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ker0senebunny · 2 years

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walking on a string✫*ﾟ･ﾟ

steve harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader

part two -- after much anticipation, PART TWO IS HERE!

summary: steve leads on cheerleader!reader, thinking that her affection is insincere. after all, he’s a loser now. what could she possibly want from him? (angst, fluff)

warnings: language, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, afab!reader, fem!reader, un-beta'd, all characters are 18+

word count: 2,787

notes: ahh my first fic!! this is inspired by the song walking on a string :)) also steve is a lil insecure n angsty because the duffer brothers apparently won't let him express his insecurities or trauma!! so i did that. he deserves a hug and i hope our cheerleader!reader can give that to him. i have a part 2 lined up so lmk if u would wanna see that!! enjoy xox

p.s. i may or may not have finished editing this while dyeing my hair

i think about you walking on a string.

it always brings me back here.

you had been to family video every day that week (so far), and for steve harrington, that was weird. mega weird.

steve had always noticed you at parties, even if you weren't directly looking at him. you would come in with a troupe of cheerleaders, the hairspray practically sliding off of them in waves. you emerged from the cloud of crunchy hair and denim jackets with a softness that only you could possess. you looked as if you were made of gossamer - silken and perfect.

but that was when he was king steve: someone more worthy of you. someone who meant something. now, he’s just steve who works at family video and parents six children in his spare time.

so yeah. all your light touches and eyes skating across his lips was definitely all in his head.

that week, you'd come into family video at least five times. and every time, you asked to see steve. even if he was in the back, you would wait for him in front of the counter, drumming your manicured nails on the smudgy surface, looking around with wide, innocent eyes. today, you'd come to actually return a tape. you left him notes whenever you returned a tape, always signed with your name and a cloud of hearts. he swore he could smell your perfume on the paper.

it all started after the mall burned down. when you walked in to that miserable family video store, steve didn’t even notice you. “welcome to family video, how can i-” he droned, flipping through a magazine. he’d been working there for barely two weeks and he was already sick of it. at least he got free ice cream at scoops. all he had here was...keith. what made it even worse was the fact that robin was sick on this particular day. something about a "totally rancid stomach bug." steve shuddered just thinking about it. so now, he had nobody to banter with to pass the time. “steve?” you said, surprise evident in your open smile. his head snapped up immediately and was met with your gentle eyes.

“hi,” he breathed out.

“hi,” you gave in a giggly reply.

it was silent for a little bit. you were holding pretty in pink in your manicured hand. before he could ask you if that’s all you wanted, your hand that wasn't holding the tape was over his, squeezing it with every ounce of comfort you could transfer to him. “i heard about the fire at the mall. i’m so, so sorry that happened to you. it must’ve been so scary!”

he couldn’t tell if you were fucking with him. after all, you were still socially relevant in this dismal little town. he was the horror story told to incoming freshmen, a story of failure.

his gaze skirted around your pretty face; he saw part of the cheer squad waiting in a car outside. they were looking inside the store not so conspicuously and giggling. his eyes narrowed. yeah, he knew he was right; why would you be talking to him?

“yeah, well, at least i still have a job,” he quipped sarcastically. the scent emanating from your soft skin and your cardigan was making him dizzy. he found himself in a rush to get you away from him as soon as possible. he wanted to avoid whatever humiliation could be coming next. “will that be all?” he gestured to the tape. you seemed startled as you removed your hand from his. he already craved the warmth you gave him. “oh, yeah! i’m sorry to bring that up, by the way. i just wanted to make sure that you’re doing alright.” he hummed and registered the rental in the system, trying to ignore your presence less than a foot away from him. “just return it next friday,” he said, already turning back to his magazine. he felt a little bad, sure, because out of the corner of his eye, he could see you deflate. you became a little more subdued because of him. his dad was right - nobody wanted to be around him.

he hadn’t even realized that he’d zoned out until your fingers brushed against his once again.

you seemed to notice the shift in him, though, and the tender smile returned to your face as you took the tape from his hands. “it was really nice seeing you, steve. i’ve missed you,” you said before giving him a kiss on the cheek and slipping out the door. he was left mid page-turn, plump lips agape.

