slight frown.

They didn’t move until you placed the mugs full of coffee on the table. Almost in sync, they sat down across from Wednesday as you replaced the cream and sugar on the table. No one really said a word when you sat back down beside Wednesday, but the tension was still in the air. It was uncomfortable.

“Ash’s dad came home,” you said softly when Ash and Bianca headed down to the basement.

Wednesday took the newly-washed mug from your hands and started drying it. “That’s a bad thing.”

“He’s homophobic,” you shrugged. Wednesday nodded. “And hates Outcasts.”

The four of you helped rearrange the basement to fit two beds. It wasn’t difficult, but you continuously bickered with Ash over the littlest of things. Which was precisely why Bianca and Wednesday put you two to work together while they worked silently and efficiently.

They made a silent vow to never tell anyone about the other’s softness for their partner.

By the time everyone came back home, no one questioned why there were two more plates on the dinner table. Auntie C simply took to Bianca like a fish to water, the both of them talking nonstop about anything and everything. Wednesday had to try her hardest not to let her smile slip when you finally noticed that they were talking about you.

“Well I have to do someone’s hair,” Auntie C said when you called her out on her poorly-devised plan. “And the kids aren’t old enough to have more than a few minutes of fun.”

“Why don’t you help me with mine?” You asked. “I always need help.”

“Your hair isn’t as much fun,” she said with a shrug before smirking at Bianca.

“She doesn’t even have hair!” You groaned.

“Which makes for a perfect blank slate,” Auntie C said.

“Don’t be jealous,” Bianca said. “Maybe one day she’ll help you.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled before grabbing Wednesday’s hand and pulling her outside.

The days flew by in much the same way. The four of you would get up and go upstairs for coffee. If you were early enough, you could say hi to the adults before they left for work. Depending on the day, you all either helped watch the kids, or helped with chores. More often than not, you were in charge of mucking out stalls since you were housing three horses for the winter break.

“Ash never has to muck out the stalls,” you grumbled.

Wednesday stayed silent on her perch, the newly-repaired wooden railing just high enough for her to be above eye level with you.

The horse you had secured outside the stall snorted in response.

“I know,” you said with a nod of your head, “she never even comes to see you.”

The horse tapped his foot on the ground twice.

“Yes, Hailey will bring you an apple later,” you said.

Wednesday watched in silent amusement as you continued to talk to the horse while you cleaned. Sometimes you would stand up straight and wipe your brow, giving an unimpressed look at the horse, before continuing cleaning. This pattern continued with the other two horses, as well as Steve’s stall.

She made sure to go inside before you let him out. He had given her one too many mischievous looks, and she didn’t think she could handle having to repair another pair of pants.

“Wanna help me wrap presents?” Emily asked at the exact moment that the door closed behind Wednesday.

How could she say no when Emily, in all her young wisdom, pouted and whispered a “please?” that was eerily similar to yours. It was frustrating, to say the least. That a simple word, a simple inflection could remind her so much of you that she was willing to assist a child with… gift wrapping. It was disgusting and undignified.

It only took them an hour to finish all the presents.

When you came back into the house, after Wednesday had been roped into helping all the children wrap presents, you were on the phone. She was concerned at first; the last time she had truly seen you on the phone alone was when Nicky had died. Her heart started to race and she had already started coming up with a plan to keep you stable, to keep you from running away from her again.

She hated when you ran away from her.

But the typical tension in your shoulders was absent, and you still walked in and sat beside her as if nothing was wrong. In fact, you even reached over and locked your fingers with hers without hesitation. She leaned a little further into you, ignoring the teasing look Bianca sent her way, and let her heart rate return to normal.

If she was eavesdropping on your call, that was no one’s business but hers.

When you hung up the call, instinctual curiosity nearly caused Wednesday to ask who you had been talking to. But she quickly bit her tongue, knowing it would be considered rude. Not that she necessarily cared, but there were other people in the room and she was not going to give Bianca the satisfaction of doing something socially inappropriate.

“Casey called,” you said anyway, seemingly answering the unasked question. “Just wanted to talk, I guess.”

Wednesday never considered her a jealous person. Distrustful, yes, but not jealous. But just the thought of you talking to your brother’s old partner had her on edge. Had you talked to Casey on the phone before that moment? She was aware that you had bumped into him and Devan not too long ago, but did you talk? Were you close?

Why would he want to talk to you so badly as to call you on your winter break?

“You’re thinking too loud,” you said softly enough for only her to hear. “I’ll tell you later, I promise.”

From you? That answer would suffice.

—---

When Wednesday walked into the kitchen, you were already there. She had gotten more than comfortable walking your house and yard on her own. Sometimes she preferred it, using it as her time to get some peace and quiet that she so desired. There was something endearing about your family’s dynamics, but she needed some silence every now and then.

Her body stopped in its tracks when she saw your lips moving. You were still looking down at the lunch you were making for everyone, but you continued your silent talking. If she listened carefully, she could hear the wispy words falling from your lips.

It wasn’t the first time Wednesday had walked in on you seemingly talking to yourself. She had found you a few times in the past, usually when you were in the kitchen, having a full conversation with yourself. At least she assumed it was with yourself. Now that she was going over it in her head, she supposed you could also be talking with Nicky.

There had been an initial concern when you had told her you could still see him. The Addamses were no strangers to ghosts or spectres, but she knew it wasn’t entirely common amongst the majority of the population. That same concern had only grown at the anxiety that she could practically feel coming off your body as you told her. Like the good girlfriend she was attempting to be, she accepted the fact without question.

All it took was a small talk with your Abuelita to learn that it wasn’t entirely impossible and ease her concern.

As she watched, you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose. Wednesday’s pulse quickened; she knew that look. Without second thought, she walked over to you - a little quicker than normal, she would admit - and wasted no time in placing her hands on your cheeks. It was a gesture she had experimented with and had come to the conclusion that, yes, it worked.

When your face almost instantly relaxed, she was proven right yet again.

“Is it Nicky?” She asked quietly. She wasn’t stupid, she knew it was a sensitive topic, but the only way to know for sure was to ask.

Your eyes darted to the side quickly before looking at her again.

“Yes.”

The sound of her heart echoed loudly in her ears. Through horrendous amounts of research, Wednesday knew how to tell when someone was lying. From the way they lick their lips to where their eyes go. It didn’t matter if it was a big or small lie, the signs were all the same.

And you? You had just lied to her.

“He’s giving me a headache,” you said with a shrug. Behind you, your wings ruffled lightly underneath your shirt.

Wednesday was smart enough not to question when you had started wearing your harness more during the day time. It had happened some time after getting back from the dia de los muertos celebration. You had never mentioned it, and she had thought it was better to just let you do what you felt you needed to. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t tell how uncomfortable you were with it.

And it didn’t stop your wings from giving away your lies.

“Can you get the paper plates, please?” You asked, not unkindly pulling away from her hands and facing the stove once again.

It hurt. Which left for an unusual feeling in Wednesday’s chest and a strange ball of tension in her throat. She grabbed the plates from the designated cabinet and tried to ignore the feeling, but it was impossible. Had you ever lied to her before? Nothing immediately came to mind, and it was concerning. Why would you decide now to lie to her? And what could have been worth it?

She didn’t know. But she was going to find out.

—---

It was two days before Christmas when you left to go visit Nicky.

“I won’t be long,” you said without looking up from the small picnic basket you were packing. “Just gonna bring him some of Momma’s pumpkin rolls.”

Wednesday wouldn’t dare tell you not to go. She wasn’t entirely sure if you were coping in a healthy way, but who was she to speak up? Her family certainly weren’t the baseline of normality when it came to coping and grieving. Death wasn’t some horrendous thing that most people saw it as, not to the Addamses. And even though you fit in perfectly, you weren’t an Addams.

Take me with you, she thought. Let me keep you out of trouble. It was an unusual thought, and it took her by surprise. Part of what she had initially adored about you was your penchant for getting into trouble. Yet with this? Every fibre of her being wanted desperately to keep you safe. It was an uncomfortable feeling and she wanted it to go away.

“Don’t be out too late,” was what Wednesday finally said. “They still have yet to find that killer in DC.”

“Killer?” You asked, freezing in place. Your eyes trailed off, not looking at anything in particular before they widened and your mouth made an adorable little “o.” Not that Wednesday thought it was adorable. “You mean the one that got Mr. Hart?”

Wednesday nodded.

“I hope I do see him.”

She gave you the most unamused look she could muster. “That’s not comforting.”

“I need to congratulate the man,” you said. A smile more suited to your true personality slowly grew. “Maybe I’ll offer him a pumpkin roll.”

“Please stay out of trouble,” she said with a sigh that she did her best to hide. “I can bail you out of jail again, but would prefer not to.”

“You didn’t like picturing me behind bars?” You asked. Wednesday did her best to keep down the heat that was rising on her cheeks. “I think you liked me in handcuffs.”

“You two are disgusting.”

You both jumped - it was the first time Wednesday was thankful you were wearing your harness - when Ash walked into the kitchen. She wasn’t looking at either of you directly, but Wednesday could see her smirk. It was similar to Hailey’s. And yours. Oh, you all really had practically grown up together.

“Then quit eavesdropping,” you said. All teasing in your tone was gone.

Wednesday missed it within an instant.

“If you’re not home in time for dinner, I’m letting Wednesday sleep in the bed with me and Bianca,” Ash continued as she grabbed one of the pumpkin rolls from the plate.

“I’m not a stray,” Wednesday mumbled.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” you said quickly. “Keep your hands off my girlfriend.”

“Gotta keep you motivated somehow,” Ash said with a smile before she backed out of the kitchen. “Tell Nicky I said hi!”

“You’ll be safe?” Wednesday said again, not even caring if Ash heard her or not. She was more focused on the fact that, at the mention of Ash saying hi to Nicky, you had sombered rapidly. “No killers?”

“You almost sound like you care, Wends,” you said, but that troubled frown morphed into the smallest of smiles. “What would Enid think?”

“Enid would think nothing of it because no one will tell her.” She did her best to make it a threat, but it fell on deaf ears. You both knew she wouldn’t do anything.

“I’ll be safe,” you finally said, “and I won’t congratulate killers.”

Thank you, she thought even though she couldn’t get herself to say it aloud. Instead, she stood up on her toes and kissed you on the cheek. A soft kiss, one planted firmly enough to know she was serious. To show she cared, even if she wouldn’t say it in so many words.

“Can I kiss you back?” You asked.

Wednesday only had to nod once before you cupped her cheeks and kissed her just as softly. Where she had used to find it a little ridiculous that you would ask every single time, now she truly loved it. To know that you respected her boundaries enough to ask, no matter the situation? It was something she hadn’t expected to receive from anyone, and yet you did it so effortlessly.

“I’ll be back tonight,” you whispered against her lips.

With one final press of your lips against hers, you pulled away, grabbed the picnic basket, and left.

“Your cheeks are red,” Ash said. She was leaning against the doorframe with a look that was very much her own. “In case you didn’t know.”

“You and Bianca truly deserve each other,” Wednesday said as she quickly pushed past Ash.

She was going to kill you for humiliating her like that.

It was far into the night when you finally came home. Now, Wednesday would cut you a bit of slack, you had called to let everyone know you had been late. “Held up,” were your exact words. She couldn’t be sure if anyone else had noticed, but she could practically feel the tension of your words through the phone. In her mind’s eye, you were clenching your teeth and your wings were doing the equivalent of shaking fists.

Everyone had already gotten in bed, including Wednesday, when you finally attempted to sneak into the basement. Not that you were very loud, you had actually gotten much better at sneaking around. But Wednesday knew what you sounded like when you were trying to be silent. Too many nights of you coming home late from work, or therapy, or even just one of your late walks had conditioned her to know your sounds.

It was in the slightest ruffle of feathers, because you never came home from a late night excursion with your harness on. Then there was the oh so subtle sound of your footsteps. You stepped on the balls of your feet to minimise the noise; something you also did when you believed someone was in a bad mood. Perhaps, she thought, it had something to do with that abuse Ash had mentioned all that time ago.

Which… actually wasn’t that long ago, now that Wednesday was thinking about it.

She made it a habit, if she was still awake, to look for your eyes glowing in the dark. It made it easier to keep track of where you were and how much longer it would be before you got into bed. Even though she would rather perish than admit it, she always counted down expectantly until you were beside her once again.

When the bed shifted underneath her, she startled. How had you managed to sneak up on her when she had heard every sound you had made? Surely she would have caught your eyes at some point, they were practically neon against the pitch black. But it was certainly your arm wrapped around her waist, and your small kisses behind her ear.

“Sorry I scared you,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

You hadn’t scared her. That’s what she wanted to say, at least. But you felt too warm, and you were holding her a little too close, and she had missed you. She turned around, being careful not to jostle you too much. All she really wanted was to place her head beneath your jaw in the safety of darkness where no one could peek into her secret joy.

“I love you,” you said softly before planting a quick kiss on her forehead.

She opened her eyes to look at you, the words ready and waiting on her lips, but she froze.

Your eyes weren’t glowing.

The night seemed to drag on without Wednesday getting an ounce of sleep. How could she when you were no longer you? You had sounded like you; had felt like you all throughout the night. But your eyes… how could that be explained? For as long as Wednesday had known you, she didn’t think your eyes had ever not glowed in the dark.

When morning came and you both woke up, it was as if nothing had happened. Your eyes were still slightly fluorescent in the barely present morning sun. There was the usual sleepiness in your eyes and your smile was small and you looked… like the you she knew and adored.

“You were late,” Wednesday tried to say on the rare instance that she had you alone. It was Christmas Eve and she knew the children were getting excitedly anxious.

“My parents were there,” you said. Wednesday froze, but you quickly shook your head. “It wasn’t as awful as expected.”

“Would you-,” she exhaled slowly, “-would you like to talk about it?”

“Are you mentally prepared for it?” You asked in return.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was or not. It had been a while since you had decided to talk about anything serious. In theory, yes she was mentally prepared. You had asked before bringing it up. She had already been stewing over everything  the entire night anyway. How was an actual conversation any different?

“Yes,” she finally said.

“They were actually there for Mr. Hart,” you said, pulling Wednesday over onto the outside porch swing with you. Thankfully, most everyone was out skiing. “Which was no surprise, they never cared.”

Wednesday let her head fall onto your shoulder. She couldn’t look at you if she wanted to listen properly and understand her own reactions to your words. That did not, however, mean she couldn’t at least lean against you and comfort you in the way Enid had taught her.

Maybe she needed to learn from someone other than Enid.

“There were a few people around, so I guess they felt obligated to talk to me,” you said with a shrug that jostled her head. “It was clearly uncomfortable for everyone.”

“Was the topic unpleasant?” She asked. Excellent follow up question, she thought to herself, you’re doing great. Yes. Yes she was.

“Just asked about school and work,” you continued. Your hand fell to her thigh and your thumb rubbed lightly over the fabric of her pants. It was borderline uncomfortable; she loved it.

“How was your anger metre?”

“You haven’t asked that in a while,” you mumbled. “It was about a 6,” you answered anyway. “Would’ve been higher if they had even had the decency to save face.”

Wednesday wanted to ask you to specify. Not just what would have made your metre rise, but what you even meant in the first place. There was just too much she didn’t know about your parents, your past, how it all connected. Too many unknowns lead her to question how she was even supposed to comfort you. Hold a conversation with you about your feelings. Feelings were difficult enough without your past coming into play.

Why did you have to make an already difficult thing even worse?

She was amazed by your abilities.

“Your eyes were dull when you got into bed.”

The admittance had Wednesday’s body freeze up. Why would she so openly play her only card like that? She was a detective by trade, of course, but she was better than this. There was no doubt you would have told her anything she asked, but she wasn’t supposed to let you know she was suspicious of something!

You stayed still underneath her as you played over her statement. She knew you were because your mouth was quirked to the side, and it looked like you were chewing on your bottom lip. It was so very you that she felt something tugging at her chest. Tugging harder with each beat of her heart, doing its best to push her closer to you just to savour the you-ness of it all.

“Explains the migraine,” you finally said, so quietly that Wednesday almost couldn’t hear it. “Curious.”

You stayed silent, just pulling Wednesday closer until she was sitting in your lap and you held her so tightly it was almost painful. Beneath her ear, she could hear your racing heart. Beneath her fingertips, she felt the slightest tremor of the muscles under your skin. The slightest scratch of your nails on her back was both soothing and irritating.

And yet you didn’t say another word. And Wednesday was left with more questions than answers.

————————–

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-Save Me From Her pt. 3

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: The past comes back to haunt, and it doesn't like the present.

a/n: Hai everybody! Sorry that this took this long to come out, but life has been lifing, and I needed to get a hold of my mental health and stuff like that. Anyways, enjoy!

warnings: amature writing, wounds, stabbing, Canon-typical violance, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, mass homocide, blood, blood, and more blood (also; not proofread. I will, but not yet. When I did, I will remove this. I just wanted to push this out as quick as possible.

“Lolly!”

Her voice was venomous as it echoed through the small room, shivering, and agitated.

“Come ‘ere…”

The voice disintegrated, everything in it becoming shadowy dust, blown away by the wind. Her voice faded as well, as it was taken over by a sound that cut through the very fabric of nature. A scream, loud, horrid, and filled with emotion. Filled with anger, with hate and rancor.

“She was screaming, shouting, and begging for it to end.” The voice sounded from the depths of darkness. “Yet you did nothing!”

Her face emerged from the dredge, emotionless. Her eyes like glass, her mouth ripped open, deep bruises across her features. Dead. Then her voice sounded again, the former emotions snuff from the words she spoke, replaced with sadness. She sounded bitter, heartbroken. Disappointed.

“We could have been happy Y/N. We could have been…”

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

Tara was worried about you. Ever since you saw the note, you haven’t been the same. You acted like nothing happened, talked to the cops about the attack whilst soothing her quivering body. They asked about the dead body as well, which you gave the full truth about; that he attacked you two yesterday and that in his drunk state, you could fend him off. With her help you went through about what happened inside the building today, skipping over the personal parts of course.

Even though you kept a straight, composed face, even when you talked calmly, not a hint of trembling present in your voice, she could see through your façade. You were shaken to your core. She saw the slight flinch of your eyes when the name ‘Lolly’ came up, she felt the almost unnoticeable tightening of your grip around her whenever they asked about your wounds. The little motions your lips, your body, they all gave you away. She has never seen you like this. Scared. You weren’t whilst talking back to someone twice your size, not when you defended her yesterday from the drunk, not when you two fled for your lives today. Not when the knife was inches away from your face. Never

Yet now, you were. The reappearance of Ghostface by itself made Tara too, your state had only worsened hers. She was afraid for you. The worry she felt for you overwhelmed every other emotion that would rise in her. She felt like she needed to stay strong, for the both of you. Falling apart was not an option.

After the ambulance patched you up, the cops approached you once more.

“You’ll have to come with us so that we may pick up your statements at the precinct.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we just tell you what happened?”

“Yes, but to officially record it, we need you to be at the station.”

“But-“ Tara started but your soft, gentle hand on her shoulder made her stop.

“Let’s follow the officers Tara” you said, looking at the young woman. You were composed and confident.

She huffed but gave in to you. “Can I call Sam from your phone please? I left mine in your apartment.”

“Here” you mumbled as you absentmindedly handed her yours from your back pocket.

As Tara started to dial in her sister’s number, she saw it was already saved. At the name she raised her brow again. “Who is ‘Geralt’?

“Oh, it’s her” you say, blushing a little. "It's from Witcher.

“I know, but why is this her name?” she asks, turning the screen towards you.

You shy away from her unwavering gaze, then press the call button and push her hand back towards her face. “Oh, no you won’t escape this-“ she starts but Sam is faster, as she immediately picks up the ringing phone. She hears her voice calling out for her from the other end of the line.

"Tara! I just saw the news. Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm on my way and be there as fast as possib-" her unrelenting assault of words is cut off by Tara.

"Sam, calm down and take a breath. I'm uninjured, but Y/N got a nasty cut on her neck. The police want us to go down to the precinct to pick up our statements. Meet us there?"

"Yeah, sounds good! Be careful!"

"Off what? I'll be surrounded by cops for god's sake!"

"We both now that won't stop him" Sam said, voice low and mournful. Flashing memories of the hospital ran through Tara's mind for a second and sent a shiver down her spine. The dead cop, laying limp on the floor with an open throat, the pain and the fear coming back to her all of a sudden. Her senses numbed, not hearing Sam's voice on the other end of the line, the lights becoming blindingly bright, yet she couldn't close or avert her eyes. She was frozen in place, helpless just like when she was crawling away from her. From the one that said she would be always by her side. The one that said whatever the case, she would keep her safe. The one that said she loved her.

She flinched when she felt something touch her and snapped her head backwards. At your sight she calmed, only now noticing, and taking in her surroundings once again. "Okay Sam, I will. Bye" Tara managed to say, then hung up.

"She knew?" your voice was soft, so soft. Why were you this thoughtful with her always? It made her heartbeat faster, making her able to believe she could be normal again. But life always had a way to prove her wrong, doesn't it?

"By now all of the world could now" she gestured behind you, towards the police line where an army of reporters were lined up. You sighed as you noticed them. "We are gonna meet her at the station."

"Then let's get moving." Tara felt your hand on her back, nudging her gently to get to the police car.

You opened the door for her, then scrambled to the other side to do the same for yourself. When you got in and closed the car, the sounds of the outside vanished, a comfortable silence filling the space. The vehicle soundlessly rolled out to the road, the lights of the city blaring by the window that Tara's head was leaned against. The cops in front were chattering quietly, trying not to disturb you two.

The Carpenter felt odd. Out of place. Everything was calm. Nothing should be calm. Ghostface was back. He was here to bring her and her loved one’s pain, suffering, and death. Why her? Then she thought of the note. This wasn't about her. No, you knew what the name meant, it scared you. This wasn't about her she realized. This was about you. She rethought the attack, every little detail she could think of. She was the first one to get called, but that didn't mean much. All the time, he was staring at you with his dead eyes, always attacking you. She remembered the occasions where he could have wounded her, yet he was focused solely on you.

Tara looked over to your side of the backseats, taking in your features again. You were just as disturbed as her, deep in thought and uncomfortable. You would have looked cute if one didn't know about what had happened. Tara saw your pained gaze, could feel that your thoughts were eating you up inside and hated every moment of it. Your usual smile wasn't there to light her up. She missed your crinkling eyes that could melt the coldest frozen hearts, your witty jokes, that you would throw in the worst time possible. So, she tried to distract you.

"I want an answer" she demanded, looking at you with furrowed eyes. She surprised you with speaking up, that she could see. You looked at her, confused and unfocused. "I want an answer" she repeated. You clearly didn't know what she was talking about, but she needed you to get speaking so you wouldn't shut off again.

"What answer?" your voice full of confusion.

"The answer to my question" Tara said matter-of-factly.

You rolled your eyes at her statement. "Which one Tara?"

"Why the hell is my sister saved in your phone as Geralt of Rivia?"

You reddened instantly, looking everywhere but her. "It was mainly meant to be a joke…"

"But?"

You gulped and glanced over to her a few times. She knew her unwavering gaze would brake your resistance, and it did. "Anika pointed out that he resembles some of his attributes." You say, still not looking at her.

"Like what?" Tara asked playfully. You looked like a child caught in the act of stealing cookies from the fridge. You swallowed again, clearly rethinking your life choices since the date of your birth. "Y/N, don't think that I'll let you off the hook this easily."

"She is strong, layered and protective besides being misunderstood and mistreated!" you blurted out, looking straight at her. Once you did, your eyes widened and went pale as a ghost. Tara could feel her smile widening to unimaginable lengths before bursting out in laughter. "I'm only telling the truth here! Don't laugh at me" you pouted. You looked so kissable.

"N- no it's not you it's just" she tried to say in between laughs. "It's just that it's so accurate. She would be fuming if she heard about this."

"And that's why she will never know!" So kissable.

"Oh, I don't know about that" she smirked. "My tongue is in a slippy mood these days…"

"No, Tara I'm serious!" you pleaded, face contorting in fear. "She would kill me! I have barely made it on her list of tolerated people! I don't want to end up-" she cut you off with her lips on yours. Your eyes widened for a moment, taking in what was happening, but she didn't give you enough time to fully comprehend it. She leaned back and watched your gaping face. After you finally shook off the surprise, you smirked at her. "Well, if I end up like this, I don't mind her knowing."

Tara rolled her eyes at you but the butterflies in her stomach rendered her silent. What exactly was this? You kissed her back, that surely meant you liked her too, right? She didn’t have much time to think because you leaned in to kiss her again, this time deepening it. You cupped her cheek with your right hand, whilst the left on found hold on her waist, gently rubbing circles under the fabric. When you had to separate for air, she pressed her forehead against yours, eyes locking with each other.

“I-“ Tara started, but stopped herself. The words she was about to speak didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel enough. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to think up something that would be better.

“I know” you said simply, caressing her face with your fingers. She opened her eyes again, and your heart started beating faster at the sight of them, full of hope and concern. “Me too.”

Your words made the swarm of butterflies in Tara’s stomach grow into a horde. “Since when?”

“Anika told me what you told Mindy” you said with a smirk. “That’s when I really started to hope for it to be true. I never fully believed it until know though.”

“You mean the time when they got together?” At your nod her face reddened. She then narrowed her eyes and leaned back. “Mindy is dead to me.”

“Oh, come on, they share everything between each other, and Anika could never stand my stare.”

“It was meant to be a secret!”

“If you want to blame someone, blame me for being a too good sister, from which the other can’t keep anything from!”

“Yeah, if anything you’re an idiot” she said, smiling.

“I might be” you leaned back too and smirked at her. “But I’m your idiot now.” Tara’s stomach churned in the most pleasurable way after hearing your words.

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

The rest of the route went by in a blink of an eye. Tara and you had talked most of it through, and you were thankful of her for distracting you from your own thoughts. The note rocked you to your core. There were only a few people who could have known that nickname, but you didn’t see any of them capable of killing someone, let alone mutilate them afterwards. The only one died a year ago. She died a year ago.

When your thoughts would start to eat you up again the car stopped. The cops got out and helped you two leave the vehicle as well. You entered the building and were met with the familiar sight of the white walls and crowded office. You couldn’t remember how many days you spent here nagging and annoying your uncle. Yet he wasn’t here anymore, and the thought made you feel alone. Scared. Overwhelmed. Screaming, shouting, begging for it to end…

As if she read your mind, Tara grabbed your hand and interlocked her fingers with you. You looked down at her and smiled, reassuringly squeezing her hand. The cops started leading you two to what you liked to call; ‘interrogation chamber’ in your youth. Whenever you saw the cops bringing in perps in handcuffs, you would imagine how scary it must be for them. You would chase yourself into a corner of your mind where everything was scary and dark. Where she was still free. Still alive. Your only lifebelt being your uncle, who never failed to help you out of there. Now, the room you were closing in on didn’t seem so bad. It felt safe. Funny how time changes perspectives.

“Y/N?” you heard a familiar voice behind you. Not believing your ears your span around, searching for the source. “Y/N! Hey! How are you? What the hell are you doing here?” The source turned out to be a young man, with red hair and sparkling green eyes. Just like your uncle.

“I could ask you the same thing V.”

“Not even a greeting for your most humble cousin? I must say you’ve cha-“ he got cut off when you hugged him so tightly Tara was worried you might brake some bones. “There she is…” he said, wrapping his own hand around you.

“What happened? I thought you are stationed in Washington!”

“I got transferred here upon my request. Being a legacy of pa helped.”

“Kayoko, you two know each other?” one of the officers asked that were escorting you.

“Not intentionally” Vasco smirked and pushed your shoulder a little. You flinched from the pain. His eyes narrowed and without asking pushed the fabric of your shirt to the side, revealing the bloody bandage that was wrapped around the stitched wound. “What happened?” his voice got serious in an instant.

You took a deep breath before answering. “Me and Tara had been attacked in my apartment.” His eyes widened, suddenly gripping your bicep. “It was Ghostface. Now I’m involved in the homicide of a homeless drunk that also attacked us a day before and gave me this” you held up your arm. The wound narrowed since yesterday, yet it still itched and hurt. “Speaking truly, I was the aggressor that time, but that’s unimportant now.” You almost whispered the last sentence. He huffed and shook his head slightly.

“Just my luck” he shook his head. “The first serious case I get, and my family’s involved.”

“You lead the case?”

“No, Wayne does. You know, father’s old partner.” You nodded, as you did, in fact remember the graying man. “I’m in his team and for once, he didn’t put me in the backline.”

“Wayne as in Wayne Bailey?” Tara interrupted.

“How do you know him?” Vasco asked back.

“He’s the father of her roommate.”

“Quinn or E… Oh wait, no. His son is studying at Princton. So, you are Quinn’s roommate huh?”

“I thought her brother died…” Tara said.

“He did. Sorry, he had two siblings. I thought you would know this.”

“No, she never mentioned two” you said as well.

“Sorry to interrupt Kayoko, but we all have our jobs to do” a officer said. “After picking up their statements, you can have them back.”

“Of course, Stan. Apologies” he said and held his hands up.

Before you were lead away, you hugged him again and decided to throw the big ball into the game. “There was a note for me, pinned to the corpse” you whispered in his ear.

“How do you know it was for you?”

“It was meant for Lolly.”

When you pulled away, you saw his struck state. It looked like he froze down, his eyes full of sorrow as he looked at you “I’ll get to work then” he said, threw you a weak smile, and squeezed your shoulder again, before turning around and walking towards his place.

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

You needed to wait a little for Bailey to arrive. He was at the scene and missed you there.

“Stan and Mitch are awfully efficient when they don’t need to be” he huffed as he greeted you warmly. He was just as bright and straight as he always used to, even if time had worn him out a little. With you, at least. Tara was a different world. You remembered how he first acted around you and found resemblance. They just needed to warm up to each other, you thought.

They didn’t. From the point he started picking up your statement, he gave her his coldest self. Sam got there in the middle of interrogation, and her being around didn’t help much either. She looked even more dishevelled than last time as she barged into the room, even though half the police force tried to deny her that. When Tara reassured them that she was with you two, they reluctantly let her stay.

You didn’t know whether Tara wanted to hide what you had from her, so you tried to keep the usual distance, but the young Carpenter was having none of it. Once she got a hold of your hand under the table, she wasn’t letting go. Sam clearly saw but didn’t say anything. The only reaction you saw from her, was the small, almost unnoticeable smile on her concerned face, which you took as a good sign.

You explained everything again to Bailey, this time a bit more calmly and provided more information. You described the attack, the phone call, leaving out some information about you and Tara again. Then came the nickname. The grey man tried to go into the depths, but you dodged every question as your father and uncle had thought you to. Noone besides our loved ones will know about this. The vow you made to them resounded in your head, and you never took yourself for a liar. Noone else needs to know. It just wasn’t necessary.

“Who could want to see you two dead?” he asked with a resigning voice, eyeing you and Tara.

“Cmon’ Bailey, you know me! I’m the most charming person in the world” you teased and leaned back, smirking.

“So, half the city. You?” she asked Tara.

Before answering she shook her head slightly. “Can’t think of anyone who’s still alive.”

“Yikes.” you and Bailey said in unison.

The door opened and Stan showed his head in the door. “FBI’s here, claiming jurisdiction.”

Bailey’s face contorted from confusion. “Where are they?”

He stood and left the room, you quickly following behind. No matter how much time you spent here, it could still surprise you. You have seen federal agents once or twice, but never when they claimed a case for themselves. You were interested, the Carpenter sisters following close behind you. Tara wouldn’t let go of your hand, gently squeezing it, so you couldn’t release it, which you wouldn’t, not even if the world was ending. Especially not if the world was ending.

Three doors later Stan opened a door, motioned inside. A woman stood from one of the chairs, blonde, painted shoulder length hair, combat boots and a black outfit with a black leather jacket. You couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but the woman showed her badge and Bailey clearly didn’t like her. A case was laid open on the table, your and Tara’s picture on top of it. The sisters were talking about something, but you didn’t listen, your eyes focusing on the photograph that was taken of the corpse. It looked weird. Not how it looked when you were there.

Your train of thoughts was disrupted by Sam, who just noticed who was inside. “Kirby?”

“Hey Sam” the blonde woman greeted her and squeezed herself past you and Bailey to hug her. “Tara, and you must be Y/N, right?”

“Your detective skills are impressive” you nodded.

“You are the FBI?” Sam asked.

“You guys know each other?” the graying man asked, after Kirby nodded.

“Yeah. We went to Woodsboro high together” the older Carpenter said. “She was a senior when I was a freshman.          “

“We share a certain history, yeah” Kirby agreed. “Look, I’m not trying to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest here, I just want to help” she had a sly smile plastered on her face. “I’ll show you mine” she said, still smiling. “Et cetera.”

You huffed at her words. This was one of the weakest jokes, you have heard today, yet it still made you smile. Kirby had this look of pure confidence and kindness, that made you calm. You looked down at Tara from the corner of your eye and saw her also hiding her grin with her left hand, the other one still holding onto yours.

Bailey scrunched his eyes, but gave in, sharing some information about your statement and about the attack. The woman nodded along, and once he was finished, spoke up. “I already knew about the circumstances of the attack. If we are to catch this maniac, we will have to work together.”

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Sam said, as her patience ran out. “We are getting out of town” to exercise her point, she grabbed Tara’s hand and started leaving the police station. Your heart clenched in a familiar uncomfortable way.

“No!” Tara pulled her hand back and stayed close by your side. “I’m not leaving her behind!” The pain eased a little at her words, yet your mind was screaming for her to leave.

“Also, I can’t let you do that” Bailey cut in. “I’m sorry, but your sister is a person of interest in a homicide. She can’t leave town until the matter is resolved.”

Sam looked at both in disbelief. At Tara because she wanted to stay in a place where a psycho was on the loose, hell bent on hurting her, and at Bailey because of how ridiculous his words have made her feel. There was a maniac on the loose, and they couldn’t leave. They couldn’t leave because of the people that should try to do everything in their might to keep them safe. It was laughable really. When she wanted to word the thoughts that were circling in her head, the lights shut out.

The whole building went dead silent. The only source of light, being the streetlamps outdoors. You felt Tara leaning into you, her heartbeat fastening against your chest. You tightened your grip on her hand, and blinked, so your eyes would adjust to the darkness quicker. There was a hint of smoke in the air, but there was no logical explanation for it. It also smelled like smoke.

A pained scream echoed through the room. The scream of man. After a moment it turned into a growl, becoming ever more silent as something blocked the way of the sound. You heard Bailey and Kirby take out their guns, cocking them, just as all the other cops in the building. You snapped your head in every direction, but you still couldn’t see clearly, only the figures of people. The smoke in the room only got thicker.

A way too familiar voice resounded across the place, filling you with fear. His voice. “Did you miss me, Lolly?”

Another fading scream filled the room, but this time two shots followed it right after. The sound was deafening, and your ears started ringing. You could hear distant orders being barked out even though it came from right next to you, the figures of the two law enforcers disappearing from before you. A million thoughts were blaring through your mind, only some of them useful. Before you could do anything, you felt someone grab your hand and pull you with. After a moment you realised it was Sam, and stopped struggling against her, following her lead. But then she stopped in her tracks.

“No escape for you here, dear.” Ghostface spoke again, from right before you. You looked over Sam and saw him already stabbing towards her. You tried to pull her backwards, but it was too late. The knife sliced into her flesh, a pained groan leaving her mouth as she stumbled back. As you were still pulling her, a cop got between you and him, raising his gun. Three shots were fired, two of them clearly hitting him, but it was as if he didn’t even notice. He lunged forward at his shooter, opening his throat and chest with two precise and fast attacks.

You span around and ran the other way, the Carpenters by your side. The smoke had now filled the entire place, vision impaired. It helped that you had the building memorised by heart, as you took turn after turn. Shots were being fired and the smell of blood mixed with the smell of smoke and gunpowder, creating a metallic, hardly breathable atmosphere.

Then you tripped in something. As you fell, you let go of Tara’s hand and when you looked up, you couldn’t see her no more. You could hear her screaming your name, but you couldn’t answer, the smoke filling your lungs. Then you looked down at what you tripped in. Or as it turned out, who. It was a uniformed cop’s body, struggling for air. He had a stabbed wound in his gorge. Your hands were dripping of his blood, half your clothes soaking in it too. You didn’t know a human could have so much blood in their body, but when you looked around, you saw one more, with also as precise cuts as all the other victims you witnessed. All of them were stabbed at vital organs, or from where they would die in a few seconds or minutes. Not a second wasted.

“Oh, poor Y/N” he said in a condescending voice. “This must be pretty traumatic for you. I almost feel bad.” A hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back by it. “Almost” he whispered in your ear. There was a voice behind the modulator, that was familiar. Your heart skipped a beat after realisation hit you. But that couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t!

You slumped back to the ground when she suddenly let go of your hair. You looked back behind you, seeing her figure falling onto her back. Another woman stood above you, and you could take out Sam’s boots. She grabbed you, pulled you up and started running, not even waiting for you to be able to catch your balance, just pulled you after her. She barged through a door, that led you to the Northern stairs, where Tara was waiting, tears running down her cheek. She was coughing hard, trying to swallow air desperately, yet she couldn’t. You looked at Sam for a moment, and after you saw one of her hands was occupied with a gun, you picked up Tara in your hands and started running down the stairs, three steps a time.

The ground floor looked similar in its form, but there was no smoke here. Bodies were scattered around the place, some of them civilians, some of them cops. All of them dead. You traced over the room, searching for a specific table, and once you found it ran towards it, leaning Tara against it.

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?!” Sam was trying her best not to snap at you.

“Tara’s going to suffocate if we don’t do something” you answered, opening drawer after drawer to find the item you were looking for. “To our “luck”, Private Alice always holds an inhaler at her desk in case her asthma ever comes back.” Sam accepted this, and turned towards the places Ghostface could come after you.

You found it in the fourth drawer and immediately turned towards the younger Carpenter. You aided her to take it in her mouth and pressed down a few times, just to be sure. She looked at you gratefully after. Her coughing died down slowly, and you helped her up. That’s when you noticed that everything was quiet. No shooting, no footsteps above you, nothing. Was everybody dead?

As to answer that question, the door of the staircase opened, and a very dishevelled looking Kirby stumbled into the room, followed by Bailey and two other cops. You sighed in relief when you saw Vasco in their group. The greying man barked out some orders, and Vasco and two others walked over to you, surrounding the three of you, whilst he and the rest of the cops marched out. Kirby joined him, her gun also raised, eyeing every corner before she disappeared behind a wall.

“Vasco, what the hell is going on?” you asked, suddenly feeling very weak.

“He jumped out a window, after we surrounded him” he said, very quiet. Why was he so quiet?

Then he threw you a glance. The glance, turned into a full-blown stare, his face horrified. You saw his mouth opening, but no notes hit your ear. Your side throbbed of pain, and you looked over to see, why. When you saw the opening that had been carved into you, you did nothing. Nothing else than stare at it, whilst feeling your vision darkening, and getting weaker and weaker. The floor came quicker than you could realise, why it was even getting closer. Suddenly you felt the floor hit you with all it’s might before everything became dark.

Let The Light In |4|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter 4: Leave That For The Adults

Summary: Tara has been driving herself crazy trying to figure out what she's feeling and you're not making it any better. And you get stuck having dinner with a certain teeth edging family member

Warning(s): Some angst, swearing, mentions of underage drinking, intoxication, dry heaving, gagging & throwing up

Notes: We get to see a little more of R's past in this one and I think you're gonna like one specific scene I wrote 🤭

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

Tara, Mindy, Chad and Ethan were once again over at your and Anika’s apartment to hang out with her. She tried to convince you to hang out with them but you weren’t interested. Your answer was always the same whenever she asked. 

They just weren’t your crowd. They weren’t in high school and they aren't now. You were fine with that. Anika on the other hand wanted you to get to know them. They were friends with her girlfriend and became her own. She wanted all of you to get along.

She was fully aware of your rocky relationship with Tara but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying. Anika only knew a few things; you and tara have hated each other since high school and according to Mindy it started out of the blue.

“Chad I swear to god if you don’t stop throwing that blue shell at me,” Tara said as she swerved along with her kart on the screen. “It’s not my fault your reflexes on Mario Kart suck–” Tara threw a pillow at him “–hey! No pillow throwing.”

“Aaaand victory is mine!” Mindy raised her arms victoriously. “Take that losers,” she smirked while the rest of them groaned. 

“Winner gets to choose where we eat for dinner and I say that diner around the corner.” After a few minutes they start to get ready to leave. “Oh hold on one second,” Anika said before approaching your bedroom door and knocking.

“Yeah?” She heard you ask from the other side. “We’re going to that diner around the corner. You wanna come?” Shit. Anika knew damn well it was your favorite place to eat. The only flaw is that it doesn’t deliver. 

Your roommate heard groaning and shuffling before the door swung open. “Sure I’m in.” You were wearing jeans and a Batman shirt that looked a little too thin for the chill fall weather. “Aren’t you going to be a bit cold?” She asked before you rolled your head back and grabbed your older brother’s letterman jacket. 

“I’ll take this. Happy mom?” She rolled her eyes before replying. “Very, now come on.”

The walk over was short but you still trailed behind them the entire time. When you all sat in a booth you chose to hide with a menu by holding it up in front of your face. You stared at the menu as if you weren’t going to order your usual. Anika and Mindy sit beside you as Ethan, Chad and Tara sit in front of you. 

They have multiple conversations that you choose to stay out of until you hear your name. “So, Y/N, you like Batman?” You put down the menu and tilt your head slightly, looking at the curly haired boy who had spoken.

“It’s just I noticed your Batman shirt,” Ethan continued as he briefly pointed to the shirt you were wearing. “Oh yeah. He’s cool. You?” He smiled and nodded. 

A conversation between the two of you – that was Ethan asking you questions and you responding with a short answer or hum – eventually picked up. During all this you couldn’t help but feel like you were being stared at but chose to ignore it. Your conversation with Ethan was put on pause when the food came. You quietly munched on your fries until Tara spoke up.

“So, Y/N–” here we go “–you only come out of your room for food and the occasional bathroom breaks…you’re kind of like a deer.” She took a bite of one of her onion rings. “A deer? What– well you’re five foot nothin’ so I don’t know why you’re talkin'.” You shot back. It wasn’t the first time somebody’s compared your habits to a deer. 

“I’m five foot one!” She defended with a scoff before you responded. “But who’s keeping track, right? And speaking of which–” everybody at the table were now staring at the both of you “–why are you keeping track of my routine anyways?” 

“Oh you are so full of it,” Tara said with her arms now crossed. “Full of what? I haven’t accused you of anything yet my little stalker. Simply just asking,” you shrugged while wearing a smug look that Tara wanted to ki- smack right off your face.

“Don’t you still sleep with a Spider-Man plushie?” Tara retorted before sipping her milkshake, her eyes never leaving you. “Technically I don’t sleep with him, he sits on my nightstand. Wait– how do you know about him?” You asked with tilt in your head.

Tara suddenly avoided your stare as she twirled her straw in her milkshake. “You mentioned it at some point,” she finally murmured.

“You remembered that?” She remembered that?  Even you couldn’t remember mentioning that to her until now. 

“It’s not a big deal. Not like it’s a hard thing to remember.” It suddenly got quiet between the two of you. All of them eventually drifted off into their own conversation as you silently nibbled on another one of your fries.

Suddenly you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. The message you read causes you to freeze and your eyes to widen.

Dad (8:56 pm) I’m coming over this weekend. 

“Shit,” you mutter and Anika turns over to you. “What’s wrong?” she asks but then her eyes catch the message you’re still staring at. Before she could say anything else you were already typing away.

Y/N (8:58 pm) Tomorrow?

You started to push down on your thumb’s cuticles with your index finger while waiting for a response. 

Dad (9:01 pm) Yes

Tomorrow was Saturday and you were originally going to help Tara with one of her assignments and then play video games at Henry’s place but not anymore. Now you’re going to get stuck with your father. It wasn’t an ideal situation. You and him never got along. 

You were never his favorite and that was alright with you cause he was never yours. All he did was bring problems. If he wasn’t busy cheating on your mom then he was nit picking at you and every little thing you did. No matter what you did you just couldn’t be enough for him.

A foot gently tapping your own from under the table pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Tara with her eyebrows furrowed. You simply cleared your throat and shook her head a bit, trying to show you were fine. She looked you up and down – not believing you one bit – before turning back to her conversation with Chad.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned your head to find Anika. “Are you gonna need the apartment this weekend? It’s not a problem if you do,” she asked and reassured you. 

“No, I think I’m just gonna take him out for dinner. Besides, he only knows where I’m attending college. He doesn’t know where I live and I’d like to keep it that way,” you murmured back before sipping your milkshake. You saw her nod from the corner of your eye before she turned back to Mindy.

When you all left the diner you and Tara went back to your bickering. Chad rubbed his stomach before letting out a tiny groan. “Shit, I shouldn’t have drank the milkshake and soda.” Mindy rolled her eyes and replied, “I told you not to drink both.” 

You and Tara were slightly ahead of the group. “Yeah bu– are those ghost socks?” You asked, cutting yourself off. Tara looked down at her socks for a second before looking back at you. “Yeah, and?” You put out your bottom lip as you shook your head. “Nothing. I think you look cute in them. Anyways back to the point I was making–” Tara didn’t hear much after the word “cute.”

Why are you acting as if you didn’t just call her cute? Were you doing this on purpose? Making her feel like this? Like butterflies were flying around in her stomach? Surely you knew. This had to be another one of your tactics. Another way for you to get inside her hea–

“Watch out for dog shit,” you said as you pulled her by the waist and away from the crap she was about to step on. When you removed your hand from her waist she almost missed it. Almost.

