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fireinmoonshot · 17 days ago

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more than a friend should | robert reynolds x fem!reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Fem!Reader Summary: Bob didn't quite count on himself being starstruck by seeing you in a dress for the first time. You didn't count on yourself forgetting how to breathe when you saw Bob in a suit. But when you both have to get through a black tie event, the only way to do it is by getting through it together. Warnings: Mentions of general mental health struggles, anxiety, being drained from social activities and exhaustion. A very brief mention of alcohol and drugs. Reader wears a dress. Very brief swearing. Word Count: 4.3k A/N: I got a request for this fic last week and I totally fell in love with the idea. It took me a while to write just because I really wanted it to be perfect and I'm so happy with how it turned out. It's my longest fic for Bob so far! I did not proof read it after I finished my final draft. It's 11:30pm and I am so tired, so let's hope there are no mistakes in there 😂 Thank you so much for the response on all my Bob fics up to this point – I'm so happy that so many people are enjoying them. I hope you'll enjoy this one too! 💗

Bob knows that he’s screwed the second he sees you walk out into the penthouse from your room where you’d been getting ready. He doesn’t even notice Mel walking out behind you.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, totally unaware that he wasn’t as quiet as he’d thought he was being.

Walker, stood right beside him, glances at him. “You all right, Bobby?”

Bob tears his gaze away from you and looks at Walker, eyes a little glazed over. It doesn’t last long, though – his ability to not look at you. Not two seconds later he finds you again. Walker watches the whole thing, eyebrows furrowed and confusion written all over his face.

Was something going on between you and Bob? He was surely reading the situation wrong. If there was some kind of romance going on between the two of you, he was obviously going to know about it.

“What do we all think?” Mel’s voice breaks both Bob and Walker out of their thoughts. She’s standing beside you, motioning to the dress that you’re wearing.

You smooth the dress down with your hands and instantly miss the pockets of your suit. As a New Avenger, wearing dresses is not something you’re used to. You spend most of your time in your suit or clothes that are comfortable when you’re not working. This is the entire opposite.

“Mel helped me pick it out,” you explain.

“It’s cute,” Ava says, standing up from where she’d been sitting down to wait for everyone to get ready. You’re glad to see that she’s wearing a dress as well – it makes the stress of it a little better, knowing you don’t have to go through it all alone.

You thank her at the same time that you catch Bob staring at you. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice the suit he’s wearing – a big change from the clothes he usually wears around the Watch Tower. Bob is nearly always wearing some kind of sweatpants. To see him in something like a suit, so perfectly tailored to fit him, is a sight to behold.

He still looks like Bob, though. His hair is a little messy and his tie is crooked, which makes you smile a little. They could put him in a suit, but he was clearly not very happy about it.

“You look different,” you start, beginning to walk over to Bob. “I can’t believe they actually got you out of sweatpants for the night.”

Bob laughs a little, then almost chokes on his own breath as he notices your hands reaching up towards him. They find his tie and straighten it. He lets out a shaky breath as you place your hands on his chest, running them over the lapels of his suit jacket, before dropping them.

Ever since Bob had met you, he’d been fascinated by you. He loved watching you kick ass as an Avenger, but he liked seeing the non-Avenger side of you more. His crush on you had grown rather quickly once he’d caught you reading one of his favourite books. Then, you’d offered to start doing buddy reads with him and he’d fallen even harder.

It often made him smile – the fact that the world knew you as one thing, but to Bob you were something entirely different. That to him, there were parts of you that no one else got to see. That once a month, you and him would sit up late into the night discussing the book you’d read and end up falling asleep on the bean bags on his bedroom floor. That every morning, he’d often see you coming out of your bedroom, opposite his, and think about how cute you looked with your bed hair. Those were the kind of memories he held closer than ever.

“You do, too,” he nods, hoping that you couldn’t feel the way his heart is beating out of his chest when you had your hands on him. “You look really nice. I like this colour.”

The smile that appears on your face only makes Bob’s heart race faster.

“You look handsome, Bob,” you complimented. You open your mouth, about to say something else, when Valentina enters the room and shatters the moment entirely. She has a habit of that.

“Where’s Yelena?” Val asks, turning around to look at everyone. You can see the way her eyes snag on you and Bob and how close you’re standing together, but her gaze doesn’t linger too long.

“I’m here,” Yelena answers, clearly irritated, as she walks into the penthouse from the hallway. “And before you say anything, Valentina, I am not going to change into a dress.”

Yelena is, unsurprisingly, going against the dress code and wearing a pant suit. You very clearly remember reading instructions on the invitation – women were to wear dresses, men to wear suits. Of course Yelena had taken that as a suggestion rather than a request.

For a moment, Valentina just looks at Yelena, venom in her eyes, but then she shakes her head and looks away from her, clearly sensing that starting an argument with one of her Avengers right before you all leave for a black tie event is not the best course of action.

“Well, at least the rest of you look appropriate,” she sighs. “When we arrive, instead of you all walking in as a group, I want you to enter as pairs. It’ll look better, make you seem more human. And it’ll drag out the entrance so that we get more attention. One of you will have to go solo since there’s an odd number of you but–”

“I’ll do it,” Yelena raises her hand, cutting Val off. “I’m going to wait in the car.”

Before anyone else can say anything, Yelena heads straight to the elevator and gets in, heading down to the car, waiting to take you all to the venue. You stifle a laugh, amused at how quickly Yelena had snagged the ‘entering solo’ opportunity. It’s understandable, though. You make eye contact with Ava, who just shrugs. The last thing either of you want is to walk in on the arm of a man, being made to look like a piece of eye candy to every other man in the room, but without Ava fighting Val with you, it’s clearly not going to be worth your time.

Valentina ignores Yelena’s exit. “Okay, Bucky and Alexei, you two are a pair,” she begins, pointing at the two of them and ignoring the way that Bucky groans and Alexei cheers, exclaiming something about the co-leaders. “Ava and Walker, you two… and that leaves you,” she points towards you, “and Bob. You two look cozy. Don’t get too cozy, though.”

You look at Bob and give him your best reassuring smile. Out of all of the other Avengers, you’re grateful that Val paired you with Bob. The two of you are more comfortable with each other than you are with any of the others. At least being on his arm means you have someone that you feel especially safe and relaxed around right by your side.

Bob feels the same way. He’d much rather walk in with you beside him than alone, and he has to admit that he’d worried Val was going to make him be the one to go solo before Yelena had volunteered. He’s infinitely relieved that he doesn’t have to be.

With that, Val starts to walk towards the elevator. Mel hurries after her, leaving the rest of you all standing in the room until she beckons you over from the elevator, telling you all to hurry up.

You stay close to Bob’s side as you walk towards the elevator. “You ready for this?” You ask, nudging his arm with your elbow gently.

Bob grimaces. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to things like this.”

“Me neither,” you flash him a grin. “But at least we’ll be together. If you feel nervous, you can just hold on tight to me, all right? And once we’re inside, we can find a corner and start discussing what book we’re going to read next. Sound like a plan?”

The two of you step inside the elevator and Bucky reaches forward to press the Ground Floor button.

“Sounds like a plan,” Bob nods, smiling.

––––

Bob takes you up on your offer pretty quickly once you arrive at the event. Your arm is wrapped around his but he’s the one holding you close. Your body is pressed up against his side. He’s putting all of his energy into focusing on the feeling of your touch so that he doesn’t start to spin out with anxiety over the fact that he’s here.

It’s almost like you can hear his thoughts, because only seconds later he hears you ask him if he’s okay. His head snaps towards you, breath hitching in his throat as he sees you already looking at him.

You have the most beautiful eyes, he thinks.

“Bob?” You say his name again.

Just hearing his name from your lips snaps him out of his head. “I don’t think I should be here,” he says, glancing away from you to have a quick look around the room. There are so many people in the room, probably hundreds, and they’re all staring at him. No – not him, all of you. “I can’t even control my powers. I’m not a proper Avenger like all of you. I should’ve just stayed home and given Val some excuse.”

You frown and tighten your grip on his arm just a little. “That’s not true, Bob. You deserve to be here as much as any of us do. We wouldn’t even be here without you,” you explain. “And, for the record, I’m glad you’re here. Who would I have entered with if you weren’t here?”

“I’m sure you would’ve entered with someone.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to enter with anyone but you.”

Bob looks back at you, not quite believing your words. “Really?”

“Really.”

It’s a little more bearable once you’ve all entered the room and found a spot to stand, crowded around a small but very tall table in the corner of the room. There are still a lot of eyes on all of you, but thankfully the attention has died down a little since your entrance.

“Do you want me to let go?” You mutter, looking up at Bob. You’re still holding onto his arm, even though Ava and Walker had let go of each other the second the entrance was over. It was partially for you and partially for Bob that you hadn’t let go yet.

You were just as nervous as he was. Events like this were not your idea of a good Saturday evening. If you’d had things your way, you’d be back at the Watch Tower, cooking something easy yet delicious for dinner and preparing to curl up on one of Bob’s bean bags all night to read with him.

“No,” Bob shakes his head. “Not yet. Please.”

You give him a small smile, reassuring him that you won’t let go, and let out a small breath of relief yourself. As long as you get to keep a hold of Bob, your anxiety will be able to be kept at a minimum.

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Ava asks, crossing her arms over her chest and looking around the room. “You know what? I’m going to find some alcohol. Anyone else?”

Alexei is quick to agree and Walker offers to go with them, simply not wanting Ava to have to deal with Alexei and alcohol on her own. It leaves you, Bob, Yelena and Bucky standing around the table.

“You’ve been to plenty of things like this, Bucky,” you start. “Have any advice for the rest of us who’ve never done anything like this before?”

Bucky sighs and shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Just hope and pray that the night goes quickly.”

“That’s great advice,” Yelena deadpans.

He’s about to say something in response when Valentina appears out of nowhere, gliding towards the four of you with a grin on her face that none of you like the look of.

“Oh, here we go,” Yelena murmurs under her breath.

“Where are the rest of you? Actually, never mind… okay, Yelena and Bob, come with me. I have some investors I want you to meet,” she says, beckoning the two of them forward.

You share a look with Bob that says everything that words can’t at the moment. Only minutes earlier Bob had been asking you to not let go of him, and here you were being practically forced to. Maybe Valentina deemed this to be too cozy – and she’d told you not to be earlier. Maybe this was her way of punishing you both for going against her word. Or maybe she just wanted to flaunt Bob off to the investors.

That seemed like the most likely option.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You mutter, only loud enough for Bob to hear as you reluctantly let go of his arm and immediately cross your arms over your chest, not wanting to feel the cool air on them after having them wrapped up in Bob’s warmth.

You watch as he and Yelena walk away, trying to push down the feeling in your stomach that has been growing more and more as you spend more time around Bob. It’s never going to end well for you, you know it. But still, the feeling lingers.

––––

Bob can’t remember the names of any of the people that Valentina have introduced him and Yelena to. He’s been standing here being talked at for ten minutes now and everything they’ve said has gone in one ear and out the other. He hasn’t even properly looked at their faces – all he can see is you over their shoulder, standing across the room with Bucky.

You look so beautiful in that dress. He should tell you later.

“While we’re here,” one of the investors speaks, “I want to introduce you to my daughter and a few of her friends she brought along tonight.”

Bob is snapped out of his distraction as Yelena gently elbows him in the side. For the first time, he actually looks at the face of one of the men in front of him just as he’s beckoning his daughter forward. She’s followed by three other women, right behind her, all giggling and eyeing Bob up.

“Ladies, this is Robert Reynolds. He’s also known as The Sentry,” Valentina introduces him to the girl and her friends. “He’s incredibly strong and you should see how fast he can move!”

Yelena barely restrains herself from putting her head into her hands. Instead, she lets out a small groan of “For fuck’s sake, Valentina” and shakes her head.

The girls all introduce themselves to Bob but their names don’t register with him like he knows that they should. He introduces himself in return, just to be kind, but just as Bob. Not The Sentry. He’s not that person and he hates the way that Valentina is using that side of him to gain attention from the investors. His hand unknowingly clenches into a fist at his side.

“You’re much more handsome in person,” one of the girls says, stepping a little closer towards him. All Bob can think about is the fact that you had called him handsome tonight too.

“I can’t believe we’ve been living in the same city for so long now and we’ve never met before,” another adds. Bob knows why – he’s barely left the Watch Tower since he moved in. Why would he want to when the one thing he needs in New York is already there, right across the hall from him in your own bedroom?

He’s well aware that the girls are trying to flirt with him but he doesn’t even want to try and flirt back with them – not that he’s really any good at flirting. He’s had his fair share of flings over the years. He was pretty confident when he was high, but when he wasn’t, that confidence plummeted. He’s usually never turned down the attention of women before… but now that attention is the last thing he wants.

Over their shoulders, he catches a glimpse of you again. Just seeing you makes his clenched fist loosen a little, especially when he sees you laughing at something that Bucky had said. He’s always loved the way you look when your laugh, the pure happiness that takes over your face. He stares at you for another few moments and then uses that time to continue to try and calm himself down.

Despite the fact that you’re half way across the room, you’re helping him more than you know.

––––

Watching Bob being flirted with all night was not a job for the weak – and you’d greatly over estimated your ability to deal with it.

You’d known what was happening almost instantly when you’d looked over and seen the group of girls giggling and getting a little too close to him. You hated that you felt relieved when you noticed that he wasn’t returning any of their advances.

You weren’t daft enough to think that you were the reason, but it made you feel good all the same. Just the thought that he mightn’t be interested in anyone at the moment was good enough for you – he’d been through so much in these last several months, you wouldn’t blame him if it were true.

Like Bucky had suggested, you spent most of the night hoping for the night to go quickly. There was only so much socialising one person could do, especially when they were out of their comfort zone, and you hit that point pretty quickly once Bucky had started introducing you to people he recognised from his time as a congressman.

The worst part of the night was the fact that you had barely seen Bob at all. He’d spent most of the night being swept around the room by Val with Yelena, being introduced to everyone and barely even stopping for a break. The only contact you’d had with him since he’d been whisked away were brief moments of eye contact and shared smiled across the room.

It’s on the limo ride back to the Watch Tower that you finally get to talk to him again. Everyone else is either napping or not paying attention to the two of you, too exhausted from the night out, that you have no problem in shuffling over in your seat to get a little closer to him so no one overhears your conversation.

“So, our plan kinda backfired, huh?” You chuckle.

Bob looks over at you and laughs softly. “Yeah, it did.”

There had been no discussing what book you’d read next and absolutely no holding on tight to each other when you felt anxious.

“Did you enjoy yourself, at least?”

Bob scrunches up his nose a little and you can’t help but notice how adorable it makes him look. “I don’t remember much of it,” he admits. “I couldn’t think straight for a lot of it. Did you?”

It makes your heart hurt a little, hearing that he’d been so anxious that he couldn’t really remember any of the evening. It makes you even more mad at Valentina for subjecting him to all of that. It was going to result in him being utterly exhausted.

“I just missed you,” you admit – against your better judgement. It’s probably not the right thing to be saying to him, but it’s the truth. Your evening would have been better had he been in it.

“You did?” Bob raises his eyebrows, clearly a little surprised.

A thought enters his mind and he brushes it off instantly. Confess, his brain said. As if this was a good time to do it, in the middle of a limo packed full of all the other members of your team after a draining night out socialising – one that he’d likely be recovering from for at least a few days, judging by the exhaustion he could already feel creeping into his mind.

He shakes his head. This is not the time to tell you.

“I did,” you confirm. “I would’ve had a much better time discussing books in the corner with you rather than being introduced to all of the people Bucky knows in New York.”

Bob chuckles. “Okay, you make a fair point.”

By the time the limo stops at the Watch Tower, everyone in the car is either half asleep or dead on their feet. It’s late – almost 1 in the morning – and when you all reach the penthouse, everyone instantly disappears off to their bedrooms to recharge and sleep.

You and Bob walk side by side down the hallway before stopping outside of your bedroom doors, opposite each other. You rest your hand on the door handle of your room before turning to look at him. He looks exhausted, hair messier than it had been before you’d left, and his tie is crooked again. You smile as you notice it.

“Well, goodnight, Bob,” you murmur. “Sleep well, okay?”

Bob nods, but strangely he can’t find the words to say goodnight to you. It’s only when you turn around, putting your back to him, and start to turn your door handle that the words come – but not the ones he’d been meaning to say.

“I like you,” Bob blurts out, and then immediately winces.

You turn around, your hand falling off the door handle and your eyes landing on him. Your heart starts to beat faster in your chest, though you refuse to get your hopes up. This isn’t a confession – just a tired man telling you he appreciates your friendship. “I like you too, Bob.”

He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. Just through your words he can tell that you didn’t understand him. “I don’t mean it that way. I mean that I like you more than a friend should.”

You’re pretty sure your heart stops beating. “You like me as more than a friend?” A best friend, your mind tries to finish it. Like a sister. Not in a romantic sense. Don’t get your hopes up.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you all night. I was introduced to so many people and I can’t even remember their names because I was too focused on looking at you over their shoulders.”

“You were?”

“I was.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. This cannot be happening right now. Bob cannot be confessing to you in the hallway at 1 o’clock on a Sunday morning after you’d had to spend the whole night watching him from afar and wishing he was right beside you. You have to be dreaming.

“I… I like you more than a friend should, too. Really.” The words aren’t hard for you to say because they’re the truth. Partially because you think you might be imagining everything.

Bob stares at you, dumbfounded. You aren’t just repeating his words back to him for the sake of it. You’re not doing it out of pity or fear of hurting his feelings. All he needs to know that is the look on your face. Your eyes tell him everything.

You’re suddenly hit with the urge to yawn and that simple thing rips you straight out of your dreamlike state and back to the present. You’re not actually dreaming. This is actually happening… but this is not the time to be making grand gestures of love. Not when both you and Bob are exhausted from the night out socialising. You don’t want to risk crossing any lines tonight.

“Listen, it’s late. I don’t think we should make any decisions without resting. We’re both exhausted. And it’ll be good to sleep on it,” you suggest. “We can sleep knowing that we like each other and when we’ve recharged our social batteries, we can look back at it with a fresh head.”

