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Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

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Chapter 6: Met Gala and Miscommunication

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: SHADOWBAN IS A BITCH

Word Count: 7.2k+ (i dont know how this happened)

“Y/N! Over here, please! To your right!” 

“One over the shoulder, please!”

“Can we get one straight head!”

Shouting and flashes are all you can hear once you step out of the van, one hand bunching up the large gown, the other in Link’s as he helps you down. You and Jenna had to take separate cars because your outfit was too large, a decision that you are mentally thanking the Gods.

There’s no way you can be around her right now. 

Which is going to be a problem because you two have to make your first official red carpet appearance. Other than the usual eyes on you already; you are on the panel of hosts which means the attention on you two will be upped more so than usual. Not to mention, she’s also your date for the evening.

A fact that the media was anticipating. By the increasing decibel of the screaming around you as Jenna approaches, you knew then just how many people were truly watching your every move.

“Hi…” She says once she’s in earshot. The train of her custom coat was dragging on the ground as she walked. 

“Hey.” You mumble, not looking at her. 

“Can we not do this he–” She sighed at your tone.

“Let’s walk the carpet. I’m needed inside.” You cut off, extending your hand for her to take.

Clenching her jaw, she glanced at your open palm with a flat look before relenting; sliding her smooth hand into yours, grasping it tightly. 

Almost too tightly, like she was trying to crush your ring-clad fingers.

But it'd be a lie to say that you didn’t miss the familiar grooves of her skin— even if she was crushing your hand at the moment.

“Ow, stop.” You grit.

Jenna merely kisses her teeth, but eases on her grip.

“Let’s get this over with.” You mumbled, tugging her along.

The sounds of both your heels clicking against the pavement and the incessant shouting from the crowd and media were all you can hear as you dragged the actress to walk past the other celebrities waiting in line to walk to the carpet. 

You know Jenna wants to say something but one glance at your scowl and she knew better. Maybe imperceptible to most, but over these last few months, she’s learned to pick up on a few cues.

Like now, the slight downturn of your bottom lip, the crease between your brow and the clenched jaw were all signs that you were not in the mood.

“Y/N, wait.”

But you don’t. You merely keep walking until you’re both standing in the very front. “Don’t we need to wait our turn?”

You cast her a side glance. “No.” Then turn, spotting a familiar face. 

The very same face of the person who organizes this whole gala.

“Y/N, darling. Don’t you and your woman look ravishing.” Anna Wintour walks to you both.

“Thank you, Anna. You look lovely tonight as well.” You plaster a large, pearly white smile; kissing the older woman on both cheeks.

Jenna feels the heat of the flashes on you three, instantly.

When Anna Wintour turns to her, she mimics your greetings, expressing her own gratitude for the invite.

“I’ll let you two walk the carpet. The press has been waiting eagerly for you two.” She winked before walking off. 

You couldn’t even fight the blush forming on your cheeks if you tried. At least, you can blame it on the makeup you had on if anyone called it out.

“Let’s go?” You turn to the other actress.

Jenna nodded and you allowed her to lead you to the bottom of the large steps of the iconic museum. 

Immediately, a flurry of photographs are taken and shouting of your and Jenna’s name is belted as you actively fight to not tear up.

The two of you pose expertly by yourselves before coming back together to show off your couple-themed outfit, obeying the directions from the photographers as they shout which position to pose in. 

“You okay?” You glance down at Jenna as you were standing behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist when you realize she felt tensed under your touch.

You knew she dealt with anxiety at times, especially during very public events such as this, so you squeeze her waist reassuringly; letting her know that you're right here.

When she blinks up at you slowly, you curse yourself for feeling mesmerized. Her highlighted-freckled cheeks reflected the camera flashes back at you and the white carpet juxtaposed her dark, steampunk-esque outfit and suddenly, you are sure that you're staring at the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Yeah…” She reassured, softly placing her hand atop yours that was wrapped around her waist. 

“That’s perfect guys!”

“Can we get a kiss from the couple!” Someone yells when they see Jenna meet your eyes, influencing the others to start their own slew of requests for PDA.

You freeze, not expecting them to be so immodest with their demands. But you don’t have time to make the decision for yourself because Jenna was making it for you.

She turns in your hold, slotting herself firmly against your side and placed her ring-clad fingers coolly on your neck, pulling you in for a delicate and modest kiss.

In quick, lens-fluttered successions the moment is captured in time. 

You couldn’t even hear the screaming of the paparazzi get louder as the two of you are practically blinded by the camera shutters. Distantly you can hear the crowd of fans camping across the street screaming as well.

But it all sounded fuzzy when her lips pressed against yours.

When she pulled away, you were still staring at her lips, breathing a bit laboured. The pounding in your chest intensified when her eyes flickered to yours; trying to read your reaction.

You don’t have time to think about it because you’re hurriedly being ushered up to the top of the steps where an interviewer was waiting overeagerly.

“Wow, you two are surely going to be the talk of the night. Tell me everything, who are you two wearing?” The enthusiastic and slightly familiar-looking lady spoke into the mic before holding it up to you and Jenna. 

“I am wearing a reconstructed tuxedo jacket dress by Thom Browne and Y/N is actually wearing a custom, one-of-a-kind collaboration, a Prada and Thom Browne ball gown,” Jenna answers for both of you, wrapping an unsuspecting arm around your waist. 

The interviewer’s eyes sparkled with delight at the information, “Just amazing. The two of you look like a million bucks.  Tell me, what was the inspiration behind these two looks? ‘Cause to me, it’s giving goth wedding at the Met Gala.” 

She turns to the camera, nodding approvingly. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that releases from your lips, nodding, “I guess it is giving that… but really, I have to give credit to Jenna. She’s the one who thought of the bride and groom concept. I just showed up.”

“Am I sensing you’re the brains in this relationship?” The interviewer teases, leaning into Jenna, who nodded politely.

“Yeah — I guess you can say that.” She gives into the joke. 

“Wow… I’m right here.” You play into it as well.

“Now, I gotta ask 'cause they’ll get mad if I don’t. But any comments on the Vegas incident and rumours of your arrest regarding the drug allegations?” She whispered the last part.

At least, she made it sound like she was apologetic. 

Clenching your jaw, you tried to plaster a tight-lipped smile about to give an answer. But before you could open your mouth, Jenna squeezed your waist, cutting in. She glanced at you worriedly for a moment, before speaking seriously into the mic; keeping her hold on your midsection; firm.

“The accusations against Y/N are not true and quite frankly, the backlash she’s been getting online, I feel, is unwarranted and unfair. That’s all we’re saying about the matter, thank you.” Then she pulled you inside and away from the vicious teeth of the piranhas, not bothering to listen to the interviewer’s sputtering protests.

Jenna tugged you down a desolate hallway, ignoring everyone else in the way. Frantically whipping her head to try to find a secluded corner. When she does, she pressed you against a column; hidden from the view of prying eyes.

Only then, did you feel like you could breathe, not even realizing how tense your shoulders had been.

“Are you okay?” She scanned you worriedly; grasping your hand in a tender manner; swiping her thumb across the skin. 

“Yeah… yeah — fine.” you glance down at your hands, squeezing them unconsciously.

"Are you sure?" She asked, still studying your startled features.

Your ability to swiftly hide your real emotions should be studied really, cause Jenna blinked and suddenly you were deadpan as if nothing happened.

"Yes. I'm fine. It's what I signed up for." You muttered the last part.

The sigh Jenna lets out is heavy and annoyed. For a moment, you think you see her eye twitch.

“Can you not say that phrase, right now." She chided.

Scoffing, you answer back, "You wanna talk about not doing something? What about what you said during the interview? You know it’s just gonna make things worse."

Her jaw dropped before laughing hollowly. “Are you serious? What, you wanted me to stay silent?”

“No! Just—“ You sighed, clenching your jaw, “you should’ve let me handle it.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, pulling her hand away. “We’ll talk about it later… if you don’t run away.” Muttering the last part, she sauntered off; heading to your table where Enrique and Link were sitting — your posse for the night.

Those two are in for a treat, you thought.

You couldn’t even chase her down even if you wanted to because a Gala worker was already ushering you backstage to go over last-minute notes before the show started.

—

Jenna leaned back against the stiff, rigid chairs, fiddling with the fancy rolled napkin on her china dish, trying to suppress her sigh.

“You okay?” Link nudged her elbow after noticing the actress' slumped shoulders.

Jenna and Link have formed an… alliance of sorts. Since the two of you have been spending more time together, she’s formed an unsuspecting bond with your closest friend and confidant.

He was someone that she felt she could trust because you trusted him wholeheartedly. 

“Mhmm.” She hummed absentmindedly, continuing to pick on the napkin just watching how her glossy french-manicured black nails reflected the light back from the wisping flame on the table.

“What’s up? Is it Y/N?” He glanced over his shoulder, trying to spot you.

“It's nothing…” She dismissed.

"Oh, you guys are really fighting? I thought this was just one of your petty arguments, again." He saw through her instantly.

She didn't even answer, just elected to roll her eyes as a response.

"What about Coachella? You guys were fine then, you even kissed, remember?" He raised a brow in question.

Jenna’s forehead creased, frowning. “Of course, I do. But then I learned that she may get arrested? Y/N never brought it up, once. I never even knew if it was true. So sorry, if I’m a little mad about being left out of something important — something that affects me too.”

The assistant ran a rough hand down his jaw, exhausted. “Look, no one’s saying you can’t have feelings on the matter — they’re valid. But come on, Y/N can’t catch a break.”

“Who’s fault is that?” She whispered back harshly, clenching the napkin in her hand too tight.

Link’s eyes raised in shock. “Huh… I guess you really did make up your mind. Feel what you feel, but all I’m saying is hear her out.”

Then he stands, walking away from the table.

Maybe off to find you? Who knows, all Jenna feels is a slight pressure forming in between her brows and the night’s barely started.

She had a feeling she was in for a long one.

Jenna didn't have time to sulk about it because the Gala was starting. A man in a tuxedo walked to centre stage with a mic in hand. “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight and supporting the Met's Costume Institute. Now, can we give a warm welcome to this year’s panel who made this Met Gala possible… introducing…”

Jenna sighed lifting her head up, watching as you appeared from the backstage, walking elegantly with the other co-hosts and Anna Wintour.

“Penelope Cruz, Michaela Coel, Roger Federer, Dua Lipa, Y/N L/N and Vogue’s Anna Wintour.” The presenter named.

You send the room a show-stopping smile, squinting when the spotlights hit your retinas at an unpleasant angle. When your eyes settled onto the crowd they instantly meet Jenna’s but you’re averting them just as quickly.

She pretended not to notice.

The room cheers for all of you up on stage but she doesn’t hear the introductory speech each of you give.

Not even yours because all she could do was stare at you.

You looked regal.

And that frustrated Jenna because she's supposed to be mad at you.

But she had to admit, a small part of her liked riling you up and making you mad.

The furrow in your brow and frown on your lips when you are, is a face that Jenna’s secretly grown fond of. 

But since the two of you have gotten closer, you’ve shown her that you indeed do have a heart, albeit a little cold and prickly at times. 

Despite that, Jenna found herself still wanting to hold your delicate heart even if it hurts.

But there’s only so much she can do when the Universe decides to throw another curve ball toward you.

So, no. 

You’re not off the hook just yet.

She watched as the crowd dispersed when the speech finished and stars and celebrities from all entertainment forms kick off the night of socializing. Jenna noticed you instantly get pulled to a far corner of the room by some executives.

Jenna didn’t feel like doing the shop talk so she elected to stay in her seat; no matter how anti-social she seemed.

“Jen, we need to socialize... I know you don’t want to, but you know.” Enrique nudged.

“Okay, okay…” 

And like the actress she is, she plastered on her best smile and floated around the room, making sure everyone saw her face.

At one point she found herself actually enjoying a conversation. 

“Your date is busy tonight.” A voice commented, sliding into the seat beside her. 

“Olivia.” Jenna sighed in relief at seeing a familiar face, swiftly leaning over to give her friend a hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Jenna.” The singer embraced back.

“Are you at this table?” She asked once she’d pulled away.

“Yeah, I think this is the Thom Browne table actually.” Olivia turned around to examine the fancy stock card with calligraphy writing.

“Great…” Jenna nodded, already feeling her spirits lift a bit at seeing a familiar face.

She placed the card back onto the table, “Enjoying your night?”

“Yeah… it’s only my second time here but it’s always nice to be invited.” Jenna replied honestly, feeling the tension loosen within her at being reunited with an old friend.

“What about her?” Olivia nudged, nodding to you standing across the room, exchanging pleasantries with a few musician friends.

“She’s been very busy tonight.” Jenna comments, watching as you work the room. Everyone had their bodies turned to you as you gestured animatedly. Even from afar, she can see your confident posture and slightly raised chin. Briefly, she wonders how you make it look so easy. “But I think she’s enjoying herself too.”

“Good…” Olivia smiled.

“Hi! what’re we talking about?” Florence Pugh slides in.

“Florence, hi! Nice to see you again.” She leaned to kiss the other woman’s cheeks — they exchange the usual pleasantries and compliments.

“Our Met Gala experience…” Olivia answered.

“Oh! How is it, you reckon?” She sipped on her vodka martini with the etiquette of a royal. “This is my first one.”

“I’m having a good time..” Jenna answered.

“Sensing a but?” The bald woman waved her manicured hand.

“Oh no…” Jenna flushed at being called out, glancing as you talked to the likes of: Dua Lipa, Usher, Jack Harlowe. “No buts…”

“Alright...” Florence relents, sipping on her martini. She glances in Jenna’s line of sight spotting you. 

“Oh! Hailee!” Florence kisses her teeth, “that girl told me she wasn’t going to come. Excuse me girls.”

Florence muttered apologies, drifting over to your group. Jenna watched as the Brit strolled over, her line of sight drifting back over to you, embracing this Hailee with a bright genuine smile and a grip on the other woman’s waist far too low for someone who’s supposed to be in a very public relationship.

With furrowed brows, she watched on in confusion as you started catching up, still in each other’s arms as if two lovers reunited after a long war.

Jenna’s throat started feeling funny.

Forcing herself to look away, she grabbed the glass of water to drink to ease the unpleasant feeling.

“Is that Hailee Steinfeld?” Olivia asked from beside her, tilting her head to the side as she watched on as well.

“I think so…”

“Isn’t she Y/N’s ex?” The other titled their head to the side in question and Jenna found herself spinning back around in her seat to find you across the room.

You were now talking in a circle, but Hailee was standing close by your side.

Olivia glanced at Jenna’s sudden reaction. “Uh sorry—I didn’t mean that with bad intentions..”

“It’s alright…” Jenna mumbled, still watching your every move.

“Sorry, girlie,” Olivia mumbled, then shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think they ended on good terms.”

Oh did you? Jenna thought. She’d never heard of an ex.

“That’s nice…” Jenna tried to mutter indifferently. Keyword: Tried.

“Are you jealous?” The singer asked, laughing a little.

“No!” Jenna flushed from the question.

“I wouldn’t worry about it… I saw you two on the carpet. I wish someone looked at me like that.” Olivia winked and then grabbed her drink, walking away.

All Jenna could do was stare holes into you hoping you felt it.

But you didn’t.

— 

“Excuse me.” 

Excusing yourself from the group, you step back, glancing around the large room. Dimmed chandelier lighting hung from the ceilings and an assortment of fabrics and flowery littered the Gala’s tall walls.

You were in charge of this year's decor, working with world-renowned interior designers for the annual gala and not to brag but you quite outdid yourself.

The space looked amazing.

During your once-over of the room, you spot Jenna sitting by herself at your table. Immediately, a pang of guilt rumbles in your chest. She looked kind of lonely just sitting there, people-watching.

Sighing, you contemplated your choices.

On one hand, you could be the more mature one and make the first move, save face for the night or you can stay true to character and ignore your obvious tensions with the other actress.

But if one more person looked at you pitifully, the word cocaine on the tip of their tongue but never actually saying it out loud then you might just pull out your own damn hair.

At least some music industry friends patted you on the back and said ‘happens at least once’ — that did not make you feel better but the sentiment counts?

You walk in slow steps toward Jenna, silently sliding into the empty seat next to her. Her head snapped to yours immediately.

“Hi…” You greet with a tight-lipped smile. “Enjoying your night?”

“Mhmm.” Jenna hummed, looking away.

You sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. 

“Can we just… table this, for later? I don’t want to fight.” You frowned, calling a truce.

Jenna glanced at you, only offering a reluctant, “Okay..”

Knowing that was probably the best you’re gonna get from her, you settled against the chair and let silence take over as you join in on the people-watching.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Jenna asked, not being able to stand the silence. She can take the fighting, the banter, the bickering, but this type of silence with you? It sends an unsettling feeling within Jenna that she didn’t enjoy.

“Mhmm. I think so. Everyone seems to be having a good time, so I think I can finally relax.” You commented as you scanned the room.

“Give yourself some credit, everything looks amazing. I can tell you picked the centrepieces.” She snorted, picking up the ornamental piece.

You laughed, letting your walls down. “What? Too much?”

“Too bright and flashy…” She scrunched her nose, the sparkling item clinked loudly as she held it with her ring-covered fingers.

“You’d just prefer if everything came in the colour black.” You took the item from her hand, scanning it yourself. “I don't know I think it adds to the ambiance.”

“Black goes with everything.” She defended.

You send her a knowing look. "I rest my case."

Your short-lived banter with the other actress was cut short when a Gala employee promptly explained that the Thom Browne table was needed for photos and videos for the Met’s ad campaign. 

The two of you take solos, couples and group photos with the Thom Browne table; showing off your outfit for tonight.

“We look good…” Jenna noted – looking at the monitor as your pictures were pulled up.

Leaning forward, unconsciously leaning over Jenna’s shoulder, you looked. “Yeah, we do.”

Jenna looked up at you, wanting nothing more than to press back into you — but nope, not this time. Instead, she forced herself to avert her gaze and walk out of the room, not bothering to wait for you.

Trying not to make a scene, you praise the entire photography team, thanking them for their time and slid out of the room, speed-walking to Jenna.

“Are you going to act like this the whole night?” You fall into step beside her, walking down the empty hallway leading back to the main room.

Jenna stayed silent. Only the clicking of heels on the marble tiles bouncing off the tall walls can be heard.

“Jenna…” You sighed, trying again, “What happened to tabling it?.”

“I-I can't right now, Y/N." She frowned deeper and your heart clenched; steps faltering at her words. You stayed rooted as she walked further down the hall, leaving you behind.

“Trouble in paradise?” You spun on your heels, immediately spotting Hailee – who also happened to be your ex-girlfriend.

“The hell? Where’d you come from?” You clutched your chest in fright, staring at the brunette woman.

She just laughed and stood beside you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was on my way outside and I just saw that look and… well. I felt like I couldn’t ignore it.”

When you looked at her, all you saw was softness in her eyes; sympathy. But this time it didn’t feel bad coming from her. Because at one point in your life, Hailee knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Everything is fine.” You lie, averting your eyes. There are very few people that could read you well. It seems like Hailee is still one of those people.

“Mhmm…” She didn’t push.

“I used to hate it when you did that.” You chuckled prompting Hailee to laugh and nod in agreement. 

You and Hailee dated when you were both very active in the Marvel Universe. 

Real loose on the word: dated. Because well you didn’t technically. 

She was filming Hawkeye and you were filming Spider-Man: No Way Home and you both just happened to be filming in both New York and Atlanta at roughly the same time.

Somehow, you and Hailee found yourselves growing closer while filming your respective projects. The two of you grabbed lunch together every day, which turned into dinners at the other’s place, then sleepovers when it got too late to go home and then eventually, a relationship.

There was never an explicit conversation about being together, but you two acted like it anyway. You two even wrote a few songs together.

But, like all things in your life, you self-sabotage. You couldn’t allow yourself to really be in with Hailee like she wanted; like she needed.

So she ended things with you right after you both wrapped your projects. There was no bad blood and you knew that the girl breaking your heart was making the right decision because you can’t give her what she wants. 

You two are better off friends anyway.

“Yeah, you did…” She laughed. “Still gonna say it though.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily. It’s just Hailee, you don’t need to put up a facade. Not like it’d matter if you did anyway, she can read you so easily. “Wouldn’t expect anything different from you…”

Hailee glanced around the empty hallway again for a moment, thinking. “Hey… wanna go out for a smoke?”

It certainly beats having to sit in silence beside Jenna.

“Sure, why not?”

– 

“So… You and Jenna Ortega?” Hailee passes the lit cigarette after taking a puff, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips after exhaling.

You grab the bud when she passes it, “Yeah…” Inhaling, deep and long, you started to feel the familiar plight of light-headedness as you visibly untensed your shoulders.

“How’d that happen?” She asked, looking over the balcony and onto the traffic below.

“Our team’s introduced us…” You answered honestly.

This was the first time since Vegas that you’ve been around colleagues and friends in the business. You haven’t exactly had time to come up with a better excuse as to how you met Jenna. “And then yeah… we just started talking.”

“You sound like such a guy…” She snorted, taking the cigarette from your fingers. 

“And you sound like Link.”

“I saw him earlier, he seems good. I’m glad you kept him around, someone’s got to look after you.” She rolled her eyes but there was a hint of honesty and sadness in them that you could read.

“Yeah. He’s definitely kept me standing on my feet these last few months.” 

“And Jenna? Has she kept you standing these last few months too?” She asked inquisitively, scanning you and for a moment, you were stunned in silence.

Your life has certainly changed a lot since you met the younger actress. 

What you and Jenna have is something you’ve never felt around someone before. You two shouldn’t work; you’re highly volatile together and so opposite in the way you view life but somehow, it still worked.

Like the ying to your yang or whatever shit they say. 

Then she kissed you under that smoggy night at Coachella and you haven’t been able to keep her off your mind since.

Ah, Coachella. It seemed so long ago, despite it only being a mere week.

You two still haven’t talked about it in the midst of these arrest headlines.

It was like the elephant in the room surrounded by much larger elephants.

You remember the taste of her kisses. They were way softer than you ever imagined; not that you imagined it a lot… and the way her skin burned against yours when she tugged you closer?

You can pass away tomorrow and you’d be content with the life you’ve lived whenever you thought of that blissful night spent in each other’s arms.

There’s something about the other actress that made you unconsciously lower your walls. Walls that you’ve spent a long time building to hide the parts that you want to close off to the rest of the world.

 But somehow, someway, Jenna sees through so easily even if she didn’t know it herself.

You’re not quite certain you’re ready for what potential you and Jenna can have if you truly opened yourself up to her.

Her constant presence has been surprising and terrifying all at the same time. It felt comforting to be around her and her family. Not that you would ever say that out loud — god you wonder what her parents think about you now.

“Especially her.” You find yourself answering honestly anyway, blinking to meet Hailee’s eyes.

Her smile is kind and soft, seemingly pleased. “Good. I’m so happy for you. You deserve someone like her. I can tell she’s special… don’t fuck it up.”

You blushed under the weight of her compliments. “Oh. I–I won’t.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing you’d never been one to gush about your feelings. “Come on, let's head back. Jenna might be looking for you.” 

Then she winked, throwing away the finished cigarette.

“You’re annoying.” But the singer/actress just laughed.

When you make it back to the party, Hailee is bidding you goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and a tight squeeze, muttering “don’t be a stranger” in your ear.

The first thing you do when Hailee leaves is briskly walk to the bar. Feeling like a drink is very much needed after all that…

“Tequila soda, please. Make that a double.” You lean against the bar top.

“Where have you been?” Jenna slides in out of nowhere, startling you. “People have been asking me about you.”

“Grabbing some air…” You trail off, scanning her for a moment; noting her tightly wound brows creating a crease on her forehead.

“With Hailee?” She crossed her arms, raising a brow.

“Yeah, we went out for a smoke.” You answered honestly, raising a brow of your own.

“A smoke?” She asked, fingers tightly gripping the fabric of her blazer dress.

“Yeah… you know, a cigarette?” You shrugged, turning to the approaching bartender. “Thanks… “

“I’d have asked you…” You spoke after picking up your drink, taking a moment to scan her head to toe. “But you don’t seem like the smoking type.”

Then you take a sip, ignoring Jenna’s twitching eye and scoff, scanning the room and upon initial glance you already see a few eyes watching you and Jenna closely — making you tense.

Without much thought to your next move, you stepped into her space, wrapping an arm around her corset-fitted waist making her flinch, uncrossing her arms. “What are you—“

You cut off her snippy tone, leaning close to her ear; nose in her dark hair.

“People are watching…” You whisper. 

Immediately, she’s placing a hand on your chest, pushing you lightly but you don’t budge. You decide to up the ante when you still see the nosy eyes; obviously talking about you and Jenna.

You leave a litter of light-feathered kisses up and down the side of her neck. “Stop being so tense…”

“You’re taking advantage of the situation…” She muttered but tilted her head to the side allowing you more access to her skin.

From the outside, it looked like nothing more than two people in love.

“I’m playing my part for the press…” You bite her earlobe, lightly. Jenna bites her lip to refrain from uttering a moan. This is definitely not the time or the place. “You should too since you love to throw that word around.”

“What—what does that mean?” She asked, breathing a bit laboured the longer you continued your ministrations on her neck. By now, she was grasping your outfit with a death grip.

“Nothing…” You run your teeth against her skin, your whispers turning into low breaths, “Just saying… it seems like your favourite word these days.”

“You sound mad about that…” She whispers back challengingly. 

Jenna was trying everything not to moan out loud in this very packed room.

“Mhmm. Do I?” You grip her waist, flushing her against you. The whimpered moan she lets out in your right ear when you do has your legs shaking.

“Just a bit.” She puffed out, brokenly.

“Good.” You growled, biting the spot behind her ear and running your tongue against the skin. It wasn’t enough to bruise the other actress but it’s surely enough to send a message. When you pull back, you brush her fringe back with a delicate and hesitant touch.

Jenna’s eyes were hollowed and dazed, silently tracking your fingers as they moved her hair aside and if you two weren’t in the middle of a fight, you’d tease her over it.

“I think dinner’s about to start… wanna head back?” You asked, watching as she just stared into your eyes with now, a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yeah…” She clears her throat, stepping away from your hold, letting your delicate hand fall limply by your side. You try not to put too much meaning on the rejection.

She walked ahead of you, leading you back to your table but she never looked back at you once.

– 

The rest of the Met was spent with very little eating, a lot of socializing and saving face. This time, Jenna had stuck by your side as you made shop talk; introducing her as your girlfriend as everyone gushes about the two of you and the headlines you’ve been making as a couple online. You kept a hand around her waist as you two practically waltzed from group to group, in case there were ever eyes.

Neither of you mention when you keep your hand on her waist, even when no one was looking anymore.

But now, you are back at the hotel with your glam team and stylists getting you ready for the after-parties.

Thoughts of your talk with Jenna are put on the back burner as you desperately hoped to drink and party away the rest of the night; hoping you can still make somewhat of it, good, enjoyable even.

God knows you deserve it after the bullshit you’ve been receiving from everyone and their mothers about your night in Vegas.

You sat in front of the vanity mirror as your team hurriedly bustles behind you.

Fishing for your phone, you pull up Instagram and catch up on other people's posts for tonight. Since the days started, you've been pulled left and right with rehearsals and fittings and finally the actual Gala.

You haven't even so much as held your phone in your own hand.

Photos of you and Jenna have been posted on a minute-to-minute basis from the moment you stepped out of the hotel to just 20 minutes ago when you were both making your way back to get ready for the after-parties.

A certain video catches your eye.

It was of Jenna being escorted out into the hotel. (You two had to take your respective vans back, as well.) She was sending the fans waiting by the hotel, a soft and charming smile as she greeted them. You were staring at the video for so long that you didn’t even see the caption.

‘DID YOU SEE HER LOCKSCREEN?! <;3’

You see the next few comments below the caption of the video.

‘Stop Y/N and Jenna with her niece? This is the cutest photo ever’

‘They have kids already?’

‘IM CRYING JENNA’S LOCKSCREEN IS Y/N AND HER NIECE’

‘ISNT THIS THE PICTURE THAT JENNA’S MOM POSTED??”

‘ACTUAL PARENTS’

Oh shit, you are her lock screen.

When did she even send herself those photos? They were taken on your phone.

And more importantly, why did she make you and her niece, her lock screen? You thought the two of you were merely bantering when you had said you were going to make her yours. 

“How much longer are you gonna stare at that video?” Link asked from behind you making you jump, almost throwing the phone in the air.

“The fuck? Why is everyone sneaking up on me tonight…” You muttered bitterly, shooting him a glare through the mirror when you see his smirk.

You’re not sure if your pounding heartbeat is from the scare or from the thought of Jenna having you as her lock screen.

“You’re Jenna’s lock screen?” He asked in a teasing tone. You don’t reply just opting to close your eyes and groan as a response. 

He laughed. “Doesn’t seem like PR behaviour to me.” 

“Stop.” You grit.

But Link just howls, too amused by your flushed demeanour. 

He’s seen you in many forms.

At your highest, lowest, best and brightest, and even when you’ve been deep in the trenches. He’s seen it all. But this, you flustered over a girl? Never happened, ever. You’ve never even been smitten enough with someone to be flustered over them. Not even Hailee and that woman is a goddess.

First time for everything, Link thinks.

“Come on, change into this damn suit and make up with Jenna so she can be your woman.” He winked, still with that mischievous smirk. Keeping in theme with tonight, he holds up a Prada x Thom Browne two-piece suit made just for the after-party.

“If you want to keep your legs, I’d run in the next two seconds.” You glare, voice dropping seriously.

He hung up the suit bag on the coat hanger and swiftly walked out of the room. You ignore your team’s snickers in the back, getting up to go change in the bathroom.

Scanning yourself one last time in the full-length mirror, you look pretty hot, if you had to say so.

You blink away Link’s words and how you suddenly want to see Jenna’s reaction to your outfit. Pulling the bathroom door open, you step out and immediately take notice to the lack of bustle in the room.

Actually, the lack of people in the room.

All except one person, sitting by the couch, waiting.

“Hey… I thought we were meeting downstairs?” The creak of the door being pulled shut behind you was the only noise in the room.

Jenna blinked at the sound of your voice, turning to face you. “We were– we are.”

She shed off her blazer dress and the long train that followed, instead, she’s now wearing what was under and if you weren’t trying to be respectful, you’d be shamelessly staring at how perfectly that corset fit her like a glove.

Ignore that.

You raised a questioning brow, “What’s up then?”

But she said nothing and stood from her seat, walking in slow-clinking strides toward you. When she stops in front of you, she raises her hands to fiddle with your tie; not looking in your eyes. 

“Tie’s crooked.” She didn’t explain further, choosing to retie the tie for you.

“Thanks…” You trailed off, staring at how concentrated she looked doing such a menial task.

She must’ve heard the embarrassingly wispy tone cause when she looks up she’s giving you the softest look and you’re reminded of your first kiss at Coachella.

But clearly, this wasn’t Coachella because while lost in your daydream, unbeknownst to you, Jenna was fighting her own internal monologue; scolding herself for acting soft towards you despite her angry feelings. But when she looked up and caught you staring at her lips…

“Ow, fuck…” Your neck jerked forward, making Jenna flinch, breaking out of her own trance.

“Shit– sorry.” She unfastened the knot, swiftly. “Sorry, I didn't mean to make it that tight.”

You coughed out slightly, and for a guilty moment, Jenna didn’t know if she should feel happy or bad about being the cause.

“Sorry…” Jenna mumbled again, stepping back from you, no matter how much colder she felt. 

She was here for a reason.

“It’s okay.” You reassured, swallowing deeply. 

“Um–where’d everyone go?” You asked, remembering the once full and busy room.

“I sent them away. We need to talk.”

You raised a brow at the tone of her demand. “You want to do this… before the afterparties?”

Jenna pulled a face like she couldn't believe you were asking that. “Yes? Why, is there somewhere more important you needed to be?”

“What? No! I didn’t say that!” You defended then sighed, “But come on, Jenna, it’s the Met Gala afterparty… you waited the whole day to bring this up, why can’t we just wait until after?”

She stayed silent, crossing her arms.

You were confused until you took a second to scan her eyes, immediately reading the guilt swirling in them.

Your heart drops.

“You think I’m gonna go off the rails tonight or something?” You accused.

Jenna tiredly ran her hands on her face, “No Y/N, I’m just saying... this is the first party you’ve been to since Vegas so I’m sorry if I’m just a bit concerned.” She huffed, arms dropping limply by her side.

The laugh you let out is short and painful. “You call this concerned? ‘Cause from where I’m standing it feels more like an ambush. You don’t reply to my texts for days, you land in New York and you don’t try to see me. Then, when I bring it up you shut me down! How is that fair Jenna!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me…” She gritted, a warning glint in her eye appearing as her voice dropped.

You stared at her for a few moments before, sighing annoyedly. “Sorry…” You apologize begrudgingly.

“And you wanna talk about not replying for days? What about after SNL?” Jenna knows she’s being petty and nitpicking your words but she couldn’t stop herself even if she tried.

She feels herself losing her footing on the idea of a calm, mature conversation the longer you two argued. There was just something about being around you that made her lose all sense of rational and level-headed thinking.

“Not this again…” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation.

Jenna scoffed at your reaction. “Yes, this again.”

“I already told you that Jake needed me back for Coachella. Remember? Where I was performing?”

Jenna laughed dryly. “That is not what I’m talking about Y/N. I’m talking about the thumbs-up you left on my message after I asked if you got back to L.A. safely. You practically ghosted me."

Yeah… petty.

“Thumbs up?” You asked confused, trying to rack your brain. "Ghosted you?"

Jenna’s offended laugh was not one she could contain. “You are such an asshole.“

“Oh okay, I can’t raise my voice but you can call me names?”

Jenna's decided she's heard enough, turning swiftly on her heels to walk away.

“Uh hello—we’re not done here!” You follow after her. 

“Yes, I think we are!” Jenna declared behind her shoulder. 

“Says who?” You barked.

“Says me!”

You scoffed. “Why did you kiss me at Coachella?”

Jenna stopped in her tracks and turned around to face you upon hearing the question.

The silence is stifling. But she remained unmoving because why did she kiss you? Well, she knows the answer to that.

But she’s not ready to admit it yet — especially to you.

“For the press. There were people watching.” Eye contact unwavering as she spewed that lie.

You don’t say anything for a few moments — you don’t even call her bluff about your private moment in the tent where there was definitely no was watching.

“Maybe we should spend the night apart.” Was your answer, staring at her with the same intensity. “Go to different parties.”

You think that as actors, you’d both be able to read each other well enough. Except neither of you noticed the hurt in each other’s eyes.

“If that’s what you want.” Jenna replied, before turning on her heel and walking out the door.

-

shadowban can’t keep me away for long…

-

taglist is closed

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-

oblivious

Summary: You've been Vada's roommate for a while now and she still has yet to notice that you have feelings for her. You hoped accepting a date with someone else would force her hand. In a way, it did

Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, weed and alcohol mention Pairing: Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader (no pronouns used) A/N: I'm still getting the hang of Vada's personality so y'all bear with me, but I'm workin on it, I'll get there

“Honey, I’m home,” Vada called out, stopping you in your tracks on the way to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help smiling at Vada’s ridiculous phrase that she had started using whenever she got back to the shared apartment. If you were being honest, you couldn’t remember when she had started it; it hadn’t been too long after you had first agreed to rent an apartment together with her friends Mia and Nick. All you knew was one day she practically crashed into the apartment, said her now-famous tagline, and it stuck.

The best part of it all? She only ever said it to you. Never to Mia, never to Nick, only to you. It made your crush on her grow each time, even though you certainly didn’t need the help. Just the words alone had your stomach twisting into knots in the most delicious way.

And that little dumbass didn’t even know what she was doing.

“Don’t you have another class?” You asked with a tilt of your head. It was a bit too early for her to be home, especially on a Tuesday.

“Skipped it,” she said with her cheesy grin that never failed to make your heart race. “Why take Lit when I can have you teach me?”

“That’s not how it works, V,” you chuckled. “I can’t give you credit.”

“But you can- are you getting in the shower?”

There it was; the attention change. It happened a bit sooner than usual, but you weren’t entirely surprised. At first you had been confused at Vada’s change of topic and attention at such a fast pace, but now it was expected. At least she looked cute.

“Yes I am,” you said with a nod. “Did the towel give it away?”

“It’s Tuesday,” Vada said, completely ignoring your attempt at teasing her. “You don’t shower on Tuesdays.”

Ah. So she did pay attention to a few things.

“I got asked on a date,” you shrugged.

“A date?” She asked incredulously. Rude. “With who?”

You sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Know that guy from my Fluid Flow class? Jacob?”

“The one with the stupid lip piercing?”

“It’s not stupid,” you said with a huff. “But yes.”

“You agreed to go on a date with him?” Vada asked incredulously. “What happened to your standards?”

“It’s not like I’m getting asked on many dates,” you argued.

“But him?” She continued.

“Well who else should I go with?” You asked. “You?”

Vada froze, her mouth still flopping open at the revelation of your plans for the evening. You wanted her to tell you not to go. To say that yes, you should go on a date with her. Maybe you were being a bit cruel to just not tell her, but you wanted her to say something. Although in hindsight maybe you shouldn’t have expected Vada Cavell to pick up on all the signs you had given her.

Which were numerous.

She shifted her weight and looked down at her feet. You could see her scuffing the toe of her shoe into the floor, a nervous habit of hers. Part of you got hopeful; she was nervous, maybe she would finally say something. Hell, you would be happy if she simply said she didn’t want you to go.

“You should go shower,” she finally said, and you felt your heart drop. “I’ll help you pick out what to wear once you’re out.”

“Right,” you said with a sigh.

The entire time you were in the shower you were seething. No, not quite seething, you were disappointed. You knew it was a bit unrealistic of you to expect Vada to know how you were feeling, especially about her, but you couldn’t help it. How could she not see that you wanted her to ask you on a date? Yes you should just do it yourself, especially at this point, but you weren’t going to risk anything.

Your father would’ve just told you to task her on your own. You were the one with the feelings, you should ask. And he would have been right, you knew that, but you didn’t want to ask. What if Vada didn’t actually like you that way? She acted goofy with Mia and Nick too, so you couldn’t use that as justification for your hopes.

By the time you got out of the shower and finished getting ready, Vada was already waiting in your room. She was hanging her head upside down on the bed while scrolling through her phone. Her brows were scrunched in an adorable frown from whatever she was looking at. The minute she noticed you standing in the doorway, she smiled wide and sat up.

“About time,” she said as she stood up and went to your closet, “I’ve got the perfect thing for tonight.”

“Perfect as in “I’ll look great” or as in “it’ll get me laid?” Because there’s a difference,” you said as you sat down on the bed and waited for Vada to come out of the closet.

Ha. You might be disappointed, but at least you were still funny. See? That was what Vada was missing out on and she didn’t even know it!

“Perfect as in “he’d be stupid not to ask you out again”,” she said with a grin as she turned around to show you what she had picked.

“Vada that’s,” you exhaled slowly, “that’s the most mundane outfit I’ve got.”

“Which is why he’d be stupid not to ask you out again,” she said, tossing everything your way. “I won’t look, promise.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled to yourself as you nonetheless stood up and got dressed.

Part of you was thankful Vada had picked out a regular outfit; at least it was comfortable, and that was always a plus. Did you think Jacob would ask you out again? Absolutely not, he was a frat boy, you knew he wouldn’t ask you out again the moment you decided you weren’t going to put out. At least you would be comfortable when you were rejected.

“How do I look?” You asked, and Vada turned around so quickly she nearly fell.

The moment she actually managed to focus on you, she fell into what looked like a daze. Her jaw dropped and her eyes were looking you up and down. And for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something. Say it, you mentally urged her, tell me to stay. You played with your fingers and watched her with hopeful eyes.

“You’re so getting laid tonight,” she whispered.

“Yippee,” you said with another huff. She was getting a lot of those out of you tonight.

“You’d better get going,” she said as she practically pushed you out of your room toward the front door. “You don’t want to be late.”

“Thought you didn’t like Jacob?” You asked.

“I don’t, but I wanna watch a movie,” she said, now opening the front door. “And you’re not invited.”

“Well that’s just rude,” you said.

“Have fun!” Vada called out as she shut the front door in your face.

You just stood there in complete shock. Had you really just gotten kicked out of your own apartment by the girl you were quite possibly in love with? Simply because she wanted to watch a movie? It was so on par for Vada that you honestly weren’t even surprised.

The door opened again and you looked in, hopeful that Vada had changed her mind. She stood in the doorway and looked at you again. Please ask me to stay, you silently begged her. But then she pushed something into your arms, which you scrambled to hold onto.

“Forgot your phone and wallet,” she said before slamming the door shut again. “Have fun!”

“Oh fuck me,” you grumbled, but nonetheless put your phone and wallet in your back pocket and left the apartment.

—---

Life sucked. It sucked and it was out to get you personally. You could get over the fact that it had started raining on the walk over to the restaurant. Then there was the fact that you had gotten lost at least three times, but that could also be forgiven. And your phone dying? Well, that was also shitty even though you had forgotten to charge it at home, so it happened.

But then you got to the restaurant and sat at the bar, like you were supposed to, and waited. And then you ordered a drink and waited some more. And some more. And wouldn’t you know it, an hour and a half and three drinks later, you were closing your tab and heading back to the apartment. The apartment that you had been kicked out of by someone who was supposed to pick up on your cues.

There was just enough alcohol in your system to have you thoroughly pissed off by the time you got back to the apartment. You could smell the weed from out in the hallway and knew Vada was either high as a kite or well on her way to it. Normally you wouldn’t care; she was respectful with it and was, honestly, pretty adorable under the influence.

Unfortunately for Vada, it just wasn’t your night.

You unintentionally slammed the door shut behind you when you entered, leaning back against it to get yourself back under control. The music was loud and obnoxious and the smell of weed was giving you a headache. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was the fact you got stood up. Actually, maybe it was just everything.

“Nick?” Vada’s voice came from her room. At least she wasn’t smoking out in the living room like you had initially thought.

“Just me,” you called back before exhaling slowly and walking further into the apartment. The sloshing sound of your wet shoes on the floor was horrible.

“Y/N?” Something fell to the floor with a hard thud. You looked down the hallway until you saw Vada practically falling out of her room, hitting the opposite wall fairly hard. “You’re back early.”

“Yup,” you said, popping the “p” for emphasis.

“So… did he like your outfit?” She asked as she stood up, her hands instantly going to play with the hem of her shirt. Wait… was that your shirt?

“I don’t know,” you said before finally tossing your soaking wet wallet and hopefully-dry phone onto the couch. “He never showed.”

“What?” Vada asked incredulously, her sleepy eyes suddenly widening.

You huffed. “He stood me up, V.”

“But… but he asked you,” she said in a soft voice.

“It’s whatever,” you said with a sigh as you made your way into your room with Vada hot on your heels. “He wasn’t exactly the one I wanted anyway.”

“He wasn’t?” She asked. You didn’t bother turning around to look at her as you started digging in your closet for something dry to put on. “Then why did you say yes?”

“Because I was hoping a certain someone would get the hint,” you grumbled. Truthfully you didn’t care if she even heard you or not. She was high, it was not the proper time for this revelation to come out.

“If they didn’t get the hint then they’re a complete dumbass,” she said after a moment of silence. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly once again. “Because they’d be stupid not to ask you out.”

“Yeah they would,” you agreed quickly before grabbing a t-shirt from your closet. “Don’t look.”

You checked over your shoulder to see Vada on your bed, dutifully covering her eyes with both hands. Why did she have to actually listen? You were standing in the middle of your room, soaking wet, about to take your shirt off, and she wasn’t going to look? Dammit, Vada, lose your morals!

“Anyone would be lucky to date you,” she said while you peeled your wet clothes off. “And if they don’t realise that then they’re an idiot.”

“Keep talking, Cavell,” you mumbled to yourself; you knew she couldn’t hear you.

“If I ever had the chance to date you, I certainly wouldn’t screw it up,” she continued talking.

Now that had you slowing your movements, taking your time to finish kicking your pants off. It left you in your shirt and underwear, but that wasn’t on your mind. You slowly turned to look at Vada, who still had her hands over her eyes, as you went over her words.

Did she really think that? Was that the sign you had needed to know that she actually liked you back? Yes you had been playing this game for around three years at that point. And yes, you should have said something ages ago, even your dad had said so. But was she admitting that she liked you?

“Who said you didn’t have a chance?” You asked slowly, your eyes still glued to where Vada was playfully swinging her legs over the side of your bed.

“Who said I did have a chance?” She asked in reply. “I’m not stupid, I’m not your type.” You stepped closer to the bed. “Your type is a bunch of nerds who are way below your league.” You sat down on the bed beside her. “Which you should change, by the way, you can do so much better than all those other-”

-you leaned forward to capture Vada’s lips with yours, silencing her rant. It wasn’t a long kiss, you didn’t want to give off the wrong idea. Or maybe you did, you weren’t sure yet. All you knew was she was going to keep talking until she either fell asleep or you silenced her, and honestly, a kiss was the best way. It killed two birds with one stone.

When you pulled away, you watched as her hands pulled down her face and she looked up at you. Her eyes were still bloodshot and you could still smell the weed on her clothes, but she was looking at you clearly. There was a slight flush to her freckled cheeks, and you would have kissed her again if it meant she would stay looking just like that.

“You kissed me,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod and a poor attempt at hiding your smile. “I did.”

“I thought you liked someone though?”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Are you serious?”

“What?” She asked as she sat up. “Are you serious? What about that person you like-”

“-I like you, Vada,” you practically shouted. She fell silent, something she didn’t do often. “You’re the other person that I like.”

“You- you like me?” She asked with wide eyes. “Me?”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned, “yes you.”

Vada nodded slowly as her eyes fell to a spot on the bed, close to where your hand was resting. You could practically see the gears turning in her head, going over this new revelation. Part of you was upset at yourself for telling her such a thing now, when you were grumpy and a little tipsy and she was high and unexpecting. Terrible timing, really.

“I thought I was the only one with those feelings,” she finally said, slowly so as to get her thoughts out properly. Something you adored about her. “That you weren’t interested.”

“Vada, I’ve been dropping hints for the past year,” you said with a soft sight. Not a frustrated one, simply to break the tension. “Even Nick and Mia knew.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said without looking at you. “I didn’t want to risk not having you around just because I caught feelings.”

“You don’t just catch feelings, you know,” you said as you leaned forward a little more so you could force her to look at you.

“And you really do like me?” She asked, looking up into your eyes; suddenly, she seemed a hell of a lot more sober. “Like, for real?”

“What is this, high school?” You asked with a snort. “Yes, Vada, I like you for real.”

“So does that mean I can kiss you again?” She asked, perking up at the mere thought. “Because your lips are really soft and I think I could kiss them forever if you would let me-”

-you leaned forward and kissed her again, immediately cutting her off. But this time you didn’t pull back; you leaned even further into her, your hand moving to rest on the back of her neck. She grabbed you by the front of your shirt and pulled until she was laying down and you were leaning over her.

“Wait,” she mumbled against your lips, “you like me enough to have sex with me, right?”

“Just shut up, V,” you groaned as you kissed her again.

She didn’t argue.

You weren’t sure if you should blame it on the alcohol, or the weed, or the revelation of it all, but you weren’t in the mood to be patient. Night after night you had dreamed of having Vada in your bed, teasing her until she was a mess underneath you. But now that you had her, you just wanted to hear her fall apart.

