WHO LIVES, WHO DIES, WHO TELLS YOUR STORY CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WHO LIVES, WHO DIES, WHO TELLS YOUR STORY CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Who Lives, Who Dies Who Tells Your Story

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader get into an accident that leaves Natasha in critical condition. When she wakes up, it’s revealed that she has amnesia and doesn’t remember her life, her wife, or her children.

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W/C:7K

Natasha strode purposefully through the winding hallways of the Avengers Compound. The place was empty as she was learning was the norm for this time of day. She was anticipating your arrival at the compound at any minute. Today, she opted for a laid-back outfit. She wore a pair of well-worn, fitted jeans that hugged her curves, and a simple, loose-fitting black t-shirt graced her upper body, its fabric soft and comfortable against her skin. Rolled-up sleeves hinted at her toned arms, a testament to her strength and agility. When she picked her clothing, she thought of something relaxing and flexible enough to run around with two children for the entire weekend. 

 As she turned a corner, her brisk pace led to an accidental collision with another person.

"Sorry, I wasn't..." Natasha's words trailed off as she took in the person she had bumped into. It was Melina. Melina regarded Natasha with a mixture of surprise and concern.

"Natasha? You’re still here?" Melina's voice held a hint of disbelief.

Natasha's heart skipped a beat, and she struggled to compose herself, avoiding direct eye contact. "Melina... I didn't expect to see you here," she responded, her voice tinged with guarded caution.

Melina's gaze softened, and she took a step closer. "I heard you were staying. I wanted to see you and talk to you," she said softly, her concern evident.

Nervously, Natasha scanned the empty hallway, searching for a means of escape. However, before she could make her getaway, a familiar voice reached her ears.

"Natasha! There you are!" The voice belonged to Alexei. As he rounded the corner, a broad smile spread across his face. His eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm.

"It's so good to see you, my little spy! How have you been?" Alexei's excitement was palpable, his joy at Natasha's presence unfeigned.

"Natasha, we've been wanting to talk..." Melina's voice carried a note of vulnerability, her words carefully chosen.

Natasha's eyes flickered with a mixture of resistance and uncertainty. The years of abandonment had left wounds that still ached within her, and she remained guarded, unsure of where she stood with them. The recent amnesia that had clouded her memories further complicated the already tangled threads of their relationship.

Seeking a chance to bridge the gap between them, Melina stepped forward, her voice infused with earnestness. "Please, Natasha, we've missed you. Can we just have a few minutes of your time?"

Natasha felt her resolve waver, a momentary glimpse of vulnerability breaking through her facade. The weight of their absence and the pain it had caused still lingered, but just as she teetered on the possibility of opening up, a car pulled up outside the compound.

In an instant, the jovial laughter of her daughter, floated through the air, accompanied by the sound of car doors slamming shut. Natasha's eyes widened with surprise, a wave of relief and joy washing over her conflicted heart.

"Excuse me for a moment," Natasha uttered softly, her voice laced with a newfound sense of purpose.

With determination shining in her eyes, Natasha pivoted on her heels and briskly strode toward the source of the commotion. Melina and Alexei watched her retreating figure, their brows furrowed with concern and uncertainty, feeling the opportunity for connection slipping away like sand through their fingers.

“She will come when she’s ready,” Alexei murmured to Melina as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. 

Left standing alone in the hallway, their longing to rebuild the fractured bond with their daughter remained unfulfilled, the ache of missed chances hanging heavily in the air.

*************************

Outside, a light dusting of snow covered the grounds of the Avengers Compound as Natasha stood at the entrance, eagerly anticipating your exit from the car. It had been a couple of weeks since their last visit, and now it was Natasha's turn to spend the weekend with them, just the three of them together.

Natasha's eyes lit up with warmth and anticipation, as you emerged from the driver's seat, carefully unstrapping Lily from her car seat with practiced ease. Olivia, a vibrant bundle of energy, followed closely behind, her tiny boots making a muffled thud on the snowy ground.

Olivia's excitement bubbled over as she spotted Natasha standing there, her face breaking into a wide grin. She bounded toward Natasha, her enthusiasm evident in every step.

"Mama! Hi, Mama!" Olivia exclaimed, her voice filled with glee.

Natasha crouched down, her arms open wide, ready to embrace the little whirlwind of energy. "Hello, Olivia! I've missed you so much," Natasha replied, her voice laced with genuine affection.

But just as Olivia reached Natasha, her little boots slipped on the icy ground. In an instant, you who had been right behind her, reacted with lightning speed, catching Olivia before she fell. You hiked Lily higher on your hip as you helped Oliva to stand up correctly. 

"Whoa there, let’s calm down a little," You said with a chuckle, steadying Olivia and lifting her safely back onto her feet.

Olivia giggled, her wide eyes shimmering with a mixture of excitement and relief. "Thanks, Mommy," she said, her voice filled with adoration.

You grinned, ruffling Olivia's hair affectionately. "You're welcome, my brave girl," you replied, only letting her go wehn you’re sure she’s going to behave. 

With Olivia now secure, Natasha rose to her feet, her heart filled with warmth at the sight of the little family she had come to cherish.  The atmosphere quickly changed, holding a hint of tension, akin to a custody trade-off, as you approached, carrying the diaper bags and backpack.

You handed the bags to Natasha without a word, your gaze momentarily meeting Natasha's before diverting your attention to the excited children. Lily cooed softly in your arms, seemingly unfazed by the subtle awkwardness that hung in the air.

Olivia tugged at Natasha's coat, vying for her attention. "Mama, look! I want to make a snowman!" she exclaimed, pointing to the piles of snow covering the usual green fields. 

Natasha smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with affection. "How about later? We can do whatever you want this weekend," she suggested, momentarily distracted from the underlying tension.

As Olivia continued to chatter excitedly, Natasha seized the moment to break the silence. She turned to you her voice filled with genuine curiosity. "So, what do you have planned for the day? Do you need to get back home soon?" Natasha asked, attempting to navigate the unspoken uncertainties between you.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. You searched Natasha's face, attempting to discern her true intentions. Finally, you responded, your voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. "I don't have any specific plans. Why do you ask?"

Natasha's features softened her genuine concern for you evident. "I just want to make sure everything is going well for you," she replied, her words filled with a mixture of empathy and genuine care.

Your guarded demeanor melted slightly, revealing a glimmer of vulnerability. "I appreciate your concern, Natasha," she responded softly, her voice tinged with a trace of longing. “I have a thing with Theresa and her daughter later on today.”

“Right, Theresa,” Natasha didn’t like how the name sounded on her tongue at the moment. 

“Well,” You passed Lily over to her, the toddler bouncing excitedly in her arms, as she was finally in her Mama’s arms. “I’m going to go and say hi to Wanda before I head back out.” 

“Right,” Natasha nods. She definitely understands this level of cordiality is all you can give at the moment. She turns her attention back to the girls. It’s best to get them inside before they freeze. You step around them, heading for Wanda’s suite on the other side of the building. 

Balancing Lily in her arms and clutching the diaper bags and backpack, Natasha made her way back toward her suite. Olivia, the little chatterbox, trailed closely behind, her voice filled with an incessant stream of words about her daily activities at home.

Olivia's excitement spilled forth, as she animatedly described playing with her toys, her favorite meals, and the cartoons she loved watching on TV. Natasha listened attentively, her attention divided between Olivia's animated tales and the task of managing everything in her arms.

As they walked, Natasha's injured arm twinged, a subtle reminder of her own vulnerability. She juggled the bags, trying to find a comfortable grip, but her attention was divided, making the task more challenging than it should have been.

Olivia, unaware of Natasha's distraction, continued her lively narration. "And you know what, Mama? Mommy took us to Target! It's my favorite store ever! We got new toys and snacks. Can we go to Target too?"

Natasha's lips curled into a gentle smile, finding comfort in Olivia's innocent enthusiasm. "That sounds like a lot of fun, Olivia," she replied, her voice warm and affectionate.

They reached the entrance to Natasha's suite, and she carefully set the bags down, momentarily relieved of their weight. Lily gurgled contentedly, her tiny fingers reaching out toward Olivia.

Natasha turned her attention fully to Olivia, crouching down to her level, her injured arm cradling Lily securely. "Olivia, I would love to take you to Target sometime. Let’s get inside first then we can plan," she said, her voice filled with genuine affection.

Olivia's eyes lit up with joy, her excitement practically tangible. “I like planning!!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

Natasha's heart swelled with tenderness, her momentary distraction replaced by a shared connection with Olivia. Natasha entered her suite, carefully cradling Lily in her arms and setting down the bags. Olivia, her curiosity unyielding, gazed up at Natasha with wide eyes.

"Is Mommy going to stay here too?" Olivia asked, her voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

Natasha knelt down, meeting Olivia's gaze with a gentle yet firm expression. "No, sweetheart. It's just you, me, and Lily for the weekend," she explained, her voice laced with both tenderness and honesty. "We'll have a special time together, just like we used to."

Olivia's face fell slightly, her disappointment evident. "But I like all of us together," she murmured, her voice low and sad.”Like at home.”

Natasha's heart ached at the complexity of the situation, torn between nurturing Olivia's desire for connection and protecting her from the intricacies of the situation. She reached out, gently placing a hand on Olivia's shoulder.

"I know you miss it, Olivia. It's okay to feel that way," Natasha reassured her, her voice soft and comforting. "We'll make the most of our time together. I promise."

Olivia's expression brightened slightly, a sense of trust and understanding shining through. She leaned into Natasha's touch, finding comfort in her warm embrace.

"Now," Natasha continued, her voice brightening with anticipation, "We have the whole day ahead of us. What activity would you like to do? We can go on a nature walk though it’s very cold outside, play with your dolls, or even have a tea party."

Olivia's eyes widened with excitement, her mind racing with possibilities. "Can we build a giant fort, Mama? And then have a tea party inside?" she suggested.

Natasha grinned, her own excitement mirroring Olivia's. "That’s actually a good idea. Let me find everything and we can start."

As Natasha and Olivia began to gather supplies, laughter filled the air, replacing any lingering uncertainty with a shared sense of adventure. In that moment, Natasha's heart swelled with gratitude for the opportunity to create lasting memories and provide a sense of stability and love for the two little girls in her care.

**********

You made your way to Wanda's suite, the corridors of the Avengers Compound a familiar path. As you approached, you could hear the melodious strumming of a guitar. You knocked on the door a few times, patiently waiting for her to answer. Wanda engrossed in her music, paused as she noticed your arrival.

"Hey, y/n! Come on in," Wanda greeted, setting the guitar aside. She wore a warm smile, grateful for the company. It had been a while since you both had a chance to catch up.

You settled into a nearby chair, scanning your surroundings. There was much to discuss, so many unspoken thoughts and reservations.

“I can feel your judgment from here,” Wanda rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not judging,” You argue. “The place simply looks interesting.” If by interesting you mean cluttered. Wanda seemed to have a never-ending pile of books on her coffee table, laundry everywhere, and even a chest full of clothes on the other side of the room. This could only mean she has a busy mind at the moment. 

