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peachbear88 · 9 months

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The Free Fall

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.2K

Notes: might be obvious but No Ghostface AU

They are six years old when they meet for the first time.

It's the first day of the first grade and Y/N stands in the crowded schoolyard looking scared and lost. One hand is white knuckled around her lunch box; the other is at her side, loosely picking at a backpack strap. She recognizes Chad and Amber from last year's kindergarten class in the distance playing on the playground, but neither seems to notice her and she's far too shy to trek through the hoards of older kids.

The school bell rings, loud and shrill, and everyone scatters towards the doors. Everyone but Y/N. She's partly frozen on the spot, not really sure where to go and her heart sinks when she looses sight of Chad and Amber.

She's nothing but nerves and the threat of tears, but she won't show it. Her jaw is tight, her back much too stiff for the likes a six year old, and her gaze is steady at nothing in particular. That is, until she feels a presence sidle up to her.

"Are you lost?" a gentle voice says and Y/N turns to follow it.

Y/N is small, but the girl she finds standing next to her is even smaller. She's all dark brown hair, bright brown eyes, and a denim skirt covered with what looks like iron on flower patches. Y/N might recognize her from a different kindergarten class, but doesn't know her name.

Y/N shakes her head turning her gaze away, but the girl next to her doesn't move.

"You look lost," the girl tries again.

"I'm not lost," Y/N says softly but firmly. There's a hint of a waver in her voice. She is lost though, completely. She's never been on this side of the school before and when her mom had told her there'd be a lot of bigger kids, she was not expecting this, not expecting to feel like she might get trampled or swallowed at any given second.

The girl takes a step in front of Y/N, but Y/N looks past her. "Okay," the girl says shrugging. She waits a moment before turning on her heels but only makes it about three steps.

"No, wait," Y/N calls out, closing the distance. She looks at the girl sheepishly. "I'm...lost," she says, quieter this time.

The girl smiles, eyes lighting up like she has been waiting to help Y/N. "Who is your teacher?" she asks.

"Um, Ms. Garcia, I think."

"Hey! Mine too!" The girl squeals, practically jumping on the spot. "Come on," she says, grabbing Y/N by the hand and leading her towards the doors.

Y/N follows, but pulls her hand out of the girl's. The girl stops, turns around, and half pouts.

"I don't bite," she says, re-extending her hand. Y/N eyes it apprehensively and eventually takes it when she hears the rush of kids coming from behind her.

"I'm Tara, by the way," the girl finally says when they're inside in the school. "You're Y/N right?"

"How did you know?" Y/N says, following Tara closely, eyes sizing up her surroundings.

"You know Chad and Amber. They're my friends too."

"Oh," Y/N nods. "Yeah, I'm Y/N." She smiles for the first time all morning.

They're in a maze of hallways, loud noises, and big people and it's actually Tara who tries to let go of Y/N's hand first, but Y/N clings tightly. Her heart isn't beating as quickly as it was a few minutes ago, and she doesn't feel like slipping through the fence in the schoolyard and running home to her mom and dog anymore.

If Tara minds Y/N's sweaty palm in hers, she doesn't do or say anything about it. In fact, it actually makes Tara squeeze harder. It's not until they're safely inside the classroom that they both reluctantly let go. They stay close though, never drifting more than a few feet apart.

Y/N doesn't understand it now, but years and years later, she'll pinpoint this moment as the very first time she fell for Tara Carpenter.

ii.

Y/N finds Tara outside on the trampoline; knees hugged tightly to her chest as she sits and watches the breeze ruffle the treetops in the backyard. The sun is low now, the sky a deep, smoky orange colour.

Somewhere in the Carpenter household, the adults are all cleaning up the aftermath of Tara's 12th birthday party. It had started wonderfully, all her friends present; now Tara is feeling foolish for letting it end with herself in tears.

"Hey," Y/N says gently as she climbs through the side netting of the trampoline, crawling next to Tara. Tara sniffles, wiping the tears from her eyes looking away.

"Hey," Y/N repeats, even more gently this time while draping an arm around her best friend's shoulder. "Wes is the dumbest person I've ever met. Don't let him ruin your birthday."

Tara is silent, willing the tears to stop. She knows that Y/N is right, knows that Wes loves to cause trouble and is all around a grade A jerk. Still, he's in her friend circle and she hates how he has always known how to get under her skin. Always saying the wrong things at the wrong times.

"But did you hear what he said, Y/N/N?" Tara finally manages through a sob, hurt laced into her words. "He said I'd never be as pretty as Liv and that should I just stop trying."

Y/N shakes her head, feeling the anger starting to bubble in her blood. She has never liked Wes Hicks, not from the first day they met in the third grade. Everything about him is stupid as she always likes tells Tara, especially his hair. Y/N had once tried to gift him with a comb at school, but it ended up back in her cubby with a note that read, "you could use it more." It has been war ever since.

"I can beat him up for you if you want," Y/N offers with a sudden sparkle in her eye and lilt to her voice.

Tara leans her head into Y/N's, trying to hide a smirk. She doesn't doubt Y/N in the slightest; Y/N would do anything for her, always loyal to her word.

"I just don't want to be his friend anymore," Tara says, heaving a sad, shaky sigh.

"So don't," Y/N says, holding out her free hand across her lap into Tara's. Tara takes it and holds onto it like she always does. "Wes isn't worth it," Y/N reassures, trying to mend her best friend's broken heart.

"He's a stupid boy with a stupid name and an even stupider haircut." She pauses, mulling over her words. "Liv is pretty, Tara, but you're prettier. The prettiest girl in school."

Tara scoffs almost immediately. Her tears are gone. "No I'm not. You must be crazy."

Y/N pulls her head away from Tara's in search of her gaze. When she finds it, she smiles shyly. "You are to me," she says.

There's a beat of silence and then Tara is back to usual grinning self. She wraps her hands around Y/N's neck and pulls her close, planting a firm, but wet kiss onto her cheek.

"Thanks, Y/N," she says, pulling away and tucking her head into the crook of Y/N's shoulder. "I love you."

Y/N lets the words fill and expand in her chest, and the warmth spread throughout her body. There's a slow burning sensation deep in her stomach and she's not all too sure what it means. What she does know is that she wouldn't mind staying like this for a little bit longer, nestled in as close to Tara as possible. She also knows she doesn't ever want to see Tara like this again: sad because of a boy; sad because of anything. All she ever wants to do is make Tara feel as safe as Tara made her feel on the first day they met.

"Love you too, Tara," Y/N breathes, ruffling brown flyaway hairs that tickle at her nose.

iii.

It's their senior year in high school and they're in Charleston, South Carolina for spring break. They forgo the big party cities despite Liv's pleas for them to join her, Chad, Wes, Amber, and Mindy, in Miami. Hearing Wes's name is more than enough for Y/N to immediately shun the idea, and Tara doesn't want to be anywhere that Y/N isn't.

Wes and Chad try to tag along, but Tara insists this is a girl's trip. Best friends only.

On their second day there, they meander through sunny colourful streets in tank tops and flip flops; large sunglasses and floppy hats. Often they're hand in hand with silly grins plastered on their faces. It's nice to spend time alone together like this and if Y/N is being honest, it always becomes harder and harder for her to spend any time away from Tara.

After what seems like hours of walking, hunger catches up with them and they stumble into a small and quite café nestled between an antique store and bookstore, which backs onto the water. Y/N leads them out onto the patio to a table as far away as possible from anyone. There isn't much shade out here, the sun relentless on their skin, which will later turn pink and sore. A waitress promptly brings them water and menus.

"I'm really glad we came here," Tara smiles. She means Charleston of course, not the café. Y/N flashes a smile back, reaching for her water.

"Me too," she says, and then crinkles her nose. "I'll bet Chad and Mindy are throwing up in a hotel bathroom somewhere."

"Gross," Tara laughs, pulling off her hat and hanging it onto the side of her chair. She leans back and unabashedly regards Y/N for a moment. Y/N's eyes twinkle brightly like emeralds in the sunlight, and her lips are full and probably taste like the chapstick they've been sharing.

"What?" Y/N wrinkles her brow, feeling her cheeks slowly tickle pink. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Tara says, opening up the menu trying to dismiss the conversation.

"Tara," she presses again and Tara closes the menu.

"Do you remember after my 12th birthday—"

"You mean the night my hatred for Wes came to life?"

Tara purses her lips into a straight line, trying to suppress a grin. "Yes, that night. You said you thought I was prettiest girl in school. Did you really mean that or was that just something a best friend is supposed to tell their best friend?"

Y/N swallows hard and she's certain of the blush that's creeping up her neck. She's also aware that Tara is aware.

"Of course I meant it. Why—"

"We're in high school now. What about now?"

Y/N blinks and her gaze is calculated. She doesn't understand where this is coming from and takes a moment to measure Tara's words before answering.

"The statement still stands, Tara. It always has and it always will."

