#and this happened time and time again and when i tell my therapist shes always like

[lovsome]

big venting ahead :-{

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

[p0orbaby]

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

summary: you and alexia attend marriage counselling

warnings: suggestive

a/n: i have no clue what this is but i like it and i hope you do too !

word count: 1.4k

-

You’re sitting on a lumpy beige sofa, the kind that looks like it’s been stolen from an old woman’s sitting room. The armrests have stains that could either be coffee or something much more sinister. You don’t want to think about it too much. You also don’t want to think about the fact that you’re sitting next to your wife, who might be one or two millimeters closer to you than she’s been in the past week, but you’re not counting.

Alexia looks at the therapist like she’s evaluating her for a spot on the team. This is her default face—cool, calm, like she’s about to suggest subbing you out. You’re not sure how you feel about that. You’re also not sure how you feel about the therapist, who introduces herself as Dr. Bristow but who you immediately decide looks like a "Betsy."

Dr. Bristow, née Betsy, gives you both a gentle smile, the kind of smile people give puppies before they realise they’re about to chew through their expensive shoes. “So, why don’t we start with what brings you both here today?”

“I don’t know,” you say, crossing your arms because you’ve seen people do that in movies when they’re trying to look defensive. “Why don’t you ask Alexia?”

Alexia doesn’t even glance at you. “We haven’t had sex in a month”

You choke on absolutely nothing. The last time you checked, your sex life was no one else’s business, but apparently, Alexia’s decided that it’s Betsy’s now. Wonderful.

Betsy’s eyes widen, but her tone remains professional. “That must be difficult for both of you. Would either of you like to share why?”

Alexia shrugs, her muscles rippling under her tight shirt. You try not to notice, but you’ve always had a thing for her biceps—who wouldn’t? But now isn’t the time. You tell yourself this even as your mind decides to replay the last time those biceps were wrapped around you, gripping you like you’ll blow away with the smallest gust of wind.

She’s talking, and you force yourself to focus. “We’ve just been… busy”

You almost snort. Busy. That’s one way to put it. Busy with training, busy with travel, busy with being one of the best footballers in the world while you’re busy just trying to keep up. It’s not that you don’t understand, it’s just—God, it’s frustrating.

“Busy,” Betsy repeats, nodding slowly, as if she’s letting the word marinate. “That can definitely take a toll on intimacy. Have you both discussed how you feel about this?”

Alexia turns to look at you, and you suddenly feel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You wonder if you look as guilty as you feel.

You clear your throat. “We’ve talked about it. Sort of”

Alexia’s eyebrows raise. “You mean I’ve tried to talk about it, and you’ve changed the subject”

There it is. That thing she does. You know she’s right, but the way she says it makes you want to argue just for the sake of it. Maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe the problem is that you’d rather wrestle a rabid dog than talk about feelings.

Betsy’s eyes flicker between the two of you, clearly sensing the tension. “It’s not uncommon for couples to struggle with communication. What happens when you do try to talk about it?”

You exhale slowly, trying to avoid looking at Alexia’s lips because that’s just distracting. “She’s always so… calm”

Betsy blinks. “And that’s… a problem?”

“Yeah,” you say, exasperated. “It’s like she’s a robot. No offense”

Alexia just shakes her head, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “None taken”

“I just want to see some emotion, you know?” you continue, warming up to the topic. “I’m over here, losing my mind, and she’s just… chilling. Like, I could tell her I’m moving to Antarctica to raise penguins, and she’d probably just ask if I packed a warm coat”

Alexia finally shifts her gaze to you again, her eyes softening, which is somehow worse because it makes your chest tighten. “You know I care. I just… I don’t always show it the way you want”

Betsy leans in, like she’s watching a particularly juicy soap opera. “And what about you, Alexia? How do you feel about the way your wife expresses her emotions?”

Alexia’s eyes meet yours, and there’s that spark again. You know the one. It’s the one that usually ends with you pinned against the wall or thrown onto the bed, Alexia’s mouth on yours, all lips and teeth and heat. The one that reminds you why you fell for her in the first place.

But then she says, “I love how passionate she is. But sometimes it feels like she’s on fire, and I’m just trying to keep from getting burned”

Ouch.

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not a fire hazard”

“No, but you’re combustible”

“That’s just because you’re too controlled!”

Alexia laughs, and it’s not the reaction you expect. She actually laughs, and you’re left wondering if you’re missing the joke. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To figure out how to meet in the middle?”

Betsy nods sagely, like she’s the Buddha of bad relationships. “Finding balance is key in any marriage. Have you both considered how you might do that?”

You both sit there, silent for a moment, probably considering how much easier it would be to just skip to the make-up sex and forget the rest. The thought must cross Alexia’s mind too because she gives you that look—the one that says, Let’s just go home.

You’re about to suggest it, too, but then Betsy has to open her mouth again. “Sexual intimacy is often a reflection of emotional intimacy. If you’re not connecting emotionally, it’s likely to impact your physical connection as well”

You want to groan, but instead, you offer a tight smile. “Thanks for that, Betsy”

Alexia stifles a grin, and for a moment, you feel like you’re on the same team again. You used to have so much fun together—where did that go? It wasn’t always football and fights. There were nights when you’d stay up until dawn, just talking, laughing, and occasionally getting tangled in the sheets, not caring about anything but each other. Maybe that’s what you miss the most—how easy it was back then, how effortless it felt.

“Remember that time in Cartagena?” Alexia suddenly says, as if she’s reading your mind. “When we got locked out of the hotel room after that party?”

You can’t help but laugh. “You mean when you tried to break in using a hairpin and almost got us arrested?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes glinting with mischief. “But you tackled me before the security guard could, and we ended up in that broom cupboard”

You’re both grinning now, and it’s like a weight lifts off your shoulders. That night was a disaster, but it was your disaster, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You remember how you’d both been breathless with laughter, trying to keep quiet in that tiny cupboard, your bodies pressed together in the dark, and then… well, things got heated, and you’re pretty sure the broom cupboard got more action that night than most honeymoon suites.

Betsy’s watching this exchange with mild interest, but you’re too caught up in the memory to care. “Maybe that’s what we need,” you say, half-joking. “More broom cupboards”

Alexia leans back, her hand sliding casually onto your knee, and you almost jump at the contact. “Or less pressure”

“Or more spontaneity”

“Or,” Betsy interjects, her voice slightly louder, “a bit of both?”

You look at Alexia, and for the first time in weeks, you see the possibility of something other than just surviving this rut. Maybe you don’t need therapy. Maybe you just need a reminder of what made you fall for each other in the first place—a little more broom cupboard, a little less beige sofa.

Betsy’s droning on about communication exercises, and you’re nodding politely, but you’re already planning your escape. You catch Alexia’s eye, and you both know exactly where this is going.

You’re going to leave here, and you’re going to find the nearest cupboard, or alleyway, or even just the backseat of the car if it comes to that. Anywhere you can be alone together, no talking, no therapy, just you and her and that spark that never really went away.

As Betsy wraps up, you stand, practically dragging Alexia out of the office. You thank Betsy on the way out, but you’re already halfway out the door before the words even leave your mouth.

And as soon as you’re out of sight, you push Alexia against the wall, her mouth on yours before you can even think about it. Her hands are in your hair, on your waist, tugging you closer, and you realise that maybe you don’t need therapy, or a broom cupboard, or anything else.

Maybe all you need is her.

[inkskinned]

she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let

and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment

and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.

and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment

and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?

to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.

and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.

you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 A Heart Matter.

Spencer Reid x Prentiss!reader

Series masterlist | ONE | TWO | THREE |

Summary: A few months after you left, Spencer thinks he sees you walking down the street, and his whole world is turned upside down.

Words: 3,2k.

TW: mentions of crime, trauma, death, pain and violence (normal warnings in the series). so much spoilers for s6 and s7. the events narrated occur after emily's "death". so much angst. read the dates carefully, especially the years, because there are some backward time frames that can confuse you if you don't pay attention!. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm so sorry, that's all I can say now.

Also, I thought about making this a series, but I'm not sure because I've never done one before and I've really only been writing here for about a month??? I'm trying hard.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

July 18th, 2011

The steady ticking of the wall clock echoed in Spencer's head as a reminder that his time in the session was ticking away, robbing him of the chance to express himself without sounding like a complete lunatic.

“I saw her.” He had to repeat it aloud after receiving a puzzled look from his therapist.

The woman pursed her lips. “In a dream? Are you having nightmares again?”

The lump in the agent's throat felt tighter and more suffocating, causing him to shift in his seat to hide it. He wanted to appear sane and focused, however much his next words were anything but.

“No.”

The therapist's intrigued look and the fact that she stopped writing in her notebook to give him her full attention made his hands tremble and his heart pound as he spoke again.

“I mean, I still have the same nightmares...but this, this is different.” Reid tried to explain hesitantly.

Since the day he found you lying in a pool of blood outside your sister's apartment, his mind had been tormented by the image and the guilt it caused him. The nightmares of seeing you again and losing you were a constant every night. Every time he managed to fall asleep, he woke up agitated, feeling again the emptiness of not having you by his side. And that was something his therapist knew better than anyone, because she forced him to write down every nightmare and tell her all of them.

Those bad dreams were supposed to be over, or so he had claimed for the past three weeks.

“How?”

“I wasn't asleep when I saw her.” Spencer finally blurted out in a slightly shaky voice. He had rehearsed the same conversation several times and always ended up feeling like a deranged man seeing ghosts. “I was on the street.”

That sentence instantly changed the tone of the conversation.

“It was after work, I went to buy some food because the case ended earlier than I thought. Her favorite Chinese restaurant is a few blocks from my apartment, we really liked to eat there...I bought some and when I came out, I saw her.” He paused for a minute, trying to mentally return to the moment that was relentlessly replaying in his mind. “She was across the street, buying flowers.”

He had to be quiet for a second, pausing to calm his own breathing. It was ridiculous, but the thought of you buying flowers again made him smile slightly.

You had always loved flowers and now he was supposed to bring them to your grave.

“I ran across the street as soon as I saw her, but I lost sight of her when a bus came across.” He said, struggling to finish his story.

“Spencer, listen to me.” The woman's tone alone let him know that she didn't agree with him at all. “It's normal to think we see someone we lost, it happens to several people. Maybe it was just someone who looked like her, and being near a place the two of you frequented contributed to the confusion.”

That was impossible because he would recognize you anywhere and there was no one else like you.

“You know the truth.”

Of course he knew.

He had been trying to live for six months knowing that you were already dead.

Six months of him trying to deal with your ghost. Six months of him on his knees begging for this to be just another nightmare. Six months of reliving the last time he held you in his arms. Six months of being dead in life.

“Yes, but she looked different.” He explained, receiving a puzzled look that prompted him to provide further clarification. “Her hair was shorter, much shorter. And if I were hallucinating her ghost, I'd see her the same way I saw her the last time, or maybe the time before that. It wouldn't be so different from the way I remember her.”

“You lost two important people on the same day, it's not about logic.”

From her reaction when he concluded his session, it was evident that she considered his perspective to be irrational and clouded by the effects of grief.

And maybe it was.

July 30th, 2011

A few days of missing therapies and locking himself up at work already had consequences.

It was the second time a case had ended earlier than expected and Spencer had to go back to his lonely apartment and find excuses to leave without feeling sorry for himself. It was hard for him to be in his own home without you, surrounded by the photos you always insisted on taking and framing to preserve moments that were now torture. So the best solution was to make unnecessary purchases or lock himself in the nearest library.

Anything was better than being locked in a room with himself, so he decided to read in a room full of strangers who provided the company he so desperately needed.

The bad news was that the library's closing time had come earlier than expected for unknown reasons, and life seemed to force him to face his reality on the busy streets of Virginia, taking every possible alternate route to delay his arrival home. He didn't want to have to open the door knowing that no one would be waiting for him, that you wouldn't be there asleep on the couch after watching a marathon of your favorite movies, or just trying to read one of his books so you could discuss it with him.

His mind was still hazy and his eyes were wandering through the shops of the city when a familiar and unmistakable figure appeared before his eyes, just a few meters away, coming out of one of the shops on the next street.

It was you again. Unmistakably you.

He started running without a second thought, but the streets were so crowded that it was hard for him to move through the mass of people. His heartbeat was out of control and probably everyone could hear him, but he didn't care about looking crazy, he just needed to get a little closer to talk and make sure it was you.

The city's public transportation seemed to be against him, because just as he was about to cross the street, not caring that the light was red, another bus crossed the street and almost ran him over. Just a few inches and the story would have been very different for him. Everyone on the street was whispering, car horns were honking and every now and then someone would ask him if he was okay or look at him like he was a psychiatric patient. But nothing mattered to him, there was only your image in his mind and the possibility of finding out if he was really going crazy or if your ghost was haunting him.

When he managed to cross the street, there was no sign of you, and his therapist's words echoed in his mind as a symbol of temporary insanity brought on by pain. Try as he might to ignore his conscience, there was no way to find you in the sea of people, and he had no choice but to enter the store where he thought he saw you coming out.

“A woman bought something here a few minutes ago, she had a bag slung over her shoulder.” Spencer spoke quickly as soon as he walked in and approached the local salesman. He paused only when the man nodded in confusion at his attitude. “Do you know her name? Where she's from? Does she come here often?”

The man's lips were sealed, he just waved his hand to let him know he would only talk for money. He didn't even flinch when Reid pulled out his badge and repeated that he was FBI. Anyway, the thirty dollars was the master key to get the information and the security camera footage, which was barely visible because of the poor quality.

“I don't know who she is, it's the first time I've seen her. There aren't many customers on my shift, and not everyone buys that many books.” He began to speak under Spencer's curious gaze. “She paid cash and bought a bunch of classics. And she had a limp.”

“Are you sure? Which leg was it?”

There was a short silence, which the salesman used to remind himself, and Spencer's nerves got even more out of control.

“I don't remember which leg it was but I was definitely limping. I noticed that when she climbed the ladder, I had to help her.”

January 11th, 2010

“Can we eat here?” You asked after reading the sign that said the restaurant's elevator was under repair. “There are a few tables.”

Spencer couldn't help but frown and let go of your hand to stand in front of you. His eyes searched for yours. “I thought you wanted to come up, the view is your favorite thing here.”

You two were at your favorite restaurant, a Chinese food paradise with the best view in city, according to your expert opinion. It wasn't the first time the two of you had been there, so you had already more than booked a table, and this one was on the third floor. Your favorite part of going there was seeing the moon.

And of course, Dr. Reid was the kind of guy who always paid attention to the little details. He remembered everything, and could probably tell what you were thinking just by looking into your eyes for a few seconds.

“Let me take you upstairs, please.”

His puppy-dog eyes and a single phrase were enough to get you to let him take you by the arm and lead you up the stairs at a slow pace. By the time you got to the second floor, he offered to carry you like a princess. You had no choice but to accept, especially since it had already taken you more than ten minutes to climb a single floor. The pitying looks from the other diners were starting to make you uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Spencer.” You mumbled as you reached the table and he pulled up a chair for you.

He smiled. He loved how you said his name and wanted to hear it for hours.

After you both sat down and made your requests, you spoke again. “Aren't you going to ask why I can't climb a ladder?”

“I won't ask you anything you don't want to answer.” He said simply.

You felt like you could tell him anything, even your darkest thoughts. Your sister had already talked about it. Either it was the Reid effect, or you were just madly in love with him. Both were quite similar in your view.

“I hurt myself while I was practicing ballet. I made a really bad move.” You spoke up after a few minutes of silence. He frowned when he heard you. He had no idea you played the sport. “I was supposed to have quit, so I didn't tell anyone. Only Emily knew. I didn't treat it until the injury got worse when I went out in the field on a case. That's how I retired from the FBI. My mom freaked out, and my left ankle was screwed up for my whole life.”

Before you turned your attention back to Spencer, you prepared yourself mentally for the sympathy he would undoubtedly show. The curious thing was that in his eyes, there was nothing but interest and gratitude for having allowed him to know more about you. That was what kept you talking.

“There's an operation to try to fix it, but recovery takes quite some time. I'd rather always take the elevator and avoid the stairs as much as possible than have to rely on Emily to take care of me for three whole months. She has work to do and would go crazy having to be my maid.”

“I would.” He said without hesitation. When you looked curious, he elaborated. “I'd take care of you.”

“For three whole months?” You asked, sounding rather incredulous and as if you thought maybe he was just being extra nice.

“For the rest of my life, if you let me.”

September 5th, 2011

“There's no way you could have seen her, Spence.”

JJ's eyes fell on his friend's not-so-shaky ones, and a part of her churned inside, not knowing what else to say to him. It was eleven o'clock at night, the first time in several days that Spencer had shown up at her house to try to find comfort and perhaps understanding.

“I know, I know it shouldn't be possible.” He replied and went back to pacing the room, trying not to make a sound. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his godson or his friend's husband. “But it was so real...maybe I'm crazy.”

“You're not.” She said firmly, getting up from her seat to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

At the time, even he didn't know for sure, and that made him fear that he had lost his mind. He was hungry for a love that he would never have again.

“You just miss her.”

No, missing was nothing compared to his feelings.

“It's more than that, much more. I haven't been able to catch my breath since she left.” He admitted, running his hands through his hair as tears formed. “I miss Emily, too, and I don't see her walking down the street.”

Silence fell over the room because no one had anything to say. There weren't enough words to describe the situation. The only sound that could be heard was the man's sobbing on Jennifer's shoulder, trying to be encouraged with words.

“It's going to be all right, Spence.”

He didn't say it out loud, but he thought he'd never get anything right in his life if all he wanted was you.

March 14th, 2010

The coffee he was carrying kept him warm as he made his way through the chilly FBI offices. Spencer wondered if the air conditioning had broken down when he reached the technical analyst's office and a conversation stopped him in his tracks.

“My take? She looks like she'll be Mrs. Reid one day.” Penelope's voice was heard after several loose sentences that the boy couldn't understand from the other side of the door. He figured they were talking about him and his relationship with you.

“I hadn't thought about Reid being legally part of my family until now.” Emily spoke next, letting out a few chuckles. “I'm going to have mini geniuses for nephews.”

“Stop it, we're just dating.” You spoke with some nervousness, still reeling from the implications. “It's not like we're getting married tomorrow.”

As he leaned against the wall by the door to hear better, Spencer couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about what he was doing. He knew it wasn't right to overhear other people's conversations, especially if they were about him. But he had a feeling he needed to know what you were saying about him when he wasn't around. It wouldn't hurt to just hear a little bit.

“Don't pretend you don't talk about future names for your babies, I heard you two.” Garcia spoke again.

“It was a random conversation.”

“About baby names?” She gave a little smile and raised an eyebrow.

“What I mean is that bringing things forward is not good.” You began to speak, completely ignoring the previous point. You were trying to be the voice of reason in the midst of their ridicule. “But I'd like him to be the one.”

“I think I'll shed a tear or two because you've grown up so fast.” Your sister commented in a teasing tone that hid quite a bit of truth. She gave your hand a quick squeeze and looked at you for a few seconds before speaking again. “What's up with that look on your face?”

You frowned. Spencer's heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. “What look?”

“You know which one I mean—the one you put on when the coffee runs out.”

Reid's hands began to sweat. He felt like a teenager trying to figure out what the girl he liked really thought of him. Did you ever have doubts about your relationship? Did you ever picture yourself with him in the future? Was he really the one for you?

“The scariest thing about love is getting hurt.” You said, trying to initiate the idea. Unfortunately, Penelope beat you to it and spoke up.

“I'm sure he wouldn't hurt you.”

“I know, I don't care about that.” You spoke up again after a few seconds, looking around the room as if lost in thought. “What if I do it? What if I break his heart?”

Oh, that was certainly not something Spencer was expecting to hear.

“How would you break his heart? Not answering his calls for five minutes and seven seconds?” Interjected Emily with a teasing tone to try to lighten the mood and get a smile out of you. “I don't think either of you would consciously hurt the other.”

And right after that, the protagonist of the discussion entered the room, causing the three of you to remain silent and pretend that nothing was going on. You could only smile when your boyfriend came in with a hot coffee for you and you saw the tender looks the two women gave you.

“Thank you.” You said.

“It's nothing.” He replied, pulling you close to surprise you with a hug that brought him close enough to your ear to whisper. “You could never break my heart.”

September 21st, 2011

Ian Doyle was only a couple of meters away.

Spencer's fist throbbed and burned, still stained with the blood of the man who had taken everything from him seven months ago. He knew he had done wrong, that he had promised everyone that he would only talk to the terrorist, and that he had done much more than that. The team had barely been able to get him out of the interrogation room because he was out of control with rage.

He wanted to make him feel a lot of pain and a minimum of what you and Emily probably felt that night.

“You need to calm down.” JJ came out of the meeting room to stop him before he could go in.

“I'm calm.” He replied, still trying to regulate his breathing. He could see his friend raise an eyebrow, and he decided to speak up again to avoid upsetting her. “This is about as calm as I can get right now.”

As soon as he was done speaking, Reid tried to keep going to the room, but the woman was in his way again and stopped him from opening the door.

“You have to be calm for what Hotch has to tell you. I mean it.” Jennifer said, after receiving a confused look. “What you're going to see now...”

“I'll be fine.”

Without giving her a chance to say anything else, he opened the door to the room. Spencer thought he'd find photos of the crime scene that ruined his life, maybe some testimony he didn't know about, or even the killer there. But none of that was true, and it made his heart stop.

“Hi.”

You certainly broke his heart this time.

[antiquarianfics]

Taken pt. 11

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

a/n: this is a direct result of the power of commenting/reblogging an author's work. someone said they were sad they didn't think i was going to finish this, and i realized i hadn't finished it, and i have some time for once, so i decided to be skibidi sigma. (gen alpha brainrot is starting to come out unironically. i work with middle schoolers. sorry.)

warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

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When the judge tells you, “Mrs. Y/N L/N-Barnes, you’re a free woman,” you let out a sob and feel yourself yanked into a firm chest that you’d recognize anywhere: Bucky.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re coming home.”

—

You would think that months working for the enemy, followed by months locked up in a cell, followed by a month of trial, that finally ended in your freedom and return to your family would bring you peace.

It doesn't.

Sure, finally sleeping in your own bed again and cuddling up next to your husband was amazing, hugging your daughter again was amazing, having privacy again was amazing... but freedom and its perks don't erase trauma. You get to lie in your own bed again and cuddle up next to your husband, but you can't sleep lest the nightmares come. You get to hug your daughter again, but you're always looking over your shoulder, worried someone will snatch her away from you again. You get to have privacy, but you never trust that you're truly alone.