and of course robin wasn’t there to see it.

you were the current co-head cheerleader at hawkins. you were chrissy cunningham’s best friend. you were the top of the pyramid, all tiny crop tops and skirts that showed the cusp of your ass. you smelled like jasmine and citrus and god, were you pretty. supple skin, graceful eyelashes, a lush mouth. steve knew that you most definitely tasted like sweet almond cookies, soft on his tongue. he knew that you rented pretty in pink almost every friday, when he thought you would be partying. he knew that you were too good for him. so why the hell did you keep coming in to talk to him?

for weeks after that, you returned every friday to rent pretty in pink. you always stayed to talk with steve, and he felt his hard exterior start to slip away. you laughed at all his dumb jokes, even staying past closing to keep him company as he reorganized the incoming tapes. you brought him lunch with lovey-dovey notes that he definitely didn’t store in his wallet. he invited you over for movie nights — a weekly occurrence for the two of you. he’d even introduced you to his gaggle of freshmen. but in the back of his mind, he knew that you were just pulling him along on a frail string — and it was surely about to snap.

but even through all of that, coming in five times in one week was a lot.

the bell at the door jingled, taking steve out of his reverie. it was getting colder in hawkins — the last of the nice weather before the bitter chill of winter set in.

he took a breath and slid himself behind the counter as he saw you walk in. he could’ve sworn that you perked up, chin rising and hair shifting to show off your kissable neck as you fluttered over. stop it, he commanded himself in his head.

you smiled as you approached him, a sheen to your cheeks and the slope of your nose. “hi, steve,” you said, a little breathless. the light bent around you in a way that gave you a natural glow. steve could swear that he heard a choir singing somewhere. he shook himself into the present. “hey sweetheart, what’s up?” he said, reminding himself to play it cool. be neutral. you looked down, hands flattening your white skirt. you suddenly felt your cheeks warm. “i was just wondering if you’re going to be at the pep rally next week?” you looked so hopeful, standing on your tippytoes to lean over the counter. steve could see the tops of your tits as they threatened to spill out of your pink scoop-neck top.

he was shocked that he, steve harrington, new resident nothing of hawkins, was being asked out by the prettiest girl in his deadbeat town. this had to be some sort of sick joke that nicole and amanda put you up to. he smirked at you, plan in motion. if you wanted to play it that way with all the tiny tops and touching and the way you smell like apricot scrub…well, he’s getting off topic. the point is, steve harrington needed to play you right back.

“yeah, of course i’ll be there.”

he winced behind his smile. you beamed up at him.

into the garden, by the hand.

you’ve always had me,

walking on a string.

you were co-head cheerleader, that was true. but you also had a hopelessly huge crush on steve harrington, something your friends teased you over a lot. especially chelsea. the only person who ever defended you was chrissy, your best friend. chrissy always placed your hand in hers as a motion of comfort, a crinkle in between her brows as she told the cheer squad to, “back off! it’s not like bradley dunkirk is any better.” the other girls tittered in laughter as chelsea hid her flaming cheeks in her pompoms. you shook your head at chelsea and chrissy’s repartee as your eyes searched the bleachers. it was the day of the pep rally — the positively perfect time to show off your cheering prowess. your skirt was hiked up a little extra; your top was your smaller one from sophomore year that made your boobs perk up and almost overflow through the v-cut.

your pompoms wilted in your clammy hands as you scanned the gym, searching for that swoon-worthy warm grin and floppy hair. you eventually spotted him mouthing something to robin. they laughed through their own secret language and you felt a sinking pressure descend on your chest.

but then robin said something, gesturing toward you with a nod of her head. he looked up and over, eyes alert and looking for someone. his gaze rested on you, a pensive neutrality washed over his face. you rustled your pompoms playfully at him as you smiled, skirt swinging and exposing more of your thighs. steve swallowed as he saw the fabric rise, but then he just gave you a polite, closed-lip smile and looked back at robin, who was gesturing wildly at him.