There's a rigidness in Tara's shoulder that dissipates when she hears the words. As if for some reason she needed to be reassured of this, as if Y/N doesn't already look at her with a look that's only reserved for her.

As if they don't look at each other like they are the damn universe.

Y/N makes no mention of her observation at first, letting Tara's gaze flicker back to the menu. She does however make quick of the moment, letting her own eyes settle onto Tara. Tara is beautiful all the time, but right now, hair sloppily thrown into a bun and sunglasses resting atop her head, face bright and carefree, she looks a different kind of stunning and it leaves Y/N breathless.

The light catches the tiny scar under Tara's eye, the one she had gotten when they had both fallen out of a tree when they were about nine years old. No stitches required, but Y/N remembers the moment well—Tara nearly passing out from the sight on her own blood.

Y/N reaches her arm across the table and softly touches the side of Tara's face. It takes her by surprise at first, but then Tara is closing her eyes leaning into the warmth of her palm and Y/N is running her thumb across the scar.

"That wouldn't be there if you hadn't kicked me," Tara teases quietly.

"I didn't kick you, my foot slipped and you just happened to be in the way. It's not my fault you have the slowest reflexes ever."

Tara narrows her eyes, but her smirk makes it less than menacing. Before Y/N can retreat her hand, Tara reaches up to keep it in place. She places a quick and tender kiss in the centre of her palm and then lets Y/N have her hand back.

"I never told you," Tara starts, "but I always thought you were the prettiest girl in school."

Y/N is beet red for sure now. She can feel the sting high in her cheeks all the way up to her ears. There's a familiar buzz circuiting through her entire existence and an even more familiar rolling tug in the pit of her stomach. The only difference between now and the first time, is that now she can place an emotion to it, can identify it for what it is.

She's falling for her best friend and it's eating her up.

iv.

They are both a little drunk when it happens.

Too many miles have separated them for too many weeks and Y/N never fully understands the phrase "absence makes the heart grow fonder" until they both go to different colleges.

Now they're practically cuddling in Tara's dorm room at Blackmore University and laughing and catching up while they share a bottle of luke warm white wine. ("I'm on a starving student budget," Tara says, "we're drinking straight outta the bottle.")

They've always been overly affectionate growing up—their friends not so subtly taking bets on when they'd finally get together—but tonight, whatever line that does separate their friendship from anything beyond that starts to become a little blurry.

It starts when Tara falls to her bed and pulls Y/N onto her lap. It's innocent enough, nothing out of the ordinary, much like old times when they'd watch TV or movies together at each other's houses. Tonight, however, Y/N's sits perpendicular on Tara, her legs dangling off of her to the side. Her arms are wrapped tightly around Tara's shoulders for support while Tara's arms are securely around Y/N's waist. Tara rests her head into Y/N's chest and Y/N prays that she doesn't hear the way her heartbeat quickens.

"I missed you a lot, Y/N," Tara mumbles into the well worn material of Y/N's shirt.

"I missed you more," Y/N says, placing a soft kiss into Tara's temple. She likes to humour herself in thinking that there's a permanent dent there from all the times her lips have made their mark. "This is so much better than FaceTiming and texting."

"Tell me about it." Tara shifts, positioning Y/N more comfortably on top of her. Her hand slips though, and winds up flush against the warm skin just above Y/N's hip. The goosebumps read like braille.

"I'm squishing you," Y/N fidgets, quick to remove the attention from herself, and it's comical because even if she's some five inches taller than Tara, she's always been just a hair thinner and lighter. "I'll move," she offers.

Tara's grip only tightens. "No, stay," she rushes, then more slowly: "I mean, it's fine, I'm totally comfortable."

Y/N gets up anyways, her fingertips trailing the width between Tara's shoulder blades as she does. She doesn't actually want to get up, but she knows that the longer she's like this with Tara—so intimate—the more she'll start to lose her resolve and the last thing she wants to do is something stupid.

You know, like, kiss Tara.

Instead, she retrieves the half bottle of wine from the desk and hands it to Tara; another stupid idea in it's own right.

"Drink up, buttercup," Y/N urges, a coy smile playing at her lips. Tara's eyes don't leave Y/N's until her mouth is pressed to the bottle and her head is tilting back. And Y/N's eyes are definitely not the painting the length of her neck.

After a long swig, Tara hands the bottle back.

"You know the rules. Wine must have wine."

They never actually finish the bottle. They don't need to. They're both teetering the line between tipsy and drunk (Tara more so on the drunk side than Y/N) and for whatever reason unbeknownst to either of them, especially Y/N, they want to keep their wits about them.

Maybe it's because they both know that for the past year or so, something has changed. Like a switch has been flipped.

Sure, they've been best friends for as long as they can remember, but there's always been an undercurrent of something deeper than friendship that runs between them. Something they've both been too scared to explore. (Maybe it's for the best.)

Now it feels like an opportunity is presenting itself. For Y/N, it's an opportunity that could make or break them.

The next time they check the time, it's well after two in the morning. The alcohol is slow to leave their system; their senses dulled, their guards are down. Not that they ever really have one up around each other anyways.

Tara is already in bed (not) watching Y/N change into one of her oversized t-shirts. Y/N is overtly aware, though, her ears burning. Tara has never been one for subtleties and is caught in the act when Y/N unbuttons her jeans and slides them off.

"You looking for a show, Carpenter?" Y/N winks.

Tara has always been good at the recovery though.

"Maybe. Why? You wanna give me one?"

Y/N rolls her eyes and simply toes off her sock and kicks it at Tara's face, who swats it away. "Shut up," she laughs and climbs into the bed next to her.

It's small, the bed, and they are suddenly both overcome with nostalgia.

"Remember when my dad bought me that bunk bed so we could have sleepovers?" Tara sighs fondly, rolling onto her side. She slings an arm and a leg across Y/N and nestles so closely that her breath tickles at Y/N's neck.

"Mhm," Y/N hums, heart singing at the memory.

"And remember all the times we'd end up in each other's bunks?"

"Doesn't feel any different right now."

"You're right."

There's a silence filling room, a growing sort of static electricity. Y/N reaches out to turn off the light and then makes herself comfortable, relishing in Tara's body heat. She smells good too, like the same shampoo she's used since she was a teenager.

Maybe it's the alcohol, but Tara can't seem to keep her hands still. They're tracing up and down the side of Y/N's ribcage and as a result, Y/N's shirt has bunched up, her underwear partly exposed beneath the covers.

"Sorry," Tara whispers, her hand coming to a halt. She doesn't move it though, instead, it lays splayed on Y/N's hipbone, feeling the thin layer at her fingertips.

Y/N doesn't say anything. She blinks into the darkness not really sure of what to even say. She's been in the position a million times with Tara, but never like this. It's new and exciting and yet she knows she should probably turn the other way and go to sleep. But her heart is beating a little faster, her body temperature is rising, and she wonders if it's possible that Tara can hear the blood whizzing through her veins. She shifts, and instead allows herself to bear more of Tara's weight.

"Night, Y/N/N," Tara manages. And maybe it's because it's too dark and her head is in sorts, but she's quick to realize that the goodnight kiss she means to place on Y/N's cheek actually ends up on her neck.

It's so unexpected that Y/N can't help the small gasp of air that escapes her and then she's covered in goosebumps again.

Tara stills once more, her mind working overtime, but Y/N's lack of resistance cloaks her in a blanket of braveness so she kisses her again.

This time longer; this time more purposely.

Y/N lets out something more akin to a moan this time, her breathing suddenly more shallow and rapid. "Tara..." she tries, but before she can get much else out, Tara has shifted and is hovering above her; nose to nose, forehead to forehead.

"Y/N," Tara breathes so quietly, eyes closed, onto Y/N's lips that Y/N can taste it more so than she can hear it. It sends a rocket of a shiver down her spine and then her hands are gripping Tara's waist, hungry, holding her in place. "Y/N," Tara breathes again, rocking forward slightly. This time their lips actually brush. "Tell me I shouldn't do this."

Y/N screams it loudly in her head, but can't fathom it into words or actions. This isn't how she wanted this to happen; not while they're drunk and desperately missing each other, but alas she just can't find the willpower to stop it and thus her silence is answer enough to prompt Tara close what little space is between them.

Y/N's lips are much softer than they look and they taste sweet like the wine; and Tara does this thing with her tongue that if Y/N were standing, her knees might have given out. Nothing is frantic though. In fact, it's all very slow and tender because this isn't a random make out session with a stranger. It's two best friends kissing each other for the first time, one of which may have loved the other for the better part of a decade.

It's Y/N asking Tara if she's okay even though it's Tara who initiates the kiss.

It's Tara meticulously peppering Y/N's face with kisses, light like raindrops.

It's Y/N's hands nervously creeping their way underneath Tara's shirt, mapping the bumps and ridges as she goes.

Mostly it's Y/N being cautious, fully aware of the ramifications that tomorrow may bring.

But for now, Y/N will put up a mental block. It's years and years of pent up heart aching desire and love that Y/N is going to drown herself in because right now she can't separate her head from her heart.