“Mhmm,” Wanda hums. "So, what's been going on?" She asked.

You hesitated for a moment, choosing your words carefully. "Things have been... complicated. Natasha and I are still trying to navigate our relationship. It's not easy."

Wanda's eyebrows furrowed slightly, her expression hinting at a lingering skepticism. "She actually apologized to me, you know," she remarked, her voice softening. "Said she was sorry for everything that happened."

A flicker of surprise crossed your features, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected admission. It was nice to hear that Natasha had taken a step towards reconciliation. However, the wariness within you still held firm.

"That's... good," you replied cautiously, your voice filled with a mix of appreciation and wariness. "But forgiveness and trust take time, Wanda. I can't simply forget everything that happened."

Wanda's eyes held a glimmer of understanding, her voice gentle. "I know, y/n.Trust me.  It's just... after everything, it's hard to trust her completely. I'm still trying to find my way through it all."

You nodded in agreement, grateful for Wanda's unwavering support. "I understand. And I know it's not easy. But we have to remember that Natasha went through amnesia. She doesn't remember a lot of what happened. It's a process for her too."

Wanda's expression softened a subtle shift in her perspective. She leaned back in her chair, absorbing your words. "You're right. It’s not her fault. She could be a bit nicer about it.” Wanda shook her head. “Where are the babies?”

“With her,” You answered. “Probably driving her nuts like they’d done to me. Do you know, for the past week Lily refused to sleep for more than an hour? I’m deprived.”

“Tough,” Wanda grinned. “I’ve always liked you as a mom. You’re so much more easygoing in that realm of things.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” You sigh. 

You leaned back in the comfortable chair, the weariness of the past weeks weighing heavily on your shoulders. Your mind wandered, and in a moment of quiet surrender, you let out a soft sigh, muttering a phrase in Sokovian.

"U ležérk sa," You murmured the words a testament to your exhaustion.

Wanda's eyes widened, a smile dancing at the corners of her lips. "Ah. Feeling a bit tired, y/n?” she teased, her voice filled with gentle amusement.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, grateful for the levity she brought into the room. “Tired is an understatement,” You shake your head. “Let me hear you play.”

Wanda nods, a sheepish grin on her face, as she picks up her guitar again. As her fingers ran over the strings, she was transported to another place. You could see in her eyes the love she had for music. It was certainly a sight to see as you melted into the cushions of your chair. For now, you’d allow yourself this moment of respite. 

*******************

Natasha sat at the kitchen table, a high chair beside her where Lily was comfortably seated. A plate of small sliced fruits lay before Lily, an array of vibrant colors that captured her attention. Olivia stood beside Natasha, eager to contribute to the lunchtime activities.

Lily's big, curious eyes met Natasha's gaze as she pointed at each piece of fruit, her tiny hand reaching out inquisitively. "What ?" Lily signed, her hands moving with rapid succession as she held each one up. 

Natasha mirrored the sign for "apple," her voice accompanying the gesture. "This is an apple, Lily," she explained, enunciating each word clearly. "Apple," she repeated, emphasizing the spoken word as well.

Lily's face lit up, her own small hands attempting to mimic the sign. "Apple," she echoed, her voice sweet and melodic. 

As Natasha dedicated her attention to Lily, she also kept a watchful eye on Olivia, who was eager to contribute to the lunchtime preparations. Olivia's face scrunched up with concentration, her young mind working to form her request.

"I know!" Olivia exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "Let's make a sam-wich!" The mispronunciation of the word "sandwich" made Natasha's heart swell with adoration.

Natasha smiled warmly, her enthusiasm mirroring Olivia's. "That's a great idea, Olivia," she replied, her voice brimming with encouragement. "We can make sandwiches together.”

“Yeah, and maybe, um, maybe Mommy will eat sam-wich with us,” Olivia pondered as she walked over to the counter. She stood on a step stool, patiently waiting for Natasha’s next move. 

Olivia's eyes sparkled with hope, her imagination already painting a picture of a shared meal. 

As Natasha rose from her seat, she carried Lily's high chair to the counter, ensuring she was within sight while they busied themselves with the lunch preparations. She signed to Lily, explaining the process, while also speaking aloud to include her in the conversation.

The kitchen came alive with activity as Natasha and Olivia worked side by side, assembling sandwiches with love and care. The sandwiches in question were ham and cheese paninis that Olivia claimed to be her favorite. Olivia's pride shone through as she presented each creation to Lily, eagerly describing the ingredients with a charming mixture of toddler babble and enthusiasm.

The kitchen buzzed with activity as Natasha and Olivia prepared the sandwiches, their laughter filling the air. As you passed by, Olivia's bright eyes locked onto you, her excitement uncontainable. She jumped from the stool, calling out your name as she approached you.  She tugged at your hand, practically dragging you towards the kitchen.

"Mommy, come eat with us, please!" Olivia pleaded, her voice filled with anticipation and hope.

Your initial reluctance lingered, uncertainty etching your features as you glanced between Natasha and the children. But Olivia's infectious enthusiasm slowly eroded your hesitation.

"Alright," You relented, a soft smile forming on your lips. "I'll join you for lunch."

Hand in hand with Olivia, you entered the kitchen, the atmosphere shifting as you took a seat at the table. Natasha greeted you with surprising warmth, gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable.

As you settled down, the room filled with the joyful babbling and animated conversations of the children. Olivia's voice bubbled over with excitement as she talked about any and everything that was on her mind. 

Olivia, her face beaming with excitement, sat at the kitchen table between you, her tiny hands clasped together. She looked like a little business lady as she spoke. The remnants of her lunch scattered across the table as she began to share her thoughts.

“Mommy and Mama, I love being here with you!” Olivia said seriously. 

“We love being here with you too, Olivia. What do you enjoy the most about being at the compound?” Natasha prompted with a smile. 

“I like... I like everything! We play and have fun! And we go on adventures!” Olivia listed. 

“There are a lot of exciting things to do here.” You agree.

“And you get to meet other friends too, right? Like Wanda and the others?”

“Oh, yes! I play with Wanda and other friends. We have so much fun!” Olivia bit into the last piece of her panini. 

“This sandwich is really good. How’d you know it was my favorite?” You ask. You look between Natasha and Olivia. 

“It was my idea. Well, Olivia wanted sandwiches but I decided to go for these,” Natasha shrugs. “I didn’t know they were your favorite. That’s good to know.”

You nod. You don’t want to think that it’s her consciously remembering but you can’t help it.   

The atmosphere at the table grew heavy with an awkward silence, and you exchanged uncertain glances with Natasha. The tension between you was still apparent, and it’s quite difficult trying to make that connection when you don’t know how Natasha is going to react. So far, she’s been decent. Reserved. Maybe she’s tired of all the fighting too. Maybe she’s finally happy you left her alone. 

It was in this tense moment that Lily made her desires known. With her tiny hands, she signed the word for milk, her eyes pleading. Natasha's eyebrows furrowed slightly, a flicker of unease crossing her features. You could see she felt out of her element, unsure of how to respond.

But despite the lingering tension, Natasha recognized the importance of nurturing the bond with Lily. Softly, she responded to Lily's plea.

"Okay, Lily," Natasha whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "Up we go."

As you observed this exchange, a surge of gratitude and sincerity washed over you. You leaned towards Natasha, a genuine appreciation in your voice.

"Natasha, I appreciate you stepping up despite everything that’s going on, "You confessed. Her eyes flashed to yours briefly. “You’re doing a great job with them.” 

Your eyes met, a mix of vulnerability and determination shining through. Natasha nodded, acknowledging the significance of the moment, and carefully scooped Lily into her arms. A sense of tenderness enveloped the room as she unbuttoned her top and began to nurse, momentarily soothing the lingering awkwardness.

As Lily nursed, the tension began to dissipate, making way for a gentler atmosphere. In this vulnerable exchange, a flicker of hope sparked, promising the potential for healing and growth.

This weekend would be the second time she’s kept the girls since coming back to the compound. She’s been able to explore what life is like on her own. She understands the needs of her family at this time and she feels she’s making progress. She feels lighter as she nurses Lily, aware of your eyes on her as she continues. She hopes she’s doing the right thing. 

**********************************

You stepped into the quietness of your home, feeling the weight of the solitude settle around you like a heavy shroud. It had been hours since the vibrant laughter of Olivia and Lily filled the air, and the absence of their energy left a noticeable void.

As you moved through the familiar spaces, the toys scattered across the floor caught your eye, a bittersweet reminder of the joyful chaos that once defined your home. The stillness now seemed to echo with their absence, making the emptiness all the more heartbreaking. You know it’s only temporary. It’s just a weekend. As a mother, you should be jumping with joy for a moment alone. You feel the complete opposite. Being alone means you have more time to think. You have more time to ruminate and dwell on things you’ve pushed down. 

Yelena, having chosen to distance herself from Natasha for the time being, had left you alone to navigate your own desires. Yelena was a girl that loved her. She felt things for people, she often didn’t want to, and surprisingly this change was a lot for her. So she did what she needed to. She’d left Fanny to you while taking another top secret mission she wouldn’t tell you about. While you respected her decision, you couldn't help but feel a sense of longing without the connection that Natasha and the girls brought into your life.

Sinking into a comfortable chair, you pondered the possibilities that lay before you. With the freedom to do as you please, your mind wandered through the choices. You could lose yourself in the pages of a captivating book, immersing yourself in stories that whisked you away to different worlds. Or maybe you could indulge in a favorite hobby, finding solace and purpose in the familiar activities that brought you joy.

Yet, as you sat in the quiet of your home, your heart yearned for something more. It craved the noise and laughter, the chaos and love that filled the space when Natasha and the girls were present. The absence of their vibrant energy left you longing for the connection and the shared moments that had become the highlight of your days.

Taking out your phone, you sent a message to Theresa to cancel for the night. You’re not truly in the mood for guests. You settled into the comfort of the chair, allowing the weight of solitude to envelop you.  The stillness in the room seemed to amplify the thoughts swirling in your mind. Resting your hands on the armrests, you took a deep breath, ready to release some of the magic within you.

Closing your eyes, you summoned your power, feeling the vibrant energy surge through your veins. The air around you crackled with anticipation as a soft purple glow enveloped your palms. 

With each exhale, you released a small portion of your magical essence, letting it dissipate into the room. The gentle aura of purple shimmered, casting a calming ambiance around you. As you continued this ritual, the weight of the day began to lift, and your mind found a momentary respite.

You reflected on how different your life had become. The accident, the girls, and life without Natasha. Everything was so different and you still couldn’t tell if this was for the better. 

The purple glow of your magic flickered, dancing in harmony with your thoughts. You haven’t been caring for yourself like you should. You have been attached to someone, child or spouse, for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be alone. You breathed slowly, reminding yourself of your essence, and opting to sit with your thoughts for a little longer. As the glow gradually faded, you opened your eyes, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. The room still held echoes of the residual magic, your eyes tracing the dissolving hues before you wiggled your fingers, bringing yourself back to the present world. 