your pompoms drooped and you frowned. he’d been weird the entire week, avoiding you, brushing off your coy smiles and flirty touches. you were overjoyed that he came and were looking forward to seeing his cute little dimples, but he didn’t seem to want anything to do with you. you sagged in your tennis shoes until chrissy tapped your shoulder and signaled that it was time to start.

your routine went perfectly. but as you stood on your teammates' shoulders and smiled at the roaring crowd, your mind was elsewhere. steve was clapping for you, but his eyes didn’t hold the usual mirth that they did. you thought that the two of you were building up to something. he couldn’t be that dense, you thought to yourself. surely all the love notes and smiles and jokes made him realize that you liked him. a lot. a LOT a lot. at the very least, you thought you were friends.

you’d liked steve since freshman year. you were barely a teenager, a fresh-faced fourteen year old who sucked her braces when she was nervous. you saw him in the parking lot, all boyish smiles and strong hands. you immediately liked the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. they crinkled, but they stayed open — so that he could still take in the face of whoever he was speaking with. you liked that he was considerate, that he held the library door open for you even as his date rolled his eyes for “helping a stupid little frosh.” you disappeared into the background for that first year, as you watched his life collapse in on itself.

but then sophomore year came and you blossomed. chrissy cunningham was in your english class. you two were partnered up to read a scene from macbeth and couldn’t do it without laughing. you knew that day, that she was going to be your best friend. then, the two of you were suddenly trying out for cheer. you got your braces taken off. your hair and a new healthy shine to it. people looked your way as you walked arm in arm with chrissy, ponytails bouncing in unison.

you’d always been afraid to speak to steve. sure, he was nicer than most popular kids (to you, at least) — but he was just so cute. and that made it all the more impossible to approach him. you remember how you felt your heart clench after you heard he and nancy broke up. he seemed to really love her, but a selfish part of you itched at the chance to have your shot.

that summer, when he was working at the mall, you barely had the courage to step inside scoops ahoy, even though amanda and bridget begged you to go with them. you knew robin from your history class. she was funny and sweet and a welcome surprise as you stepped into the ice cream shop. you walked up to the counter with a sway in your hips that ensured that people looked at your ass in those tiny denim cutoffs. you, robin, and your friends joked for a bit about your upcoming senior year. they were discussing something about a new culture club song when you looked to your right.

steve was laying on the charm while serving two girls from your school. you felt your stomach twist in jealousy. you looked at your sweet red converse and didn’t even notice robin asking for your order. you blinked at her and smiled, asking for strawberry in a cone. you and your friends moved toward where steve was. he gave you a small smile and looked you up and down, before going right back to flirting.

you liked him from afar; that was the extent of your relationship with steve. up until now, you’d only made small talk with him at parties. but you liked him because of how you saw him interact with others, especially that dustin kid.

you were heartbroken to think that the past few months of work visits and move nights (during which his arm would venture around your shoulder) didn’t mean anything to him. you saw him talking to robin off in a corner, and putting on a brave face, bounced over to the two of them.

“hi robs!” you chirped. she smiled at you and yelled your name as you approached from across the gym, miming pompoms in her hands. “nice cheering,” she said with a wink. you giggled in embarrassment and looked down at your frilly socks. “nice…playing?” you said. she laughed, but steve stood silently. robin looked between the two of you before muttering something about a girl named vickie.

you stood in front of steve now. he couldn’t help but think about how cute you looked in your uniform, glowing after a successful pep rally.

“hi stevie,” you said. he flushed at your nickname, something that you’d given him a few weeks ago after noticing a similar flush appear when you used it in passing.

“hey sweetheart,” he said, not looking you in the eye. you transferred your pompoms to one hand and reached the other out to gently grasp at his fingers. he let you.

“what’s going on? are you okay?” you asked sweetly. the dark part of steve, the part that convinced him that you were just leading him on, told him that you were faking it. that you were just here to make fun of him in front of his ex-classmates who already did the same behind his back. but here you were, face to face, looking at him with worry and your jasmine scent and pretty lips. he sighed out your name; you could detect the disappointment.