They don't see each other until the Thanksgiving break. When they do, it only happens once.

It is far too quick and unfulfilling. Y/N drops by the Carpenter residence the night before Thanksgiving Day to have dinner. Tara's parents and Sam welcome her with open arms as they have been since Y/N was six years old and this is the only place Y/N feels more at home than in her actual home.

They laugh and reminisce over spaghetti and meatballs like nothing has ever changed, but Y/N can feel it, can feel the distance that has wedged itself between her and Tara, though Tara's parents are seemingly oblivious, as well as Sam.

She doesn't regret sleeping with Tara, she regrets the way it happened: alcohol induced after desperately missing each other for too long. Y/N knew that Tara would not see it for what it was the next morning, solely blaming it on the alcohol and poor choices. Y/N also knows that if Tara could look past the alcohol, she could see that maybe, just maybe what happened had been a long time coming—inevitable.

Instead, now they walk on eggshells and Y/N is starting to lose the person she loves the most.

—

By the time Christmas rolls around, they talk so infrequently—sparse texts, not a single phone call—that Y/N begins to wonder if they are even still friends. It's not for lack of trying on Y/N's end, Tara just doesn't seem ready to face the reality.

It's tragic and earth shattering, the thought of losing Tara completely, and Y/N would rather die than entertain the idea.

It's after midnight and the ground is powdery and white when Y/N peers out of her bedroom window. Everything behind her is dark, lit only by the moonlight that reflects off the white glow of snow. She stares outside for so long, completely mesmerized by the giant snowflakes that drift from the sky that it's not until her phone buzzing on her side table startles her back into reality.

Her heart practically stops when she sees Tara's face light up on the screen and she has to will herself to pick it up.

"Tara?" Y/N answers in a hushed tone almost too urgently. She can really only hear her pulse thumping in her head.

"Hey you," Tara says softly, her voice raw and Y/N can't tell if she's half asleep or has just been crying.

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" It's the first time they've spoken in way too long that Y/N doesn't know how to react other than alarmed and worried.

"I—I miss the sound of your voice," Tara says earnestly and Y/N's heart grows heavy in her chest. It aches all the way to her toes and she wonders how a voice could break her so easily.

"I'm right here," Y/N assures, sitting on the edge of her bed. She buries her head into her free hand and rubs at her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Tara squeaks, her voice wavering. There are rocks settling in Y/N's stomach.

"For what?"

There's silence and Y/N thinks the call is dropped.

"For how we got to this point. I'm—"

"Tara," Y/N interrupts. She not sure she wants to hear whatever else Tara has to say. "Don't. Please."

There's silence again and the sound of sniffling in the background of the phone breaks Y/N heart all over again.

"Can you meet me outside your house in fifteen minutes?" Tara finally says.

"But it's snowi—yes. I'll be there."

—

Y/N is sitting on her porch bundled in her jacket, hat, and scarf when Tara finally appears at the edge of the driveway, dressed in similar fashion. She springs to her feet trudges through the snow to meet her halfway, but before any words can be exchanged, both girls are hugging each other tightly unwilling to let go. Y/N lets a tear roll down her cheek but quickly wipes it away before Tara notices.

When they pull apart, Tara's eyes are red and raw. She has definitely been crying and all Y/N wants is to go back to simpler times, to when they were ten years old and hiding from the boys in the cardboard fort they had built in Mindy and Chad's backyard, water guns as their only defense.

"Whatever is going on, you can tell me," Y/N comforts, even if she feels like she has nothing much to give. "You can tell me anything, okay? I love you."

The words almost feel like poison on her tongue because Tara will never know just how deeply she means them. Of course they love each other, but Y/N loves Tara. Unforgivingly so.

They end up walking aimlessly in silence for a few blocks, all the while Tara's gloved hand is intertwined tightly with Y/N's bare hand. It might feel like everything is back to normal again if they can stay like this long enough. When they eventually wind up at Tara's house, Tara doesn't lead them inside. Instead, she takes them through the side gate into the backyard and onto the trampoline.

Y/N's heart swells at the sight. It was never just a trampoline; it was their safe space growing up. Rarely was it ever used for bouncing and both girls have lost count of the number of times they've fallen asleep on the canvas under the stars after hours and hours of endless talking, zipped into the security of the surrounding safety netting, only to have woken up the next morning covered in blankets from the living room.

Tara unzips the flap and ushers Y/N in first. She brushes away a small area of snow so they can sit then reaches out to help Tara in, who then re-zips the flap shut behind her. There's history within these walls—secrets, tears, laughter, anger—that not even a textbook could rewrite.

They settle in side by side, keeping each other warm. When Tara finds Y/N's gaze, any unfamiliar outsider might mistake it for disinterest, but only Tara knows she's been hurt and there's nothing more devastating than knowing that ultimately, it's because of her. Her stubbornness, her fear.

"How did this happen?" Tara seemingly blurts out, like she's been holding in too many words for too long. Her body language is unnatural. "How did we get here?"

It's rhetoric more than anything else.

Y/N lets out a light and airy laugh that puffs white and wispy through her parted lips. Two months ago she would have never predicted being in this situation.

"I can think of at least one reason."

Tara turns her head, slight disapproval at first; then Y/N meets her gaze and lifts a knowing eyebrow. They both laugh together for the first time in what feels like forever. It's not a huge weight lifted, but it's something, a start. (Or an end. Y/N violently bemoans the idea in her head.) At this point, the least of Y/N's worries is that her love for Tara goes unrequited. She just wants her best friend back.

"So do you regret it?" Y/N asks. The air is heavy again, thick with unanswered questions. Tara confidently shakes her head.

"No. Not at all. I regret what happened after. How I acted, how I pushed you away. I was just so scared."

"I wish you would have talked to me," Y/N sighs. She angles herself so she can look at Tara more directly. It's been so long since she has really looked at her best friend that the pang of affection that follows is overwhelming. "You never have to be scared when it comes to me, okay? Tara, I lo—"

Y/N stops herself. She knows that in this context, I love you is just a simple gesture of their friendship, even if it's being held together by threads right now. The thing is, she can no longer say it without meaning it on a whole other level, a level that Tara can't reciprocate.

She's willing herself to say something when Tara cuts her off.

"That's just it," she tells her, "you love me, and I love—" Tara pauses, searching for eloquence in her words. She shifts, propping herself up onto her knees so she can regard more steadily at Y/N.

"Remember when we were in Charleston for spring break?" she tries again.

Y/N's face contorts in confusion, but she's listening and nods.

"And I asked you that stupid question if you still thought I was the prettiest girl in school and you said yes and then I said you were also the prettiest girl in school?"

Y/N nods again, swallowing. Of course she remembers. She remembers everything.

"I asked you because I had all these confused feelings about you, for you. I knew I was attracted to you, but I didn't know how far that attraction went. I had so many questions for you, I wanted to tell you so many things. Eventually I just repressed all of it."

Y/N blinks, letting the weight of the words register. It's a revelation, really, and Y/N is struggling to find the right words to fill the silence. If only she had known; if only she had the courage to speak up. Maybe this wouldn't be happening, maybe this, maybe that. She can't fault either of them for this being the current situation; no one is to bear the burden of simply feeling.

She can, however, find a way through it.

"What about now?" Y/N asks, pulling Tara back into a sitting position. She leaves her hand wrapped around Tara's wrist, letting her know it's okay, that she's safe not only within the walls of the trampoline, but within her.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you still have questions? Do you still have things you want to tell me?"

Y/N can see the gears turning in Tara's head. She knows there's so much in there that wants to come out so she waits patiently until Tara is ready.

Then finally:

"Y/N, you are my best friend and I literally can't remember anything before that. You're the only person I've ever felt completely safe and like myself around. You are my better half, and you are everything to me." Tara pauses, catching her breath. She takes a second to study Y/N, to see if she should stop, but Y/N is wide eyed and all ears. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that is it so unheard of to fall in love with your best friend? Is it so unheard of that two people who have shared their entire lives together would have this, sort of, visceral connection?”

By now, Y/N's heart is beating somewhere in her throat. There's a welcomed hum buzzing under the skin, but still, she is cautious. It is not often she is guarded around Tara, but she is not looking to have her heart crushed anymore than it has been.

"For how long, Tara?" Y/N asks hesitantly.

Tara shrugs. "I loved you in the first grade when you were lost in the schoolyard and refused my help."

Y/N laughs. "Shut up." She swats at Tara's arm and Tara flashes a genuine smile for the first time all night.

"I loved you when you pushed Chad down a slide for kissing me on the playground. I loved you all those times you offered to beat Wes up for me. I loved you when I went on my first date with Chad and you went on yours with Amber. I even loved you when you kicked me out of a tree."

There's a break in the sky and the snow stops falling. The moon shines through brightly, haloing Tara in silver light. Her eyes are wet and she looks more scared than she ever has.

"I told you," Y/N hushes, heart slowly filling with warmth. "I didn't kick you. You got in the way of my foot."