You sat in the chair, lost in your thoughts when you felt a gentle nudge against your leg. Looking down, you saw Fanny, curling up beside you. A small smile played on your lips as you leaned down to pet Fanny, finding comfort in her presence.

"Fanny, you always know how to make me feel better, don't you?" you said softly, your voice filled with tenderness. "Thank you for being here, you're such a good listener."

Fanny wagged her tail, her eyes filled with understanding. At that moment, the unspoken bond between you and your temporary furry companion brought solace and a sense of peace.

After a while, you gently patted Fanny's head and stood up, feeling a newfound tranquility washing over you. It was time to indulge in a well-deserved bath, a moment of self-care to ease your mind and worries.

As you ascended the stairs, Fanny's soft footsteps followed behind. Grateful for this small gesture of support, you entered the bathroom and filled the bathtub with warm water, watching as the steam rose and filled the room.

Taking a moment to reflect on the day, the challenges, and the moments of love, you felt a weight lifting from your shoulders. With each step you took, you felt a sense of renewal, knowing that you possess the strength and resilience to navigate whatever lies ahead.

Slipping into the steaming hot water, you allowed yourself to unwind. The quiet air of the bathroom became a sanctuary, a space for introspection and renewal.

*****************

The room was dimly lit, a soothing ambiance created by the soft glow of a nightlight. Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion etched across her face, as she tried to calm Olivia, who was in the midst of a temper tantrum. Lily watched with wide eyes from her crib, unsure of what was happening.

“I want Mommy! I miss her!” Olivia whined as she folded her arms. 

Natasha's heart ached at Olivia's words. She understood the pain and longing the little girl felt, missing her other mother. Natasha had been trying everything she could think of to ease Olivia's distress and help her settle into sleep, but her attempts had been in vain so far.

“Olivia, I know you miss Mommy. I'm here with you, and I love you very much. Let's try to calm down, okay? Take some deep breaths with me.”

Natasha demonstrated deep breaths, hoping Olivia would follow suit. However, the tantrum persisted, and Olivia's cries grew louder. Natasha reached out to gently stroke her back, trying to offer comfort amidst the chaos.

“It's okay to be sad, sweetheart. We all miss Mommy sometimes. But right now, I'm here for you. Let's find a way to help you relax and feel better.

Natasha tried different tactics, pulling out Olivia's favorite stuffed animal and singing a lullaby softly. She rocked back and forth on the bed, hoping the familiar routine would lull Olivia into a state of calmness. Yet, the tantrum showed no signs of subsiding.

Feeling her own patience tested, Natasha fought back her own weariness, determined to find a solution. She would have to go against her better judgment and ask for help. 

Natasha stood outside Wanda's suite, holding Olivia tightly in one arm while Lily clung to her other arm. A mix of embarrassment and desperation coursed through her, as she hoped Wanda could offer assistance in calming Olivia's distress. With a hesitant sigh, she knocked on the door.

Wanda opened the door, her expression immediately reflecting concern as she took in the distraught trio standing before her.

"Natasha, what's wrong? Come in, all of you," Wanda said softly, stepping aside to welcome them inside.

Natasha entered the room, her gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and apology. She spoke hesitantly, her voice betraying her unease.

"Wanda, I'm sorry to bother you, but Olivia is having a really hard time tonight. I thought maybe being here with you could help," Natasha explained, her words laced with a touch of embarrassment.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Wanda nodded empathetically.

"Of course, I can help," Wanda reassured, her voice brimming with compassion.

Wanda knelt down, extending a comforting hand towards Olivia with a gentle smile. However, the overwhelmed little girl's distress intensified unexpectedly. In a moment of frustration and confusion, Olivia bit down on Wanda's hand, causing Wanda to wince in pain.

"Olivia, no! That's not how we express ourselves, sweetie," Wanda exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and concern. She inspected her hand, finding that the bite was superficial, as she sighed. 

The room filled with tension as Natasha rushed to intervene, gently pulling Olivia back to look at her. 

“Olivia, we don’t hurt people,” Natasha lightly scolded her. Apparently, this was the wrong thing to do. Olivia, still overwhelmed by her emotions, turned and bit down on Natasha's arm.

"Ow! Olivia, please, we can't hurt each other," Natasha winced, her voice a mixture of pain and gentle admonishment.

Despite the discomfort, Wanda remained composed, understanding the underlying turmoil Olivia was experiencing. She attempted to redirect Olivia's attention, offering words of reassurance and guidance.

"Olivia, it's okay to feel upset, but we need to find healthier ways to express ourselves," Wanda said softly, her voice steady and calm. "Can you tell me how you’re feeling?."

Olivia's rapid breaths gradually slowed as she attempted to mimic Wanda's deep breaths. “I-I want Mommy,” Olivia whined. “I want to go home.” Olivia sobbed. Something about hearing her say that broke Natasha’s heart. In her arms, Lily began to show her own distress, making it known that she wasn’t happy about being awake past bedtime. Natasha shushed her, rubbing her back soothingly, as she kissed her forehead. 

“Olivia, you’re going home tomorrow,” Nataha kneeled. “I thought we could sleep together. Have a little fun. In the morning your mom will be there.”

“No, no, no,” Olivia shook her head. “I want Mommy now.”

“I know, baby,” Natasha sighed. It truly sucked to not understand how to console your child. 

Wanda observed the exchange, her concern evident on her face. She offered a potential solution.

"Hey, Natasha, maybe I should shoot a text to y/n and let her know what went down," Wanda suggested, her tone reflecting genuine care.

Natasha paused for a moment, considering Wanda's offer. However, she mustered a small smile and shook her head gently, responding in a contemporary way.

"Nah, thanks, Wanda. I appreciate the support, but I got this. I think it's best if I handle it on my own," Natasha replied, her tone a blend of gratitude and determination.

Understanding Natasha's desire to take charge of the situation herself, Wanda nodded, her eyes conveying unwavering support.

"Got it, Natasha. " Wanda said, her voice filled with empathy.

With a nod of gratitude, Natasha guided Olivia and Lily towards the exit, wrapping her arms protectively around them. There was one last thing she was willing to do. 

*************************

You trail down the stairs, flicking on the foyer light, as you wrap the tie of your black silk robe a little tighter around your waist. Through the window’s glass, you can see Natasha, clearly in her pajamas, and cold, carrying both girls in her arms. Lily is sleeping, her head cradled between Natasha’s neck and shoulder, and Olivia is in her other arm wide awake and fighting her sleep. You open the door, a gust of wind sending a chill down your spine, as you hold your arms out. Natasha steps closer so that Olivia can fall into them. You hold her against your chest, frowning at her slight sniffling and shaking body, as you rub her back in soothing circles. 

“She wouldn’t sleep,” Natasha says lowly. “Last night or tonight.” There’s a hint of defeat in her voice and you feel bad for her. You actually feel bad for her. She's out of her element. Taking care of children she hadn’t known before this month and there’s a lot expected of her. “I tried a song, um, warm milk. Taking her to Wanda and Steve. She missed you.” Natasha explains and you nod. 

“Come in,” You invite her in, stepping aside so that she can be relieved from the chilling temperature. You can see her teeth chatter, the rosiness of her cheeks, and her lack of a jacket. She would catch her death if she kept coming outside like this, but not on your watch. Natasha immediately walks over to the living room where she lies Lily down on the loveseat. She takes the cover from the back of the couch to throw it over her tiny body. Lily doesn’t startle at all. In fact, she turns over and makes herself more comfortable. 

“Want you, Mommy” Olivia whines. There are big crocodile tears sitting in the corners of her eyes, her mouth formed into a pout, and a wrinkled brow as she continues to whimper. 

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here,” You whisper to her. You kiss her forehead, hoping to ease some of her worries. You take a seat on the couch next to Lily’s sleeping form. You rock Olivia in your arms, whispering to her about how she’s okay, how much you love her, and how she’s safe here. She doesn’t settle for a long while. For a second, you forget that Natasha is in the room as you comfort your daughter. Olivia is too worked up. Eventually, she forces her small, cold hand into your robe, her hand finding its resting place along your collarbone. Her other hand, middle and ring fingers, go into her mouth, and she self-soothes in the only way she knows how when she’s this upset. She just needed to feel you. A few moments later, Olivia is sleeping, still hiccuping, though you know it’s a long time coming.

You glance over to Natasha. She’s leaning against the wall, clearly uncomfortable, and you can tell she is lost in thought. 

“Nat,” You attempt. You know you’re not on good terms but you still need to talk with her. You’d like to know how she’s feeling. Olivia’s meltdowns are intense and without experience, they can be overwhelming. “Come, sit.” You offer and you’re almost sure she’s about to say no. She bites her lip, debating whether or not she should go, but you know better. She comes to sit on the other side of Lily. She looks between both girls. 

“I have a few bite marks,” She mumbles. “Olivia’s baby teeth seem more like adult teeth.” Natasha attempts to joke. You look at her arms in concern. You can see the dark circles under her eyes. Ones to match yours. She hasn’t been getting enough sleep on top of driving an hour to bring the girls to you. Because Olivia wouldn’t sleep. Olivia wants to be in her own bed. Not in the cold walls of the compound. That isn’t her home. It’s not a place for a child and you both know that. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing. I didn’t know how to help her,” Natasha shakes her head. “She got so upset and I tried everything and…”

You let her speak. You can guess how Olivia’s tantrum went. A few broken valuables, an injured parent, and crying never seemed to stop. She’s gotten so much better now but these changes are throwing her off-kilter. You’d like to say the situation sounds familiar. You want to say you know how it feels to try your best and it still not be enough. You’re not the type to say “I told you so” no matter how much you want to. 

“It happens,” You say. “Olivia is a toddler with trauma. She values routine, structure, and normalcy. All of us do I think: You sigh. “Something we haven’t been giving her.”

Natasha nods. She knows that. 

“What do I do?” She asks and you smile gently. 

“Keep being there,” You answer. “I know it sounds simple but in those moments don’t leave her. Let her know you love her. Give her time. Allow her to feel what she feels and try again.”

All words you have lived by.

“Let’s get them to bed,” You suggest. 

You walked silently up the stairs, Olivia snuggled in your arms as you made your way to the bedroom. Natasha followed close behind, Lily resting peacefully in her arms. The weight of the evening's events lingered in the air, creating a silence between you. 

As you reached the girls' bedroom, you gently guided Olivia to lie down, tucking her in with a tender touch. Natasha mirrored the action, carefully placing Lily in her crib, her eyes filled with a mix of love and concern. Once the girls were settled, you and Natasha retreated to the hallway, your gazes meeting briefly.

In the quietness of the moment, Natasha took a deep breath, summoning her courage to break the silence. Her voice was sincere, expressing her remorse for her earlier hostility.

"I want to apologize again," Natasha began, her words laced with genuine remorse. "I know I've been defensive and distant, and it's not fair to you or the girls. I want to be better, to be more supportive and understanding."

You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for the truth behind her words. The tension that had built up seemed to hang in the air, but there was a glimmer of hope that they could find a way to bridge the divide between them.