“i know what you’re doing.”

you looked at him in confusion, still holding his hand. you stepped closer to him and could smell his lemongrass shampoo. “stevie,” you said softly, “what do you mean?”

“i know your friends put you up to this,” he said harshly. something akin to hurt flickered across your face, but you replaced it immediately with your usual gentle disposition. “put me up to what?” you prompted softly. he rolled his eyes and huffed, pulling his hand away from you. this time, you let the hurt show on your face.

“i know that you and your friends wanted to fuck with me by pretending that you liked me,” he said finally, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows. you looked utterly crestfallen. your heart ached at the possibility that steve could think that your affection was anything but sincere. “no, stevie, please-“ you started, but he cut you off. “i know that i’m just this has-been cool kid who’s good for nothing, but i’m still a person. and i won’t be dragged around on your little string anymore. i’m done.”

if you looked crestfallen before, you looked absolutely crushed right now.

steve desperately wished that he could suck his words from the air around you and never let them see the light of day. but from the look on your face, he knew there was no going back now.

your eyes tickled and burned as wetness blurred your vision. it hurt you more than anything to know that steve thought so little of you. the boy you’d do anything for, go anywhere for, thought that this was all a game to you. you tried to swallow around the lump in your throat, your next words coming out cracked: “steve, i promise it’s not like that.” he scoffed.

“then tell me why your friends sit outside of the video store and watch us and fucking laugh at me?”

your heart stopped then. it broke you, knowing that steve thought so little of himself and you. “steve, they’re laughing at me! because i never stop talking about you because-“ you stopped, not knowing whether you should even bother to tell him now. with a shaky breath, you continued: “because i like you so goddamn much.”

he looked at you strangely then, watching the tears finally begin their path along your cheeks. “save it. i’m done.” the gym was empty now; everyone had left during your conversation. he looked at you, all dolled up in a green little cheerleading costume, a yellow ribbon threaded through the back of your ponytail. he tried to ignore the wetness on your face and the pitiful tremble of your bottom lip. he tried to memorize the color of your lipgloss and how it sparkled under the dimming sun and fluorescent lights. he looked at you and tried his best to keep himself from falling for you. he turned to walk out of the gym doors. as his reeboks squeaked across the lacquered hardwood, steve thought about running back to you and kissing you until he heard his favorite laugh bubble up out of your chest. he heard a sob rip its way out of your throat and in a moment of weakness, he turned around to see you drop your cute little pompoms and raise your hands to your face to hide your tears.

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twstgarden · 2 months

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✿ ❝ 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗴𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗸𝗶𝗱 ❞

━ riddle rosehearts x gifted kid burnout! fem! reader ━ being a gifted child is not always deemed as a blessing, and riddle knows the feeling all too well. (f/n means first name)

requested by: @tangybiskit1 request type: oneshot requester’s message: Reader is like the perfect student.(not prefect) She gets full marks, optimistic, kind and charming to the point where even Riddle thinks his mother would like her. But after befriending her for a few weeks he decides to visit reader and her room is a mess, filled with books, scattered papers. It reminds Riddle of himself and you know how that turned out... So he tries to comfort her saying that she is good enough,(ending can be how you want) sorry if it's badly worded😭😭 this is my first time making a request.. florist’s note: oh wow, this hits close to home <3 anyway, thank you for the request, little one! ♥

this work contains spoilers from chapter 1, heartslabyul's arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

ko-fi here if you want to support me, commission are open

perfect. that was how people described you. a sweet, young lady with a bright smile and a bright mind. a lot of the students in night raven college liked you for your charming personality, and there was barely any student that had a bad experience with you.

perfect. you were the epitome of perfect. a beautiful young lady with a sweet smile, a charming personality, and a bright mind. who would not want to befriend you? some students even talked about you to their peers and their parents. now, it wasn’t always painted in a good light. some have been jealous of you, and some wished you did not exist at all. it makes them look bad, you know?

of course, riddle was one of those people. he greatly admired you for your dedication and hard work, and he takes great pride in having you as a heartslabyul resident. you were the perfect, ideal example of what heartslabyul students should be. you followed all the rules to a t, memorized every one of them, and never questioned or disobeyed the rules that may seem too extreme or ridiculous.