"That's hearsay."

"Whatever," Y/N rolls her eyes, but it's only laced with affection. She pulls Tara closer by the front of her coat so she can wipe the tears that have fallen. Her hand is cold against her face and Tara shivers.

"Sorry," Y/N whispers, placing a feather light kiss on her cheek. Tara closes her eyes and leans forward into it.

"No," she says pulling away, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I shut you out. I'm sorry I ran away from what I was scared of. I'm sorry I hurt you."

Y/N's guard is low though there is still much to be processed and talked about. But for now, she will take this moment for whatever it may be, letting herself ruminate in the gravity of it all.

"Come on," Tara says, a hitch in her breath, "say something. I know I don't deserve much an explanation, but I need to know I'm not gonna have frostbite in the morning for nothing."

"I mean, what is there to say?" Y/N says, bearing everything she has into Tara's soul with her eyes.

"I've loved you before I even knew what love was. It's as simple as that."

"And now?

"The statement still stands, Tara. It always has and it always will."

The words are familiar and they etch themselves into the walls of the snow-covered canvas, into both of their hearts. This is where the free fall begins to slow. The parachute deploys as Tara leans in close, pulling the scarf away from Y/N's face.

She whispers, "I love you," low and slow onto Y/N's lips before she kisses her soundly, no holds barred, no more questions in the air. If Y/N is teeth chattering cold, she isn't anymore. She let's herself melt into Tara, pulling her onto her lap. They kiss until their ears and toes are numb and there's nowhere left to go but inside to get warm.

And this is where Y/N's feet finally touch the ground.

The free fall is over.

Tara has caught her.

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peachbear88 · 9 months

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“It’s literally impossible to be a woman.

You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow, we're always doing it wrong?

You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you wanna be thin. You have to say you wanna be healthy, but also, you have to BE THIN.

You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass.

You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean.

You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas.

You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time.

You have to be a career woman, but also, always be looking out for other people.

You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is INSANE, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining!

You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood, but ALWAYS STAND OUT and ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL. But never forget that the system is rigged, so find a way to acknowledge that but ALSO, always be grateful!

You have to never get old. Never be rude. Never show off. Never be selfish. Never fall down. Never fail. Never show fear. Never get OUT OF LINE. It's too hard! It's too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says 'thank you!' And it turns out, in fact, that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also, everything is your fault.

I'm just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman tie herself into knots, so that people will like us.

And if all of that, is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don't even know." -Gloria the barbie movie

this is it. this is exactly it oh my god.

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peachbear88 · 1 year

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LIKE SEEING ALL THREE OF THEM TOGETHER. MONICA RAMBEAU ESPECIALLY. THIS SHOT IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME IM NEVER GONNA GET OVER THIS LIKE AHHHHHHHHHHHH

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peachbear88 · 2 years

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Chin Up

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: You're Natasha's oldest friend.

When you first met Natasha, she had blue hair.

----

She was awkward, limbs growing faster than she knew what to do with. Still skinny enough to be drowning in a band t-shirt that needed the sleeves rolled up.

You were the new kid at school. You were even more awkward.

On your first day, you saw her sitting alone at lunch. The cafeteria was overwhelmingly busy, seats at every other table were being fought over. You tried to keep your chin up as you walked the length of Natasha’s empty table, sliding onto the stool across from her.

Natasha’s head snapped up from her book at your arrival. It was a beaten up paperback, spine folded back on itself.

‘Any good?’ You asked cheerfully, if a little desperately. Just one friend. That’s all you needed. The other children made wide berths around you in the corridors, as if you were more alien than stranger.

Natasha seemed frustrated by your inquiry. She closed her book quickly and stuffed it back in her bag. She stared down at her half eaten peanut butter sandwich, purposefully avoiding your nervous smile.

You didn’t know what you’d done wrong.

‘Sorry.’ You muttered, heat flaming your cheeks.

You started to bounce your leg anxiously under the table. You picked at your own sandwich. You weren’t hungry, but you didn’t want to look even weirder than you already were.

A lump caught in your throat as you looked across the rest of the cafeteria. You felt jealous of the easy banter between the other large groups of students. You wished that it could be you. That you could fit in, just this once.

‘Sometimes, they steal my books.’ Natasha said unexpectedly. Her voice was carefully even. She tightened her loose grip on the strap of her backpack.

You glanced back out at the sea of students. Their playful banter had a mocking edge to it that you hadn’t noticed before.

‘That sucks.’ You answered fiercely.

Natasha rolled her eyes casually, taking another bite of her sandwich and retrieving her book again. You took a deep breath, settled by her nonchalance.

You felt hungrier and refocused on your lunch. As you ate, you zeroed in on a group of girls across the room. They were laughing as they ripped pages slowly from another beaten up book. Your mouth opened in shock.

‘They’re the worst.’ Natasha spoke up again, casually following your gaze. Her tone was dismissive.

You didn’t speak. You stared at your fingers as they twisted together atop the plastic table. Anxiety rolled through you.

None of these kids seemed to like you. You weren't even sure that you wanted them to. The next few years of education stretched before you ominously.

---

Suddenly, you felt a plastic wrapper graze along your forearm. You startled and looked up. Natasha pushed the chocolate bar across to you with her fingertips.

‘My mom always packs two.’ She informed you with a shy shrug.

One of the kids at this school liked you.

You smiled again.

‘I like your blue hair.’ You blurted as you took the chocolate bar.

Natasha’s cheeks tinged pink. You caught the way she lifted her chin up when she next met your eyes.

‘Thanks.’ She mumbled, awkwardly offering out her hand to shake. ‘My name’s Natasha.’

—

Natasha was your first friend. For a long time, she was your only one.

Then, one day she was no one at all.

—--------------

You didn’t see her again until 2012.

When your best friend had gone missing, the stories that swarmed the neighbourhood were unbelievable.

There had been no warning from the family. No phone number, no forwarding address.

The first rumour was that loan sharks were after Natasha’s Dad.

Then, men in suits came knocking on the neighbours’ doors. The rumours shifted to something more criminal; money laundering, fraud.

Bullies at school laughed at you. The joke was that you’d somehow scared off the second weirdest kid in school. You grieved Natasha’s disappearance alone.

You sat through classes silently, dreaming up a hundred reasons to justify why Natasha might leave you behind in a place like this.

Nothing could have been more far-fetched than the truth.

A super spy.

You were watching the live news broadcast when New York was attacked. Everyone was.

You stared at raw footage of an alien race invading the planet. Nothing could be more shocking, you thought. And then, you saw the Avengers.

Natasha did not look the same.

No more awkward and gangly, no more blue hair.

It was the familiar tilt of her chin as she stared up at a passing spacecraft that jolted your memory.

You knelt in front of your TV, trying to get closer to the impossible picture.

Two days later, the city officials held a large press conference. It was hosted on the first floor of the new Stark Tower. Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were in attendance.

Tony Stark called her ‘Red’ off-handedly.

That’s what gave you the idea.

There was nothing else you could think to do anyway. Natasha Romanoff had the shortest Wikipedia entry you’d ever seen.

You addressed a letter to Stark Tower in the hopes that it might reach her. It was beyond a long shot, but you had to try.

It was hard to explain the national feeling of adrenaline that lingered after the attack. It almost seemed like sure fate that Natasha would reply. Impossible odds were being beaten all the time.

----

It was not that simple.

It took six months for you to hear a response.

Your phone buzzed in the middle of the night with a text.

Despite the late hour, the text was carefully constructed.

You used to be able to read Natasha’s nervousness a mile off. When her Dad called her home early. When the teacher called her out for exceptional work in class. When you asked her favourite Christmas present and she stumbled over the answer.

‘Thanks for reaching out.’ She began, formal with her friendliness. ‘I do remember you and I appreciated your letter. We should meet up soon.’

The text sounded distant, but you felt certain that she wouldn't have sent it if she hadn’t wanted a response.

You tried to picture the woman that you’d seen on television, but all you could think of was the blue haired girl.

Despite everything that had happened. Natasha was still Natasha.

You called her.

She answered after two rings. Vindication rippled over your skin, you were right.

‘Hi.’ Natasha breathed out.

Her voice rasped unfamiliarly.

Your heart twisted as you heard all the years that had passed.

Natasha Romanoff was an adult now.

‘I’ve missed you so much.’ You told her before you had time to think.

You heard her muted surprise in shallow breaths.

‘I missed you too.’ She murmured after a moment. There was a pang of emotion in her voice, you could feel it down the phone. ‘You were my best friend.’

Your stomach swooped strangely at her words.

You tried to play off the feeling. You sighed with mock dramatics.

‘Now, you prefer the Hulk right?’ You teased.

‘Oh yes.’ Natasha hummed, picking up the easy pattern of your teenage conversations. ‘He’s much better company.’

You talked for twenty minutes, mixing nostalgia with light inquiries about her new life.

Before the call ended, Natasha invited you to visit her in New York.

