#let’s just say i thought that was her mom at first but then i navigated and saw her sitting on her lap and uhhhhhh

[newobsessionweekly]

Puppy

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: While you visit Tim at the station, you are too nice to a teenager he just arrested. To your boyfriend's exasperation, you pay the bail for the kid and cook him a warm dinner.

Warnings: don't think so, pure fluff, not proofread yet

Fluff Requested: Yes Words: 2.5k

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

"So," Lucy began tentatively, stealing a glance at the sergeant. "I saw you the other day. Looking at those rings."

"Chen." Tim warned his aide.

"Are you proposing to Y/N?" she pressed, her excitement bubbling over.

"That's not your business."

But Lucy wasn't about to let it go. "Look," she said eagerly, "If you need help picking the ring, I can help. I can – I don't know, have a little talk, find out what kind of ring she wants."

"I've got this, thanks," his voice was tinged with a hint of annoyance.

"We both know you don't." Lucy leaned back, "An engagement ring is not just any jewelry she can hide in a closet if she doesn't like it."

"I think I know what she wants."

"Remember her birthday present?" she reminded him, earning an accusing glance from Tim. "Just saying. Please, at least consider it, for Y/N."

Lucy opened her mouth to say more, but Tim's eyes caught something up ahead. His expression shifted to one of relief, a welcome distraction from Lucy's insistence.

"Hold that thought."

She followed his gaze and saw a young boy attempting to break into a parked car. The kid couldn't have been more than fifteen, his hands fumbling nervously with the lock. Tim pulled the shop to a stop and got out, Lucy following closely behind.

"Dispatch, this is Sergeant Bradford. We've got a possible 459 in progress at the corner of 4th and Main."

"Hey! Step away from the car!" Tim called out, his voice authoritative.

The boy froze, his eyes wide with fear. He turned to run, but Lucy was already moving, cutting off his escape route. "It's okay," she said gently, her demeanor softening. "We're not here to hurt you."

Tim approached, his expression softening just a bit."What do you think you're doing?"

The boy stammered, "I—I wasn't going to steal it, I swear. I just... I need some money. My mom's sick, and we can't afford the meds."

The boy looked down at his feet and Lucy sighed, recognising the familiar signs of desperation. "Look, we can help you. But breaking into cars isn't the way to go."

"You need to come with us and tell us everything. We'll figure something out."

The shop was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the sound of Lucy's fingers tapping on her phone. Tim glanced over at her, his focus shifting between the road and his aide's ever-present curiosity.

"TouristPlanet says that Hawaii is number one for proposals," Lucy broke the silence, her eyes never leaving the phone.

"Chen, I don't need help. I've done it before, I know how it works," Tim replied, exasperated but with a hint of amusement.

Lucy ignored his brush-off. "Oh, but I love Y/N! I just want everything to be perfect for her. I mean, it's huge."

Tim sighed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "And you don't think I love her enough to make this special?"

"I didn't say that," Lucy replied quickly. "You've done it before, it's not a big deal for you. But it's her first proposal and she loves you."

"It is a big deal," Tim admitted, his voice softer now. "I think I love her even more than I loved Isabel back then. So it's more complicated now."

Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise, a soft smile spreading across her face. "You have a heart after all."

"Chen. Shut up." he shot her a warning sideways glance, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, sir."

As you step into the bustling station, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sugary donuts fills the air, mingling with the sound of urgent radio chatter and shuffling footsteps. You clutch the cardboard tray tighter, a smile playing on your lips as you navigate through the familiar chaos, scanning the faces for Tim's unmistakable handsomeness.

Not finding him among the desks, you make your way to Grey's office, offering a cheery wave before stepping inside.

"Morning, Sarge."

Grey glances up from his paperwork, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Y/N. Always a pleasure to have you around," he responds welcoming.

With a graceful motion, you offer him a cup of steaming coffee and gesture towards the assortment of donuts nestled in the box. The sergeant chuckles softly, accepting the offering with a nod of appreciation.

"Please do come more often," he jests, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I'll keep that in mind," you reply playfully but your attention is elsewhere, your gaze still searching the room for that familiar figure. "You know where I can find Tim?"

With a knowing nod, Grey gestures for you to follow him as he leads the way towards the processing room. As you step inside, the atmosphere shifts from bustling activity to a more subdued intensity.

"Bradford. You have a visitor," Grey announces, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Tim looks up from his paperwork, his gaze meeting yours, and a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips. His gaze lifts, his expression softening at the sight of you standing there, a welcome interruption to the monotony of his day.

"Hey," he greets you, a flicker of surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

You set the tray of treats down on a nearby table and close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. "Hey handsome," you reply, your voice muffled against his chest. "You left early and I thought you could use some coffee."

Tim’s strong arms pulled you closer, the familiar scent of his cologne mingles with the coffee and donuts, grounding you in the moment. You feel his strong, warm body melting in your arms and the steady beat of his heart, a gentle reminders of how much you love him.

Pulling back slightly, you look up into his eyes, which are now filled with a gentle warmth that belies his grumpiness.Tim’s hand finds yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before he releases you.

"You’re a lifesaver."

Lucy wander into the room, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the treats. "Y/N, you spoil us," she teases, reaching for a donut.

Your eyes drift across the room, settling on a teenage boy obediently following an officer's commands, his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. Concern wells up inside you.

"Tim," you ask softly, nodding towards the boy, "what's with the kid? What's he doing here?"

He glances over at the kid, his expression hardening. "Kid tried to break into a car. Said he needed the money to pay for his mom's meds."

Your heart aches at the sight of the innocent boy, his face etched with fear and worry. "What's going to happen to him?" you ask, your voice soft with concern.

Tim sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "He'll probably get away with bail. First offense, and the circumstances are... mitigating."

Moved by the boy’s plight, you make a decision. “Tim, can I have your card?” you ask, reaching out your hand.

Your boyfriend eyes you warily, his brow furrowing. "Why?"

"Just trust me."

He frowns but doesn't question your request further. He fishes a card from his pocket and hands it to you. As you reach for the box of donuts, his frown deepens.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice rising with annoyance.

You stop to meet his gaze, "Trust me, please."

Tim watches you walk over to the boy and kneel down, his jaw tightening. "This is ridiculous," he mutters under his breath, his grumpiness evident as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Can I have a minute with him?" you ask Lucy, who is in the midst of processing the boy.

Lucy looks over at Tim, seeking his approval. His eyes narrow, but he gives a curt nod, though his frustration is palpable. Lucy steps aside, joining your boyfriend as they watch you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Hi, there." you say softly, your voice kind and shooting, "I'm Y/N. What's your name?"

"Charlie."

"Well, Charlie, Sergeant Bradford told me you're in some kind of trouble." you say gently, your heart breaking at his situation.

The boy looks up at you, tears welling in his eyes. "I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I– I just want to help mom."

"I know, sweetheart. You hungry?" you ask, offering him a comforting smile.

Charlie nods, and you hand him the box full of donuts. His eyes widen in surprise and gratitude as he takes it.

You write your name and number on Tim's card and hand it to him. "It's gonna be okay for now. But if you have any other problems, please give us a call. If you don't want to talk to Bradford, you can call me, okay?"

"Thanks. I– I will," Charlie says, clutching the card like a lifeline.

"Where's your mom?" you ask, wanting to understand more about his situation.

"In hospital. She– uh, she has cancer and treatment is expensive."

"You stay with her at the hospital?" you ask gently, your mind already made up to help him.

Charlie nods, tears brimming in his eyes. Determined to do more, you know you'll pay his bail and offer any support you can.

Tim strides over, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. His grumpiness, which had momentarily melted away, returns in full force. "Alright, that's enough," he says, his voice firm and edged with frustration. "We need to get things moving."

You stand up, giving Charlie one last reassuring smile. "Remember, call me if you need anything," you say before turning to Tim.

He looks at you, his irritation clear. "Y/N, you can't save everyone," he mutters, shaking his head. "This isn't your job."

You meet his gaze, "I know. But I can try to help one," you reply softly.

"You really shouldn't get involved like that," he says, his voice softer now, filled with concern.

"I know."

He sighs, reaching to take your hand into his. "But I love that about you. Just...promise me you'll be careful. For my sake."

You squeeze his hand, smiling warmly. "I promise."

The end of the shift greets Tim and Lucy walking towards their cars, the sky darkening with the onset of evening. The station is quieter now, the earlier hustle and bustle giving way to the calm of a winding-down day. He's itching to get home, to feel the warmth and comfort of your presence, to escape the relentless grind of the day.

"Hey, Tim," Lucy starts, glancing at him curiously. "Did you pay the bail for that Charlie boy we arrested this morning?"

Tim raises an eyebrow, surprised. "No, why?"

"Because someone did," Lucy explains, frowning. "I checked, and he doesn’t have any other family besides his mom. I can't figure out who would have done it."

His eyes narrow, and then it hits him. "I think I know who."

The drive home is a blur as he processes the day's events. When he finally steps through the front door, he’s greeted by the comforting aroma of dinner cooking and the sound of upbeat song playing in the background.

"Sweetheart, I'm home," he calls out, his voice echoing through the house.

You turn around, a bright smile on your face. "Hey, babe. Come, come. Dinner's almost ready."

Tim steps into the kitchen, and his eyes widen in pure shock as he spots Charlie sitting at the island, a plate of snacks in front of him.

"Y/N, a word," Tim says, his voice tight.

"Make yourself at home, Charlie. We'll be right back."

You give the kid a big smile while Tim forces a very strained one, then you follow him to the bedroom. He closes the door behind you with more force than necessary, his frustration evident.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Tim demands, his voice rising in anger.

"I know, I'm sorry. I should've talked to you. But I couldn't let him stay in jail. He's been sleeping in a hospital chair, Babe. God knows when it was the last time he had a proper, warm meal. There's no one to look after him."

Tim runs a hand through his hair, his anger barely contained. "I can't believe you did that. You’ve got ourselves a puppy," he mutters, his tone sharp.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"Nothing."

You place a gentle hand on his arm, your eyes pleading. "Tim, listen to me. This kid needs help. He's scared and alone. I couldn't just walk away."

You step even closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles.

"You can't just bring home a stray. This is serious, Y/N. We're not a shelter."

"Charlie is not a stray, he needs help. His mom is in the hospital with cancer, and he's been trying to fend for himself," you explain, "We have the means to help him, at least for one night."

"This isn't just about money or means, Y/N. It's about safety and boundaries. We can't take in every kid with a sob story."

"I get that, but this isn't just any kid. You saw him today, baby. He's not a criminal; he's just a boy trying to help his mom," you argue, stepping closer to him. "We can't turn our backs on him."

Tim's frustration is simmering beneath the surface. "Damn it, Y/N. This is exactly why I worry about you. You have a big heart, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

You rested your head on his chest. "I know. But I can't just turn my back when someone needs help. I get involved because I care," you say softly, meeting his eyes, "And you care too, whether you want to admit it or not."

"I can't say no to you, can I?" he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection.

You smile up at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Tim looks at you, his grumpiness warring with his love for you. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," he sighs again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer, "Just one night," he says, "And then we figure out what to do next."

You nod, relief flooding through you. "I promise. Just one night."

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, his grumpiness is melting away, "You're impossible, you know that?" a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I know," you reply, smiling back at him. "But you love me anyway."

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I do," he admits, his voice tender. "Now let's go see how our guest is doing."

[the-thing-withfeathers]

exceeded caution part 2

first time for everything

series masterlist | next part

a/n: heyy y’all!! so this is part 2 of exceeded caution. a lot of it follows the actual movie because i needed set-up for ghostface. there’s still a lot of interaction between the reader + sam & tara but some of it is from the first 30 minutes of scream vi essentially.

warnings: violence (gun usage, knife usage), cursing. he/him pronouns for ghostface. 5.8k words.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

a few days ago, sam was nowhere near the forefront of your mind. you had stayed with the group as they navigated their way through accepting that ghostface might be back.

you hadn't spoken to tara much, you felt like you wouldn't be any help to her. she didn't need her ex-girlfriend that she only dated out of convenience around her constantly.

instead, the other carpenter sister started to find solace in your presence.

you found yourself over quite a bit, you noticed that they valued strength in numbers. you even all set a rotation between the group for who would cook that week.

during your week to cook, sam insisted on joining you when grocery shopping. as you promised her that she wouldn't be alone, she mentally promised you the same thing.

"it's just a simple beef stroganoff recipe, sam. you really don't have to come." you smiled sheepishly as you pulled up outside her apartment, she was hopping into your passenger seat.

"ghostface won't let a grocery store stop him from taking lives." sam was firm in her words, you sighed in defeat and drove off towards the shops that were only a couple minutes away from her place. you wanted her to feel safe still.

she pushed the cart while you took ingredients off the shelves, mumbling to yourself as you chucked them in the cart.

"tara used to say your food was amazing. where did you learn to cook?" she asked you, you looked away from your list to smile at her.

"my mom, she's amazing at cooking. she gave up her career to support my dad and become a fulltime housewife." you explained. "i used to help her cook all the time."

"that's pretty cool. i find myself never having the time for new foods. i should probably get on that."

"i can teach you some. or make some for you, i like cooking for people." you shrugged, taking another ingredient off the shelves.

sam would normally decline if you were anyone else, but she felt the urge to accept.

"sure. that would be nice." she nodded at you.

sam had enjoyed you being around more often and getting to know you outside of tara. she even found herself calling you a friend.

or rather, she tried to keep it at friend. she was trying to hide the fact that she felt a pull to you, she didn't know how to explain it. although, one thing was sure, there was an element of guilt to it.

she wasn’t the only one feeling guilty. you felt almost dirty with how much you thought of sam. because of the frequency of your contact, you found yourself wanting to see her more.

was this against some form of girl code that you shouldn’t want to hang out with your ex’s sister?

“um… how are you?” she could see that you were nervous to ask her that. “i know you probably get asked that all the time but i never ask… and i want to know.”

“that’s fine. i figured you would get curious. you always seem to be.” sam commented.

“is curiosity bad?” you teased a little, noting her phrasing.

“no! not at all.” she perked up, shaking her head.

“don’t worry sam, i’m joking.” you realised that the carpenter sisters weren’t used to bantering with someone they weren’t extremely close to— or someone they didn’t love.

“right.” she bit her lip. “but no? it’s not bad at all.” she chuckled. “but i’m… not okay?”

you nodded, respecting her answer and silently thanking her for being honest.

“i hoped that we would escape this when we moved. and i’ve been doing everything to protect tara but it didn’t end for sidney prescott— so i assume that it won’t end for us.” she scratched her brow, the stress getting to her. “i’m sorry you got involved.”

“it’s okay, sam. i knew what i was getting into when i dated tara.” you nodded. “if it happened again, i already knew i’d stick around.”

“that’s admirable.”

you felt your heart clench a little when she said that. nobody had ever told you that your desire to stick around was admirable. you always got “clingy” or “overbearing.” that was the first time you’d ever gotten a compliment on it.

“oh! um… thank you.” you stuttered out, a blush flooding your cheeks. you knew that sam meant it too, she wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better. she was genuinely saying it.

“it’s true.” it was.

you tried to push your flustered down into the depths of your mind as you struggled to reach the top shelf with the last of your ingredients. you were definitely taller than tara— everyone was. but not tall enough to face this eight layered shelf.

sam was.

sam was taller. and she made that perfectly clear when she basically pressed up behind you to grab this damn dijon mustard for you.

oh no… oh no… you had to stop those thoughts. you had turned around too quickly, basically coming chest to chest with the girl. she didn’t seem to mind— and you refused to mind.

you had never been this close to her before. your eyes trailed over all her features, taking them in. she looked just like tara… maybe that’s whats got your heart beating at the speed of light.

but she wasn’t tara. no, she was sam. and you found that to be what sealed the deal for you.

you found her pretty.

you remained silent as you finished off the last of the ingredient collection. you walked over to the self check-out, scanning the items as the blush continued to make its presence known as sam hovered.

you shuffled some things around in your pocket to try and find your card but before you knew it, sam was paying for your groceries.

“what—“ you tried to protest but the transaction had gone through already.

sam didn’t know what overcame her.

it was her way of taking care of you.

it was even her way of apologising to you.

"sam, you didn't have to do that." you shook your head at her.

"my treat, i didn't get to cook for everyone so this is my way of contributing." she shook you off. you knew that was a lie because mindy sent you a photo of meals you missed, one being sam's.

there was no undoing it now. you sighed and reached for the bags, but sam was one step ahead of you, grabbing them and walking out of the store.

you wished you could wash the blush off with soap.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

when you arrived for dinner with your groceries. everyone was already at the carpenter’s apartment. they were spread out across the entire floor, conversing with each other.

you got to cooking almost immediately, knowing that everyone had potentially been there for a while. sam left your side to talk to quinn.

you kept feeling eyes on you.

the shorter carpenter sister was talking to mindy when she felt her attention turn away from her and onto you. she watched you cook, she actually always loved your cooking.

she loved when you would make a dinner catered just to her. she actually missed how lively the kitchen used to be when you were in it. you were even dancing around now, your headphones tucked over your ear.

she smiled a little at how you shook your waist to the music. everyone knew not to bother you so you could get it done quicker.

but tara wanted to bother you. she wanted to approach you and say something, anything to break the silence.

you were friends before everything went down. she thought that maybe she could at least salvage that, that would be her way to redemption.

mindy kept talking and talking before cutting herself off suddenly, realising that tara was no longer paying attention.

“tara, don’t.” mindy said, disappointment clear in her tone. “this is something you need to give time to.”

“there’s been a lot of time.” tara muttered, glaring at mindy.

“you can’t just break her heart and expect her to let you back in so quickly.” mindy held her shoulder back.

“i know it won’t be quick, but i have to try.” tara said through her teeth, pulling her shoulder out of mindy’s grasp and starting to make her way towards you.

tara stopped on her heels when she saw her sister already take your attention. she thought that she’d better not interrupt you.

“whatcha listening to?” sam asked you, her arms crossed over her chest.

you pulled your headphones back a little.

“sloppy jane.” you said.

“sloppy jane? what kind of name is that?!” sam laughed.

“she’s cool! i promise!” you raised your hands up in defense. you took your headphones off your head, you gently placed them on sam. your hands nicking strands of her long hair before you pulled them away.

she held eye contact with her as her head bobbed to the music, you matched the bobbing, knowing which part of the song she was on.

a smile formed on her face while you two were in sync. your eyes started to crinkle up with a smile as your hair started getting in your face when you headbanged. she joined you until the kitchen was filled with laughter.

“okay… okay. i see it now. she has a good sound.” sam agreed with you, placing the headphones back on you but leaving an ear open.

“thank you.” you chuckled, moving the beef strips into the bowl you intended to serve it in.

“this smells soooo good.” sam practically moaned out, you laughed at the noise she made.

“well, you’re gonna have to wait like everyone else!” you teased.

she groaned and rolled her eyes. you liked seeing her loosen up a bit more, you were grateful she was getting more comfortable around you.

as you two laughed, tara stared on.

she remembered when she was in sam’s place. she even felt herself grow jealous at her sister. why did she ever think that what she was doing to you was okay? your heart was gold and tara thought she had turned it dark— she realised your golden heart’s integrity never faltered. you were still just as good.

she was cruel and she broke your heart. she didn’t think she would regret it— until she suddenly felt all that guilt wash over her. was she regretting it?

you enlisted sam to help you bring all your dishes to the table.