“ah, f/n,” spoke riddle as soon as he saw you in the library, a smile ghosting over his lips. his voice reached your ears as you looked up from your book and smiled at him, “oh… hello, dormitory leader rosehearts!”

that sweet smile.

riddle did not realise his cheeks were tinted pink as he remained smiling at you. he then walked away, not knowing what else to say or how to keep the conversation going. oh, how he wished he could befriend you. he was stuck in this student-to-student relationship with you, and he did not know how to deepen it.

it was going well, at least, that’s what he thought. he made sure he could interact with you at least once a day, to get the both of you used to each other’s presence. he also decided to join you at your table during lunch, eating with you without the need for a conversation. it did not take long until your relationship went deeper than the shallow interactions.

“by the way, riddle… why is your favourite food strawberry tarts?” you asked as you nibbled on a tart that he shared with you. as riddle took a bite of his own, he replied, “it’s sweet and rich with flavours. i rarely ever get to taste it when i was younger, but the one time i did felt like heaven was in my mouth…”

there was a small smile on your face as you listened to riddle. you knew what his household was like. you were there during the overblot incident, after all. “i mean, my mother did get angry at me for eating that… she told me it was too sugary and it’s poisonous for my health…”

unconsciously, your hand went up to his cheek as you caressed it for comfort. riddle also froze as soon as he felt the affection before glancing at you. you realised what you had done and quickly retracted your hand with a blush, “ah— sorry, sorry. i thought you needed some comfort.”

with you around, riddle always felt like he could continue to hold on and move forward. seeing your bright smile energizes him for the day, and seeing your name at the top of the achiever's list always brings a sense of pride from within.

“congratulations, f/n,” spoke riddle as soon as he saw you standing by the bulletin board. you had a blank expression on your face before smiling as soon as you heard his voice, “oh, thanks! congratulations to you, too.”

‘why do you look sad?’, thought riddle to himself as he noticed your blank expression before acknowledging him. were you not happy with what you got? but you received a 499 out of 500, surely, it’s worth a smile or two, no?

he decided to brush it off a little since you had already walked away, but it was in the back of his mind for a few days now. why did you seem bothered? he knew the importance of getting a perfect score, his mother reiterated that several times.

he did not speak much of it, but he did notice you getting a little distant, even if you are physically beside him. your mind seemed to be in another place every time he tried to discuss something with you. it was clear that something was wrong.

but he did not know how to approach the problem.

riddle tried accompanying you during study sessions, gifting you treats, sharing his tarts with you over lunch, doing mind exercises with you, and many other things. however, they only seemed to fix the problem temporarily.

exam season was around the corner once more, and everyone has been busying themselves with studying. riddle had spent his time studying, but of course, he did not neglect his duties as the dormitory head. as soon as the clock struck 3 in the afternoon, it was time for his patrol around the dorm. he had to make sure all his residents were disciplined and studying.

with one room into the next, he discovered all of them busying themselves with reading and discussing certain sections of their books with their roommates. ‘good work,’ thought riddle to himself as he saw his residents studying. he just hoped ace and deuce were doing the same.

as soon as he reached your room, he knocked on the door before twisting the knob and peeking in. he thought he would see you silently seated on your study table, reading through a book, or taking notes. however, he discovered you seated on the floor, a book on your lap as you wrote in your notebook, surrounded by several copies of papers and books.

you were in a clear state of disarray. your hair was a mess as you checked every paper before writing something down in the notebook. the process continued as you mumbled under your breath, “no, this is not right… the answer isn’t hydrolysis…”

a sigh escaped your lips as you buried your head into your palms, your hair covered your devastated expression as riddle silently walked into your room and knelt beside you, picking up all the scattered notes as you sniffled and glanced at him, “riddle…?”

you did not expect to see him in your room, and you quickly wiped your cheeks as you picked up the remaining scattered papers. riddle held the notes he collected and looked at you, seeing your cheeks, eyes, and the tip of your nose being tinted with a little bit of red from all the crying.

you were having a breakdown. he knew that much. he now noticed why you seemed absentminded and distant lately, especially with the exam season coming up. you were drowning yourself in your studies, making sure you memorized and remembered every single fact taught to you.