It was an easy answer to give.

When you hung up the phone, you held it close to your chest for a moment. The room was beginning to grow light with the dawn outside.

—-------

Natasha was not an awkward teenager anymore.

She waited for you in the entrance of Stark Tower, dressed casually in leggings and a hoodie.

It was unnerving. She was almost familiar to you.

Your eyes met as you entered through the glass front doors.

Natasha hugged herself, playing with the grey fabric of her hoodie.

You remembered the nervous gesture. You wondered if she still had the habit, or if she’d just remembered it because of you.

You sensed her uncertainty as you got closer. You opened your arms for a hug and she looked grateful for the direction.

She fit perfectly.

Your eyes filled with tears as her arms tightened around you.

When Natasha pulled away, she gave you a confused look.

You shook your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

‘I always hoped you were okay.’ You mumbled, wiping your cheeks, embarrassed at how quickly you’d gotten emotional. ‘I’m so glad you’re alive.’

Natasha’s eyes shuttered with a sudden blankness. She tried to shake it away too.

‘No-one’s ever said that to me before.’ She murmured under her breath, before leading you back to the Tower’s elevators.

You pondered her words during the silent elevator ride. Natasha’s life was clearly full of danger. She was on the front line of extra-terrestrial defence. She’d fought monsters on live tv.

You thought of the fake American Mom and Dad you’d been introduced to. You thought of the little sister, who had seemed so devoted to Natasha.

Now noone was praying for Natasha to come home safe.

In the elevator you took her hand, squeezing it gently.

Natasha looked at you, eyes crinkling with simple happiness. She squeezed back.

‘Red hair suits you.’ You commented. ‘But, I preferred the blue.’

Natasha rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. The elevator doors opened.

—---------

The space was obviously built to be a common area, but it was empty now.

Natasha led you through the middle of it.

You entered her room, following behind her. You stopped in the doorway, trying to take it in.

As a teenager, Natasha’s bedroom had been wall-to-wall with bright posters. In contrast, this room seemed almost clinically blank.

A single piece of understated art hung on the far away wall. The bedspread was pristine white, like a hotel.

Your eyes clung to the only piece of personality in the room. A stack of CDs and a CD player lay on the hardwood floor, next to the largest window you’d ever seen. You recognised the top CD’s cover art immediately; Nevermind by Nirvana.

You looked at Natasha in surprise. It had been her favourite album when you’d last known her.

Natasha met your gaze readily. There was a glint of defiance in the tilt of her chin.

‘Oh, so you still have good taste.’ You grinned.

There was a pause. Natasha’s lip twitched with the start of a smile. Then, she hugged herself again.

‘I loved those songs.’ Natasha murmured, and her sudden fragility startled you. ‘It was the best time.’

Her eyes were careful, but you felt the emotion hiding in them. You moved forward again, hugging her instinctively.

‘The best time.’ You agreed quietly.

You spent the afternoon listening to the album, then another one, then another. The CD collection was well played. Sometimes the disc would catch for a moment, but the song would always persevere.

You didn’t feel the need to talk.

Natasha sprawled out on her bed, head cupped in her hands as she faced you. You sat on the windowsill by the music, leaning your head against the glass and watching her in return.

You exchanged smiles back and forth. You exchanged memories of the songs with just a twitch of an eyebrow or the quirk of a lip.

Natasha’s finger tapped at the side of her jaw absentmindedly.

Eventually, time moved on. When one more album finished playing, Natasha swung her legs over the side of her bed and stretched casually. You didn’t believe the nonchalance for a second, sure that such a smooth gesture must take forethought.

‘Dinner?’ She asked and you nodded with a smile, ready and terrified to meet her roommates.

-----

Captain America offered you a bowl of pasta.

The weirdest day of your life only got weirder. The other Avengers were sitting around the large flat-screen television in the centre of the common space. Natasha picked her feet up as she stepped around their legs, heading to the furthest away sofa.

You followed behind her, muttering quiet hellos in answer to the openly curious stares of Iron Man, Hawkeye and Dr. Banner.

Natasha tucked her legs in as she sat at the furthest edge of the sofa.

Automatically, you followed a habit that had been established years before. You threw yourself casually into the space directly next to her. Your fork snuck over to her bowl of pasta, stealing a piece. You tasted it and grinned.

‘Yours is always better.’ You complained, watching as Natasha stuck her tongue out in response.

You only remembered your audience when Tony Stark cleared his throat.

‘Did she tell you that she’s a ruthless assassin.’ He stated loudly, receiving a not-so-subtle elbow jab from Captain America.

‘What?’ Tony retorted, rubbing his side pointedly. ‘She’s never brought a date home before. And there must be a reason she’s called the Black Widow.’

You watched Natasha from the corner of your eye; the sudden embarrassment spilling over her face. The shame that lingered for a split second.

‘Not all names are literal.’ You answered bitingly, feeling an old defensive urge flaring. There had been enough bullies going after Natasha when you were in high school. ‘We don’t call you Micro-Penis Man, do we?’

Hawkeye snorted with laughter, Dr. Banner’s lip twitched.

‘Clever.’ Tony drawled sarcastically.

You ignored him, turning back to Natasha instead. Her expression was unreadable as she searched your face. You didn’t know what she was looking for.

'Hey.' You whispered, keen to break the unspoken tension between you. 'If they call you Red, can I call you Blue?'

Natasha's lips twitched imperceptibly with a smile. She leaned across your lap, stealing a piece of pasta from your plate.

You sat in silence for the rest of your meal, watching the generic movie on screen instead of engaging in more awkward conversation with the group. Natasha's shoulder bumped lightly against your own.

More than once, you felt the others' curious stares lingering on you.

—--

As soon as you’d both finished eating, Natasha led you back to her room. This time, the air inside felt different. You caught the loosening of her shoulders, her subtle relief at returning to her own space. She unzipped her hoodie, throwing it haphazardly on top of her bedspread.

You glanced back around the room, realising abruptly that the design wasn’t clinical at all. It was more reminiscent of a spa.

You caught Natasha’s attention and gave her an encouraging smile.

‘Nice digs.’ You commented, raising your eyebrows.

Natasha laughed once, voice so much richer than you remembered. She ran her fingers through her hair and your attention caught on the muscles flexing in her bare arm.

‘It’ll do.’ She shrugged teasingly. ‘It’s nicer than Ohio.’

You sniffed dramatically. ‘But there're alien attacks in Ohio.’

‘Just Russian infiltration.’ Natasha countered dryly. An unexpected shiver ran through you as she finally acknowledged the unspoken truth. Of the childhood friendship that had brought you here and the lie at the centre of it.

A hot sadness bubbled up inside you. You could taste it burning your throat. Your eyes pricked suddenly with tears.

Natasha watched you stoicly, chin tilted in guarded defiance.

You moved toward her, watching as she resisted an urge to step further back. You took her hands in yours. You blinked and for a moment, her hair was blue.

‘I’m going to say this wrong.’ You explained ruefully, holding her wide eyed attention. Her palms were warm, soft and nearly familiar.

‘I’m on your side.’ You promised clumsily. ‘Even if you decide to join the aliens. Even if you don’t want me to be. You didn’t ever stop being my best friend.’

You waited for an evaluating stare, a moment of hesitation.

Instead, you felt the soft push of Natasha’s head pressing against your shoulder. Her body moved flush against yours. Your arms slid around her back and you felt the curve of her spine beneath her clothes. The thud of her heart, hidden within a ribcage.

You closed your eyes, savouring the warmth of her.

‘There’s a spare room ready.’ Natasha murmured at last, words muffled. ‘But you're welcome to just stay in here.’

She kept her chin high as she took a step back, regarding you expectantly.

You let a wide smile break out on your face.

‘A sleepover? On a school night?’ You teased, enjoying the way your enthusiasm brightened Natasha’s countenance too.

—--

Later, you changed into your pyjamas in Natasha’s ensuite bathroom. You brushed your teeth and stared at yourself for a few minutes in her large mirror.

You wondered how different you must look to her now. If she noticed all the traces of growing up laid out on your skin.

Natasha was beginning to feel eternal. The red hair was growing on you.

---

You left the bathroom and froze almost immediately in your tracks.

Natasha was standing at the foot of her bed, putting on her pyjama top. It was halfway over her head and the bare expanse of her back faced you.

You couldn’t stop your sharp intake of breath.

Hundreds of scars littered her soft curves.

Harsh, deep welts that hurt to look at. Natasha's skin was mottled in places, coated with different shades of injury. Some scars were older, but others seemed painfully new.

They criss-crossed into a brutal painting, brushstrokes feverishly ripped across her skin.

A sharp sense of outrage was already burning through you. A sour taste in your mouth. A need to fix what had already been done.

Natasha's hesitation barely lasted a second. She pulled her top down calmly, before turning to face you with steady resolve.

‘I’m not that kid anymore.’ She told you with simple directness.