Clearly she was in the same mood as you because her hands quickly found their way under your shirt until they brushed against your ribs. It tickled and sent a shiver down your spine, which you felt her smile about. You knew it wasn’t a competition. That didn’t stop you from placing your knee between her thighs and pressing up against her.

“Oh shit,” she groaned against your lips as her nails scratched against your skin.

You kept your knee stationary as she grinding against it hesitantly. Even through her boxers you could feel how wet she was; it wouldn’t take long before she left your thigh wet too. You started kissing your way across her jaw, leaving small kisses below her ear before moving down her neck.

Her hands left a fire in their wake as she moved them up, quickly sliding them up to your breasts that were no longer confined by the wet bra you had been wearing earlier. You both inhaled sharply when she brushed her knuckles against your nipples; her hips stuttered for only a moment before resuming.

“Hang on,” Vada whispered into your ear, and you stiffened before sitting up.

Had you done something wrong? There hadn’t been much, but what if she had decided she wasn’t okay with it anymore? It was fine, you would respect it and wouldn’t do anything else, but fuck. Fuck, maybe you had just pushed it a little too fast. You knew you should have kept your cool.

“Take it off,” she said as she pulled on your shirt lightly before struggling to get her own shirt off.

Oh. Oh right.

“Never hesitate to free the titties,” she said with a cheesy smile.

“Never say that again,” you groaned, only smiling when your shirt was hiding your face.

“I just know how to appreciate a- holy shit.”

You watched Vada’s jaw drop - again - once your shirt was finally off. Her eyes were zeroed in on one thing. Well, two things, and even though you felt a little self-conscious, you knew it was just Vada. No, not just Vada, it was your Vada. Who was still halfway in her shirt and clearly too distracted to continue.

“You’re such a horndog,” you mumbled as you leaned forward to help her pull her shirt the rest of the way over her head.

“I hit the jackpot,” she whispered.

“Just lay back down,” you said as you pushed her shoulder lightly and watched her fall back onto the bed, her eyes still glued to your breasts.

“I can still touch?” She asked.

“Yes, V,” you chuckled, “you can still touch.”

“Oh fuck yes,” she whispered before pulling you back in for a kiss.

Just as you figured, her hands instantly found your breasts again. Each touch sent a tingling sensation down to your core. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentally teased Vada earlier for being so wet. Even though you had no proof yet, you just knew you were going to be soaked if this went on much longer.

While Vada continued focusing on her newest obsession, you just let yourself feel her. Her skin was so incredibly soft and warm. It was exactly what you had expected from her. The muscles in her stomach tensed underneath your fingers before relaxing again. When you brushed your knuckles against her hip, she giggled into your mouth.

“I’m ticklish,” she said.

“I can tell,” you answered with your own smile and another kiss.

“You’re just being too soft,” she continued. Oh Vada. You kept moving your hand. “Soft touches tickle.” Your hand effortlessly slipped past the waistband of her boxers that were far too big. “Especially on my hips-”

-she stopped herself with a moan when you finally managed to rub your fingers over her clit. Oh god she was wet, you almost struggled to stay in the right spot. But when you heard her moan again, her head thrown back against your mattress, well it was worth the struggle.

“Fuck you’re good at this,” Vada managed to gasp out when you circled her clit again.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled before leaving kisses on Vada’s neck. Her hands tangled in your hair as she pulled you up into a real kiss.

“Did you have a martini tonight?” Vada asked.

“Seriously?”

“You taste like a martini,” she said, her breath coming out in huffs as you continued to slowly circle her clit. Not enough to get her off, but fast enough to keep building her up.

And then it hit you. Oh. Oh, Vada was nervous. You had both talked of your personal exploits and experiences so you knew she wasn’t a virgin. Yet she had always seemed a bit bashful about the whole thing. It all made sense now; she was simply nervous.

You removed your hand and tried not to smile at Vada’s whine at the loss of sensation. But she quickly shut up when you grabbed one of her hands and slid it under your own underwear, doing your best not to moan at the feel of her fingers on you. And just as you had expected, and much like Vada, you were soaked. Embarrassingly so.

“Holy fuck,” Vada groaned against your lips before leaning up and capturing your lips.

She bit your bottom lip when you replaced your hand and continued circling her clit. Usually you would tease, but with Vada? Right then and there, when you were so humiliatingly sensitive and probably wouldn’t last very long? No, you wanted to make her cum until she was seeing stars.

And as you moved your fingers faster, you knew it wouldn’t take long. It was in the little pants and moans she let out, the squirming of her hips, the spastic movements of her fingers. Not that you could judge, you were losing your rhythm as well, doing your best to keep your composure even as she continued to turn you to putty under her fingers.

“I’m close,” she panted. 

Thank god, you thought as you rubbed your finger in faster, tighter circles. Unlike Vada, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk, knowing the second you opened your mouth you would let out a moan that would haunt you for the rest of your life. It was only a few more seconds before Vada pulled back, her eyes squeezed shut as she stilled beneath you. Her fingers continued moving, and you felt your own orgasm wash over you. You let out a groan as you rutted against her fingers to chase the high, only letting yourself fall beside her when the feeling had dissipated.

“Holy shit,” Vada whispered. “We can do that again, right?”

“Oh my god,” you chuckled as you lifted your hands to cover your eyes. “We just finished.”

“But we can do it again, right?” She asked.

You rolled over onto your side and looked at her. At the sheen of sweat covering her half-naked body and left her practically glowing under the singular ceiling light in your room. The rise and fall of her chest that was slowly but steadily returning back to normal. The absolutely stunning smile on her face that had your chest feeling warm and your stomach swarming with butterflies.

“How about we shower and then sleep,” you suggested. “And maybe we can do it again tomorrow.”

Vada turned her head to look at you, her smile still present although looking a little more mischievous.

“Can we do it in the shower?”

“Never mind, I’m going without you.”

“Wait, hang on!”

You smiled to yourself as you quickly shut the bathroom door behind you, effectively locking Vada out. She stomped her foot - which you could imagine perfectly - before walking off. You half expected her to stay gone until you heard more shuffling on the other side and something slid under the door. With a half-cocked head, you picked up the piece of paper.

No boobs? :(

“Not anymore,” you called out through the door, to which Vada replied with a groan as she finally walked away, presumably to your room.

As you got in the shower, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe you should thank Jacob for standing you up. He had accidentally made a fantastic wingman.

legally binded - drabble (1)

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. |

Drabble #1: The Week in Coachella

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: a little insight as to the ‘domestic bliss’ J was referring to 👀 this takes place during chapter 4, the week leading up to R’s peformance. the first of many drabbles (hopefully)

Word Count: 3.8k+

Monday: 

“Turn it off… Jenna, turn it off!”

You whined, aimlessly swiping your hand on the covers in hopes it hits the other actress. 

The alarm blaring rudely in the dark, quiet air interrupted the solitude of the early morning.

You hear her groans but it sounded muffled under the lump of covers and pillows. “You turn it off…”

“Jenna…” You groaned but she still refused to move from her seemingly comfortable position. With a huff, you throw the covers off your head, squinting in the unlit room. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, what the fuck?

Reaching over Jenna’s body, you grabbed your phone on her bedside table. You must have fallen asleep with it in your hand again and Jenna must have placed it there for you. 

“It’s not even mine.” You muttered, reaching for her phone instead and snoozing the alarm. Then you flung yourself back into your side of the bed, sighing in satisfaction because the annoying alarm wasn’t blaring in your eardrums anymore.

“Was it my phone?” Jenna lifted the cover off her head but remained under. Her hair is a mess after a night of tossing and turning and yet she still looked… pretty. You’re not blind, she’s gorgeous but there’s something about her, being the first thing you wake up to that makes your heart palpitate uncomfortably.

Probably heartburn from last night’s dinner. Yeah. That’s it.

“Mhmm.” You hummed. It’s too early for words.

She groaned dropping the covers to hide again. “I have pick up at 5.”

“You’re working?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you.” You hear and feel the shuffles of Jenna climbing out of the covers. “Are you going to be okay being alone with my family today?”

Cracking a single eye open and even through the darkness in the room, you see her brows knitted worriedly. “I’ll be fine, Jenna. I’ve been here for two days now, I’m settled in.”

“Are you sure? You can come with me to set if you want. I think I’m only filming some promo videos of Dior.” She urged. When you hear the concern in her voice, you opened your eyes fully, sitting up. 

“Jen, I’ll be okay. I promise. It’ll be nice to just chill today too ‘cause I’m not needed for soundcheck again until Thursday.” You reassured, blindly placing your hand on her bare thigh.

You feel her tense under your touch and you were about to pull away and apologize, not meaning to place your hand there but she placed her palm atop yours. “Okay… but if you need me to come back–”

“I won’t need to, but I will text you if anything happens, stop worrying.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your burning hand away. “Now go get ready before you’re late. I will be going to bed.”

“How can you go back to sleep so easily?” She questioned, climbing out of the covers. 

“Mhmm… magic.” You slur, already on the verge of sleeping.

You miss Jenna watching you for a few, long seconds with a fond smile after you’ve fallen asleep. You also miss her panic once she realized what she was doing, promptly turning on her heel to walk into the bathroom.

*** 

It was around 8:30 when you woke up again and like last time, it wasn’t on your own accord.

“Dad says wake up.” You spring up from the bed, eyes still closed.

You weren’t even sure if you were still dreaming but you swore you heard a voice.

“Over here.” Blinking your eyes open, you see Aliyah leaning against the doorframe with a smug smile. “Nice hair, is this what Jenna’s been waking up to every morning?”

“I see you and her share the same need to make fun of me.” You grumbled, wiping your eyes as they adjusted to the sunlight peering into the room.

“Mhmm. That’s how the family shows we care, we tease.” The younger girl shrugged, “Now come on, there’s breakfast downstairs and then chores.”

“Chores?” You asked but she already left.

Fucking chores? What the hell did you sign up for?

Swiftly, you threw on a presentable sweatsuit and brushed your teeth before hopping down the steps. From the moment you opened the door, you could already smell savoury waft of the morning meal awaiting you in the kitchen.

When you round the corner, entering the dining room everyone was already there, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Natalie smiled when she saw you. “Sorry Aliyah woke you up like that,”

You see her send her daughter a warning glance but you just laughed, waving it off. “No, it’s alright. Worked like a charm.”

“Come sit and eat.” She ushered, and you noted her uniform. 

“I assume you’re working today?” 

“Yes, it’s just going to be you kids in the house today.”

With Coachella weekend coming up, you had forgotten you were currently staying in a house with people who worked regular, 9-5 jobs.

“Oh, alright.” You smiled gratefully when the matriarch placed a plate of food in front of you.

“Dad and I have to go, you guys be safe okay? Call if you need anything.” She called out to the rest of her kids.

“You guys are carpooling?” Mia asked.

“Yup, the car’s not starting again.” The man grumbled, rising from his seat.

You perk up at that comment. “I can take a look at it for you if you want?”

All heads turn to you.

“You know cars?” Jenna’s dad asked, skeptical. This is the first time you’ve talked directly to the man.

“Yes sir.” You clear your throat, sitting up straighter. There was something about the man, maybe it was his constant silence or just Dads in general that made you a bit tense and feel out of your depth. “Used to work on them with my best friend, just a hobby but I learned a thing or two.”

He raised a brow but didn’t say anything. Natalie spoke up for him. “You don’t have to do that Y/N, but we would appreciate it regardless.”

You nodded, sending them a small smile. Aware that the man still hasn’t given you an answer but hey, you’ll take what you can get.

“We gotta go.” The parents bid goodbye and when the door shut, an awkward silence hung in the hair.

You keep your head down and pretend your breakfast was the most interesting thing on Earth.

“So, you got plans today?” Mia asked.

Lifting your head, you pointed to yourself, “Me?”

“Who else?” She raised a brow, and suddenly you’re made aware that sarcasm runs in the family.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you drop your spoon. “I don’t have plans.”

“Perfect. We’re all doing something.” Mia grinned.

You looked at Aliyah and Markus sending them apprehensive looks. “I… don’t like the way you said that.”

“Relax, superstar… when was the last time you let loose?” Mia grinned leaning on her elbows.

You glanced at the three siblings warily, “Fine… but if Jenna asks, it wasn’t my idea.”

“We’ll deal with her.” Aliyah matched her sister’s grin.

***

“This was your idea of letting loose?” You heaved exasperatedly, leaning against the leather headrest of the driver’s seat. 

The three siblings’ laugh resounds around you, agitating you further. Is this what it was like to have siblings? Maybe you’re not missing out on much.

“I thought you were an action star? Don’t you guys get paid to work out for Marvel?” Aliyah asked from the backseat. 

“I’m out of commission.” You glared through the rearview mirror. “And I hate hiking… why did we pick that?”

You started the ignition, cranking the AC to full blast and sighing in relief as the cool air relieves your sticky-red skin. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed. But there isn’t much to do around here.” Markus piqued up from beside his sister. “So when we all get together, we like to go hiking. Jen can’t make it most of the time, but I guess you’re the next best thing.”

He joked prompting his sisters to laugh but you flushed under the suggestion. You chose not to comment, instead pulling out of the parking spot. Clearing your thickening throat, you asked, “Where to?”

When you get back to the house, you're instantly met with an unimpressed look from the actress.

“You guys hung out without me?” Jenna crossed her arms as she stood in the foyer of her home, watching her siblings plus you trickle into the house. It’s fair to say that the younger actress was quite confused when she came back to an empty house. 

“Yup…” Mia responded, sipping on her drink as she walked passed the shorter actress. 

One by one, she glared at each of her siblings as they walked passed her until only you remained. You smiled sheepishly, holding out a drink. “They said you always get this smoothie… don’t be mad?”

Jenna stared at the drink in your hands. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. “Thanks…”

You send a large, goofy smile, pleased with yourself, “No worries.”

***

Tuesday:

The jury’s still up for debate if you’re enjoying yourself.

See you thought you were. Sure sharing a single queen bed with Jenna is… less than ideal, the home-cooked dinners have been delicious, and her family has been nothing but hospitable. You should be having a good time, right? Except, right now you’re seriously debating changing your answer cause you’re stuck.

Tied down, would be a better description.

“Jenna, please. Help!” You managed to pull out a free arm from one of her cousin’s firm grip.

Why do these kids have such strong hands?

Jenna turned at the sound of your desperation, cutting her conversation with her sisters short then she laughed, taking her phone out to record.

“No, please.” You nearly cried out, flailing your free hand.

“Show us your superpowers, Spider-Woman!” Another child yelled, jumping in front of you.

“Ow..” Your footing stumbles with the added weight, trying to hold the kid up in your arms.

“I count… one, two, three… oh and there's a fourth one hiding behind your legs, how cute.” Jenna circles you, recording all the children clinging onto you for dear life.

“Jenna, please. I’m gonna drop this child…” You begged again, arms burning uncomfortably.

You’re one kid away from toppling over if she doesn’t help you. If you do, you’re taking her down with you.

“I thought you do action movies? Use that action star training…” Jenna teased just like her sister, in turn, you glared menacingly.

“If I do go down, I’m taking you with me…”

She rolled her eyes, put her phone away then walked over to grab the kid in your arms. “Come on, guys… let’s give her some space.” She shooed off.

They groaned, echoing ‘you’re no fun’ at Jenna,  and you’d laugh at her offended face if you weren’t thankful that you feel 100 pounds lighter.

“You sure took your time,” You scoffed at her, watching as Jenna lets the toddler down on the ground after she got too fussy in her arms.

“Mmm… it was just too adorable.” She pulled out her phone to show you the multiple pictures of your panicked face, flailing hand and the small army of kids sticking to your side.

“Delete that…” You attempted to swipe her phone, but she stuck her arm out of reach, too quick for you.

“No!” She laughed, leaning back. You leaned forward, trying to swipe at the phone again but she pressed her hips against yours — pushing you back.

“Delete it!” You grabbed the dip in her waist with one hand; the phone now just at the tip of your fingers.

Jenna curled into a ball, clutching the phone to her chest making you wrap your arms around her body – practically embracing her.

“Seriously?” You laughed at the childish antics.

“Let me keep it!” She snickered, body shaking as she laughed and you couldn’t help but join in, forgetting about the embarrassing photos.

“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you dropped your arms to your side, stepping back. “But if you post that, you’re dead.”

Jenna uncurled, standing straight with a lop-sided smile, “Who’s gonna stop me?”

You stare back challengingly but once you saw the up flick of her brow, you knew it was a done deal. With a sigh and a drop of a head, you muttered. “Whatever…”

Then you walked back to your seat beside her sisters.

Reaching down on the grass to grab your drink, you pretend not to hear Aliyah and Mia telling Jenna that you two are cute.

Pulling out your phone, you ignore everything going on around you. You feel Jenna take her seat beside you. 

“Hey Y/N,” Aliyah spoke up, phone in hand.

You flick a brow up, “What’s up?”

“You know this song?” She tapped her phone, connecting it to the speaker and playing a song that sounded faintly familiar.

Furrowing your brows, you shake your head, glancing at Jenna who had a confused look as well. “No? Did I write it?”

“You don’t know what songs you wrote?” Jenna asked, turning to you.

“No? There’s too many and sometimes if it doesn’t fit me, I just take writing credit or I produce it for someone else.” You shrugged.

Aaliyah shook her head, gaining your attention. “No, listen.” She smirked.

When the singer started singing, you froze, the tips of your ears reddening.

“I don’t get it?” Jenna asked.

“This is Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter,” Aaliyah commented.

“Okay?” Jenna was lost. “Am I missing something?”

“Nope. I don’t think so— you wanna go for a walk?” You stood up swiftly, nearly giving Jenna whiplash as her eyes followed your movements.

You wiggle your fingers for her to take, but Jenna stayed put. 

“Later —“ She dismissed you, turning to her sisters who wore smug smiles on their faces, “What’s so special about this song?”

“Ask her…” Aliyah nodded toward you, currently pretending like you couldn’t hear the conversation around you.

She raised her brow, noting your weird demeanour. “What’s so special about this song?”

“Nothing.” Jenna raised a brow. You sighed, sitting back down beside her with a slump, ignoring the three others piercing stares. “Except it’s about…. me, or so I’ve heard, I don’t know.”

Jenna’s brows raised in surprise, her cheeks reddening when the next line plays. “It feels so good I had to jump the octave?”

You flushed, covering your face in embarrassment. “God, this is my worst nightmare.”

Her sisters’ watched with satisfied smiles as you continued to be embarrassed, actively avoiding everyone’s eyes and Jenna, who was stunned in silence but honestly looked more bothered the longer the song played.

You’ve never actually heard the song in its entirety, too embarrassed when someone said it was about you. You only saw the other singer one, two, three maybe even four times — so you were shocked.

“How fast can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?” Jenna reiterated as the song ended.

“Please, stop!” You groaned into your palms.

If Jenna wasn’t so satisfied with your embarrassment already, she might even admit that she’s a bit… irritated, for reasons unknown.

“Okay, Aliyah enough.” Jenna glared when the song replayed by accident.

Her sisters tried to chuckle lowly, but Jenna glared until they took the hint and scurried away, leaving just you and her.

“Are they gone?” You peeked through the opening in your fingers. 

“They're gone.” She chuckled, but the silence that followed was slightly awkward. “So… you and Sabrina? Didn’t know that.”

You cleared your throat, dropping your hands. “Yeah—uh. It wasn’t really anything.”

“Sounds like it was something…I mean she wrote a whole song about you.” Jenna questioned and for a second you wondered if she was jealous.

No, no way.

“That’s just fan theories and shit. I actually don’t know if it’s about me.” You felt the need to clear up. “It didn’t mean anything to me, at least.”

Jenna scanned you for a few seconds, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the intense gaze. “Mhmm. Cool.”

You blinked, unsure what that meant. But before you could say anything she’s standing, holding her hand out for you to take.

“Wanna go on that walk now?”

You nodded, slipping your fingers in between hers.

***

Wednesday: 

“Have you seen Y/N?” Jenna peeked her head inside her brother’s room.

“Not recently…” Markus responded, not looking away from his computer screen. “I think I saw her an hour ago though.”

“Where?” She huffed, leaning against the door frame.

“Don’t remember…” He replied distractedly. Jenna sighed, knowing she wasn’t gonna get a straight answer from him. 

Making her way down the stairs, she rounded the corner, entering the living room. “Has anybody seen Y/N?” 

She was met with silence. “Hello?” Jenna spoke up agitated.

“She’s with Dad, relax,” Aliyah answered and the actress couldn't even hide her shock. “She’s checking the car or something.”

“They’re together? Alone?”

Her sister nodded, confused.

“Yes? Why?’

“No reason…” Jenna lied.

“Is she scared of Dad?” Aliyah asked, a smirk on her lips.

Jenna rolled her eyes, not answering. Turning on her heel, she walked swiftly to the garage. You never admitted it out loud but she could see how tense you are around her Dad. It amused her more than anything.

Upon opening the door, she’s expecting to be met with silence as you worked on the car. Instead, her Dad’s laughter filled the room. 

“That’ll teach you to make a bet with her…” Her dad continued to joke. 

Stepping closer, she can make out your muffled chuckles from under the car. “Yeah… that one was on me, honestly. Robbed me clean of a thousand dollars.”

“Oh hey, honey. What are you doing here?” Her dad asked, noticing her standing by the door with a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Is that Jenna?” You asked.

“Yeah…” He responded.

Jenna blinked out of her stupor, walking to the hood of the car where her Dad waited patiently as you lay underneath the vehicle. “What’s going on here?”

You slid out from under the engine, using an old skateboard as a mechanic creeper; some oil splotched on your cheek. “Your Dad said the car wasn’t starting, so I offered to have a look at it.”

Jenna watches on as her Dad extended a hand out to haul you up. Exchanging the wrench in your hand for a wet rag to wipe the dirt off. She flicked a brow up in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew cars like that…”

You match her raised brow, “what, you think my cars are just for show?”

She rolled her eyes, not answering while you grinned, taking it as a win. She allowed her gaze to drop, noting your engine oil-stained white shirt hugging your arms tight and dark washed-out denim jeans. Looking like a real mechanic. 

“I think it was the transmission, try turning it on.” You said to her Dad. 

He follows your instructions, pushing the key into the ignition and turning it. Sputtered sounds of the engine roughly kicked back until eventually, it settled into a low, even rumble. You send her Dad a gratified smile. “What’d I say?”

“Impressive…” He scratched his chin, “I went to three different mechanics and none of them could tell me what was wrong.”

“Those guys are useless. You call me anytime there’s something wrong with her.” You popped off the hood struts, putting it back in its place before dropping the car hood closed with a loud slam, tapping on the top contently.

“You actually fixed that old junk?” Jenna crossed her arms, a little impressed but she’d never say it out loud.

You spin, flicking an unamused brow. “You doubting my skills, Ortega?”

Jenna tried shrugging impassively, walking closer to observe the running car. “Every single one of my siblings learned how to drive in this car, including me. Dad refuses to get rid of it.”

You run a hand over the hood again. What the younger actress said must’ve added to your satisfaction. “Just makes it more special then…”

“See, she gets it.” Her Dad peeks his head out from the driver's seat. 

“We’re not starting this…” Jenna spun in her heels, walking back into the house. She ignored her thudding chest.

***

Thursday:

“Hey, how was Soundcheck?” Jenna looked up from her book, watching as you trudge into her childhood bedroom in slow steps.

“S’okay…” You mumbled,  lazily dropping your shoulder bag on the foot of the bed. With a heavy sigh, you sat down and let gravity do all the work as you fell onto your back. Sighing in relief when your it connects with the soft mattress. 

“What’s wrong?” Jenna crawled to the foot of the bed, rubbing your shoulder. She watched as your eyes fluttered closed in fatigue.

“Long day… too hot.” You muttered causing Jenna to chuckle.

“Well, we are in the desert.”

“Should have thought about that when I agreed to perform…” By now, Jenna’s fingers worked their way through your hair. Softly scratching your scalp. 

“Speaking of performing…” Jenna tried not to pay attention to the way you practically purred under her touch. “Who are going on with?”

You grinned adorably, like when a baby smiled in their sleep. “Nice try…”

She tugged on your roots a bit, “Tease…”

“You’re the one tugging on my hair…” You cracked an eye open, staring up at her. Jenna flushed, choosing to ignore your words. 

“Why don’t you take a shower and we can finish watching Breaking Bad? Relax before your performance tomorrow?”

“That sounds perfect.” You scrambled up to grab some clothes from your suitcase before running to the adjoining bathroom. 

Jenna shook her head in amusement, ignoring the butterflies thrashing in her stomach. She moved up the bed, getting your side ready, and propping up the pillows to your preferred angle. Then she grabbed the remote, exiting out of the trashy reality show that she wasn’t really paying attention to. Only choosing the program to pass the time as she waited for you to come… home. But only because she’s honourable and chooses to uphold her side of the agreement; not to watch Breaking Bad without the other. 

20 minutes pass when the bathroom door creaked open and you stepped out, looking far more relaxed than when you first came in. 

Sliding into your side, you wiggled around, trying to get comfortable. “You kept your promise and didn’t watch the next episode.”

“Surprised?” She raised a brow.

“Mmm… a little.” You shrug, shooting her a chaffing smile. 

She elbowed your side, “idiot.”

“Okay, okay, just play the episode. I’ve been looking forward to watching it with you all day.” You covered a blanket over your lap, not realizing what you just said. Jenna stares at you, not speaking.

You turn, pulling a face before it contorts to an amused smile. You grab the remote out of her hands, not calling her out on her silence. “Come on, get down here.”

Still unspeaking, Jenna’s body moves automatically, sliding in close beside you; shoulders pressed together. The younger actress doesn’t have it in her to admit that she’s been waiting for you to come back because recently, she finds she can’t sleep without you.

Jenna chooses not to comment when she feels your head lean comfortably against hers.

—

(a little treat before ch 7🫢 )

***

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everyone but her pt.30

Summary: You're determined to prove to Wednesday that you're better than Joel. Is it in a way she understands? Probably not, but you're no quitter

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: swearing, paintball guns, Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) A/N: I'm taking a bit of creative liberty with the wolfing out thing just because it suits my needs, so don't come at me for it

“Do we have to keep him around?” You groaned as you sat down in the booth beside Wednesday.

“We kept you around,” she said without bothering to look up from her book.

It wasn’t like she needed to; she knew who you were talking about and what you were insinuating. You had been doing it for weeks. Although Wednesday didn’t quite understand why you had such an issue with Joel; she had chosen you, had she not? And she had no issue with Ash, so why had you been so upset? If you would just open up then she would comprehend your apprehension.

“That’s harsh,” you whispered. “You keep me around because you like me.”

“I would go so far as to say love,” she said while turning the page.

You stiffened beside her. “You would?”

Wednesday exhaled slowly and turned her head to look at you. The winter had been harsh on you, both physically and mentally. You looked worn and ragged and on edge. A few more feathers than usual had fallen out of your wings over the weeks and you couldn’t quit picking at them; a habit she knew you used to have when you got anxious. Everyone had believed you to have grown out of it, but the past few weeks had proven them wrong.

And now you were looking at her with crinkles around your eyes and the smallest smile on your lips.

“You know I do,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“I would like to hear you say it again though,” you said softly.

You were rather impossible, weren’t you?

“I keep you around because I tolerate you,” she said simply, instantly turning back to the book that she 

“Oh you’re a dick,” you grumbled as you let yourself fall back against the back of the booth. “If you don’t tell me you love me, I’m tripping your boy toy.”

“Your threats are empty,” Wednesday said. “And I don’t reward bad behaviour.”

“I don’t need to be rewarded,” you huffed. “I’m not Enid.”

The pout on your lips was rather adorable, Wednesday wouldn’t deny it. Not that she would ever let you know, of course, but it was. It was the small moments like this that gave her hope that you would get better. Of course you still had your bad days, and you were still going through a hard time with all the talks with the police, but you were getting there. There was hope.

“Oh Jesus christ,” you mumbled when Joel sat down opposite you both at the booth.

“Here you both are,” he said quietly as he slid coffee toward you and Wednesday, leaving his own in front of him. “Vastly different tastes.”

“And that matters why?” You asked, taking the coffee anyway.

“Behave,” Wednesday whispered to you before looking at Joel. “Thank you.”

Thankfully, you did exactly as Wednesday had instructed. You stayed nice and silent as she studied with Joel, going over more than what was required. Meanwhile you sat beside her, your hand resting on her knee under the table. Good little bird, she thought when she looked over and saw you drinking your coffee and playing some silly little game on your phone. Were those chickens?

Throughout the study session, you got up and got everyone, including Joel, some more coffee three times. The first two times were perfectly acceptable, you made hers exactly how she preferred it. Even Joel’s had been made to order, including the small amount of sugar and cream necessary. His third cup was less than satisfactory.

“This tastes incredibly sweet,” he said with a small grimace once he set the cup back down.

“Let me see,” you said, immediately reaching over and grabbing his cup.

Without warning, you brought it to your lips and took a deep drink. Wednesday had to fight her own impulse to smile at the look of shock and disgust on Joel’s face. She would admit, not many people could handle your eccentricities, especially those that hadn’t known you for long. You had very few mundane cares in life, and spreading your germs was something you never took into account.

“Tastes fine to me,” you said with a shrug before sliding it back over to Joel.

“That’s unsanitary,” he whispered into the mug that he couldn’t quit staring at.

“Oh get over it,” you grumbled. “We’ve kissed the same lips, surely we can share a mug.”

Sometimes Wednesday forgot just how childish you could be. Not immature, but childish. A lack of care in what you said or did. Not taking into account how someone else might construe your impulses. Take the coffee; she had come to expect it of you, but in someone else’s view, it was unorthodox, a behaviour you would expect from children.

Oh how she adored it.

“So do you two have any plans for this weekend?” He asked. Wednesday noticed the covert way he pushed the mug of coffee back in your direction, which you quickly took and continued drinking. She knew you didn’t hate him completely.

“Yes we do,” you said too quickly. “And you’re not invited.”

“We have no plans,” Wednesday answered just as quickly when you were done. She could feel your eyes boring into the side of her head, but she didn’t care. “Why do you ask?”

“A friend of mine went to a paintball tournament the other weekend,” he started; your head popped up quickly. “He said it was a cool place, so I was wondering if you and your group would want to go check it out.”

“Absolutely no-”

“-we would love to,” you interrupted her, a surprisingly genuine smile on your face. She gave you a questioning look, to which you shrugged in reply. “Sounds like fun.”

“Then we can all meet up on Saturday?” Joel asked.

“It’s a date,” you said as you reached your hand out and forced him to shake yours.

Your smile turned sadistic.

Oh.

—---

“Why are we doing this again?” Enid asked as you all walked down the sidewalk. The paintball field was finally in view in the distance.

“Because it’s cool as fuck,” Ajax said, to which Kent quickly gave him a high-five in reply.

“Because Wednesday’s girlfriend is looking a little green,” Bianca said, promptly ignoring the boys and walking a little closer to Ash. 

Oh yes, Wednesday had noticed the both of them over the past few weeks. At first she had thought it unusual when Ash came over to the apartment a few more times, claiming it was simply to get under your skin. A believable fib, Wednesday would admit. Part of Ash’s relationship with you was death by a thousand irritations, so to speak, and her presence in the dorm certainly had your feathers ruffling.

But then she started appearing while you were gone at work. The initial claim had been about forgetting her things at the dorm, which she had, and Wednesday never doubted her. Until she caught Ash going into Bianca's room, or meeting up with the siren before quickly heading back out into the world. Wednesday was never one to dabble in gossip or other people's relationships, but she was a curious soul.

It only took one night of following them to discover they had gone on a date. And judging by the ease in which they shared a kiss, they had been on multiple. Wednesday wondered if you knew, or if anyone knew, for that matter. Would you have cared? As much as you complained about Ash, you were rather protective of her. Would you give Bianca the - what did Divina call it - the shovel talk?

“I’m not looking green,” you said as you forcefully pulled Wednesday past the group. “I just think we could all do with a nice weekend adventure.”

“She told me she wants to shoot Joel in the dick,” Yoko said.

“Shut up,” you growled as you threw an arm out, hitting Yoko in the stomach. Hard.

“Why can’t you just talk it out like an adult?” Ash asked; Wednesday noticed her hand brush against Bianca’s. “You’re not five.”

“I said,” you emphasised, “it would be a nice outing for us.”

“But you are gonna shoot him in the dick?” Enid asked from her spot between Yoko and Divina.

“Ouch,” both Kent and Ajax said in unison with grimaces on their faces.

“Can you shoot Kent in the dick too?” Divina asked. “He does not need to procreate.”

“I’m not taking requests,” you said quickly, forcing a new argument to arise.

As you all continued getting closer and closer, you continued going on about how you weren’t going to shoot anyone while everyone had suggestions for you. If anything, it did nothing to ease the irritation that Wednesday could physically feel radiating off of you. It was a good thing she had helped you tighten the harness earlier otherwise it might not have held your feathers after all the ruffling she knew this would have caused.

And yet, even with the incessant arguing from everyone, she couldn’t help but admire the atmosphere it created. Yes, you were all unbelievably annoying and clamorous. And yes, you all gave her a headache that no elixir could ease. But at the end of the day, you would all go back home and laugh about the events of the past few hours the way Wednesday assumed a typical family would.

Although she would rather rip out her own vocal cords than admit that she saw you all as her family away from home.

“Oh look, there’s lover boy,” Yoko said when the group got close enough to see Joel waiting outside.

“I’m shooting him in the dick,” you mumbled to yourself even though Wednesday could very clearly hear it.

“You made it,” Joel said with a smile when everyone got closer. “Everything is all ready.”

“Let’s just go,” you said. You quickly let go of Wednesday’s hand and stalked inside, your hands now shoved deeply into the pocket of your jacket.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Yoko said as she followed, leaving Divina and Enid to attempt to stifle their laughter.

The building itself was rather small and open. There were a few places to sit and eat at - maybe you did have a point in bringing food - and an area off to the side to continue watching the field. It was quite sterile, and even though the colourful graffiti on the wall was headache inducing, Wednesday couldn’t deny the skill that went behind the art.

“Hey guys,” an older man said as he came out of a door behind him. “The name’s Carter. Hope the drive wasn’t too bad.”

“We walked,” you said without looking at him.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be the best outlet for you, Wednesday thought to herself.

“Then you’re all warmed up and ready to go,” the man said with an overly exaggerated clap. You and Ash both flinched but otherwise didn’t move. Curious. “Before we get started, does anyone have any experience with paintball?”

Both you and Ash raised your hands instantly and let out barely noticeable sighs. Well, that would most likely explain your reactions, wouldn’t it? Though, as Carter had you and Ash go to the table to unload snacks and jackets while he continued explaining, Wednesday started to question her own ability to notice the smallest things. For instance, had you always flinched at loud claps or noises? Now she was determined to watch you more carefully to figure it out.

“Alright, now on to teams,” Carter said with another clap, that had you and Ash sharing a look. “You all good if I team everyone up?”

Everyone except for you gave their agreement to the situation. Carter seemed rather excited at the prospect and quickly got to work separating everyone. If he had seen the look you gave him when he put you and Wednesday on separate teams, he pretended otherwise. Although everyone tried not to laugh at the near visible steam coming from your ears when he then put Joel on Wednesday’s team.

By the end of the sorting, the two teams were decided and appeared equally matched. You were to lead the team with Bianca, Enid, Ajax and Kent. On the other side, Ash was to lead the team with Wednesday, Yoko, Joel, and Divina. It was quite humorous to have the couples of the group split up - aside from Kent and Ajax who weren’t a couple but who might as well have been with how often they stuck together.

Carter led the way to the equipment room where you all got what you needed. Wednesday thought the whole thing was rather childish, but she couldn’t deny the look of pure concentration on your face was attractive. If only you could focus on something other than violence at some point. Even she managed to focus on other things when necessary, so why couldn’t you?

But you stood your ground, your face now neutral as you pulled off your jacket and started unbuckling your harness. Thankfully you had gone out into the main lobby to wait as you did so; Wednesday didn’t think you would fit in the small equipment room with everyone else. She was already slightly agitated from the events that she knew were bound to transpire, she didn’t need a mouth full of feathers to add to it.

“I forgot to ask, are any of you Outcasts by any-” Carter stopped talking right when your wings folded back tightly against your back, “-chance?”

“All but two of us,” Enid said with a slight straightening of her shoulders.

“Is that a problem?” Bianca asked.

“No problem at all,” he said as he cleared his throat and resumed his peppy personality. “Just please take care not to wolf out or stone anyone. We don’t have waivers for that.”

“Seems reasonable to me,” Ajax said with a shrug, which Kent readily agreed with.

“We do, however, have a field specifically for Outcasts,” Carter said, this time losing his sales persona and looking genuinely pleased. “Sun resistant for vampires, no reflective surfaces, and everything in there is durable enough to withstand an accidental wolf out.”

"Yoko, you can take your glasses off," you said, now standing next to your team who you had quickly ushered away. "Now you can properly see me wreck your shit."

"You gonna talk smack the whole time?" Ash asked.

"Not to you," you said. "I don't talk to losers."

"Oh god," Carter mumbled to himself, and Wednesday very nearly smirked at the newfound fear in his voice. "Alright everyone, outside you go."

“Don’t take any of this personal?” You said when you practically jogged to Wednesday’s location, slowing to a walk.

“You seem to be under the impression that you have a skill in this field,” Wednesday said. “Confidence is good, overconfidence will be your downfall.”

“You’re so intense,” you whispered. “I’ll try not to take it too personally.”

“A much better evaluation of the situation,” she said, her knuckles brushing against yours.

“Will you still love me after this?” You asked when everyone started parting ways to go to their own sides of the field.

Wednesday exhaled softly through her nose. “You simply want me to say it.”

“Yes I do,” you said with a gentle smile.

“My affection will rely on your abilities,” she said before turning around and walking to her side of the field.

“I’ll get you to admit you love me!” You shouted after her.

She simply smiled to herself.

“Okay, Y/N takes paintball really seriously,” Ash said once everyone was gathered around.

“Why am I not surprised?” Yoko said.

“Enid is ridiculously competitive too,” Divina said.

“Bianca will play fair,” Yoko continued.

“What about Ajax and Kent?” Joel asked. It was only then that Wednesday noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses. It was rather smart of him.

“Incompetent at best,” Wednesday said. “They can be dispatched easily, they pose no threat.”

“Remind me to never be your enemy,” Ash said softly. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking.”

Everyone listened intently as Ash described the strategy, giving their comments and criticisms as necessary. It was a solid plan, Wednesday would admit it. Joel would focus on Bianca, Ash would take out Enid, Yoko and Divina would get Kent and Ajax, and she would focus on you. The matchups were rather fair, it was a good plan.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who took paintball a bit seriously.

As everyone parted, going somewhere safe, Wednesday took a different approach. If you were as serious about this whole thing as Ash made it out to seem then you would be going after who you believed could pose a problem. And if you were smart, that would have herself and Ash on your hit list. Possibly Yoko depending on what mood you were in for the day.

That being said, Wednesday knew how you ticked. She might not understand your emotions, but she knew how your brain worked. It was something she had picked up on over the past few years, even before she had taken a genuine interest in you. You played the game well, but you were smart. Deceivingly smart.

Sounds of compressed air being released and paintballs hitting obstacles reached Wednesday's ears as she continued her own plan. You weren't foolish enough to fall into a trap, not when you were so focused. Years of being around and knowing Ash had given you insight into her thought process, so you wouldn’t fall for anything she tried to set up.

But Wednesday. Oh, you would fall for Wednesday. All she had to say was jump and you would ask how high. If she told you to kneel, you would do so. She didn’t need to rely on nefarious purposes. Truthfully she wouldn’t even need to try and trick you into anything. If she was right, which she usually was, you would come to her.

With that knowledge in mind, Wednesday walked around until she found the small grouping of trees near the edge of the field. She could still hear everyone, could hear the telltale sounds of whatever unnecessary nonsense was going on a little further away. None of it concerned her; she was focused on you. And if she was going to be forced to play such a ridiculous game, then she was going to play it well.

It didn’t take incredibly long before the sounds started to die out, turning into little more than the occasional hushed voice floating in the air. There was still the rare paintball shot, but everything else started to fade. There was no way you had been taken out by anyone, so Wednesday knew you couldn’t be far away. All she had to do was wait-

“-Caught you.”

Ah yes. With an insane amount of luck and skill, she didn’t flinch when your hands covered her eyes. She had forgotten about your surprising silence when necessary. Mentally she started berating herself for such a thing; she had seen you play that silly Mothman game with your younger siblings. When needed, you were beyond adept at staying silent.

Your hands removed themselves, giving her the ability to turn around and look up at you. Clearly you had been far too into the game because you were covered in what appeared to be mud, with sticks and leaves stuck in your hair. You were suspiciously devoid of paint, but judging by the way you held yourself, you were proud of the fact.

“I figured you would be out here,” you said with the smallest smirk; not gloating, just proud. “You don’t strike me as the type to run in without a plan.”

“You snuck up on me,” Wednesday said, still eyeing you up and down. You were carrying yourself with a certain authority you usually put aside. It looked good on you. “I’ll admit it’s rather impressive.”

“I could’ve shot you from the trees,” you said with a shrug, “but I know better than to shoot my own girlfriend.”

“Yes, that was rather smart on your part,” she agreed.

“How about we call it a truce?” You said with an upward lilt to your words, leaving it more as a question than a statement.

Oh you were clever. You knew exactly what you were doing. Clearly you felt you could beat her if you had truly wanted to, and now you were attempting to give her an out. A way to avoid humiliation and loss. You were giving her the opportunity to save herself - and her clothes - all with nothing but a genuine smile.

Wednesday studied you for only a moment more before cupping your jaw with one hand and pulling you down into a kiss. As expected, you gave in immediately, sighing gently and grabbing her by the waist. You smelled of dirt and trees, but somehow it still smelled precisely like you. Almost as if you were born with the smell.

“I love you,” Wednesday whispered against your lips. Whether on purpose or not, you whined almost inaudibly before kissing her again.

Your hands gripped her tighter, refusing to let her pull away even by a fraction. And at the moment, Wednesday was living for it. No one was around, it was just the two of you, and you tasted of her coffee from the walk over. You tasted familiar and like you belonged to her. It was in the small moments like that that solidified Wednesday’s belief that she would never wish for anyone else but you. She reached her free hand out to your hip, mirroring your grasp on hers.

*splat*

You grunted and stepped back quickly, your hands instantly going to your stomach. While you refused to look down, your eyes trailed down to the paintball gun in Wednesday’s hand. The very same one that had been on your hip only seconds ago. With wide eyes, you finally looked down at your midsection. Pulling your hands away slowly, your jaw fell when you saw the paint now staining your shirt and hands.

“You shot me,” you said incredulously.

“You believed I wouldn’t,” Wednesday said with a slight tilt of her head. “That was your mistake.”

“But you still love me, right?” You asked.

She didn’t answer you, just gave you the smallest smile and turned around to walk off. You were smart, brilliant even, but you had too much trust in those you loved. If she needed to shoot you a hundred times that day to get you to be a little more self preserving, then so be it.

The look of mock-betrayal on your face was rather appealing.

—---

By the time everyone was finally finished with the day, they were all completely covered in paint. Except for Wednesday, of course, who had only two marks on her; one from Bianca, and one from you (even though you had looked devastated at the act). Thankfully no one had been stoned, and Enid had only wolfed out three times. Although two of those times had been because you had goaded her into it.

Then there was you, who had paint splatters covering your wings in such a thick layer that Wednesday knew she would be helping you clean them for at least the next week. Possibly even two if you were stubborn about it, which you usually were. There was going to be paint in the apartment for weeks.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I personally feel a lot better,” you said when you watched with sadistic satisfaction as all three guys walked by with paint all over their pants.

“We all need to get home and eat,” Bianca said from her spot directly beside Ash.

“Or we pick up takeout?” Ajax suggested.

“From that dope Chinese hole in the wall?” Kent continued.

“They do pack a lot of calories,” you said, to which Enid readily agreed with you.

“Then it’s a plan,” Yoko said as she quickly grabbed Enid’s and Divina’s hands to pull them out of the building.

Everyone said their goodbyes to Carter, who looked rather happy to see them all leave, before standing awkwardly in front of the building. It wouldn’t have been so awkward except everyone was busy looking between you and Joel. Even the poor boy had noticed you had a vendetta against him and was standing off to the side, unsure of what exactly to do next.

Wednesday looked up at you when you slipped your hand into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as you looked over at Joel. She couldn’t read your face, especially not through all the paint and dirt you still had covering your skin. If the ability to shoot at Joel hadn’t helped ease your concern then she didn’t know what would.

“You coming, Joel?” You asked.

“Is it… okay with you guys?” He asked. Everyone looked back at you again.

“Consider it an apology for shooting you in the dick,” you said with a shrug. All three guys covered their paint-stained crotches at the mention of the incident. “Alright, let’s go before Enid gets hangry.”

“I don’t get hangry,” Enid complained as everyone finally started walking away from the paintball fields.

You started up light conversation with Joel as he walked on the other side of you, and even though Wednesday could see you struggling to maintain composure, she was proud of you. Maybe she would need to tell you so when you got back to the apartment. Hopefully you wouldn’t require repayment for the betrayal shot earlier that day.

Maybe she would just kiss you some more before you could ask. Just in case.

movie night drabble i

Summary: The ever elusive Tara Carpenter finally makes her appearance at your brother's frat party. Maybe you'll kiss. Okay, you'll definitely kiss.

Word Count: Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, underage drinking, slight violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader A/N: I got a little more goofy with R in this one because I wanted to try something a little different with my writing, so I hope y'all enjoy! movie night i | movie night ii | movie night iii

"Hey," your brother Alfie shouted over the music blaring throughout the frat house. "Carpenter's here."

You turned so quickly you spilled the vodka from your cup onto your shirt.

"Ah fuck," you mumbled, dropping the now-empty cup without a care in the world. Not like it was your frat house, why should you keep it clean?

You promptly bent down to pick it back up. Your Ma raised you better than that.

"Where is she?" You asked, once again searching for any sign of the younger Carpenter girl.

"You don't see her?" He was teasing you. It was evident by the stupid, smug look on his ugly mug.

"She's 5 foot nothin’, no I don't see her," you argued back.

“Over there,” Alfie pointed, and you followed his finger as best as you could.

“Where are you pointing your crooked ass finger?” You asked.

“See Frankie?” He asked in frustration. As if it was your fault he had crooked, broken fingers. “She’s talkin’ to him.”

“Ah shit,” you mumbled when you spotted Frankie and, finally, Tara. “Take my cup.”

You didn’t wait for him to agree before shoving the cup into his arms and making your way through the crowded frat house. As much as you wanted to see Tara, you didn’t want to see her with fucking Frankie. No one was worse than that prick. You and Alfie were pricks too, but at least you both stayed respectful. Frankie just wanted to get his rocks off with whatever girl gave him the chance.

Unfortunately, it looked like Tara might be that girl.

He was standing a little too close for comfort by the time you finally shoved your way past everyone. That annoying little voice in your head reminded you that Tara wasn’t yours and you had no right to her. And that voice was correct! But that didn’t mean you were going to stand aside and let fucking Frankie get his greasy hands on her.

“Hey Frankie,” you said with an obnoxious smile and a painfully hard clap on his shoulder. “How ya doin’?”