After everything that has happened, you realize, you will never be able to go back to how things were. You're a different person than you were before you and Becca were taken. You're a murderer now, not a hero. When you look at your hands, all you see is blood, and when you look in the mirror, all you see is a shell of the woman you once were.

—

The first week back home as a free woman is spent making amends, as per the recommendation of your court-mandated therapist.

"Steve, I am so sorry for trying to kill you. I... I don't even know what to say. If it weren't for Bec, I wouldn't've, but-" You say, throat dry, palms sweaty as you wipe them on your pants.

"Hey, it's okay. I understand. I forgive you. If anyone is going to understand turning on a friend to protect someone they care about, it's me." Steve gives you a comforting smile, his tone so earnest. "Just ask Tony and Bucky."

You crack a smile.

After Steve, came Fury and Coulson, the late presidents' family, the families of the many politicians you killed... the list felt unending as you worked your way through it.

It takes months to track down the loved ones of all the people you hurt while with HYDRA, and by the time you're finished with it, you're more exhausted than when you were literally locked up and starved while in HYDRA's custody.

With a huff and a frown, you flop onto the couch. You fall over the arm of the couch and land on your back. Bucky laughs a little as he watches your dramatic display, walking over and leaning over you, resting his arms on the back of the couch.

"Tired?" He asks.

"Yeah. This making amends stuff is exhausting. Don't know how you do it." You flop an arm over your eyes.

"Slowly but surely," he says. "And it helps that I have a super hot and supportive wife to encourage me when it feels like too much." He reaches over the couch and pokes your stomach. You giggle and squirm.

"I don't know that the 'hot' part helps the amends," you say pointedly.

"Maybe, but it doesn't hurt."

You smirk but say nothing. Bucky watches for a moment.

"Well?" He asks finally.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to say it back?"

"Say what back?"

"You know."

"I don't know."

"That having a super hot and supportive husband makes making amends easier," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. You lift your arm off your face to look at him; he's wearing a shit-eating grin.

"I guess it does help a little," you concede.

He jumps up, throwing his arms in the air in victory. It's a little out of character for him, but it makes you laugh. He's been going out of his way to make you laugh, even when it includes him doing things that feel unnatural to him. Bucky Barnes wants his wife back, yes, but he is also aware that after everything that you went through, you won't be the same. Things won't go back to normal: there will just be a new normal. In the meantime, he just wants you to laugh a little while you figure out what your new normal is.

—

At some point, you fall asleep on the couch. Bucky leaves you there, afraid to move you lest you wake up. Ever since your captivity with Frost and HYDRA, you've been having nightmares that Bucky worries rival his. Any nightmare-free sleep you get is rare and needed.

Bucky had lain a blanket over you before putting Becca to bed and heading to bed himself, and even though he'd deny it, he was exhausted, too. So when your nightmares start, he doesn't wake up.

The nightmare starts out slow, and you toss and turn in your sleep, pitiful whimpers leaving your lips. Though, it doesn't take long for the nightmares to progress. Soon, you've tossed the blanket onto the floor and your whimpers have turned into screams. Bucky doesn't hear, but Becca does.

The 4 year old walks through the apartment, leaving her room quietly in search of her screaming mother. She's scared; she's never heard you scream like this. While locked up, she heard you scream in anger—she still remembers how you screamed and pulled the chains out of the wall—but she has never heard you scream in fear. Until now. Her mommy has always been the bravest person she knows, and that's even braver than her daddy—he said so himself.

Clutching her stuffed rabbit in one hand, she slowly walks into the living room where she can see you flailing and screaming on the couch.

"Mommy?" Becca calls out softly, nervously. When you don't answer, she tries again, moving closer still. "Mommy, wake up."

Again, you don't answer. You're still deeply asleep. Becca walks up to the couch and stands right beside you. Tentatively, she places the hand not holding her rabbit against your shoulder and shakes.

"Mommy, wake up."

When you still don't wake up, she shakes your shoulder a little harder and speaks up a little louder.

"Mommy, wake up! Mommy, it's just a dream. Just a bad dream. Wake up!" She gives a good push to your shoulder with the last 'wake up' and you sit up quickly, swinging your arms in a punch. You hit Becca, and she stumbles back, loses her balance, and falls, hitting her head against the coffee table.

You start to fully come to. You're looking around the room frantically, breathing heavily, and, slowly, you realize you're in a familiar place. Slowly, you recognize your living room. Slowly, you realize your daughter is bleeding on the floor.

You do a double take. Becca is sat against the coffee table, her bunny abandoned at her side. She's holding her head, but blood is still dripping out from the sides of her small hand, and she's bawling.

"M-m-mommy, I'm s-s-sorry!" She cries.

"Becca! Oh, no, no, no!" You quickly stumble off the couch, sitting on your knees as you hover your hands next to Becca's head, trying to assess the damage.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Mama's so sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to."

The commotion is loud enough that it wakes Bucky up and he slides into the room, panic staining his face.

"Y/N, what's going on? Are you okay? Is Becca okay?" He says worriedly, rushing over to you and kneeling beside you.

Noticing that you're not actually touching Becca or trying to help, he pushes you out of the way, pulling Becca's hand away from her forehead. He grimaces as he gently swipes his thumb across the cut, wiping the blood away. He lets out a relieved breath.

"It's not that bad. It's okay. You're okay, sweetheart," he tells Becca, kissing her forehead.

Bucky turns to see that you've backed yourself into the corner of the room, as far away from him and Becca as you could possibly get. You're holding your head in your hands, crying, and muttering "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to," over and over.

"Doll, she's okay. It's just a small cut. You didn't do anything wrong," Bucky reassures you, scooping Becca in his arms as he speaks. He was piecing together that you'd hurt her in a post-nightmare haze (he was familiar with them).

You just shake your head frantically.

—

Bucky gets Becca cleaned up and put back to bed. When he returns to the living room, you're still huddled in the corner, but you've stopped crying. Instead, you're staring blankly at the wall. He walks over.

"Doll? Hey." He gently tilts your chin towards him. "Bec's okay. She's not mad—a little rattled—but mostly worried about her mama. You didn't do anything wrong. You know that, right?"

You shake your head and he sighs.

"She's asking for you."

You finally make eye contact.

"No. I don't want to see her; I can't see her. You have to keep Becca away from me, Bucky." Each word that leaves your mouth is deadly serious. Bucky's mouth is slightly agape as he takes in your words.

"Sweetheart, she's okay. You can see her," he tries.

"No, I can't. I'm a danger to her, Bucky. I hurt my baby." Your voice cracks, and the pain in your voice breaks Bucky's heart.

"Promise me you will keep her away from me," you beg.

He nods reluctantly. "Okay."

You nod and turn your gaze back to the wall. It's silent for a few minutes.

You stand abruptly and Bucky quickly mirrors the action.

"What is it?" Bucky asks.

"I'm going to kill Frost," you say at the same time.

A beat. Bucky stares at you.

"I'm going to hunt that son of a bitch down, and I am going to make him pay for everything he has done to this family." You make direct eye contact with your husband. "Everything."

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@just-henny @jasminocano @browneyedgirl22-blog @barnesboo1967 @matchat3a @unkasworld @qwertyb2577 @raajali3 @yoruse @iilsenewman @alysianc @fairytalegirlofurdreams @marvelxlevram @casa-boiardi @buckybraneslover111 @hhiggs @smolracoon25 @questionableratatouille00 @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl @thearieunhinged @sebastianstansource @middaystarlight @talesofadragon @killerwendigo @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @scatteredstardustt @babysbreathbabes @ordinarylokix @lilstarfish88 @ordelixx @shizukestar @filmsbyblair

[ilovefootballwrs]

waiting room

Reader x Leah Williamson

Warnings: Toxic relationship, homophobia, mommy issues

"I wanna make you drive all night just because I said, "Maybe you should come over" Wanna make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents' teenage daughter She'll be the best you ever had if you let her"

---------------------

Present

"How do you know she was the one?"

How did I know she was the on? Maybe it was the way that she made me feel? When we were together it was a mess, we were a mess. But when we are apart? My heart and soul long for her. I could never let her go, it is never going to happen.

"I never said that." I answered to the question.

"I know, but you implied it." She took a long breath before continuing what she was going to say. "Listen Y/N, if this is going to help you need to work with me. I can only help you so much, the real work comes from your side."

"I do really want your help, I really do! I just don't know how."

"Okay, then let's start from the beginning, tell me about how you met."

. . .

April, 2022

"I don't know what you're getting so worked over Y/N."

"This is a big deal for me Abby! What if it goes really bad and I end up blowing it up?" I sigh before setting my coffee down.

"It won't blow up, trust me" Abby said with a reassuring nod.

"And..." She continued, "If you happened to meet a super hot lesbian footballer, give her my number!" She winked at me.

"Abigail, I won't do that!"

"Not even for Lucy Bronze?" She asked me with a pleading look.

"Not even for Lucy Bronze."

I checked my clock and saw that the training started soon.

"I have to go! Can't risk getting late for my first day." I said excitingly.

"Take some hot pics of Bronzy for me! And don't forget to send them to me, for you know a second opinion."

. . .

Present

"Did you ever feel safe talking to Abby about your feelings?" My therapist asked me.

"Abby is my best friend, and I do love her with all my heart, but I never felt comfortable talking about her about those feelings." I said with an emphasis on those.

"Can you try to explain why to me?"

"I never really understood why, I still don't, but I would guess it was because of how open she was about it and I wasn't."

"Did you ever think about coming out to her?"

I took a deep breath and started getting ready to answer the question. I could feel my hands shaking and heart beating faster.

"I guess at one point I wanted to, but I would always get reminded of what happened with my mother." I took another deep breath before continuing, "I wanted to tell her about me and Leah so badly, I really did, but I just couldn't. It wasn't even like I was trying to suppress my feelings for Leah to myself, it was just to others I did that."

. . .

April, 2022

"I am so sorry about the camera, I really didn't mean for it to happen. I can pay you for the cost!" She said in a panic.

"Don't worry, it's not me you should be worrying about because this isn't my personal camera. I got it from the media team." I told her.

"Still, I am sorry!" She looked at me. God, she has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.

"It's okay, really." I reassured her, again.

"This is a really bad way of introducing myself." She laughed. "I'm Leah" She struck out her hand for me to shake. I took her hand and answered.

"I'm Y/N."

. . .

Present

"Leah would try to tell me that it was okay, but I never listened to her. I should've and we would've maybe still been together."

"Did you ever feel like Leah was pushing you?" My therapist looked me deep in the eyes.

"She never meant for-" I started before she interrupted me.

"Y/N, did you ever feel like Leah tried to force you to come out? It's a yes or no question and the only one that know that answer to that is you! I am not interested in what she meant or didn't mean, this is not about her it's about you!" She looked at me with a sharp glance.

"Yes, yes it did feel like that to times. It was the reason for most of our fights. She would ask me to stop hiding her and I would tell her that I never meant for that, I just wasn't ready." I sighed. "I understand how she would feel like that though. I wouldn't want that either, but it just didn't feel like she understood where it came from."

. . .

January, 2023

"I just don't understand Y/N! Why can't you just tell Abby at least? She would understand!" She yelled.

"I get that she would understand, Leah! But that isn't the point! I'm just not ready." I tried to explain.

"What are you waiting for Y/N? There's nothing stoping you from telling her, what's the big deal?" She said.

"What's the big deal? Leah, how coming out not a big deal?" I yelled at her, at this point I was furios.

"You've already come out to your mum, why can't you just come out to Abby?" She questioned.

"And how did that go Leah? She hasn't talked to me since!" I felt the tears in my eyes at this point. How could she not understand. "I thought that you of all people would understand Leah, but I guess you're just like everyone else."

"I tried not to be! But you never gave me any other choices. I want to be with someone who will drive the whole night just to be with me, but you can't even tell people about our love. Y/N, I'm not your waiting room, I can't be."

. . .

Present

"That's the last I've heard from her." At this point I was sobbing. "I tried texting her and calling her but she blocked me. She doesn't want anything to do with me." I tried to calm down, but it didn't help. "After this, I told Abby. I had to tell her. If I just told her sooner, maybe I still would've had Leah. But it's too late now."

. . .

The end.

[myeagleexpert]

Throw wood on the fire

Pairing: Tim Drake/Red Robin x YN AFAB Warning: yandere fic, toxic relationaship, he's possessive, you're stubborn, obsessive, emotional manipulation, nswf (pt 2) Summary: You  and Tim have always been soulmates, but it's so suffocating that you've reached your limit. It's time to break up with Tim. Note: Reader is described and represented as YN or as "You" because, grammarly, I'm trying to adapt the text so that it is more harmonious! Eng is not my mother language, so often the way I write does not relate to the translator and I have to translate most of my works manually. Therefore, thank you for understanding!

After a great night spent with your friends, having fun and bringing lightness to life, without even worrying about the time. But as the night is young, you have an annoying alarm telling you that it's time to go back to bed: Tim. You enter yours a luxurious apartment in the city center. Your shoulders immediately tensed when you heard his voice demanding answers.

"YN where were you??" He immediately grabs your arm and demands to know where you've been and why you were so late getting back

"Relax Tim, I just went out with my friends" you say taking off your red high heels, sighing heavily as you have this same conversation…for the fifth time.

Tim's expression remains stern as he crosses his arms across his chest. "I don't care if you were out with your friends," he retorts.

 "I told you to be back by 10 PM. It's midnight." mentally you ignore him as you take off your fancy suit and place your bag on a couch in the living room.

Tim follows after you, his annoyance growing with every step. "That's not an excuse," he snaps, his voice sharp. "You knew what time you were supposed to be home, and you didn't even try to keep track of the time."

He watches as you start walking to your room, and he grabs your hand to stop you. "We're not done talking about this." he says firmly. "You need to understand how worried I was about you being out so late."

"We just talked about it. I came back late by accident, it already happened there's no way back. I said I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Happy now?" Irritated, you release your hand from his grip and return to your route.

Tim's jaw clenches tightly as he listens to your response. He clearly isn’t satisfied with your dismissive attitude.

"No, I'm not happy," he replies with a mix of irritation and frustration in his voice. "You don't seem to understand how big of a deal this is for me. You're supposed to be mine, and I need to know where you are, what you're doing, who you're with. It's for your own safety."

"When did such a healthy relationship become so suffocating? Where is the Tim I knew? Why is it getting more and more tiring to continue this?" YN thinks, searching the timeline for where and when the red flags started to appear… and when she started ignoring them.

"I'm your girlfriend, I'm not an object to possess Tim." I look at him seriously "We've talked about this before, I'm going to sleep now. You can't control me 24 hours." Tim's expression hardens even more as you challenge him. He's not used to being contradicted or questioned, especially when it comes to you.

Your therapist said that in moments like this it was ideal to remain calm and that counting to 10 would help to calm down and not explode at others.

1....2....3.......

"You're my girlfriend, and that means you're mine," he insists firmly. "I'm not trying to control you, I'm trying to protect you. Can't you see that?"

He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I care about you, more than anything else. I can't stand the thought of something happening to you. It drives me crazy when I can't keep an eye on you."

4......

You increase the distance and turn your back to Tim, ignoring his words while you change your clothes and put on satin pajamas. He looks at you irritated as you lie down on the big bed, covering me with the soft linen blankets. Tim’s eyes follow you as you changed into your pjamas and climbed into bed, his irritation growing with every movement you make. He stands there, his fingers clenched tightly into fists as he watches you get comfortable in bed.

“You’re seriously just going to go to sleep now?” He asks, his voice tight with frustration. “We’re not done talking about this.”

"I would love to talk about this with you, but as you can see, I'm already asleep. And good night dear, be careful the bogeyman doesn't get you" you say sarcastically as you cover your head with the sheets, mentally praying that Tim will give up any upset tonight, your patience has been...very little.Tim's jaw clenches even tighter as he listens to your sarcastic retort. He's clearly not amused by your dismissive attitude and attempts to end the discussion.

5....

He takes another step towards the bed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You're seriously being a brat right now? I'm trying to talk to you like an adult, but you're just acting like a child, YN."

He stops at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with a mixture of irritation and frustration in his eyes. "You can't just shut me out and expect this conversation to go away," he continues, his voice firm. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. You can't just pretend it didn't happen!"

"Tim." you look at him seriously "I don't want to talk about it now, I'm tired and sleepy. We'll talk about it tomorrow."Tim's expression softens slightly as he meets your gaze, but his stubbornness remains. He sighs heavily before replying.

"I don't want to wait until tomorrow," he says, his voice still firm but slightly calmer. "I need to know what happened tonight. Where were you? Who were you with? What were you doing?"

6.....

"If you keep insisting, I'm going to go out in my pajamas and sleep at a friend's house." You threaten him as you run your hand through your hair, for a moment, Tim's gaze turns dark, he knows you have the audacity to do this.

"You're really going to leave in the middle of the night and go sleep at one of your friends' houses? Over this?" he asks, his voice filled with a mix of irritation and disbelief.

7.....

"Goodnight darling." You get up irritated and give him a kiss as you get out of bed. Still in your pajamas, you take your car keys and I go out to the garage where my beloved car awaits me. Tim follows hot on your heels, his expression a mix of alarm and determination.

"Wait, what are you doing?" he calls out, his voice tinged with worry.

He can't believe you're actually leaving in the middle of the night. He catches up to you just as you're about to get in your car.

Tim grabs your arm, trying to stop you from getting into the car. "You can't just leave like this," he says urgently. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. I need to know that you're safe."

You take his hand off your arm and say dryly "I'm fine and safe as you can see, see you tomorrow. I'm not going to talk to you irritated!" YN say, getting into the car and turning on the ignition, pressing the control to open the gate.

8.....

Tim's expression turns to one of frustration and helplessness as he watches you get into the car. He knows he can't stop you from leaving, but it kills him to see you so upset and willing to walk out in the middle of the night.

"Damnit, don't do this," he says, his voice pleading. "Please don't drive off in anger. Just come back inside and we can talk about this like adults."

He takes a step closer to the car, leaning down to look at you through the open window. His expression is a mix of concern and desperation.

9....

"Please, just don't drive off like this. It's the middle of the night, and I'm worried about you being out alone. Just come back inside, and we can talk this out."

"I don't want to talk right now." you start the car and start walking when he stops irritated, and almost crying, in front of the car "Excuse me, I need to pass if you don't mind" you say disguising the anger and frustration, honking the horn calmly. Tim takes a step back, his arms falling to his sides in frustration. He watches with a mix of anger and helplessness as you start to drive away.

But just as you're about to pass him, he steps in front of the car, blocking your path.

“TIM!”

Fuck counting to 10...

"What the hell are you doing?" he blurts out, his voice tight with irritation and worry. "You're really going to drive off like this in the middle of the night? It's not safe!"

He stands in front of the car, his eyes locked on yours through the windshield. "God Damnit, just stop and talk to me," he pleads, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and desperation. "We can't just leave things this way. You can't just walk out and leave in the middle of the night without talking to me about what happened tonight."

"I'll text one of your robots to read." you respond sarcastically while rolling your eyes, but after taking a deep breath, you try to negotiate with him "If you stay quiet, I'll come back and sleep on the couch. If you keep insisting like this, I'll leave now and only come back in the morning" I turn on the car and make the engine make a loud noise.Tim listens to your response, his expression growing more frustrated by the second. He clenches his fists at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to argue further.

Tim considers your offer for a moment, his mind racing with frustration and worry. But he knows he doesn't really have a choice right now.

"Fine," he finally says, his voice tight. "But we are going to talk about this in the morning. And you better not try to sneak out again tonight."

He takes a step back, allowing you to drive off, but his expression is still filled with irritation and worry. He watches as you drive off, his mind racing with frustration and insecurity.

"Damnit," he mutters to himself as he watches you drive away. "Why does she always have to be so damn stubborn."

The powefull Red Robin, stands there for a moment, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. he's torn between the need to go after you and the knowledge that you won't listen right now.

His mind races with conflicting thoughts. he's worried about your safety, but he's also irritated by your stubbornness. He knows he should just let you go for the night, but the thought of not knowing where you are or what you're doing is driving him insane.Tim takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. he knows he can't just follow your car and chase you down. That would only make things worse. But the thought of you driving off in anger and irritation, alone in the middle of the night, is eating him alive.

At that point, it was like throwing wood on the fire, fueling anger and rebellion.

As time passed, YN saw the love she felt for Tim gradually turning into a prison. Like a perfect fairy tale it lost its color, slowly turning into a horror film where she would be the only victim.

“Baby, we need to talk…”

The constant need to be together and Tim's obsession with protecting her created a web of possession that left her increasingly suffocated. Constant calls, constant paranoia, constant accusations… it was all getting too much. As heiress to her father's company, YN always tried to be at the height of the company and it was very difficult with a boyfriend demanding to know who she was with all the time, why she cared about all that and why… that man was shaking her hand .

Each day was a desperate effort to maintain some of his autonomy, while Tim became more controlling and domineering. The feeling of being constantly surrounded by a hyperprotective guard was oppressive, depriving her of space to breathe.

“How will I know she’s really your friend? !What if she wants to poison your head about our relationship?!”

YN tried to rebel against the prison that had become her relationship, her stubbornness and her independence at stake. She began to become more indifferent towards Tim's possessive efforts, trying to create the distance needed to have more control over her life. Increasing and rebuilding the walls that were previously knocked down with sarcastic, poisonous comments, trying to get back to having a busy and festive life like before. However, each attempt to regain her autonomy was met with resistance from Tim, who desperately clung to the illusion of being her protector. With every step she took toward freedom, he strived to hold her back, increasing his possessiveness and desperation to keep her by her side.

“Why do you want to go to this event alone? We're a couple, aren't we? What are you going to do there that you won’t need me?”

Little by little, the web was made by Tim's efforts and undone by YN's stubbornness, it was a tiring, exhausting process and honestly YN was already at the limit of it all.

Like a butterfly that turns and convulses its way out of its web, so YN was determined to fly free again.

The plan to sleep over at a friend Daisy's house failed, leaving only one friend on the other side of the city. YN breathes a sigh of relief as she turn off location, cell phone, and any other service that has anything that connects to it. While at his house, you took advantage of the time away from Tim and focused on your training, finally a full workout without Tim hacking the gym. You posted some photos and videos on social media, recording your workout and the breakfast you were having with your friend you met the other day.

Meanwhile, Tim was anxious and worried, unable to focus on anything other than his absence. He became even angrier when he saw your posts on social media. He knew that you were making these posts on purpose to irritate him, which only increased his anger and frustration. he tried to control himself, but he couldn't help the feeling of helplessness and anxiety that overwhelmed him. He wanted to know where you were, what you were doing, who was with you.