"I appreciate that, Natasha," You responded, your voice soft but guarded. "I know all of this isn’t easy.” You gesture back to the girls. “I’ve always known it wouldn’t be easy for you. I’m not expecting you to get over something you are still fresh about. What I did back then. Those were choices I’ve made and had to live with.  I hope that eventually, we can build trust again.”

Natasha nodded, understanding the weight of those words. She knew that rebuilding trust required consistent effort and understanding, but she was determined to make amends.

"It’s possible," Natasha affirmed. "I don’t know what all of this means for us. This separation. This time I’ve spent at the compound. It’s given me some time to think.”

“About how boring the guys are?” You jest and she smirks. 

“That too,” Natasha nods. “There was a reason we started something all those years ago. There’s a reason we worked for this long. I, um, when I said I couldn’t love you. That was not what I meant.” Natasha looks to see if you believe her words. “I’m so hung up on my past. It’s a part of my being. It’s who I am. It’s not who I want to be.”

"I want a do-over from this day forward," Natasha spoke, her voice filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I know we can't go back to how things were, and I can't promise I won't struggle or make mistakes. But I want to try. I want to build something better for us and for the girls."

Your gaze softened as you listened to her words, understanding the depth of pain and anger you both carried. You knew the reluctance that guarded your own heart, aware of the risks involved. Yet, you also recognized the sincerity and genuine desire for change in her voice.

"I won't lie, Natasha. I'm still afraid. Afraid of losing what we had, afraid of history repeating itself," You admitted. "But I also see the pain you're going through, and I know it won't be the same. We can't expect it to be."

She nodded, acknowledging your fears and reservations. She understood the importance of rebuilding trust and knew that blind trust was not what either of you needed.

"We can't recreate the past, and I don't expect you to trust me blindly. It's going to take time and effort to rebuild what we had," She reassured, her voice steady.

You saw the raw honesty in her eyes, the genuine desire to change and grow. It both scared and comforted her.

"I want our marriage to be strong again, Natasha. I want to trust you and feel secure," You expressed.”Like I said from the time you woke up, I’m here for you. As your friend. As your wife."

She nodded. She could understand that. 

“I understand,” Natasha clasped her hands together. She peeks her head into the bedroom again, making sure that the girls are asleep before she sighs. “I should probably head back to the compound.”

You think about what time it is and how dangerous it is to get back to the compound in snow and darkness. You can’t let her go outside like this. 

“I can’t let you do that,” You direct your chin towards the guest bedroom. “It’s yours for tonight. If you want it.” You shrug. 

Natasha’s reaction is way quicker than you were expecting. “I’ll take it.”

If you made it this far - you have to tell me what you liked or didn't like right?

the shakespeare exhibit - part 9

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which it's time to celebrate the holidays

warnings: implied smut

word count: 2900+

author's note: long awaited but finally here

previous part | next part

"Seriously?" Tara asked as she stepped into the living room, a mug of hot chocolate in each hand. Her eyes were trained on the television, which was displaying the Elf title screen in all its fluorescent-glory. "We watch this every Christmas Eve!"

"Exactly!" Chad said, twisting around to grab one of the mugs from her hand. His face was alight with joy, his eyes wide and sparkling. "It's a tradition now!"

Tara glanced at Mindy, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. I wanted to watch Krampus," the girl said.

Chad huffed. "And I told you I'm done with horror movies. We already lived through one." He took a sip from his drink, and his eyebrows raised the moment the hot chocolate touched his tongue. "Tara! This is actually pretty good."

Tara frowned. "'Actually'?"

The boy glanced away sheepishly. "Well, you know, you have the tendency to--"

"Burn things," Sam deadpanned from behind as she exited the kitchen, mugs in her own hands. She handed one to Mindy, who immediately started gulping it down, and then turned to Tara. "The last three times you tried to make anything, our fire alarm went off."

Well maybe we shouldn't have such a sensitive alarm, Tara thought, furrowing her eyebrows. "Whatever," she scoffed, rounding the couch to sit between the twins. She pulled the blanket off Chad and covered herself, ignoring his whines. "Let's just watch Elf."

Mindy reached for the remote, and just as she was about to hit play, there was a knock on the front door. Every tensed slightly--an involuntary reaction none of them seemed to be able to shake--and Sam stood, edging toward the door slowly. She looked out through the peephole, and Tara watched as she sighed with relief, her shoulders relaxing. She undid the locks, opened the door, and Danny popped his head into the living room.

"Am I late?" the man asked as he shuffled inside.

"Perfect timing, man," Chad answered, holding his hand out. Danny dapped him up quickly before settling on the armchair, leaving room for Sam to squeeze beside him. "Okay," Chad started, lifting his legs to put his feet on the coffee table, "Elf time."

Almost as soon as Mindy pressed the play button, there was a thud against the front door. Again, everyone sat up a little straighter. Tara swallowed, her eyes trained on the doorknob as it twisted slightly.

This is it, she thought. Ghostface is going to attack us on Christmas Eve, because why the fuck not?

There was another thud, softer this time, and Danny glanced around the room, resolving to open the door. Everyone's attention was on him as he crept up, looked through the peephole, and then chuckled.

"You've got a present outside, Tara," he said, undoing the locks that Sam had redone and opening the door.

A present? she wondered. It's too late for UPS to be here.

There, in the hallway, beneath the flickering yellow light, stood you, your arms weighed down by bags and a small red spot forming on your forehead. You grinned at the group sitting inside.

"Hi!" you greeted, lifting your hands to show off what you had brought. "I have presents!"

Tara scrambled to stand, hastily placing her hot chocolate on the coffee table, and launched herself into you. You stumbled back a few steps before setting the bags on the floor and wrapping your arms around her waist.

"Hey, pretty girl," you muttered into her hair.

She pulled back, staring up at you with a gleaming smile. "What're you doing here? I thought you were stuck in Zoom calls with overseas family members." She had invited you to the Christmas Eve excursions, but you had declined for the aforementioned reason.

You giggled. "I was, but we ended a bit earlier than normal, so I thought I'd come over." You glanced over the top of your head at the others in the living room. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"The more the merrier, buddy!" Chad exclaimed, holding his hand out as Tara twisted around to stand beside you. You simply stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in your own and shaking it.

Tara couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Stupid, she thought. Chad seemed to be thinking the same thing as he tilted his head yet accepted the handshake.

As you pulled away from Chad, Tara glanced up at you. "Why did you knock so menacingly?" she asked, and then she looked up a little higher at the red mark on your forehead. "Did you use your head?"

You smiled shyly and nodded. "My hands were too full," you admitted. You perked up, whipping around and grabbing the bags you had left by the door. "That reminds me: I have gifts for you guys."

Tara watched you, sighing dreamily. She's so perfect. She'd be such a good mom. She shook her head. No baby thoughts, Tara. Now's not the time.

"This one's for you, Mindy," you said as you handed the girl one of the paper bags. "This is for you, Chad." He greedily accepted the package you held out to him. "Sam, for you." The bag was small and thin, and Tara didn't have to watch to know that it was another bottle of wine. "Uh, Danny, I didn't know you'd be here."

The man shook his head and waved you off. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh!" You reached for your wallet and drew out a few hundred-dollar bills. Tara's eyes widened. Who the hell carries that much cash on them? she thought, before shrugging and thinking, I guess when your parents have as much money as hers do, it doesn't even matter. You held them out to him. "Here! Merry Christmas!"

He simply stared at you, unblinking, for so long that it started to unnerve Tara. Hesitantly, like you would lean down and bite him if he moved too fast, he reached out and took the money from your hands.

"...Thanks," he said. Sam rolled her eyes and leaned toward him, whispering something in his ear. Tara heard the tail-end of the statement: "....family's rich." Danny nodded his head and smiled. "Yeah, thanks. Merry Christmas, kid."

You grinned happily and then turned back to the twins, waiting for them to open their presents. Mindy glanced at Chad, who shrugged and started ripping into the package you had handed him. He pulled out a pristine, red football jersey that had 'Bosa' on the back. Beneath the numbers was a large scribble.

"Holy shit," Chad said, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he stared at the jersey. "You got this signed by Bosa?! The Bosa?!"

You nodded, giggling. "Yup. Or, well, my dad got him to sign it, but same thing."

Chad leaned back and sighed happily. "Man, you are such a great addition to his family."

Your smile widened at his words, and Tara thought you might start bouncing up and down as she looked at you, a soft smile on her own face. God, I agree with Chad for once, she thought. It's a fucking Christmas miracle.

"Okay," Mindy began, hesitantly opening her own bag. "I don't think you can top that, but let's see what's in here." With careful hands, she pulled out a framed poster, and her jaw dropped so wide that Tara briefly thought it had broken. "No fucking way! Absolutely no fucking way!" She spun it around so that everyone else could see, and even Tara was shocked to see a Stab poster signed by all of the original cast members.

"It was a little difficult tracking everyone down, but we got there eventually," you said, beaming. "I hope you like it."

"Like it? Y/N, this is the best gift I've ever gotten in my entire life!" Mindy practically shouted. Her face fell quickly. "No one tell Anika that. I promised her that the necklace she bought was the best thing ever."

A chorus of laughter erupted throughout the room, and while everyone was distracted, you turned to Tara. "I have something for you," you said, tilting your head in the direction of her bedroom. "Can we...?"

She caught on quickly, nodding fervently, and grabbed your hand, shouting out a, "Watch the movie without me!" to which Sam responded, "Door open, Tara!" Yeah, right, she thought.

Tara pulled you inside and, much to the muttering complaints of her sister, shut the door behind you. She led you to her bed, where you sat on the edge of it and pulled something from your pocket.

"It's just something small," you started, glancing away shyly, "because your real gift is coming tomorrow, but I just...I wanted to give it to you today." She smiled at your nerves, thinking, She's just too cute. Too fucking cute.

She sat beside you. "Okay," she said. "But, just so you know, I only got you one gift."

You giggled and held the gift out. It was a small envelope, tiny enough to have fit in the pocket of your sweatpants, with your scrawl on the front. Tara furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at it and then took it from your hand. With slow and steady fingers, she opened the envelope, shivers running up her back as she realized what it was.

"It's your museum ticket," you said, watching her carefully, "from the day we met. Or, well, it's a copy of your ticket, since, you know, you have--or, had--the original." You shrugged and bit your lip. "I thought it would be a cute memento, but if it's dumb, you can just--"

She leaned in and shut you up with a soft kiss, trying to put all of the love she felt for you into it. When she pulled away, you were a blushing mess, and your words had died on your tongue.

"How did you get this?" she asked, looking back at the ticket.

You scratched at the back of your neck. "After I realized this was something"--you gestured between the two of you--"I scoured through the computer one day after work looking for your last name. There aren't very many Carpenters, so it wasn't too difficult."

That does it. Official. She's the very best thing that's ever happened to me.

"I love you, you know that?" Tara murmured softly.

You grinned. "Yeah, I do." You kissed her. "And I love you, too."

She grinned at you. "Since my door's shut, let me give you part of your Christmas gift," she said, and you blushed at the implication. She kissed you again and pushed you onto your back, easily hovering over you. "Merry Christmas, baby."