“Hey,” he said without even looking at you.

“Hi Tara,” you said far softer and with a much more genuine smile. At least you hoped it was, you were starting to feel a bit of that vodka settling in.

Tara opened her mouth to answer before being cut off by Frankie. “Need something?”

Think of something good.

“Yeah, actually,” you said with a shrug, “but we might wanna talk in private.”

“Just tell me now, Street Rat,” he said quickly. “I’m busy.”

Think of something good.

“It’s just,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure you get yourself checked out, man.”

“For what?”

“I was just talking with Skye earlier and she said she got the clap,” you said with a shrug. “I know you two are fuck buddies so you should probably watch out.”

“You serious?” He asked, suddenly standing up and looking far more furious as he crushed his beer in his hand.

“I’m doin’ you a solid, man-”

“-you gonna say this shit in front of Carpenter?” He asked, now standing toe-to-toe with you. Admittedly you may have underestimated his reaction to such a ploy. Should’ve come up with something less good.

“Dude chill, I told you we should talk in private-”

“-didn’t tell me it was about the fucking clap.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be tryin’ to fuck every girl that looks at you.”

You heard the crack below your eye before you felt it, a painful punch spiderwebbing across your cheekbone and eye. Nothing you hadn’t felt before, but Frankie could pack a punch when needed. Tears instantly pricked at your eyes as you recaught your balance and stood up, trying to blink away the pain. And tears. And humiliation.

“Say it again, Street Rat,” Frankie said.

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara tried to say, doing her best to stand in between the both of you. Not that it mattered, she was too short. It was pretty cute, actually. “Y/N, let’s go.”

Don’t say it.

“You’re a man whore, dude,” you said anyway. He clenched his jaw tighter. “A man whore with the clap.”

You moved Tara out of the way and braced yourself when Frankie lifted his fist again. Thankfully he had dropped the beer can; you could already feel something warm trickling down the side of your face. If he was going to hit you then he needed to do it like a man, not with a weapon. Pop always said only cowards used weapons against unarmed men.

Maybe you should have been a coward.

The punch never came. When you re-opened your eyes, you saw Alfie standing there in between the both of you, creating the buffer Tara had tried and failed to become. His back was to you but you could tell by the square set of his shoulders that he was tense. And pissed. Oh god, he was pissed.

“Go home, Frankie,” Alfie said in his heavy Bronx accent. Like most everyone in the family, it came out more when he was tense. Or angry. Oh, he was angry.

“Not until I get an apology,” Frankie said as he pointed to you. “To my face.”

“Not my fault you’re collectin’ STDs like they’re fuckin’ Pokemon, man,” you said back. Shut up!

“Come here-”

“-enough!” Alfie shouted, pushing you both back. Not that you needed the encouragement, your cheek was still throbbing from the first punch. “Get the fuck out, Frankie.”

“I’ll be back for you, Street Rat,” Frankie said with a finger pointed at you. Like the mature adult you were, you stuck your tongue out at him before giving him your best New Yorker smile.

“Now,” Alfie insinuated with a push on Frankie’s chest, guiding him to the front door.

With one more look at you, Frankie finally made his way out of the frat house, pushing past whoever was unfortunate enough to be in his way. He was barely out of sight before you felt a hard slap against your stomach, forcing you to double over. You felt like you were going to puke. Maybe you would.

“Quit startin’ fights, you moron,” Alfie said as he grabbed your shoulders and stood you up straight again. “I’m gettin’ real tired of defending your sorry ass.”

“Pop always said I was a slow learner,” you said, your own accent coming out just enough to irritate you. With a slight scowl, you focused harder on your words. “I’m sorry.”

“Better be,” he said with a sigh. Finally, he turned his head to look at Tara. “You good, doll?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a shrug.

“Be careful with Frankie,” he continued. “He’s a real prick.”

“He’s a-”

“-not a word from you,” Alfie interrupted you with another slap to the shoulder. “You started this whole mess.”

“Coulda finished it too if you gave me the chance,” you said, rubbing your now sore shoulder and still trying not to puke from the blow to the stomach. Maybe those fireball shots weren’t necessary.

“Would you mind taking our little menace upstairs and cleaning the blood off?” Alfie asked Tara. “I’d appreciate it.”

Tara looked at you at the suggestion, really looked at you. Just that one look from her was enough to have your heart beating out of your chest like a Loony Toons character. Oh what you wouldn’t give to have her look at you all the time, whether in malice or admiration or love. Just to have her eyes on you would be enough to leave you happy and content until the day you died.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh, reaching forward to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t test her,” Alfie whispered to you as Tara pulled you away.

You just wiggled your brows suggestively at him, to which he promptly threw his hands up in defeat.

Tara led you throughout the frat house as if she had lived there her entire life. It was almost amusing to see someone so small moving through the crowd without any trouble, as if people knew there was a child among them and they needed to make sure not to step on it. Wait, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing her to a child. But, come on, she was small enough.

By the time you both managed to stumble up the two flights of stairs to the third floor, you were very much starting to feel the alcohol and the bruise that was blooming across your cheek. It was going to smart, that was for sure. Tara pushed you into Alfie’s room - by pure coincidence, surely - and shut the door behind her, locking it promptly.

“You’re a prick,” she said the moment she turned back around to look at you.

“I was protectin’ you,” you said, taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly to ease the accent. “Frankie’s a prick and you know it.”

“I didn’t need protecting,” she groaned. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“You wanna get the clap, be my guest,” you said with a shrug.

“Does he really have it?” Tara asked doubtfully.

You closed your mouth and looked off at Alfie’s closet. If you didn’t look at her, maybe she wouldn’t force you to answer. Even with the music pounding through the walls, you heard her sigh. You shouldn’t have lied, that annoying little voice in your head said. Sometimes you hated your subconscious; it was usually right.

Tara’s hand gripping your jaw made you flinch, which then made the throbbing in your cheek resume once again. Say what you wanted about Frankie, but he could pack a punch. Probably would’ve been better to just leave him be. But then Tara pulled your chin to face her, and you were instantly reassured that no, you absolutely should’ve gotten him to leave.

“He cut your cheek,” she said as her eyes left yours to look at the wounds that adorned your face. “Have anything to clean it with?”

“Here,” you said, leaning back just enough to pull your shirt over your head. Tara’s eyes went wide before she did her best to look anywhere but at you.

“Please put your shirt back on,” she said, still not looking at you.

“It’s got vodka on it anyway,” you said as you shoved the shirt into her hands. “Nature’s disinfectant.”

“It-,” she turned to look at you incredulously. “Are you stupid?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you said with a grin. “Just clean it already, I’m braced.”

Tara shook her head slowly, but grabbed your jaw once again to hold you still. Her hand was soft; incredibly soft, actually. Depending on how she held you, you could almost see that scar of hers. An angry pink that looked like it didn’t really want to finish healing. She probably needed to put some cream on it, maybe you could ask your Ma for a bit of advice.

You hissed when she dabbed the vodka drenched shirt on your cheek. Oh, now you remembered why it wasn’t a good idea. It got the job done, sure, but it hurt like a sonofabitch. But you squared your shoulders and stayed still until she was done dabbing it. Even though it seemed like she was cleaning it a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Does Frankie actually have the clap?” Tara asked again while she finished up.

“Have you slept with him?” You asked in return. She gave you a frown before looking back at your cheek.

“No.”

“Then yes he does,” you said with a nod. “Plus a few others, he’s like a breeding ground for ‘em.”

“You’re disgusting,” she sighed before straightening up.

“Listen, if you wanted to get laid tonight, you could’ve always asked me,” you said with a shrug. You hoped it came off as nonchalant, even though you were totally chalant about it. Was that even a word?

“What makes you think I would want to sleep with you?” Tara asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. It didn’t distract you from noticing the slightest flush to her cheeks.

“Because you think I’m sexy,” you said in a sing-songy voice, “and you wanna kiss me.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re annoying?” She asked.

She did not, however, stop you from reaching out to grab her by the hips and pull her until she was standing between your legs. Even when you were sitting she was barely taller than you. Her arms uncrossed so she could rest her hands on your bare shoulders, causing you to shiver lightly. You were going to blame it on the alcohol.

“You can call me whatever you want,” you said, your eyes darting down to look at her lips. “As long as you call me.”

“This is only because I’m drunk,” Tara said, her own eyes looking at your lips. Bingo.

“Of course,” you said as your thumbs slipped under her shirt and rubbed her hips lightly.

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” she continued.

“Naturally," you agree.

The alcohol coursed through you, leaving a heat in its wake. But it was nothing compared to the inferno you felt in your core when Tara practically surged forward to kiss you. She wasted no time parting her lips for you, letting you taste every inch of her. She tasted of cheap beer and lemonade; surprisingly unsurprising.

"Were you smoking?" She asked as she pulled away; you chased her, leaving a trail of kisses across her jaw. "You smell like smoke."

"Which answer gets me laid?" You asked between kisses.

"You're insufferable," she groaned.

She pushed against your shoulders until you fell back against the bed. Almost instantly, she climbed on top of you, straddling your stomach and placing her hands on your ribs. Her nails were short, but still long enough to scratch your skin lightly, sending another shiver through your body. It was a nice feeling. Painfully nice.

“Don’t try to romance me,” Tara said as she looked down at you; her pupils were blown and she looked absolutely beautiful.

“Just a fuck?” You clarified.

“A quick one,” she said with a nod.

“Clothes off?” You asked.

“On,” she corrected.

“Yes ma’am,” you said quickly before letting your hands push under her shirt, nails lightly scratching across her skin until you felt the underwire of her bra.

You waited, watching her to make sure she consented. The alcohol may have been clouding your judgment ever so slightly, but you weren’t Frankie. When Tara looked at you and nodded, you wasted no time in pushing her bra above her breasts. The moment your knuckles brushed against her nipples, her head slowly fell back and she exhaled sharply through her nose.

That inferno in your core only grew hotter when you rolled her nipple between your thumb and forefinger and her hips stuttered against your stomach. Oh it was a beautiful sight, to see Tara lose even the slightest bit of her composure from such a small gesture. You did it again and had to bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning at the movement of her hips.

“Don’t tease,” she said breathlessly, her nails digging deeper into your ribs. A stunning sting that you hoped would leave marks.

“As you wish,” you said in reply.

One of your hands stayed right where it was, brushing lightly against her nipple just to see her shiver. Your other hand moved down, unbuttoning her jeans with surprising ease that you blamed on nothing more than the alcohol. With nothing else in your way, you effortlessly slipped your hand under the waistband of her underwear, letting out a humiliating moan when you felt just how wet she was.

“Jesus, Tara,” you said breathlessly as you ran your fingers through her folds before stopping on her clit.

“Just shut up,” she said between clenched teeth.

It was an uncomfortable position for your hand to be in, though you wouldn’t change it for the world. Your wrist was at an awkward angle, you couldn’t do much, and there wasn’t much room to move. But that didn’t mean much when Tara was doing most of the work for you, rutting her hips against your hand as if you were good for one thing and one thing only.

“Don’t move,” she gasped, confirming your suspicions. You didn’t really care.

“Fuck,” you groaned as you watched her move, her nails finally splitting your skin ever so slightly. It wouldn’t bleed, but there would be red marks for the next few days. 

Even though Tara wasn’t touching you, there was something satisfying about watching her get herself off on your fingers. Seeing her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth fall open when she hit just the right spot. Feeling how wet she was and how effortlessly she could rut against your fingers. No shame, no regrets, just the pleasure of the moment.

God it was hot.

You watched her as she came, her hips stuttering, giving you the opportunity to finally help out and rub tight circles on her clit. Just enough to sustain her orgasm for a few seconds more. She exhaled sharply and leaned forward on her hands, pushing deeper into your ribs. It made it a little harder to breathe, but when Tara Carpenter was the cause? Well, you would be happy to just suffocate under her touch.

“God you’re hot,” you said softly, not even sure if she would hear you or not. That was okay; it wasn’t the point.

Her eyes finally opened as she caught some semblance of control over her breathing again. The beautiful brown of her eyes was taken over by her dark pupils, and for a moment, she almost looked like she was smiling down at you. Maybe she was, you certainly wouldn’t bring it up to her. Not at that moment, anyway. But then she blinked a few times and shook her head before removing her weight from her hands, unburdening you from suffocation.

“I suppose you’re not entirely insufferable,” she said as she slowly pushed herself off of you, being a little extra careful as she buttoned her pants.

“You’re gonna leave me high and dry, aren’t you?” You asked when she tossed your shirt back in your face.

“You never clarified you wanted to get laid,” she said with a smirk before walking to the door and leaving the room.

You fell back onto the bed and sighed loudly. Your head was thumping with your pre-hangover migraine, your cheek was still sore, and you had a serious case of blue balls. But the mental image of Tara getting herself off on your hand… well, you supposed that would suffice.

For now.

legally binded - 7

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 7: The Afterparty

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: so... lovely weather we're having. 🙂

Word Count: 4k+

“Where’s Y/N?” Enrique asked as the door of the van shuts closed, for a moment, the incessant sounds of camera shutters and the crowd shouting her name become muffled.

And in that same moment, Jenna feels like she can finally breathe properly through her own lungs. 

“Upstairs,” Jenna mumbled, leaning her expertly pinned hair against the headrest, and closing her eyes.

“I take it things didn’t go well?” He fiddled with his cap, frowning as he watched the young actress’ exhausted features.

Jenna hummed in confirmation but said nothing else, looking out the tinted window as the van started driving slowly. 

Staring up at the hotel, she scanned the various, nearly identical windows for your hotel room. Jenna didn’t even know if your room was facing this direction but she looked anyway, a wishful part of herself hoped to catch a glance of you.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay. You two will be okay.”

Jenna snorted, shooting her stylist an incredulous look. “I thought you were mad at her?”

“I’m mad at her for being stupid and for hurting you… even if she is a cutie.” He rolled his eyes, getting comfortable in his seat.

The actress laughed. “Don’t let her hear you say that, you know she has a massive ego.”

Enrique joined in on the laughter before his tone dropped, “You know Sarah and Liv are going to find out that the two of you didn't go to the same party…”

Right now, Jenna could care less about whatever kind of consequence she may get. The embers from her argument with you are still burning bright.

“That’s an issue for later.”

***

Jenna tried to make the best of a bad situation.

She really did.

Even though this wasn’t how she expected to spend the rest of her night — she somehow found a way to let loose. Maybe after she found a few familiar faces that pulled her in to dance, tipped back a few drinks and sang along as Janelle Monae performed for her after-party.

But even still, under the guise of alcohol and a good time. There was an unpleasant churn in her stomach whenever she allowed her mind to drift off to you.

“I’m gonna go to the washroom!” Jenna yelled through the music. Enrique nodded, continuing to cheer Janelle Monae on stage.

Laughing, she walked away while shaking her head; amused at her friend. Glad that he’s having a good time. One of them deserves to be having fun, at least.

As Jenna pushed through the heavy-panelled door of the powder room, she sat on the couch and placed her purse down. Grateful to be stretching her aching legs. 

She takes a second to breathe and in that moment, allowed herself to think about you; wondering which party you went to and who you were surrounded by.

And for a split second, that unpleasant churn in her stomach reemerged as her mind drifted to all the worst possible outcomes of what you could be doing tonight.

Are you safe?

Is someone looking out for you?

Jenna’s decided not to ask Link about you this time, deciding that you two do, in fact, need space for the time being.

She knows she should apologize for the way she acted all day, even all week. Jenna knows she was just projecting her unresolved feelings about you from Coachella and instead of just telling you that she’s been worried and just wants you to talk to her, to let her in. 

She decided to be petty and give into the heat of the moment, instead..

Jenna hopes the two of you can talk about it later tonight. But then she remembers the fact that you’re probably drinking, partying and doing god knows what else so that conversation and apology would probably have to wait until you’ve sobered up.

Standing, Jenna's decided she's had enough of wallowing in her own misery and walked over to the sink to wash her hands.

“Oh, hi!” A sweet-sounding higher pitched voice greeted her from behind after the sound of a door opening and heels clinking.

Immediately, she linked gazes with a certain Hailee Steinfeld through the mirror.

Jenna tried hard to school the surprise on her face.

“Hello…” Jenna smiled politely and glanced away, continuing to wash her hands.

“I’m Hailee…” The other woman greeted, sliding into the sink beside her, a pearly white smile on her full-pink lips.

“I’m Jenna, I would shake your hand but…” She gestured down to the running sink.

Hailee shook her head and laughed. “It’s okay, I’m glad to finally meet you! Can I just say how gorgeous you look! I thought your carpet look was amazing but this — you look stunning!”

“Oh! Uh— Thanks?” This time her surprise is hard to subdue. Feeling flushed under the weight of the other woman’s compliments.

She's never been great at accepting them. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed,” Hailee smiled sheepishly. Her thick brows furrowing in her own embarrassment. 

The heat begins to crawl up her neck. “It’s okay! I— I appreciate it. You look gorgeous as well.” 

Taking the time to scan her, the younger actress has to crane her neck up to see Hailee’s face — it’s no wonder you ended up dating her. The woman is gorgeous. 

She tries to stave the green-eyed monster clawing at her chest at the thought of you two together because the woman standing across from her has been surprisingly pleasant.

“Please!” Hailee waves off, smiling softly, turning to wash her own hands.

Jenna allows the silence to take over the room, unsure of what to say next. After washing her hands, she turned off the sink and walked over to grab paper towels.

Hailee cuts in before she can think about it too hard.

“Hey,” The singer called out as Jenna was about to pick up her purse, “thank you... for looking out for her.”

“What?” Jenna turned, raising her brows in question.

Hailee sighed, leaning against the counter to face Jenna.

“I know Y/N’s not the… easiest. She tends to push people away. I think it’s just the way she’s always been. I’m not really sure. With the whole Vegas situation and these rumours going around about a possible arrest — which, you know, is bullshit, Y/N doesn’t do drugs — her first instinct would’ve been to run and push people away. But you’re still here… so something tells me you’re special.”

Jenna feels her heart drop at the other woman’s words. 

“Y/N can be reckless and cold at times, but I think it’s just an act," She continued; smile contorting sadly, “so she doesn’t actually have to open up to people… I’ve—uh, tried, so I kinda know.”

Jenna was stunned, unsure of what to say to that. Hailee made it sound like you were the one that got away or something. She also caught the openness that accompanied her tone, like the other woman had accepted the circumstances of the situation.

Like she just... let it be.

There wasn’t a lot of things Jenna was certain about but she knew she didn't want to feel that way about you, to just accept your coldness and inability to let people in.

“Anyways, she said you’ve kept her standing on her feet these last few months.” Hailee smiled softly, sincerity burning bright in her eyes. “So thank you, 'cause she deserves someone patient like you.” 

“Thank you…” Jenna finally managed to say despite the barbed wire feeling around her throat.

You really said that? Did you mean it?

If you did then she feels terrible.

“No, thank you, I was scared Link and Y/N were gonna grow old and still be living together. They’re weirdly co-dependent.” Hailee jokes, breaking the heaviness in the room.

Jenna couldn’t help the snort that leaves her mouth. 

And just like that, it felt like two friends enjoying an inside joke.

Jenna's laughter trails off before it turns to a heavy sigh as she grabs her purse. “So I should probably apologize to her, huh?”

The corner of Hailee's mouth tugs a small smug smile. “Depends on what she did… maybe let her sweat it out for a bit more then apologize.”

Jenna chuckled before nodding. “Noted… thank you, Hailee.”

Hailee nods, smiling softly as Jenna turned to walk out of the bathroom.

A surprisingly pleasant feeling appeared in her chest the farther she walked away.  

She felt a bit lighter after that conversation, which is a shock considering she just talked to your ex-girlfriend. For a moment, Jenna felt guilty for her earlier reservations about the other woman. Not wanting to admit that she had let her jealousy cloud her judgment of character.

Hailee had nothing but great things to say about her — and you for that matter. A testament to how, despite your hot and cold demeanour, there’s someone worth knowing underneath.

Ugh. She hated it when she was wrong.

But there was also that nagging echo in her head that had to admit that she was glad she was wrong about you.

I’m sorry for what I said. Can I come see you? Are you still at the other after-party?

Swallowing her pride, she hit send then walked back to the party to find Enrique, hoping she can distract herself as she waits for your reply.

20 minutes go by without a response and Jenna doesn’t know if she should start feeling annoyed or worried; the line between the two is thinning by the second, she concluded. She decided she leaned more on the latter and stepped away from the party once again. Roaming the halls before stepping out onto a secluded balcony; grateful for the warm night in the early May month. 

Pulling out her phone from her clutch, she called Link immediately, knowing that if anyone knew your whereabouts it’d be him.

“Hello?” Link answered breathlessly and in the background, the actress can hear sounds of traffic and people talking over one another.

“Link? Can you hear me?” Jenna spoke into the lonely night air.

“Yeah— yeah, sorry.” It sounded like Link walked away from the noise because when he spoke again, it sounded much clearer. But she immediately noted the urgency in his voice. “Hey.”

“Hey, I texted Y/N 20 minutes ago but she didn’t respond, is everything okay?” Jenna got to the point, chewing her lip.

“Shit—“ Link cursed. “Uh, about that.”

“Link, what does that mean?” Jenna felt every muscle in her body tense at his words, like before a big drop on a rollercoaster.

“We can’t find her.” Link confessed. 

Jenna’s stomach dropped. Yeah, except that rollercoaster has just derailed.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” 

“We lost her. She said she was going to the bathroom but she never came back.” He recounted nervously.

“What—“ Jenna was dumbfounded, mind on overdrive as a sudden wave of coldness washed over her body as she processes what she’s just been told.

You're missing.

No one knows where you are.

“Are you looking for her now?” Jenna manages to ask, gripping the balcony railing for support. She thinks she feels a little light-headed but she pushes that thought away because you are more important, right now.

“Yes, of course. We checked everywhere. But uh—it’s been almost two hours since anyone’s seen her…” Link hesitated before confessing.

The last thing they need is for Jenna to start freaking out too.

Jenna’s stomach dropped again. This time she feels like she’s been launched off the rollercoaster entirely and is free-falling mid-air.

“Hey, hey, it’ll be okay. She does this, it’s kinda her thing. We’ll find her soon. Don’t worry.” Link reassured after Jenna doesn’t respond.

“When was the last time that she did this, Link?” Jenna asked shakily.

A beat passed before the man answered. “Vegas…”

“Shit…” They said in unison.

“What—what do we do?” Jenna asked.

“Just keep texting and calling her. I’m out looking for her right now, I have her entire security team with me.” He reassured her once again but she can still hear the trepidation in his tone.

“Okay…” Jenna trails off, not really sure if she’s actually listening at this point.

“Jenna— we’ll find her, don’t worry.” Link said with certainty but it didn’t ease the anxiety in her chest.

“I know…” Jenna mumbled, grasping her phone with a mighty grip and forced herself to take a calming breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll start calling her. Maybe I should go back to her room, in case she comes back?”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, keep me updated Jen.” 

“I will.”

The line goes dead as Link hangs up.

“Shit.” Even with Jenna’s trembling fingers, she contacted your number with haste.

But the call never even rang. 

***

It’s past 2 AM and no one has still heard from you. 

She had left you a total of 26 missed calls and almost 50 text messages. That’s not even counting the ones she’s sent you through Enrique’s phone.

At this point, Jenna was ready to go to the police but Link advised her that they wouldn’t be able to do anything because it hasn’t been 24 hours yet. Your closest confidant also warned her of adding fuel to the fire with the press if headlines that you're missing are released.

The actress feels an excruciatingly sharp pain forming in between her brows; the early stages of a migraine, the longer she paced around your room.

“Where is she, Link?” She chewed on the bottom lip, anxiously. “What if something bad happened? She doesn’t have security with her...”

“Her whole team has been driving around the city looking for her but we already checked the other after-parties and she wasn’t there. I hate to say it, Jenna, but if Y/N doesn’t want to be found, you won’t.” Link sat down on the couch in the living room.

The wrinkled exhaustion and worry were clear as day on his face. Jenna sighed, sitting down beside him. “I know you tried your best. Thank you for looking…”

“Yeah… of course. How are you though?” He turned, scanning her equally exhausted features. 

“I feel terrible if I had just tabled it like she said–”

“Hey–” Link cuts in, shaking his head. “Don’t. Y/N’s gonna do whatever she wants, you can’t put this one on you.” 

Jenna nods unconvincingly, slumping against her seat. “What about you? How are you?”

He stared off, deep in thought. “She’s like my sister, you know. We didn’t have it easy growing up. I know she’s— stand-offish and hard to get along with at times…”

Jenna turned to face him at his sudden confession, deciding to stay silent.

“You can’t even imagine how many times I’ve tried to quit being her assistant.” Link chuckled, looking up at the ceiling. “But I could never really do it. ‘Cause even though she has these massive walls around herself and that annoying-ass nonchalant attitude. I know sometimes this job is a lot… even for her.”

Jenna huffed, slouching back into the soft couch, trying to be understanding. “I know… trust me I know the job, we all do–”

Link shakes his head. “You don’t. Not her story at least…”

Snapping her head to the side, she watches the assistant’s side profile, noting the deep wrinkle on his forehead. “What does that mean?”

She couldn’t help but ask.

He sighed, “It’s not my place to say but Y/N's been through some stuff. Stuff that you wouldn't wish on anyone.”

“What?”

He sighed again, debating if he should open the can of worms. “At the time, I was living with my grandmother. She’s the only family I have left, it’s probably why I can’t let go of Y/N too. The money I make from working with her, I send to take care of my nan… But even with all that, Y/N was dealing with her mom.”

“She told me she was controlling or something — wanted more money?” Jenna scrunched her nose in disgust at how someone can treat their own flesh and blood like that.

“She wasn’t just controlling, Jenna… she tried to sue Y/N over it. She tried to take away her right to make decisions over her own career and when that didn’t work she tried to get her to quit the industry."

Jenna’s stomach dropped. “What?”

Linked nodded, watching Jenna’s stunned reaction. “Yeah… Jake and Liv fought against it. It never turned into a legal case, thank god. The judge dismissed her claims but it really fucked with her head you know. That her own mother could do that to her."

Jenna stared off into nothing as she processed his words.

No wonder you’re so closed off and scared to let people in. She felt sick to her stomach thinking about what you’ve gone through and how, even despite all of that, you still managed to stay standing on your own two feet and carry on as if nothing happened.

She wonders how long it’s been since you’ve really let anyone in.

“I knew she’d been dealing with things… these last few months. She had a packed year last year and her schedule was only getting busier. She never outwardly said it was becoming too much but I could see it. It started small; missing texts, calls, alarms… then she wouldn’t come home cause she was partying all night… it got too much. I think that singer and his friends were taking advantage of her fame but she always brushed me off whenever I said something. We even got into a big fight before Vegas so I stayed with a friend for a couple of days to cool off.”

“Link…” Jenna trailed off, she heard the guilty tone accompanied by his words. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No… I know. Y/N’s going to do what she wants, I’ve learned to accept it. It still doesn’t make me feel any better that she’s in this situation and that I could’ve done something to prevent it.”

Link cleared his throat, sitting up a bit. “Just saying… from Y/N’s person to the other – I get what you’re feeling. She’s definitely not the easiest but I don’t know… when she shows she cares, you know she means it.”

“You think I’m Y/N’s person?” Jenna asked shocked. “We barely know each other.”

Link rolled his eyes, sending her a flat look. “Yeah ‘cause you two communicate through silent looks and then don’t talk about your feelings. If you guys fix your shit then maybe you can be her person too.” 

Jenna opened her mouth for a rebuttal but the sound of something smacking against the wall interrupted her.

Immediately, the assistant and actress spring up, walking spritely to the foyer. When they round the corner, Jenna is torn between feeling relieved or furious.

They spot you, slumped against the wall nearly slipping on your own two feet, piss-fucking-drunk as you dropped the keycard to the floor.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Link scoffed but briskly walked over to help you up, throwing your arm over his shoulder. "What the hell happened to you?"

“Sorry for being a disappointment, Dad.” You mumbled as Link dragged you down the hallway. Eyes barely opened and even then, Jenna can see the alcohol-muddled haze through your slow blinks. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Jenna echoed as she watched how you had to be carried, too drunk to do it yourself. 

It scared her, this was not a version of you that she liked. 

She doesn’t want to listen to that small voice in her head again, the one that’s saying you’re bad news. You’re a party animal, this is what you do. You’re reckless. But the other part of her wants to give you a chance to explain yourself, especially after what Link just told her – it’s hard to keep that sentiment when you act like this though.

“Oh hey, Jenna.” You waved as if nothing is wrong, toothy smile on your lips. “I tried looking for you at the party… then I realized we fought and that’s why you weren’t with me. Are you still mad at me?”

Jenna didn’t know what to say so she kept quiet and followed Link as he lead you to the bedroom, nearly throwing you onto the mattress. 

“Fuck, Y/N. You can’t keep doing this.” Link sighed out, taking a few steps back from the bed to scan you. 

“Who’s gonna stop me?” You snorted, sitting up to tug your shoes off, chucking them without care.

“Dude, for real? We spent nearly four hours looking for your ass. Do you realize what kind of trouble you could’ve gotten into if–” 

“–yeah, yeah,” You wave off and Jenna can see Link’s eye twitching and jaw clenching in anger. He knew better than to fight with a drunk person. Especially if that person is you. 

He lets out a deep breath, then turned to younger actress, “I can’t be around her right now. I’m sorry.” 

Then he walked away, slamming the door loudly behind him making Jenna flinch. A few seconds of silence pass without a single movement.

“What are you still doing here?” You asked in a snipped tone, breaking the quietude. Jenna doesn’t know if she should feel offended. 

Crossing her arms, she scans your dishevelled attire. Your tie is loose, buttons are undone, and dress shirt is half-tucked – in short, you looked like a hot mess. “I’ve been calling you all night, where have you been?”

“Phone died.” You yanked your blazer off, throwing it on the floor, “and out… drinking.”

“With who? By yourself or with someone?” Jenna asked, walking closer, and helping you take off your tie.

“Doesn’t matter..” You grumbled as she helped you, looking at a spot on the wall and Jenna clenched her jaw cause you were closing up again.

“Well, it matters to me,” She yanked the tie off your neck.

“Why?” You looked up at her.

“What?”

“Why do you care so much? I thought this was all just for the press?” You pushed off the bed, wobbling on your feet. Jenna took a few steps back but kept close, in case you needed help but you shrugged her attempts away.

She tried not to take it personally.

Jenna called after you but you ignored her and just stumbled to the bathroom. She trails behind, still keeping a close eye.

“No, seriously. You kiss me and let me stay with your family and then you shut me down? What kind of fucked up shit is that?” You spoke up, venom laced in your words.

Jenna knows it’s the alcohol talking. But drunk words, sober thoughts?

“Well guess what? Fuck that. I may be closed off but at least I don’t lead people on.” You seethe, stopping in your tracks to spin around and face her.

The anger in your eyes is not an emotion she had seen before. This was different than your other petty disputes and arguments. You meant it.

Jenna blinked, shaking her head furiously, “What? No! That’s not what I’m doing.”

“I don’t care! I’m over it. If you wanna believe the press over me like everyone else, go ahead. I’m fucking used to it.” You grumbled, turning away to keep walking but this time Jenna grabbed your elbow, stopping you.

“Can you just stop for a second and let me explain!” But you yanked back like you’ve been burned and Jenna thinks she can physically feel her heart splitting down the middle. 

“No, fuck that!” You yelled before taking a deep breath, using Jenna's stunned silence as a chance to keep talking. You looked deeply into her eyes and said the next words with pure conviction. ”I’m sick of trusting people and letting them in just to be fucking burned over and over again — After the Met Gala, I’ll go to Jake and Liv and tell them this is over. Next week, it’ll be three months anyway. Then, we’ll never have to see each other again.” 

There was no slurring in your voice or wobble in your stance as you said those words.

Jenna blinked back the tears forming in her eyes, clenching her jaw. Not recognizing this version of you standing across from her.

This isn’t the same person that treated her family kindly and won over their hearts.

This isn’t the same person that won over her heart.

So, she listened.

“Okay….” Jenna nodded weakly, then turned walking out of your room not being able to look into your eyes.

She missed the instant regret in them as you tracked her disappearing figure.

***

i told y’all this slow burn would be slowwwww.

***

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***

everyone but her pt.31

Summary: Nightmares continue to plague your thoughts, along with a bit of insecurity. At least Wednesday is willing to remind you of your place in her life.

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, nightmares, mentions of murder, suggestive themes at the end Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

Your eyes flew open, a harsh gasp falling from your lips into the dark room. The pillow under your face felt wet, suffocating, drowning you until you could come to your senses long enough to lift your head. Your wings weighed heavy on your back, pulling at the tendons and stretching them enough to become uncomfortable. Pushing yourself up with your arms proved difficult, but you finally managed to free yourself from the tangled mess of blankets and limbs and wings and sat kneeled on the bed.

Wednesday was still asleep on the other side of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest in her usual sleeping position. She always looked so peaceful when she was sleeping; her bangs slid to the sides of her face and she lost that perpetual frown of hers. Just seeing her looking so calm and at ease in the night had your heart thumping so loudly you swore it would wake the dead. 

However, as Wednesday stayed sleeping, you started to wonder what had woken you up in the first place. Very clearly it hadn’t been Wednesday; she barely breathed let alone moved, at least more often than not. The room was still entirely dark thanks to the blackout curtains she had bought, and as you listened there was nary a sound even from the cars below.

Alex’s scream bounced between the trees.

Blood splashed across your face.

A fire scorched your wings-

-you pressed your knuckles into your eyes until you could see stars behind your eyelids. If you thought it would help, you would have gouged your eyes out of their sockets to rid yourself of the sound of Alex’s screaming. You had heard his screams before, like when he scorpioned on a black diamond a few years ago, but this had been different.

It was a death scream.

With hands still pressed to your eyes, you shook your head slowly. You wanted the images and sounds out, wanted them to stop bouncing off the inside of your skull like that DVD logo on old movies. It left a pressure in your head that you couldn’t ease even with the shaking and pressing against your eyes.

When the images refused to fade, you sighed softly and let your fists fall to your thighs. Alex’s shattered sunglasses sat in your peripheral, shining in the nonexistent light from the room. You gotta check on him. Yeah, that was what you needed to do. You needed to go check on him.

Now.

With a gentleness that you rarely possessed, you slid yourself off the bed without disturbing Wednesday. You checked, of course you did, her sleep was more important than anything else. But once you were sure she was asleep, you grabbed your phone off the charger and walked into the common room.

No one was out there and the TV was turned off, of course. None of you paid for electricity, but that didn’t mean you were raised by animals; no need to waste. In the dark, you could almost see the silhouette of a ghost that had your eyes. A ghost you had been seeing more frequently since that day on the rooftop.

You squeezed your eyes shut again, silently begging him to go away. There were already too many thoughts in your head without adding him to it. If he wanted to help, he could suppress the images. He had done it before without permission, so he could do it again if he was determined to hang around.

Small tremors ran through your hands.

A sigh left your lips as you rubbed your eyes. You were spiralling. Again. It wasn’t the time to be getting angry about something that didn’t even matter anymore. You had come out to the living room with a purpose, so you just needed to check on Alex and go back to bed. It’s where Wednesday was, and you just needed to finish everything and get back to her.

Pops’ number was on speed dial; it had been since… so it was mindless to press the number and hold the phone to your ear. 

Ring. 

It was probably late. 

Ring. 

Maybe he was sleeping. 

Ring. 

Or something worse, and your nightmares had been right. 

Ring. 

Oh god they were probably all lying in their beds bleeding out and-

“-Hello?” You let out a shaky exhale.

“Hey Pop,” you said softly. Weakly. So fucking weak.

“Y/N?” He asked; you heard shuffling from the other end of the phone. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Is Alex home?” You asked, completely ignoring his question. Your personal ghost reappeared in your peripheral.

“Course he is,” he answered, his voice still croaky from sleep.

You started pacing between the couch and the kitchen table. “Can you check?”

“Did somethin’ happen-”

“-Can you just go check?” Silence. “Please?”

“Okay, baby,” he said softly. Soft enough to make you feel like glass. Maybe you were.

You kept the phone to your ear as that familiar silhouette stayed in your peripheral, a little closer now. It used to be a comfort when you were younger, now he was touching on every single nerve in your body. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Now it was just cruel. You couldn’t keep your head straight if he didn’t just leave you alone.

“Alex and Daniel are safe in bed.” Pop’s voice pulled you away from your spiral, and that ghost disappeared along with the pain that had been growing in the back of your skull.

“Good,” you exhaled. “That’s good. Thank you.”

“You okay, baby?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” you said with a nod of your head that he couldn’t even see. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s alright,” he answered without hesitation. “Need anything else before bed?”

You looked around the empty living room. “No sir.”

“Then get some sleep, little bird,” Pop said.

You bid your goodnights, hanging up the phone before he could ask anymore questions. Only after hanging up did you notice it was a little after three in the morning. Far too late to have been calling him. It made you sick. Were you going to be keeping everyone on edge for the rest of their lives? Maybe your parents were right. You were just a burden-

“Cara mia?”

A cold hand touched you on the arm, so softly it was difficult to tell if it was even real. But you turned around and saw Wednesday standing there, fighting the sleep in her eyes even though you knew she would kill you if you mentioned it. Her nails scratched your skin lightly and you could almost physically feel yourself coming back down to earth, back to reality.

“Did I wake you?” You asked, turning your body to face hers.

“The lack of your insufferable body heat left the bed cold,” she said with a shrug and a dismissive shake of her head.

“So yes,” you said. Wednesday just looked at you.

There was a hesitation in her eyes. She opened her mouth slightly as if to say something but closed it again. You didn’t know what she was hesitant about. Did she even want you to join her in bed again? Or did she wish for you to just stay on the couch? Not that you would blame her if that was the case, you had been keeping her awake for weeks.

Wednesday’s hands lifted to rest on your cheeks, holding you still and keeping you looking at her. In return, your hands fell to her waist as if she would float away. If she had said her fingers held some kind of magic, you would have believed her in an instant. Even though her hands were cold, they were so unbelievably soft and held you as if you were made of glass. Not in a fearful way as if you would break, but in a gentle way to ensure you were safe. To remind you that you were loved.

“Come back to bed,” she said quietly, her eyes never leaving yours.

And oh. Oh, how could you possibly say no to that?

“Okay,” you said with a nod.

Her thumbs rubbed over your cheek bones before she let go and grabbed you by the hand instead. Gently, she pulled you back toward the room, watching you the whole time. Maybe she thought you would run away if she turned back around. Had you given her that sense of paranoia? Had you truly worried her by this point?

You kicked the door shut as quietly as possible while Wednesday continued to pull you further to the bed. It only took the most miniscule amount of effort for her to pull you onto the bed next to her, being careful to let you adjust your wings. One behind you and the other hanging in the air, undecided if it was going to cover you both or not.

Wednesday turned to face you and moved closer until she could place her head between your collar and jaw. Her hands folded over each other before being pulled to her chest, similar to how she slept on her back. You waited patiently until she was settled before wrapping your arm around her. Your wing was quick to follow, creating a feathery blanket over the both of you.

“You’re too warm,” she said. Her breath tickled your neck.

“I know,” you said back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head for good measure as you both settled.

You both had such funny ways of saying I love you.

—---

“You’ve got a guest tonight,” Tio said, sitting on the chair you were in the process of finishing.

You stopped and dusted your hands off as you turned to look at where Wednesday was studying at your desk. The headphones she had reluctantly accepted from you rested over her ears, leaving her completely unaware of the rest of the room. Which was the point, of course, but still. It was downright adorable to see her at your desk with your headphones and your jacket.

Maybe Yoko was right. You were a simp.

"She's been uncharacteristically clingy," you said not unkindly. Tio laughed.

"It's her way of showing love," he said as if you weren't already aware. It certainly made you feel better to hear it from someone else though. "How have you been?"

"Tio," you sighed.

"Be honest, pollito."

"I appreciate you asking," you said as you stood up and grabbed your tools, "but I'm really fine."

"So the bags under your eyes are designer?" He asked, following you while you walked by everyone's projects, inspecting every inch you could find.

"My inability to sleep has nothing to do with my mental well being," you said with a shake of your head. Your fingers traced a groove in one of the cabinets; you would need to fill it.

"You're starting to talk like her," he pointed out as he proceeded to sit on another project and grab the apple off of Simon's desk, promptly biting into it with a satisfying crunch.

"I talk like me," you defended.

"I noticed the books on your desk yesterday," he said. You sighed. This man was going to go through every topic in the world at the rate he was going. "Since when did you care about chemistry?"

"Just got curious, Tio," you said as you stood up again and walked off. He was quick on your heels. "Is that a crime?"

"Doesn't Wednesday's ex study chemistry?"

"Tio." You spun on your heels.

He looked you in the eyes and took another bite of the apple, slow and with intent. He was well aware he had crossed a line, there was no way he didn’t know. And yet there was no indication that he was going to take his question back. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your fingers twitch.

“She likes you whether you know chemistry or not,” he said with a gesture of his head toward your desk.

You sighed and moved only your eyes to look at Wednesday. She was still studying, looking at her textbooks, sitting at your desk. Tio’s words echoed in your head and you could almost picture her with Joel. He was smart; incredibly smart. Too smart, if you were being honest. But he could hold conversations with her in a way you couldn’t. They could be weird and smart together and she enjoyed it, everyone could see it.

And then she looked up and locked eyes with you, and the air left your lungs while the shop disappeared. It was only you and her and if you listened, you could practically hear her heart beating in sync with yours. Just like that, you didn’t think about Joel. She wasn’t with him, she was with you. She shared her room and her life and her time with you, not anyone else.

“Told you,” Tio’s voice said, and your eyes snapped back to him.

“You’re insufferable,” you said. You winced when he smirked at you. “I meant you’re a dick.”

“Now you sound like yourself again, pollito,” he said as he continued to eat the apple.

You left him standing there, laughing to himself, as you walked over to your desk. Wednesday took notice and put her book down again before slipping the headphones off her ears, leaving them hanging around her neck. There was the slightest indent on the top of her hair from the weight. If you didn’t think she would kill you for it, you would’ve teased her.

“Yes?” She asked when you sat down on top of the desk, your feet barely touching the ground.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times; it was something she disliked, but she tolerated it for you. Enid had filled you in on that little detail. It wasn’t against you personally, she just found it moronic. Which, you supposed, that fit you perfectly. But you couldn’t help it, the words just wouldn’t come out.

Don’t ask, the voice in your head demanded. Don’t sound desperate. Part of you agreed. If you asked the question then you would be showing her your hand. Wednesday didn’t like unnecessary weakness, and this would be your way of showing one of them. Realistically, she would probably hate it.

But on the other hand…

“Do you like me more than Joel?” You asked.

Wednesday opened her mouth once before shutting it. Ouch. You could feel your heart attempting to claw its way up your throat to place itself at her feet. Maybe if it did, she wouldn’t tell you what you were so anxious she was going to say. You knew you shouldn’t have asked, it was a stupid question that was just going to hurt your feelings. She opened her mouth once more.

You both turned your heads quickly when the front door of the shop swung open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud slam. Two policemen walked in, each with a hand on their gun. You knew that position; they were expecting a fight. You shared a look with Tio before you hopped off the desk and walked your way over, cutting them off before they could get too far in.

“Can I help you, officers?” You asked politely, making sure to stand in between them and Simon. Get him out, Tio.

“We need you to come back down to the station for a few more questions,” the shorter one asked. Her grip tightened on the butt of her gun.

“About what?” You asked. Something shuffled behind you.

“The double homicide from New Year’s Eve,” she said. Her eyes darted to your right side before going back to you.

Your heart dropped at that little tidbit of information. What could they be questioning you about again? Sure, you had drank a little too much, didn’t remember the entire night, but you remembered damn near all of it. What else could you tell them? You admitted to the fight, you admitted to having been drinking, there was nothing else to say.

They don’t trust you.

“Just let me grab my things?” You asked, pointing your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of your desk.

“Sure thing,” the police woman said with a hesitant nod.

You refused to completely turn your back on them as you speed walked back to your desk, keeping your eyes on them as you grabbed your wallet and phone. Wednesday was looking at you with an intensity that you couldn’t quite place. As  discreetly as possible, you shook your head.

“Go home,” you whispered before walking back to the officers. “All set.”

“Everyone here legal?” The taller officer asked. You followed his gaze to see he was looking directly at Tio and Wednesday.

“As legal as you and me,” you said quickly.

The taller officer glared at you as his thumb flicked open the strap on the top of his holster. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears as you watched him. Take him out, the voice growled. For the first time in a while, you didn’t disagree. If he so much as looked at any of them wrong, you wouldn’t hesitate.

“Let’s go,” the shorter cop said.

You didn’t dare take your eyes off the taller one, and he didn’t take his eyes off you. If he wanted to play hard ball, you would play. When he placed the strap back over his gun, you let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t known you were holding. You readjusted your jaw and looked down at the floor, counting the specks of woodshavings.

When the two officers turned around and started walking out, you were quick to follow. You glanced back one more time to see Wednesday watching you. You tried to give her a confident smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. Please go home, you thought when you turned back around and finished making your way to the cruiser.

You were getting really tired of all these police visits.

—---

The sun was starting to set by the time you finally walked out of the police station. A gruelling… four hours, if you were right. No wonder your back was stiff, they needed to get comfier chairs. If they were going to keep people in there for hours at a time then the least they could do was help prevent fucking scoliosis or some shit like that.

We’ll be in touch, the male cop had said when you tried to leave the room. You didn’t trust him. He had stared at you a little too long, a little too harshly. He certainly thought you were guilty about something. Jokes on him, the only thing you were guilty of was agreeing to talk to them without a lawyer.

Maybe it would be smart to call Señor Moreno.

The wind was cold as the temperature dropped along with the sun. It was the start of a beautiful sunset from what you could see. It dropped along with any hope you had that you would get home at a decent hour. You pulled your phone out and looked at the lock screen; a picture of Wednesday on one of the rare occasions where she almost smiled.

A distraction. You were very much in need of a distraction from… everything.

You started walking away from the police station as you scrolled through your contacts, pulling up her name and starting the call. A part of you, a very large part, knew she wouldn’t answer. She would rather die than have to use the phone you had given her back at Nevermore. But while it continued to ring, you secretly hoped she would answer. It was rather important, after all.

“Addams residence.”

You didn’t even bother stopping your smile. “Up for a date with a murder suspect?”

“Yes,” Wednesday said without hesitation. “Now?”

“Why not,” you said with a shrug that no one could see. “I’ll send you the address, Enid can help you pull it up.”

“Should I bring anything?”

“I’ll take care of it,” you said, immediately running through a list of things you could grab from the shop. “Meet me at the address in 30?”

“That will be acceptable,” she said.

“See you soon, Willa,” you said, smiling when you heard her little huff from the other end of the line. She only tolerated the nickname from Enid.

“Good bye,” she said softly before hanging up the call.

You chuckled to yourself as you typed out the address of the hiking trail before putting your phone back in your pocket and heading to the shop. Most everything should already be in the extra bag you and Tio kept behind his desk. A blanket, some snacks, some drinks. The perfect getaway bag that no one was allowed to know about.

The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon when you got to the park. You removed the bag and worked on taking your harness off, placing it in the duffle. If you could convince Wednesday to let you fly her, you could get to your destination with plenty of time to watch the sunset. You weren’t going to let that stupid interrogation keep you down. You were innocent.