“beef stroganoff, pasta, and rice. choose your carb to go with it and enjoy!” you presented your meal to the group.

everyone admired your work and sat down at the table. you ended up sitting beside mindy who talked your ear off about some pottery class that she and anika took.

you glanced over at sam first, her eyes meeting yours during her conversation with ethan. you two exchanged heartfelt smiles, you had a good day because of each other.

then you looked at tara, who was already looking at you. her first serving was practically gone. you knew that she loved one thing about you, and it was your cooking. she held a sadness behind those eyes, you saw into it, but you had your doubts that it was sadness.

when you noticed her plate, you felt yourself flash her a smile too. she returned it, it was shy but still genuine. her plate was cleaned up just seconds after everyone served themselves.

crumbs of you, tara would take. she cherished that smile you gave to her, even if it was forced or accidental. it filled her brain.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

washing up had to be done, you wanted do it yourself, saying how you were on a roll from cooking that you wanted to do the cleaning too.

sam was about to speak up but suddenly, tara found her voice.

“i’ll help!” she said, chirping up. everyone looked at her with confusion. they didn’t expect that she would do that for you.

“oh… okay!” you said, making your way over to the kitchen.

you scrubbed the plates and handed them to her to dry. it was a good system that worked.

“you did well with dinner today. your cooking is always good.” tara smiled at you.

“thank you, tara. i appreciate it.” your lips pressed into a thin line.

“i just wanted to say that.” she put the plates onto the drying rack. “we haven’t spoken in a while.”

“i know. i just wanted to give you space. i felt like i wasn’t much help to you ever. and i felt like i wouldn’t be much help now.” you confessed. “but i want to stick around, i would be a pretty shit person if i didn’t.”

she felt horrible that you thought that you wouldn’t be help. in fact, there were some nights that tara found herself longing for you.

“we were friends before this, do you think we’d be able to get back to that?” she asked, searching your face for hope. but all she saw was doubt.

“maybe, tara.” you turned to her, handing her the last of the dishes. you saw the dejected look on her face and sighed. you wanted to go back to that too, you missed the tara that was a good friend to you. “but we can try.”

tara’s face lit up, a bit of shock also hidden between the lines. “okay! yeah… let’s try.” she put the dish away and held her hand out, you chuckled but you shook it.

what you failed to see was your maybe friend’s sister staring at you both from the living room, her jaw tightened as tara touched you.

sam zoned back into the conversation, realising that the show they were watching was long gone and replaced by the news again.

there was another death.

sam erupted in her anger, suddenly storming into the kitchen, grabbing the sharpest knife that she owned.

you had no idea what just happened, tara followed her sister back to the living room, the commotion having everyone sit up.

“sam! slow down!” tara yelled after her sister, you joined them after putting the dishes away. “can we please think about this before you decide to abandon my college education?!”

you couldn’t blame sam for wanting to leave. this was something that she just wanted to escape. as much as you would be upset, you would understand. you’d help, even.

you would help them pack up if it meant they were away from everything. you were prepared to never speak of the carpenter sisters again, in hopes that they would never have to go through this again.

“this can’t just be a coincidence, tara!” sam yelled back at her. today was the day where you saw the genetic stubbornness displayed by the carpenter sisters.

“quinn, can you please call your dad?!” tara asked their roommate, quinn immediately nodded. you could tell she didn’t want to get yelled at by sam but it was a reasonable point of action.

ring!!!

everyone flinched. you didn’t. it was just a phone ringing to you, but to everyone else, it was so much more.

sam’s phone blared on the table, she walked over only to see that it was gale weathers, she declined the call without a doubt.

you watched as quinn travelled across the room, telling sam that her father wanted to speak to her. you heard the muffled voice of mr. bailey from where you were standing.

“okay, thank you. i’ll be right there.” sam hung up. “he wants me down at the station.”

“i’ll drive you.” you said, grabbing your keys. “i live close to the station.”

“you shouldn’t have to—“ you cut sam off.

“no. i will. no man left behind, remember?” you said, firm in your decision. sam sighed but nodded.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you, sam, and tara made it out the door and started to walk to your car.

suddenly, sam’s phone rang again. the two girls stopped when they saw the name displayed on the screen.

richie kirsch.

richie? you recognized that name. you huddled closer to the sisters, closing your eyes to rack your memory for where you knew that name.

no. wait.

it couldn’t be. he was dead, wasn’t he?

“don’t pick that up.” tara said, looking up at sam.

sam hesitated, but it could be important. these calls were life or death for them. she picked up.

you looked at your surroundings. you suddenly felt so exposed, like anything could happen to you now that you weren’t in the comforts of your own home— or anyone’s home.

“who is this?” sam asked into the phone. you couldn’t hear the responses, only sam’s facial expressions changing as time went on.

her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes changed. you saw woodsboro glaze her pupils, you knew she was thinking back to her life before the city. everything was resurfacing.

“i want you to think long and hard about whether or not you wanna do this because the last two people that fucked with us ended up dead.” she said, planting her feet down with determination.

your eyes started to tear away from sam, not absorbing the conversation.

bad gut feeling.

you had to stop ignoring those.

“you better watch your back, asshole.” sam said.

and tara yelled.

a cloaked figure sporting a ghostface mask suddenly grabbed tara, you sprung into action. tara elbowed the figure and you shoved him into the bike rack.

“go!” you said, running just behind the two sisters.

“there!” sam redirected you into a little corner store. you stood with your front to the door while the girls yelled at the cashier to help them, starting a fight with someone in line.

suddenly ghostface walked in.

you backed up into sam, pushing her backwards a little bit while one of the customers stood tall in front of the infamous killer.

you watched as ghostface drove their knife into the man, multiple times.

you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth. you had never seen anyone get killed before. you thought ghostface had specific targets, this wasn’t just an ordinary killer, this killer wasn’t afraid to take any life that stood in his way.

you turned around and the three of you flooded into the back of the store as the clerk wielded his gun.

when the first gunshot rang, sam’s arm flew to cover you as chips flew everywhere. tara was crouched just beside the two of you.

suddenly, there was a second gunshot. but only after you heard the clerk start begging for his life.

you tried to stay quiet, you didn’t realise where parts of your body were. you had a hand on sam’s abdomen, bunching her shirt into your fist. you were terrified, you had never gone through this before. you couldn’t imagine what sam & tara were feeling.

you couldn’t move— or else he would know where you were.

the corner store was quiet, it was like a cruel game of cat and mouse. you heard crunching as the sound of boots got closer to you.

all three of you rounded the corner to avoid detection. sam hid behind a freezer while you and tara hid behind the shelving. you saw sam’s eyes flicker to a can on the ground and you knew what she was trying to say.

carefully, you reached out and picked the can off the floor. it was disgusting and sticky. was this what they had to result to when defending themselves? putting themselves in disgusting situations? you felt twisted picturing them going through this once— now twice.

you threw the can across the corner store, hearing boots walk in the other direction. it was a successful distraction. the three of you started crawling towards the exit.

when you heard the boots stop moving again, you paused. sam leaned forward, you could tell that she could see a lot clearer than you. she slowly inched towards the shelving, then she suddenly shoved it with her shoulder, knocking it down.

god, she was strong.

had she been training herself to get stronger? in case this happened again?

the three of you hauled ass to the exit, being met with cop cars and their sirens.

the three of you were escorted into the cars. the sisters rode in one while you went in the other. you fidgeted with your fingers. then it was daunting on you.

baby’s first ghostface attack.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you sat in an interrogation room at the precinct. the walls were closing in on you.

you had been close to death before. you remember when you and your parents got into that gnarly car accident that had you coming out with several broken bones and whiplash. you cradled your arm, feeling the after-effects of the worst injury you sustained.

but this wasn't a car t-boning yours. this was a killer.

and you felt like death was kissing your cheek.

you didn't know where sam and tara were, you assumed a different interrogation room. you were waiting for ages, you thought that maybe someone was attending to them first.

you sat in silence for about ten more minutes, trying to decompress the situation.

the lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing detective bailey. you had met quinn's dad in passing, never really speaking to him.

"mr. bailey. how are you?" you asked him, sitting up in your chair. you noticed he had files in his hand. this was going to take longer than you wanted.

"i'm good. thank you... how are you doing? you weren't around for woodsboro, i'm sure it's a bit of a shock to be involved now." straight into it.

"a bit is an understatement, sir." you let out a dry chuckle. "i'm assuming you're going to be asking me more than just 'how are you' though..."

"i'm sorry. i know you're probably tired." he sighed, you nodded. you were trying to hold back a yawn.

"it's fine."

he sat down across from you, opening the file and putting its contents in front of you.

"you're the newest addition to the group, quinn has talked about you. i know you and tara had a past relationship. were you frequently in and out of their apartment?" he asked.

"yeah... tara and i were together for a bit. i usually visited her and i also hang out with mindy and chad, so yes, i was frequently at theirs." you nodded, you often found that honesty was the best policy with these things.

"i know that your relationship with her ended badly." he stated, you scoffed.

"surely a bad break-up isn't enough motivation to go on these killing sprees, right?" you asked, a bit offended.

"sometimes it might just be."

"did you have access to sam carpenter's belongings?" he followed up. what did sam's stuff have to do with this?

"um... no. not really. i never really interacted with sam until ghostface was rumored to resurface. and even then, i don't really have that access." you crossed your arms across your chest, your eyes scanning the photos on the desk. you spotted a photo of sam's license, bloodied and dumped at the scene of the crime.

someone was trying to frame her.

"we found sam's license next to the body."

"well she was with me all day. we went grocery shopping and i cooked everyone dinner." you quickly jumped at the chance to defend her. "tara was there too."

mr. bailey nodded at you confirming their alibi.

"sam said the same thing." he reassured you. he leaned in a bit closer to you. "although, i'd be cautious about those sisters. especially sam. i wouldn't get too close."

your brows furrowed in frustration.

"i'm sure i have nothing to worry about. they're good people." you didn't want to speak any further on the matter.

you hated that the thought of either of them being responsible for these deaths even crossed the detective's mind. he was supposed to be helping them.

two knocks against the door turned the detective's attention to another officer walking into the room.

"the fbi is here." the officer said. detective bailey looked confused.

"the fbi? where?" he stood up then turned to you. "you're free to go. i think sam and tara are waiting for you."

you stood from your seat and followed him, making your way over to the two dark-haired sisters. tara was the first to spot you, nudging sam until she turned around.

you sped up, you didn't know what it was. you just had to make sure she was real.

you wrapped your arms around sam. you felt her tense up out of shock but return the gesture.

"i'm sorry." you apologised for the sudden hug.

"it's okay." sam smiled warmly.

you turned to tara and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly.

tara's eyes met yours. those pleading doe eyes, they wanted more than just a squeeze on the shoulder. she wished she was sam in that moment.

"i'm really glad you two are okay." you cleared your throat. sam smiled at you, even if it was forced, it was nice to see.

you heard two voices chatting just a little bit aways from you. sam started moving towards them, you and tara followed behind.

"kirby?" she spoke, getting the attention of a blonde woman.

"hey sam." kirby replied, moving to hug sam as well.

"do you know each other?" bailey asked.

"yeah... we went to woodsboro high together. she was a senior when i was a freshman." sam clarified. you studied the woman in front of you.

all you could say was that she looked cool. she was an fbi agent that had been monitoring the sisters for a little while. you realised that this had been the kirby involved with the killings too. they shared a very unique experience between each other.

you stayed behind sam while they conversed. kirby was handed the mask that was left at the scene. the mask used in the 2011 killings. kirby lifted her shirt to show the scar that charlie walker gave her.

sam looked uncomfortable. she realised then that this was bigger than just a killing spree, they were trying to send a message.

kirby proposed you all worked together but sam interjected, not giving her the chance to finish.

"we're getting out of town." she pushed through kirby and detective bailey.

"i'm sorry, that's not possible. you're both persons of interest. all three of you are." bailey warned.

"are you serious?" tara stepped forward, the growing frustration evident in her voice.

"he's right." kirby confirmed. "but if we work together-"

"we're going." sam basically barked an order at you and tara.

"my car's back at your place." you said. sam nodded. a small part of her brain was happy that you would be around after that.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

when the three of you made your way out of the precinct, you had never seen so many cameras before. reporters swarmed the three of you, immediately asking sam questions like if she had an alibi or if tara felt safe with her sister.

they didn't pay you any mind, how could they? you were fresh meat to the group, they didn't care about your story. luckily, it allowed you to mercilessly shove them back, helping make space for sam and tara to walk through the flood.

you found yourself holding onto sam's waist, pulling her towards the open spots you've created with your body pushing against the reporters.

"gale weathers." a voice sounded out in the crowd, causing the sisters to stop in their tracks. you knew that name too, it felt like an endless revision on who was who, if you had studied well enough. "do you ladies think that you're the reason that the ghostface killer has come to the big apple?" she asked.

you saw it in sam. she snapped. she'd had a long night, she nearly lost her life. she nearly lost her sister. and her... friend.

she swung with her fist out.

"sam!" you exclaimed as gale ducked, avoiding the punch. you pulled sam's waist back, you knew she didn't need another video of her going viral. she put her hands over yours, allowing you to hold her back. you had to admit, it felt nice knowing you had a bit of pull on her.

although, you failed to account for the shorter carpenter sister. you failed to catch her pulling her elbow back and swinging at gale with a force of her own.

you jumped at the noise made by the contact and had to hold back a laugh at gale's shocked face. sam cracked a smile, she couldn't help herself.

"stay away from us." tara spat at gale.

you two turned to walk towards a cab that was parked outside the station. you pushed sam slightly by her waist, hoping she wouldn't turn back around.

but gale weathers just had to say something.

"are you two seriously still mad about what happened?"

"you wrote a book. about them." she didn't expect you to say anything. she didn't know who you were or what you were to the carpenters. she looked at you as if you were irrelevant, like another body that ghostface could dispose of just to raise the numbers.

"and who are you?" she asked, a snark in her voice.

"doesn't matter. you took advantage of them. of the fact that they lost their friends, they nearly lost each other." you shook your head. "i remember you, from tara's stories."

tara watched you fight back. how could you still do that after she hurt you? you were full of surprises. she had never seen your tongue so laced with venom before.

"you lost someone too. dewey... if someone kept shoving that down your throat, how would you feel?" you asked, glaring her way as sam and tara entered the cab. gale's stance shifted, she was uncomfortable with a stranger knowing so much information about her personal life. but then again, she put the carpenter sisters' life out there for the whole world to see.

"i remember your book too. you called sam unstable, you painted her in the worst light possible. and i thought you had been through enough with her to know that that's not true." you turned back to the two girls, opening the door to the back of the cab for them.

sam's face was unreadable as she hopped into the car. she stared at the back of your head, or more like the back of your seat. you stood up for her, breaking your kind and golden-hearted demeanour. she was worried that being in this situation would change you for the worst.

you sat in silence after telling the driver where to go. leaning back into your seat, you tried to keep your eyes open. you hadn't gotten any sleep since last night, your time divided between the carpenter residence and the station.

there was so little to say and yet so many words were jumbled in your brain.

when you arrived at the carpenter's apartment, you yawned as you exited the cab. sam caught you do so and stopped you before you could unlock your car. her hand covered yours, gripping it in her own.

"you should rest here for a little bit. you're too tired to drive." she said, looking down at you. you wanted to get home and sleep in your own bed but you knew she was right.

you put your car keys away and walked upstairs with them.

tara immediately made a beeline for the bathroom. she always showered after coming home, she couldn't go a day without smelling like vanilla.

sam put pillows and blankets down on their couch and walked into her room, coming back out with some clothes.

"you can change into these for now, you might as well make yourself comfortable. and you can sleep for as long as you want." she said, you took the clothes and nodded at her.

she sat down on the couch and pulled the blanket up slightly to cover herself, you grabbed the blanket to stop her.

"what are you doing? i'll take the couch." you said, furrowing your brows.

"no. you'll take my bed." she looked up at you from the couch.

"it's your damn bed, sam." you didn't mean to sound so ill-mannered but the tiredness was getting the best of you.

"i know. so i'll do with it as i please." you know it was just her trying to show that she cared. "so you're taking it."

you sighed sharply, you were about to take a massive risk.

"share it with me." you said, holding your ground. you didn't want to kick sam out of her own bed.

she saw the determination on your face. you two were going to sit here and bicker if she didn't give in now. she nodded, standing up and making her way back to her room.

you changed into sam's clothes, her scent wafting as the shirt fell over your figure. then you cracked the door open enough to slip yourself into her room.

just as you entered sam's room, tara came out of the bathroom. she had the look of a shattered woman on her face, you should have been going into her room. she should have offered first.

you shut the door behind you, walking towards the bed where sam was sitting. you spotted her nursing her hand, spotting a deep cut from crawling on glass at the bodega.

"sam, you should've gotten that taken care of." you scolded her a little, walking to her bathroom and grabbing a medkit you knew was there. tara had told you that she put one in every bathroom.

you knelt in front of sam, unpacking the kit to grab the antiseptic and a bandage.

"it's fine, it's only a cut." she protested.

"if ghostface doesn't get you, an infected cut will. and i think that's extremely embarrassing." you tried to make light of it, your exhaustion washing over you. "this'll hurt."

you dabbed the antiseptic into sam's cut. she hissed at the sting. but the sight in front of her was better. you, in her clothes, patching her up. this was probably the worst time for her to form a crush, and probably the worst person to form it on. her sister's ex-girlfriend, who was now involved in the ghostface killings. but your soft features, your concern for her, it was hard to resist you.

she chalked it up to exhaustion, maybe this crush would fade away when she was in her right mind.

but when you situated yourself next to her in bed, your respectful nature forcing you to leave ample space so you two weren't touching each other, she hoped that she would one day earn the honour of closing that gap.

as she closed her eyes, she listened in to your soft breathing. and even when you accidentally ended up shoulder to shoulder in bed,

sam refused to move.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

author's journal okay i actually spent way too much time on this chapter, i had to write out the first 30 minutes of scream vi with a reader insert so it was a little bit more cohesive with the storyline. i don't know how i feel about this one chapter in particular but i'm starting to see the vision for the rest of the series teehee. i promise it wont just be the whole movie written down but it'll definitely have canon events. next chapter is most likely going to be non-canon as much as possible just cause this is a romance fic at the end of the day.

also this is the song i intended for the reader to be listening to with sam

[girlokwhatever]

can we get a Paige x reader where Paige is like coming to terms with being gay or like coming out pleasee 🙌

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡awakening,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

paige vividly remembers the day she realized you were her gay awakening.

the two of you met in a human development class. you came in late on the first day and sat down right next to her, some of your hair sprawled right onto her computer. you immediately apologized, pulling your hair into a bun and sending her a soft smile. obviously it wasn’t a big deal and she told you that, helping to ease your nerves.

you thought she was pretty, hair also pulled back in a bun and sat comfortably in a sweatsuit. she smiled at you with such reassurance it melted you, maybe she knew how nervous you were.

you and paige quickly became close. you worked on assignments together, went out to lunch after class, and she even introduced you to all her basketball friends. you also introduced her to yours, hiding your blush when your friends sent you suggestive glances. but it wasn’t like that, paige was just your friend. you didn’t even think she was gay. whenever the two of you talked about your past relationships, she only ever talked about guys.

it was your first year at uconn, so you were definitely trying to just navigate your way around your first year. you also really missed your parents. when paige got her injury during a game and couldn’t play anymore, you saw how much it affected her. you remembered telling her all about your family and she said they sound super fun to be around, so you asked her if she wanted to go back home with you.

she said yes.

everyone loved her, to say the least. she felt so welcomed in your home. your mom even made her a ‘get well soon’ cake. your younger siblings clung to her, asking to play basketball and video games.

paige really loved your family.

you carried her bag to your room and told her that you’ll have to share a room since there’s no other space. you even offered to pile up blankets on the floor and sleep on that, but she refused to let you do that. i mean, it wasn’t really a big deal. you’ve shared a bed before.

you both took your respective sides of the bed, but paige’s heart was pounding for some reason and she couldn’t stop thinking about you. your scent was everywhere, permeating her senses and making her mind all fuzzy.

that’s when it happened. that’s when she realized she was so in love with you. so enamored by you that she hadn’t thought about anyone else since she met you. but she quickly pushed those thoughts back down. she knew you didn’t like her. there was this guy back at school that you’d been talking about and things seemed to be going pretty well. so instead of talking you to sleep and leaning into your warmth, paige turned her back to you and faced the cold-front.

after you guys got back to school things felt different.

you were going to one of the team’s games wearing a nika mühl shirt since paige couldn’t really play at the moment. when she saw, she insisted you change to her jersey. you said no because nika was also your friend, but she really kept pushing it.