“…sorry you had to see me like this…” you mumbled as you grabbed the notes from him. he quickly shook his head as he spoke, “no… you don’t have to apologise. how long have you been cooped up in here?”

“i’ve been here all weekend…” you replied. you’ve been in your room, studying for two days straight without paying much attention to your other needs, and it was evident with the bags under your eyes. he hoped you were at least eating, but as he looked around your room, there were a few wrappers from the snacks you ate and an empty water bottle.

a sigh escaped riddle’s lips as he held his hand out to you, “you’re a mess. you need to eat… come.” you shook your head, which caused riddle to raise a brow, “f/n, all you’ve eaten were convenience meals with no proper nutrition whatsoever. don’t be stubborn and—”

“i don’t care!”

riddle fell silent in shock. did you just… yell?

you looked up at him, your eyes held glossy tears as you spoke, “i don’t care even if i starve for days! they’re worth nothing if i fail… this is our finals, and it will determine just how much i’m worth…” a soft sob escaped your lips as you bowed your head to hide your tears, “it will… determine how much my parents love me…”

riddle was silent. so, this is what hides behind the perfect f/n l/n. behind that sweet smile, charming personality, and bright mind was a little girl who never had the chance to be a child, to experience what it’s like to have fun, and to know what it’s like to have no expectations to live up to.

how lonely you must have felt.

“who cares if i’m physically well when i make a single mistake on the test? my mother cursed me through the phone as soon as she saw my results…” you mumbled, venting out everything that had happened the past few days, “i’m nothing but a useless brat who wastes their money in a prestigious school… i don’t deserve to be here if i can’t even get full marks to show that i’m learning something…”

riddle knew what it was like to have a parent who seeks perfection in their child, and it was only lately when he realised it was an unhealthy way of living, drowning yourself in your studies to ensure future success to the point you’d neglect yourself. he got closer to you, holding your shoulder as you wiped your tears, “if i fail the finals, they won’t let me continue my education…”

he was stunned. sure, a punishment is given when one does not receive the desired results on a test. that was his norm, too, but completely discontinuing your education because of 1 mistake or 2 on a test is extreme.

“what…? your parents would go that far…?” questioned riddle. you merely nodded in response as you wiped your tears and hugged your knees to your chest, “…everything feels like a chore…” riddle was left frozen, he did not know what to say or do as he never received appropriate support growing up.

he understands your pains, but he doesn’t know how to comfort you. he can’t lie and say it would be better because he knows that won’t do anything.

you have been showing the brightest smile he’s ever seen all the time, but who knew you were breaking piece by piece? all because of the expectations set on you. all because you were the gifted child of your parents, and therefore, you must live up to be the best of the best.

“sometimes i think… i should just stop… maybe if i fail several times, then they’ll leave me alone… but that also means i won’t receive their love and praises… and i won’t be their favourite daughter anymore…”

riddle stayed silent as he sat on the floor beside you, listening to you vent out all that had been stuck in your mind.

“but… sometimes i also think… if i ruin myself too much and fail… i’m worth nothing… who would love a worthless person? then i’ll be destined to be alone…” you cried softly as you kept hugging your knees to your chest, “i’m tired of thinking about this… i’m tired of caring so much… i’m tired of hearing all the curses that come out of my mother’s mouth… i’m tired of repeatedly being told that i am useless…”

the room then fell silent, and only your soft sobs broke the ice as riddle gently placed his hand on your hair. “…you’re not useless just because you got one or two questions wrong in a test…” mumbled riddle as you peeked at him with your face buried into your arms, “and… you’re not worthless. you don’t need to be perfect to be loved… you just need to be yourself.”