It was noon when you called Tim, giving him the air of your presence "Tim, are you home now? Do you want me to bring you lunch?" YN say hoping he would forget the conversation as she gets into the car, reapplying lipstick and putting on sunglasses.

Tim answers the phone, trying to control the frustration and anxiety in his voice. He was in the apartment, busy with work, when you called.

"Yes, I'm home," he replies, trying to remain calm. "But there's no need to bring lunch, I'll order something." He tries to keep the conversation casual, but he can't forget the argument from the night before.

"I'll order… Your favorite" You say trying to lighten the mood, the calm before the storm. Tim hesitates for a moment, his frustration with the situation still present. But his favorite's offer makes him relent.

"Okay, fine," he says, trying not to show how much he was looking forward to your return. "But you'll be here soon, right?"

"If I say I'm going to help the chef, will you let me take my time?" I try to bargain with him. Tim is holding back.

Tim takes a deep breath, his possessive and controlling side taking over for a moment. He really wanted you home where he could keep an eye on you and make sure you were safe. But he also knew that you wouldn’t give in that easily. He tries to remain calm as he responds.

But he also knew that you wouldn’t give in that easily. He tries to remain calm as he responds.

"For how long?" he asks, irritated. "And why do you need to help the chef?"

"I'm going to make the special recipe with him" you say without even realizing it, a little evil in the intonation, but soon swallow it to be a decent person, , as if she hadn't thrown wood on the fire.

Tim raises his eyebrows when you mention "the special recipe." What the hell were you doing? The “Special Recipe” was a dish that only the two of you made. Period. It was a couple thing and not a delivery from a fancy restaurant. It wasn't a different seasoning or something exotic, the fun of the “special recipe” was making the YN and Tim recipe, a pasta where the two make romantically in the kitchen, an illusion of domesticity and togetherness.

"The special recipe?" he repeats, irritation and suspicion evident in his voice. "Why the special recipe? You didn't mention anything like that before."

"Isn't it your favorite, love? I'll be there in 20 minutes"

"Okay, cool," he replies, his voice tense. "I'll be waiting for you."

Tim notices the sarcastic tone in her voice, but he tries to ignore it, his irritation still present. He knows you're joking, but he can't help but wonder what's really going on. He was sitting in his office, trying to stay calm and work while he waited for you. But his irritation and frustration were quickly growing as the minutes passed.

YN arrived at the shared apartment within 40 minutes, ready to talk. "Good morning Einstein" she takes off her heels and goes to the living room, placing the delivery in the kitchen watching the fuming man leave the office

When you finally arrived, he quickly got up from the office and left to meet you in the living room. His look was serious and full of anger.

"Six hours" was the first word he spoke, without even greeting you. His tone was cold and controlled, but the irritation was evident in his expression and in every word he said.

"Six fucking hours," he repeated, "No news, no messages, nothing. I was on the verge of madness, not knowing if you were okay or not." He approached you, his eyes locked on yours. He wanted to hug you, pull you into his arms, but the feeling of irritation and frustration prevailed at the moment.

"Explain to me," he demanded, his voice firm. "Where were you? What were you doing? Who was with you?"

"I went to celebrate our company's profit with my friends from work" friends that he hated "Then I went to that restaurant that opened now, the Japanese one" That Tim hated "As it was early at night, I was invited to a party at the other city ​​with the girls." girls who hated Tim "As we had a disagreement yesterday, so I slept at Galileo's house" the guy who hit on you

With every word you spoke, Tim's expression changed. He felt his veins pulsing with anger and frustration as you mentioned your friends and the guy who hit on you while you explained in an indifferent way, as if you were talking about the weather and not turning on warning sirens in Tim's head.

He tried to contain his possessive and controlling side, but it was difficult to control his feelings. The thought of you spending the night at another man's house drove him completely insane.

"Did you sleep at another man's house?" he repeated, his anger evident in his voice. "Daisy wasn't home, my closest option was Galileo." "He's gay baby, relax" YN says

Tim snorts when you say Galileo is gay. Even though he knew he wasn't interested in women, the idea of ​​you spending the night at another man's house was irritating to him, especially because Tim saw him hitting on you and was paranoid since from the first time the two of you were introduced. He tries to calm down, but the anger still clings to him like a thorn.

"That doesn't change the fact that you slept at another man's house," he snaps. "Because my man wouldn't let me sleep in peace" I retort with the same intensity

Tim takes a deep breath, his hands clench into fists in anger. He knows you're right, but he doesn't want to admit it. He feels the guilt slowly creeping into him, but the anger still prevails.

"You ran away from me," he responds, his voice firm. "You just left our house without a word and i didn't hear from you for hours." The muscles in Tim's neck tighten as he speaks, anger and frustration mixing in his words.

"I was worried," he continues, "I was desperate not knowing where you were or if you were safe. I tried calling and texting you, but you left me hanging." His voice becomes lower and more intense as he continues to speak.

"And now, I find out that you spent the night at another man's house, the guy I detest, for God's sake."

He moves closer, invading your personal space, chest rising and falling with each hectic breath.

"How do you think I feel, huh?" he asks, his voice tense. "What do you think I was like, not hearing from you, not knowing where you were, what you were doing, who you were with?" He places his hands on both sides of her face, forcing Yn to look directly into his blue eyes. Mentally trying to connect his stormy eyes with your lovely ones. How cute, you might think….

A boyfriend desperate for his girlfriend's well-being, and everything for her protection, hmm?

Apart from the fact that they've had this conversation before.

How a prey follows the natural instincts that the predator will attack, turning on the fight or flight button…..

So YN remains firm and upright, she can notice the gentle changes in Tim's gaze, his worried speech, his dominant touch trying to make her “stay in her place”, but there is not a hint of guilt in her eyes.

YN had seen this film many, many times, the same script with the same characters. It's time to leave the cinema and live real life.

"Sorry, it won't happen again." you press your hand against his for a few seconds and then remove it from your face, looking at him seriously, your eyes as steady as a mountain weathering the storm. Tim's smile widened, but it closed realizing something was going to happen. Tim looks at you, his face showing a brief expression of relief and happiness as you rest your hand against his. But that feeling quickly fades when she realizes something isn't right.

He tries to stay calm, waiting for you to say something.

"What it was?" he asks, the anger and irritation still evident in her voice. "I know that expression. What are you going to do?"

The silence lasts for a few seconds as you remain quiet, your gaze serious and determined. Tim feels the atmosphere getting tense, he knows something is happening but he doesn't know what, and he hates every second of not knowing what goes on in Yn's head.

He crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for you to speak. His patience is starting to run out.

"Come on," he scolds, his voice brusque. "Speak quickly."

"I think we better break up." In the same way I speak abruptly, and I see his world turning upside down. Tim's expression changes immediately, as if he's been punched in the stomach. He stays frozen in place, his mind trying to process what you just said.

What? No… it can't be….. No…..it's not real. She must just be mad….

He babbles for a few seconds, unable to form words.

"I-I didn't hear you right," he finally says, his voice shaking slightly. "Repeat please."

"I think its better if we better break up, Tim. It's not working out, sorry." The words fall like a hammer on Tim's heart. He remains still, his mind trying desperately to find the words to argue, to change your mind.

He opens and closes his mouth several times, his hands shaking slightly. Finally, he manages to speak, his voice fragile and shaky.

"But…but why?" he asks, his words coming out almost like a whisper. ' "You know why."

Tim remains silent, his gaze fixed on his. He knows exactly what you're saying, but he still doesn't want to accept it. Millions of conversations about the relationship, the opinion of friends and family, the indirect ones, the distance… he knows he's being too much, that he's trying to imprison you, that he's pushing you away with all his obsession and paraoic… but he He can't stop, you're his drug. Slowly killing and addicting him until he can no longer live without you.

He runs a shaky hand through his black hair, trying to control himself but failing miserably.

"I…" he tries to say, but his voice trails off. He takes a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to speak. "I can change."

He won't change. Yn thinks, already knowing where this story would end.

"You don't need to change, Tim. I'm the problem here." I put my hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure someone out there will appreciate and value all your concern and your temper. But we've been hurting each other a lot lately."

Tim holds your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. He knows you're right, that things weren't working between you. But he can't accept it.

"I-i don't want it to end," he murmurs, his voice lowering. "I love you. I want to make it work."

“Listen Tim… I-” your sentence is cut off when Tim hugs you tightly, his head resting on your shoulder as he starts to cry. He tries to control himself, but emotion takes over him.

He squeezes you tighter, like he's desperately trying to keep you from leaving. Trying to bring you close, inhaling your scent, feeling your heat, trying to mold your body to his.

"Piplease," he whispers, voice shaking from crying. "Please don't leave. Please stay with me."

Tim continues to hold you, his body shaking with the emotions he's trying to keep under control. He doesn’t want to let you go, desperate to keep you by his side.

Anything other than us breaking up…

I don't accept it… I don't want it!

How will I exist without you by my side?

Why don't you want to try again?

He lifts his head, looking at you with red, teary eyes.

"I'll change," he promises, his voice husky. "I promise I'll change. Just don't leave. Please don't leave me."

He holds your face and looks at you, with hearts in his eyes, knowing that you won't give in anytime soon. He uses emotional blackmail to make Yn stay, after all, she always liked beautiful words, covered in honey.

Don't you love him anymore? Why do you want to hurt him so much?

Tim desperately tries to find a way to change your mind. He knows words aren't working, so he takes desperate action...

He holds your face tightly, looking directly and deeply into your eyes.

"If you leave…," he murmurs, voice shaking. "I won't be able to live. I'll go crazy without you. Please don't leave me. I won't survive."

"You're Red Robin, you've survived worse things." YN says trying to free herself from him which makes him increase the emotional blackmail, holding you against him, she tries to cut off his line of reasoning, the blackmail, the depraved words but it seems like it only makes everything increase more…. Tim remains holding you, his grip becoming firmer as YN tries to break free. He can see that you are not giving in easily and desperately grasps at any means possible to make you stay.

He presses his face against your neck, his voice shaky as he murmurs.

"It's not just a matter of physical survival," he says, voice muffled by the contact of his face against her skin. "I won't be able to live without you. You are my reason for living."

"I'm going to die without you…..I'll kill myself if I don't have you by my side…" He threatens, increasingly serious and desperate, for a moment, in the name of all the love in your relationship, you fear for his life.

Tim continues to murmur against your delicate neck, his embrace becoming almost painful. He seems desperate to keep you by his side, whatever the cost. He puts one hand on your back, the other wrapping around your waist. He pulls you against him, as if he's afraid he'll let you escape.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice rough with emotions. "I love you so much. Please don't leave. Please stay with me." Tim continues to beg the same words, his embrace becoming more and more desperate as he tries to stop you from leaving.

He looks completely vulnerable, as if his life depended on it. His voice is low and full of emotion as he repeats as a pray:

"I love you. I love you. I'll get better, I promise. Just don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

When he hears your silence, his voice rises as if to prove he is telling the truth, almost shouting in your ear as he shakes and sobs in fear. Tim raises his voice as he desperately tries to convince you to stay, his words increasing in intensity as he sobs and shakes in fear.

He clings to you as if you were his anchor, his body shaking with emotion.

"I'll do anything for our relationship," he repeats, his voice almost desperate. "I'll get better for you. I'll change. I'll do whatever it takes. Just… please… don't leave me."

Tim's sobs grow stronger as he tries to hold back the tears. He's clearly desperate, his hug growing tighter and tighter as he desperately tries to keep you by his side.

With pity, YN runs an involuntary hand through Tim's hair, making him hope. "Are you really going to change?" I know he won't change, but maybe I can push the breakup further, in a month or two when he gets used to the idea.

Yn makes a mental note of the idea, without knowing that Tim himself already had plans for the two of them stay toguether forever.

Tim seems to perk up slightly when he feels your hand running through his hair, feeling you give in a little. He lifts his head, looking at you with a hopeful look.

He nods, his eyes still red from tears, but a little calmer.

"I'll change," he promises, voice firmer. "I'll be better for you. Just…give me another chance. Please."

"Okay…. the last one" with that he kisses you and cries more, relieved that you changed your mind. Tim takes the opportunity to kiss you, his tongue penetrating your mouth in a desperate and needy way. He cries as he kisses you, the relief evident in his gesture.

You still haven't said you love him too….. You do not love me anymore?

However, he is not satisfied with just the kiss, the insecurities and the countless scenarios running wild in his mind. He uses everything he can, pressing your body against his as he murmurs low, desperate words.

Will you still leave me? No, please no! You still love me?

"I won't survive without you!" he whispers, arms squeezing you against him. "You are everything to me. Just give me one more chance, please."

Tim repeats the same words, his hands roaming her body as he presses YN against him. He's desperate to keep you close, his embrace becoming almost possessive. He brings his mouth to her neck, kissing and biting the skin gently.

"I'm a dead man without you," he whispers, voice hoarse with emotion. "I won't survive without you. Just give me one more chance, please. Just one more, Yn. I love you so much..."

"…..I love you, Tim. Let's get better okay?" I confirm it when I hug him back

Tim takes a moment to process the words, his hands shaking with relief and hope. He hugs you tighter, his facial expression softening slightly. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tries to contain the tangle of emotions inside him.

"I'll make you happy," he promises, voice hoarse. "I'm going to be the best man I can be. Just… have a little more patience with me."

Tim remains hugging you for a few minutes, trying to calm down as his mind seems to spin with all the emotions. He takes a deep breath, trying to control his heart that feels like it's about to come out of his chest and YN is the only thing keeping him sane, stable, preventing him from becoming another Gotham madman.

He lifts his head again, looking at you with an almost vulnerable look.

"I'll get better," he whispers, his voice firm but soft. "I'm going to do everything differently. Just… don't leave me. Please." He continued to hold your face in his shaking hands, trying to hold you against him. Trying to breathe your air. Trying to get into your heart.

YN kisses him on the mouth, catching him off guard "I know you're going to do it differently, my love. It's going to be okay."

YN feels so exhausted by this argument, fed up and patiently reaching the end, realizing that he won't let them end that easily. So, YN changes her mind, mentally changing her strategy before Tim arrests her and chains her in the apartment.

you tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Let's watch a movie, hmm?" She suggests he calm down, cutting off any obsessive or paranoid trains of thought with a gentle smile.

Tim seems almost surprised by the unexpected gesture of the kiss, but he quickly recovers. His hands lightly squeeze her waist as he returns the gesture.

He nodded, his voice a little calmer.

"Yes, a film." He responds, his facial expression less tense. "That sounds good. Like we did before."

Tim moves away from you a little, but he doesn't let go of you completely. As he takes you to the couch, he remains close, with one hand on your waist, melting into Yn's warmth, the familiar scent bringing him a sense of comfort and security that only she can bring.

It looks like the film will repeat itself again.

The beautiful butterfly is caught in the spider's suffocating webs.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

[tabithatwo]

are we ready to talk about shauna's barely hidden but somehow very ignored psychosis and how it, like a ton of her other qualities, is brushed aside by both those around her and the audience? like, i think its clear that a central focus of the show is the way lottie is the only one who got stuck in a facility (and natalie in and out of rehab being the next closest to reckoning with her shit) when the rest of them are very clearly not okay. as a certified Crazy Girl, i've been weary of how they'll handle lottie's story line (blurring psychosis and the supernatural is a very delicate and tricky thing and thus far i've been sort of just waiting to see where it goes). our data on and understanding of mental health is incredibly limited for a lot of reasons (but that's a rant for another time) but there is a large mainstream misconception of when hallucinations and delusions can happen. psychosis isn't just something that happens in schizophrenia and its very complex, so if you want to learn more there's plenty of info out there i'm not going to get into it here, but it happens in a lot of other cases. psychosis is, most simply put, a loss of contact with external reality. ptsd can cause psychosis, especially auditory and visual hallucinations.

so shauna is shown to have these experiences and i didn't realize that they were being so heavily overlooked by a large amount of people until the reaction to the scene where she beats lottie nearly to death. shauna is introduced in s1 as having hallucinations of jackie 25 years later. she is shown to disassociate. in 207, she both holds the baby's body and believes the delusion that they ate the baby. the episode shows her fighting the delusion until she can't anymore. meanwhile, adult shauna tells lottie she keeps callie at arms length out of "fear that she would die...i guess? or maybe that she was never even...real to begin with." then she adds "i think something is broken, lottie." implied: she's broken. something is wrong with her. this is the is the most honest about her mental state we've ever seen shauna be.

why? because lottie has always been and likely will always be perceived as crazier. lottie is the one they pin it on, lottie is the cult leader both then and now, lottie is the scapegoat, lottie is the one who got sent to switzerland. i think there's something to be said for the effect lottie has on people (again, a whole other post) but honestly, that alone is enough. shauna is feeling vulnerable for a lot of reasons and she can tell lottie that she thinks she's crazy, that she's never quite sure her daughter exists, that she's constantly afraid she'll die to the degree that she doesn't let herself interact with her in a real, tangible way, because it's always safer to tell the crazy girl you're crazy, too.

and lottie knows. shauna knows that. lottie clocked her psychosis almost immediately, when she was in the meat shed for all hours. the other girls were shocked by the makeup, and their shock was so fucking strange to me when i watched it, but now on reflecting i'm realizing maybe its the lottie effect. like, have i done the shit shauna has? abso-fucking-lutely not lol. but does my mind work in a way where i immediately would assume shauna was doing something along the lines of the shit she was doing out there, because to me its like...what else would it be? yeah. like sees like, in a way. lottie knows what this looks like at baseline, even if its coming out way different in shauna. even if in shauna it looks like aggression and violence a lot of the time. lottie gets it.

jeff doesn't get it, he thinks strawberry lube is too wild. taissa gets it to a degree, and we see shauna be the second most open with her, but tai suppresses and hides it a degree that she wouldn't dare step foot in a therapist's office (this is yet another thing that makes me crazy but is a whole other post lol). shauna's main goal in this life she's created is pretending to be normal. and she's like, impressively bad at it. but people let her, because what else are they going to do? addressing the clear issues is taboo, because we categorize people so heavily. she masks better than lottie, but it's fucking wafer thin. you see this when she interacts with people who aren't her family or the other yjs. the way she speaks to the taylors? to adam? shauna is only sometimes masking passably when she's in her set world, where she has a routine, and is surrounded by people she only has to half-convince of her sanity.

if shauna is honest about the level of psychosis she experiences, she knows she'll end up like lottie. and i think there's an argument to be made that the people around her (which at this point in her life is pretty much just jeff because she's done another common thing and insulated herself from other people, re: the way she behaves being clockably off to others who won't overlook certain things or can't relate) understand that too. it can't be addressed, because then in their minds there must be action of some kind if it is. (taissa yelling you're acting crazy, shauna is one of the most purely terrified moments we see of her in relation to shauna, because she knows she's admitting something. jeff yelling something to the same effect after the carjacking, same thing.)

the person we see try to get shauna to open up about it is callie. her teenage daughter, who bares the brunt of her difficulty maintaining reality, (who knows that shauna has never accepted her fully as her child, and seems to actually sense that there is a deeper reason for that), asks her to open up. she tells her after the club scene that she knows something is wrong. she even mentions jackie directly. she spends all of s2 trying to relate to shauna, to get her to be open with her about everything. there's no way shauna's trauma and psychosis and general issues have gone unnoticed by callie. daughters always know. they see it in their mothers before they even have a concept of the world. so we're watching a 16 year old try to get her mom to open up, because she doesn't understand fully why that's so dangerous to shauna. to callie, it may even be a secret she thinks other people are in on that she's being left out of. i think maybe she's realizing that it isn't personal and that shauna is guarded like this in general, and we're watching that happen.

callie is learning to care for and relate to her mother and she doesn't see why shauna won't let her in, because to her it's an innate truth that she'll be by her side no matter what (if only she'd let her be). she has unconditional love for her mother and that is the scariest thing in the world to shauna, because the last person who had unconditional love for shauna died because shauna didn't know what to do with it. a baby she never got a chance to meet in reality could've replaced the love that jackie gave her, and shauna was maybe starting to look forward to that, but that ended before it began. so twice shauna has killed that figure in her life. the one who loves her wholly and for who she is, which is terrifying to shauna in it's own right (she tried to take that away from jackie in their last moments, maybe you never really knew me, because that would be easier. shauna can't handle someone really knowing her because she can't handle really knowing herself because, again, that means addressing things that go unaddressed). and she doesn't plan on killing that figure again.

(if callie's even real, because the baby wasn't real when she met him and jackie wasn't real every time she's talked to her in the last twenty-five years, so who the fuck is to say callie is real?)

[carionto]

What Humans call the "Thousand Yard Stare"

As more and more Humans interact with and integrate within Coalition stations, reports, closer to hushed whispers really, began to circulate of some Humans being... discomforting... to be around.

Initially we thought it was just rudeness or passive aggressive behavior or any number of subtle actions or choice of words, no matter how advanced or civilized there will always be some assholes.

However, when some of these "offenders" were presented to us peacekeepers, we found them to be perfectly polite and reasonable. As our conversation continued and shifted topics, whenever there was a lull or the focus was on another speaker for a longer time, the Human's gaze drifted somewhat.

Sometimes she would look to the side and it was harder to tell what her exact expression was, but every so often she would be looking at one of us, but... not. It was as if she was staring at something behind us, through us even. Beyond the walls of the station, it even felt as though beyond space and time itself.

It was one of the most unnerving and chitin-chilling feelings we've ever felt, but then the Human seemed to notice our change and became that friendly and cheerful person once again:

"Sorry, my mind drifted there for a bit. What were you saying?"

And the conversation continued as if nothing was out of the ordinary for the Human.

Upon our return to our office, one of the Human peacekeepers heard about our impromptu assignment and offered this explanation after we told him what happened:

"Oh yeah, I think that person was a retired firefighter or rescue worker of some kind. Professions like that can be dangerous and you'll eventually encounter something horrible at a disaster site or crime scene. Probably saw someone die, or a person they rescued later didn't make it, or it was a kid... It's the toughest when you're the last one a child sees before..."

There it is again. That look, but with a tinge of sadness this time. We didn't know he was carrying such memories. The untimely death of anyone is a difficult time for those that survive, especially when it is the young whose life was still just starting. It seems Humans with their heightened senses and sensitivity to the feelings of others these kind of experiences imprint a far stronger memory than for most.

"Anyway, we've got a bunch of names for such things, but typically we call it the thousand yard stare. It's an old measurement unit, don't worry about it. I think the meaning may have changed a bit over the years, but basically some people go through traumatic stuff and they decide, consciously or not, to sort of... detach themselves from reality. It's a coping mechanism.