“this is stupid.” she heard you mutter it under your breath, probably hoping she wouldn’t hear. you ended up not changing, and paige gave you the silent treatment. she started to regret introducing you to her friends, she only wanted to you care about her.

another incident happened when paige met the guy you’d been talking to, jeremy.

he was hanging out at your dorm with you watching a movie. Godzilla or something. it was alright, but you couldn’t really say you were having fun. he was really nice and funny, but he wasn’t really what you were looking for. maybe he’d be more fitting as a friend.

paige, not knowing you were hanging out with him, walked straight into your dorm blabbing about how she bought you snacks for your movie night. the same movie night she said to cancel because she couldn’t make it.

“these were the last two bags they had and i got so freaking excited-“ she’s looking up at you, letting her jaw fall before she quickly catches it. she didn’t know he’d be here with his arm draped around you. she didn’t even know you two were still talking.

paige had been telling herself that she didn’t like you ever since that night at your house. she’s not into you and definitely not gay. but now, in this moment, she feels that mask slipping away and being taken over by hurt and anger. you must’ve been glad she canceled plans so that you could hang out with your boy toy.

“paige.. this is, um. this is jeremy. jere, this is paige.”

jere. she’s mentally rolling her eyes but putting a smile on her face. you’re walking towards her in the kitchen but when she notices him following behind you all she can think about is stepping back and far away from this situation.

“hey, nice to meet you.” he’s holding his hand out for paige to shake, and she does. all while feigning her perfect smile. you see right past her though.

“nice to meet you too jimmy.”

“jeremy.”

“oh, yeah, my bad, jeremy.”

she catches you glaring at her and begins to feel a little bad, but this guy doesn’t deserve your attention and your time. she knows you’re too good for him. she’s really just looking out for you, being your best friend. because that’s what you two are. best friends.

“well jeremy-“

“is it ok if i just, steal her away for awhile? really important stuff i gotta tell her.”

a flood of relief washes over you because he’s nodding and kissing your cheek as he walks out the door. you wipe his kiss away and take a seat on one of the stools against the counter. you can’t believe the audacity on paige, but you’re silently thanking her for getting rid of him.

“what’s going on? what’s so important that you have to tell me right now?”

“oh, that was just an excuse to get him out.”

“what?!”

“well i could tell you didn’t want him here so..” she didn’t actually know if that was true, but she wanted him gone. and now he is. the grin on her face angers you, even though she’s right. how smug shes being about it rubs you the wrong way and you’re almost embarrassed because she’s right—you didn’t want him here.

“aw thanks paigey. i really wanted you to kick out my date.”

paige wants to scream in your face about how much she likes—no, loves you. she refrains though. she knows you don’t feel the same and doesn’t want to lose your friendship. the friendship that has held her together when all she felt like doing was falling apart.

she goes on the defensive because she doesn’t like your tone or the fake smile you’re giving her. she just wants to lay down with you and catch up on life, maybe ask why you didn’t tell her about him. but as soon as she starts talking, she regrets it.

“sorry i was trying to be a good friend. sorry as soon as i said i couldn’t make it you decided to have your fuck buddy over to take my place.”

“are you being serious? you canceled on me! and by the way, he’s not my fuck buddy.”

“then what is he? your boyfriend?”

you don’t really know what to say because she has a point, he’s not your boyfriend. in your heart, he’s nothing to you romantically, but you don’t want to give her a satisfaction of being right.

“i don’t know, maybe! he fucks me like he loves me.”

you’re walking away from her and into your room, searching for your pajamas. you switch your clothes out and you hear her footsteps tracing yours.

she stands there watching you change, feeling her whole body light up. what does that even mean, he fucks you like he loves you?

it’s when her stomach sinks that she knows you’re all she cares about, and she’s not afraid to admit it anymore. she’s never felt this type of jealously before. she’s never been in love like this before either. with a girl. is this what it’s like?

“what does that mean?”

you grow hot under her gaze, wondering why it’s bothering you now that you’re half naked in front of her when it’s never bothered you before. she’s got this solemn expression on her face and it feels like she trying to look into your brain.

“what does it matter to you?”

you realize you didn’t like jeremy because you really just wanted paige. it hurts that you’ll never have her and you’ll just have to find someone else, hoping they can make you feel a fraction of the way she makes you feel. you realize with paige that even if you’re arguing, you’ll always be happy to see her. to feel her presence in any room. she’s always saying the stupidest things and making you smile.

paige fears the same thing. is she going to have to settle for someone else that isn’t you? all because it took her so long to be ok with who she is and how you make her feel. even now, your anger all directed towards her, she admires and loves you. you’re so beautiful and genuine. she remembers when you two went out last month, probably the last time you hung out without arguing, and you had the biggest smile on your face. she realizes now all this is because of her. she argues with you and pushes you away because she’s too drawn to you. if she keeps you close, she can’t stay away.

“because.”

“because? because what, paige?”

“because i really love you.” she pauses, trying to find the wording so she doesn’t fuck this up. you’re staring at her, wide eyes, and you think deep down maybe it’s as more than friends.

“i really love you. more than anyone else i think. more than i’ve ever loved a girl, or a guy. i love you in the type of way where i can’t stay away from you and i have this weird feeling whenever i see you. like butterflies. i love you in the typa way where i want to hold you and kiss you, and spend all of my time with you cause when you’re not around all i do is think about you. even when you’re around, i can’t think about anything else. i.. yeah. i know that i love you.”

“paige..”

“and i hate that you like that guy. jimmy or whatever. i hate him because you like him. i wish i could be him, i wish you felt that way about me and not him. i’ve never liked a girl before, especially not fallen in love with one, but you changed that for me. when you flung your hair all over my damn computer the first time we met, even then i had it out for you, just didn’t know it yet.”

her word vomit concludes and you’re both shocked. she’s shocked she admitted it and you’re shocked she feels that way. about you, of all people. you wish you had recorded it so you can listen to it on repeat forever.

as soon as you open your mouth to speak, she closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the door frame. she didn’t really think about the repercussions too hard and now she has to prepare herself for the rejection.

“paige, i love you too. as more than a friend. i never actually slept with jeremy because i just wanted you. i never said anything about it because i thought you weren’t into girls and-“

she’s got you wrapped around her, clinging to you and she’s kissing you with so much need it might consume her. your lips are soft and moving against hers so perfectly she thinks it might be a dream. she’ll wake up and realize none of it was real. because that’s what you are to her, a dream.

you pull away and look at her, foreheads pressed together. she’s looking at you too, a stupid smile on her face like she’s just won the lottery. in her own special way, she has.

“love you so much, you have no idea.”

she’s pulling you back into a kiss, cupping your face with gentle hands and pulling you impossibly closer. in this moment, you feel heaven’s eternal sun shine on you and paige, melting your souls together and making you feel all warm and bubbly.

“so, i’m gonna do this better later i promise, but will you be my girlfriend?”

“yeah, yes, i will.”

she’s kissing you again and now she’s certain it’s real. she feels you holding her and knows it’s real. she curses herself for not just admitting how she felt sooner, but it ended up with her here in your embrace, so how bad could it really be?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS!!

living for these requests atm

also i hope you guys listened to the song, it’s so gay awakening core

[ssahotchnerr]

Jack still sort of maintaining a relationship with Roy the first few years after Haley dies (Aaron thought it was important to maintain those connections for Jack even tho it hurt Aaron to do 😭 it was easy with Jess who he loves but SUCKED with Roy) but he gets extremely exclusionary once Ellie is born. Him being like “I will spend time with MY grandson who belonged to MY daughter but I will not be wasting my time, energy, and money on a child you’ve had with another woman. A child who – might I point out – would not have been born if you stayed married to my daughter and didn’t get her killed in the first place.”

Aaron being pissed on Ellie’s behalf (and his feelings are hurt tbh) and you being pissed on both of their behalfs. But, unexpectedly, Hc that Jack overheard this conversation and basically says to Aaron the next time Roy wants to take him somewhere (Aaron didn’t want to make HIM feel bad on top of everything else by banning him from seeing his grandfather, so he was gonna let him go), “I don’t want to spend time with grandpa Roy if he’s gonna be mean to Ellie. Thank you, but I’ll stay here.” SUCH A GOOD BIG BROTHERRRRR you and Aaron are so proud 🥺❤️

OHHH MY GOD??

roy just completely refuses to acknowledge that ellie exists 😭

it happened right from the start: when aaron shared the two of you were expecting, roy brushed it off, muttering something incoherently in response. after she's born, aaron invites him over for family dinners, he refuses to come. he's invited to ellie's first, second, third birthday party, doesn't come. every time he comes over, he acts like he's never seen her before. disregarding her completely.

it becomes very clear very fast that he wants to spend time with jack and jack only. as much as aaron hates to admit it, in a way, he understands. roy's bitter about what happened to haley, so this was somewhat expected. it's a different situation that's hard to navigate - ellie isn't related to him, so if roy doesn't want to bring her along to places, whatever, aaron's not going to force roy to do anything. the issue is what an issue it is. how ellie is being treated.

it's more of a problem when ellie is a bit older, and wants to tag along with jack wherever he goes. she just wants to be included 🥺 sweet ellie simply says hi when roy comes over to pick up jack, he ignores her. the next time, she draws him a picture, and he doesn't accept it.

aaron gently confronts him, and that's when roy brings up haley and how this child is a disgrace to her. imagine he full-on admits he wishes she never existed?? 😭 ellie's a product of what happened to haley, he'll never forgive aaron for getting her killed, so he'll never accept this child's existence. she shouldn't exist.

that angers aaron and he starts going off - ellie is a part of this family, whether you like it or not. and fine, you don't have to love her (saying that SHATTERS aaron's heart) but do not treat her like she's nothing. aaron won't let that stand.

it starts a huge argument 🥺 roy refuses speak to aaron, except when it comes to arranging his time with jack, and the conversation is very short at that. he doesn't speak much to you either (never has). again in his eyes - you're haley's replacement. jack's new "mom"

and it's especially sad because ellie knows about haley too :( - not the story, but the simple, good things: jack has another mommy, she's not here with us anymore but you can talk to her with a candle. haley has never been a avoided topic in the house, she's encouraged. and so ellie loves haley in her own way :( so to call her a disgrace in haley's name?? when she's also keeping haley's memory alive? :((((

you feel awful. you know how hurt aaron is but he doesn't allow himself to show it. he hates talking about it, and he's always in a mood whenever roy's with jack. you feel awful for your daughter who doesn't know what's going on. you feel awful for jack who's taking an unnecessary weight on his shoulders in terms of this too.

ellie's confused and upset, this is the first person who's ever shown her unkindness. aaron gently tries to explain, but also, how do you explain this to a toddler? so he simply apologizes and scoops her up into his arms and holds her close :( he feels awful, and as if he's failing her in someway. this is "his fault", isn't it? 😭

so if roy's taking jack out, aaron or you, or both combined, take ellie out for the day to do something fun. or try to keep jack heading out on the down-low. it sucks, you still both encourage jack to spend time with his grandfather - maintaining that important relationship - even though it's exceedingly complicated behind the scenes.

and jack, being the sweet sensitive kid he is, picks up on the tension immediately. and he's torn 🥺 he wants to appease his grandfather, knows what he's doing isn't right, but also doesn't want to betray his little sister, letting behavior like this continue. he feels guilty :( he takes the initiative and brings it up to roy himself, asking if ellie can come with them someday, like to the zoo or to a movie. but roy's pretty level-headed and his mind is made up - absolutely no ellie.

so jack gets really upset :( he gets home one day and cries about it :((( you're trying to console him, as is aaron (who's close to tears himself), and ellie wanders over :( she gets sad whenever jack is sad :( and while she has no idea what's going on exactly, she just buries herself right up into jack's side as he's crying. to comfort him too 🥺🫶🏻

overall it's a reallyyyy messy situation, one that you can only hope resolves with time :(

[sophsbookstore]

Exchanged Glances

Charles Leclerc x hairdresser!reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡ 

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Read pt. 2 here

A/N: Not super edited, I wanted to get it posted before the Grand Prix!

Word count: 1,581

Normally when Charles goes back home to Monaco he has his mom cut his hair. Like clockwork he will arrive at his moms salon, say hello to the various hairdressers and then go to his moms station to get a fresh cut. Only, this time things were different. 

A couple days before he was to arrive home Charles called his mom and asked what day she was free to cut his hair, with the upcoming Monaco Grand Prix it, and with it being his home race he was more available for a haircut than ever.

After their brief greetings to one another Charles’ mom told him that she would be out of town up until the day of the race. For the first time since joining formula one his mom wouldn't be able to cut his hair for him before the Monaco Grand prix.

“Don't worry Cha, I can refer you to another hairdresser at the salon.” She offered, trying to give him another solution.

“I don't know, you've always cut my hair, no one else.” 

“Then this will be a perfect time for you to step out of your comfort zone. Don't worry I know the perfect person, she’s new, around your age and she's magic in the salon.” Trusting his mom this easies Charles' nerves slightly.

“Ok maman.” The driver sighs in defeat.

“Wonderful! When you go to the salon ask for Y/N.'' With that his mom bid him farewell, telling him when to be at the salon, not going into any more detail about this mysterious hairdresser.

Before he knew it the day had come, he was going to step out of his comfort zone and have a complete stranger touch his hair. He hoped his mom wasn't lying when she was hyping up Y/N and her skills, he didn't want to go to the paddock looking a mess.

Charles enters the salon, all the employees giving him waves and greeting him. He's known some of these people his whole life, whenever he stepped foot in the salon it was like he was being greeted by family.

“Hello Charles, what can I help you with today?” The lady at the front desk asked.

"Hello, yes, my mom told me to ask for Y/N?” The boy shrugged in confusion.

“Oh of course! I'll go get her.” The lady that once sat in front of him was now off searching for the mysterious magic woman that was going to cut his hair.

Charles felt like he was waiting for hours, the salon wasn't that big was it? Maybe it was all in his head. He stood to the side of the waiting area, too consumed with stress to sit down and relax. Before he knew it the front desk lady came back, the woman he assumed to be Y/N trailing behind her.

This is when he finally got to have a good look at her. She was beautiful, why didn't his mom tell him that they started hiring part time models at the salon. The two stood awkwardly, both taking in one another, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Hello Charles, I’m Y/N. just follow me back to my station and we’ll get started”

Charles was too dumbfounded to respond, instead the man stuttered silently before nodding and following Y/N to the back of her salon. During the short walk to her station, Charles thought of questions to ask the beautiful girl, desperately wanting to hear the sound of her voice again.

“Thanks for trusting me with your hair today, your mom told me that you don't really let anyone else cut your hair.” She giggled.

“Oh! Yeah, she's been cutting mine and my brothers hair since we were kids.”

“That's so sweet. I understand where you're coming from I don't let anyone cut my hair, only myself.'' This put Charles at ease. Knowing that she thinks the same way he does, even about something so simple as hair.

After some comfortable small talk Y/N led Charles further back into the salon, sitting the boy down in a chair before leaning him back and washing his hair. The driver seemed to melt in her touch as she ran her fingers through his hair.

When Y/N pulled her hands away to apply more product Charles felt incomplete, like he was missing a sense of stability and peace within himself. Just as soon as she removed her hands she placed them back, continuing to massage his scalp with the shampoo.

Y/N pats Charles’ shoulders signaling to him that the wash was done and that they had to make their way back to her station. Y/N led the way, Charles trailing behind the girl before taking his spot in front of her in the salon chair.

“Are you excited for the grand prix?” Y/N questions taking some of his hair between her fingers, beginning the cut

“Very. I have a good feeling and my son will be there, hopefully we secure P1 and P2.”

“You have a son? What's his name?” Y/N questions, his mom not mentioning anything about a grandson.

“Oh! My apologies he's not really my son. He's a driver on the grid that I've somewhat adopted for the race weekend so that he can claim the Monaco grand prix as his home race.” Charles looks at Y/N hoping she doesn't find what he said both weird and confusing.

“HA!” The hairdresser laughed out loud. “Well congrats to him, I hope he has a fun and successful home race as well. I'll be sure to congratulate your maman about her newly found grandson.” 

Charles sat up a little higher in the chair, “Are you coming to the race?”

“I wish I could but I have to work, don't worry though, the salon will be playing the race so everyone can watch.” Y/N stopped cutting for a moment, looking at Charles through the mirror placed in front of them before giving him a warm smile.

Y/N picked up another section of his hair, continuing to snip away leaving Charles to examine the girl through the mirror. Y/N looked up from behind him, making a quick glance at him before the pair broke eye contact, looking separate ways.

Slowly their eyes started moving back to the mirror. The scissors snapping shut as the pair hold eye contact. Charles felt the tip of his ears getting hotter, the pair both noticing one another's subtle hints of red creeping onto their faces.

“Notice anything Mr. Leclerc?” Y/N questions, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

Charles opens his mouth to speak but words don't come out.

“Don't think I haven't noticed the subtle glances, there is either something on my face and you're trying to figure out how to tell me, or something going on in this head of yours.” She turns her attention back to his hair, the haircut almost over.

“I-” he clears his throat, “I was admiring you. You're very good at what you do.”

“I deeply appreciate Charles, truly.” Y/N made her final touches to the haircut. Unbuttoning the cloth that was draped over Charles, before dusting off his shoulders of any hair. “You're all finished, let me find a mirror so you can see the back.”

Y/N walked toward an unknown part of the salon, Charles' eyes following the girl through the mirror until she came back. This is it, if he doesn't say anything now he might never see her again.

The hairdresser came back, handing Charles a small hand held mirror for him to examine the back of his head. He admired her work, impressed with her skills. Placing the mirror down on a ledge near her station he got out of his chair and turned to her.

The two stared at one another, practically chest to chest. “Will you come to the grand prix?” He asked breathlessly.

“Nothing would delight me more but I have to work.” Y/N sighed looking away for a moment before her attention was pulled back to Charles.

“If you can't come to the race can you accompany me for dinner after?” Y/N looked at Charles, her cheeks getting ever so pinker.

“Mr. Leclerc are you asking me on a date?”

“That depends, would you like to go on a date with me?” Charles asked, not missing a beat.

“Yes Charles, I would love to.” 

Charles smiled from ear to ear, desperately wanting to bounce off the walls with excitement, stopping himself before he could embarrass himself. “Then I will see you tomorrow.” He nodded in satisfaction.

“See you tomorrow Charles.” Charles walked away from the hairdresser, giving her a quick glance back before making his way back to the lady at the front desk.

“Hair looks great! What did you think of Y/N?” She asked, ringing him up so he could make his payment.

“She's fantastic, I think maman will have some competition.” The two laughed, Charles paid, giving her a quick goodbye.

As soon as he exited the salon he called his mom, updating her on his post race plans, greatly thanking her for offering Y/N to cut his hair.

[coldhndss]

Baby fever

Chigiri Hyoma

request

Tears glossed the eyes of your mother as she gave you one last hug. Her arms wrapped so tightly around you that you felt like you’d asphyxiate any moment now.