Natasha kept her chin up as you walked closer to her. You noticed the slight tremble in her jaw when you were only inches away. She held her arms still at her side and you wondered if she was resisting the urge to hug herself. Instead, defensiveness rippled through her. A readiness to hold onto her dignity.

You had seen that stance many times before, in the high school cafeteria.

For the first time, you realised that Natasha did not remember you like you remembered her. She could not recall the simplicity of life with teenage drama and stupid crushes.

A lifetime of trauma sat between you. There was no before or after for Natasha.

She’d had scars long before she’d had blue hair.

There were no words for your new understanding. No way to express it right. Your chest squeezed with something like love or sadness.

‘I know.’ You answered her at last.

You touched Natasha’s face without thinking, a careful stroke along her cheek. Your fingers reached her red hair and you thumbed a piece of it reverently.

When you looked back to her face, Natasha’s eyes were closed.

Your kiss was feather light. Your lips barely brushed hers.

The taste of her stained your mouth anyway.

You felt new pieces of yourself click together, reorienting like a compass finding North.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open and her smile was new and shy. You still saw the fear lingering at the edge of everything. You chose not to mind it. You were glad to be able to recognise it.

—--

You slept in the same bed that night with Natasha holding your arm lightly between her own two.

Her even breaths lulled you with their gentle rhythm. Loose strands of her hair tickled at your clavicle.

You stared at the ceiling and thought about intimacy. About love and friendship.

The tattoo of Natasha on your lips was spreading through your veins now.

---

At 3am, the alarm sounded.

Sudden and pounding, it echoed through the ceiling. A droning tempo that had you scrambling to your feet.

Natasha grabbed your arm tiredly, slowing your sleepy confusion.

‘Avengers alarm.’ She informed you, voice crisp and clear. 'There's no fire.'

You felt like you’d barely had time to blink before a dressed Natasha Romanoff was walking out the door.

All the words you wanted to say were still on your tongue.

-------

Four hours.

Four hours spent pacing the common room. Watching an unhelpful news broadcast tell you terrifying speculation and hoping the building’s AI would give you something useful.

Four hours imagining the worst. Four hours praying for her to come home.

When the elevator doors opened at last, Natasha stood alone, suit coated in grime and blood. She held her chin up, defiant in the face of fatigue. You watched the way she hugged herself subtly, a nervous habit.

You were beside yourself.

‘Thank God’ You muttered as you hurried forward, pulling Natasha into a tight hug. You breathed the familiar smell of her and held her even tighter.

‘I'm so glad you're alive.’ You whispered, more for yourself than for her.

When you let her go, Natasha took a moment to look at you properly.

‘You were waiting.’ Natasha commented slowly, her gaze never wavering.

You nodded silently, a lump catching in your throat. You couldn’t understand her expression. You wondered with new panic, if you’d crossed some line without realising.

If you'd finally made an assumption based on the girl you'd once known, rather than the woman in front of you.

You forgot about thinking when Natasha took another step towards you. Her hand touched your waist. With one finger, she reached forward and tilted your chin towards her.

She licked her lips, full of intentionality.

Her mouth pressed surely against yours.

—--------

When you fell in love with Natasha, she had red hair.

-----

Tagging:

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2K notes · View notes

peachbear88 · 2 years

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1K notes · View notes

peachbear88 · 2 years

Note

hi! can i request a ziggy berman x reader where the reader and ziggy have been friends for a while and sheila kind of corners the reader and starts bullying her and then ziggy swoops in and saves the day? maybe kisses at the end?

tysm i love youe stories! 💗

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖳𝗈 𝖱𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 | 𝖹𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗒 𝖡.

Navigation || Fear Street Masterlist

[➤] warnings; Mild Swearing

[➤] pairings; Ziggy Berman x Fem!Black!Friend!Reader

[➤] summary; Two Shadysiders meet acquaintances and became close friends but that only puts a target on [name]’s back for a particular mean girl.

[➤] tag list; @f4eism @tswiftlq @skimm0nzz @carolslittleslut @ciphertheclock @yurdreamgirlfriend

[➤] word count; 1,404

Since the beginning of summer camp, Ziggy loathed even being there, complaining that it was just a big waste of time. She discovered that it was not gonna be just Shadysiders, she also found out that Sunnyvalers appeared in the mixture.

Her older sister, Cindy ignored her weak protests, and eventually, Ziggy found herself on the bus among many Shadysiders driving to the summer camp. Personally, she didn’t want to interact with anybody since she’s kinda a loner and kept her feelings to herself.

Her pessimistic opinions on the summer camp withered away when she first met you. [Name] [Lastname], an outcast Shadysider like her.

Beautiful jet-black (curly/straight) hair, average height, (light/dark) eyes that showed complete warmth, brown skin which glistened underneath the sun’s radiation, and the most sparking personality that she’d ever encountered.

You two were roommates and became close friends…some might say that you developed a crush on the redhead. Obviously, you kept those feelings to yourself, aware that same-sex couples were shunned.

This day carried on, as usual, the sun immensely blasting down on the camp with campers doing various outside activities. Nick’s desperate attempts for your time and attention didn’t follow too far behind as well.

The Sunnyvaler boy had made many advances on you and very subtle hints that he was interested but you would just shrug them off. While Ziggy will just straightforwardly tell him that you’re not interested, especially to a Sunnyvaler.

Unfortunately, Ziggy wasn’t here to save you from distress this time which gave Nick the perfect opportunity to interact with you.

Luckily, you caught a glimpse of him walking in your direction with that little irritating smile of his and that’s how you found yourself at the lake. It was peaceful and quiet, just giving you a taste of reality as you clear your thoughts.

You were completely unaware that Sheila and her goons had walked up to you, immediately bringing you out of your peaceful state.

“Look at what we have here girls. Another shadyside trash.”

So much for a peaceful day.

You turned around, greeting the three Sunnyvaler girls with a tight smile as irritation settled in your eyes. “What do you want Sheila?”

“You think that I didn’t find out your little secret, huh?” Sheila began, a taunting smile tugging at the curves of her lips.

At first, you remained frozen at her revelation. She couldn’t know. How could she know? Who did she already tell your secret to?

You decide to play it off cool because you knew that Sheila feeds off of your weaknesses. Your face transforms solemnly as you crossed your arms, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t play stupid with me, [name]. You’re a very smart girl, unless…Ziggy bewitched you with those uncommon feelings of yours for her.” The raven-haired Sunnyvaler accuses your best friend.

“You’re acting absurd, Sheila! I’m not being bewitched by Ziggy.” You defended the younger Berman girl. Sheila didn’t even have the right to accuse Ziggy, of all people of a witch’s curse which happened 300 years ago. “You’ve just gone completely bat-shit crazy, Ziggy is not possessed by the witch and she didn’t string me along with her evil biddings.”

The girl tilts her head in response, fury practically filling her body as her hands ball up into fists from her sides. If there’s one thing about Sheila, it’s that she doesn’t like being wrong.

“Hey, [name]. Cindy finally let me finish cleaning that shitty outhouse with her so I’m free.” Ziggy’s voice sprang out as she walked over, her eyes glued on the ground oblivious to Sheila’s presence. In receiving silence, she looked up and her sparkling smile vanishes when she realizes that you were not alone. “What the fuck are you doing here, Sheila?”

Sheila spoke. “The party is just getting started, witch.”

“Now, [name], we weren’t finished with our conversation.” She stalked closer toward you as her two friends grabbed Ziggy’s forearms to stop her from coming to your aid. You could hear the Shadysider utter curses above her breath to the Sunnyvalers.

“Are. You. Being. Bewitched. By. Ziggy.?”

Surprisingly, the redhead finally got free from their grip and hurried to your rescue. “Knock it off sheila!!” Ziggy proclaimed, shoving the girl roughly by her shoulder.

“Oh, look it’s your princess in shining armor, [name].” She stated to the Berman girl. “She’s not even defending herself that’s how weak she is.”

Just then, Ziggy steps in front of you, her glare immediately hardening. “Knock it the fuck off sheila!”

“Why should I? Messing with L/N is so fun!”

The Berman girl scoffs. “Alright, look here you litt–“

“Ziggy, just drop it, alright.” You sighed in defeat. There was no point in arguing with Sheila, she would just take the victory in all of it.

“No, I’m not gonna drop it, [name]! She’s bullying you and I’m tired of her shit. I don’t care if she bullies me but for you, it’s a different story.”

“Yeah, listen to her if you know what’s good for you, you witch.” Apparently, that was enough to piss the Berman girl off causing her to punch Sheila right in the face, who staggers on her balance.

“Ziggy, what the hell?” You cursed at your friend, pulling her back with her bruised hand, maintaining some space from her goonies.

“She deserves it!” Ziggy rolls her eyes as she focuses on her hand. “She’s lucky that I couldn’t get two more in, for a matter of fact.”

“Let’s just get out of here, zigs.”

“Why don’t you tell her about your little crush on a certain person?” Becky spits out, glaring holes into your eyes.