A few people thrive on horrible things, but they're the exception. Most of us would go crazy or depressed or any other infinite bad possibilities our brains can go in if we don't find a way to separate ourselves from certain realities. It can get real bad otherwise. It's rare, but a few go truly nuts and try to inflict their pain unto others. Most end up suffering alone for a long time. And some can't take it anymore and decide to end it themselves.

Thankfully therapists and support options are widely available, so those kind of scenarios are really rare, like... suicide accounts for about three out of a hundred thousand deaths last time I saw those charts. Plus drones and automation take care of most of the dangerous tasks, leaving the vast majority of cases to be caused by interpersonal relations actually. A broken heart is one of those traumas we'll never get rid of it seems. That's just life, I guess."

[celiastjamesoscar]

Devil in the Details

Pairings: Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: Tara accidentally runs into on campus, and she’s immediately enchanted by you and asks you for help. You give her the wrong advice and she holds it against you.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slight drinking, mentions of sex, Frankie, mentions of Tara’s family issues. If I missed any, let me know!

AN: not my best work but oh well

Word Count: 12k (im sorry)

The fall leaves gently drifted onto the ground as Tara bolted across the Blackmore campus. She was already running late; her alarm was set for pm instead of am, and she had no idea where she was going. The sky was dark, and Tara could hear the distant sounds of thunder as she rounded a corner and smacked right into someone, causing her to fall to the ground.

“Are you okay?” The stranger said as they let out a small chuckle and reached out to pull Tara off the ground. When Tara finally opened her eyes and made eye contact with the stranger, her heart fluttered.

The woman was undoubtedly gorgeous-there was no denying that-and she simply towered over the more petite girl. Tara was enchanted by the girl’s eyes that shined through the gloomy weather surrounding them and how her features contrasted with the outside world.

She spoke with the voice of an angel that sang in Tara’s ears, as Tara just stared blankly at her.

The girl shifted from one foot to the other, clearly not expecting this to happen, “are you okay?” She questioned again with her arm still extended.

Snapping out of her trance, Tara eagerly grabbed the stranger’s hand and stood up, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I was supposed to be at my class ten minutes ago and don’t know where the room is. I just ran from the other side of campus, and I’m lost,” Tara rambled on as she talked with her hands. She was getting ready to talk more, but the stranger interrupted her.

“Okay, slow down,” she said with a soft smile that caused her eyes to crinkle, “what class is it?”

Tara let out a defeated sigh. She hated having to rely on people for help, especially strangers. She felt they had a mysterious power over her, and she hated not being in control. “Chemistry with Mrs. Rosalind in Franklin Hall.”

The stranger turned slightly to her left before pointing towards a brick building, “Franklin Hall is that way. Just go past this building and make a sharp left. It will be on your right past the giant water feature; you can’t miss it.” She finished with a mischievous smirk that Tara mistook for a flirtatious one.

“Thank you so much; I owe you!” Tara yelled with a smile as she had already started to jog away from the stranger, but she mentally slapped herself for not asking the girl her name.

The stranger smiled as she watched Tara slowly disappear, her heart fluttering at the more petite girl’s smile. Once she lost sight of her, she turned around and went to Franklin Hall.

——————————————————————————

“I met the worst fucking person on the planet today!” Tara exclaimed as she walked into her shared apartment before violently throwing her bag onto the floor and kicking off her shoes. She stomped to the couch and flopped onto it with a huff.

Sam tried her best not to laugh at her sister’s antics, as she always met ‘the worst person on the planet’ at least once a week. “Who was it this time?” She questioned as she walked into the living room and sat on the chair opposite Tara, but upon closer inspection, Sam noticed that her baby sister was a little damp. “And why are you wet?”

At Sam’s question, Tara sent her a deadly glare before taking off her shoes and socks, throwing a sock at Sam. “I will get to that in a minute; just let me rant about Satan.”

Sam quickly threw the sock off that landed on her shoulder with a disgusted face, “Okay then, tell me about your encounter with Satan.”

Tara lays back on the couch and laces her fingers together as if she was getting ready to talk to a therapist before speaking gently, “As you know, I woke up really late this morning, so I didn’t get to eat breakfast. Because of that, I was already in a bad mood and somehow ended up on the opposite side of campus. So I had to haul ass to return to the other side for my class when I accidentally ran into a woman.”

Sam ignored how Tara’s eyes seemed to sparkle when she mentioned the woman and how her eyes seemed to dance. “So you physically ran into Satan?” Sam questioned with a slight chuckle as she received a death glare from Tara, which resulted in Sam moving uncomfortably, “anyways, continue.”

“Before I was so rudely interrupted, this woman helped me up, and my god, Sam, she was so beautiful it almost made me cry. And she spoke with a gentle voice that sounded like angels. She also had these beautiful eyes that pulled me in. And that smile, I can’t even begin to describe it; it was the most perf-she’s a fucking bitch is what she is.” Tara ended with a hateful tone after realizing she had been daydreaming about the mysterious woman. “So I asked her where Franklin Hall was, and she pointed me toward it. So naturally, I took off running because I was late, and as soon as I rounded the corner, boom! I immediately fell right into a pool. I was shocked and forgot I had to swim, so someone had to jump in and save me. It was so embarra-stop laughing!”

Sam had a smile on her face since Tara started talking about this she-devil, trying to fight back a laugh, but she completely lost it when Tara said someone had to save her from drowning. She shouldn’t find her sister's near-death experience this funny, but she couldn’t help.

After a few minutes of Sam laughing, she eventually dries her tears before speaking with a small laugh, “I'm sorry, you can continue talking.”

Tara stared at her for a few seconds before returning to the story, “Anyways, this woman drags me out of the pool, and of course, I thank her. She asked me why I decided to swim, and I explained the situation to her. Naturally, she finds it funny and helps me find my class because we miraculously have it together. So we walk into class soaking wet, and guess who we sit by?” Tara finishes with an eyebrow raised.

“Who?” Sam questioned with a knowing feeling of who it was.

“The fucking devil. She has this devilish smirk on her face and doesn’t even look at me; she just leans past me and asks the lady I was with, ‘Decided to go for a swim, Anika?’ God, I fucking hate her.” Tara stated with a groan as she clenched her fists into the air, making it clear she hated this woman.

Sam couldn’t help the small chuckle that left her lips. “So, did you guys talk at all or just sit in awkward silence?”

Tara scoffed before sitting up on the couch. Clearly, this was something that angered her deeply, “oh, no, we did not talk. She talked. Talked the entire fucking class with that same fucking devilish smirk I just wanna kiss off.” Tara finished before realizing what she had just said, “Kick off, I meant. Anyways, the professor forced me to get my notes from her, and she gave them to me. But every five minutes or so, she would lean over and draw something on my paper. Look!” Tara exclaimed as she got up and grabbed her backpack, pulling out the piece of paper and handing it to Sam. The paper did indeed have little scribbles all over it.

The drawings varied from squiggly lines to stick figures sword fighting to even a tiny detailed drawing of Tara. “What’s this right here?” Sam asked as she pointed to beautiful penmanship that said ‘Y/N x Tara’ with a heart drawn around it.

“Oh, the devil wrote that after she asked for my name,” Tara said with a shrug of her shoulders as a slight blush crept up her neck, “she just tapped on my shoulder, asked me what my name was, and wrote that down before turning back to her book.”

Sam looked between Tara and the heart, wondering why Tara even kept the piece of paper as it didn’t have any notes on it. “Why did you keep it then? If she bothers you so much.” Sam questioned, hoping to catch her sister in a lie.

Caught off guard, Tara quickly stumbled over her words before snatching the paper out of Sam’s hands while grumbling, “Mind your own business,” as she stomped off to her room.

———————————————————-

Chemistry class continued like that for a week; Tara would mind her business while Y/N occasionally drew on Tara’s paper. By the week's end, Tara had a small collection of Y/N’s doodles. Still, her favorite one remained the drawings from the first day; the one with the heart wrapped around their names and a small drawing of herself. Tara could help but smile at the thought of it, but her smile quickly dropped every time she saw you.

“Good morrow, Tara,” Y/N said as she placed her backpack on the table and sat in her chair. Tara rolled her eyes at Y/N before speaking, “It was until I saw you.”

Y/N scoffed at her words as she swiveled to face Tara, “Why must you wound me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you made me walk half a mile in the wrong direction and caused me to fall into some water?” Tara asked with an annoyed tone as she looked Y/N in her eyes. She wanted to strangle the girl, especially when Y/N laughed when Tara mentioned the water.

Wiping the tears away from her eyes, Y/N laughed, “Yeah, I forgot about that. That was a gas, wasn’t it?”

“No, it wasn’t a ‘gas,’” Tara exclaimed as she kicked Y/N’s chair, causing the girl to roll slightly away from her, “someone had to jump in and save me. Where is she, by the way?”

“Anika? She stayed home; she woke up with a temp this morning, so I made her some soup and promised to fill her in with everything we did today.” Y/N said as she pulled out a notebook and pen, preparing to take notes instead of writing all over Tara’s paper, which caused Tara to look at her with an eyebrow raised, “Sorry, beautiful, no drawings today.”

Tara rolled her eyes at Y/N’s comment but quickly faced away from the girl to hide her blush as the lecture started. She wondered if Anika and Y/N lived together, as the girl mentioned she made her soup this morning, or if she just woke up early and made her friend something; either way, she figured that was the one good deed she did in a year.

Once class was over, Y/N politely held the door open for Tara, which earned her a scoff and an elbow to the side. “I don’t know why you dislike me, Tara. I haven’t done anything to cause you harm,” Y/N said as she jogged to catch up with the shorter girl who tried her best to speed-walk away from Y/N.

“Are you serious right now?” Tara asked as she continued to walk quickly; for every three steps she took, Y/N took one.

“Okay, that was not my fault. You should have been paying more attention. And I can’t believe you are still upset about that,” Y/N stated while looking down at Tara.

Tara quickly stopped her movements as she looked at Y/N. “I am not explaining this to you again, as your pea-sized brain cannot seem to comprehend why I am furious with you!” Tara finished as she shoved her pointer finger into Y/N’s chest.

Y/N just smiled at the girl before reaching up and wrapping her hand around Tara’s finger before pulling it close to her lips as she gently kissed the back of her hand, right where Tara’s scar was. “Sei bellissima quando sei arrabbiata.”

When Y/N’s lips touched Tara’s hand and landed on her scar, electricity shot throughout her body; it almost caused her to shiver. Her body reached before she even had time to think; her hand quickly pulled back before her fist made its way right into Y/N’s face, and the sound of impact filled the air.

Y/N was slightly taken off her feet as she stumbled back a bit and reached up to feel her nose. She felt liquid drip onto her hand and brought her hand down to find crimson blood on her hand. She could already taste the copper in her mouth as the blood flowed easily. She couldn’t tell if it was broken, but she had a gut feeling it was. She quickly straightened her poster and stood there in silence as tears began to form in her eyes, and a slight trickle of blood ran from her nose, down her mouth, and dipped onto her clothing. That's the thing about getting hit in the nose; no matter the circumstance, you always cry. It could be because of the humiliation, the shock, or the sharp pain that followed. But no matter what you do afterward, you always have tears in your eyes.

“Okay.” Was all Y/N said before she turned away from Tara and started walking, tugging on her backpack straps. For some unknown reason, Tara felt shame quickly replace any sparks she had felt, which made her heart shatter.

When Y/N arrived home, she quickly sat her pack down and went into the shared bathroom. She wiped away the blood and waited for the flow to stop. Once she did, she popped her nose back into place. She sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror; she already had purple bruises forming under her eyes, and her nose was swollen and bruised. Y/N then turned off the bathroom lights, entered her room, and sat on her bed.

The moment to herself allowed her to think back on the harsh conversation she and Tara had merely an hour ago. She could still feel the sting of the punch every time she thought about it. It’s not like she didn’t apologize for sending Tara in the wrong direction; she brought the girl a small bouquet on the second day of class that had a small note that said, “It is I that is full of sorrow, for I doth bestow no harm onto thy lady of beauty.” Tara didn't say anything when Y/N handed her the flowers with a small smile, but she let out a dry chuckle when she read the note. Y/N believed they were on good terms after that, but sadly, she had assumed wrong.

The next day, Y/N walked in, sporting a pair of black sunglasses, as Tara was already in her seat. Y/N placed her bag on the table and sat down, entirely ignoring how Tara’s eyes burned into the side of her skull. Anika had not overthrown her illness yet, so it would just be the pair again. Tara could see the nasty purple that had formed underneath Y/N’s eye even though the girl still had her sunglasses on. She felt awful for what she did to Y/N and wanted to apologize, but she knew words couldn’t fix this. She didn’t know what could. So, they sat in awkward silence until the lecture began.

Hoping to ease the tension, Tara drew a small stick figure holding some flowers with the words “I'm sorry” in a word bubble. She slid it over to her left, praying Y/N would accept the peace offering. Tara did not expect Y/N to draw a stick figure holding garden shears, cutting the flowers in two before sliding the paper back to Tara. She stared blankly at Y/N before taking the piece of paper and shoving it into her bag with a huff.

The weekend arrived and passed in a fly, and it was Monday again, but Tara silently screamed for joy when she saw Anika to the right of her seat. She was so glad to have Anika back and hoped it would make her feel less bad about Y/N. The two joked the entire class while Y/N sat silently, too interested in what Professor Rosalind had to say. However, after class, Anika pulled Tara off the side once Y/N had left.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Anika whisper-shouted at Tara, burning holes into Tara’s eyes with her own, “Why did you punch Y/N?!”

“Because she kissed my hand, and I freaked out! I told her I was sorry, but she’s still mad at me.” Tara defended with slightly frustrated eyes as she clenched and unclenched her fist.

“Of course, she’s going to be mad at you, you broke her nose, and she was out of commission all weekend!” Anika replied, not phased when Tara said that Y/N had kissed her hand; she liked to do that to people she found attractive.

Tara looked down at the ground in shame, not knowing how to respond. Anika sighed as she rubbed her hands on Tara's triceps, “I’m sorry, Tara. I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier; I just get protective over Y/N. Trust me; I know better than anyone that she can be an asshole. I've wanted to strangle her several times, but you eventually warm up to her.”

Tara scoffed at her words and rolled her eyes, “She cut up the fake flowers I drew for her; I am not warming up to her anytime soon!”

Not wanting to argue, Anika dropped the subject, “anyways, let’s not talk about Y/N. Would you like to work together on this chemistry project?”

Tara beamed at the mention of the chemistry project; She had already figured Anika would work with Y/N since they were best friends, and she was a little skeptical about working with her as she didn’t want to upset Y/N even more.

As if reading her thoughts, Anika voiced, “Don't worry about Y/N; she’s already finished the project. She prefers to work alone anyways.”

Tara nodded, “Yeah, I’d love to work with you on it.”

“Okay, good! We can start on it next Monday around five. I’ll send you my address.” Anika said with a smile as she walked towards her next class. Tara was just grateful she had a partner for this project, so she smiled as she went to her next class.

——————————————————

Sam’s car slowly pulled up to the apartment complex Anika had sent her; it was reasonably pleasant, with eight different levels. “Okay, this is it,” Tara said as she grabbed her backpack from the backseat and opened the door, but Sam placed her hand on Tara’s arm, causing the girl to stop her movements.

“Call me if you need anything, Tara. I’m serious,” Sam stated as she looked at her baby sister. She worried about Tara like a mother. Her protectiveness knows no bounds. But she wanted Tara to have some form of a social life, so she allowed Tara to go to a friend’s house for this project. She’d never tell her sister, but Sam’s stomach hurt when Tara was away.

Tara placed her own hand over Sam’s, “Don’t worry, Sam, I’ll be safe. I’ll text you when you get to Anika’s room.” Tara slowly climbed out of the car and was getting ready to close the door but stopped, “I love you, Sammy.”

Sam smiled at her sister, her heart filled with joy at Tara’s words, “I love you too. Now be safe and nice!” Sam knew that Tara could sometimes be an angry little dog that liked to bite ankles, so she felt it necessary to warn her sister.

Tara rolled her eyes at Sam’s words as she closed the car door and approached the complex's entrance. She turned around and sent Sam a wave before entering the building.

The elevator was broken-to her demise-so she dragged herself up five flights of stairs. Out of breath, she sauntered over the door that had ‘237’ on it. ‘Great, I’m going to get murdered by the ghost of Lorraine Massey after climbing up seven thousand steps,’ Tara thought to herself as she knocked on the door.

When the door flew open, any air Tara had managed to keep trapped in her lungs flew out. Standing before her was Y/N in nothing but a sports bra and shorts. Tara’s eyes raked over Y/N’s body, She had sweat glistening on her chest and stomach, and Tara admired her abs and subconsciously reached out to touch them as she licked her lips. Y/N quickly slapped Tara’s hand away while glaring at her with narrowed eyes, snapping Tara out of her fantasy.

“What do you want? You aren’t welcome at my mojo dojo casa house,” Y/N stated as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. Tara could hear her heart beating in her ears, and her palms started to sweat. She had sworn to hate Y/N, but the girl made it so hard.

Tara was at a loss for words; not only did she have to climb up five flights of stairs, but the Devil herself was standing in front of her in all her beauty, shirtless, and had just caught her staring at her chest and abs. “A-Anika.” Tara managed to mumble out.

“Anika, your weird pervert friend is undressing me with her eyes,” Y/N called out into the apartment room before turning her attention back to Tara with a mischievous smirk.

“I-I’m not-” Tara stuttered, too ashamed that Y/N had caught her checking her out. “No,” she finally whispered.

Y/N glared at Tara, not saying anything. She enjoyed watching the smaller girl squirm under her gaze. Y/N studied how Tara refused to meet her gaze and kept shifting the weight on her feet.

Tara heard a muffled voice yell from behind Y/N, causing the shirtless woman to look behind her and walk a little bit into the apartment. Y/N said something that Tara couldn’t make out, and Anika responded to her, but by how Y/N tilted her head back and let out an angry noise from the back of her throat, Tara only assumed it wasn’t good.

She stomped back to Tara and crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. “Anika is in the shower. She’ll be a couple of minutes,” Y/N said with an irritated tone as she glared down at Tara.

“Oh, okay then. Would it be alright with you if I came in then?” Tara asked with hopeful eyes and a slightly awkward smile, causing Y/N to let out a small laugh. She didn’t say anything in response, and Tara was getting ready to shove past Y/N, but the taller girl moved to the side, uncrossed her arms, and made a welcome gesture.

“Thank you,” Tara said as she walked into the apartment with her head down. Tara followed Y/n into the living room and sat on the couch with her hands in her lap. She could feel more comfortable if it was just her waiting on Anika, not her and the shirtless devil.

“Just make sure your gremlin attitude doesn’t seep into the couch and ruin it,” Y/N mumbled as she walked into her room and shut the door.

Not knowing what to do, Tara quietly sat while looking at her phone, patiently waiting for Anika. After what seems like hours, Anika finally comes out of her room, “I am so sorry, Tara. Y/N and I carried some slushies, and she tripped on the stairs. Anyways, long story short, the drinks landed on me, and I had to take a shower,” Anika said as she walked over to the couch and pulled out a binder for their project.

It seemed a little too convenient that Y/N had ‘accidentally’ tripped and somehow managed to get all the drinks over Anika and none on herself, and then after Anika had told Y/N that Tara was coming by, she started to work out right after. It also seemed a little too convenient that the hot water stopped working a few minutes into her shower, causing Anika to wait for it to return and extend her shower even longer.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad we can get started on this project,” Tara replied as she scooted over so Anika could sit beside her.

Anika sat beside Tara with the binder on her lap and opened it, flipping through the papers as she spoke, “I hope Y/N wasn’t too mean. She likes to hold grudges.”

“She wasn’t too much, just her normal self,” Tara said shyly. She was not about to admit to Anika, let alone herself that she thought about fornicating with the much taller woman. “So, let's get started on this project then?”

“Let us,” Anika replied as she read through the instructions. The two worked together peacefully for thirty minutes, joking back and forth with each other and making little progress on the task at hand. Thirty minutes then turned into an hour and a half of gossiping, their project long forgotten.

Y/N had been halfway listening to the two girls outside, waiting until the perfect time to leave her cave. When she deemed the time was right, she did enough push-ups and enough squats to work up a decent sweat and sauntered out into the living room, still in her shorts and bra.

Tara's eyes instantly snapped towards the door that flew open, and her heartbeat immediately picked up. Her leg began to bounce, but Anika noticed and placed her hand on the girl’s leg, giving her a look of disbelief.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Anika called out with a slight hint of frustration while pressing Tara’s knee down.

Y/N scoffed as she walked into the kitchen, “I'm getting some water? Am I not allowed to be thirsty?” She asked with a playful smirk she sent toward Tara. She knew Tara was checking her out and loved watching the girl fight her urges.

“So you’ve been working out for two hours now and finally decided that you might need some water?” Anika questioned, not believing Y/N for a second. She knew that Y/N loved to tease people, especially Tara, who would knock back and argue like a match made in hell.

Y/N grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and then walked toward the couch, “um, yes? Why is that so hard to believe?” She asked with sass as she placed a hand on her hip while holding the bottle in the other.

Anika stared at Y/N with a look that said, ‘I seriously cannot believe you right now.’ She then blinked, rolled her eyes, and said dryly, “Because you went to the gym this morning like you do every day. And you never workout at home because you said ‘I don’t have enough space to sculpt this perfect body’” she used air quotes when she spoke.

“What are you getting at then?” Y/N questioned, refusing to back down from this challenge.

Anika just shrugged and returned to her project, refusing to give in to Y/N’s challenge. Disbelief took over Y/N’s face; usually, Anika argued back with her, but for some reason, she didn’t, which made Y/N sad.

With a frown, she shuffled back into her room. She grabbed some clothes and walked towards the shared bathroom. “I'm taking a shower. Please don’t use the water,” she announced as she closed the door.

“Whatever,” Anika mumbled as she went back to the project. She asked Tara a question, and when she didn’t get a response, she looked up to find Tara staring holes into the bathroom door.

“Hey! Snap out of it! This isn’t you!” Anika commanded as she snapped her fingers in front of Tara’s face. The girl was quickly pulled back into reality when Anika snapped her fingers as if in a trance. She mumbled a quiet ‘sorry’ as she returned to work.

Every Monday and Friday for two weeks were spent like that; Tara would come over for a project, and Y/N would miraculously be working out simultaneously. She would walk into the kitchen, grab a bottle of water, grab some clothes, and shower. And every single time, Tara could not pull her eyes away. And every single time, Anika had to snap Tara out of it. Tara wanted to stop staring at Y/N, especially after everything between them, but she couldn’t.