“Mom, we’ll only be gone for two weeks.” You let out a breathy laugh as she finally released you from her grasp.

Looking to your side, Hyoma’s sister was ruffling his hair playfully as the two of them laughed together. His mother tapped his shoulder, signalling for him to lean in closer. As she whispered into his ear, you noticed a rosy hue spread across his cheeks. He gripped the handle of his suitcase defensively as she broke out into laughter. Checking the time on your phone, you sighed. “We’re going to have to get going now.” You said, turning to your parents with a smile.

Saying your goodbyes to his family, you gave his mother and sister a quick hug before the two of you took off into the departure gate. Unzipping your carryon, you prepared the passports for check-in. The two of you took your place in line and you turned to face him. “You’ve been pretty quiet since we left. Do you miss your family already?” You joked, elbowing him gently. Once again, you noticed a look of embarrassment wash over his face.

“…Yep.” He muttered, turning his gaze away from yours.

After the whole security checks process was over, you had finally reached the terminal that the plane would be departing from. The two of you took a brief moment to rest before checking out the various shops and grabbing something quick to eat. And before you knew it, as you were chewing the last bite of your meal, the PA system announced your flight by number, notifying the terminal that they were now boarding. You scrambled to the line as the prepared the tickets.

As you took your seat on the plane, you exhaled a sigh of relief.

“You’re always so stressed about these things, you know?” He chuckled, sliding your suitcases into the overhead storage before taking the seat next to you.

“I can’t help it, it’s our first time on a trip together.” Dipping your head onto his shoulder, you noticed the way he uncharacteristically fidgeted with his fingers.

“Yeah…”

Just then, a thought crossed your mind. Ever since the two of you announced that you’d be going on a honeymoon close to a month ago, your parents had been hinting at the idea of having a grandchild in various ways. Re-gifting you your old baby clothes, dropping hints for baby names, even jokes about who a prospective child might look more like.

Just as your face began to feel warmer than a few seconds ago, the plane began to take off, distracting you from your earlier thoughts. Your hand gripped his tightly as you glued your eyes shut.

The flight left you feeling nauseous and homesick. He laughed at your expression as the two of you stepped off the plane together. “You’re seriously that taken aback by a flight?”

“I don’t regularly go overseas for soccer games, so yes.” You groaned as he offered to hold your suitcase for you. Though, stepping foot onto Italy - an unfamiliar destination -  warranted a heap of differences in culture, environment and weather. So, the two of you would need to navigate it together.

So, over the next few days, you both spent barely any time in the hotel, using it as somewhat of a storage destination after days of shopping and sightseeing. You visited various landmarks, trying a ton of different foods and desserts, and sadly, falling into many tourist traps.

On the weekend of your first week, the amount of activities you both had planned began to dwindle. It seemed like as excited as you both were to visit new places, it would end before your time here came to a close so the two of you needed to use one of your days to research online and plan a few more things. Take reservations at restaurants, watch a couple soccer matches (courtesy of Hyoma) and visit a few more sites.

Returning to the hotel room after a long day out, you dropped various shopping bags onto the ground before slumping onto the bed, your body limp.

“…Do we even have anymore money left?” You wondered aloud.

“Don’t worry, we’ve still got more than enough.” Folding his coat, he placed it on the table in the middle of the room before taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to you.

His gaze softened, his lips upturned into a warm smile. You couldn’t help but reciprocate his smile, carried by a light chuckle “What?”

His hand moved to brush a piece of hair away from your face. Suddenly, you found yourself gazing upwards at him. His face was directly over yours and each of his hands were placed beside your head, propping him up.

“Hyoma..?”

Despite his typical confidence, a rush of red painted his face this time. It looked as though you’d be able to feel the warmth if you cupped his cheek. And you did; the feeling rushed throughout your entire body and now you were burning up as well. His gaze was scattered, failing to meet your eyes, and your chest rapidly rose and fell with each hitched breath.

Gripping the collar of his shirt, he exhaled deeply, slumping over next to you. His head rested on your stomach as he fanned his face with his hand.

You let out a breathy laugh, the shakiness in your voice still apparent.

“Shut up…” He retorted, his voice carrying the same emotion as yours.

[moonlight-joy]

A New Bond

Fandom: Yellowstone

Summary: In a moment of playful connection with Tate Dutton, the arrival of Monica highlights the delicate dynamics of love, loss, and shared responsibilities, as you navigate the fragile balance of offering stability without overstepping the bonds of family.

Pairing: Reader/Kayce Dutton

The sound of laughter echoed through the open fields of Yellowstone Ranch as you sat on the porch with Tate Dutton, a stack of toy trucks between you. The boy’s face was lit up with pure joy, his laughter infectious as he rolled a bright red truck across the wooden boards.

“You’re getting pretty good at this,” you teased, nudging a small ramp toward him. “You think you can make the jump?”

“Of course I can!” Tate exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He positioned his truck at the top of the ramp, letting it fly down with a triumphant cheer as it landed perfectly on the other side. “Did you see that? I told you I could do it!”

You clapped, feigning amazement. “Alright, I’m impressed. You’ve got skills, kid.”

Tate beamed, his smile so wide it seemed to brighten the already warm afternoon. Spending time with him had become a regular thing since Kayce and Monica had split. The boy had gravitated toward you, finding comfort in your presence, and you had happily stepped into the role of his confidant and playmate.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kayce leaning against the railing nearby, watching the two of you with a faint smile. He didn’t say anything, just nodded in your direction before heading back toward the barn. It was a quiet acknowledgment, one you’d come to appreciate over time.

But then another figure stepped into view—Monica. She had driven up in her SUV, her gaze immediately landing on you and Tate. Her expression was unreadable at first, but as she got closer, you could see the tension in her shoulders, the flicker of something like hurt in her eyes.

“Tate!” she called, her voice cutting through the playful atmosphere.

Tate’s head whipped around, his excitement faltering for a moment before he smiled. “Mom!” he shouted, getting up and running toward her.

Monica crouched down to hug him, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as she looked him over. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’m playing,” Tate said, his voice filled with innocent enthusiasm. “We were making the trucks jump. It was so cool!”

Monica glanced over his shoulder at you, her expression hard to read. There was no hostility, but there was something guarded in her gaze, something almost hesitant. She straightened up, her hand resting protectively on Tate’s shoulder.

“Looks like you’ve been having fun,” she said, her tone polite but clipped.

“We’ve been having a blast,” you replied, keeping your voice light and friendly. “Tate’s got some serious driving skills.”

Monica’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked down at Tate. “Why don’t you go grab your bag from the truck, sweetie? We need to head out.”

Tate hesitated, glancing back at you. “But I was gonna show—”

“Go on, Tate,” Monica said gently but firmly.

The boy nodded reluctantly and ran off, leaving the two of you alone. Monica crossed her arms, her gaze meeting yours. For a moment, the silence was heavy, charged with the weight of unspoken words.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” Monica said finally, her voice quiet but pointed.

“Tate’s a great kid,” you said simply. “He seems to enjoy hanging out here.”

Monica’s eyes flicked toward the barn, where Kayce was still working. “I’m sure he does.”

There was no accusation in her tone, but you could sense the tension, the unspoken fear that maybe Tate’s bond with you was filling a space she felt was slipping from her grasp.

“Monica,” you said gently, stepping closer. “I’m not trying to replace you. I would never try to come between you and Tate.”

Her eyes snapped back to yours, and for a moment, you thought she might say something sharp. But instead, she let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I know,” she said finally, her voice softer. “I just... it’s hard seeing him so happy somewhere else when things between me and Kayce have been so... hard.”

You nodded, understanding the pain behind her words. “He loves you. That hasn’t changed. And it never will.”

Monica’s lips curved into a small, sad smile. “He talks about you a lot, you know. How much fun you are, how much you listen to him.”

“Tate’s been through a lot,” you said. “He needs stability, people he can trust. I’m just trying to be someone he can count on.”

Monica studied you for a long moment before nodding slowly. “He’s lucky to have you,” she said quietly. “But don’t let him forget where home is.”

You smiled gently. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Tate came bounding back toward the two of you, his bag slung over his shoulder and his face lit up with excitement. “Can I come back tomorrow?” he asked, looking between you and Monica.

“We’ll see,” Monica said, brushing a hand over his hair. She glanced at you one last time before turning toward the truck. “Come on, Tate. Let’s get going.”

As they drove off, you stood on the porch, watching until their car disappeared down the road. The sound of boots behind you made you turn, and you found Kayce standing there, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you said, your lips curving into a faint smile. “Just doing what I can.”

Kayce nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned back toward the barn. And as you watched him go, you couldn’t help but feel the complicated weight of it all—the ties that bound you, Tate, Monica, and Kayce together, and the delicate balance you were all trying to find.

Please support my work with like and comment

[tokkiwrites]

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗. (3)

mom's fiancé! joel miller x f! reader part one • part two

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, betrayal

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ im baaack !! this has 4.06k words, so it's pretty short. It's pretty much a setup for the last two parts. yes, just two more parts. im sorry, but as much as i love this, it needs to end :( not proofread so try and ignore any typos. also most of the parts where the past story is told its the readers inner thoughts so YES she is trying to demonize her mom to make her feel better about sleeping w joel :') Enjoy!

It had been two months since it all started—two months since you and Joel had fallen into this secret rhythm, stealing moments when your mother wasn’t looking, navigating your forbidden connection with practiced care. In the quiet, when it was just the two of you, it felt almost normal. Almost as if you were like any other couple. You were his, and he was yours—officially, if only in the shadows. But the shadows were where you lived now.

Tonight, it was just you and Joel again, the house quiet, tension building, like it always does when its just the two of you, without having spent a night together for some time. Your mom had gone out with her friends, drinking and catching up over dinner, while you waited at home, your pulse quickening the second you heard the sound of Joel’s footsteps as he came back from work. The door clicked softly as he came inside, the familiar creak of the floorboards beneath his boots sending a thrill up your spine. You didn’t need to say anything. You both knew what came next.

“Missed you, baby. my pretty girl...” Joel muttered low, his voice rougher in the quiet of the house. His fingers found your waist, pulling you close until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Two months of this, and yet every touch still made your heart race, still left you aching for more. like the first time. “I missed you too,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck, sinking into the kiss that followed, as if nothing else existed outside of this room. You’d grown used to this dance—the quick, stolen moments, the silent promises that passed between you without words. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, but it was all you had, and you weren’t willing to let it go. Joel’s hands moved down your back, fingers gripping tightly as he deepened the kiss, and before you knew it, you were back in the same space, tangled in the sheets, limbs intertwined, the room bathed in a golden glow from the bedside lamp. He made you forget the outside world, the boundaries that separated you, the reality you both lived in.

The hours ticked by, the house settling into a quiet rhythm, when suddenly, a knock echoed from the front door, startling you both. Your head laying on his chest, fingers drawing small hearts on his skin. You sat up, heart pounding, your body still humming from the way Joel fucked you mere seconds ago. Joel frowned, pulling on his jeans as he stood, moving quietly to check the door. “Who the hell…” Joel muttered under his breath, his voice low as he moved down the hallway.

You followed him, grabbing a robe as you went, trying to calm the sudden rush of panic rising in your chest. There shouldn’t be anyone at the door. Your mother wasn’t due back for hours, and you hadn’t heard any cars pull up outside. Joel cracked the door open just a sliver, and there, standing in the darkened porch, was Marjorie. Your mother’s supposed best friend, her face illuminated by the porch light, a twisted smirk curling at the edges of her lips.

Your heart sank.

“Joel,” she greeted him, her voice dripping with something that felt far too dangerous for your liking. Her eyes flicked past him, landing on you standing behind him, the color draining from your face. She didn’t need to say anything to confirm what she already knew. It was written all over her face—the satisfaction, the power she held now. Marjorie stepped closer, her smirk widening. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “Your mom’s out, isn’t she? And here you two are, playing house.” Joel’s jaw clenched, his fingers gripping the edge of the door tighter. “What the fuck do you want, Marjorie?” he growled, his voice low, protective. Marjorie laughed softly, stepping forward, closer to the threshold. “Relax, Joel. I’m not here to spoil the fun. Yet.” Her eyes flicked to you again, sharp and knowing, as if seeing right through you. “I just wanted to… catch up. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You felt your stomach twist. This wasn’t just about her catching you. There was something more. You could see it in the way she looked at Joel. so bitter. Had she been following you two? has she seen anything at the wedding? it's clear she already knew.

It hit you all at once—the stories your mom had told you about their past. Marjorie and Joel. They had been together once, years ago, long before you’d ever met him. And now, here she was, standing on your doorstep, holding your secret in her hands. “I could ruin you both, you know,” Marjorie continued, her tone casual, but the threat clear in her words. “Tell your mother everything. She deserves to know, doesn’t she? But…” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “We don’t have to go down that road. Not if you do exactly what I say.” You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. She wasn’t just going to tell your mom. She was going to use this. You could see it now, the leverage she had, the game she was about to play.

“What do you want?” Joel asked, his voice steady, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. Marjorie tilted her head, pretending to think. “Oh, nothing much. Just a little… cooperation.” She smiled, the same smile that had always made your skin crawl. “I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving the two of you standing in the doorway, your secret hanging in the air like a ticking time bomb. You slammed the door shut behind her, your heart racing, your mind spinning. “What are we going to do?” you whispered, looking up at Joel, the fear clear in your voice. Joel didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the door, his jaw clenched tight, his hands still gripping the frame. After a moment, he turned to you, his expression softening, and he pulled you into his arms. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice steady, but you could hear the worry underneath. “I’m not losing you.”

I could ruin you both, you know.

Joel’s hand was still resting on your back, his thumb brushing gently against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm raging inside you. Marjorie knew. And now she held the keys to your entire world, dangling them just out of reach, ready to use them whenever it suited her best.

And your mom. the anger started to burn slowly, creeping in like a wave of heat under your skin. She was out with friends right now, laughing, drinking, celebrating her happiness, all the while oblivious to what was happening behind her back. With her husband. Your heart clenched at the thought of it. A marriage she didn’t even deserve.

Had she ever really deserved him?

The more you thought about it, the more it all made sense. The way your mom had paraded Joel around like some prize, showing him off to her friends— especially to Marjorie. You remembered now, how Marjorie had once had a fight with your mother, it seemed long ago, about her engagement to Joel. You remember Marjorie crying that day about how she had cared for him, how she had fallen in love with him, that what happened between them wasn't just a fling. And what did your mom do? She married him anyway. She married her best friend’s ex without a second thought. And now you were the one being threatened for it. The bitterness in your chest was growing, and you could feel it settling into something sharper, something more dangerous.

“She’s not gonna leave us alone, is she?” you finally asked, your voice quieter than you wanted it to be. You felt exposed, vulnerable. Joel sighed, his fingers tightening their hold on you, but there was no reassurance in his grip. He didn’t answer right away, and that silence said more than any words could have. He wasn’t sure either.

“I don’t know,” Joel finally muttered, running a hand through his hair, his eyes dark with the weight of it all. “But I’ll handle it. I’m not lettin’ her take this from us.”

"Were you really together, with her I meanㅡ seems like she still likes you very much.." you bite, and the man turns, looking at you with a furrowed etched into his face. "We were together like 10 years ago, for fuck's sake, sheㅡ I don't even know. I didn't know she was so close to your mom, never saw them together much..." does he feel pitty for her?

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling to that hope that somehow, some way, things would stay the same, and Marjorie would just disappear into the background. But you weren’t that naive. Not anymore. Not after seeing the look in Marjorie’s eyes—like she was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, to dig her claws in and rip everything apart. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, cutting through the tense silence in the room. You jumped slightly, startled by the noise. When you picked it up, your stomach dropped.

• I hope you enjoyed tonight, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I won’t ruin your fun just yet. i care for my friends, unlike some.

it made you feel sick. She wasn’t done with you. You turned the phone toward Joel, showing him the text, and watched as his jaw tightened again, the muscle in his cheek twitching with barely restrained anger. “She’s not gonna stop, Joel." you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “She’s going to drag this out. Until she gets whatever she wants." Joel’s eyes darkened. “Not if I can help it,” he growled, voice thick with frustration. “But she’s not bluffin’. She ain't like that. We need to be careful.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between you. Careful. You had been careful. For two months, you had mastered the art of lying, sneaking, hiding your relationship from the world. And for what? To have it all crumble because of one bitter, jealous woman. But what did she want? What would it take for her to keep her mouth shut?

As if in answer to your question, another message buzzed through:

• It’s been lonely for me, you know, since your mom stole Joel. I think it’s only fair we share, don’t you? Maybe then I’ll keep quiet.

Your heart sank. She wasn’t even hiding it. She wanted him. She wanted Joel. She was dangling that threat over your head, practically daring you to make a choice. And for a moment, you felt nothing but cold, bitter hatred.

For her.

For your mother.

For the situation you had been pulled into.

“What does she want?” Joel asked, sensing the shift in your expression. You hesitated. Could you tell him? Could you even say it out loud? That this wasn’t just about telling your mom the truth. Marjorie was trying to take him from you in the most disgusting way possible.

You swallowed hard, the bile rising in your throat. “She wants you.” The words felt bitter on your tongue, like poison seeping through your veins. Joel’s expression hardened, anger flashing in his eyes as he pulled away, pacing the room. “That damn bitch" His voice trailed off, but you could feel the heat off of him, the barely restrained fury that rippled through his body. “She’s sick,” you said, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets as you tried to steady yourself. The rage in your chest was building, mingling with the jealousy that was already there, a fire that wouldn’t stop growing. "But we're sick too for starting all of this."

Butㅡ

How had it come to this? How had your mother allowed someone like Marjorie to stay so close? She had known about their past. She had known Joel was once Marjorie’s. Best friends don’t do that. They don’t betray each other like that. But your mother had. So did she deserve all of this?

All of the resentment you had pushed down over the last few months—the jealousy, the anger—was bubbling to the surface. Your mother had always been selfish, hadn’t she? Always thinking about herself first. Sure, she acted like she cared about you, like she wanted the best for you, but it had always been her own happiness that came first. Even after the divorce, it was all about her—her search for the perfect man, her obsession with finding someone who would make her feel young and beautiful again.

And she had found him. Joel. A man who had never really been hers to begin with.

He is mine now.

The bitterness was sharper now, more pronounced. It wasn’t just about Marjorie anymore. It was about the way your mother had taken what didn’t belong to her, and now the whole thing was falling apart, crumbling around you. Maybe this was what she deserved. “I’m not letting Marjorie get what she wants,” you said, your voice firm, your mind made up. “I won’t let her touch you. She doesn’t deserve it.” Joel stopped pacing, his eyes locking on yours. “We’ll find a way outta this, baby. We’ll figure it out.”

But there was doubt in his voice. You could hear it. You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on him, on both of you. This was bigger than the two of you now. Marjorie wasn’t going to let this go, and the truth was, she had all the power. Still, you weren’t about to let her take Joel from you. Not after everything. Not when he was the only thing keeping you sane.

As the night stretched on, you lay together in silence, the darkness outside matching the heaviness in your chest. Joel’s arm was wrapped around you, but it wasn’t enough to keep the thoughts from swirling in your mind.

How long can we keep this up?

It wasn’t just Marjorie that made you feel this way—it was your mother too. The way she had always been the center of attention, the way she had stolen Joel knowingly from Marjorie. You hated her for it. And now, with Joel by your side, you realized you hated her even more for what she still didn’t know. She had done this. She had created this mess. And now, she was out with her friends, celebrating her perfect life, while you were left to pick up the pieces. She deserves this, doesn't she?