“You okay?” She turned her head to look up at you. “Yeah, fine.” Tara responded before looking back ahead. 

Mindy and Anika watched the whole interaction. They gave each other a silent look before continuing their own conversation. 

“You seem out of it.” Tara gave you a raised eyebrow before you elaborated. “I just mean, usually you would’ve had a rebuttal for me by now. You doin’ okay?” You were now fully looking at her and she hated the concern in your eyes.

She turned her head, no longer able to handle your stare. “I said I was fine, didn't I?” Tara crossed her arms. You gave her a tight lipped look before sighing, “Okay then…”

When you all got back to your apartment you placed your leftovers on the counter. Just as you were about to go to your room your phone started ringing. 

You tense up before saying, “I’m gonna take this,” and going to your bedroom. Leaving Anika and the rest of them in the living room. 

You silently sighed in relief as you heard your mom’s voice. The call itself didn’t take too long. It was just her checking in, making sure your father told you about him being in Manhattan this weekend – as vague as he was – and that her and your younger brother, Stephen, would be joining you and him for dinner.  You had zero complaints to this as you did not want to be left alone with your father.

When you stepped out of your room you completely forgot people were over. You stopped in your tracks as their heads turned to you for a brief moment, Tara was biting on her nails but dropped them from her mouth as soon as she saw you and looked back at the TV. 

“Great, you’re all still here,” you said sarcastically before sitting down in the loveseat. Anika kicked your feet due to your blatant comment. 

“Be nice,” she mouthed. You lifted your legs to rest on the loveseat’s armrest. You had no idea why you were sitting out here anyway. Originally you had come out of your room thinking they had left. You definitely weren’t in the mood for company. 

But when are you ever?

“Oh um, Tara I’m not gonna make it tomorrow,” you told her after a few minutes of silence. “Why?” Tara sinked further into the couch when she realized she sounded more disappointed than she intended. 

“I’m getting dragged off to this dinner thing tomorrow but I’ll make it up to you,” you simply answered before standing up and walking over to the kitchen. Mindy looked at you as you walked then to Tara with raised eyebrows.

“What?” Tara asked with a bored tone. “I’ll make it up to you~” Mindy mocked while dramatically fluttering her eyelashes. 

“Shut up.” 

—

You haven’t seen your father since you moved to Woodsboro your sophomore year. You didn’t even see him after were attacked by ghostface. Not that you expected any less from him, this was just the type of man he was. When you get to the restaurant the first people you see are your younger brother and mom. 

She greets you with a kiss to the cheek and you and your brother settle for a simple nod. Once you’re all seated you ask the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue since you walked in. “So, where’s dad?” Your mom sighed before answering. A sigh you knew all too well. “He’s on his way. There was just a little traffic. Stop worrying honey, leave that for the adults.” She looked at you with a gentle smile to ease her words.

You exhale through your nose, lightly moving your index finger against the glass cup set in front of you. I am an adult, you wanted to say but this wasn’t the place for that. Not now.

“What’s college like?” Stephen asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You continued to stare at the glass as you answered him. “Still there.” You could hear your mom clear her throat. You moved your eyes to look at her before moving them back to the glass. “Some of the classes are actually worth looking forward to so I guess that’s something.”

“Well that’s good. You’ve been keeping up with your studies?” You nodded. Before she could get another word out you felt a familiar grip on your shoulder. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic.” 

“Dad,” you heard your brother say. “Hey, buddy. How was the train?” Your father asked as he took the vacant space beside your mom. “It was okay,” Stephen answered. 

“Y/N.” You finally looked over to him. “Dad,” you responded less enthusiastically than your brother.  Stephen and your mom shared a look before you heard her speak. “Do you two know what you want?” She asked you and your brother.

Stephen nodded and you hummed.

“So, did Stephen tell you yet?” Your father asked. You looked at him then to Stephen, saying, “Tell me what?”

Your father wore a proud grin as he spoke, “He’s going to be a cop. Just like his old man and I couldn’t be prouder.” Your mom let out a silent sigh, knowing where the night was headed. “That’s great,” you took a sip of your water.

“Isn’t it? He’s going to be great.” Stephen nervously chuckled before finally saying something. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just thinking about it.” Your father shook his head, “It’s a calling, bud and you’re going to do amazing.” He sounded nothing but proud. 

You gave a small smile to your brother before turning back to your glass. You expected no less from tonight. You knew your father couldn’t be here five minutes without being ‘Officer Y/L/N.’ That was your relationship with him growing up. It seemed like he knew more about being a cop than how to be your dad. 

The waitress came with the food and left and the interrogation began. “So,” your father started, “you’ve been staying out of trouble?” You rolled your eyes.

“Course’ I have.” He grunted at your answer and responded, “There’s no need for an attitude. I have plenty of reasons to ask you that or did you forget about the shit you did in Brooklyn?” 

You roll your eyes again. “That was years ago. I don’t do that stuff anymore.” He eyed you before picking up his fork and knife, cutting through his chicken. “Mhm, kay,” you heard him mutter with doubt laced in his tone and you clenched your jaw.

“And stop rolling your eyes. It’s a bad habit,” he added before taking a bite of his food. You subconsciously closed your eyes for a second as you felt yourself about to roll your eyes again. He always found something to nitpick at. 

The rest of the night continued to go on like that. Your father continued to bring up your track record to get a rise out of you and you responded back with quips as you picked at your own skin under the table. 

Not much has changed since you were fifteen. 

The best news you got all night was that your father would be heading home the same night. You felt relief wash over you as you heard him say that. And as much as you love your mom and brother, you were glad they had their own ride home because you were simply too exhausted to be behind a wheel tonight. 

You were walking to your apartment when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You took it out to find a text from Anika.

Nik (10:53 pm) Hey! I went to carvel today, there’s a chocolate and vanilla twist waiting for you in the freezer

You slightly smiled, now off to the side and leaning against a shutter. You replied to the message, giving a quick thanks, before only putting in the right side of your headphones in and continuing your walk to your apartment. 

A hotdog stand caught your attention. The smell was alluring and you felt your stomach grumble. Damn it. You just came back from dinner but of course you were still hungry. It was dinner with your father. You never got much eating done, choosing to use your mouth for arguing rather than chewing and swallowing. 

You knew how unreliable street food was but at the moment you truly didn’t care. You chose to stick with a simple order, a hotdog with ketchup drizzled top. You got a Dr Pepper from a store nearby before sitting down on a bench and eating. This was the most at peace you felt all night. Sitting on a bench, listening to music, eating a hotdog and washing it down with Dr Pepper.

If only that peace lasted.

When you got home you went to turn on the light, not expecting them to be on since Anika was supposed to be out with Mindy, but you realized they were already on. You furrowed eyebrows. Anika usually doesn’t forget something like that.

“Anika?” You called out, reaching for the bat you hid under your couch when you first moved in. After a few seconds you heard her reply, “Y/N? Yeah in here!” It sounded like she was in the bathroom. You reluctantly put the bat back before going over to the bathroom.

“Hey what’s wro–” You cut yourself off when you see an ill looking Tara hunched over your toilet. Mindy was holding her hair back as Anika turned to you. “Hey um, sorry to just drop this on you. I know you probably had a long night but could you help us with something?” 

You gave Tara one more glance before answering, “Yeah of course. What do you need?” You could hear Tara gagging. “Can you keep an eye on her while we get her some supplies from the pharmacy?” You nodded and murmured, “Course.’ ”

You switched places with Mindy, lifting Tara’s hair and even pushing a few extra strands from her face. She was clearly drunk and you couldn’t help but admit you hated seeing her like this. You didn’t go to as many parties as she did but from what you’ve heard most of her free nights end with her being drunk.

“You're never gonna let me forget this, are you?” Tara said in between gags. You subconsciously moved one of your hands to her lower back, softly rubbing in circles.

“What? You think I like seeing you like this?” You asked genuinely. Surely she knew you didn’t…right? Seeing her in such an unhealthy state only brought a feeling of– well you couldn’t find the right word for what you felt. But you knew it wasn’t anything positive.

“Don’t you?” She slurred, clearly she hadn’t puked up all the alcohol just yet. You exhale through your nose, taking your hand off her lower back to reach into your pocket to grab a hair tie. Tara missed the contact but refused to say anything. Only pouting at yourself for even thinking such a thing.

You run your hands through her hair, brushing it back and tying it in a loose but secure ponytail. You push a single loose strand behind her ear causing your knuckles to brush against her cheek. Tara’s breath hitches and she blushes, due to your touch. 

Goodness, what were you doing to her?

“No. I don’t,” you finally answered. She went to say something but was cut off by dry heaving and your hand immediately went back to her lower back, continuing to rub gentle circles.  

You could hear the faint sound of your front door opening and a few seconds later the bathroom door slowly opened. 

“Hey, we got everything,” Anika told you. You turned your head to see her with a pharmacy bag. You and Anika got Tara to the couch in one piece while Mindy was in the kitchen setting up everything Tara would need. “Oh Y/N, before I forget. Tara’s staying the night because Sam will freak out if she comes home like this,” Anika told you as you wiped the remnants of drool and throw up off Tara’s face. You thought for a second before responding,“Okay, she can take my bed.” Tara was now passed out cold on the couch, hugging a pillow close to her chest. 

“Are you sure?” Your roommate asked and you hummed. “Listen, we may hate each other but my mom raised me right. I’m not leaving her on the couch. Besides, I’m assuming Mindy’s also staying to keep an eye on her and you two shouldn’t have to get stuck cuddling on a couch all night.” 

After Anika hesitantly agreed, you set up your bed and then went back to the couch to find Tara still fast asleep. You lifted her bridal style and started the walk to your room. Tara mumbled something incoherent before her eyes fluttered open. She seemed confused as she looked around then up at you. “It’s okay, go to sleep,” you said in a soft voice that made Tara’s cheeks warm.

Once you placed her in your bed you put the covers over and gently lifted her head to put a pillow under her. Her eyes were once again shut, you assumed she fell asleep again and looked at her for a moment before leaving the room but not without leaving the door open by a sliver. Just in case anything happened and she needed you– or anyone.

When Tara woke up she instantly noticed the pounding headache she had and groaned. She rubbed her temples and after a minute she took a look around. This was not her room. Has she been kidnapped? But it was then when all the memories from last night came rushing to her. 

All the embarrassing memories. She could remember starting off with a shot…then two…then three…then she woke up to Anika and Mindy helping her up and walking her out of the party. She had complained about not wanting to go back to her own place because Sam would kill her so Anika and Mindy brought her to Anika’s apartment instead and Mindy messaged Sam that they were staying the night at her house.

After that she felt like throwing up…and she did. Then she didn’t stop for a while. And then– oh this is when the embarrassment comes in. That’s when you came home and Anika asked you to help while they went out for supplies. 

Oh, you were so gentle with her. She almost let out a dreamy sigh while looking back until she caught herself. Snap out of it, Carpenter, she scolded herself. But then another memory of you carrying her bridal style to your bed and tucking her in appeared. 

No. Mindy wasn’t right and Tara still despised you. You were still the same asshole from high school. 

She heard two soft knocks on the door and looked over to see you carrying a plate of scrambled eggs. “Didn’t know if you were awake,” you murmured. You walked over and placed them beside the water bottle and aspirin you left for her the night before. 

“Anika made some scrambled eggs and eggs are good for hangovers, so…” You awkwardly shifted back and forth on your feet with your arms behind your back, your hands holding onto each other. “I’m gonna go.” And with that you left the room, not waiting for a response from Tara. 

After five minutes, Tara finally leaves your bedroom. “There she is,” Mindy smiled at her before putting a grape in her mouth. “So loud,” Tara mumbled while lifting a hand to her head.

She lifted herself onto the stool beside Anika and Mindy and put her head down. But she lifted her head slightly and shifted her eyes, noticing a certain her nuisance wasn’t there to bother her or call her princess.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked in her morning voice. “Your lover girl had a morning shift at the cafe,” Mindy answered. Tara didn’t have the energy to make a retort or argue back saying, “She’s not my lover girl.” She settled with putting her head back down with heavy eyes.

“What time is Sam expecting us?” Anika asked her girlfriend who answered, “Eleven so we should probably get ready soon.”

After a few minutes Tara went back to your bedroom to gather her stuff when suddenly she realized she didn’t recognize the hoodie she was wearing. She looked down and saw Spider-Man at the center of the hoodie, putting up his hands to form a heart. She could recall seeing you wearing this around campus before and noted that it smelled like you. She could never admit that she actually appreciated the gesture considering the tank top you put it over wasn’t doing anything to keep her warm.

It wouldn’t hurt to keep the hoodie, right?

She looked over at the scrambled eggs you had brought in for her before sitting down on the edge of the bed, swinging her feet as she thought to herself. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to eat the eggs. It was Anika who made it after all. She ate a few bites over your nightstand before taking a sip of water and took an aspirin.

When she got back home she greeted Sam before laying down on her bed and replaying last night over and over again and how she had to face you in class the next day.

—

When Tara got to class you greeted her as if nothing happened. “Hey, you look like you just got run over by a truck,” you said, causing her to roll her eyes at you. “Oh do I?” She asked rhetorically and took out her laptop. 

Throughout class her mind kept trailing back to your gentleness towards her that night. All Anika told you to do was watch her. She didn’t tell you to wipe the drool and throw up off her face, put her hair in a ponytail or rub her back as she gagged. 

The fact that you had somehow found your way into her head was pissing Tara off. So pissed in fact that instead of going about her usual routine with you she just chose to ignore you.

You weren’t sure why Tara was ignoring you. Obviously something seemed off with her but you had no idea what. Was she mad at you? She didn’t seem her usual mad, this was different. She’s never taken her aggression out by ignoring you. By using colorful words? Yeah. But never with silence. 

Oh.

You must've done something terrible. But what?

As you walked to your next class you tried to look back at what you could’ve possibly done. You hadn’t done anything you haven’t done before. Just your usual banter with Tara, nothing out of the norm. By the time you got to your apartment later that day you were still trying to figure out what you could’ve done. This shouldn’t be stressing you out as much as it was. It was just Tara after all. 

Anika noticed your distressed state and walked to the kitchen, a minute later coming back with your chocolate and vanilla twist and handing it to you. “Thanks,” you said as you took the ice cream from your roommate.

“Wanna talk about what’s got you like this?” She asked you, moving to sit in the love seat. You moved the spoon around a bit in your ice cream before answering. “I just…I don’t know what I did but T– this person is giving me the silent treatment and I just don’t know why. I’ve been trying to come up with something I could’ve done to get that treatment but nothing’s coming to me,” you finally said as Anika nodded along and listened. 

“Well, you can be kind of an asshole sometimes. Seems like you've thought pretty hard on this. You care a lot for this person?” She suddenly asked. You almost wanted to laugh. Would Anika be asking this if she knew you were talking about Tara?

“Oh, goodness no. She’s just an– acquaintance? I guess you can say. If you even wanna call her anything,” you answered her. “You seem pretty sure of that,” she stated with a tone of doubt.

“Cause’ I am.” You responded trying to sound certain. “Then why care so much if she’s ignoring you? If you don’t care about her then you shouldn't care if she’s giving you the silent treatment,” Anika continued as you sat there and took in every word.

“I could easily move past this whole thing and forget about it entirely if I wanted to,” you defended not so convincingly. “Okay. Then move past it,” she challenged. 

“Alright, I will then,” you said. “You’re gonna lose sleep over this,” Anika confidently said as she walked away to her room. You huffed as you ate your ice cream. I won’t lose sleep over Tara freakin’ Carpenter. 

Later that night you were sprawled on your bed…and thinking about Tara.

-----------

A/N: wonder what's gonna happen next 🤔

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye

Pandoras Box

Summary - Days of waiting has lead to this moment, but your waking may have unearthed more questions than answers

Authors note - I’ve rewritten this like three times and I hate it but here we are

Warnings - mentions of; drugs, forced usage, alcohol I think? Hospital setting, (inaccurate) medical talk, addiction recovery, Wanda being a sad bean

Word count - 4.3k

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There’s nothing more disorienting than waking up in a place you don’t remember going to sleep in.

As a child, falling asleep on the couch and waking up in your bed the next morning felt like magic. As an adult the magic is quickly replaced by some sort of negative emotion. Dread. Confusion. Fear. It raises questions that you might not want the answers to.

You stirred to the gentle beeping sounds of machines on either side of your head. The sterile smell of cleaning products and clinically fresh sheets took over your senses. Well, whatever ones you were able to determine still worked. It was unsettling and confusing not knowing where you were or how you got there.

Your head was groggy. Filled with fog and a pounding that made you close your eyes tight to relieve some pressure. To ground yourself. Gain some sort of balance back to an already unstable start.

Where were you? The question swam through your mind as you tried to think. The last thing you remember was…you weren’t exactly sure. You tried to conjure memories but your head hurt too much to make any clear sense of what could have happened.

Then when a warm hand clutched your cold one and a brush of lips ghosted over your temple, it was as if fog had cleared. You could feel the familiar throb where the I.V. was inserted into the skin of your hand. The stiff sheets rough against your sensitive skin. The scratch of a pen nib on paper attached to a clipboard.

“Vitals are stable. Heart rate has increased slightly, but that’s normal and nothing I’m too concerned about. Their consciousness is catching up so they should hopefully come around fully soon”

“Thank you, Doctor. Really”

Hospital.

“No need to thank me, it’s what we do. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on your wife’s progress. In the meantime just sit and wait. A friendly face is always reassuring to patients when they wake up”

There was rustling of what you presumed was a doctor's coat, and the tapping of several feet on the tile floor. Then it was quiet. For a time anyway. It was Wanda’s small sob that cut through the beeping and the muted bustle of the corridor outside.

“Please Y/N, can you just wake up already?” She choked through gasps of air. You could tell she was trying to keep it together. God knows how long you’d been in hospital for. Or how long she’s been waiting by your bedside. Guilt flooded through you as your mind raced with the whats and the how’s and the why’s.

So with as much strength you could muster up with what little energy you had, you squeezed your wife’s hand. It was gentle, a barely there gesture, but she felt it. You knew she did because she sucked in a breath and squeezed back.

You did it again.

So did she.

-

When you finally opened your eyes, your eyelids fluttered at the harsh lights of the hospital room. Lashes fanning your cheeks. The light made your vision hazy. Blurred around the edges as you tried to focus on the indistinct figures that surrounded you. Then like a beacon of hope, a light emerging from the dark, you saw her.

Wanda. Your Wanda. Her eyes were filled with both relief and concern. Red rimmed, from tears, you suspected. Or tiredness. Worry even. Her free hand soft against your cheek, the pad of her thumb delicately tracing a line under your eye. Her touch was gentle and full of love. As it always was. The weight of her presence washed over you suddenly. Having to catch up to how your body craved her. As if you’d been without her for months, though you only remember seeing her the same morning.

The clearing of a throat sounded from the foot of your bed. More silhouettes emerged, making themselves known. Your eyes slowly finding Tony, his usual cocky demeanor was replaced by a somber expression of furrowed brows and a downward curve to his mouth. A look you know comes from a place of seriousness.

He had Natasha standing next to him. Her arms folded over her chest, nails digging into the leather of her jacket. A gesture stemmed from stress, you’d learnt. Years of knowing her made things like that hard to hide. It made you wonder why you were here. Why your friends surrounded you, protesting signs of worry you hadn’t been privy to for years. You were to find out what happened to you as you tried to make the mental calculations with what little information you had.

Wanda’s voice broke the silence, her words wavering. “You scared me”, her voice filled with a raw vulnerability you don’t often hear from a woman so strong. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you”

Your eyes welled up instinctively at her words. The weight of them seemed to sit on your chest in a way you couldn’t explain.

Tony stepped forwards then, his voice filled with both concern and sternness. You got flashbacks to your younger years at his tone. “I can’t say I’m happy with how you got here, but I’m sure as hell relieved you’re back with us”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “Gave us all a bit of a heart attack” she added.

You went to reply, to try to ask some of the questions you had plaguing your mind, but your mouth was so dry only a croak managed to find its way out. A nurse brought a plastic cup of water to your lips out of nowhere. The liquid was cool against your dehydrated skin.

“There’s no need to speak right now, Y/N”. Another voice was added to the mix. You turned your head so you could see who it was coming from. You gathered it was the person stood with a clipboard. The one you heard being written on earlier you presumed. “It’s good to see you awake. I’m Doctor Evans. You’ve been through a lot, but you’re on the path to recovery now”

Recovery? Your mind raced, trying to recall the events that could have led up to a moment like this. The doctor's expression softened slightly as they registered your confusion. Your worry.

“You were in an induced coma” they explained gently. “You had a drug overdose and we had to intervene to stabilise your condition. A critical one, I admit, but lucky for you and your family, you’ve pulled through with the help of our team”

As Doctor Evans shared the details, a flurry of emotions overcame you. Shame. Fear. Confusion. A drug overdose? That can’t be true can it?

“I- I’m sorry?” You finally croaked out. “A drug-“

“We have a team of specialists that can support you,” the doctor continued. His statement filled with genuine concern. “We’ll address not only the physical aspects, but also the underlying issues that may have contributed to this situation. Recovery is possible, and you don’t have to face it alone”

How could this happen? You’ve been clean from drugs for years. You’ve fought tooth and nail to break free from the clutches of addiction. The torment of those dark days will forever be etched deep within your memory. A constant and serious reminder of the uphill battle you have faced. So why now? How did you end up in this hospital bed, fighting for your life once again?

-

The hospital room was dimly lit. The day had gotten away from the two of you. Emotions of the news and circumstances you found yourself in making the sterile air around you thick with, something. Guilt perhaps. Or anger. Wanda could sense it too. She was feeling much of the same. Guilt that she didn’t spot the signs. Anger that you’d jeopardise everything you’d built together over the years in just one night.

She sat at the edge of the bed, her eyes shining from frustrated tears. Finger fidgeting with the loose threads of the old sweater she wore.

She’d dismissed Tony and Natasha hours ago and sat stewing in your room whenever she found the chance. Her gaze was fixed on you, her once soft demeanor now replaced with a torrent of rigid emotions. Years had passed since this topic had made her feel this way. With sobriety being your focus for so long. But the scars it had left on her heart were far from healed. And now they’ve been reopened, it made her wonder if they had ever healed at all.

Her voice trembled as she began to speak, her words full of disappointment as you braced yourself for something more than a slap in the wrist. "Do you have any idea what you have put me through these last few days? The fear, the uncertainty? I thought I was going to lose you, and I was left here thinking about how I'd have to raise our children alone. Do you even know how much I worried that I might become a widow, that my children might never know their mother?"

You cringed. You could feel the weight of her words crushing you, the guilt seeping into your bones as you looked at the floor from where you sat defeatedly between the sheets. Unable to meet her gaze, like a child being disciplined. Wanda's anger was justified, of course it was. Her tears only adding to the heaviness of the moment. The magnitude of the potential consequences of your actions.

"I can't believe you would be so reckless, so selfish," she continued, her voice breaking as she struggled to keep her composure. "You have a family, responsibilities. And you almost threw it all away. All for a fucking high!”

The room seemed to close in around you, the seriousness of everything weighing heavily on your chest. Crushing you under its unforgiving thumb. You hadn't had the chance to truly grasp the extent of the pain you had caused until now, even as your brain swam with questions. But as Wanda's voice cracked and tears streamed down her face, whatever happened has shaken her in a way you never wanted to be responsible for. Not again.

You looked at her finally. Her throat blushing red with rage as she seemingly held back more things she wanted to get off of her chest. Eyes glistening in the low light of the lamp on your bedside. You weren’t sure how you ended up in this situation, but you knew that facing your wife and all her anger was essential. That only through this confrontation could you hope to mend the wounds you had inflicted. It was a reckoning long overdue, a storm that needed to be weathered before the healing could begin.

“I’m so sorry, Wanda,” you eventually managed to whisper, your voice heavy with remorse. Timid. “I never meant to hurt you like this. I- I don’t know how it happened”

Wanda’s anger seemed to ebb ever so slightly, replaced by what can only be described as exhaustion. She was tired. Of what specifically you didn’t know. But you’d bet you and your antics were high on her list. She wiped her tears roughly with the back of her hand, taking a shuddering breath. “I need you to listen. I need you to fully understand how scared I was, how close I was to losing everything. Our family was almost shattered because of your stupidity. For God sake Y/N, you have a family!. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Replacing the drying ones. A potent cocktail of emotions bubbling within you. “I don’t know. Shit, Wanda I don’t know! I have no excuses. I was foolish, thoughtless even” you stopped to suck in a breath. To gather yourself slightly. “I’m sorry, but I- I don’t even know what I’m sorry for. For everything I guess”. There was nothing else you can say, really. Nothing would ever reach the corners it needed to. Not yet anyway. Not until you yourself could understand what was going on.

However much you believed them, the words tasted bitter in your mouth. Not because you didn’t mean them exactly, but you felt like you were apologising for something you weren't conscious of doing. Like being ridiculed for sleepwalking, or cheating on someone in a dream. How could you really apologise for something you couldn’t even recall?

Wanda’s anger looked to soften further. She knew you were trying. She’s not blind to your struggles. And the tears now flowing down your cheeks made her heart ache for you. She reached out, taking your hand in hers. It was a small gesture, but it held a world of forgiveness and understanding. “We’re a team, and we need to be there for each other, especially for our children. But you have to promise me that you’ll never put us through something like this again”

“I promise,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “I promise that I’ll do everything in my power to be a better wife, a better parent. I won’t ever let this happen again. I swear”

Wanda’s grip on your hand tightened, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions back at you. Relief, love, and the beginnings of forgiveness. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a gesture of reassurance that you were still loved, even through the darkest moments. It softened you around the edges. Like butter at room temperature.

“I want to meet them,” you said quietly. Not having to elaborate what you meant. “Please Wanda, I’ve already missed so much”

-

“They’re beautiful, Wands” you choke as you brush the tip of your finger over the eyebrow of one twin, Billy, who sleeps peacefully in your arms. “Perfect. The two of them”

You awoke almost three days ago. The tiredness slowly but surely removing itself from your body as you healed. Almost three days of fighting sleep and nagging Wanda to wheel the boys in so you could meet them, until the doctor finally deemed you well enough to have some time together. And Wanda had decided you'd earnt your right to be introduced to your children.

“He’s got your nose” you state. Not to her specifically, but just out loud. Voicing your observations into the quiet of the room.

“They’ve both got your pout. Maybe you’ll see it if they wake up wanting to be fed” your wife responds as she gently turns the other twin, Tommy, in her arms so you can see him better. “They’re milking me dry”

You laugh but wince slightly as your head throbs. Still sore but better than the previous days. Painkillers helping ease some of the discomfort.

“I’m not sure if you would. Breastfeed, I mean. You didn’t know whether you’d be up for it”

It was a conversation the two of you had a while back. In a rare moment of peace, her back to your front in the tub. Your hands gently placed on her bump as you kissed the damp skin on her shoulder and neck languidly. She never did give you a full answer.

“The lactation consultant suggested I give it a go. They both latched with little struggle so I thought why not? But I do a bottle feed if they get hungry close together”

You hummed in response. That made sense.

“Do you want to help do the next one? The nurses have been good. They’ve moved us into a family suite so we’ve got everything we need. Diapers, formula, the works”

“You don’t want to go home? Get them used to their cribs?” It wasn't a demand. Your questions came from pure curiosity. It wasn’t often you got people volunteering to stay in hospitals longer than they needed to. Especially with healthy newborns they wanted to get home and show off.

“I didn’t want to take them home without you. We’re a family. We do those things together”

“I love you” you found yourself saying. You were about to lean over, to kiss your wife to confirm what you said was true, when the baby in her arms started to fuss. His little face screwed up, making it go red. Fists clenched next to his head.

“I told you they have your pout” she stated, looking down at the boy with a smirk. “Swap?” She asks suddenly.

You maneuver yourself on the mattress so you can take one child from your wife and give her the other. A move you think you’ll both have mastered in weeks to come. Tommy starts to grunt the longer he has to wait for food. Another trait from yourself he seems to have inherited already. Poor thing.

Wanda hands you a bottle she seemed to make without you even realising. Pressing it into your palm as you settled the baby correctly in your arms.

“If you gently touch the nipple of the bottle against his lips. He should open his mouth reflexively”. You do as she says, hanging onto every word as she directs you. The rubber tip of the bottle against the boy's lips prompts him to open, as expected. “Now if you keep the bottle mostly horizontal, but tipped a little, the milk should come out when he sucks”

Then, just like that, his little hands reached for the bottle over yours, his face unfurled and his eyes opened, revealing two baby blues that you’d never forget.

“See, you’re a natural”

With impending crying now under control, it gave you the chance to admire what you have. Looking at your boys angelic faces, coming to realise how unique they are, yet also undeniably a reflection of you and Wanda. Tommys tiny fingers wrap about your own. Billy huffs dramatically as he finds comfort in Wanda’s arms. A wife that you wouldn’t change for the world.

It makes your heart swell.

There in the quiet room of the hospital, listening to their delicate breaths fill the space, a new chapter of your life begins. A new opportunity. A silent vow to give these precious souls a lifetime of cherished memories.

Then, as if some higher being was against you, a loud knock on the door broke you out of your moment, causing the pair of you and the two boys in your arms to jump. The catalyst of wailing and screaming breaking the surface of a once calm storm.

You and Wanda both turned your heads in annoyance, staring daggers at whoever it was that had just upset the twins.

“Shit, sorry guys” one man said, and you realised it was Steve as he shuffled into the room, followed by Bucky in tow. “The doctor said we were fine to come in”

Your heart softened a fraction at the sight of your friends, their familiar faces offering a small semblance of comfort amidst the irritation flooding through your body.

Wanda, her emotions still raw, hot one minute, cold the next, shot them both a pointed look before turning away, gathering the boys, and heading toward the door. Her shoulders tense with frustration. She didn’t say anything as she left, her silence a heavy reminder of the impact of your actions despite everything. Despite the progress you had made over the last few days. You felt for Bucky and Steve having to be on the wrong end of Wanda’s animosity towards you.

There was no doubt in your mind you still had a lot of making up to do.

Once the door closed behind her, Steve and Bucky exchanged a concerned glance before approaching the bed, their expressions showing worry and trepidation. “Hey, how are you holding up?” Steve asked gently, his blue eyes reflecting genuine concern.

You managed a weak smile, feeling a lump forming in your throat. “I’m- I’m struggling, Steve” you said honestly, wondering if you should lie to save face. “It’s hard to see how much I hurt her. How I almost destroyed our family. Even though my brain doesn’t want to tell me how”

Bucky placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We know you’re going through a lot right now, but we’re here for you. And we’re going to help you get through this”

Steve nodded in agreement. “And part of that might involve talking about what happened”

You groaned, turning away from them to look out of the window. Keeping your eyes trained on the birds flying outside to try and block out their voices.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it right now, Y/N. But it’s important, really important, that you try and give us some insights to what might have happened”

You know Steve, you know his train of thought. He was gearing up to interrogate you. As a friend sure, but the fact he was in his uniform didn’t go unnoticed. Not by you, and certainly not by Wanda. The knife twisting a little deeper.

“Do you remember anything from that night? Any people or places that come to mind?”

You sighed, your gaze dropping to your hands as you wracked your brain for answers. The memories were hazy, a disjointed blur of emotions and actions that were hard to piece together. “I… I don’t remember much. I was at a club-“

“Andromeda” Bucky interjected.

“Yeah, I think that was it” you carried on, clearing your throat. “And I was with someone, a friend but, I can’t…” you trailed off, frustration welling up within you as you struggled to grasp the elusive fragments of memory.

Steve leaned in slightly, his expression gentle. “It’s alright, take your time. If anything comes back to you, even small details, it might help us piece some things together”

Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on the scene in your mind. The thumping bass of the music, the flashing lights, the feeling of being lost in a crowd. A snapshot memory of a moment frozen in time. Fog on a highway. There, but untouchable.

“I remember the club scene,” you began, your voice distant as if you were reliving it. “The music was pounding, people dancing. And exit sign”

Bucky’s understanding gaze encouraged you to continue. “Go on”

“I remember wanting to leave. Then being stopped. Being grabbed” you continued, your words slowly coming together as you sifted through the recollections. “And then… I remember being dragged into a room. It was dark, and they offered me something. I didn’t want to, but they were insistent”

Your head hurt. The effort of trying to think back last the fog and the pain. You shook your head slightly to clear your mind, but it didn’t help. Anxiety rising in your chest as your body remembered something your brain couldn’t.

Steve’s jaw tightened, his concern deepening. “They forced you?”

You nodded weakly, your heart heavy as more memories started to resurface. “I think soz I remember it was aggressive. I felt trapped and scared. I didn’t know what was happening, but they… they made me”

Bucky’s grip on your shoulder tightened, his expression full of anger and empathy as he absorbed your words. Their meaning . “You didn’t deserve that, no one does.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions as the memories continued to resurface with more clarity. “After that, everything’s a blur. I remember feeling numb, disoriented. The edges of reality were all fuzzy, and I couldn’t tell what was real anymore. I just…I know I wanted to keep Wanda safe”

As the room seemed to fade around you, you could feel their presence grounding you, anchoring you to the present moment.

“And then?” Bucky prompted softly.

“And then, then I must have blacked out,” you whispered, a shiver running down your spine as you recalled the darkness that had swallowed you whole. “I woke up days later in a hospital bed. I was so confused, disoriented. It felt like I had lost chunks of time”

Steve’s voice was gentle but persistent. “Thank you for sharing. I don’t want to push, but do you think you could remember who you were there with, at first? Who you went to the club with?”

You frowned, your brows furrowing as you tried to sift through the haze of memories. It was as if you were grasping at fragments in a foggy mirror, the pieces eluding your grasp. “I- I can’t quite remember. It’s like some parts are missing, and the rest are so jumbled.”

Bucky offered you a reassuring smile, his eyes filled with understanding. “It’s okay if you can’t recall everything right now. Memories can be tricky, especially in times of stress”

You nodded, a sense of frustration mingling with your gratitude for their patience. “I wish I had more answers”

Steve’s expression softened. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all anyone can ask for. The fact that you’re trying to piece this together shows that you want to help”

Bucky’s grip on your shoulder remained steady. “We’re here to support you, no matter what. And if more memories come back, or if you need someone to talk to, we’ll be by your side”

The weight of their reassurance was a comforting balm, soothing the ache of uncertainty that had been gnawing at you. The road to healing wasn’t easy, and the journey to unravel the events of that fateful night was like navigating a maze in the dark. You were taking steps toward understanding, toward forgiveness, both from those around you and from yourself, and you were determined to see it through, one memory at a time.

Steve knew this. Bucky too. They, along with everyone around you will do everything they can to get to the bottom of what happened that night.

But the way they looked at each other as you closed your eyes, tiredness washing over you again, spoke a thousand words.

They knew that what happened, what went on inside that club that night, wasn't by chance. And they needed to find out why.

Taglist

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movie night vii

Summary: Ghostface got you, and Tara isn't going to let him go without a fight. No one hurts someone she loves. It's time to end this.

Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: Swearing, Scream typical violence, wound descriptions, murder, grief, mention of Scream V events Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii)

You weren’t answering your phone.

Tara had been calling you nonstop from the hospital to Gale’s apartment, and you weren’t answering.

“It’s probably fine,” Chad said as he struggled to catch up.

As much as she wanted to believe him, he was wrong. He was so very wrong and Tara couldn’t even string her thoughts into a coherent sentence for long enough to tell him why. Why her heart had tried to jump out of her throat when she saw the text from you that simply said “gf here.” She couldn’t explain the icy fear that froze in her veins.

Why couldn’t she run faster?

Tara’s heart dropped to her stomach the moment she saw those red and blue flashing lights. No no no. She was vaguely aware of someone calling her name, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around or answer. Her eyes were glued to Gale. Only Gale. Why was she alone? Where were you?

Gale’s tears and hyperventilating did nothing to ease the lump in her throat as she got closer.

Her eyes surveyed the entire scene before her. There was no ambulance sitting in the street, waiting to take an injured person to the hospital. An injured you. Police were just milling around, twiddling their thumbs until someone told them what to do. The only one who was attempting to help was Detective Bailey, but even he wasn’t doing much.

“Where are they?” Tara asked, finally turning to look at Gale.

She blinked a few times and let out a shaky inhale and exhale.

“Gale,” Tara said again, more forceful, “where are they?”

Her inability to focus or meet Tara’s eyes forced the air out of her lungs. Why couldn’t she look at her? What had happened to you that she didn’t want to admit? That she couldn’t admit? Gale needed to say something and she needed to say something now before Tara lost her mind.

“Gale.”

Everyone turned to face the voice. Alfie was doing an awkward jog over to where they were all standing. Tara studied his face, looking for any indication of what had happened to you. If someone didn’t fill her in soon she was going to combust. Where were you?

“Alfie what-”

“-They’re headed to the hospital,” Alfie interrupted her with his hand held up in a pitiful attempt to keep her calm.

You were headed to the hospital? That meant you were alive, right? Surely they wouldn’t have bothered taking you if you weren’t alive, that wouldn’t make any sense. Oh god, Tara’s mind was running rampant. How bad had it been? Would you be able to recover quickly? What if it was worse than they thought and they couldn’t save you?

“How bad is it?” Sam asked.

Everyone slowly turned to face Gale.

“It’s-” she swallowed harshly, “-it’s bad.”

It was only then that Tara noticed the blood soaking Gale’s clothes. Her shirt, her pants, her hands. Oh god, was it yours? It had to be, Gale seemed untouched. Tara’s hands shook even as she did her best to clench them into fists. That wasn’t enough to stop the unbearable ache of the muscles in her forearms.

He had made you bleed.

She was going to kill him.

“Sam.” Danny was next to appear, instantly going to Sam’s side and checking her over. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Chad asked. Tara had almost forgotten he had come along.

“I’m Y/N’s emergency contact,” he said. “Came as soon as I got the call, but are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said quickly, “we were at the hospital.”

His hands were all over Sam, and Tara wanted nothing more than for him to leave. She didn’t care about Sam’s little boy toy, and he certainly wasn’t doing them any favours. He needed to leave so they could focus on the real issue at hand. He was nothing more than a liability at that point.

“Good,” your Pop said as he approached; he seemed to be far more relaxed about the situation. At least outwardly. “You’re all here.”

“Don, I didn’t-”

“-It’s okay,” he interrupted Gale quickly, “I know.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before looking at Tara. “You all need to follow Tony to the safe house.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I kill that motherfucker,” she said.

“You’re going to a safe house,” he insisted. Actually, it sounded more like an order, just spoken with a more gentle tone. “No one else is getting hurt, you understand?”

No. No she didn’t understand. How could he be so calm when you were probably dying in the back of an ambulance? You were his child, how could he be so reserved? Surely he had a plan, he had to. She certainly did. She was going to find that bastard and kill him. Nothing drawn out, no, quick and efficient and gruesome.

“Aren’t you going after him?” Tara asked. Your Pop just gave her a sad look. “He tried to kill Y/N.”

“I know what he tried to do,” he said quickly. “I’m making sure it doesn’t happen to any of you.”

“But what about-”

“-you might not understand this just yet, little lady,” your Pop said, quickly shutting Tara up, “but Vitales do not charge in without a plan.”

“So you have a plan?” Tara asked eagerly. Someone’s hand fell onto her shoulder and squeezed gently. Judging by the size, it was Chad.

“I do,” Pop said with a simple nod. He let his finished cigarette fall from his lips before pulling out another one and lifting his lighter. “That plan involves you going to the safe house and waiting.”

Tara groaned and turned away. How could he expect her to just walk away? To hide away while you were dying and the one who tried to kill you was still running free? No, no that wasn’t going to happen. There was no way in hell she was just going to stay in someone else’s safe house. Carpenters didn’t hide.

“Do you understand me, Tara?” Pop asked, his brow raised and that cigarette hanging haphazardly from his lips.

“Yes sir,” she said even as her mind continued to run rampant.

Pop stepped forward and lightly placed a big, callused hand on her cheek. “I promise you, we’ll take care of it.”

His kindness was almost unsettling. How on earth did your family manage to be so kind when she could assume what they did for a living? She wasn’t stupid, she knew you weren’t accountants. It was a horrible lie, and none too convincing either. So how could your father - and your family - be so kind and gentle? 

And how could he tell her that she couldn’t go after Ghostface? If anything, she was the professional Ghostface killer. She and Sam were the ones who had killed Richie and Amber. When had your family ever dealt with Ghostface? Sure, you had held your own twice, but clearly the third time was not the charm. They had some nerve to keep her hidden while they took their sweet time.

“Go with Tony,” Pop said, giving the most reassuring pat to Tara’s cheek. “We’ll take it from here.”

With that, Pop leaned forward and gave Gale a kiss on the cheek before guiding her away. She was walking on shaky legs, and if his arm hadn’t been around her waist Tara had no doubt she would have collapsed. What had happened to you that had caused so much mental anguish to her? Tara assumed it was close to how she had been when she discovered Dewey had been killed.

“I want to see Y/N,” Tara said, turning around to finally look at everyone. “I’m not going anywhere until I see them.”

“I know which hospital they’re at,” Danny said quickly.

“I can have Tony meet us there,” Alfie chimed in. “We can go to the safe house when we know they’re okay.”

“Let’s go,” Sam said before Tara had a chance to answer. “It’s too dark to stay outside.”

Everyone mumbled their agreements before starting the walk. Thankfully the hospital wasn’t too many blocks away. Danny had his arm around Sam’s waist, seemingly holding her up, and whispering in her ear nonstop. It would have been cute in any other situation. Not that Tara was sold on him yet, but Sam seemed comfortable and that was the important part.

But she was too busy plotting her revenge to focus on how cute her older sister was being. Tara needed to see you, that was before anything else and it wasn't up for debate. After she was sure you would pull through? Oh it was on, Ghostface had better start praying that she didn't find them. If given half the chance, she would make him regret every moment of his life that led up to the moment he had attacked you.

"They'll be okay," Chad said, pulling Tara out of her bloody and violent imagination. "They're too stubborn to die."

"I thought you hated them," Tara mumbled as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "Why would you care if they were okay?"

"I don't hate them," Chad said quickly, "I just didn't trust them."

"And now?" She asked.

"I mean," he exhaled softly, "they saved Anika and Mindy." He stepped sideways to avoid running into a stranger that refused to move. "And they kept Gale safe."

Yeah you did. You did all of that even though you knew Sam and Chad weren’t your biggest fans. There was nothing any of them could say or do to change the fact that you had put yourself in danger for them not once, not twice, but three times. On your date at her apartment, in your apartment, and just now in Gale’s apartment.

Maybe you just shouldn’t be trusted in apartments, that always seemed to be the location where you got most hurt.

The hospital was cold; it wasn’t the same as when she had initially been there to visit Anika. There had been tension, of course, but everyone had been happy and laughing and having a good time. A feeling of comfort and safety surrounded them and almost made them feel like they could recover from anything.

This was different. Each sound and smell assaulted Tara's senses until her hands started to shake and her palms grew sweaty. Did they have you in a room yet, waiting anxiously for someone you knew to appear? Or were you still unconscious, unaware of anything that had transpired since the attack? Truthfully, Tara didn’t think she liked either answer.

“The hell are you all doin’ here?”

Your sister Mercy looked furious as she practically stormed over to where everyone was standing. Not that Tara could blame her, the entire situation probably had her on edge. And if she was one of the staff having to take care of you? Oh, there would be no need for explanation.

“Listen-”

“-I’m not listenin’ to shit,” she interrupted Alfie. “Pop said you were going to the safe house.”

“Tara wanted to see Y/N,” Sam said quickly. “And then we were heading over.”

“Well you can’t,” Mercy said with a rushed exhale and a shake of her head. The momentary silence settled in Tara’s bones. “They’re still in surgery.”

“Still?” Tara blurted out.

“They only got here about 15 minutes ago, T,” Mercy said, “of course they’re still in there.”

“How bad is it?” Chad asked. His hand fell to Tara’s shoulder again. She knew he was trying his best to comfort her, but it really wasn’t working. If anything, she wanted him to get away; she didn’t want anyone touching her.

Mercy sighed before shifting her weight to her other hip. “Lacerations to the face, and bullet fragments to the shoulder.”

The hospital started to tilt under Tara’s feet while they all continued talking, but she couldn’t hear them. It was like they were speaking underwater. You had been shot? They had gotten your face? How bad was it? Her mouth went dry at the thoughts that ran rampant in her mind.

“Tara.” A familiar hand cupped her jaw. Sam. “You okay?”

No. No she wasn’t okay. How could she be? It was hard enough to deal with Ghostface on his own. It brought back memory after memory of Amber. All those dates, all those spilled secrets, shared kisses. And she had turned out to be nothing more than a fake, a murderer, someone who would’ve traded Tara in for her 5 minutes of fame.

Add onto that the fact that you were laying on some cold operating table, all alone? Because of her?

“Tara?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. Sam’s thumb brushed gently across her cheekbone before she pulled away. “Is there anywhere we can sit and wait?”

“I’ll take you somewhere quiet,” Mercy said softly. Still shocking, coming from someone of your family.

The little room wasn’t too far away from where they had come into the hospital. It seemed private, at least compared to the usual waiting room that was wide open for the rest of the hospital to see. At least there was a door in this one, and a small coffee pot and a basket of snacks over on a table in the corner. Simple, but Tara could appreciate it. It was the most homey space in the unsettling environment.

“I’ll come get you when I know more,” Mercy said before leaving, closing the door with a gentleness that made Tara’s skin crawl.