* * *

The sun shining in Tara's eyes woke her up. She turned over groggily, pressing her head into your neck, and you grumbled a little, shifting as you were woken up by her movements. Before even saying a word, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Morning, pretty," you said, your voice low and scratchy and filled with sleep. Tara melted at the sound, just like she did every time the two of you had a sleepover.

"Merry Christmas, baby," she offered, and your eyes shot open.

"Holy fuck." You sat up quickly, leaving Tara scrambling and confused as you reached for your phone. "Fuck, Tara!" You slipped out of her bed and immediately started getting dressed, stumbling around her room.

She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. "What?"

"We're gonna be late!" You pulled your shirt over your head. "Shit, the boys are gonna be so mad that they have to wait to open their presents."

Tara fell onto her back, groaning. This is gonna be a long day, she thought.

* * *

You bursted through the front door of your house, gifts nearly falling from your arms, and were immediately greeted by your brothers.

"Merry Christmas!" you shouted, and the boys swerved around you and headed straight for Tara.

"Tara! Tara!" Eddie cheered. "What'd you get me?"

"Please tell me you didn't get him any cologne. He's been spraying that stuff like mad recently," Nate said, elbowing his brother.

How did I forget how...energetic...they are? Tara wondered. "I'm not telling you," she said to Eddie, and then turned to Nate and said, "But no, it's not cologne."

Eddie frowned. "Darn."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Nate cheered. "Come. Mom and Dad are waiting by the tree. We've been up for hours waiting for you two."

"Hours and hours and hours," Eddie added, grabbing Tara's wrist and tugging her toward the family room.

Hours and hours and hours, she mocked in her head, and then she felt a little bad for mocking a child.

"Why've you guys been up for so long?" you asked as you followed close behind, the gifts blocking your sight slightly. Tara had offered to take some from you, but you had refused.

"Lia woke up early," Nate started.

"So we all woke up early," Eddie finished.

"Plus, grandpa was making pancakes," Nate said.

"And you know how his pancakes are," Eddie added.

When the four of you finally reached the living room, your parents stood.

"The prodigal daughter returns!" your father exclaimed, just as he had when he saw you at Lia's birthday party.

You set the presents down and rushed forward, pulling both of them into a hug. "Hi, guys!" You pulled back and they stepped up, taking Tara into their arms one by one. Even your grandmother offered Tara a hug. "So, presents?"

"Yes!" Nate shouted.

"Finally!" Eddie cheered.

Needless to say, the process of opening presents was chaotic—so much so that, just for a split second, Tara regretted saying yes to coming. You and the adults were calm, carefully unwrapping your presents and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each one. The boys, on the other hand, left a trail of little pieces of wrapping paper and gift bags and bows, and Lia ended up spitting up everywhere at one point.

This is it, Tara thought at one point as she watched your family. This is every Christmas for the rest of my life. And when the boys opened their presents from her--an edition of an Emily Dickinson book for Nate and a game of COD for Eddie--and basically tackled her as their thank-you's, she thought, Maybe it's not so bad. Yeah, she decided as they cheered and yelled and started bursting out into random Christmas songs, this isn't so bad.

Finally, after everything had finally finished, and there were just two more presents left to give, the rest of the family excused themselves to make lunch in the kitchen. It was you and Tara sitting by the tree alone, neither of you having exchanged your own gifts yet.

"Do you want to go first?" you asked, shifting where you sat, your eyes flickering around.

She's nervous, Tara realized quickly. Awe, she's nervous!

To try to quell your worries, she nodded. "Sure." She grabbed her gift for you, which was neatly wrapped with a little bow on top. Unfortunately for her, she had Chad to thank for the wrapping, but she'd never admit it as you complimented her on how crisp the paper was.

With careful hands, you unwrapped your present, revealing a small ring box. You furrowed your eyebrows as you opened it, and Tara gulped as she watched your eyes widen and your jaw drop.

"Oh my god," you muttered. "Oh. My. God." You pulled the ring from its box. "It's a signet ring! It's Shakspeare's signet ring! I've been looking for one of these for forever!" You slipped it onto your pinky, and Tara sighed with relief when it fit. You brought your hand closer to your face, inspecting the ring. "It even has the heart loop!"

"So, you like it?" Tara asked.

You looked up, a huge grin pulling at your lips and your eyes sparkling with pure joy. "I don't even have the words to describe how much I love it, Tar. Thank you."

She smiled. "Merry Christmas."

You glanced back down at the ring. "Where did you find this?" you asked.

Oh, shit. Should I be honest? God, I should. Damn it. "Uh, I drove up here a few days ago and your brothers and I went shopping. Nate saw it in that antique shop downtown."

You chuckled. "You asked my brothers to help you?" Your voice was light, teasing, and Tara blushed up to her ears.

"...Yes."

You cooed, reaching out to run your thumb along her cheek. 'That's adorable, baby."

"Shut up," she mumbled. "Your turn."

"Okay. Right. My turn." You picked up the little box left beneath the tree and handed it to Tara, breathing out shakily as you did. "I hope you like it."

She was a lot less gentle than you were, eager to know what you had gifted her. She tore through the wrapping paper and tilted her head as a tiny cardboard box revealed itself. When she opened it, she found a gold necklace inside, an emerald pendant dangling from its chain.

"This is beautiful," she said, looking up at you. "Like, seriously beautiful. I don't even know what to say." She lifted it from the box carefully, letting the pendant dangle in the air.

"It was my great grandmother's," you rushed out, and Tara's eyes shot toward you. "It's passed down to each first born in the family on my mom's side, and we're meant to give it to...to the person we want to spend forever with."

Forever. Tara grinned. I like the sound of that.

"I know it's still early in our relationship," you continued, glancing away, "but I'm confident in this." You looked at her, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I'm confident in you."

She shot forward, wrapping her arms around your neck and engulfing you in the tightest hug she could manage. "I'm confident in this, too," she admitted. She pulled back, holding the necklace out to you. "Help me put it on?"

With ease you clasped it around her neck, and when she turned back around, she swore your eyes were sparkling.

"It looks perfect," you said breathlessly. "It's perfect."

You're perfect, she thought. This is perfect. Everything's perfect.

"Hey," she said, calling your attention. "I love you."

You smiled. "I love you, too, Tara. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N."

-Save Me From Her pt. 3

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: The past comes back to haunt, and it doesn't like the present.

a/n: Hai everybody! Sorry that this took this long to come out, but life has been lifing, and I needed to get a hold of my mental health and stuff like that. Anyways, enjoy!

warnings: amature writing, wounds, stabbing, Canon-typical violance, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, mass homocide, blood, blood, and more blood (also; not proofread. I will, but not yet. When I did, I will remove this. I just wanted to push this out as quick as possible.

“Lolly!”

Her voice was venomous as it echoed through the small room, shivering, and agitated.

“Come ‘ere…”

The voice disintegrated, everything in it becoming shadowy dust, blown away by the wind. Her voice faded as well, as it was taken over by a sound that cut through the very fabric of nature. A scream, loud, horrid, and filled with emotion. Filled with anger, with hate and rancor.

“She was screaming, shouting, and begging for it to end.” The voice sounded from the depths of darkness. “Yet you did nothing!”

Her face emerged from the dredge, emotionless. Her eyes like glass, her mouth ripped open, deep bruises across her features. Dead. Then her voice sounded again, the former emotions snuff from the words she spoke, replaced with sadness. She sounded bitter, heartbroken. Disappointed.

“We could have been happy Y/N. We could have been…”

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

Tara was worried about you. Ever since you saw the note, you haven’t been the same. You acted like nothing happened, talked to the cops about the attack whilst soothing her quivering body. They asked about the dead body as well, which you gave the full truth about; that he attacked you two yesterday and that in his drunk state, you could fend him off. With her help you went through about what happened inside the building today, skipping over the personal parts of course.

Even though you kept a straight, composed face, even when you talked calmly, not a hint of trembling present in your voice, she could see through your façade. You were shaken to your core. She saw the slight flinch of your eyes when the name ‘Lolly’ came up, she felt the almost unnoticeable tightening of your grip around her whenever they asked about your wounds. The little motions your lips, your body, they all gave you away. She has never seen you like this. Scared. You weren’t whilst talking back to someone twice your size, not when you defended her yesterday from the drunk, not when you two fled for your lives today. Not when the knife was inches away from your face. Never

Yet now, you were. The reappearance of Ghostface by itself made Tara too, your state had only worsened hers. She was afraid for you. The worry she felt for you overwhelmed every other emotion that would rise in her. She felt like she needed to stay strong, for the both of you. Falling apart was not an option.

After the ambulance patched you up, the cops approached you once more.

“You’ll have to come with us so that we may pick up your statements at the precinct.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we just tell you what happened?”

“Yes, but to officially record it, we need you to be at the station.”

“But-“ Tara started but your soft, gentle hand on her shoulder made her stop.

“Let’s follow the officers Tara” you said, looking at the young woman. You were composed and confident.

She huffed but gave in to you. “Can I call Sam from your phone please? I left mine in your apartment.”

“Here” you mumbled as you absentmindedly handed her yours from your back pocket.

As Tara started to dial in her sister’s number, she saw it was already saved. At the name she raised her brow again. “Who is ‘Geralt’?

“Oh, it’s her” you say, blushing a little. "It's from Witcher.

“I know, but why is this her name?” she asks, turning the screen towards you.

You shy away from her unwavering gaze, then press the call button and push her hand back towards her face. “Oh, no you won’t escape this-“ she starts but Sam is faster, as she immediately picks up the ringing phone. She hears her voice calling out for her from the other end of the line.

"Tara! I just saw the news. Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm on my way and be there as fast as possib-" her unrelenting assault of words is cut off by Tara.

"Sam, calm down and take a breath. I'm uninjured, but Y/N got a nasty cut on her neck. The police want us to go down to the precinct to pick up our statements. Meet us there?"

"Yeah, sounds good! Be careful!"

"Off what? I'll be surrounded by cops for god's sake!"

"We both now that won't stop him" Sam said, voice low and mournful. Flashing memories of the hospital ran through Tara's mind for a second and sent a shiver down her spine. The dead cop, laying limp on the floor with an open throat, the pain and the fear coming back to her all of a sudden. Her senses numbed, not hearing Sam's voice on the other end of the line, the lights becoming blindingly bright, yet she couldn't close or avert her eyes. She was frozen in place, helpless just like when she was crawling away from her. From the one that said she would be always by her side. The one that said whatever the case, she would keep her safe. The one that said she loved her.

She flinched when she felt something touch her and snapped her head backwards. At your sight she calmed, only now noticing, and taking in her surroundings once again. "Okay Sam, I will. Bye" Tara managed to say, then hung up.

"She knew?" your voice was soft, so soft. Why were you this thoughtful with her always? It made her heartbeat faster, making her able to believe she could be normal again. But life always had a way to prove her wrong, doesn't it?

"By now all of the world could now" she gestured behind you, towards the police line where an army of reporters were lined up. You sighed as you noticed them. "We are gonna meet her at the station."

"Then let's get moving." Tara felt your hand on her back, nudging her gently to get to the police car.