Bob nods. You’re right – of course you’re right. He is exhausted, so much so that he’s not even sure how he’s still conscious right now. Your timing was so off, he thinks, his brain starting to twist his thoughts, taking advantage of his exhaustion. You should’ve waited.

Unknowingly, he starts to twist his hands together in front of him – something he always tends to do when his head gets loud.

You notice, stepping forward and placing your hands on top of his. He stills instantly, looking up and meeting your eyes. The warmth of your skin on his instantly relaxes him and his heart stops racing so fast. You give his hands a gentle squeeze.

“Goodnight, Bob,” you say, voice soft.

He continues looking at you as you turn around and walk back across the hall to your room. You’re almost completely inside, about to shut the door behind you, when he finds his voice again.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” he calls out, being careful not to be too loud since the others are still in their rooms close by.

You pause and meet his eyes. “Thank you, Bob.”

“Goodnight, he hums, giving you a small smile.

It takes all of his strength to not collapse back against the door to his own bedroom once you shut your door. His hands are still a little shaky, his breaths a little short, but despite the exhaustion and adrenaline running through his system, he can’t help the smile that makes its way onto his face. I like you more than a friend should. The two of you had never really been just friends. Deep down, Bob knew that.

No, he thinks, pushing back agains the parts of his brain that were still telling him that his timing had been off, that he should’ve waited, that maybe he shouldn’t have told you at all. My timing was perfect.

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #thunderbolts #thunderbolts x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #robert reynolds x you #lewis pullman

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rosaeh · 4 months ago

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boyfriend!jason todd & work song by hozier

Boys workin' on empty Is that the kinda way to face the burnin' heat? I just think about my baby I'm so full of love, I could barely eat There's nothin' sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me

late night patrol during the summer, and jason finds himself starving. but all he can think about is you. not about the food that's waiting for him in the fridge, but you. you, who -he hopes- is sleeping in bed and not waiting for him on the couch. not that he minds much. when you do wait for him -no matter how much he asked you not to- he would find you asleep on the couch, then would pick you up, and lay you down on the bed.

jason doesn't mind. he likes that you actually care enough to wait for him. likes that it gives him an excuse to hold you close.

but he doesn't actually like that you're depriving yourself of your sleep over him -you'll tell him it's really no big deal, but he wouldn't hear any of it. doesn't like that you end up sleeping on the couch, when the bed is much more comfortable, and won't cause you any pain.

anyway, he knows the minute he will be back to your shared apartment, the first thing he will do won't be eating, but crawling into bed with you. holding you close enough to fulfil his starvation.

and there is no other places he would rather be than in your arms.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

and he knows that, if something bad were ever to happen to him, while away from you, he would crawl his way to you too. no matter what it takes him, he would come to you. even in death. because you are home to him.

after all, he already crawled his way out of a grave once, and he'll be willing to do it again for you. with you in mind ? jason knows he would do anything in his will power to come back to you. the mere thought of you is enough to motivate him to do everything. anything.

Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin I woke with her walls around me Nothin' in her room but an empty crib And I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived But I swear, I thought I dreamed her She never asked me once about the wrong I did

[...]

My babe would never fret none About what my hands and my body done If the Lord don't forgive me I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me When I was kissin' on my baby And she put her love down, soft and sweet In the low lamplight, I was free Heaven and hell were words to me

because jason does come home to you. every night. whatever happens, no matter the state he is in.

and he is much more careful about that too, now. about the state he ends up in after going out as red hood.

but he also knows that no matter the state you do found him in, you'll welcome him with open arms. willing to take care of him. keen, even, to make him feel at peace, at home. no matter how much blood tainted his hands, you would wipe it off every time.

you would calmly sit him down in the bathroom, and start tending to his wounds. standing between his legs, you would found yourself -more often than not- leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead, your hands pushing his hair back gently, your fingers tangling in his white strand.

and under your soft hands, your gentle touches, jason would feel like heaven was in your arms, because it is.

and it doesn't matter what everyone else thinks of him, as long as he has you. this heaven. his heaven. and in counterpart, for this peace you're providing him of, this love he feels radiating from you, he will always come home to you, and do anything for you to not regret it. to not regret betting on him, placing your trust into him like that.

jason is willing to defy death in your name.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd headcanon #dc comics #red hood #jason todd thoughts #the hyperfixation is getting out of hand #song fic #work song #hozier #did i mentioned i loved him #rosaeh's jason

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mapiforpresident · 3 days ago

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could i please request: leah williamson x single mom reader ( to like a 1 year old) maybe they meet at a cafe and r and leah go on some dates and on one date r is in the middle of telling leah about her daughter “ i have something really important to tell you, i understand if you want to end whatever we have right now when you find out” when she gets a call from the babysitter that her daughter won’t stop crying and she has to go home, so she panics and says she needs to go home so leah offers to drive her and when they get there r just hops out of the car and runs inside leaving the door open so leah slowly walks in behind her and sees her and her daughter

btw i love your writing!