“Be strong,” Nicky’s voice said, and in the peripheral you could see his shadow against the tree.

It had been a while since he had actually talked to you.

“Not a place I would choose for a date,” he continued. The shadow moved to your other side.

“Good,” you said, “because it’s not your date.”

He chuckled, a weird, watery sound that you couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It almost sounded like it was inside your skull, echoing and bouncing off the bone and leaving your eyes moving from side to side. But it also sounded like it was floating on the wind, twirling through the leaves and resting on the grass like dew. Nothing like his normal voice.

Still. It was better than nothing.

“Here she comes.”

Nicky’s voice faded out as you turned around to see Wednesday approaching. She was still wearing your jacket, leaving it hanging past her fingers and nearly touching her knees. Her usual scowl was present but it softened when she locked eyes with you. Not that she smiled, but you would take what you could get.

“Enid said you’re picking up on my proclivities for unusual activities,” she said when she stepped closer. With no one around, she instantly reached over and slotted her fingers between yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s not unusual,” you said as you pulled her into the woods with you. “It’s romantic.”

“You’re dragging me through the woods at night,” she said. “It’s an excellent idea.”

“See?” You said with a smile. “Romantic.” You pulled her closer, nice and tight to your chest.

“Don’t,” she said as she looked up at you with a frown.

“Love you,” you said before bending your knees and propelling you both into the air.

Wednesday was getting particularly good at keeping her screams to herself when you forced her to fly. You knew she hated it, and you really did try not to do it often. Whether it was her fear of flying, or heights, or the unexpectedness of it all, you weren’t entirely sure. All you knew was she hated it and you usually ended up sleeping on the couch later that night.

You landed on the cliff’s edge and let her go, holding her by the waist until you were sure she was steady. The landing, though one of your more graceful ones, left just enough noise to bounce off the walls of the cave behind you. Wednesday looked around, and you let her go, dropping the bag to the ground and pulling out the blanket and snacks.

“A cave?” She asked. Her eyes were glued to the opening.

“A bat colony lives in it,” you said as you smoothed out the blanket on the ground. You hoped it would be thick enough to be comfortable. “Not as cool as birds, but I guess they’re okay.”

A smile finally graced her lips. “You certainly know how to capture someone’s heart.”

“Come on,” you said, finally patting the spot beside you.

Wednesday promptly walked over and sat down, folding her legs to her left side and leaning toward you. From the spot where you were both sitting, you could watch the sun sink below the horizon, illuminating the individual leaves of the trees in a stunning orange glow. It warmed your chest and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, you felt safe.

“Have they deemed you a viable suspect?”

“Wednesday,” you groaned, throwing your head back so hard you fell back to the ground. Your wings crumpled underneath you, leaving a twinge at the base of the limbs and your back arching to relieve it.

“It’s a valid question,” she said, laying down on her side to look at you. “Have they deemed you capable of murder?”

“I mean,” you sighed, “I am capable. Do you not remember last year?”

“I… try not to,” she said.

“What, you didn’t think I looked good in handcuffs?” You teased.

But when you turned your head to look at Wednesday, a goofy smile on your face, she was already looking at you. It was a look you didn’t think you had ever seen from her before. Her pupils were blown and her lips were parted ever so slightly. Why was she looking at you like that? Your smile fell slowly as realisation hit.

Oh.

You chuckled nervously before looking away, now looking up at the stars that were just starting to appear. Oh, this didn’t quite seem like the distraction you had thought. What if she… oh geez. Oh geez. You didn’t know what to do, what if she thought you were being ridiculous?

The blanket tugged a bit underneath you, and you turned your head again to see Wednesday moving closer until she was practically leaning over you. Oh geez. Butterflies swarmed your stomach. Why are you so nervous, you thought, you’ve kissed her before. But this felt different, and you weren’t entirely sure what to do.

“Wednesday?” You asked, your voice sounding croaky and weak. How pathetic, the voice said.

“Earlier you asked if I liked you more than Joel,” she said, her own voice sounding a little rough.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. You went to move your head away, but Wednesday’s perfectly manicured fingers grasped your chin, keeping you looking at her.

“I would like to show you how much more I like you.”

You swallowed harshly.

You nodded once and looked down at her lips. That seemed to be all she needed before she leaned down, her soft lips pressing against yours and erasing every single thought in your head. Her grip on your chin was gentle but firm, and the only thing you could think about was how she had turned you into putty in her hands.

She was going to ruin your life.

You couldn’t have been more excited for anything in your life.

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

Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove @karsonromanoff @elduster

legally binded - 8

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 8: Beetlejuice and London Blues

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: hey y’all. I’m gonna be taking a break from this series for a bit after I post this. I’m gonna be real busy this summer, so LB updates probably won’t be weekly for a while. thanks for understanding!

Word Count: 8.2k+ (these are getting longer)

“Fuck me.”

A mistake.

You made a mistake.

Was your first thought when you woke up with the sun shining directly into your eyelids; the throbbing pain deep in your skull was the first symptom of your grave oversight. 

“Fuck you is right…” A loud voice pierces through the silence in the room and the pounding in your head worsened immediately. 

Turning over at a snails pace, you find Link leaning against the doorframe, with a bitter frown on his face. 

“What did I do?” You moaned, holding your head in your hands.

“Other than be a massive asshole? Drink yourself stupid.” He says bluntly, walking into the room and placing a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table.

Pushing yourself up, you continue to loudly groan despite the pounding in your skull and desperately reached for the medicine bottle. After popping two in and washing it down it some water, you leaned against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

Being ran over by an 18-wheeler and somehow managing to survive would be a fair comparison to your current condition.

“I don’t remember how I got back.” 

“We don’t know either, you just opened the door…”

“Right.” Hazy memories of last night’s escapades we’re starting to come back.

“What the hell, Y/N, we were looking for your ass for almost four hours.” He crossed his arms, staring you down as his nose flared in anger.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, closing your eyes. The familiar feeling of guilt rumbled in your chest the longer you met his judging eyes.

After sneaking off to the bathroom, you knew you had to take the opportunity to escape that after-party. You thought drinking your problems away and partying would help distract you from your argument with Jenna. But your efforts proved fruitless. The longer you stood in that loud room, the more suffocating it felt; Jenna’s words echoing mercilessly in your head. 

So you slipped out without letting anyone know. Dumb idea, I know.

You had full intentions of going for a walk to clear your head, thinking of what to say to Jenna and then making your way back to the hotel to wait for her so you could talk, but before that could happen…

“Well, well, well… look who it is.” 

Dropping your hand that was holding your phone limply by your side, you perk up. All thoughts of calling an Uber back to the hotel were forgotten as you turned; feeling your blood run cold immediately at the familiar voice.

“Damon.” You greet flatly. 

“Aw, come on, that’s how you greet an old friend?” He held a hand to his chest, walking forward. “Vegas was so long ago, don’t you miss my company?” 

“Not particularly no.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.

“You don’t mean that, baby…” He stood in your space, leaning into you. You held your head up, not intimidated by his presence.

“What are you even doing here? Last time I checked, you weren’t invited to the Met.” You grit. There’s no way his C-list ass was invited to one of the biggest social events of the year. 

“I was someone’s plus one.” He answered, shrugging.

You roll your eyes because of course he wasn't even invited. He was always sliming his way into events.

“Come on, we used to have so much fun…” He leaned closer.

“Get out of my face.” You grit, standing your ground.

“You don’t really blame me for Vegas, do you?” He stepped back, annoyance growing as his brows furrowed.

You bit back a laugh, spatting out. “Of course I do! You had coke on you – snorting that shit in a fucking strip club with me beside you. The hell were you thinking?”

He crossed his arms, anger steadily masking over his features. “You weren’t complaining about wanting to get fucked up before that. Actually, you were the one that begged me to leave L.A.”

You glare at him as you’re reminded of that weekend three months ago. “Clearly that was a mistake. The press thinks it was mine, Damon.”

He shrugged, smirking.  “Beats me.”

Your glare hardens as you clenched your jaw. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh baby, you just found out?” His smug smile widens and you wanted nothing more than to punch it clean off his face. 

“Stay the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you.” You bark, eyes never leaving his.

His gaze twinkled in amusement at the challenge, paying no heed to it. Then he leans in close to your ear, whispering. “You’ll be back soon when you realize no one wants you.”

Your heart drops as his words ring in your ears. You keep your face impassive, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing his words affect you.

“Your little PR relationship with Jenna is cute. You guys almost have everyone convinced, but I know the truth. You’ll be back when Jenna realizes that you’re too broken to love.” He taunts, smiling widely. 

Your heart thrums so loudly against your chest that it makes your entire body throb in tandem.

“Fuck you.” You shove his chest firmly as he stumbled back a couple steps from the sheer force.

You don’t wait for a response as you leg it down the sidewalk, ignoring people’s questioning looks. You weren’t sure if they recognized you or if they were questioning why you were in a fancy suit on the streets of New York City but you didn’t care either way; just stomping off in no particular direction. Not giving anyone who may have recognized you, time to stop you.

You kept walking even as your legs begged for reprieve, taking sidestreets and alleyways to hide from prying eyes, hiding in the shadows. You lived in the Big Apple for a year for a role and in that time, you had gotten to know the city well; preferring to walk to familiarize yourself with new locations. 

“Where the hell were you?” Link questioned. You can hear the agitated tone in his words even as your eyes were closed. 

“I went for a walk.”

“You came back drunk.”

“I stopped by the liquor store.”

“You were gone for three hours.”

“It was a big bottle.”

He huffed. 

You crack an eyelid open, already noting his firmly-set jaw. “Okay, I’m sorry, truce?”

Even you know when you’re being an asshole. You note the dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes and it reminded you of the first time you came home after meeting Jenna. The moment Link opened the front door, he had the same expression on his face.

His jaw tightly clenched but his brows pulled in a way that showed his concern. 

Before you could spew any apology you had saved, he pulled you in for a hug, muttering on about how worried he was about your arrest. It made your throat close up and tears build in your eyes at how distressed he sounded. Even when you’ve fucked up, he was still worried about you. 

That familiar pang of guilt comes crawling back the longer he stared at you now with that same look.

Instead, he sighed, dropping his head in surrender and muttering, “truce.”

That makes you open your eyes fully, nodding. “Okay.”

He sat on the foot of the bed, posture more relaxed. “Seriously though, what were you thinking?”

Picking at the loose thread of the duvet, you couldn’t meet his inquiring gaze. “I really did just need some air at first. Then I was gonna go back to the hotel to wait for Jenna, to apologize… but then I saw Damon.”

His sharp intake of breath reaches your ears. “Did you–”

“No!” You were quick to answer. “No… but he was an asshole, said something that pissed me off and I just couldn’t go back to that party or see Jenna. So I kept walking, I think I ended up in Central Park.”

“What did he say?” His nostrils flared.

“Nothing important, I walked away.” You omit.

He conceded but you could see his reluctance anyway.

“And then what — you were walking around, drinking in the middle of Central Park?” He asked bewildered, like you were stupid. Which, hearing it out loud now, is a very stupid decision. It was a miracle you made it back safely.

“Yes…” You muttered, ashamed. “I know I fucked up.”

His laugh is loud and taunting. “Fucked up? We’re way past that. Jenna’s pissed at you and Jake and Sarah found out you two didn’t go to the same after-party. They’re expecting it to be a headline.”

You bang your head against the headboard, ignoring the worsening ache. You deserved it, anyway. “Shit, Jenna… where is she?”

He scoffed, “gone.”

You whipped your head to find his eyes, ignoring the queasiness it caused in your stomach or maybe it was news of Jenna’s departure. “What?”

“She got out of New York first thing in the morning.” He explained.

“Fuck…” You close your eyes again, sliding down the bed. Flashes of your anger bubbling over, reaching a boiling point and exploding on Jenna. You remember your harsh words and the hurt expression that takes over the other actress’ face as you spoke with unabated hatred. “What did I do?”

“Don’t know, I left the room – but whatever you said, it must’ve been pretty bad 'cause it looked like she was about to cry when she came out of your room.” He recounted; not bothering to sugar-coat it. There seems to be nothing and no one that can get to you other than Jenna. 

Maybe realizing that you’ve hurt her, will be the wake-up call that you needed.

“I fucked up.” You repeated, staring at the ceiling.

“I know, buddy.” He sighed, patting your leg. “But you’ll fix it. You always do…”

“I don’t know about this one man.”

Telling Jenna that you wanted to end this PR relationship with her? You just wanted to be mean and hurt her back and that makes Jenna right, you are an asshole.

“What did you even say?” 

You recounted the anger-filled words that you spewed through your drunken stupor, avoiding Link’s angry expression when you finished.

“Are you fucking serious? How could you say that?”

“It was a mistake… I didn’t mean it.” 

“You need to get your head out of your ass and apologize to that girl.” He huffed, getting off the bed. “Get up, our flight leaves in an hour… stupid idiot.” He muttered, walking off as he shook his head in disappointment. 

This time, you couldn’t even blame him. You are an idiot.

***

“Where’s Jenna?”

“She’s busy but she’s been briefed, we can start now..” Liv pursed her lips, leaning back in her seat. 

The tips of your hands start sweating at her words, not knowing what they could mean.

As soon as you landed back in Los Angeles, you had the day to yourself to recuperate after a long week in New York. You sent the other actress a text before the plane took off, asking if she made it back to L.A. safely but you never got a message back. 

You might’ve deserved that one.

There was no other proof of life from the actress other than when you asked if you could pick up your dog from her since she was looking after the pup before the Met. The only response you received was a text from her assistant saying Jenna’s driver would drop him off at your house later in the day.

Again, you might’ve deserved that one. 

As promised, her driver pulled up in a sleek blacked-out SUV with a dog cage in hand. Upon releasing the pup, you noted the new toy he refused to let go of.

Other than her team obviously playing the middleman between you and her, the only other sign that she was well was the Instagram post on her account of her night at the Met Gala; a variety by herself, showing off her Thom Browne gown, some at the after-party with Enrique and other celebrities.

You'd be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slight emptiness in your chest that she didn’t post you. In the late hours of your stalking, you failed to realize that she did in fact, post the two of you, just a couple of hours later.

As a solo picture, was the two of you kissing on the red carpet. You don’t know why the black heart emoji captioning the photo sends your own heart to a frenzy. If you stared at the photo long enough, it was almost like you can feel phantom sensations of her lips pressed against your own again.

You’re ashamed to admit how long it took for you to decide on a response before eventually settling on a white heart to comment back. 

You thank the heavens that Liv barely sleeps because you got a message from her at that exact moment about a meeting the following morning; distracting you from Jenna and that stupid black heart. 

So that’s where you found yourself, in the dark, clutching the armrests of the stiff office chair in nervousness, the longer Liv and Jake waited to explain why you’re here. 

“It’s an update about Vegas,” Jake explained, leaning on the desk, and staring down at you.

“What about Vegas?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sarah found out who leaked the coke…” Liv chimed in. “The source comes from a Twitter account, claims she’s one of the girls in the club, and said she saw you taking a bump, as well. Gossip sites got a hold of it and spread it like wildfire.”

“That’s a lie, I was passed out.” Not the best argument, but it’s the truth.

“She claimed that it came from you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Of course, it’s bullshit. But we’re in damage control now... The police still hasn’t made a comment about pursuing a possible case against you ‘cause there’s nothing there. We’re just dealing with rumours, at this point but I don’t want you to worry about that.” Liv reassured, holding a hand out. She could see the frustration etched on your face.

You rolled your eyes, slumping against the seat. “So, what do we do?”

“The PR with Jenna is going well. It did a good job at covering up headlines about your initial arrest – but now that Vegas headlines are back, we need to work on overtime.”

Immediately, you shake your head, brows furrowing. “I thought the relationship was only meant to last three months?” 

It’ll be three months by the end of this week and Jenna has yet to talk to you since your drunken night after the Met Gala. 

“Yes… and I also said less the faster people forget your night at the county jail, clearly, they haven’t forgotten.” She raised a brow in challenge, and you opted to bite your tongue 'cause she did say that.

“Even then, how would you get Jenna to agree? She’s not exactly my biggest fan, right now.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Jenna’s probably rejoicing at the fact that this agreement was almost over. After the disaster that was the Met, she’s probably laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement longer.

“Is that why you two didn’t go to the same after-party?” Jake flicked a brow, more so curious. You’re surprised he doesn’t too mad about it.

“You don’t even wanna know.” You closed your eyes in exhaustion at the thought of that night, missing Liv and Jake’s silent conversation, debating if it was time for a parently intervention. But you caught on to their silence.

“Please don’t lecture me on my dating life,” you grumbled, “it’s the last thing I want to hear.”

“Dating life?” Jake piped up, eyes lighting up.

“Did you and Jenna actually catch feelings?” Liv asked, a small smile on her lips.

“I literally said don’t.” You glared and the bite in your tone seemed to get them to relent; dropping the conversation. “And don‘t say catch feelings, it sounds wrong coming from you.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that, for your sake.” Liv glares before looking at her business partner.

You don’t comment on the weighted glances they keep sending each other.

“Anyways…” Jake cleared his throat, “Lucky for you, Jenna already signed the updated contract—we just need your signature, that’s why you’re here.”

You to sit up straight, unsure if you heard your manager correctly. “What? She did?”

Maybe she wasn’t laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement. But why would she sign it? After what you said to her in New York, you figured she’d be on her merry way out the door and your life.

Liv reached over to the side, cracking open a thick document, and flipped to a page before sliding it over to you; a pen on top.

Beside Jenna’s ink-printed name on the paper, is the same neat handwritten signature that you noticed all those months ago. Your sight flickers down; the empty line with your name just below waiting to be signed seemed menacing this time. As you continue to scan the page and you settle on a certain line causing your heart to stop momentarily.

“A year?” 

Liv nodded, lips thinly pressed. “People are invested. Your names are selling headlines and getting clicks, it’s working. But not well enough to cover Vegas. We need to build you two as a brand, together.”

Suddenly the decision felt weighted.

“A brand?” You drawl, the words feeling wrong on your lips.

Liv sighed, “I know how it sounds… but we need Vegas to go away. After your guys’ appearance at the Met Gala, brands have been calling Jake and Sarah about potential deals featuring you two. You and Jenna sell.” 

You don’t answer, electing to look away to ignore their probing eyes. 

“There’s talk that they want to exclude you from the Dune 2 press run,” Jake admitted after a beat, his heavy-set eyes staring at you unapologetically. 

A knife to the gut is equivalent to how you feel. “What?”

Jake nodded, propping one hand on his desk to hold him up as leaned on it. “I’ve been going back and forth with the producers – reassuring them that you’re not what the press have saying. But like we said, we’re in damage control. SNL, Coachella, the Met Gala, those were good attempts at covering things up to get good press, but it’s not enough.”

Glancing down at the document again, a part of you still hesitates to pick up the pen.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Jake asked.

“I–I need some time, to think about it.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Liv asked, equally confused. “Jenna already signed it.”

“It’s another year, Liv.” You raised your head to meet her eyes, in shock. Ignoring her reassurances. It doesn’t matter if Jenna signed it. There’s no way you’re letting this go on any longer. “That’s a long time.”

Flicking a brow, she answered, “Yes, it’s a long time, but we need to do this. There’s no other way..” She glanced at Jake, standing beside her, sending him a look.

You shake your head.  Mind already made up the moment you saw just how much longer this needed to continue.

“Well, find another way. I’m not dragging Jenna into my mess any longer.”

“What?” Jake dropped his crossed arms, watching as you frantically stood from the seat. “You wanna throw away the last three months?”

“Yes.” You stood your ground, crossing your arms.

Liv rolled her eyes, uncrossing her legs as she stands. You track her confusedly before you realize she’s walking off to Jake’s alcohol collection.

“That was a gift, Olivia.” Jake chided, as he watched the woman pour a hefty shot of the brown liquid from an expensive-looking bottle. 

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. 

“Are we dealing with the same thing right now?” She hissed in pain, placing the shot glass on the table as she gestured to you.

You shake your head, regaining their attention. “I have a career — movies and events lined up. I can’t play someone’s girlfriend for a year on top of that.”

“Y/N, there’s no other way… we’ll find a way to make it work with both your schedules but right now, we need to capitalize on the all of the attention.”

You huffed, annoyed that they were ignoring you. “I don’t care. Find another way. I’m not signing this.” Then you smack a firm hand on the document before turning to walk out of the office.

This has gone on long enough. You refuse to drag Jenna down any more than you already have. She’s better off without you anyway.

***

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Can you wait?!”

With haste, you stumble on your flip-flops when they tangle on your feet as you walked toward your front gate. The buzzing kept ringing out in the dark, quiet air. You desperately wished you bought a house with see-through gates so you could tell off whoever was repeatedly banging on your buzzer.

You lived in a gated neighbourhood, so you weren’t too worried about a random stranger roaming around. You assumed it was just one of your neighbours ringing the bell. 

“What?” You yank the door open, stepping out. The street lamps on the sidewalk don’t do well to light the figure standing across from you. But even in the dark, you instantly recognize her smaller stature.

She stepped back as you close the door behind you, now standing on the sidewalk. Your house was situated on a cul-de-sac and rarely anyone roamed the streets at this time. 

“What are you doing here?”  You squint, walking closer. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Was her answer, words practically dripping in anger.

You stand straighter at her tone, brows knotting together. “What?”

“Who the hell do you think you are, trying to make decisions for me.” She bit back, face contorting in fury. Glancing down, you note her white-knuckled grip on a manila folder.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here.” You sighed, scanning the street. It was empty and quiet but you never know who was lurking around. 

Walking over to the gate, you held it open, “let’s talk inside.”

She stood her ground, feet firmly planted on the concrete. You can see the sharp edges from her jaw clenching even in the poorly-lit street.

“Jenna.” You said knowingly, titling your head to the side.

You hear her huff loudly before stomping past you and walking up the path to your front door. Choosing not to comment on the fact that she’s never been to your house but she’s walking like she has been. Following closely behind, you can’t help but let your eyes wander down, taking note of her outfit.

As always, no matter what she wore, it hung off her expertly, like it was made just for her. You were so distracted looking at her… outfit, that you failed to realize you made it to the front door. 

“Are you gonna open the door or what?’ She raised a brow, not commenting on how quickly you averted your eyes as soon as she turned around.

“Yeah…” You muttered, sliding past her to open the double doors. 

When you make it to the foyer, Jenna is already confronting you before the door even closes. “Sign the contract.”

“Demanding much?” You raised a brow, shutting the door.

“Sign the damn contract, Y/N.” She said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“What are you doing, Jenna? This is your chance to get out of this.” You wave a hand, gesturing between you and her.

She laughed unamused, “Get out of this? If you think I can leave this PR relationship in the middle of rumours of your arrest and there’s a way I won’t be painted like the bad guy, then you’re really dumber than I thought.”

You clenched your jaw, not answering. 

“Sign the contract.” She repeated, taking your silence as a win.

“No.”

“Why not?” 

“I’m not dragging you into this mess.”

She laughed again, this time it was plainly mocking. “I’m already in this mess. I’m deep in it if you haven’t noticed. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every once in a while you’d realize everything we do is attached to each other, now. There isn’t anywhere I can go without being asked about you or our relationship. So no, I’m not letting you make this decision for me. ‘Cause I’m making it for us.”

You stared at her. The fury in her eyes and tension in her shoulders were noticeable even from where you stood; it didn’t aid in easing the mellowing guilt in your chest.

“It’s all from a business standpoint, don’t look into it.” She glared.

This time, you were certain you deserved that. 

Jenna walked up to you, pushing the manila folder against your chest aggressively. You meet her narrowed eyes staring up at you. “Sign it.”

Then she walked off, slamming the door shut behind her.

***

“How’s the missus?”

“How’s yours?” Tom joked back, handing over a steaming coffee cup. Graciously grabbing it with both hands, you eagerly sip on the bitter drink as the London native settles on the patio chair across you.

Although it was considered a warm day in London, there was a cool breeze that wafted through the air penetrating through your jacket. 

“Very funny.” You muttered, ignoring the heat rising up your neck.

“I’m just fuckin with ya.” He chuckled, cheeks crinkling in amusement. 

“She actually has day off from filming, right now.” You placed the paper cup on the table, fiddling with the cover. “So, at home.”

“Beetlejuice 2, right? Insane gig, you must be proud of her.” He smiled, gauging your reaction.

The smile that creeps up on your face is genuine, “Yeah, I am. They just started filming last week, I know she’s killing it.”

“Have you visited her on set?”

You blushed, not even considering that a possibility. “No uh– not yet.”

“Either way, it’s great. I’m happy for you guys.” He said sincerely, but he sees through you. “But, what’s with the long face?”

You sighed, leaning back. Taking a moment to glance around at the quiet street, it was still early morning and the hustle of the Brit actor’s town was still non-existent.

You’ve known Tom for a long time, meeting him during your stint in the MCU. He’s become a brother of sorts, as you two navigated the Marvel fame throughout all those years. As soon as you landed in England, he was the first person you texted.

“It’s complicated– with Jenna.”

“How so?” He flicked a brow, sipping on his drink.

That prompted a long retelling of how you met the other actress (definitely breaching your contract, but hey, you’ll send over an NDA) the events of SNL, Coachella, the Met, and recently, how you’ve been forced to follow her to London as she films Beetlejuice 2 to support her as she films the follow-up to the iconic horror-classic.

“Wow…” His brows raised in shock, mouth hanging wide open. 

You raise an expectant brow. “Well? What should I do?”

“You asking me?” He pointed to himself and if he wasn’t one of your closest friends and Hollywood’s biggest faces, you’d punched him straight.

You huffed, brows knitting together. “Yes, I’m asking you. You and Z are the epitome of a healthy relationship. Tell me what to do.”

Tom rubbed his stubbled jaw, relaxing in his seat as he thought of what to say. “It’s not that easy. Z and I actually want to make it work.”

“What does that mean?” You sat up straighter, a bit defensive.

“Mate, throughout that whole story, you kept talking about this relationship like it was the worst thing in the world. Making up excuses for your actions as to why you can’t open up to Jenna— running away. You guys haven’t talked about anything. She doesn’t know about Vegas, or how you felt about Coachella… You also have yet to apologize for how you disappeared for hours and then acted like an asshole in New York. You just followed her to London, expecting to live under one roof like everything’s alright. It’s a bomb waiting to explode.”

You… couldn’t say anything to that.

He bit back a laugh at your wide-eyed reaction, “Listen, I’m no expert on relationships – I’m still trying to find my way. But one thing I’ve learned, is that when two people want to make it work they will, but that only happens with honest communication. She doesn’t even know how you feel about her… maybe start there.”

“What if it’s too late? What if too much has happened for us to fix things?” You questioned, meeting his kind eyes and allowing him to see the vulnerability in yours.

“Then you start over, build from the ground up.”

You knew his relationship has also seen its fair share of rocky moments. Noting his slew of ex-girlfriends before eventually finding his way back to the Euphoria actress. That made you feel a bit better about your situation.

“Let me ask you this,” He piques up, leaning his elbows on the table, fingers cupping his chin, “what are you so scared of?”

You already know your answer. “I don't want to break her heart.”

He hums, pondering your response, “It sounds like you don’t want her to break yours, mate.”

This time, you’re the one humming as a response, unsure of what to say because he’s right. There’s never been anyone you’ve allowed to get close enough to even break your heart. 

The thought that someone could take your heart and stomp on it whenever they wanted is terrifying concept.

“Look,” he speaks up when you don’t answer, “it sounds like you really care about Jenna. I’ve seen pictures of you two, even if you say it’s just for the cameras. I’ve never seen you look so smitten. Talk to her, you never know what could happen if you stop getting in your own way.”

You flushed, choosing not to comment on his words. “Ho-how you’d see the pictures?”

“You two are everywhere and Z sent me that picture of the two of you with her niece. Very cute,” He winked cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, I get it. I’ll talk to her.”

“Finally, Link owes me a drink.” He settled back into his seat, sipping on his drink.

You rolled your eyes, shooting the Brit a glare. “You two are annoying.”

But he just chuckled, trying to hide it with a sip of coffee before speaking up again. “Hey, once you get settled here in London, why don’t you come to Monaco with me for the F1 Grand Prix?”

Your gaped at the offer, “You serious?”

“Yeah, it’ll do you some good. Forget about Vegas, the press and Jenna, for a bit?” He leaned in, raising his brows at the proposition, a grin smacked on his teeth. “Me, you, a couple of friends and some cars. What’d ya say?”

You’d take a moment to think over your options but you were already sold.

“I’m in.” You grinned.

***

It’s been three days since you landed in London, following Jenna across the Atlantic Ocean as she filmed Beetlejuice 2. You're still trying to adjust to the time zone difference but that’s really the least of your worries because it’s been terribly awkward living under the same roof as Jenna.

You were seriously considering paying for a hotel during your time here but maybe spending thousands of dollars, or pounds… on a hotel room every night in London for a month straight isn’t the best business decision.

Clearly Jake and Sarah agreed because when you called Jake he said and I quote ‘there’s no other way for you to live anywhere other than with Jenna’ — yeah right.

At least she’s speaking to you — which is a step. Jenna had to fly over to the UK a week earlier and in that time it seems the tensions between you have simmered down. But, her responses are restrained, overly polite, like she didn’t know how to talk to you anymore.

You ignored how your heart clenched at her snipped, cold responses.

“Hi,” She greeted, as soon as you made it down the hallway then living room. Eyes tracking your every move as you shuffled to the kitchen, placing a paper bag atop the counter.

“Hey, how was your day off?” You greeted, glancing up at her momentarily.

“It was alright, I just walked around; got to know the neighbourhood. What about you? You were gone by the time I woke up...” Jenna asked, hating how you averted your gaze from her so quickly these days.

“I met up with a friend over at Kingston.” You replied, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

“Tom Holland?”

Turning, surprised she knew that but she answered before you could even ask. “I saw some pictures on Instagram.”

You purse your lips, nodding; not really surprised the paparazzi discovered your outing with the Brit actor. The press never sleeps, even when you’re in another continent.  “Oh, I see… well, he says hello, by the way.”

Jenna perked up surprised. “He did?”

You nodded but said nothing else. 

“You were gone for a while, though.” She added.

“We also grabbed dinner.” You’d usually make an annoyed quip about the sudden interrogation but at this point, you were just glad she’s talking to you.

“Did you have fun?” She asked. You don’t miss the slow, drawled tone that accompanied the question like she was unsure if she should keep the conversation afloat or let it fizzle out.

“Yes, I did actually.” You find yourself saying. A day away from the tenseness in this apartment was a nice change.

Jenna wanted to interject and ask why you looked peeved in the photos and videos she saw. She’s familiar with the tightly wound brows and flared nostrils that you create when you’ve gone off on a rant. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what you two were talking about. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and nodded. “That’s nice...”

Sighing under your breath, you try not to make a reaction and set off an argument with the other actress but the awkward responses were getting old and it’s only your third day here. There’s no way you can handle walking on eggshells around her for another minute.

Shufflling closer to the couch where Jenna sat; gaze still tracking you. You send her a timid smile, placing a paper cup atop the table across from her.

A peace offering, of sorts.

“The coffee shop I was at this morning is known for their hot chocolate, so I got you one on the way back.”

She blinked, evidently surprised at the gesture. You take her silence as a chance to sit on the armchair just across.

“Call it a truce?” You added, sending a sheepish smile. 

Other than the episode of Breaking Bad playing in the background, it’s dead silent in the apartment.

You didn’t comment on how she rewatching an episode that the two of you had already seen.

Jenna stayed mute, just watching you but reached out for the hot chocolate on the coffee table then leaned back on the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

You considered it as an olive branch.

“I’m sorry for how I acted in New York — I know I worried you.” You gauged her reaction but she averted her gaze to the coffee table, on the cup she was fiddling with — anywhere but your own eyes. “You’re right, I am an asshole and I am so, so sorry Jenna. How can I make it up to you?”

Your question finally has her meeting your eyes, voice cold. “You can’t.”

You sighed, “come on, Jen. There has to be something.”

“You can’t because I’m not ready to forgive you yet.” She reiterated and you slumped back against the cushion, defeated.

“Okay…” You accepted. With a slow nod, you stood up about to walk off to your bedroom and lock yourself inside for the remainder of the night.

Maybe you can try again tomorrow.

Jenna huffed, “where are you going?”

Spinning around, confused; you pointed to the closed door down the hall, “my room? I’m giving you space.”

She stands up, agitation etched on her face and placed the paper cup on the wooden table with force. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I want.”

You flick a brow up, still bemused at her sudden hostility. “So, then what do you want, Jenna?”

Probably like her, you were growing tired of the constant fighting and miscommunication that seems to occur every time a serious talk needed to happen.

Her forehead created lines as she raised both brows, “to talk! I want you to talk to me. Open up to me — I never know what you’re actually thinking. You say I’m leading you on but do you even realize that you're doing the same to me?!”

She finished off with a sharp breath and widened eyes like she didn’t expect to reveal all of that.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remember the countless advice you’ve been receiving from everyone. Reminding yourself of the unpleasantness that took home in your chest from being away and fighting with the other actress. You didn’t enjoy receiving the cold shoulder from her.

“That’s not what I was trying to do, I swear.” You tried to say calmly despite your heart hammering widly in your chest; fight or flight instincts begging for you to flee.

She studied you with a cautious gaze, you don’t blame her for not believing you. “I like you, a lot – more than I ever expected.”

Your confession has her brows raising in surprise. Not expecting you to say that. You take her stunned silence as a chance to keep talking.

 “I think we both can say that the way we came into each other’s life was less than… conventional.” You chuckled to fill the tense silence, “I’m not exactly sure when or where, but along the way that I started to fall for you.”

You sit back down on the armchair prompting Jenna to perch on the couch, across from you. The space in between you and the other actress feels like a million miles away. Feeling like your nerves are shot from her indecipherable look, alone.

“I really care about you, Jenna and you’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, about anything but especially over Vegas and that’s not fair… so I guess I should start there.”

Jenna can’t even hide her surprise that you’re actually opening up. Never mind confessing how you feel about her. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut and allows you to speak.

“Vegas was just a bad decision. I think I was overwhelmed— I had a busy year last year and nothing was letting up. I begged this… friend that I had to skip town, go to Vegas and fuck shit up. Well, we did. When the cops got to the strip club, I was passed out drunk and Damon—uh the friend, was doing coke beside me. Uh, I'm not really sure what happened next but they took me to jail and next thing I knew I was waking up to someone telling me I’d been bailed out… Jake said they tried to pick us both up for drug charges but when they realized it wasn’t mine, they charged me with a drunken disorderly, instead.”

Somewhere along the way, your gaze dropped in shame, unable to match Jenna’s intense stare. You felt mortified as you recounted the tales of your criminal escapade. It’s not a night you choose to relive or retell for a reason, and definitely not a story that you want Jenna knowing. 

But she’s right, she is as deep in this mess as you are. She deserves to know the whole story if you two had to keep this PR stunt going for another year. And if this relationship had any real chance of surviving.

“I heard about it… when it first happened. Sarah was the one to tell me about the coke, that’s why I called you a drug user when we first met…” Jenna admitted, “she said it wasn’t yours but then that headline claimed it was dropped before the Met and you didn’t say anything—“

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to say something.” You hesitated. You’ve never done well at being confronted with the repercussions of your bad decisions, much less having to explain them. “I was scared—“

Your voice cracked, cursing inwardly you fought through the unpleasant thickness in your throat. That makes Jenna meet your eyes, watching as you blinked away the tears beginning to cloud your vision.

Her gaze softens… never seeing you so vulnerable. Continuing to observe you for a few seconds before giving in, “come here.”

You look up at her extended hand and how she patted the open space next to her. Your legs work against you, already standing to walk over and sit.

When you do, she’s turning her whole body to find your eyes. This time her body language is open and inviting rather than the reserved, tense stature you’ve grown accustomed to.

“Sorry…” You wiped the corner of your eyes.

She shakes her head, “don’t be.”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to meet her kind eyes. She waits for you to patiently speak.

“I was scared.” You repeated.

“I was scared of my feelings for you. That week at your parents' house… was the first time I felt welcomed in a long time. It’s just been me and Link and L.A. for so long, I-I forgot what it was like to have a village around you. I’m sorry if your family sees me differently now.” 

You felt a pang of shame wash over you. But Jenna’s shaking her head, scooting closer — knees touching. “They don’t. My dad and sisters are a little mad but they actually pushed me to talk to you — even when I was mad. They know how the media loves to twist things, they’ve seen it with me, so they try to not pay attention to it.”

She doesn’t know how you did it but you have somehow won her overprotective family over. 

Jenna’s week away from you was needed yet miserable at the same time. After your drunken rant, Jenna was the one who found herself running away. Knowing that this time, she was the one who couldn’t be around you. 

Your words hurt, for lack of a better explanation. The way you spewed them so easily, so surely, was a memory that she replayed over and over again while she was giving you the cold shoulder.

It almost made her give in… to cut the tie with you. Give you what you want — be left alone. But then she remembers her conversation with Hailee, with her mom, with her sisters, with everybody who’s been around you.

It’s comical how everyone can see it but you two.

As if it were written in the stars, a divine intervention seems to always save you two just before the brink of no return. When Jenna found out you were being forced to live with her in London for a month while she films Beetlejuice 2 and you — well she doesn’t know what work you’re doing here yet because she can’t get herself to say more than two words to you — she didn’t know if she should be happy or dreading it.

But then you landed and it’s been a tense weekend since your arrival. You and her seem to share the sentiment of not knowing how to act or speak around the other. Jenna started leaning on dreading it the longer the awkward conversations occurred.

But now you’re here, opening up.

“Are you sure?” You asked a bit croaky; throat a bit tight.

You stare into the other actress’ dark orbs and for the first time ever, it feels like you can finally read her. Hesitantly, she reached out to grasp your hand, firmly clasping it. “I’m sure.”

Clenching your jaw, you try to keep the clouding in your vision at a minimum. Inhaling a sharp stuttered breath, you nodded, “g-good.”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve handled everything since meeting you. It was a lot… dealing with the hate, the arrest and then suddenly realizing how I feel about you. So I ran — like I always do, and that makes me an asshole ‘cause I hurt you. I can deal with everyone being angry with me, I'm used to it. But I can’t stand it coming from you… So you can be mad, but I won’t stop trying to make it up to you.”

Jenna sees nothing but honesty in your fierce, unblinking gaze. It has her heart thudding rudely in her rib cage. She blinked, trying to control her wavering voice, “You’re right… you never talked about Vegas until the last minute and that wasn’t fair of you. But I also never asked you about it either, even though I knew some of the story. I thought we’d do this PR stunt and then go on with our lives….”

You sniffled, eyes feeling scratchy as you listened to her side. You couldn’t keep the stray tear that ran down your cheek at bay. Looking down, you missed Jenna’s softening eyes.

Moving to wipe away the tear, embarrassment ran through you instantly. You tried to pull away from Jenna’s grasp to wipe it but she grabbed it back, tightening her grip. Then she bring her free hand up, swiping the wetness away with a gentle touch that you didn’t feel deserving of.

She squeezed your hand, as she feels you freeze at her ministrations. Your cheek burns against her soft palm. “But, then you met my family and spent time with us and… suddenly you weren’t so bad. Y/N, I like you too.”

This felt like a breakthrough or a light at the very end of a long, dark tunnel in your relationship. 

“So do I.” You repeated timidly, allowing your cheek to rest against her steady hand. Granting the grounding touch despite your racing nerves.

“I’m sorry about what I said in New York,” she swipes her thumb across your cheek, averting her eyes to glance at her actions. You watch her as she does so. 

“You're not an asshole. You’re actually one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met… when you want to be.” Her eyes flicker back to you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she gauges your reaction. You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes; easing the slight tension that’s built in the room. “I was just so angry about being left out that I decided to lash out at you. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I forgive you.” You decided to be brave and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Jenna watches your eyes, not saying anything. Only removing her hand from your cheek to brush some hair away from your sight. Then she drops her palm to rest atop your still-conjoined hands.

“I really, really like you.” She confesses just above a whisper.

“So do I.” You chimed in quickly. She sends you an amused smile before clearing her throat. That’s when you realized it, “but I’m sensing a but...”

You watch as her grin contorts sadly, as she sighed heavily, “it’s not the right time.”

Feeling a pang of disappointment, you nodded nevertheless, averting your eyes. “Oh.”

If somehow there was space between the two of you, there certainly isn’t any, now, as she moved closer, feeling like skin pressing against one another is the only thing that can ground the younger actress. 

“I feel like we went from hating each other to being thrown in New York – SNL.” Jenna tilts her head down, hoping to meet your gaze again, it proves fruitful when she grabs your glance. “Us.. in that dressing room, I know you felt it too.”

Breathing out carefully, you confessed. “I did.”

Jenna sent you a pleased smile, “Then you left for Coachella and I was mad at you again… I even made your driver take you to my parents just so I could see you again cause even when I was mad –  I couldn’t stop thinking about almost kissing you.”

Your heart thumped as she confessed everything.

“My mom set us up with the single bed thing, though.” Jenna laughed as joined. The thought of her family secretly rooting for you two had your stomach in a twist. “The way you were with my family that week… I don’t know. I started seeing you differently and I couldn’t help but kiss you before your performance…”

“I wasn’t complaining.” You shook your head.

“Shut up.” She smacked your arm, making you smile. “We skipped so many steps and just jumped into the relationship part.”

“Yeah… we did.” 

“I want to make this work but I think—“

“I got a lot of shit to figure out.” You chuckled, cutting her off.

“We got a lot of shit to figure out.” She corrected. “And in between filming Beetlejuice–”

“I understand, Jen.” You squeezed her hand.

“I need some time, to figure all of this out because I wanna do it right – with you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. You try to disregard how her gaze fell lower, finding your lips. 

Mentally wishing the other actress can’t hear how loudly your heart is thumping.

“I’ll be here waiting.” 

It wasn’t the conclusion you expected but it felt like a step in the right decision. She’s right, there is a lot that you two need to figure out. Separately and together. Her eyes snap back to you, looking relieved, like it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m not saying I’m not open to never, possibly– you know.” Jenna blushed, as she stumbled over her words. “But I’d like us to be friends first, get to know each other before we pursue that. I-Is that okay?”

You felt bolder at her confession, finally knowing how she feels about you. Bringing your entwined hands up, you place a delicate kiss on her the top of her hands. “That’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready for me.”

“You’re already breaking the rules…” She jokes but her tone sounded wispy as she stared down at the way your lips ghosted over her hand. 

You flick a brow, “we have rules?”

She sends you a pointed look, calling your name flatly.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back, dropping her hands. “Right, sorry… friends definitely don’t do that.”

“You’re an idiot.” You didn’t know an insult could sound better than any piece of music you’ve ever listened to. She hasn’t called you that since Coachella. You think, the term of endearment is starting to grow on you, having missed her reciprocated banter more than anything.

“Yeah… I am.” You respond, fondly memorizing every speckle in her kind, dark orbs staring back into yours. It sends a shiver down your spine.

How could you ever think of letting her go?

***

it only took eight fucking chapters but I did say slow burn…😭

***

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movie nights iv

Summary: You gather the Woodsboro survivors to go over your suspect list. Maybe you're just trying to impress Tara. That's for you to know and no one else to find out.

Word Count: 6.1K Warnings: swearing, Scream levels of violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night pt.i) (movie night pt.ii) (movie night pt.iii)

The door was open. It was wide open, all that rat bastard had to do was walk right through it so you could kill him yourself. No fire escape, no hideaway, only the door. Why hadn't he walked through the goddamn-

"-You're not listening to me."

You blinked once before looking back over to your Aunt Sherry. By some miracle - it was still unclear if it was a good miracle or not - she had been the paramedic on scene. She hadn't truly questioned you yet, but you knew it was bound to happen. Your family was nothing if not nosy.

"What did you say?" You asked, fighting against the natural slip of an accent that would mimic Aunt Sherry's perfectly.

She gave you a pity-filled look. "Did he get ya anywhere else?"

"No," you instantly replied with a shake of your head. "That's it."

"Then you're all set," she said as she went to pat your shoulder. Thankfully she caught herself in time and patted your back instead. "And you don't want to go to Mercy?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled as you hopped out of the back of the ambulance. "And don't tell Ma or Pop!"

"It's already on the news, kiddo," she said with a shrug. "If they know, they know."

"You're good for nothing," you shouted as you backpedaled to where Tara and her bunch were still standing. "See ya at mass."

Aunt Sherry waved at you and shook her head, but otherwise let you go. You looked down at the stitches now keeping your bicep together. Only five; it could've been much worse. If that was the bastard you were up against, he wouldn't be much of a challenge. Couldn't even swing a knife properly. Talk about pathetic.

You mouthed a “hey” at Tara when you finally got closer. It was cold now that the adrenaline was wearing off and you were finally feeling the cold autumn air. Would have been nice to have some sort of jacket. Or your shirt that Tara was still wearing. Well, you supposed everyone could enjoy seeing you half-naked. You would just freeze to death, it was fine.

“You okay?” Tara asked quietly, her eyes darting to the stitched up wound.

“Course I am, sweetheart,” you said with a shrug. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was starting to sting like a sonofabitch.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, and both you and Tara turned to look at her. If you were cold before, you were frozen under her icy stare.

“I mean… I’ve been worse,” you said as you did your best to avoid her gaze.

“Good,” she said. You didn’t have time to brace yourself before she slapped your uninjured arm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” You complained. “The hell are you getting mad at me for?”

“I told you to stay away from my sister,” Sam continued. “You could have gotten her killed.”

“You think I called your stupid little serial killer?” You asked; you could feel the accent coming back in full force. All it did was make you more frustrated. “Isn’t he supposed to call me?”

“Guys-”

“-Nothing happened until you got Tara alone,” she interrupted Danny. “And that’s just a coincidence?”

You scrunched your face up and shrugged your shoulders. “Yes?” You said. “Why would I want anything to do with your psycho killer?”

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara said, moving to hold Sam’s arm.

It didn’t stop her. “We were doing just fine until you came along.” Sam jabbed her finger into your chest.

“You really think the two ‘a youse were doin’ fine?” You asked. “You’re trust issues and repressed trauma in human form.”

“Hey,” Tara scolded, her eyes now on you.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m right,” you said, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “And you can be suspicious all you want, but why the fuck would I interrupt myself finally gettin’ laid for the first time in months?”

“Oh my god,” Tara whispered to herself as she turned her back to you.

“I have priorities too,” you defended.

“Fine,” Sam said quickly. “If I say I believe you, will you please shut up?”

“Yes,” you said.

You all finally fell silent, Sam still giving you a look that meant she did not believe you, but at least she had stopped arguing. Danny was giving you that stupid “I’m not mad, just disappointed” look, and Tara still wouldn’t face you. What was going on in the world? You were just supposed to get laid, you weren’t supposed to be dealing with… whatever the fuck all of this was.

“So,” you finally said as police continued to mill around you. “What do you guys normally do now?”

“Seriously?” Tara asked, finally turning back to look at you.

“I’m no Ghostface expert,” you said defensively, again. “Do we just… go on as normal?” A chorus of groans followed your question. “Because I still need to go clean up the kitchen.”

“I do too,” Danny said, looking at Sam for a moment before turning back to you.

Unfortunately for him, Tara noticed and she stood up straighter.