You opened the door for her, then scrambled to the other side to do the same for yourself. When you got in and closed the car, the sounds of the outside vanished, a comfortable silence filling the space. The vehicle soundlessly rolled out to the road, the lights of the city blaring by the window that Tara's head was leaned against. The cops in front were chattering quietly, trying not to disturb you two.

The Carpenter felt odd. Out of place. Everything was calm. Nothing should be calm. Ghostface was back. He was here to bring her and her loved one’s pain, suffering, and death. Why her? Then she thought of the note. This wasn't about her. No, you knew what the name meant, it scared you. This wasn't about her she realized. This was about you. She rethought the attack, every little detail she could think of. She was the first one to get called, but that didn't mean much. All the time, he was staring at you with his dead eyes, always attacking you. She remembered the occasions where he could have wounded her, yet he was focused solely on you.

Tara looked over to your side of the backseats, taking in your features again. You were just as disturbed as her, deep in thought and uncomfortable. You would have looked cute if one didn't know about what had happened. Tara saw your pained gaze, could feel that your thoughts were eating you up inside and hated every moment of it. Your usual smile wasn't there to light her up. She missed your crinkling eyes that could melt the coldest frozen hearts, your witty jokes, that you would throw in the worst time possible. So, she tried to distract you.

"I want an answer" she demanded, looking at you with furrowed eyes. She surprised you with speaking up, that she could see. You looked at her, confused and unfocused. "I want an answer" she repeated. You clearly didn't know what she was talking about, but she needed you to get speaking so you wouldn't shut off again.

"What answer?" your voice full of confusion.

"The answer to my question" Tara said matter-of-factly.

You rolled your eyes at her statement. "Which one Tara?"

"Why the hell is my sister saved in your phone as Geralt of Rivia?"

You reddened instantly, looking everywhere but her. "It was mainly meant to be a joke…"

"But?"

You gulped and glanced over to her a few times. She knew her unwavering gaze would brake your resistance, and it did. "Anika pointed out that he resembles some of his attributes." You say, still not looking at her.

"Like what?" Tara asked playfully. You looked like a child caught in the act of stealing cookies from the fridge. You swallowed again, clearly rethinking your life choices since the date of your birth. "Y/N, don't think that I'll let you off the hook this easily."

"She is strong, layered and protective besides being misunderstood and mistreated!" you blurted out, looking straight at her. Once you did, your eyes widened and went pale as a ghost. Tara could feel her smile widening to unimaginable lengths before bursting out in laughter. "I'm only telling the truth here! Don't laugh at me" you pouted. You looked so kissable.

"N- no it's not you it's just" she tried to say in between laughs. "It's just that it's so accurate. She would be fuming if she heard about this."

"And that's why she will never know!" So kissable.

"Oh, I don't know about that" she smirked. "My tongue is in a slippy mood these days…"

"No, Tara I'm serious!" you pleaded, face contorting in fear. "She would kill me! I have barely made it on her list of tolerated people! I don't want to end up-" she cut you off with her lips on yours. Your eyes widened for a moment, taking in what was happening, but she didn't give you enough time to fully comprehend it. She leaned back and watched your gaping face. After you finally shook off the surprise, you smirked at her. "Well, if I end up like this, I don't mind her knowing."

Tara rolled her eyes at you but the butterflies in her stomach rendered her silent. What exactly was this? You kissed her back, that surely meant you liked her too, right? She didn’t have much time to think because you leaned in to kiss her again, this time deepening it. You cupped her cheek with your right hand, whilst the left on found hold on her waist, gently rubbing circles under the fabric. When you had to separate for air, she pressed her forehead against yours, eyes locking with each other.

“I-“ Tara started, but stopped herself. The words she was about to speak didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel enough. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to think up something that would be better.

“I know” you said simply, caressing her face with your fingers. She opened her eyes again, and your heart started beating faster at the sight of them, full of hope and concern. “Me too.”

Your words made the swarm of butterflies in Tara’s stomach grow into a horde. “Since when?”

“Anika told me what you told Mindy” you said with a smirk. “That’s when I really started to hope for it to be true. I never fully believed it until know though.”

“You mean the time when they got together?” At your nod her face reddened. She then narrowed her eyes and leaned back. “Mindy is dead to me.”

“Oh, come on, they share everything between each other, and Anika could never stand my stare.”

“It was meant to be a secret!”

“If you want to blame someone, blame me for being a too good sister, from which the other can’t keep anything from!”

“Yeah, if anything you’re an idiot” she said, smiling.

“I might be” you leaned back too and smirked at her. “But I’m your idiot now.” Tara’s stomach churned in the most pleasurable way after hearing your words.

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

The rest of the route went by in a blink of an eye. Tara and you had talked most of it through, and you were thankful of her for distracting you from your own thoughts. The note rocked you to your core. There were only a few people who could have known that nickname, but you didn’t see any of them capable of killing someone, let alone mutilate them afterwards. The only one died a year ago. She died a year ago.

When your thoughts would start to eat you up again the car stopped. The cops got out and helped you two leave the vehicle as well. You entered the building and were met with the familiar sight of the white walls and crowded office. You couldn’t remember how many days you spent here nagging and annoying your uncle. Yet he wasn’t here anymore, and the thought made you feel alone. Scared. Overwhelmed. Screaming, shouting, begging for it to end…

As if she read your mind, Tara grabbed your hand and interlocked her fingers with you. You looked down at her and smiled, reassuringly squeezing her hand. The cops started leading you two to what you liked to call; ‘interrogation chamber’ in your youth. Whenever you saw the cops bringing in perps in handcuffs, you would imagine how scary it must be for them. You would chase yourself into a corner of your mind where everything was scary and dark. Where she was still free. Still alive. Your only lifebelt being your uncle, who never failed to help you out of there. Now, the room you were closing in on didn’t seem so bad. It felt safe. Funny how time changes perspectives.

“Y/N?” you heard a familiar voice behind you. Not believing your ears your span around, searching for the source. “Y/N! Hey! How are you? What the hell are you doing here?” The source turned out to be a young man, with red hair and sparkling green eyes. Just like your uncle.

“I could ask you the same thing V.”

“Not even a greeting for your most humble cousin? I must say you’ve cha-“ he got cut off when you hugged him so tightly Tara was worried you might brake some bones. “There she is…” he said, wrapping his own hand around you.

“What happened? I thought you are stationed in Washington!”

“I got transferred here upon my request. Being a legacy of pa helped.”

“Kayoko, you two know each other?” one of the officers asked that were escorting you.

“Not intentionally” Vasco smirked and pushed your shoulder a little. You flinched from the pain. His eyes narrowed and without asking pushed the fabric of your shirt to the side, revealing the bloody bandage that was wrapped around the stitched wound. “What happened?” his voice got serious in an instant.

You took a deep breath before answering. “Me and Tara had been attacked in my apartment.” His eyes widened, suddenly gripping your bicep. “It was Ghostface. Now I’m involved in the homicide of a homeless drunk that also attacked us a day before and gave me this” you held up your arm. The wound narrowed since yesterday, yet it still itched and hurt. “Speaking truly, I was the aggressor that time, but that’s unimportant now.” You almost whispered the last sentence. He huffed and shook his head slightly.

“Just my luck” he shook his head. “The first serious case I get, and my family’s involved.”

“You lead the case?”

“No, Wayne does. You know, father’s old partner.” You nodded, as you did, in fact remember the graying man. “I’m in his team and for once, he didn’t put me in the backline.”

“Wayne as in Wayne Bailey?” Tara interrupted.

“How do you know him?” Vasco asked back.

“He’s the father of her roommate.”

“Quinn or E… Oh wait, no. His son is studying at Princton. So, you are Quinn’s roommate huh?”

“I thought her brother died…” Tara said.

“He did. Sorry, he had two siblings. I thought you would know this.”

“No, she never mentioned two” you said as well.

“Sorry to interrupt Kayoko, but we all have our jobs to do” a officer said. “After picking up their statements, you can have them back.”

“Of course, Stan. Apologies” he said and held his hands up.

Before you were lead away, you hugged him again and decided to throw the big ball into the game. “There was a note for me, pinned to the corpse” you whispered in his ear.

“How do you know it was for you?”

“It was meant for Lolly.”

When you pulled away, you saw his struck state. It looked like he froze down, his eyes full of sorrow as he looked at you “I’ll get to work then” he said, threw you a weak smile, and squeezed your shoulder again, before turning around and walking towards his place.

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

You needed to wait a little for Bailey to arrive. He was at the scene and missed you there.

“Stan and Mitch are awfully efficient when they don’t need to be” he huffed as he greeted you warmly. He was just as bright and straight as he always used to, even if time had worn him out a little. With you, at least. Tara was a different world. You remembered how he first acted around you and found resemblance. They just needed to warm up to each other, you thought.

They didn’t. From the point he started picking up your statement, he gave her his coldest self. Sam got there in the middle of interrogation, and her being around didn’t help much either. She looked even more dishevelled than last time as she barged into the room, even though half the police force tried to deny her that. When Tara reassured them that she was with you two, they reluctantly let her stay.

You didn’t know whether Tara wanted to hide what you had from her, so you tried to keep the usual distance, but the young Carpenter was having none of it. Once she got a hold of your hand under the table, she wasn’t letting go. Sam clearly saw but didn’t say anything. The only reaction you saw from her, was the small, almost unnoticeable smile on her concerned face, which you took as a good sign.

You explained everything again to Bailey, this time a bit more calmly and provided more information. You described the attack, the phone call, leaving out some information about you and Tara again. Then came the nickname. The grey man tried to go into the depths, but you dodged every question as your father and uncle had thought you to. Noone besides our loved ones will know about this. The vow you made to them resounded in your head, and you never took yourself for a liar. Noone else needs to know. It just wasn’t necessary.

“Who could want to see you two dead?” he asked with a resigning voice, eyeing you and Tara.

“Cmon’ Bailey, you know me! I’m the most charming person in the world” you teased and leaned back, smirking.

“So, half the city. You?” she asked Tara.

Before answering she shook her head slightly. “Can’t think of anyone who’s still alive.”

“Yikes.” you and Bailey said in unison.

The door opened and Stan showed his head in the door. “FBI’s here, claiming jurisdiction.”

Bailey’s face contorted from confusion. “Where are they?”

He stood and left the room, you quickly following behind. No matter how much time you spent here, it could still surprise you. You have seen federal agents once or twice, but never when they claimed a case for themselves. You were interested, the Carpenter sisters following close behind you. Tara wouldn’t let go of your hand, gently squeezing it, so you couldn’t release it, which you wouldn’t, not even if the world was ending. Especially not if the world was ending.

Three doors later Stan opened a door, motioned inside. A woman stood from one of the chairs, blonde, painted shoulder length hair, combat boots and a black outfit with a black leather jacket. You couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but the woman showed her badge and Bailey clearly didn’t like her. A case was laid open on the table, your and Tara’s picture on top of it. The sisters were talking about something, but you didn’t listen, your eyes focusing on the photograph that was taken of the corpse. It looked weird. Not how it looked when you were there.