The days became an unbearable blur, each one bleeding into the next with that same dull, gnawing anxiety eating away at you. Marjorie's threat hung over you like a dark cloud, looming over every stolen glance, every whispered word exchanged between you and Joel. You couldn't escape the feeling of dread that clawed at your chest each time your phone buzzed. Every vibration rattled your nerves, setting off a wave of panic that crashed through your mind, sending your heart racing.

What if this was it? What if today was the day Marjorie made her move, the day everything fell apart?

For three agonizing days, you waited for the inevitable blow, for the moment she would pull the trigger and expose the fragile world you and Joel had built in secret. You could barely sleep, your mind racing, filled with endless scenarios, each more horrifying than the last. And through it all, Joel remained steady, his calm exterior masking the storm raging inside him. He tried to reassure you, to tell you that things would be okay, that you would figure it out together, but even he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes. Then, on the third day, the message came. It was short, sharp, and to the point, the words searing themselves into your brain as you stared at the screen in disbelief.

• Tonight. My place. Don’t keep me waiting.

Your stomach twisted into knots, a wave of nausea rising in your throat as you turned the phone toward Joel. He glanced at it, his face darkening, a deep frown etching itself into his features. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence in the room thick with tension. You could feel the dread creeping up your spine, wrapping itself around your heart like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter with each passing second.

"She's gonna keep pushing until she gets what she wants," you whispered, your voice trembling with fear and barely-contained anger. You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Not yet. Not in front of Joel. He didn't respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he stared down at the floor, lost in thought. The lines on his face seemed deeper, etched with frustration and helplessness, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you wondered if there was anything he could do to fix this. If there was any way out.

Then, out of nowhere, the words tumbled from your lips, almost before you could stop them, a desperate attempt to break the silence, to grasp at any solution, no matter how insane.

"What if we kill her?" The question lingered in the air, absurd and reckless, and you weren't even sure why you'd said it, or what kind of response you were hoping for. But the words had left your mouth before you could pull them back. For a moment, Joel just stared at you, his brow furrowing in shock, as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. His lips parted slightly, his gaze flickering with confusion, before the tension broke, and suddenly, inexplicably, he started to laugh.

It was a quiet, breathy chuckle at first, one that caught you completely off guard. "What the—what?" Joel’s voice cracked with amusement, his eyes softening as he shook his head. "Baby, what the fuck, no," he said, still chuckling as he reached out to cup your face, his rough thumb brushing gently across your cheek. You wanted to be mad at him for laughing, for finding humor in this moment of utter despair, but the sound of his voice—his warmth—made it impossible. Even in the midst of this chaos, his touch had the power to calm the storm inside you, if only for a second.

"This is no time for jokes..." you muttered, your voice cracking, though the bitterness in your words faded the moment his thumb stroked your skin again, grounding you in the present. Joel chuckled softly, pressing his forehead against yours, his laughter slowly fading as his expression turned serious again. "We ain't killin' nobody, sweetheart," he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle. "That's not how we fix this."

You exhaled a shaky breath, nodding slightly, though the frustration still gnawed at you. It wasn’t like you’d actually meant it. The suggestion had been a fleeting, desperate thought, a reflection of just how cornered you felt by Marjorie’s relentless threats. But it felt like there were no real options left, and that sense of helplessness was eating away at you, pulling you deeper into a spiral of panic. "Then what?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "What do we do? Because I can't... I can't keep living like this. I can't keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for her to tear us apart. I don’t know how much longer I can take it."

Your hands were trembling, your fingers digging into the fabric of Joel's shirt as you clung to him, desperate for some sense of stability. You looked up at him, pleading silently for him to offer you some kind of solution—any solution that didn’t involve losing him. But Joel’s face softened with concern, his eyes flickering with sadness as he tilted his head slightly, as if searching for the right words.

"Let’s... let’s run away," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush before you could second-guess yourself. "You said you wanted to—wanted to run away with me. You promised me, Joel. You said we could leave all of this behind, give me a baby, start over somewhere new where nobody would find us. Was that all a lie? Did you even mean any of it?" Your voice cracked, and this time you couldn't stop the tears from welling in your eyes, your chest tightening with the flood of emotions.

Joel's eyes widened, and he looked taken aback by the sudden outburst, his hands gripping your shoulders as if trying to steady you. "Shit, baby, I—" he started, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Panic surged through you, your heart pounding in your chest as doubt clawed its way to the surface. Was this all just some fleeting fantasy for him? Something he had whispered in the heat of the moment, a promise he never intended to keep? The thought terrified you, the idea that Joel— your Joel, might not feel as deeply as you did.

"So you lied to me," you snapped, your voice rising as anger and hurt bled into every word. "You don’t love me, do you? You never meant any of it!"

Joel’s face twisted with anguish, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his voice urgent as he tried to stop the storm that was building inside you. "What? No—baby, don’t say that. I love you, I swear to God, I love you more than I can even say." He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as his fingers tightened their hold on you. "But we can't just run away from this, not yet. I want to—God, you have no idea how much I want to—but we have to fix this first. We can't leave things this way."

You swallowed hard, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks, and Joel reached up to brush them away, his lips pressing softly against your forehead as he spoke again, his voice filled with tenderness. "I promise you, baby, after we fix this—after we figure out a way to make this right—we’ll go. We’ll run away, just like I said. We’ll find some quiet little town, far away from all of this. We'll have our own little house, just you and me... and our family. We'll make that life, I swear to you."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own gaze filled with determination and something softer—something that made your heart ache with longing. "You have to believe me," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lips. "We’ll have everything, baby, but we need to be smart about this."

You blinked back the remaining tears, nodding as you tried to steady your breathing, your heart still racing but calmer now that you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "But what if we can’t fix it?" you asked, your voice small and trembling. "What if—"

"No," Joel cut you off, his voice firm but gentle. "Don’t think like that. We’re gonna fix this. I’ll make sure of it." You wanted to believe him. You wanted so badly to cling to the hope that everything would turn out okay in the end, that you and Joel would find a way to be together without the constant threat of Marjorie, or your mom. But the fear still lingered, a shadow that refused to disappear no matter how many promises Joel made.

"I need you to be strong for me, baby," Joel whispered, his hand gently cupping the back of your head, pulling you against his chest. "I need you to be my strong little girl, okay? Can you do that for me?"

His voice was soft, soothing, and you melted into his touch, nodding against his chest as the tension slowly ebbed away. "I’m your st-strong girl," you mumbled through your sniffles, your fingers gripping his shirt as you held on to him. "I love you.. so m-much.."

"I know you do, sweet thing," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I love you too. More than you know."

taglist ⭐️ ㅡ @eviispunk @joeldjarin @whimsiwitchy @guelyury @untamedheart81

[americas-ass-writing]

Not the game they play

Steve Rogers x reader

Words: 4.1k

Summary: An arranged marriage flips your life upside down. What you thought you knew about your family doesn't seem to be true at all. How will Steve and you navigate your life together?

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, a swear word here and there, insulting of Sarah Rogers, yes that needed to be a warning, difficult family relationship, if I missed anything please let me know

A/N: This is the first part of a series. I had this idea for over two years with some scenes already written out or well thought through. Thank you all for encouraging me to finally do something with it. But don't come for me, you wanted this!

I promised to tag the lovely @ronearoundblindly 🩷

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Chapter One - Cannot stop the rain

The constant bustle of people and their conversations were a white noise like no other. One you can't concentrate on too long, especially when you have to hold conversation with whoever thought it was his turn to smooze a king.

Steve hates galas. He hates the pretentiousness that came with them and the people who attended but most of all he hates that he had no choice but to go. A king missing one of these was only excused when a serious matter arose. And those don't come by easily when you need them. He yearned for the times when he didn't need to attend these things, back when his mom still was the reigning queen and shielded him from this world. But with his mom gone he had to step up.

Gone where the days he travelled the world, studied art and made new friends. So easily replaced with duty and grief... and a stupid crown on his head. He was lucky enough he could hire his friends as staff, lucky enough his oldest friend was his right hand man and never left him alone for too long. James Bucky Barnes, his childhood defender, his best friend, his right hand and occasionally, much to Steve's dismay, his wingman. If only that would have worked out already. He seems to be casually watching people dance but in reality he watches the couples spend quality time together at a stuck up event. If he had a partner maybe this wouldn't be so bad? Maybe people wouldn't constantly come up to talk to him because he'd be dancing himself, someone in his arms, looking at him lovingly...

"Senator Lee is coming up next" a smooth voice mumbles over his shoulder, Sam Wilson. A friend he found in college, a politics major and his chief of staff. Steves eyes find the older gentleman approaching him. He's talked with him before, quite often actually, and he was always so kind and encouraging.

The small talk with senator Lee went by faster than Steve anticipated. Before the next person could swoop in to talk to him he excused himself to the restroom. Bucky, his honorary security detail for the evening since he refused to take his actual one, made to follow him. "It's just the bathroom Buck. I'll be fine and I'll come straight back here." he says lowly, his eyes rolling at the antics. He didn't need this much security before he became a king. Bucky hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to Sam who looks a bit unsure himself. "I mean... It's just the bathroom... No danger there. Nat wouldn't go inside with him either right?" Steve lets out a sigh at Sam's statement. Natasha, the head of security, ruled with an iron fist. She had all of them so scared they wouldn't dare to disobey her orders... except maybe her husband Clint but he got free passes for life.

"Right... Just come right back here?" Bucky looks at him and with a sigh and a nod Steve agrees. Before they can say anything else and before whatever lady just seems to approach them can start to talk, Steve hurries to the restroom. He locks himself in a cabin just for a few moments alone. But even those aren't truly alone.

The door to the restroom opens up not too long after him and of course that person takes ages to do their business. With a silent grumble Steve finishes up and leaves the cabin to wash his hands. Just then the door to another cabin opens and an older gentleman with thinning grey hair, in a three piece suit steps out. His eyes meet Steve's in the mirror as he walks up to the sink area himself. They look cold, although he has a smile plastered on his face. Fake niceties like Steve has grown used to.

"King Rogers." He acknowledges and Steve simply gives a nod. He isn't even safe in the fucking bathroom!

"Black isn't really your colour." Steve's brows furrow. What was that supposed to mean? "You know many families waited for the old crone to finally step down and let you be the king. Women shouldn't hold that much power, especially when there's no king at her side to keep her in check. Who would have thought it would take her to die for you to finally step up." The man seems calm and collected as if he didn't just insult Steve's mother.

"What the fuck did you say about my mom? Old crone?!" His blood was boiling and he was this close to hitting the old man if it weren't for his manners. His mom raised him better but she wasn't here to keep him in check was she?

"Oh calm down Steven. No need to get all flustered and angry. Hold your tongue before you say something you'll regret. We'll be one happy family soon after all." The man smirked and calmly dried his hands. He teaches over and turns off Steve's tab, the blonde frozen from anger. What did he just say? He must be demented. "What?" Is all that Steve can bring out. Confused and angry and still so so close to punch that guy.

"Oh you don't know. Can't say I'm surprised, your mother shielded you a lot. Now I have to do all the explaining. That's why women should never be in charge.” he rolls his eyes. “Are you familiar with the Hastings family?" The man hands Steve one of the towels and casually leans against the sink. Hastings? Steve has heard that name before... Wasn't that the royal family that fell from grace three generations ago? His eyes flit to the man.

"Sounds familiar." Is all he can grid out. What is this man on about? Is he just here to gossip?

"Clever boy." The smirk on the old man's face is uncanny. As if he can read Steve all too well. "You know exactly who they are but instead of going off to gossip like all the other royals out there you keep your answer neutral. What a good king you make." Steve's confusion grows.

"What does the Hastings family have to do with us becoming one?" Steve bites out. "Ah straight to business. Just how I like it. You see the Hastings family and the Rogers family go way back. Many, many generations in fact. King Joseph Rogers the first and King George Hastings even made a little pact, that yes, still stands today." His eyes search Steve's face and his grin looks so satisfied. "That the families will unite as soon as there is a male and female heir born into the families. Now ever since then both families only bore strong sons with an occasional daughter that was out of the age range for marriage. That is until roughly 30 years ago. When you and my granddaughter were born just two years apart." Steve's brow lifts. The old man was a Hastings. Wanting to fulfill a deal that was made over a hundred years ago... Bullshit.

"Whatever deal you're referring to will not stand with today's laws. So you can stop badmouthing my mom and trying to get me to marry your desperate granddaughter now." Steve spits. The man just grins. "Oh, it will Steven. Here let your lawyers check this and then get back to me about when my granddaughter can move in with you. " He laughs and hands Steve an envelope before he walks out of the restroom and back into the gala.

Steve's eyes fall on the envelope, it's burning in his hands but he needs to get this checked. He can't marry someone because of an old deal. He can't marry someone with a grandfather daring to insult his mom that's not even been dead for a month. Steve's eyes start to burn with tears. His mom shielded him from so much while she also did her best to prepare him for this life... He wishes she was here... That he wouldn't need to mourn her so publicly while also keeping his tears in to not seem weak. He wishes he could wear the dark blue suits she got for him because according to her that's the colour he looks the most handsome in. He wishes she could brush his hair out of his face one more time. Just once more with that sweet smile that was reserved for him only.

He takes a shakey breath and swallows the lump in his throat. A brief look in the mirror, a deep breath, straightening his tie. He can't show weakness. Not here, not ever. 'Safe the tears for your bedroom, Rogers.' the voice in his head commands. He wipes away the stray tear that got caught in his lashes, pockets the envelope and with another deep breath makes his way back to his friends.

They're chatting, most likely teasing each other. As soon as Bucky sees him both heads turn to Steve with a concerned gaze swiping up and down. They seem to come to the conclusion that he's okay and relax. "We need to leave." he says as soon as he reaches them. His tone more urgent than he wanted to. "Why you got diarrhea? Took you pretty long in there... I told ya to lay it easy on the hors d'oeuvres." Bucky teases with a grin that immediately falls as soon as he sees Steves eyes. Sam can't even get his joke in before Bucky declares that they're leaving. He leads Steve to the host of the gala for a quick goodbye and then out to the car they came in.

Within 10 minutes they're on the road. For the first time with only the three of them in the car, Steve pulls up the divider for privacy. Shielded from Sam and Bucky, he allows himself to spill a few tears for his mother before he can make it to the safety of his bedroom. He knows that will be away for another few hours, especially with the envelope that's burning a hole into his pocket.

Ever since you were young your family hasn't cared much for you. The only thing that was important to them was that you did exactly what they wanted... in every aspect of your life. You got the education they wanted, you went to college for what they wanted and you hid your interests to make them like you. At the beginning of your twenties you finally broke out of that circle. You moved far away with your friend and only occasionally visited for important matters, much to their dismay. Just like you were now.

The train ride never isn't boring, even with a good book and music. The most thrilling plot or the most beautiful lyrics couldn't distract you from the stranger sitting next to you. Somehow you always had the luck of them eating something disgusting, talking loudly on the phone, constantly bumping into you or being a stranger to the concept of headphones.

Your eyes wander over to your friend and her husband for the millionth time. They were sitting together, cuddling, yet somehow each minding their own business. Her husband looking out of the window, headphones in, music on and daydreaming. Your friend reading the newest book from her favourite author. How you wish you had someone to share a seat with... to share a life with. You wouldn't have a stranger next to you. You'd have a partner. You could cuddle and mind your own business at the same time... or play a game? Would you get upset at them winning Uno? Or would you love them too much to get frustrated?

You let out a sigh. You've been single for so long... a partner was still written in the stars and wouldn't come by anytime soon. So you'd have to deal with strangers next to you on the train, the couch for yourself and your family constantly badgering you when you'd move back and find a partner. It's not like you planned being almost thirty and still single. As a child you dreamed about being married with children at this age. Maybe having a little house and a dog. You wanted to be surrounded by friends, leave your family out of it as much as you could. Just enjoy life with your partner. But here you were, still alone. Maybe wallowing in self pity at a life that could have been would be a good way to pass time till you were back at your family's place.

You pull your suitcase after you. The walk from the train station wasn't too long and you know better than to ask anyone to pick you up. You don't want to inconvenience them or owe them. Last time you asked your mother and she made you wash all the dishes from the family party by hand after you played waitress during the entirety of it. You'd rather choose walking 30 minutes to the house than do that again.

As you come closer you spot your grandpa's car in the driveway. He must be here to oversee the preparations for his birthday party tomorrow. You briefly look down at yourself, jeans and t-shirt. It looks good enough but you already know you'd be criticised left and right. Never enough for them.

With a deep breath you ring the doorbell and wait. It's not too long before the door opens to reveal your mother. She takes in your appearance and sneers before she greets you. She steps to the side to let you in. "You visit your family that you never see and you show up dressed like some slob. You could wear something nice every now and then." She grumbles before she goes to the living room to announce that you're here. Well if you knew your grandpa would be here a day early you would have tried to wear something nicer. You leave your suitcase next to the door and follow her into the living room. You greet everyone and listen to your siblings' judgments until your grandpa stops them.

"Enough. Let's not ruin this joyful day for our family." He announces before he gets up and stands next to you. Joyful day? What happened? Did he finally win the lottery? You look at him confused.

"You all need to learn to not criticise her so much anymore. After all it would be a bad image to her fiancé and the press." Everyone nods along as if what he said did make any sense. Even your father who usually only shows interest for the drink in front of him, nods along. Has he got dementia since the last time you visited? "What?" Is all you can bring out at which your mother scoffs.

"Well dear... It took you a long time to find a partner, which in hindsight I'm very grateful about. You know our family has a long history and its history and glory shall be restored soon enough.” Your grandpa declares like it's some victory. “Many hundred years ago our ancestors made a deal with the royal family of Brooken. The first heirs of opposite sex shall marry and unite our families. It just never worked out age wise until you came along. Born just two years after the now reigning King Steven Rogers." He explains and you're absolutely sure they all lost their damn minds. No royal family would make a deal with commoners, especially back then.

"Well I recently met the young man and reminded him of this deal. He's more than eager to fulfill it and marry you. He'll collect you and bring you to Brooken tomorrow." He squeezes your arm, a smile plastered on his face. You can't do anything but stare at him and then burst out in laughter. They were messing with you. Or playing along with your grandpa's dementia... But no one else was laughing. They all looked rather serious... And the house looked so clean... Was this not a joke?

"This... This has to be a joke...?" You say, looking at him with desperation. "Why would it be? You'll restore the Hasting family's glory and finally be of use to us.” your heart breaks a little more. Were you truly this worthless? Did nothing you did for them before count? You look up at them, desperate to find any sign that this wasn't true. That they were playing a prank. The stone faces of your parents and siblings look back at you. This... This wasn't a joke. They'd marry you off to some stranger. To a king? To gain what? What about your life? What about your place? Your job? You can't just leave that behind for some king who's probably a huge asshole... Your long fought for freedom taken by your family and that guy. Back under control, every move watched and criticised.

The rest of the day has been cruel. Your family was between joy at your engagement to a king and anger at you trying to refuse. In-between all the explaining, that really didn't give you any new information or any that would make sense of the situation, you texted your friend which promised to call you later.

“It's not all that bad… at least he's handsome!” Your friend tries to reason. “Plus you'd be a queen! No more shitty job that doesn't pay you enough. You'd live in a castle and wear pretty dresses.” She offers and is met with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah that's great but at what cost? My freedom. I really love my one bedroom apartment. You know why? Because it's mine. I can do what I want. And in his castle? I probably won't even be allowed to hang a picture on the wall. There'll be people watching my every move and reporting back to him. I'll be just as miserable as I used to be at my parents place.” The white of the ceiling starts to become blurry with the tears that are about to spill. “What if I can never see you again? What if he won't let me have any friends?” Your voice breaks at the thought.