“What was my sister doing in your apartment anyway?” She asked him. His mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your hip. “About damn time.”

“I was helping him carry up groceries,” Sam said with a slight shake of her head.

“Oh, so you can go into a stranger’s apartment and I can’t even have someone I know over?” Tara asked.

“Okay, hang on,” you said, somehow turning into the middle man. This whole night was turning into a disaster. You needed a drink. Or five.

“No, she doesn’t get to accuse you when she’s acting suspicious,” Tara said with a shake of her head before looking at Sam and Danny again. “So do you know him or not?”

“Tara-”

“-no, Sam,” she interrupted. “What is he to you?”

You locked eyes with Danny at the same time Tara and Sam locked eyes. Part of you wanted to just break the awkward tension and say Danny was with Sam. It would get Tara off his back and you could all go about the real problem; finally getting you back into a shirt so you wouldn’t freeze your tits off.

Sam sighed. “He and I are… a thing.”

“I knew it,” Tara said softly.

“Tara-”

“-I would’ve been happy for you,” she said. “If you hadn’t accused my partner of being Ghostface.”

“I’m your partner now?” You asked, perking up immediately.

“Shut up,” she said quickly.

“Yes ma’am,” you said, snapping your jaw shut. God you loved when she was mean.

“If I may-”

“-You may not,” Tara said, turning to face Danny. “I don’t want to hear from any of you right now.”

“How about from me?”

All four of you shut your mouths and looked around, finally seeing Detective Bailey walking toward your little group. You sighed and looked around. The last person you wanted to see at the moment was him. Well, okay, the last person you wanted to see was Ghostface, but Detective Bailey was a very close second.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” He asked, clapping you on the shoulder of your hurt arm. Oh fuck it hurt.

“Always a pleasure, Detective,” you said politely through a forced smile.

“You sound just like your old man,” he said.

“Bet I do,” you mumbled as you turned your head away.

“I’m going to need the two of you to come down for a talk,” Bailey said, pointing to you and Tara.

“Not us?” Danny asked.

“I’m coming too,” Sam said without waiting for Bailey to answer.

“You’ll be waiting in a separate room,” Bailey said. You didn’t blame him for not even arguing; if anyone knew Sam, they knew to just roll with the punches. “Come on.”

You followed him, Tara quick behind you. With a glance, you saw Danny and Sam talking for a moment before he backed away toward the apartment. She, on the other hand, caught up in only a few strides and forced herself in between you and Tara. If it hadn’t been for the whole just-nearly-getting-murdered thing, you would’ve teased her about her territorial tendencies.

“Don’t put me back there with her,” you said quietly when Bailey tried to put you in the back of the squad car. Right beside Sam. “She’s not my biggest fan.”

“Neither am I,” he said with a smile before pushing your head down and shoving you into the car. “Get in.”

You practically fell into the car, your knees banging against the front seat. It was still cold as hell and now your arm was strained. A quick glance down showed a few little spots of blood. Great. Now that was split again too. Why couldn’t anyone just let you grab some clothes?

The entire ride to the station you could feel Sam’s gaze on you. No, not a gaze, it was a full-blown glare. If you had died in that apartment, you didn’t think she would’ve been too upset about the fact. And Tara was being diplomatic and keeping her mouth shut, looking out the window as the city passed by. It was smart.

“So,” you started, “did you and Danny have a nice night?”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled.

“Okay,” you said quickly.

Well, at least no one could say you didn’t try.

It was a short drive to the station, and you felt like you were going to combust under Sam’s eyes. The scrutiny didn’t stop when you pulled into the station, and it certainly didn’t stop when you walked in. If looks could kill? Yeah, it was a real thing. It might not kill, but it definitely made you want to die.

“Hey, Y/N,” Linda at reception said when you walked in.

“Hey, babe,” you said with a wink, walking over to lean on the desk. “How’re the little rascals?”

“They’re good,” she said, leaning forward on her arms. “Found you a girl yet?”

“Think so,” you said, fully putting on the charm. “Right over there,” you gestured your head behind you.

“I’m guessin’ it’s not the one givin’ you the “eat shit and die” look?”

You both turned your head to look at Sam, who had now crossed her arms over her chest. Tara wasn’t even trying to stop her; you didn’t blame her. Samantha Carpenter was a force of nature that no one wanted to fight against. Tara had probably learned that after the first Ghostface attack in Woodsboro.

“Good guess,” you mumbled.

“Keep moving,” Bailey said as he walked past you with Tara and Sam hot on his heels.

“We’ll catch up another time,” you said, sending Linda a wink and smile.

“Countin’ on it,” she replied before blowing a kiss in your direction.

Your brother was going to kill you for flirting with his wife.

It was a familiar walk back to Bailey’s interrogation room. While Sam was directed to a separate room, you walked in ahead of Tara and sat down in the seat that you had secretly designated as your own. At the rate you frequented, you might as well just carve your name into the wood. Just so Bailey would always have a reminder of you whether he wanted it or not.

“Here,” he said when he walked in and threw something at you. You flinched, but caught it. “Put that on.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you pulled the NYPD shirt over your head. You sneezed. “Sorry,” you said when you wiped your nose. “I’m allergic to pigs.”

“Stop,” Tara whispered to you.

“What can you tell me about tonight?” He asked, completely ignoring your comment.

“We were just having dinner and watching a movie,” you said with a shrug. “Bada bing, bada boom, little rat bastard interrupts.”

“Did you find him?” Tara asked. Why was everyone ignoring you? You were the one with the injuries, right? Shouldn’t you have more of a say than anyone else? Maybe you had a lot more to learn about this whole Ghostface thing than you had thought.

“We didn’t find anything,” Bailey said with a shrug. “Got anyone who has it out for you?”

They both turned to look at you after the question had been voiced. You looked between the both of them. Oh for fuck’s sake, now it was just getting insulting. There was no winning for you, was there? First you’re interrupted, then you’re attacked, then interrogated by not only Sam but now Bailey too? Well, fuck you, you guessed.

“Why are the two ‘a youse looking at me?” You asked. “I stay out of trouble.”

They both gave you exasperated looks.

“I mostly stay out of trouble,” you corrected.

“Was your sister accounted for?” Bailey asked.

“She was across the alley with a guy,” Tara answered with a shake of her head.

“Danny,” you filled in. “He didn’t do this.”

“And neither did Sam,” she said.

“Did he target one of you more than the other?” He asked.

“He turned to face Tara,” you said as you recalled the event. Most of it was a blur, but you could pick out one or two pieces. “But he didn’t have enough time to really target anyone.”

“Then you need to stay safe,” he said directly to Tara. “I would guess he’s going after your Woodsboro crew.”

“Typical,” Tara huffed, falling back against her chair.

“What do we do?” You asked, doing the opposite of her and leaning forward on the table. “Twiddle our thumbs until you maybe catch the guy?”

“Are you calling us incompetant?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I am.”

“You’re going to go home and let us do our jobs,” he said.

“And if you don’t do your jobs?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“You’re still going to stay out of it.” He wasn’t even looking at Tara anymore. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you answered.

You kept your eyes locked on his. It wasn’t your first stare down with Bailey, and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. You knew you were on his permanent shit list, but quite frankly you didn’t care. His group of piss poor detectives had let you all down time and time again, you weren’t going to trust him with your life.

And you certainly weren’t going to trust him with Tara’s.

“You’re both free to go,” he finally said. “We’ll be in touch.”

“I bet you will,” you said, but stood up anyway.

Tara left the room before you, and you sent one more glare at Bailey before following suit. To no one’s surprise, Sam was already waiting. She checked on Tara and gave you a once-over before starting the walk out of the station. You gave Linda a smile and a little wave before walking outside.

Where the news stations were waiting.

It was absolute pandemonium. Too many voices, too many flashing lights, you were amazed the Carpenters weren’t fazed. Well, you were amazed but not surprised. You knew all the shit they had to deal with since Woodsboro. They were probably used to all the commotion that came with being survivors of a brutal series of killings.

“Don’t talk to them,” you said as you quickly got between them and the reporters. “Keep walking, I’ll take care of it.”

You turned around and held your arms behind you to keep a hold of Tara and did what you knew would work. As your godmother had taught you, you started swearing up a storm. Every word you could think of to form the most colourful string of curses you could come up with. The looks of pure agitation and frustration on the reporters’ faces was enough to make you smile.

“That doesn’t work on me, sweetheart.”

Your smile fell when Gale walked into your view.

“Now’s not the time,” you said with a pointed look. “We can talk later.”

“An exclusive?” She asked, following behind you as you pushed Sam and Tara down the sidewalk and away from the station. And the reporters.

“Without your cronie,” you said.

Gale gave you a look of pure exasperation, but only a moment later waved for her cameraman to leave. You waited for him to be out of earshot before you gestured for her to follow you, and she instantly fell into step with you as you both caught up to the Carpenters. They didn’t seem as impressed, but at least they knew her.

“Are you okay?” She asked you. “I heard you got hurt.”

“Just a scratch,” you said with a shrug. “Far less than you lot have gone through.”

“I had wanted to keep you out of all of this,” she said.

“Well,” you sighed. “Seems I’m in it now.”

“What are you doing here, Gale?” Sam asked, turning around quickly and stopping the four of you in your tracks. “I think you know we’re not too happy with you.”

“No one is ever happy with me, sweetheart,” Gale said with her News Smile. “I’m actually here to check up on Y/N.”

“With your cameraman?”

“How do you know Y/N?” Tara and Sam asked at the same time.

Everyone turned to look at you, who was in the process of biting your fingers off. You froze under the scrutiny, your hands slowly falling back down to your side where you shoved them in your pants pockets. It seemed like you were just going to be interrogated for the rest of your life.

“I’m their godmother,” Gale said when it was clear you were a little too frazzled to talk.

“Excuse me?” Tara asked.

“My Pop went to college with her,” you finally managed to say. “Suppose he liked her enough to make her part of the family.”

“And you just failed to mention that little fact?” Tara asked, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Oops.

“Didn’t think it mattered,” you said with a shrug, “I’m not Woodsboro.”

“Can we focus?” Sam asked. “What do you want, Gale?”

“What happened?” Gale asked. “No recorder, no camera, just tell me.”

The three of you looked at each other and sighed. They might not trust Gale - which was understandable, she had written a book when she said she wouldn’t - but you did. She might not be blood, but she was family. You gave the Carpenters time to stop you before turning to face her and telling her what happened.

You ommitted the little detail that you were mid-lay.

“I’m going to go do some digging,” she said with a dazed nod of her head. “You do the same?”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve got a few things to go over.”

“Good,” she said before looking back at Sam and Tara. “Stay safe.” She looked at you. “All of you.”

All of you nodded and mumbled an agreement before bidding Gale goodbye. You watched and waited for her to be gone before turning back around to face the others. Now that everything had mostly calmed down, you were starting to focus on the real issue at hand again.

“What now?” Tara asked, her eyes flicking between you and Sam.

“We need to meet up with Chad and Mindy,” Sam said. “Fill them in.”

“I’ll head to my apartment,” you said. Tara opened her mouth to protest almost instantly. “I need to go over a few things.”

“We need to stick together,” she said.

“We can all meet up at my apartment tomorrow night,” you said with a gentle voice. “I’ve got some digging of my own to do.”

“No one even knows where you live,” Sam said. She looked at Tara and waited to see if she knew. Thankfully, she didn’t, and Sam let out a barely noticeable sigh of relief.

“I’ll call you from a burner and tell you the address,” you said. Both girls looked at you with raised brows. “Can’t trace a burner, and it guarantees it won’t be mirrored.”

“That’s some sketchy shit,” Tara said. “How do you know this stuff?”

“Got a few tricks up my sleeve,” you shrugged. “Still not Ghostface,” you defended when Sam gave you a judgmental look.

“Then we’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam said. “Come on.”

She turned around to leave, and you stood there watching her go. Tara hesitated, looking between you and Sam. As much as you wanted her to stick around, you knew she needed to be with her gang. No one could understand them the way they understood each other, and one little half-hearted attack didn’t make you one of them. You knew that.

“Go on,” you said softly with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looked at you for a little too long, long enough to have you shifting your weight from foot to foot. You inhaled deeply, trying your best to calm your racing thoughts and pulse. Tara stepped forward slowly and grabbed the front of your shirt, pulling you down just enough to plant a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Stay safe,” she said. “I mean it.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with another smile.

Tara took that as good enough and turned around, jogging to catch up with Sam. You could see the both of them talking, and Sam’s arm wrapped protectively around Tara’s shoulders. It was sweet. You couldn’t even imagine what all they went through on a regular basis. All the chaos was enough to make anyone insane. They were lucky to have each other.

You shook the thought out of your head and started the long walk back to your apartment. If they were all coming over tomorrow night, you would need to have all your ducks in a row. No way were you inviting veterans into your home only to look like a fool.

—---

By the time everyone showed up at your apartment, you were running on 43 hours of being awake, your seventh espresso, and your 13th RedBull. Were you going insane? Yes. Could you smell colours? Absolutely. In fact, red smelled like black pepper. Or maybe that was the disgusting takeout you had been munching on for the past nine hours.

Damn, you needed to clean. Thank god Garret wouldn’t be back from his parent’s house until next weekend.

The knock on your front door pulled you back to the current situation. Right. You were going to show everyone what you had discovered. Which, not to brag, but it was pretty impressive. You managed to sweep the majority of the trash into a trash bag and put it off to the side before tripping over papers on the way to the door.

“Hey,” you said with a frazzled smile when you threw the door open and saw the entire gang standing there.

“When was the last time you slept?” Anika asked.

“Or showered,” Chad chimed in.

“Just get in here,” you said as you stepped aside. “I’m definitely on to something.”

“Good, because I have my own theories,” Mindy said with a smile. She was the first to enter.

You said hi to every one of them as they came in. Anika gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek and Quinn patted your unhurt arm. When Tara finally walked in, at the very end of the line, she gave you a look that you… couldn’t quite describe. She didn’t look sad. You supposed “worried” was a much better descriptor.

“You didn’t even change out of the shirt,” she said, pulling lightly on the NYPD shirt that you were still sporting.

“Shit,” you mumbled, “you’re right.”

“Go change,” she said, and you nodded before shutting and locking the door behind her.

“Get settled,” you told everyone as you walked into your room. You left the door open as you dug for something to wear. “All ‘a youse stayed safe, right?” You called.

“Safe and sound,” Anika called back.

“Good,” you said, tossing the NYPD shirt onto the bed. You were still trying to orient the new shirt as you walked back into the living room. “I’ve got some information you’re all going to love.”

“Who is that guy staring at us from across the alley?” Chad asked.

“What?” You said as you finally pulled the shirt over your head. You walked over to the window to see who he was talking about. “Oh, that’s Tony.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“My older brother,” you said, shooting a wave at him. He waved back and smiled. “After the other night, I asked him to keep watch. His bedroom window watches the fire escape outside my room.”

“How many brothers do you even have?” Quinn asked, mostly to herself.

“Five,” you answered anyway, “and two sisters.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Tara asked incredulously.

“What can I say,” you shrugged. “We’re Catholic.”

“And you trust Tony?” Mindy asked. “Like really trust him?”

“With my life,” you said. “Now, everyone sit down, I’ve got a few things to show you.” You looked around. “Where’s Ethan?”

“Econ,” Chad answered.

You looked around for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “Alright then,” you said. “Mindy, would you like to enthrall us with your theories while I get my stuff situated?”

“I would love to,” she said with a smile as she stood up in front of everyone.

You listened to Mindy’s talk about sequels and remakes and upping the budget and yada yada. It was all very flashy, very out there, but you could respect it. If anyone would know what was going on, it would be Mindy. And she managed to fill more than enough time while you finished pulling everything up on your laptop and hooking it up to the projector on the ceiling.

“Now we shall hear your theories,” Mindy said as she practically handed you the floor.

“Not necessarily theories,” you said, “but I dug up some dirt.”

“And how did you manage to do that?” Chad asked as he leaned back against your couch.

“Well, Chadwick,” you said, ignoring the glare he sent you, “I learned from a very reliable source.”

“Gale is their godmother,” Sam explained.

“And my sister Martha is a tech guru,” you said as you pulled up your powerpoint presentation, “so I learned from the best.”

“Did you turn this into a TED Talk?” Quinn asked with a tilt of her head.

“Why yes I did, Quinn, thank you for asking,” you said as you pulled up the first slide.

“How long is this presentation?” Tara asked.

“Long,” you said with a smile, “so buckle up.”

You went over everything you had managed to dig up for the past 18 hours. From all the Reddit conspiracies, to possible motives. You pointed out how all the theories of Sam being the killer had all managed to come from different sock puppet accounts, which all connected to two different real accounts, which shared IP addresses.

“And you learned how to find that out from your sister?” Anika asked as she leaned forward on her thighs.

“Yes I did,” you said, “and she’s never wrong.”

“Who do the two accounts belong to?” Tara asked.

“Now that I don’t know yet,” you sighed. “But we got our two potential Ghostfaces right there.”

“Two?” Sam asked.

“There’s almost always two,” you said. “Except for, uh, what’s his name,” you shuffled through some of the papers on your table. “Ah, that Roman guy.”

Everyone looked at you with a mix of shock, confusion, and amazement. And maybe a little bit of fear.

“I told you I did my research,” you defended. “Unlike you guys, I didn’t grow up with Ghostface as part of my school curriculum.”

“So you did all this just to tell us you still don’t know who it is?” Chad asked.

“I’m not a detective, I’m doing my best,” you huffed. “It’s more than that pig Bailey ever did.” You instantly looked at Quinn. “No offense, doll.”

“None taken,” she said with a shrug.

“But I do think this means he’s going after you, Sam,” you said. “He painted a bullseye on you with the Reddit bullshit. Must’ve pissed someone off.”

“Seems that’s all I ever do,” she said with a huff.

Everyone got to talking, going over what you had managed to find out. You continued shuffling through your papers, seeing if there was anything else you had left out. All the adrenaline and caffeine was starting to wear off and your eyes were fuzzy, but you could focus long enough to read. Mostly.

Your phone vibrated on the table, and you looked down. From the area code, the call was from the Bronx. If anything, one of your siblings got a new phone and was calling you to let you know. It had happened far too many times anyway, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Quit breakin’ your goddamn phone,” you said immediately after answering.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You froze.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “Cat got your tongue?”

Everyone was still talking amongst themselves. You didn't know if you were supposed to tell them about the call or not. No one was looking at you, so you walked over to the window. When Tino looked over, you signed for him to watch.

"You and your buddy showin' up tonight?" You asked. "Or are you both a couple 'a pussies?"

"You're bold," he said. "Have you learned much from your research?"

"A bit," you said. You were eying the streets below. Surely he was somewhere close.

"Then I'll ask you the single most important question," he said. "What's your favourite scary movie?"

“Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure,” you said. “Large Marge will haunt me till I die.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“My Ma told me I’m a natural comedian.” He wasn’t in the alley. Where was he?

“You ever seen Stab?”

“Not really,” you said. You were vaguely aware of the fact that everyone had fallen silent. “I think they're insensitive."

"Insensitive?" He chuckled. "How chivalrous."

"You gonna play your game or not?" You asked, finally turning back around to see everyone staring at you.

Oh no.

"Did you check Garret’s room when you got home last night?"

Your eyes darted to Garret’s closed bedroom door. No. No you hadn’t checked it last night. The phone fell from your hand as you vaulted over the armchair in your way. Someone was calling to you, but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. Without any hesitation or sense of self preservation, you threw the door open.

No one was in there.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Don’t go in there!” Mindy shouted at you from the living room. “Have you never seen a horror movie?”

“Just shut up,” you called back. “Get out,” you said when you grabbed one of the baseball bats you kept in every room of the apartment. “Tony’s apartment number is 413, it’s a four floor walk-up.”

“I’m staying,” Tara said.

“Come on,” Chad said; you hoped he grabbed her and forced her to leave.

This is a stupid idea, you thought as you stalked your way to Garret’s closed closet door. Sure, you had a bat, but you had no idea what you were going to do if that fucker was in there. What, you were going to just bludgeon him to death? Yeah, that would look great on your rap sheet.

“Here goes nothin’,” you mumbled as you turned the doorknob and threw the door open, the bat primed and ready.

No one was in there either.

“What the-”

-screams came from the front door.

Shit. 

You tripped over Garret’s duffel bag that he had left and hit the floor with a hard *thud*. The stitches on your bicep pulled tight. You could hear your pulse racing in your ears as you pushed yourself back up to your feet and ran out of the room.

Just in time to see Ghostface pulling the knife out of Anika’s stomach.

You saw Mindy not too far away holding her bleeding arm, but you couldn’t find anyone else. That was probably a good thing.

Ghostface lifted the knife again.

The wood of the bat rubbed harshly against the skin of your palms as you swung. It hit his head with a hollow *thunk*, and he groaned and fell to the ground. You didn't recall crossing the living room.

“Go,” you shouted as you pushed Anika and Mindy into your room and slammed the door behind the three of you.

Mindy helped Anika onto your bed and pushed against the wound that you could now see went all the way from her sternum to her stomach. Your own stomach twisted at the sight. The muscles in your legs were frozen even as your mind ran rampant.

Something grabbed the doorknob.

You dropped the bat and lunged, slamming into the door right as it opened. Your hands wrapped around the doorknob as it twisted erratically. The metal started to heat up from the friction and you could feel it burning the skin on your palms.

"We're going to die," Anika cried.

"Try to stay positive," Mindy told her even as she was looking around the room for… you didn't know what.

The doorknob twisted again. The door opened slightly, and you slammed your shoulder into it again. Why didn't you fix the fucking lock when you had the chance last week?

"If we get out of this alive, I'm fucking strangling you-"

-The gleam of a knife took over everything in your sight.

You followed as it pulled out, leaving a hole in your door right beside your head along with a light smear of blood.

"Get out," you said, your eyes still glued to the blood smear on your door.

"What?" Mindy asked 

"Fire escape leads to Tony's room," you said.

"Tara will kill me if I leave you-"

-the knife drove through the door again. You jumped back but felt a sharp sting in your hip.

The door tried to fly open again. You yelped, but pushed against it harder. Your bare feet dug into the carpet and you could feel the strain in your thighs.

"Give me the chair," you ordered, waving your hand vaguely in the direction of a metal folding chair.

Someone shuffled around the room, and in seconds you felt the chair in your outstretched hand. You placed it underneath the doorknob.

The knife pierced the door again.

And again.

And again.

"Come on," you heard Mindy say to Anika. At least you assumed that was who she was talking to.

Anika groaned, but the sounds meant they were moving. Hopefully to your window. Your pulse was rushing in your ear.

The doorknob jiggled again.

"Grab my hand!" Okay, that was Sam, the window was open.

The knife came into your field of view.

Oh god this was so stupid!

"Y/N, come on!"

Tara?

The doorknob quit moving and the room was enveloped with a deafening silence.

You let go of the doorknob slowly and took a few hesitant steps back. The heel of your foot hit the bat, and you reached down to pick it up without taking your eyes off the door.

"Just get out here!"

The grain of the wood rubbed your palms raw as you tightened your grip on the handle. It hung in the air above your shoulder, ready to swing.

I dare you to try it.

"Tara wait!"

Someone stepped onto the fire escape before climbing into the window. You didn't dare turn from the door. A familiar hand touched your ear. It stung.

"You're bleeding," Tara said softly.

You didn't answer.

There was banging in the living room. You twisted your hands around the bat and planted your feet. So help you god, if Ghostface even so much as sneezed you would-

"-It's Bailey!"

Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe two.

"We have paramedics downstairs," he continued, "open the door."

Your eyes stayed on the door even as you toed the chair, pulling it until it fell to the ground with a *clang*.  Your grip on the bat tightened as you watched the doorknob twist.

Detective Bailey stepped into the room, hands held up in surrender.

You exhaled sharply and felt all the muscles in your body relax.

The bat fell to the ground as your vision went fuzzy. Tara's hand fell and rested on your hip.

You supposed you had just survived attack number two.

movie night pt.v

Summary: Sam doesn't distrust you quite as much and Tara scares you. Guess that means it's time for them to meet the family.

Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: Excessive swearing, suggestive themes, Scream levels of violence/mentions of violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v)

“One more attack and I’m takin’ you to Mercy,” Aunt Sherry said as she finished cleaning the dried blood on your neck. “Conscious or not.”

“I understand,” you said quietly. You supposed after another 17 stitches, you couldn’t really argue with her.

“Your Ma never wanted this life for you,” she said, her hand resting on your shoulder.

You knew she meant well, but this conversation wasn’t helping. Clearly Ma never wanted this for you, she hadn’t even wanted it for herself and Pop. Trouble was always quick to follow your family, and you were more than adept at figuring out how to navigate it. This was a different obstacle, sure, but you were clever, you could make it work.

None of you had been taught how to keep others out of trouble, though.

“I’ll see you at Mass,” you said with a smile before hopping out of the ambulance for the second time in 24 hours.

Anika had already been rushed to the hospital. As far as you knew, they were confident she would pull through. Damn, she was one tough sonofabitch. You would need to make sure you sent flowers or chocolates or something. What would she even like? Maybe you should ask Mindy.

“Who knows where you live?” Sam asked once you shuffled your way to the group. All these Ghostface attacks were giving you major deja vu.

“No one,” you said when you stopped beside Tony. “Did you tell anyone?”

“Course not,” he scoffed, “I know the family rules.”

“Well he found out somehow,” Chad said.

“Well it wasn’t from us, smart guy,” Tony said defensively. “We don’t tell nobody where we live.”

“Only ones who know are Garret and the lot of you,” you said. “And I only called Tara.”

“And where is Garret?” Mindy asked as she held her now-bandaged arm.

“His dad’s house up in the Hamptons,” you said with a shrug. “Not gettin’ back till next weekend.”

“And you’re sure he’s up there?” Tara asked.

“Yes I’m sure, now quit with the interrogation,” you huffed. “Got enough of a headache as it is.”

Tara didn’t say anything but reached down and grabbed your hand, slotting her fingers between yours. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze. It was starting to become abundantly clear why she had kept her distance. Was this going to happen to anyone that got close to the Woodsboro gang? Because that was enough to have anyone on edge.

“So what now?” Tara asked.

“Chad and I are going to the hospital with Anika,” Mindy said softly, her eyes hazy.

“Quinn is already being escorted to the police station,” Sam said.

A phone rang.

Everyone’s eyes darted to Tony, who was already digging in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and showed you the screen, and you gulped. Oh god, this was so bad. You couldn’t do this again, you were barely holding it together as it was.

“Is it him?” Tara asked.

“Worse,” Tony said as he handed you the phone.

You watched it ring two more times before closing your eyes and answering it. The moment you held it up to your ear, you heard the static on the other end. It didn’t matter how tough you were, you weren’t prepared. Hell, nothing could have prepared you for it.

“Hey, Ma,” you said in the sweetest voice you could muster.

“If the two ‘a youse don’t get your sorry asses over here in the next 20 minutes, I’m chainin’ your ankles and throwin’ ya in the Hudson.”

“Just calm down-”

“-don’t you dare tell me to calm down, you don’t even call me to tell me about this bastard?”

You sighed. “No I don’t because you start actin’ like a wise guy!”

“Get your asses over here, Y/N.”

“Ma-”

“-Now.”

You exhaled through your nose and looked over at Tony. He mouthed a “sorry” before he shrugged. Lot of good he was. Sam and Tara were still looking at you with a mix of concern and… were they laughing?

“Can we bring two visitors?” You finally asked.

There was a bit of silence.

“Only if you follow the rules.”

“We will,” you said.

“Then yes.” A beat of silence. “And hurry.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said. “We’ll see you soon-”

-the call hung up and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Well, that went well. On the other hand, you had been on the receiving end of worse calls from your Ma. This honestly wasn’t all that bad, at least she didn’t curse your bloodline. Well, not that time.

“You threw me under the bus,” you mumbled as you handed the phone back to Tony.

“I ain’t puttin’ up with her rage,” he said even as he slid the phone back into his back pocket.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“We’re goin’ somewhere safe,” you said. “Well. Safe for you.”

“She’s gonna kill ya,” Tony mumbled.

“Shut up, I know,” you mumbled back as you placed your hand on Tara’s lower back and started guiding her down the streets.

“Shouldn’t you make sure the police don’t need anything?” Tara asked, looking back at your crime-scene of an apartment building.

“Absolutely not,” you said, “they let this happen, they can do it on their own.”

You all bid goodbye to Chad and Mindy before everyone went silent as you and Tony led them through the streets of New York. It was late, the lights were blinding, and the grating sounds of sirens faded into the usual chaos. There was something comforting about it; you didn’t think you’d ever be able to live somewhere that was quiet. How Tara had managed to live in Woodsboro forever was beyond you.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t keeping an eye out for suspicious characters. Namely a certain motherfucker who had quickly moved to the top of your shit list. Oh if he just gave you the chance, you were going to make him pay. No way on God’s green earth were you going to let him get away with any of this bullshit.

“Where exactly are we going?” Sam asked when you took them into an unassuming bakery in the Bronx.

“Can’t tell you,” Tony said.

You made sure to wave at Chris when you walked by the counter and guided everyone through a back door. It was a bit suspicious, you wouldn’t lie. Come to think of it, you didn’t think your family had invited anyone over since… well, since Dicky had brought Carol over a few years ago, actually. Oh man, maybe you all needed to reconsider your rules.

“It’s not as sketchy as it seems,” you said when you turned to look at them. “But I need you both to close your eyes.”

“Excuse me?” Tara asked.

“I said it’s not as sketchy as it seems,” you huffed.

“I’m not letting you lead us into some back room,” Sam said with crossed arms.

“If you don’t close your eyes, I can’t take you in,” you said. “It’s family rules.”

“Really?” Tara asked.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. They both looked at you in silence. “I know how it sounds.”

“If we close our eyes will you quit floundering?” Tara asked. “You’re going to catch flies.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “Please just follow the rules, I’m tired of just standing here like a psycho.”

Sam and Tara shared a look, opposite of the one you shared with Tony. You both knew it was a bit sketchy, you knew. But when Ma and Pop made the rules, they made the rules. How were you supposed to argue? You weren’t, that’s how. Besides, if Ma and Pop found out you were breaking the rules they would have your heads.

“Fine,” Sam said with a sigh before closing her eyes. Tara quickly followed suit.

Both you and Tony shared a sigh before guiding the two girls through the back door. You each held on to them to make sure they didn’t trip over something as you took them down through a cellar and into one of the underground tunnels. Most people didn’t know about the tunnels under New York City, but your family had memorised them as if your lives depended on it.

Which, sometimes they did.

You took them through a dizzying amount of turns until you got to the door that led up to your house. If the family was smart, they would’ve locked it. And unfortunately for you, it was locked. Damn, you had hoped they would’ve lost their mind for a few seconds, you weren’t in the mood to dig around for the new location of the spare key.

The tip of your ear started to throb when you bent down to look for the key under the crate of bootleg whiskey.

“Found you,” you mumbled to yourself when your fingers brushed against the ridiculously oversized skeleton key.

“Can we open our eyes now?” Tara asked.

“No,” you said without hesitation. “We gotta get you inside first.”

“This is how people die in horror movies,” she continued while you shoved the skeleton key into the similarly oversized keyhole. “You know that, right?”

“Yes, Tara, I know that,” you bit back, finally pushing the door open. “Now come on.”

You held Tara’s hand tightly as you helped her up the stairs to your house. Well, it was your parents’ house, but that didn’t really matter. Only once you and Tony had brought both girls up to the living room did you finally pull them to a stop. The blood rushed in your ears. You hadn’t ever brought anyone home.

“Okay, you can open ‘em,” Tony said before you found your voice again.

Both girls opened their eyes slowly; you almost wanted to laugh at how wide they got when they looked around. Sure, maybe the brownstone was a bit extravagant. All the exploits of the past were on display; trophies, if you would. From the old paintings, to old newspaper clippings of heists, to the Tommy gun your great grandfather had owned before he passed down the mantle. You supposed it was a bit of a shock to the average person.

“Are you…” Sam trailed off before looking back at you. “Are you-”

“-yeah,” you said with a nod. “We’re Italian.”

“Y/N Vitale, you be nice to those girls.”

“Oh shit,” Tony said as the four of you turned around quickly.

Your eyes went wide - much like Sam’s and Tara’s - when you saw your Ma walking towards you with violence in her step. Oh, you were in trouble. You were in deep shit and no one was going to be able to save you. Maybe you should’ve just taken your chances with Ghostface; he scared you less than your mother.

“Hey Ma-”

-you were cut off by her harshly gripping your jaw and pulling you down until you were eye level with her. She twisted your head and looked at the injured ear you were sporting. Everyone flinched when your neck popped. What was one more injury in the long list of injuries you were starting to get?

She turned your head again until you could look her in the eyes. As much as you feared your Ma - respectfully, of course - you knew concern when you saw it. It never came off the way normal people did, but you knew it. It was in the crinkles around her eyes as they checked every inch of your skin.

“Are you ladies hurt?” Ma asked as she let go of your face. You rubbed your jaw as you straightened back up.

“No- um, no ma’am,” Sam stammered.

“We’re okay,” Tara followed.

“Good,” Ma said, turning to look at them and putting on her motherly smile that you certainly never got to see. “Then welcome home.”

“How come they get a welcome and I get a once-over?” You asked.

“Because they stayed safe and responsible and you didn’t,” Ma shot back. Tara snickered while Sam turned her head to hide a smile.

“As if that’s my fault,” you grumbled.

“And what did I say about tracking blood into my house?” Ma asked, raising her brows at you.

“I didn’t!” You argued. “But I’m sorry, they don’t let you grab clean clothes out of an active crime scene, Ma.”

“I’m talkin’ about your feet,” she said with a gesture down.

All five of you looked down at your feet, and you flinched when you saw the tracks you had left in the house. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, you hadn’t even noticed you hadn’t grabbed shoes. But as you lifted one of your feet and checked the bottom, all the pain you had ignored came rushing to the surface.

Glass, dirt, and who knew what else was embedded in the skin. When you looked back, it seemed you had been leaving bloody footprints for who knew how long. Part of you figured you hadn’t tracked them through the Bronx, but you had most definitely tracked them through the tunnel. Damn. Pop was going to make you clean it all up.

“I put some spare clothes in the bathroom,” Ma said. “So get your raggedy ass upstairs and clean up before dinner.”

“Yes ma’am,” you muttered as your shoulders fell.

You ignored Tara’s barely-concealed laughter as you pushed past her to head upstairs to your bathroom. Well, you supposed technically it wasn’t your bathroom anymore, it was Ma’s, but she could suck your dick. The nerve of that woman, to call you raggedy. You were the perfect gentleman, it wasn’t your fault some psycho had decided to target you.

Just as Ma had said, she had left a folded set of clothes on the bathroom counter for you. It looked a little too formal if you were being honest, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And you certainly couldn’t afford to be a chooser. Ma would have your head if she found out you had even thought about different clothes.

The stitches of your ever increasing wounds pulled tight, leaving a throbbing sensation around the jagged skin. Aunt Sherry had done a wonderful job, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. In the end, you grabbed a pair of hair scissors and just cut your shirt off. It was old, torn, and blood soaked; you could get a new one.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the shirt as you managed to wriggle out of your sweats. Not all of that blood had been yours. Some of it had been Mindy’s, and a lot of it had been Anika’s.  Your friends’ blood was soaked into your shirt. Each breath you took felt laboured as you wallowed in the thought that the very thing that kept your friends alive was staining your shirt.

With a shake of your head, you put the thoughts aside. This wasn’t new, you had seen blood before, you were fine. One step at a time. Finish getting out of your clothes, start the shower, wash your feet. And the rest of the dried blood that was becoming itchy. Oh, Ma was gonna kill you for dirtying up her shower.

The water was steaming by the time you finally stepped in. You let out a hiss when it hit your skin, creating more than just a throb in your wounds. It stung, bad. But surely it would clean you right up, right? Sanitisation, yeah, that’s what it would be. You get clean and fight infection; two birds, one stone.

By the time you were down to your feet, you were sitting on the edge of the tub while the water fell on your back. Your hair dripped into your eyes and you were constantly trying to push it back so you could see. The pair of tweezers in your hands was slick from water and you just needed to get a few more pieces of glass out so you could finish up.

You weren’t looking at the door when you heard it open.

“I told your sorry ass I’d be out in a minute, this is delicate work,” you called out.

A small hand appeared in front of your face and, without lifting your head, you looked up to see Tara standing in front of you. She, too, had been given a spare set of clothing that looked a little too big. Whose shirt was she wearing anyway? Her hand never moved until you sighed and placed the tweezers on her palm.

“You’re shit at this,” she said as she knelt down and started looking for the few remaining pieces of glass.

“Don’t have to be good, just have to be effici- ouch.” She swatted your hand away when you went to stop her from hurting you again. “You’re so rough,” you grumbled.

“Don’t have to be gentle,” she said as she looked up at you, “just have to be efficient.”

“You’re so mean,” you whispered even as you shifted your position to ease a certain… uncomfortable feeling.

Maybe you liked when she was mean. Maybe you liked it a little too much. Oh god, your family was going to see how whipped you were for a girl you hadn’t even properly been on a date with. Bringing Tara to the house maybe wasn’t such a smart idea on your part.

“Do you have gauze?” She asked, setting the tweezers down in the sink so more blood than necessary wouldn’t get on the floor.

“Underneath the sink,” you said with a gesture of your head. “Got a whole first aid kit.”

You watched her as she got up and checked under the sink. It only took a moment, it was a giant metal kit, no one could miss it. In fact, when she brought it out it was almost bigger than she was. You bit the inside of your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at her. If your body wasn’t at her mercy, you wouldn’t have been so polite.

She quickly dug around and got to work finding everything she needed before getting started. Her hands moved expertly as she started cleaning and bandaging your feet. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve guessed she had been a nurse in a past life. Unfortunately you did know better, and the scar on her hand just reminded you of how she knew so much.

“I never said thank you,” she said after she finished wrapping your left foot.

“For what?” You asked as you leaned back to turn the water off; you weren’t going to need it anymore.

“For saving Mindy and Anika,” she continued.

She wasn’t looking up at you. Quite the contrary, it was almost like she was avoiding your eyes. Why would she thank you for such a thing? It wasn’t like you were going to leave them behind to die. You weren’t always the sharpest tool in the shed - Ma made sure to remind you of that every now and then - but you weren’t that selfish.

“You don’t gotta thank me for that,” you said softly.

“I just did,” she said as she finished wrapping your right foot. “You’re done.”

You placed your feet on the ground and stood up slowly, easing your feet back into holding your weight. It hurt, ached even, but at least they were clean. How you hadn’t noticed the injuries before Ma, you had no idea. But quite frankly, Tara did a phenomenal job of wrapping them securely. 

“Hurry up and get dressed,” Tara ordered, and you looked up just in time to catch the towel she had thrown in your direction. “Your mom is torturing Sam by giving her a lecture on street safety.”

“You should’ve listened to it too,” you said, but you quickly started drying off. “You hippies can’t handle these streets.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said through gritted teeth as you pulled your pants up. It hurt your feet to be moving on them so much. “Notice your bunch weren’t even here for a few months before getting attacked.”

“And you know so much about street safety?” Tara asked. “The one who got shot at a protest?”

You hesitated. “Yeah, I do.”

You were facing the mirror as you started buttoning up your shirt, and you could see Tara staring at you with furrowed brows. Maybe you should’ve just kept your big trap shut. It wasn’t exactly the greatest time to be getting into backstory now, was it? No, it most certainly wasn’t.

“You didn’t get shot at a protest,” she said slowly. “Did you?”

You turned around as you finished tucking your shirt into your pants. “Sorry, doll,” you said with a smile, “only girlfriends get to know that information.” With a wink, you gently pushed past her and exited the bathroom.

“Oh you dick,” you heard her say even as she followed after you.

You waited at the bottom of the stairs before placing your hand on her lower back and guiding her through the brownstone to the dining room. Everyone’s obscenely loud voices reverberated off the brick walls. Seemed the whole family was invited for dinner. A little unusual considering it was a Thursday night, but given the circumstances it could be forgiven.

A wide variety of “hello”s deafened you when you and Tara walked into the dining room. Everyone was dressed well - the same dress shirt and pants as you, which was typical - and they had pulled out a few extra seats for Sam and Tara. Gale was sitting beside your Pop; she gave you a smile and a small wave, which you returned.

“Oy, Street Rat,” Mitch called, “be a good pup and show your girl to her seat.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, but nonetheless led Tara to one of the two empty seats next to each other.

Out of pure mercy, you let her sit between you and Sam so she wasn’t having to deal with any of the other family members. The others heckled you when you helped push her seat in. You could feel your cheeks heating up while you grumbled and plopped down in your own seat, refusing to look up at any of them.

“Quiet,” Pop said, and the room immediately fell silent. “Who’s gonna say grace?”

“Can’t be me,” Joel said with a shrug. “He clearly don’t listen cause Y/N is still here.”

“You really wanna be a wise guy tonight?” You asked. “Cause I still got a lot of pent up anger.”

“Enough,” Ma said quietly, but you all listened. “I’ll say grace.”

"Yes, Ma," everyone said in unison.

"Bow your heads," she said, and everyone slowly did as instructed.

You cheated a little bit. While Ma was saying grace, blessing the food and yours and the Carpenters' lives, you looked at Tara out of the corner of your eye. If you looked a little harder you almost thought you could see a flush on her cheeks. For what, you had no idea, but you made the split decision to reach over and take her hand.

She linked her fingers with yours right before Ma finished.

"Amen," each person said before all normal talk resumed.

You helped Tara and Sam get their food, making sure everyone behaved. They did, they all knew the family rules, but the Carpenters didn't and you knew the lot of you could be… a little chaotic. Eight kids, two parents, sometimes the spouses and nieces and nephews. Lucky for the girls, it was only the immediate family.

"Oy, show me the ear," Dicky said right as you tried to start eating.

"So you can point and laugh?" You asked. "No way."

"I just wanna see," he said.

"I got it," Alfie said around a mouthful of food.

The look on Tara's and Sam's faces was comical when Alfie reached across the table, gripped your jaw, and turned your head. You did your best to smile at the two of them to let them know it was normal, but they didn't seem to believe you. If anything, it almost made Tara look a little frustrated. Maybe even angry.

"That's it?" Dicky asked when you snapped at Alfie and he let you go. "All that hubbub for that?"

"What do you mean?" You asked. "I got a notch outta my ear, I was gonna get that part pierced."

"All he's sayin' is you took on Ghostface twice, and that's what you walk away with?" Joel butted in. "Pass the salt, wouldya?"

"It's more than you ever walked away with," Martha defended you. "Don't listen to a word he says."

"The two 'a youse walk away with any cool scars?" Mitch asked, turning to look at Sam and Tara.

You could see them squirm in their seats.

"Watch it-"

"-fuck off-"

"-none of your business." Martha, you, and Mercy all said at the same time.

You felt Tara squeeze your hand once.

“Hey Street Rat, you down to make a run for me?” Dicky asked.

You didn’t bother swallowing before you answered. “I’m kinda in the middle of somethin’ this week.”

“I didn’t mean this second, jackass.”

You glared at him and swiped your tongue over your bottom teeth. “Sure,” you finally said with a shrug, “just give me a week and I’ll be back in action.”

"So," Sam started, wiping her mouth off on the napkin before looking around the table. “What do you all do for a living?”

“Accounting,” every single one of you said at the same time. Pop squeezed the bridge of his eyes as you all looked at each other sheepishly.

“All of you?” Sam asked.

“Mercy’s a doctor,” Tony chimed in.

“Accounting’s a family business,” Dicky said with a gentle nod.

“Right,” Sam said with her own nod and a polite smile. Something told you she didn’t exactly believe him.

Conversation continued as normal, with everyone talking over each other. Thankfully, they all started asking Sam and Tara normal questions, and you could visibly see them start to relax. You wondered when the last time was that they had a family dinner. Not including Chad and Mindy; they were family, but they weren’t family. There was a bit of a difference.

“Ladies,” Pop said once Ma had brought out the cannoli. Everyone froze, only their eyes moving between him and the Carpenters. “It’s been a pleasure to have you, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

The girls stiffened in their seats, and Tara squeezed your hand again. You tried to give Pop a look that said to calm down, but he wasn’t even looking at you. His eyes were trained on Sam and Tara, and you couldn’t blame him. Hell, you didn’t know when non-family had been over last. Hopefully he was going to behave.

“You might not understand the gravity of this statement, but Vitale blood has been spilled for you two,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in front of him on the table.

“Oh brother,” you whispered.

Tara looked at you and you shook your head lightly and rolled your eyes. This was going to be ridiculous.

“One of us,” everyone looked at you, “felt you were worth dyin’ for.” You sighed. “We don’t take that lightly.”

“We greatly appreciate it-”

“-we have a family rule,” he interrupted Sam. “If one of us voluntarily spills blood for someone, we all follow suit.” He leaned forward on the table and waited until both Sam and Tara were looking him in the eye. “We’ll put that Ghostface character at the bottom of the Hudson.”

“Tone it down a smidge,” you whispered and gestured down with your hand.

Pop opened his mouth and closed it once. “We’ll, uh, protect you with our lives.” You gestured again. “Welcome… to the family?”

“Better,” you whispered with a scrunch of your nose that was followed by a gentle smile.

“We really do appreciate it,” Tara said.

“It’s nice to know we have, um,” Sam inhaled deeply and looked around, “Italians on our side.”

“Atta girl,” Mercy said.

“You catch on quick,” Martha agreed.

Dinner finished soon after, and everyone went about collecting the dishes and cleaning. Martha, in all her pregnant glory, kept Sam and Tara at the table, talking their ears off. At one point, you took the still-full coffee cups from in front of them and heard her talking about… something. You weren’t entirely sure, you just knew the word “family” was being thrown around a lot.

Tara looked at you and mouthed “help me.” You just smiled, shook your head, and mouthed “no” in return. The glare she gave you… it was no question she and Sam were related, they both had killer eyes. Tara’s were particularly beautiful at that moment though, did she know that? They almost reminded you of a warm hazelnut-

“-You’d best keep movin’,” Martha said. She was watching you with a ridiculous smirk. “She’s got a look that could kill.”

“Would you like some tiramisu?” You asked. Tara’s eyes softened, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Yes please,” she said.

“I’ll go get it.”

“You’re whipped!” Dicky called from the kitchen before you could even stand up straight.

“Give it a few days, Dick,” Joel said as he leaned on the doorframe. “Tara’ll have ‘em on a leash.”

“Shut up,” you shot back as you pushed past them to get into the kitchen. “It’s called bein’ polite.” You carefully plated the tiramisu. “Somethin’ you clearly know nothin’ about.”

“Seems our little Street Rat’s turnin’ into a Guard Dog,” Mitch chimed in, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Your family really came out of the woodworks, they did.

“Next time Ghostface calls, I’m givin’ him your address,” you said as you walked back into the dining room and placed the plate down in front of Tara. And Sam, you had made her a plate too.

Maybe you were whipped.

“Do it,” Dicky said. “Matter ‘a fact, give him my phone number too, he and I need to have a talk.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t tolerate that shit on my turf.”

“That’s enough,” Pop said, and everyone quickly shut up. “Go home, the lot of ya.” He looked down at Sam and Tara. “We’ve got beds made up for the both of you.”

“Thank you,” they both said with polite smiles.

“Gale stayin’ tonight too?” You asked.