Of course, Y/N and Tara did not talk during their chemistry class. Sometimes, Y/N would ask Anika to relay a message to Tara, and those messages were, ‘You look dreadful,’ ‘You look decent today,’ ‘Your appearance isn’t assaulting my eyes,’ ‘Ouch, that hurt. Please don’t kick me again.’ Sometimes, they were helpful messages, ‘Your shoe is untied,’ ‘The answer is C,’ or even, ‘Your hair isn’t braided evenly.’

Tara would try to speak to Y/N, but the girl would uphold her head and side-eye Anika. Then Tara would have to lean over to Anika, tell her whatever she wanted to say, and then Anika would have to lean across Tara and talk to Y/N. It would have been entertaining if Anika had sat between them and not Tara, but she took what she could get. The class continued like that for a few weeks until it was time for the labs to begin. Of course, Professor Rosalind made her students work in groups of three, so naturally, Anika, Tara, and Y/N worked together.

Anika and Y/N were messing around with a Bunsen burner while Tara actually tried to do the project. They were supposed to be doing an ion flame test, but Y/N kept on getting distracted by the different colors the flames would emit.

“Oh my god, guys, look at this one!” Y/N exclaimed as she held a small wire loop in the Bunsen burner flame. The flame below the wire was blue, but the flame above it was a blue-green color. Anika looked over at Y/N and was utterly fascinated by it, but Tara could have cared less.

“Which compound is that?” Tara asked with a bored tone.

“Copper,” Y/N replied, matching Tara’s tone. Tara just rolled her eyes at Y/N as she wrote down ‘copper=blue/green”.

The lab continued like that; Y/N and Anika would mess around with the fire while Tara wrote down the answers. Tara had completely blocked them out of her mind until she heard Y/N say, “Anika, I will throw hand sanitizer on you if you do not stop.”

That one sentence pulled Tara out of the daydream, and she was instantly alert. Tara’s head was immediately filled with the screams of her ex-girlfriend, Amber. Her eyes darted around the room, afraid that Ghostface would come to finish her story at any moment. Y/N gently placed her hand on Tara’s lower back, and she quickly remembered where she was.

Y/N looked at Tara with worry as she rubbed the girl’s back. “Is everything alright, Tara?” She asked with worry in her voice.

Tara just nodded her head, “Yeah, I’m good. Just got a cold chill.” Y/N gave Tara a weak smile, one that ‘I don’t believe, but I won’t pressure you about it.’ Tara smiled back at Y/N as the taller woman pulled her hand off Tara’s back.

After their moment in the lab, Y/N quickly left the building, saying something about needing to return some video tapes. As Anika and Tara walked out together, Anika said, “So, one of my buddies is throwing this Christmas party at his frat house. Would you want to go to that with me?”

Tara thought about it for a moment; she really wanted to go out and possibly find someone to hook up with; god only knows her sex life has been lacking lately. “Sure, when is it?” Tara asked after a few beats of silence.

“It’s on Friday, the 15th, so in a couple of weeks, at the Sigma Nu house. I can pick you up and take you with me; I’m already taking Mindy,” Anika suggested.

“Okay, sounds good. Is there a theme?”

“Ugly sweater, but that's fine if you don’t have one. It starts at six, but I’ll pick you up about ten minutes before.”

Tara smiled at Anika’s words, “Okay, sweet. Sounds good.”

—----------------------------------------------------------

On a Tuesday afternoon, around six, Tara went to the library to find any books she might need. As her eyes grazed over the names of authors, she slowly rounded the corner and went to walk over to the next aisle, but someone caught her eye. Her eyes drifted over to Y/N. She was sitting by herself with a book in hand. The cover was red with different patterns, and Tara laughed to herself when she read the title.

“‘The Devil and Tom Walker.’ It's a good book and it suits you,” Tara said to Y/N, who slightly lifted her head out of the book to look at Tara. Her eyes locked with Tara’s, and Tara swore that she could see a hint of sadness in them, along with hurt. But it was only there for a second, as the sadness and hurt quickly turned into anger.

“It would be a good book if my pea-sized brain could comprehend the words,” Y/N said dryly, refusing to meet Tara’s piercing gaze. Tara felt her heart break slightly at those words, but just as Y/N’s eyes did, her chest filled with anger.

Tara walked closer to the table Y/N was sitting at, causing the girl to look up from her book, “Look, I am sorry I hit you, okay? I apologized, yet you still insist on being rude to me.” Tara huffed out as her hands rested on the back of the chair across from Y/N.

Y/N looked up from her book, glaring at Tara with narrow eyes, “You broke my nose and insulted my intelligence, asshole. Unless you’ve already forgotten that.”

Tara laughed dryly, “You made me late to class, fall into some water, and cut up my apology flowers!”

Y/N stood up from the table and threw her book into her backpack before walking with heavy footsteps around the table and towards Tara, “Well, at least I had the decency to give you real flowers as an apology, you fucker.” She finished as she pushed Tara.

She stumbled back a bit at the force, but Tara quickly recovered. She clenched and unclenched her fist, trying not to hit Y/N again, no matter how much she wanted to.

“You are an insufferable, miserable, pretentious idiot who only causes harm.” Tara belittled as she poked Y/N’s chest.

Y/N remembered it all too well the last time this happened, but she wanted to be the one with the final say.

“At least my family hasn’t left me. At least I know what it’s like to have a functional family. Something you will never know.”

She regretted it as soon as the words left her lips. Tara’s face instantly reacted to the words, as if she had been shot. Tears began forming in her eyes at the mention of her family’s troubled past. Her chest began to heave, her vision got blurry with tears, and she turned away from Y/N. She pushed away Y/N’s hands and ignored the words that were being said, “Tara, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it.” She didn't want to be around Y/N; she didn't want her to see her this weak and pathetic.

“You had no right, Y/N. No right at all to say that. I confided in you with that information,” Tara muttered, her voice laced with venom and hurt.

She started to walk away from Y/N, slowly, then quickly. Once she left the library, she sat on the stairs and broke down. Her quiet sobs filled the air as she tried to regain her breath, but nothing seemed to work. She stopped crying momentarily when the library doors swung open and hurried footsteps stopped behind her.

She wiped the tears from her eyes as someone sat beside her. “Tara, please. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Y/N whispered gently as her voice began to break, along with her heart.

She never meant to hurt Tara. She just wanted the girl to leave her alone. All she’s ever wanted in life was to be left alone, but now she can't stop herself from wanting to be alone with Tara, which terrified her. She hasn’t wanted anyone in her entire life, no one except Tara. And now, she had mentioned Tara’s traumatic past of failed family relationships and knew that Tara would never forgive her.

Tara didn’t even mean to tell Y/N about her family issues; Y/N had overheard the smaller girl confide in Anika one day at the library. Tara talked about her father leaving during Christmas, her mother cutting her older sister out of her life, then her older sister leaving one day without a trace. She also talked about how her alcoholic mother practically left her alone as a child. She then mentioned that Sam only returned when Tara was attacked; she didn’t go into details, but Y/N knew it pained her too much to discuss. Anika and Y/N both picked up on the meaning behind her words: no one has ever loved me enough to stay, so I will live and die alone, just as I have my entire life. When Tara was done talking, Y/N didn’t say anything; she just pushed a drawing toward her and smiled when Tara looked at her. It was a drawing of three people: Anika, Tara, and Y/N. They were all sitting on the floor next to a Christmas tree, opening presents and smiling. There was a fireplace that they sat in front of, and on the mantel were the words “Found Family.” They still weren’t on good terms, but that drawing made Tara feel slightly better about herself and Y/N.

Tara was pulled from her thoughts when she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. Tara didn’t fight back when Y/N pulled her into her chest. Y/N placed her right hand on Tara’s head while rubbing her thumb against the girl’s head. Her left arm held Tara against her chest while she rubbed her back with her hand. She let Tara cry into her chest. She didn’t say anything as Tara took hiccuped breaths. She didn't say anything when Tara repeatedly said, ‘I hate you,’ with a weak voice. And she certainly didn't say anything when her own cheeks became wet with tears. Instead, she leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on Tara’s head, saying, ‘I know’ as she rubbed the girl’s back.

Once Tara had finished her sobs, she pulled back from Y/N’s chest. Y/N expected the girl to hit her again, to scream at her and tell her to die in a hole; she expected everything. She everything except what happened.

Tara let out a small, dry chuckle. She stood up from the stairs, wiped her eyes and cheeks, and looked down at Y/N. She had the most honest look in her eyes, something that Y/N had never seen in the girl before. “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you so much for showing me the real you. I am so glad that I didn’t waste my time on you. Seriously, thank you so much for sparing me the misery of knowing you beyond just an acquaintance,” Tara said with such an honest tone that Y/N had a hard time believing that Tara was insulting her.

“Okay.” That was all Y/N said. She stood up from the stairs and looked at Tara. They both had water-stained cheeks, red eyes, and noses, but one only felt relief while the other felt pain. Any friendship that they might have rekindled died that day. Tara said nothing as Y/N walked away with her bag over her shoulder. Y/N felt nothing but pain as she walked away from the beautiful girl she just made cry; tears of her own began free falling from her eyes the further she walked away.

Once Tara could no longer see Y/N, she slowly returned home. As she walked home, her heartbeat picked up, and she subconsciously walked quicker. She didn’t know why, but she had a gut feeling something terrible had happened. She pulled out her phone and called Sam, hoping her sister was still around. Y/N’s words cut deep, and she was terrified that Sam had left her again. When Sam didn’t answer, Tara started to hyperventilate. Her fingers began to shake, and her vision became blurry with tears as she clicked on Sam’s number and called her again. When Sam didn’t pick up the second time, Tara lost all hope. She started to sprint as she sucked in her breaths, trying to keep some air trapped in her lungs.

She burst through the apartment entrance and flew up the stairs, ignoring how her lungs screamed for air, her chest tightened, and breaths began rare, and she ignored how her once broken leg started to hurt.

Her shaky hands fumbled with the keys to her apartment as she tried to unlock the door quickly. Her breathing was still trying to catch itself as Tara pushed herself through the door and slammed it shut. “Sam? Sam! Are you here?” Tara called out into the empty apartment.

She searched through every room in the apartment, checked every bathroom and every closet, trying to find her sister. She screamed out for Sam in hopes that her sister might hear her pleas wherever she ran off to. She even looked under every bed to ensure Sam wasn’t pulling some disappearing prank on her like they did when they were kids. Once Tara had ransacked every nook and cranny of the apartment, she stumbled into Sam’s room and called her again. When Sam didn’t answer the third time, Tara cried herself to sleep on her sister’s bed, believing she genuinely pushed away the one person who had returned for her. She cried herself to sleep, believing that Y/N was right; no one would ever love her enough to stay.

When Sam woke up early in the morning, she gently pushed Danny’s arm off her waist. She rolled over on her side and immediately shot out of bed once she read 3:33 am on the clock. Sam quickly picked up her clothes and got dressed. She never meant to sleep over at Danny’s apartment. She worked a double and needed some sort of distraction. She ran through the apartment as she hunted down her phone and felt her heart shatter at the thirteen missed calls from Tara.

Sam didn’t tell Danny bye as she ran out of his apartment and returned to hers. She didn’t even need to use her key as she pushed open the unlocked door. “Tara?” Sam called out as she ran to her sister’s room. When Tara wasn’t there, she moved to her room and quietly pushed the door open.

Tara was sound asleep in Sam’s bed. She was curled up with a stuffed animal Sam had won her at a carnival earlier in the year. Sam turned off the overhead light as she walked over to her bed. She turned on the bedside lamp as she got under the covers, “Tara, wake up, baby,” she cooed gently while wrapping her arms around her sister. She saw her little sister’s smeared mascara and the dried tears on her cheeks. “Tara, I’m here now,” Sam said as she saw Tara start to stour in her sleep.

Tara slowly opened her swollen, red eyes and found herself in Sam’s arms. She let out a dry laugh before burying herself into Sam’s body, trying to get closer to Sam than she already was. Sam gently ran her fingers through Tara’s hair while whispering sweet words in her sister’s ear, trying to comfort the girl. Tara gently cried into Sam’s chest while she had a death grab on her back, scared that if she let go, Sam would disappear.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On Friday the 15th, Tara dug through her closet for a sweater. She tried her best not to find one too ugly, hoping she would get lucky tonight. She groaned as she looked at her options: a ‘Hereditary’ one with a cartoonish drawing of the husband on fire or a black one with ‘Big Gift Energy’ on it with presents at the bottom. Tara decided to go with the latter. Once she put on her sweater, she did her makeup and hair while waiting for Anika. And just as promised, Anika arrived ten minutes before six.

Tara opened the door for Anika and Mindy and laughed when she saw their sweaters: Anika had half a scissor on hers, while Mindy had the other half. “A bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Tara questioned as she followed them out to the bottom floor.

“Eh, I think it gets the message across,” Mindy says as she throws an arm around Anika’s neck, pulling her girlfriend into her side. Tara laughed at her friend’s words as they walked onto the street.

“Does Sam know about this?” Mindy asked, even though she had a feeling what the answer might be.

“Uh, no. She does not.” Tara mumbled.

Mindy just looked at Anika, and they both decided they didn’t want to get into a fight with Tara about Sam, so they just kept quiet as they walked toward the frat house.

When the three arrived, they instantly smelt the alcohol. They could even see smoke seeping into the outside air. They walked up the house steps and quickly entered the kitchen. Loud music played over the speakers, rattling the house. The three find a bottle of SKKY. Mindy picks it up with a mischievous smirk, “Shall we?”

Anika and Tara smile at the girl as they pour each a shot and then another. After three rounds of shots, the girls call it quits.

“We are going to go sit on the couch,” Anika said to Tara as she and Mindy walked toward it with beers in their hands.

Tara waved at them and went to find herself a drink, her throat felt a little scratchy, and she let out a small cough, ‘probably from the vodka,’ she thought.

As she grabbed herself a beverage, a man approached her. “Hey, I haven’t seen you here before,” the man says with a sly smirk.

“Yeah, I’m just here with some friends. I’m Tara, by the way.” Tara slurred out. She was worse off than Mindy and Anika, as she was much smaller than both girls.

The man noticed that Tara was in a drunken state already and decided he would take advantage of that. He shook Tara’s hand, “Hi, I’m Frankie. So, are you a part of the Omega Beta Zeta sorority?” He asked with a cooky smile.

Tara grabbed a beer from the ice bucket and said, “No, but I’m thinking about rushing.”

“Well, if you need any help, I can always put in a good word for you.” Frankie said as he leaned toward Tara and opened the beer bottle for her, “Would you like to come up to my room?”

Tara looked around; she desperately needed to get laid tonight, even if it meant she had to hook up with an asshole. “Fuck it, yeah. Let’s do it,” she said as she downed her beer and followed Frankie toward the stairs.

As they started going up the stairs, someone called out to them, “Hey, Tara, why don’t we call it a night?”

Tara turned her head at the sound of the soft voice; Y/N was standing at the bottom of the stairs. She had an unreadable expression with narrow eyes. Her body was tense, and her fists were clenched. She wore a red sweater with a white Budweiser logo and had a Fanny pack across her torso. Tara almost laughed at how cute she looked.

“No, I think I’m still going to hang out here. You can leave, though,” Tara slurred out. She missed the way hurt flashed across Y/N’s face.

“Tara, you’re good down here; come on,” Y/N tried to reason with the girl. Even though it’s been a couple of weeks since their fight, she still cared for Tara.

Tara was going to respond to Y/N, but Frankie butted in, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Y/N ignored Frankie’s attempt to get a rise out of her. She looked at Tara as she spoke, “Tara, please. Let’s go.”

Tara walked down a few stairs, standing closer to you, “No, Y/N, it’s fine. I want to go up with him.”

Frankie walked down too and got close enough to Y/N’s face that she could smell the liquor on his breath, “See Y/N? It’s fine, the girl said she wants to, now fuck off,” he said as he roughly grabbed Tara, practically dragging the girl up the stairs.

“Get your fucking hands off of her,” Y/N stated as she pushed Frankie into the wall. Frankie let go of Tara as he hit the wall. When he turned around, he quickly tackled Y/N off the stairs and onto the floor.

Frankie went to straddle Y/N’s waist, but the girl quickly pulled out a switchblade from her boot, opened it, and held it to his neck, “Fucking try me, I dare you,” she hissed out, her eyes never leaving Frankie.

She pressed hard enough to draw blood, and with that, Frankie quickly pushed himself off the girl. “Fine, you can keep the little shit! It wouldn’t have been good anyways,” he said as his voice began to break before stomping up to his room.

Mindy and Anika reached down toward Y/N and pulled her up. Y/N ignored all the glances and stares sent her way as she moved toward the stairs to check on Tara.

Tara was breathing heavily as she pushed past Y/N and went out the door. Y/N quickly followed Tara, “Hey, Tara. What's going on?” Y/N called out, hoping the girl would slow down.

Tara’s breaths became labored as she approached a tree adjacent to the house. She pressed her back against the tree and slowly slid down to the ground. She clutched at her chest and tried to take deep breaths, but her throat seemed closed. She pulled her legs up into her chest, hoping she would disappear if she could make herself small enough.

Y/N jogged towards Tara and crouched down so she was at eye level with Tara. “Tara, love. What’s wrong?” Y/N asked; her voice quivered with worry. She didn’t know what was wrong with Tara; Y/N knew she wasn’t leaving the girl until she was breathing normally again.

Panic started settling in Tara as she realized she was having an asthma attack. She tried to get the words out, but only short, ragged breaths left her lips.

Y/N noted everything going on with Tara: clutched chest, sucking in breaths, can't breathe. Can’t breathe. Y/N quickly took off her Fanny pack and dug around until she found her own inhaler. Tara’s eyes lit up as she snatched it from Y/N’s hand. She shook it violently before removing the cap and taking a puff.

She waited thirty seconds before taking a second puff to be safe. Once her breathing slowly returned, she noticed Mindy and Anika staring at her worriedly. She also noticed that Y/N had one hand on each of her knees.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked with such a gentle voice it brought tears to Tara’s eyes. Tara nodded while wiping away her tears with a small smile, “thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome, Tara,” Y/N said as she looked back at Mindy and Anika. The three had a silent conversation, then Y/N turned back to Tara, “Do you want to head back to your place or stay here a little longer?”

Tara looked up at Mindy and Anika. She was afraid that the girls were disappointed in her or angry with her, but she only found worry and concern on their faces. She looked down at Y/N before speaking, “I would like to stay here for a moment; I need to ground myself.”

“Is it alright if I sit beside you?” Y/N asked. She wanted to comfort the girl more but didn't want to overstep. This was the first time they’ve talked since their fight, and Y/N didn’t know where she stood with the girl.

Tara nodded, and Y/N stood up momentarily and sat down next to Tara, resting her back against the tree. “You guys can go. I’m okay to stay here with Y/N,” Tara gently said as she looked up toward the girls.

“Call me if anything happens, both of you,” Anika stated before walking off with Mindy.

Once they left, Tara looked over her right shoulder at Y/N and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked with a light smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Your sweater is ugly,” Tara said with a voice crack. She still had tears in her eyes. They weren’t from her asthma attack but from Y/N seeing her put herself out there for an asshole.

Y/N laughed as she leaned against the tree and looked at Tara, “My sweater is ugly? Yours literally says ‘big gift energy!’’

Tara joined in with laughter and gave Y/N a fist pump. But when it came time for them to pull their hands back, neither moved. Instead, Tara slowly moved her hand and slightly opened it, hoping Y/N would catch on. When Y/N saw what Tara wanted, she opened her hand and intertwined her fingers. She then pulled their laced hands into her lap, causing Tara to rest her head against the taller girl’s shoulder. Y/N ignored the quick picture Anika took of them as she and Mindy walked away.

“You wanna talk about it?” Y/N asked after a few moments of silence. She didn’t know which ‘it’ she was referring to: their fight, Frankie, her asthma attack, or something else. She just knew that they needed to talk.

Tara nodded as she pulled away from Y/N’s shoulder; they both instantly missed the contact. “I have some things I need to say to you,” Tara husked out. Y/N nodded her head, waiting for the girl to go. “You are evil and vain. The first day I met you, I called you Satan and still call you that behind your back. All you are is mean, and a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life, and mean.”

Y/N slightly winced at Tara’s words, “You said ‘mean’ twice.”

“And I meant it twice,” Tara said but gently squeezed Y/N’s hand, showing the girl that she was joking. “I also think you are the most intolerable person ever, but I would love to be the one to tolerate you.”

At that, Y/N’s ears perked up. Her heartbeat quickened as she looked around nervously. It was just her and Tara outside, but she couldn't help but feel eyes on her. Looking back down, she realized Tara was staring at her with yearning. “Tara, come on now. You’re drunk.”

“Nuh-uh,” Tara said as she let go of Y/N’s hand and cupped the girl’s cheeks. Y/N placed her hands on Tara’s wrists, trying to pull them away from her face. “Tara, you’re drunk, and I just helped you avoid making a mistake, let’s not make one out here.”

Tara whined at Y/N’s words and looked up at Y/N. This was the girl who made her life hell on the first day of school and made her have an emotional come apart at the library. But this was also the same girl that saved her from making the biggest mistake of her life, the same girl that helped her with her asthma attack mere moments ago. This Y/N in front of her was the same one who brought her flowers as an apology, and this was the same Y/N who drew pictures all over her papers. This was her Y/N that gave her a drawing of her and her found family. This was her Y/N, who came back to her after she broke her nose. This was her Y/N; no matter how hard Tara tried to push her away, Y/N would never leave her side.

Eyes darting between Y/N’s, Tara leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Y/N’s lips. Y/N was taken aback but kissed the girl back. Only when Tara went to deepen the kiss did she pull away. “Tara, I won’t kiss you or touch you right now, you’re drunk, and I will not take advantage of that,” Y/N said against Tara’s lips.

“Okay,” Tara replied as she stood up and held out her hand for Y/N. She accepted the hand and stood up. “Will you walk me home?”

“Of course, let’s go,” Y/N replied as she walked with Tara. They didn’t speak the entire walk back to Tara’s apartment, but their minds were running wild with thoughts of the other.

Tara was the first to break the silence when they arrived at the Carpenter apartment, “Thank you, Y/N. I hate to think about where I would be without you right now.”

“You wouldn’t have even been at the party if I didn’t send you the wrong way,” Y/N said with a slightly guilty tone.

Tara thought about Y/N’s words for a moment. If Y/N had actually walked with Tara to class, then she wouldn’t have met Anika right away and formed a friendship. Sure, she would have still seen her, but they might not have been as close as they are now. Tara wouldn’t have punched Y/N in the face, and they also wouldn’t have had their fight in the library. Tara probably would have convinced Y/N to do their chemistry project together and bonded over it. Instead of going out tonight, she might have stayed over at Y/N’s apartment. She would have stayed up with the girl and probably kissed her as she did tonight. It seemed that no matter what roads Tara took, they all led right back to Y/N.