“He doesn't look like he'd be such an asshole. He looks nice and the articles write nice things about him too.” She reasons. “Yeah and who has big influence on the press? Him. Of course they wouldn't write anything bad about him.” You complain. “They have written not so nice things about him. Especially with him grieving his mother…” that you do feel sorry for. They seemed to have a good relationship, losing a loving parent isn't easy. “Give him a chance. You never know maybe he's a prince charming.” Her voice sounds encouraging.

“What does a king even want with a commoner? Why would a king make a deal like that hundreds of years ago? I don't get it…” you question. “Who knows maybe your family had blackmail material on the royals.” At that you snort a bit. “Maybe… he seems eager to get married. My family is eager for this. Why am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?” Your hands pick on the scratchy blanket your mother put on the guest bed for you. “Because you're the one who loses a lot for this. Your family gains royalty… at least they'll be royal adjacent? I mean they do have the stick up their asses like royals already. And he gains a wife? Dating must be hard when you're a king.” She muses. “His last relationship was six years ago. His ex left him for another prince and got married like a year after.” You hum at the information she found. His whole life could be found on the internet which makes you wonder what he even knows about you? Your family didn't even know you so he couldn't even get something accurate from them.

“Listen, I gotta go… but give it a chance? And if he's an asshole and you need out, you text me and we'll come to break you out ok?” you sigh at your friends offer but ultimately agree. You'll try, it's not like you can leave the house and flee without your family noticing and coming for you anyways. You place your phone on the nightstand and cuddle up in bed. Your eyes fall on the monstrosity of dress your mother picked out for you. Maybe if you truly wore that pink pile of whatever the seamstress had left over, he'd run for the hills and you'd still be free.

"Sorry Steve... I can check a few more things but this is airtight... They can force you to marry that girl..." his lawyer says. Steve sighs and looks up from his desk to look at the brunette who meets him with a warm empathetic smile. Maria Hill, top of her class, badass in their softball team and brilliant lawyer. Steve recommended her to his mom when the old lawyer retired. Maria showed her wits and was hired within two hours of her interview.

"There's no way a deal from over a hundred years ago still holds up! You're telling me there was not a single occasion where this desk could have already been fulfilled? Aren't the Hastings fucking hornballs with so many family members? They're not even royal anymore! How does this hold up?" Bucky rants, clearly trying to protect his friend. Maria meets his eyes and lifts an eyebrow.

"Well if you want to go through the entire family trees and history to try and prove that be my guest. Matter of fact is that King Joseph and King George thought of everything in their agreement. Even the downfall of royalty... Or in this case the downfall of one royal family. This seems to be their way back. Making Steve marry the granddaughter so at least she is tuly royal." Maria says dryly. "I will check it over once more. I think we all should get as much rest as this night still offers but... don't get your hopes up Steve." She adds as she gets up and takes the contract that was in the envelope before. "What if we kill her. Can't marry someone that's dead" Bucky suggests and immediately gets a slap on the back of his head from Sam.

"As your lawyer I would advice against the murder of the future spouse of your best friend. You'd be one of the first suspects and I'm sorry to say this Barnes but your pokerface isn't as great as you'd like to think." Maria states before she looks at Steve. He's exhausted, his face in his hands, his hair ruffled. "Go to bed Steve." She says softly, worried about her friend.

Steve let's out a sigh and gets up. "Dismissed. Good night." Is all he can say before he drags himself out of his office and up the stairs. His mind is a flurry of thoughts that just won't shut up no matter how much he tries. He lets out a sigh as soon as he reaches the third floor. To the left is his room, to the right the room of his mother. His legs move on their own, carrying him to the portrait of her that's covered in a black veil. In the last month he often stood in front of it. He wished it good night before he'd get in bed. Just like he planned to do today.

"Night mom..." He whispers, the tears in his eyes returning once more. "This is all so hard without you… you would know what to do with this stupid deal… I wish you were here." his voice breaks at that. He gulps and tries to hold back his tears. He isn't in the safety of his own bedroom yet. But he isn't sure he's gonna make it till there. His eyes wander to his door, so far away, and back to the portrait. He gulps and moves towards her door. Her room is safe too. Even if it brings sad memories.

He softly closes the door behind him, his eyes falling onto her bed. He'd often sleep with her as a child. When he had nightmares, when he was upset about his father dying, when he was sick. Just one more time he tells himself and takes off his shoes. He can sleep in the sweatpants and shirt he put on earlier, he doesn't need a fancy pyjama set. Hesitantly he slips under the yellow covers. His nose immediately fills with her scent. Her favourite laundry detergent mixed with her perfume and he can't hold back the tears any longer. The dam breaks and he sobs into her pillow. After many minutes of crying he falls asleep enveloped by her one more time.

[winterrrnight]

“and so we meet” — new beginnings chapter I

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

WARNINGS: none!

EDITH SPEAKS: this is just the first chapter, so please please bare with me as it’s certainly not the best, and it’s also very short. the plot will pick up speed as we move along, and there’s so much planned for the three of them!! if you enjoyed reading it, please reblog, and share your thoughts with me 🍂

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↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“Sage! Don’t run off like that!” You yell out, watching the little figure giggling as she rushes in one of the aisles of the grocery stores you're in. No matter how hard you try, you can never try to control your daughter, she’s like a little energy packet.

But you also trust her, knowing she won’t pick something unknown off the shelves and open it up, or bother someone in the store. Letting her have her fun, you direct your attention to the vegetables you initially came to shop for.

As you’re filling up your basket with everything you may need, you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“Excuse me?”

You hear a masculine voice along with the throat clearing, and you turn around to see a strange man with your daughter next to him, her holding onto his hand.

“Sage what did you do?” You say sternly, picking her up in your arms. “I’m so sorry about that, she’s one little restless child,” you chuckle.

“That’s okay,” the stranger says, and you look up to see the most alluring pair of blue eyes you’ve ever seen. “She was just running around and crashed into me without realizing,”

“Oh- oh Sage you’ve got to control yourself!” You tell her, but your daughter only giggles at your words. “Again, I’m so sorry about her,”

The stranger chuckles. “It really is okay, she’s really cute,”

A moment of silence drapes around you both, as you’re looking at your shoes and the stranger is looking around. There is something so odd about this person, something so oddly attractive that isn’t letting you go of this situation you’re in quicker.

“Well, it was really nice meeting you…” you trail off, not knowing what name to put on this face.

“Oh- Rafe,” he smiles at you.

“Rafe. It was nice meeting you Rafe, I hope we’ll see you again someday,” you smile, as you start to push your cart with one hand, and your daughter on your hip.

“Byeeee!” She says excitedly with a fit of giggles, waving at the man vigorously. You hear him chuckle at her actions, and you can’t help but let a smile grace your face.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

As you’re strapping Sage into her car seat, you feel someone tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see Rafe.

“Rafe?” You ask quizzically, not sure why your next meeting should be this soon.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but you left these,” he puts out his hand and you see your keys on his palm, “keys while you were packing everything up,”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, realizing those are your house keys. “Thank you so much Rafe, we’ve been bothering you so much today,” you laugh nervously.

“Nonsense, I’ve loved meeting you two,” he smiles at you and looks at Sage through the window, but she’s already asleep.

“Well, thank you again,” You smile as you start to make your way to the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t catch your name!” He says out loud, just as you’re about to close your car door.

“It’s y/n, don’t forget us,” you tease, and you drive away. Rafe watches your car drive away with a smile on his face and a beat in his heart.

“Oh I definitely won’t.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rafeinterlude @rylie-m @zulema222 @karmasloverrr @leixwhite02 @congratsloserr @rubixgsworld

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[loomiseater]

Lose end

warnings: slight smut!, fem!reader, pet names: princess/baby, killing, mentions of killing, and blood.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

A/N: first post of December!! I'm getting back into the habit of posting more!

Billy Loomis x fem!reader

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Written: December 1st, 2024

Published: December 1st, 2024

Summary: You want to kill again, chase after that high you got when you first did it..but what happens if Billy wants to take it too far?

wc: 2,804

“Yes! Fuck, Billy, I’m cumming!” I moaned as Billy gave me one last thrust before cumming inside me. “I love being inside this pretty pussy.” He whispered in my ear before pulling out and falling back down on the bed. I rolled over and laid on his chest as he wrapped me in his arms.

As I was laid in his arms there was a comforting silence. We had just got done with at least an hour of sex and the room was filled with Billy’s and I’s heavy breathing. I then finally decided to speak up.

“Billy?” “Yes?”

“I’ve been having those dark thoughts again.” I stated. Billy corked his eyebrow at me. “Yeah? What are they?” He asked me softly. “I want to kill again…that one kill wasn’t enough for me, I need the adrenaline again of the first kill!” I answered.

He nodded his head in agreement with me and I was relieved. Billy’s approval is the only thing that matters to me. “I’ve been thinking about that too, Maureen Prescott wasn’t enough…we need to kill Sidney too.” Billy said as he was deep in thought.

My eyes widened at his sentence. Why Sidney? We can kill random people off the street, nor our friend. And besides Maureen deserved it, she destroyed two families. “Why? She had nothing to do with what her mom did.” I said back.

Billy scoffed before responding. His face didn’t have that soft look anymore, he looked angry, hurt even.

“I don’t care if she didn’t have anything to do with it! That whole family needs to die. Her dad included.” The words spat out of his mouth with much hate.

It’s been a year-well, a year in 3 days that me, Billy, and Stu, killed Sids mother. When Billy first came to me with the idea I was disgusted with him, hell- I almost left him. But he’s my boyfriend and I hated seeing him depressed after his mother left, which was a result from Maureen.

She had to die. Kill the root of the problem.

I slowly nodded my head before answering to what Billy had just said. “Okay. Sidney has to go..her dad too.” It hurt me so much to say that. I’m going to kill my best friend since grade school.

“How do you think Stu will react once we tell him this? You know he likes Sidney, he’s obsessed with her!” Billy laughed at my response, shaking his head. “He never had a chance with her anyways, and besides, I might have to kill him too.” Billy said as he got up and grabbed his boxers.

My heart dropped. Kill Stu? He didn’t do anything. I looked at Billy with a hurt expression. How could he want to kill his best friend?

“You’re not killing Stu!” I tried to be confident but my voice cracked a bit.

“What? You like him or something?” He teasingly said but there was some jealously hidden behind those words. “Yes, I like Stu, as a friend. He’s our friend! You can’t just murder him, especially after all he’s done to help us! If anyone else should be dying right now it should be your mother! She’s the one who left without even-“ before I could finish Billy grabbed my throat tightly, squeezing it a bit.

“Keep my mothers name out your mouth!” He spat. It was as if this was a completely different Billy. He had that serious, crazy, dark look in his eyes too.

I nodded my head receptively hoping that he would let go soon enough but his grip only got tighter. He came face to face with me, his lips almost touching mines while his hand was still wrapped around my throat.

“I’m killing Stu. Thats final, we don’t need any loose ends, okay, princess?” His features now softened as he looked into my eyes, seeing the fear in them.

I nodded my head yes in response as he then kissed me. Nice and slow like he usually does.

2 days later…

Our plan was in motion now. Stu was gonna have the party later on tonight and we’re gonna kill Sidney at midnight. After Sidney dies along with her dad, Billy kills Stu, then me and Billy call the cops and tell them that the killer attacked us.

But before all that happens, Billy needs to kill Principal HImbry so everyone can leave.

The school day was now over- well, cut early due to the new curfew set in place from Caesy Becker being gutted open from Billy and Stu. I didn’t help out with that murder, I was just the getaway driver.

Sidney, Tatum, and I were now leaving the school building about to walk home until Stu came up from behind and thew Tatum over his shoulder.

“You girls are gonna bring the snacks! And please don’t get that gluten free, vegan, healthy shit. Yes, I’m talking to you, Sid!” He teasingly said as he pointed to her. I couldn’t help but laugh at his little comment.

I looked at the three of them, trying to savor this sweet moment. This was my last day with them- except Tatum. It’s just gonna be me, her, and Billy for now on. My heart ached at just the thought of Sidney and Stu being gone.

Stu eventually went his separate way while me, Sid, and Tatum walked over to the nearest store. When we got there we noticed Dewey and the Sheriff standing outside talking to each other.

I love Dewey, he likes the older brother I never had. If he ever found out what I was doing he would be heartbroken, disgusted at my actions.

He walked over to the three of us, him speaking first. “What’re you girls doing here? Curfew should be starting soon.” He said with a hint of concern in his voice. “Stu’s throwing a party, so we can left of some steam. We could all use a little bit of happiness right now..especially with the murders going on.” Tatum explained.

“Alright, I mean I guess you guys could go, but I’m driving you guys there.” He said with a faint smile on his face. Before me and Sidney could thank him, Tatum spoke up.

“We weren’t asking for your permission to go, dumbass! But thanks for the ride!” Dewey didn’t even bother responding to her, he was amused, laughed even.

We now headed into the store grabbing snacks for the party. The snacks consisted of chips, ice creams, soda, and cookies.

At the party…

“Hey! You guys made it!” Stu greeted us as he gave Tatum a kiss. Sidney and I walked off to the living room while Tatum stayed back with Stu. We sat down on the couch and all I could think about was our plan for tonight.

I was going to kill my best friend tonight.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been unusually quiet today..” Sidney asked. “Yeah! Just um- I’m on my period. You know..cramps and stuff.” I nodded. I tried to come off normal but I only sounded awkward, nervous even.

She didn’t question it, not wanting to push me even more so she changed the subject. “So, how’re you and Billy doing?” She asked with a little smile. “We’ve been good, ya know? Our communication has definitely gotten better!” My voice was coated with cheerfulness. I was being honest, me and Billy were having a rough patch, everyone knows that. But we’re better now.

“Thats good to hear. I’m happy for you Y/n/n.”

“I’m gonna grab a drink, you want anything?” She asked. “No thanks, I’m fine!” I answered. Sid went to go get something to drink while I went to the front door since Billy and Stu were standing over there.

“Is Himbry gone?” I whispered. Billy nodded before answering. “Yup. His body is hanging on the goal post.” He said with a smirk as I just shook my head.

“So..I’m gonna go upstairs and hide our for a bit, make a call so everyone can leave, okay?” “okay.” I answered. Billy placed a kiss on my cheek before going upstairs.

Now it was just me and Stu. I haven’t had the chance to tell him about us killing Sid, he thought we were killing Randy.

Yes, Stu is dating Tatum but he also likes Sid. He confessed that to Billy and I, I never noticed his interactions with Sid until he told us that. But I don’t think Stu necessarily likes Sid..but is more so obsessed with her. And everyone knows Randy likes Sid but she’s the only one who’s oblivious to it, so Stu wants to get rid of that problem.

“Stu?”

“Yes?”

“Theres something I need to tell you..” I softly said as I held his hands. He looked at me strangely but didn’t say anything. “Billy wants to kill Sidney.” I whispered. A tear fell down my eye as the words fell out of my mouth. Stu looked at me with betrayal, hurt. I tried to console him but he hastily snatched his hands from me.

“Stu come back!” My words came out cracked and low. I didn’t wanna draw too much attention to us so I quickly wiped my tears. He didn’t even look back at me, he just kept watching.

There was a knock at the door, I turned around and opened it, assuming it was just another classmate. But it was Dewey and…the news reporter bitch? The hell was she doing her?

“Hey, Y/n/n!” Dewey greeted. “What’re you doing here?” I asked, completely ignoring the bitch on the side of him. I remembered who she was now. She was the woman who constantly reported on Sid’s moms death.

“I just wanted to keep an eye on you guys, make sure theres no murders.” He teasingly said. I dryly laughed at his comment. I soon made my way back over to the couch where Randy and Sid were sitting at.

2 hours later..

I was in the kitchen with Sid..covered in Randy’s blood. I tried to save him, I had no idea that Billy was gonna kill him. But like he said. ‘No lose ends.’

“Are you gonna kill me too?” She asked quietly. I didn’t even have the courage to look Sid in the eye. “ANSWER ME Y/N!” She shouted as tears began sliding down like a waterfall on my face. “I’m sorry! I have to!” I said with an apologetic look on my face. “Why?! Just so you can please Billy and Stu?! You guys killed my mother! Tatum, Dewey, and Randy!” She exclaimed.

“You’re mother deserved it!” I snapped back. Sid’s face turned into a hurt and questioning look. “She destroyed Billy’s family! Caused his mother to leave, and sent Billy into depression! She needed to pay.” I didn’t realize that I became face to face with Sid. “So what? I deserve to pay for my mothers sins?” She asked as she now looked at the ground.

“No. You don’t.” I responded.

She looked up at me with shock covering her face. I was in my own thoughts, thinking about how this would all play out..until I remembered what Billy said.

‘No lose ends.’

If Billy has no problem with taking out Stu, his best friend since day one..whats stopping him from killing me too?

Billy is my lose end.

I pulled out the gun from my back pocket that Billy had handed me after he shot Randy.

“You’re not dying tonight, Sid.” I said to her. She tilted her head in confusion at my comment.

“We’re going to kill Billy and Stu.” I sternly said.

“How? They’re in control of this whole situation. Theres no way we can over power them.” Sid said. She sounded scared. If I was her I would be scared too. You don’t know who you can trust in this situation.

“They’re already wounded from when they were stabbing each other in here earlier. The plan is, you take Stu and I take Billy. Stab your fingers in ALL of his stab wounds, don’t hold back. Bite, slap, punch, hell-gouge his eyes out. Do whatever you need to do to take him out!” I stated.

“How are you gonna take Billy out?” She suspiciously asked. “I guess I’ll just improvise.”

“But I need you to take to the gun. I have a better chance of surviving if I stab him, he could easily flip the gun on me.” I said as I handed Sid the gun. She stuck it in the back of her pants, covering it up with her jean jacket.

Billy and Stu were walking back into the house after moving Dewey and Gale’s body.

“Ready?”

Sid nodded her head in response.

“And why the hell are you not dead yet?” Billy questioned Sid. I hurried and stepped in before he could say anything else.

“Because I was waiting for you, baby! You should be the one who kills her…I mean..it was her mother who ruined your family.” I said while looking up at him with that look I always give when I want something. “You’re right, princess.” He smirked before leaning in to give me a kiss.

Perfect he was vulnerable.

I squeezed and yanked his balls as hard as I could and that was a good enough signal for Sid to attack to Stu.

Billy pulled away looking at me in complete utter shock. “What the hell?!” Before he could react I have him a right hook to the jaw, making him fall back into the ground. From the corner of my eye I could see Sid on top of Stu, pushing her fingers inside his wounds as he screamed out in agony.

Billy stood back up to his feet as he now towered over to me. “You little bitch!” he shouted as he grabbed me by my throat and threw me into the wall.

I screamed out in pain when my back hit the wall. It felt like someone threw a brick at me. Billy then walked over to me and was now straddling over me. “You were the only person who I thought I could trust, but you screwed me over just like everyone else!” He slapped me straight across the face as I winced in pain. Yeah I definitely felt that sting. Hurt like hell.

“You act like you weren’t gonna screw me over! You were gonna kill Stu! So whats stopping you from killing me next!” I said, but my voice was strained- I mean he just choked the shit out of me, threw me against the wall, and backhanded me.

“I’m sorry, princess!” He cried as his body now laid on top. What the hell?

Billy laid his face into my chest and started crying. “You were right..but I have to kill you, baby.” he lowly said into my chest. My eyes widened, I didn’t think he was actually gonna admit it.

He lifted his head from my chest and slowly kissed me for the last time.

This was my chance.

In the middle of our kiss, I slowly pulled out my knife from my back pocket and stabbed him right in his liver.

“AHH!” He screamed out as I then stuck my fingers in his wound.