And just like that, she came in at the mention of her name. Speak of the devil.

“Yes I am,” she said with a smile. “I have something I want to show you three tomorrow when it’s day time.”

“What did you find?” Tara asked quickly.

“We’ll have more time tomorrow,” Gale answered. You watched as Tara slumped back in her seat in defeat.

Everyone finished cleaning up their stuff and started leaving the brownstone. You could see the gears turning in Tara’s head when they all left through the front door, but you shook your head at her. It wasn’t something she needed to know at the moment. It was late, dark, and everyone just needed to get some sleep. If she really wanted to know more later, you would tell her.

Probably.

“She gonna have you in a muzzle next time I see you?” Joel asked as he blocked the doorway.

“Keep movin’,” Tony said as he pushed Joel out. “Call me if ya need somethin’,” he said to you with a smile.

“You got it,” you answered. “Now get out, I’m exhausted.”

Mercy gave you a kiss on the cheek and Martha gave Sam and Tara hugs, but then everyone was gone. You were left with the Carpenters, Gale, and your parents. It was… disturbingly quiet, if you were being honest. You almost missed the chaos of having everyone over. Well, you would see them all at Mass, it would be fine.

“All of you get upstairs and get to bed,” Ma said with a gentle nod of her head. “It’s late and I know you all must be tired.”

“Come on, Sam,” Gale said with a gesture, “I’ll show you to your room.”

“Good night,” Sam said with a polite smile and wave. A chorus of “good nights” followed her as she similarly followed Gale upstairs.

“Tara sweetie, you can sleep in Y/N’s bed,” Ma said before looking at you. “I made you a pallet on your floor.”

“Thanks, Ma,” you said, leaning in to leave a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, you two.” You leaned over to give Pop a kiss on the cheek as well.

“Good night,” Tara said with her own small wave.

You placed your hand on Tara’s lower back as you gently pushed her in front of you up the stairs. Unfortunately for you, your room was right beside the two guest rooms that everyone else was staying in. Not that you necessarily had anything planned, but even if you did, you wouldn’t dare risk Sam or Gale hearing you.

Sometimes life was rather cruel.

“She left you some pyjamas on the bed,” you said once you showed Tara into your room. “Bathroom is down the hall, we’ve got spare toothbrushes in the top left drawer.”

“Thanks,” Tara said softly.

You watched as she grabbed the pyjamas and promptly exited the room, leaving you alone for the first time since your shower. And now that you were alone, you could feel all the wear and tear of the past two days weighing heavy on you. Anika was still in the hospital. Was she even alive? Surely she was, someone would have let you know, right? Or they at least would have let Sam or Tara know.

And what about Quinn? She would be safe at the police station, you knew that much. They didn’t care for anyone else in the city, but they did care for their own. There was no way in hell they would let anything happen to a Detective’s daughter, especially when that daughter was Quinn. No, Quinn was safe.

Chad and Mindy were safe at the hospital with Anika. There was no doubt about it. Your family had people up there, and Pop had already said he told them to stay close and keep their eyes out. They would die before they let anything happen to those three, so they were actually safer than any of you.

When Tara came back into the room, looking mighty adorable in the oversized t-shirt and sleep pants, you gave her a smile and made your own way to the bathroom. You needed to get out of those clothes pronto before you lost your goddamn mind. The clothes were comfortable, but you were starting to feel constricted.

You left your toothbrush hanging out of the side of your mouth as you unbuttoned the shirt. Each inch lower revealed still-forming bruises and the few bouts of stitches. With a grimace, you finally let the shirt fall to the floor. You didn’t mind scars, really you didn’t, but you hadn’t wanted to get them this way.

Maybe that’s how Tara feels too, you thought with a frown as you finished brushing your teeth and cleaning up. You hadn’t entirely planned for it, but you had known it was a possibility. But Tara? She hadn’t had any idea. And it had all been done by her girlfriend’s hand. What kind of havoc did that wreak on a person’s mind?

You were still thinking about Tara and Amber when you walked back into your room. Tara was already on the bed, her back to you. The door closed with a soft *click* and you turned the light off before plodding over to the pallet. There was an art to pallet making, and your family had perfected it. But as you laid down on the floor and tried to pull the blanket up to your chin, your injuries started to throb and sting.

It wasn’t going to be the floor that kept you awake all night.

There was no way you could lay on your right side, you had that cut on your hip and your right ear was missing a piece. But you couldn’t lay on your left side either because you had that cut on your bicep. Maybe if you tried to lay on your front- nope, not that either. If you had to sleep sitting up, so help you god, you were going to snap-

-something shuffled on your bed, and you quickly stilled yourself. Shit, you hadn’t meant to wake Tara. You were practically holding your breath as the shuffling continued, but then you heard the creak of the bed and someone walking across the room. It was dark, but you didn’t have to use anything more than common sense to know it was Tara who was lifting your blanket and crawling into the pallet with you.

“Not a word,” she said softly as she carefully wrapped an arm around your waist and rested her head on your shoulder.

It hurt. You would rather die than tell her that. Instead, you just pulled her closer and tried not to shift when her fingers rubbed the skin on your hip. It was obsessive, incessant, and it was almost becoming uncomfortable. But you weren’t going to tell her to stop, not when something was clearly on her mind.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” Tara said softly.

“I’ve been dragged into worse situations,” you said flippantly. “And never by a pretty girl.”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” she said, almost as if she hadn’t heard what you had just said.

“I don’t plan on it, sweetheart,” you chuckled.

Her hand left your hip and you felt her grab your chin and turn your head. You couldn’t really see her, not properly at least, but you knew she was looking at you. Studying you for something; you wouldn’t pretend to know what. It strained your neck, but you kept your mouth shut.

You felt her pull your face down until her lips were on yours. Soft but firm. It wasn’t a kiss that was going to lead anywhere, she wasn’t trying to move any further. But judging by the way her bottom lip quivered, you knew it was important. You held her tighter to you until she pulled back and let go of your jaw, resting her head back on your shoulder.

“That didn’t mean anything,” Tara said softly.

“I know,” you said with a nod of your head that no one could see.

You both knew she was lying; you still fell asleep easily.

everyone but her pt.33

Summary: You're angry. You're angry, and Wednesday doesn't know how to help you. At least she's not afraid to look for outside help.

Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: swearing, mentions of murder, mentions of abuse Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

You had been particularly irate after seeing Marcus and Kristi on the television a few weeks ago. And unlike most of your usual bouts of anger, Wednesday couldn’t fix this one. She had done her best to help, to find things for you to do, to distract you. None of it worked.

Her attempts to keep you busy in the apartment had been a bust. She had gone out and bought more furniture, all of which needed to be put together by hand. Once you had gotten home from work one evening, she had asked for your assistance, to which your scowl had dropped for a second and she had almost seen you smile. But unfortunately, you helped create furniture for a living, and what was supposed to be a long distraction ended up taking only a singular weekend.

Then she had asked you to have a "movie marathon," or at least that's what Ajax had called it. All of your favourite movies, one right after the other with the only exceptions being class or work. It seemed to ease your irritation for the most part, but once the movies were over, so was your peace.

More than once Wednesday had even asked you to teach her how to cook. It was a failed endeavour from start to finish. But her pride could look past her embarrassment when she heard you laugh at yet another failed attempt at cooking something so simple. Your laugh was such a beautiful sound, and she would decimate a hundred meals if it meant she could hear you laugh.

However, even that plan eventually fell short when you no longer found the time to teach, instead opting to do it yourself before she got home for class or even going so far as to skip meals entirely. She had only attempted to bring it up to you once before you immediately shut her down. It was a mindless decision not to bring it up again.

Which left her with her current predicament; how to help ease you back into a calm that was sustainable.

When you practically stormed out of the apartment once again, Wednesday realised she was unaware of what to do. It was an odd feeling. To not have any indication or clue as to what would help you. There was something unsettling about it, and more than once she found herself getting increasingly frustrated right alongside you, though for different reasons.

It only took a few moments to make sure you weren’t coming back before Wednesday, with gritted teeth, pulled out the family crystal ball. It had been a long while since she had used it, in fact you had used it far more often to talk with Pugsley. Why you wanted to talk with him, she had no idea, but you did. Which left her in the uncomfortable position she was currently in.

“Hello, darling,” Mother answered almost immediately. “How is school?”

“It’s going well,” Wednesday answered.

“And how is Y/N?” She asked.

Wednesday hesitated. “That’s precisely why I’m calling.”

“I knew you would eventually,” Mother said with a kind smile. “Pugsley mentioned she has been unusually agitated the past few calls.”

“And he would know?” Wednesday asked with a barely concealed scoff.

“Yes he would,” Mother said. “They play some sort of game together every week.”

Wednesday’s eyes fell to the side. Yes, she supposed you did usually play a game with Pugsley when you were on a call. She couldn’t recall what it was called, but it was clearly something you got excited about. More than once she could hear you shouting or cheering or complaining about something. In actuality, she was more surprised you had gotten Pugsley in on your technology craze.

“How can I help you, dear?” Mother asked, pulling her gaze back to the crystal ball. “There will be no judgement.”

As if that was what Wednesday was concerned about.

“I’m unsure of how to help,” she finally said. “The usual distractions no longer work.” Mother waited silently. “Seeing her so tormented is-” she exhaled deeply “-not enjoyable.”

“What have you tried so far?” Mother asked.

Wednesday sighed before going into excruciating detail about everything she had tried. Mother listened politely, nodding when appropriate and asking clarifying questions when necessary. It was infuriating how understanding she was being. Wednesday almost wished she would refuse to listen. At least then she would be warranted in her frustration.

“And this all occurred after her parents appeared on the news?” Mother asked. Wednesday nodded. “Have you asked what she needs?”

“I-” Wednesday quickly closed her mouth. She would rather die than answer that question.

“You cannot know it all, darling,” Mother said simply. “Through no fault of your own, of course.”

Wednesday remained silent even as her face started to heat up.

“Communication is far more important than figuring it out on your own,” Mother continued. “You are incredibly intelligent, Wednesday, but sometimes the easy way is the smartest way.”

“You ask Father those things as well?” Wednesday asked. If her face got any hotter she fully believed she would explode.

“And he asks me,” she said with a nod. “There’s no shame in it.”

“I see,” was all Wednesday had to say in reply.

“Ask,” Mother said with yet another smile that made her skin crawl. “If that doesn’t work, I would love to help you come up with something else.”

“That seems acceptable,” Wednesday said, her brows pinching together. “Thank you, mother.”

“Of course, darling,” Mother said. “Now, tell me about everything else.”

—---

“You seem tense.”

“No shit, Shaun,” you grumbled as you continued to pace the floor. You rolled your shoulders a few times to relieve the pressure near your wings; it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you take a seat and tell me about it,” Shaun said in his overly-understanding-therapist tone.

You hated this. You hated calling him, hated making appointments, hated being in the fucking room with him. No one else had to go to therapy for all of their problems. Why did you have to go? If anyone should be in therapy, it was Enid. You had met her mother, you knew the hell she put up with on a regular basis.

Actually, maybe you should recommend therapy to her, it would probably help.

“Y/N?”

He was looking at you like you were some sort of lost cause.

With a sharp exhale through your nose, you resigned yourself to sitting down in the chair across from Shaun’s. At least it was a comfortable armchair. You pulled your knees up and wrapped your arms around them; he could make you sit, but he couldn’t tell you how to sit. If you were going to be forced to bare your soul then you were going to be comfortable.

“What’s your anger metre at right now?” Shaun asked once you had stopped fidgeting.

You shrugged.

“Do you talk to Wednesday about your anger?” He asked instead.

“Not anymore,” you said. Suddenly, you couldn’t meet his eyes anymore.

“Is there a specific reason?” He leaned back in his own chair.

“This isn’t couples counseling,” you said quickly. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“You brought her into it, Y/N,” Shaun said. “As your girlfriend, isn’t she automatically involved?”

“Ask a different question,” you said, a little quieter.

“Okay,” he said with a few nods of his head. “How did it make you feel to see your parents on the news?”

“Ask a different different question,” you huffed instantly.

“Clearly that’s what’s upsetting you,” he said, “so we should talk about it.”

Damn him for being right. It was no wonder people hated therapy; it sucked. You didn’t want to talk about them. They didn’t deserve to be talked about. Nicky had tried so hard to keep their negative memory out of your head, and now Shaun wanted you to unpack it? No, just the thought made your skin crawl.

You hated them. And it made you sick that you hated them. Why would they make you do that? They were your parents. Why would they make you hate them? Shouldn't they be desperate for your love too? It shouldn't be just you.

But it was.

"I don't like seeing them," you said softly.

"Why not?" Shaun asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"They only show up when I'm getting better," you said with a sniffle. "Maybe that's what their Outcast ability is; impeccable timing."

"You feel like their appearance sets you back in your healing journey," he said.

"Don't make it sound so… pathetic," you said, your nose scrunched as you leaned back in your chair. "It just pisses me off, that's all."

"Right," he said with a small smile. "My mistake."

"Listen," you said. You let go of your legs and your feet touched down on the ground. "Just tell me I'm crazy, give me some homework, and let me go back home."

"You think that would make you feel better?"

"No," you said. "But I need some genuine comfort, and I'll be honest Shaun, you're not giving it to me."

"You want Wednesday," he said with a single raised brow.

It wasn't a question, and you both knew it. Wednesday was becoming a crutch for you to ignore everything. Not that it was her fault, and no one was blaming her for it. But it wasn't fair to her. No one was perfect, but she didn't deserve to become a crutch for something you couldn't even talk to her about.

"I want Wednesday," you confirmed with a nod.

"Then I've got homework for you," Shaun said as he stood up from his chair. You quickly followed suit. "Ask her if there's a day in the week that you can have an emotional talk, and tell her one thing about your parents."

"What if I don't want to talk about them?" You asked.

"Just one thing," he reiterated. "Big, small, it doesn't matter, but say one thing. It will open the door without overwhelming either one of you."

"Your homework sucks," you said.

"I know," he replied with a smile. “Now get home, I’ll see you again next week.”

“I think you just want to get rid of me,” you said even as you walked out of the door.

“Good night, Y/N,” Shaun said.

“Night,” you answered with a wave over your shoulder.

It thankfully wasn’t too late in the evening for you to be walking home. Sure, it was starting to get cold, but it was nice. The cold never hit you quite as hard as everyone else; maybe it was just because of your hot blooded nature. Or stubborn, Yoko had told you that one before too. Whatever the case, the temperature was actually quite lovely and was making for a wonderful walk home. It gave you plenty of time to think.

Maybe talking with Wednesday wouldn’t be as devastating as you worried it would be. After all, she had told you that you could. The only thing she asked for was a bit of preemptive warning so she could prepare to react properly. You could do that, it would give you time to mentally prepare as well. It wouldn’t do either of you any good to both freak out about the talk.

Although knowing your luck, that was probably exactly what would happen.

But aside from that, you could see how it would benefit you both to talk about it. You could get a bit of it off your shoulders, and she could learn a bit more about your past. Your pace slowed as you thought about that. What if she felt you had kept things from her? Or that you had lied about your past by not telling her anything? Oh, you hoped not. You had only just fully remembered it, it wasn’t your fault-

“-Y/N Smith?”

“You can talk to my lawyer,” you said before you even finished turning around.

Except you weren’t met with police officers like you usually were. No, you were met with two people that you had only met once, but you would never forget their faces. They had been present at the funeral. They had been witness to your assault on your father.

They knew your Nicky.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Casey said with a charming smile. Was that something Nicky had liked about them?

“I live here,” was all you said.

“Going to school?” They asked. Devon was too busy scuffing their shoes against the sidewalk to chime in.

“No I-” you inhaled deeply, “-Wednesday is,” you said. “I’m just working.”

“That must be nice.”

“I guess,” you huffed. “What are you two doing here?”

“Oh,” Casey said with a quiet exhale and a smile. “We work here too. I’m working on my doctorates and this one-” they nudged Devon, “-is about to graduate from the police academy.”

“Oh,” you said as your smile fell. “The Academy, huh?”

Finally Devon looked up to meet your eyes. “Your name has circulated,” they said, voice far deeper than you had been expecting. More gruff. It reminded you a bit of Enid’s brothers, actually.

“I’m sure it has,” you mumbled to yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Casey said with a humourless chuckle, “we’re keeping you out late.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a dismissive wave, “I was just heading home.”

“Let me give you my number,” they said as they pulled out their own phone, “and we can meet for coffee or something.”

You looked down at the phone in their hand and froze. Memories of the funeral flashed through your mind like a slideshow put on fast forward. You knew nothing of these two. For all you knew, they could have been lying about being Nicky’s partners. No proof, no Nicky, nothing.

But there was no proof of the opposite either.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, shaking your head and digging for your own phone. You switched the phones and put each number in. “Might as well,” you mumbled when you took your phone back.

“We’ll be in touch,” Casey said with a smile and a nod in your direction.

“Sure,” you said with your own tight-lipped smile.

“We’ll let you get home,” they said. “Stay safe.”

“And out of trouble,” Devon chimed in.

“You too,” you said with a halfhearted wave as you started walking backwards. “Night.”

“Good night,” they both said before starting their own walk in the opposite direction.

The entire walk home suddenly became more of a struggle than a relaxing trip. The weather was no longer enjoyable, it was suffocating. Your wings strained against the harness in a desperate attempt to take you far away from whatever predicament you had gotten yourself stuck in. How were you going to go have coffee with your late brother’s partners that you hadn’t even known had existed until he had passed? How fucked up was that?

So fucked up, in fact, that you didn’t even remember the rest of the walk to the apartment. You didn’t recall passing anyone, unlocking the door, or even re-locking it and sitting down on the couch. The last thing you remembered was passing the little cafe a few blocks down and then… you were on your couch.

It had been a while since your last blackout. The accompanying migraine was just gravy.

“Oh.” You turned to see Wednesday standing in the doorway between your room and the common room. “I didn’t hear you return.”

“I didn’t either,” you mumbled. The couch shifted underneath you as you stood up. “Do anything productive today?”

“I believe so,” she said while following you into the kitchen. “I talked with Mother.”

“Oh?” You asked. You peered your head into the fridge and frowned; it was time for a grocery run.

“How can I help ease your anxiety?”

“Wh-” your head hit the top of the fridge, “-ouch.” You pulled away completely before standing up, rubbing the now sore spot on the top of your head. “Say again?”

Wednesday quickly opened the freezer and pulled out an ice pack, placing it gently on your head. “What can I do to ease some of your anxiety?”

There was a gentleness in her eyes that she normally kept reserved. You knew Wednesday cared greatly for her friends and family and loved ones. She just didn’t show it like most people; she showed it more in the subtle actions or how she phrased things to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. It was a delicate care, one that more often than not went unnoticed. But you all had learned how to see them.

This was more overt. There was an incredibly visible softness around her eyes, a lack of worry lines or that furrow between her brows. Not that it was your main focus, how could you focus on those things when she was looking at you with those stunning eyes of hers? No, focus, she was asking you something serious.

“I don’t-” you huffed, “-why are you asking?”

Wednesday raised a single brow. “Mother said if I wished to help you properly, I should ask you what would help.” She sighed. “So what would help?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you admitted as your shoulders slumped. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” she said with a single nod. “How was your day?”

“You remember those two dudes I bummed a smoke off of at the funeral?” You asked. Wednesday nodded once. “Bumped into them on the walk home.”

“That’s quite the coincidence,” she said. You both started moving back to the common room; dinner would have to be takeout again.

“Said we should catch up over coffee some time,” you continued as you practically fell to the couch. Wednesday was quick to follow, basically landing on your lap. Before she had the chance to move, you wrapped your arms around her waist.

“Is that something you would be interested in doing?” She asked as she grabbed the remote and put something on TV. Neither one of you knew what it was, but that was okay. It didn’t matter anyway.

“I don’t know,” you huffed. “I feel like Nicky lied to me about a lot. They might know a few answers.”

“Do you truly wish to know those answers?”

You exhaled slowly and stared at the TV. That was a pretty damn good question, and you weren’t sure you knew. There was no doubt some of the answers would just make you more angry, like why he had lied to you about them in the first place or why he had suppressed everything. You didn’t want to be angry with him, not when he couldn’t even defend himself.

But there was also the possibility it would give you some peace and clarity. Maybe you could find out why he did some things and you could forgive him for it. You were still furious that he had meddled in your head without permission. No one had permission to be in your head, it was your only safe place. But surely there had been a good reason.

Right?

“I don’t know,” you finally said softly.

The cold touch of Wednesday’s hand on your jaw sent a slight shiver down your spine. She pulled your jaw until you were looking at her, directly at her. Just her touch alone was enough to send your pulse skyrocketing, rushing loudly in your ears until it was all you could hear. It was humiliating.

Your gaze flickered down to her lips only once before she got the hint and pulled you into a kiss. It felt subdued, like she was holding something back. But it also felt gentle, like she was afraid she would break you. Maybe she would. You would have been okay with breaking if it was at her hand.

Her fingers tightened on your jaw, keeping you completely still. It told you everything you needed to know about her current mood; she was in control. She shifted in your arms, moving until she was straddling your lap. It hadn’t taken very long for you to realise it was one of her preferred positions, and you certainly weren’t complaining. As long as she was in your arms, you were happy.

Your own hands tightened around her waist when she nipped at your bottom lip. It was almost painful, but wonderfully so. A beautiful feeling that stopped all thoughts in your head and left you with nothing but ragged breath and a racing heart. There was nothing more you wanted than to just feel her-

“-We ask for anyone with knowledge of the crime to come forward.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned when you heard Marcus’ voice.

Wednesday turned slightly to see the TV and frowned. “I don’t believe I turned on the news.”

“You didn’t,” you grumbled. One arm held her tightly around her waist while you shifted around, digging in the couch for the remote. That you had sat on. “But we really need to stop leaving this on the couch.”

“Malcolm's family is holding another vigil this weekend,” Kristi said. “We encourage you all to come and pay your respects to a brave man.”

“I think I remember him,” you mumbled as you continued to watch the screen.

Wednesday stayed silent. A stock photo of Malcolm appeared on the screen, dressed to the nines. Probably a work photo, you thought to yourself. His face was worn and old, and white, but you vaguely remembered him. Surely there had been one instance where you had met him. If Marcus knew him, then there was no doubt he had come to the house at least once.

Ah.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod of your head. “He brought me and Nicky some comic books one day when he came over to work on a case with dad.” The title tasted bitter in your mouth. “Told us if we stayed out of trouble, he would bring us some more.”

“Did you stay out of trouble?” Wednesday asked.

You scoffed. “Of course not.” She almost smiled. “We tried to throw the comics like frisbees and broke a vase.”

“So no more comics?” She asked with the most adorable smirk.

“No more anything,” you chuckled, “we were grounded for three weeks.”

“If you have any knowledge of the crime, please, report it to the police immediately,” Marcus said. Begged. It was nice to see him begging for once.

Make him beg some more.

“Are you alright?” Wednesday asked, her hand on your jaw pulling your face away from the TV and directly to her.

“Yeah,” you said as you focused on unclenching your jaw. “I’m okay.”

“Do you need anything?” She asked.

You leaned forward until you could kiss her, which she quickly reciprocated. It was answer enough.

The door of your apartment flew open right as your hands slipped under Wednesday’s shirt. You both turned to see Ash and Bianca walking in; Bianca’s shirt looked… familiar?

“Did you see the news?” Ash asked.

“Didn’t your momma teach you to knock?” You asked back.

“We have seen Y/N’s parents, yes,” Wednesday answered.

“No, they think they finally have a lead for those frat boys,” Bianca said.

Both of them came to sit on the couch, completely ignoring the fact that you still had your hands up Wednesday’s shirt. Your cheeks flushed when they sat beside you, but that embarrassment quickly turned to frustration. They had their own apartments for a reason.

“Why are you two together anyway?” You asked.

“Hush,” Ash said while Wednesday changed the channel to the local news station.

“The medical examiner has come to the conclusion that the wounds were inflicted by the claws of a werewolf,” the police chief said. “If any of you know of a werewolf that was present at the fraternity party on New Year’s Eve, please let officers know.”

“A werewolf?” You asked. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It wasn’t even a full moon,” Wednesday said.

“Think they’re looking for a scapegoat?” Ash asked.

“Better keep a leash on Enid,” Bianca said. “They’ll look for any excuse to lock someone up.”

“Yeah they-” you stopped when you saw Ash’s fingers lock with Bianca’s. “-What’s that?”

All three girls looked at you before following your eyes.

“Um-”

“-Don’t get mad-”

“-What do you mean?”

All three of them looked guilty.

“Well,” Bianca said with a huff before standing up and pulling Ash with her, “that was all we had to show you.”

“Bye!” Ash called as they both rushed out of the apartment.

“Get back here!” You shouted. “I’m not done with you yet!”

They quickly shut the door behind them.

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

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Tardy, part 7

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 6

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You guys devise a plan to stop Ghostface once and for all, but some shocking news stops you in your tracks.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fluff, a little angst, my attempt at humor

A/N: Never mind y’all I just got motivation out of no where last night and apparently I can still write! This one’s kinda short…but I hope u like <3

You don't get to planning the demise of a certain wimpy pea faced masked killer as fast as you'd like.

You'd expected Sam to call the rest of the group and discuss details immediately; but that hasn't happened yet.

It's really starting to annoy you, but you can't even move far enough to grab your phone without help; so you relent and figure you'll kill the fucker when you can actually stand.

The only bright side, it seems; is Tara. She hasn't left your side for even a minute during the whole debacle.

She's gotten more comfortable, you can tell. Even gotten so brave as to come sit on the armchair beside yours.

Your anger has simmered down into a calm sea of peace; and you're starting to feel a bit bad for the indifferent way you've been treating her.

It's impossible to say you don't still care for Tara, in fact; you care a lot more than you probably should. The feeling is so overwhelming you can sense it's tendrils wrapping around you; threatening to engulf you whole.

Stupid, stupid feelings.

You tilt your head and look at her now, wonder if she feels the same.

Almost like she can feel your gaze, she turns and cranes her neck at you.

"Do you need anything?" She asks, flipping over the page of the book she was currently reading.

You don't trust your voice to come out as anything but a strangled whimper, so you nod.

She sits up immediately, practically jumping off the piece of furniture.

"Oh thank god! This book is so boring." She huffs, eyes brightening up as she gets closer.

She walks up to you and folds your shirt up, enough to show your wound. She examines it slowly, lips pursed.

"You know...maybe we should take you to a hospital? It doesn't really look any better." She states, staring intently.

You suddenly feel small underneath her intense gaze; and you wiggle a bit.

You weren't exactly at your best, since you'd been practically glued to the couch for days; apart from the occasional shower and a brush of the teeth.

"Tara?" You rasp, making her look at you; worry in her eyes.

"Yeah? You okay?"

You shake your head no, motion for her to come over. She looks downright stressed.

"Why? What's wrong?" She asks, reaching out to touch your face but stopping short, hesitance clear in her expression.

You muster the strength to bring your arm up to grab her hand, lay it down on your chest; intertwined.

"I'm sorry for being such a dick lately." You say, breathe in heavily.

"It was uncool of me. And I was wondering if you...would maybe want to be my girlfriend again?" It comes out as a soft whisper, and you watch as Tara's face changes from worried to unreadable.

Oh god.

"I mean- uh it's just that I think we might be better off as like girlfriends and I didn't really mean what I said before, I was mad you know? But it’s totally fine if you don’t-" She cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, soft and tender.

You melt into it immediately. Her hands fly to cup your cheeks, and yours press against her neck; pulling her closer.

You guys stay like that for a bit until Tara pulls away, breathlessly.

"I'm sorry too. I was being a bitch, and I should've listened to you. I promise I'll be better this time." She says, chewing on her bottom lip.

You pull her down, taking her by surprise and making her stumble and land right on you.

You let out a groan at the contact and peer down at your wound.

She retracts immediately, mumbling a million sorry's.

"It's okay Tar, come on. Come here." You wave with your hands, let her rest her head on your chest.

She doesn't press herself into you in fears that it'll hurt you, and it's the most straining and uncomfortable position she's ever been in; but she doesn't pull away.

"This is like doing a plank." She says, eyes sparkling with amusement.

You shake your head and smirk. Tilt her face up to yours again and kiss her.

"Shut up."

And she does.

-

The sound of your phone ringing is what wakes both you and Tara up. She stirs, then immediately tightens up; like she has a flight or fight response to the sound of it.

Oh wait, she does. You realize dumbly.

"It's okay. Everything's fine, could you just grab me the phone sweetheart?" You murmur, rubbing the top of her head in small circles.

She wearily gets up on her knees and reaches for the phone from the couch. It's too far; and she doesn't want to leave your body for at least 3-5 more business days.

"Woah!" She squeaks, loosing her balance and falling with a loud smack onto the rug.

You can't control the giggle that stumbles from your lips; almost on reflex. You quickly realize your error and shut up.

It's too late; because Tara turns to you, quirking an eyebrow. Then she lets out a giggle too, smiling so wide you can see her dimples.

It's a small moment, but it means everything.

It almost feels like the past few days have never happened and Tara's still freshly your girlfriend. Floating in nothing but love-filled teasing bliss.

She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by your phone ringing again.

"Jesus christ they won't stop calling." Tara says, slightly annoyed at the intrusion on your moment.

She hands it over to you without looking at the contact, and you scrunch your eyebrows at the unknown number.

"Hello?" You muse as you bring your phone to your ear, still staring at Tara with a playful smirk.

It falls immediately when you hear the distorted deep voice.

"Hello YN."

Your breath hitches, but you don't want to alarm Tara; so you smile at her reassuringly.

"Hey bro, what up?" You say, with all the nonchalance of talking to a close friend.

"Bro? What the hell are you talking abou-" Ghostface starts, but you cut him off immediately.

"Oh yeah yeah, I'm still in uni. I hope you're not getting into any trouble like you always do?" You continue; pursing your lips.

Maybe you'll just pretend for the rest of the conversation and not tell Tara.

"Oh Yn, you don't even know what kind of trouble I'm about to get you into." He says, tone teasing and taunting.

Your chest tightens up a bit. What does he have on you? He's bluffing, he has to be…right?

"That is so fun, but I kinda have to get back to my amazing girlfriend now; you don't mind if I hang up do you?" You smile, eyes flitting up and down Tara's small frame.

She's sitting, quite adorably, on the floor. Looking up at you with curious but shining eyes.

"Don't you dare hang up or I'm going to split you from groin to ster-" You pull the phone from your ear and press the red button.

"Well that was a little rude." She tuts, scooting closer.

You chuckle.

"Can I help it that my girlfriend is the best-est person in the world and I wanna spend every minute with her?" You ask, nudging her nose with yours.

"Best-est, huh?" She smirks, leaning in impossibly closer.

You're about to lean down and kiss Tara but it twists your wound the wrong way and you hiss.

She brings her hand up to your face and caresses the skin of your cheek.

"You okay?" She asks, brows furrowed.

You're not, and you think it might even be getting worse like she suspected; but you don't tell Tara. Instead you nod your head and give her a tight lipped smile.

She grins, and closes the distance between the two of you. She gets up off the floor and climbs on top of you so you don't have to strain your neck. She does all of this with your lips connected, and you silently marvel at her skill.

"I know you guys just got back together, but can you stop eating each other's faces right now?" Sam interrupts, quite rudely you might add.

Tara pulls away reluctantly and wipes at her mouth. She looks flushed.

"We weren't even doing anything."She mumbles underneath her breath.

"Let them be Sam, I don't think I can take another day of Tara whining about how she's not with YN anymore." Mindy says, waltzing into the room after Sam.

You cock an eyebrow at Tara, but she avoids your eye; blush creeping up her neck.

"Nice job, by the way T." Mindy adds, clicking her tongue and shooting a finger gun at the girl.

You notice the rest of the group behind them, Chad, Ethan, Anika, and some other strange man at the back.

He must see your lingering stare on him because he's moving forward and offering a hand to you.

"Danny." He rasps, mouth turned in a crooked smile.

Okay, kind of hot. You think.

"I'm Sam's..." He trails off, sending a questioning look at the older Carpenter sister.

"Danny's my boyfriend." Sam answers, and out the corner of your eye you see Danny smile a little wider.

That's cute.

"Nice to meet you Danny." You say, shaking his hand eagerly.

"So, we're all here because we need to devise a plan. To catch ghostface, once and for all." Sam says, walking to the front of the living room.

"And what exactly is your plan?" Tara asks, moving beside you and taking your hand in hers.

You notice Sam biting the inside of her cheek as she thinks.

"I'm not sure yet, that's why I all asked you here." She says.

There's a moment of silence as anyone thinks of something to say. You try to think back to your interactions with him.

"We could make a suspect list? I'm sure Mindy has a lot of theories on her mind." You suggest, glancing over at the twin.

"Yes! Thank you for bringing that up YN. Sam, move it's my time to shine." She walks up to Sam, gently nudging the Carpenter to sit on the couch.

"So we all know Ghostface has some sort of beef with all of us, but from the attacks we can assume he hates Tara and YN the most." She starts, hands on her hips.

"We know Ghostface isn't really that strong. Either that or YN is just one hell of a fighter." Mindy says, gesturing to you.

You smile shyly a little at that as heads turn toward you.

"Can I add something? Back on the balcony, where I got attacked; Ghostface seemed kind of...small." You say, pursing your lips in deep remembrance.

"Like, way shorter than the one that attacked me and Tara on that roof. So I think there might be two." You finish.

Mindy nods, like she was already expecting you to say this.

"It's always been two killers, except for Roman Bridger; kudos to him for ambition."

Chad raises his hand, waiting for Mindy's approval before he speaks.

"Could we assume the first ghostface was a guy? Because we all saw him, and he looked pretty damn big."

You nod your head in agreement, trying to think back on the night up on the roof. It's sort of hard because all you can remember is Tara kissing you for the first time.

Even after what had happened, you still considered that to be one of the best nights of your life.

What a simp.

"Now! Let's move on to our suspects..." Mindy says faintly, but you're not really focused now. You'd rather daydream about the girl sitting beside you.

The group ends up picking your apartment as the spot for Ghostface's Demise.

You'd actually been the one to suggest it yourself, it's relatively big; and didn't have one too many hiding places for him to surprise y'all in.

Tara moves to sit on your lap as you continue to plan. Papers are strewn everywhere, multiple empty coffee cups on the table. You've drawn out a map of the layout, and Sam's made it her personal mission to storyboard the whole attack.

Despite the reason for for your gathering, you can't help but smile a little at everyone huddled together. They look like a real family.

Quiet laughs are occasionally let out, teasing and poking fun about how Ghostface is gonna attack. You sort of enjoy it.

The doorbell rings and catches only yours and Tara's attention. The rest of them are still in heated discussion about whether Ghostface or Voldemort would win in a battle.

It's Voldemort, obviously.

"I'll go get it." Tara whispers, planting a firm peck to your lips and standing up. You nod, let her untangle herself from you.

It's been five minutes since Tara went and it's starting to make you feel a little antsy.

Has she been kidnapped by Ghostface or something?

She steps into the room now, and you smile at her; breathe out in relief.

You see a tiny envelope in her hands. It's ripped; and she's reading the inside.

"Any mail for me honey?" You ask teasingly, pushing yourself up on the couch slightly.

You don't notice the serious expression on her face till she tilts it up, eyes dark.

She doesn't answer as she strides to you, shoving the paper in your hands; arms crossed. She looks hurt.

"Care to explain?"

You frown, look down at the piece of crumpled paper. It's a DNA test.

At the top of the page it says:

DNA REPORT TEST

(For Personal Knowledge Only)

There's two boxes that fill up the whole paper. You stare at it, mouth agape.

It says:

CHILD (YN)

Alleged Father (Stu Macher)

legally binded - 9

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 9 : Grand Prix and Grand Gestures

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: sorry for the long wait for this new chapter, just enjoying my summer yk! anyways, thanks for your guys' continued support and patience! much love!!

Word Count: 5.6k+

When Jenna stepped out of her room at precisely 4:45 AM, with the early morning sun yet to rise, the last thing she expected to find was the shared kitchen to be a mess. 

Courtesy of you, of course. ‘Cause who else?

“What the hell are you doing to our kitchen?” Jenna croaked out, running a hand against the plastered wall as a guide as she tiredly rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the other. When the blurring in her vision goes away, they settle on you looking… wired, like you’d had three cups of espresso already. 

“Good morning!” You whispered, admiring her messy bedhead with a large toothy smile. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Why?” She asked, voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes as you passed her a steaming mug of coffee without a word causing her to flick a brow up, opting to take a sip instead of questioning it. 

“I’m making you breakfast so you don’t go work hungry, again.” You explained matter-of-factly, turning your back to check on the stove. The younger actress couldn’t stave off her surprise that you’ve noticed her skipping the most important meal of the day. “Now I’m not the best cook. But, I learned a thing or two about making a mean avocado toast, and since you’re vegetarian… it’s really the only thing I can make you.”

Jenna didn’t expect her heart to be racing so early in the morning. Since your talk, the two of you have been more at ease around the other; falling back into that natural banter, every once in a while. But she can’t lie… the friends' agreement has been difficult to follow through with, especially since you’ve started with gestures such as this. 

The younger actress finds she’s started to… allow herself to enjoy these domestic moments with you, knowing that now, feelings are very much reciprocated — just, without a label yet. 

Placing the steaming mug down on the kitchen island, she chose not to comment on how her coffee was made exactly how she liked it. “I appreciate the gesture, Y/N. I hope you didn’t wake up early just to make me breakfast.”

You turned off the stove, took the pan off the burner, and rolled your eyes. “Get off your high horse, I was already up.” Turning around with the pan still in your hand. 

“You were already up or you didn’t go to sleep?” She countered, expression flat.

You smiled sheepishly, “Jet lag is kicking my ass.”

Jenna snorted and watched as you plated the perfectly-browned toast on a dish and spread some avocados on top; garnishing it with the utmost (adorable) concentration on your face before sliding the plate across the island with a small but proud grin. 

“Consider it compliments of the chef,” you send her a playful wink, glancing down. Jenna follows your line of sight, reading the printed words on the apron. 

Kiss the Chef.

She tried to fight the smile creeping on her face but it proved futile when she felt the familiar warmth enveloping her pale morning cheeks. 

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are…” Was the best response the younger actress could trust herself to utter. “When did you even buy that?”

You laughed, picking up your own cup of coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jenna ignored you, electing to take a bite of the toast. She almost felt bad for eating something that you put so much effort towards. But when she takes a bite, she finds herself letting out a muffled moan, making you flush red at the sound. “Holy shit, what did you put in this?”

Plastering a smile, you teased, “it’s a secret.”

“You’re annoying…” Jenna covered her mouth, as she ate. 

“Finish eating or you’ll be late.” You reminded, taking off the apron. The time zone change still messed with your internal body clock, meaning at times, you’d still be up when Jenna awoke for a day of work.

You noted the times she got up and at which of those mornings she managed to eat. After the third day of her waking up late, you decided that the next day you’d be kind and make her a healthy breakfast, knowing it’s often difficult to find time to eat during a busy day of filming. 

“Wait…” Jenna called out before you could leave the kitchen. “What are you doing today?”

You racked your brain; thinking for a moment. “I gotta start packing for Monaco, I leave this Wednesday.”

Jenna remembered you telling her that you’ve been invited to the F1 Grand Prix. She doesn’t really understand the race, but she found your childlike glee over a bunch of cars… endearing. It’s slightly childish that she feels a bit upset by you leaving so suddenly, but these last few weeks have felt blissful ever since your confession. She finds herself wanting to stay in this bubble the two of you have created for as long as she can. “Oh, right…”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing… just wondering ‘cause my family’s actually flying in this weekend,” Jenna admitted, gauging your reaction, noting the way you stood straighter on your feet.

“They are?” 

Jenna hummed. “Yeah, they’re here for a week. They were gonna stay at a hotel but if you’re going to Monaco then…”

You blinked, unsure if you should ask why she didn’t tell you her family was flying in sooner. “Oh yeah, no problem. Listen, it’s your apartment.” 

Jenna rolled her eyes, correcting you, “It’s our apartment. You’re living here too.”

Chuckling, you averted your eyes. “Well, in that case. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Your Spanish needs a bit of work...” But Jenna can’t fight her smile.

“Rude,” laughing, you added, “it’s probably best to skip town though— your family’s probably still mad at me.”

Jenna immediately rounds the counter to stand in front of you, shaking her head in denial. “They’re not mad, Y/N. I already told you.”

You shoot her a grimaced smile, “I know, I’m just joking, but I’m still scared of your sisters… Also, your mom may or may not have texted me about that paparazzi pic of you smoking cigarettes.”

Her brows raised, as her jaw dropped, “she did?”

You hummed in response.

“Fuck…” She grumbled, causing you to laugh. “What did she say?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard from her Instagram stories…” You smirked, enjoying her annoyed scowl. 

“Shut up.”

“Hey, it’ll be alright.” You placed a hand on her shoulder, lightly rubbing it. Ignoring the way she straightened her posture at your touch. “A scolding is probably the most you’ll get out of her.”

“I’m 20 years old, I can do whatever I want.” Dropping your hand, you laughed again.

“You may think you’re grown but she’s always going to be your mom. She’s just looking out for you. Not to mention, she’s a nurse, what'd you expect?” You jest but she rolled her eyes, staring up at you with a slight pout in her frown causing your heart to stop dead in its tracks; desperately trying to stare at her lips for too long. 

Maybe it was the confession, or the ‘clearing the air’ that you two have done. But every touch and look from Jenna feels weighted — in a pleasant way, this time.

She sighed heavily, leaning her hip on the kitchen island. “I know… it’s just embarrassing.”

“At least you know she cares.” You chuckled, patting her shoulder reassuringly before walking off to the living room. 

She ignored the possible meaning behind your words. Although she’d love to dive into the story of your mom and hear it from your account, maybe having that conversation at five o’clock in the morning isn’t the best idea.

“Come on, finish up and go shower. You’re gonna be late.” You called out behind you before plopping on the couch.

“You better wash those dishes…”

“Ugh, later.” You groaned. “I need a nap.”

—

Jenna (2:35 PM): hope you’re having a great time in Monaco 🖤

“Get off your phone…” Tom said before snatching the device right from your hand. 

“Dude…”

“You’re in Monaco with the best cars and drivers in the entire world and you’re glued to your phone – what’re you looking at anyway.” the Brit commented, reading the text before you could stop him. “Aw… how cute, she sent a heart.”

“Shut up. You literally made us late ‘cause you spent all night talking to Z.” Attempting to grab your phone back was futile when he held it out of reach, tossing it to Link who was enjoying this interaction judging by the large grin smacked on his face. 

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom defended but it fell on deaf ears as soon as you saw Link begin to scroll through your past messages with Jenna.

“Link… give it back, I need to respond!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll text her back.” Link winked before typing a response. You immediately leapt out of your seat, plucking your phone out of his grasp but it was too late, he’d already sent the message.

“Thinking about you? Really?” You deadpanned despite the warmth coursing fervently through your cheeks. “You’re such an ass…”

“You’re just mad that I finally said what you were really thinking.” He called out as you walked away, fingers slightly trembling as you hit the call button. You wait a few (agonizingly long) seconds, listening to the line ring.

“Hey…” 

“Oh, hey,” there was some shuffling on the other line, “I was just about to text you back.” 

“About that… sorry about that text, Link was being an asshole and took my phone.” You muttered sheepishly; trembling fingers picking at your trousers to counter the nerves that suddenly overcame you.

“Oh? So you weren’t thinking about me?” Her tone is light and teasing. You paint a mental image of her bright, wide smile that usually accompanied her playful taunts; it sent a flurry of butterflies swarming around in your belly.

You pass it off as a stomach ache from your breakfast this morning.

“Come on…” You trail off, not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, I see how it is…”

“Jenna…” You sighed, dropping your fiddling fingers. “Of course, I was thinking about you.”

The line is silent as Jenna doesn’t respond and suddenly you feel embarrassed at your school-girl-like confession. Though it’s technically only been two days since you left London for Monaco, you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you were to deny the fact that you’ve been thinking about the younger actress since the moment you stepped out of the shared apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Jenna replied in a small voice. Her admittance causes your heart to stop momentarily but what you couldn’t stop, however, was the satisfied smile creeping on your lips.

Was it pathetic that all Jenna had to do was say a simple, cliché sentence to you and you were practically a puddle on the floor? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” 

“Glad we’re on the same page then…” You uttered, glancing around, hoping no one could see your Cheshire grin. Immediately catching Tom and Link at the other end of the balcony making kissing faces at you. You stick up the not-so-nice finger at them before turning your back on the two men, ignoring their blatant and obnoxious laughter, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called.”

Jenna was supposed to be on set working today, you’d hate to interrupt a busy day’s work…. That’s a lie, this phone call was totally worth it.

“Oh no, you didn’t. I’m actually at the apartment.”

“I thought you’d still be on set?”

“Um, about that…” She trails off in a sheepish tone.

“Jen? What’s wrong?” You asked, panic evident.

“I might’ve—uh—injured myself at work today.” She admitted.

“What?! Are you okay? How? Do you need me to come ba—“

“Y/N… breathe.” She interjects your nervous questioning but it merely goes over your head. Your nerves sky-rocketing the longer she doesn’t answer your questions.

“Are you okay?” You repeated what you really needed to know first.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she chuckled, “just a sprained ankle. I twisted it during rehearsal. It’s not a big deal but they sent me home early to rest.”

“Are you icing it? Keeping it elevated? You know what, send me a picture I wanna see if the swelling is bad.” 

Jenna’s laughter doubles. “I’m okay. I promise. Yes, I'm icing it and yes I’m keeping it elevated. You don't have to play doctor. I’ll even send you a picture, just relax.”

“I’m just worried.”

“I know you are.” She said, almost like she was endeared. “But like I said, it’s just a sprained ankle. They gave me crutches, so I’m good.”

“Crutches?! Do I need to come back home?”

Jenna ignored how her heart swooped at the word: home.

“No,” she laughed, “enjoy your time with the boys and your cars. You looked good on that racetrack, you sure being an actress is your calling?”

You rolled your eyes at her choice of timing for a joke, “You know I’ll leave them in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll be on the first flight back.”

On the other end of the line, Jenna is torn between swooning and mentally cursing you for being so sweet. She bit her lip to subdue the smile creeping in, “that’s very sweet, Y/N, but I promise. I’ll be okay, my family’s flying in on Sunday anyway. I’ll be fine until then.”

You sighed unsurely, “Are you sure?” That’s still a few days where she’d have to be alone until someone could help her around the house.

“Yes! Now go, enjoy Monaco. Maybe I’ll even turn on the racing channel or whatever and get a glimpse of you.”

“You did not just say the racing channel…”

“Go!” She laughed and this time, you relent at her assured tone. 

“Fine… but if anything else happens, call me, please?”

“You’ll be the first one to know, I promise.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath hoping to calm your nerves. If Jenna says she’s okay, then you have no reason to go against her wishes. “I’ll text you?”

“Mhmm. Bye, be safe.”

“Bye…” You hang up, dropping the phone from your ear, anxiously tapping it against your other hand as you contemplate your options.

“That was a long call,” Link swung his arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side. “You already miss your girl? It’s only been a day.”

“Quit it. She’s not my girl.” You back-hand him squarely on the stomach causing him to heave out a rough, pained puff. The satisfaction of seeing your best friend in pain was a dull noise in the background of your restless thoughts. “She injured herself on set, I was just making sure she’s okay.”