what we don’t say

leah x reader

warnings: daughter

~~~

You didn’t expect much from the coffee shop that day. Just caffeine. A little quiet. Maybe five whole minutes without someone wiping their nose on your shirt or throwing puffs across the floor like confetti.

You loved her. God, you loved her more than anything. But being a single mum to a one-year-old? Exhausting didn’t even begin to cover it.

So yeah, coffee. That’s all you came for.

And then Leah Williamson held the door open for you.

You barely looked up, too busy juggling your bag, your keys, and a sippy cup that somehow always leaked. But she smiled. One of those soft, knowing ones. The kind that didn’t feel performative, just kind.

You smiled back because, well. Have you seen her?

She held the door. Let you go ahead. And then, somehow, ended up behind you in line. And then beside you while you waited. And then leaning in with a little laugh to say, “Don’t worry, I always panic at the till too.”

And maybe you laughed a little too loudly. Or maybe she just liked your laugh. Either way, she asked if she could sit with you. And you said yes before your brain caught up with your mouth.

You didn’t tell her anything real that day. Not your last name. Not what your life looked like. Just that you were tired and the coffee helped and the weather had been a bit shit lately.

She didn’t ask much.

She just made you laugh. And you let yourself feel normal for twenty whole minutes.

That should’ve been it. A one-off thing. A cute story you never told anyone.

But then she showed up again.

And again.

And suddenly you were texting. Grinning like a fool when her name popped up. Going on walks that turned into lunch. Lunches that turned into “You’re actually really easy to talk to.”

You never meant to let it get this far. You never meant to feel this much.

But she made it so easy.

By the time your third official date rolled around, you knew you had to say something.

You’d been putting it off. Convincing yourself it wasn’t the right time. That it was too soon. That she’d run. That she’d hear the word daughter and suddenly remember she left the oven on.

But she was sitting across from you in that quiet little pub, her eyes soft, her fingers brushing yours over the table like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

And you knew you had to say it.

“I have something I need to tell you,” you said, voice a little too stiff.

Her brows furrowed just slightly, but she didn’t let go of your hand.

“I don’t want to scare you off,” you added quickly. “But I also can’t keep this from you. And I get it if you want to end this once you know. I really do.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but then—

Your phone buzzed.

Loud against the wood of the table.

You glanced down. One look at the name and your stomach dropped.

It was your sitter.

You picked up immediately. “Hey, everything okay?”

The answer was no.

“She won’t stop crying,” your sitter said. “I’ve tried milk, I’ve changed her, I rocked her, everything. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Your heart was already pounding. “I’m on my way.”

You hung up without explaining. Stood up too fast. Grabbed your coat and your phone and—

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Leah stood too, her hand on your arm. “Is everything alright?”

You hesitated. “My daughter, my babysitter called, she’s inconsolable and I just, I have to go.”

You didn’t mean to say daughter like that. Like you were dropping a bomb. Like you were bracing for impact.

But you were. Because now she knew.

You didn’t even give her time to respond before you were turning to leave.

“I’ll drive you,” Leah said quickly.

You froze.

“What?”

“Let me drive you. You’re shaking. You’re not going to focus if you’re behind the wheel.”

You looked at her, really looked at her, and her face wasn’t full of judgment. Or panic. Or that polite smile people use when they’re already thinking of their exit.

She just looked worried.

She just looked like she wanted to help.

You barely spoke in the car.

Leah didn’t push. Just kept her hand steady on the wheel, glancing over every now and then to make sure you were okay. She didn’t ask about your daughter. Didn’t ask why you’d never mentioned her. Just drove, quiet and steady.

When she pulled up to your place, you barely managed to say thank you before you were already out the door.

You didn’t even shut it behind you.

Leah got out slowly, unsure if she should follow. The door was still open, and the panic in your eyes was still fresh in her mind.

So she stepped inside.

And there you were.

In the middle of your small living room, down on your knees, holding a wailing little girl to your chest. Rocking back and forth with your eyes squeezed shut and your voice whispering “shh, shh, mummy’s here, it’s okay now.”

Leah froze in the doorway.

You didn’t notice her at first. Too focused. Too overwhelmed. Too caught in that instinct that only comes when someone’s whole world is crying in your arms.

But when your daughter’s cries started to soften, when her fingers clutched the fabric of your shirt and her head tucked into your neck, you finally looked up.

And Leah was still there.

Quiet. Hesitant. But still there.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” you said softly.

Leah stepped forward, just a bit. Her eyes locked on the little girl now hiccuping against your chest. “She’s beautiful.”

You blinked. “You’re not… freaked out?”

She smiled, small and genuine. “A little surprised. Not freaked out.”

You shifted, one arm still cradling your daughter. “I was going to tell you tonight. Before the call. I just… didn’t want to scare you off.”

Leah took another step. “She’s your daughter. That’s not scary. That’s honestly kind of amazing.”

You blinked again. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, then crouched a little so she wasn’t towering over you both. “And now I get why you always smell like baby wipes.”

You laughed, soft and surprised, and your daughter stirred a little, her sleepy eyes cracking open to look at the new person in the room.

Leah smiled at her. “Hey, sweetheart.”

And your daughter… smiled back.

Small. Wobbly. But real.

And you felt something shift in your chest.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Leah said quietly, eyes still on your daughter. “If you’ll let me stay.”

You swallowed hard.

And nodded.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I think I’d like that.”

And maybe it wasn’t how you planned it.

But maybe, just maybe, it was exactly how it was meant to happen.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal women #leah williamson #woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader #arsenal x reader #woso imagines #woso fic

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ryewwww · 9 months ago

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Umm, I loved bully gojo and 2 , what happened after he kidnapped her and yknow , non conned her , like is he just obsessed with her , ORRRR , is he obsessed with her aaanndd IN LOVE with her ? Will he force her to be his girlfriend and future wife. Will she try to pick herself up and make a good life for self even though gojo literally exists. Hmmmmmmmm???? Idk but anwyas that story atteee . Stay sexy , ..sexy 🥰💓

⚠️: NON CON, Kidnapping, Mean!Gojo, physically, mental and emotional abuse, manhandling, bullying, biting, groping, size difference, pregnancy sex

-> THIS IS REALLY DARK AND FUCKED UP PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !

-> Idk why but everyone ate that Gojo fic up for some reason😭

-> part 1

Oh boy, he is more than obsessed with you

You made it too easy for him

With your family being out of the picture and you having quite literally 0 friends

Isolating you… well you already did that to yourself

Your reputation at school burned to the ground the moment he decided to leak your sex tape

So there’s no going back to uni

He handed in a resignation letter on your behalf and though your boss was concerned, Satoru assured her that you’re alright, but your morning sickness has been brutal lately

She raised her eyebrows and smiled, telling Satoru to pass on her congratulations to you

Your roommate at your dorm didn’t give a crap (she has a big, fat crush on Satoru and when she found out he slept with you, she wanted to kill you.)

That urge only grew stronger when Satoru stopped by your dorm to move your stuff out and when she asked him why he was the one moving it, he simply stated,

“Well, she’s pregnant with my child so she’ll be living with me so I can take care of her.”

Safe to say your roommate spent the night ripping her hair out of her scalp

And you. You’re sitting in the sunroom with a cup of warm tea and a side of prenatal vitamins in front of you

You’re in deep thought when the door swings open and a tall figure enters in

He sits next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap so that your back is relaxed on his chest

“Did you take a look at the blueprints?”

“I did but… what’s wrong with this house?”

“Nothing. I’d just like a bigger home to raise our family in.”

He’s met with silence

“You haven’t taken your vitamins.”

“I will, I just, I haven’t been feeling too good this morning.”

To that he hums and leave a kiss on your neck

“How’s the dress shopping going?”

You pause and put your hands over his

“Don’t you think we’re rushing this? Why can’t we wait till after I’ve given birth?”

“I don’t wanna wait that long.”

You wanted to ask him why, but you knew it would result in the back of his hand meeting your soft cheek

You had already experienced Satoru’s aggressive side and you’d rather not deal with it until this baby is out of you

“I’m sorry, but I need to pee.” You squeak, escaping his grip and leaving him alone in the sunroom

5 days passed, and it was a big day. Your wedding day. Even though it was put together on such short notice, it turned out marvellous.

For a girl, her wedding day is supposed to be one of the best days of her life, right? It’s supposed to be magical, exciting and memorable… right?

So why are you sitting on a chair labeled “bride”, with your hair and makeup complete, staring at a one way bus ticket to the neighbouring city?

That leaves right when the ceremony starts

You had known about the bus ticket. Actually, an unexpected someone had given you the bus tickets.

Suguru, Satoru’s ex-bestfriend.

They had a huge falling out over a business deal and even mentioning his name sets Satoru into a rage. Especially if it’s his fiancee.

So as a lick back, Suguru offered to help you escape him. And maybe by the end of it, you’ll warm his bed once or twice, or better yet, marry him.

From Suguru’s perspective, it was the perfect revenge. Nobody knows Satoru better than himself. He knows exactly how he thinks and what steps he would take to find you.

He also knew that today would be the only day that Satoru wouldn’t be breathing down your neck because you were getting ready to be his bride.

At first, you didn’t believe it. But Geto is convincing. He thought about everything — down to the last little detail. He made you picture a life where you’re far away from Satoru and given a chance to start fresh again.

Going to the neighbouring city means you could have an abortion so you won’t be tied to the blue eyed monster for eternity.

Geto left his number on a sticky note that was attached to the bus ticket. You walk over to the landline and dial his number. After a ring, he picks up and once he hears your sweet voice, he smiles.

“Meet me at the corner of Xander’s street, there’s plenty of trees there to keep you hidden.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and the tips of your ears were hot. You knew. You knew that if Satoru had the slightest hint about what you were about to do, he’d drag you to hell and back. But the idea of marrying him, having his child and building a home for your family, was far more petrifying.

You slip into some shorts and a tank top before sliding out of the bridal room and using the nearest exit to leave the venue. You scurry along the trees, hoping and praying no one sees. The corner of the street was quiet and secluded. You had plenty of cover and you waited until a blacked out Range Rover pulls over.

The window rolls down and it’s Suguru. He tells you to hop into the back seat quickly before anyone sees.

You do what he says, except when you open the back seat door, you’re met with icy blue eyes.

Your breath hitches and before you know it, you’re being pulled into the car with Satoru screaming at you.

“You fucking lying whore! How fucking stupid can you be, hm?”

He placed you on your back and wrapped his fingers around your neck, slightly chocking you

“When Suguru told me that you accepted the bus tickets, I let it slide. I let it slide because I thought you were smart enough to know not to cross me. But you, you fucking bitch, you really tried to leave me at the alter! You really thought you could get away from me?”

He tears your shorts apart, revealing your white undergarments that you were supposed to wear under your wedding dress.

You couldn’t help but cry, spewing apology after apology. But he wasn’t having any of it. He unbuckled his own pants, pulling his thick cock out of his trousers. He spat down on it for lube and without a care in the world, entered into you.

“You stupid bitch- you thought you could run away and abort my baby?!”

He leans down, his hot breath tickling your ear as he tugs on your hair to expose your neck.

“If you thought, even for a second that you could hide from me and live a normal life after killing my child. You’re just as sick as me… And clearly, you don’t know who the fuck I am. So let me teach you.”

He lifted your legs to mating press, ruthlessly thrusting into you while you sob beneath him. You try resisting by attempting to pry his fingers off the bottom of your thigh, but he has a death grip on them

“P-please stop… It hurts — I can’t move or b-breathe properly.”

You hiccup, but he ignores. Instead, he picks up the pace, making you cry even harder.

“I’m s-sorry please! Please it hurts! I can’t-”

“Shut the fuck up and take it. Or I’ll ask him to shut you up with his dick. I bet you’d like that, you fucking whore. So eager to leave me, is it because you have the hots for my best friend?”

Your eyes glance at the rear view mirror, and sure enough, his eyes are glued on you

Which only makes you sob harder. Hearing no response from you angered Satoru. Did you really like Suguru? He pressed on your neck, and by the look of his eyes, you knew he was waiting for an answer.

“N-no! I don’t- I swear I- I’m just not ready to be a mother, please!”

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

According to Satoru, the entire thing was a test for you. The falling out, Suguru giving you the bus ticket to help you escape, and meeting you at the corner of the street— it was all apart of the test. And you failed it. Miserably.

“And here I was, thinking that I had trained you to know better. To know better than to leave me. But you prove me wrong again and again.”

He finishes inside you. Suguru pulls into the back of the venue. Satoru pulls you up right and lays his forehead against your own.

“Go get your hair and makeup re-done. The next time I see you, you better be in your gown walking down the aisle to wed to me. Do you understand?”

“Mmh”

“Words”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.”

Apologies for any mistakes. It’s pretty late. Also have mercy on me, I haven’t wrote anything in 9 months so it’s a bit rusty😭

#tw: dark fic #tw: noncon #yandere gojo #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut

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no1blacksapphirefan · 2 months ago

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Just found your self aware cookies. I love it. How would the ancients react to reader kissing their screen in the little cookie area(where you level them up and such) because this is something I'm a liiiiitle guilty of :3 (you can add the beasts if you want!!)

These requests were rather similar so here’s you go 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ ((TY!! I’m okay :D A5 Black Sapphire coming in my next 10 pull I can feel it in my bones))

Pure Vanilla seems like the type to be so bashful. He's a blushing mess as soon as you look away from the screen. Fixing his outfit, sure the hug isn't as effective due to the barrier of the screen, but he still felt it and the kiss.

As time goes on, methinks he's started thinking about what it would be like to actually kiss you. To actually hug you back without a screen being in the way. He tries to brush this thought off. He can't even get out...is there a way out?

He ignores the stares of other cookies as they see him get this affection from you, ahh he's so lucky to have you favour him so much.

White Lily is surprised when it started, don't get me wrong. She is not complaining. She loves the hugs and blushes a lot when or if you kiss her. But she is still getting used to how affectionate you are towards her despite her past.

She buries her head in her hands to cover up her blush when you first kissed her through the screen, unable to contain herself, and when you leave the game she can't help but smile. It's a nice feeling really, to have someone love you as much as you do, to have someone who doesn't ignore the horrible things she has done but still loves her.

Dark Cacao finds it weird at first. He can feel the hugs and kisses through the screen sure but he isn't too sure what to think when you first started other then...why?

He's scared of affection stop.

Eventually though, after days of you doing this he gets used to it, almost expecting it when you go to his cookie screen. He doesn't smile, well tries not to smile. He doesn't want to freak you out that he knows. He enjoys your affection a lot, it brightens up his day when you do so almost every time.

Golden Cheese As you should/j She loves it, you should do it more often. If she could encourage you to do it more often she would. Oh and she wants to reciprocate so much, but she can't.

She tries her best though, by trying extra harder in arena fights or just in word exploration. She'll win you as many trophies as you want to ensure a high ranking on the leader board. Just for you <33

Hollyberry She wishes there wasn't a screen between the two of you, she is so happy when you first start, to have such affection from you makes her so proud of herself. She doesn't brag to others or anything, or at least not intentionally.

She'll talk to her friends about what you've done with a happy expression. Sometimes she may talk about it too much though...she's just extremely happy to receive these affections from you.

Shadow Milk Huh? You wha- Did you just-

Those run through Shadow Milks head the first time you did it, sure he's always liked your attention on him and enjoyed the silly ways you show it but this...was WAY more direct then others. And you're still oblivious!!

Everytime you do it, he feels like he's gonna turn into mush, he's never felt this loved before. Having someone making him feel like he isn't actually alone and someone is there that cares for him so, it makes him all giddy and smiley. Though he'd rather die than admit that to certain people.

If people try to bring it up, he puts on his facade and brags about it, saying things like "As they should!~" and the sort. But once he's alone he can't help but gently smile, waiting for the next time you do it. Oh he's so excited to meet you one day...

Mystic Flour cherishes your hugs and kisses as if it were an actual physical object. As if they'll disappear. She didn't get it at first, these strange actions you did. It wasn't like she didn't know what it was. She's hugged her friends all the time in the past. Hugged Cloud Haetae before and kissed his forehead when he needed comfort.

But you doing it to her felt...strange. Maybe it was because she's so used to people asking things of her and not often getting thanks for it. She isn't used to you hugging or kissing her. She finds it oddly amusing that you still do it even while thinking she's still some code...because you still like her? Very well, she doesn't have any ill feelings towards your actions, the opposite. She looks forward to it every day, your hugs especially.

Burning Spice at first he disliked it, well he thought he did anyways. He's meant to be the Great Destroyer! Feared by many, you should as well-...oh but the hugs are nice...and the kiss- WHO SAID THAT.

Quickly though he grows to love them, he sees it as high praise for what he's done, especially as you're essentially a higher being. Oh he loves the affections from you, though he prefers the more "odder" ones, this is also something he loves.

He'll make sure to pay it forward as soon as he breaks out, he'll kiss you twice as much!! Hug you harder as well. You make things less boring when you're around after all, have to thank you for making things entertaining.

Black Sapphire oh he loves loves it. Doesn't matter if you do it because perhaps he did a good job in the arena or because you just like him. He appreciates every single little affection you have for him. From the hugs, the tapping to the kisses.

He might...just mayybbeeee broadcast what happened on his radio show, one of the few truths he'll have. He'd love to see some cookies deny this, especially if they knew he was known for his rumours. Others seemingly becoming jealous. He relishes in that, like "Yes, they did actually do that. They love me that much"

Overall, I think it'll slightly boost his ego if you did it, and consistently. His mic watching you as you're on the cookie screen, silently hoping for another hug or kiss

#pure vanilla x reader #pure vanilla x you #white lily x reader #white lily x you #golden cheese x reader #golden cheese x you #dark cacao x reader #dark cacao x you #hollyberry x reader #holly berry x you #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk x you #mystic flour x reader #mystic flour x you #burning spice x reader #burning spice x you #black sapphire x reader #black sapphire x you #✦ Zeros Self-Aware AU

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mageofmadness · 3 months ago

Text

FILL THE VOID CALEBXMC

(1.2k) ✗✗✗ ☘︎･*:.｡ nsfw [18+] includes: nothing graphically sexual but sexual themes and we're in a club. strip club. whatever you want to call it. caleb mentions tits once. *i'd had this idea for a bit, i might continue it if anyone is interested. then we could earn some fun tags ^ i played it fast and loose with lore, i don't think it matters much. classic mc thinks he's dead, caleb is clearly not, and has been (unsuccessfully) stalking trying to find her. now he's found her. fantastic.

caleb orders a drink as soon as they get there, making a beeline for the bar and standing amongst the sloshed patrons around him. he much rather be at home, but morale is a big deal and it’s someone’s birthday. no, he doesn’t really know the guy, but camaraderie is also a thing, and after carefully exerting all of his excuses, of which he has none (they know this), caleb found himself at the club on a thursday night.

he gets his jack and coke, adds in a round of shots for the table, willing to go out but not start a tab his somewhat-friend’s will rack up, and closes out. he decided on the way here that one drink and a shot is enough to dull his surroundings, which are overwhelmingly loud and overstimulating while sober. caleb finds his party and slides into the booth, giving a laugh at whatever he had missed as someone flags over a girl for bottle service. caleb grimaces into his drink.

she eyes them all, honing in on the weak links with heavy pockets, and spots her targets almost immediately, which does not include caleb, and that’s fine. he’s not really…this type of person. anymore, at all—whichever it is, whichever it has been. he can be, of course. caleb can handle his own, as he is now, laughing and having a good time, but his appreciation for paying for company starts and ends with the girls around him getting a check, and that’s what it is. the girl that eventually comes up to him, sitting next to him, asking if he wants another drink, well.

caleb’s fine, he’s got all he needs and more at home. in his empty apartment. by himself where it’s quiet and not loud, and the lights are not blinding when they hit the wrong way. where he has plenty of room in his bed and extra pillows that fall off during the night.

he politely declines another drink, lets the woman sit next to him, and watches as his friends turn into less than upstanding, upright citizens.

caleb ignores the stages, eyes glazing over as he sips his drink, warms, and waits until he feels it an appropriate time to leave. he hadn’t really been told they were coming to this sort of club, but beyond the teetering between crass and classy atmosphere and the fact that he had to take two and a half sips of his drink to relax, it’s a nice place.

but caleb has things to do. he might go back to work, honestly, as there’s paperwork he was meant to look over and he doesn’t want to tackle early tomorrow morning. the dead of night is when he does the most work and thinking.