He screamed even louder, now touching his wound to where I stabbed him. I heard a bang sound but I tuned out. “The gun!” I shouted to Sid.

She tossed the gun towards me and I shot Billy straight into the stomach.

His body fell limp on top of me. His blood was slowly seeping to my shirt. It was sticky, yet cold. I hurried and pushed him off of me, scurrying up off the floor and now running to where Sid was standing.

Stu was dead.

“The t.v. seriously killed him?” I asked in a chuckle as she started laughing. “You said do whatever you need to do.” She laughed as I nodded my head.

We then heard a thud come from the closet. We both turned around, still on high alert. It was Sid’s dad.

“Dad!” She said, relieved at who it was.

She untied him and urged him to call the cops. He called them from the phone in the kitchen as me and Sid walked back into the living room.

It was silent before I spoke up. “I know that you can never forgive me for what happened and I-“ Before I could finish my sentence she hugged me tightly. “You could’ve killed me, but you didn’t.” She said into my neck.

We pulled away from the hug, now looking around at the bodies and the mess.

I saw Stu’s leg twitch a bit, but I didn’t think anything of it, he’s probably still suffocating.

I can’t believe it had to end this way.

[stylestarkey]

the debutante’s dilemma (03)

𐙚 a rafe cameron social media and irl au

pairing   rafe cameron X carrera!reader

summary   spending every summer in the outer banks with your cousin kiara carrera were always a given—a break from the chaos of new york city. but this year is different. your mom, now an organiser for the annual debutante ball, is determined to introduce you to society. and you have a dilemma: finding the perfect escort.

warnings   swearing.

navigation   masterlist 02 03 04

you didn’t understand why kie got so weird every time you mentioned the camerons. it wasn’t just irritation—it was something deeper, something she refused to say out loud. it was like she wanted to protect you from them but wouldn’t explain why.

but when sarah texted you to confirm your plans for tuesday, you said yes without hesitation. if kie wasn’t going to tell you what her deal was, you’d find out for yourself. besides, sarah had been nothing but kind to you—warm, funny, easy to talk to.

and then there was rafe.

when your mom told you he’d be your escort, you weren’t sure how to feel. your first impression of him at the golf course had been… interesting. he was arrogant, sure, but he wasn’t completely unbearable. and when you found out he and sarah were siblings, you figured, why not?

every summer in the outer banks had always been just you and kie. would it really hurt to make some new friends?

sarah steps down from the fitting platform, running her fingers through her hair as the tailor finishes pinning the last few adjustments. “your turn,” she says, plopping into a nearby chair.

you step up hesitantly, standing still as the woman wraps a measuring tape around your arms. sarah hums, flipping through a rack of dresses, eyes scanning the fabrics.

“so, hold on—topper is your boyfriend?” you ask, raising a brow.

“mm-hmm,” she hums, distracted. then she glances at you with a sly grin. 

“he told me you rejected rafe at the golf course. i died laughing.”

you scoff. “i didn’t reject him. i just… didn’t care about who he was.”

sarah smirks, shaking her head. “wait—don’t tell me. did he introduce himself like, hey, i’m rafe cameron. you should know who i am?”

your jaw drops. “that is exactly what he said!”

sarah throws her head back, laughing. “god, he’s such an idiot.” she leans against the wall, arms crossed, still grinning. “honestly, i have no idea how rose convinced him to do this. i mean, it’s rafe.” kie had said the same thing, like the thought of rafe agreeing was ridiculous. she shakes her head. “but then rose showed him a picture of you, and suddenly he was interested. said he already met you.”

you roll your eyes. “great. let’s just hope he can dance.”

after the fitting, the two of you step out into the humid morning air, walking toward a nearby brunch spot. the sun beats down, and the ocean breeze barely cuts through the heat. sarah walks beside you, her sunglasses perched on her head, twirling her phone between her fingers.

“so, you’re related to kie, right?” she asks casually. “judging by your last name.”

“yeah,” you nod. “our moms are sisters.”

“that’s cool. how is she?”

you hesitate for a second too long. “she’s… good. how do you know her?”

sarah hums, her fingers brushing through her hair. “we were best friends in middle school,” she says, her voice light, but there’s an edge to it. “then she moved to public.”

you don’t ask for more details.

but it doesn’t sit right with you—how weird kie got at the mention of sarah, and how normal sarah seemed about it.

one of them wasn’t telling the whole story.

your mom insisted on driving you to the country club, even though you told her you could take the bus. she was way too excited about this whole debutante thing, and honestly, you didn’t mind. it was nice seeing her like that.

the performing arts room was in a separate building connected to the main country club. as you stepped inside, the scent of polished wood and faint perfume filled the air. chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow, while a mirrored wall reflected the room’s high ceilings and wooden floors. a grand piano sat untouched in the corner, and a stage stretched along one side of the room. girls stood in groups, chatting with their partners, laughter filling the space.

you scanned the room, expecting to spot sarah, but instead, you caught sight of rafe. arms crossed, expression unreadable, walking straight toward you. he didn’t look particularly amused.

“pissed i beat you in mini golf?” you teased, tilting your head. a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you shifted your weight onto one foot, watching his reaction.

he scoffed, shaking his head. “oh please, you really want to play one-on-one right now? that was an imessage game, and you’re late.”

your eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. “it’s 3:05.”

“rose said rehearsals start at 3,” he shot back, his tone flat, like he’d been waiting to call you out on it.

you rolled your eyes. “whatever, rafe. your sister isn’t even here yet.”

“she’s coming with topper,” he muttered.

before you could respond, sarah’s voice cut through the conversation.

“we’re here!” she grinned, stepping into the room with topper right behind her. topper clapped a hand on rafe’s shoulder, shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief. “wow, you’re here early, bro. that’s new.”

rafe shoved his hand off with an eye roll, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a laugh.

after a while, the dance coach gathered everyone. warm-ups came first, stretching and a few simple steps before getting everyone into position. the dance was formal and old-fashioned—like something straight out of a victorian ball. stiff posture, careful footwork, calculated movements. you expected dancing with rafe to be awkward, but to your surprise, he was actually good. confident, sure-footed. not what you expected at all.

surprisingly, you got along with the other girls too. their wealth and privilege were obvious in the way they talked—casual mentions of summering in europe, custom-designed dresses, and family connections that opened every door. but you brushed it off. starting drama wasn’t worth it. besides, for the most part, they were nice enough.

after almost two hours, rehearsal wrapped up. you and sarah said your goodbyes, ignoring rafe and topper’s exaggerated gagging noises as you hugged. stepping outside, you pulled out your phone, ready to call an uber.

rafe stood next to you, hands in his pockets, his stance casual as he looked out at the street, the sun casting shadows across his face.

“i forgot to thank you for agreeing to be my escort. i was stressing.” you glanced at him, tucking your phone away.

he raised a brow, his expression unreadable. “it was either you or ruthie, and topper is doing it. so don’t thank me.”

you frowned. “what’s wrong with ruthie?”

he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “she’s just a complete bitch. i’m surprised she even has a partner—probably had to pay him or something.”

you shot him a pointed look. “don’t be mean.”

he shrugged like he didn’t care. “wanna grab something to eat?”

your stomach twisted slightly at the thought. you were kind of hungry, but you sighed, pretending to be reluctant. “rehearsal made me pretty tired.”

rafe turned to you with a deadpan expression. “from learning twenty seconds of a three-minute dance?”

you scoffed, shoving your hands into your back pockets. “this is some bridgerton shit. like i’m rehearsing to perform in front of the british family.”

he smirked. “and you’re the one who said ‘i hope you can dance.’”

“oh, shut up.” you lightly smacked his arm, shaking your head.

his smirk widened. “plus, coach said the more time you spend with your partner, the more comfortable you get. just come, i’ll drive you home after.”

you hesitated, biting your lip. an uber would cost you, and with your mom out, there wasn’t food at home anyway.

“fine, but you’re paying for me.”

he scoffed, pulling his keys from his pocket. “so i’m driving and paying? what am i, your boyfriend?”

you shot him a teasing grin. “you wish.”

he rolled his eyes, nodding toward the parking lot. “c’mon.”

navigation masterlist 02 03 04

note how are we feeling!! lmk your thoughts :) - H <3

comment to be in the taglist — @chaengist @starkeysfile @sexualparkour @dontknow3m @vivian-555 @amterasuu

[puck-luck]

baby boy hughes (2) | beaquinn

saturday, august 21, 2032 10:34 A.M.

August is fun for a few reasons– first, it’s the last month of summer. Second, Bea and Quinn have made it a tradition to rent out a bungalow in Litchton every August so that they can spend time with Honey and Trevor. Third, Bea and Honey’s hockey-playing husbands have started a summer hockey camp in Litchton during the month of August. This year, it’s been Trevor and Quinn and their two teams of fifteen, practicing and learning the game and having weekly scrimmages.

That’s where they are now. Bea and Honey are sitting on the bleachers, watching a gaggle of elementary schoolers crowd around the puck to try and get a touch. Both Quinn and Trevor are calling for them to spread out, but the kids either can’t hear them or they would rather be the one to win the puck despite their coach’s shout.

“Oh, motherf–” Honey cuts herself off, but covers Luke’s ears. He’s sitting on her lap, playing with Honey’s wallet– he likes the zipper. Pennies keep dropping from the compartment, but Honey said she’d pick them up later. She looks at Bea. “Do you have a tampon? Or a pad?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’ll check my purse.” Bea unzips the bag and rifles around. “I thought you weren’t getting periods anymore. You told me the shot was finally working for you for real. No side effects.”

“It did, when I was still getting it,” Honey explains. “We switched BCs. I’m on the pill now instead of the shot.”

“Why’d you switch?” Bea can’t find a tampon. She starts to look again.

“We figured the pill would be easiest to get off of if we wanted to start trying,” Honey replies with a shrug. “We’ve been married for three years. Trev’s ready for a baby. I think we should wait a little longer. We’re trying to find a compromise, and the pill is what we’re at so far.”

“You didn’t tell me you were thinking about it,” Bea says. 

“I’m not sure yet. I like that it’s just me and Trevor right now. I’d still feel a bit like a teen mom if I got pregnant right now.”

“You’re turning thirty this year,” Bea laughs. “And I don’t have anything. I really thought I did. We can duck out to go to Food Lion and grab some before the game is over.”

“Okay, but you have to check me when I stand up,” Honey says. She shifts Luke in her arms as she stands up, making him drop the wallet. 

Luke lets out an indignant shout and starts wiggling in Honey’s arms. “Relax, bud, I’ll get my wallet,” Honey tells him. “Don’t throw a tantrum.” She bends over at the waist so that Bea can get a good look at her jeans, which are unblemished for the time being.

Bea pats Honey’s behind. “You’re good. Let’s go. I’ll drive if you put the guy in his carseat.”

“No way. I saw how he fought you on that at Mexico the other day. I’m not his mom.” Honey passes Luke to Bea, tucking her wallet into her purse. Luke is pouting, but he’s not screaming. Bea can work with pouting.

The fight to get into the carseat is just as frustrating as the time at Mexico that Honey is referring to. Luckily, Luke’s got a ministick in the backseat that he can use like a drumstick, adding a nice ambiance to the car ride. He’s reluctant to let the stick go when they get to Food Lion, so Bea carries him into the store with the stick in hand. 

Honey grabs a pack of tampons and heads to the bathroom. Bea considers grabbing a pack of her own, expecting that her own period ought to be coming soon. It’s been a minute since Bea had her period– it must have been around her birthday. Maybe it was before. She hesitates for a second, then goes to pull her phone of out of her back pocket. Luke tries to grab it, but she manages to hold it out of his reach. She navigates into her period tracking app.

Your period is 34 days late.

Bea’s jaw drops and she stares at her phone. That means her period was supposed to start soon after her birthday and didn’t. In her mind, she echoes Honey’s sentiment from earlier: “Motherfucker.”

Honey comes back from the bathroom and grins. “All good. Let’s go check out.”

“I think we have to buy something else,” Bea says. She hands her phone to Honey and watches the girl’s eyes grow wide. 

They take the pregnancy test in the Food Lion bathroom, the same one that Honey had just used. She holds Luke while Bea paces back and forth in front of the sink. It’s the second-longest three minutes of her life– the first was, of course, when she did something similar in her own bathroom nine months before Luke was born.

When it’s positive, Honey hugs Bea and squishes Luke between their bodies. They buy one more thing before leaving the store: a Best Big Brother shirt for Luke that’s as ugly as most grocery store shirts are, but Bea likes it. She wrestles it over Luke’s head before she belts him into the carseat to drive back to the rink. 

Bea hopes that Quinn will read the shirt and understand its meaning this time. When she’d learned that she was pregnant with Luke, she’d shelled out for a “Daddy 43” Canucks jersey that had taken two weeks to get to their apartment, which meant that Bea had had to wait two weeks to tell Quinn that she was pregnant. He hadn’t gotten the hint right away. Bea remembers how he’d said “Oh, this is sick, baby. Way to plan ahead.” and Bea had to say, “Quinn, no–”

Hopefully, he’ll read the shirt and get it this time. She’s got an hour until he’s off the ice for the day, so she’ll just have to see then.

wednesday, september 22, 2032 6:52 P.M.

“How’s my best girl feeling?” Quinn asks when he gets home. 

Bea’s got a lasagna going in the oven, so she’s been playing with Luke in his high chair while that cooks. She’s sitting at the table with a stack of kid’s books to her right and two superheroes in her hands. Luke is banging his Batman along his high chair tray and shouting gibberish.

Today marked ten weeks since Bea’s birthday, which is the day that she’s now certain is when Quinn knocked her up. Just like last pregnancy, ten weeks in, she’s not feeling good. Two years ago, she was able to lounge around all day and park herself in front of the toilet when need be. This year, she’s got an 18-month-old toddler running around. He does not want to be contained in the bathroom all day, no matter what Bea does to make the trips fun. She bought bathroom crayons and told him that he could draw on the walls. Luke didn’t care. He’s getting harder and harder to entertain as he grows.

Bea blinks at Quinn, able to feel the dark circles under her eyes and green tinge on her cheeks. She hasn’t stood up from the table since she and Luke sat down, knowing that she’ll probably only make it as far as the kitchen sink before she throws up again. “I hate you,” she says.

Quinn laughs. He picks Luke up and frees him from the high chair, kissing his chubby cheek before setting him down on the floor. 

Luke toddles away, probably up to no good, but at least Quinn is here now. He can run off and be the savior if Luke gets into trouble.

“You do not,” Quinn tells Bea, brushing her hair out of her face and greeting her with a kiss. He leans against the table, standing next to Bea. “I’m sorry you’re feeling sick, sweetheart.”

“I think I threw up every hour,” Bea complains. She pouts at Quinn from her seat at the table, putting Luke’s toys aside. “And Luke didn’t want to hang out with me. After lunch, I was putting him down for his nap, and I had to throw up in his little trash can because his diaper was rank, and do you know what he said to me?”

She despises the way Quinn’s lips quirk up, already stifling a laugh. He thinks their son is the funniest kid ever. “What did he say?” Quinn asks.

Bea puts on her best toddler voice. “Ew, Mama,” she quotes. “All done bleughhh.”

Quinn snorts and claps a hand over his mouth, shoulders shuddering. “He did not.”

“He did! He told me to go away once I got him in the crib, too.” Bea crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in the chair. “It’s not like I can help it.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Quinn assures her. “Luke’s not even two. He just doesn’t understand.”

Bea sighs and rolls her head back on her shoulders. “Can you put Luke down for bed tonight?” she asks. “I want to take a long bath.”

“Sure, Bea,” Quinn says. “I’ll rub your shoulders tonight too, if you want.”

He knows how horny she gets when he’s touching her, especially now that she’s pregnant. All of her senses are heightened and Quinn is taking full advantage of it. “You’re playing with fire, Hughes,” Bea tells him.

Luke comes speeding down the hallway, neon orange plastic puck in one hand. He’s dragging the stick that Quinn accidentally left in the laundry room behind him with his other hand, dangerously close to catching the blade on the base of the lamp in the front hallway. “Dada, play,” Luke requests, knocking Quinn’s thigh with the puck until Quinn takes it from him. Luke’s transitioning the stick to his other hand and swinging it like a weapon because he has no spatial awareness, so Quinn picks him up and wrestles the stick from his grip. He trades the puck back to placate the toddler.

Quinn leans down and kisses the top of Bea’s head. “Think about it. It would be so nice to have all of that tension just… melt away,” he teases. He thumbs over her lip and winks, then disappears down the hallway with Luke.

Bea lays her arms on the table and uses them to cushion her forehead. She takes a deep breath. She can hear her boys starting up a game of floor-hockey in Luke’s room and allows herself to relax. Quinn has effectively tagged in for the night, which Bea is happy about. She needs a few minutes to herself.

The oven beeps. Great timing– just when she’s free, the lasagna is ready.

wednesday, april 6, 2033 12:10 P.M.

Bea runs through her mental-checklist for the umpteenth time:

Honey has Luke. Check. 

She got very pale when Bea asked her to be in the delivery room and stammered out that she’d really prefer to be on Luke duty instead. It’s fine. Trixie said she’d sub in.

Trixie is grabbing a smoothie for Bea. Check.

The doctors said it would be fine for Bea to get some natural sugar in her system after the birth.

Quinn is going to call after practice. Check.

She’ll tell him that she’s in labor then. Check.

They’ll decide on a name then. Check.

He’s got a game tonight, then he can probably fly back tomorrow. She can also manage until their Florida roadie is over in three days. The playoffs are another story, but that’s in a few weeks. She has time to figure that out. 

Bea can probably convince her mom to come to Vancouver and watch the new baby while she takes Luke to a playoff game. It’s the first year since he was born that they’re in the race for the Cup and he’s really excited to see Quinn play. He’s always excited to see Quinn play, but Bea thinks that Quinn has managed to explain to Luke that they playoffs are special, and that’s what’s got him so excited. 

There are so many moving parts. Bea kind of wishes that she and Quinn had waited another month or two to get pregnant, right before the start of his season, so that he would be home for this birth.

She hopes practice is over soon. Honey, Trixie, and Bea had waited two hours before coming to the hospital because Bea had insisted it was fine. Luke took eighteen hours total, so she assumed Baby #2 could wait until after lunch.

She was wrong.

Baby #2 is coming much faster than Luke did.

Bea’s not actually sure she can hold him in until after Quinn calls. The contractions are getting very close together and, last the nurse checked, she was at eight centimeters. 

She’s standing now, using the bed as an anchor. Bea’s trying to bend forward at the waist to get a stretch in, but it’s making her lightheaded. Last time this happened, Quinn was standing beside her and rubbing her back, whispering in her ear and reminding her to breathe. Now, Quinn’s about four thousand miles away and in the middle of practice. 

They weren’t even expecting Baby #2 to come today. It’s a stroke of luck that Bea has people with her– Trixie happened to take an extra week off to hang out with Bea before the baby came. Honey’s only in town because Trevor played Seattle on Thursday and she wanted to come up to Vancouver for the weekend. He– because Bea’s pretty certain that it’s a he again– was scheduled to come on Monday. He’s a bit early and she’s not complaining, per se, because she loves her baby already, but he couldn’t wait until his dad gets home?

The nurse knocks on the door and enters, bringing Trixie with her. “Hi, Mrs. Hughes,” the nurse says softly. She touches Bea’s shoulder. “I need you to get on the bed so I can check how dilated you are.”

“I feel like I have to shit,” Bea grits out, lifting her head to eye the woman. “Does that tell you anything? I read somewhere that needing to shit means that you’re ready to push.”