You chewed on your lip nervously, ignoring Link’s probing eyes as he scanned your faraway look.

“Is it serious?”

“No, just a sprained ankle.”

Link continued to observe you; seeing straight through you. An amused smile painted itself squarely on his lips. “... you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” 

—

“What the— I told you to stay. What are you doing here?”

“And I told you to send me a picture of your sprain.”

Jenna frowned, closely watching as you slipped the duffle bag off your shoulders; landing on the hardwood with a loud thud. 

“Get back on the couch. You shouldn’t be walking.” You ordered, briefly scanning her head-to-toe and letting out a concealed sigh of relief that her ankle didn’t seem too bad. 

“I’m injured, not crippled.” She replied unamused. You meet her eyes, mimicking her expression until the brunette realized you’re not backing down. “Fine…”

“Let me help you.” You stepped forward, taking a closer look at her injury. Her left ankle was covered in a compression wrap as she hobbled around with a single crutch. 

“I’m fine.”

“Jenna, let me help.” You said in a serious tone, not backing down.

She rolled her eyes, slowly turning around with her crutch to walk back to the living room, hoping you missed her rosy cheeks. She ignored the intense thudding in her chest as you walked together. The thought of you leaving a trip that obviously meant a lot to you, sent the younger actress’ heart into a frenzy. 

“What are doing here?” The younger actress asked again once she was comfortably seated on the sofa.

You took a seat beside her, “I was worried.”

“I told you I was fine, you’re acting like I’m on my deathbed.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the pillow behind you and placed it between you and Jenna. Scooting back, to gesture for her to rest the injured ankle on the pillow. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed the race knowing that you’re back in London with an injury… so, I left.”

Jenna stayed silent, not trusting herself to say what she was really feeling. So she opted to stare as you examined her wrapped ankle, seemingly satisfied that her injury wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

“I’m just trying to be a good friend… and roommate.” You joked, grabbing the discarded remote off the coffee table. Ignoring the way your skin burned the longer she stared at you unspeaking.

Jenna snorted at your words, grabbing the pillow behind her and playfully lunging it at you. You caught the feeble attempt. “Right, roommate.”

You laughed at the tone that accompanied her words, “how did you hurt yourself, anyway?”

If Jenna’s cheeks turned any rosier, she’d be the human embodiment of a tomato. It was embarrassing, really and she blames Aliyah for sending that video. 

She might’ve been too distracted watching a clip of you and Tom walking along the racetrack, waving to the crowd. As luck would have it, she was supposed to be rehearsing for a scene, walking over to her next marking. However, one misstep over a wire sent her ankle twisting in an abnormal way. “I wasn’t paying attention to the marking on the floor and I tripped over a loose wire.”

Jenna was definitely not going to tell you the truth. You’d never let her hear the end of it.

You sent her a questioning look, “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad.”

“Is it too late for you to go back to Monaco? She joked, straight-faced.

“I’m kidding, of course, I feel bad.“ You settled back into a comfortable position.

“How did you get back so fast?” She inquired.

“It’s only a two-hour flight.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jenna noted that you were on the phone merely two and a half hours ago. “You got through security that fast?”

You blush red.

As soon as the jet landed on the tarmac and the seatbelt lights turned off, you were posted by the doors; impatiently tapping your foot on the floor.

“Miss L/N, your driver is waiting just outside.” The flight attendant alerted you. You nodded, sending a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.”

When the doors opened and the stairs hit the pavement, you were already rushing down the steps, making eye contact with the driver.

“Miss, I can take your bags.”

“That’s alright.” You tossed them in the back seat before shutting the doors. “How fast can you get back to the apartment?”

“GPS says 45 minutes but there is heavy traffic on the highway.” 

“I’ll drive.” You held your hand out. He looked unsure before seeing that you were not playing around, swiftly handing the keys over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You made sure to tip the man handsomely after noticing his white-knuckle grip on the grab handles as you maneuvered through said traffic.

“Uh yeah and I got lucky, no traffic. Anyways….wanna watch Breaking Bad? Unless you finished it already, in that case, we can watch something else.” You changed the subject, Jenna didn’t need to know how you drove that SUV like it was a race car and broke multiple speeding laws just to get here.

“No, Breaking Bad is good. I haven’t watched it since we were at my parents' house.”

You turn, evidently surprised that she kept your unspoken promise. Trying to hide your growing smile, you face the TV again before the staring becomes too obvious.

“Me too.”

—

“Are you sure you’re fine to go to work today? It’s only been like, a day.”

It’s Sunday morning, too early for anyone to be awake. With the sky still covered in a blanket of darkness, you tiredly lean against the wall, trying your best to string coherent words together as you reason with Jenna, who lightly limped around the large room as she gets ready for work.

“Technically, it’s been two.” She glanced at you momentarily. “I don’t want to delay production.” 

“Jenna, you're injured. They can get a stand-in or just not film your scenes today.” You argued. Having had your fair share of on-set injuries, you knew that a major film could afford to delay filming for the sake of an injury. This was merely Jenna’s workaholic tendencies making her feel that she couldn’t stop working. “They can and should accommodate for you, Jenna.”

At your gruffed tone, Jenna dropped what she was looking for, walking over to stand in front of you. “Hey…”

You glanced at your hands, ignoring her soft tone. “Look at me, please?”

Jenna grabbed your hand, drawing your attention to her. “I’ll be okay. If my ankle starts to bother me, I’ll let the director know.”

“You promise?” You asked, glancing down when she started rubbing soft lines against your skin.

“I promise.” She squeezed for good measure.

You studied her soft gaze, attentive to the assured glimmer behind them. Letting out a sigh, you pushed your worries aside. “Okay.”

She smiled at your obvious concern, dropping your hand to walk back to the living room. 

You try not to draw attention to the way your fingers twitched at the loss of contact. “By the way, my family will be here at noon. Are you good to be alone with them while I’m at work?”

“Yeah… I think I’ll be fine.” To distract yourself, you walked off to the kitchen, grabbing a mug for your morning coffee; allowing a gentle silence to envelop the room as Jenna hobbled  around, gathering her things.

“Crap!” Jenna suddenly said, emerging out of her room.

“What?” You turned, slightly startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to set up the guest bedroom for them.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders dropped. “I already did it, don’t worry.”

Her brows raised, “you called the housekeeper already?”

“No. I did it myself. We don’t need him.”

Jenna seemed surprised if the raised brows were anything to go by. It was amusing truly, but you elected to stay silent, turning back to make your coffee.

“Thank you…” She finally said.

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged, “If you want, I can pick up your family at the airport too. Heathrow is a bitch to navigate.”

Jenna didn’t respond, just staring at your back from her spot in the living room. You were unaware of her internal turmoil.

“Jen?” You turned around when you realized she didn’t reply; just staring at you with an unwavering intensity. “Jenna?”

“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “What did you say?”

“I said I can pick up your family from the airport.” You sipped on the steaming mug, a single brow flicking upright in question.

“Oh–uh, no. T-That’s alright, I’m sending a car over to pick them up.” She stuttered pathetically; grateful that the dim lights from the lamp in the corner of the room did well to hide the crimson rising over her neck. “You shouldn’t be seen at Heathrow. You might get spotted.”

“I can wear a disguise.” You thought out loud.

Jenna snorted, pushing away her inner strife. “Oh yeah? Like what, a baseball hat and sunglasses?”

“Hey, it works!” You defended. “Not everyone can just blend in with their height.”

“Was that a short joke?” Jenna arched a sharp brow.

“Nope.” You stood wide-eyed. “Oh hey, I just remembered I left something in my room. Okay. Bye. Have a good day at work.”

Jenna laughed as you scurried off to your bedroom, glad that she hasn’t lost her edge with you.

—

“I can’t believe you cancelled on the driver.” 

The younger actress said as soon as you swung the front door open. Faintly, she can hear the familiar sounds of laughter farther into the apartment. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You act like that’s a new fact.” You snicker, a pleased smile plastered on your lips. “I’d like an apology by the way. The disguise worked perfectly — just like I said it would.”

“You’re too much sometimes.” She shook her head, stepping into the hall. 

“In the best way, though. Right?” You asked, letting her in.

“If it helps you sleep better.” Jenna shrugged, chucking her work bag on the side table.

“Now look who’s being stubborn.” You replied with a knowing smile.  “Go say hi and then wash up. Natalie and I are making dinner.”

She raised her brows in surprise as you walked away. Her footsteps falter when she walks into the living room. Gaze instantly landing on her sisters and Dad lounging on the couch, in the corner of her eyes to her mom who was chopping up vegetables on the kitchen island. 

“Hey, guys…” She said slowly, still taking the scene in front of her.

“Jen!” Mia sprung up from her seat and tugged her sister into a tight hug. 

One by one, Aliyah, her dad and her mom sauntered over to greet and fret over her. Sentiments of I miss you, echoing in the vast apartment.

“It’s good to see you, honey.” Her mom said with a smile. “I hope you’ve been taking care of that ankle.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her Mom’s fretting but nodded reassuringly. “I’m okay, Mom. Y/N’s been helping me.”

“So I’ve heard.” She winked, walking away.

“Uh– you guys made yourselves comfortable…” Jenna cleared her throat as she watched how her mom swiftly walked back to the kitchen where you were leaning against the island, observing her family with a small smile.

“Y/N said to make yourselves at home. Blame her.” Aliyah said, tugging her onto the couch. “How’s filming been? How’s working with Winona Ryder, tell me everything!”

“Great uh–what’s for dinner?” Was the first question the actress asked, too distracted by watching your concentrated expression. The slight scrunch in your forehead as you closely listened to her mom’s instructions was more interesting than what her sister was asking her.

“Mom’s teaching her how to make frijoles.” Mia smirked at her sister’s doe-eyed look. 

“Oh…” Jenna replied with a vacant tone. “Sounds good.”

“Do you have any pictures in your wardrobe—“

“Why frijoles?” She added, interrupting Aliyah when she tried to spark another series of questions.

“Y/N heard it was one of your favourites, said she wanted to learn how to make it for you.” Mia replied, her tone smug.

“She did?” Jenna’s brow raised, still unable to look away from you. 

“I think we lost her,” Aliyah sighed to Mia, giving up on having her questions answered.

Jenna rolled her eyes when her sisters burst into laughter, blinking back to reality. “Shut up. What were you saying?” 

She forced herself to look away and give her undivided attention to her sisters. Pretending not to notice as you kept glancing at her from the kitchen.

—

“Wow this looks amazing, are you sure you helped, Y/N?” Aliyah teased from the dining table.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.” You mocked, walking over with a bowl of guacamole, placing it at the centre of the table. “Wait ‘till you try my guac.”

“I always make the that.” Jenna trailed off, sneaking a peek at the bowl.

“I know.” You took your seat beside her. “Your mom showed me how you like to make it. I hope it’s close.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that…” She reached for a chip and dipped a large chunk into the green goodness. You watched intently for a reaction but she gave you none; continuing to chew on. 

“It’s good.” She finally says.

“That’s it?”

“What? I said it’s good.” Jenna laughed at your sullen expression; almost feeling bad. Once your bottom lip popped out in disappointment, she dropped her act, reaching for your arm and squeezing it. “I’m kidding. It’s great, it tastes exactly how I make it back home… but you know, you can’t beat the original.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You repeated her words.

Before Jenna can reply with a quip, her mom walked over with the last bowl of food, disrupting your conversation. But it was all forgotten when the younger actress’ nose welcomed the familiar scent of all of her favourite dishes. She enthusiastically eyed the various dishes scattered on the table, not having had her family’s cooking in what felt like forever. Living with you wasn’t bad – actually, it’s been more than great, but you were serious when you said you lacked skills in the kitchen. That resulted in dinners mostly being take-out these days.

“Have you tried frijoles before?” Jenna asked you. 

“Uh–no.” You blushed. “I actually didn’t even know they were beans until today.”

“You’ll love it.” She grinned, reaching over to plate you a generous helping. You refused to tell her that you didn’t necessarily love beans because her excited expression overpowered any dislike you had for the legume.

—

“You’re still up?” You called out after a brief glance, the pitter-patter of light footsteps coming down the hall, alerting you of her presence.

“Mhm, I heard the clanking of dishes from my room.” She replied, leaning against the counter, watching as you dried off the dishes one by one. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry. I’ll keep it down.” You grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d unload the dishes.”

“It’s okay, I’m actually not too tired too.” She stepped forward, only an arm’s length away from you. “Can I help?”

Wordlessly, you passed her a dry cloth and a bowl from the dishwasher. For a while, silence enveloped the room. You were grateful that you and the brunette can exist in silence, sometimes. Her mere presence provided a certain level of comfort that you’re still trying to get used to.

“So…” She spoke up after a few minutes, gaining your attention. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh.”

You raise an amused brow at the baiting look in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jenna would’ve believed that statement if it weren’t for the small smile at the corner of your lips telling her otherwise.

“Right… so, you just pick up all your friends’ parents from the airport and do chores, willingly.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” You shrugged, continuing to wipe away remnants of water from the plate. Hoping the mundane action hid your trembling fingers well.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yup.”

“So this isn’t you trying to win me over?”

“Me try to win you over? Whaaat?” You puffed out an airy scoff, “that’s ridiculous. I would never. I wholeheartedly respect your decision.” 

But the crinkle in your eyes told her that you were enjoying this way too much.

“Sure…” Jenna rolled her eyes, “even if you are just doing this out of the kindness of your own heart—“

“Which, I am.”

Jenna sends a playful glower at your interruption. 

“Just wanted to put that on record.” You added.

“Thank you.” Jenna declared, her tone soft yet serious. “You’ve been incredible these last few days.”

“Oh.” You blink, a pleased smile plastered on your face. “You’re welcome, Jen. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” The bowl and cloth in her hands were long forgotten on the counter as she closed the distance between you. “No one’s ever done any of… this, for me—thank you.”

The air feels charged as she suddenly looks at you with that doe-eyed stare. Feeling like your heart rate instantly doubles, the longer she stares at you like that.

“What? Be nice?” You said evenly, “You need to set your standards higher.”

She huffed at your antics. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” you laughed shakily, trying to gather some semblance of control over your racing pulse. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, Jen… cause I’d do anything for you.”

She blinked, voice caught in her throat she took in the serious glint in your eyes; voice dripping with conviction 

“And this isn’t me, trying to win you over. You’ll know when I do.”

The younger actress’ body feels like it’s on fire the longer she listens to your words. 

“Uh, sorry, too much?” You said apologetically when she remained unspeaking. 

But Jenna was already shaking her head, a faraway look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“No…” She murmured, her sight drifting down to your lips before they flicker back up to your eyes. “Not at all.”

“Okay…” Your gaze bore intently into hers, waiting to see if she’ll make the first move. “Good.”

For a brief moment, her eyes flicker back down for a second time but then she’s blinking out of her self-induced stupor, “um–I should go to sleep. I need to be up early.” Jenna hoped her ogling on your soft lips wasn’t too obvious. 

She steps back and almost instantaneously, the tension in the room dissipates with each movement she takes. 

You nod, smiling softly despite the slight tinge of disappointment you felt; knowing that you shouldn’t rush into this with her. “Good idea, you should rest your ankle… good night, Jenna.”

Just before you turned back to grab the discarded dry cloth, Jenna takes a hesitant step—before she can lose her nerve and leaned up to plant her lips on the pad of your cheek.

Your brain felt like it short-circuited; not having felt her lips in forever as your skin burned against the delicate contact.

“Good night, Y/N.” She whispered, her soft lips grazing your cheek in a way that drove you crazy.

Before your brain could rewire itself well enough to for a response, Jenna was already turning around to retreat back to her room.

Biting your lip to contain the growing smile, you couldn’t look away from her figure until she disappeared behind the door.

Shit…

You’re in deeper than you thought.

——

if there was any mistakes… look away (i tried my best 🧍‍♀️)

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Tardy, part 8

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: An unexpected family member reveal sends you spiraling, will anyone trust you now?

Warnings: Angst that turns into fluff, mention of violence, mention of sex

Word Count 2.6k

A/N: I was dying writing this chapter (both physically and mentally) but I think the writers block is gone! Thank you for 600 followers!! As always, love u guys, and tell me what you think <33

“Mom, who’s my dad?” You asked absentmindedly, legs swinging from your living room couch.

“All the other kids at school know who their dad is, who’s mine?” You continued, blissfully unaware of the tension you had just created.

Your mom turned sharply, cigarette between her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, sweetie. Your dad’s gone. It’s just you and me now.” She said as she brought the lighter up and ignited the cigarette.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” You’d asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Your mom lets out a frustrated huff before she answers again.

“I don’t know, he’s just gone. Okay? He left town. Would you leave this topic alone now?” She sounded annoyed, and you don’t want to upset her any further, so you nodded quickly and turned your attention back to the TV screen.

“Okay, Ma.”

-

You flash back into another memory, this time you’re older; freshly graduated from high school, ready to move across the country to start university.

You’ve bid your farewells to friends and relatives, promising you’ll come visit every year.

Your mom’s pulling you aside looking at you weirdly. She’s getting old, you can tell by the increasing wrinkles on her face every day.

She smiles softly, and you think she looks like the sweetest grandma ever.

“Honey, I want you to know something. About your dad.”

You raise an eyebrow, mouth dropping slightly.

Your dad has always been a touchy subject for your mom, she’s never really allowed herself to tell you the full story.

Sure, as you’ve gotten older, you’ve learned bits and pieces. He was a dirtbag, leaving your mom right after she gave birth. You’d also learned that you were born in a small town called Woodsboro but had been whisked away almost immediately.

Your mom sighs now, and everything suddenly feels very heavy.

“I just tried so hard to be both parents for you, I know it wasn’t fair to keep this from you for so long. But if you’re ready to learn who your dad is, I’m ready to tell.” She says, voice cracking only the tiniest bit. You can see how strong she’s trying to be.

You suddenly see your whole childhood flash before your eyes. Your mom sending you off and picking you up every day after school. Making meals for the two of you every night, working overtime to support the family.

“No Ma. It’s okay. I already have a dad, and his name is you.” You say, pointing to her heart.

She opens her mouth but you cut in before she can say anything.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need a dad when I have you.” You say, and you mean it wholeheartedly.

Your mother swells with happiness and takes you in a big hug. Wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Be safe, honey.” She whispers into your ear.

-

You splutter, staring at the page in front of you with a jumble of letters that don’t look like coherent words anymore.

No…it couldn’t be?

There’s no way your dad was Stu Fucking Macher.

It doesn’t feel like you expected it would, finding out who your real father is. Years and years of endless crying; wondering why and why and why.

Every moment has led up to this.

This light, breakable paper in your palms. It’s telling you all you’ve ever wanted to hear, and yet somehow it’s also the thing you need to hear the least.

There’s quick flashes of déjà vu as you stare at the name.

Blood; lots of it. Splattered on the ceiling, all over your body. Screams, loud and clear as day, piercing through your eardrums and starting a ringing sound.

You snap back into reality as Sam steps up to you.

You brace yourself for the worse, you wouldn’t be mad if Sam kicked you out bare into the street right then and there, hell, she could hurt you and you wouldn’t even be mad.

She raises her hand but the impact never comes. Instead, she kneels down to you and holds your shoulders tight.

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard.” She says, soft. Her lips are pulled into a frown but her eyes are sorrowful.

“It’s- it’s okay?” Tara splutters, staring between you and her sister. Flabbergasted would be a minuet way to describe her expression.

“Yes. It’s okay. Can everyone leave the room for a minute? I want to talk to YN.” Sam says, and everyone heeds her orders; shuffling down through the living room hallway.

You stare at Sam, eyebrows knit tight together. She’s hated you since you the day you met, and now she’s the one protecting you?

“Why?” You ask, curiosity seeping through your voice.

“Everyone here has been through something.” She says, biting her lip. “And believe me, if anyone knows about being framed as the bad guy, it’s me.”

She hesitates a little before she opens her mouth again.

“Let’s not pretend that everyone here doesn’t have immensely traumatic things happen to them. Me and Tara…well we know about that. But Mindy and Anika and Chad? You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard from them.” She says, twiddling with her thumbs.

“What if I’m actually the killer?” You press, gauging Sam’s reaction.

She tuts and answers sharply.

“I don’t believe for a second that you are.”

It takes you aback, her being so sure about it. You stay quiet, try to think of anything to say.

You can’t, it’s all too much information to get.

“How can you know that?” You say finally, tilting your head up to make eye contact with Sam.

She pats your back lightly. “You’re a good person YN. We can all tell.”

“We’re a family. One fucked up family, but family all the same. Including you.” She says, voice sure.

You hold eye contact for a while, a silent conversation being spoken. Setting aside all your differences, Sam was actually a really cool person. And you can tell she feels the same way.

Before you know it she’s out down the same hallway the group left in.

You’re sat on the couch, mouth open and eyes glazed.

Huh.

“YN? Mind if I come in?” Tara’s voice sounds from in front of you. You can’t decipher what the tone is.

“Yeah…yeah of course.” You answer, watching as Tara enters and stands before you.

You can’t handle her intense stare, and you drop your head immediately. Anxiety floods you, heart picking up speed.

You don’t notice her until she’s right in front of you, taking your cheeks in her hands. Stroking, softly.

10 minutes ago she was mad, and now she’s comforting you? This girl and her mixed signals.

“I believe you.” She murmurs, leaning down to press her lips on your cheek. She’s so short that even when you’re sitting down you’re almost the same height.

You don’t want to think about any of this now, you don’t want to think about it ever. You want to tell Tara this, but you can’t bring yourself to speak.

Your throat feels dry, eyes slightly teary.

“So what do we do now?” You whisper.

She continues stroking your face fondly, cradles you in her arms.

“We continue with the plan.” She says, and there’s a sense of finality in it that makes you shiver.

-

They’ve pushed back the date on their plan to capture Ghostface a little bit. Tara won’t admit it, but you know she’s the one who suggested it. She must think you need time to process the sudden father reveal, no doubt.

It’s sweet, but she’s wrong. In fact, right now all you need is a distraction. Something to take your mind off all the racing thoughts through your head, the sense of betrayal you feel.

Maybe I should call my mom.

“Hey. Whatcha thinking bout?” A voice sounds from behind you. It’s Anika, and you send her a soft smile; feeling weirdly glad to be in her company.

“Oh nothing much. Just about how my dad was one of the original Ghostfaces and that we’re literally running straight into danger in a few days.” You say, trying to make your voice sound light and teasing.

Anika seems to pick up on the underlying message, and you hear her sigh a little before speaking.

She rounds the couch to come sit down beside you, a pack of medical supplies in her arms. She splays it across the table and turns back to face you.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like to have a rough family. My parents were…dipshits to say the least.” She says, casually.

Oh.

You try and think of something appropriate to say in response, but your brain seizes up and it goes blank.

“But you don’t have to feel bad for me. I have a new family now.” She continues, smiling at you; genuine crinkles at the tips of her eyes. She pats your back lightly.

“Just so you know, I don’t think you’re the killer. Who cares if your dad is Ghostface? It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened in our friend group. I trust you, really.”

It’s enough to make you teary-eyed again. You look away, hoping she can’t see them.

“Thank you.” You mumble. “That means a lot to me.”

She chuckles warmly before taking you in a hug. You guys don’t say anything the rest of the time she fixes up your wound.

-

“Are you blushing?” Tara asks immediately when Anika leaves the room, footsteps light.

“What? No, I’m not.” You say, running a hand through your hair.

“Did she make you blush?” She’s asking, a teasing smile on her lips.

You frown.

“She just said some very nice things to me, okay?” You huff, cross your arms like a child.

“Aw, baby. You look adorable.” She murmurs, giving you a peck on the lips.

“Are you not jealous?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She brings a finger to her lips and feigns thoughtfulness. Then she smiles wide and takes your lips in a searing kiss.

“No.” She mumbles against them. “Because I know you’re mine. And I can definitely make you do a lot more than blush.”

It’s enough to make you flush completely red. You let out a little whine at her words.

“See?” She’s asking as she leans back, a smirk on her lips. You try and wipe it off by wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another kiss.

She’s not wrong. But you’re not going to admit that. It’s a fatal flaw, really. How easily you relent when it comes to Tara. You’d die for her, you’d kill for her, and she knows it.

“Come on,” She’s whispering. “Let’s go to my room.”

You pull back, amused.

“I don’t think I can even stand and you’re asking me to do what?” You ask pointedly.

She tugs on your shirt, obviously not in the mood to play one of your games right now.

“Then maybe I’ll just take you right here.” She whispers into your ear, laughing as you shiver beneath her.

You gulp, stare at her with big eyes. She crawls forward, leaning her elbows into your sides on instinct.

You can’t help but wince.

It seems to break Tara out of her lustful haze, because now she’s looking at you with worried eyes.

She’s getting up kind of panicky, fiddling with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I should let you sleep.” She says, sort of fast, words tumbling out of her.

You smile at her, grip her hands tight.

“It’s okay, Tara. Although, I do want to hit the hay for a while. Care to join me?” You invite, tugging her closer slightly to make sure she doesn’t leave.

She grins shyly and nods.

“Okay.” She says, biting the inside of her cheek. She’s the cutest with the excitement that radiates off her.

-

When you wake, Tara’s not in your arms anymore. You stir, rubbing your eyes aggressively.

“Tara?” You groan, trying to look around the weirdly dim room for any sign of your girlfriend.

You notice the candles immediately, more than a dozen of them lining the table and making a little pathway to the fireplace.

Your girlfriend appears in front of you now, wearing a little white sundress; one you’d specifically bought for her weeks ago.

She looks so good, you almost start drooling. Like an angel, the way she’s standing and staring at you, playful, excited gaze.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.” She grins, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You question, looking around the room in further inspection.

There are two plates set up quite nicely on the dining table, along with a bottle of champagne and a single flower in the middle.

It’s all so, romantic.

Tara twirls, and gives you a little show of her dress. Then she takes your hand and gently helps you up, leading you to the dining room with her.

“I never got to take you on a date. I think it’s time I return the favor.” She says, nodding along to her sentence; like a reassurance.

“You’re adorable.“ You say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She blushes a little.

“Thank you.” She mumbles.

The smell as you enter the dining room is mouth-watering. You recognize it immediately. It’s your favorite pasta, ravioli with white wine and tomatoes.

Tara’s an amazing cook, you know this already. But the flavors that explode in your mouth when you take a bite out of it are otherworldly.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked.” You speak through stuffed cheeks, eyes wide and happy.

Tara picks up a piece of her own and eats it.

“I didn’t know what to make you, so I called your mom. She said this was your favorite, so I went on youtube and tried to replicate the recipe.” She says, somewhat shyly.

You beam.

“You called my mom?” You ask, teasingly. Boop her on the nose. You celebrate internally when you see her flush red.

“Yeah, it was no biggie. Just a phone call.” She disregards, biting her bottom lip to try and stop the color that’s overtaking her whole face.

She reaches forward to grab another piece of ravioli before she stops short and gasps.

“Oh! I almost forgot to give you these.” Tara says, reaching behind her chair for something. She pulls out a huge bouquet of flowers, filled with your favorites.

You don’t try and hide the surprise in your face, mouth open and gaping.

She slaps your arm lightly at your reaction.

“Hey! I can be romantic too you know.”

You nod sarcastically.

“Oh yeah no doubt no doubt.” You say, taking the bouquet from her hands in favor of bending over the table and kissing her.

“Thank you, baby.” You say against her lips. She smiles wide, scrunching her nose as she pulls back.

“You taste like pasta!” She’s giggling, pushing you back into your chair.

You finish the dinner in record time, and that’s due entirely to how good the meal was. You and Tara sit and talk for a little while before moving to the floor to watch a movie.

Tara’s annoyingly secretive about it, not letting you see whatever she’s setting up. You huff and go grab snacks from the fridge instead.

When you get back it’s to the TV covered, and there’s a small projector at the side shining light on a random bed sheet she’s hung vertically.

“Impressive speed.” You praise.

Tara’s sitting smugly, arms open and inviting you to come sit.

It’s playing 10 Things I Hate About You, one of your all-time favorite movies. You settle down into the spot next to her and sneak a glance over, but she’s already staring at you; hard.

You let out a breath of happiness and pull her closer by the waist. Kiss her on the forehead, murmur against her skin.

“Thank you for this. I needed it.”

She nods into you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“Of course.” She says.

You decide Ghostface can wait, your dad can wait. All that matters right now is Tara. Her and this movie and you.

The only three things that exist in the world.

movie night vi

Summary: A theatre full of paraphernalia and a date night with your godmother. What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: swearing, Scream-typical violence, grief mention, scar mention, mentions of past Ghostfaces/attacks Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi)

“Where are we going again?” You asked as you jogged awkwardly to catch up with Gale.

“Just come on,” she said before continuing to speed walk down the streets of New York.

The day had been chaotic before you had even woken up. You had vaguely been aware of Tara laying completely on top of you, almost like a weighted blanket, and it had been nice. But then you heard yelling, and shouting, and heavy footsteps, and the loud crack of your door being thrown open and slamming into the wall. Both you and Tara flinched, with her pressing down on one (all) of your wounds, and she stood up quickly while you rolled onto your side and tried not to show how badly it hurt.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Dicky said with an annoying smile that quickly turned into a frown. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“Didn’t Ma ever teach you to knock?” You asked, doing your best not to groan when you pushed yourself up to your feet.

“Time for coffee,” he said. “Made a cup special for you, Tara,” he said with a smile before backing out of the door. “Don’t keep her waitin’!”

It was a quick rush through coffee, a berating from Ma about how you “made” Tara sleep on the floor, and then a moment to say your goodbyes before Gale ushered the four of you out of the front door of the brownstone. You pretended not to notice Tara and Sam looking around and trying to figure out where they were.

You all followed Gale through the streets until ending up in an alley that Sam and Tara had been hesitant to enter. Not that you blamed them, they didn’t exactly have the best luck with sketchy situations. It wasn’t an unwarranted fear; you had been jumped in alleys plenty of times, and that didn’t even hold a candle to their trauma.

“How did you even find any of this?” Sam asked when Gale searched at the end of the alley.

“It’s called investigative journalism,” Gale answered with a smile. “Now come on in,” she said, “you’re going to want to see this.”

“Well now you’re sketchin’ me out,” you grumbled when you passed her, forcing open the door she was struggling with. It was heavy and a bit rusted, but you managed just fine.

And if you hoped Tara saw your muscles there for a second, well, that was nobody’s business.

You stood aside as all three women walked into the building that you presumed was abandoned. Honestly, it reminded you of the building you had taken Tara to all those weeks ago. Except hopefully no one barged in unannounced this time. Last thing you needed was three trauma survivors losing their shit.

Again, it was warranted, but you could only do so much to help.

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving the sound to echo in the empty hallway. If you had been alone, you would have gone exploring. There was nothing more exciting than an abandoned building in the middle of New York, especially one you hadn’t been in before. God, think of the possibilities of what could be in there? There were definitely some treasures to be discovered, no doubt about it.

“Hey Tara,” you said as you finally caught up with the group, “this kinda reminds me of our movie redo.”

“What?” She asked, her voice a little quieter than usual.

“You know, when you put on Titanic and we thought we were gonna get disappeared?”

“What?” Sam asked, and you all froze.

“Nice going,” Tara whisper-shouted at you.

“Uh-” you looked around frantically, “-what’s that up ahead?”

You smiled bashfully at Sam as you pushed past her, doing your best not to let her glare kill you. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought up the date, that was a bad decision on your part. Sometimes silence was your best friend. And unfortunately, you continuously pushed that best friend aside until you got in trouble because… well… sometimes you were a little stupid.

Gale walked in tandem with you as you led the way through the rest of the hall until you reached the open theatre. Sam and Tara stopped in their tracks once they caught up. The quiet gasp from your left side was devastating. The deafening thump in your chest nearly drowned it out; you wish it had.

“What the fuck,” Sam said softly before hesitantly moving forward to check out one of the many glass cases in the abandoned theatre.

“Are these props?” Tara asked with a shaky voice.

“They’re real,” Gale said as she, too, moved toward one of the cases.

Tara left your side to go to Sam, the both of them studying each case. You watched her carefully. Watched the way she hovered her scarred hand over her midsection, almost protectively. Watched the way her eyes darted all around the room, almost as if looking for the ghosts that haunted her even though she tried to push them out.

Your heart waged a war with your head as Tara continued to walk around, her hand lightly running over the glass, or almost-but-not-quite touching one of the items. Did you go over and reminisce with her? Or did you let her process everything on her own, without fear of your judgment or pity? If it were you, you weren’t entirely sure which you would prefer either.

In the end, you decided to let her process everything with Sam. They had both gone through the same thing and had already survived two Ghostfaces together, they could be there for each other. You watched her for just a few more moments before shaking your head slowly and walking over to where Gale was still standing in front of a specific glass case.

“That’s Dewey,” she said softly, her eyes glued to a notebook with drawings in it. Beside it was a knife.

Your jaw clenched.

“He had wanted to meet you,” she said, looking up at you with teary eyes and a sad smile. “Before everything.”

You nodded slowly. “I hear he was a good man.”

“The best,” she confirmed.

“Is that the knife?” You asked as you uncrossed your arms from your chest.

“Yeah,” she said with her own nod. “They used it on Tara too.”

You both turned slowly until you were looking at the stage, where both Sam and Tara were standing and looking at the Ghostface costumes. The blood in your veins boiled, leaving behind a deep ache that you couldn’t quite explain. With a forced huff through your nose, you turned back to look at the knife.

Amber had used it. She had used it on Tara. How could she do that? How could she try to kill her own girlfriend for, what, clout? To be known as the one who took down a Legacy? It made you furious and left your whole body shaking. Your family had done many things, but killing someone you loved had never been one of them. It took a real monster to do such a thing.

You had no sympathy for monsters.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Gale said. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her staring at you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“I don’t want her to see it,” you said slowly.

There was a second of hesitation. “Be quiet about it.”

Gale walked away to go stand beside the girls, and you waited until their backs were to you before you dug around in your pocket. It was a simple tool, one Joel had gotten for your birthday way back in the day. With the practiced ease of a professional, you picked the lock to the glass case and opened the lid. You looked back at the stage to make sure they weren’t watching before you reached in and grabbed the knife.

It felt heavy in your hand. You weren’t entirely sure if it was from the actual weight, or the knowledge of who’s blood it had spilled. Whatever the case, you carefully slid it into your boot, being careful not to knick your ankle. It wouldn’t do you any good to hurt yourself while trying to be sneaky.

The cold steel of the blade was jarring as you finally started making your way up to the stage. All three women were still standing there, looking at all the different costumes stuck in their displays. It was haunting, like they were all staring down at you. How could the three of them be perfectly fine just standing in the middle of them? The feeling made your head spin.

“They’re creepier without anyone in them,” you mumbled. You hadn’t intended for anyone to hear, but everyone turned to look at you.

“That’s because you haven’t seen them kill your friends yet,” Sam said with a roll of her eyes before she stalked away.

“I didn’t-”

“-I’ll go talk to her,” Gale said. She patted your unhurt shoulder before walking off to join Sam on the other side of the theatre.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you immediately said once you were left alone with Tara. She turned to face you with softened eyes.

“I know,” she said before walking over to sit on the edge of the stage. Her legs hung off the side and you noticed her shoulders slump.

You quickly moved to sit on her left, being careful not to jostle your stitches a little too much. It happened anyway, but you tried to keep your pained huffs to yourself. Fortunately, Tara didn’t seem to notice; she was far too lost in her own thoughts.

The score from one of the Stab movies quietly echoed throughout the enormous room. It wasn’t loud enough to truly draw one’s attention, but you heard it. Whatever psycho had created the shrines must have kept a running loop of the movies. What kind of sicko would keep shrines to a murderer? No, scratch that, to multiple murderers?

No one understood murder paraphernalia quite like your family; you knew what kind of money you could get off selling them. Whoever had created the shrine must have dropped massive money on all of the items. Or, which could be likely for all you knew, they knew the owner of most of the items. Which would mean they were a suspect for this next Ghostface crew.

Wait. That might be right on the money, actually.

“You need to go home,” Tara said quietly, drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at her, but she wasn’t looking at you.

“What?” You asked.

She turned her head slightly. “You need to go home.”

“Why would I do that?” You furrowed your brows. That statement didn't make any sense, what did she think you were, a coward?

“They’re after Woodsboro,” she said. “You’re not Woodsboro.”

“So?” You asked with a shake of your head. “Out of this current predicament, I’ve got more stitches than all of you combined, save dear Anika.”

“Which is why you should leave,” she continued. “No sense dying over something that isn’t your fight.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna die?” You asked.

Tara went silent and finally looked at you full-on. There was almost a resignation in her eyes. What could possibly be going on in her head that would have her saying such ridiculous things? You weren’t a coward and you certainly weren’t going to die. Vitales didn’t die, they got their revenge. And you were just one Ghostface call away from losing your shit.

“The love interest always dies,” she finally said with a shrug. It wasn’t very convincing.

“So I’m the love interest now?” You asked. If she didn’t lighten up soon, you were going to lose it.

“I’m not playing this game with you,” she huffed.

“Tara.” You reached out to grab her left hand, but she quickly recoiled as if you had shocked her. Her scarred hand quickly found a new home in her lap. You did your best not to show how badly that simple move had hurt you.

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” she said softly. “So leave before I make you.”

“Then make me leave,” you said. Her head turned sharply. “Because I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

She wanted to argue. You could see it on her face that she wanted to refute your statement. Maybe she would have said something hurtful, something to make you regret associating with her. Or she would go low, insulting you and pushing you away until you wanted to leave. She was more than welcome to try; it wouldn’t change your mind.

You heard her swallow harshly. She looked at you for a few more moments, holding your gaze. Her eyes darted back and forth between yours, and you did your best to keep your features soft. Her insistence on you leaving was still raising your blood pressure, but you weren’t going to let her know that. She had enough on her plate anyway.

A soft, almost silent sigh fell from her slightly parted lips. It was a sigh you often heard from your Pop when he was going over reports for the week; a sigh of resignation and acceptance. Extremely heavy underneath the silence of it all. You wished you could take it all away from her, take all the weight off her shoulders.

Tara let her body fall to the side until her head was resting on your shoulder, and you both just looked out at the Ghostface paraphernalia. What did she feel when she saw those things? Was it a fear that she would be attacked again, that maybe she wouldn’t make it to the end again? Or was it anger at the whole situation, at whoever was trying to attack her this time? Or maybe it was just a mix of everything, you weren’t sure and quite frankly, you knew better than to ask.

You were simply angry. Pure and simple.

“You’re really not leaving?” Tara asked, her voice fragile.

“I mean,” you shrugged with one shoulder to avoid disturbing her, “I’ll have to leave to pee at some point.”

“You’re such a dick,” she huffed as she sat up.

“But aside from that you’re stuck with me,” you said with a smile.

“I hate you,” she shook her head and looked at you.

“Sure you do,” you said. Her eyes flickered to your lips, and you leaned down to-

“-ahem.”

You both sat up quickly, separating yourselves as much as possible. Sam and Gale were standing in front of you. Sam very much didn’t look happy and, quite frankly, almost looked like she would rip your head off if given the chance. Which she probably would. Gale, on the other hand, was barely even trying to hide her little smirk.

“Done reminiscing over your daddy issues?” You asked Sam.

“Just shut up,” Tara whispered.

“Done harassing my sister?” Sam asked back.

“Not harassment if she likes it,” you shot back.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Tara said loudly. “What’s our next move?”

“You and I stick together,” Sam said. “We need to go check up on Anika and the twins.”

“Productive,” you said with a nod. “While you go socialise, Gale and I will solve this case.”

“It’s not some murder mystery game,” Sam said with a pointed look at you. “These guys are lethal.”

“So am I,” you said slowly, drawing out each word. “And I’m gonna figure this shit out before someone else gets hurt.”

“You’re already hurt,” Tara said quietly with a frown.

“Before someone gets more hurt,” you corrected. “I’ll find your guy in 24 hours or your money back, guaranteed.”

“Can you ever take anything seriously?” Sam asked with a tilt of her head.

“Not at all,” you answered with a smile.

“We’re really separating?” Tara asked. “Do you really think that’s the smartest thing to do?”

“You’ll be with the trio,” you said. “And Gale has survived, what, 11 Ghostfaces?” She nodded in the affirmative. “So I think we’re okay.”

“Then let’s get going,” Sam said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Both you and Tara slid off the stage until you were standing with the other two, all looking at each other and waiting for someone to make the first move. When no one did, you decided it would have to be you. Pop had taught you to be a leader, you supposed. If they needed someone to keep them safe and lead the way, you would take that responsibility upon yourself.

The sun was still blindingly bright when you all walked out of the abandoned building. Everyone blinked rapidly, trying to ease their eyes back to the amount of light. It was almost like when you walked out of a movie theatre in the middle of the day; logically you knew it was still daytime, but you weren’t expecting the sun. If everyone hadn’t been so grumpy and serious, you would’ve laughed at them.

“Keep your phones on,” Sam said once you all made it back to the street. “And call if you hear anything.”

“Yes, mom,” you huffed. “God, I almost preferred it when you hated me.”

“I still do,” she said quickly. But you could see the slightest softening of her eyes.

“Seriously,” Tara chimed in, looking directly into your eyes. It was almost uncomfortable. “Call.”

“We got it, damn,” you said, “chill out.”

“That’s not something you say to people trying to keep you safe,” Gale mumbled into your ear.

“Anyway,” you said pointedly, “go check on everyone. We’ll call if we need something.”

“Or if something happens,” Tara emphasises.

“Or if something happens,” you repeat back to her. 

She wasn’t very happy with you, it was more than obvious. Not that you could exactly blame her, again, you understood her situation. Well, you mostly understood her situation. If someone had been going after your loved ones - aside from the obvious situation at hand - you would have been paranoid and extra worried too. She had every right to be concerned.

But you knew your shit.

“Okay,” Tara finally said softly with a single nod. “Yeah, okay.” It was as if she was trying to convince herself that you would be fine.

You had this.

“Get goin’,” you teased Tara when Sam and Gale started to go their separate ways. “Sam might go all Ghostface on me.”

“I’m serious about being careful,” she said as her fingers absentmindedly brushed against one of the bruises on  your arm.

“I got this,” you said. “I’m Italian, remember?”

“You’re insufferable,” she said even as she gave you a little smirk.

“You like it,” you said with your own smile.

You looked around for a second, just to make sure Sam wasn’t watching, before leaning down and kissing Tara. Her lips were soft, just like they always were. It wasn’t a long kiss; there were too many things going on and, quite frankly, you were both rather distracted. But it was comforting, and you wanted to remind her that you weren’t going anywhere unless the devil himself came and dragged you down to hell.

“Be safe,” Tara mumbled against your lips when she pulled away.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered.

You pressed one more chaste kiss to her lips before standing up. She walked backwards for a bit, keeping her eyes locked with yours. When she finally spun back around to catch up with Sam, your stomach dropped. It didn’t feel right for her to be walking away. That foreboding feeling settled deep in your stomach and you frowned.

“You coming, Romeo?” Gale called out, and you spun quickly to see her standing a lot closer than you had thought.

“Can you be a normal person for just five minutes?” You asked as you both started walking off to her apartment.

“You like her,” she said, the both of you falling into step with each other. A power team for sure, you had no doubt.

“A lot,” you said quickly. “I’m not throwing the L word out just yet, but you know.” You shrugged.

“But it’s likely,” Gale teased. You refused to look at her, but you could hear the smile in her voice.

You paused. “It’s likely.”

The rest of the walk to the apartment was nice. It was just turning into spring and the weather was starting to warm up, and the streets didn’t smell so much like rotting garbage. Hell, the air was practically crystal clear! You had never breathed so clearly in your life! The world was looking up, that was for sure.

You both waved hello to Michael the Doorman when you walked into the apartment complex. He smiled back and waved, bidding you both a good afternoon. You had always liked Michael; he was sweet. And in a fight? There was no doubt he was lethal, you didn’t have that many muscles purely for aesthetic, not in New York. You trusted him with Gale’s life.

That was a hard trust to earn.

“You should tell her,” Gale said when the elevator doors closed and started heading up to the apartment. “Once this is over.”

“Tell her what?” You asked even though you had an idea.

“That you “likely” feel the L word for her.” Her words were teasing, but her tone said something different.

You didn’t say anything in reply. The elevator doors opened and you both quickly made your way to her apartment, and you listened to her lock all the locks while you walked over to the kitchen and threw open the fridge door. If Gale had asked you what was in it, you couldn’t have told her; you might have been looking but you weren’t seeing.

The thought of telling Tara how you felt had you cottonmouthed. Sure, you were fighting against a serial killer together, but that wasn’t near as terrifying as talking about your feelings! How were you going to explain any of that to her? She barely even tolerated you at this point (at least she pretended to). You were catching on that it was a defense mechanism, but still. It was enough to give you pause.

“What do we have for dinner later?” Gale asked, popping up beside you once again. You didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t even know,” you admitted before closing the fridge door. “Wanna just order takeout?”

“That Korean place on the corner?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, already salivating at the thought of that stunningly beautiful seafood hot pot. Oh, now you definitely couldn’t wait until dinner.

You and Gale separated for an hour, using the time to refresh yourselves and rest. It was a wonderful routine you had both come up with back in the day when you would sneak into her apartment after nearly getting into some deep shit. You had only needed to surprise her the first time before she learned, and she made sure to keep spare things for you.

And thankfully, you had stashed away some of your things too.

You finished tightening the bulletproof vest before heading back to the living room. It was old, a little worn, but it was still good. There was no expectation for gunshots, but you knew it could keep you at least mostly safe from a knife. If those fuckers were going to come for you, you were going to be prepared. The painful stretch of stitches reminded you how important that was.

“I’m going to go ahead and order dinner,” Gale said when you plopped onto the couch and started setting up your laptop. “The usual?”

“Yes please,” you called out. Your fingers flew across the keys, desperately searching for something that you weren’t prepared to see.

Wait.

“Did you just order three meals?” You asked, turning around and throwing your arm over the back of the couch.

Gale froze. “Yes I did.”

“Don’t you dare bring your boy toy in here tonight,” you said with a pointed finger. “I’m not in the mood to play nice.”

“We all need our stress relief,” she shot back, walking around the room until she sat next to you on the couch. “You should try it, you know.”

“There’s a killer targeting us and you’re bringing him?” You groaned. “He’s going to get us killed.”

“There’s strength in numbers, Y/N,” Gale said softly. You sighed and leaned back.

“I’m not afraid to push him in between you and Ghostface,” you finally said.

“I know,” she said with her own small smile. “What are you looking for?”

“My motive,” you said as you turned back to the laptop.

“Is that security footage?” She asked, leaning closer to look at your screen.

“Of Tara’s house from last year,” you explained.

She jolted back as if shocked. “You’re going to watch the attack?”

“I have to, Gale,” you sighed. “I have to see it.”

“You won’t ever get those images or sounds out of your head,” she said.

“I’ve seen attacks before,” you said with a shrug. It didn’t ease the shake in your hands.

“Not on someone you love,” she said far too softly. It was cutting.

“I have to watch this and the hospital,” you said. “I have to.”

“Why?” Gale asked. “Why do you have to put those things in your head?”

“Because,” you said, finally turning to look her in the eyes. You didn’t think you had ever seen her look so sad. “I need to guarantee I’m pissed enough to kill the fucker.”