“All roads lead back to you, Y/N,” Tara said with a soft smile and an honest tone. Y/N wanted to kiss the shorter girl but refused to do so as long as the girl had alcohol in her system.

“Goodnight, Tara,” Y/N said as she leaned down and kissed Tara’s forehead, “get some sleep, cara mia.” And with that, Y/N returned home and went to sleep.

The last week before Christmas break had arrived: finals week. On the day of their Chemistry final, Y/N walked in with an ugly gray Christmas sweater with a picture of Julius Caesar in the middle. Above his head were words, “What are you gonna do, stab me?” And underneath his picture was “Julius Caesar 44 B.C.”

Tara let out a small laugh as she read the words, “I might do just that,” she said as Y/N sat down.

“Mhm?” Y/N questioned with an eyebrow raised. It was their first conversation since Tara kissed Y/N, and they both hoped it would go smoothly.

“Your shirt,” Tara said as she motioned towards it. Y/N looked a bit confused, then looked down at her shirt. “Oh, yeah,” she mumbled with a frown. “I kinda deserve it, don’t I?” She asked with a smile, but Tara saw right through it. Y/N was trying to make a joke to cover up the fact that their dynamic had changed.

Tara looked at Y/N, and the two made eye contact. For the first time since they’ve known each other, this was their first time actually seeing each other. Tara saw the frown constantly pulling on Y/N’s lips and how Y/N’s eyes spoke a thousand words for her. Those beautiful eyes that Tara got lost in on her first day were now full of hurt, regret, and love. Hurt: she hurt herself when she made Tara cry; Y/N hurt because she let a small moment of weakness destroy Tara. Regret: wishing she could take back everything she said to Tara, hoping she could start all over again. And love: Y/N wanted to wrap her arms around Tara and never let go; she wanted to protect the smaller girl from all the evil in the world. Y/N would give anything to feel Tara’s lips against hers, even for a fleeting second. She would live and die for the girl.

Y/N saw how Tara rubbed her left hand whenever she was left alone with Y/N as if she was afraid the taller girl would hurt her. She also saw how Tara seemed to please everyone, no matter how hard she had to work to get their approval. Y/N watched Tara push people away who weren’t from her hometown. Her heart broke when Tara looked at her like Y/N was someone who was only interested in her just to break her heart. Y/N had to act like she wouldn’t carve out her own heart to prove her loyalty to Tara.

The two sat in awkward silence until Anika arrived, and even then, it was still awkward silence. Once the final started, Tara would occasionally look over her left shoulder at Y/N and see the woman frantically writing down answers as if she went any slower; the answers would be erased from her mind.

When they completed the test, the three walked out of class, and Y/N placed her hand on Tara’s back. Surprised by the contact, Tara turned around to look at Y/N. She had a guilty expression on her face, something Tara was not used to seeing on the girl. “Can I talk to you?” Y/N softly asked while maintaining eye contact with Tara.

Tara searched Y/N’s eyes for anything dangerous but only found guilt and hurt. “Sure,” Tara gently said. Y/N nodded before leading Tara out of the science wing and into the parking lot.

“Where are we going, Y/N?” Tara questioned as she followed closely behind Y/N. Snow had started to fall, and Tara was more than ready to begin her Christmas break.

“Just a little further; I need to get something from my car,” Y/N replied as she faced Tara. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t try and kill you.”

Tara didn’t find the joke funny but followed the girl nonetheless. When they reached Y/N’s car, the girl walked over to her passenger side door and opened it. She pulled out a large gift bag with the words ‘happy birthday.’ Tara went to see what was in the bag, but Y/N’s hand gently grabbed hers, stopping her. “Don’t look at it just yet. Wait until you get home. Please.” Y/N pleaded with gentle eyes and a soft smile.

Tara had a confused look as she asked, “Okay? Why do I have to wait?”

“So you don’t hate me,” Y/N replied with a smile.

“Why would I hate you?”

Y/N let out a small laugh before she replied, “Well, so you don’t hate me more than you already do.”

Tara’s heart dropped the girl’s words. All Tara wanted to do was tell Y/N that she could never hate her, not anymore. The girl has seen her at her worst but still decided to stick around. “I could never hate you, Y/N. Sometimes I want to kill you, though,” Tara said with a smile as she looked up at Y/N.

The taller girl gave Tara a soft smile as she cleared her throat, “Would it be alright with you if I walked you home?”

Tara didn’t respond; she switched the bag to her left hand and reached for Y/N’s with her right. She smiled at the girl’s hand before intertwining their fingers as they returned to Tara’s apartment.

The two walked back in silence, enjoying each other’s company. Y/N broke the silence, “So, what do you like to do?”

The air around them quickly filled with laughter. “There is no way you are trying to small talk me right now,” Tara asked between laughs while squeezing Y/N’s hand.

“Don’t judge me. I would like to know you on a more personal level. I hate the one I’m at right now,” Y/N said with a shrug of her shoulders, “But only if you want to know each other better.”

Tara bumped into Y/N’s side as she laughed at the taller girl’s words, “I would also like to know you more personally, Y/N. So then, what’s your favorite color?”

Both girls laughed at Tara’s question, but Y/N responded. The two talked about their interests and hobbies and shared a love for horror movies. Y/N never asked Tara about the scar on her hand, afraid that it would ruin whatever they were giving a chance. Tara never mentioned the kiss they shared; she was terrified it might push Y/N away if she told the girl she wasn’t that wasted and could still taste her lips.

When they arrived at Tara’s building, Y/N followed the girl to her apartment. “Follow me. I have something to give you,” Tara said as she pulled Y/N by her hand. Y/N smiled as she followed Tara mindlessly up to her apartment. She said nothing as Tara unlocked the apartment door and told Y/N to follow her inside.

The apartment was cozy, and it reminded Y/N a lot of her apartment with Anika. She followed Tara into her room. She watched Tara place her gift bag on her bed before she shuffled around in her closet and pulled out a small box wrapped in Christmas paper. “Here, this is for you. Wait until you get home to open it, though,” Tara said with a smile as she handed Y/N the box.

“Okay?” Y/N said as she accepted the small box; it was relatively light, and some moved inside when she shook it.

“Don’t shake it, you barbarian!” Tara said as she led Y/N back to the entrance of her apartment.

“Is it a bomb? I feel like that’s something you would do,” Y/N asked when she was just outside the doorway. Tara smiled as she leaned against the door frame, “Not telling.”

Y/N gave Tara a cheeky grin as she started to pull on the wrapping paper. Tara’s hand latched onto Y/N’s as she hissed out, “Not here, Y/N! Wait until you get home!”

When Tara’s hand landed on her own, Y/N felt her entire body heat up and could not contain the smile across her face. When she looked at Tara, she also had a giant smile plastered on her face. Tara’s eyes never left Y/N’s, while the taller girl’s eyes drifted down to Tara’s lips. The smaller girl caught this and decided to retake the extra step.

She slowly reached up with her left hand and cupped Y/N’s cheek, giving the taller girl time to pull away. When Y/N didn’t, Tara stood on her tippy toes and kissed the corner of Y/N’s mouth. Y/N’s cheeks instantly warmed as she grabbed Tara’s waist, she wanted to kiss the girl for real, but she didn’t want to rush anything. She wanted to know Tara before anything romantic happened between them. And Y/N could tell Tara wanted the same thing by how she looked up at her. They would both wait a thousand lifetimes for each other.

When they pulled apart from each other, they both had love in their eyes. “Okay?” Y/N asked as she started to move away from Tara.

“Okay,” Tara replied, waving at Y/N from her door. She watched Y/N round the corner and disappear.

Tara shut the door to the apartment with a smile, but it dropped as soon as she turned around. “Jesus Christ, Sam! You can’t just sneak up on me like that. You almost gave me a heart attack,” Tara exclaimed as she clutched her chest.

Sam just laughed as she followed Tara into her room. She noticed the bag on Tara’s bed and the giant smile that refused to leave her face. “So, was that her?” Sam asked with a sly smile.

“Who?” Tara questioned as she took off her shoes and sat on her bed. She was dying to open her present, but she was afraid that it might be something she didn’t want Sam to see.

“The devil you ran into on your first day.”

“Oh, yeah. That was her,” Tara said while looking down at her feet and playing with her fingers. “Wait, how’d you know?”

Sam smiled as she started to leave Tara’s room. “Because you have that glint in your eyes right now, just like you did when you first talked about her,” Sam said as she sent Tara a soft smile before leaving her room and shutting the door.

Tara groaned as she picked up the gift bag. Her curiosity couldn’t contain itself; she reached in, her face became beet red, and her heart rattled against her rib cage as she pulled out a picture.

It was a picture of her and Y/N leaning up against the tree just before Tara kissed her. They were both smiling in the picture while holding hands. Tara was looking down at their hands while Y/N was looking at Tara. She could see how Y/N’s eyes spoke for her, and she saw the love in Y/N's eyes. Tara flipped the card over and let out a small gasp.

In blue ink were the words, ‘I am sorry for how things started between us. I am sorry for the things that I have said to you; I should have treated you better. You deserve better than me, but if you would give me a chance, I would like to make it up to you. If you don’t want to, I completely understand and will respect that. But if you want to, you can text me whenever you like.

Your devil,

Y/N

XXX-XXX-XXXX’

Tara smiled as she finished reading the words. She checked to see if anything else was in the bag. She pulled out some tissue paper and found a stuffed bear. The bear had tan fur with black boxers and tiny hearts on them. The bear had on red devil horns with a red cape while holding a red trident. Tara grabbed her phone and went to send Y/N a picture of it to thank her, but she found that Y/N had already texted her with a photo.

The picture was of Y/N holding up a reversible angel+devil plushie, but with the devil side showing. The plushie had a frown with furrowed eyebrows, and Y/N was making the same face. The text said, “Thank you for the gift, Tara. I also appreciated the note you gave me that had handwritten lyrics to ‘Mean’ followed by your number that said ‘I would really like it if you texted me-or not. I don’t care,’ It kinda sends a mixed message, but I loved it either way. Happy belated birthday, Tara.”

Tara smiled at the words before replying, “I expect the devil side always to be showing <3”. She then turned off her phone and slept with her devil in her arms.

[writerofsorts]

Back to Rosewood

(image creds: to the owner)

pairing: jason dilaurentis x female reader.

summary: 2x02 "the goodbye look" episode imagine/rewrite.

warnings: mentions of murder.

*read previous part here!

—————

Night had fallen upon the town of Rosewood and [Y/N] found herself in the safety of her bedroom in her home. She was seated at her desk, trying to finish up her homework. However, the work laid open in front of her, unfinished as she found herself constantly getting distracted by the events of the past few months. 

She had never once imagined that Ian’s death would bring up so much trouble for her friends and herself. The entire town seemed to believe the girls were liars, not believing their words of Ian being Alison’s killer. On top of that, she and her friends were still dealing with A along with therapy. 

[Y/N] groaned and buried her face in her hands, thinking about the meeting with the therapist, Dr. Sullivan, earlier that day. She and the girls were close to telling the doctor about their cyber bully, and [Y/N] had to admit that it felt good. 

But, as always, A was one step ahead and was successful in keeping the girls quiet. [Y/N] knew Dr. Sullivan must think she and her friends were crazy indeed by the way they had acted. 

A knock on her door made her look up at the doorway and her parents along with her brother stood there with small smiles on their faces.

“You busy, kiddo?” her father, James, spoke first. 

“Uh, no, not really,” [Y/N] shook her head, closing her books and pushing them away. “Come on in.”

Her parents entered the room first and sat on her bed while she turned in her chair so that she sat facing them. Her brother, Sid, came to stand next to her and perched at the edge of her desk, playfully messing up her hair. She gave him a playful glare before laughing when he stuck his tongue out at her. 

The parents took a moment to admire their kids and the beautiful bond they shared. Reality hit them the next moment and they looked at each other sadly, knowing what they were about to ask next was going to take their daughter’s smile away, even if it would be temporary. 

“So, sweetheart,” Leslie began, clearing her throat. “Your father and I just got off the phone with your therapist a few minutes ago.”

Just as they had expected, the playfulness in [Y/N] faded as her expression turned serious.

“Oh,” she replied softly after a few moments. “Uh, yes, today was not a good day.” 

“She didn’t tell us exactly what happened,” James spoke next. “However, she did tell us that she doesn’t think it would be helpful to continue seeing you girls as a group.” 

“So, she wants us to come in for individual sessions?” asked [Y/N], thinking that shouldn’t be too terrible. 

“Well, yes,” her father continued after sharing a glance with her mother. “Also, based on your sessions, she’s making a recommendation.” 

“Which I’m not a fan of,” her brother added to the conversation for the first time. 

“W-what recommendation?” [Y/N] asked. Her worry grew with her brother’s words and she looked at him once before turning towards her parents again.

“Dr. Sullivan doesn’t think you girls are capable of maintaining a healthy friendship at the moment,” Leslie explained with sympathy lacing her voice. “So, she’s recommending that you girls spend some time apart.”

“Are you saying that I can’t see or talk to my friends?” [Y/N] asked in disbelief.

“This is not forever, honey,” James replied quickly. 

“I don’t understand what the shrink is trying to do here by splitting up [y/n/n] and the girls,” Sid commented. “They’ve been through so much. And, now with everything that’s happened with Ian, separating them is a terrible idea!” 

“I know, son,” sighed James. “The other parents and we talked. We all mutually agreed that Dr. Sullivan’s suggestion might be for the best.” 

“Unbelievable,” Sid muttered with a shake of his head. 

“[Y/N], sweetheart, say something,” Leslie said softly. 

“I- I don’t know what to say,” [Y/N] replied with a shrug. “It looks like you guys have already decided.” 

“It’s just temporary, we promise,” her mother answered apologetically. 

[Y/N] dropped her gaze to the floor. She wanted to be upset and throw a tantrum, but that was not her. At the same time, she knew without a doubt that she and her friends would not just stop hanging out.

Even with this new restriction from their parents, [Y/N] was sure that she and the girls would find a way to connect and deal with the fallout from Ian’s death as well as the threat of A. They had to. 

“I understand,” she said, looking back up at her parents with a light smile. 

Her parents gave her a hug and thanked her for being understanding before leaving her room. Her brother, however, hung back with a suspicious look in his eyes. 

“What?” [Y/N] asked, crossing her arms across her chest. 

Her brother didn’t reply and waited until he was sure their parents were downstairs and out of earshot. 

“You and your friends are not gonna listen, are you?” he asked quietly, his lips curled in a smirk, and [Y/N] sighed. 

“Look, I feel bad, but we can’t just not hang out,” she answered softly. “There’s a lot going on and we need each other.” 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Sid's playfulness disappeared and he moved to hug her, not liking the fact that his little sister was under a lot of stress. “I’m on your side in all of this. If you need anything, I’m right here.” 

“I know,” she said, hugging him back. “Thank you.” 

“Just be smart in sneaking around, though,” he teased, pulling back from the hug and ruffling her hair. 

“For sure,” [Y/N] chuckled, nodding in agreement. 

…

Later that night, [Y/N] was woken up by the vibration of her cellphone on the nightstand. She grabbed the phone to see a text message from Spencer: ‘S.O.S.’ 

[Y/N] quietly made her way down the stairs to grab her coat and sneakers. Just as she finished wearing her coat, her phone vibrated yet again and she checked it to see a text from Hanna this time: ‘I’m waiting in your backyard.’ 

[Y/N] loved that she and Hanna were not only the best friends but neighbors as well. That was how they became close, anyway. Still when it came to sneaking out at night to meet up with her friends, she wasn’t a big fan as she didn’t like the dark. But with Hanna, it was easier and she didn’t feel as scared. 

She hurriedly wore her shoes and slipped out of her house through the backdoor to see Hanna waving at her while her other hand was buried in her coat pocket. 

“Can’t believe Dr. Sullivan thought she could keep us apart from each other,” Hanna scoffed when [Y/N] reached her. “You can’t tell a lot about a person by their shoes, after all.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” [Y/N] said, half amused as she dragged Hanna with her. “Now, let’s go.”

The night was dark and chilly as the two friends made their way towards the greenhouse where Spencer had told the girls that she would be waiting. 

When [Y/N] and Hanna reached the greenhouse, Aria and Emily were already there with Spencer. The five girls huddled closer together and Spencer began to explain about why she had messaged them all so late. 

“Anyone could’ve sent that, Spence,” Aria was the first to speak after Spencer showed the girls a text that Melissa had received from an unknown number. 

“Yeah, it could be some jerk trying to mess with Melissa,” Hanna added. 

“Maybe, but it doesn’t seem random,” Spencer sighed, looking down at the message again and reading it. “It’s not safe. I can’t tell you.” 

“I can’t tell you what?” Emily asked, her brows furrowed in thought. 

“Wherever he is,” Spencer said, sounding confident. 

“Spence, Ian is dead,” [Y/N] spoke, wrapping her arms around herself. The thought of Ian being alive made her feel uneasy. “I mean, we all saw him, didn’t we?” 

“True,” Hanna said, touching [Y/N]’s forearm over her coat. “But, there’s only one way to know if its Ian texting Melissa or not.” 

The other girls looked at Hanna curiously as she looked at Spencer with determined eyes. 

“Answer him, Spence. Ask him something that only Ian would know.” 

Spencer nodded before typing, ‘how do I know this is you?’ 

‘Ask me anything,’ came the reply almost immediately from the unknown number. 

“I know,” Spencer whispered to herself before her fingers flew over the phone’s keyboard. “What are we naming our baby?” 

“What’s the baby’s name?” [Y/N] asked once Spencer finished typing. 

“Taylor,” Spencer replied just as the phone in her hand buzzed. She took in a deep breath before looking at the phone only to gasp out loud the next second. With wide eyes, she showed the phone screen to her friends who all showed similar expressions. 

‘Taylor,’ the text read.

“It is him,” Hanna whispered in disbelief. 

“Oh my god,” Emily said just as [Y/N] spoke, “Ian is alive.” 

As if the girls weren’t already terrified, the wind outside suddenly picked up and the greenhouse’s doors started to slam over and over again. 

“Did things just get incredibly worse?” Aria asked, trying to speak louder over the sound of the wind. 

“I don’t believe this,” Emily said, shaking her head. “Ian’s dead.” 

“Zombies don’t text, Emily,” Hanna said sarcastically. “He is alive somewhere.” 

“Spence?” [Y/N] called when the girl in question remained silent for a long time. 

“I have to get this phone home before Melissa notices that it’s gone,” Spencer said, her lips almost trembling. 

“Okay and then what?” Hanna questioned as the wind continued to blow rather wildly outside. “What do we do about this information?” 

“Do we tell the cops?” Aria asked, shivering a little. 

“That’s not a good idea,” [Y/N] answered. “Telling the cops never works out well for us.” 

“True,” Emily sighed in defeat. 

“Why is Ian texting Melissa anyway?” Aria asked but before Spencer could answer, Hanna added, “And, why is Melissa answering him?” 

“Is she?” asked Emily, skeptic. “I mean, we don’t know how long this has been going on.”

“Spence, you’ve got to find out what Ian told Melissa,” Aria said to the stressed-out girl. “You are the only one who can find out what he wants.” 

“And, where he is,” Hanna commented. 

The slamming of the door got louder than before and suddenly rocks started to fall off the roof, causing the girls to panic further. 

“Let’s get out of here,” [Y/N] spoke, grabbing Hanna and Aria’s hands, who were standing next to her, and dragging them towards the exit. Emily and Spencer weren’t far behind. 

Once they got to a safe distance from the greenhouse, things were strangely quiet except for the soft chirping of crickets. They walked down to Spencer’s house which was closer. 

“Let’s just finish this at school,” Hanna spoke first. “I’m cold, damp, and scared. We could talk at school.” 

“We can’t talk at school, remember?” [Y/N] asked once they stopped near Spencer’s house.

“Yeah, the five of us are supposed to have separate time,” Aria said in disappointment. 

“Doctor’s orders,” Emily said with a roll of her eyes. 

“So, what are we supposed to do?” scoffed Hanna. “Not talk to each other when we’re all literally in the same classes?” 

“We just have to play it cool,” Spencer said calmly even though she was anything but after everything that happened. 

Before the girls could talk further, a loud noise interrupted them. They turned in the direction of the noise and were surprised to see a familiar face outside the DiLaurentis house. 

“It’s Jason,” Spencer whispered, surprised. 

[Y/N], meanwhile, froze in her spot. The last time she had seen Jason was several months ago when he visited her at the hospital after A hit her with their car. 

Even though it was dark, she could still make out his appearance and she was taken aback a little by what she saw. The last time he was in Rosewood, he seemed… put-together, for the lack of a better word. He wore suits and had his hair done nicely, not one strand out of place. 

Seeing him now, however, reminded her of the old Jason. His hair had grown a little and fell over his forehead as he bent down. He was wearing a fitted Henley shirt that hugged his muscles with denim jeans. He definitely looked good and she had to try her best to not blush at her own thoughts, especially in front of her friends. 

Hanna slowly slipped her arm around [Y/N]’s, pulling the latter out of her thoughts. 

‘Did you know he was back?’ Hanna mouthed and [Y/N] shook her head in denial. 

“Did he move back in?” Hanna asked, clearing her throat lightly. 

“Looks like it?” Aria said, sounding unsure just like the rest of them. 

“What is all that?” Spencer asked in confusion as she and her friends watched Jason throw away a bunch of things into the dumpster. 

“That looks like all the stuff people left on their curb when Ali went missing,” Aria said. 

“Maya said her family kept those things when they moved in,” Emily added. “They didn’t have the heart to throw them out.”

“Apparently, Jason’s moved on,” Spencer said with sarcasm and [Y/N] frowned at the brunette’s tone. 

“What is he doing in that house anyway?” asked Aria. 

“You know what? We’ve already got a lot on our plates,” Hanna said, trying to shift the conversation away from Jason. “Let’s just go home.” 

“Han’s right,” [Y/N] said, grateful for Hanna’s interference. “See you guys at school tomorrow.” 

The other girls agreed and said their goodbyes before splitting up. 

“[y/n/n], did you know Jason was coming back?” Hanna asked again when it was just herself and [Y/N]. 

“No, I didn’t,” [Y/N] replied. “The last time I saw him was at the hospital. I remember he said he would be coming back but he didn’t exactly keep me updated. I mean, he didn’t have to.” 

The girls soon reached [Y/N]’s backyard and paused in front of the door. 