It felt like hours before Tony came in, slipping through the door like a shadow, clinging to the walls like he wasn’t supposed to be there. He sat down dutifully beside Tara, not too close to encroach on her space but still far too close for comfort. She knew he was only there to make sure she actually went back to the safe house afterwards.

Your family was a bunch of bastards.

“Tara?”

Her eyes flew open, the world seeming hazy before she could blink the sleep away. She didn’t know what time it was, or how long she had been there, but she had been waiting for something. You. She had been waiting for you. Tara pushed herself up from the chair, standing on shaky legs for only a moment before walking mindlessly to the door where Mercy was waiting.

“How are they?” Tara asked before Mercy could even finish shutting the door behind them.

“Restin’,” she said with a subconscious nod.

“But alive?”

“Alive,” she reiterated with a small smile. “But there’s a lot of rehab in their future.”

“Better than the alternative,” Tara sighed, chewing her bottom lip in an attempt to feel something other than immense guilt.

It wasn’t working.

“Tara.” She tried not to flinch when Mercy’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Y/N would want you to be in the safe house.”

“They nearly got killed because of me,” Tara said quietly. “I can’t just let that go.”

“They nearly got killed because of that rat bastard,” Mercy said with a surprising amount of calm in her voice. “Not because of you.”

“But-”

“-do you think they would want you gettin’ yourself killed for this?” She asked. Tara froze. “Because they wouldn’t.”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing,” Tara said.

“You’re not,” Mercy shrugged. “You’re sittin’ safe.” She smiled and tilted her head slightly. “Isn’t that the best kind of revenge? Sittin’ nice and comfy while they get hunted down like the rat they are?”

Well. When she put it that way, maybe it didn’t sound quite so bad. And Tara wouldn’t lie, she was tired. She wanted to feel safe for once, not looking over her shoulder every second of the day because there might be someone following her. It was a miserable existence and she didn’t know how much longer she could do it.

“Okay,” Tara mumbled to herself. When Mercy didn’t answer, she looked up and spoke a bit louder, “Okay.”

“Atta girl,” Mercy said with a toothy grin that was almost a perfect duplicate of yours. “Let’s get you guys somewhere safe.”

Everyone seemed to already have some sort of idea of what was going on when Tara and Mercy got back into the waiting room. Sam was quick to rush over to Tara’s side, checking her over even though they both knew Mercy wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her. It was a habit. It was something Tara was getting tired of being a habit.

“Who all is comin’ with me?” Tony asked.

“I’ll go back to Mindy’s and Anika’s room,” Chad said. “It’s plenty safe up there.”

“You should stay,” Sam told Danny.

“Sam-”

“-Y/N would like a familiar face when they wake up,” she continued. “And you’re not Woodsboro.”

“Neither are they,” Danny said instantly, gesturing with his head to where all of your siblings were huddled up.

Tara and Sam turned their heads slowly to look at them. They were all talking with each other, worry etched onto each of their faces. She knew exactly how they felt; she had felt the same just knowing Sam was in danger back in Woodsboro. But to know that you had actually been hospitalised for it? Was it how Sam had felt when she was attacked last year?

“They’ve been through enough,” Sam said before turning back to face Danny.

“And I haven’t?” Danny asked.

“Never trust the love interest,” she said with a shrug.

Tara could see how much it hurt Sam to say such a thing. But it was the smart move; after all, both of their previous love interests had turned into Ghostface. They didn’t exactly have the best track record. And with you being unconscious and hospitalised, you were out for the count. That just left Danny.

“Sorry, pretty boy,” Tara chimed in. She desperately wanted to take the heat off of Sam, at least as much as she could. “Better luck next time.”

“Tara,” Sam whispered, but didn’t really do anything to actually silence her. She looked back at Danny. “I’ll see you when this is over.”

“Okay,” he said with a soft sigh. “Okay, then I’ll see you soon.”

Tara turned her head when he leaned closer to Sam. She didn’t want to see it, but she could hear them kiss. Sure, she loved Sam, but she didn’t need to hear what all went on with her boy toy. Although she supposed Sam did have to see you half-naked in her living room a few nights ago, so maybe this was the least of her worries.

When Danny walked past her, patting her forcefully on the shoulder, she finally looked back at Sam. There was a resignation on her face that Tara hated to see, even though she would bet she mirrored the look. They were both tired. They were both just far too tired. It was time for a much needed vacation. Maybe somewhere warm.

“You two ready?” Tony asked, finally coming over after confirming he wouldn’t be interrupting something.

“Let’s go,” Sam said with a definitive nod.

“We’ll call when Y/N wakes up,” Alfie said when they passed by, but no one else had anything else to add.

It was practically a silent trip to wherever the safe house was. Almost as soon as Tony led them out of the hospital, he guided them into what looked like an abandoned alley before ushering them into a hidden nook that led to a tunnel. Tara hadn’t explored much of New York, but she knew it wasn’t common knowledge that there were these tunnels all over the city. Right? If it were, everyone would be using them.

There was something utterly fascinating about the instinctual way Tony navigated through the tunnels. If it had been up to Tara, she would’ve gotten lost within 5 minutes tops. But Tony? He seemed to know every turn like the back of his hand. Was that how you had navigated them through when you took them to your family’s house the other day? 

Had it really only been a day or so ago? It was hard to believe, given the amount of things that had happened since then. Even harder to believe that it hadn’t been all that long ago since your date at her apartment. Maybe there was something to be said about the fact she was so worried about you after what was, technically, only one date.

You must have hypnotised her or something. It was the only logical explanation.

“Right through here,” Tony said as he stopped in front of what looked like the most useless, broken down door Tara had ever seen.

“You guys are so sketchy,” she mumbled to herself, but she still didn’t waste any time in opening the door and stepping through.

“I know,” he said softly as he closed the door behind the three of them.

It was a rather nice looking room, Tara wouldn’t hesitate to admit. It was only a singular room, but it was rather spacious for the circumstances. There was a set of bunk beds against the far wall, a small living room with a couch and TV, and even a tiny kitchenette in the corner. A bit nicer than most studio apartments in the above ground, Tara noted.

“The kitchen is stocked,” Tony said as he walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinet doors to show the excessive amounts of food. “And thousands of movies downloaded and ready to watch.”

“Legally downloaded?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Anyway, you’ve got everything you need to last a few days.”

“How long do you think this will take?” Tara asked. “I don’t like just sitting here.”

“Pop has a plan,” he said. “Shouldn’t take more than two, maybe three days.”

“That’s too long,” Tara said with a shake of her head. “Something else could happen in that time.”

“We’ve never failed a plan yet, Tara,” he said with a kind smile that was almost disturbing. “Don’t plan on starting now.”

“Just let them do it,” Sam whispered even as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“We’re professionals,” Tony said, now his smile turning a little too eager. A little too sadistic.

“And someone is watching Y/N?” Tara asked.

There was no doubt in her mind that you would still be a target. Even though Ghostface had attacked everyone in your apartment, you were the one coming out with nearly all the injuries. She wouldn’t dismiss Anika and Mindy’s injuries, but you seemed to be the one that was targeted. If you were left alone in that hospital, he could get to you in an instant.

Oh god.

“Mercy and Joel are up there,” Tony said quickly. “They won’t even be able to think without someone watching.”

It wasn’t enough. Tara trusted your family, sure, but two people? It wasn’t enough, even if it was your family. You were all more than trained for the situation, she knew it, but it wasn’t enough. Ghostface was smart; too smart. He could probably outsmart your entire family with barely a second thought.

But she supposed it was good enough, so she nodded at Tony once before looking around. She needed a distraction.

“Ma will be down first thing in the morning with some breakfast,” he said before backing away to the singular door that didn’t look quite so broken from this side. “If there’s any news, she’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Sam said. Thankfully. Because Tara couldn’t get herself to say anything in return.

Tony bid his goodbye before leaving, and Tara was finally left alone with her thoughts. She knew Sam wanted to talk with her; they were rarely alone anymore and she was far too nosey to just let Tara think without interruption. But she didn’t have the energy anymore. Not for that night.

“Want one of the beds?” Sam asked when Tara still hadn’t moved. “Or the couch?”

“Couch works,” Tara said softly with a subconscious nod of her head.

“Come on,” Sam said just as softly as she reached over to grab Tara’s hand and lead her to the couch.

Tara let herself fall back while Sam moved around the makeshift living room, looking for… something. She didn’t really know and, quite frankly, didn’t really care. After all, what was there to care about? Someone else had gotten hurt, and someone else was taking care of it. All she had to do was sit there, behave, and wait for the situation to resolve itself.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She wondered if you were okay. Maybe you had woken up already and were laying there with your family. They would surely take care of you, right? Of course they would, they were your family and they loved you. She wondered if you would text her, let her know you were okay. Maybe say something ridiculous just to ease the tension.

The TV flickered on and Sam nudged Tara aside with her knee before also falling to the couch. Without even an ounce of hesitation, Tara leaned over until she could lay her head in Sam’s lap. It didn’t take long before she felt Sam’s fingers running through her hair, scratching her scalp as she flipped through movies.

“You care about them,” Sam said slowly. Softly. Gently. 

Yes I do.

“I just don’t like people getting hurt because of me,” Tara answered with a shrug.

“We both know that’s not all it is,” Sam continued. Her fingers never stopped scratching Tara’s head even as she finally decided on a movie.

The Godfather. How appropriate.

“I just…”

Tara let her voice trail off into nothing. She just what? Even she didn’t know how she felt about you. Annoyance was certainly one of those feelings, but there was something more. It was so difficult to tell if it was just a fascination, maybe even an infatuation. But she didn’t trust herself to “like” anyone again. Not after Amber. You were a distraction from the pain and nothing else.

All those repressed feelings started to bubble up at just the mere thought of Amber again. Feelings of guilt because she had no idea of Amber’s double life. No idea that she would have even thought about prolonging the effects of Stab on Woodsboro. Then there was the overwhelming anger. Anger because how dare she try to use her and Sam as pawns in her game? How dare she use Tara and throw her away like she was nothing?

“They’re not Amber,” Sam said, almost as if she could read Tara’s mind. And maybe she could. Or maybe she could see all the reactions on her face that she wasn’t bothering to hide. “I can tell that much.”

“How?” Tara asked. “I knew Amber for ages and still couldn’t tell.”

“I’ve seen how they look at you,” Sam said with a shrug and quickly looked back up at the TV. “And unlike Amber, they let themselves get attacked three separate times for you.”

“Don’t put it that way,” Tara groaned. She brought her hands up to cover her face.. “It makes me feel bad.”

“All I’m saying,” Sam said quickly, “is they’re different.” Tara finished dragging her hands down her face until she could look at Sam. “And if you like them, then I can tolerate them too.”

“How generous of you,” Tara said.

“I still think they’re stupid enough to get you both killed though,” Sam continued. “And not even in a nefarious way.”

“Think they’d get a piano dropped on them?” Tara asked; she didn’t even bother hiding her little smile.

“Like Wile E. Coyote,” Sam instantly replied. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

“You’re a dick,” Tara said, finally letting a small laugh slip past her lips.

“It’s late,” Sam said after the laughter died down and the movie was barely audible in the background. “Get some sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

“Wake me if anything happens?” Tara asked.

“Of course,” Sam said with a smile that reminded Tara of her mother back when she was still capable of being a mother. A comforting smile that warmed her from the inside out and instilled a certain safety that no one else could really give her.

No one except you.

“Good night, Sam,” Tara mumbled, turning to lay on her side as she kept her head in Sam’s lap.

“Good night, Tara,” Sam said quietly right before Tara finally let the day settle on her and put her to sleep.

It felt like only moments before Tara felt Sam flinch underneath her. She sat up quickly, turning her head every which way even as her eyes refused to blink away the sleep. What had happened? Sam had flinched, had someone come in? She could hear someone walking around and setting things down, had someone snuck up on them?

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Ma’s voice cut through the haze of sleep. Just Ma. “I hope you don’t mind, I let you sleep in.” Ma is safe. “You both looked so exhausted.”

She finally managed to get the sleep out of her eyes and take in her surroundings once again. Sam was trying to act like she hadn’t been sleeping, even though it was more than clear that she had been. Not that anyone could blame her, it had been a long few days. There was nothing wrong with her getting some sleep.

Ma was still standing in the kitchenette, rummaging around and setting things out. If Tara looked a little closer, she noticed the entire array of food she was warming up and perfecting. Had she brought an entire family’s worth of food just for lunch? Actually, that probably wasn’t too far from the truth. Tara may have only met your Ma once, but she knew a homemaker when she saw one.

“Come over here and eat while it’s hot,” Ma said, “and I’ll fill you in.”

Tara and Sam gave each other a single look before standing up and making their way to the little two-person table. Ma had already made them their plates and set them down before quickly following with coffee and orange juice. It would have been enough to make Tara feel a little guilty if her stomach hadn’t decided at that moment to air its grievances at the lack of food lately.

“Y/N woke up a few hours ago,” Ma said once they had both started eating. Her hip rested against the counter. “Still a bit groggy, but otherwise okay.”

Tara nearly choked on her coffee. You were awake? That was a good sign, right? It meant you were going to make it, at least for now. That was a positive. But how else were you feeling? Mercy had mentioned lacerations to the face. How bad were they? Would you still look the same? Were you going to be okay?

“Any news on Ghostface?” Sam asked, acting as if Tara hadn’t nearly drowned in her own coffee.

“Not yet,” Ma said with a shrug. “But the boys said they’re close.”

“How do they know?” Tara asked, her voice croaky and weak. It was pathetic. Stupid coffee.

“They know,” Ma said without a hint of doubt. “Trust ‘em.”

She didn’t. Not really, at least. It wasn’t personal, but she could be forgiven for not entirely trusting people that she had no proof for. Not that she thought your family were liars, or incapable, or anything else. But she had proven time and time again that she could handle Ghostface and your family hadn’t. It was just the principle of the thing.

Ma didn’t take much longer to fill them in and tell them goodbye. She had mentioned someone else would stop by later that evening to fill them in and bring dinner, but otherwise they had the house - room? - to themselves. And as much as Tara didn’t want to be left alone, she was almost thankful for the peace and quiet.

The rest of the day and evening went off without a hitch. Tara and Sam watched far too many movies that were… not good, and played some of the board games that were left. Monopoly hadn’t gone well and had nearly ended in a brawl before they quickly called it a truce and put it away. No more Monopoly, that was the final decision of the night.

Mitch came by later that night with homemade pizza and little news of the outside world. Mindy and Anika were doing well, nothing new to report aside from the fact Mindy was starting to get stir crazy. Which was pretty accurate for her, the Carpenters wouldn’t deny it. You were also going stir crazy, apparently, and were on the verge of either fighting or flirting with every nurse that came into your room.

Tara wasn’t even upset. She had seen how you flirted with your brothers’ girls; this was on par for you.

Even though Mitch tried to prolong his stay and find something to do, Tara and Sam told him to go home and get some rest. He was sweet, probably one of the outwardly nicest ones of your bunch, but even they could see the exhaustion plain on his face. There was barely enough energy for him to argue once before he conceded and bid them goodnight.

There was no effort to stay up late and watch movies or delay the inevitable. They were tired, they were full, they finally felt like they could slow down and rest. At least Tara did, and she assumed Sam was on the same page considering she could also barely keep her eyes open. The bunk bed stayed unused as they made a small pallet on the floor in front of the still-playing TV and fell asleep.

When Tara awoke the next morning, it was to hushed whispers. She knew Sam’s voice like the back of her hand, but the other voice was still new. Although when Tara sat up and looked into the kitchen, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Danny sitting across from Sam, his hands over hers like he was trying to comfort her.

“Morning,” Tara said just loud enough to make them both jump. Good. She hoped they felt a little guilty for waking her from the first peaceful night’s sleep in weeks.

“Danny brought breakfast,” Sam said.

“Thought we told you to stay away,” Tara said as she pushed herself to her feet. She was a little unsteady, but quickly recovered and made her way into the kitchen; she supposed he could be forgiven, considering he had brought donuts.

“I was worried,” he said with a shrug. “And if Y/N tries to sneak out one more time, someone is going to strap them to the bed.”

“So they’re doing okay?” Tara asked as she took a donut from the box. Blueberry; your favourite.

Nothing more than a coincidence.

“A little too okay,” he said. “Mercy is on the verge of keeping them sedated until they’re more than, you know, two days healed.”

Tara nodded to herself while she continued to munch on her donut. It was a little too sweet and a little too thick. But she supposed that was probably what you enjoyed so much about them. Did you like sweet things? If so, it didn’t explain why you liked her. She was anything but sweet.

She grabbed the nearest glass of orange juice - probably Sam’s - and walked back over to the couch to sit down while she continued to think. It wasn’t smart for her to let you invade all of her thoughts, not when there was still a killer on the loose. A killer that you hadn’t managed to stop and that most likely had an accomplice. She didn’t have time to sit there and think about your smile or your preferences for donuts.

Wait. Your smile?

Oh god, she hated you.

The longer Danny sat at the table with Sam, the more the atmosphere felt… wrong. Tara couldn’t quite put her finger to it. Nothing was going on, it was actually the most relaxed situation she had been in in months. A year, if she really thought about it. The TV was going, Sam and Danny were acting like lovesick puppies, she had a belly full of food.

She couldn’t put her finger on it.

A creak came from the door, and Tara didn’t even bother looking behind her. After all, why should she? The only ones who could find this place were your family. There was no doubt that no one else would have any idea even of just the tunnels underneath the streets, let alone finding the safe room that, surely, couldn’t have been the only one.

Wait. That wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t just your family…

“Hello Sam.”

Every cell in Tara’s body froze. Now that. That was what was wrong. She knew that voice. It haunted her every dream, every thought, every waking moment. A voice that reminded her of Amber, of Richie, of being alone and knowing that he was going to win because of course he was, he was a cult classic icon.

Tara looked at the doorway before she could convince her body to stand up. Two Ghostfaces stood in front of the door as it swung shut, far too gently for the situation. Her eyes stayed locked to the two while she maneuvered herself around the couch, using it as a buffer on her way to where Sam and Danny were now standing.

“Lovely to see you here, Tara,” one of the Ghostfaces said. It was almost more terrifying to not know which one was talking.

“How did you get here?” Sam asked. Tara wasn’t looking at her, but felt her arm reach out and grab Tara’s forearm.

It hurt.

“Just like you,” Ghostface said. “We had a guide.”

Flashbacks of Amber ran through Tara’s mind. The room started to look like it was on a boat, rocking back and forth without giving her any chance of staying still. Someone had betrayed her again. How could this keep happening, why couldn’t anyone just let her live?

“The last Ghostface that cornered us didn’t have such a good time,” Sam said. “You might want to reconsider.”

“Do you want to tell her?” Ghostface said. “Or should we?”

What? Who were they talking to? Tell Sam what? Tara’s face pulled into a frown as she looked back and forth between everybody. Two Ghostfaces, one Sam, one Danny. What the hell were they even going on about? Maybe these two weren’t as smart as the other ones. Which Tara could’ve picked up on her own, but she had given them the benefit of the doubt.

Everyone remained silent, staring at each other. It almost felt like the entire room was daring someone to speak up, either to explain or to taunt. If it were up to Sam or Tara, she knew they would have taunted the Ghostfaces into making a stupid decision. All of them tended to have a bit of an ego problem, so it should have been easy enough.

“Fine,” Ghostface said. “We’ll make the first move.”

Tara’s entire body tensed to the point of pain. Her knees locked in place and she knew even if she wanted to, she couldn’t have moved. If they were going to come at her, she wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough. That old ache in her thigh came back as the image of Amber snapping her leg flashed behind her eyes.

Both Ghostfaces lifted their hands and Tara only thought of you. Of you laying in that hospital bed, completely unaware of the fact that you wouldn’t be getting a second date. There was nothing in the room to keep Tara safe, and she knew she couldn’t overpower the both of them. Not at once. She couldn’t even let you know.

But they didn’t reach for weapons like Tara had thought they would. No, they just reached up and grabbed their masks, pushing them back over their head until the hoods fell off and she could see their faces. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Hey Tara,” Ethan said with a smile and a friendly wiggle of his fingers.

“You’re Tara?” The other guy asked in a posh accent that reminded Tara of someone with money. She didn’t recognise him at all. “Y/N never shut up about you.”

He knew you?

“Ethan?” Sam asked. Tara still couldn’t bring herself to look away from the Ghostfaces.

“It’s not really what it looks like,” he said, his smile never leaving.

“It’s not?” Tara asked. “Because it looks like you’re the one who’s been hunting us.”

“Not you,” the other guy said before Ethan even had a chance to open his mouth. “Notice you never got hurt?”

“I don’t even know you,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

“Oh, right,” he said. He rubbed his gloved palms against his thighs before stepping forward and extending his hand. “I’m Garret.”

“I’m not shaking your hand,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

Tara knew that name…

“Garret as in Y/N’s roommate?” Tara finally asked, looking back at the guy.

“The very same,” he said with his own cheeky grin.

Your roommate. The one you had lived with for years, if your account was anything to go by. He was Ghostface? Surely he had to have known he was going after you, no one was that stupid. It didn’t make any sense. He looked far too happy and…

He had a giant bruise on the right side of his head.

“You’re the one who broke into Y/N’s apartment,” Tara mumbled. “You tried to kill Anika.”

“I didn’t mean to get her that good,” Garret said with a shrug. “She just got in the way.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

“Then have your boyfriend explain,” Garret said. Ethan quickly hit his arm, but he didn’t even flinch. “It was his idea.”

Tara swallowed harshly. The room started to get fuzzy, and she blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the haze. With the smallest move of her head, she looked at Sam and Danny out of the corner of her eyes. His jaw was clenched tight and he wasn’t even looking at Sam.

But Sam. Oh Sam. She probably had the same look Tara had when they found out Amber was Ghostface.

“What?” Sam asked softly.

“Now, just listen-”

“-Better explain faster than that,” Tara interrupted Danny. “Before I pull a Ghostface.”

“No one is after you,” Danny said in a soft voice that was enough to make Tara cringe.

“Then who?” Sam asked. She stepped back, holding her arm out so she could feel where Tara was and stopped when she was directly in front. Tara reached out to hold her hand, and Sam instantly squeezed it. “What’s going on?”

“Some idiots started the rumour that you were the killer,” Danny said. “After I met you, I knew they were wrong.”

Tara huffed. Was he really going to play Romeo? He better not be, she knew he wasn’t entirely stupid. At least he didn’t seem to be. On the other side of the room, Ethan and Garret stepped closer. If they took one more step, she was going to start swinging.

“If I could take the suspicion off of you, then you could be free again,” he continued. “Ghostface wouldn’t follow you anymore.”

“Did you tell them to hurt Anika?” Tara asked. “Or Mindy?”

“Of course not,” he said with a shake of his head.

“How about Y/N?” Tara asked.

Danny exhaled through his nose and looked over at Ethan and Garret. It’s not a no, she thought to herself. None of them were so much as making a noise, just standing there and communicating silently. About what, she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But it didn’t matter. It was confirmation enough. He had either ordered it, or allowed them to try and kill you. Someone that he was supposed to be close with, someone that trusted him. Amber’s soft smile flashed in Tara’s mind’s eye; she quickly shook her head to rid herself of the memory.

“They’re at the most risk so,” Danny sighed, “they got to choose the target.”

Ethan twirled the knife between his fingers. “Think of it as payback for all the shit they gave me over the past year.”

“Bullying excuses murder?” Sam asked. “That makes sense.” She shrugged, but the roll of her eyes gave away her real opinion.

“And it frees you up, Tara,” he continued with a dreamy sigh and a boyish smile. “Wanna go on a date after this?”

“I’ll cut your dick off,” Tara said without an ounce of hesitation or remorse.

His smile slowly fell back into a thin line. There was no way he genuinely thought she would agree to go on a date after he tried to kill you. It didn’t matter if she had admitted how much she liked you, there was no way he was that stupid. Right?

"I told you," Garret said as he turned his head to look at Ethan. The side of his head looked like it needed stitches. "You have to finish Y/N off before asking her out."

"And what's your bullshit excuse?" Tara asked when it was clear Sam was too busy looking at Danny and zoning out. "You blaming it on some sick infatuation too?"

"Of course not," Garret said with his pretty rich-boy smile. "I simply thought it sounded fun."

That. That right there was almost more terrifying than any other motive Tara had heard. He had decided on killing his roommate for fun? She could hear the blood rushing through her ears, steadily increasing until it was practically deafening.

"Sam," Danny said softly, "everything is already in play." Tara turned to frown at him even as Sam stepped closer to her. "Once the boys finish taking care of Y/N, the police will arrest a decoy and you'll both be free."

Tara squeezed Sam's hand. They were going after you again? She had to warn you. She had to text you, or call your Ma, or Tony, or something, anyone that could get to you and keep you safe. Too many people had died because of her already, she refused to let you join the list.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tara saw something drop to the floor behind Ethan and Garret. Something heavy that continued to move even after landing. No one else seemed to notice it, as Sam and Danny were still talking to each other. 

The thing stood up behind Ethan and Garret, and Tara could finally get a decent look. It was a person, in an oversized jacket with the hood pulled over their head. Some kind of half-mask covered their face almost completely, save for the eyes that were shadowed by the hood. Their left arm hung dead at their side as they slowly walked closer.

Surely it wasn't another Ghostface, right? There were already three, technically. Why the hell would there be four? Were they not smart enough to follow the script? There were supposed to be two Ghostfaces, with the exception of Roman. And so far, no one had hunted Ghostface before. Although if Tara was being honest with herself, she would take up that mantle if ever given the chance.

She opened her mouth to say something, ask who their fourth party member was. But the person quickly lifted a gloved hand to their face, holding their finger over where she assumed their mouth was. Hush. Tara knew that one. And when she saw the knife gleaming in their hand, she quickly shut her mouth and nodded once.

The figure twirled the knife once. Tara barely even had time to breathe before the tip of the blade sliced its way through the back of Garret's head, extruding from his open mouth that was now no longer smiling. Someone screamed, but Tara just watched, frozen, as blood poured from the knife.

“Holy shit,” Ethan said.

He was soon interrupted by the sound of Garret choking on his own blood.

There was a wet, sickening sound as the knife pulled back. His eyes rolled back in his head before he fell to his knees, soon slumping over to the ground. He gagged and choked for a few more seconds, with everyone watching, motionless, before he fell silent. Only the occasional wet gasp broke the silence.

Tara lifted her eyes slowly, and her heart nearly beat out of her chest when she noticed the figure hold her gaze. She couldn’t see their eyes well, but she knew they were looking at her. There were almost no emotions in their eyes at all, nothing to show that they had just killed someone and was still standing in the ever growing pool of their blood.

“That one yours too?” Sam asked. She pulled Tara back into a corner, away from everyone else in the room.

“No,” Danny said. “It’s not.”

He tried to move closer to Sam, but one look from her kept him still. If it weren’t for the situation, Tara would’ve laughed at him. But she was a bit too worried about the new player of this sadistic game. If they weren’t one of Danny’s goons, then who were they? How had they gotten into the room so effortlessly? Did your family have any idea how many people knew the location of their supposedly safe room?

Ethan stepped back, tripping over his own feet on his way to stand next to Danny. Cute, Tara thought with a sneer before looking back at the figure who was still just standing there. What the hell was going on?

“What do we do?” Ethan asked.

Little bitch.

The figure blinked a few times before their eyes widened again. They wiped the knife on their pants leg before then pushing the hood back and away from their face. It was a Ghostface move, except for the shaking of hair that had Tara looking just a little closer-

-she knew that hair.

“I knew they couldn’t keep you down,” Danny said.

You just held his gaze. The half-mask stayed put, covering your face from the bridge of your nose down. There were bruises around your eyes that really made them pop. Not that Tara wanted to see it; she would rather you be safe and healed. Your arm still hung limply at your side. Bullet fragments, she remembered Mercy saying.

“How?” Tara asked quietly. You turned to look at her, and your eyes scrunched up.

“They’re high,” Danny said. “Aren’t you?” The scrunch of your eyes disappeared when you looked at him. “Mercy gave you the Vitale special.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“It’s fine with me,” Ethan said with a shrug and another twirl of his knife. “Means I get to kill you myself.”

You stepped backward until you were near the door while Ethan stalked forward. Tara knew how it was going to go; he was going to attack, you would either live or not, and then they were going to come after her and Sam. Even though they had said they wouldn’t, Tara wasn’t so naive as to believe them. Ghostface always targeted someone who went back to the original.

Amber’s face popped up in Tara’s mind again. She wanted her gone. She didn’t get to come back at the worst time possible while you were about to have to fight off Ethan. Why couldn’t she just leave her alone and let her move on? Tara wasn’t an original, she was just some kid from Woodsboro, she didn’t fit into this movie scheme that just wouldn’t quit.

Tara squeezed Sam’s hand when Ethan stepped closer, lifting the knife above his head. He was going to kill you, and you weren’t even trying to stop him. Why weren’t you trying to stop him? You had fought so hard, why was this any different? She needed you to put up a fight, she couldn’t live if you died-

-you turned the handle on the door and pushed it open before stepping to the side.

Gunshots rang through the small room, and Tara and Sam grabbed each other and fell to the floor. She could feel Sam’s hands covering her ears, and she quickly did the same. The shots were so loud, echoing throughout the room, leaving Tara’s ears ringing. Even when the shots stopped, she could hear them.

She flinched when a hand brushed against her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Sam’s hands were still covering her ears, but she opened her eyes and looked up and met Pop’s eyes. He had the same eye scrunch that you did when he smiled. It was an adorable similarity.

“Come on, sweethearts,” Pop said far too gently. Or maybe it was the fact everything was muffled by Sam’s hands.

Pop grabbed her by both shoulders and helped her up to shaky feet. Directly across from her, Tony was helping Sam stand as well. Pop’s hands didn’t let her go even as she started to look around at the room. Blood was dripping down the walls and spreading under the now three dead bodies laying on the floor.

Sam gasped.

Tara’s head quickly turned to face her, following her line of sight to Danny’s body laying on the floor near the table. It was riddled with holes that Tara assumed came from all of your brothers that were still standing around with guns hanging from their hands.

She put her hand on Sam’s bicep as gently as possible, even though she still flinched in response. But she quickly recovered and covered Tara’s hand with her own, giving her a sad smile before looking at Danny’s body one last time. Tara couldn’t imagine how devastated she must have been.

Two boyfriends, two Ghostfaces.

Sam would definitely need more therapy.

She looked down at the bodies again and grimaced.

Maybe she would need therapy too.

“Are either of you hurt?” Dicky asked from his spot beside you. You were leaning further into his side, your injured arm held close to your body.

“No,” Sam said as she pulled Tara into her own side. As much as she wanted to protest, Tara eagerly allowed it.

“Then let’s get everyone out of here,” Joel said. “We can talk back at the hospital.”

Pop and Tony led both Carpenters out of the room. Tara looked back to see Dicky wrap his arm around your waist, and Alfie was right behind you. You looked utterly exhausted and leaned heavily into Dicky’s side. She hoped you were okay. You were still wounded, obviously, but she hoped you were okay.

Tara’s mind was running rampant the entire trip back to the hospital. What had Danny meant, you were high? What was the Vitale special? She didn’t know very much about your family’s business, but that indicated drugs. There was no way you had managed to hide drug use from her. Right? No, there was no way. You were a bit eccentric, but clearly so was the rest of your family. It wasn’t possible.

That led to Tara’s next thought; how was Sam going to feel about everything? About you, the possibility of drugs, the fact that you had gotten your family to kill her boyfriend? Sure, Sam had killed her first one, but this one? This one truthfully hadn’t even tried to kill her. It was some bullshit Romeo excuse, but at least it was different. Was Sam going to hate you for everything?

Her mind wouldn’t shut up the entire walk, and even when they all got settled back in your room and Mercy started hooking you up again, she couldn’t silence the thoughts. She did her best to listen to what Mercy was berating everyone for, but nothing was making sense. It was like listening to the parents from all those Peanuts cartoons back in the day.

She did her best not to gasp when Mercy removed the mask to show the bloody bandages covering the bottom half of your face. When she was finally done, and you were hooked up to whatever you were supposed to be hooked up to, everyone finally sat down.

“We can explain,” Mitch said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“Go ahead,” Tara said with a shrug. “I’ll accept anything at this point.”

“Danny wasn’t Y/N’s emergency contact,” Martha said from her spot at the long table in the room. “And none of us called him.” She shrugged. “I bugged his phone when he was in here.”

Tara had forgotten Martha was your tech guru. She looked over at you to see your reaction to the whole thing. Your eyes were open, but you were just staring at the spot right above the door. From what little you had told Danny, he had been your friend. Someone you had trusted. How did it feel to know he had been more than happy to sacrifice you for the chance at keeping his girl?

"He didn't even hide it in his texts," Alfie said with a shrug.

"Amateur," Martha scoffed.

"They won't be hurting anybody anymore," Pop said quickly before the conversation could take a different turn.

Everyone mumbled their agreements before going silent. It was more uncomfortable than nearly anything else Tara had ever experienced, which was saying a lot. She had been abandoned by both parents, left by her sister, nearly murdered by her girlfriend, killed her own girlfriend, and now had just seen three men get brutally killed. And yet, the silence of your family still trumped everything else.

Thankfully it wasn’t too much longer before everyone started talking again, laughing and joking and acting like a family again. But Tara couldn't help but notice that you were still unmoving, not even looking at whoever was talking. At one point, Ma moved until she was sitting directly beside you, talking with you until you finally nodded your head. She smiled, pressed a kiss to your head, and moved back to her original spot.

It wasn't until you finally fell asleep that everyone quieted down. Most bid their goodbyes, saying they would be back later. The kids should come, your Pop had insisted, and everyone mumbled agreements on their way out. Ma and Pop left the room to bring back some food, and Tara was left alone with Sam.

What was she supposed to talk about now? Did she apologise to Sam for her boyfriend getting killed? She hadn’t exactly done that with Richie, and this was the second time. Tara was no professional, but she knew for a fact there wasn’t some script for how to handle two of your boyfriends being Ghostface.

You shifted on the bed, and both Tara and Sam looked at you quickly. But you settled almost instantly and fell back asleep. She exhaled slowly and looked down at her hands. You were okay. Just sleeping. Yeah, just sleeping.

“We need a vacation,” Sam said, pulling Tara’s thoughts back to the situation at hand.

“Before or after therapy?” Tara asked. From her seat directly beside her, Sam gave her a tired smile.

“Definitely before,” she said with a nod. “Cancun?”

“I can work with that,” Tara said. “Just the two of us?”

“Yup,” Sam answered. She was still looking around the room, not focusing on any one thing. “10 days in Cancun, you and me, no distractions.”

“We can get everybody a t-shirt,” Tara continued.

They both laughed lightly, letting the conversation die down. Maybe talking things over with Sam wouldn’t be too awful. They would still very much need therapy but maybe they could get through it together again. Tara reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand, locking their fingers together.

“You know what I was thinking?” Sam asked once their tired laughter had died down.

Tara hummed in response.

“The next few weeks are going to be so nice,” Sam continued, squeezing Tara’s hand lightly.

“Why?”

“Y/N can’t talk.”

“Sam,” Tara scolded. But even she couldn’t deny that maybe it wouldn’t be such an awful thing.

“Should make it easy though,” Sam continued. “Now you can tell them how you feel without interruption.”

Tara sighed. Seemed Sam wasn’t going to let it go. Didn’t she know there were other things to worry about? Like the three guys they had just seen get shot to hell? Or the fact that they were now apparently part of some crime family with no known weaknesses? There was no way Tara’s admission to you was her top priority at the moment.

“This could have been a lot worse, T,” Sam said, finally turning to look at Tara. “Don’t wait.”

“Thought you hated them,” she said slowly. It was beyond clear that wasn’t the case anymore, but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to do something reckless until she knew all the facts.

“I do,” Sam said. “They’re the most insufferable person I know.” She smiled. “But I trust them.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “And I know you don’t sleep with just anyone.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Tara groaned.

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten,” Sam said even as Tara pulled her hand away and back into her lap. “I may not have seen much, but I’ll never get that out of my head.”

“I’m not having a sex talk with you,” Tara said.

“Were you at least safe?” Sam continued. “Condoms, dental dams, have they been checked?”

“Sam?” Tara said. Sam looked over at her. “Get out.”

“Okay,” Sam said as she held her hands up in surrender. “But you better tell them.”

Tara watched Sam carefully as she stood up and left the room. They both knew they weren’t being serious; at least Tara hoped Sam knew. But she instantly started to regret her decision to kick Sam out when she realised now she was alone with you for the first time since… well, since she had stayed at your family’s house.

And now your eyes were open and you were looking at the ceiling again, seemingly in a daze.

“Hey,” Tara said softly. You blinked slowly before turning your head in her direction.

Obviously, you didn’t say anything.

Tara stood up and stretched as she looked around the room. Danny had said you were annoying everyone, so clearly you were talking to them somehow. Couldn’t be a phone, yours was nowhere to be seen. She looked over every inch of space, seeing nothing that would suffice. Well, seeing nothing until she finally found the small whiteboard at the foot of the bed. With shaky hands, she grabbed it and brought it back to the bed, setting it down on your lap.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. She waited as you slowly grabbed the marker and started writing on the board with messy handwriting.

Better than Ghostface.

Yeah, you were fine.

“Did you hear what Sam and I were talking about?” She asked.

You nodded, and that little crinkle under your eyes came back. She huffed; of course you did. It shouldn’t have been any surprise, you were apparently good at hearing things you weren’t supposed to. Maybe it was just something you were particularly adept at.

You started writing on the board again.

Gale told me the same thing.

Tara’s heartbeat was loud in her ears.

“You first,” she said quickly. Your crinkled eyes disappeared, transforming into a frown. “You’re oldest, you first.”

She heard you exhale harshly through your nose. Please do it, she thought when you still hadn’t moved. If you said it first, then she would know how to go about everything. Because what if you didn’t actually feel the same way? Sure, you had fought Ghostface, but that could be chalked down to survival. What if she was being delusional and you didn’t really like her like that, you only wanted to get laid?

You looked back down at the whiteboard and used the hospital blanket to clear it. With a shaky hand, you started writing again. She tried to follow what you were writing, but when you noticed, you moved the board sideways so she couldn’t see it.

Never mind. She didn’t feel bad for you anymore, you could suffer for all she cared.

When you put the whiteboard back down, it took a moment for her eyes to refocus before she could actually read what you had written. Her heart was so loud in her ears she almost couldn’t read. But when she could, she almost laughed.

I like like you.

She looked up at you. Your eyes sparkled for a second before you looked back down at the board, hastily scribbling something else down.

Not just for sex.

Now at that she did laugh, although it was more of a nervous laugh than anything else. She wouldn’t ever admit it to you, but you had just eased one of her biggest worries. Tara was more than aware that she had used you at that frat party all those months ago, but she had hoped you weren’t just doing the same thing.

Now she knew better.

“We’re not in middle school,” Tara said as she pointed her finger at the first sentence you had written. You rolled your eyes. Her hands felt clammy. “But I like like you too.”

Your head turned so quickly Tara almost thought she heard a pop from your neck. The eye contact was borderline unbearable; it was like you were searching her soul. That clamminess in her hands only got worse, and she pulled them back and rubbed them on her pants. She knew you couldn’t talk, but the silence was drowning her in her own thoughts.

You erased the whiteboard and wrote on it again.

Does this mean I have to be nice to Sam?

“Yes it does,” Tara said without hesitation, all worry from only a second ago now gone. “Chad too.”

You groaned, the first noise she had heard from you since she had seen you again. It was scratchy and almost a little funny sounding.

An idea popped into Tara’s head, and before she could talk herself out of it, she nudged your side gently. You frowned at her for a second before moving over, an almost inaudible groan leaving your lips. Her palms got sweaty again as she climbed into the bed and sat down next to you. It was like you were nothing more than a puppet as she grabbed your free hand and brought it into her lap.

She felt you move and heard the marker against the whiteboard.

You won’t leave?

“I mean,” Tara smiled to herself as she recalled what you had told her in the theatre. “I’ll have to leave to pee at some point.”

You groaned again and threw your head back against the pillow while Tara couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling past her lips. Seemed you could dish it out, but you couldn’t take it so well. But then you squeezed her fingers and turned your head to look at her again.

“Get some sleep,” Tara said softly. “I’ll be here.”

You held her eyes for a moment before you nodded once. Your eyes crinkled, and it left a warmth in Tara’s chest. She held still as you shifted around, scooting down on the bed until you could lean your head against her arm. You left your hand in her lap and it only took a few seconds before you were out again.

Only after she was sure you were asleep did Tara lean down and press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. All the anxiety and fear from the past few days disappeared with each calm, steady breath you took. Ghostface was gone, no one would even know they were gone, and maybe this whole fad could fade away.

With the comforting thought of finally getting some peace, Tara leaned back against the bed and closed her own eyes. Sleep had never come so easily.

She Don’t Wanna Marry Me

Part 4

16 Years Old

“Hey Y/N!” A familiar blonde ran up to you.

“Oh hey Jessie what’s up?” You crossed your arms as you spoke to the girl.

Lorraine quietly stood next to you as your walk home was interrupted.

“Nothin much.” The girl

Giggled twirling her hair. “I just wanted to know if you’d want to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with me?”

Lorraine’s jaw clenched as she watched your face. She couldn’t tell if you were interested by the way you kept your expression smooth.

“I appreciate the offer Jessie but someone already asked me.”

Both girls eyes widened surprised before Jessie smirked her shy demeanor gone.

“Well I can promise you an extra good time if you go with me.” Her hand went to graze your arm with its fingernails making Lorraine scoff. You glance at the girl offering Jessie a short nod before you led the small brunette on the path home.

Once she was out of ear shot Lorraine let loose.

“Skank.” You barked out a laugh making the girl glare at you.

You raise your hands up in surrender.

“Hey what did I do? I completely agree with you.” Lorraine’s eyebrows furrowed.

You chuckle softly shaking your head.

“You really think I’ll let jezebel take me to the dance?” Lorraine shrugged her feet kicking a small rock as she refused to meet your eyes.

“Well if not her then what about the other girl that asked you?”

You shook your head.

“I turned her down told her I was planning on asking someone else.”

Shiny brown eyes met yours.

“Who?” She asked voice soft and curious as she bit her lip.

“I-“

“LORRAINE!” You let out a heavy sigh as Douchebag Danny came running up to the two of you.

The girl beside you shifted her attention to the boy running towards you. The moment gone the minute he’d stood in front of her.

“Hey..” he huffed trying to catch his breath. Hands on his knees as he bent over feeling as if his lungs were gonna collapse. “Hey.”

Lorraine giggled brushing a piece of her hair back. You felt your jaw clench knowing the tell tale sign of Lorraine crushing on someone.

“Hey Daniel, are you ok?”

The boy scoffed standing up straight still breathing heavily.

“Psshhh yeah I’m fine, better than fine actually I’m great.”

You rolled your eyes as you felt yourself almost puke.

“I heard a rumor that you were gonna ask me to the dance coming up.” Your eyes shot to the girl in question as she blushed, more nervous giggles and hair twirling as she looked up at the boy doe eyed.

“Maybe.” Pearly white teeth grinned at her.

“Well maybe I would say yes.” The girl squared her shoulders and stood taller.

“Will you go to the dance with me?”

“I’d love to go with you.”

You walk ahead giving the two space as they continued to talk. Douchebag following you as he offered to walk her home.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” You didn’t look but knew Lorraine was already telling the boy yes.

You walked into the kitchen rubbing daddy’s shoulder as he read a newspaper and gave mama a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey baby how was school?” You shrug grabbing an apple.

“It was ok I’m not that hungry right now is it ok if I just go lay down?” The two looked to you concerned but were quickly interrupted by a squealing Lorraine.

“I got a date to Sadie Hawkins.” Her mom laughed clapping a bit before kissing her daughters cheeks.

“That’s great baby. We’ll go dress shopping this weekend ok?” The girl nodded enthusiastic as her father grunted.

“And what little punk thinks he’s good enough for my Rainey?” The girl almost rolled her eyes at her fathers protective nature. You remained quiet as your grip on the apple tightened and the slight flexing of your jaw increase. Slowly making your way to your room as you wanted to avoid any further talk of the dance.

“Daniel Smith down the street.”

He huffed. “Isn’t he a little old for you?”

“He’s 17 daddy.”

“Oh stop it.” She hit her husband. “He’s a sweet boy his mother and I are in the same book club and he always lends a hand when she needs it.”

“Yeah all boys are sweet at first then they go looking for one thing and the minute they get it-“

“Stop while you’re ahead.” Mrs. Day’s tone was calm but the threat behind her words gave little sense of peace.

His shoulders sagged before he sat up straight again turning to his daughter.

“I want to meet him before you leave and he better have you home by 11.” The girl clapped hugging her father before helping her mother set the table. She noticed only three plates being taken out.

“Is someone not eating?”

“Y/n said she wasn’t too hungry. I’ll leave her a plate in the microwave.” As the trio ate her father broke the silence.

“So did anyone ask her to the dance?”

Lorraine scoffed. “Yeah, the town tramp.”

Her father choked mid bite a hearty laugh following.

“Damn it Raine.”

“Lorraine.” Her mother scolded making the girl shrug at the mixed reactions.

“It’s true. She did say someone else asked but it wasn’t who she wanted to take.”

“Did she ever say who it was?” Lorraine shrugged.

“No idea.”

The next day you were more quiet than usual and as you went to leave, Mrs.Day stopped you.

“Aren’t you gonna wait for Lorraine?”

You shook your head.

“Douc-Daniels gonna get her.”