in his peripherals, bare expanses of skin spin on the stage, round and round. legs open and close, and there’s men at the end of the platform, looking up at their dreams, tossing money, and it makes him almost dizzy. it makes caleb feel strange, actually, to be in such a place he’s found himself in when he was no stranger to such debauchery once upon a time, but time, so much of it, has taken its toll. he’s worn out.

he’s about to leave, actually. caleb’s ready to spew whatever comes out of his mouth as an excuse, when his eyes catch the stage again. one dancer is leaving, money overflowing and a big smile on her face, a wink, and another is making their appearance.

at first, he doesn’t give it a second thought. caleb stands, he finishes his drink, and makes to say goodbye, but he does a double take. just something is what he’d explain it as. there was no real reason for him to turn fully to the stage, but he does, and something catches the light.

just something catches the light.

caleb doesn’t have great eyesight, but it’s better than most. it’s getting worse as the years go on, and he stares at screens ninety percent of his time, but he’s perceptive. caleb is intuitive. he can read a room, but the music is shaking the booth he had sat in so there’s a signal jam going on as he freezes.

he’d blame obsession for being the reason he doesn’t want to be here. caleb would also blame everything as to why his first thought was you when his eyes catch on that flash of silver.

and it’s not as if he has not looked for you.

anyone who would suggest such a thing would be out of their mind.

caleb knows…he knows what he’s working with and that’s very little and he also knows he is here, he is not six feet under the ground as you suspect him to be. that’s a noxious mix.

the lights turn pink instead of a soul-eating red and that is you. even shrouded in the heavy bass in a dark, moody room. he just knows. the shape of your back, the curve of your arm. caleb cannot see hair color, he cannot see much because the lights are a deep, dark blue now and so shadows are black and light is scarce, but caleb’s breath catches. he’s standing there stupid, watching as the music slowly picks up.

he sits back down.

someone claps him on the back.

caleb stands again, and mumbles an excuse as to why he stood in the first place, as he makes his way back to the bar. bumping shoulders with other men, throwing out excuse me’s and sorry’s until those are gone from his mind and he’s ordering another drink. he knows what he’s done, caleb sleeps next to it every night when he’s restless, and surely you cannot see him from the blinding stage lights but he sees you fully now, not tearing his eyes away as he hands over his card and another drink is slid before him.

first to hit him is the deepest, largest pill of longing. ten fold what he feels every night as he lies in bed and stares at his ceiling or scrolls endlessly through newspaper articles and such. he doesn’t swallow that pill down right, it catches in caleb’s throat as he tries to clear it and run the feeling down with the whiskey in his hand. watching as you begin to move, slowly. sensually. in a way he’s never seen, he’s entranced. absolutely enthralled by the skin he sees and the small outfit.

it’s wrong, he knows you’d be livid if you found out he was watching you like this. sipping on a mixed drink, leering from the bar because that is what he’s doing. under the longing there’s that high of simply you. just you—on stage, twirling so pretty. it’s the cherry on top of the pill and if you knew, you’d surely be a bit embarrassed, but that would soon be overshadowed by rage. a high voice, telling him off, and the next time caleb takes a sip of his drink, he sees that silver again.

right between the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen is a very familiar necklace.

it hangs off your body, it kisses your cheek when you twirl. it stirs something inside of caleb, parts of him he thought he was already fully aware of, as he takes another sip.

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ 195.40.40 119.8.8

#my wrxting 💿 ོ⁩`.#love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #lads caleb #caleb x mc #lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads smut #caleb smut #lads #lads x mc

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swanimagines · 5 months ago

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Hello! So I've been reading a lot of your works *cough* mainly Kaz and Pin *cough* and I was wondering if I could request one? If so, A6 from your dialogue prompt list with Kaz Brekker. Have a great day <3

Prompt: A6. “Ugh, people are so weird.”

A/N: I still can't look at him without remembering I actually have HUGGED that man and I get to do it once more in two months I-

RUMOUR TOLD ME

Ketterdam, in its darkness and grimness, was the last place Kaz would expect to find someone like you. You, a cheery, warm person who believed all people were good unless proven otherwise. And even working with the Dregs hadn’t wiped that attitude off you, which had always puzzled Kaz. And maybe it was the way you always saw the good in everyone was what made him develop feelings for you. Or rather, as he convinced himself, he was maybe slightly interested, but not necessarily romantically.

Either way, he treated you like he had always treated you, as another Crow, and he thought everyone else thought so too. And maybe that’s why it was so shocking when you came to the Slat one day, laughing as you slid to sit at the bar counter, one stool away from Kaz.

He stared at you for a moment, and you locked eyes with him. “I just heard the funniest thing.”

“Can’t wait to hear it,” Kaz mumbled, glancing at the barkeeper who immediately started preparing a drink for him.

“There’s a rumour circling around that Kaz Brekker has a crush,” you snickered, and Kaz immediately froze. “And the crush being me. Ugh, people are so weird.”

A short silence descended upon you, and your giggling echoed in Kaz’s mind.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Get it together, Brekker.

“And you find it funny?” Kaz grumbled, which earned a frown from you.

“Well, we are complete opposites. I mean, I guess people who sent this rumour going are probably avid romance novel readers whose favourite trope is ‘opposites attract’ but I have no idea what kind of drink they took to get themselves so drunk that they spun out this kind of theory.” You shrugged, gesturing to the barkeeper to prepare a drink for you too.

Kaz scowled. “Those kinds of rumours should be cut off before they have a chance to fly.”

You laughed. “Oh come on Kaz, it’s just some children spinning stories for their entertainment, it won’t hurt anyone.”

Kaz almost barked at you, telling you that children of Ketterdam should know better than joke with things like that before someone teaches them what it’s like to lose the fun in their life forever, but he held himself back. His mind momentarily filled with pictures of what could happen if the wrong kind of people found out about that rumour and believed it. You’d disappear and eventually come back to the Slat, carried by Matthias, with a knife in your heart, your body already cold, eyes open, beginning to rotten, your mouth opened in an eternal scream–

Kaz shook his head, forcing himself to stop thinking about that scenario.

“Rumours are dangerous,” he said, leaning towards you slightly. “Even ridiculous ones.”

You scoffed, waving your hand. “I know, but no one is going to believe something like that.”

Kaz withdrew, taking his cane and gripping the silver crow head. He wanted to tell you you’re off duty for a while. He wanted to claim he needed help in office work, which would bind you into Slat for a few weeks. He wanted to find whoever is spreading this rumour and warn them off, threaten them. Maybe even break their legs to ensure they won’t sing about it.

But even if that would work, and Kaz knew it would, it could be a sign that the rumour actually had truth to it. It would make him look weak, even if that person would never tell about his visit.

You got the drink and downed it, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, before you looked at Kaz again. “Do you have any tasks for me? If not, Inej said she’d like to have company when she goes to run an errand but if you have something more important to do, I’ll pass on that.”

Kaz clenched his jaw, staring at his still full glass of kvas. “No.” Be careful.

You nodded and disappeared to the crowd, and Kaz told himself to not look at you walking away. And as soon as your steps faded, he downed the drink and stood up, making his way to the attic. He needed to take his mind off of… this, whatever it was.

But of course, on his way, he came across Jesper waiting by Wylan’s door, spinning his other revolver. Kaz already saw from Jesper’s grin what he was going to say, that he had also heard the rumours. “Hey, Boss. Word is you’ve got a crush on our Sunshine the Second.”

Kaz cocked an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think that?”

Jesper stopped spinning his revolver and shrugged. “Well. It’s been obvious for all of us for a while. I suspected it, so I told Nina, and she listened to your heartbeat while our star Sunshine was around, and–”

“And nothing,” Kaz barked. “Whatever you have heard or understood, is not true.”

Jesper cackled, and Kaz wanted nothing more than to stuff the handle of Jesper’s beloved revolver into his throat at that moment. But it was more because he realised everyone knew. His Crows, at least, knew.

When Jesper stopped cackling, his tone was more serious. “But hey, I understand that this… thing isn’t a good thing to be circling around. If you want some of us to go uh, find out who put the rumour to circle in the first place, just tell us.” He winked. “And of course, no telling your beloved.”

Kaz thought, staring at Jesper. He wanted to keep denying it, tell Jesper everyone are idiots, doubt Nina’s skills as a heartrender. But he knew that nothing would work anymore, everything would just confirm their every suspicion, those that were true and those that were not true.

So he nodded. “Deal with it. Quietly.”

Jesper nodded in return. “Always, boss.”

And when Kaz continued ascending the steps, he could almost hear Jesper’s grin. If there had been some doubt in Jesper’s mind, now there most definitely wasn’t.

Kaz knew that his Crows knowing except for you was miles better than the whole Ketterdam knowing. If everyone knew, or if such suspicions would rise to any extent, they would inevitably eventually go straight to rivaling gangs. And at that point, depending on how stupid they were, they could follow the rumour just in case and ambush you.

They would be stupid because if you were killed by a gang, Kaz wouldn’t rest before each one’s guts had painted every wall of their past territory, but they would also be smart because they’d take away the one thing Kaz truly cared about in this world, and it would be the second time around. Kaz wasn’t sure if he would ever recover, which would potentially make him weak in a way, maybe even suicidal with his hunger for bloodshed. He could be the most feared person in all of Kerch for a few weeks, but constantly throwing himself in situations he could get killed would eventually kill him. It could even be his goal, to die fighting and take as many of his enemies with him before that.

But after those little gossipers would be getting caught and warned off, things would maybe become better, and Kaz would be able to forget about this whole mess.

---

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starkeymeow · 9 days ago

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❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT chapter twenty-two, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, y/n and enobaria time, 3 month cap, the actual reaping for the quell

main masterlist | series ml | tag list | previous

over the next few months, you spiral in and out of moods like clockwork.

some days you wake up feeling like yourself again. you laugh at breakfast, eat with your hands, let rafe kiss your cheek while brutus mutters something sarcastic under his breath. you make jokes with your neighbors, you almost believe this life.

but happiness is a terrifying thing now. it never stays long.

because as soon as the room goes quiet, so does your head, and then it’s like the world shifts. suddenly you’re not laughing anymore. suddenly you’re thinking about the arena, the reaping stage, the way snow’s voice sounded when he made the quarter quell announcement early, like he was being generous by giving districts time to prepare. it was a kindness, he said. but kindness doesn’t feel like this.

you’ve had so much time to think about it. too much. and the more time that passes, the worse it gets. it’s like your brain won’t shut up. you replay every scenario, every version of the games, every person who could be called, every decision that might save a life or get someone killed. your mind becomes a warzone. even sleep doesn’t feel safe.

you’ve been spending more time with enobaria and brutus lately. they’re still like family, even after all these years. it’s just what happens when two people mentor you through a killing game and then stick by your side while you spend the next decade pretending to be okay. there’s a kind of bond in that you can’t really explain. it’s deeper than blood.

sometimes you want to talk about the quarter quell, but no one else seems to want to. it’s like they’re pretending it’s not coming. maybe they’re in denial. or maybe that’s the smart thing to do and you’re the stupid one for trying to plan ahead, like you’ll ever be ready for what’s about to happen.

enobaria’s said a few things, but they’ve been short like she doesn’t want to have the conversation. but she’s not going to lie to you either. “whatever happens will happen,” she told you once, the only living victor from district two other than yourself. and you know her. you know exactly what that means.

if your name is drawn, she’ll volunteer. no hesitation.

and if hers is called, and you so much as breathe wrong, she’ll stop you from stepping up. she’d literally rather kill you than let you take her place. but not because she wants to go back. but because she’d rather it be her than you.

you never say anything when she talks like that. you just swallow it and hold it in. you don’t like fighting with her. not unless you have to.

but with rafe, you think maybe he’s safe. there are more male victors in district two. a few older ones. brutus, even. there’s a chance someone else would take the reaping in his place. there’s a chance he doesn’t have to die. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

finnick’s name keeps echoing in your head too. he’s one of the only, maybe the only, living male victors left in district four. you aren’t completely sure. it’s almost a guarantee. and the thought of facing him, not in a mansion, not in a photoshoot, but in the dirt and blood of a second arena, makes your stomach twist. finnick loves you like a sister. he wouldn’t kill you. if it came down to it, he’d let you win. and you don’t know if that makes it better or worse.

everything is complicated. everything hurts. sometimes you sit on the floor of your room just trying to breathe, wondering how you ever got to this place. all because you were conditioned into believing you’d bring glory to your family and district two someday.

and then, just the day before the reaping, you find yourself walking down the quiet path to enobaria’s house.

you wait until it’s dark enough outside that the capitol lights blur. it’s long after rafe’s fallen asleep on the couch, arms folded over his chest and the television flickering. you don’t say anything before leaving, not because you’re hiding it, but because there’s nothing left to say. you’re just tired of waiting. you’re tired of knowing what’s coming and having no say in how it happens.

you knock twice.

when the door opens, it’s not the kind of welcome that leaves room for pleasantries. she looks at you like you’re the one thing she didn’t want to see tonight, like your presence alone is a betrayal. her mouth is drawn tight, she doesn’t say anything. not hello, not what do you want. she just opens the door halfway and then starts to push it closed again like that’s all the conversation she’s willing to offer.

but you don’t let her.

your palm slams flat against the wood, not with force, but with certainty. you meet her eyes as you do it. they narrow as she stares back at you, unmoving. it’s the kind of look a mother gives to a misbehaving child, the kind of stare that tells you to drop it. stop now. but there’s something else in there too, something that wavers like fear.

you don’t speak. you just look at her, and eventually, slowly, her grip on the door loosens.

enobaria exhales through her nose like she’s already exhausted and steps back without a word, letting the door swing open behind her. you slip inside, your arms folding across your chest without thinking. your fingers find a strand of hair and tuck it behind your ear as you pivot around, watching her close the door.

for a second, she just stands there. you’re not sure if she’s waiting for you to talk or trying to build the strength to say something herself, but either way, she turns around eventually. and in that moment, she looks more like a girl she used to be than the woman she became.

you look at her, your eyes steady, “i need you to promise me that it won’t be you.”

her face changes the second you speak. her jaw ticks and she shakes her head. she knew this was coming. she knew this would be the reason you came tonight. she turns on her heel before you can say anything else and starts walking toward the kitchen. you follow her.

“aria,” you say softly, and it’s the first time in months you’ve used that name. the name only you ever really called her.

she stops at the edge of the kitchen, one hand on the doorframe, the other limp at her side. her head tilts slightly, not enough to look back at you, but enough to show that she heard you. that she’s listening.

you stay in the hallway, your breath catching on the edge of your ribs.

“i need it to be me.”

she doesn’t turn around. but she does shake her head. “you’ve never been stupid, y/n,” she says, and her voice is rough, bitter in that way that only pain can be. “don’t be now.”

you step forward anyway, “i need to do this.”

she turns around this time. her expression is unreadable at first, the kind she always wore during your shared training days when you’d failed to meet an expectation. but her eyes flicker just enough to show the ache behind it.

“no,” she says. “absolutely not.”

you blink. “you don’t even know what i’m—”

“i know exactly what you’re saying.” she steps forward now. “you want me to stand there at the reaping and do nothing. to let them call my name and just watch you step up like this is your sacrifice to make. like you’re some kind of martyr.”

“i’m not trying to—”

“you are,” she cuts in, eyes burning. “you are, y/n. and it’s stupid.”

you flinch. not at the word, but at the weight it carries. she rarely speaks to you like this. never has, really. neither of you are really like this with each other.

“you have a life here,” she says, slower now, more deliberate. “you have a home. parents who are still breathing. a boyfriend who would go into hell for you. you even have rafes family who call you their own. do you know what that means? do you even understand how rare that is for people like us?”

you bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. she’s getting close.

“you go in, and we both know what happens next.” her voice drops. “rafe follows. of course he does. he always does. he’d burn panem down if it meant keeping you alive.”

“you think i don’t know that?” you snap, and your arms fly open like you’re trying to make room for all the things you haven’t said out loud. “you think i haven’t been thinking about that every single day since the announcement?”

“then what the hell are you doing?”

“trying to end it,” you say, and there’s a crack in your voice you can’t hide. “maybe that . . . maybe that’s not the worst thing.”

she goes still. you can see her pulse jump at the edge of her jaw.

you try again, quieter. “maybe it’s a way out.”

enobaria just shakes her head again. “don’t pretend like you’re doing this for the greater good.”

“i’m not.”

“you are. and it’s bullshit. you think you’re expendable. you think you don’t matter. you think that if you go, and rafe goes and maybe you both die, then at least it’s over. but you’re not the only one who’d have to carry that . . . you damn well know i would too.”

your lips part, but nothing comes out. she keeps going anyway.

“he’s not coming out alive this time,” she says. “not with snow watching. not with the whole country waiting to see if you two pull the same trick again. snow’s not going to let another rebellion start from two kids who couldn’t kill each other. do you really think he’ll give you a second miracle?”

you blink hard as your throat aches.

“if you volunteer, he dies,” enobaria says plainly. “and that’s your fault.”

your hands tremble at your sides, curling tight into your palms.

“you want to help?” she asks, stepping back. “let me go.”

you shake your head—no, no, she has it all wrong. “you can’t, please,” you say, louder now, stepping forward again. “they listen to you and brutus here. the peacekeepers here follow you, even the ones that hate victors. the whole district looks to you like a damn general. they trust you. they believe you when you talk. you’re more of a leader than i’ve ever been.”

her jaw locks.

“so if i can take this from you,” you say, “if i can be the one who—”

“do you think this is some kind of repayment?” she scoffs, then shakes her head, half-laughing in disbelief. “you think you dying in that arena fixes something? evens the score?”

you blink, thrown off by the words, and she just laughs again, but it’s humorless.

“i went into your games thinking i’d save one of you,” she says, staring through you now. “maybe not even that. i was ready to watch you die, both of you. but you didn’t. you won. both of you. do you know how rare that is? that fate doesn’t exist, and you want to throw it away for what, y/n? closure? redemption?”

you open your mouth, but she keeps going again.

“you’re not ready. not for this. not anymore.” her voice drops, and she looks away, not quite able to meet your eyes. “you’ve changed.”

and then softly, “you’ve got metal in your spine.”

your entire body stills.

there it is.

that’s the part she wasn’t saying, the thing no one talks about. the thing that clicks when you bend too fast, aches when it rains, burns every time someone touches your back like they’re allowed to.

“you really think you’re still a fighter?” she asks, and there’s no cruelty in it. no meanness. she’s just trying to speak the truth, even if it hurts. “you can’t even sleep without painkillers.”

your brows knit. heat rises in your chest. it stings worse than any punch or sweep she’s ever thrown at you. she’s counting you out.

you look at her like she’s a stranger for a second. like she’s just another capitol mouthpiece telling you what you can’t be. what you’re no longer allowed to be.

your voice comes out low, bitter.

“i’ll make it out of there alive, i’m telling you. so if you walk up there, i’m following you.”

her face flickers, just slightly.

you stare hard, “don’t think for a second i won’t.”

she doesn't respond. not with words, anyway. her mouth is tight, her eyes suddenly unreadable again, but you see the fracture beneath them. she’s hurting. and now she knows you are too. both of you too stubborn, too tired, too damn loyal to let the other go.

you turn and leave before she can speak again, before she can talk you down, or worse, agree with you.

you shut the door behind you and you don’t look back.

you and rafe barely get to finish breakfast before peacekeepers show up at your door the next morning. they’re not cruel or rough, but the message is clear: no one is walking to the reaping alone today. the victors are being collected.

you step outside and spot brutus just across the street, already in motion. there are others, too, faces you’ve known for years now. people you used to only see in training centers and victory tours, now neighbors. they’ve become your friends now.

you catch enobaria’s eye as she locks her front door behind her. for a second, everything goes still. you stare too long, trying to read something, just anything, in her face. but she’s impossible today. her jaw’s tight. her hands are loose at her sides, too calm. her eyes don’t tell you a thing. and when she notices you looking, you look away.

you’re all guided to waiting suv’s, shuttled off to the square. no one says a word on the ride. you sit beside rafe, his hand brushing yours once, then staying still.

when you arrive at the square, the peacekeepers direct you to line up, and you fall into place out of habit. the stage is already built. your seats are waiting. the people are already gathering. you know how it all works by now.

district two piles in like they’re here for a celebration instead of a sacrifice. the population divides the way it always has: genders separated, grouped by age. order above all.