“What crush is she talking about–“

“It’s nothing.” You brushed her off as you grabbed her hand and headed back toward the camp.

“You can’t just let those Sunnyvalers asshole walk all over you like that.” You remained quiet, already annoyed by the conversation. “Besides, what was Becky talking about? It’s not like it was true, right…?”

“Ohh…” you blew a breath, “I was hoping that you forgot.”

Ziggy nudged you by your arm, a grin present on her face. “I promise, it’ll just stay between us.”

“Sheila found out who my crush was.” For some reason, you saw her features deflate and couldn’t shake off the feelings. Could there be a slight possibility that Ziggy likes you back as well? “And there was no doubt that her thing 1 and 2 knew about it as well.”

“God, please let it be anyone but the goode boys.” She groaned, trying to hide the pain in her tone.

“We’ll…she’s kinda a she.” You revealed, seeing how she stops in her tracks and how her blue beautiful orbs connect to your chestnut eyes.

“She has fiery red hair, remarkable personality, beautiful ocean blue eyes, freckles which could match the constellations…and don’t worry she’s a shadysider.“ You explained with a micshevioud mishecvious grin. “And I don’t how to repay her for saving me.”

“Maybe with a kiss or asking her out on a date.” Ziggy chimes in with a dopey smile. “I’m sure that she’ll be happy with either one.”

“Really what will she say!” You feigned ignorance.

“Maybe she’d accept it.”

You decided to play along. “Accept what? The date or the kiss?”

“Both.”

You beamed, tugging her hand to your shared cabin. Once you were in the cabin, you shut the door lock. “Wouldn’t she like to find out?”

“Umm…” she stuttered out, her cheeks tinted with red, “M-maybe we should go somewhere more private..y’know just for safety measures.”

“We’re in a cabin alone, red, I don’t know how private you want us to be.” You taunted playfully, enjoying her lame excuses of wanting to be alone with you. “Ziggy Berman getting nervous, that’s a first.”

“Shut up,” she replied before grabbing you by your shirt and pulling you into a passionate kiss. This will surely be a summer to remember, you were certain of it.

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peachbear88 · 2 years

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Restless

Max Mayfield x GN!Reader

[FLUFF, ANGST]

Requested: yes

Summary: Reader has family issues at home and while at a sleepover with Max, they get a nightmare about it

- - -

Everybody in Hawkins had a story. Whether it be that they were a science experiment at a lab, or that they have a friend who can move things with their mind.

Unfortunately yours wasn't as grand a tale.

Your home life was far from perfect, not that anybody's in Hawkins was, but you had been having harsh problems recently.

To say life at home was tough would be an understatement (the word home being used very loosely).

There was never a moment of peace, or comfort. You felt as if you were walking on eggshells everytime you entered the vicinity of your house. Your grades were falling because of the chaos you had to endure everyday after school - I mean there was no way you could do your homework in such an environment.

Max, of course, noticed.

"You know you can't hide anything from me, right? I know you better than you know yourself, Y/N," she had said.

So, she offered to let you sleep at hers multiple times a week, and it got to the point where her home was yours.

Not that either of you minded.

You always felt welcome there. As time went on you stayed at hers more and more, no words even had to be spoken as you two walked home together out of habit.

"You don't have to ask. We're together, what's mine is yours," she said, slightly flustered at the adorable way you looked at her when you asked if you could say the night again.

Your presence calmed down Max's own home life, her family not wanting to set a bad image infront of others. Therefore this situation was ideal for the both of you.

As you and Max walked home, hand in hand, you two were ecstatic at having another sleepover together. It felt so wholesome and pure, as if you two were already living together.

- - -

You guys were suckers for domestic things so brushing your teeth together and making breakfast in the morning made you feel like you're finally at home.

Home, you soon realized, is where ever Max Mayfield is.

You laughed as you spotted dry toothpaste in the corner of her mouth, reaching your hand over to wipe it off.

Switching off the light in her bathroom, you watched as Max closed the door behind her.

She looked so beautiful with her hair in two braids at the side, her messy from her forcefully shoving her pyjama top over her head. Her feet were drowned by the oversized fluffy pants she wore, the tips of her socks barely visible at the pant legs trailed across the floor

"You're so messy," you joked as you rubbed the area with your thumb.

You stopped your motions, moving your hand to hold the side of her face instead, and leaned in to give her a kiss.

Her body relaxed at the feeling of your lips on hers, and she wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. She deepened the kiss, tilting her head to the side as your chests pressed together. The smell and taste of mint overwhelmed your senses as you felt her tongue press against your tongue for a mere moment.

You pulled away, breathless and giddy.

"All gone now," you smiled.

Max rolled her eyes as she let go of your waist to grab your hand, dragging you into her room to read comics before passing out in her bed together.

- - -

Max was awoken by your sudden frantic shifting. Almost immediately she knew you were having a bad dream. The bed shook with each movement you made, thrashing around the blanket, as if you were trying to get away from the dream itself.

Her hand gently caressed your hair, petting it back from your sweaty forehead. She gently began to whisper.

"Y/N."

You could hear her voice reach into your dream, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't find her. This made you more panic more, feeling trapped in your own mind with the people who practically chased you away from home.

With each moment passing your heartbeat rose impossibly high - only wanting to finally wake up and feel Max's arms wrap around you.

"Y/N, wake up. Please," she said again, this time slightly louder.

With a deep inhale you shot up from the bed. At last being awake, a wave of relief washed over you which quickly turned to that of sadness. The events of your dream invaded your head, not even letting you have a second of rest before you burst into tears.

Max could guess what had just happened. She knew you well, and most of all she knew what your family was like. This wasn't the first time you had come to her with a nightmare.

Feeling confident in what to do, she quickly leaned your body into hers, squeezing you tight against her.

Your body shook with silent sobs, not wanting to wake her family up.

Every intake of breath was shaky and inconsistent, your attempt of silencing yourself causing less air to reach your lungs. Max brushed your hair with her hands, again placing it back from your forehead, and tucking it away from your equally moist neck.

"Y/N remember what we practiced?" she said, taking your hand in hers and pressing it against her chest.

"Breathe with me. Ready? - she asked as she inhaled - "In.... and out." She continued this for a few minutes until your breathing wasn't as laboured.

Your cries now settled into little hiccups, your tears drying on your face, causing your face to feel cracked and dehydrated.

Max moved herself behind you now, pressing her back against the headboard, and your back against her chest.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shook your head. It was pretty much the same as always. Your dreams rarely changed, and even when they did, the premise was the same.

You wished it was different. You wished you had a normal life, with a normal family. Like they do in the movies.

Why couldn't your life just be like a movie?

Tears streamed down your face yet again, your chest feeling compressed as pain shot through you again. Your stomach was in knots, and your throat felt closed up as you tried to swallow.

You felt as if you had gotten an allergic reaction from something.

"Y/N..." Max whispered.

"You're safe here. I'm right by your side, okay? No one can hurt you."

You felt her head rest on your shoulder, her lips pressed against any corner of your face that she could reach. Even through the tears you could feel yourself barely crack a smile. She never failed to make you feel better.

Max pulled her blanket up over you, covering your legs and waist as the rest of your body was warmed up by her arms embracing you.

"I will never let anything happen to you," she said into your ear, offering it a peck right after.

None of you said anything else and you sat in silence, letting the air turn calm yet again. All you could hear was you and Max breathing gently in the quiet room.

Suddenly her boiler turned on, and the pipes in her house began to heat up. The caused a loud noise to rock through the house and you flinched, burying yourseld deeper into Max's arms.

Max wrapped her arms around you tighter, and tucked you in the blanket a bit more.

In am attempt to lighten the mood she began to rock you back and forth with her, making a "weee" noise every once in a while.

You giggled at her antics, noticing how she always acted silly and stupid to try and make you laugh. You really appreciated her for that considering she hated making a fool of herself.

"All good now?" she asked you gently, craning her neck to look at you.

You turned your head towards her, your noses almost touching as you did.

"A little. Thank you."

"No need to thank me, that's what I'm here for, alright?"

You nodded.

Her lips rested on your nose as she kissed it, then moving to your eyebrow, and cheekbone, and eventually to your lips.

You squeezed her forearm, another form of a thank you for her care towards you.

The rest of the night was spent with Max making jokes to cheer you up, not that she had many funny jokes.

The next morning you woke up in the same position. Max's soft grip around your torso, your back pressed against her and her blanket wrapped tightly around your legs.

You knew that she would always be there for you, no matter how many nightmares or bad days you have to go through.

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peachbear88 · 2 years

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BRO HONESTLY THIS IS SO TRUE:

IVE SEEN NUMEROUS TIK TOKS SAYING “omg Caleb’s acting was so bad I don’t know why they gave him the role” AND IM JUST SITTING HERE SOBBING OVER HIS PERFORMANCE IN S4 LIKE WHAT-

THIS MAN DESERVES A FUCKING OSCAR

Caleb McLaughlin once again having to address how poorly he’s treated in comparison with his white co-stars by the fan base is once again a reminder of how fucking ugly this fandom can be. The fact that Lucas is a main party member and has been since day one, has been shown having important arcs, important relationships, and has been extremely vital to the plot in every single season and yet receives far less fan attention than his white counterparts is still the reality four seasons in and there’s a reason for that.