She nodded. “Would you want me to take you?”

You shook your head already one foot out the door. “I like the walk.”

As you were leaving you almost slammed into the idiot with nice hair.

“Oh hey Y/n is Lori ready?”

You felt your eyebrows scrunch together. Lori?

You shook your head rushing past him.

“Don’t know but I gotta get going.”

This was last week, the dance was in a few days and all but one Day noticed your strange behavior. You were listening to music when Mrs.Day knocked on your door.

“Hey sweetie.” You put your phone down slowly taking off your headphones confused.

“Everything ok?” Mama laughed sitting next to you on your mattress.

“I should be asking you that darlin you’ve been quiet and we haven’t seen much of you.” You shrug.

“Just been busy.” The woman smirked.

“Avoiding Lorraine?” You flush slightly rubbing your neck.

“I’m guessing she was who you wanted to ask to the dance.” You stare slightly embarrassed as you nod.

She gently placed a hand on your cheek brushing some hair back from your face.

“I’m sorry baby.” You shrug again. “But I think you shouldn’t mope around.”

“You’re not mad at me for liking Lorraine?”

The older woman laughed.

“Baby if I got mad at you for that I would’ve hated you since we met.”

You stay silent. “How about we go get you something nice for the dance?”

You shook your head. “I think I’ll pass.”

She nodded as she stood going to her bathroom brushing her teeth as she got ready for bed.

Her husband resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Y/n just realized she likes Raine.” Mr.Day laughed.

“That poor kids been in love with her since they met, we just gotta wait to see if Rainey will catch up.” Her eyebrows shot up.

“You knew?!” He laughed nodding.

“I may not be the sharpest tool

in the kit but I know love struck when I see it.”

“I give it 2 years before they get together.” Her husband grinned.

“I think it’ll take longer than that I give it 5.”

22 Years Old

Mr.Day was quiet as he brushed his teeth, his wife next to him rubbing lotion into her skin.

“Guess we both lost that bet huh?”

Mr.Day chuckled. “I got until the end of this year but yes it’s looking like we were wrong.”

Mrs.Day sighed.

“Is it our fault?”

“Of course not! We can’t dictate her life. It’s better to wait for the right thing then to race for the wrong thing.” She shook her head.

“She’s getting married.”

“She’s engaged, she ain’t married there’s still time for her to figure out what her heart wants.”

“And what if it’s Rj?” At this Mr.Day scoffed.

“Yeah and what if pigs fly?” The back of her hand slapped his shoulder.

“Im serious.”

“And I am too darlin’. Look Raine may take some time but I think a part of her knows RJ ain’t right for her. Im hoping a part of her also knows that while she may not love Y/n she deserves someone who would love her like Y/N would.”

They stayed quiet until Mr.Day broke the silence again laughing.

“You remember Daniel?” His wife finally cracked a smile.

“Such a sweet boy.” Mr.Day laughed.

At the dance she had only talked about you and how she wished you were there with her. Daniel had tried to steer her concentration to them but ended up taking her home early. Their “first kiss” decent but no fireworks. The dates were nice but she’d find herself wishing she were hanging out with you instead. They had tried, going bowling, grabbing pizza, even small walks in the park. This went on for months before Lorraine had decided to end it. She didn’t feel the connection she yearned for.

Lorraine had come in crying she hadn’t stopped to talk to her parents she just ran up to your room pouncing on you the moment she went through the door. Her arms slung around your neck as hot tears met your skin. She was so upset she couldn’t speak. You consoled her and let her take your bed before you snuck out knocking on the boys door and punching him with no explanation.

“I was the one who taught her to punch.” Mr. Day grinned proudly as his wife hit him once again.

Back at your apartment, you had just finished washing up when you heard a sharp knock at your door. You went to open the door and found Lorraine on the other side.

“Raine?”

“So an apartment above the shop is better than our home?”

“What? No I-“

“Did you leave because you didn’t want them to catch you sneaking in girls?”

“What?! Raine-“ the girl stumbled into you. Big baby browns locking onto yours as soft hands stroked your face.

“Or is it because you hate me?” You watched as a light shimmer of tears lined her eyelids.

You grabbed her chin firmly making her breath bitch.

“Now that’s a damn lie Lorraine I could never hate you.” You sniffed and almost gagged at the familiar scent.

“Are you drunk?” Her body sagged against you her head hitting your shoulder as she nodded.

“And you drove here?!” She shook her head.

“I had Bobby drop me off.”

You sighed, picking the girl up bridal style.

She laughed arms going around your neck as she did so.

“You’re my best friend.” You laid her gently in your bed as you went to grab some extra blankets.

“I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.” You stop, looking at her cheesy grin knowing she doesn’t mean it the way you want her to.

It’s only when her soft snoring hits your ears that you realize she’s fallen asleep.

“I love you so much more.” You place a soft kiss on her forehead as you go to sleep in the couch.

Once you throw yourself down you raise one arm behind your head, eyes staring at nothing as you wonder what you’ll do when she marries him.

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She Don’t Wanna Marry Me

Part 3

8 years old

“Mama says you gots to marry your best friend to be happy.” You nod silent as you and Lorraine sit on the swings of the local park. You kick your feet to go higher watching the other girl struggle. A small pout begins to form making you smile. You jump off the swing running behind her as you begin to push her. Loving the sound of her squealing as she slowly goes higher.

“I love you Y/N!” You say nothing as you continue to push the girl once declaring she’s high enough jumping back on the swing next to her.

Once she gets tired and the usual ice cream truck sings as it arrives you both run. The coins in your pocket jingling as the girl next to you bounces on her heels. As you both tiptoe up to the counter you place the usual 1.75 down and ask for a vanilla ice cream, Lorraine’s favorite.

On the walk back home Lorraine licks away at her cone.

“How come you didn’t get a cone?”

You shrug. You didn’t tell her how that’s all the change you could find at home.

Her small hand grabs yours interlocking her sticky fingers with your clean ones. You grimace but let her continue.

“I know I’ll be happy when I marry you Y/n.”

13 years old

“I’m scared Y/NN.” You give her hand a squeeze making the girl face you.

“You’re gonna do great Raine I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.” She nods.

“You get nervous you just look at me and don’t look anywhere else.” Once more she nods biting her lip.

“I hate speaking in front of people.” You laugh lightly.

“I know but you gotta get used to it if you wanna be a big time author.” She sighed making you step closer and pull her into a hug. You felt her body sag in relief as you rubbed small circles in her back. “Ill be right here cheering you on.”

“Swear you ain’t leaving?”

“I promise I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else but with you. Now go.”

The girl scurried on stage almost tripping in her haste. The small brunette took a deep breath before she opened her mouth.

You watched entranced as the quiet girl you’ve come to love straighten her posture pushing her shoulders back and plastering a bright smile on her face. Lorraine hated putting on a show but her mother insisted she enter at least one beauty pageant in her life, first to make friends and second to boost her confidence she was scared the girl would be a recluse and become socially awkward. You stood back stage giving the girl a thumbs up as her mother waved from the front row. She’d dressed her as a true southern belle and her talent was to sing. Gone was the silent girl in her place a beautiful singer whose voice seemed to enchant everyone.

You could tell she’d gotten nervous once she looked at the large audience but relaxed the minute her eyes found yours. You offered a smile and even began to lipsynch, her smile grew wider as she knew you hated the song her mother chose for her but still listened to every word at every practice.

You’d spent countless nights going over dance steps and stupid questions, lifting her mood every-time she’d scowl or pout not wanting to do it anymore.

And imagine her surprise when she’d gotten 2nd place not first, thank the lord or she would’ve gone crazy. But she still placed and almost stole the show. You remember the feeling of her running up to you squeezing your neck and planting a fat kiss on your cheek once the show was over. Copious amounts of thank you falling from pink lips as she had not only gained confidence in herself but stepped out of her comfort zone.

15 years old

You pushed the boys face down further in the dirt.

“When a girl says no it means no Jack ass.”

“Y/n! STOP!” But you couldn’t stop, he tried to hurt Lorraine. He leaned in for a kiss and when she pushed him away he grabbed her almost ripping her shirt and still tried to kiss her.

“Y/n, please” she had gotten closer to you lips grazing your ear making you freeze the crowd around you both waiting. You huffed standing up but not before landing one more kick to the boys ribs.

“You stay the fuck away from her. You understand?” A cough and weak nod is all you get. A soft hand grabs your arm dragging you to the nearest bathroom, already washing the blood and dirt from your hands.

“You have to stop fighting.”

“I’ll stop fighting when people stop trynna take advantage of you.” The girl stares at you.

“So you’ll never stop fighting.”

“Exactly.” You crack a smile at her making her lips quiver. She doesn’t want to smile and have you think she condones this behavior but she likes having you as her protector. More often than not she can’t see when people take her kindness for weakness and having you around guaranteed they wouldn’t.

She sighs. “What should we tell mama and daddy?”

“Nothing I’m sure they’ll know before you even make it home.”

She steps closer to you placing a hand on your cheek. You soften a bit at the action making the girl laugh.

“A big ole teddy bear I swear.” You scowl stepping menacingly toward the girl making her back up. “Hold on I-“

You pick her up and swing her over your shoulder already running towards her house.

“PUT ME DOWN!”

22 Years Old - The Engagement Dinner Party

You were surprised how many old friends and family came up to you for a hug and wanted to catch up. You didn’t realize how long it had been since you’d been part of family functions after the birthday disaster you were sure everyone had written you off. A small body plopped next to you on the couch huffing.

“Are you as tired as I am?” Soft bleary eyes and a wide smile greeted you. She was drunk you could tell by the slight gloss in her eyes but she usually-

Her head hit your shoulder as her small hands began roaming your arms and chest. Never mind she’s very much drunk. She always got touchy whenever she had too much to drink.

“Yeah.” You said softly you pat her hands to her lap making her pout.

She went to put her hands back on you but Maxine plopped herself in between you two. Her and Bobby were watching from afar. Bobby sat next to Lorraine smiling softly almost apologetic but she knew Church Mouse was getting a little more touchy than usual.

“So mouse we just heard from your mom that you’re a singing beauty queen?” Maxine was casually running her hand down your forearm a small chuckle leaving you at Bobby’s question.

“They don’t know?” Lorraine looked to you glaring playfully until her eyes landed on her friends hand.

“No.” She muttered harshly. Your eyebrows furrowed confused making the smaller girl feel bad. It wasn’t your fault her friend was hanging off you. “I’m not as good a singer as Y/N though.”

You flush at the change of conversation.

“You sing Zuko?” Another chuckle left you at the nickname.

“Nah Raineys lying.” Said girl stuck her tongue out at you as her mom intervened.

“Of course she can sing,” she laughs.

You got lost in brown eyes and a constellation of freckles, a soft click in the background bringing you back.

Mrs.Day placed a kiss on your cheek laughing.

“It’s a miracle you didn’t have girls banging down the door.”

“Don’t speak too soon Mrs.Day I might just be Danny’s first and last groupie.” You looked over to get a wink and flirty wave from Maxine. Bobby laughed.

“I won’t lie I might fight you for her too.” You blushed as Lorraine laughed placing both arms around your neck.

“She only sings for me.” Her mother smirked at the possessive behavior as did Bobby.

You laugh once again prying Lorraine away.

“I think it’s time I get going.” Lorraine was once again pouting before she tilted her head to the side.

“What do ya mean? You’re home.” Mrs.Day cleared her throat.

“Sweetheart Y/N moved out about a year ago.” Her eyes widened as she turned to you abruptly.

“What?! Why?!”

You just shrug as Mrs.Days eyes get a little cloudy, her husband and his father finally coming in the room.

“How’s it going honey?” He places a soft kiss on his daughters forehead before wrapping a thick arm around his wife.

“I was just telling Lorraine that I’m heading out Mr.Day” The man nodded, the formality still leaving a quiet sting but he understood.

“You ok to get home?”

“Yeah no worries Mrs.Day I made sure not to drink too much.”

Lorraine watches you walk off before turning to her father.

“What did you do?”

The older man furrows his eyebrows at her.

“Don’t take that tone with me right now Lorraine, you’ve had a few glasses we can talk about this in the morning.” The younger girl huffed.

“We wouldn’t have to if y/n was here-“

“I think it’s time we all head to bed. Girls you can share Lorraine’s room or use Y-the guest bedroom.”

Lorraine scoffed stomping up to her room, Bobby and Maxine following shortly after.

“You alright Mouse?”

“She wasn’t supposed to leave. She belongs here with us.”

Maxine watched the girl carefully. “Maybe she got tired of waiting Mouse.”

“She promised to never leave.”

Bobby decided to chime in as well. “Did she promise to never leave the house or did she promise to never leave you?”

“Hey Lorraine I got a question..” the room grew quiet it was rare Maxine addressed anyone by their actual name.

The girls were met with silence nothing but the sound of quiet snores meeting their ears after a few minutes.

They turned off the light heading to the guest room.

As soon as the door shut brown eyes popped open staring out the window, mind racing as she thought about her best friend.

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Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter Eighteen

Who Lives, Who Dies Who Tells Your Story

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader get into an accident that leaves Natasha in critical condition. When she wakes up, it’s revealed that she has amnesia and doesn’t remember her life, wife, or children.

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Follow my update page @natsxaddiction2

w/c: 7.7k

Note: Another chapter

Natasha sat at a secluded table within the training facility. The soft scratch of a pen against paper filled the air as she diligently transcribed case notes into an old-fashioned notebook. To her, this method was a touch of familiarity in a rapidly evolving world.

As she focused on her task, a playful voice cut through the quiet corner she had claimed.

"Hey, Natasha, still clinging to the prehistoric method, huh?"

She looked up to find Sam Wilson smirking down at her. A glint of amusement danced in her eyes.

"Sam, some things are timeless," she replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

He chuckled, leaning in slightly and playfully nudging her shoulder. "Yeah, like you, I guess."

With a dry humor, she returned to her notes, ignoring his gentle ribbing. He continued to grin at her, unrelenting.

"You know, they have these things now, they're called computers," he continued, a teasing lilt in his voice. "They're like magic for note-taking."

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, her tone equally dry. "Magic that can be hacked, Sam."

Sam's grin widened, his banter-loving nature undeterred.

"You're something else, Nat."

Meanwhile, Natasha's focus was interrupted by the sight of Steve across the training area. As if Sam's comments were a cue, he sauntered over, sporting a sly smile.

"Speaking of old-school, Nat, isn't it about time someone taught Steve how to ask a girl out in the 21st century?"

Natasha couldn't help but smirk, her gaze shifting to Steve who was immersed in a training routine. She set her pen down, her amusement evident.

"Sam, leave Steve alone. He's been busy saving the world."

But Sam wasn't one to let up easily. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But come on, the guy's been single for, what, years? And he still hasn't figured it out?"

Her eyes danced with mirth, the memory of their conversations often circling this topic. She chuckled softly.

"You know, it's almost funny, considering I'm the one with amnesia, and he's the one who still can't quite manage it."

Sam laughed aloud, the camaraderie between them palpable. "Right? The world's a strange place, Nat."

“What are you two laughing about?” Steve raised a brow, a hand on his hip, as he stepped over to their corner of the room. 

“The fact that you can’t get a girl,” Natasha said bluntly, a playful smirk on her face. 

"Well, Nat not everyone can be married to bombshells," he retorted, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Natasha chuckled at Steve's defense, her gaze shifting between the two men. Sam laughed along, shaking his head.

"True that, Cap," Sam conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Steve's reply was accompanied by a soft chuckle as he turned his attention to Natasha, his expression fond. "Besides, I think some of us enjoy keeping things a bit more... old-fashioned."

Natasha met his gaze, her own eyes warming. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a shared appreciation for the simplicity of certain things in a complex world.

Sam, undeterred, decided to prod further, pointing to Natasha. "You hear that, Nat? Steve's defending himself."

She raised an eyebrow in mock contemplation. "Is that so?"

Steve's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, but his grin remained steady. "Well, I'm just saying, it's not always easy navigating the modern dating scene. Some of us are more comfortable in our era."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "And here I thought being a super-soldier was enough to charm anyone."

Laughter and friendship floated in the air, a comforting backdrop to the dynamic trio's banter. Natasha's pen continued its rhythmic dance on the paper, capturing not just notes but also a sense of belonging she cherished.

In this easy exchange, Steve's demeanor shifted slightly, his eyes growing more earnest as he cleared his throat. "Hey, before we get too carried away, I wanted to let you both know that we have a meeting with General Ross later."

Natasha's eyebrows raised slightly, her interest piqued. Ross wasn't exactly her favorite person within their network.

Sam leaned back against the table, crossing his arms. "Ah, Ross.” 

Natasha glanced at Sam, her curiosity evident. "What's the meeting about?"

Steve's expression remained steady, tinged with a hint of seriousness. "It's about a new lead on that black market operation we've been tracking. Ross has some intel he wants to share."

Natasha's lips tightened almost imperceptibly. Ross had always struck her as a man with his agenda, often at odds with their methods and objectives. She shifted her gaze back to Steve, her thoughts momentarily lost in contemplation.

Sam's cryptic smile reappeared, and he tilted his head toward Natasha. "Remember Ultron, Nat? Our friend had a little run-in with Ross."

Natasha's brow furrowed as she thought back, but the memory eluded her. She glanced between Sam and Steve, a mix of curiosity and intrigue painting her features.

Steve's lips quirked into a wry smile as he explained, "Yeah, there was some... tension. We'll leave it at that."

Natasha's interest was fully piqued now. Her past, the parts that had been erased by amnesia, remained a puzzle she was constantly trying to piece together.

"Well, I guess I'll find out," she mused, a determined glint in her eyes.

Sam nodded, his grin warm. "Yeah, you will. But hey, it's good to have you back in the loop, Nat."

Natasha's lips curved into a genuine smile. It was true, that being part of this team, and sharing these moments, made her feel alive and connected in a way that she had missed during her recovery. Her pen continued its dance across the paper, capturing not just notes, but a renewed sense of purpose.

*********************

The meeting room was a hub of activity, the Avengers gathering once again to discuss their ongoing operations. Natasha sat at the long table, her gaze sweeping over her teammates. The room seemed different from the last time they had convened here, and her eyes lingered on the changing dynamics.

She watched as Steve, Sam, and Tony exchanged thoughts, their companionship evident even in their discussions. The team had evolved since its early days, and the faces around the table were a testament to that change.

Her mind traveled back to a time when she had been one of the only women in the room, aside from Pepper Potts and Maria Hill. But now, the team has grown and expanded. Wanda, with her incredible powers, was a formidable presence, and you, though absent right now, a recent addition, had proven yourselves with determination and skills that fit right in.

The absence of Thor and Bruce Banner was notable. They had gone their separate ways, Thor back to Asgard and Bruce on a journey of self-discovery. Natasha had always appreciated the unique perspectives they brought to the team, but she also recognized that change was a constant in their line of work.

As the conversation carried on, Natasha found herself leaning back slightly in her chair, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the polished table surface. She listened as Steve, Sam, and Tony debated the intricacies of the new black market intel, but her mind wandered.

The familiar words and discussions seemed almost routine to her, a testament to the many meetings they had endured over the years. It was in moments like these that she couldn't help but feel a hint of boredom, her thoughts wandering to more engaging challenges.

The meeting room's discussions were interrupted as the door swung open, and Agent Ross entered with a few guards in tow. Natasha's brow arched in subtle curiosity at the added security presence. It seemed a tad excessive for a routine briefing, even one involving sensitive intel.

Agent Ross took his place at the head of the table, his posture conveying authority. Natasha's gaze never left him, her observant eyes assessing the situation. She had dealt with Ross before, and their interactions had rarely been smooth.

"Good afternoon, Avengers," Ross began, his voice carrying the confidence of a man accustomed to power. "I appreciate your promptness."

Natasha's gaze remained steady, and she raised an eyebrow. A silent question as she wondered why he felt the need for extra security. Ross continued without acknowledging her unspoken inquiry.

"We've obtained new intel on the black market operation that's been causing disturbances in the city," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled team. "We've reason to believe this operation is more extensive and dangerous than initially thought."

As Ross delved into the details, Natasha's mind began to churn. She had learned over time that challenging Ross's assumptions often led to more revealing answers. She raised her hand, her tone casual but her intent challenging.

"Agent Ross, forgive me if I'm mistaken, but it seems a bit excessive to bring guards to a routine briefing. Is there something you're not telling us?"

Ross met her gaze evenly, his expression guarded but unruffled. "Ms. Romanoff, recent developments warrant heightened security. We need to be cautious, especially given the sensitive nature of this information."

Natasha's lips twitched into a half-smile, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Sensitive enough to warrant guards in a room full of Avengers?"

Ross didn't waver, his response measured. "It's a precaution, nothing more. Now, let's focus on the matter at hand."

Natasha wasn't satisfied, but she knew when to let a point drop. She settled back in her seat, her eyes never leaving Ross as he continued discussing the operation.

However, the conversation took an unexpected turn when Ross's gaze shifted toward your empty chair. "Speaking of precautions, it has come to my attention that Y/N isn't present."

Natasha's brows furrowed, her guard instinctively rising. She had no love lost for Ross, but she couldn't fathom his issue with you. She leaned forward slightly, her tone a mixture of curiosity and challenge.

"Agent Ross, I'm intrigued. Care to explain your concern?"

Ross hesitated, his gaze flickering between Natasha and the empty chair. "Y/N's... abilities, and those of Wanda Maximoff, are unique. Their involvement could potentially complicate matters."

Natasha's lips quirked into a bemused smile. "Are you suggesting that magic is a liability in this situation?"

Ross's expression remained guarded, but his resolve was clear. "I'm suggesting caution. We need to be mindful of the potential ramifications of involving such unpredictable elements in an operation of this nature."

Natasha's smile turned slightly enigmatic as understanding dawned. "Ah, I see. You're worried about not being able to control them."

Ross met her gaze evenly, his tone measured. "I'm worried about the safety of everyone involved, including the civilians we're here to protect."

Natasha's posture remained composed, her expression a mix of curiosity and challenge. She listened as Ross laid out his concerns about involving you and Wanda, your unique abilities casting a shadow of uncertainty over the proceedings.

"Agent Ross," Natasha interjected, her tone even, "I understand your caution, but let's not forget that each of us brings a range of skills and risks to the table. Isn't it a bit shortsighted to single out individuals with exceptional abilities?"

Ross met her gaze with unwavering resolve, a hint of tension underscoring his words. "Ms. Romanoff, I am well aware of the capabilities of everyone here. I am simply advocating for a strategic approach."

Natasha's eyes shifted to Wanda, who was seated across the table. She couldn't help but wonder why the young woman didn't jump in to defend herself. Wanda's gaze was fixed on her lap, evading Ross's scrutiny. It was a contrast to the fiery spirit Natasha had seen in her before.

Ross's tone shifted as he mentioned you and Wanda's past involvements. Natasha's fingers tightened imperceptibly around the edge of the table. The implications of Ross's words were clear, and she didn't appreciate the way he was framing the narrative.

"You're saying that incidents like Lagos and Sokovia were solely the doings of Y/N and Wanda," Natasha's voice was edged with skepticism.

Ross's gaze remained unyielding. "It's not an accusation, Ms. Romanoff. It's a factual assessment of events."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, and her voice held a steely edge. "Factual assessments can be twisted to suit different narratives."

Before the conversation could spiral further, Natasha decided to confront the insinuations head-on. "Agent Ross, speaking of accountability, let's not forget certain events that happened under your watch. I seem to recall the creation of the Abomination and the chaotic events that unfolded during your tenure."

Ross's lips tightened, his demeanor remaining composed despite the barbs. "Ms. Romanoff, I was following orders—"

Natasha cut him off, her voice rising slightly. "And what about the unchecked pursuit of the Hulk? Or the Sokovia Accords debacle?"

Ross's gaze flickered, and Natasha pressed her point. "You've made your share of mistakes, Agent Ross, and yet you've never been asked to keep your mouth shut or step down."

The room fell silent as the weight of Natasha's words hung in the air. She had shed light on the double standards, and the expectations placed on those with extraordinary abilities while the more mundane failures of authority figures were brushed aside.

Steve Rogers cleared his throat, his voice steady as he steered the conversation back on track. "Alright, let's focus on the matter at hand. We all want to ensure the safety of our city."

Natasha's attention shifted back to Ross, her gaze unwavering. She had challenged his assumptions and motives, reminding him that accountability was a two-way street.

****************************

The meeting had finally concluded, the tension in the room dissipating as the Avengers filed out, leaving Natasha and Wanda behind. It was only the second time they found themselves alone together, and an air of quiet camaraderie lingered.

Wanda hesitated before speaking, her voice soft and appreciative. "Natasha, I wanted to thank you for speaking up back there. It means a lot."

Natasha offered a small smile, her eyes meeting Wanda's. "Defending you was the right thing to do."

Wanda's gaze held a mixture of gratitude and determination. "I can take the insults, Natasha. It's Y/N that's usually more affected by them."

Natasha's brow quirked, her curiosity piqued. "Y/N?"

Wanda nodded, her expression somber. "She has magic, and people like Ross... they don't understand it. They don't trust what they don't understand."

Natasha understood the sentiment all too well. The world had always been wary of the unknown, and your unique abilities made her a target for scrutiny.

"But you chose this life, didn't you?" Natasha asked gently. "You chose your powers and to step up as an Avenger."

Wanda's gaze held a quiet resolve. "Yes, I did. I made those choices to make things right, to use my abilities for good."

Natasha nodded, her respect for Wanda deepening. The young woman's determination mirrored her journey, the path of redemption, and the pursuit of justice.

"I've made my share of choices, some I'm proud of and others I'm not," Natasha admitted, her voice tinged with honesty. "But one thing I've learned is that we can't let others define our worth."

Wanda's lips quirked into a small smile. "You've faced your demons, Natasha."

Natasha's smile mirrored Wanda's. "And I'll keep facing them. We all will."

As the meeting's echoes faded, Natasha and Wanda remained in the quiet of the room, their bond strengthened by their shared experiences. A subtle shift in the atmosphere prompted Natasha to change the direction of their conversation.

"So, Wanda," Natasha began, a playful glint in her eyes, "I'm planning a date night for Y/N. Any suggestions?"

Wanda's lips quirked into a knowing smile, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. "You're asking me for advice on a date?"

Natasha shrugged nonchalantly, a hint of mischief in her expression. "Well, you've been around for a while now. You’re her sister. You must have picked up a thing or two."

Wanda's gaze held a thoughtful intensity. "You know, Y/N isn't exactly a fan of crowded places. She prefers lowkey and intimate settings."

Natasha's brows furrowed as she considered Wanda's words. "That's true. I want her to be comfortable."

Wanda's eyes lit up as an idea formed. "Why not take her to that little café near the park? It’s close to your house. It's cozy, quiet, and has a lovely view."

Natasha's lips curved into a smile, appreciating Wanda's suggestion. "That's a great idea. Thanks, Wanda."

Wanda's smile was warm and knowing. "You've got this, Natasha. For what it’s worth I’ve always rooted for you to work out."

“Thank you,” Natasha says quietly. She doesn’t know why that means so much to her but it does. With a nod of appreciation, Natasha turned to leave the meeting room, the gentle reminder of Wanda's advice guiding her steps. 

*******************************

You stood in front of the mirror, turning to gaze at the back of your outfit. You bit your lip in contemplation, your gaze flickering between the three outfits you had tried on. The anticipation of your date with Natasha pulsed through you, a mix of excitement and nervousness.

With a sigh, you discarded the first outfit—a flowy skirt and blouse that felt a bit too formal. The second, a pair of jeans and a tucked-in blouse joined the pile on the bed. Your fingers brushed over the fabric of the third option—a snug-fitting sweater dress. The creme hue complemented your complexion, and you couldn't help but smile.

As if sensing your indecision, Olivia watched intently from the bed. Beside her, Lily played with a pacifier and a tissue paper from one of the discarded shoe boxes. You chuckled softly at the distraction your little companions provided.

"Alright, girls," You addressed them with mock seriousness, "what do you think? Is Mommy ready for her date?"

Olivia's bright eyes narrowed in thoughtful consideration, and she nodded with a solemn expression, her tiny voice chiming in, "Pretty, Mommy!"

You laughed, your heartwarming at Olivia's approval. Lily, absorbed in her tissue paper play, seemed content to offer a few giggles in response.

Satisfied with Olivia's endorsement, You set to work adding the finishing touches. You chose delicate hoop earrings that framed your face and adorned yourself with light, elegant jewelry. A glance in the mirror reassured you—this was the outfit. It was comfortable and stylish, and you felt like yourself.

You couldn't resist the pull of Lily's infectious giggles any longer. You gracefully hopped onto the bed, your dress bunching around your hips. Lily's eyes widened in surprise as you joined her, and then her face broke into a radiant smile. Giggles erupted from the little girl, a symphony of pure joy.

"Hi, my sweet Lily," You cooed, leaning in to give your daughter a barrage of gentle kisses on her chubby cheeks. Lily's laughter bubbled even more, filling the room with its melody.

Olivia, always eager to be part of the action, crawled over, her curiosity piqued. Your attention shifted to your older daughter, and you offered a playful wink.

"Now, how about some kisses for Olivia too?" You asked, your voice brimming with warmth.

Olivia giggled, her face lighting up. She leaned in, allowing you to pepper her with soft kisses. 

As you turned your attention back to Lily, your heart swelled with love. You gently plucked the pacifier from Lily's mouth, your daughter's protesting pout making you chuckle.

"Sorry, sweetie," You whispered, giving Lily's pacifier a playful twirl in your fingers. "I promise it's for a good cause."

Lily's eyes fixed on you curiosity evident. And then you leaned in, your noses almost touching, and planted a series of tender kisses on Lily's cheeks and forehead. Lily's pout quickly transformed into a giggle-filled grin, her tiny hands reaching up to grasp your fingers.

Olivia, not one to be left out, tugged on your sleeve. "Mommy, who are you going on a date with?"

Your smile softened as you looked at Olivia. "I'm going on a date with Mama.”

Olivia's eyes widened in understanding, and then she beamed. “Oh, can I go?”

“Not this time,” You shake your head. “You’re going to be home with Rae tonight. Don’t you like Rae?”

“I do,” Olivia nods seriously. “I can show her my toys.”

You nodded, your heart full as you looked at your children. Lily had managed to free her pacifier from your grip and triumphantly popped it back into her mouth, her joy apparent.

With a final round of kisses for both Olivia and Lily, you gently rose from the bed, the sound of their laughter following you as she made her way to the bathroom. You needed to finish getting ready. 

*******************

Natasha approached the door to your home, her heart thrummed with excitement and nerves. It had been a while since she had been on a date, let alone one that held so much significance. In her hand, she held a bouquet, a gesture she hoped would convey the depth of her feelings.

As the door swung open, revealing Olivia with a bright smile, Natasha's breath momentarily caught. She felt a rush of emotions at the sight of the tiny girl. She swallowed her nerves and managed a warm smile.

"Hey there, baby girl," Natasha greeted.

Olivia's smile widened as she looked at Natasha, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Mama, you brought flowers!"

Natasha chuckled softly, feeling a sense of relief at Olivia's enthusiasm. "Yes, I did. These are for your Mommy.”

Olivia nodded, her curls bouncing with her movement. "They’re so beautiful and happy."

As Natasha waited for you to appear, her heart raced.  The door finally opened wider, revealing your form, and Natasha's breath hitched at the sight.

She offered a tentative smile, her voice carrying a hint of warmth. "Hey."

Your eyes softened, your gaze sweeping over Natasha with a mixture of fondness and happiness. "Hey, Nat. Come on in." You stepped aside for Natasha to walk in. 

“Did she answer the door on her own?” Natasha questions referring to Olivia who trailed behind you. 

“No, I was always right here,” You assure her. 

Natasha stepped inside further, her eyes trailing to your backside and then to your house.  As she met your gaze, you shared a brief yet intimate smile, the depth of your connection evident in your eyes.

A hug ensued, a comforting embrace that communicated unspoken feelings. And then, as you pulled back, Natasha's nerves faded slightly, replaced by a sense of contentment. She held out the bouquet, her expression a mix of anticipation and hope.

"I brought these for you," Natasha said, her voice soft but sincere.

Your eyes lit up as you took the bouquet, your fingers brushing against Natasha's in the process. You looked at the flowers, your smile growing.

"These are my favorite flowers," You said, your voice filled with genuine delight.

Natasha's heart swelled at your response. She reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear, her touch lingering for a moment. "I remembered. I mean, not really, but I picked those because they seemed like something you would like."

Your smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling as they held Natasha's gaze. "Thank you, Nat."

You and Natasha readied yourselves for the date. The smiles exchanged between you were infectious, capturing the anticipation of the evening's plans.

During your preparations, Olivia and Lily observed with wide eyes, their curiosity piqued by the flurry of activity as you excused yourself to grab your purse. You stopped in front of the hallway mirror, making sure your appearance was perfect. Lily's gaze seemed fixated on the earring you were adjusting, while Olivia watched with rapt attention.

With a warm smile, you looked at Olivia and Lily. "You two will be on your best behavior for Rae, won't you?"

Olivia nodded eagerly, her enthusiasm evident. "Yes, Mama. I can be a good girl."

Natasha knelt, her presence reassuring. "Remember, if you need anything or have any issues, just tell Rae, okay?"

Lily reached out her arms, a clear sign she wanted to be included. Natasha couldn't help but chuckle as she lifted the little one into her arms, placing a gentle kiss on Lily's forehead.

"You take care and listen to the babysitter, Lily," Natasha whispered, her voice soft.

Your arms opened for a hug, and Olivia stepped into the embrace, holding on tightly. "You'll be good and look after Lily, won't you?"

Olivia nodded, her face brightening. "I promise, Mama."

Kneeling, Natasha met Lily's gaze with a tender smile. "And you, Lily. You'll be a good girl too?"

Lily's response was a delighted grin, her hand reaching out to gently touch her cheek.

With a final round of hugs, you and Natasha made your way toward the door, your hearts full. As you left the room behind, your shared look held the promise of a special night ahead.

With Olivia and Lily in capable hands, the two of you ventured into the world outside, fingers intertwined. The excitement of new memories and the warmth of your love propelled you forward, ready for the experiences that awaited.

***************

As you and Natasha stepped into the dimly lit café, the melodies of live music gently embraced you. The warm ambiance and soft chatter created a cozy atmosphere that felt both inviting and intimate. Natasha's hand rested on the small of your back, her touch guiding you further into the space. With a shared smile, you let her lead the way.

The stage was bathed in a warm spotlight, a solitary microphone waiting for the next performer. The room was filled with a mix of hushed conversations and the soft strumming of a guitar, setting the stage for an enchanting evening.

Your eyes glimmered with curiosity as you looked around, taking in the sights and sounds. "I've heard about this place, but I've never actually been to an open mic night."

She chuckled softly, leaning closer to you. "Well, get ready for an eclectic mixture of talent. You never know what you're going to get."

A singer took the stage, their voice smooth and captivating. Your attention was fully captured by the performance, a testament to the charisma of the live music.

Impressed, you turned to Natasha with an appreciative nod. "You were right. This is better than I expected."

Natasha leaned in, playfully whispering, "I have impeccable taste, you know."

Your lips quirked into a smirk. "I'll give you that one."

As the evening progressed, the music's variety and the energy of the crowd kept your attention captivated. Every so often, Natasha's foot tapped to the rhythm, a subtle sign of her enjoyment. You couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"Getting into the groove?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Natasha glanced at you with mock seriousness. "I've been known to groove on occasion."

You chuckled, appreciating her sense of humor. "Oh, I'm sure. The Black Widow with some dance moves, huh?"

Natasha's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Only when the mission calls for it."

The transition to a more upbeat song drew both your attention and the infectious melody making it hard to resist tapping your foot along with the beat. Natasha's gaze met yours, her lips curving into a playful smile.

"Care for a dance?" she quipped, her tone light.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Agent Romanoff, are you trying to sweep me off my feet?"

Natasha's chuckle was rich and warm. "I might be."

The banter flowed between you effortlessly, a comfortable exchange of words that felt as natural as the music in the background. As the rhythm of the music pulsed through the air, a playful challenge passed between you and Natasha. With a knowing glint in her eyes, she extended her hand toward you, a silent invitation to the dance floor. You couldn't help but smile, your heart dancing to a beat that matched the music's tempo.

Accepting her hand, you rose from your seat, drawn into the world of the song. The space around you seemed to blur, fading into the background as you and Natasha came together on the dance floor. The spotlight's gentle illumination painted the scene, casting a soft glow over your figures.

As the music enveloped you, you found yourself moving in perfect harmony with Natasha. Each step, each sway was a testament to the unspoken connection that had been growing between you. It was as if you were engaged in a dance that went beyond the physical, a dance of souls that resonated with every movement.

Natasha's grace and fluidity were no surprise; you had seen her in action many times before. But there was something different tonight, an energy that seemed to infuse every sway, every twirl. It was as if the music was a conduit for her emotions, a way to express herself beyond words.

But what truly impressed you was the way Natasha's gaze never left yours. Her eyes held a mixture of intensity and tenderness, a silent promise that you were in this together, moving to the same rhythm, navigating the dance floor as partners.

You moved with a synchronicity that came effortlessly as if you had been dancing together for a lifetime. The world around you faded, leaving only the music and the connection that bound you together. The way Natasha's fingers brushed against yours, the way she guided you through turns and dips—it all spoke of a deep understanding that went beyond the present moment.

In those moments, you felt a glimpse of the person Natasha had become—the fighter, the survivor, the woman who had learned to open her heart again. And as the song came to an end, you found yourselves caught in a final, graceful spin, ending in a pose that felt like a testament to the night's magic.

The applause from the audience broke the spell, and Natasha's gaze held yours for a moment longer before she offered a warm smile. The depth of connection you felt was mirrored in her eyes, a reflection of the shared experiences and emotions that had led you to this point.

The dance had been more than just a physical act—it was a conversation, a celebration of the journey you were on together. As the night continued, you were eager to learn more about each other, to share stories and moments that would strengthen the bond that was growing between you.

Back at your seats, the afterglow of the dance lingered in the air. Natasha's demeanor had shifted to one of easy charm and playful flirtation, but you saw past the facade. You had known her long enough to recognize the subtle shifts in her behavior, even when she tried to mask them.

With a knowing smile, Natasha leaned back in her seat, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "So, what do you think? Not bad, right?"

You chuckled softly, meeting her gaze with an understanding glint in your eyes. "Nat, you don't need to impress me like this."

Natasha's eyebrows quirked, her smile retaining its playful edge. "Oh? And what makes you think I'm trying to impress you?"

Your gaze held a warmth that matched the gentle lighting around you. "Because I know you. I know when you're being the Natasha Romanoff, and I also know when you're slipping into the Black Widow act."

For a moment, Natasha's expression remained unchanged, her guard seemingly intact. But then, something shifted in her eyes, a realization dawning. The playful facade faltered, revealing a more vulnerable side.

"I didn't even realize I was doing it," Natasha admitted, her voice softer now.

You reached across the table, your fingers finding hers in a reassuring touch. "Nat, you don't need to put on a show for me. I'm already sold."

Natasha's defenses seemed to crumble in that moment, and she let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing. She leaned into your touch, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability.

"You've always seen through me, haven't you?" Natasha's voice held a hint of self-reflection.

You offered her a reassuring smile. "It's because I know you—both the Black Widow and the woman behind it. And I love every part of you."

Natasha's lips curved into a genuine smile, her fingers gently intertwining with yours. The tension that had momentarily hung between you dissolved, replaced by an intimacy that was more genuine than any act.

"Thank you for reminding me," Natasha said softly, her voice laced with a depth of emotion.

Natasha's gaze turned slightly thoughtful, and she took a sip of her drink before speaking. "Speaking of encounters, I saw Ross earlier today."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And how did that go?"

Natasha's lips quirked into a wry smile. "About as well as you might expect. He seems to have a knack for never quite getting along with me."

You rolled your eyes, your tone tinged with exasperation. "Ross and his grudges. He's had it out for me and Wanda for the longest time."

Natasha nodded, a hint of agreement in her expression. "You're not wrong. He's been wary of anyone with powers, especially after that whole Sokovia incident."

You leaned back in your seat, your demeanor confident. "Well, I've learned not to let his paranoia dictate my life. I can't live based on others' fears and prejudices."

Natasha's gaze softened, her admiration evident. "You've come a long way, you know? It's not easy to stand up to that kind of pressure."

A subtle smile played at the corner of your lips. "Well, I've had a good teacher."

Natasha chuckled, a glint of playfulness in her eyes. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

As the evening continued, you found yourself exchanging first-date questions once again. It was a bit amusing, considering you already remembered all the details from your past conversations, but you were doing it for Natasha's sake. Her amnesia was a challenge you both faced, and you were determined to make her feel comfortable and engaged.

With your natural storytelling abilities and charming smile, you answered each question, sharing anecdotes and experiences that painted a vivid picture of your life together. Natasha seemed captivated by your stories, her gaze never leaving you as you spoke.

"So, what's the most interesting thing you've done?" Natasha asked, her eyes curious.

You leaned back in your chair, mulling over the question. "Well, a couple of years ago, you helped me achieve something pretty significant. I got my high school diploma."

Natasha's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I did?"

You nodded, your expression fond. "Yeah, Hydra wasn't big on academics, but with your support, I studied and earned my diploma. It was a turning point for me."

Natasha's lips curved into a proud smile. "I'm glad I could help."

As the conversation continued, you couldn't help but notice Natasha's intrigue when you mentioned your plans for the future. "I want to go back to school for biology," you said. "I'm passionate about wildlife rehabilitation."

Natasha's interest was palpable, her curiosity evident in her eyes. "Wildlife rehabilitation? That's quite a unique choice. What drew you to it?"

A genuine smile graced your lips. "I've always had a connection to animals. After everything I've been through, I found comfort and purpose in caring for them. I want to study biology to understand their needs better and work towards protecting their habitats."

Natasha's admiration was clear, and she regarded you with a newfound respect. "That's incredibly commendable. It takes a lot of dedication and heart to pursue something like that."

You shrugged modestly. "I know it's not what's expected of me, but it's where my passion lies."

Natasha's gaze softened, and she reached across the table to touch your hand. "Your passion is what makes you who you are. And I'm glad I get to know this side of you."

Sitting together in a quiet moment, you felt a surge of inspiration bubbling within you. The topic had been on your mind for a while, and now seemed as good a time as any to share it with Natasha.

"You know," you began, your voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "I've been thinking about the future. After Lily, Olivia, and... well, you know."

Natasha's gaze met yours, her curiosity piqued. "What have you been thinking?"

A warm smile tugged at your lips as you painted a picture with your words. "I've always had this dream of opening up a center. A haven where injured or orphaned animals could be cared for and eventually released back into the wild."

Natasha's eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. "That sounds like an incredible idea. I can see how much it means to you."

You nodded, your enthusiasm evident. "And here's the thing—I've been imagining it as something we could all do together. A family venture, you know? Lily and Olivia could join in too. I know they’re still little.” 

The idea seemed to take root in Natasha's mind, her expression softening with a mixture of interest and appreciation. "That sounds like a beautiful dream, y/n."

You paused for a moment, a hint of sadness entering your gaze. "Originally, I thought it would be something for the future after everything had settled down and we had the new baby. But... well, things have changed because of the accident."

Your words trailed off, and you realized that you might have inadvertently conveyed a sense of frustration or resentment. Hastily, you clarified, "I didn't mean to sound upset. It's just that things are different now, and our priorities have shifted."

Natasha's hand reached for yours, her touch gentle and reassuring. "I understand, y/n. And you're right—our plans might change, but that doesn't mean they're abandoned. We'll find a way to make things work, step by step."

Your words lingered in the air, the shared dreams and vulnerabilities creating an intimate connection between you and Natasha. The atmosphere felt charged with honesty, and as you looked into her eyes, a question that had been on your mind suddenly slipped out.

"What changed for you, Natasha? What made you want to give me a chance?" you asked, your voice gentle but curious.

Natasha's expression shifted, a mixture of contemplation and emotion crossing her features. She took a moment to collect her thoughts before answering.

"When I woke up from the coma, I was... volatile, to say the least," Natasha began. "I wasn't willing to give anyone a chance, especially when it came to the idea of a family. It scared me."

You listened, your heart open to her honesty.

"But the more time passed, the more I realized how lonely I'd let myself become," Natasha continued, her gaze distant as if retracing her journey. "I had built walls around me, and I thought I was protecting myself. But I saw how those walls hurt others, especially you."

You couldn't help but remember the moments when Natasha had pushed you away, her pain evident even when she tried to hide it.

"I saw that you were afraid of me, just a little," Natasha admitted, her voice softer. "And that hurt more than I expected. I was the one who was supposed to protect you, yet my actions were causing you pain."

Her vulnerability was a testament to how far she had come, how much she had grown since waking up from her amnesia.

"I realized that I was standing in my way," Natasha continued, her eyes locking onto yours with a profound intensity. "I realized that I would be an idiot to lose something so pure, something that had the power to heal my wounds."

Her words hung in the air, the weight of her confession settling around you.

You reached across the table, your hand finding hers in a gentle and reassuring touch. "Natasha, you've come so far. And I'm grateful that you let me be a part of this journey with you."

Her fingers intertwined with yours, her grip firm and steady. "It wasn't easy, but it was worth it."

****************************

As you and Natasha stepped through the door, the familiar comfort of home surrounded you. With Lily and Olivia already tucked into their beds, the house felt calm and peaceful.

Rae smiled as she gathered her belongings. "The girls were great tonight. They're such sweethearts."

You nodded, grateful for her care. "Thank you, Rae. We appreciate it."