you catch sight of your mother first, tucked among the other women like always, standing tall even though you know her hands must be shaking. and then you see sarah near the back. wheezie’s closer to the front. you don’t know why you’re looking for them, but you do. like if you find them, it somehow makes you braver.

the mayor arrives with his family and all his people, all polished buttons and too-smooth smiles. they take their places just in front of the row of victors, as if that makes any kind of sense. you’re still seated, waiting. and then, the signal comes.

you stand. all of you do, rising to your feet and forming a line on either side of cassaline, who’s standing at her usual post with her capitol curls and powdered face, ready to announce names like they’re party favors. women are to her left, men to her right.

you move without thinking, slipping into place beside enobaria, your shoulders nearly brushing but not quite. you can feel the difference between your side and the other. the men outnumber you. there’s four or five of them, and just the two of you here.

district two erupts in applause. you hate it.

they don’t understand. they clap for you like you’re heroes, like this is a second chance to see their favorites shine. they don’t know, or maybe they just don’t want to know, that the arena never leaves you.

you smile anyway and nod at the ones who cheer loudest. you play the part because that’s what they need from you.

meanwhile with cassaline, she looks like she’s been gift-wrapped for the occasion.

she beams as she approaches the mic, but you know her. you’ve known her for years now. and even through all the glamor and grin, you can see the shift in her eyes. she’s not as composed as usual. not as sure.

“what an exciting day!” she chirps, clapping her hands together in a flutter of rings and painted nails. “today we choose the brave individuals who will represent proud district two in this year’s very special hunger games!”

there’s something about the way she says special that makes your stomach twist.

normally, this is where the film would play. the dark days. the rebellion. snow’s cold, smug voice reminding the districts why this all began. why they’re forced to send their children into slaughter every year, but they skip it. maybe they don’t need the reminder today. maybe they think the stakes speak for themselves.

cassaline doesn’t comment on the omission. she only claps her hands again, turning slightly toward the victors just standing around her.

“as always,” she says into the mic, “ladies first.”

you pretend not to notice the stares. you keep your eyes ahead.

cassaline moves to the small glass bowl on your side of the stage and your heart starts to pound. the bowl is laughably large for only two slips of paper inside. it’s your name and enobaria’s.

you don’t know what cassaline thinks about this, whether she wants you to be reaped or enobaria, whether she believes it’s fair or monstrous, but when she glances at you, her smile falters for just a breath. it’s quick. maybe no one else even notices. but you do.

you hold her gaze for half a second. then look away.

cassaline adjusts her sleeves, takes a careful breath, and reaches into the bowl. her hand hovers over the two slips like she’s picking poison. no matter what she chooses, one of you could die in a week.

she draws a name. and as she walks back to the mic, you realize your hands have gone cold. your fingertips numb. beside you, enobaria doesn’t move a muscle. she looks like she belongs there, like she’s already imagined the bloodshed, already decided she wants it.

“the female tribute to represent district two in this year’s hunger games is . . .”

you try to breathe. cassaline unfolds the slip. her eyes flick across the name, and something flickers in her expression. then she clears her throat, lifts her chin, and announces it to the square.

“. . . y/n y/l/n.”

the world tilts. you don’t move. you don’t even blink.

you expect enobaria to step forward and say something. she can volunteer. she’s allowed to. this was always going to be her, right? that was the deal. she’d go. you’d stay. that was how it was supposed to be.

but enobaria doesn’t say a word.

she stands like a statue still, staring ahead, her face unreadable.

your lips part slightly, breath caught in your throat. did she not hear? does she not understand?

but no.

no, she understands.

she’s letting you go.

you stare at her, willing her to do something. she doesn’t.

the crowd is silent now, just waiting. the moment stretches too long. cassaline glances between the two of you, uncomfortable, her fingers fluttering like she doesn’t know what to do with them. she’s realizing that enobaria isn’t going to volunteer in your place.

“very well,” she says finally, though she struggles to get it out. you shift slightly, your breath shuddering in your chest. cassaline turns toward the men’s bowl, walking carefully in her towering shoes, her shoulders tense.

you’re still staring at enobaria, still trying to understand. and then she looks at you just enough to meet your eyes now that the crowd is watching cassaline again.

and what you see there is nothing like the woman you’ve trained beside for years. she’s not smug or amused or even angry. there’s something else. there’s a softness. grief. pride.

she nods once.

you better win.

you rip your gaze away from her like it hurts. and without thinking, your eyes shift, searching for someone else. he’s standing only a few feet away, but it feels like a mile.

you’ve barely spoken about the games, especially about this. it’s like something you both avoided on purpose. it was always supposed to be enobaria. you both knew that. and deep down, some part of you was sure rafe would be relieved when it wasn’t you.

but now, when you look at him, he’s not relieved. he’s not anything. he’s just staring forward, slightly down, as if he can’t bring himself to lift his head.

and then cassaline’s heels tap back to the center of the stage. she has another slip of paper now, this time plucked from the men’s bowl, and you see it, the way her face scrunches for a half second as she glances at the slip without even reading it. but she pastes on a smile.

she unfolds the paper with slow, careful fingers. her lips part like she’s unsure whether to read it aloud at all.

“brutus stein,” she announces.

you furrow your brow. not because it’s brutus, it makes sense. he's one of the oldest, the strongest. he's been waiting for this. it’s good for him to go in with you.

“i volunteer.”

the voice is immediate. your head snaps to the sound. rafe.

your eyes lock on him instantly, furious and confused. you don’t even realize your body has turned toward him until your hands are clenched at your sides, shaking. you stare at him like you’re screaming without words—what are you doing?

rafe doesn’t meet your gaze. he’s already stepping forward in front of brutus. cassaline falters again, blinking, caught mid-step as she watches rafe approach.

brutus moves before she can speak. one hand shoots out, firm and hard against rafe’s chest, stopping him short. it’s not a shove, just a warning. like a silent don’t, but rafe doesn’t flinch. his face is blank.

“would you fight me for it?” rafe says low, almost gentle, like he’s offering something.

brutus doesn’t react at first, not physically. but you see it hit him, the memory. the first reaping with you two, how he earned his spot in the games by beating the kid who was chosen until they couldn’t stand.

brutus stares at rafe like he’s seeing him clearly for the first time in years. you can see it in his eyes. there’s rage, disbelief, the urge to throw a punch and make rafe earn it. but he doesn’t move.

he looks away first.

rafe turns his head slightly toward cassaline, waiting. and cassaline . . . she stares at him like he’s just punched her in the chest.

two of the youngest victors in district two. two people she’s practically watched grow up, watched change, and now they both want back in. and only one of you is coming out.

you see it in her eyes. the question, the hesitation. the are you sure?

rafe doesn’t nod, doesn’t blink. he just stands there. cassaline glances to brutus, still frozen. then the other victors. then hesitantly to you and enobaria.

you’re still staring at rafe like you can’t believe him, but the decision is already made. enobaria was right; rafe volunteered for you without hesitation. it’s not that you didn’t think he would, you just hoped he wouldn’t. and now part of you is regretting your decision.

cassaline turns toward the crowd. her voice is tighter now, “our victors . . .” she says, breath catching for just a second, “for the seventy-fifth hunger games: rafe cameron and . . . y/n y/l/n.”

the crowd explodes, but you don’t. you can’t afford to. you swallow everything, all the fury, the panic, the betrayal, the terror, and summon her instead. the girl from your reaping at seventeen. the one who didn’t flinch. the one who smiled because she was hungry.

you paste on her look and pull it over you like armor. it’s deadly, practiced, cold. rafe reaches for your hand, and though your heart is screaming, your body obeys. you grip his hand tight. and together, you raise them over your heads, a show for the cameras.

the flashing is instant. camera shutters blink like lightning as the cheers rise like fire. they love this.

you don’t look at rafe. you can’t. instead, you search the crowd. your eyes find wheezie first. she’s wide-eyed, her face twisted in confusion like none of this makes sense. somewhere else, sarah claps slowly, awkwardly, like she doesn’t know what else to do. her face is pale, blank.

and then, at the very back, your mother.

everyone around her is cheering, their hands raised, their mouths open. but not her. she’s just standing there, still and silent as ever.

your throat tightens instantly. guilt slams into you like a blade through your skin again, but you don’t drop the smile. you don’t let the cameras catch it. you just bite it down.

you squeeze rafe’s hand again, harder this time, and lift your chin.

there isn’t any going back now.

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @sukunasmuse @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae @belle101200 @hiimbrina @nomup @ayy1234567 @girxwrp @k4yr14 @amterasuu @theteenagementality @maggscr @hey-you22w @delilah22pbp @hayleynott @silkenthusiasts ++

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the-oblivious-writer · 1 year ago

Text

Let the Light In |7|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Seven: Tis' the Damn Season

Summary: After that eventful night at Tara's apartment, you find yourself pondering on a few things, but your banter with Tara never ceases. There is enough on your plate as it is, so when you bump into a familiar face it catches you completely off guard

Warning(s): Swearing, making out, mentions of drinking & intoxication, r has a case of bad communication, chemistry (like the actual subject 😣), compulsions, & implied anxiety

Notes: I took over a year off to cut you readers some slack, tell a friend to tell a friend - she's baackkk! 🤭 Ik you missed these stubborn little jerks, so did I. Also not this chapter being at like 10k+ words. Even then, there was a bunch more I wanted to add but I figured I'd save it for the next chapter (already plotting) I didn't wanna keep you waiting any longer than I already have

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The box of pizza and plate of wings sat completely abandoned, forgotten, on Charlotte’s coffee table as her hands traveled to your neck. You let your own hands drop to her hips, pulling her in. Her lips felt soft, yet foreign. You ignored that thought and continued to kiss her, slipping in your tongue while she maneuvered her way onto your lap.

Everything felt hot, you could feel your face heat up as she ever so slightly played with the hem of your shirt. When you gave her the silent signal, she slipped a hand under your shirt—not too high of course, but enough to feel your hips. You felt goosebumps at her touch, suddenly feeling nervous. You once again pushed any negative thoughts to the back of your mind, continuing to kiss her.

That’s when it clicked. Why you got so nervous all of a sudden, your mind was trying to tell you something, warn you.

You separated from her lips. She looked at you, a confused expression on her face. You weren’t meeting her eye line, feeling rather timid at the moment. “Are you okay?” She asked you. You barely heard her with your heartbeat drumming so loudly in your ears.

“Um…” You cleared your throat, still not meeting her gaze. “Yeah… I just—sorry.” Charlotte’s expression stayed put as you managed to remove yourself from the couch.

“Did I do something?” She asked, moving to also stand up. She looked at you with what you could only describe as confusion and concern. You couldn’t blame her one bit—one second you’re all over each other, the next you’re pulling back like she stung you.

“No—no, no, no,” you shook your head while gesturing with your right hand. “You did nothing wrong. I um,” you finally looked to meet her gaze, “it’s just been awhile, I guess.” You could only hope she didn’t see through your lame excuse, it wasn’t completely untrue.

“Oh,” Charlotte said. “…Oh,” she then repeated when she realized what you meant. “Shit, I didn’t push you did I?”

“I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been in a weird place …for a while,” you shrugged, not expecting to add that last part, your tone getting lower as you spoke those words.

“I get it,” she mustered an understanding tone.

A suffocating silence enveloped the room for a few seconds, causing you to look out the nearby window to be met with pitch darkness.

“It’s actually getting pretty late anyways and I’ve got an early shift in the morning…” You said while slowly getting your jacked that hung from the couch.

“Of course. Call me?”

“Yeah,” you briefly smiled at her while adjusting the collar of your jacket. “Sorry, again, for making things awkward,” you apologized while grabbing the last of your things.

“No, don’t worry about it. Stuff happens,” she waved you off while managing a reassuring tone.

You nodded at her before muttering, “thanks,” and finally leaving the apartment. As soon as you walked out into the crisp night air, you exhaled your own pocket of air you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

That’s when it all came crashing down; the awkwardness, stupidness, and cringyness that came from the situation all because you were scared to let your situationship see your scars.

Nice going.

You repeated words like moron, idiot, and dumbass while you walked to your car—the train of thought never breaking as you drove to your apartment. Manhattan’s late-night traffic didn’t exactly ease your frustration. You were in the middle of cursing out the car in front of you when your phone started to ring.

Still feeling ridiculously stupid, you were going to let it just ring out, but that was before you saw the contact name.

You answered the phone. “Tara?” You immediately asked with furrowed eyebrows. Why on earth is she calling you so late?

“Y/NN,” you heard her slur over the phone. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, immediately realizing what you were about to be in for. Before you could get another word out, she interrupted you. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

Your eyes widened as heat rushed to your face, your hands nearly slipping off the wheel. The tips of your ears suddenly began to feel very warm while your mouth opened and closed a few times before you could get sound to come out.

“I—uh,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “Where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” Her answer was followed by hiccups.

“I’m coming over,” you said firmly before hanging up. Being distracted any further by her voice was the last thing you needed right now. You silently hoped nothing drastic was waiting for you at her apartment as you changed your route.

When were you going to stop jinxing things?

—

It had now been a few weeks since the night at Tara’s apartment took place. Not long after you put her to bed, you gave yourself some time to reflect on her words. And ever since that night, you have been repeating them in your head whenever you were with the Carpenter. It seems as though she was able to move on easily, at least, her silence on the topic made it appear that way. On the outside, you gave the impression that you too had moved on from that night, that it had not affected you whatsoever. But on the inside, you were in emotional turmoil. With replaying your memories, that same tightening feeling in your chest that you felt that night reappeared.

There were so many key points of that night to completely crumble over; for starters, the incident with Charlotte. You are beyond embarrassed thanks to your repulsion for emotional intimacy. You knew if she saw your scars questions would ensue, thus putting you in an uncomfortable position to spill your guts out. The last thing you needed was for that to happen, but that alone had you thinking.

You’ve been on over four dates with Charlotte now and you have no idea where you stand with her. She’s just a situation-ship as of right now, and for all you know she could be seeing this as more. But the thought of asking her where you stand with her makes you emotionally grimace and cause your stomach to churn.

If you can’t even talk to her about your relationship status, should you even continue seeing her? This question had you thinking even further. Maybe you rushed into this relationship, maybe it was far too soon. Was nearly a year too soon?

That was the last time you were in a relationship, the last time you allowed yourself any form of emotional intimacy with a partner. But that was the result of almost three years, years of building trust and connection. It was going to take a lot more than just a few dates with someone you don’t truly know to recreate that. It was going to take effort.

As for the Tara part of that night, you didn’t even know where to begin. Where could you? From her compliments to her insults, the night was certainly an eventful one. And just to think, you had seen her just hours before and there hadn’t seemed to be any issues.

The coming semester is certainly going to be an interesting one.

—

You and Tara were in your apartment, huffing and groaning could be heard throughout your room. She sat cross legged at the edge of your bed while you were leaned up against the headboard. Papers sprawled all over the bed, pens and pencils scattered—almost imitating what the inside of your mind currently looked like.

“Was the first sheet you gave me—was it nine or seven?!”

You let out a huff, mixed with a long sigh, at Tara’s repeated question. After running a hand down your face, you slid closer beside her to get a better look at her paper. “This is table nine right here,” you emphasized by rapidly tapping your pencil on the spot of the paper you wanted her to focus on.

She rolled her eyes as she mumbled, “Oh my god—” She turned her head to looked at you as she huffed, “Answer my fucking question with a yes or a no; was it a yes—was it a nine or a seven?”

You muttered a few curses under your breath—curses you knew she heard because of your close proximity—before taking your pencil to her paper once again. “Alright, okay so I’m gonna circle this—”

“What the fuck—?!”

“This is—this is nine,” you glanced at her for a moment to make sure she was paying attention. All you were met with was a dumbfounded look.

“But what’s the top??”

“That’s table seven.”

There were a few seconds of her just staring at the paper and you looking between her and the paper until she said something.

“What?” Her voice indifferent.

“So I’m assuming you don’t get it…”

She turned her gaze from her paper to you, hitting you with a hard glare. “No, asshole. I don’t get it.” She then threw her pencil to the side and got up from the bed. Her arm brushes against yours as she does so but you choose not to pay any mind.

“I’m so tired of chemistry,” she all but whined before dramatically plopping back down on your bed face first.

“You’re the one that said you needed help,” you pointed out while curiously flipping through her notebook. “I remember wanting to stick with routine and work on our history project.” Her doodles are cute.

“So helpful,” she sarcastically remarked, muffled; she was still face planted on your mattress, right beside you.

“I try,” you reply in a monotone voice; you were still flipping through her notes as you talked.

Tara rolled over on her back, pushing loose strands of her raven hair away from her face. She exhaled before clearing her throat—which didn’t get your attention, so she tried again …and again, after the third time she just settled for throwing a nearby pillow at your head.

You finally turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows and a hand to the back of your head. “Um, can I help you?”

“Can we just start on the math now?”

“You couldn’t have asked that without the pillow to my head?” You asked incredulously.

“Do you have this, like, mental illness that prevents you from properly answering ‘yes or no’ questions—”

“Get your other notes out before I change my mind.”

Tara scrambled over to the side of the bed, reaching over to grab her bag that sat beside your bed. She quickly wiped off a giddy smile as she took out her needed papers. You were neatly setting her previous papers to the side as she did so.

“Alright, what do you got for me, Carpenter?” You inquired while she scooted back next to you; you’re both sitting side by side, leaning against your bed’s headboard as you looked at the page of notes she was showing you.

“This is basically everything that's going to be on my exam next week,” her stress regarding her exams was evident from her tone. “Some topics I’m good with, other’s I’m okay with, and a few I’m struggling with.” She turned to look at you, eyes practically burning holes in the side of your head with a pleading look. Pleading for you to help her.

After a moment of silence—of you intently staring at the paper—you hummed to yourself, nodding, as you finally returned Tara’s gaze before speaking. “I have highlighters; I want you to circle the ones you’re okay with in orange, and the one’s you’re struggling with in red,” you told her while reaching into the drawer of your nightstand for the highlighters.

All you got was a brief, “Mhm,” while you blindly thrashed your hand around for the highlighters. When you finally got the right colors, you handed them to her before getting up from your bed which earned you a confused look from the other girl.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. Don’t miss me too much,” you couldn't help but smirk at the girl, leaving before she had the chance to counteract. You weren’t sure if you were smirking because of your own remark, or if it was thought Tara was missing you. It definitely left a warm feeling inside of you.

She doesn’t miss you. She wants less of you, remember? Your head reminded you, causing that familiar feeling of your chest tightening. Your breathing was still a bit hollow from the feeling as you finished up in the bathroom and walked back to your bedroom.

“You finished?” You asked Tara while returning to your previous seat beside her.

“Yes but I have a proposition for you,” Tara responded almost immediately. You stopped your movements, eyeing her with a suspicious look.

“Lay it on me,” you said.

“We can continue doing all this,” she gestured to her notes, “—but instead we can do it in a place with food.”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate, please.”

“I want to go to the diner nearby, and finish studying there. I’m tired and starving—and you haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks so I already know there’s not much to find in your fridge.”

“Wait, how do you know the last time I went shopping?”

Tara ignored your question, instead continuing to look at you with those doe eyes of hers as she continued to plead. “Pleeeaaase, Y/N?”

You looked at her, feigning a reluctant look before letting out a sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Thank goodness. My stomach was starting to make noises I’ve never heard before,” she said as she was gathering her papers.

—

“Done!” Tara announced in a cheery tone. You looked up from your book as she slid over the sheet of loose leaf she was just working on. “I put a star next to number three; I was having trouble with that one the most,” she told you before sipping her half drunken milkshake.

You nodded her way as your eyes skimmed her paper. “All these are correct—including number three. Was there a specific reason you didn’t fully understand it?”

“Mainly the order of the steps,” she answered.

“I see. Well you were correct. But if you continue to have trouble with the memorization stuff, flashcards are great memorization tools. Especially colored ones. I can lend you some of you want,” you offered her while giving her back the piece of paper.

“Oh—yeah. Totally,” she chuckled before loudly clearing her throat and practically shoving the straw in her milkshake into her mouth. There was something that washed over her—possibly embarrassment? You couldn’t be too sure. But why would she be embarrassed? Sometimes you wish you could hear her thoughts, just so you could get some insight on what was going through her head during certain moments.