Your train of thoughts was disrupted by Sam, who just noticed who was inside. “Kirby?”

“Hey Sam” the blonde woman greeted her and squeezed herself past you and Bailey to hug her. “Tara, and you must be Y/N, right?”

“Your detective skills are impressive” you nodded.

“You are the FBI?” Sam asked.

“You guys know each other?” the graying man asked, after Kirby nodded.

“Yeah. We went to Woodsboro high together” the older Carpenter said. “She was a senior when I was a freshman.          “

“We share a certain history, yeah” Kirby agreed. “Look, I’m not trying to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest here, I just want to help” she had a sly smile plastered on her face. “I’ll show you mine” she said, still smiling. “Et cetera.”

You huffed at her words. This was one of the weakest jokes, you have heard today, yet it still made you smile. Kirby had this look of pure confidence and kindness, that made you calm. You looked down at Tara from the corner of your eye and saw her also hiding her grin with her left hand, the other one still holding onto yours.

Bailey scrunched his eyes, but gave in, sharing some information about your statement and about the attack. The woman nodded along, and once he was finished, spoke up. “I already knew about the circumstances of the attack. If we are to catch this maniac, we will have to work together.”

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Sam said, as her patience ran out. “We are getting out of town” to exercise her point, she grabbed Tara’s hand and started leaving the police station. Your heart clenched in a familiar uncomfortable way.

“No!” Tara pulled her hand back and stayed close by your side. “I’m not leaving her behind!” The pain eased a little at her words, yet your mind was screaming for her to leave.

“Also, I can’t let you do that” Bailey cut in. “I’m sorry, but your sister is a person of interest in a homicide. She can’t leave town until the matter is resolved.”

Sam looked at both in disbelief. At Tara because she wanted to stay in a place where a psycho was on the loose, hell bent on hurting her, and at Bailey because of how ridiculous his words have made her feel. There was a maniac on the loose, and they couldn’t leave. They couldn’t leave because of the people that should try to do everything in their might to keep them safe. It was laughable really. When she wanted to word the thoughts that were circling in her head, the lights shut out.

The whole building went dead silent. The only source of light, being the streetlamps outdoors. You felt Tara leaning into you, her heartbeat fastening against your chest. You tightened your grip on her hand, and blinked, so your eyes would adjust to the darkness quicker. There was a hint of smoke in the air, but there was no logical explanation for it. It also smelled like smoke.

A pained scream echoed through the room. The scream of man. After a moment it turned into a growl, becoming ever more silent as something blocked the way of the sound. You heard Bailey and Kirby take out their guns, cocking them, just as all the other cops in the building. You snapped your head in every direction, but you still couldn’t see clearly, only the figures of people. The smoke in the room only got thicker.

A way too familiar voice resounded across the place, filling you with fear. His voice. “Did you miss me, Lolly?”

Another fading scream filled the room, but this time two shots followed it right after. The sound was deafening, and your ears started ringing. You could hear distant orders being barked out even though it came from right next to you, the figures of the two law enforcers disappearing from before you. A million thoughts were blaring through your mind, only some of them useful. Before you could do anything, you felt someone grab your hand and pull you with. After a moment you realised it was Sam, and stopped struggling against her, following her lead. But then she stopped in her tracks.

“No escape for you here, dear.” Ghostface spoke again, from right before you. You looked over Sam and saw him already stabbing towards her. You tried to pull her backwards, but it was too late. The knife sliced into her flesh, a pained groan leaving her mouth as she stumbled back. As you were still pulling her, a cop got between you and him, raising his gun. Three shots were fired, two of them clearly hitting him, but it was as if he didn’t even notice. He lunged forward at his shooter, opening his throat and chest with two precise and fast attacks.

You span around and ran the other way, the Carpenters by your side. The smoke had now filled the entire place, vision impaired. It helped that you had the building memorised by heart, as you took turn after turn. Shots were being fired and the smell of blood mixed with the smell of smoke and gunpowder, creating a metallic, hardly breathable atmosphere.

Then you tripped in something. As you fell, you let go of Tara’s hand and when you looked up, you couldn’t see her no more. You could hear her screaming your name, but you couldn’t answer, the smoke filling your lungs. Then you looked down at what you tripped in. Or as it turned out, who. It was a uniformed cop’s body, struggling for air. He had a stabbed wound in his gorge. Your hands were dripping of his blood, half your clothes soaking in it too. You didn’t know a human could have so much blood in their body, but when you looked around, you saw one more, with also as precise cuts as all the other victims you witnessed. All of them were stabbed at vital organs, or from where they would die in a few seconds or minutes. Not a second wasted.

“Oh, poor Y/N” he said in a condescending voice. “This must be pretty traumatic for you. I almost feel bad.” A hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back by it. “Almost” he whispered in your ear. There was a voice behind the modulator, that was familiar. Your heart skipped a beat after realisation hit you. But that couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t!

You slumped back to the ground when she suddenly let go of your hair. You looked back behind you, seeing her figure falling onto her back. Another woman stood above you, and you could take out Sam’s boots. She grabbed you, pulled you up and started running, not even waiting for you to be able to catch your balance, just pulled you after her. She barged through a door, that led you to the Northern stairs, where Tara was waiting, tears running down her cheek. She was coughing hard, trying to swallow air desperately, yet she couldn’t. You looked at Sam for a moment, and after you saw one of her hands was occupied with a gun, you picked up Tara in your hands and started running down the stairs, three steps a time.

The ground floor looked similar in its form, but there was no smoke here. Bodies were scattered around the place, some of them civilians, some of them cops. All of them dead. You traced over the room, searching for a specific table, and once you found it ran towards it, leaning Tara against it.

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?!” Sam was trying her best not to snap at you.

“Tara’s going to suffocate if we don’t do something” you answered, opening drawer after drawer to find the item you were looking for. “To our “luck”, Private Alice always holds an inhaler at her desk in case her asthma ever comes back.” Sam accepted this, and turned towards the places Ghostface could come after you.

You found it in the fourth drawer and immediately turned towards the younger Carpenter. You aided her to take it in her mouth and pressed down a few times, just to be sure. She looked at you gratefully after. Her coughing died down slowly, and you helped her up. That’s when you noticed that everything was quiet. No shooting, no footsteps above you, nothing. Was everybody dead?

As to answer that question, the door of the staircase opened, and a very dishevelled looking Kirby stumbled into the room, followed by Bailey and two other cops. You sighed in relief when you saw Vasco in their group. The greying man barked out some orders, and Vasco and two others walked over to you, surrounding the three of you, whilst he and the rest of the cops marched out. Kirby joined him, her gun also raised, eyeing every corner before she disappeared behind a wall.

“Vasco, what the hell is going on?” you asked, suddenly feeling very weak.

“He jumped out a window, after we surrounded him” he said, very quiet. Why was he so quiet?

Then he threw you a glance. The glance, turned into a full-blown stare, his face horrified. You saw his mouth opening, but no notes hit your ear. Your side throbbed of pain, and you looked over to see, why. When you saw the opening that had been carved into you, you did nothing. Nothing else than stare at it, whilst feeling your vision darkening, and getting weaker and weaker. The floor came quicker than you could realise, why it was even getting closer. Suddenly you felt the floor hit you with all it’s might before everything became dark.

the city can wait

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you not notice it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, at least you knew a good superhero.

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

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

And hopefully not causing any trouble.

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

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

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

Oh. Well that wasn’t as exciting.

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

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

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

Right.

“I wouldn’t dream of it-”

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

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

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

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

Oh, if only she knew.

“Yes ma’am,” you said anyway.

“Pinky promise,” she said.

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

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

“Seal the deal,” she said.

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

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

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

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

Until you couldn’t.

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

“See what?” You asked.

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

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

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

Oh, if only she knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

And Vada always gave you a kiss immediately after.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mia smiled. “Stay safe going home.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You asked.

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

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

You nodded.

“None of them were… real.”

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

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

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

“We were testing you,” she continued.

“For what?” You asked again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh, maybe you were stupid.

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

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

The city could wait for one night.

the shakespeare exhibit - part 8

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara both have things to talk about

warnings: mentions of stabbing, talks of substance abuse and verbal abuse

word count: 2700+

previous part | next part

Finals season was in full swing at Blackmore University, sending its students into poor sleep schedules and even worse diets as they attempted to cram a semester’s worth of information into their brains.

You and Tara, unfortunately, were no exception. For the past week, the two of you had holed yourselves up in either the library or one of your apartments, your noses stuck in your books and your hands fumbling around for an energy drink whenever you needed a pick-me-up.

The only time you had taken a break was to celebrate Tara’s 20th birthday, but even then it was hardly a celebration. You had gathered all of her friends at her apartment, had a small party consisting of drinks and movies, and then went right back to studying, Tara in tow.

Safe to say, the stress levels were at an all-time-high, especially for Tara, who was experiencing her first round of finals in university. You had offered her a few studying tips, since you had already gone through the struggles of freshman-year exams the year prior, before immersing yourself in your own revision.

You were in the midst of reviewing for your Romantic Literature course--the last final that you had for the semester--when your mother called you, leading you to slip out of Tara’s bedroom and into the hallway to speak to her.

Tara sat at her desk, grumbling as she tried to study for her Introduction to Literature course. This is just as stupid as it was when I was studying for the midterm, she thought, eyes scanning her notes about Emily Dickinson. Maybe it’s even more stupid now.

Your voice broke her concentration as you walked back into her room, and she twisted her chair around to face you. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll ask her, alright?” You rolled your eyes and pointed at your phone, mouthing, she talks so much. Tara giggled softly, extending her arms for you to stand between, and you sighed as you slid into place, her fingers rubbing over your hips. “Okay. Yup. Yeah, okay. Yeah. Right. Okay, bye, mom.”

“What was that all about?” Tara asked when you hung up, throwing your phone onto her desk. “Did Eddie pull another prank on the Dylan Thomas statue again?”

You chuckled, thinking about the photo that your brother had sent you the week before—he had put a wig, makeup, and a shaving-cream beard on the statue of your grandfather’s late friend. “No, no. The statue garden has gone untouched this week.”

She shook her head, a grin on her face. “I still can’t believe you guys have a statue garden,” she said. But of course her family does. Because why wouldn’t they?

“Well, my dad’s always been big into statues. Like, when he was younger, he--” You cut yourself off. “That’s not important. Anyway, my mom invited us to spend Christmas at the house.” Tara’s eyes lit up, a type of joy that she didn’t know existed rushing through her. Us? she thought. I’ve been invited to family Christmas? “Do you want to go--”

“Yes!” she exclaimed immediately, nodding her head fervently. “Please, yes.” Shit, I’ll need to buy presents. What the hell do you get for kids who could buy anything they’ve ever wanted?

You giggled at her enthusiasm and tilted your head. “Are you sure you and Sam aren’t going back to California for the holidays?” you asked.

Back to California? Back to…Woodsboro? She furrowed her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip. “Why would we go to Cali?”