Once Rae left, an unexpected awkwardness settled between you and Natasha. The natural ease you had felt during the date seemed to have been replaced by a slight tension.

Natasha cleared her throat, her gaze slightly diverted. "So, I guess it's getting late."

You nodded, your fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve. "Yeah, we should probably... go to bed."

Silence lingered for a moment, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air.

Finally, Natasha met your gaze, her eyes searching and vulnerable. "Y/n, about tonight..."

Before she could finish, you took a step closer, closing the gap between you. "Natasha, I wanted to ask... if you'd like to stay? You know, here."

Her eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty in her gaze. "Stay?"

You nodded, your voice soft but steady. "Yeah. I mean, if you're comfortable. We can take it slow, and you can leave anytime if you want. But I'd like you to stay."

The vulnerability that had marked the entire evening seemed to intensify as you laid your feelings bare. Natasha's expression softened, her walls seemingly crumbling before your eyes.

 "I... I want to stay," Natasha said, her voice equally soft. "I want to be here, with you."

A warmth spread through your chest, and you couldn't help but smile. "Then stay."

“It’s settled then,” She matched your smile. 

“Olivia wants to make a fort in the morning so you should get some rest,” You grin at her. “She’s not taking no for an answer.”

“I won’t have it any other way.” Natasha laughed. 

the chase

pairing: vada cavell x reader

summary: in which you and vada play a game of cat and mouse

warnings: none

word count: 4100+

author's note: does this make any sense? great question!

The moment Vada slipped into the passenger’s seat of Nick’s car, words were flying out of his mouth faster than she could comprehend, which was saying a lot considering how often she’d find herself rambling about the most random of things.

“Where were you yesterday?” he started as he shifted the car into drive, beginning their short ride to school. “I called you seven times, and you didn’t answer once. It was Sunday, and you do nothing on Sundays! I was beginning to think you were dead until I texted your mom and--”

Vada shook her head. “Wait, slow down. Back up. You text my mom? When did you get her number?”

He waved her off. “Not important. What is important is you telling me what you were doing yesterday.” He rolled past a stop sign, barely even glancing in its direction as he drove past. “I mean, seven calls, V, and you answered not a single one! So, what were you doing?”

She grinned, giggling in her seat at what she was about to reveal. “I had a date!”

Almost immediately, Nick whipped his head to look at her, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. “With who?!” he practically shouted.

Vada reached out, took his chin between her forefinger and thumb, and turned his head back in the direction of the windshield. “Eyes on the road, stupid. I’m not trying to die today.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Vada, if you don’t tell me who you went on a date with in the next five seconds, I’ll purposely drive us into oncoming traffic.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she teased with a roll of her eyes. He glared at her quickly before focusing on the road again. She bit her lip, trying to quell the excitement raging in her stomach as she said, “It was with Y/N.”

The car skidded to a stop and Vada was jolted forward, her seatbelt pressing tight against her body.

“Dude, what the fuck--” she began, but she was silenced as Nick twisted in his seat, his eyes hard as they set on her and his frown so defined that it made her uncomfortable.

“What,” he deadpanned.

She rubbed at her chest, right where the seat belt had dug into her. “What?” she asked, confused.

“You went on a date with…Y/N? Popular Y/N? Like, most-popular-girl-in-school Y/N?”

Vada tilted her head. “Uh, yeah?”

“Why the fu--” Nick was interrupted by a car honking at him. He threw his arm up in annoyance before starting to drive again, and Vada gulped as he stewed in his seat. “I can’t believe you went on a date with Y/N!”

“Why are you saying it like that?” Vada asked. She shifted, disliking the tension that was starting to fill the air. “You make it sound like a bad thing. I thought you’d be excited! I finally went on my first date with a girl! You’ve been waiting for this moment since the second I came out to you.”

“First of all, I’ve been waiting for this moment since the second I met you, because, baby, the closet is glass.” He took a hard right. The school loomed up ahead. “Secondly, I wanted you to go on a date with basically anyone other than Y/N.”

Vada furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m not that obviously bisexual.” Silence filled the car and she huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine, maybe I am. But why is going out with Y/N such a bad thing? She’s funny and cute and really smart. Basically, she’s perfect.”

“She’s not perfect, V,” Nick said, sitting up a little straighter as he pulled into the parking lot. “Haven’t you ever noticed that she’s got a new girl hanging off of her every month?” Vada’s stomach dropped, a sudden sense of anxiety flooding through her veins. “I mean, she goes through girls like you go through sugar.”

“No she doesn’t,” Vada tried, but her denial fell on deaf ears.

“She’s the biggest player this school has,” Nick said, leaning forward as he tried to pull into his designated parking spot. “She’s probably the biggest player in the damn county. She chases after a girl, stays with her for a few weeks, gets bored, and then does it all over again.” He turned to her as he shifted the gear into park. “Vada, she’s worse than John Tucker.”

“Are you seriously referencing a movie right now?” She scoffed and unbuckled her seatbelt. “She’s not like that.”

“Fine,” Nick conceded. “But when you get hurt, don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s just in it for the chase.”

Vada clambered out of the car and pulled her backpack onto her shoulder. “And when we live happily ever after,” she started as she and Nick started to walk into the school, “I’ll say ‘I told you so’.”

He glanced at her before looking forward, his eyes widening. “...I’m not so sure about that one, V.”

She frowned and followed Nick’s line of sight, a sharp pain shooting through her at what she saw. You had your back pressed against your locker, trapped there by Stacey from Vada’s history class, who had her hand flat against the metal and was leaning close to you. Stacey was batting her eyelashes and giggling, and you were smiling along.

“Oh,” Vada said, voice quiet and small. She tore her eyes away and blinked hard, looking back up at Nick. “Well, I guess you were right.”

He offered her a pitiful smile. “I’m sorry, V. But, you should be glad you won’t be another girl stuck in her revolving door of girls.”

“Yeah,” she said, voice low and filled with sorrow. “So happy.”

Nick wrapped his arm around her shoulder, leading her toward his own locker. “Don’t be so sad. It’s for the best.”

Vada glanced away. “I just don’t get it. I mean, if she’s in it for the chase, then why is she flirting with another girl? Was I not good enough to chase?” She frowned. “Am I just too boring? Or do I talk too much?” She looked up at Nick. “Nick, be honest with me, do I talk too much? Could that turn someone off?”

“Yes,” he said simply, nodding his head. Vada huffed. He pulled away as the two reached his locker and focused on putting his combination into the lock. “Don’t think too far into it, though. I don’t think you wanna go through the pain of it anyway.” He shrugged and then hit the metal door when it wouldn’t open. “Stupid, old locker.” He glanced at her. “You’d just end up getting your heart broken.”

Vada sighed and leaned against the locker beside Nick’s, her shoulder pressing against the cool metal. “That’s dumb. And unfair. And not very nice.”

Nick’s locker door finally popped open. “Just ignore her from now on, okay?” He glanced at her and started to put his books into his locker. “Don’t talk to her, don’t text her, don’t even think about her. ‘Y/N Y/L/N who?’ That’s how you should be acting.”

She nodded hesitantly. “Okay. I guess I can do that.”

“Good.” He slammed the door shut. “Now let’s go to class.”

* * *

The first few periods rolled by smoothly. Vada had no classes with you until after lunch, and she didn’t even get a glimpse of you in the hallways. While part of her was still disheartened by your act, she also agreed with Nick’s words: it was probably for the best that she didn’t get tangled up with you.

That is, until she asked to use the bathroom during her science class, and upon walking inside, found you standing by the sinks, fixing your hair in the mirror. Almost immediately, your eyes landed on her figure through the reflection and you grinned, showing all your pearly-white teeth, before turning around to face her. Vada’s breath was practically sucked from her lungs as she stared at you.

“Vada! Hey!” you greeted, voice happy and excited.

It made Vada uncomfortable, how easily you were able to put on that mask. Nick’s voice rang in her head: Don’t talk to her. She bounced on the balls of her feet before promptly making the decision to hide in one of the stalls, slipping away from your field of vision without a word.

“Oh…kay…” she heard you say. There was the shuffling of your feet before she could see your shoes beneath the stall door. “Text me, okay? I had fun yesterday.” You turned and Vada listened as your footsteps receded.

When she knew she was finally alone, she let out the breath she had been holding and leaned forward, her forehead bumping against the metal of the stall.

“C’mon, Vada, get it together,” she mumbled. “She’s a player. She doesn’t want anything from you.” She clamped her eyes shut and shook her head. “She doesn’t want you.”

That was the mantra that repeated in her head for the entire day. It was what she heard when she saw you during lunch, waving at her from across the cafeteria. She reminded herself of it when you sat down beside her during English class and tried to make conversation, to which she entirely ignored you--it did hurt her heart a little when she saw your wide eyes and jutted out bottom lip when you realized she wouldn’t talk to you, but she tried to ignore that, too.

It all came to a head at the end of the day, when Vada was trying to pile as many of her books as she possibly could into her backpack. She was almost done when you sidled up beside her, a gleaming smile on your face and your hands tucked sheepishly in the back pockets of your jeans.

“Hey,” you said softly, like Vada was a scared animal that would run away.

She swallowed, half of her so desperately wanting to talk to you and ask why you would ask her out just to play with her, while the other half of her was set in her stubborn way of not speaking a word to you. The latter half won as she shut her locker door and walked away, but she couldn’t shake you.

You followed beside her, looking down at her as you walked. “I don’t know what happened between yesterday and today, or if you’re just having an off day or something, but I really did have fun on our date, and I’d like to take you on another one.”

She glanced up at you, unable to stop the quickening of her pulse. What if you were telling the truth? She shook her head, Nick’s words in her ear: Don’t even think about her.

Vada managed to lose you in the crowd of students all trying to exit the school at once, but she still heard your voice call over the sound of everyone else.

“I’ll text you then!”

Something about your determination made her want to melt right into your arms, but she stood up a little straighter and continued walking. You didn’t actually want her, she reminded herself. You just liked the chase.

* * *

After a night full of text messages from you that Vada never answered, she sauntered into school the next day with Nick by her side, completely set on avoiding you as much as she could. Unfortunately for both her and Nick, it seemed like you wanted to make that impossible.

The minute she passed through the front doors, you were walking beside her, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Vada glanced at them quickly, feeling butterflies stir in her stomach at the sight, but Nick slapped her on the hand, forcing her to keep her stoic face as she picked up the pace and tried to walk away.

“What, do you not like roses?” you asked, just a step behind the pair. You sounded dejected, defeated--some part of Vada felt bad; the other part thought ‘good. she should feel bad’. After a moment of silence from you, she heard the smallest, “Well, okay,” and when she looked over her shoulder, you were gone, the roses sticking out of the top of the nearest trash can. It was a depressing sight to see.

She sighed. “I feel kind of bad, Nick,” she admitted, and the boy shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “She deserves to be humbled for once.” He scoffed. “She can’t just have anyone she wants and then throw them away when she gets bored because she’s pretty and popular. And she most certainly can’t do that to you.”

“But, yesterday she said that she had fun on our date and wants to go on another one. What if she was telling the truth? What if she actually likes me?”

Nick shook his head again. “It’s all part of her sick game. She wants you to fall for her, and then she’ll pull the rug right out from under you.” He patted Vada on the shoulder. “Trust me; she’s bad news.”

Vada glanced back over her shoulder again, and this time she found you in the same position as the day before--leaning back against your locker with Stacey standing in front of you, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

Your eyes flitted toward her for a split second, wide and forlorn, before they were focusing on Stacey again. You broke out into a grin, throwing your head back as you laughed.

“Right,” Vada grumbled, an ache forming in her chest and radiating throughout the rest of her body. “Bad news.”

* * *

The ‘bad news’ didn’t seem so bad anymore when, in the middle of English class, Vada was tapped on the shoulder by the boy behind her. When she twisted around to see what he wanted, he unceremoniously shoved a folded piece of paper in her direction, a scowl on his face as he waited for her to take it.

With furrowed eyebrows and a frown, Vada grabbed the paper and turned back in her seat, glancing up at her teacher to make sure he wasn’t watching as she unfolded the sheet.

Vada,

Thought I might try the old-fashioned way. Are you free on Friday night? The drive-in is showing The Princess Diaries, and I remember you saying you had a crush on Anne Hathaway. Wanna go together?

Y/N :)

Vada glanced toward the back of the room, where you had found yourself sitting that day, and saw you already looking at her, hope painting your face prettily. She cursed herself internally at the butterflies in her stomach as she looked back at the note you had sent forward. It was cute--she’d give you that--and she was tempted to say yes, but the image of Stacey flirting with you flitted through her mind, and that was enough for her to crumple the paper in her hand.

She didn’t look back at you.

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident: you didn’t try to speak to her in the halls, and by the time she went to sleep, Vada hadn’t received a single text from you. Just before she drifted off for the night, she briefly thought that you had given up--perhaps you had grown so used to girls falling into your lap that chasing Vada was just too much energy that you didn’t want to use.

She was proven wrong when she woke up to a voicemail from you in the morning. You had called her late at night--the timestamp reading nearly three o’clock--and when Vada played the message aloud, your voice filling her room, shame bloomed in her stomach.

“Hey,” you started, your voice quiet and scratchy. “It’s me. Or, it’s Y/N. I--I don’t know if you’ve deleted my number or something. I just…Look, I know it hasn’t been long since our date, but…” You sighed, and Vada could hear the faintest sound of a sniffle. “The cold shoulder from you doesn’t feel great. I just wanna know where we stand. I had fun on Sunday. Uh, it’s okay if you didn’t. I just wish you would tell me.” You sniffled again. “I guess if you don’t answer this, that’s my answer. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in school.”

Vada threw herself back into her pillows with a sigh. She ran a hand down her face, groaning. “Fuck,” she mumbled. “Fuck.” You sounded so sincere in the voicemail, but what if that were just another one of your ploys? What if you did this with every girl? What if—

“Bitch, why the fuck are you still in bed?” Nick asked as he burst into Vada’s bedroom.

She groaned again, throwing her legs up and down like a small toddler not getting their way. Her heart was pulling toward you, but her brain was trying to run away from you as fast as possible. She was torn, and she had no idea what to do.

Luckily for her, she was given more time to think than she had expected. You were absent that day, your missing presence a large hole in her day. There was no one to offer her flowers, or to try to pass her notes during class, or to wave at her in the cafeteria. As much as she hated admitting it to herself, she still liked you, and the lack of you carved a deep pit into her stomach.

That night, when there was still no sign of you--no texts or calls or even posts on any social media--she fell asleep with worry itching beneath her veins and guilt pricking at her chest.

The next morning wasn’t any better. Anxiety sat heavy like a rock in Vada’s stomach as she got ready, while Nick sang some random song in the car, when she walked through the parking lot and into school.

Her eyes immediately flitted toward your locker, a mixture of relief and sorrow surging through her at the sight of you standing there, alone, but with your head hung and your eyes trained on your feet. You were in sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. It was all completely unlike you.

“Nick,” she called, getting the boy’s attention. She subtly pointed at you. “Do you think she’s okay?”

He scoffed. “I’m sure her outfit just didn’t look as good in real life as it did in her head. What else does she have to worry about?”

Vada shrugged, her eyes still locked on you. You didn’t look up once.

* * *

It was at night that Vada’s worry had turned into all-out panic. Throughout the school day, you had avoided her like the plague, making sure to never interact with her. At one point, you had locked eyes with her down the hall and then swiftly spun on your heel and walked back in the direction you came from.

That, combined with getting absolutely no notifications from you, led her to a terribly easy decision as she stood from her bed, grabbed a hoodie, and lied to her mom that she was going to Nick’s house. She slipped out the front door, her pace quick as she rushed the few blocks to your house.

When she arrived, it was almost completely dark, save for the fluorescent light coming from your living room, where Vada had found herself just days before after you had taken her out to dinner.

With a hesitant hand, she knocked on your front door. It took only a few seconds before you appeared, looking completely unsurprised to see her.

“Vada,” you said softly, and she was immediately surrounded by the scent of alcohol on your breath. “What’re you doing here?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you…drunk? On a Thursday night?”

You shrugged. “So what if I am? What’re you doing here?” you repeated.

Pushing aside her concerns about your drinking habits, she asked, “Why did you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Chasing me,” she said, like you should’ve known.

You forced out a dry laugh, tilting your head to the side. “You know, you’re a confusing girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you completely ignored all of my attempts to talk to you, and now you’re upset that I’ve stopped, even though it seemed like that’s what you wanted.” You narrowed your eyes. “Sounds kind of confusing, don’t you think?”

Vada swallowed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair,” you muttered beneath your breath. “Okay. Sure. I was unfair to you.” You leaned back on your heels, your hand gripping the doorknob. “Now, if that’s all, then I’ll see you at school.”

You started to close the door, but something about your indifference made anger rise in Vada. “I just didn’t want to become a girl in your revolving door of girls!” she shouted.

You stilled, your eyes widening before glazing over. “Right. My revolving door of girls. That’s what everyone says, right?” Your voice was hollow, sad. Vada didn’t understand why.

“They say it because it’s true,” she huffed. Your posture fell and you glanced away, clenching your jaw. “You chase, you get, you grow bored.”

“That’s not true.” You looked at her, and faintly, she could see tears glossing your eyes. “That’s not…true. Those girls chase me; they use me; they leave me.” Your volume grew steadily, a sort of rage backing your words. “But since I’m the one factor that stays the same, everyone blames me. And it’s not--” You sighed. “It’s not true.”

You scoffed. “And you know what, I thought you might be the one person that didn’t believe what everyone else said. You seemed real, authentic, like you didn’t really give a shit about the crowd, Vada. That’s why I liked you, why I was trying. I thought you were your own person. But I was wrong. You’re just like the rest of the school.”

With all of the new information thrown at her, confusion and guilt and shame and hurt burning her, the only thing Vada managed to say was, “Oh.”

You nodded, glancing away. “Yeah. ‘Oh’. So, I’ll see you at school.”

When you shut the door, leaving Vada standing alone on your front porch, realization struck her like a tidal wave, and everything from the past few days came crashing down on her.

You didn’t chase. Or, at least, not until her.

“Shit.”

* * *

Vada (11:42pm): need ur help

Vada (11:42pm): 911

Mia (11:43pm): ???

Vada (11:43pm): help me ask Y/N out

Vada (11:43pm): ur her best friend. pls.

Mia (11:45pm): bro u fucked up big time

Mia (11:45pm): shes forgiving and all but…

Vada (11:45pm): mia pls

Mia (11:49pm): fine.

Mia (11:49pm): only b/c i know how much she likes u

Mia (11:49pm): dont fuck up again

Mia (11:50pm): heres what u should do

* * *

You didn’t show up to school again the next day, but it barely registered in Vada’s mind. She had already known beforehand that you wouldn’t be going--Mia had slipped her some ‘secret intel’ that your hangover had you sleeping the day away. Instead, she spent the hours mentally preparing herself, and as soon as the bell rang to signal the end of the day, she set her plan into motion.

At exactly six o’clock at night, Vada was standing at your front door again, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and her (Mia’s) car keys in the other. She knocked on the wood, waited, and when you pulled the door open, her words immediately pushed themselves out of her mouth.

“The drive-in is showing The Princess Diaries tonight, and I know you don’t like Anne Hathaway as much as I do, but I’d like to take you to see it.” She inhaled deeply and continued. “And I’d also like to apologize because I’ve been shitty to you these past few days, and I shouldn’t have listened to the rumors, and I should’ve just talked to you about it all, and I’m really sorry about everything that happened, and I just”--she gasped, her lungs stinging with lack of air, and kept going--“I really do like you, and I did have fun on our initial date, and I’m sorry. Can I take you to the drive-in?”

You blinked once, twice, before you raised a single brow. “What?”

Vada sighed. “The most important thing from all of that is that I’m sorry. I know I hurt you, and I know that can’t just go away, but I’d like the chance to make it up to you, if you’d let me.” She shoved the flowers in your direction. “Want to go see The Princess Diaries?”

You glanced down at the flowers, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, and then took them from her. With the smallest and softest smile that made Vada’s knees buckles, you nodded.

“Okay.” Your face fell. “But on one condition.”

She nodded fervently. “Anything.”

You grinned. “Let’s get milkshakes after and talk.”

bonus: “like, how could you not have a huge crush on anne hathaway?” vada asked, her eyes glued to the big screen.

you hummed. “i’ve got my eye on someone else.”

when she looked at you, ready to argue about anne hathaway’s attractiveness, you were already staring at her, smiling. 

the shakespeare exhibit - part 9

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which it's time to celebrate the holidays

warnings: implied smut

word count: 2900+

author's note: long awaited but finally here

previous part | next part

"Seriously?" Tara asked as she stepped into the living room, a mug of hot chocolate in each hand. Her eyes were trained on the television, which was displaying the Elf title screen in all its fluorescent-glory. "We watch this every Christmas Eve!"

"Exactly!" Chad said, twisting around to grab one of the mugs from her hand. His face was alight with joy, his eyes wide and sparkling. "It's a tradition now!"

Tara glanced at Mindy, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. I wanted to watch Krampus," the girl said.

Chad huffed. "And I told you I'm done with horror movies. We already lived through one." He took a sip from his drink, and his eyebrows raised the moment the hot chocolate touched his tongue. "Tara! This is actually pretty good."

Tara frowned. "'Actually'?"

The boy glanced away sheepishly. "Well, you know, you have the tendency to--"

"Burn things," Sam deadpanned from behind as she exited the kitchen, mugs in her own hands. She handed one to Mindy, who immediately started gulping it down, and then turned to Tara. "The last three times you tried to make anything, our fire alarm went off."

Well maybe we shouldn't have such a sensitive alarm, Tara thought, furrowing her eyebrows. "Whatever," she scoffed, rounding the couch to sit between the twins. She pulled the blanket off Chad and covered herself, ignoring his whines. "Let's just watch Elf."

Mindy reached for the remote, and just as she was about to hit play, there was a knock on the front door. Every tensed slightly--an involuntary reaction none of them seemed to be able to shake--and Sam stood, edging toward the door slowly. She looked out through the peephole, and Tara watched as she sighed with relief, her shoulders relaxing. She undid the locks, opened the door, and Danny popped his head into the living room.

"Am I late?" the man asked as he shuffled inside.

"Perfect timing, man," Chad answered, holding his hand out. Danny dapped him up quickly before settling on the armchair, leaving room for Sam to squeeze beside him. "Okay," Chad started, lifting his legs to put his feet on the coffee table, "Elf time."

Almost as soon as Mindy pressed the play button, there was a thud against the front door. Again, everyone sat up a little straighter. Tara swallowed, her eyes trained on the doorknob as it twisted slightly.

This is it, she thought. Ghostface is going to attack us on Christmas Eve, because why the fuck not?

There was another thud, softer this time, and Danny glanced around the room, resolving to open the door. Everyone's attention was on him as he crept up, looked through the peephole, and then chuckled.

"You've got a present outside, Tara," he said, undoing the locks that Sam had redone and opening the door.

A present? she wondered. It's too late for UPS to be here.

There, in the hallway, beneath the flickering yellow light, stood you, your arms weighed down by bags and a small red spot forming on your forehead. You grinned at the group sitting inside.

"Hi!" you greeted, lifting your hands to show off what you had brought. "I have presents!"

Tara scrambled to stand, hastily placing her hot chocolate on the coffee table, and launched herself into you. You stumbled back a few steps before setting the bags on the floor and wrapping your arms around her waist.

"Hey, pretty girl," you muttered into her hair.

She pulled back, staring up at you with a gleaming smile. "What're you doing here? I thought you were stuck in Zoom calls with overseas family members." She had invited you to the Christmas Eve excursions, but you had declined for the aforementioned reason.

You giggled. "I was, but we ended a bit earlier than normal, so I thought I'd come over." You glanced over the top of your head at the others in the living room. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"The more the merrier, buddy!" Chad exclaimed, holding his hand out as Tara twisted around to stand beside you. You simply stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in your own and shaking it.

Tara couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Stupid, she thought. Chad seemed to be thinking the same thing as he tilted his head yet accepted the handshake.

As you pulled away from Chad, Tara glanced up at you. "Why did you knock so menacingly?" she asked, and then she looked up a little higher at the red mark on your forehead. "Did you use your head?"

You smiled shyly and nodded. "My hands were too full," you admitted. You perked up, whipping around and grabbing the bags you had left by the door. "That reminds me: I have gifts for you guys."

Tara watched you, sighing dreamily. She's so perfect. She'd be such a good mom. She shook her head. No baby thoughts, Tara. Now's not the time.

"This one's for you, Mindy," you said as you handed the girl one of the paper bags. "This is for you, Chad." He greedily accepted the package you held out to him. "Sam, for you." The bag was small and thin, and Tara didn't have to watch to know that it was another bottle of wine. "Uh, Danny, I didn't know you'd be here."

The man shook his head and waved you off. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh!" You reached for your wallet and drew out a few hundred-dollar bills. Tara's eyes widened. Who the hell carries that much cash on them? she thought, before shrugging and thinking, I guess when your parents have as much money as hers do, it doesn't even matter. You held them out to him. "Here! Merry Christmas!"

He simply stared at you, unblinking, for so long that it started to unnerve Tara. Hesitantly, like you would lean down and bite him if he moved too fast, he reached out and took the money from your hands.

"...Thanks," he said. Sam rolled her eyes and leaned toward him, whispering something in his ear. Tara heard the tail-end of the statement: "....family's rich." Danny nodded his head and smiled. "Yeah, thanks. Merry Christmas, kid."

You grinned happily and then turned back to the twins, waiting for them to open their presents. Mindy glanced at Chad, who shrugged and started ripping into the package you had handed him. He pulled out a pristine, red football jersey that had 'Bosa' on the back. Beneath the numbers was a large scribble.

"Holy shit," Chad said, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he stared at the jersey. "You got this signed by Bosa?! The Bosa?!"

You nodded, giggling. "Yup. Or, well, my dad got him to sign it, but same thing."

Chad leaned back and sighed happily. "Man, you are such a great addition to his family."

Your smile widened at his words, and Tara thought you might start bouncing up and down as she looked at you, a soft smile on her own face. God, I agree with Chad for once, she thought. It's a fucking Christmas miracle.

"Okay," Mindy began, hesitantly opening her own bag. "I don't think you can top that, but let's see what's in here." With careful hands, she pulled out a framed poster, and her jaw dropped so wide that Tara briefly thought it had broken. "No fucking way! Absolutely no fucking way!" She spun it around so that everyone else could see, and even Tara was shocked to see a Stab poster signed by all of the original cast members.

"It was a little difficult tracking everyone down, but we got there eventually," you said, beaming. "I hope you like it."

"Like it? Y/N, this is the best gift I've ever gotten in my entire life!" Mindy practically shouted. Her face fell quickly. "No one tell Anika that. I promised her that the necklace she bought was the best thing ever."

A chorus of laughter erupted throughout the room, and while everyone was distracted, you turned to Tara. "I have something for you," you said, tilting your head in the direction of her bedroom. "Can we...?"

She caught on quickly, nodding fervently, and grabbed your hand, shouting out a, "Watch the movie without me!" to which Sam responded, "Door open, Tara!" Yeah, right, she thought.

Tara pulled you inside and, much to the muttering complaints of her sister, shut the door behind you. She led you to her bed, where you sat on the edge of it and pulled something from your pocket.

"It's just something small," you started, glancing away shyly, "because your real gift is coming tomorrow, but I just...I wanted to give it to you today." She smiled at your nerves, thinking, She's just too cute. Too fucking cute.

She sat beside you. "Okay," she said. "But, just so you know, I only got you one gift."

You giggled and held the gift out. It was a small envelope, tiny enough to have fit in the pocket of your sweatpants, with your scrawl on the front. Tara furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at it and then took it from your hand. With slow and steady fingers, she opened the envelope, shivers running up her back as she realized what it was.

"It's your museum ticket," you said, watching her carefully, "from the day we met. Or, well, it's a copy of your ticket, since, you know, you have--or, had--the original." You shrugged and bit your lip. "I thought it would be a cute memento, but if it's dumb, you can just--"

She leaned in and shut you up with a soft kiss, trying to put all of the love she felt for you into it. When she pulled away, you were a blushing mess, and your words had died on your tongue.

"How did you get this?" she asked, looking back at the ticket.

You scratched at the back of your neck. "After I realized this was something"--you gestured between the two of you--"I scoured through the computer one day after work looking for your last name. There aren't very many Carpenters, so it wasn't too difficult."

That does it. Official. She's the very best thing that's ever happened to me.

"I love you, you know that?" Tara murmured softly.

You grinned. "Yeah, I do." You kissed her. "And I love you, too."

She grinned at you. "Since my door's shut, let me give you part of your Christmas gift," she said, and you blushed at the implication. She kissed you again and pushed you onto your back, easily hovering over you. "Merry Christmas, baby."

* * *

The sun shining in Tara's eyes woke her up. She turned over groggily, pressing her head into your neck, and you grumbled a little, shifting as you were woken up by her movements. Before even saying a word, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Morning, pretty," you said, your voice low and scratchy and filled with sleep. Tara melted at the sound, just like she did every time the two of you had a sleepover.

"Merry Christmas, baby," she offered, and your eyes shot open.

"Holy fuck." You sat up quickly, leaving Tara scrambling and confused as you reached for your phone. "Fuck, Tara!" You slipped out of her bed and immediately started getting dressed, stumbling around her room.

She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. "What?"

"We're gonna be late!" You pulled your shirt over your head. "Shit, the boys are gonna be so mad that they have to wait to open their presents."

Tara fell onto her back, groaning. This is gonna be a long day, she thought.

* * *

You bursted through the front door of your house, gifts nearly falling from your arms, and were immediately greeted by your brothers.

"Merry Christmas!" you shouted, and the boys swerved around you and headed straight for Tara.

"Tara! Tara!" Eddie cheered. "What'd you get me?"

"Please tell me you didn't get him any cologne. He's been spraying that stuff like mad recently," Nate said, elbowing his brother.

How did I forget how...energetic...they are? Tara wondered. "I'm not telling you," she said to Eddie, and then turned to Nate and said, "But no, it's not cologne."

Eddie frowned. "Darn."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Nate cheered. "Come. Mom and Dad are waiting by the tree. We've been up for hours waiting for you two."

"Hours and hours and hours," Eddie added, grabbing Tara's wrist and tugging her toward the family room.

Hours and hours and hours, she mocked in her head, and then she felt a little bad for mocking a child.

"Why've you guys been up for so long?" you asked as you followed close behind, the gifts blocking your sight slightly. Tara had offered to take some from you, but you had refused.

"Lia woke up early," Nate started.

"So we all woke up early," Eddie finished.

"Plus, grandpa was making pancakes," Nate said.

"And you know how his pancakes are," Eddie added.

When the four of you finally reached the living room, your parents stood.

"The prodigal daughter returns!" your father exclaimed, just as he had when he saw you at Lia's birthday party.

You set the presents down and rushed forward, pulling both of them into a hug. "Hi, guys!" You pulled back and they stepped up, taking Tara into their arms one by one. Even your grandmother offered Tara a hug. "So, presents?"

"Yes!" Nate shouted.

"Finally!" Eddie cheered.

Needless to say, the process of opening presents was chaotic—so much so that, just for a split second, Tara regretted saying yes to coming. You and the adults were calm, carefully unwrapping your presents and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each one. The boys, on the other hand, left a trail of little pieces of wrapping paper and gift bags and bows, and Lia ended up spitting up everywhere at one point.

This is it, Tara thought at one point as she watched your family. This is every Christmas for the rest of my life. And when the boys opened their presents from her--an edition of an Emily Dickinson book for Nate and a game of COD for Eddie--and basically tackled her as their thank-you's, she thought, Maybe it's not so bad. Yeah, she decided as they cheered and yelled and started bursting out into random Christmas songs, this isn't so bad.

Finally, after everything had finally finished, and there were just two more presents left to give, the rest of the family excused themselves to make lunch in the kitchen. It was you and Tara sitting by the tree alone, neither of you having exchanged your own gifts yet.

"Do you want to go first?" you asked, shifting where you sat, your eyes flickering around.

She's nervous, Tara realized quickly. Awe, she's nervous!

To try to quell your worries, she nodded. "Sure." She grabbed her gift for you, which was neatly wrapped with a little bow on top. Unfortunately for her, she had Chad to thank for the wrapping, but she'd never admit it as you complimented her on how crisp the paper was.

With careful hands, you unwrapped your present, revealing a small ring box. You furrowed your eyebrows as you opened it, and Tara gulped as she watched your eyes widen and your jaw drop.

"Oh my god," you muttered. "Oh. My. God." You pulled the ring from its box. "It's a signet ring! It's Shakspeare's signet ring! I've been looking for one of these for forever!" You slipped it onto your pinky, and Tara sighed with relief when it fit. You brought your hand closer to your face, inspecting the ring. "It even has the heart loop!"

"So, you like it?" Tara asked.

You looked up, a huge grin pulling at your lips and your eyes sparkling with pure joy. "I don't even have the words to describe how much I love it, Tar. Thank you."

She smiled. "Merry Christmas."

You glanced back down at the ring. "Where did you find this?" you asked.

Oh, shit. Should I be honest? God, I should. Damn it. "Uh, I drove up here a few days ago and your brothers and I went shopping. Nate saw it in that antique shop downtown."

You chuckled. "You asked my brothers to help you?" Your voice was light, teasing, and Tara blushed up to her ears.

"...Yes."

You cooed, reaching out to run your thumb along her cheek. 'That's adorable, baby."

"Shut up," she mumbled. "Your turn."

"Okay. Right. My turn." You picked up the little box left beneath the tree and handed it to Tara, breathing out shakily as you did. "I hope you like it."

She was a lot less gentle than you were, eager to know what you had gifted her. She tore through the wrapping paper and tilted her head as a tiny cardboard box revealed itself. When she opened it, she found a gold necklace inside, an emerald pendant dangling from its chain.

"This is beautiful," she said, looking up at you. "Like, seriously beautiful. I don't even know what to say." She lifted it from the box carefully, letting the pendant dangle in the air.

"It was my great grandmother's," you rushed out, and Tara's eyes shot toward you. "It's passed down to each first born in the family on my mom's side, and we're meant to give it to...to the person we want to spend forever with."

Forever. Tara grinned. I like the sound of that.

"I know it's still early in our relationship," you continued, glancing away, "but I'm confident in this." You looked at her, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I'm confident in you."

She shot forward, wrapping her arms around your neck and engulfing you in the tightest hug she could manage. "I'm confident in this, too," she admitted. She pulled back, holding the necklace out to you. "Help me put it on?"

With ease you clasped it around her neck, and when she turned back around, she swore your eyes were sparkling.

"It looks perfect," you said breathlessly. "It's perfect."

You're perfect, she thought. This is perfect. Everything's perfect.

"Hey," she said, calling your attention. "I love you."

You smiled. "I love you, too, Tara. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N."

everyone but her pt.34

Summary: Two years, and you're only just starting to force yourself to acknowledge a few hard truths. Wednesday doesn't know how to help you, but she's going to do her best in her new Wednesday fashion.

Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: swearing, mentions of past abuse, mentions of death, grief Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) A/N: I am not one who celebrates Dίa de los Muertos, and I've tried to do my due diligence for researching it and displaying it properly (in Addams fashion) but please let me know if I get something about it wrong! I want to show it the utmost respect, so please point me in the right direction if needed.

You loved the Addamses, truly you did. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for every single one of them. They wouldn’t even have to ask, you would do it in a heartbeat. Extended family was slowly starting to become included as well, and maybe you felt a bit like their self-appointed lapdog, but you didn’t really care. If they said jump, you would ask how high.

But sometimes you wished they would leave you out of a few things.

For instance, this? This whole weekend thing they had planned? You very well would have preferred to stay at the apartment. But no, they just had to invite you over and they just had to invite Abuelita and Tio and you just had to do your best not to be upset. Not that it was their fault, of course, you just didn’t celebrate things the same way.

For example? This dίa de los muertos.

It had been so long, you had truthfully forgotten just how wild the Addamses could get when they were all together. Uncle Fester was having way too much fun with Tio too. You hadn’t understood how much of a disaster that duo could be until you saw the both of them exiting the kitchen with armfulls of unknown substances.

“What, uh,” you scratched the back of your neck, “whatcha got there, Tio?”

He looked down at his arms, then at Uncle Fester’s, then back at you. “It’s a surprise.”

“I’m sure it is,” you mumbled when they continued walking out of the kitchen. Sometimes ignorance was the better option.

Ignorance quickly turned to annoyance when something exploded in the backyard. You didn’t have to look to know who the culprits were, not when Tio and Uncle Fester limped back into the house covered in black soot. They did their best not to meet your eyes while Mr. Addams congratulated them on… whatever they had done.

But that was the easy part! Watching Tio and Uncle Fester nearly get themselves killed time and time again was almost even comical, if you hadn’t been so stressed about the whole situation. No, it wasn’t even close to the difficult part. Even trying to help Abuelita cook for everyone was easier than everything else. Sure, she teased you the whole time, but at least she was sweet.

The hard part was trying to act all happy and celebrate when all you wanted to do was settle into a rafter for the weekend until it was time to go back home. You didn’t want to celebrate something that you couldn’t even properly talk about yet. Certainly you weren’t going to stop anyone or bring down the mood, but you weren’t keen on this whole celebration.

“Darling,” Mrs. Addams said, pulling your attention away from the book you had snagged. You looked down from your perch. “Your Abuelita would like your help in the kitchen.”

More cooking. Perfect.

“Yes ma’am,” you said anyway. There was a smile on her face when you dropped down to the floor; it took everything in you not to rub your knee that was not too happy about the landing.

“Are you learning much?” She asked. You frowned at her before looking down at the book. Your mouth quickly made a little “o”.

“I think so,” you said with a shrug and you both started walking slowly toward the kitchen. “It would help if your daughter would teach me herself.”

“She sees value in learning things on your own,” Mrs. Addams said. “It’s something about her you’re rather fond of, is it not?”

“Not right now it’s not,” you grumbled.

Mrs. Addams chuckled lightly beside you but otherwise kept silent. That was alright, you weren’t entirely in the mood to continue talking anyway. Especially not when you passed a certain picture frame that Tio had put up on the table earlier. It was easy enough to avert your eyes even as everyone continued laughing and having their fun.

You’ll ruin their celebration.

Abuelita was already working on… actually, you didn’t know what it was. Oh, never mind, it was just tamales. Now that you knew how to make, so hopefully it shouldn’t be too big of a chore. After all, you were nothing if not a wonderful assistant. Abuelita had even told you that herself.

Although your excitement at the chore quickly dissipated when she instantly put you to work on making more tamales than you thought you had ever made in your life. You loved her, you did, but she was a slave driver. She didn’t even tell you hi or that she loved you.

It was a hard knock life.

“Miercoles is laughing at you,” Tio said when he sat down at the table to watch. He always watched, never helped.

“No she’s not,” you said. But just to be safe, you looked up.

He was right.

“Told you,” he said as Wednesday finished making her way into the kitchen, a barely hidden smile on her face.

“Stop it,” you mumbled when she positioned herself beside you to begin helping.

“Tio was just telling me a few childhood stories,” Wednesday said with a shrug.

“His?” You asked. “Or mine?”

“Yours,” she said, “and Nicky’s.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose and turned to look at her. She was avoiding looking at you, instead using immense focus on the task at hand. Although you quickly turned your attention away because it wasn’t her fault. She was inquisitive by nature, you knew that. No, it was 100% Tio’s fault though, and he knew better. He knew you weren’t ready to talk about it yet.

Tio shrugged his shoulders and gave you what he probably thought was a comforting smile. It wasn’t. Not even close. How dare he? He was very well aware of your feelings about the whole situation, not even including your uncertainty in turning it into a celebration. But he was going to talk about you? Talk about Nicky? As if nothing had happened? It wasn’t fair.

“He can keep his mouth shut,” you mumbled, turning your attention back to the hoard of tamales that could already feed an army even as Abuelita pushed more ingredients your way.

An awkward silence fell over the kitchen, and you didn’t care that you were at fault. They shouldn’t have brought him up, not today, not so close to the second anniversary of him being gone. It was inconsiderate at the least, malicious at best. You weren’t going to let them continue talking about him like he was still there, like he wasn’t haunting your every waking moment.

Someone cleared their throat and you looked up, ready to glare at whoever had dared to disturb the silence you had forced on everyone. But the moment your eyes met his, you froze. Every atom in your body refused to move, locked in place by his ghostly smile. It wasn’t until your lungs started to burn did you inhale slowly.

“You need to learn to flirt better,” he said with a raised brow. “She’s trying to help you.”

You couldn’t manage to get any words out. Not when you knew no one else could see him. He rarely came around, usually only when you were doing something really stupid. Part of you wondered if he had learned it from Twilight, because it was certainly some Eclipse bullshit. It wouldn’t surprise you in the least if that’s what his intentions were.

“You’re a disaster of a homosexual,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Making me do everything. Tell her about when we first got Steve.”

Your mouth closed with a clack of your teeth. Why was he such a dick? Even from the grave he couldn’t help himself. Besides, what did he mean you were a disaster? Quite frankly, Wednesday was way out of your league. If anything, he should be congratulating you on bagging a baddie like her.

But you had to admit, he was probably right. Like usual.

Such a dick.

“Did-” you shook your head and looked down at the table even though you could feel someone looking at you “-did he tell you about the time we got Steve?”

You kept working, refusing to look up. Air got stuck in your throat, and you wanted to cough just to clear the silence that was getting thicker than oatmeal. Nicky’s spectre laughed at you, and even though it was very clearly teasing, you wanted to hit him. This was no laughing matter, you were about to humiliate yourself in front of Wednesday because he thought it was a good idea to-

“-No he didn’t,” Wednesday finally said.

“Do I have to teach you how to do everything?” Nicky teased; you weren’t going to give him the benefit of looking at him. “Tell her the story!”

If he hadn’t already been dead, you would have fed him to Mrs. Addams’ carnivorous plants.

Your hands stilled their movements as your brain tried to comprehend what you had just thought. It had been the first time you had acknowledged that Nicky was dead. All moisture in your mouth disappeared, leaving the impression that you were chewing on cotton. 

Nicky was dead.

“Come on, baby,” Nicky said, his voice far too soft for the mental turmoil. It actually made you feel worse. “Tell her the story.”

“I’ll be back,” you said in a strangled voice.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you stepped back and practically ran out of the kitchen. The back of your brain reminded you that Abuelita needed your help, but you couldn’t convince yourself to care. Not when you could feel something chipping away at your chest with each step you took. Not when each breath started to get heavier, started to become so hard to pull that your lungs started with burn with the effort.

The wooden floor turned to dirt as you threw the front door open, practically floating down the steps until you could walk out toward the gate. Fresh air did nothing to ease your laboured breathing. Something brushed against your shoulder. Instinct kicked in and you jumped, brushing your shoulder frantically to get whatever it was off.

Nothing was there.

You’re broken, that voice inside your head taunted. It had been biding its time, staying silent until your moment of weakness. You're a burden on their celebration. A strangled sob caught in your throat. 

Hold it together, your own voice thought. You couldn't let them see you breaking down. This was cultural, they were having fun, you were not going to ruin it for anybody. But just the thought of everything had your head reeling. The world started to tilt and your hand darted out to catch yourself on a tree.

Something wet slid down your cheeks as you let yourself fall to the ground, your knees pulled tightly to your chest. He could've been here with you, the voice said. He could've been celebrating with you right now.

"Shut up," you whispered with a shaky exhale before squeezing your eyes shut.

“We can’t start without Nicky,” you said as you plopped onto the couch. Little Alex was quick to crawl into your lap.

“We’re not starting without him,” Momma said with a gentle smile even as she continued to plate the food. “We’re just getting things ready.”

“Where’d he go, anyhow?” Pop asked.

You simply shrugged. “Think he went to feed Steve.”

You had barely finished getting the words out of your mouth when the porch door opened and Nicky came in, straw stuck in his hair and yellow hair covering his clothes. With a snort, you quickly turned away when you noticed he was covered in drying patches of mud.

“What the hell happened to you?” Auntie C asked, not even trying to hide her laughter.

“That stupid goat kicked me!” He shouted, his finger pointing outside to where you assumed Steve was still standing.

“Were you mean to him?” You asked. “He’s sensitive.”

“He’s about to be dinner,” Nicky grumbled.

“Go clean up before dinner,” Momma ordered. “We’ve all been waiting long enough.”

“Yes, Momma,” he said softly. You stuck your tongue out at him as he passed you.

The warmth of another human spread through your arm when someone sat beside you, their arm pressed gently against yours. That all-too-familiar hammer inside your skull continued its rampage, but you managed to pry your eyes open nonetheless. To the side of you, Abuelita was sitting with her back against the tree and her withered hand fell to your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“He loved you,” she said in heavily accented English.

Wait.

English?

You turned your head quickly to look at her, all thoughts of your grief momentarily forgotten.

“You’ve known English this whole time?” You asked. “And you never told me?”

Abuelita laughed. “It is more fun to tease you.”

She looked far too smug about the admittance. Had everyone known she could speak English? Because if they could, that was just rude that they had let you flounder instead of filling you in. Yes you tried harder to learn Spanish for her, but she couldn’t have given you the smallest bit of reprieve? The nerve of everybody.

“He’s watching you,” she said softly.

You followed her pointed finger to see Nicky’s spectre standing across the way, leaning his shoulder against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest. He had given you that look so many times it was almost comforting. Except for the fact you could see through him, and his smile had lost its joy. He was nothing more than a shell.

“You can see him too?” You asked when it hit you that Abuelita knew exactly where to point.