“Do you think he’s moved back for good?” Hanna asked softly. 

“I don’t know,” [Y/N] shook her head. “But, why would he, though? It’s not like there’s anything here for him, is there?” 

“You never know,” Hanna replied softly. 

[Y/N] smiled a little at her best friend; the fact that Hanna was so hopeful regarding her and Jason touched her. 

“Go get some sleep, Han,” [Y/N] said, playfully pushing the blonde in the direction of her house. 

“You’re no fun,” Hanna pouted, walking backwards. 

“Good night, Hanna banana,” [Y/N] laughed, opening the backdoor quietly. 

“Good night, [y/n/n],” Hanna said back before the two girls entered their homes at the same time to get some sleep. 

…

“Wait, so Jason doesn’t believe that Ian killed Ali?” [Y/N] asked in a whisper, glancing at the closed door of her bedroom once. 

The next evening, [Y/N] was in her bedroom, scrolling through her twitter feed when she received a call from Spencer. The younger Hastings had gone to welcome Jason back to town – in other words, she had gone to spy on him – and it hadn’t gone so well. After returning home, [Y/N] was the first person Spencer had called to share how her conversation with Jason went. 

“I mean, I think so?” Spencer replied in a whisper as well and [Y/N] could feel the frustration in her friend’s voice. “He asked me if Ian said the words I killed Ali and I told him he didn’t, but that’s what it seemed like and he got all snippy about it!”

Spencer huffed out a breath and [Y/N] bit her lip in thought. 

“Do you think he’s in denial?” Spencer asked, continuing their chat quietly. “He and Ian were besties. He probably doesn’t want to accept that his best friend killed his little sister?” 

“I’m not sure, Spence,” replied [Y/N]. “Even if they were best friends, Jason can’t just look past the fact that Ian killed Ali.” 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Spencer agreed. “Hey, do you remember that one day Ali and Jason were fighting?” 

“You have to be a bit more specific because all they did was fight around us,” [Y/N] said, mild amusement lacing her voice and Spencer scoffed out a laugh. 

“I’m talking about the time Jason was mad at Ali for going to his room and messing with his stuff?” Spencer recalled and [Y/N] found herself nodding at the memory. 

“I do,” she said. “That’s when Ali made that comment about things being hidden until she wants them found, right?” 

“Yes!” Spencer exclaimed, trying her hardest to keep her voice quiet. 

“But, why are we suddenly talking about the past?” [Y/N] asked, confused. 

“I- I had a thought,” Spencer said, her words coming out slowly which worried [Y/N]. 

“What is it?” 

“Jason used to be so aggressive, [y/n/n]. Do you think he-” 

“Spence, don’t go there,” [Y/N] interrupted quickly. 

“You didn’t let me finish!” argued Spencer. 

“You were going to suggest Jason had something to do with Ali’s murder,” [Y/N] said, not liking the words that left her mouth. Spencer’s brief silence on the other end was all the answer [Y/N] needed to know that she was right. “Where’d you get the idea that Jason could be an accomplice in Ali’s murder?” 

“I don’t know what else to think,” Spencer admitted quietly. “He’s suddenly back in town and doesn’t believe Ian killed his sister.” 

“Don’t do this, Spence,” [Y/N] advised softly. “We’ve already got zombie Ian and A on our hands. Let’s not add Jason into the mix.” 

“I guess so,” sighed Spencer. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t be,” [Y/N] replied. “I understand we’re all kind of on the edge right now. But, let’s not overthink. For now, at least.”

“I’ll try,” Spencer sighed again, dramatically this time, causing [Y/N] to chuckle. 

“Hey, I should go now,” said [Y/N]. “I’ve been in my room for a while now. I should make an attendance downstairs for dinner.”

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer laughed. “See you in school tomorrow?” 

“Definitely,” [Y/N] responded. “Good night, Spence.”

“Good night, [y/n/n],” Spencer replied before hanging up.

...

The girls were sneaking out yet again in the middle of the night. [Y/N] was starting to dislike Dr. Sullivan because she hated that greenhouse with a passion. It was creepy, to say the least, but she and her friends had no other choice. 

“It was in the pocket of her coat,” Spencer said, showing her friends pictures of Melissa’s ultrasound. “Her coat was wet and so were her boots.” 

“She lied to you about going out?” [Y/N] asked. 

“I don’t think she went far,” replied Spencer. “I checked the driveway and it was dry under her car so I don’t think she drove anywhere.” 

“Who would she want to show these to?” Aria asked, handing the ultrasound pictures back to Spencer. 

“I can only think of one person,” Hanna said with a roll of her eyes. 

“Ian,” Emily said, letting out a deep breath. “Spencer, if you’re saying she didn’t drive anywhere to see him, then that means he must be close.”

“Han, you were right,” Spencer said. “This is the worst time to be splitting up. We have to stick together.” 

“Exactly, no matter how much lying it takes,” Hanna nodded. 

“If only all of our parents were like my brother,” [Y/N] sighed. 

“Can we switch siblings?” Spencer pouted at [Y/N], who instantly shook her head. 

“Absolutely not,” [Y/N]’s instant reply was met with light laughter from her friends and they all cherished it. It had been a while since they’ve had the chance to be normal teenagers and to just have fun. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Aria said after a while and the girls agreed before walking out of the greenhouse. 

They were passing by the DiLaurentis house again when Emily suddenly stopped in her steps, causing the other girls to do the same.

“What is that?” she asked, looking at what appeared to be garden supplies laying on the front yard of the house. 

Before they could inspect further, a bright flashlight shone in their faces and they held their hands in front of their eyes. 

“Jason?” Spencer asked first, squinting at the taller man and he finally lowered the flashlight. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he said after he noticed the familiar girls in front of him. 

“Yeah, it’s only us,” Aria answered with an awkward smile. 

He turned off the flashlight and when he looked up, his gaze fell on [Y/N].

“Hey, are you better now?” he asked her, his voice softening. “I haven’t seen you since the accident.” 

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m better now. Thank you,” [Y/N] replied, smiling lightly at him. She felt nervous with his attention on her. It also didn’t help that she could feel the curious eyes of Aria, Emily, and Spencer on her as well. Except for Hanna, the other girls didn't know about Jason visiting her at the hospital. 

“So, what have you been up to?” Hanna asked Jason casually, shifting the attention away from [Y/N] for which the latter was grateful for. 

“I’ve been replanting all day,” Jason replied. “I’m putting up a fence as well.” 

“A fence? Why?” Spencer asked – her eyes and voice were obvious of her suspicion of Jason. 

“Privacy, security,” Jason answered, his voice turning a little rough. “There’s a lot of curious creeps in the world and one way or another, people are gonna mind their own business.”

The girls looked at each other subtly, feeling a little uneasy with Jason’s piercing eyes shifting between them. 

“You girls better go home,” he said before turning to walk back into his house. 

The girls walked a little further away and stopped by the side of the road again when they heard the sound of Jason shutting the door. 

“[y/n/n], you didn’t tell us Jason visited you,” Spencer shot instantly.

“I didn’t think it was important,” [Y/N] replied, shrugging a little. 

“But, why did he visit you?” Aria asked, frowning in confusion. 

“He was probably being nice, Aria,” Hanna answered before [Y/N] could. “And, yes, I know that he visited [y/n/n], because I ran into him there.” 

[Y/N] looked at Hanna at the blonde’s easy lie. Hanna didn’t meet Jason at the hospital; [Y/N] had told Hanna about Jason visiting her with some get well soon gifts. Since Hanna was already aware of her feelings towards Jason, she was the only person [Y/N] felt comfortable sharing about his unexpected visit with. 

“Look, he probably visited me, because he felt obligated to since he worked on Ali’s memorial with us,” [Y/N] said, hoping to move past this topic. 

“That makes sense,” Emily said calmly after a few moments, which caused Aria and Spencer to loosen up a little as well. “And, am I the only one thinking who is Jason trying to keep out with that fence?” 

“Keep out or keep in?” Spencer asked back, and [Y/N] could tell the former still believed that Jason was helping Ian hide and had some part in killing Ali. 

“Look, it’s too late to be doing this,” Hanna said. Similar to [Y/N], Hanna had an idea of where Spencer might be going with this and she was exhausted to be working on any more mysteries for the night. “Let’s just do this at school tomorrow or whatever.” 

[Y/N] internally sighed in relief when the other girls agreed with Hanna and parted ways, making their ways towards their houses. 

“Thanks for the rescue back there,” [Y/N] told Hanna once it was just the two of them. 

“Anytime, [y/n/n],” Hanna grinned, looping her arm around [Y/N]’s, making the latter chuckle. 

The two made their ways towards their homes in comfortable silence, hoping to get some rest before facing the stressful days ahead.

—————

[theshipden]

How would the main 6 react to finding out Mc has ptsd?

Cracks knuckles oh baby as someone with C-PTSD this is my JAM

Julien;

He listens to your explanation, never breaking eye contact. He understands, he’s a doctor, he talks you through it

When you’re having an attack, he’s quick to ground you and help you seek a good therapist

Protective asf, he will not let you do anything alone since it makes you nervous.

Learns every one of your triggers so he can prevent them, whether that’s stopping himself from doing it or someone else

Holds you and cries about what you’ve been through, promises to never let it happen again

Portia;

Post-traumatic- down-syndrome? (Tiktok reference)

Nah but she isn’t certain what that is or what it means, but she DOES read about it and teaches herself what it all entails

Asks julien for further knowledge and how to help

Asks if you need space, to talk, advice, or just her company

In the middle of your attacks, she rubs you. Whether it’s your hand, your back, carding her fingers through your hair, she’s anchoring you back to the ground again

Asks what you need from her when you’re anxious

“Reassurance? Quality time? A listening ear—a shoulder? I have two of those!”

Muriel;

He understands you more then anyone. And funny enough, your anxiety seems to go hand in hand with his own

You’re damn right people are scary!! And loud noises are overwhelming!! And you’re angry and scared and just want to feel safe!! Him too!!

He isn’t the best at staying grounded, honestly he’s still learning healthy coping mechanisms

But when he sees you struggling, he finds himself in the clearest state of mind. He listens, he’s nurturing, and very intuitive.

Smiles so soft and so warm when you calm down from an episode, never pushes you to talk

Sometimes, you panic together about the same thing. Something about seeing someone you love feel the same way as you do….feels like home. You’re not dramatic, you’re more in control then you originally thought, and you’re cared for. Just as you care for him, he cares for you

Nadia;

She’s very good at rationalizing your racing thoughts, using logic to soothe your panic when it seems to be becoming too much

Uses her hands to massage the tension out of your muscles and help you process and work through the feelings you’re having

Aromatherapy, 100%

Reserved a spa day for you, just you and her, no one else. She knows the company of the servants would make you mask

Probably offers to buy you an exotic animal just so you have someone at your side if she’s away when you spiral

Lucio;

This man probably tells you to calm down, not realizing that’s making it worse.

Blubbers an apology immediately after, stuttering wildly as he waves his arms frantically

“No! Don’t cry—-! Hey, darling, it’s alright! What’s happened? My love, can you look at me? Show me those gorgeous eyes, there you go, wonderful. Now, what’s gotten you so upset?”

Thinks someone’s responsible, fully plans on lynching them as soon as he’s figured out the culprit

If your trigger is an inanimate object, he WILL destroy it. And yell at the servants not to trigger you

Drapes his cape over you so you feel sheltered and calm, so you can hide if you don’t want to be seen but don’t want to be alone

Definitely glares at anyone who attempts to call you emotional or puts you down for a natural reaction to trauma

Showers you in compliments, covers the mirrors in little affirmations with lipstick

Asra;

He knew. He’s always known. Even before you did.

He’s very patient, extremely passive and cautious

He educates others on your behalf so you’re never in an unwanted situation or triggered on accident

Reminds you to take medicine, eat, drink water, etc

Asks the arcana to guide you and offer you wisdom and clarity

Constantly ensures you’re never in a night terror/flashback

Can immediately tell when your anxiety spikes, doesn’t even ask before he brings you into the shop in a controlled and familiar environment and asks to talk

Admires you and your courage, he tells you everyday how strong you are and how proud of you he is

[jewish-vents]

I wish my friends would check in on me. I want to tell someone how I feel as a Jewish person right now, but my therepist is jewish too and I dont want to make him sad, and I dont want to make my parents sad by venting to them since they are jewish too (plus neither are the best people to vent too for their own reasons), and my partner is stressed from work and school so they don't need my emotional baggage too. And I'm scared I'm making my friends annoyed/not enjoy hanging out with me by how much negativity slips out of me recently (even if not about antisemitism, my over all mood still effected by it, making me more prone to negetivity), so I'm trying hard to not dump on them all the time, and when I do talk about stuff, make sure it's not the same person every time and make sure there are many interactions between times I bring up anything negative. I thought I was doing an ok job at it, but when I was really stressed and sad about about a guy approaching my synagogue with a gun (but luckily being scared off before he could get inside and then being successfully tracked down and arrested a few days later, all this after making multiple anonomys threatening voicecalls to the synagogue weeks prior), and I sent a message about it to a friend, she never responded. And then like a week later I messaged to see if SHE was ok because I hadn't heard anything in awhile, and she responded right away that yeah she is fine, and we chatted for a bit about other stuff. And I just. Never brought that up. But also I noticed she hasn't messaged me unprompted for awhile. And hasn't asked me if I want to hang for awhile. And she will say yeah if I ask her if she wants to watch a movie but. Like. It's always me initiating it. And I can't remember if it was like this Before. And a few months back I made a brief mention of something to a different friend before changing the topic, I can't even remember if it was a jewish thing I was stressed out about or not, and though we've seen eachother in groups that we both happen to be at, or hung out in group chats online, he hasn't asked me to hang out in forever and whenever I invite him to hangout he can't or seems to avoid the topic. Maybe it's all coincidence. Maybe it's all in my head. Maybe I'm making things harder for myself than they need to be. But I wish someone would initiate checking in with me. Because if like if I were to bring up my worries I'm annoying people by being sad, or just cut to the point and say I'm sad about jewish stuff and ask for comfort, if it's all in my head I will make them uncomfortable by revieling I feel this way, or if it's not all in my head, I will just push them further away by being needy and guilting. But they will never check in with me. Because that would require letting it be obvious how sad I am. Which same problem again.

Anon, please speak to your therapist about how you're feeling. I guarantee that they would prefer to discuss something they are also struggling with rather than leave something that is so difficult for you unaddressed.- 🐞

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

blue butterflies

pairing: jackson! joel miller x reader

cws/tags: 1st person pov joel, angst, discussions of sex trafficking/sexual assault, death, mild smut, au where nothing bad happens between ellie and joel, author has not played tlou 2 yet (donate to kofi lmao), guns, alcohol consumption, light enemies to lovers, cordyceps works different in this one (more predictable and slower-acting)

summary: joel's letter to reader

a/n: i watched the beginning of tlou (joel playing guitar) and it made me cry so hard. so, this is inspired by that, but also i listened to funeral by arcade fire and for emma, forever ago by bon iver while writing this. neighborhood #4 (7 kettles) by arcade fire makes me cry so hard.

wc: 5.7k

taglist: @gothcsz @harriedandharassed @withonly-sweetheart

thank you to @jennaispunk for beta reading/proofreading !

join my taglist | purchase a commission

divider is from @danowh0re

playlist for fic: required listening!!

I thought therapy was a bunch of bullshit - a scam at worst, a waste of my time at best. But, since you left us, Tommy’s been making me go. He keeps saying, ‘it’s what she would’ve wanted’, and I think it is. But, that doesn’t mean I like it. 

My therapist told me if I’m not gonna talk to her about my past, I should at least talk to someone. I told her I’d talk to you, if you were here. She told me it was a good idea, that I should write it out in a letter. She told me I could write to you, or to Sarah, but I figured I’d better write to you ‘cause there’s some things a daughter shouldn’t hear about her dad. Even - especially - the most fun times he’s had. I’ll get to those later. 

Did you know I hated you when we first met? I never told you, but I think you knew. I thought you were a self-important, entitled bitch who acted like she’d been through hell when I knew she hadn’t because of how well-adjusted she seemed. I thought you had some sort of unearned valor. I know that’s not the right way to put it. I think the word I’m looking for is ‘respect’. Tommy, Maria, even Ellie were so quick to respect you when I had to earn it. 

“The reason people don’t like you is because you’re an asshole,” you told me. “You’re fucking scary when you’re mad, too.”

“What’s that saying? It’s better to be feared than to be loved?”

“That’s what Machiavelli said, but that doesn’t mean he’s right.”

I think he was wrong. I was jealous of how much everyone loved you, and they didn’t love me because they feared me. You were so fucking right, and that was one of the things that I hated most about you. 

I used to think about how young you were in comparison to an old man like me, how you were only a little younger than Sarah would’ve been, and how stupid I would’ve felt if Sarah was always outsmarting me. Until I remembered all the times that Sarah did just that, and how much I loved her for it, rather than in spite of it. (Note to self: tell Sarah this in your letter to her). 

That’s not to say I loved you, not yet. I did love you, but I realized that a little later. I had to learn to like you first. 

Do you remember our first day out on patrol together? I begged Tommy to change my schedule. I would rather have spent my time with anyone else in the community -- Hell, I would’ve asked Tommy to give you a day off if it’d get me out of having to work alongside you. 

You overheard me talking to Tommy, and said to me, “You could at least wait until I’m out of earshot to bitch about me, you know?”

“I know,” I said. 

And we didn’t talk for almost the whole shift. Well, I didn’t talk, but you kept on talking, almost like you were talking to yourself. You didn’t even care that I was ignoring you. 

“It’s okay. I don’t like people either.”

“Who says I don’t like people?”

“Your face, your voice, basically your whole demeanor.”

You were so honest, and you had every right to be. It shut me right back up again. I don’t know if that’s what you wanted. Maybe you thought provoking me would make me talk, but I’m a stubborn, old asshole. I don’t think you need me to tell you that.  

“What did I do to piss you off?” You asked, after I gave you what you viewed as the silent treatment, and what I saw as peace and quiet. 

“Nothing. I just think you’re a little bit... egotistical.”

“So are you. You think you know everything.”

“No, but I know more than you. You haven’t got half the experience I have, and believe me, kid, you don’t want it.”

“You’re so melodramatic. And for what? Has the brooding bad boy behavior gotten you laid yet?”

For your information, yes, it had absolutely gotten me laid.  

But before I could tell you that, you stopped me, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “and by the way, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me, then.”

“Tell you what?”

“About all the horrors you’ve experienced. If I’m so wrong, then prove it.” I challenged you because I thought you wouldn’t be able to come up with anything. I wouldn’t have said that if I’d known what I do now. 

You were so angry that you laughed at me. “Fuck you. You don’t deserve to know shit about me.”

A couple weeks later we knew each other’s whole life stories. I told you more than I’ve ever told anyone else, more than I think I ever will tell anyone else. It started when we got lost in the woods together. We were arguing as usual, and we only got ourselves even more lost. The sun was starting to go down, and I could see it in your eyes - you were getting scared. Maybe, for a second, I took some sort of satisfaction in knowing that you were the one who couldn’t handle it, but I’m still human - it feels a little cruel saying that now - so I wasn’t gonna let you suffer. 

“It’s not gonna do us any good to keep arguing, so can we agree to drop it?”

“Truce,” you said, holding out your hand, and when I shook it, you added, “but let it be known that you surrendered.”

“Don’t push it. You know if we stay out here long enough that we have to resort to eating each other’s flesh, you’re gonna be my dinner, not the other way around.”

“I hope I taste good.” 

You did, baby. You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. 

I think we had our first date that night. Sort of. It was late when we got back. Most people were asleep, and the bar was closed, but you had the key. 

“Tommy gave you a spare key?”

“Uh-huh. I assumed you had one too, but I guess I’m the favorite.”

“You’re prettier than me. Of course, you are.” 

I still can’t believe I said that -- I wasn’t even drinking yet. I can be a real idiot when I’m talking to a beautiful woman. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You looked very pretty when you bothered to wash your hair last week.”

“I wash my hair, okay? Sorry I’m old and don’t wake up looking like a supermodel.”

“Who does?”

“I know you want me to say ‘you’, but I’m not taking the bait.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re thinking it, and that’s what matters.”

I was thinking much more than that, darling. 

You walked behind the counter, and asked me, “what do you drink?”, and I think that was the moment I knew I liked you. You could’ve --should’ve -- told me to fuck off. You had other friends (not that we were quite ‘friends’), but you chose me that night. I was a real fixer-upper of a companion, but maybe you liked a challenge. 

“Whiskey. Neat.”

You gave me that look -- that fuckin’ look -- that raised eyebrow and a tiny smirk. And it made me feel like a teenager caught staring at his crush. 

“Please and thank you," I added. 

You got up on the stool behind the bar, grabbed the bottle on the top shelf, and said, “you deserve it.”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “But I’ll take it.”

You sat beside me, and sipped your whiskey. (And you looked pretty hot doing it.) After a good minute of silence you said, “thank you for not killing me and eating me in the woods.”

“I’d get pretty goddamn bored if I didn’t have you yapping in my ear constantly.”

“I thought you hated it.”

“Only sometimes.”

“Then, why don’t you ever talk to me?”

“I’m talking to you right now.”

“Barely.”

So, I turned to you, put my elbow on the counter, laid my head in my hand, and gave you the same face you were giving me. I tried to pretend I was mocking you, but I think you knew I was trying to practice being more likable, being more like you. 

“Tell me something,” you said.

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“Tell me about you.”

“My name is Joel Miller-”

“We’re not at AA.”

“You’re goddamn right we’re not. This would be the shittiest AA meeting ever.”

“Okay, okay. How about you tell me when your birthday is?”

“September 26th, 1981.”

“So, you’re a Libra.”

“Oh c’mon, tell me you’re not into that shit. I was finally starting to tolerate you.”

“I’m a Cancer.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Cancer like the crab, not like the disease!”

“Mm-hmm. I’m sure you’re familiar with crabs as well.”

I got a laugh and a smack on the arm in return, and the laugh was worth the smack. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know you can’t help being an asshole, so at least you’re making me laugh.”

I didn’t realize your hand was still on my arm until you asked me, “What’d you do before this? You’ve got nice arm muscles.”

“I worked in construction, I was a contractor.”

“Like a carpenter?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what Jesus was. I bet he had good arm muscles.”

“I don’t think that’s his most notable feature, but sure, why not?”

Despite the fact that we were talking all things Jesus, you were feeling me up. And you weren’t subtle about it at all. 

“Do you wanna play darts?” you asked, breaking the tension.

“Okay.”