You squirmed a little where you stood. What’s she so nervous about? she wondered. “I just thought you might want to see your mom?” Your voice pitched on the last word, and Tara tensed, her arms falling to her sides. You frowned and reached out, but she pulled back, swallowing.

“No, there’s--we’re not--no,” she stammered out, her voice short. She shook her head. “I’ll be here.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Tara wanted the conversation to be over, but your lips were pursed like you still had something you wanted to say. “What?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing!”

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “No, you look like you have something to say. What?”

“I just…you’ve never spoken about her. Maybe we could--”

That’s because there’s nothing to say.” She’s good for nothing, she thought. “I don’t like to talk about her.” I’d rather read Shakespeare, which is really saying something.

“But--”

“No.” Her voice was stern, clear-cut, and she watched as you deflated a little, your eyes flitting around the room. She sighed, running a hand down her face. “I’m not doing this right now, okay? I’m not talking about her.”

“Tar…” The nickname came out as a coo, soft and careful and meant to be comforting, but it ignited a strange irritation beneath Tara’s skin, and something in her snapped.

“Listen, we can’t all have a perfect-fucking-family, okay?” she shouted, and you flinched, taking a step back, your eyes widening at her sudden outburst. “Just because you have parents who are there and who care doesn’t mean everyone does! I mean, Jesus, my mom didn’t even come to see me last year after--” After Amber stabbed me half-to-death, she finished in her head.

The air was tense, quiet. You stood in front of her, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tara cursed herself when she noticed that your hands were trembling slightly.

“Baby…” She reached out for you, but her fingers met open air as you shook your head and crossed the room to grab your things from her bed.

“It’s fine. I--I shouldn’t have pushed,” you rushed out, your voice shaking. You threw your notebook and laptop into your backpack hastily before hurrying to the door. Tara stood, desperate to do something to stop you from leaving, but she didn’t get the chance as you said, “I’m sorry.” Of course she’d apologize when I snapped at her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

The door shutting behind you pulled all the air from Tara’s lungs, and she fell back into her chair, holding her face in her hands.

“God fucking damnit,” she groaned. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

* * *

Hours later--during which Tara had sat in her bed and moped--there was a knock on her bedroom door. For a brief second, she thought it was you. But there would be no reason for her to come back after I got mad at her, she reminded herself, and any hope she had disappeared when Sam walked into the room, a frown on her face.

“I thought Y/N was staying for dinner so you two could study through it,” Sam said, bringing Tara’s attention right back to the fact that you had left. She stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, and asked “What happened?” You’re all”--she gestured at Tara--“sad.”

Tara huffed, glaring at her sister. “Nothing,” she grumbled.

Sam scoffed. “Oh, please. You and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the start of finals.” She shook her head. “Scratch that--since you two began dating. So, what happened, Tara?”

Stupid Sam, being a good older sister. Tara sighed and relented. “She asked about mom.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “And what did you say?”

“I--” Was a bad girlfriend and got mad at her for no reason, Tara thought, shame seeping into her veins. “I snapped at her. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…mom’s a tough topic, and it’s even harder because Y/N’s family-life is so perfect.” She clenched her jaw and glanced away, ignoring the spark of jealous lighting in her chest. “She’s got two parents who are there, and they have money, and she’s just…” Perfect.

Sam tilted her head, walking over and sitting beside Tara. “You know, it wasn’t easy for me to tell Danny about mom, either. He’s in the same boat as Y/N--well, not the super rich family part, but his parents are together and there.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to envy that, but she’s your girlfriend, so you’ll need to talk to her about mom at some point. She deserves to know.”

Tara nodded, hanging her head. “I know. I feel horrible for getting upset with her.” She gestured lamely at her phone. “I tried texting and calling her, but…” She pointed across the room, where your phone still sat on her desk. “Obviously that didn’t work.”

Sam hummed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tara. Maybe she just needed a minute.” She rested her hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Plus, she’ll need her phone.”

“What if she comes back and breaks up with me?” Tara asked, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. What if she never speaks to me again? she thought. What if this is it? What if--

“Every couple has arguments, Tara.” Sam smiled softly at her. “She’s not going to break up with you over this. That girl’s head over heels for you, even more than you are for her. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, okay,” she said, not missing the sorrow in her own voice. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Sam stood, her hands on her hips and her head tilted. “Now, should we get Chinese food or pizza?”

* * *

Sam was right: you did just need a minute.

It was as Tara was getting ready for bed that she heard a knock on the front door. Sam’ll deal with it, she decided as she climbed beneath her sheets, ready to lay in the darkness and wallow for a while. Just as she was reaching over to turn off her bedside lamp, a certain name caught her attention.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Sam said loudly from the living room, and Tara knew she had raised her voice so that she would know who was at the door. She sat up immediately. Y/N is here? What? There was some mumbling before Sam’s voice came again. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Go ahead.”

Moments later, there were soft knocks against her bedroom door, and Tara scrambled out of her bed, rushing across the room to open the door for you. There you stood, your lips pulled in a downturned smile and your eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, pretty girl,” you muttered. You were still wearing the same clothes from the day, and your backpack was still hanging off your shoulders. Did she not go home? she wondered, furrowing her eyebrows. You pulled your arm out from behind you, revealing a small bouquet of flowers. “Got you these.”

Tara blinked. She bought me flowers?!  “I--Thanks?” She took them from your outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” you tried to joke, but your voice was strained, like you were trying to be careful, and Tara felt guilt prick at her knowing that she was the cause. “Could I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Always,” she rushed out, moving to her bed to sit. She placed the flowers on her bedside table and watched as you sat in front of her, fingers playing with her blanket. “So, what’s up?” ‘What’s up?’ Really? That’s the best I can do?

You sighed, a shaky breath falling from your lips. “I want to apologize,” you said. “I didn’t mean to push you into talking about your mom earlier. I know she’s a touchy subject.”

Tara frowned. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sorry for shouting at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shook your head, glancing up and finally making eye-contact with her. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t want to talk about her. And, that’s okay.” You shrugged and offered her a comforting smile. “You don’t have to tell me about her…ever, if you don’t want to.”

“I should, though. I mean, we should talk about her.”

“Tara, you really don’t have to--”

“No, I--I want to.” Want’s a strong word, she thought. But I should.

“Okay,” you said, nodding and giving her your full attention. “You have the floor.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, my dad left when I was 8. My mom started working more so that she could afford Sam and I, but it turned more into an obsession for her, I think. Next thing I knew, she was never there. Sam left home when I was 13, and it was just me.” She shrugged, glancing down and fiddling with her fingers. “Then, Sam came back after I was attacked, and my mom wouldn’t talk to her, so we made the choice to cut her off. I haven’t spoken to her since we moved.”

Tara clicked her tongue, looking back up at you. To her surprise, your face wasn’t full of the pity she was used to seeing after telling people about her past; you were watching her carefully, looking close to tears.

“So, that’s that,” she said awkwardly.

You inhaled sharply, blinking your glassy eyes away. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Tar, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with it.” You reached out, your hand cupping her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. “I’m so happy that you’ve found your family.”

Her heart fluttered at your words, her mind flashing to Sam and Mindy and Chad. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I am, too. I really love those guys.” And I’ve found you, too, she thought. You make it all complete.

You grinned, and she practically melted into her mattress. “Good. They’re good--all of them.”

She giggled. “C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to lay down with her, your face nuzzled into her neck. She laughed at the feeling of your nose against her skin, and said, “I love you. Like, a lot.”

Your arms wrapped around her waist, and you squeezed lightly. “I love you, like, a lot, too.” You sighed into her. “And I’m sorry for leaving like that earlier. I just…I don’t do well with raised voices.”

Huh? Suddenly, she was on high alert. Why not? What happened? “Any particular reason?”

You twisted in her hold so that you could lay beside her, your gaze trained on the ceiling. She scooted down so that her head was level with yours and looked at you, tracing your side profile with her eyes. So pretty, she thought. Wait, stay on topic, Tara.

You clenched your jaw. “We’ve never talked about it, but, um, my dad…” You closed your eyes. “When I was younger, my dad had a big drinking problem.” Her eyebrows furrowed. Her dad? That man? Really? “He was never physical,” you said, shaking your head lightly. “But he had a temper when he was drunk, and everything I did was always wrong.”

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighed, intertwining her fingers with yours. Your grip was tight, like she would float away if you didn’t hold on.

“He’d yell a lot, at me, at my mom.” Oh, baby. Your thumb rubbed over the skin of her hand. “But he’s good now. He got better after the boys were born--got sober. He hasn’t had a drink since.” You turned your head, looking back at her.

“He’s not, like, obsessed with apples, or anything,” you said. What does that have to do with the conversation? she wondered. “But, he eats them a lot when we have parties. That was his thing--eat an apple when he wanted a drink. It stuck, so we keep the fridge stocked, and any time someone sees him even look in the direction of alcohol, we get him an apple.” You smiled. “He eats them begrudgingly, but he’ll never have an apple out of his own volition now.”

Tara chuckled softly. “I’m happy he’s better now, but I’m sorry you dealt with that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

You shrugged, leaning closer so that your forehead rested against her cheek. “It’s okay now. I’m alright,” you promised. “Just…never buy that man an apple, alright?” you joked, easing the tension in the air.

“Deal,” she agreed, nudging your head up. She leaned in, kissed you, and said, “I guess no family’s perfect after all, huh?” when she pulled away.

“I guess not.” You grinned, leaning up on your elbow to hover over her. “But, maybe ours could be the first.”

Her heart practically stopped, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. Ours? she thought. She felt like she wanted to burst from the amount of joy that came with that thought. Yeah. Ours.

“Okay.” She pushed herself up and kissed you again. “Ours will be the first.”

our little secret iii

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Oh, yeah, that was very uncomfortable.

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

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

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

“South.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Roy,” you said. “Roy Y/L/N.”

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

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

“My first,” he said with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you hated pity.

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

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

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

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

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

Until you got to the shooting location.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Church Mouse?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t-”

“-There you are.”

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

—---

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

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

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

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

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

"You're starin'," Huck whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, Huck was right, you needed to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-oh, Maxine was dangerous.

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

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

Maxine just smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I’m thinkin’ about her-”

-maybe they were detectives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a bit pathetic,” Maxine said.

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

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

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

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

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

—---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?” Lorraine asked.

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

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

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

It seemed to be working.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The answer’s no,” Lorraine said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious?” Lorraine asked.

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

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

The look Lorraine gave you was deadly.

“Seems we got our answer,” Maxine said.

Lorraine missed the look she gave Bobby-Lynn.

—---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I was,” she said indignantly.

“Then so was I,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. That was it.

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

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

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

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

You’re in a house of sin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take it off, Raine,” you said.

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

“Please,” you said breathlessly.

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

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

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

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

“Let me help,” she said.

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

“Is this Beau’s?” She asked.

“It’s comfy,” you said meekly.

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

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

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

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

“Stop talking,” she said.

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

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

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

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

In your defense, he was your fake boyfriend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that-”

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

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

“It works the same as-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just pulled her closer.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” she repeated.

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

It wasn’t enough. But it would do.

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

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

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

“Are you serious?”

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

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

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

Now this. This was enough.