The Chase

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. 

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

General Taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @jromanoff @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @marrymemcgrath @smileyromanoff @rice-wiife @homiesexyall @wanda-is-my-joker @wackymcstupid @when-wolves-howl @sayah13 @lesbicentism

OTM Series Taglist: @lattayhottay16 @fxckmiup @laylasbunbunny @raqelacevedo @marvelogic @wandsgale @smromanoff @alwaysbimyself-blog @holiday-house-of-m @cherlenovix @theenglishswiftie

W.M Taglist: @olsensnpm @anaaam @wandsmxmff

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.

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?

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.

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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