She was silent, and when you looked at her there was a mischievous smile on her lips. “Surely you did not think I was only your Abuelita.”

“Well-” you huffed, “-yeah, I did.”

"I've been around longer than you think, cariña," she said.

"Great," you mumbled, "so I've got a witch in the family too."

There was no possible way your mind could comprehend the knew bit of information. Not at that moment. Too much was going on, your head was still reeling, and that prickling behind your eyes was humiliating. Nicky was watching, Abuelita was watching, and that voice in your head still wouldn't shut up 

"He wants you to celebrate his life," Abuelita said. "Not his death."

A lump lodged itself in your throat as the tears started to fall.

"He should be here," you said.

Across the way, Nicky was still looking at you, smiling in a way that made you feel sick. It wasn't his typical happy-go-lucky smile. No, this was more of a final goodbye smile. Was he leaving you? No, he couldn't be leaving, he couldn't.

"He will always be with you.” Abuelita squeezed right above your knee; it almost tickled. “Because he loves you.”

“I need him,” you whispered with a soft exhale through your nose.

“And the living need you.”

What little air was in your lungs left you in a shaky huff. Leave it Abuelita to stab you in the heart with the softest of words. It was nothing you weren’t aware of; you couldn’t coexist with the dead the same way you did with the living. No matter how hard you tried, Nicky wasn’t going to be able to watch movies with you, or give you advice, or help you with your troubles. He would be there watching, but that would be the extent of it.

You hated her for being right.

“Wednesday is worried about you,” she said with another squeeze of your leg. You turned to look at her with glassy eyes that she was kind enough not to mention.

“How do I explain this?” You asked, gesturing your head to where Nicky was still watching you both.

“She’s more understanding than you think,” she said with a nod. “But you could always say her pitiful attempt at tamales was too devastating for you.”

“I’m never asking you for relationship advice,” you said with your own nod. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Abuelita laughed, light and airy and happy, and you couldn’t help but follow.

“Help an old lady to her feet,” Abuelita said when you had both settled.

“Yes ma’am,” you said softly before standing up and easing Abuelita up.

She quickly looped her arm through yours until you were both walking back to the house. You turned around only once. Nicky was still standing there, now with his hands in his pockets. His smile had turned more genuine, and he gestured his head toward the house and waved.

That deep ache in your chest came back. You smiled back anyway and turned back around to the house when Abuelita squeezed your arm. With a deep exhale, you nodded to yourself and helped her in. One step at a time.

One step at a time.

—---

The weekend didn’t get any easier. In fact, it was almost more difficult than before Abuelita had talked with you. The celebrations continued, you helped, and you had to work harder to try and participate. No running out of the house, no crying, you just did your best to pull up your big kid pants and not ruin things for everyone else.

Wednesday had been kind enough not to bring up your daring escape. When you had both settled in for the night and had gotten into bed, she actually turned around and wrapped her arms around your neck. It wasn’t a comfortable position, you both woke up with aches that you hadn’t known existed, but you would admit to yourself that you had never slept better.

But then it was time for a whole new slew of problems.

“Would you like to put Nicky’s picture on the ofrenda?” Wednesday had the nerve to ask.

You had both been sitting on the loveseat in the library, enjoying the few moments of peace it provided. Your coffee had long since gone cold, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Both yours and Wednesday’s books had been far too enthralling, and Wednesday had seemed far too comfortable in your lap for you to disrupt her for a simple beverage.

Deep down, you wanted to tell her no. It would be too official, too condemning. If he was on the ofrenda, then how were you supposed to continue the delusion that he was alive and well? You would be admitting to everyone that he was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

“You’re useless,” Nicky scoffed from his corner of the library. “You’d better put me on there.” You bit the inside of your cheek to hold back your retort to his ghost. “And don’t forget the treats, I would love some of those little blueberry muffins you and Momma make.”

“No,” you said simply, finally answering Wednesday’s question. She fidgeted until she could look up at you from her place in your lap.

“Why not?” She asked not unkindly.

Don’t tell her, the voice in your head threatened, she’ll think you’re insane.

Abuelita’s words echoed in your head, quickly drowning out the threats and fear.

“Because,” you started slowly, “Nicky’s in the corner begging for food.”

The library was silent, only interrupted by the occasional noise emanating from the rest of the house. If your heart had been beating any faster, you swore it would have made a great escape from your chest. You knew you shouldn’t have said anything to Wednesday. Her family was weird, sure, but they weren’t “I can see my dead brother laughing at me” weird.

“Your Tio mentioned something about candies,” Wednesday said as if you hadn’t just mentioned your brother’s ghost over in the corner. “Would that suffice?”

“Absolutely,” Nicky answered quickly.

“Nah,” you said with a shake of your head, your eyes never leaving the corner of the library. “He wouldn’t want sweets.”

“I’m haunting you for the rest of your life,” Nicky threatened.

You just smiled and leaned down to press a quick kiss to Wednesday’s forehead. The lightest blush dusted across her cheeks, but she otherwise stayed silent. It would always be funny to you how reserved she would get around other people. You weren’t mean, you wouldn’t dare break her boundaries, but even the little things had her flustered.

Even though you had tried to pretend otherwise, you had quickly dragged Wednesday downstairs to help you make the blueberry muffins Nicky had requested. Maybe you added a little salt, and maybe you didn’t use as many blueberries as he would have liked, but no one else would know. Well, no one except for Abuelita, who laughed when she noticed what you were doing.

It wasn’t too difficult to place the muffins on the ofrenda; they were just muffins. The hard part was when Tio brought you the picture frame. You tried to push him to do it, to have him place it down, but he insisted.

“He would want you to do it, pollito,” Tio had said softly before squeezing your shoulder gently. Your wings twitched.

It was unceremonious at best; you could feel everyone watching you, waiting to see if you could hold on to your sanity for the few seconds it would take to place it down. And you did. You set it on the ofrenda and made sure it was facing just the perfect direction. The light from the overhead window shone just right to illuminate his smile.

That alone was what pushed you to leave the room, practically running back up to Wednesday’s room to recover.

“Do you require a break from everything?” Wednesday asked as she slipped into her room, quickly closing the door behind her.

You shifted on the bed until you could face her. "It's just…” you sighed, “it’s just a lot.”

Wednesday nodded thoughtfully a few times before her feet led her to the bed. Second nature took over and you moved aside just enough for her to sit on the edge of the bed, her back ramrod straight. It looked painful, to be sitting so still and perfectly. How her back didn’t constantly hurt and ache, you had no idea. But when she reached over to take your hand, pulling it into her lap, you suddenly didn’t care anymore.

“You could always take your worry out on Pugsley,” she said, her soft fingers playing with yours. “He’s due for the electric chair.”

“No,” you sighed as you turned onto your side to watch her better. She looked stunning.

“Or we could use him for target practice,” she continued as she turned her head to look at you. With those eyes? You would burn the whole world for her. “You always seem more relaxed when you’re shooting things on your games.”

Well wait, maybe she had a good idea.

“Can I just-” you exhaled slowly through your nose, “-can I just have a hug?”

You knew it was a longshot. Even though Wednesday had eased into physical affection a lot lately, you knew she still wasn’t the biggest fan of it. She wasn’t her parents, as she was so keen to tell you. But that’s exactly what made it all the more exciting when she nodded once and laid down on the bed, quickly wrapping her arms around your neck to pull you into a hug.

“You smell like bread,” you whispered into her hair.

“God you’re gay,” Nicky said, suddenly appearing in the corner of the room. Always the corner. “Can you please just say something normal for once?”

“Is he back?” Wednesday asked, her lips brushing against your collar bone and sending a slight shiver down your spine. “You stiffened.”

“Yes,” you said. “He’s being a dick.”

She hummed before pulling back to look at you. “Then let’s scare him away.”

“What-”

She cut you off with a kiss. Nothing deep, nothing sensual, but still full of the emotions she so rarely allowed herself to openly express. Her fingers scratched lightly against the back of your neck and all the anxiety dissipated from your body. It was amazing how she could manage to do such a thing to you with only a simple kiss.

“I’m gonna puke,” Nicky groaned, “enjoy your girlfriend, you homo.”

You smiled when Nicky vanished.

“Is he gone?” Wednesday asked, her lips still close enough to yours that you could feel more than hear her.

“Not yet,” you lied effortlessly. “I think we should keep going.”

She saw through you, you knew she did. It was in the small smile she gave you and the roll of her eyes. And yet, she pulled you back into another kiss. Except this one she deepened, her grip on you tightening until you couldn’t be any closer. It warmed you from the inside, and you couldn’t have been happier.

Grief could wait. You were with your girl.

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

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the shakespeare exhibit - part 8

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara both have things to talk about

warnings: mentions of stabbing, talks of substance abuse and verbal abuse

word count: 2700+

previous part | next part

Finals season was in full swing at Blackmore University, sending its students into poor sleep schedules and even worse diets as they attempted to cram a semester’s worth of information into their brains.

You and Tara, unfortunately, were no exception. For the past week, the two of you had holed yourselves up in either the library or one of your apartments, your noses stuck in your books and your hands fumbling around for an energy drink whenever you needed a pick-me-up.

The only time you had taken a break was to celebrate Tara’s 20th birthday, but even then it was hardly a celebration. You had gathered all of her friends at her apartment, had a small party consisting of drinks and movies, and then went right back to studying, Tara in tow.

Safe to say, the stress levels were at an all-time-high, especially for Tara, who was experiencing her first round of finals in university. You had offered her a few studying tips, since you had already gone through the struggles of freshman-year exams the year prior, before immersing yourself in your own revision.

You were in the midst of reviewing for your Romantic Literature course--the last final that you had for the semester--when your mother called you, leading you to slip out of Tara’s bedroom and into the hallway to speak to her.

Tara sat at her desk, grumbling as she tried to study for her Introduction to Literature course. This is just as stupid as it was when I was studying for the midterm, she thought, eyes scanning her notes about Emily Dickinson. Maybe it’s even more stupid now.

Your voice broke her concentration as you walked back into her room, and she twisted her chair around to face you. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll ask her, alright?” You rolled your eyes and pointed at your phone, mouthing, she talks so much. Tara giggled softly, extending her arms for you to stand between, and you sighed as you slid into place, her fingers rubbing over your hips. “Okay. Yup. Yeah, okay. Yeah. Right. Okay, bye, mom.”

“What was that all about?” Tara asked when you hung up, throwing your phone onto her desk. “Did Eddie pull another prank on the Dylan Thomas statue again?”

You chuckled, thinking about the photo that your brother had sent you the week before—he had put a wig, makeup, and a shaving-cream beard on the statue of your grandfather’s late friend. “No, no. The statue garden has gone untouched this week.”

She shook her head, a grin on her face. “I still can’t believe you guys have a statue garden,” she said. But of course her family does. Because why wouldn’t they?

“Well, my dad’s always been big into statues. Like, when he was younger, he--” You cut yourself off. “That’s not important. Anyway, my mom invited us to spend Christmas at the house.” Tara’s eyes lit up, a type of joy that she didn’t know existed rushing through her. Us? she thought. I’ve been invited to family Christmas? “Do you want to go--”

“Yes!” she exclaimed immediately, nodding her head fervently. “Please, yes.” Shit, I’ll need to buy presents. What the hell do you get for kids who could buy anything they’ve ever wanted?

You giggled at her enthusiasm and tilted your head. “Are you sure you and Sam aren’t going back to California for the holidays?” you asked.

Back to California? Back to…Woodsboro? She furrowed her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip. “Why would we go to Cali?”

You squirmed a little where you stood. What’s she so nervous about? she wondered. “I just thought you might want to see your mom?” Your voice pitched on the last word, and Tara tensed, her arms falling to her sides. You frowned and reached out, but she pulled back, swallowing.

“No, there’s--we’re not--no,” she stammered out, her voice short. She shook her head. “I’ll be here.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Tara wanted the conversation to be over, but your lips were pursed like you still had something you wanted to say. “What?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing!”

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “No, you look like you have something to say. What?”

“I just…you’ve never spoken about her. Maybe we could--”

That’s because there’s nothing to say.” She’s good for nothing, she thought. “I don’t like to talk about her.” I’d rather read Shakespeare, which is really saying something.

“But--”

“No.” Her voice was stern, clear-cut, and she watched as you deflated a little, your eyes flitting around the room. She sighed, running a hand down her face. “I’m not doing this right now, okay? I’m not talking about her.”

“Tar…” The nickname came out as a coo, soft and careful and meant to be comforting, but it ignited a strange irritation beneath Tara’s skin, and something in her snapped.

“Listen, we can’t all have a perfect-fucking-family, okay?” she shouted, and you flinched, taking a step back, your eyes widening at her sudden outburst. “Just because you have parents who are there and who care doesn’t mean everyone does! I mean, Jesus, my mom didn’t even come to see me last year after--” After Amber stabbed me half-to-death, she finished in her head.

The air was tense, quiet. You stood in front of her, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tara cursed herself when she noticed that your hands were trembling slightly.

“Baby…” She reached out for you, but her fingers met open air as you shook your head and crossed the room to grab your things from her bed.

“It’s fine. I--I shouldn’t have pushed,” you rushed out, your voice shaking. You threw your notebook and laptop into your backpack hastily before hurrying to the door. Tara stood, desperate to do something to stop you from leaving, but she didn’t get the chance as you said, “I’m sorry.” Of course she’d apologize when I snapped at her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

The door shutting behind you pulled all the air from Tara’s lungs, and she fell back into her chair, holding her face in her hands.

“God fucking damnit,” she groaned. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

* * *

Hours later--during which Tara had sat in her bed and moped--there was a knock on her bedroom door. For a brief second, she thought it was you. But there would be no reason for her to come back after I got mad at her, she reminded herself, and any hope she had disappeared when Sam walked into the room, a frown on her face.

“I thought Y/N was staying for dinner so you two could study through it,” Sam said, bringing Tara’s attention right back to the fact that you had left. She stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, and asked “What happened?” You’re all”--she gestured at Tara--“sad.”

Tara huffed, glaring at her sister. “Nothing,” she grumbled.

Sam scoffed. “Oh, please. You and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the start of finals.” She shook her head. “Scratch that--since you two began dating. So, what happened, Tara?”

Stupid Sam, being a good older sister. Tara sighed and relented. “She asked about mom.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “And what did you say?”

“I--” Was a bad girlfriend and got mad at her for no reason, Tara thought, shame seeping into her veins. “I snapped at her. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…mom’s a tough topic, and it’s even harder because Y/N’s family-life is so perfect.” She clenched her jaw and glanced away, ignoring the spark of jealous lighting in her chest. “She’s got two parents who are there, and they have money, and she’s just…” Perfect.

Sam tilted her head, walking over and sitting beside Tara. “You know, it wasn’t easy for me to tell Danny about mom, either. He’s in the same boat as Y/N--well, not the super rich family part, but his parents are together and there.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to envy that, but she’s your girlfriend, so you’ll need to talk to her about mom at some point. She deserves to know.”

Tara nodded, hanging her head. “I know. I feel horrible for getting upset with her.” She gestured lamely at her phone. “I tried texting and calling her, but…” She pointed across the room, where your phone still sat on her desk. “Obviously that didn’t work.”

Sam hummed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tara. Maybe she just needed a minute.” She rested her hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Plus, she’ll need her phone.”

“What if she comes back and breaks up with me?” Tara asked, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. What if she never speaks to me again? she thought. What if this is it? What if--

“Every couple has arguments, Tara.” Sam smiled softly at her. “She’s not going to break up with you over this. That girl’s head over heels for you, even more than you are for her. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, okay,” she said, not missing the sorrow in her own voice. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Sam stood, her hands on her hips and her head tilted. “Now, should we get Chinese food or pizza?”

* * *

Sam was right: you did just need a minute.

It was as Tara was getting ready for bed that she heard a knock on the front door. Sam’ll deal with it, she decided as she climbed beneath her sheets, ready to lay in the darkness and wallow for a while. Just as she was reaching over to turn off her bedside lamp, a certain name caught her attention.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Sam said loudly from the living room, and Tara knew she had raised her voice so that she would know who was at the door. She sat up immediately. Y/N is here? What? There was some mumbling before Sam’s voice came again. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Go ahead.”

Moments later, there were soft knocks against her bedroom door, and Tara scrambled out of her bed, rushing across the room to open the door for you. There you stood, your lips pulled in a downturned smile and your eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, pretty girl,” you muttered. You were still wearing the same clothes from the day, and your backpack was still hanging off your shoulders. Did she not go home? she wondered, furrowing her eyebrows. You pulled your arm out from behind you, revealing a small bouquet of flowers. “Got you these.”

Tara blinked. She bought me flowers?!  “I--Thanks?” She took them from your outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” you tried to joke, but your voice was strained, like you were trying to be careful, and Tara felt guilt prick at her knowing that she was the cause. “Could I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Always,” she rushed out, moving to her bed to sit. She placed the flowers on her bedside table and watched as you sat in front of her, fingers playing with her blanket. “So, what’s up?” ‘What’s up?’ Really? That’s the best I can do?

You sighed, a shaky breath falling from your lips. “I want to apologize,” you said. “I didn’t mean to push you into talking about your mom earlier. I know she’s a touchy subject.”

Tara frowned. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sorry for shouting at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shook your head, glancing up and finally making eye-contact with her. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t want to talk about her. And, that’s okay.” You shrugged and offered her a comforting smile. “You don’t have to tell me about her…ever, if you don’t want to.”

“I should, though. I mean, we should talk about her.”

“Tara, you really don’t have to--”

“No, I--I want to.” Want’s a strong word, she thought. But I should.

“Okay,” you said, nodding and giving her your full attention. “You have the floor.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, my dad left when I was 8. My mom started working more so that she could afford Sam and I, but it turned more into an obsession for her, I think. Next thing I knew, she was never there. Sam left home when I was 13, and it was just me.” She shrugged, glancing down and fiddling with her fingers. “Then, Sam came back after I was attacked, and my mom wouldn’t talk to her, so we made the choice to cut her off. I haven’t spoken to her since we moved.”

Tara clicked her tongue, looking back up at you. To her surprise, your face wasn’t full of the pity she was used to seeing after telling people about her past; you were watching her carefully, looking close to tears.

“So, that’s that,” she said awkwardly.

You inhaled sharply, blinking your glassy eyes away. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Tar, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with it.” You reached out, your hand cupping her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. “I’m so happy that you’ve found your family.”

Her heart fluttered at your words, her mind flashing to Sam and Mindy and Chad. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I am, too. I really love those guys.” And I’ve found you, too, she thought. You make it all complete.

You grinned, and she practically melted into her mattress. “Good. They’re good--all of them.”

She giggled. “C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to lay down with her, your face nuzzled into her neck. She laughed at the feeling of your nose against her skin, and said, “I love you. Like, a lot.”

Your arms wrapped around her waist, and you squeezed lightly. “I love you, like, a lot, too.” You sighed into her. “And I’m sorry for leaving like that earlier. I just…I don’t do well with raised voices.”

Huh? Suddenly, she was on high alert. Why not? What happened? “Any particular reason?”

You twisted in her hold so that you could lay beside her, your gaze trained on the ceiling. She scooted down so that her head was level with yours and looked at you, tracing your side profile with her eyes. So pretty, she thought. Wait, stay on topic, Tara.

You clenched your jaw. “We’ve never talked about it, but, um, my dad…” You closed your eyes. “When I was younger, my dad had a big drinking problem.” Her eyebrows furrowed. Her dad? That man? Really? “He was never physical,” you said, shaking your head lightly. “But he had a temper when he was drunk, and everything I did was always wrong.”

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighed, intertwining her fingers with yours. Your grip was tight, like she would float away if you didn’t hold on.

“He’d yell a lot, at me, at my mom.” Oh, baby. Your thumb rubbed over the skin of her hand. “But he’s good now. He got better after the boys were born--got sober. He hasn’t had a drink since.” You turned your head, looking back at her.

“He’s not, like, obsessed with apples, or anything,” you said. What does that have to do with the conversation? she wondered. “But, he eats them a lot when we have parties. That was his thing--eat an apple when he wanted a drink. It stuck, so we keep the fridge stocked, and any time someone sees him even look in the direction of alcohol, we get him an apple.” You smiled. “He eats them begrudgingly, but he’ll never have an apple out of his own volition now.”

Tara chuckled softly. “I’m happy he’s better now, but I’m sorry you dealt with that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

You shrugged, leaning closer so that your forehead rested against her cheek. “It’s okay now. I’m alright,” you promised. “Just…never buy that man an apple, alright?” you joked, easing the tension in the air.

“Deal,” she agreed, nudging your head up. She leaned in, kissed you, and said, “I guess no family’s perfect after all, huh?” when she pulled away.

“I guess not.” You grinned, leaning up on your elbow to hover over her. “But, maybe ours could be the first.”

Her heart practically stopped, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. Ours? she thought. She felt like she wanted to burst from the amount of joy that came with that thought. Yeah. Ours.

“Okay.” She pushed herself up and kissed you again. “Ours will be the first.”

movie night vi

Summary: A theatre full of paraphernalia and a date night with your godmother. What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: swearing, Scream-typical violence, grief mention, scar mention, mentions of past Ghostfaces/attacks Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi)

“Where are we going again?” You asked as you jogged awkwardly to catch up with Gale.

“Just come on,” she said before continuing to speed walk down the streets of New York.

The day had been chaotic before you had even woken up. You had vaguely been aware of Tara laying completely on top of you, almost like a weighted blanket, and it had been nice. But then you heard yelling, and shouting, and heavy footsteps, and the loud crack of your door being thrown open and slamming into the wall. Both you and Tara flinched, with her pressing down on one (all) of your wounds, and she stood up quickly while you rolled onto your side and tried not to show how badly it hurt.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Dicky said with an annoying smile that quickly turned into a frown. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“Didn’t Ma ever teach you to knock?” You asked, doing your best not to groan when you pushed yourself up to your feet.

“Time for coffee,” he said. “Made a cup special for you, Tara,” he said with a smile before backing out of the door. “Don’t keep her waitin’!”

It was a quick rush through coffee, a berating from Ma about how you “made” Tara sleep on the floor, and then a moment to say your goodbyes before Gale ushered the four of you out of the front door of the brownstone. You pretended not to notice Tara and Sam looking around and trying to figure out where they were.

You all followed Gale through the streets until ending up in an alley that Sam and Tara had been hesitant to enter. Not that you blamed them, they didn’t exactly have the best luck with sketchy situations. It wasn’t an unwarranted fear; you had been jumped in alleys plenty of times, and that didn’t even hold a candle to their trauma.

“How did you even find any of this?” Sam asked when Gale searched at the end of the alley.

“It’s called investigative journalism,” Gale answered with a smile. “Now come on in,” she said, “you’re going to want to see this.”

“Well now you’re sketchin’ me out,” you grumbled when you passed her, forcing open the door she was struggling with. It was heavy and a bit rusted, but you managed just fine.

And if you hoped Tara saw your muscles there for a second, well, that was nobody’s business.

You stood aside as all three women walked into the building that you presumed was abandoned. Honestly, it reminded you of the building you had taken Tara to all those weeks ago. Except hopefully no one barged in unannounced this time. Last thing you needed was three trauma survivors losing their shit.

Again, it was warranted, but you could only do so much to help.

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving the sound to echo in the empty hallway. If you had been alone, you would have gone exploring. There was nothing more exciting than an abandoned building in the middle of New York, especially one you hadn’t been in before. God, think of the possibilities of what could be in there? There were definitely some treasures to be discovered, no doubt about it.

“Hey Tara,” you said as you finally caught up with the group, “this kinda reminds me of our movie redo.”

“What?” She asked, her voice a little quieter than usual.

“You know, when you put on Titanic and we thought we were gonna get disappeared?”

“What?” Sam asked, and you all froze.

“Nice going,” Tara whisper-shouted at you.

“Uh-” you looked around frantically, “-what’s that up ahead?”

You smiled bashfully at Sam as you pushed past her, doing your best not to let her glare kill you. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought up the date, that was a bad decision on your part. Sometimes silence was your best friend. And unfortunately, you continuously pushed that best friend aside until you got in trouble because… well… sometimes you were a little stupid.

Gale walked in tandem with you as you led the way through the rest of the hall until you reached the open theatre. Sam and Tara stopped in their tracks once they caught up. The quiet gasp from your left side was devastating. The deafening thump in your chest nearly drowned it out; you wish it had.

“What the fuck,” Sam said softly before hesitantly moving forward to check out one of the many glass cases in the abandoned theatre.

“Are these props?” Tara asked with a shaky voice.

“They’re real,” Gale said as she, too, moved toward one of the cases.

Tara left your side to go to Sam, the both of them studying each case. You watched her carefully. Watched the way she hovered her scarred hand over her midsection, almost protectively. Watched the way her eyes darted all around the room, almost as if looking for the ghosts that haunted her even though she tried to push them out.

Your heart waged a war with your head as Tara continued to walk around, her hand lightly running over the glass, or almost-but-not-quite touching one of the items. Did you go over and reminisce with her? Or did you let her process everything on her own, without fear of your judgment or pity? If it were you, you weren’t entirely sure which you would prefer either.

In the end, you decided to let her process everything with Sam. They had both gone through the same thing and had already survived two Ghostfaces together, they could be there for each other. You watched her for just a few more moments before shaking your head slowly and walking over to where Gale was still standing in front of a specific glass case.

“That’s Dewey,” she said softly, her eyes glued to a notebook with drawings in it. Beside it was a knife.

Your jaw clenched.

“He had wanted to meet you,” she said, looking up at you with teary eyes and a sad smile. “Before everything.”

You nodded slowly. “I hear he was a good man.”

“The best,” she confirmed.

“Is that the knife?” You asked as you uncrossed your arms from your chest.

“Yeah,” she said with her own nod. “They used it on Tara too.”

You both turned slowly until you were looking at the stage, where both Sam and Tara were standing and looking at the Ghostface costumes. The blood in your veins boiled, leaving behind a deep ache that you couldn’t quite explain. With a forced huff through your nose, you turned back to look at the knife.

Amber had used it. She had used it on Tara. How could she do that? How could she try to kill her own girlfriend for, what, clout? To be known as the one who took down a Legacy? It made you furious and left your whole body shaking. Your family had done many things, but killing someone you loved had never been one of them. It took a real monster to do such a thing.

You had no sympathy for monsters.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Gale said. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her staring at you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“I don’t want her to see it,” you said slowly.

There was a second of hesitation. “Be quiet about it.”

Gale walked away to go stand beside the girls, and you waited until their backs were to you before you dug around in your pocket. It was a simple tool, one Joel had gotten for your birthday way back in the day. With the practiced ease of a professional, you picked the lock to the glass case and opened the lid. You looked back at the stage to make sure they weren’t watching before you reached in and grabbed the knife.

It felt heavy in your hand. You weren’t entirely sure if it was from the actual weight, or the knowledge of who’s blood it had spilled. Whatever the case, you carefully slid it into your boot, being careful not to knick your ankle. It wouldn’t do you any good to hurt yourself while trying to be sneaky.

The cold steel of the blade was jarring as you finally started making your way up to the stage. All three women were still standing there, looking at all the different costumes stuck in their displays. It was haunting, like they were all staring down at you. How could the three of them be perfectly fine just standing in the middle of them? The feeling made your head spin.

“They’re creepier without anyone in them,” you mumbled. You hadn’t intended for anyone to hear, but everyone turned to look at you.

“That’s because you haven’t seen them kill your friends yet,” Sam said with a roll of her eyes before she stalked away.

“I didn’t-”

“-I’ll go talk to her,” Gale said. She patted your unhurt shoulder before walking off to join Sam on the other side of the theatre.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you immediately said once you were left alone with Tara. She turned to face you with softened eyes.

“I know,” she said before walking over to sit on the edge of the stage. Her legs hung off the side and you noticed her shoulders slump.

You quickly moved to sit on her left, being careful not to jostle your stitches a little too much. It happened anyway, but you tried to keep your pained huffs to yourself. Fortunately, Tara didn’t seem to notice; she was far too lost in her own thoughts.

The score from one of the Stab movies quietly echoed throughout the enormous room. It wasn’t loud enough to truly draw one’s attention, but you heard it. Whatever psycho had created the shrines must have kept a running loop of the movies. What kind of sicko would keep shrines to a murderer? No, scratch that, to multiple murderers?

No one understood murder paraphernalia quite like your family; you knew what kind of money you could get off selling them. Whoever had created the shrine must have dropped massive money on all of the items. Or, which could be likely for all you knew, they knew the owner of most of the items. Which would mean they were a suspect for this next Ghostface crew.

Wait. That might be right on the money, actually.

“You need to go home,” Tara said quietly, drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at her, but she wasn’t looking at you.

“What?” You asked.

She turned her head slightly. “You need to go home.”

“Why would I do that?” You furrowed your brows. That statement didn't make any sense, what did she think you were, a coward?

“They’re after Woodsboro,” she said. “You’re not Woodsboro.”

“So?” You asked with a shake of your head. “Out of this current predicament, I’ve got more stitches than all of you combined, save dear Anika.”

“Which is why you should leave,” she continued. “No sense dying over something that isn’t your fight.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna die?” You asked.

Tara went silent and finally looked at you full-on. There was almost a resignation in her eyes. What could possibly be going on in her head that would have her saying such ridiculous things? You weren’t a coward and you certainly weren’t going to die. Vitales didn’t die, they got their revenge. And you were just one Ghostface call away from losing your shit.

“The love interest always dies,” she finally said with a shrug. It wasn’t very convincing.

“So I’m the love interest now?” You asked. If she didn’t lighten up soon, you were going to lose it.

“I’m not playing this game with you,” she huffed.

“Tara.” You reached out to grab her left hand, but she quickly recoiled as if you had shocked her. Her scarred hand quickly found a new home in her lap. You did your best not to show how badly that simple move had hurt you.

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” she said softly. “So leave before I make you.”

“Then make me leave,” you said. Her head turned sharply. “Because I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

She wanted to argue. You could see it on her face that she wanted to refute your statement. Maybe she would have said something hurtful, something to make you regret associating with her. Or she would go low, insulting you and pushing you away until you wanted to leave. She was more than welcome to try; it wouldn’t change your mind.

You heard her swallow harshly. She looked at you for a few more moments, holding your gaze. Her eyes darted back and forth between yours, and you did your best to keep your features soft. Her insistence on you leaving was still raising your blood pressure, but you weren’t going to let her know that. She had enough on her plate anyway.

A soft, almost silent sigh fell from her slightly parted lips. It was a sigh you often heard from your Pop when he was going over reports for the week; a sigh of resignation and acceptance. Extremely heavy underneath the silence of it all. You wished you could take it all away from her, take all the weight off her shoulders.

Tara let her body fall to the side until her head was resting on your shoulder, and you both just looked out at the Ghostface paraphernalia. What did she feel when she saw those things? Was it a fear that she would be attacked again, that maybe she wouldn’t make it to the end again? Or was it anger at the whole situation, at whoever was trying to attack her this time? Or maybe it was just a mix of everything, you weren’t sure and quite frankly, you knew better than to ask.

You were simply angry. Pure and simple.

“You’re really not leaving?” Tara asked, her voice fragile.

“I mean,” you shrugged with one shoulder to avoid disturbing her, “I’ll have to leave to pee at some point.”

“You’re such a dick,” she huffed as she sat up.

“But aside from that you’re stuck with me,” you said with a smile.

“I hate you,” she shook her head and looked at you.

“Sure you do,” you said. Her eyes flickered to your lips, and you leaned down to-

“-ahem.”

You both sat up quickly, separating yourselves as much as possible. Sam and Gale were standing in front of you. Sam very much didn’t look happy and, quite frankly, almost looked like she would rip your head off if given the chance. Which she probably would. Gale, on the other hand, was barely even trying to hide her little smirk.

“Done reminiscing over your daddy issues?” You asked Sam.

“Just shut up,” Tara whispered.

“Done harassing my sister?” Sam asked back.

“Not harassment if she likes it,” you shot back.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Tara said loudly. “What’s our next move?”

“You and I stick together,” Sam said. “We need to go check up on Anika and the twins.”

“Productive,” you said with a nod. “While you go socialise, Gale and I will solve this case.”

“It’s not some murder mystery game,” Sam said with a pointed look at you. “These guys are lethal.”

“So am I,” you said slowly, drawing out each word. “And I’m gonna figure this shit out before someone else gets hurt.”

“You’re already hurt,” Tara said quietly with a frown.

“Before someone gets more hurt,” you corrected. “I’ll find your guy in 24 hours or your money back, guaranteed.”

“Can you ever take anything seriously?” Sam asked with a tilt of her head.

“Not at all,” you answered with a smile.

“We’re really separating?” Tara asked. “Do you really think that’s the smartest thing to do?”

“You’ll be with the trio,” you said. “And Gale has survived, what, 11 Ghostfaces?” She nodded in the affirmative. “So I think we’re okay.”

“Then let’s get going,” Sam said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Both you and Tara slid off the stage until you were standing with the other two, all looking at each other and waiting for someone to make the first move. When no one did, you decided it would have to be you. Pop had taught you to be a leader, you supposed. If they needed someone to keep them safe and lead the way, you would take that responsibility upon yourself.

The sun was still blindingly bright when you all walked out of the abandoned building. Everyone blinked rapidly, trying to ease their eyes back to the amount of light. It was almost like when you walked out of a movie theatre in the middle of the day; logically you knew it was still daytime, but you weren’t expecting the sun. If everyone hadn’t been so grumpy and serious, you would’ve laughed at them.

“Keep your phones on,” Sam said once you all made it back to the street. “And call if you hear anything.”

“Yes, mom,” you huffed. “God, I almost preferred it when you hated me.”

“I still do,” she said quickly. But you could see the slightest softening of her eyes.

“Seriously,” Tara chimed in, looking directly into your eyes. It was almost uncomfortable. “Call.”

“We got it, damn,” you said, “chill out.”

“That’s not something you say to people trying to keep you safe,” Gale mumbled into your ear.

“Anyway,” you said pointedly, “go check on everyone. We’ll call if we need something.”

“Or if something happens,” Tara emphasises.

“Or if something happens,” you repeat back to her. 

She wasn’t very happy with you, it was more than obvious. Not that you could exactly blame her, again, you understood her situation. Well, you mostly understood her situation. If someone had been going after your loved ones - aside from the obvious situation at hand - you would have been paranoid and extra worried too. She had every right to be concerned.

But you knew your shit.

“Okay,” Tara finally said softly with a single nod. “Yeah, okay.” It was as if she was trying to convince herself that you would be fine.

You had this.

“Get goin’,” you teased Tara when Sam and Gale started to go their separate ways. “Sam might go all Ghostface on me.”

“I’m serious about being careful,” she said as her fingers absentmindedly brushed against one of the bruises on  your arm.

“I got this,” you said. “I’m Italian, remember?”

“You’re insufferable,” she said even as she gave you a little smirk.

“You like it,” you said with your own smile.

You looked around for a second, just to make sure Sam wasn’t watching, before leaning down and kissing Tara. Her lips were soft, just like they always were. It wasn’t a long kiss; there were too many things going on and, quite frankly, you were both rather distracted. But it was comforting, and you wanted to remind her that you weren’t going anywhere unless the devil himself came and dragged you down to hell.

“Be safe,” Tara mumbled against your lips when she pulled away.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered.

You pressed one more chaste kiss to her lips before standing up. She walked backwards for a bit, keeping her eyes locked with yours. When she finally spun back around to catch up with Sam, your stomach dropped. It didn’t feel right for her to be walking away. That foreboding feeling settled deep in your stomach and you frowned.

“You coming, Romeo?” Gale called out, and you spun quickly to see her standing a lot closer than you had thought.

“Can you be a normal person for just five minutes?” You asked as you both started walking off to her apartment.

“You like her,” she said, the both of you falling into step with each other. A power team for sure, you had no doubt.

“A lot,” you said quickly. “I’m not throwing the L word out just yet, but you know.” You shrugged.

“But it’s likely,” Gale teased. You refused to look at her, but you could hear the smile in her voice.

You paused. “It’s likely.”

The rest of the walk to the apartment was nice. It was just turning into spring and the weather was starting to warm up, and the streets didn’t smell so much like rotting garbage. Hell, the air was practically crystal clear! You had never breathed so clearly in your life! The world was looking up, that was for sure.

You both waved hello to Michael the Doorman when you walked into the apartment complex. He smiled back and waved, bidding you both a good afternoon. You had always liked Michael; he was sweet. And in a fight? There was no doubt he was lethal, you didn’t have that many muscles purely for aesthetic, not in New York. You trusted him with Gale’s life.

That was a hard trust to earn.

“You should tell her,” Gale said when the elevator doors closed and started heading up to the apartment. “Once this is over.”

“Tell her what?” You asked even though you had an idea.

“That you “likely” feel the L word for her.” Her words were teasing, but her tone said something different.

You didn’t say anything in reply. The elevator doors opened and you both quickly made your way to her apartment, and you listened to her lock all the locks while you walked over to the kitchen and threw open the fridge door. If Gale had asked you what was in it, you couldn’t have told her; you might have been looking but you weren’t seeing.

The thought of telling Tara how you felt had you cottonmouthed. Sure, you were fighting against a serial killer together, but that wasn’t near as terrifying as talking about your feelings! How were you going to explain any of that to her? She barely even tolerated you at this point (at least she pretended to). You were catching on that it was a defense mechanism, but still. It was enough to give you pause.

“What do we have for dinner later?” Gale asked, popping up beside you once again. You didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t even know,” you admitted before closing the fridge door. “Wanna just order takeout?”

“That Korean place on the corner?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, already salivating at the thought of that stunningly beautiful seafood hot pot. Oh, now you definitely couldn’t wait until dinner.

You and Gale separated for an hour, using the time to refresh yourselves and rest. It was a wonderful routine you had both come up with back in the day when you would sneak into her apartment after nearly getting into some deep shit. You had only needed to surprise her the first time before she learned, and she made sure to keep spare things for you.

And thankfully, you had stashed away some of your things too.

You finished tightening the bulletproof vest before heading back to the living room. It was old, a little worn, but it was still good. There was no expectation for gunshots, but you knew it could keep you at least mostly safe from a knife. If those fuckers were going to come for you, you were going to be prepared. The painful stretch of stitches reminded you how important that was.

“I’m going to go ahead and order dinner,” Gale said when you plopped onto the couch and started setting up your laptop. “The usual?”

“Yes please,” you called out. Your fingers flew across the keys, desperately searching for something that you weren’t prepared to see.

Wait.

“Did you just order three meals?” You asked, turning around and throwing your arm over the back of the couch.

Gale froze. “Yes I did.”

“Don’t you dare bring your boy toy in here tonight,” you said with a pointed finger. “I’m not in the mood to play nice.”

“We all need our stress relief,” she shot back, walking around the room until she sat next to you on the couch. “You should try it, you know.”

“There’s a killer targeting us and you’re bringing him?” You groaned. “He’s going to get us killed.”

“There’s strength in numbers, Y/N,” Gale said softly. You sighed and leaned back.

“I’m not afraid to push him in between you and Ghostface,” you finally said.

“I know,” she said with her own small smile. “What are you looking for?”

“My motive,” you said as you turned back to the laptop.

“Is that security footage?” She asked, leaning closer to look at your screen.

“Of Tara’s house from last year,” you explained.

She jolted back as if shocked. “You’re going to watch the attack?”

“I have to, Gale,” you sighed. “I have to see it.”

“You won’t ever get those images or sounds out of your head,” she said.

“I’ve seen attacks before,” you said with a shrug. It didn’t ease the shake in your hands.

“Not on someone you love,” she said far too softly. It was cutting.

“I have to watch this and the hospital,” you said. “I have to.”

“Why?” Gale asked. “Why do you have to put those things in your head?”

“Because,” you said, finally turning to look her in the eyes. You didn’t think you had ever seen her look so sad. “I need to guarantee I’m pissed enough to kill the fucker.”

The sadness on Gale’s face slowly morphed into something else. Her eyes trailed away until she was staring at your laptop screen once again. You wouldn’t dare watch the hospital if she was in the room, not when you knew Dewey had been killed there. But hopefully she would understand.

You knew the images and sounds would haunt you until the day you died. There was no way you would ever be able to get it out of your head. Yes, you were no stranger to death, but to watch someone you… appreciated getting tortured and used for nothing but sadistic joy? It set off something primal, an anger you didn’t think you had ever felt yet.

Those fuckers would have it coming.

“Come get me when you’re done,” Gale said with an absentminded nod. “And stop if you need to.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said just as softly.

She barely let you finish before she got up and left. You didn’t blame her. But when she was finally gone, you weren’t so sure you wanted to watch the footage anymore. Could you handle such a thing? Could you genuinely handle watching Tara get hurt? You weren’t so sure.

But you needed to be sure you could kill if needed.

You didn’t give yourself time to change your mind before pressing play on the footage. The vest dug into the tops of your thighs as you leaned forward to get a better look. Her house was nice; why she was alone, though, you had no idea. You would need to ask her about it. Shouldn’t she have been out having fun with her friends?

Just like Pop had taught you, you ceaselessly searched every inch of the screen for some sort of warning. Tara wouldn’t have known that, of course, but you wanted to see where she had missed Ghostface. If you could find where the fucker usually came from, you could prevent it from happening again. Yeah, they were different people, but they seemed to follow some ridiculous movie pattern anyway.

They needed to be more original.

The moment you saw the fear on Tara’s face and heard it in her voice, you knew the footage had done its job. You saw red before Ghostface even appeared. To watch the struggle, hear her screams, see her blood smeared around the house… it was more than enough. Your stomach twisted in knots and you felt sick.

And yet, you clicked on the next clip to watch the hospital.

That one almost made you even more furious, which you hadn’t expected. Tara was already injured and weak, and yet the bastard came back for more? For what, an added little “fuck you?” You quickly understood why Tara had that almost unnoticeable limp.

You turned the footage off before Dewey was killed. There had already been enough destruction, you couldn’t watch the love of Gale’s life get murdered in cold blood. It was all too much, you couldn’t handle another one. And besides, Gale was right. The sounds of Tara’s desperate cries and screams were already bouncing around the inside of your skull.

Your phone rang on the table beside your laptop, and you subconsciously picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Sick to your stomach yet?”

Fuck.

You slammed your laptop closed and stood up, practically sprinting to Gale’s room. She was sitting on her bed reading a book, and for a moment you just looked at her. She looked so peaceful. There was no stress of a news story, nothing about a new book, she was just… your godmother Gale again. You missed seeing her like that.

“Cat got your tongue?” 

You paused. He had used that exact phrase before. Maybe the same suspect was the caller each time.

“Gale,” you whisper-shouted. She looked up at you with a smile before seeing the phone in your hand.

“Is it him?” She asked.

You just nodded.

“I’m not afraid of a little blood,” you said into the phone, waiting until Gale was right beside you before heading back to the living room.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Not at all,” you said. You quickly reached down to pull the Ghostface knife from your boot. “You’re just a coward in a mask.”

“How did you like the film?”

The knife was heavy in your palm as you stood back-to-back with Gale. “Last movie I watched was Titanic,” you answered. “It was okay.”

“That’s a lie.” A creak had you turning your head to face the balcony. Empty. “You watched Pearl on your date night with Tara.”

How did he know that?

“I was watching Tara, not the movie,” you said. Where was he? “It doesn’t count.”

“I mean the one where dear Tara was the star.” A shiver went down your spine. “She might be the next Scream Queen.”

You saw red.

“The villain was below par,” you said. Another phone rang, and you felt Gale move behind you. “Let the Opening Kill turn into a Final Girl.”

You turned your body slightly to see Gale put the phone on speaker and wait. It was agonising. The static coming through the speaker was like mosquitos near your ear; constant and irritating with no way to stop it. As much as you despised them, you would hand it to them; they knew how to make things hurt.

“Hello, Gale.” The blood drained from her face. “You both look lovely this evening.”

Keep him talking, you mouthed to Gale, who nodded.

“I was wondering if you would ever call me,” she said as you turned back around to look out at the room. “I was starting to feel left out.”

“I figured you were.” You hung up your own phone and texted Tara. “After all, I’ve called your little godchild twice already.”

“Want to ask your question?” She asked. You slid your phone into your back pocket; you didn’t need an answer. “Or are you just going to shoot the breeze?”

“I don’t have any questions for you.” You reached your free hand back until you could touch Gale; you needed to keep track of where she was at all times. “I have one for your little guest, though.”

“Ask away,” you said without taking your eyes off the room. “I’m an open book.”

“How much would you sacrifice for your dear, sweet godmother?”

Behind you, Gale stiffened.

“I’d sacrifice my left nut,” you chuckled. “Maybe my right tit too.”

“How about your life?”

Your blood ran cold. Gale’s hand reached back and grabbed your forearm, squeezing it tight enough to bruise. Her nails dug into your skin when she turned around and stood beside you, looking out at the room. The air was heavy, suffocating.

The sound of boots hitting the wooden floor was deafening.

Your stomach dropped when two cloaked figures stepped into the room, walking in tandem until they stood in front of you.

Sam was right. They were more terrifying with people underneath the masks.

“Let’s play a game.”

“This isn’t Saw,” you said quickly. 

Neither of the Ghostfaces in front of you had a phone to their ear. The call was too clear for a bluetooth headset.

There was a third killer.

“Drop the knife and step forward.” Gale’s grip on your arm tightened. “Or I’ll pay your dear Tara a visit.”

The phone vibrated in Gale’s hand, and you both looked at the screen. It was an image. An image of Tara sitting in the hospital room with everyone else, including an awake Anika, laughing at something. Her phone was upside down on the table beside her.