The nurse considers her words. “It’s not uncommon. Let’s just check you first, then I’ll let you know if we’re ready to push.”

Bea maneuvers her way onto the bed and breathes shakily. The contractions hurt, even with the epidural. She’d come to the hospital thinking she’d be brave and try to go all natural, but she was not strong enough for that.

The nurse reaches out and measures Bea’s dilation, nodding to herself when she pulls her hand away and disposes of her glove. “I’m going to get the doctor,” she tells Bea. “I think you’re ready. Try not to push until I get back, okay?”

Bea nods and agrees, but her heart is pumping out of her chest. Once the nurse leaves, Bea covers her face with her hands and whines. She feels completely distraught. This wasn’t supposed to happen until Monday. They don’t even have a name. They have options, but they haven’t decided. They wanted to wait until the baby was born to learn the gender and choose a name.

Trixie helps her sit up and ties Bea’s hair into a knot. “I know it hurts, but we’re almost there,” she murmurs. “We’re so close to adding to your little family, Bea-girl.”

“It’s not that,” Bea cries from behind her hands. She sniffs and squeezes her eyes shut. “I want Quinn.”

“Oh, darling,” Trixie comforts, sharing a frown with Bea. She leans into Bea and gathers her up in a hug. 

“He should be here,” Bea continues. “I can’t do it.”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Trixie says. “I’m sorry, Bea. I’m here. I’ll help you however I can.”

Bea feels a wave of hot tears fall over her cheeks and she sobs out loud. She hates Florida. She hates hockey. It’s not fair that she’s doing this without her husband, not when she knows he would want to be here just as bad as she wants him to be here.

She barely has time to think about that once the doctor enters the room. It’s the same doctor who helped deliver Luke, so she knows her, but Bea doesn’t want her to be here. Bea can feel Trixie stroking her hair and holding her hand and reminding her to breathe between pushes, but Bea would rather hear a different, deeper voice instead. At one point, Bea can hear her phone ringing, and it’s Quinn’s ringtone, but no one responds to her when she begs for them to answer it. They’re too focused on the baby, which she gets, but she needs to talk to Quinn. She needs him.

She’s exhausted by the time she’s done pushing. It’s only after her doctor lays the baby on Bea’s chest, after she delivers the placenta, and after everyone but Trixie and the nurse from before leaves the room that Bea is able to ask for Quinn again. She’s still crying a little bit. So is the baby on her chest and Bea is touching him reverently. Not only was she right about him being a boy, but she feels oddly comforted by the wailing. The baby knows that something is missing too. He wants his dad just as bad as Bea does. 

“Call Quinn,” Bea repeats again, looking over at Trixie. She’s about to grab Bea’s phone from the table.

Trixie lets out a little chuckle. “Okay, Miss Impatient. I’m getting there.” She taps around on Bea’s phone, then hands it over as it starts to ring. 

Bea holds the phone up so that both she and the baby are in the shot. He’s still gross from the birth, but the nurse is flittering around the room and straightening things out. When they first got to the hospital, Bea was very clear about wanting to have skin-to-skin time with the baby for at least thirty minutes, unless there was a medical emergency. He can get all wiped down and cleaned up when she’s ready. The goop isn’t hurting him.

Quinn is quick to pick up and Bea starts crying again as soon as his face fills the screen.

“Oh my God,” Quinn says first. He covers his mouth and adds, “Holy shit.”

“I had the baby,” Bea explains, her voice shaky.

“I can see that,” Quinn replies. He seems caught between surprise and laughter at her obvious statement. “Are you okay? Is– are they okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, I’m fine, he’s fine. I just miss you,” Bea laments with a sniff. She wants to wipe under her nose, but both of her hands are covered in baby-goop from touching the little guy, and she really doesn’t want that on her face. “I want you here.”

“Oh, sweet Bea,” Quinn exhales. He scrubs his hand over his scuff. “Who’s with you, baby? You’re not on your own, are you?”

“Trixie,” Bea says, turning the camera toward her sister, who is folding a blanket. She waves to Quinn. “Honey’s with Luke.”

“That’s good,” Quinn acknowledges. “Okay, yeah, that’s good. You’re not on your own. I’m so sorry I missed it, Bea.”

“You couldn’t help it,” Bea replies. Her rational thought is coming back, but her sentence only brings a fresh wave of tears. 

“I know, but I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” Quinn asks. He waits for Bea to nod, nodding along with her. “What’s the baby like, sweetheart? You said we had another boy?”

“Mhm,” Bea hums. She tilts the phone down to capture his face. He’s not really screaming, but he’s mouthing along her skin like he’s searching for her nipple. Bea recognizes the newborn tic and wonders if it’s a thing every newborn does or if it’s something just her boys have done. 

“He looks hungry,” Quinn laughs.

“I know, one sec,” Bea sets her phone down and pulls at her shirt, freeing one of her breasts and adjusting so the baby can latch on. The nurse has wandered closer, in case Bea needs help, but she’s got the muscle-memory down. Bea picks up the phone again. She doesn’t miss how Quinn quirks an eyebrow at the reveal of her skin. “We need to pick a name.”

“Do you have a favorite? Between the three?” Quinn asks.

Honestly, Bea doesn’t. Between Noah, Logan, and Patrick, she doesn’t care. She knows that ‘Jack’ is going to be the middle name– they decided that a long time ago, before Luke was even born. Even if their second baby was a girl, her middle name would be Jack. Bea thinks that could be pretty cute, with the right combination. She’s always loved the name Noah and Logan was Quinn’s favorite suggestion of his own. They’d decided on Patrick together, since Luke had a family name from the Hughes side and Bea thought it was only fair if they considered a family name from the McLean side. Patrick for Trixie was a lot better than Cecil for Cece.

Bea shakes her head. “They’re all good names.”

Quinn agrees. “Well, take a little time, get to know the guy, and let me know what you choose. I’m happy with whatever you pick, baby. You did all the heavy lifting, so I think it’s fair that you get to choose your favorite name.” He pauses, smiling when Bea frowns at him. He concedes a bit, knowing that Bea is against an executive decision. She wants to choose together. “Between you and me, I think ‘PJ’ has a nice ring to it. ‘NJ’ might not work if we think about how annoying his uncles would be.”

His comment draws a laugh from Bea. “Good point.”

Quinn stays quiet for a moment, just watching Bea through the screen. He licks his lips, then presses them together. “I am sorry that I couldn’t be there. As soon as I’m off the phone, I’m going to go find Coach and see how fast I can get home.”

Bea takes a deep breath. “Well, now I kind of want to let you go so that you get here faster,” she says, her voice teetering on the edge of joking. 

Quinn sees right through it. She might be trying to joke, but he can tell that she really does want him there. “Then I’m on my way,” he says, easy as can be. “I love you. I’ll text you as soon as I know the plan, okay? I’m going to try to be there by tonight.”

Bea relaxes into the pillows. He probably will charter the team plane himself if it gets him here faster. Quinn has proven time and time again that he would move mountains for his family. “I love you.”

“See you soon, baby. And actual baby,” he adds belatedly, winking at Bea through the screen. “Send me a picture of him as soon as you can, okay?”

“As soon as we get off the phone,” Bea promises. 

She hesitates to hang up and so does Quinn, which makes them laugh. Quinn is the first to go, but he’s also the first to text. 

It’s your choice, but I’m leaning towards Patrick. It’s the best way to thank Trixie for helping my best girl through today❤️ see you soon sweetheart

Bea smiles at the text and puts her phone down on the bed beside her hip. She looks down at the boy in her arms, still greedily gulping down his first meal. Bea touches the fine, sparse hair on his head and traces his wrinkly, pink cheek. Patrick Jack, she says to herself. She feels a tear of pure joy form in the corner of her eye and looks up to the ceiling before it can fall on his perfect little face. 

[hakkkuu]

HAKKKUUUUUU I NEED MORE OF PERV STEP BRO WONBIN WTFFFFFFF 🙏🏻🙏🏻

You never could have anticipated how uncomfortable this new living arrangement would make you feel. Moving in with your mom and her new boyfriend meant sharing space with his son, Wonbin. It was supposed to be a fresh start, but instead, every moment spent in the same house as him sent an unsettling chill down your spine.

At first glance, he seemed charming—older, confident, and a bit too self-assured for your liking. But as days turned into weeks, what you initially dismissed as harmless teasing became something far more troubling.

“Careful not to trip, little sis,” he would say, lingering a moment too long just to brush past you. Each incidental touch felt more deliberate, almost rehearsed, as he seemed to find ways to make you jump, whether it was an elbow to the side while you fetched a glass of water or a flick on your waist when he walked by. Your skin prickled with unease each time he did this. The air around him felt thick with a layer of tension you couldn’t shake, and it left you feeling exposed.

Jeering laughter from him often punctuated the silence of your shared space. “You really should wear those skirts more often,” he remarked one afternoon, his smirk betraying the true nature of his thoughts. “Nice legs for such a young girl. Don’t be shy. Show them off.” You squirmed, barely able to mask your discomfort. You quickly turned away, clenching your fists involuntarily. Each comment felt like another weight added to your chest, suffocating and oppressive.

Wonbin had mastered the art of misogynistic humor. Whenever a commercial featuring women flashed on the screen, his voice would cut through the space with a sneer. “They just want attention, right? Such sad creatures.” The laughter that ensued cranked your anxiety to an unbearable level, and sitting next to him felt like walking a tightrope. You could hear his eyes on you, assessing you as if you had become part of a twisted joke.

“What’s the matter? Am I making you uncomfortable?” he would taunt when he noticed you shrinking away or refusing to engage in conversations. His tone gripped you with a sense of dread. You were too scared to answer, afraid that your words might encourage him. Every day became a game of survival, navigating the chaos of his unwanted attention without revealing just how deeply it shook you.

In the kitchen, you often felt his presence hovering behind you, an unsettling shadow as you prepared snacks or meals. “You should let me help you slice those,” he would say, stepping closer than necessary, making your heart race in panic. The gleam in his eye and the way he leaned over your shoulder felt so invasive that you could hardly focus on the task at hand, worried that the knife might slip from your hand in your unsettled state.

You wanted to scream, wanted to tell him to stop, but the words always caught in your throat, suffocated by the fear he instilled in you. If the other kids at school could see you now, so scared of a boy they would’ve considered handsome or alluring, they’d laugh. You could practically hear their mockery in your head. Your world was shrinking, and it scared you to think how much power he held over your safety in this house.

His jokes turned crueler, and each day left you feeling like you were losing a piece of yourself. “You’re lucky I’m around to protect you, princess” he said one evening, eyes glimmering with something predatory. “The world is a dangerous place for pretty girls like you.”

The bitterness settled in the pit of your stomach like a stone, weighing you down. What did he mean by that? The more time you spent with him, the clearer it became: he was not a protector, but a predator.

You found yourself retreating, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of your room where the shadows felt safer than Wonbin’s gaze. Yet, even behind closed doors, the haunting realization plagued your thoughts. In this shared house, your sense of safety had been shattered.

You had to find a way to navigate this, to reclaim your space and voice. But first, you needed to survive the daily torment that was your new reality.

[auncyen]

one scene that's been on my mind for like a week and I'm not sure if will make to final draft or not

-

"Vaugarde's requirements for citizenship are quite relaxed compared to other countries. No doubt they'd welcome one of the Saviors with open arms." Odile looks to the side. "And, well, we could look into other countries as we travel. Poteria is a bit stricter, but I think still a possibility. Ka Bue, too, if you like it."

"...I thought gaining Ka Buan citizenship was really hard?" you ask, puzzled. "I've only heard of one way for becoming a citizen."

Odile's cheeks darken. "Well...I didn't expect you to already know that, but...yes, there's only one way you could become a Ka Buan citizen. I'd be willing to...Siffrin? What are you making that face for?"

Are you making a face?? Oh no, oh no, you're going to upset her, but how can you NOT make a face when she's proposing-- "O, Odile, I'm flattered, but--"

Odile's eyes widen. "Siffrin, wait--"

"I can't marry you??"

"WHAT," Isa booms, and the table rattles when his hands slap down on it in surprise. Bonnie jumps; Mira squeaks. "M'DAME?!! YOU?!"

"THAT IS NOT WHAT I WAS PROPOSING," Odile yells before pointing a finger at Isabeau. "YOU. CALM YOURSELF."

Isa folds his arms and sits back in his chair with a pout. He's...sulking???

....Wait, does Isa like Odile? Like that? They do go out drinking together every so often, but... that doesn't seem right. He called her Mom once. The whole idea makes you feel weird. But then why is he sulking?

"Gems alive," Odile sighs. "The one way for a non-native to gain Ka Buan citizenship is to become part of a Ka Buan family. So if we're going to get into the specific methods of joining a family, there are, in fact, two ways. The first is marriage, which. No. Absolutely not."

Absolutely not!!! You nod firmly.

"Though I am curious, Siffrin, as to why you 'can't' marry me?"

There is a very pointed eyebrow pointing your way. You try not to sound too nervous as you answer, "Well, it'd just--it'd be weird, wouldn't it?!" She said it herself! Absolutely not!

"...Fair enough. Isabeau's already made it very clear he wouldn't give us his blessing." Odile glances sidelong at Isabeau, a smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. Isa's face is wine-dark as he tries to shrink into his chair, which looks silly with him being such a big guy. "The second method and what I meant is adoption."

"But you don't want to be a mom," Bonnie says, confused.

Odile pulls a face. "Which makes it very fortunate Siffrin is an adult who doesn't need a mother. Adult adoption is usually used to navigate inheritance issues, but I think this would be an apt use for it. Both my parents were travelers... perhaps in my own travels, I heard rumors or had some chance encounter and found the half-sibling I never knew existed before. And thus, I decided to correct the family registry to include them."

"...I don't look a thing like you," you say. "Do I look like either of your parents??? At all???"

Odile lets out a sharp laugh. "Oh, no, not one bit. But we don't need to prove any blood relation for an adoption--that's just what I'd tell the nosier neighbors, to see them try to work that out."

You can't help laughing at that explanation. Odile's younger sibling, helping her annoy pesky neighbors...you don't think you'd mind that at all. It sounds great. It sounds wonderful.

[jjsmaybank20]

Future Lives

Leighton Murray x fem!reader

Summary: A fluffy day at the beach set about 10 years after the suitemates graduation.

Warnings: L-bomb, just fluff, light language

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Sorry there has been such a gap between fics! The request for this can be found here.

navigation  the sex lives of college girls masterlist

---

Leighton leans back in her chair, pushing her sunglasses further up her face. To her right lies Kimberly and Lila, and sitting to her left is Bela and Whitney. She smiles at her friends, thinking to herself about just how far they’ve come since that first day in the suite at Essex. 

She buries her feet in the sand, contently closing her eyes. Her peace is quickly interrupted when she hears the familiar squawk of alarm from her wife. Her eyes snap open, quickly searching for you among the people in front of her on the sand, but as soon as she finds you, she rolls her eyes. 

You are face down in the sand, with about 5 kids on your back. Two of them are yours, Noah, and Maia, with matching sandy blonde hair, one is Kimberly’s, Josephine, who shares her mother’s smile, and one is Bela’s, Viaan, who has the same humor as his mom. The fifth is not one that Leighton recognises, but you are known to temporarily pick up a few stray children whenever you play with the kids. It’s one of the things she loves about you, how easy it is for you to match your children’s energy and excitement in everything they do.

 Kimberly taps the blonde, giving her an amused and slightly concerned look. “Should we send the partners to help her, or…” Leighton shakes her head, willing to just let it play out. 

They group watches as you slowly push off the ground, getting up haltingly with kids hanging off of every limb. You jokingly roar and shake them off of you, before shooing them off to go dig a hole or something. 

The kids swarm the rest of the groups’ partners, who have been tirelessly digging out a moat for a sandcastle. Bela’s husband, Kimberly’s husband, and Whitney and Lila’s current boyfriends easily adjust to the new and much younger additions to their team. 

You approach the relaxing friend group, jokingly leaning down to give Leighton a kiss. She shies away, pushing your face in protest and complaining, “Ach! You’re getting sand on me!”

You laugh, taking a step back and replying, “Love, we’re at the beach. This whole damn place is sand.” 

Just as you finish your sentence, you feel little hands grab your leg. Glancing down, your 5-year-old daughter Maia grins up at you. “Mama! You said a no-no word!” You look at your wife, but Leighton just stares back at you with a look that says ‘she’s not wrong’. 

You easily scoop Maia up into your arms, tickling her until she can barely breathe. “Is that right? I said a no-no word?” 

“Stop it, Mama! Mommy, save me!” Maia pushes your hands away, panting out little giggles as she tries to catch her breath. 

You quickly pass the little girl to Leighton, who smooths down her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. A soft smile forms on your face as you watch your two girls, but your thoughts are quickly interrupted by your son. 

“Mama! Mama! Viaan and I need you to be the alligator in the moat!” You glance at the women in front of you, hoping one of them will help you out, but instead you are met with laughs and Lila shooing you off towards the kids. You throw your head back in fake annoyance but go anyway.

“Why can’t Uncle Arvind be the gator?” You ask the two 7-year-olds, who roll their eyes in that way that all kids do. 

“Daddy can’t be the gator because he’s already the drawbridge!” Viaan responds, and you can’t help but laugh at the bad draw Bela’s husband had been dealt. Brian, Kimberly’s husband, didn’t seem to be faring much better with his daughter. 

“Honey, are you sure you want me to be the throne? I could be your royal advisor instead!” Brian’s suggestion is met by a shockingly sharp glare from Josephine, who vehemently stops her foot and shakes her head in the negative. You smile as he gives in, sitting on the ground so that the young girl can clamber into her lap. 

You lay down in the moat—easily giving in to the demands of the children—and start acting like an alligator. You can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed, though, because the smiles on the boys’ faces are worth every moment of silliness. 

---

After a while, the kids get bored playing in the sand. They scamper off, allowing you to get up and stretch, shaking all the sand you can off of you. Leighton watches as you walk towards her, moving one of the many beach bags you brought off of a chair so you have a place to kick your feet up.

You collapse into the low-slung seat, leaning towards Leighton as you press a gentle kiss to her cheek. The sigh you let out as you finally relax makes the blonde woman giggle, and the uncomfortable look that you get on your face due to the sand in your swimsuit makes her laugh even harder. 

The rest of your group sits in comfortable quiet for a while, small talk and little comments being passed around. You’ve settled in fully and are engaged in a conversation with Lila about how she found her newest boyfriend (apparently it was through the Uber Eats Instagram page?) when you realize that none of the kids had checked in for a while.

The thought makes you sit up uncomfortably straight, and Leighton turns around when she notices your movement out of the corner of her eye. She quickly takes your hand comfortingly, murmuring, “What is it, babe?”

She watches as your eyes scan the waterline, getting slightly more panicked every time you can’t find the kids. “Love, where are the boys? They have Maia, and Josie. I can’t see them. We shouldn’t have let them go down to the water alone. What if something happened to them? Where are they?!”

She strokes the back of your hand soothingly, pointing straight out in front of you. “It’s okay baby, they’re right there. See?” She makes sure your eyes find where she’s pointing, and she can see you visibly relax as you find your son and daughter splashing around in the part where the waves wash up onto the sand. 

As you get your breathing in check, you finally look over towards your wife with a grateful smile. “Jesus, thank you, love.” You then glance back at the kids. “I think I’m going to go down there. Just to make sure they’re staying safe.” 

Leighton shoos you away gently, and you grin at her before running off. The rest of the group grins at their best friend, who bashfully waves them off. “Oh my god. I never thought I would see the day that Leighton Murray truly went soft. Who knew!” Whitney teases. 

The blonde woman just smiles, keeping her eyes on you and your kids. “Only for them.”

---

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