Tara stared down at her straw, subconsciously refusing to pick up her head until she felt less flushed. That was so embarrassing, she kept thinking to herself. ToTalLy! Goodness, Tara, she just offered you some flash cards—not her hand in marriage. Her cheeks got even warmer at the idea.

“You good, Tar?” You just had to ask with that painfully soft voice you get when you’re concerned. Oh, and why did you have to call her Tar? She still remembers when you called her Tar for the first time—you were hiding away from everyone in her bedroom when she found you. She felt her knees physically grow weak as heat rushed to her ears, and now she’s found herself in that same predicament due to you opening your stupid, occasionally sweet, mouth.

“Hm? Great!”

“Um,” you let out a short, awkward, and airy laugh. “Okay, good, yeah.” Your eyes subconsciously took a quick scan around the diner due to Tara’s sudden volume change. “So anyways, from the looks of those problems, you’re gonna nail your exam. Just try not to overthink your answers too much.”

Tara hummed before returning to her milkshake just to realize she was all out. Guess she’s going to have to find another thing to distract her eyes from you.

You, on the other hand, were still confused. Did you say something? Why did she seem so timid all of a sudden? Did the flashcards somehow cross a line? If so, in what way did it? Tara was being a little too silent for your liking, which is really saying something considering how much you value your quiet time.

You were about to do one of the hardest things you have ever done. Attempt small talk.

You cleared your throat, “So. How’s—how are you and uh Chad?” This finally got Tara to look up. She eyed you with a confused expression. “Like, dating and stuff,” you awkwardly added. Your palms were already growing sweaty as your leg began to bounce.

“Me and Chad? Dating?” That’s when she bursted out laughing, handing over her mouth and everything. You suddenly felt like a total dumbass but you weren’t sure as to why. Were they no longer dating? Well obviously, if you had to take anything from her reaction. But you weren’t doing a lot of laughing when you and your ex-girlfriend broke up.

“Oh—I’m sorry, let me catch my breath for a second.” She literally wiped away a tear from how hard she was laughing before speaking up again. “Y/N, Me and Chad are not together.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. And we never will be, never ever ever.”

“Never ever?”

“Never ever.”

You couldn’t help the sudden wave of relief that washed over you, but you weren’t sure where it came from.

“But I saw you two kissing at a party,” you told her.

“Right …that. Yeah, I try not to think about that night if I’m being honest. It was honestly super embarrassing; I was completely drunk, so drunk to the point where I thought he was… someone else,” her voice grew a little quieter towards the end as she sank a little in her booth.

“Oh.” Was all you said. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you? That night was a misunderstanding, and judging by Tara’s words and reaction to the accusation of her and Chad dating—that relationship is long from happening. Yet another feeling of relief washed over you as you had that thought.

“Yeah,” Tara shrugged. That’s when something clicked in her head …she could use this awkward discussion to her advantage. “Since we’re on the topic of dating, how are you and Charlotte? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.” And good riddance for that, she silently thought to herself.

“I kinda ended that,” you nonchalantly answered before shoving a fry in your mouth.

“Oh that sucks,” she feigned a sympathetic tone. “It seemed like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I guess.”

Tara wanted to leave it that, really she did, but she just couldn’t help but pry. “Something happened?” She asked you.

“Nope. Just fizzled, I guess. situation-ships do that sometimes, not surprising.”

“Wait, ‘situation-ship’? What do you mean by that?” Her question and her tone of interest had you looking at her with raised eyebrows, utterly confused for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“Like, it wasn’t serious. I wouldn't call her my girlfriend, doubt she’d call me hers. Nothing more than a casual relationship,” you responded, for some reason you felt the need to tread lightly.

“Didn’t you go on like five dates? If you go on multiple dates, that means you’re dating. Thus the word dating being an extension to date,” she sternly replied.

“Alright, I understand the responsibility of a verb—why are you getting upset over this?”

“I’m not upset.” The pout she wore as she defensively crossed her arms with slumped shoulders told you otherwise. “I just—I don’t know. I want pie.”

“Okay. I’ll get you pie, but could we please switch to a different subject?”

“Fine,” she mumbled; her gaze may have been directed toward her napkin, but it threatened to meet you every second.

—

“I can’t believe you finally watched it!” You exclaimed to Tara. The both of you were headed back to your apartment; it was dark out as it lightly snowed. You were holding the bag of leftovers, walking on the street-side of the sidewalk as Tara kept her hands firmly placed in her jacket pockets, protecting them from what felt like sub-zero temperature.

“I only avoided it for so long because of you!” She laughed.

“Wow, so you’ve been missing out on one of the greatest shows of all time due to pettiness?”

“Okay, okay—I said it was good, not great.”

“Ah, but you wanna say great. It’s that darn pettiness holding you back, once again,” you said as your smile never broke.

“Did you just say ‘darn’?”

“Yeah, what?”

Tara only laughed as she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Oh! You should watch the extended cut—if you thought it was funny before, you're gonna love the superfan episodes.”

“I’ll give them a shot,” she truthfully responded. She would say anything to keep you talking like this. One of the things she loved listening to was you geeking out over something you were passionate about. Maybe it was the sound of your voice, maybe it was how you lit up, maybe it was how animated you were while talking.

“Definitely do—” You were cut off by a body colliding into you, causing you to drop the bag of leftovers you were carrying. You muttered a “sorry” before crouching down to pick it up. Tara was about to help until your eyes met with the other person’s.

“Y/N?” The stranger asked.

“Olivia?” You mirrored a confused look.

What was your highschool sweetheart from Woodsborro doing in the middle of Manhattan?

“Oh my gosh—it really is you.” Olivia laughed a bit as the realization set in. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“Yeah—yeah, and it’s you.” You responded before she came in for a hug. Your movement stuttered for a second before welcoming her hug. She was still as warm as the day you met, her dark hair still holding its shine it did since the last time you saw her.

The hug was understandably awkward, but for once you didn’t mind awkward. “What are you doin’ in New York?” You finally asked her.

“I’m here for this documentary thing I’m working on,” she said.

“That’s right—your documentaries. I’m glad you’re still at those,” you told her in a genuine tone.

She grew a smile at the words you spoke. “Thanks… that means a lot.”

“Oh—uh, you remember Tara, right?” You turned and briefly pointed at the Carpenter who slightly waved.

“Yeah, I do. Hey,” Olivia said with no bitterness. She took a few steps and held out her hand to Tara, which the other girl took.

“Hey,” Tara nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“I’m surprised you two are out in public together,” Olivia joked. You and Tara both laughed awkwardly at your dynamic being brought up.

“Me too,” you joked back. “So uh—you staying long?” You asked, purposely deflecting to a different topic.

“It’s currently indefinite, I’m crashing at a friend’s place right now.” There was a glint in your eye that Olivia picked up. “Would you like to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to catch up.”

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” you replied; you were trying your best to hide your eagerness.

“Awesome,” she grinned at you. “So, see you around?”

“See you around,” you said. You instantly began to cringe at yourself as she started walking away, but she didn’t leave without giving you one last look. As soon as she left ear shot, you let out a long awaited sigh.

“Geez.” The sound of Tara’s voice caused you to flinch, you completely forgot she was standing right there. “That was hard to watch,” she remarked.

“No one asked,” you said with an eye roll as the two of you began to walk again.

“Someone’s bitter,” she replied. “Hey—” She put the back of her hand on your chest to stop you from walking as she turned to look at you, “Let’s go to my place instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanna finish these leftovers on the roof,” she answered.

“My apartment has a roof,” you told her.

“Not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“It's just not. Now come on before our food gets even colder and more destroyed.”

“I guess I’m following you,” you mumbled while trailing behind Tara.

—

You and Tara were sitting on white patio chairs; the same ones you recall from the last few times you’ve been up on the roof. The wind had calmed down since your walkover, snow still lightly falling from the sky. You were eating your fries as Tara was eating what was left of her pie.

“I’m just saying, I could totally take down a bear.”

“Not in a million years, Tara. You, a 5 foot gremlin, versus a big furry thing with claws that could rip you to shreds? Be serious,” you deadpanned.

“First of all, I’m 5 foot 1, second of all, you’re really underestimating me here. If I can take down a sociopath while crippled—”

Tara didn’t talk about Woodsboro a whole lot, really the only time she’s talked about it—with you at least—was the night it happened, the party at Henry’s house, and just now if that even counted. She never seemed to name-drop anyone connected to that night. But you understood. You don’t remember the last time you said Dewey’s name out loud.

“A sociopath? Yes. But last I checked, the said sociopath didn’t have the same physical traits as a bear—therefore, your argument holds no power.” You shoved a few fries in your mouth before silently offering her some, in which she accepted.

You glanced over at her to see her expression—she looked kind of disappointed. You sighed, thinking for a moment, before speaking again. “Okay, I’m not saying you have no chance. You’d still do some damage—and I guess it’s not impossible to beat a bear.” You hated the instant flip in your stomach from seeing the way she lit up, it was subtle but you’re grateful you noticed.

She smiled, almost grinning but she resisted. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jump on its back, put it in a headlock,” you added with your own little smile.

“Exactly. You get me,” she absentmindedly said right before taking another bite of her pie.

“What a mad world we live in,” you joked while reaching beside your chair for your milkshake. Tara wasn’t sure what you meant by that, but she just decided to ignore it rather than dwell on it—at least for the moment. She looked over to see you sipping your milkshake and a sly smile appeared on her face as she began to lean closer to you, her elbows resting on her chair’s armrest and expression never faltering.

“You want something, Tar?”

“That’s an awfully tasty looking milkshake you have there,” she commented; she feigned an innocent tone.

You glanced at her from your peripheral vision—she was on your left side—as you played with the straw in your milkshake. “Tara…” You all but sang. She hummed in response, her position still the same. “Would you like my milkshake?” You asked, but your tone hinted that you already knew what her answer was going to be.

“Well, I guess since you’re offering. Who would I be to pass up a perfectly good milkshake?”

“You’re a piece of work,” you remarked with a broad smile that Tara could describe as gleaming.

“You’re the sucker who gave me her milkshake,” she sneered before taking a sip from said milkshake.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, ‘cause this sucker could easily take it back,” you threatened, lightly laughing along with the other girl.

She scoffed and waved her free hand, “Yeah right. I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, yeah?” You get up from your chair, eyes never leaving Tara. “I bet I could take it back from you, no sweat.”

A smirk grew on Tara’s face as she also got up from her chair. “Okay, okay, you’re on then. Winner takes all—all being the milkshake.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

“Okay then let’s do this, come on bring it,” Tara’s grin was just too strong to fight off as she lifted up her elbows; one, to use as a shield for her milkshake, and two, to use as her weapon.

You let out a laugh when you saw a defense mechanism. “That’s pathetic,” you quipped.

“Oh, really?” She said with raised eyebrows. She then shoved her elbows towards you, both of you laughing during all this.

“Oh!” You took that as a chance to grab her from behind and wrap your arms around her waist, holding her in place as she attempted to break loose; in her defense, it wasn’t as easy to do so while she was flushed against you, her face heating up from both the action and her ceaseless laughter.

The milkshake dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. You lifted her up a bit as you spoke, “Not much of a fighter now, huh?” You quipped in a smug tone.

“You are so playing dirty right now!” She said; her shirt rose a little bit and her hands were loosely holding onto your forearms.

“I don’t remember seeing a rule book. Just surrender and I’ll put you down,” you told her as if it was the simplest thing ever; for anyone else, it would have been.

“No way!” At her response you lifted her higher at which she started rapidly patting arm.

“You finally surrender?”

“Never in a bazillion years!” Just as Tara said that, she felt a drop of water on her forehead. She furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at the night sky. “Shit—I think it’s raining.”

“Yeah right, you just don’t wanna be the one to surrender,” you accused while adjusting your hold on Tara.

“I actually felt—” Before Tara could finish her sentence, a loud grumble could be heard as it started to abruptly pour. “I told you!”

“Shit,” you cursed as you put Tara down.

“We need to get inside.”

“Incredible observation. Thought of being a detective?” You quipped.

“Shut up. It’s freezing, let’s just get inside.” Tara was visibly shivering, wrapping her arms around each other while hugging them close to her torso.

“Okay, come on.”

Tara barely let you finish speaking as she started rushing towards the door. “Wait—! Tara, don't run! You could slip!” You tried to match her speed without breaking your neck in the process. You nearly sighed in relief when she slowed down.

She looked at you with an inpatient look as she waited for you to catch up. You were in the process of taking off your jacket as you caught up to her. “If you’re going to slow me down, at least walk a little faster. I’m getting drenched, and this outfit isn’t exactly water resistant—I’m not water resistant!”

“Geez, alright. Quit complaining.” You caught up to her, trailing behind her as you wrapped your jacket around her. “Stop looking at me funny, just open the door,” you said in response to the lost expression she gave you.

She mumbled something incoherent while reaching for the door’s handle and turning.

As soon as you stepped inside, you let out a long exhale while rubbing your hands together. You looked beside you to see Tara attempting to shake off the water she was drenched in; of course, as a result, she ended up spraying you in the process. “Do you have to do that near me?”

“Where else am I doing it?” She tightened your jacket around her, holding it impossibly close to keep herself warm.

“Whatever, I gotta get home anyway. Picked up a few extra shifts,” you said while double checking your phone’s dryness.

“I thought the cafe gave you off on Saturdays.”

“Uh, yeah. I do. I’m—covering for a coworker, I owe them so,” you trailed off with a shrug; you batted your eyes away from Tara, suddenly finding your drenched jeans very interesting. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Tara responded; you made your way down the stairs but not before sparing a small smile.

—

It was the next day, 8:52 am on a Saturday. You had woken up around 4:00 since you had to get in around 7:00 to help set up and open at 8:00. Exhaustion was hitting you back and forth, the only thing that was keeping you awake, barely, was your few hours old coffee you had brought from home. Staying out late with Tara was really biting you in the ass, but you were usually tired these days so it wasn’t much of a difference.

Although it was slow since the day had just begun for many, you still found yourself dealing with incompetence so early in the morning. Truly, it was too early for this. If one more person asked about Halloween stuff, Thanksgiving stuff—any other thing they should’ve gotten months prior, you are going to bash your head into a wall.

Why are people asking their barista about stupid out of season decorations? It’s simple, the cafe wasn’t paying you enough; attending college and living off campus wasn’t getting any cheaper and you needed a reliable job. So when you saw that Target was hiring, you applied. That’s how you came to balance two jobs and some of the most insufferable customers you have ever had the displeasure of conversing with.

“I’m sorry miss, but we stopped selling that after October. But if you’d like, I can show you to the candy aisle—”

“No, listen to me, these are what I want,” she snarled while shoving her phone in your face; her phone showed a picture of the Halloween candy she wanted. “I don’t want regular sour patch, I don't want regular m&m’s, I don’t want regular reese’s pieces—I want Hal-lo-ween candy.”

“I know that, but miss—”

“Can you just go check in the back? Please? My son has been driving me insane and I need to at least do this one thing right,” she begged.

You let out a silent sigh, “Of course. I’ll go check in the back to see if we have anything left.”

“See, now that wasn’t so hard,” she said as you made your way to the storage room. You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore her statement. It really was too early for this.

You went into the storage and sat down on a nearby box; you just stared at the ceiling, zoning out for about a minute before heading back.

“I apologize, we don’t have what you're looking for. Is there anything else I can help with?”

She scoffed at you, clutching her purse as she did so. “No, I do not need your help because clearly it is no use. Your manager will be hearing from me,” she angrily said before strutting away.

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” you remark out loud to yourself. Once she’s out of your eye line, you let out an aggravated sigh. Working in retail is not for the weak.

You walked back to the end of the aisle and began to restock the shelves again, the thing you were previously doing before being interrupted. You picked up one of the boxes of cereal when your hand accidentally knocked something out of your pocket. It fell by your feet, you glanced at it for a moment before looking back at the shelf—but that’s when it registered what it was. You immediately placed down the box then kneeled down to pick up what you dropped.

It was a folded piece of paper. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows as you unfolded it before you traded your confusion for a smile. You looked at the doodles that covered the paper, the doodles drawn by Tara. Her name was even signed at the corner; sometimes she draws her name in different fonts to pass the time. Over the years, you noticed her favorite font to draw is graffiti lettering. You were now standing up, still smiling down at the piece of paper. You always admired the way she wrote—

—Suddenly somebody clears their throat. You jumped, blinking rapidly while attempting to shove the paper back into your pocket. You turn your head around to see your co-worker, Avery, crossing her arms while giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. “Secret admirer?” She remarked with a smirk.

“No, it’s just—it’s nothing. Scraps, really if you could even call it that,” you stammered while trying to nonchalantly lean against the shelves. It wasn’t a total failure, you guess.

“...Right,” she narrowed her eyes at her, clearly not believing your crappy save, but dropped it nevertheless. “Anyways, me, Vicky and a few of the others are gonna go out for a drink tonight; can I count you in?”

You stopped leaning on the shelves as you thought for a moment. You usually weren’t one for going out, but it’s been a long few months. With that thought, everything that’s happened in the past year flashes through your mind. It’s been nothing but motion sickness, and maybe you could go for a drink or two.

“You know what—yeah, I’m in,” you nodded at her before returning to the boxes of cereals that sat in the cart beside you.

“Wait, really? You never wanna come to these things …damn it, I owe Vicky like 20 bucks,” Avery silently moped as she walked away. You laughed a bit at her comment as you continued stocking the shelves.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

—

When you got home that day, you made sure to take a nap before it was time to leave for the bar. When you got there, you stood at the doorway for a few seconds, honestly not sure what your next move was but luckily you caught Avery’s eye and she waved you over. You walked over to where she and the others sat at—the bar—you sat down on the stool beside Avery who was sat next to Vicky. You were surprised they weren’t sitting on the same stool with how tangled with each other they were.

“You made it!!” Avery shouted in a cheery voice that made you wince as she pumped her fists in the air. “Look, Vicky! Y/N’s here!” Vicky nodded at the girl while trying to subtly ground her by rubbing her lower back.

She looked over at you with an apologetic look. “Sorry, she gets kinda loud and hyper when she’s drunk.”

You chuckled a little, giving her a reassuring shake with your head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m a pretty embarrassing drunk anyways so I couldn’t talk. Probably why I don’t do it much,” you told her while your arms rested on the table.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to see you drunk,” she said while adjusting her arm as Avery was now resting her head on Vicky’s shoulder.

“That’s never gonna happen—just a club soda for me. At most I’ll do some watered down beer, but that’s really it,” you said.

“Wow.”

“I know, I’m a party animal,” you quipped with sarcasm laced in your voice.

“Total rebel,” she added as you both laughed. “So, other than the fact that you’re a total bad boy—how are you liking New York?” She asked with Avery still wrapped around her who had snuggled up closer to her.

“It’s fine. Hasn’t changed much since the last time I lived here.”

“Yeah? Did you live in Manhattan before or someplace else?”

“Brooklyn. I was born there, and lived there until …I didn’t,” you answered with your train of thought trailing off with your answer. So much has changed since you moved. What if you didn’t move? What if you never moved back? What if you lived in Woodsboro first? What if—

“—Did your family move around a lot?” She asked another question out of pure curiosity.

“Uh…” You picked at the wood surface in front of you, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted. “ No. Just one time.”

“Cool, my family moved around a few times. It’s a pretty hard thing to go through, even if it’s just once,” she said in an understanding tone. She looked back to Avery, smiling to herself as she stared admirably at the half-a-sleep girl nuzzled up against her.

You glanced over at the adorable site before asking, “How long have you two been dating?”

“A couple months, but we’ve known each other for ten years,” she responded while pushing back loose strands of hair that covered Avery’s eyes.

“That’s a long time,” was all you could think to say.

“Yeah, she’s literally my other half. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” After letting herself stare at Avery for another moment, Vicky turned her gaze back to you. “How about you—you seeing anyone?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“I was uh, sort of seeing someone? But broke that off recently. Too close for comfort,” you elaborated for her while silently deciding if you should drink tonight.

“Your casual relationship get too intimate?” She raised an eyebrow before you responded with a tiny nod, she probably would have missed it if she blinked in the same moment. “Yeah, I used to be like that before Avery.”

“Guess I just gotta wait for my Avery,” you half-joked, earning a laugh from Vicky.