She hadn’t seen your text.

You looked at Gale. She was already shaking her head, but you couldn’t just let that creep get Tara. The whole gang was there, but two of them were injured and it was a hospital. Honestly, the last time Tara had been in a hospital, it hadn’t ended well. And with two of them, you weren’t going to keep Gale safe on your own.

It was a zero-sum game.

“Still have that birthday present I got you?” You asked when you handed her the knife. She nodded once. “Don’t forget it.”

You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before turning around and heading to stand in front of the two Ghostfaces.

“Turn around.”

“You’re a bossy motherfucker, you know that?” You called out, but did as instructed.

A sharp pain went through your leg when one of them kicked the back of your knee. Another shot went up your spine when you fell into a kneeling position.

“Let’s play a game.” Gale locked eyes with you. “I’ll ask you a few questions. Every wrong answer leads to a stabbing.”

“And every right answer?” She asked.

“No stabbing.”

You exhaled shakily and your jaw tightened.

“Simple enough,” she said. “First question?”

“I’ll start easy.” You nervously licked your lips. “Which movie is Jack Torrence in?”

“The Shining,” Gale answered quickly.

“Very good.” One of the boots behind you started tapping against the floor. “Who was the very first kill of the Stab franchise?”

“Before the film plot? Or during?” Gale asked. You hid your smirk. She was far too smart for her own good sometimes.

“During.”

“Casey Brecker,” she answered quickly.

“Ooh, not quite, Gale.” Your stomach dropped. “It was actually-”

“-Casey’s boyfriend!” She shouted quickly, snapping her fingers near her temple. “Steven. Steven, uh, Orth!”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. You both locked eyes with each other. Was he going to accept it? She had corrected it before he had, it counted, right? Jesus fuck, is this what he put Tara through??

“I’ll accept it this once.” You both sighed. “But with a small price.”

You hissed when a sudden pain radiated from your thigh. Looking down quickly you saw blood already starting to soak through your jeans.

“Next question.” You looked back up at Gale quickly. She better get the next one right; these fuckers weren’t playing around. “How many kills has Ghostface gotten?”

“I don’t know,” Gale whispered. “I don’t know.”

“Tick-tock, Gale.” Boots thumped on the floor behind you. “Or we’ll add another one to the count.”

“Just give me a second,” she rushed. Her lips were moving as she counted, doing the mental calculations.

You could feel someone standing directly behind you. Not to the side, but so close you could feel their body heat against your back. Could he see the bulletproof vest? Oh god, you hoped not. Oh please don’t see the vest, please don’t see the-

“-time’s up.”

Gale’s eyes went wide before you felt something hit your back with enough force to send you forward onto your hands. Something hurt, but you couldn’t tell if it was the knife or the sheer force of the stab. The room was silent.

You froze.

“It seems you’ve cheated.” You looked up at Gale; you didn’t think you had ever seen so much sheer terror in her eyes before. “You’re not a very good sport.”

A hand grabbed you by the shoulder and yanked you back up to your feet. You bit down harshly on your tongue when of the fingers dug into some stitches. The taste of metal was nauseating. A second hand grabbed you by the jaw.

“We don’t play well with cheaters.”

“Don’t,” Gale said. She wasn’t even talking into the phone anymore. “Please don’t.”

“Birthday gift,” you said through clenched teeth. “Go.”

“Say good night, Gale.”

“Gale just-”

-Gale screamed-

-your hammering heart stopped when the cold steel slid through your flesh. It didn’t hurt.

The blade was cold against your tongue.

Why was Gale crying?

The blade ripped forward, tearing through your cheeks.

Your head jerked to the side as your body fell forward. By some miracle, you caught yourself with your hands, keeping you bent over. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

A red puddle started to form underneath you.

“You should run, Gale.”

You heard something drop to the floor. Light footsteps were quickly followed by heavy boots. It felt like you were trying to breathe through water. The liquid was thick in your mouth but you couldn’t swallow.

Three gunshots echoed through the apartment.

Gale. You needed to go help Gale.

Your head swam as you tried to push yourself up to your feet. There was a slight throb in your entire face. Something felt sticky. You lifted a hand to your mouth to wipe it off as you finally got to your feet.

When you pulled it away, it was dripping red.

Something vibrated in your back pocket. You continued to stumble your way down the hallway.

The vibrating continued.

Gale had to be somewhere close. Birthday gift. She kept it in her closet. In a safe. Ghostface didn’t carry guns. It would keep her safe and she would be okay-

-another gunshot-

-something slammed into your chest. You stumbled back, hitting the wall. Everything in front of you started twisting and turning.

Something wet dripped down your fingertips.

You let your shaky knees give out underneath you as you slid to the floor. The thump of your heart was felt in your mouth.

"Oh my god, Y/N."

Something clashed to the floor.

"Look at me, baby, open your eyes."

But they felt so heavy. You forced them open anyway. Why was Gale crying?

Something solid thumped on the floor.

And again.

And again.

"Take another step and I'll gut you like a fish."

She sounded so angry.

Your eyes started to fall shut.

"No, Y/N, don't close your eyes."

Your fingers were cold.

"Wake up, goddammit!"

Just a few minutes.

Your eyes closed.

Tardy, part 8

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: An unexpected family member reveal sends you spiraling, will anyone trust you now?

Warnings: Angst that turns into fluff, mention of violence, mention of sex

Word Count 2.6k

A/N: I was dying writing this chapter (both physically and mentally) but I think the writers block is gone! Thank you for 600 followers!! As always, love u guys, and tell me what you think <33

“Mom, who’s my dad?” You asked absentmindedly, legs swinging from your living room couch.

“All the other kids at school know who their dad is, who’s mine?” You continued, blissfully unaware of the tension you had just created.

Your mom turned sharply, cigarette between her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, sweetie. Your dad’s gone. It’s just you and me now.” She said as she brought the lighter up and ignited the cigarette.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” You’d asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Your mom lets out a frustrated huff before she answers again.

“I don’t know, he’s just gone. Okay? He left town. Would you leave this topic alone now?” She sounded annoyed, and you don’t want to upset her any further, so you nodded quickly and turned your attention back to the TV screen.

“Okay, Ma.”

-

You flash back into another memory, this time you’re older; freshly graduated from high school, ready to move across the country to start university.

You’ve bid your farewells to friends and relatives, promising you’ll come visit every year.

Your mom’s pulling you aside looking at you weirdly. She’s getting old, you can tell by the increasing wrinkles on her face every day.

She smiles softly, and you think she looks like the sweetest grandma ever.

“Honey, I want you to know something. About your dad.”

You raise an eyebrow, mouth dropping slightly.

Your dad has always been a touchy subject for your mom, she’s never really allowed herself to tell you the full story.

Sure, as you’ve gotten older, you’ve learned bits and pieces. He was a dirtbag, leaving your mom right after she gave birth. You’d also learned that you were born in a small town called Woodsboro but had been whisked away almost immediately.

Your mom sighs now, and everything suddenly feels very heavy.

“I just tried so hard to be both parents for you, I know it wasn’t fair to keep this from you for so long. But if you’re ready to learn who your dad is, I’m ready to tell.” She says, voice cracking only the tiniest bit. You can see how strong she’s trying to be.

You suddenly see your whole childhood flash before your eyes. Your mom sending you off and picking you up every day after school. Making meals for the two of you every night, working overtime to support the family.

“No Ma. It’s okay. I already have a dad, and his name is you.” You say, pointing to her heart.

She opens her mouth but you cut in before she can say anything.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need a dad when I have you.” You say, and you mean it wholeheartedly.

Your mother swells with happiness and takes you in a big hug. Wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Be safe, honey.” She whispers into your ear.

-

You splutter, staring at the page in front of you with a jumble of letters that don’t look like coherent words anymore.

No…it couldn’t be?

There’s no way your dad was Stu Fucking Macher.

It doesn’t feel like you expected it would, finding out who your real father is. Years and years of endless crying; wondering why and why and why.

Every moment has led up to this.

This light, breakable paper in your palms. It’s telling you all you’ve ever wanted to hear, and yet somehow it’s also the thing you need to hear the least.

There’s quick flashes of déjà vu as you stare at the name.

Blood; lots of it. Splattered on the ceiling, all over your body. Screams, loud and clear as day, piercing through your eardrums and starting a ringing sound.

You snap back into reality as Sam steps up to you.

You brace yourself for the worse, you wouldn’t be mad if Sam kicked you out bare into the street right then and there, hell, she could hurt you and you wouldn’t even be mad.

She raises her hand but the impact never comes. Instead, she kneels down to you and holds your shoulders tight.

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard.” She says, soft. Her lips are pulled into a frown but her eyes are sorrowful.

“It’s- it’s okay?” Tara splutters, staring between you and her sister. Flabbergasted would be a minuet way to describe her expression.

“Yes. It’s okay. Can everyone leave the room for a minute? I want to talk to YN.” Sam says, and everyone heeds her orders; shuffling down through the living room hallway.

You stare at Sam, eyebrows knit tight together. She’s hated you since you the day you met, and now she’s the one protecting you?

“Why?” You ask, curiosity seeping through your voice.

“Everyone here has been through something.” She says, biting her lip. “And believe me, if anyone knows about being framed as the bad guy, it’s me.”

She hesitates a little before she opens her mouth again.

“Let’s not pretend that everyone here doesn’t have immensely traumatic things happen to them. Me and Tara…well we know about that. But Mindy and Anika and Chad? You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard from them.” She says, twiddling with her thumbs.

“What if I’m actually the killer?” You press, gauging Sam’s reaction.

She tuts and answers sharply.

“I don’t believe for a second that you are.”

It takes you aback, her being so sure about it. You stay quiet, try to think of anything to say.

You can’t, it’s all too much information to get.

“How can you know that?” You say finally, tilting your head up to make eye contact with Sam.

She pats your back lightly. “You’re a good person YN. We can all tell.”

“We’re a family. One fucked up family, but family all the same. Including you.” She says, voice sure.

You hold eye contact for a while, a silent conversation being spoken. Setting aside all your differences, Sam was actually a really cool person. And you can tell she feels the same way.

Before you know it she’s out down the same hallway the group left in.

You’re sat on the couch, mouth open and eyes glazed.

Huh.

“YN? Mind if I come in?” Tara’s voice sounds from in front of you. You can’t decipher what the tone is.

“Yeah…yeah of course.” You answer, watching as Tara enters and stands before you.

You can’t handle her intense stare, and you drop your head immediately. Anxiety floods you, heart picking up speed.

You don’t notice her until she’s right in front of you, taking your cheeks in her hands. Stroking, softly.

10 minutes ago she was mad, and now she’s comforting you? This girl and her mixed signals.

“I believe you.” She murmurs, leaning down to press her lips on your cheek. She’s so short that even when you’re sitting down you’re almost the same height.

You don’t want to think about any of this now, you don’t want to think about it ever. You want to tell Tara this, but you can’t bring yourself to speak.

Your throat feels dry, eyes slightly teary.

“So what do we do now?” You whisper.

She continues stroking your face fondly, cradles you in her arms.

“We continue with the plan.” She says, and there’s a sense of finality in it that makes you shiver.

-

They’ve pushed back the date on their plan to capture Ghostface a little bit. Tara won’t admit it, but you know she’s the one who suggested it. She must think you need time to process the sudden father reveal, no doubt.

It’s sweet, but she’s wrong. In fact, right now all you need is a distraction. Something to take your mind off all the racing thoughts through your head, the sense of betrayal you feel.

Maybe I should call my mom.

“Hey. Whatcha thinking bout?” A voice sounds from behind you. It’s Anika, and you send her a soft smile; feeling weirdly glad to be in her company.

“Oh nothing much. Just about how my dad was one of the original Ghostfaces and that we’re literally running straight into danger in a few days.” You say, trying to make your voice sound light and teasing.

Anika seems to pick up on the underlying message, and you hear her sigh a little before speaking.

She rounds the couch to come sit down beside you, a pack of medical supplies in her arms. She splays it across the table and turns back to face you.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like to have a rough family. My parents were…dipshits to say the least.” She says, casually.

Oh.

You try and think of something appropriate to say in response, but your brain seizes up and it goes blank.

“But you don’t have to feel bad for me. I have a new family now.” She continues, smiling at you; genuine crinkles at the tips of her eyes. She pats your back lightly.

“Just so you know, I don’t think you’re the killer. Who cares if your dad is Ghostface? It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened in our friend group. I trust you, really.”

It’s enough to make you teary-eyed again. You look away, hoping she can’t see them.

“Thank you.” You mumble. “That means a lot to me.”

She chuckles warmly before taking you in a hug. You guys don’t say anything the rest of the time she fixes up your wound.

-

“Are you blushing?” Tara asks immediately when Anika leaves the room, footsteps light.

“What? No, I’m not.” You say, running a hand through your hair.

“Did she make you blush?” She’s asking, a teasing smile on her lips.

You frown.

“She just said some very nice things to me, okay?” You huff, cross your arms like a child.

“Aw, baby. You look adorable.” She murmurs, giving you a peck on the lips.

“Are you not jealous?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She brings a finger to her lips and feigns thoughtfulness. Then she smiles wide and takes your lips in a searing kiss.

“No.” She mumbles against them. “Because I know you’re mine. And I can definitely make you do a lot more than blush.”

It’s enough to make you flush completely red. You let out a little whine at her words.

“See?” She’s asking as she leans back, a smirk on her lips. You try and wipe it off by wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another kiss.

She’s not wrong. But you’re not going to admit that. It’s a fatal flaw, really. How easily you relent when it comes to Tara. You’d die for her, you’d kill for her, and she knows it.

“Come on,” She’s whispering. “Let’s go to my room.”

You pull back, amused.

“I don’t think I can even stand and you’re asking me to do what?” You ask pointedly.

She tugs on your shirt, obviously not in the mood to play one of your games right now.

“Then maybe I’ll just take you right here.” She whispers into your ear, laughing as you shiver beneath her.

You gulp, stare at her with big eyes. She crawls forward, leaning her elbows into your sides on instinct.

You can’t help but wince.

It seems to break Tara out of her lustful haze, because now she’s looking at you with worried eyes.

She’s getting up kind of panicky, fiddling with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I should let you sleep.” She says, sort of fast, words tumbling out of her.

You smile at her, grip her hands tight.

“It’s okay, Tara. Although, I do want to hit the hay for a while. Care to join me?” You invite, tugging her closer slightly to make sure she doesn’t leave.

She grins shyly and nods.

“Okay.” She says, biting the inside of her cheek. She’s the cutest with the excitement that radiates off her.

-

When you wake, Tara’s not in your arms anymore. You stir, rubbing your eyes aggressively.

“Tara?” You groan, trying to look around the weirdly dim room for any sign of your girlfriend.

You notice the candles immediately, more than a dozen of them lining the table and making a little pathway to the fireplace.

Your girlfriend appears in front of you now, wearing a little white sundress; one you’d specifically bought for her weeks ago.

She looks so good, you almost start drooling. Like an angel, the way she’s standing and staring at you, playful, excited gaze.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.” She grins, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You question, looking around the room in further inspection.

There are two plates set up quite nicely on the dining table, along with a bottle of champagne and a single flower in the middle.

It’s all so, romantic.

Tara twirls, and gives you a little show of her dress. Then she takes your hand and gently helps you up, leading you to the dining room with her.

“I never got to take you on a date. I think it’s time I return the favor.” She says, nodding along to her sentence; like a reassurance.

“You’re adorable.“ You say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She blushes a little.

“Thank you.” She mumbles.

The smell as you enter the dining room is mouth-watering. You recognize it immediately. It’s your favorite pasta, ravioli with white wine and tomatoes.

Tara’s an amazing cook, you know this already. But the flavors that explode in your mouth when you take a bite out of it are otherworldly.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked.” You speak through stuffed cheeks, eyes wide and happy.

Tara picks up a piece of her own and eats it.

“I didn’t know what to make you, so I called your mom. She said this was your favorite, so I went on youtube and tried to replicate the recipe.” She says, somewhat shyly.

You beam.

“You called my mom?” You ask, teasingly. Boop her on the nose. You celebrate internally when you see her flush red.

“Yeah, it was no biggie. Just a phone call.” She disregards, biting her bottom lip to try and stop the color that’s overtaking her whole face.

She reaches forward to grab another piece of ravioli before she stops short and gasps.

“Oh! I almost forgot to give you these.” Tara says, reaching behind her chair for something. She pulls out a huge bouquet of flowers, filled with your favorites.

You don’t try and hide the surprise in your face, mouth open and gaping.

She slaps your arm lightly at your reaction.

“Hey! I can be romantic too you know.”

You nod sarcastically.

“Oh yeah no doubt no doubt.” You say, taking the bouquet from her hands in favor of bending over the table and kissing her.

“Thank you, baby.” You say against her lips. She smiles wide, scrunching her nose as she pulls back.

“You taste like pasta!” She’s giggling, pushing you back into your chair.

You finish the dinner in record time, and that’s due entirely to how good the meal was. You and Tara sit and talk for a little while before moving to the floor to watch a movie.

Tara’s annoyingly secretive about it, not letting you see whatever she’s setting up. You huff and go grab snacks from the fridge instead.

When you get back it’s to the TV covered, and there’s a small projector at the side shining light on a random bed sheet she’s hung vertically.

“Impressive speed.” You praise.

Tara’s sitting smugly, arms open and inviting you to come sit.

It’s playing 10 Things I Hate About You, one of your all-time favorite movies. You settle down into the spot next to her and sneak a glance over, but she’s already staring at you; hard.

You let out a breath of happiness and pull her closer by the waist. Kiss her on the forehead, murmur against her skin.

“Thank you for this. I needed it.”

She nods into you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“Of course.” She says.

You decide Ghostface can wait, your dad can wait. All that matters right now is Tara. Her and this movie and you.

The only three things that exist in the world.

legally binded - 9

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 9 : Grand Prix and Grand Gestures

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: sorry for the long wait for this new chapter, just enjoying my summer yk! anyways, thanks for your guys' continued support and patience! much love!!

Word Count: 5.6k+

When Jenna stepped out of her room at precisely 4:45 AM, with the early morning sun yet to rise, the last thing she expected to find was the shared kitchen to be a mess. 

Courtesy of you, of course. ‘Cause who else?

“What the hell are you doing to our kitchen?” Jenna croaked out, running a hand against the plastered wall as a guide as she tiredly rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the other. When the blurring in her vision goes away, they settle on you looking… wired, like you’d had three cups of espresso already. 

“Good morning!” You whispered, admiring her messy bedhead with a large toothy smile. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Why?” She asked, voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes as you passed her a steaming mug of coffee without a word causing her to flick a brow up, opting to take a sip instead of questioning it. 

“I’m making you breakfast so you don’t go work hungry, again.” You explained matter-of-factly, turning your back to check on the stove. The younger actress couldn’t stave off her surprise that you’ve noticed her skipping the most important meal of the day. “Now I’m not the best cook. But, I learned a thing or two about making a mean avocado toast, and since you’re vegetarian… it’s really the only thing I can make you.”

Jenna didn’t expect her heart to be racing so early in the morning. Since your talk, the two of you have been more at ease around the other; falling back into that natural banter, every once in a while. But she can’t lie… the friends' agreement has been difficult to follow through with, especially since you’ve started with gestures such as this. 

The younger actress finds she’s started to… allow herself to enjoy these domestic moments with you, knowing that now, feelings are very much reciprocated — just, without a label yet. 

Placing the steaming mug down on the kitchen island, she chose not to comment on how her coffee was made exactly how she liked it. “I appreciate the gesture, Y/N. I hope you didn’t wake up early just to make me breakfast.”

You turned off the stove, took the pan off the burner, and rolled your eyes. “Get off your high horse, I was already up.” Turning around with the pan still in your hand. 

“You were already up or you didn’t go to sleep?” She countered, expression flat.

You smiled sheepishly, “Jet lag is kicking my ass.”

Jenna snorted and watched as you plated the perfectly-browned toast on a dish and spread some avocados on top; garnishing it with the utmost (adorable) concentration on your face before sliding the plate across the island with a small but proud grin. 

“Consider it compliments of the chef,” you send her a playful wink, glancing down. Jenna follows your line of sight, reading the printed words on the apron. 

Kiss the Chef.

She tried to fight the smile creeping on her face but it proved futile when she felt the familiar warmth enveloping her pale morning cheeks. 

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are…” Was the best response the younger actress could trust herself to utter. “When did you even buy that?”

You laughed, picking up your own cup of coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jenna ignored you, electing to take a bite of the toast. She almost felt bad for eating something that you put so much effort towards. But when she takes a bite, she finds herself letting out a muffled moan, making you flush red at the sound. “Holy shit, what did you put in this?”

Plastering a smile, you teased, “it’s a secret.”

“You’re annoying…” Jenna covered her mouth, as she ate. 

“Finish eating or you’ll be late.” You reminded, taking off the apron. The time zone change still messed with your internal body clock, meaning at times, you’d still be up when Jenna awoke for a day of work.

You noted the times she got up and at which of those mornings she managed to eat. After the third day of her waking up late, you decided that the next day you’d be kind and make her a healthy breakfast, knowing it’s often difficult to find time to eat during a busy day of filming. 

“Wait…” Jenna called out before you could leave the kitchen. “What are you doing today?”

You racked your brain; thinking for a moment. “I gotta start packing for Monaco, I leave this Wednesday.”

Jenna remembered you telling her that you’ve been invited to the F1 Grand Prix. She doesn’t really understand the race, but she found your childlike glee over a bunch of cars… endearing. It’s slightly childish that she feels a bit upset by you leaving so suddenly, but these last few weeks have felt blissful ever since your confession. She finds herself wanting to stay in this bubble the two of you have created for as long as she can. “Oh, right…”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing… just wondering ‘cause my family’s actually flying in this weekend,” Jenna admitted, gauging your reaction, noting the way you stood straighter on your feet.

“They are?” 

Jenna hummed. “Yeah, they’re here for a week. They were gonna stay at a hotel but if you’re going to Monaco then…”

You blinked, unsure if you should ask why she didn’t tell you her family was flying in sooner. “Oh yeah, no problem. Listen, it’s your apartment.” 

Jenna rolled her eyes, correcting you, “It’s our apartment. You’re living here too.”

Chuckling, you averted your eyes. “Well, in that case. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Your Spanish needs a bit of work...” But Jenna can’t fight her smile.

“Rude,” laughing, you added, “it’s probably best to skip town though— your family’s probably still mad at me.”

Jenna immediately rounds the counter to stand in front of you, shaking her head in denial. “They’re not mad, Y/N. I already told you.”

You shoot her a grimaced smile, “I know, I’m just joking, but I’m still scared of your sisters… Also, your mom may or may not have texted me about that paparazzi pic of you smoking cigarettes.”

Her brows raised, as her jaw dropped, “she did?”

You hummed in response.

“Fuck…” She grumbled, causing you to laugh. “What did she say?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard from her Instagram stories…” You smirked, enjoying her annoyed scowl. 

“Shut up.”

“Hey, it’ll be alright.” You placed a hand on her shoulder, lightly rubbing it. Ignoring the way she straightened her posture at your touch. “A scolding is probably the most you’ll get out of her.”

“I’m 20 years old, I can do whatever I want.” Dropping your hand, you laughed again.

“You may think you’re grown but she’s always going to be your mom. She’s just looking out for you. Not to mention, she’s a nurse, what'd you expect?” You jest but she rolled her eyes, staring up at you with a slight pout in her frown causing your heart to stop dead in its tracks; desperately trying to stare at her lips for too long. 

Maybe it was the confession, or the ‘clearing the air’ that you two have done. But every touch and look from Jenna feels weighted — in a pleasant way, this time.

She sighed heavily, leaning her hip on the kitchen island. “I know… it’s just embarrassing.”

“At least you know she cares.” You chuckled, patting her shoulder reassuringly before walking off to the living room. 

She ignored the possible meaning behind your words. Although she’d love to dive into the story of your mom and hear it from your account, maybe having that conversation at five o’clock in the morning isn’t the best idea.

“Come on, finish up and go shower. You’re gonna be late.” You called out behind you before plopping on the couch.

“You better wash those dishes…”

“Ugh, later.” You groaned. “I need a nap.”

—

Jenna (2:35 PM): hope you’re having a great time in Monaco 🖤

“Get off your phone…” Tom said before snatching the device right from your hand. 

“Dude…”

“You’re in Monaco with the best cars and drivers in the entire world and you’re glued to your phone – what’re you looking at anyway.” the Brit commented, reading the text before you could stop him. “Aw… how cute, she sent a heart.”

“Shut up. You literally made us late ‘cause you spent all night talking to Z.” Attempting to grab your phone back was futile when he held it out of reach, tossing it to Link who was enjoying this interaction judging by the large grin smacked on his face. 

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom defended but it fell on deaf ears as soon as you saw Link begin to scroll through your past messages with Jenna.

“Link… give it back, I need to respond!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll text her back.” Link winked before typing a response. You immediately leapt out of your seat, plucking your phone out of his grasp but it was too late, he’d already sent the message.

“Thinking about you? Really?” You deadpanned despite the warmth coursing fervently through your cheeks. “You’re such an ass…”

“You’re just mad that I finally said what you were really thinking.” He called out as you walked away, fingers slightly trembling as you hit the call button. You wait a few (agonizingly long) seconds, listening to the line ring.

“Hey…” 

“Oh, hey,” there was some shuffling on the other line, “I was just about to text you back.” 

“About that… sorry about that text, Link was being an asshole and took my phone.” You muttered sheepishly; trembling fingers picking at your trousers to counter the nerves that suddenly overcame you.

“Oh? So you weren’t thinking about me?” Her tone is light and teasing. You paint a mental image of her bright, wide smile that usually accompanied her playful taunts; it sent a flurry of butterflies swarming around in your belly.

You pass it off as a stomach ache from your breakfast this morning.

“Come on…” You trail off, not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, I see how it is…”

“Jenna…” You sighed, dropping your fiddling fingers. “Of course, I was thinking about you.”

The line is silent as Jenna doesn’t respond and suddenly you feel embarrassed at your school-girl-like confession. Though it’s technically only been two days since you left London for Monaco, you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you were to deny the fact that you’ve been thinking about the younger actress since the moment you stepped out of the shared apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Jenna replied in a small voice. Her admittance causes your heart to stop momentarily but what you couldn’t stop, however, was the satisfied smile creeping on your lips.

Was it pathetic that all Jenna had to do was say a simple, cliché sentence to you and you were practically a puddle on the floor? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” 

“Glad we’re on the same page then…” You uttered, glancing around, hoping no one could see your Cheshire grin. Immediately catching Tom and Link at the other end of the balcony making kissing faces at you. You stick up the not-so-nice finger at them before turning your back on the two men, ignoring their blatant and obnoxious laughter, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called.”

Jenna was supposed to be on set working today, you’d hate to interrupt a busy day’s work…. That’s a lie, this phone call was totally worth it.

“Oh no, you didn’t. I’m actually at the apartment.”

“I thought you’d still be on set?”

“Um, about that…” She trails off in a sheepish tone.

“Jen? What’s wrong?” You asked, panic evident.

“I might’ve—uh—injured myself at work today.” She admitted.

“What?! Are you okay? How? Do you need me to come ba—“

“Y/N… breathe.” She interjects your nervous questioning but it merely goes over your head. Your nerves sky-rocketing the longer she doesn’t answer your questions.

“Are you okay?” You repeated what you really needed to know first.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she chuckled, “just a sprained ankle. I twisted it during rehearsal. It’s not a big deal but they sent me home early to rest.”

“Are you icing it? Keeping it elevated? You know what, send me a picture I wanna see if the swelling is bad.” 

Jenna’s laughter doubles. “I’m okay. I promise. Yes, I'm icing it and yes I’m keeping it elevated. You don't have to play doctor. I’ll even send you a picture, just relax.”

“I’m just worried.”

“I know you are.” She said, almost like she was endeared. “But like I said, it’s just a sprained ankle. They gave me crutches, so I’m good.”

“Crutches?! Do I need to come back home?”

Jenna ignored how her heart swooped at the word: home.

“No,” she laughed, “enjoy your time with the boys and your cars. You looked good on that racetrack, you sure being an actress is your calling?”

You rolled your eyes at her choice of timing for a joke, “You know I’ll leave them in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll be on the first flight back.”

On the other end of the line, Jenna is torn between swooning and mentally cursing you for being so sweet. She bit her lip to subdue the smile creeping in, “that’s very sweet, Y/N, but I promise. I’ll be okay, my family’s flying in on Sunday anyway. I’ll be fine until then.”

You sighed unsurely, “Are you sure?” That’s still a few days where she’d have to be alone until someone could help her around the house.

“Yes! Now go, enjoy Monaco. Maybe I’ll even turn on the racing channel or whatever and get a glimpse of you.”

“You did not just say the racing channel…”

“Go!” She laughed and this time, you relent at her assured tone. 

“Fine… but if anything else happens, call me, please?”

“You’ll be the first one to know, I promise.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath hoping to calm your nerves. If Jenna says she’s okay, then you have no reason to go against her wishes. “I’ll text you?”

“Mhmm. Bye, be safe.”

“Bye…” You hang up, dropping the phone from your ear, anxiously tapping it against your other hand as you contemplate your options.

“That was a long call,” Link swung his arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side. “You already miss your girl? It’s only been a day.”

“Quit it. She’s not my girl.” You back-hand him squarely on the stomach causing him to heave out a rough, pained puff. The satisfaction of seeing your best friend in pain was a dull noise in the background of your restless thoughts. “She injured herself on set, I was just making sure she’s okay.”

You chewed on your lip nervously, ignoring Link’s probing eyes as he scanned your faraway look.

“Is it serious?”

“No, just a sprained ankle.”

Link continued to observe you; seeing straight through you. An amused smile painted itself squarely on his lips. “... you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” 

—

“What the— I told you to stay. What are you doing here?”

“And I told you to send me a picture of your sprain.”

Jenna frowned, closely watching as you slipped the duffle bag off your shoulders; landing on the hardwood with a loud thud. 

“Get back on the couch. You shouldn’t be walking.” You ordered, briefly scanning her head-to-toe and letting out a concealed sigh of relief that her ankle didn’t seem too bad. 

“I’m injured, not crippled.” She replied unamused. You meet her eyes, mimicking her expression until the brunette realized you’re not backing down. “Fine…”

“Let me help you.” You stepped forward, taking a closer look at her injury. Her left ankle was covered in a compression wrap as she hobbled around with a single crutch. 

“I’m fine.”

“Jenna, let me help.” You said in a serious tone, not backing down.

She rolled her eyes, slowly turning around with her crutch to walk back to the living room, hoping you missed her rosy cheeks. She ignored the intense thudding in her chest as you walked together. The thought of you leaving a trip that obviously meant a lot to you, sent the younger actress’ heart into a frenzy. 

“What are doing here?” The younger actress asked again once she was comfortably seated on the sofa.

You took a seat beside her, “I was worried.”

“I told you I was fine, you’re acting like I’m on my deathbed.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the pillow behind you and placed it between you and Jenna. Scooting back, to gesture for her to rest the injured ankle on the pillow. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed the race knowing that you’re back in London with an injury… so, I left.”

Jenna stayed silent, not trusting herself to say what she was really feeling. So she opted to stare as you examined her wrapped ankle, seemingly satisfied that her injury wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

“I’m just trying to be a good friend… and roommate.” You joked, grabbing the discarded remote off the coffee table. Ignoring the way your skin burned the longer she stared at you unspeaking.

Jenna snorted at your words, grabbing the pillow behind her and playfully lunging it at you. You caught the feeble attempt. “Right, roommate.”

You laughed at the tone that accompanied her words, “how did you hurt yourself, anyway?”

If Jenna’s cheeks turned any rosier, she’d be the human embodiment of a tomato. It was embarrassing, really and she blames Aliyah for sending that video. 

She might’ve been too distracted watching a clip of you and Tom walking along the racetrack, waving to the crowd. As luck would have it, she was supposed to be rehearsing for a scene, walking over to her next marking. However, one misstep over a wire sent her ankle twisting in an abnormal way. “I wasn’t paying attention to the marking on the floor and I tripped over a loose wire.”

Jenna was definitely not going to tell you the truth. You’d never let her hear the end of it.

You sent her a questioning look, “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad.”

“Is it too late for you to go back to Monaco? She joked, straight-faced.

“I’m kidding, of course, I feel bad.“ You settled back into a comfortable position.

“How did you get back so fast?” She inquired.

“It’s only a two-hour flight.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jenna noted that you were on the phone merely two and a half hours ago. “You got through security that fast?”

You blush red.

As soon as the jet landed on the tarmac and the seatbelt lights turned off, you were posted by the doors; impatiently tapping your foot on the floor.

“Miss L/N, your driver is waiting just outside.” The flight attendant alerted you. You nodded, sending a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.”

When the doors opened and the stairs hit the pavement, you were already rushing down the steps, making eye contact with the driver.

“Miss, I can take your bags.”

“That’s alright.” You tossed them in the back seat before shutting the doors. “How fast can you get back to the apartment?”

“GPS says 45 minutes but there is heavy traffic on the highway.” 

“I’ll drive.” You held your hand out. He looked unsure before seeing that you were not playing around, swiftly handing the keys over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You made sure to tip the man handsomely after noticing his white-knuckle grip on the grab handles as you maneuvered through said traffic.

“Uh yeah and I got lucky, no traffic. Anyways….wanna watch Breaking Bad? Unless you finished it already, in that case, we can watch something else.” You changed the subject, Jenna didn’t need to know how you drove that SUV like it was a race car and broke multiple speeding laws just to get here.

“No, Breaking Bad is good. I haven’t watched it since we were at my parents' house.”

You turn, evidently surprised that she kept your unspoken promise. Trying to hide your growing smile, you face the TV again before the staring becomes too obvious.

“Me too.”

—

“Are you sure you’re fine to go to work today? It’s only been like, a day.”

It’s Sunday morning, too early for anyone to be awake. With the sky still covered in a blanket of darkness, you tiredly lean against the wall, trying your best to string coherent words together as you reason with Jenna, who lightly limped around the large room as she gets ready for work.

“Technically, it’s been two.” She glanced at you momentarily. “I don’t want to delay production.” 

“Jenna, you're injured. They can get a stand-in or just not film your scenes today.” You argued. Having had your fair share of on-set injuries, you knew that a major film could afford to delay filming for the sake of an injury. This was merely Jenna’s workaholic tendencies making her feel that she couldn’t stop working. “They can and should accommodate for you, Jenna.”

At your gruffed tone, Jenna dropped what she was looking for, walking over to stand in front of you. “Hey…”

You glanced at your hands, ignoring her soft tone. “Look at me, please?”

Jenna grabbed your hand, drawing your attention to her. “I’ll be okay. If my ankle starts to bother me, I’ll let the director know.”

“You promise?” You asked, glancing down when she started rubbing soft lines against your skin.

“I promise.” She squeezed for good measure.

You studied her soft gaze, attentive to the assured glimmer behind them. Letting out a sigh, you pushed your worries aside. “Okay.”

She smiled at your obvious concern, dropping your hand to walk back to the living room. 

You try not to draw attention to the way your fingers twitched at the loss of contact. “By the way, my family will be here at noon. Are you good to be alone with them while I’m at work?”

“Yeah… I think I’ll be fine.” To distract yourself, you walked off to the kitchen, grabbing a mug for your morning coffee; allowing a gentle silence to envelop the room as Jenna hobbled  around, gathering her things.

“Crap!” Jenna suddenly said, emerging out of her room.

“What?” You turned, slightly startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to set up the guest bedroom for them.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders dropped. “I already did it, don’t worry.”

Her brows raised, “you called the housekeeper already?”

“No. I did it myself. We don’t need him.”

Jenna seemed surprised if the raised brows were anything to go by. It was amusing truly, but you elected to stay silent, turning back to make your coffee.

“Thank you…” She finally said.

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged, “If you want, I can pick up your family at the airport too. Heathrow is a bitch to navigate.”

Jenna didn’t respond, just staring at your back from her spot in the living room. You were unaware of her internal turmoil.

“Jen?” You turned around when you realized she didn’t reply; just staring at you with an unwavering intensity. “Jenna?”

“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “What did you say?”

“I said I can pick up your family from the airport.” You sipped on the steaming mug, a single brow flicking upright in question.

“Oh–uh, no. T-That’s alright, I’m sending a car over to pick them up.” She stuttered pathetically; grateful that the dim lights from the lamp in the corner of the room did well to hide the crimson rising over her neck. “You shouldn’t be seen at Heathrow. You might get spotted.”

“I can wear a disguise.” You thought out loud.

Jenna snorted, pushing away her inner strife. “Oh yeah? Like what, a baseball hat and sunglasses?”

“Hey, it works!” You defended. “Not everyone can just blend in with their height.”

“Was that a short joke?” Jenna arched a sharp brow.

“Nope.” You stood wide-eyed. “Oh hey, I just remembered I left something in my room. Okay. Bye. Have a good day at work.”

Jenna laughed as you scurried off to your bedroom, glad that she hasn’t lost her edge with you.

—

“I can’t believe you cancelled on the driver.” 

The younger actress said as soon as you swung the front door open. Faintly, she can hear the familiar sounds of laughter farther into the apartment. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You act like that’s a new fact.” You snicker, a pleased smile plastered on your lips. “I’d like an apology by the way. The disguise worked perfectly — just like I said it would.”

“You’re too much sometimes.” She shook her head, stepping into the hall. 

“In the best way, though. Right?” You asked, letting her in.

“If it helps you sleep better.” Jenna shrugged, chucking her work bag on the side table.

“Now look who’s being stubborn.” You replied with a knowing smile.  “Go say hi and then wash up. Natalie and I are making dinner.”

She raised her brows in surprise as you walked away. Her footsteps falter when she walks into the living room. Gaze instantly landing on her sisters and Dad lounging on the couch, in the corner of her eyes to her mom who was chopping up vegetables on the kitchen island. 

“Hey, guys…” She said slowly, still taking the scene in front of her.

“Jen!” Mia sprung up from her seat and tugged her sister into a tight hug. 

One by one, Aliyah, her dad and her mom sauntered over to greet and fret over her. Sentiments of I miss you, echoing in the vast apartment.

“It’s good to see you, honey.” Her mom said with a smile. “I hope you’ve been taking care of that ankle.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her Mom’s fretting but nodded reassuringly. “I’m okay, Mom. Y/N’s been helping me.”

“So I’ve heard.” She winked, walking away.

“Uh– you guys made yourselves comfortable…” Jenna cleared her throat as she watched how her mom swiftly walked back to the kitchen where you were leaning against the island, observing her family with a small smile.

“Y/N said to make yourselves at home. Blame her.” Aliyah said, tugging her onto the couch. “How’s filming been? How’s working with Winona Ryder, tell me everything!”

“Great uh–what’s for dinner?” Was the first question the actress asked, too distracted by watching your concentrated expression. The slight scrunch in your forehead as you closely listened to her mom’s instructions was more interesting than what her sister was asking her.

“Mom’s teaching her how to make frijoles.” Mia smirked at her sister’s doe-eyed look. 

“Oh…” Jenna replied with a vacant tone. “Sounds good.”

“Do you have any pictures in your wardrobe—“

“Why frijoles?” She added, interrupting Aliyah when she tried to spark another series of questions.

“Y/N heard it was one of your favourites, said she wanted to learn how to make it for you.” Mia replied, her tone smug.

“She did?” Jenna’s brow raised, still unable to look away from you. 

“I think we lost her,” Aliyah sighed to Mia, giving up on having her questions answered.

Jenna rolled her eyes when her sisters burst into laughter, blinking back to reality. “Shut up. What were you saying?” 

She forced herself to look away and give her undivided attention to her sisters. Pretending not to notice as you kept glancing at her from the kitchen.

—

“Wow this looks amazing, are you sure you helped, Y/N?” Aliyah teased from the dining table.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.” You mocked, walking over with a bowl of guacamole, placing it at the centre of the table. “Wait ‘till you try my guac.”

“I always make the that.” Jenna trailed off, sneaking a peek at the bowl.

“I know.” You took your seat beside her. “Your mom showed me how you like to make it. I hope it’s close.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that…” She reached for a chip and dipped a large chunk into the green goodness. You watched intently for a reaction but she gave you none; continuing to chew on. 

“It’s good.” She finally says.

“That’s it?”

“What? I said it’s good.” Jenna laughed at your sullen expression; almost feeling bad. Once your bottom lip popped out in disappointment, she dropped her act, reaching for your arm and squeezing it. “I’m kidding. It’s great, it tastes exactly how I make it back home… but you know, you can’t beat the original.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You repeated her words.

Before Jenna can reply with a quip, her mom walked over with the last bowl of food, disrupting your conversation. But it was all forgotten when the younger actress’ nose welcomed the familiar scent of all of her favourite dishes. She enthusiastically eyed the various dishes scattered on the table, not having had her family’s cooking in what felt like forever. Living with you wasn’t bad – actually, it’s been more than great, but you were serious when you said you lacked skills in the kitchen. That resulted in dinners mostly being take-out these days.

“Have you tried frijoles before?” Jenna asked you. 

“Uh–no.” You blushed. “I actually didn’t even know they were beans until today.”

“You’ll love it.” She grinned, reaching over to plate you a generous helping. You refused to tell her that you didn’t necessarily love beans because her excited expression overpowered any dislike you had for the legume.

—

“You’re still up?” You called out after a brief glance, the pitter-patter of light footsteps coming down the hall, alerting you of her presence.

“Mhm, I heard the clanking of dishes from my room.” She replied, leaning against the counter, watching as you dried off the dishes one by one. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry. I’ll keep it down.” You grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d unload the dishes.”

“It’s okay, I’m actually not too tired too.” She stepped forward, only an arm’s length away from you. “Can I help?”

Wordlessly, you passed her a dry cloth and a bowl from the dishwasher. For a while, silence enveloped the room. You were grateful that you and the brunette can exist in silence, sometimes. Her mere presence provided a certain level of comfort that you’re still trying to get used to.

“So…” She spoke up after a few minutes, gaining your attention. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh.”

You raise an amused brow at the baiting look in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jenna would’ve believed that statement if it weren’t for the small smile at the corner of your lips telling her otherwise.

“Right… so, you just pick up all your friends’ parents from the airport and do chores, willingly.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” You shrugged, continuing to wipe away remnants of water from the plate. Hoping the mundane action hid your trembling fingers well.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yup.”

“So this isn’t you trying to win me over?”

“Me try to win you over? Whaaat?” You puffed out an airy scoff, “that’s ridiculous. I would never. I wholeheartedly respect your decision.” 

But the crinkle in your eyes told her that you were enjoying this way too much.

“Sure…” Jenna rolled her eyes, “even if you are just doing this out of the kindness of your own heart—“

“Which, I am.”

Jenna sends a playful glower at your interruption. 

“Just wanted to put that on record.” You added.

“Thank you.” Jenna declared, her tone soft yet serious. “You’ve been incredible these last few days.”

“Oh.” You blink, a pleased smile plastered on your face. “You’re welcome, Jen. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” The bowl and cloth in her hands were long forgotten on the counter as she closed the distance between you. “No one’s ever done any of… this, for me—thank you.”

The air feels charged as she suddenly looks at you with that doe-eyed stare. Feeling like your heart rate instantly doubles, the longer she stares at you like that.

“What? Be nice?” You said evenly, “You need to set your standards higher.”

She huffed at your antics. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” you laughed shakily, trying to gather some semblance of control over your racing pulse. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, Jen… cause I’d do anything for you.”

She blinked, voice caught in her throat she took in the serious glint in your eyes; voice dripping with conviction 

“And this isn’t me, trying to win you over. You’ll know when I do.”

The younger actress’ body feels like it’s on fire the longer she listens to your words. 

“Uh, sorry, too much?” You said apologetically when she remained unspeaking. 

But Jenna was already shaking her head, a faraway look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“No…” She murmured, her sight drifting down to your lips before they flicker back up to your eyes. “Not at all.”

“Okay…” Your gaze bore intently into hers, waiting to see if she’ll make the first move. “Good.”

For a brief moment, her eyes flicker back down for a second time but then she’s blinking out of her self-induced stupor, “um–I should go to sleep. I need to be up early.” Jenna hoped her ogling on your soft lips wasn’t too obvious. 

She steps back and almost instantaneously, the tension in the room dissipates with each movement she takes. 

You nod, smiling softly despite the slight tinge of disappointment you felt; knowing that you shouldn’t rush into this with her. “Good idea, you should rest your ankle… good night, Jenna.”

Just before you turned back to grab the discarded dry cloth, Jenna takes a hesitant step—before she can lose her nerve and leaned up to plant her lips on the pad of your cheek.

Your brain felt like it short-circuited; not having felt her lips in forever as your skin burned against the delicate contact.

“Good night, Y/N.” She whispered, her soft lips grazing your cheek in a way that drove you crazy.

Before your brain could rewire itself well enough to for a response, Jenna was already turning around to retreat back to her room.

Biting your lip to contain the growing smile, you couldn’t look away from her figure until she disappeared behind the door.

Shit…

You’re in deeper than you thought.

——

if there was any mistakes… look away (i tried my best 🧍‍♀️)

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WHO LIVES, WHO DIES, WHO TELLS YOUR STORY CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Who Lives, Who Dies Who Tells Your Story

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader get into an accident that leaves Natasha in critical condition. When she wakes up, it’s revealed that she has amnesia and doesn’t remember her life, her wife, or her children.