You walked up to the dartboard all confident, and I expected an instant bullseye. You’d only had one drink and you were focusing so hard, practicing the swing of your arm like a golfer would. The first shot missed the board entirely.

And that’s when I learned you were awful at darts. 

“You’re terrible at this.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then, why’d you ask me to play?”

“For fun. Plus, how else am I gonna get better?”

You weren’t even close to the bullseye. You weren’t even hitting the board at all half the time. Over the next couple of years, you got better, not a lot better -- I still won every game we ever played -- but you got closer. But, close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, as they say. It probably counts in terms of people too -- I like to think our closeness counted for something, even if it couldn't last forever.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty," I said.

“You’re lucky you’re good at darts," you fired back.

“Is that an insult? Because I’m holding a sharp object and I’ve got good aim.” And with that, I threw the final dart, hit the bullseye, and won. “What do I get?”

“For what?”

“Winning.”

“You get to keep your pride.”

I was happy with that, but you turned back to me, stepped closer and whispered, “and this,” before you kissed me. 

I don’t know which one of us was more nervous. All I knew was that I liked you a lot more when you were quiet. All I heard from you was a little gasp when I lifted you onto the counter so I could keep kissing you without having to lean down and hurt my back ‘cause I’m an old man. I really thought my brooding bad boy look was gonna get me laid again that night, but you stopped me before I could get your top off. 

“Uh-uh,” you said. “You’re gonna have to do more than beat me at darts if you want more than a kiss.”

“Fair enough. What’s your price?”

“I’m not a hooker.”

I didn’t understand why you looked so upset until that day by the water when you told me. I’m sorry I said that, I really am.

“Sorry. What I should’ve said is, ‘Can I take you to dinner on Friday?’”

You gave me a nonchalant ‘sure’, and I assumed you’d keep it hush-hush, but you bragged about getting asked out. Why would you brag about me? That's something I still don't understand.

The next day, I went and asked Tommy for advice because I hadn’t dated in a long time, and he’s more of the romantic type. I thought our dinner date would be news to him, but you’d already told him. 

“Yeah, I know. She came in here asking for advice too actually.” 

He’s got a bigger mouth than you do. That’s why you two got along so well -- you were like those little old ladies gossiping at the hair salon. 

“What’d she say?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy.”

But Tommy always had a certain loyalty to you. He keeps your secrets to this day -- some of ‘em. 

“Give me some advice, please.”

“You were married once. You won a woman’s heart. Just do what you did back then.”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that my marriage ended in divorce.”

“Just be yourself.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is. How about smiling for once?”

I tried, but I’d almost forgotten how to over the years. 

Tommy feigned disgust and said, “I take it back. Keep your usual pissed-off look.”

You taught me how to smile again. I don’t know that you meant to do it, but you did. Tommy says he knows when I’m thinking about you because of the way I smile. 

When I came over to pick you up for dinner, you opened the door wearing a bathrobe with your hair in curlers. I guess I was looking at you funny because you made sure to tell me, “Don’t worry, I’m not wearing this out. Go sit in the living room.”

“I’m not worried. You look beautiful already.”

“I do not. I look like my grandmother.”

“I imagine she must’ve been a hot commodity then.”

“She was actually -- or at least, that’s the story she used to tell us. She was Prom Queen and all that jazz.”

You could talk for hours, about anything. I could say one word and you could give me a tangentially related 20 minute long monologue. You were a good storyteller. I don’t think I ever told you this, but I used to think about how you’d be great at making up stories for our kids one day -- if we ever had them. I know I told you I didn’t want to have any, but that’s one of the few lies I told you. I was too scared to imagine that kind of a future with you. 

I had you in the present, and that’s what I cared about. I don’t remember what you wore that night because I spent most of our date looking at your face, trying to memorize every dimple, freckle or scar I could see. All the details.

I’m sure your dress fit perfectly, but what I cared about was how your hand felt when I took it in mine as we walked to the restaurant -- it felt right, more so with our fingers intertwined on the way home. 

It was one of the longest dinner dates in my not-so-long history of dating as it took you quite a while to finish your meal because you don’t talk with your mouth full (usually). I think our waitress was mad that we were there for so long. They were cleaning up by the time you were done eating. 

I don’t remember all the things you said. Even if I did, I don’t have enough paper to write it all down. But I do remember when you asked me, “Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Sure.” 

“This is my first date.”

I would’ve been less surprised if you’d told me you’d killed someone.

“Mine too,” I said. 

“Liar! Tommy said you were married... before all of this.”

“Does Tommy tell you everything about me?”

“No. He wouldn’t tell me when your birthday was. That’s why I asked you.”

“That’s ‘cause he forgot it.”

Really, I wanted to know if he told you about Sarah, or if I’d have to do it myself. Both. As it turned out, he told you before we ever really met. I told you by the river, but that came later. 

When I walked you home, we lingered by your door, and when I leaned in to kiss you goodnight, you turned your head, and I should’ve realized how special you were to me ‘cause I felt my heart sink. But, you asked me to come inside. You were always shy about kissing in public, but not on your living room couch. 

When we were inside, you let me take off your dress, but only after I agreed to take off my shirt. 

“Jesus,” you said when you watched me undress. 

“We talked enough about Jesus last time. It’s about you and me now, baby.”

I learned to be a gentleman growing up in Texas, that wining and dining a lady includes putting her first in the bedroom too. But you called the shots -- that night and all of the others we had together. You got down on your knees and gave me the most irresistible face. It was embarrassing how quickly I came. It’s still embarrassing, and you’re not even here to tease me about it anymore. I thought I’d get the chance to prove myself to you that night, but you stopped me. I remembered what you said, ‘this is my first date’, and I assumed you were a virgin. 

It was about a week later when I was trying to teach you how to skip rocks in the river that I asked you if you were one. 

“It’s not a big deal if you are -- not to me, I mean. I just figured maybe because you said that was your first date.”

“It’s kind of a long story, so take a seat if you want the answer.”

I don’t know what I expected you to say, but I already felt like I’d fucked up by asking. I didn’t want to make this mess I’d gotten myself into worse than it already was, so I sat next to you and waited for you to speak. 

“It’s not actually a long story, I guess. Just a sad one.”

It was the first sad story you told me, and you told me more stories than I’d ever been told by anyone else at this point. It was impressive how many happy ones you held onto, especially after everything that you told me that day. 

You didn’t look at me while you spoke. You mumbled and picked at the grass beneath you. Like a child. 

“I’m not a virgin, but I wasn’t lying when I said that was my first date. There’s just some stuff that you don’t know about me... ‘cause I didn’t want you to know these things about me. But it’s not like I was ever gonna get away with not telling you. It’s better that it happens now anyway.”

You started to cry, so I put my hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off. I was so used to the one doing the pushing away that being pushed away was jarring. 

“Before I came to Jackson, I used to do things for money. Those sorts of things. It’s not like I wanted to, ‘cause I’m not like that, you know.”

You explained how you’d lost both your parents by the time you were 16 and didn’t have any siblings, so you ended up with whatever friends you could find. Some of the few good people that were left. 

“There was a group of men who killed my friends just to loot their pockets, but they realized that it’d be more profitable to keep me alive.”

“So they forced you to...”

“Have sex for supplies, yeah. One of them was my first time, I guess. They did that stuff for a while, but once I’d been with a decent amount of men, they decided I was too ‘used up’ or something to be worth having sex with. I can’t decide if that made me feel better or worse. On the one hand, I didn’t have to have sex with them anymore, but I was also too gross to be wanted.”

“’Used up’ is bullshit. Back when the world was a little more civilized, those bastards could’ve gone to jail.”

“They’re dead.”

“Did you kill ‘em?”

“No, but I thought about it all the time. I remember thinking about strangling a man once. He was alone, so no one would’ve seen me do it, and the guys could’ve taken all of his shit too. They probably would’ve been happy if I had. I think that’s why I didn’t.”

“If you didn’t kill them, then how did they die?”

It probably wasn’t appropriate for me to pry, but the sadistic part of me needed to know that they got what was coming for them. I needed to know there was some justice left in this world. 

“They wanted food from some guy who’d gone hunting and they tried to sell me to him, but he said ‘no’. He looked so offended that I thought I was pissed off ‘cause they’d given him a bad deal... but he shot the one standing in front of him. Then, he yelled at me to turn around and I was sure I was gonna die, but I heard him walk into the other room, another shot, and when the third walked in from outside, another shot. He walked over to me, and I started crying and begging him not to kill me. He told me he wasn’t going to, but he made me close my eyes while he led me out of the house.”

“’Cause he didn’t want you to see the bodies.”

“Yeah... and I still thought he was going to kill me, even when he took me with him on his horse, and said he was taking me back to some place called ‘Jackson’.” 

I don’t know if I would say you got a happy ending, at least, not the one you deserved, but I saw a hint of a smile when you mentioned Jackson. And you didn’t have to tell me who the man was -- I know him well. 

“Tommy,” I said, confident in my guess.

“Yeah.”

After I dropped you off at home, I went by his place and thanked him. And then I went home and cried. For the first time in a decade.

“You know it doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?”

“How do you feel about me?”

“I like you… most of the time.” 

What I meant was, I love you. I just didn’t know it yet. 

“I guess I owe you a story too, then.”

“You don’t owe me anything... but you can tell me whatever you want.”

I think part of me wanted to tell you, or at least, part of me wanted you to know. “I had a daughter.”

“I know.”

I should’ve known, considering how close you and Tommy were.

“Tommy told you, didn’t he?”

“To be fair to him, he told me he had a niece.”

“Yeah, he did. She’d be a little older than you. It’s crazy to think that she’d be in her 30s when the last time I saw her she was 13.”

“I know saying ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t really do anything, but I’m still sorry”

“In a way, I’m glad she doesn’t have to see all these things. All the infected. She died before we ever had to go to a QZ.”

When you told me about the first QZ you lived in as a kid, it confirmed that for me. It pained me to hear about you watching your dad get bitten and leaving him behind, saying goodbye without knowing he was dying -- in one way or another. 

You told me later about how the only person you’d ever killed was your own mother, how she used to sell herself like you did, how you missed the first shot and you saw how scared she was to die. I think you had it worse than I did. 

“I think she was mostly scared because she knew I couldn’t do shit with a gun, and that I’d end up surviving the way that she did... and she was right.”

“Neither of you deserved it, and I bet she’d be proud of you now.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m proud of you.”

You cried, but you finally let me hold you. You cried so long that I thought you’d never stop. 

Do you remember your last day? I told you I wanted to be with you until the end, but you reminded me about your mother. You told me that even if a shot to the head had to be the way you went out, I wasn’t going to be there to give it to you. We had two choices: either wait until that day came or let you go before then. I said I wanted to go with you. I wanted to ask Tommy to give me the same cocktail he was gonna cook up for you. You said no. It was your last wish that I stayed. 

“I don’t wanna live without you.”

“I don’t wanna die, but I don’t get to choose. If I could live longer, I would. But just because I’m dying doesn’t mean you get to leave everyone else behind.”

Yeah, you brought Ellie into it. I wanted to tell you not to bring her up. I’m glad you did because as much as it hurt to think about her watching me die the way that I watched you die, it made me stay. I’m glad I stayed. Things are okay, but our last day is still my favorite day. 

We got up early and watched the sunrise, and I told you I loved you for the first time.

“I know,” you said with a smile on your face. 

“How?” 

You just lifted your coffee cup. When you moved in -- something I didn’t realize was happening ‘till it had already happened -- I started making coffee every morning before you woke up, and I started buying that French Vanilla bullshit creamer. I hated it. It was so sweet it made me nauseous. I could’ve gone and bought my own, but I’m still stubborn, I’m still a cheapskate, I’m still me -- even without you (which is something I thought I’d never be able to say). But that wasn’t why I started taking my coffee the same way you took yours.

It was one day when you’d already left for work but my shift didn’t start until later. I hadn’t slept at all the night before -- and not for any good reason, not for more time with you -- so I was tired when I woke up. I made myself some coffee, but I wasn’t even thinking straight, so I hadn’t noticed that I had put that creamer in my mug until I tasted it. But I wasn’t disgusted. I thought maybe you’d left yours behind and I’d absent-mindedly picked the wrong one up off the counter -- I very well could’ve gotten caught up in putting the toaster on the right settings (that’s something we could never agree on) -- but when I looked down, it was my mug. Yours was dirty in the sink. You were gone for the day. I was stupid to think otherwise. I was fantasizing. That was new. 

So, just as I am right now, I take my morning coffee like you took yours. It tastes like you, like you kissing me. 

I waited anxiously for you to say you loved me too. 

“Are you not gonna say it back? Do you not-- do you feel the same?”

“What do you think?”

“I hope so.”

You gestured for me to come closer so you could whisper in my ear and I thought maybe you’d give me a wet willy. But you said, “Joel Miller, I have loved you for a long time.”

I didn’t say anything. I don’t think I’ve ever been very good with words -- talking was your thing. I grabbed your hand and squeezed. We went out onto the porch and sat in silence. I wonder what you were thinking about. 

“Will you sing me something?”

You know I don’t take requests, and you know I don’t like an audience, no matter how small that audience is. 

No one would refuse the wish of a dying woman, but I couldn’t refuse you even if I knew you’d be there tomorrow and every day after. I only protest because you look cute when you beg. Not in that way -- you look hot when you beg like that. 

“What song do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

I sang Peaceful Easy Feeling because, as much as a part of me felt a sense of urgency, knowing our time was running out, most of me was just thinking about you, and I love you. Simple as that. 

You gave me a standing ovation just to see me blush. 

We all planned something special for your last dinner. I know you like simple things, so I tried to make it as simple as I could while still making it special for you. Maybe it was selfish to make it a night to remember when I’m the one who gets to remember it. 

Tommy and Maria were chef and sous-chef (you can guess who was who in that scenario), and Ellie was the waitress. 

“What are your specials tonight?” you asked. 

“We have either the steak and baked potato or the steak without the baked potato.”

“In that case, I’d like it with the baked potato.”

We probably lit a hundred candles to fill the room with enough light to see each other -- we had time while you were getting ready, since you’re a bit of a slowpoke. We picked flowers from the garden and put them in an empty wine bottle because we couldn’t find a vase, and conjured up a decent tablecloth. We had ice cream sundaes for dessert -- or at least, you did. You know what I had for dessert. 

“How about you, sir, would you like anything for dessert?” Ellie asked. 

“No, I think I’ll be having dessert when we get home.” I tried to subtly wink at you. 

“Ew! That’s disgusting. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.”

“You’re the one assuming I was talking about sex. How do you know I don’t have a tub of ice cream waiting for me in the freezer at home?”

There was ice cream in the freezer, but the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted was between your legs. The moment we got home I picked you up bridal style and carried you up to our bedroom. 

“Baby, I know how long you spent getting ready, and I’m sorry to do this to you, but this needs to come off,” I said before I yanked down the zipper of your dress. You laughed as I ripped off your clothes. 

You gently undid my tie and when I watched you fumble with the buttons on my shirt, I said, “Just rip it, baby.”

“I don’t wanna ruin your clothes.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me or my clothes tonight. I want you to have me however you want me.”

“You’ll do whatever I want?”

“Within reason.”

“How do you feel about roleplay?”

“I suppose it depends -- what are the roles?”

“Husband and wife.”

“As long as I can be the husband.”

And then you kissed me -- with your typical tenderness but a new level of dedication. Slow and passionate, showing me what our lives could’ve been like. 

“I’m an impatient husband, and I want my beautiful wife to lie down because I think I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t get to taste her.”

My mouth is useless when it comes to talking, but we both know I have other uses for it. I tried to go slowly, but I couldn't help myself. I swear your pussy was so perfect it made me reconsider my views on God. Though, I don’t think I am a man deserving of an angel. I think I just got lucky. 

That night I couldn’t care less about how loud you were. “Joel- fuck- you’re gonna have to slow down, or, or, put your hand over my mouth ‘cause - oh!”

“’Cause you don’t want anyone to hear? What’s the problem with them hearing, darlin’? Married couples make love all the time, it’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Without a condom, too. We weren’t worried about you getting pregnant, so we went out with the best bang of ‘em all. I think the last time I’d done it like that was when Sarah was conceived, and based on how easy that was, I was always cautious. 

Husband and wife roleplay wasn’t very different from the sex we typically had. I guess we were really only a piece of paper and wedding bands away from being those ‘characters’. 

Earlier that day, I was worried I wouldn’t sleep that night. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to savor every moment with you but when you curled up in my arms I fell asleep before I could even consider staying awake. 

Waking up next to you was my last clear image, even our goodbye kiss was a little blurry ‘cause I was already a little teary-eyed. 

But before that, over breakfast, you mentioned something that I’ve thought about every day since. 

“You know how sometimes people see a bird or something and they’re like ‘oh, that’s my dead relative’?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll come back as a butterfly. One of the blue ones. You don’t see those too often. I don’t want to be something too common, like a bird, then you’ll probably mistake someone else for me.”

I don’t think I had seen a blue butterfly in Jackson until after you’d left us, but there’s one outside my window right now. 

In case it’s you, I’ll read this all aloud. 

Forever yours, 

Joel 

[elliesmainhoe]

TLOU MASTERLIST

ELLIE WILLIAMS

TLOU2 / Older Ellie

HEADCANONS:

Feminine!Reader

Feminine!Reader Part2

Boxer!Ellie

Sugar Mommy!Ellie

Knight!Ellie X Princess!Reader

Knight!Ellie X Princess!Reader Part2

Period comfort

Streamer!Ellie

Bodyguard!Ellie X Singer!Reader

Housewife!Ellie

Housewife!Reader

Dealer!Ellie X GoodGirl!Reader

Tattooist!Ellie

Tattooist!Ellie Part2

Hockey!Ellie X Cheerleader!reader

Stubborn!Reader

Delinquent!Ellie

SingleMom!Reader

Vampire!Ellie

Vampire!Ellie Part2

Ballerina!Reader

Pregnant!reader

Singer!Reader

Hip-Hop Dancer!reader

Rockstar!Ellie

Masc!reader

Introvert!reader X Introvert!Ellie

Affectionate!reader

Actress!reader

She calls you mommy

Goth / grunge reader

Reader with ADHD

Bossy!reader

Ellie on her period

Streamer!Reader

Reader is Maria and Tommy's daughter

Taller!Reader

Reader with OCD

make-up artist!reader X streamer!Ellie

Older sister!Reader

Insecure!reader

Apologetic!reader

Deaf/ hard of hearing!reader

RichOlderWoman!Ellie

southern!reader

loser!ellie

having a baby with her (biologically)

ONESHOTS:

You deserve more

Summary: after you caught your boyfriend making out with another girl at a bar, you call Ellie for a ride home. (MODERN AU)

Reckless

Summary: While working, Joel comes in and tells you that your girlfriend, Ellie, was injured on patrol.

Protecter

Summary: After sneaking out, Ellie protects you from some unwanted attention. (KNIGHT!ELLIE X PRINCESS!READER)

New Year's Day

Summary: You and Ellie host your first ever New years Eve party, and as you both clean up the mess your friends had left in their wake.

Can I take a picture? (Out soon)

Summary: You, an architecture student, decide to spend yor three months off for summer break exploring and visiting classic Victorian houses, seeing beautiful structures and meeting eccentric people. (VAMPIRE!ELLIE)

MULTI-PART:

PROFESSOR - Pt 2 - Pt 3 ✓

Summary: After Dina forced you to go to her new physics teachers public lecture, you start developing feelings for the professor. (PROFESSOR!ELLIE X STUDENT!READER)

PLAYER TWO - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Summary: A series of imagine entailing the chaos you and streamer!Ellie cause together. (STREAMER!ELLIE)

MOTIVATION - Pt 2

Summary: You become your girlfriends physical therapist. (BOXER!ELLIE)

Why?! (PART 2 OUT SOON)

Summary: it was bound to happen sooner or later. I mean Joel slaughtering all the fireflies seven years ago was a pretty hard secret to be kept quiet- but you still wish it never reached Ellie's ears.

IMAGINES:

Phone S*x NSFW

Summary: You send Ellie a nude when she's abroad on a business trip. (SugarMommy!Ellie)

Play for me

Summary: After Ellie lost her fingers she longed to play the guitar again, so you played for her.

Jackson's Love Hotel NSFW

Summary:Your favourite customer needs to relax after a very stressful patrol and comes to you for some relief. (Brothel Worker!Reader)

Ask your daughter

Summary: Eventful late night escapades makes Ellie a no-show for patrol. (Maria+Tommy's daughter!Reader)

Miss me sugar?

Summary: After three months of deployment, Ellie finally returns home. (Military!Ellie)

Tattooed on my heart

Summary: Ellie's always loved when you doodle on her arm, leaving behind traces of you. She loves them so much she wants them to stay forever.

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl

Summary: wasting a Friday night on a first date with a boy you've never met in person was a dumb idea- and surprise! it all goes to shit- but Ellie's there to make sure you have a good time! DAY 2 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER

SAPPHO

Summary: Ellie pulls up outside of your house, ready to take you on a first date. DAY 3 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER

Rescue Remedy

summary: you call Ellie to come and rescue you from a bar after having a few too many drinks DAY 4 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER

SOCIAL MEDIA AU:

(strictly texts and insta posts)

Texts with Ellie

Part 1

Part 2

ABBY ANDERSON

TLOU2

HEADCANONS:

Doctor!reader

Anxious!Reader

Farmer!Abby

Werewolf!Abby

Masc!reader

ONESHOTS:

(Nothing here yet)

MULTI-PART:

HUNTED (PART 2 OUT SOON)

Summary: Although you stopped Abby from killing Joel, Ellie still wants to seek her revenge.

IMAGINES:

Sundress Season NSFW

Summary: A picnic date can really only end one way~ DAY 1 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER

Hayfever

Summary: you've fallen sick, and you don't want Abby to get sick too- she says it's just hay-fever. DAY 5 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER

HBO ELLIE WILLIAMS

HBO TLOU ADAPTATION

!!THIS CHARACTER IS UNDER 18! SO IT WILL BE PLATONIC!!

HEADCANONS:

(Nothing here yet)

ONESHOTS:

GOODNIGHT, MOM

Summary: After helping Ellie down from a panic attack, she calls you Mom for the first time. (MotherFigure!Reader)

MULTI-PART:

(Nothing here yet)

IMAGINES:

Happy Mothers Day

Summary: The first mothers day Ellie has ever celebrated and she's going to make sure that it's amazing. (MotherFigure!Reader)

I LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT

coming soon

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

I write for:

Ellie Williams (Romantic + Platonic)

Abby Anderson (Romantic + Platonic)

HBO Ellie Williams (PLATONIC)