“I hope you do, she’s definitely a keeper,” she said fondly. She looked at you—your head now resting on your folded arms—and saw the distraught expression you wore, it looked as if you were silently having a debate with yourself.

“Something up?”

You did a double-take at her, lifting up your head before sparing her a meek smile. “Just thinking, you know?”

Vicky nodded before adding on. “You need advice? I’ve always been told I give great advice.” Her voice was kind and held nothing but honesty.

“Sure…” You were hesitant to accept but you were also on the verge of digging yourself into a hole just to avoid decision making. To be fair, you often think about barricading yourself to avoid dealing with your problems—and oftentimes, you have actually done it. “So last night I bumped into my ex,” you reluctantly began, “and we briefly talked, and she mentioned meeting up sometime to catch up.”

“I’m assuming you’re nervous about the catching up part?”

You confirmed with a hum.

“Are you nervous about being the first to reach out, the catching up part overall, or both?”

“Yes.”

She let out a tiny laugh, not unkindly, before telling you that advice she told you about not long ago. “This was all last night, right? I say, wait a couple more days, then reach out if you’re up to it, and then once you get that part out of the way the rest will build itself.”

“You really think so?”

“Promise, I really don’t think you should stress too much on this. And listen, if you’re really not ready to meet up with her yet, I think she’d understand. Either way, it’s your choice,” she told you before sipping her drink.

“That’s… really good advice. Thank you,” you complimented.

“You’re welcome, anytime. I did mention that I give great advice.”

“I said good, not great,” you said in a tone that hinted you were just teasing.

“Yeah, okay whatever.” Vicky playfully rolled her eyes as you smiled at your own taunting.

Maybe this was not as bad as you were making it out to be, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up.

—

Things were awful. You could never have been so wrong in your life. It was one thing after another. First with the text; you had to just hope Olivia didn’t change her number as you looked for her contact—which you had to look for by number since your removed her name and photo right after your breakup out of pure pettiness—and it took you about half an hour to think of the right words to send, and as soon as you sent them you immediately regretted it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Next was when she actually responded.

Y/N (4:42 pm) Hey, it’s Y/N. Catching up sounds cool, so if the offer still stands I’d love to take you up on it

(XXX) XXX-XXXX (4:56 pm) Hi, yeah offer still stands. I’m actually free tonight if that works? I know that’s short notice so I completely understand if you’re unable to

You were in the middle of revising your notes at the kitchen counter when you heard the ding from the couch. Your head immediately shot up, and as soon as it processed what that ding was—you ran to it, hopping over the back of the couch and grabbing your phone.

You read the message over to yourself exactly seven times before impulsively reacting to her message with a thumbs up. After your response, you got another text from Olivia and the two of you made a decision of when and where to meet.

Oh, how deeply you regretted your impulsiveness as you stared at the same outfit over and over again. That’s what came right after the communication part; what exactly you were going to wear. You felt ridiculous, you’re usually not like this—but that happens to be a reminder of all the different things Olivia brings out in you. Good and bad. It was like you were 17 again.

Eventually you decided on something comfortable, casual, it’s not like you were going someplace fancy. The air in your apartment suddenly grew to be suffocating the closer it got to the time you had to leave. You gathered your belongings; you gathered your wallet, keys, phone, headphones, and lighter, shoving a few of them into your pockets. Just before leaving you stood still for a second.

What could I be missing? There has to be something. There has to be something. Damn it, there has to be something!

Your eyes wandered around your apartment for a good minute before you called it in. You patted yourself down while muttering the names of the items you felt in your pockets before finally leaving. You locked up behind you and let out a long sigh as you ran your hand down your face.

When you got to the bakery, your heart was beating in your ears and you felt your ears warm up when you made eye contact with Olivia from just a few tables away. She waved at you and you waved back as you subtly gulped. On the way towards the table, you silently hoped she didn’t pick up on the urge you had to perish right then and there.

“Hey,” you said. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug her or shake her hand, something, so you just stuck with sending a small but simple smile her way.

“Hi,” she responded. She returned your smile as she looked you up and down. “You look good—I mean, you look yeah,” she awkwardly laughed, flustered from her stammering.

You returned a short laugh, feeling a tiny bit of the tension beginning to ease but not entirely, “You look good too,” your smile grew softer as you spoke. You noticed her eyes still wandering. “Didn’t get a good look last time?” You quipped in a teasing tone.

She shook her head as she tried to fight off the bright smile that painted her face. “I see you haven’t changed much,” she said.

“Well, me and change have never mixed well.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” she made her tone less monotone to ease the weight of her words. But that didn’t make you oblivious to their meaning.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture while you folded your hands and dropped them to your lap. “So, how’s the documentary going?”

“Just fine,” she said positively. “Still in the early stages, and you know how that can be.” You nodded along to her words. It suddenly became awkwardly quiet.

You picked at your cuticles, pressing harder and harder for that sweet sensation you craved, your gaze everywhere but at Olivia. That tension you felt before started to settle in your chest again, and you didn’t know how to cope. You just wanted out. You regretted agreeing to this. You wish you never bumped into her. You wish you never agreed to dinner with Tara because then this wouldn't be happening.

Of course it goes back to Tara. It always seems to.

“You still do that thing with your fingers?” She asked out of the blue.

“Huh?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your lap to where your hands rested.

“I don’t have to look to know. I've known you for three years, Y/N,” she said.

“Oh.”

“And I can hear you picking at them from under the table.”

You suddenly felt small, slumping in your chair, and continuing to avoid eye contact with the woman who sat across from you. However, Olivia did not return this treatment. She sat up in her chair, placing her own hands on the table before turning them over to expose her palms. “Let me see your hands.”

“What?”

“Show. Me. Your. Hands.”

It didn’t seem like she was asking. There was definitely not a question mark in there. You rolled your eyes, letting out a small sigh that held aggravation. Reluctantly, you complied with her commands. She took your hands in hers and began to examine them, her fingers tracing down and softly rubbing against yours—you forgot how soft her hands were. As soon as her hands made contact with yours, you felt your joints grow weak and your cheeks felt too warm. You don’t remember the last time you held hands with her but it was certainly having an affect on you.

“Have you been using these as a chew toy?” She rhetorically asked, referring to your fingers whilst still examining them.

“Okay, they’re not that bad.”

“Yes. Yes they are,” she said with no hesitation.

She finally stopped looking at your fingers and instead at you. When you saw the worried expression that painted her face, you knew a line of questioning was approaching. “Are you okay?” She inquired in an unbearably gentle voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Which means you’re not fine.”

“Putting words into my mouth, as always,” you said in a low tone as you pulled your hands away from her.

“You really want to go there?” She let out a short exasperated laugh with her question, raising her eyebrows as she spoke.

“When I say I’m fine—I’m fine,” you said while leaning in and emphasizing your words by pressing on the table with your index finger; you leaned back against your chair when you finished speaking.

“Oh my God. You are literally so unbelievable—do you even hear yourself?” She looked at you with pure disbelief which only confused you further.

“What are you even talking about? All I said is that when I say I’m fine, I mean those words. How am I wrong here? I genuinely don’t understand,” you expressed in both frustration and genuine confusion.

“And what I am trying to say is you’re still the exact same person I was arguing with right before we broke up.”

“What?”

“You never want to talk! Listen, baby, I get you’re grieving—but you can’t just shut me out like this. It’s apparent that you need help! You don’t have to rush into it, but eventually—”

“Whether I talk or not is my choice! And I’m not seeing some stupid grief counselor, okay? Just because I don’t wanna talk to you about certain things, doesn’t mean I’m shutting you out—and I don’t need help! I’m fine. I’m just—damn it, I’m just processing. Can’t you let me do that at least?”

“You have been ‘processing’ for months! It’s time to—”

“Time to what? Move one?”

“That’s not what I was going to say!”

“But you’re thinking it. You’re thinking it just like everyone else is; my mom, my brothers, everyone at school—just leave me alone, all right!”

“Y/N, nobody is—”

“No! Everyone is thinking! Just stop, okay! I don’t need your bullshit sweet nothings, I don’t need some therapist, I don't need to talk about it—I’m fine!”

You and her could not even go five minutes without your conversation, or lack of, forming into an argument. And it was your fault. You were the problem. You couldn’t answer a simple question. Maybe you were hiding behind the fact that you didn’t know how to answer that question, or that you're trying to hide the answer from others. Either way, you always find yourself forming emotional barricades around you, no one in and no one out.

“Hey, come back,” Olivia’s voice rang. You were pulled from your thoughts, blinking rapidly as if it would wipe away the memories you tried so hard to erase. She leaned in, her irritated expression replaced with a comforting one. “I know how mean that voice in your head can be, I know what it does to you—but I just want you to be okay.”

You met her gaze, your expression equivalent to the look of a lost puppy. “Thank you, Olivia,” you simply said. It was not much, but it still weighed in emotion.

The rest of the night was less intense. She asked about Blackmore and how it’s going, which inevitably opened the door to her questioning you about seeing you with Tara the other night, and you found out more about her documentary. The night was long and tiring, but as much as you hate to admit it, you’re glad you agreed to catch up with Olivia. And you would be a bold faced liar if you said you didn’t miss her. The wound is still arguably fresh, but it’s beginning to heal.

You walked into the apartment, looking forward to changing into a pair of pajamas and binge watching some TV on the couch until you passed out. You have been studying non-stop for exams for the past four weeks, so why not give yourself a treat? Plus, this upcoming school week, you will officially be exactly one week from exams so you will be locked in. What does that mean? You do what you usually do but multiply that by a million, anyone who has known you long enough knows they’re going to hear less and less from you the closer you get to exams. It’s as if you completely shut down from the outside—actually, that’s exactly what happens.

As you walked inside, you yawned and rubbed your tired eyes. But as they begin to focus again, you notice a few blobs sitting in your living room. When your eyes are fully focused, that’s when you see them.

“Are you shitting me,” you expressed in a monotone voice while turning the locks on the door before throwing your keys to the side.

“No—no whining!” Anika immediately said. “You knew they were coming over.”

“I thought you canceled,” you said.

“Uncanceled.”

“What a miracle,” you remarked as you took off your jacket.

“How come whenever I have people over you have a problem with it as if this isn't a shared apartment?”

“Y/N being an inconsiderate jackass? What a revolation,” Tara pitched in with a smirk. You looked over to deadpan at her and she was already staring back at you.

“Says the woman who still owes me a milkshake,” you wiggled a finger at her. You both smiled at each other before you turned back around to kick off your shoes. “You know what, Nik, it’s fine. I’m just kind of grumpy right now.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for not giving you an update,” she said, matching your own apoplectic tone. “You wanna join us? We were gonna play some Uno then watch a movie.”

“Uh, I don’t know—”

“Yeah, probably 'cause you’re gonna get all embarrassed when I wipe the floor with your ass in Uno,” the younger Carpenter knowingly instigated.

“Oh, excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m the reigning champ in my family—don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” you instigated back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright,” your gaze stayed on Tara for a moment before switching back to Anika, “I’ll join you.”

—

“Tara is totally looking at my cards!” Chad shouted while shoving his cards to his chest like an elderly woman clutching her pearls.

“I am not! You’re the one who keeps leaning on my side!” Tara whined back with just as much passion, if not more.

“Okay—no one looks at anyone's cards!” Anika cut in. “Alright, babe, it’s your turn.”

Mindy wore a devious smirk, slowly picking a card from her deck for dramatic effect.

“Boom, suck on that!” Everyone leaned in to look at the plus four Mindy slammed down on the pile of cards. Chad instantly groaned, immediately feeling a sense of regret for wasting his last plus four. He sulked while taking four more cards.

Now it was your turn. Tara was right after you, you had the chance to make her life a living hell. All you had to do was place the three plus four from your deck and you would double Tara’s deck in size and be one more card away from Uno.

You made a decision.

“Plus four,” you gloated regarding the single plus four you placed down.

“Damn it!” Tara made sure to glare at you while she picked up her four cards. “Just wait, you’ll see. I’m going to make my comeback.”

“Whatever you say,” you said in a doubtful tone. As Tara silently cursed to herself while flipping through her deck in frustration, you couldn’t help but stare fondly at the girl. She always had a competitiveness to her that you couldn’t help but respect. It was kind of cute.

After another seven minutes, it came down to just two people; you and Tara. You sat from across each other, debating your next play while one taunted the other.

“You know you’re going down, right?”

Tara laughed at your words. “You have at least ten cards, I just have two more turns and I’ll be following through with wiping the floor with your ass.”

“Oh, yeah?” You said, unintentionally with a come hither voice. You leaned in, your voice lowering but the tone still the same as you spoke to her. “You keep that energy, Carpenter.”

Tara's face suddenly grew warm, her stomach enveloping with butterflies as your voice crashed against her ears. You leaned back against the couch, looking at your own cards as it was Tara’s turn now.

Shit, you were in her head now. You totally did that on purpose, you had to. And what a dick you were for that, you knew what you were doing—again, you had to be aware of your actions. You must know the stupid feeling you give her, the way her stomach flips, how her legs turn to jello when you call for her. No. Focus. Come on, Tara. Lock in. Wipe the floor.

She cleared her throat, blinking down at her cards while processing them. It took a moment for it to click before she tapped back into her competitiveness and slammed down a card. “Uno! Plus four—suck on that!” Now she had just one card remaining in her hand, just one more turn and she would be victorious.

You smiled at her, your head tilted a bit as your eyes lit at the sign of her celebrating. She calmed herself down, feigning a calm demeanor. “Alright, it's your turn.”

You sighed. Well it was fun while it lasted, you enjoyed playing with Tara. It was entertaining. It’s nice playing with someone who can handle your competitiveness. “Uno, uno out,” you said while putting down your entire deck. You sat in your spot, looking at Tara with a shit-eating smirk with your hands folded together as Tara sat there dumbfounded.

“That’s—what, no, wait,” she furrowed her eyebrows as she rummaged through the cards you just placed. They were all green sevens. All of them. “How’d you—”

“Chin up, honey,” you teased, winking at her

“Oh you’re a real piece of work.” She shot up from her seat as she rushed over to a nearby closet. Your eyes followed her movements as you raised your eyebrows at her sudden actions.

“You two finally finished?” Mindy asked but was ignored by the other girl. “What are you doing with that—can you like stop ignoring me?” Tara returned with a box of Jenga in her hand and the others trailing behind her.

“I’m too tired to play Jenga,” Chad said.

“Good thing you’re not.” She now looked to address you, “You, me, Jenga—now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all you said as she immediately began setting everything up.

“What’s this about?” Anika asked you.

“Oh, I beat her ass in Uno—graciously so—and she’s being petty about it,” you shrugged.

“I am not being petty, I am unsatisfied. Seriously—how do you win with all green sevens?! Ugh, never mind that. We’re playing this and I’m going to hold out on my promise.”

“Of wiping the floor with my ass?”

“Exactly.”

“Woman of her word,” you say while getting comfortable in your spot.

Mindy, Anika, and Chad watched from the sidelines as you and Tara went at it in Jenga. There were many, many close calls, and few times where the other nearly flipped a table. You both tried to get into the other’s head while the other was sliding out their pieces, but so far no mistakes. But the tower was growing wobbly, it was getting late, and it was only a matter of time before that tower fell over. Now, it was simply a matter of who would make it come to that.

It was Tara’s turn, and there were not many places left for her to take from so she was forced to resort to an incredibly risky spot. You took this as another opportunity to mess with her. “Hey, Tar?”

“Kind of busy here,” she said—the block just halfway out.

“Will you marry me?” You casually inquired.

Tara’s eyes widened and her eyebrows jumped in surprise. Her hand immediately faltered, dropping her piece as the tower came crashing down. Her mouth opened and closed, her stare averting back and forth from you and the fallen tower; she didn't even know where to begin.

The others just remained on the sidelines, completely entertained by what was unfolding in front of them.

“Is that… a no?” Your eyes were almost pleading as you continued to taunt the girl, your millionth smirk that night threatened to show itself.

“I’m going to kill you,” Tara responded as she squeezed her eyes shut, still processing what just happened.

“Not before the honeymoon,” you quipped. Chad, Mindy, and Anika could now be heard laughing, no longer able to hold it in.

“You can’t just—” She shut her mouth out of frustration, settling for narrowing her eyes at you.

“I can’t just what, sweetie? Come on, use your words.” Oh, this was fun.

Suddenly you got a pillow to the face which only made it funnier, to you at least. “You owe me a rematch, cheater!”

“Excuse me, I didn’t cheat. You messed up on your own devices,” you said while patting down the pillow and putting it to the side.

“You know what you did,” she said with bitterness laced in her voice.

“I don’t, so how about you tell me? Tell me how exactly my words affected you; you know, so I can prevent myself from accidentally cheating next time.” You never broke eye contact with Tara; you enjoyed how much she was squirming thanks to you, maybe you enjoyed it a little too much.

“Next time?”

“You wanna rematch, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.” This whole interaction had Tara blushing; she needed to leave, like right now. “How about I get back to you in 5-7 business days? Sounds good? Cool. Well, it’s late and Chad’s my ride so we should probably head home, right Chad?” Her words were rushed which made you raise an eyebrow at the sudden change.

“Hm? Oh sure, I’ll just get my keys and stuff and we can go,” Chad said before going to get his belongings.

“So, I’ll see you around—buddy,” she awkwardly punched your arm in a playful manner.

“Um, yeah, buddy. See you around,” you chuckled at her awkwardness.

“I’m still expecting an answer though!” You called out as she made her way to the front door.

“5-7 business days!” She repeated back to you.

“I’m holding you to that!”

-----------

A/N: well that escalated, gosh, keep it in your pants R! 😦

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax@andsoigotabutterfly @ajortga

#let the light in au #tara carpenter #tara x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter scream #tara carpenter x fem!reader #scream x you #scream x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #scream fanfic

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rhiannonsknife · 7 months ago

Note

Would you ever write dom Jackie? I feel like she would have two moods: mean dom and soft dom

nsfw content. mdni. soft & mean dom jackie taylor. fem!reader. should i start beta-reading? probably. am i going to do that? i doubt it.

jackie would definitely…evolve over the course of your relationship. she’s only ever ‘been’ with jeff before and even though they never actually got to having sex, the little experience obviously influenced the way she thought things were supposed to be done.

she’d be rather shy at first, i think, assuming it’s her ‘job’ to take, rather than give. it’s not like she doesn’t enjoy it, don’t get me wrong!! jackie loves it when you first touch her, when she -for once- doesn’t have to fake it like she’s used to but instead has a mind-blowing orgasm during your first time with her. so, yes, jackie does like it when you touch her. she likes the feeling of your body on top of hers and the way you’ll grind against her until she’s seeing stars.

and, still, she feels like there’s just something missing. or rather something she’s missing out on.

jackie doesn’t figure out what that certain something is until, one night, where she’s propped upon your thigh, grinding against you in ways she hadn’t done before. she’s still fully dressed too, while you’re almost completely naked beneath her. exposed, jackie can’t help but think as she rocks back and forth, at her mercy. pathetic, she thinks, too, then instantly feels embarrassed for the way that thought makes her throb.

to push the thoughts away for good, she leans down and kisses your mouth. with every stroke of her tongue, though, jackie feels another surge of that strange sense of possessiveness. blame it on the way she’s been socialized all her life, but she didn’t even think it would be possible for her to feel this kind of want until she finds herself rocking against you harder, kissing you deeper, feeling a constant pulse of mine, mine, mine that shoots straight between her thighs. she’s certain she’s soaking through her jeans.

you obviously notice the change in your girlfriend’s demeanor, but -god- you’re not going to complain with the way she’s riding you, head thrown back in pleasure, moans spilling from her parted lips freely.

when you reach out to touch, jackie bats your hands off of her without thinking. “no” she hisses, not even bothering to look at you. “don’t you dare.”

the facade falls just seconds later when she realizes what she’s said. anxiously, she glares down at you. she’s blushing furiously, trying to apologize and stumbling over her words. “i didn’t mean to” and “i don’t know what i was thinking, we can stop”

it takes a lot of reassurance but, finally, you’ve convinced her that it’s okay, that you liked it. after that night, which ends with jackie cumming multiple times as she pins your hands down onto the mattress (using you) and tells you to ‘shut up and take it’, she slowly becomes more confident in her sexuality and the way she wants to express it around you!!

i think she starts out as the soft, tame type of dom which only becomes meaner over time. but, while it does take a while for her to give in to her wants, oh boy, is it worth the wait…