It’s the same reason Erica gets ignored and abused by the fandom. The same reason Argyle has received 1/100th of the attention Eddie has and the reason Steddie is far more popular than Jargyle despite Jonathan and Argyle actually having a relationship (and I like Eddie and Steddie so don’t come at me I’m just saying). The same reason Billy still has an extremely devoted fan base who call him a sweet baby boi and write endless fics about him despite him canonically being a racist asshole who literally threatened Lucas’s life just because he was black. It’s the reason Caleb gets snubbed for awards despite some extremely phenomenal acting, especially in the S4 finale. (hint: it’s racism).

Anyway, Lucas and Caleb are amazing and deserve everything and I just think the ST fandom as a whole needs to be cognizant of how the (very few!) POC in the cast are treated.

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peachbear88 · 2 years

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This. This is what I want in my life bro. You just know Kate’s gonna make you feel safe when you walk home 🥹

Touch her and you’re dead

(gif by dailymarvelgifs)

note: another kate oneshot because i love her but this one got darker than i intended it to. anyways, i have no idea how the NYC subway works but i did my best to write it as authentically as possible, feel free to correct me! <3

ꗃ pairing: kate bishop x fem!reader

ꗃ warnings: slight violence, foul language, street harassment and catcalling, creepy men

ꗃ word count: 1.6k

summary: a weirdo bothers you on the subway but your strong, protective girlfriend takes care of it

─────────── ୨ ♡ ୧ ────────────

"What do you want for dinner?" you mumbled the words very faintly, your eyes still shut as you lay your head on Kate's shoulder.

"Um...I uh...I don't know. Whatever you'd like," she replied under her breath.

Kate was awfully quiet today, she was usually the talkative one during these rides. You remained silent and didn't give it much thought. Maybe the day had tired her, it was quite late in the evening after all.

The train roared, the tracks rumbling under the coaches. You nestled against Kate's arm, squeezing it tightly with both of your hands. Subway trips during this hour with your girlfriend were a daily occurrence and one that you were quite fond of. Kate picked you up after work everyday because losing sight of you for a little more than a few hours sends her into a state of pure hysteria, so the two of you took the subway home together, it was just like any other day or so you thought.

"This is a Manhattan bound 1 train. The next stop is 231st street," the automated announcement echoed through the compartment and soon the train came to a hault. The doors opened and closed within a span of a few minutes as you heard a few footsteps shuffling out of the compartment and almost none entered back in. You didn't pay any mind, you were too tired to. Soon, the train started moving again. You hadn't opened your eyes but you knew your compartment was pretty empty. Kate shifted beside you, sliding back and forth, leaning towards you every now and then. After awhile you felt her hand grab your right thigh and she slightly squeezed it. You didn't question it, it just felt like a normal gesture.

Teasing Kate in a public place was a sight for everyone to witness so you didn't leave any opportunities that came your way.

"Oh, look, someone's in a little mood today," you whispered, softly tracing the back of her palm that was on your thigh.

"Mhm," she mumbled, not reacting at all.

Wow, that wasn't very Kate of her, you thought. She would have gotten flustered by now and probably would be showing her assertiveness. You really weren't sure what gave birth to her dry replies, so you decided to ask.

"Is everything alri-?" and before you could even finish your sentence, you felt her sit up straight as her grip on your thigh tightened.

"That motherfucker," she groaned, her muscles were rigid. That's when you looked up at her.

"Hey, what's up with you?" you asked, confused as you stared at her face. Her teeth were clenched, jaw tightened as she stared at something...or someone, angrily. You couldn't read her expression, she seemed furious but also irritated, a hint of jealousy also visible on her face. You decided to check what made her so vexed so you turned your head towards what she was glaring at, only to be horrified yourself the moment you did.

A tall, heavily built, middled aged man sat right across from you two. He had no hair, but a massive tattoo covering his head. His lips were curled into an unsettling crooked smile, almost like a smirk. His gaze was what scared you the most, it was menacing. His dark eyes stared at you through his lashes. His hand was on his crotch while the other one rested under his head, which rested against the wall.

You shuddered, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat. You felt a wave of jolt run down Kate's entire body beside you.

"You know what? Fuck this," she mouthed the words. Your eyes fell upon the fist that had formed in her hand. The veins, a faint blue color, had puckered, creating deep creases on her pale skin. She shifted before trying to stand up but you grabbed her hand quickly and tugged onto it.

"Hey, hey, what do you think you're doing?" you questioned with authority even though you yourself were terrified.

"That asshole is literally begging for a broken jaw so that's what I'm gonna give him," she muttered, through her teeth.

"No, you're not. You're not doing anything," you replied, shaking your head slightly. A close, compact train really wasn't the best place to pick a fight, with zero exits, it really could get nasty real quick.

Kate turned her head towards you, her eyebrows forming into a furrow. "Don't expect me to do nothing when he's literally having the best time of his life, having the grossest thoughts about you." she said, wrathfully.

"Doing something reckless right now really isn't a good idea," you replied, intertwining your fingers with hers.

Kate was silent. Blood had rushed to her face, making it appear flushed.

"He wants attention. Don't give him what he wants, Kate," you added, wisely.

Without uttering a single word, Kate looked away. You shifted in your seat, trying to avoid the gaze of the man. You didn't realize how tightly Kate was holding your hand until it went numb due to the lack of circulation.

"Katherine, my hand is falling asleep," you whispered but Kate didn't respond or loosen her grip. Her mind was somewhere else. You tried to squeeze your fingers out only to fail so you gave up quickly.

"This is a Manhattan bound 1 train. The next stop is Marble hill - 225th street," as soon as Kate heard the announcement, she simply stood up, still grabbing your hand tightly in hers as she walked towards the doorway. The train was still moving and you noticed that the coaches connected to the one you were in were almost empty. You felt your stomach churn, your chest felt heavy.

"Leaving so soon, babe?" a hoarse, unnerving, male voice said from right behind you. You froze in place as a chill ran down your spine. Both of you turned your head towards the voice at the same time. Even though you had never heard of that voice, you knew exactly who it belonged to.

"Why don't you come with me, doll?" he continued, placing his large hand on your shoulder, his grip was firm. "You know what? I'll take your friend too," he added, smugly, pointing towards Kate.

Before you could utter a single word, Kate moved quickly. She pulled you behind her, almost tucking you like a little kid and everything that happened after was too quick for you to comprehend in that moment.

You saw her fist fly towards the man's face before thrusting into it with full force. The man groaned and fell to his knees. She landed a forceful kick to his ribs before the man fell to the floor.

Kate bent over his body and quickly grabbed his collar with just one hand as she pulled his limp body up. You felt the muscles in her bicep tighten under your moist, sweaty palms.

"Touch her again and you're dead," she muttered, furiously, under her breath.

The man was pretty much knocked out from those punches, he only slightly moaned in pain. After all, Kate was a black belt.

"I'll crack your skull open if you ever dare to think of her in that nasty mind of yours! Do you understand, dipshit?" she added, dropping him to the floor. His body slumped, falling with a loud thud. Faint gasps echoed from the direction of the only two people that occupied the compartment along with you. They were too flabbergasted to actually react to what just happened and that included you.

The train came to a hault then, the doors opened, exposing the platform outside. You stood frozen, still horrified, but Kate dragged you out the door and into the station without saying a single word. She pulled you to an isolated corner and finally spoke up. "Baby, are you okay?" her voice broke as she cupped your face in both her hands. Without replying, you lifted your hand to lightly touch the hand she threw the punches with. You very gently brought it infront of you to examine it, carefully. Her knuckles were a deep shade of crimson and the area around it a very faint purple. You traced little circles around it, trying to sooth it to your best. "Are you okay?" you asked with deep sadness in your voice.

"I'm fine," she whispered, looking down.

You placed your hand under her chin to lift it up so that you could meet her gaze. Her eyebrows were pulled close together, the inner corners angled upwards. Her lips were pressed together in a line as her sorrowful, sapphire eyes met yours.

"Thank you," you whispered ever so softly.

A very subtle, mellow smile pulled her lips slightly upwards. Without saying anything, her hand reached out to grab the back of your neck. You felt the coarse surface of her palm against your bare skin. She pulled you closer and leaned down, pressing her lips softly to your forehead. You both remained silent but the intrusive thoughts were slowly creeping into your mind. You knew you were safe with her but the utter thought of what would've happened if she wasn't with you today sent a shiver down your spine. You were certain that you would've never been able to take on that man alone. Kate quickly picked up on your body language and wrapped her arms around you, tightly. "I won't let anything happen to you, love," she whispered, running her fingers through your hair. You closed your eyes, burying your face in her chest because you knew you were safe.

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