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Follow my update page @natsxaddiction2

W/C:7K

Natasha strode purposefully through the winding hallways of the Avengers Compound. The place was empty as she was learning was the norm for this time of day. She was anticipating your arrival at the compound at any minute. Today, she opted for a laid-back outfit. She wore a pair of well-worn, fitted jeans that hugged her curves, and a simple, loose-fitting black t-shirt graced her upper body, its fabric soft and comfortable against her skin. Rolled-up sleeves hinted at her toned arms, a testament to her strength and agility. When she picked her clothing, she thought of something relaxing and flexible enough to run around with two children for the entire weekend. 

 As she turned a corner, her brisk pace led to an accidental collision with another person.

"Sorry, I wasn't..." Natasha's words trailed off as she took in the person she had bumped into. It was Melina. Melina regarded Natasha with a mixture of surprise and concern.

"Natasha? You’re still here?" Melina's voice held a hint of disbelief.

Natasha's heart skipped a beat, and she struggled to compose herself, avoiding direct eye contact. "Melina... I didn't expect to see you here," she responded, her voice tinged with guarded caution.

Melina's gaze softened, and she took a step closer. "I heard you were staying. I wanted to see you and talk to you," she said softly, her concern evident.

Nervously, Natasha scanned the empty hallway, searching for a means of escape. However, before she could make her getaway, a familiar voice reached her ears.

"Natasha! There you are!" The voice belonged to Alexei. As he rounded the corner, a broad smile spread across his face. His eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm.

"It's so good to see you, my little spy! How have you been?" Alexei's excitement was palpable, his joy at Natasha's presence unfeigned.

"Natasha, we've been wanting to talk..." Melina's voice carried a note of vulnerability, her words carefully chosen.

Natasha's eyes flickered with a mixture of resistance and uncertainty. The years of abandonment had left wounds that still ached within her, and she remained guarded, unsure of where she stood with them. The recent amnesia that had clouded her memories further complicated the already tangled threads of their relationship.

Seeking a chance to bridge the gap between them, Melina stepped forward, her voice infused with earnestness. "Please, Natasha, we've missed you. Can we just have a few minutes of your time?"

Natasha felt her resolve waver, a momentary glimpse of vulnerability breaking through her facade. The weight of their absence and the pain it had caused still lingered, but just as she teetered on the possibility of opening up, a car pulled up outside the compound.

In an instant, the jovial laughter of her daughter, floated through the air, accompanied by the sound of car doors slamming shut. Natasha's eyes widened with surprise, a wave of relief and joy washing over her conflicted heart.

"Excuse me for a moment," Natasha uttered softly, her voice laced with a newfound sense of purpose.

With determination shining in her eyes, Natasha pivoted on her heels and briskly strode toward the source of the commotion. Melina and Alexei watched her retreating figure, their brows furrowed with concern and uncertainty, feeling the opportunity for connection slipping away like sand through their fingers.

“She will come when she’s ready,” Alexei murmured to Melina as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. 

Left standing alone in the hallway, their longing to rebuild the fractured bond with their daughter remained unfulfilled, the ache of missed chances hanging heavily in the air.

*************************

Outside, a light dusting of snow covered the grounds of the Avengers Compound as Natasha stood at the entrance, eagerly anticipating your exit from the car. It had been a couple of weeks since their last visit, and now it was Natasha's turn to spend the weekend with them, just the three of them together.

Natasha's eyes lit up with warmth and anticipation, as you emerged from the driver's seat, carefully unstrapping Lily from her car seat with practiced ease. Olivia, a vibrant bundle of energy, followed closely behind, her tiny boots making a muffled thud on the snowy ground.

Olivia's excitement bubbled over as she spotted Natasha standing there, her face breaking into a wide grin. She bounded toward Natasha, her enthusiasm evident in every step.

"Mama! Hi, Mama!" Olivia exclaimed, her voice filled with glee.

Natasha crouched down, her arms open wide, ready to embrace the little whirlwind of energy. "Hello, Olivia! I've missed you so much," Natasha replied, her voice laced with genuine affection.

But just as Olivia reached Natasha, her little boots slipped on the icy ground. In an instant, you who had been right behind her, reacted with lightning speed, catching Olivia before she fell. You hiked Lily higher on your hip as you helped Oliva to stand up correctly. 

"Whoa there, let’s calm down a little," You said with a chuckle, steadying Olivia and lifting her safely back onto her feet.

Olivia giggled, her wide eyes shimmering with a mixture of excitement and relief. "Thanks, Mommy," she said, her voice filled with adoration.

You grinned, ruffling Olivia's hair affectionately. "You're welcome, my brave girl," you replied, only letting her go wehn you’re sure she’s going to behave. 

With Olivia now secure, Natasha rose to her feet, her heart filled with warmth at the sight of the little family she had come to cherish.  The atmosphere quickly changed, holding a hint of tension, akin to a custody trade-off, as you approached, carrying the diaper bags and backpack.

You handed the bags to Natasha without a word, your gaze momentarily meeting Natasha's before diverting your attention to the excited children. Lily cooed softly in your arms, seemingly unfazed by the subtle awkwardness that hung in the air.

Olivia tugged at Natasha's coat, vying for her attention. "Mama, look! I want to make a snowman!" she exclaimed, pointing to the piles of snow covering the usual green fields. 

Natasha smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with affection. "How about later? We can do whatever you want this weekend," she suggested, momentarily distracted from the underlying tension.

As Olivia continued to chatter excitedly, Natasha seized the moment to break the silence. She turned to you her voice filled with genuine curiosity. "So, what do you have planned for the day? Do you need to get back home soon?" Natasha asked, attempting to navigate the unspoken uncertainties between you.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. You searched Natasha's face, attempting to discern her true intentions. Finally, you responded, your voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. "I don't have any specific plans. Why do you ask?"

Natasha's features softened her genuine concern for you evident. "I just want to make sure everything is going well for you," she replied, her words filled with a mixture of empathy and genuine care.

Your guarded demeanor melted slightly, revealing a glimmer of vulnerability. "I appreciate your concern, Natasha," she responded softly, her voice tinged with a trace of longing. “I have a thing with Theresa and her daughter later on today.”

“Right, Theresa,” Natasha didn’t like how the name sounded on her tongue at the moment. 

“Well,” You passed Lily over to her, the toddler bouncing excitedly in her arms, as she was finally in her Mama’s arms. “I’m going to go and say hi to Wanda before I head back out.” 

“Right,” Natasha nods. She definitely understands this level of cordiality is all you can give at the moment. She turns her attention back to the girls. It’s best to get them inside before they freeze. You step around them, heading for Wanda’s suite on the other side of the building. 

Balancing Lily in her arms and clutching the diaper bags and backpack, Natasha made her way back toward her suite. Olivia, the little chatterbox, trailed closely behind, her voice filled with an incessant stream of words about her daily activities at home.

Olivia's excitement spilled forth, as she animatedly described playing with her toys, her favorite meals, and the cartoons she loved watching on TV. Natasha listened attentively, her attention divided between Olivia's animated tales and the task of managing everything in her arms.

As they walked, Natasha's injured arm twinged, a subtle reminder of her own vulnerability. She juggled the bags, trying to find a comfortable grip, but her attention was divided, making the task more challenging than it should have been.

Olivia, unaware of Natasha's distraction, continued her lively narration. "And you know what, Mama? Mommy took us to Target! It's my favorite store ever! We got new toys and snacks. Can we go to Target too?"

Natasha's lips curled into a gentle smile, finding comfort in Olivia's innocent enthusiasm. "That sounds like a lot of fun, Olivia," she replied, her voice warm and affectionate.

They reached the entrance to Natasha's suite, and she carefully set the bags down, momentarily relieved of their weight. Lily gurgled contentedly, her tiny fingers reaching out toward Olivia.

Natasha turned her attention fully to Olivia, crouching down to her level, her injured arm cradling Lily securely. "Olivia, I would love to take you to Target sometime. Let’s get inside first then we can plan," she said, her voice filled with genuine affection.

Olivia's eyes lit up with joy, her excitement practically tangible. “I like planning!!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

Natasha's heart swelled with tenderness, her momentary distraction replaced by a shared connection with Olivia. Natasha entered her suite, carefully cradling Lily in her arms and setting down the bags. Olivia, her curiosity unyielding, gazed up at Natasha with wide eyes.

"Is Mommy going to stay here too?" Olivia asked, her voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

Natasha knelt down, meeting Olivia's gaze with a gentle yet firm expression. "No, sweetheart. It's just you, me, and Lily for the weekend," she explained, her voice laced with both tenderness and honesty. "We'll have a special time together, just like we used to."

Olivia's face fell slightly, her disappointment evident. "But I like all of us together," she murmured, her voice low and sad.”Like at home.”

Natasha's heart ached at the complexity of the situation, torn between nurturing Olivia's desire for connection and protecting her from the intricacies of the situation. She reached out, gently placing a hand on Olivia's shoulder.

"I know you miss it, Olivia. It's okay to feel that way," Natasha reassured her, her voice soft and comforting. "We'll make the most of our time together. I promise."

Olivia's expression brightened slightly, a sense of trust and understanding shining through. She leaned into Natasha's touch, finding comfort in her warm embrace.

"Now," Natasha continued, her voice brightening with anticipation, "We have the whole day ahead of us. What activity would you like to do? We can go on a nature walk though it’s very cold outside, play with your dolls, or even have a tea party."

Olivia's eyes widened with excitement, her mind racing with possibilities. "Can we build a giant fort, Mama? And then have a tea party inside?" she suggested.

Natasha grinned, her own excitement mirroring Olivia's. "That’s actually a good idea. Let me find everything and we can start."

As Natasha and Olivia began to gather supplies, laughter filled the air, replacing any lingering uncertainty with a shared sense of adventure. In that moment, Natasha's heart swelled with gratitude for the opportunity to create lasting memories and provide a sense of stability and love for the two little girls in her care.

**********

You made your way to Wanda's suite, the corridors of the Avengers Compound a familiar path. As you approached, you could hear the melodious strumming of a guitar. You knocked on the door a few times, patiently waiting for her to answer. Wanda engrossed in her music, paused as she noticed your arrival.

"Hey, y/n! Come on in," Wanda greeted, setting the guitar aside. She wore a warm smile, grateful for the company. It had been a while since you both had a chance to catch up.

You settled into a nearby chair, scanning your surroundings. There was much to discuss, so many unspoken thoughts and reservations.

“I can feel your judgment from here,” Wanda rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not judging,” You argue. “The place simply looks interesting.” If by interesting you mean cluttered. Wanda seemed to have a never-ending pile of books on her coffee table, laundry everywhere, and even a chest full of clothes on the other side of the room. This could only mean she has a busy mind at the moment. 

“Mhmm,” Wanda hums. "So, what's been going on?" She asked.

You hesitated for a moment, choosing your words carefully. "Things have been... complicated. Natasha and I are still trying to navigate our relationship. It's not easy."

Wanda's eyebrows furrowed slightly, her expression hinting at a lingering skepticism. "She actually apologized to me, you know," she remarked, her voice softening. "Said she was sorry for everything that happened."

A flicker of surprise crossed your features, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected admission. It was nice to hear that Natasha had taken a step towards reconciliation. However, the wariness within you still held firm.

"That's... good," you replied cautiously, your voice filled with a mix of appreciation and wariness. "But forgiveness and trust take time, Wanda. I can't simply forget everything that happened."

Wanda's eyes held a glimmer of understanding, her voice gentle. "I know, y/n.Trust me.  It's just... after everything, it's hard to trust her completely. I'm still trying to find my way through it all."

You nodded in agreement, grateful for Wanda's unwavering support. "I understand. And I know it's not easy. But we have to remember that Natasha went through amnesia. She doesn't remember a lot of what happened. It's a process for her too."

Wanda's expression softened a subtle shift in her perspective. She leaned back in her chair, absorbing your words. "You're right. It’s not her fault. She could be a bit nicer about it.” Wanda shook her head. “Where are the babies?”

“With her,” You answered. “Probably driving her nuts like they’d done to me. Do you know, for the past week Lily refused to sleep for more than an hour? I’m deprived.”

“Tough,” Wanda grinned. “I’ve always liked you as a mom. You’re so much more easygoing in that realm of things.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” You sigh. 

You leaned back in the comfortable chair, the weariness of the past weeks weighing heavily on your shoulders. Your mind wandered, and in a moment of quiet surrender, you let out a soft sigh, muttering a phrase in Sokovian.

"U ležérk sa," You murmured the words a testament to your exhaustion.

Wanda's eyes widened, a smile dancing at the corners of her lips. "Ah. Feeling a bit tired, y/n?” she teased, her voice filled with gentle amusement.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, grateful for the levity she brought into the room. “Tired is an understatement,” You shake your head. “Let me hear you play.”

Wanda nods, a sheepish grin on her face, as she picks up her guitar again. As her fingers ran over the strings, she was transported to another place. You could see in her eyes the love she had for music. It was certainly a sight to see as you melted into the cushions of your chair. For now, you’d allow yourself this moment of respite. 

*******************

Natasha sat at the kitchen table, a high chair beside her where Lily was comfortably seated. A plate of small sliced fruits lay before Lily, an array of vibrant colors that captured her attention. Olivia stood beside Natasha, eager to contribute to the lunchtime activities.

Lily's big, curious eyes met Natasha's gaze as she pointed at each piece of fruit, her tiny hand reaching out inquisitively. "What ?" Lily signed, her hands moving with rapid succession as she held each one up. 

Natasha mirrored the sign for "apple," her voice accompanying the gesture. "This is an apple, Lily," she explained, enunciating each word clearly. "Apple," she repeated, emphasizing the spoken word as well.

Lily's face lit up, her own small hands attempting to mimic the sign. "Apple," she echoed, her voice sweet and melodic. 

As Natasha dedicated her attention to Lily, she also kept a watchful eye on Olivia, who was eager to contribute to the lunchtime preparations. Olivia's face scrunched up with concentration, her young mind working to form her request.

"I know!" Olivia exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "Let's make a sam-wich!" The mispronunciation of the word "sandwich" made Natasha's heart swell with adoration.

Natasha smiled warmly, her enthusiasm mirroring Olivia's. "That's a great idea, Olivia," she replied, her voice brimming with encouragement. "We can make sandwiches together.”

“Yeah, and maybe, um, maybe Mommy will eat sam-wich with us,” Olivia pondered as she walked over to the counter. She stood on a step stool, patiently waiting for Natasha’s next move. 

Olivia's eyes sparkled with hope, her imagination already painting a picture of a shared meal. 

As Natasha rose from her seat, she carried Lily's high chair to the counter, ensuring she was within sight while they busied themselves with the lunch preparations. She signed to Lily, explaining the process, while also speaking aloud to include her in the conversation.

The kitchen came alive with activity as Natasha and Olivia worked side by side, assembling sandwiches with love and care. The sandwiches in question were ham and cheese paninis that Olivia claimed to be her favorite. Olivia's pride shone through as she presented each creation to Lily, eagerly describing the ingredients with a charming mixture of toddler babble and enthusiasm.

The kitchen buzzed with activity as Natasha and Olivia prepared the sandwiches, their laughter filling the air. As you passed by, Olivia's bright eyes locked onto you, her excitement uncontainable. She jumped from the stool, calling out your name as she approached you.  She tugged at your hand, practically dragging you towards the kitchen.

"Mommy, come eat with us, please!" Olivia pleaded, her voice filled with anticipation and hope.

Your initial reluctance lingered, uncertainty etching your features as you glanced between Natasha and the children. But Olivia's infectious enthusiasm slowly eroded your hesitation.

"Alright," You relented, a soft smile forming on your lips. "I'll join you for lunch."

Hand in hand with Olivia, you entered the kitchen, the atmosphere shifting as you took a seat at the table. Natasha greeted you with surprising warmth, gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable.

As you settled down, the room filled with the joyful babbling and animated conversations of the children. Olivia's voice bubbled over with excitement as she talked about any and everything that was on her mind. 

Olivia, her face beaming with excitement, sat at the kitchen table between you, her tiny hands clasped together. She looked like a little business lady as she spoke. The remnants of her lunch scattered across the table as she began to share her thoughts.

“Mommy and Mama, I love being here with you!” Olivia said seriously. 

“We love being here with you too, Olivia. What do you enjoy the most about being at the compound?” Natasha prompted with a smile. 

“I like... I like everything! We play and have fun! And we go on adventures!” Olivia listed. 

“There are a lot of exciting things to do here.” You agree.

“And you get to meet other friends too, right? Like Wanda and the others?”

“Oh, yes! I play with Wanda and other friends. We have so much fun!” Olivia bit into the last piece of her panini. 

“This sandwich is really good. How’d you know it was my favorite?” You ask. You look between Natasha and Olivia. 

“It was my idea. Well, Olivia wanted sandwiches but I decided to go for these,” Natasha shrugs. “I didn’t know they were your favorite. That’s good to know.”

You nod. You don’t want to think that it’s her consciously remembering but you can’t help it.   

The atmosphere at the table grew heavy with an awkward silence, and you exchanged uncertain glances with Natasha. The tension between you was still apparent, and it’s quite difficult trying to make that connection when you don’t know how Natasha is going to react. So far, she’s been decent. Reserved. Maybe she’s tired of all the fighting too. Maybe she’s finally happy you left her alone. 

It was in this tense moment that Lily made her desires known. With her tiny hands, she signed the word for milk, her eyes pleading. Natasha's eyebrows furrowed slightly, a flicker of unease crossing her features. You could see she felt out of her element, unsure of how to respond.

But despite the lingering tension, Natasha recognized the importance of nurturing the bond with Lily. Softly, she responded to Lily's plea.

"Okay, Lily," Natasha whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "Up we go."

As you observed this exchange, a surge of gratitude and sincerity washed over you. You leaned towards Natasha, a genuine appreciation in your voice.

"Natasha, I appreciate you stepping up despite everything that’s going on, "You confessed. Her eyes flashed to yours briefly. “You’re doing a great job with them.” 

Your eyes met, a mix of vulnerability and determination shining through. Natasha nodded, acknowledging the significance of the moment, and carefully scooped Lily into her arms. A sense of tenderness enveloped the room as she unbuttoned her top and began to nurse, momentarily soothing the lingering awkwardness.

As Lily nursed, the tension began to dissipate, making way for a gentler atmosphere. In this vulnerable exchange, a flicker of hope sparked, promising the potential for healing and growth.

This weekend would be the second time she’s kept the girls since coming back to the compound. She’s been able to explore what life is like on her own. She understands the needs of her family at this time and she feels she’s making progress. She feels lighter as she nurses Lily, aware of your eyes on her as she continues. She hopes she’s doing the right thing. 

**********************************

You stepped into the quietness of your home, feeling the weight of the solitude settle around you like a heavy shroud. It had been hours since the vibrant laughter of Olivia and Lily filled the air, and the absence of their energy left a noticeable void.

As you moved through the familiar spaces, the toys scattered across the floor caught your eye, a bittersweet reminder of the joyful chaos that once defined your home. The stillness now seemed to echo with their absence, making the emptiness all the more heartbreaking. You know it’s only temporary. It’s just a weekend. As a mother, you should be jumping with joy for a moment alone. You feel the complete opposite. Being alone means you have more time to think. You have more time to ruminate and dwell on things you’ve pushed down. 

Yelena, having chosen to distance herself from Natasha for the time being, had left you alone to navigate your own desires. Yelena was a girl that loved her. She felt things for people, she often didn’t want to, and surprisingly this change was a lot for her. So she did what she needed to. She’d left Fanny to you while taking another top secret mission she wouldn’t tell you about. While you respected her decision, you couldn't help but feel a sense of longing without the connection that Natasha and the girls brought into your life.

Sinking into a comfortable chair, you pondered the possibilities that lay before you. With the freedom to do as you please, your mind wandered through the choices. You could lose yourself in the pages of a captivating book, immersing yourself in stories that whisked you away to different worlds. Or maybe you could indulge in a favorite hobby, finding solace and purpose in the familiar activities that brought you joy.

Yet, as you sat in the quiet of your home, your heart yearned for something more. It craved the noise and laughter, the chaos and love that filled the space when Natasha and the girls were present. The absence of their vibrant energy left you longing for the connection and the shared moments that had become the highlight of your days.

Taking out your phone, you sent a message to Theresa to cancel for the night. You’re not truly in the mood for guests. You settled into the comfort of the chair, allowing the weight of solitude to envelop you.  The stillness in the room seemed to amplify the thoughts swirling in your mind. Resting your hands on the armrests, you took a deep breath, ready to release some of the magic within you.

Closing your eyes, you summoned your power, feeling the vibrant energy surge through your veins. The air around you crackled with anticipation as a soft purple glow enveloped your palms. 

With each exhale, you released a small portion of your magical essence, letting it dissipate into the room. The gentle aura of purple shimmered, casting a calming ambiance around you. As you continued this ritual, the weight of the day began to lift, and your mind found a momentary respite.

You reflected on how different your life had become. The accident, the girls, and life without Natasha. Everything was so different and you still couldn’t tell if this was for the better. 

The purple glow of your magic flickered, dancing in harmony with your thoughts. You haven’t been caring for yourself like you should. You have been attached to someone, child or spouse, for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be alone. You breathed slowly, reminding yourself of your essence, and opting to sit with your thoughts for a little longer. As the glow gradually faded, you opened your eyes, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. The room still held echoes of the residual magic, your eyes tracing the dissolving hues before you wiggled your fingers, bringing yourself back to the present world. 

You sat in the chair, lost in your thoughts when you felt a gentle nudge against your leg. Looking down, you saw Fanny, curling up beside you. A small smile played on your lips as you leaned down to pet Fanny, finding comfort in her presence.

"Fanny, you always know how to make me feel better, don't you?" you said softly, your voice filled with tenderness. "Thank you for being here, you're such a good listener."

Fanny wagged her tail, her eyes filled with understanding. At that moment, the unspoken bond between you and your temporary furry companion brought solace and a sense of peace.

After a while, you gently patted Fanny's head and stood up, feeling a newfound tranquility washing over you. It was time to indulge in a well-deserved bath, a moment of self-care to ease your mind and worries.

As you ascended the stairs, Fanny's soft footsteps followed behind. Grateful for this small gesture of support, you entered the bathroom and filled the bathtub with warm water, watching as the steam rose and filled the room.

Taking a moment to reflect on the day, the challenges, and the moments of love, you felt a weight lifting from your shoulders. With each step you took, you felt a sense of renewal, knowing that you possess the strength and resilience to navigate whatever lies ahead.

Slipping into the steaming hot water, you allowed yourself to unwind. The quiet air of the bathroom became a sanctuary, a space for introspection and renewal.

*****************

The room was dimly lit, a soothing ambiance created by the soft glow of a nightlight. Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion etched across her face, as she tried to calm Olivia, who was in the midst of a temper tantrum. Lily watched with wide eyes from her crib, unsure of what was happening.

“I want Mommy! I miss her!” Olivia whined as she folded her arms. 

Natasha's heart ached at Olivia's words. She understood the pain and longing the little girl felt, missing her other mother. Natasha had been trying everything she could think of to ease Olivia's distress and help her settle into sleep, but her attempts had been in vain so far.

“Olivia, I know you miss Mommy. I'm here with you, and I love you very much. Let's try to calm down, okay? Take some deep breaths with me.”

Natasha demonstrated deep breaths, hoping Olivia would follow suit. However, the tantrum persisted, and Olivia's cries grew louder. Natasha reached out to gently stroke her back, trying to offer comfort amidst the chaos.

“It's okay to be sad, sweetheart. We all miss Mommy sometimes. But right now, I'm here for you. Let's find a way to help you relax and feel better.

Natasha tried different tactics, pulling out Olivia's favorite stuffed animal and singing a lullaby softly. She rocked back and forth on the bed, hoping the familiar routine would lull Olivia into a state of calmness. Yet, the tantrum showed no signs of subsiding.

Feeling her own patience tested, Natasha fought back her own weariness, determined to find a solution. She would have to go against her better judgment and ask for help. 

Natasha stood outside Wanda's suite, holding Olivia tightly in one arm while Lily clung to her other arm. A mix of embarrassment and desperation coursed through her, as she hoped Wanda could offer assistance in calming Olivia's distress. With a hesitant sigh, she knocked on the door.

Wanda opened the door, her expression immediately reflecting concern as she took in the distraught trio standing before her.

"Natasha, what's wrong? Come in, all of you," Wanda said softly, stepping aside to welcome them inside.

Natasha entered the room, her gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and apology. She spoke hesitantly, her voice betraying her unease.

"Wanda, I'm sorry to bother you, but Olivia is having a really hard time tonight. I thought maybe being here with you could help," Natasha explained, her words laced with a touch of embarrassment.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Wanda nodded empathetically.

"Of course, I can help," Wanda reassured, her voice brimming with compassion.

Wanda knelt down, extending a comforting hand towards Olivia with a gentle smile. However, the overwhelmed little girl's distress intensified unexpectedly. In a moment of frustration and confusion, Olivia bit down on Wanda's hand, causing Wanda to wince in pain.

"Olivia, no! That's not how we express ourselves, sweetie," Wanda exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and concern. She inspected her hand, finding that the bite was superficial, as she sighed. 

The room filled with tension as Natasha rushed to intervene, gently pulling Olivia back to look at her. 

“Olivia, we don’t hurt people,” Natasha lightly scolded her. Apparently, this was the wrong thing to do. Olivia, still overwhelmed by her emotions, turned and bit down on Natasha's arm.

"Ow! Olivia, please, we can't hurt each other," Natasha winced, her voice a mixture of pain and gentle admonishment.

Despite the discomfort, Wanda remained composed, understanding the underlying turmoil Olivia was experiencing. She attempted to redirect Olivia's attention, offering words of reassurance and guidance.

"Olivia, it's okay to feel upset, but we need to find healthier ways to express ourselves," Wanda said softly, her voice steady and calm. "Can you tell me how you’re feeling?."

Olivia's rapid breaths gradually slowed as she attempted to mimic Wanda's deep breaths. “I-I want Mommy,” Olivia whined. “I want to go home.” Olivia sobbed. Something about hearing her say that broke Natasha’s heart. In her arms, Lily began to show her own distress, making it known that she wasn’t happy about being awake past bedtime. Natasha shushed her, rubbing her back soothingly, as she kissed her forehead. 

“Olivia, you’re going home tomorrow,” Nataha kneeled. “I thought we could sleep together. Have a little fun. In the morning your mom will be there.”

“No, no, no,” Olivia shook her head. “I want Mommy now.”

“I know, baby,” Natasha sighed. It truly sucked to not understand how to console your child. 

Wanda observed the exchange, her concern evident on her face. She offered a potential solution.

"Hey, Natasha, maybe I should shoot a text to y/n and let her know what went down," Wanda suggested, her tone reflecting genuine care.

Natasha paused for a moment, considering Wanda's offer. However, she mustered a small smile and shook her head gently, responding in a contemporary way.

"Nah, thanks, Wanda. I appreciate the support, but I got this. I think it's best if I handle it on my own," Natasha replied, her tone a blend of gratitude and determination.

Understanding Natasha's desire to take charge of the situation herself, Wanda nodded, her eyes conveying unwavering support.

"Got it, Natasha. " Wanda said, her voice filled with empathy.

With a nod of gratitude, Natasha guided Olivia and Lily towards the exit, wrapping her arms protectively around them. There was one last thing she was willing to do. 

*************************

You trail down the stairs, flicking on the foyer light, as you wrap the tie of your black silk robe a little tighter around your waist. Through the window’s glass, you can see Natasha, clearly in her pajamas, and cold, carrying both girls in her arms. Lily is sleeping, her head cradled between Natasha’s neck and shoulder, and Olivia is in her other arm wide awake and fighting her sleep. You open the door, a gust of wind sending a chill down your spine, as you hold your arms out. Natasha steps closer so that Olivia can fall into them. You hold her against your chest, frowning at her slight sniffling and shaking body, as you rub her back in soothing circles. 

“She wouldn’t sleep,” Natasha says lowly. “Last night or tonight.” There’s a hint of defeat in her voice and you feel bad for her. You actually feel bad for her. She's out of her element. Taking care of children she hadn’t known before this month and there’s a lot expected of her. “I tried a song, um, warm milk. Taking her to Wanda and Steve. She missed you.” Natasha explains and you nod. 

“Come in,” You invite her in, stepping aside so that she can be relieved from the chilling temperature. You can see her teeth chatter, the rosiness of her cheeks, and her lack of a jacket. She would catch her death if she kept coming outside like this, but not on your watch. Natasha immediately walks over to the living room where she lies Lily down on the loveseat. She takes the cover from the back of the couch to throw it over her tiny body. Lily doesn’t startle at all. In fact, she turns over and makes herself more comfortable. 

“Want you, Mommy” Olivia whines. There are big crocodile tears sitting in the corners of her eyes, her mouth formed into a pout, and a wrinkled brow as she continues to whimper. 

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here,” You whisper to her. You kiss her forehead, hoping to ease some of her worries. You take a seat on the couch next to Lily’s sleeping form. You rock Olivia in your arms, whispering to her about how she’s okay, how much you love her, and how she’s safe here. She doesn’t settle for a long while. For a second, you forget that Natasha is in the room as you comfort your daughter. Olivia is too worked up. Eventually, she forces her small, cold hand into your robe, her hand finding its resting place along your collarbone. Her other hand, middle and ring fingers, go into her mouth, and she self-soothes in the only way she knows how when she’s this upset. She just needed to feel you. A few moments later, Olivia is sleeping, still hiccuping, though you know it’s a long time coming.

You glance over to Natasha. She’s leaning against the wall, clearly uncomfortable, and you can tell she is lost in thought. 

“Nat,” You attempt. You know you’re not on good terms but you still need to talk with her. You’d like to know how she’s feeling. Olivia’s meltdowns are intense and without experience, they can be overwhelming. “Come, sit.” You offer and you’re almost sure she’s about to say no. She bites her lip, debating whether or not she should go, but you know better. She comes to sit on the other side of Lily. She looks between both girls. 

“I have a few bite marks,” She mumbles. “Olivia’s baby teeth seem more like adult teeth.” Natasha attempts to joke. You look at her arms in concern. You can see the dark circles under her eyes. Ones to match yours. She hasn’t been getting enough sleep on top of driving an hour to bring the girls to you. Because Olivia wouldn’t sleep. Olivia wants to be in her own bed. Not in the cold walls of the compound. That isn’t her home. It’s not a place for a child and you both know that. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing. I didn’t know how to help her,” Natasha shakes her head. “She got so upset and I tried everything and…”

You let her speak. You can guess how Olivia’s tantrum went. A few broken valuables, an injured parent, and crying never seemed to stop. She’s gotten so much better now but these changes are throwing her off-kilter. You’d like to say the situation sounds familiar. You want to say you know how it feels to try your best and it still not be enough. You’re not the type to say “I told you so” no matter how much you want to. 

“It happens,” You say. “Olivia is a toddler with trauma. She values routine, structure, and normalcy. All of us do I think: You sigh. “Something we haven’t been giving her.”

Natasha nods. She knows that. 

“What do I do?” She asks and you smile gently. 

“Keep being there,” You answer. “I know it sounds simple but in those moments don’t leave her. Let her know you love her. Give her time. Allow her to feel what she feels and try again.”

All words you have lived by.

“Let’s get them to bed,” You suggest. 

You walked silently up the stairs, Olivia snuggled in your arms as you made your way to the bedroom. Natasha followed close behind, Lily resting peacefully in her arms. The weight of the evening's events lingered in the air, creating a silence between you. 

As you reached the girls' bedroom, you gently guided Olivia to lie down, tucking her in with a tender touch. Natasha mirrored the action, carefully placing Lily in her crib, her eyes filled with a mix of love and concern. Once the girls were settled, you and Natasha retreated to the hallway, your gazes meeting briefly.

In the quietness of the moment, Natasha took a deep breath, summoning her courage to break the silence. Her voice was sincere, expressing her remorse for her earlier hostility.

"I want to apologize again," Natasha began, her words laced with genuine remorse. "I know I've been defensive and distant, and it's not fair to you or the girls. I want to be better, to be more supportive and understanding."

You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for the truth behind her words. The tension that had built up seemed to hang in the air, but there was a glimmer of hope that they could find a way to bridge the divide between them.

"I appreciate that, Natasha," You responded, your voice soft but guarded. "I know all of this isn’t easy.” You gesture back to the girls. “I’ve always known it wouldn’t be easy for you. I’m not expecting you to get over something you are still fresh about. What I did back then. Those were choices I’ve made and had to live with.  I hope that eventually, we can build trust again.”

Natasha nodded, understanding the weight of those words. She knew that rebuilding trust required consistent effort and understanding, but she was determined to make amends.

"It’s possible," Natasha affirmed. "I don’t know what all of this means for us. This separation. This time I’ve spent at the compound. It’s given me some time to think.”

“About how boring the guys are?” You jest and she smirks. 

“That too,” Natasha nods. “There was a reason we started something all those years ago. There’s a reason we worked for this long. I, um, when I said I couldn’t love you. That was not what I meant.” Natasha looks to see if you believe her words. “I’m so hung up on my past. It’s a part of my being. It’s who I am. It’s not who I want to be.”

"I want a do-over from this day forward," Natasha spoke, her voice filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I know we can't go back to how things were, and I can't promise I won't struggle or make mistakes. But I want to try. I want to build something better for us and for the girls."

Your gaze softened as you listened to her words, understanding the depth of pain and anger you both carried. You knew the reluctance that guarded your own heart, aware of the risks involved. Yet, you also recognized the sincerity and genuine desire for change in her voice.

"I won't lie, Natasha. I'm still afraid. Afraid of losing what we had, afraid of history repeating itself," You admitted. "But I also see the pain you're going through, and I know it won't be the same. We can't expect it to be."

She nodded, acknowledging your fears and reservations. She understood the importance of rebuilding trust and knew that blind trust was not what either of you needed.

"We can't recreate the past, and I don't expect you to trust me blindly. It's going to take time and effort to rebuild what we had," She reassured, her voice steady.

You saw the raw honesty in her eyes, the genuine desire to change and grow. It both scared and comforted her.

"I want our marriage to be strong again, Natasha. I want to trust you and feel secure," You expressed.”Like I said from the time you woke up, I’m here for you. As your friend. As your wife."

She nodded. She could understand that. 

“I understand,” Natasha clasped her hands together. She peeks her head into the bedroom again, making sure that the girls are asleep before she sighs. “I should probably head back to the compound.”

You think about what time it is and how dangerous it is to get back to the compound in snow and darkness. You can’t let her go outside like this. 

“I can’t let you do that,” You direct your chin towards the guest bedroom. “It’s yours for tonight. If you want it.” You shrug. 

Natasha’s reaction is way quicker than you were expecting. “I’ll take it.”

If you made it this far - you have to tell me what you liked or didn't like right?

Tardy, part 7

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 6

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You guys devise a plan to stop Ghostface once and for all, but some shocking news stops you in your tracks.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fluff, a little angst, my attempt at humor

A/N: Never mind y’all I just got motivation out of no where last night and apparently I can still write! This one’s kinda short…but I hope u like <3

You don't get to planning the demise of a certain wimpy pea faced masked killer as fast as you'd like.

You'd expected Sam to call the rest of the group and discuss details immediately; but that hasn't happened yet.

It's really starting to annoy you, but you can't even move far enough to grab your phone without help; so you relent and figure you'll kill the fucker when you can actually stand.

The only bright side, it seems; is Tara. She hasn't left your side for even a minute during the whole debacle.

She's gotten more comfortable, you can tell. Even gotten so brave as to come sit on the armchair beside yours.

Your anger has simmered down into a calm sea of peace; and you're starting to feel a bit bad for the indifferent way you've been treating her.

It's impossible to say you don't still care for Tara, in fact; you care a lot more than you probably should. The feeling is so overwhelming you can sense it's tendrils wrapping around you; threatening to engulf you whole.

Stupid, stupid feelings.

You tilt your head and look at her now, wonder if she feels the same.

Almost like she can feel your gaze, she turns and cranes her neck at you.

"Do you need anything?" She asks, flipping over the page of the book she was currently reading.

You don't trust your voice to come out as anything but a strangled whimper, so you nod.

She sits up immediately, practically jumping off the piece of furniture.

"Oh thank god! This book is so boring." She huffs, eyes brightening up as she gets closer.

She walks up to you and folds your shirt up, enough to show your wound. She examines it slowly, lips pursed.

"You know...maybe we should take you to a hospital? It doesn't really look any better." She states, staring intently.

You suddenly feel small underneath her intense gaze; and you wiggle a bit.

You weren't exactly at your best, since you'd been practically glued to the couch for days; apart from the occasional shower and a brush of the teeth.

"Tara?" You rasp, making her look at you; worry in her eyes.

"Yeah? You okay?"

You shake your head no, motion for her to come over. She looks downright stressed.

"Why? What's wrong?" She asks, reaching out to touch your face but stopping short, hesitance clear in her expression.

You muster the strength to bring your arm up to grab her hand, lay it down on your chest; intertwined.

"I'm sorry for being such a dick lately." You say, breathe in heavily.

"It was uncool of me. And I was wondering if you...would maybe want to be my girlfriend again?" It comes out as a soft whisper, and you watch as Tara's face changes from worried to unreadable.

Oh god.

"I mean- uh it's just that I think we might be better off as like girlfriends and I didn't really mean what I said before, I was mad you know? But it’s totally fine if you don’t-" She cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, soft and tender.

You melt into it immediately. Her hands fly to cup your cheeks, and yours press against her neck; pulling her closer.

You guys stay like that for a bit until Tara pulls away, breathlessly.

"I'm sorry too. I was being a bitch, and I should've listened to you. I promise I'll be better this time." She says, chewing on her bottom lip.

You pull her down, taking her by surprise and making her stumble and land right on you.

You let out a groan at the contact and peer down at your wound.

She retracts immediately, mumbling a million sorry's.

"It's okay Tar, come on. Come here." You wave with your hands, let her rest her head on your chest.

She doesn't press herself into you in fears that it'll hurt you, and it's the most straining and uncomfortable position she's ever been in; but she doesn't pull away.

"This is like doing a plank." She says, eyes sparkling with amusement.

You shake your head and smirk. Tilt her face up to yours again and kiss her.

"Shut up."

And she does.

-

The sound of your phone ringing is what wakes both you and Tara up. She stirs, then immediately tightens up; like she has a flight or fight response to the sound of it.

Oh wait, she does. You realize dumbly.

"It's okay. Everything's fine, could you just grab me the phone sweetheart?" You murmur, rubbing the top of her head in small circles.

She wearily gets up on her knees and reaches for the phone from the couch. It's too far; and she doesn't want to leave your body for at least 3-5 more business days.

"Woah!" She squeaks, loosing her balance and falling with a loud smack onto the rug.

You can't control the giggle that stumbles from your lips; almost on reflex. You quickly realize your error and shut up.

It's too late; because Tara turns to you, quirking an eyebrow. Then she lets out a giggle too, smiling so wide you can see her dimples.

It's a small moment, but it means everything.

It almost feels like the past few days have never happened and Tara's still freshly your girlfriend. Floating in nothing but love-filled teasing bliss.

She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by your phone ringing again.

"Jesus christ they won't stop calling." Tara says, slightly annoyed at the intrusion on your moment.

She hands it over to you without looking at the contact, and you scrunch your eyebrows at the unknown number.

"Hello?" You muse as you bring your phone to your ear, still staring at Tara with a playful smirk.

It falls immediately when you hear the distorted deep voice.

"Hello YN."

Your breath hitches, but you don't want to alarm Tara; so you smile at her reassuringly.

"Hey bro, what up?" You say, with all the nonchalance of talking to a close friend.

"Bro? What the hell are you talking abou-" Ghostface starts, but you cut him off immediately.

"Oh yeah yeah, I'm still in uni. I hope you're not getting into any trouble like you always do?" You continue; pursing your lips.

Maybe you'll just pretend for the rest of the conversation and not tell Tara.

"Oh Yn, you don't even know what kind of trouble I'm about to get you into." He says, tone teasing and taunting.

Your chest tightens up a bit. What does he have on you? He's bluffing, he has to be…right?

"That is so fun, but I kinda have to get back to my amazing girlfriend now; you don't mind if I hang up do you?" You smile, eyes flitting up and down Tara's small frame.

She's sitting, quite adorably, on the floor. Looking up at you with curious but shining eyes.

"Don't you dare hang up or I'm going to split you from groin to ster-" You pull the phone from your ear and press the red button.

"Well that was a little rude." She tuts, scooting closer.

You chuckle.

"Can I help it that my girlfriend is the best-est person in the world and I wanna spend every minute with her?" You ask, nudging her nose with yours.

"Best-est, huh?" She smirks, leaning in impossibly closer.

You're about to lean down and kiss Tara but it twists your wound the wrong way and you hiss.

She brings her hand up to your face and caresses the skin of your cheek.

"You okay?" She asks, brows furrowed.

You're not, and you think it might even be getting worse like she suspected; but you don't tell Tara. Instead you nod your head and give her a tight lipped smile.

She grins, and closes the distance between the two of you. She gets up off the floor and climbs on top of you so you don't have to strain your neck. She does all of this with your lips connected, and you silently marvel at her skill.

"I know you guys just got back together, but can you stop eating each other's faces right now?" Sam interrupts, quite rudely you might add.

Tara pulls away reluctantly and wipes at her mouth. She looks flushed.

"We weren't even doing anything."She mumbles underneath her breath.

"Let them be Sam, I don't think I can take another day of Tara whining about how she's not with YN anymore." Mindy says, waltzing into the room after Sam.

You cock an eyebrow at Tara, but she avoids your eye; blush creeping up her neck.

"Nice job, by the way T." Mindy adds, clicking her tongue and shooting a finger gun at the girl.

You notice the rest of the group behind them, Chad, Ethan, Anika, and some other strange man at the back.

He must see your lingering stare on him because he's moving forward and offering a hand to you.

"Danny." He rasps, mouth turned in a crooked smile.

Okay, kind of hot. You think.

"I'm Sam's..." He trails off, sending a questioning look at the older Carpenter sister.

"Danny's my boyfriend." Sam answers, and out the corner of your eye you see Danny smile a little wider.

That's cute.

"Nice to meet you Danny." You say, shaking his hand eagerly.

"So, we're all here because we need to devise a plan. To catch ghostface, once and for all." Sam says, walking to the front of the living room.

"And what exactly is your plan?" Tara asks, moving beside you and taking your hand in hers.

You notice Sam biting the inside of her cheek as she thinks.

"I'm not sure yet, that's why I all asked you here." She says.

There's a moment of silence as anyone thinks of something to say. You try to think back to your interactions with him.

"We could make a suspect list? I'm sure Mindy has a lot of theories on her mind." You suggest, glancing over at the twin.

"Yes! Thank you for bringing that up YN. Sam, move it's my time to shine." She walks up to Sam, gently nudging the Carpenter to sit on the couch.

"So we all know Ghostface has some sort of beef with all of us, but from the attacks we can assume he hates Tara and YN the most." She starts, hands on her hips.

"We know Ghostface isn't really that strong. Either that or YN is just one hell of a fighter." Mindy says, gesturing to you.

You smile shyly a little at that as heads turn toward you.

"Can I add something? Back on the balcony, where I got attacked; Ghostface seemed kind of...small." You say, pursing your lips in deep remembrance.

"Like, way shorter than the one that attacked me and Tara on that roof. So I think there might be two." You finish.

Mindy nods, like she was already expecting you to say this.

"It's always been two killers, except for Roman Bridger; kudos to him for ambition."

Chad raises his hand, waiting for Mindy's approval before he speaks.

"Could we assume the first ghostface was a guy? Because we all saw him, and he looked pretty damn big."

You nod your head in agreement, trying to think back on the night up on the roof. It's sort of hard because all you can remember is Tara kissing you for the first time.

Even after what had happened, you still considered that to be one of the best nights of your life.

What a simp.

"Now! Let's move on to our suspects..." Mindy says faintly, but you're not really focused now. You'd rather daydream about the girl sitting beside you.

The group ends up picking your apartment as the spot for Ghostface's Demise.

You'd actually been the one to suggest it yourself, it's relatively big; and didn't have one too many hiding places for him to surprise y'all in.

Tara moves to sit on your lap as you continue to plan. Papers are strewn everywhere, multiple empty coffee cups on the table. You've drawn out a map of the layout, and Sam's made it her personal mission to storyboard the whole attack.

Despite the reason for for your gathering, you can't help but smile a little at everyone huddled together. They look like a real family.

Quiet laughs are occasionally let out, teasing and poking fun about how Ghostface is gonna attack. You sort of enjoy it.

The doorbell rings and catches only yours and Tara's attention. The rest of them are still in heated discussion about whether Ghostface or Voldemort would win in a battle.

It's Voldemort, obviously.

"I'll go get it." Tara whispers, planting a firm peck to your lips and standing up. You nod, let her untangle herself from you.

It's been five minutes since Tara went and it's starting to make you feel a little antsy.

Has she been kidnapped by Ghostface or something?

She steps into the room now, and you smile at her; breathe out in relief.

You see a tiny envelope in her hands. It's ripped; and she's reading the inside.

"Any mail for me honey?" You ask teasingly, pushing yourself up on the couch slightly.

You don't notice the serious expression on her face till she tilts it up, eyes dark.

She doesn't answer as she strides to you, shoving the paper in your hands; arms crossed. She looks hurt.

"Care to explain?"

You frown, look down at the piece of crumpled paper. It's a DNA test.

At the top of the page it says:

DNA REPORT TEST

(For Personal Knowledge Only)

There's two boxes that fill up the whole paper. You stare at it, mouth agape.

It says:

CHILD (YN)

Alleged Father (Stu Macher)