mean!dom jackie who loves to make you strip out of all of your clothes for her without ever taking off a single item herself. who makes you get on your knees naked and shoves her fingers in your mouth, then chuckles softly as you gag on them. who forces you to look back up at her when you break the eye contact and grabs your cheeks so harshly that they’re all smudged between her index and thumb. who loves the way it makes her feel to tower above you and see you so willingly down beneath her.

mean!dom jackie who loves to hold you in place. whether it’s by actually tying you up somehow or by simply holding you in place. she gets so turned on from having you however she wants to. she’ll either eat you out for hours, to a point where you’re so overstimulated you’re trembling. you’re trying to close your legs but jackie won’t have that. instead, she is forcing them apart again harshly, lapping up your wetness with a broad tongue against your raw pussy. or she’ll use you for her own pleasure instead, completely ignoring the aching between your thighs. she’ll ride your face, or finger fuck herself right above you but just a little too far out of reach. and she will do that until you’re at a point where you’re babbling nonsense, sticking your tongue out and craning your neck for just a taste of her that she’s depriving you of.

mean!dom jackie who discovers strap-on sex….maybe she’s on a trip to a bigger city and actually dares to go into one of the sex shops there. not knowing any of the people and not having the risk of getting caught definitely makes it easier. she would probably be so shy to bring it up to you the first time :( that is until she’s got you on all fours for the first time…

mean!dom jackie who never got the hype of blow-jobs until she’s on the receiving end. saying she didn’t get the hype is an understatement, actually. with jeff, she hated everything about it: it was uncomfortable, he was too demanding, too messy about it. everything just seemed wrong. but that was before she got you between her legs, preparing her length for your cunt with your mouth; licking along the shaft and taking the tip in, sucking it gently. she can’t even feel it and she’s losing it already, fighting against the urge to just grab your hair and fuck your face right then and there. or maybe she does. her painted nails scrape your scalp as she grabs a fistful of your hair and forces the toy down your throat until you’re gagging around it <3

mean!dom jackie who loves to edge you!!! she knows exactly what to do to get you worked up and painfully close to the edge, only to pull away last minute. she’ll laugh when she sees you struggling and makes fun of the way you desperately grind your hips against nothing to chase the friction of her fingers. (guys…mean!dom jackie who spanks your cunt and makes you count the slaps then giggles each time you gush around her fingers…)

mean!dom jackie who, at the same time, likes to overstimulate you too. when you don’t stop rocking your hips up, she’ll suddenly force her fingers back into you. she doesn’t let up after the first orgasm, fucks you through two in a row, and shakes her head when you start shaking from the overstimulation. “oh but you wanted this, didn’t you?” she pouts. “you wanted this. now take it”

guys i feel like this has become an exclusive jackie taylor/rhiannon lewis stan blog…(i mean, hey, nothing wrong with that! but just in case anyone was wondering: i do write for the other yellowjackets as well! 😭)

#jackie taylor Ღ #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x female reader #jackie taylor x fem!reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

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ldrfanatic · 11 months ago

Note

r9 for mattheo riddle pls🙏

shakin', pacin', I just need you

mattheo riddle x fem!hufflepuff!reader

r9 - "for you I would fall from grace, just to touch your face"

gonna be at the dentist office w my bf for the next three to four hours so I'm gonna try and clear out my requests <3

lowkey I was praying someone would request this for mattheo

part two anyone?

y'all I could not find where I wrote down my mattheo taglist so if you wanna be added please please PLEASE comment on this post so I can start a new one thanksss

slytherin boys works

"y/n are you even listening to me?"

the voice of hannah abbot, a fellow hufflepuff, tore your eyes from your only slytherin friend albeit reluctantly. when you finally looked towards your friend, her mouth was turned up into a disapproving frown.

"no. I know you think he's your friend, but he's not."

she wasn't entirely wrong. afterall, you couldn't honestly say that you'd exchanged more than a few words with the boy, though it wasn't for lack of opportunity. he'd approached you on more than one occasion but neither of you ever seemed to actually speak.

really, it was because mattheo felt stumped by you. he'd spent a lot of time with different girls while he'd been at hogwarts. but when he tried to approach you, he fumbled. every. single. time. that was how he first knew you were special.

the kind of girl that made him want to face his father's wrath even though he knew that liking you would be more than enough for a crucio.

between your friends, his family, and his inability to articulate his thoughts around you, mattheo never really got the chance to talk to you.

that is, until now.

somehow, by the grace of the universe, snape had paired you with him for the d.a.d.a. project studying boggarts. you touched on them briefly in your third year but due to lupin's condition, didn't get the chance to finish them. for once, mattheo actually wanted to do schoolwork and do well on this project so you didn't resent him for a bad grade.

as class was dismissed, a hand softly grabbed your wrist.

"wait."

it was mattheo. he was actually speaking words to you rather than just sitting there and staring. it was almost unsettling if anything.

"d'you maybe wanna meet in the library after classes and..."

you smiled sweetly and nodded.

"are you sure you can handle it riddle? don't you have to be talking to someone to study with them?"

there was a teasing tone in your voice which caused mattheo's face to bloom and pink to tinge over the tips of his ears. suddenly, like a switch had flipped, a cocky smile took over his face.

"i can't help it if you take my breath away. maybe you just bring out the best in me like that."

caught off by his banter and yet undeterred, you continued.

"well we all know that you're at your best when you shut up."

you spoke the words with a teasing smile. his jaw fell promptly open at your words, completely surprised that a hufflepuff would say something like that. while mattheo attempted to collect himself, you shoved your dark arts textbook into your satchel and swung it up onto your shoulder.

"the library. tonight. 5pm sharp. don't be late riddle."

five o'clock could not come fast enough. potions with professor scalby was simply exhausting. she was a kind enough women which was a nice change from professor snape after she'd taken over the class following his promotion to d.a.d.a., but the woman had a love for potions that you could safely say no one else in the class really shared. unless you counted hermione granger, a sweet enough gryffindor also in your year.

by the time that scalby finished gushing about the amortentia your class would attempt to brew next week, you were sure you'd aged an entire year in this class alone.

finally, after what seemed like an eternity, class was dismissed. you quickly packed your books away and scurried off to the library, arriving a decent few minutes before mattheo sauntered in with an otherworldly confused look on his face.

"sorry i'm a little late. i got lost."

he spoke to you in a deep yet gentle rumble that had your heart beating a little faster in your chest. it was hard not to notice the way that he gawked at the old century library which was probably your favorite collection of books in the whole world.

"have you never been here before?"

mattheo's dark curls bounced atop his head as he shook it slowly. he looked down at his large hands with what appeared to be shame.

"i've never really taken an interest in school before."

wanting to make him feel better you gently bumped your shoulder into his as the two of you walked back towards the study tables.

"you're taking an interest now."

"in you."

his words made the both of you settle into a thick silence. though it was hard not to notice his lingered stares across the great hall or after a slytherin-hufflepuff match, it was the first time that he'd spoken words aloud that alluded to his feelings for you, and it seemed to catch the both of you off guard.

after a moment's pause, mattheo spoke again.

"i-uh, i don't know why i said that i'm sorry."

you reached your hand out from across the table where the two of you had settled down and grasped his hand in yours. you flashed him a reassuring smile.

"don't be."

abruptly, mattheo let out a strangled noise of frustration and tugged at his hair with his fingers.

"i can't do this anymore."

your heart thumped so quickly against your ribcage, you feared it might stop beating altogether.

"can't do what anymore?"

"this, y/n. i can't keep posing that i want to be your friend and do friendly things together like study at the library."

now your heart was breaking. hannah was right. mattheo riddle was not your friend and-- oh. mattheo riddle was not done speaking.

"i can't keep pretending when i want to be so much more than friends with you. when i want to do very not friendly things with you. to you. when i feel like throwing these books on the floor and yanking you across this table and pressing every part of your body against every part of mine."

instead of doing that, he stood from his seat and knelt in front of you. it felt weird to have the son of the dark lord on his knees in front of you all but begging you to be his girlfriend.

"i know i'm not the chosen one or anything and i'm never gonna be the good guy. but damnit if i have to stay away from you any longer i don't think i could stand it."

his confession stunned you into silence. how the hell could yoou possibly respond to that?

"say something, please."

a hopeful look had taken over his features. his brown eyes sparkled under the dim library lights.

"i don't care that you're not the protagonist mattheo. i would fall from grace for you."

---

@blobsblobician @helendeath

07.07.2024

#mattheo #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #benjamin wadsworth #slytherin boys x reader

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pascaloverx · 2 months ago

Text

SAFE & SOUND

author's note: I have to admit that it never crossed my mind to have the courage to write a Joel Miller fanfic, but I wanted to dare to do it, out of pure desire. if it's not good, let's all pretend nothing happened. and if the fanfic goes ahead, I will make a proper summary.

ONE

PREVIEW

A drop of water hits the floor inside your house. The leak is back, even though you patched that same crack in the roof not too long ago. Outside, the ice is starting to melt, and soon, it feels like your entire house might flood. People have told you more than once to ask Joel for help, but you’d rather deal with it yourself. Truth be told, he already seems burdened enough.

A sharp knock breaks the silence. Loud, impatient—has to be Ellie. You hurry to the door, and before you can even say anything, she pushes her way in.

“I need your help,” she says, already stepping over the threshold like she owns the place.

“A polite person might say good morning first. I thought the Millers were raised with better manners,” you mutter as you shut the door behind her. She scowls at you, clearly unimpressed.

Sometimes, when she looks at you like that, you remember being her age. And you realize your mother must’ve had the patience of a saint. Especially during the outbreak.

“I’m not—ugh, whatever. I need help training. Combat,” Ellie says, her voice laced with urgency.

You don’t need to ask why she’s here. Most folks in Jackson—the ones she’d actually want to spar with—won’t touch that request. They’re too afraid of Joel. You’re one of the few who doesn’t flinch at his name.

“I haven’t even eaten yet,” you grumble, heading up the stairs to find something less cozy and more suited to getting punched.

“I can wait,” Ellie calls after you. “I just need to get this out of my system.”

You sigh. “Since I clearly don’t have a choice, want to tell me what’s got you all worked up today?”

She follows you into your room without hesitation, her boots thudding softly on the worn wood floor. She doesn’t answer right away, and as you dig through your drawer, you glance back at her. There’s something in the set of her jaw—tight, angry, maybe even scared. She reminds you of your little sister. Same restless energy. Same fire in her eyes.

“No. I don’t want you pulling a Gail on me,” Ellie snaps, crossing her arms. “One of the things I actually like about us is the lack of context. Like, you don’t know why I’m pissed off, and I don’t know anything about your past—except that your mom helped build this place.” She’s not wrong. Around here, keeping secrets is more than habit—it’s survival.

“Alright,” you sigh, raising your hands in surrender. “I won’t pry into your life. But you’re gonna owe me a favor.” She eyes you warily as you gesture toward the ceiling.

“I’ve got a leak. Again. Ask Joel to come fix it for me.” It’ll be better coming from her than from you.

“Can’t you ask me for, I don’t know, a kidney or something?” Ellie mutters with an awkward smile as you head into the bathroom to change. Even from the other room, you laugh at her suggestion.

“Nope, Ellie. What I really need is a proper fix on this house. And you…” you step back out, adjusting your sleeve, “you need someone who’s not afraid to knock you around a little.”

You give her a playful punch on the arm, just hard enough to make your point. She grins, rubbing the spot. “Fair enough.”

You head toward an old, abandoned spot—quiet enough that only someone nosy would stumble across you two.

“Where’s your guard dog today?” you ask as you walk beside Ellie, boots crunching over frost-covered gravel.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Jesse is not my guard dog,” she says, clearly annoyed.

“But,” she adds with a smirk, “he’s tied up with something else. Thinks I’m off somewhere, quietly reflecting on my reckless behavior.” She laughs at how easily she fooled him.

“Ellie, I seriously doubt he believes you’re off soul-searching,” you say, giving her a sidelong glance. “You might wanna be careful. I don’t need trouble knocking on my door.”

She shrugs, but the glint in her eye says she knows you’re right—even if she has no plans to behave. “Thought you weren’t afraid of anything,” Ellie taunts as she lunges toward you.

You dodge, stepping aside just in time to send her stumbling into a wooden wall with a loud thud. She’s quick to recover, already charging again. A punch slices through the air, narrowly missing your jaw. You raise your arms in defense, but her second hit lands hard—right in your stomach.

“Cheap shot,” you mutter, breathless. “But I liked it.” You retaliate, swinging with enough force to knock her off balance. She manages to duck, just in time, feet skidding against the dirt as she finds her stance again.

The two of you keep going, exchanging blows, both trying to sharpen your timing, your precision. Ellie’s giving you a real fight, but you know if this continues much longer, she’s going to walk away bruised—maybe worse.

You sweep her legs out from under her, and she hits the ground with a solid thump. That’s when a voice interrupts you.

“You’re not supposed to be here… but what really hurts is that you didn’t invite me to watch.” You turn to see Dina approaching, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips.

Ellie looks briefly embarrassed. You offer her your hand, helping her back to her feet without a word. Dina always has that effect on her.

“Maybe next time,” you suggest, glancing between them, “you can be the one running combat drills with Ellie.”

They exchange a look—one that lingers a little too long, full of something unsaid. Tension. Maybe something more than that.

“I’d love to,” Dina replies with a teasing smile, “but I’d rather not be the reason Joel gets pissed. Speaking of which—Ellie, come with me before someone sees your face.”

You glance at Ellie and realize she’s more banged up than you thought. To be fair, you’re not in much better shape. Your back aches and there’s a sting on your lip that wasn’t there before.

“Go on, Ellie,” you say, cracking your neck as you stretch. “Just don’t forget to ask your dad to fix my roof.”

She shoots you a grumpy look but nods before heading off with Dina, rubbing her bruised arm.

You watch them disappear around the corner, something tight settling in your chest—equal parts ache and amusement. You take a few minutes to tidy up the place, brushing away the scuff marks and clearing signs of the rough sparring session. The last thing you need is someone asking questions about what went on there.

Once satisfied, you head back toward your house. So far, no one's called you for patrol duty or dragged you into another council meeting—small mercies, for now. You're halfway lost in thought when you suddenly bump into someone. The impact is solid enough to throw you slightly off balance.

“Maybe you should start wearing glasses,” Joel mutters, his tone sharp—like you were the one who nearly knocked him over.

“The concept of apologizing for stepping into my path must’ve slipped right out of your vocabulary, huh, Miller?” you snap back, straightening yourself and trying not to wince from the soreness in your body.

“I don’t need to apologize,” he replies flatly. “You came outta nowhere. Looked like you were running from something.”

You quickly avert your gaze, doing your best to hide the bruise blooming on your cheek and the sting on your lip. If he sees you like this, it won’t take more than a second for him to realize Ellie probably looks the same—and then it’s only a matter of time before he pieces it all together.

“I think we’re going to have to disagree on that,” you reply, trying to keep your voice even, maybe even polite. “But honestly, it’s not worth arguing about. Pretend this collision never happened, and I’ll do the same.”

You make a move to step around him, eager to end the conversation, but Joel’s hand suddenly catches your arm, pulling you back toward him.

“You don’t usually back down from a fight,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Why’re you being reasonable now?”

And just like that, irritation bubbles up inside you. This is exactly why the two of you don’t get along.

“Can’t I just admit defeat and move on, Joel? Do you really need me to start a debate about whether or not it was okay for you to bulldoze into me and then act like you didn’t owe me so much as a ‘sorry’?”

You spin around fully to face him, letting the frustration leak through. And that’s when you realize your mistake. If there are bruises or cuts on your face from sparring with Ellie, he’s seeing them now. You try to turn your head away quickly, but it’s already too late.

“What the hell happened to you?” Joel asks, stepping in closer and raising both hands to cup your face. His calloused fingers are gentle, but they leave no room to escape. He pulls your face toward him to get a better look, eyes scanning every mark. Shit.

“I… had a training session with Jesse,” you lie, voice steady but a little too quick. “He’s younger than me, so, you know, I end up having to teach him a thing or two sometimes.”

Joel lets out a low, disbelieving grunt, but his hands don’t leave your face. His expression darkens. “You been training with Ellie?”

It doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a verdict.

You take his hands gently but firmly, lowering them from your face. Then you turn on your heel and start walking toward your house, your steps faster than usual. It’s not exactly fleeing—but it’s close. Joel hesitates for a few seconds, then falls into step behind you.

“Joel, you don’t need to walk me home. I’m a big girl,” you say without looking at him, hoping he’ll take the hint and drop it.

But he doesn’t.

“Don’t change the subject. You and Ellie been up to something?” he presses, his voice low and edged with that signature Miller suspicion.

You turn to face him.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but the way you talk makes it sound like we’re not two grown women capable of owning our choices. Ellie and I were just training. Nothing more,” you say, locking eyes with him, your tone calm but firm. “I know she’s your daughter, but—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowing, voice low and sharp. “Don’t think for a second I need advice on how to handle things with Ellie.” You study his face, seeing the tension coiled behind his calm. A nerve has been hit—clearly. But you don’t step back.

“I wouldn’t dare interfere in your delicate little dance of a father-daughter relationship,” you say, pointing a finger at him. “But if you keep bottling her up, she’s going to push back. That’s just the truth.” A long silence stretches between you. Then, without another word, you turn and keep walking—half expecting him to stay behind. But he follows. Of course he does.

"I thought we were done here—do you really have to follow me?" you ask, slowing your steps.

"Your roof’s leaking again. I'm coming with you to fix it," he replies, gruff and straight to the point.

"Ellie told you?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. There's no way she had time to say anything.

"No. Just figured someone like you wouldn’t know the first thing about patching a roof," he says dryly, not even sparing you a glance. You scoff, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your eyes. Typical Joel—rough around the edges, but always showing up when it counts.

"Which is exactly why I never asked you for help in the first place… 'Someone like me'? Care to explain what that's supposed to mean?" you ask, turning sharply to face him.

Joel doesn’t smile often, but the flicker of amusement in his eyes says he’s enjoying this far more than he should.

"You’ve got your talents," he says with a shrug. "You’re quick, sharp, know how to handle a fight. But fixing things? Not your strong suit. You’re great at tearing things down—not so much putting them back together."

He doesn’t miss a beat before adding, with that maddening calm of his, "And if you keep stopping every time your pride gets poked, we’ll still be standing here by nightfall."

You roll your eyes and turn back around, jaw clenched, pace steady—but not fast enough to lose him. You both reach your house, and the moment you turn the doorknob and it doesn't open right away, Joel lets out a low murmur—like something’s not quite right. You can feel the weight of his breath behind you.

“If I promise to be reasonable… will you tell me what I did wrong?” you ask softly, as though trying to coax an answer out of the impatient man looming at your back.

“Can you even be reasonable?” he replies, almost like he’s genuinely curious.

You take a deep breath and turn toward him, giving him just enough room to step inside. The two of you stand there in the doorway, locked in a quiet standoff, until he finally speaks.

“You’re using too much force when you turn the knob,” he says, his tone flat but instructive. “It’s got a trick to it. Less brute strength—more finesse. You give it a little pull before you turn it.”

Joel reaches for the doorknob, shuts the door again, and reopens it effortlessly in one smooth motion. You're honestly impressed—but you mask it with a shrug, pretending it’s nothing.

“Well then,” you say, summoning your most gracious tone as you gesture grandly, “as the reasonable person I clearly am, I’ll simply say—thank you for your guidance, good sir.” You offer a courteous smile and step toward the inside of your home.

Joel remains on the threshold, not moving, his eyes scanning the interior as if evaluating it. It’s subtle, but you notice. And he doesn’t cross the line into your space.

“You do know it’s safe to come in, right?” you ask, pausing to glance over your shoulder. Your voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it—a quiet call-out. He meets your gaze and you catch the flicker of discomfort before he looks away.

“I know,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Since you’re being all... reasonable today, just wait here a second. I’ll go grab my toolbox. Judging by the state of things.” He adds the last bit as casually as possible, but it lands somewhere between concern and insult.

You blink at him, half-grateful, half-offended. "Right. Because clearly I’ve been living in ruins." Joel doesn’t answer—just gives you that unreadable look of his before heading off.

You stand in the doorway, arms folded, trying to decide if you should be thankful or pissed off. Probably both. Then—plop. A drop of water hits your shoulder. You look up. Another leak. Of course. Well. At least he’s coming back to fix it. Though—naturally—nothing in this life comes without a price.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #ellie williams #ellie x dina #jesse tlou #dina tlou #the last of us #tommy miller #joel miller #abby anderson #spotify #female reader #pedro pascal character #tlou2 #Spotify

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