The sadness on Gale’s face slowly morphed into something else. Her eyes trailed away until she was staring at your laptop screen once again. You wouldn’t dare watch the hospital if she was in the room, not when you knew Dewey had been killed there. But hopefully she would understand.

You knew the images and sounds would haunt you until the day you died. There was no way you would ever be able to get it out of your head. Yes, you were no stranger to death, but to watch someone you… appreciated getting tortured and used for nothing but sadistic joy? It set off something primal, an anger you didn’t think you had ever felt yet.

Those fuckers would have it coming.

“Come get me when you’re done,” Gale said with an absentminded nod. “And stop if you need to.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said just as softly.

She barely let you finish before she got up and left. You didn’t blame her. But when she was finally gone, you weren’t so sure you wanted to watch the footage anymore. Could you handle such a thing? Could you genuinely handle watching Tara get hurt? You weren’t so sure.

But you needed to be sure you could kill if needed.

You didn’t give yourself time to change your mind before pressing play on the footage. The vest dug into the tops of your thighs as you leaned forward to get a better look. Her house was nice; why she was alone, though, you had no idea. You would need to ask her about it. Shouldn’t she have been out having fun with her friends?

Just like Pop had taught you, you ceaselessly searched every inch of the screen for some sort of warning. Tara wouldn’t have known that, of course, but you wanted to see where she had missed Ghostface. If you could find where the fucker usually came from, you could prevent it from happening again. Yeah, they were different people, but they seemed to follow some ridiculous movie pattern anyway.

They needed to be more original.

The moment you saw the fear on Tara’s face and heard it in her voice, you knew the footage had done its job. You saw red before Ghostface even appeared. To watch the struggle, hear her screams, see her blood smeared around the house… it was more than enough. Your stomach twisted in knots and you felt sick.

And yet, you clicked on the next clip to watch the hospital.

That one almost made you even more furious, which you hadn’t expected. Tara was already injured and weak, and yet the bastard came back for more? For what, an added little “fuck you?” You quickly understood why Tara had that almost unnoticeable limp.

You turned the footage off before Dewey was killed. There had already been enough destruction, you couldn’t watch the love of Gale’s life get murdered in cold blood. It was all too much, you couldn’t handle another one. And besides, Gale was right. The sounds of Tara’s desperate cries and screams were already bouncing around the inside of your skull.

Your phone rang on the table beside your laptop, and you subconsciously picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Sick to your stomach yet?”

Fuck.

You slammed your laptop closed and stood up, practically sprinting to Gale’s room. She was sitting on her bed reading a book, and for a moment you just looked at her. She looked so peaceful. There was no stress of a news story, nothing about a new book, she was just… your godmother Gale again. You missed seeing her like that.

“Cat got your tongue?” 

You paused. He had used that exact phrase before. Maybe the same suspect was the caller each time.

“Gale,” you whisper-shouted. She looked up at you with a smile before seeing the phone in your hand.

“Is it him?” She asked.

You just nodded.

“I’m not afraid of a little blood,” you said into the phone, waiting until Gale was right beside you before heading back to the living room.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Not at all,” you said. You quickly reached down to pull the Ghostface knife from your boot. “You’re just a coward in a mask.”

“How did you like the film?”

The knife was heavy in your palm as you stood back-to-back with Gale. “Last movie I watched was Titanic,” you answered. “It was okay.”

“That’s a lie.” A creak had you turning your head to face the balcony. Empty. “You watched Pearl on your date night with Tara.”

How did he know that?

“I was watching Tara, not the movie,” you said. Where was he? “It doesn’t count.”

“I mean the one where dear Tara was the star.” A shiver went down your spine. “She might be the next Scream Queen.”

You saw red.

“The villain was below par,” you said. Another phone rang, and you felt Gale move behind you. “Let the Opening Kill turn into a Final Girl.”

You turned your body slightly to see Gale put the phone on speaker and wait. It was agonising. The static coming through the speaker was like mosquitos near your ear; constant and irritating with no way to stop it. As much as you despised them, you would hand it to them; they knew how to make things hurt.

“Hello, Gale.” The blood drained from her face. “You both look lovely this evening.”

Keep him talking, you mouthed to Gale, who nodded.

“I was wondering if you would ever call me,” she said as you turned back around to look out at the room. “I was starting to feel left out.”

“I figured you were.” You hung up your own phone and texted Tara. “After all, I’ve called your little godchild twice already.”

“Want to ask your question?” She asked. You slid your phone into your back pocket; you didn’t need an answer. “Or are you just going to shoot the breeze?”

“I don’t have any questions for you.” You reached your free hand back until you could touch Gale; you needed to keep track of where she was at all times. “I have one for your little guest, though.”

“Ask away,” you said without taking your eyes off the room. “I’m an open book.”

“How much would you sacrifice for your dear, sweet godmother?”

Behind you, Gale stiffened.

“I’d sacrifice my left nut,” you chuckled. “Maybe my right tit too.”

“How about your life?”

Your blood ran cold. Gale’s hand reached back and grabbed your forearm, squeezing it tight enough to bruise. Her nails dug into your skin when she turned around and stood beside you, looking out at the room. The air was heavy, suffocating.

The sound of boots hitting the wooden floor was deafening.

Your stomach dropped when two cloaked figures stepped into the room, walking in tandem until they stood in front of you.

Sam was right. They were more terrifying with people underneath the masks.

“Let’s play a game.”

“This isn’t Saw,” you said quickly. 

Neither of the Ghostfaces in front of you had a phone to their ear. The call was too clear for a bluetooth headset.

There was a third killer.

“Drop the knife and step forward.” Gale’s grip on your arm tightened. “Or I’ll pay your dear Tara a visit.”

The phone vibrated in Gale’s hand, and you both looked at the screen. It was an image. An image of Tara sitting in the hospital room with everyone else, including an awake Anika, laughing at something. Her phone was upside down on the table beside her.

She hadn’t seen your text.

You looked at Gale. She was already shaking her head, but you couldn’t just let that creep get Tara. The whole gang was there, but two of them were injured and it was a hospital. Honestly, the last time Tara had been in a hospital, it hadn’t ended well. And with two of them, you weren’t going to keep Gale safe on your own.

It was a zero-sum game.

“Still have that birthday present I got you?” You asked when you handed her the knife. She nodded once. “Don’t forget it.”

You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before turning around and heading to stand in front of the two Ghostfaces.

“Turn around.”

“You’re a bossy motherfucker, you know that?” You called out, but did as instructed.

A sharp pain went through your leg when one of them kicked the back of your knee. Another shot went up your spine when you fell into a kneeling position.

“Let’s play a game.” Gale locked eyes with you. “I’ll ask you a few questions. Every wrong answer leads to a stabbing.”

“And every right answer?” She asked.

“No stabbing.”

You exhaled shakily and your jaw tightened.

“Simple enough,” she said. “First question?”

“I’ll start easy.” You nervously licked your lips. “Which movie is Jack Torrence in?”

“The Shining,” Gale answered quickly.

“Very good.” One of the boots behind you started tapping against the floor. “Who was the very first kill of the Stab franchise?”

“Before the film plot? Or during?” Gale asked. You hid your smirk. She was far too smart for her own good sometimes.

“During.”

“Casey Brecker,” she answered quickly.

“Ooh, not quite, Gale.” Your stomach dropped. “It was actually-”

“-Casey’s boyfriend!” She shouted quickly, snapping her fingers near her temple. “Steven. Steven, uh, Orth!”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. You both locked eyes with each other. Was he going to accept it? She had corrected it before he had, it counted, right? Jesus fuck, is this what he put Tara through??

“I’ll accept it this once.” You both sighed. “But with a small price.”

You hissed when a sudden pain radiated from your thigh. Looking down quickly you saw blood already starting to soak through your jeans.

“Next question.” You looked back up at Gale quickly. She better get the next one right; these fuckers weren’t playing around. “How many kills has Ghostface gotten?”

“I don’t know,” Gale whispered. “I don’t know.”

“Tick-tock, Gale.” Boots thumped on the floor behind you. “Or we’ll add another one to the count.”

“Just give me a second,” she rushed. Her lips were moving as she counted, doing the mental calculations.

You could feel someone standing directly behind you. Not to the side, but so close you could feel their body heat against your back. Could he see the bulletproof vest? Oh god, you hoped not. Oh please don’t see the vest, please don’t see the-

“-time’s up.”

Gale’s eyes went wide before you felt something hit your back with enough force to send you forward onto your hands. Something hurt, but you couldn’t tell if it was the knife or the sheer force of the stab. The room was silent.

You froze.

“It seems you’ve cheated.” You looked up at Gale; you didn’t think you had ever seen so much sheer terror in her eyes before. “You’re not a very good sport.”

A hand grabbed you by the shoulder and yanked you back up to your feet. You bit down harshly on your tongue when of the fingers dug into some stitches. The taste of metal was nauseating. A second hand grabbed you by the jaw.

“We don’t play well with cheaters.”

“Don’t,” Gale said. She wasn’t even talking into the phone anymore. “Please don’t.”

“Birthday gift,” you said through clenched teeth. “Go.”

“Say good night, Gale.”

“Gale just-”

-Gale screamed-

-your hammering heart stopped when the cold steel slid through your flesh. It didn’t hurt.

The blade was cold against your tongue.

Why was Gale crying?

The blade ripped forward, tearing through your cheeks.

Your head jerked to the side as your body fell forward. By some miracle, you caught yourself with your hands, keeping you bent over. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

A red puddle started to form underneath you.

“You should run, Gale.”

You heard something drop to the floor. Light footsteps were quickly followed by heavy boots. It felt like you were trying to breathe through water. The liquid was thick in your mouth but you couldn’t swallow.

Three gunshots echoed through the apartment.

Gale. You needed to go help Gale.

Your head swam as you tried to push yourself up to your feet. There was a slight throb in your entire face. Something felt sticky. You lifted a hand to your mouth to wipe it off as you finally got to your feet.

When you pulled it away, it was dripping red.

Something vibrated in your back pocket. You continued to stumble your way down the hallway.

The vibrating continued.

Gale had to be somewhere close. Birthday gift. She kept it in her closet. In a safe. Ghostface didn’t carry guns. It would keep her safe and she would be okay-

-another gunshot-

-something slammed into your chest. You stumbled back, hitting the wall. Everything in front of you started twisting and turning.

Something wet dripped down your fingertips.

You let your shaky knees give out underneath you as you slid to the floor. The thump of your heart was felt in your mouth.

"Oh my god, Y/N."

Something clashed to the floor.

"Look at me, baby, open your eyes."

But they felt so heavy. You forced them open anyway. Why was Gale crying?

Something solid thumped on the floor.

And again.

And again.

"Take another step and I'll gut you like a fish."

She sounded so angry.

Your eyes started to fall shut.

"No, Y/N, don't close your eyes."

Your fingers were cold.

"Wake up, goddammit!"

Just a few minutes.

Your eyes closed.

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.”

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."

the chase

pairing: vada cavell x reader

summary: in which you and vada play a game of cat and mouse

warnings: none

word count: 4100+

author's note: does this make any sense? great question!

The moment Vada slipped into the passenger’s seat of Nick’s car, words were flying out of his mouth faster than she could comprehend, which was saying a lot considering how often she’d find herself rambling about the most random of things.

“Where were you yesterday?” he started as he shifted the car into drive, beginning their short ride to school. “I called you seven times, and you didn’t answer once. It was Sunday, and you do nothing on Sundays! I was beginning to think you were dead until I texted your mom and--”

Vada shook her head. “Wait, slow down. Back up. You text my mom? When did you get her number?”

He waved her off. “Not important. What is important is you telling me what you were doing yesterday.” He rolled past a stop sign, barely even glancing in its direction as he drove past. “I mean, seven calls, V, and you answered not a single one! So, what were you doing?”

She grinned, giggling in her seat at what she was about to reveal. “I had a date!”

Almost immediately, Nick whipped his head to look at her, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. “With who?!” he practically shouted.

Vada reached out, took his chin between her forefinger and thumb, and turned his head back in the direction of the windshield. “Eyes on the road, stupid. I’m not trying to die today.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Vada, if you don’t tell me who you went on a date with in the next five seconds, I’ll purposely drive us into oncoming traffic.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she teased with a roll of her eyes. He glared at her quickly before focusing on the road again. She bit her lip, trying to quell the excitement raging in her stomach as she said, “It was with Y/N.”

The car skidded to a stop and Vada was jolted forward, her seatbelt pressing tight against her body.

“Dude, what the fuck--” she began, but she was silenced as Nick twisted in his seat, his eyes hard as they set on her and his frown so defined that it made her uncomfortable.

“What,” he deadpanned.

She rubbed at her chest, right where the seat belt had dug into her. “What?” she asked, confused.

“You went on a date with…Y/N? Popular Y/N? Like, most-popular-girl-in-school Y/N?”

Vada tilted her head. “Uh, yeah?”

“Why the fu--” Nick was interrupted by a car honking at him. He threw his arm up in annoyance before starting to drive again, and Vada gulped as he stewed in his seat. “I can’t believe you went on a date with Y/N!”

“Why are you saying it like that?” Vada asked. She shifted, disliking the tension that was starting to fill the air. “You make it sound like a bad thing. I thought you’d be excited! I finally went on my first date with a girl! You’ve been waiting for this moment since the second I came out to you.”

“First of all, I’ve been waiting for this moment since the second I met you, because, baby, the closet is glass.” He took a hard right. The school loomed up ahead. “Secondly, I wanted you to go on a date with basically anyone other than Y/N.”

Vada furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m not that obviously bisexual.” Silence filled the car and she huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine, maybe I am. But why is going out with Y/N such a bad thing? She’s funny and cute and really smart. Basically, she’s perfect.”

“She’s not perfect, V,” Nick said, sitting up a little straighter as he pulled into the parking lot. “Haven’t you ever noticed that she’s got a new girl hanging off of her every month?” Vada’s stomach dropped, a sudden sense of anxiety flooding through her veins. “I mean, she goes through girls like you go through sugar.”

“No she doesn’t,” Vada tried, but her denial fell on deaf ears.

“She’s the biggest player this school has,” Nick said, leaning forward as he tried to pull into his designated parking spot. “She’s probably the biggest player in the damn county. She chases after a girl, stays with her for a few weeks, gets bored, and then does it all over again.” He turned to her as he shifted the gear into park. “Vada, she’s worse than John Tucker.”

“Are you seriously referencing a movie right now?” She scoffed and unbuckled her seatbelt. “She’s not like that.”

“Fine,” Nick conceded. “But when you get hurt, don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s just in it for the chase.”

Vada clambered out of the car and pulled her backpack onto her shoulder. “And when we live happily ever after,” she started as she and Nick started to walk into the school, “I’ll say ‘I told you so’.”

He glanced at her before looking forward, his eyes widening. “...I’m not so sure about that one, V.”

She frowned and followed Nick’s line of sight, a sharp pain shooting through her at what she saw. You had your back pressed against your locker, trapped there by Stacey from Vada’s history class, who had her hand flat against the metal and was leaning close to you. Stacey was batting her eyelashes and giggling, and you were smiling along.

“Oh,” Vada said, voice quiet and small. She tore her eyes away and blinked hard, looking back up at Nick. “Well, I guess you were right.”

He offered her a pitiful smile. “I’m sorry, V. But, you should be glad you won’t be another girl stuck in her revolving door of girls.”

“Yeah,” she said, voice low and filled with sorrow. “So happy.”

Nick wrapped his arm around her shoulder, leading her toward his own locker. “Don’t be so sad. It’s for the best.”

Vada glanced away. “I just don’t get it. I mean, if she’s in it for the chase, then why is she flirting with another girl? Was I not good enough to chase?” She frowned. “Am I just too boring? Or do I talk too much?” She looked up at Nick. “Nick, be honest with me, do I talk too much? Could that turn someone off?”

“Yes,” he said simply, nodding his head. Vada huffed. He pulled away as the two reached his locker and focused on putting his combination into the lock. “Don’t think too far into it, though. I don’t think you wanna go through the pain of it anyway.” He shrugged and then hit the metal door when it wouldn’t open. “Stupid, old locker.” He glanced at her. “You’d just end up getting your heart broken.”

Vada sighed and leaned against the locker beside Nick’s, her shoulder pressing against the cool metal. “That’s dumb. And unfair. And not very nice.”

Nick’s locker door finally popped open. “Just ignore her from now on, okay?” He glanced at her and started to put his books into his locker. “Don’t talk to her, don’t text her, don’t even think about her. ‘Y/N Y/L/N who?’ That’s how you should be acting.”

She nodded hesitantly. “Okay. I guess I can do that.”

“Good.” He slammed the door shut. “Now let’s go to class.”

* * *

The first few periods rolled by smoothly. Vada had no classes with you until after lunch, and she didn’t even get a glimpse of you in the hallways. While part of her was still disheartened by your act, she also agreed with Nick’s words: it was probably for the best that she didn’t get tangled up with you.

That is, until she asked to use the bathroom during her science class, and upon walking inside, found you standing by the sinks, fixing your hair in the mirror. Almost immediately, your eyes landed on her figure through the reflection and you grinned, showing all your pearly-white teeth, before turning around to face her. Vada’s breath was practically sucked from her lungs as she stared at you.

“Vada! Hey!” you greeted, voice happy and excited.

It made Vada uncomfortable, how easily you were able to put on that mask. Nick’s voice rang in her head: Don’t talk to her. She bounced on the balls of her feet before promptly making the decision to hide in one of the stalls, slipping away from your field of vision without a word.

“Oh…kay…” she heard you say. There was the shuffling of your feet before she could see your shoes beneath the stall door. “Text me, okay? I had fun yesterday.” You turned and Vada listened as your footsteps receded.

When she knew she was finally alone, she let out the breath she had been holding and leaned forward, her forehead bumping against the metal of the stall.

“C’mon, Vada, get it together,” she mumbled. “She’s a player. She doesn’t want anything from you.” She clamped her eyes shut and shook her head. “She doesn’t want you.”

That was the mantra that repeated in her head for the entire day. It was what she heard when she saw you during lunch, waving at her from across the cafeteria. She reminded herself of it when you sat down beside her during English class and tried to make conversation, to which she entirely ignored you--it did hurt her heart a little when she saw your wide eyes and jutted out bottom lip when you realized she wouldn’t talk to you, but she tried to ignore that, too.

It all came to a head at the end of the day, when Vada was trying to pile as many of her books as she possibly could into her backpack. She was almost done when you sidled up beside her, a gleaming smile on your face and your hands tucked sheepishly in the back pockets of your jeans.

“Hey,” you said softly, like Vada was a scared animal that would run away.

She swallowed, half of her so desperately wanting to talk to you and ask why you would ask her out just to play with her, while the other half of her was set in her stubborn way of not speaking a word to you. The latter half won as she shut her locker door and walked away, but she couldn’t shake you.

You followed beside her, looking down at her as you walked. “I don’t know what happened between yesterday and today, or if you’re just having an off day or something, but I really did have fun on our date, and I’d like to take you on another one.”

She glanced up at you, unable to stop the quickening of her pulse. What if you were telling the truth? She shook her head, Nick’s words in her ear: Don’t even think about her.

Vada managed to lose you in the crowd of students all trying to exit the school at once, but she still heard your voice call over the sound of everyone else.

“I’ll text you then!”

Something about your determination made her want to melt right into your arms, but she stood up a little straighter and continued walking. You didn’t actually want her, she reminded herself. You just liked the chase.

* * *

After a night full of text messages from you that Vada never answered, she sauntered into school the next day with Nick by her side, completely set on avoiding you as much as she could. Unfortunately for both her and Nick, it seemed like you wanted to make that impossible.

The minute she passed through the front doors, you were walking beside her, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Vada glanced at them quickly, feeling butterflies stir in her stomach at the sight, but Nick slapped her on the hand, forcing her to keep her stoic face as she picked up the pace and tried to walk away.

“What, do you not like roses?” you asked, just a step behind the pair. You sounded dejected, defeated--some part of Vada felt bad; the other part thought ‘good. she should feel bad’. After a moment of silence from you, she heard the smallest, “Well, okay,” and when she looked over her shoulder, you were gone, the roses sticking out of the top of the nearest trash can. It was a depressing sight to see.

She sighed. “I feel kind of bad, Nick,” she admitted, and the boy shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “She deserves to be humbled for once.” He scoffed. “She can’t just have anyone she wants and then throw them away when she gets bored because she’s pretty and popular. And she most certainly can’t do that to you.”

“But, yesterday she said that she had fun on our date and wants to go on another one. What if she was telling the truth? What if she actually likes me?”

Nick shook his head again. “It’s all part of her sick game. She wants you to fall for her, and then she’ll pull the rug right out from under you.” He patted Vada on the shoulder. “Trust me; she’s bad news.”

Vada glanced back over her shoulder again, and this time she found you in the same position as the day before--leaning back against your locker with Stacey standing in front of you, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

Your eyes flitted toward her for a split second, wide and forlorn, before they were focusing on Stacey again. You broke out into a grin, throwing your head back as you laughed.

“Right,” Vada grumbled, an ache forming in her chest and radiating throughout the rest of her body. “Bad news.”

* * *

The ‘bad news’ didn’t seem so bad anymore when, in the middle of English class, Vada was tapped on the shoulder by the boy behind her. When she twisted around to see what he wanted, he unceremoniously shoved a folded piece of paper in her direction, a scowl on his face as he waited for her to take it.

With furrowed eyebrows and a frown, Vada grabbed the paper and turned back in her seat, glancing up at her teacher to make sure he wasn’t watching as she unfolded the sheet.

Vada,

Thought I might try the old-fashioned way. Are you free on Friday night? The drive-in is showing The Princess Diaries, and I remember you saying you had a crush on Anne Hathaway. Wanna go together?

Y/N :)

Vada glanced toward the back of the room, where you had found yourself sitting that day, and saw you already looking at her, hope painting your face prettily. She cursed herself internally at the butterflies in her stomach as she looked back at the note you had sent forward. It was cute--she’d give you that--and she was tempted to say yes, but the image of Stacey flirting with you flitted through her mind, and that was enough for her to crumple the paper in her hand.

She didn’t look back at you.

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident: you didn’t try to speak to her in the halls, and by the time she went to sleep, Vada hadn’t received a single text from you. Just before she drifted off for the night, she briefly thought that you had given up--perhaps you had grown so used to girls falling into your lap that chasing Vada was just too much energy that you didn’t want to use.

She was proven wrong when she woke up to a voicemail from you in the morning. You had called her late at night--the timestamp reading nearly three o’clock--and when Vada played the message aloud, your voice filling her room, shame bloomed in her stomach.

“Hey,” you started, your voice quiet and scratchy. “It’s me. Or, it’s Y/N. I--I don’t know if you’ve deleted my number or something. I just…Look, I know it hasn’t been long since our date, but…” You sighed, and Vada could hear the faintest sound of a sniffle. “The cold shoulder from you doesn’t feel great. I just wanna know where we stand. I had fun on Sunday. Uh, it’s okay if you didn’t. I just wish you would tell me.” You sniffled again. “I guess if you don’t answer this, that’s my answer. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in school.”

Vada threw herself back into her pillows with a sigh. She ran a hand down her face, groaning. “Fuck,” she mumbled. “Fuck.” You sounded so sincere in the voicemail, but what if that were just another one of your ploys? What if you did this with every girl? What if—

“Bitch, why the fuck are you still in bed?” Nick asked as he burst into Vada’s bedroom.

She groaned again, throwing her legs up and down like a small toddler not getting their way. Her heart was pulling toward you, but her brain was trying to run away from you as fast as possible. She was torn, and she had no idea what to do.

Luckily for her, she was given more time to think than she had expected. You were absent that day, your missing presence a large hole in her day. There was no one to offer her flowers, or to try to pass her notes during class, or to wave at her in the cafeteria. As much as she hated admitting it to herself, she still liked you, and the lack of you carved a deep pit into her stomach.

That night, when there was still no sign of you--no texts or calls or even posts on any social media--she fell asleep with worry itching beneath her veins and guilt pricking at her chest.

The next morning wasn’t any better. Anxiety sat heavy like a rock in Vada’s stomach as she got ready, while Nick sang some random song in the car, when she walked through the parking lot and into school.

Her eyes immediately flitted toward your locker, a mixture of relief and sorrow surging through her at the sight of you standing there, alone, but with your head hung and your eyes trained on your feet. You were in sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. It was all completely unlike you.

“Nick,” she called, getting the boy’s attention. She subtly pointed at you. “Do you think she’s okay?”

He scoffed. “I’m sure her outfit just didn’t look as good in real life as it did in her head. What else does she have to worry about?”

Vada shrugged, her eyes still locked on you. You didn’t look up once.

* * *

It was at night that Vada’s worry had turned into all-out panic. Throughout the school day, you had avoided her like the plague, making sure to never interact with her. At one point, you had locked eyes with her down the hall and then swiftly spun on your heel and walked back in the direction you came from.

That, combined with getting absolutely no notifications from you, led her to a terribly easy decision as she stood from her bed, grabbed a hoodie, and lied to her mom that she was going to Nick’s house. She slipped out the front door, her pace quick as she rushed the few blocks to your house.

When she arrived, it was almost completely dark, save for the fluorescent light coming from your living room, where Vada had found herself just days before after you had taken her out to dinner.

With a hesitant hand, she knocked on your front door. It took only a few seconds before you appeared, looking completely unsurprised to see her.

“Vada,” you said softly, and she was immediately surrounded by the scent of alcohol on your breath. “What’re you doing here?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you…drunk? On a Thursday night?”

You shrugged. “So what if I am? What’re you doing here?” you repeated.

Pushing aside her concerns about your drinking habits, she asked, “Why did you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Chasing me,” she said, like you should’ve known.

You forced out a dry laugh, tilting your head to the side. “You know, you’re a confusing girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you completely ignored all of my attempts to talk to you, and now you’re upset that I’ve stopped, even though it seemed like that’s what you wanted.” You narrowed your eyes. “Sounds kind of confusing, don’t you think?”

Vada swallowed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair,” you muttered beneath your breath. “Okay. Sure. I was unfair to you.” You leaned back on your heels, your hand gripping the doorknob. “Now, if that’s all, then I’ll see you at school.”

You started to close the door, but something about your indifference made anger rise in Vada. “I just didn’t want to become a girl in your revolving door of girls!” she shouted.

You stilled, your eyes widening before glazing over. “Right. My revolving door of girls. That’s what everyone says, right?” Your voice was hollow, sad. Vada didn’t understand why.

“They say it because it’s true,” she huffed. Your posture fell and you glanced away, clenching your jaw. “You chase, you get, you grow bored.”

“That’s not true.” You looked at her, and faintly, she could see tears glossing your eyes. “That’s not…true. Those girls chase me; they use me; they leave me.” Your volume grew steadily, a sort of rage backing your words. “But since I’m the one factor that stays the same, everyone blames me. And it’s not--” You sighed. “It’s not true.”

You scoffed. “And you know what, I thought you might be the one person that didn’t believe what everyone else said. You seemed real, authentic, like you didn’t really give a shit about the crowd, Vada. That’s why I liked you, why I was trying. I thought you were your own person. But I was wrong. You’re just like the rest of the school.”

With all of the new information thrown at her, confusion and guilt and shame and hurt burning her, the only thing Vada managed to say was, “Oh.”

You nodded, glancing away. “Yeah. ‘Oh’. So, I’ll see you at school.”

When you shut the door, leaving Vada standing alone on your front porch, realization struck her like a tidal wave, and everything from the past few days came crashing down on her.

You didn’t chase. Or, at least, not until her.

“Shit.”

* * *

Vada (11:42pm): need ur help

Vada (11:42pm): 911

Mia (11:43pm): ???

Vada (11:43pm): help me ask Y/N out

Vada (11:43pm): ur her best friend. pls.

Mia (11:45pm): bro u fucked up big time

Mia (11:45pm): shes forgiving and all but…

Vada (11:45pm): mia pls

Mia (11:49pm): fine.

Mia (11:49pm): only b/c i know how much she likes u

Mia (11:49pm): dont fuck up again

Mia (11:50pm): heres what u should do

* * *

You didn’t show up to school again the next day, but it barely registered in Vada’s mind. She had already known beforehand that you wouldn’t be going--Mia had slipped her some ‘secret intel’ that your hangover had you sleeping the day away. Instead, she spent the hours mentally preparing herself, and as soon as the bell rang to signal the end of the day, she set her plan into motion.

At exactly six o’clock at night, Vada was standing at your front door again, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and her (Mia’s) car keys in the other. She knocked on the wood, waited, and when you pulled the door open, her words immediately pushed themselves out of her mouth.

“The drive-in is showing The Princess Diaries tonight, and I know you don’t like Anne Hathaway as much as I do, but I’d like to take you to see it.” She inhaled deeply and continued. “And I’d also like to apologize because I’ve been shitty to you these past few days, and I shouldn’t have listened to the rumors, and I should’ve just talked to you about it all, and I’m really sorry about everything that happened, and I just”--she gasped, her lungs stinging with lack of air, and kept going--“I really do like you, and I did have fun on our initial date, and I’m sorry. Can I take you to the drive-in?”

You blinked once, twice, before you raised a single brow. “What?”

Vada sighed. “The most important thing from all of that is that I’m sorry. I know I hurt you, and I know that can’t just go away, but I’d like the chance to make it up to you, if you’d let me.” She shoved the flowers in your direction. “Want to go see The Princess Diaries?”

You glanced down at the flowers, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, and then took them from her. With the smallest and softest smile that made Vada’s knees buckles, you nodded.

“Okay.” Your face fell. “But on one condition.”

She nodded fervently. “Anything.”

You grinned. “Let’s get milkshakes after and talk.”

bonus: “like, how could you not have a huge crush on anne hathaway?” vada asked, her eyes glued to the big screen.

you hummed. “i’ve got my eye on someone else.”

when she looked at you, ready to argue about anne hathaway’s attractiveness, you were already staring at her, smiling. 

She Don’t Wanna Marry Me

Part 3

8 years old

“Mama says you gots to marry your best friend to be happy.” You nod silent as you and Lorraine sit on the swings of the local park. You kick your feet to go higher watching the other girl struggle. A small pout begins to form making you smile. You jump off the swing running behind her as you begin to push her. Loving the sound of her squealing as she slowly goes higher.

“I love you Y/N!” You say nothing as you continue to push the girl once declaring she’s high enough jumping back on the swing next to her.

Once she gets tired and the usual ice cream truck sings as it arrives you both run. The coins in your pocket jingling as the girl next to you bounces on her heels. As you both tiptoe up to the counter you place the usual 1.75 down and ask for a vanilla ice cream, Lorraine’s favorite.

On the walk back home Lorraine licks away at her cone.

“How come you didn’t get a cone?”

You shrug. You didn’t tell her how that’s all the change you could find at home.

Her small hand grabs yours interlocking her sticky fingers with your clean ones. You grimace but let her continue.

“I know I’ll be happy when I marry you Y/n.”

13 years old

“I’m scared Y/NN.” You give her hand a squeeze making the girl face you.

“You’re gonna do great Raine I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.” She nods.

“You get nervous you just look at me and don’t look anywhere else.” Once more she nods biting her lip.

“I hate speaking in front of people.” You laugh lightly.

“I know but you gotta get used to it if you wanna be a big time author.” She sighed making you step closer and pull her into a hug. You felt her body sag in relief as you rubbed small circles in her back. “Ill be right here cheering you on.”

“Swear you ain’t leaving?”

“I promise I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else but with you. Now go.”

The girl scurried on stage almost tripping in her haste. The small brunette took a deep breath before she opened her mouth.

You watched entranced as the quiet girl you’ve come to love straighten her posture pushing her shoulders back and plastering a bright smile on her face. Lorraine hated putting on a show but her mother insisted she enter at least one beauty pageant in her life, first to make friends and second to boost her confidence she was scared the girl would be a recluse and become socially awkward. You stood back stage giving the girl a thumbs up as her mother waved from the front row. She’d dressed her as a true southern belle and her talent was to sing. Gone was the silent girl in her place a beautiful singer whose voice seemed to enchant everyone.

You could tell she’d gotten nervous once she looked at the large audience but relaxed the minute her eyes found yours. You offered a smile and even began to lipsynch, her smile grew wider as she knew you hated the song her mother chose for her but still listened to every word at every practice.

You’d spent countless nights going over dance steps and stupid questions, lifting her mood every-time she’d scowl or pout not wanting to do it anymore.

And imagine her surprise when she’d gotten 2nd place not first, thank the lord or she would’ve gone crazy. But she still placed and almost stole the show. You remember the feeling of her running up to you squeezing your neck and planting a fat kiss on your cheek once the show was over. Copious amounts of thank you falling from pink lips as she had not only gained confidence in herself but stepped out of her comfort zone.

15 years old

You pushed the boys face down further in the dirt.

“When a girl says no it means no Jack ass.”

“Y/n! STOP!” But you couldn’t stop, he tried to hurt Lorraine. He leaned in for a kiss and when she pushed him away he grabbed her almost ripping her shirt and still tried to kiss her.

“Y/n, please” she had gotten closer to you lips grazing your ear making you freeze the crowd around you both waiting. You huffed standing up but not before landing one more kick to the boys ribs.

“You stay the fuck away from her. You understand?” A cough and weak nod is all you get. A soft hand grabs your arm dragging you to the nearest bathroom, already washing the blood and dirt from your hands.

“You have to stop fighting.”

“I’ll stop fighting when people stop trynna take advantage of you.” The girl stares at you.

“So you’ll never stop fighting.”

“Exactly.” You crack a smile at her making her lips quiver. She doesn’t want to smile and have you think she condones this behavior but she likes having you as her protector. More often than not she can’t see when people take her kindness for weakness and having you around guaranteed they wouldn’t.

She sighs. “What should we tell mama and daddy?”

“Nothing I’m sure they’ll know before you even make it home.”

She steps closer to you placing a hand on your cheek. You soften a bit at the action making the girl laugh.

“A big ole teddy bear I swear.” You scowl stepping menacingly toward the girl making her back up. “Hold on I-“

You pick her up and swing her over your shoulder already running towards her house.

“PUT ME DOWN!”

22 Years Old - The Engagement Dinner Party

You were surprised how many old friends and family came up to you for a hug and wanted to catch up. You didn’t realize how long it had been since you’d been part of family functions after the birthday disaster you were sure everyone had written you off. A small body plopped next to you on the couch huffing.

“Are you as tired as I am?” Soft bleary eyes and a wide smile greeted you. She was drunk you could tell by the slight gloss in her eyes but she usually-

Her head hit your shoulder as her small hands began roaming your arms and chest. Never mind she’s very much drunk. She always got touchy whenever she had too much to drink.

“Yeah.” You said softly you pat her hands to her lap making her pout.

She went to put her hands back on you but Maxine plopped herself in between you two. Her and Bobby were watching from afar. Bobby sat next to Lorraine smiling softly almost apologetic but she knew Church Mouse was getting a little more touchy than usual.

“So mouse we just heard from your mom that you’re a singing beauty queen?” Maxine was casually running her hand down your forearm a small chuckle leaving you at Bobby’s question.

“They don’t know?” Lorraine looked to you glaring playfully until her eyes landed on her friends hand.

“No.” She muttered harshly. Your eyebrows furrowed confused making the smaller girl feel bad. It wasn’t your fault her friend was hanging off you. “I’m not as good a singer as Y/N though.”

You flush at the change of conversation.

“You sing Zuko?” Another chuckle left you at the nickname.

“Nah Raineys lying.” Said girl stuck her tongue out at you as her mom intervened.

“Of course she can sing,” she laughs.

You got lost in brown eyes and a constellation of freckles, a soft click in the background bringing you back.

Mrs.Day placed a kiss on your cheek laughing.

“It’s a miracle you didn’t have girls banging down the door.”

“Don’t speak too soon Mrs.Day I might just be Danny’s first and last groupie.” You looked over to get a wink and flirty wave from Maxine. Bobby laughed.

“I won’t lie I might fight you for her too.” You blushed as Lorraine laughed placing both arms around your neck.

“She only sings for me.” Her mother smirked at the possessive behavior as did Bobby.

You laugh once again prying Lorraine away.

“I think it’s time I get going.” Lorraine was once again pouting before she tilted her head to the side.

“What do ya mean? You’re home.” Mrs.Day cleared her throat.

“Sweetheart Y/N moved out about a year ago.” Her eyes widened as she turned to you abruptly.

“What?! Why?!”

You just shrug as Mrs.Days eyes get a little cloudy, her husband and his father finally coming in the room.

“How’s it going honey?” He places a soft kiss on his daughters forehead before wrapping a thick arm around his wife.

“I was just telling Lorraine that I’m heading out Mr.Day” The man nodded, the formality still leaving a quiet sting but he understood.

“You ok to get home?”

“Yeah no worries Mrs.Day I made sure not to drink too much.”

Lorraine watches you walk off before turning to her father.

“What did you do?”

The older man furrows his eyebrows at her.

“Don’t take that tone with me right now Lorraine, you’ve had a few glasses we can talk about this in the morning.” The younger girl huffed.

“We wouldn’t have to if y/n was here-“

“I think it’s time we all head to bed. Girls you can share Lorraine’s room or use Y-the guest bedroom.”

Lorraine scoffed stomping up to her room, Bobby and Maxine following shortly after.

“You alright Mouse?”

“She wasn’t supposed to leave. She belongs here with us.”

Maxine watched the girl carefully. “Maybe she got tired of waiting Mouse.”

“She promised to never leave.”

Bobby decided to chime in as well. “Did she promise to never leave the house or did she promise to never leave you?”

“Hey Lorraine I got a question..” the room grew quiet it was rare Maxine addressed anyone by their actual name.

The girls were met with silence nothing but the sound of quiet snores meeting their ears after a few minutes.

They turned off the light heading to the guest room.

As soon as the door shut brown eyes popped open staring out the window, mind racing as she thought about her best friend.

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She Don’t Wanna Marry Me

Part 4

16 Years Old

“Hey Y/N!” A familiar blonde ran up to you.

“Oh hey Jessie what’s up?” You crossed your arms as you spoke to the girl.

Lorraine quietly stood next to you as your walk home was interrupted.

“Nothin much.” The girl

Giggled twirling her hair. “I just wanted to know if you’d want to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with me?”

Lorraine’s jaw clenched as she watched your face. She couldn’t tell if you were interested by the way you kept your expression smooth.

“I appreciate the offer Jessie but someone already asked me.”

Both girls eyes widened surprised before Jessie smirked her shy demeanor gone.

“Well I can promise you an extra good time if you go with me.” Her hand went to graze your arm with its fingernails making Lorraine scoff. You glance at the girl offering Jessie a short nod before you led the small brunette on the path home.

Once she was out of ear shot Lorraine let loose.

“Skank.” You barked out a laugh making the girl glare at you.

You raise your hands up in surrender.

“Hey what did I do? I completely agree with you.” Lorraine’s eyebrows furrowed.

You chuckle softly shaking your head.

“You really think I’ll let jezebel take me to the dance?” Lorraine shrugged her feet kicking a small rock as she refused to meet your eyes.

“Well if not her then what about the other girl that asked you?”

You shook your head.

“I turned her down told her I was planning on asking someone else.”

Shiny brown eyes met yours.

“Who?” She asked voice soft and curious as she bit her lip.

“I-“

“LORRAINE!” You let out a heavy sigh as Douchebag Danny came running up to the two of you.

The girl beside you shifted her attention to the boy running towards you. The moment gone the minute he’d stood in front of her.

“Hey..” he huffed trying to catch his breath. Hands on his knees as he bent over feeling as if his lungs were gonna collapse. “Hey.”

Lorraine giggled brushing a piece of her hair back. You felt your jaw clench knowing the tell tale sign of Lorraine crushing on someone.

“Hey Daniel, are you ok?”

The boy scoffed standing up straight still breathing heavily.

“Psshhh yeah I’m fine, better than fine actually I’m great.”

You rolled your eyes as you felt yourself almost puke.

“I heard a rumor that you were gonna ask me to the dance coming up.” Your eyes shot to the girl in question as she blushed, more nervous giggles and hair twirling as she looked up at the boy doe eyed.

“Maybe.” Pearly white teeth grinned at her.

“Well maybe I would say yes.” The girl squared her shoulders and stood taller.

“Will you go to the dance with me?”

“I’d love to go with you.”

You walk ahead giving the two space as they continued to talk. Douchebag following you as he offered to walk her home.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” You didn’t look but knew Lorraine was already telling the boy yes.

You walked into the kitchen rubbing daddy’s shoulder as he read a newspaper and gave mama a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey baby how was school?” You shrug grabbing an apple.

“It was ok I’m not that hungry right now is it ok if I just go lay down?” The two looked to you concerned but were quickly interrupted by a squealing Lorraine.

“I got a date to Sadie Hawkins.” Her mom laughed clapping a bit before kissing her daughters cheeks.

“That’s great baby. We’ll go dress shopping this weekend ok?” The girl nodded enthusiastic as her father grunted.

“And what little punk thinks he’s good enough for my Rainey?” The girl almost rolled her eyes at her fathers protective nature. You remained quiet as your grip on the apple tightened and the slight flexing of your jaw increase. Slowly making your way to your room as you wanted to avoid any further talk of the dance.

“Daniel Smith down the street.”

He huffed. “Isn’t he a little old for you?”

“He’s 17 daddy.”

“Oh stop it.” She hit her husband. “He’s a sweet boy his mother and I are in the same book club and he always lends a hand when she needs it.”

“Yeah all boys are sweet at first then they go looking for one thing and the minute they get it-“

“Stop while you’re ahead.” Mrs. Day’s tone was calm but the threat behind her words gave little sense of peace.

His shoulders sagged before he sat up straight again turning to his daughter.

“I want to meet him before you leave and he better have you home by 11.” The girl clapped hugging her father before helping her mother set the table. She noticed only three plates being taken out.

“Is someone not eating?”

“Y/n said she wasn’t too hungry. I’ll leave her a plate in the microwave.” As the trio ate her father broke the silence.

“So did anyone ask her to the dance?”

Lorraine scoffed. “Yeah, the town tramp.”

Her father choked mid bite a hearty laugh following.

“Damn it Raine.”

“Lorraine.” Her mother scolded making the girl shrug at the mixed reactions.

“It’s true. She did say someone else asked but it wasn’t who she wanted to take.”

“Did she ever say who it was?” Lorraine shrugged.

“No idea.”

The next day you were more quiet than usual and as you went to leave, Mrs.Day stopped you.

“Aren’t you gonna wait for Lorraine?”

You shook your head.

“Douc-Daniels gonna get her.”

She nodded. “Would you want me to take you?”

You shook your head already one foot out the door. “I like the walk.”

As you were leaving you almost slammed into the idiot with nice hair.

“Oh hey Y/n is Lori ready?”

You felt your eyebrows scrunch together. Lori?

You shook your head rushing past him.

“Don’t know but I gotta get going.”

This was last week, the dance was in a few days and all but one Day noticed your strange behavior. You were listening to music when Mrs.Day knocked on your door.

“Hey sweetie.” You put your phone down slowly taking off your headphones confused.

“Everything ok?” Mama laughed sitting next to you on your mattress.

“I should be asking you that darlin you’ve been quiet and we haven’t seen much of you.” You shrug.

“Just been busy.” The woman smirked.

“Avoiding Lorraine?” You flush slightly rubbing your neck.

“I’m guessing she was who you wanted to ask to the dance.” You stare slightly embarrassed as you nod.

She gently placed a hand on your cheek brushing some hair back from your face.

“I’m sorry baby.” You shrug again. “But I think you shouldn’t mope around.”

“You’re not mad at me for liking Lorraine?”

The older woman laughed.

“Baby if I got mad at you for that I would’ve hated you since we met.”

You stay silent. “How about we go get you something nice for the dance?”

You shook your head. “I think I’ll pass.”

She nodded as she stood going to her bathroom brushing her teeth as she got ready for bed.

Her husband resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Y/n just realized she likes Raine.” Mr.Day laughed.

“That poor kids been in love with her since they met, we just gotta wait to see if Rainey will catch up.” Her eyebrows shot up.

“You knew?!” He laughed nodding.

“I may not be the sharpest tool

in the kit but I know love struck when I see it.”

“I give it 2 years before they get together.” Her husband grinned.

“I think it’ll take longer than that I give it 5.”

22 Years Old

Mr.Day was quiet as he brushed his teeth, his wife next to him rubbing lotion into her skin.

“Guess we both lost that bet huh?”

Mr.Day chuckled. “I got until the end of this year but yes it’s looking like we were wrong.”

Mrs.Day sighed.

“Is it our fault?”

“Of course not! We can’t dictate her life. It’s better to wait for the right thing then to race for the wrong thing.” She shook her head.

“She’s getting married.”

“She’s engaged, she ain’t married there’s still time for her to figure out what her heart wants.”

“And what if it’s Rj?” At this Mr.Day scoffed.

“Yeah and what if pigs fly?” The back of her hand slapped his shoulder.

“Im serious.”

“And I am too darlin’. Look Raine may take some time but I think a part of her knows RJ ain’t right for her. Im hoping a part of her also knows that while she may not love Y/n she deserves someone who would love her like Y/N would.”

They stayed quiet until Mr.Day broke the silence again laughing.

“You remember Daniel?” His wife finally cracked a smile.

“Such a sweet boy.” Mr.Day laughed.

At the dance she had only talked about you and how she wished you were there with her. Daniel had tried to steer her concentration to them but ended up taking her home early. Their “first kiss” decent but no fireworks. The dates were nice but she’d find herself wishing she were hanging out with you instead. They had tried, going bowling, grabbing pizza, even small walks in the park. This went on for months before Lorraine had decided to end it. She didn’t feel the connection she yearned for.

Lorraine had come in crying she hadn’t stopped to talk to her parents she just ran up to your room pouncing on you the moment she went through the door. Her arms slung around your neck as hot tears met your skin. She was so upset she couldn’t speak. You consoled her and let her take your bed before you snuck out knocking on the boys door and punching him with no explanation.

“I was the one who taught her to punch.” Mr. Day grinned proudly as his wife hit him once again.

Back at your apartment, you had just finished washing up when you heard a sharp knock at your door. You went to open the door and found Lorraine on the other side.

“Raine?”

“So an apartment above the shop is better than our home?”

“What? No I-“

“Did you leave because you didn’t want them to catch you sneaking in girls?”

“What?! Raine-“ the girl stumbled into you. Big baby browns locking onto yours as soft hands stroked your face.

“Or is it because you hate me?” You watched as a light shimmer of tears lined her eyelids.

You grabbed her chin firmly making her breath bitch.

“Now that’s a damn lie Lorraine I could never hate you.” You sniffed and almost gagged at the familiar scent.

“Are you drunk?” Her body sagged against you her head hitting your shoulder as she nodded.

“And you drove here?!” She shook her head.

“I had Bobby drop me off.”

You sighed, picking the girl up bridal style.

She laughed arms going around your neck as she did so.

“You’re my best friend.” You laid her gently in your bed as you went to grab some extra blankets.

“I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.” You stop, looking at her cheesy grin knowing she doesn’t mean it the way you want her to.

It’s only when her soft snoring hits your ears that you realize she’s fallen asleep.

“I love you so much more.” You place a soft kiss on her forehead as you go to sleep in the couch.

Once you throw yourself down you raise one arm behind your head, eyes staring at nothing as you wonder what you’ll do when she marries him.

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