as you remained to look at him, you sniffled softly and wiped your tears, “…but…” riddle gave you a small smile, “i know what it feels like to know that everything we learned growing up and the things we are exposed to is wrong… you’ve been told that anything less than perfect is unacceptable, and i was taught the same thing…”

a soft sigh left his lips as he placed a hand on your cheek, the same way you did to him when he spoke of his reason for loving a sweet treat, “you were there when the incident happened, and i have learned my mistakes… now i am here to tell you that you are worth it. you’re not a financial burden, you’re not useless, you’re not stupid, you are none of that, f/n. i wish you could see yourself the way i see you… then you’ll understand why i always want to be around you…”

you were speechless. what could you possibly say in response to that? if you didn’t know any better, it felt like a confession disguised as comforting words. receiving no verbal response, riddle got a little embarrassed as he avoided your gaze, “… i said too much. i apologise—”

“no…”

riddle blinked before he glanced back at you, seeing you smile a little at him, “…i appreciate your words… thank you…” seeing that sweet smile, even if it was a small one, made riddle smile as well, “you don’t need to thank me… now, you need to have your lunch.” he stood up and held his hand out to you.

you held his hand and stood up, smiling at him as you were about to wipe any remaining tearstains on your face when his hand gently rested on your cheek, wiping it as he spoke, “i don’t want to see you neglecting yourself next time.”

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tojisbbygworl · 10 months

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Before I Let Go - Yandere!Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: A grieving woman comes face to face with her thought to be deceased husband and can't find it in her to care about how wrong this was. She missed him. So much.

WARNINGS: Thoughts of Suicide, Suicide Attempt

Words: 4,994

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Emotional Smut, Desperation, Grief/Mourning, Yandere, Spying, Kidnapping, Minimal Spanish terms of endearment

author's note: hey y'all. I have another fic for you. I am so glad I finished it it's been sitting in my drafts for a minute. The yandere part of this isn't violent although there is some slight physical pain put on the reader during sex. Just a mention of choking and scratching it's not bad. It's more obsession if anything. Also, I wasn't even gonna try with the Spanish girl. The most he says is carina and hermosa and I know y'all are sick of seeing that atp. I barely even tried with the British for Hobie I'm not about to embarrass myself LMAO

I hope this makes y'all sad honestly I feel like I could have made it sadder but I'm still very happy with it. Anyway, enjoy! 🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

The buzzing sound of a phone call is all that can be heard in the apartment. It has been a week since the funeral, and Y/N O’Hara hasn’t said a single word. She doesn't even remember what her voice sounds like.

Miguel O'Hara was everything to her. He meant the entire world. She would do anything he asked, but he never asked for much. All he wanted was her love. She was the same with him. A perfect partnership. She felt like she was on top of the universe. And then it was taken away from her. In a fucking car crash, no less.

He was the smartest person she knew. He was the head geneticist at Alchemax after all. He wasn't a stupid driver. No. It was the other driver's fault. But what could she do about it? It was just a kid. A teenager that had just gotten their license, but hadn't taken official driving lessons; no one really drilled into them the severity of texting while driving. How could she really blame them? How could she press charges? Miguel always told her that she was too forgiving. Too understanding.

He was right. But...she also couldn't help but to think it wasn't fair. That her beautiful husband had to die from their actions, and all they had to deal with was an insane insurance increase and a fucked up car that their parents were bound to replace. She would give anything to trade consequences. Anything.

Almost two months since his death, she's been wandering around her apartment frequenting the most common places she and Miguel would cuddle in. She always had a shared blanket, one of his shirts, or a pillow that had his hair on it to squeeze and cry into. If she sprayed it with his cologne and shut her eyes really tight, she could almost imagine he really was there. Almost.

These objects could never replace him. She missed his warmth. She missed his chest pushing her head up and down from his breathing. It would rumble when he chuckled. His hands were so large that her entire back would heat up when he held her gently. He was so tall, 6'6 to be exact, he would completely engulf her whenever they embraced. She felt so safe in his arms. She doesn't feel safe anymore.

Nearly two months of hunching over on the floor of her apartment in pain. She wailed into the ground. Coughing and scratching whatever she could hold onto, because the pain was too much to bare. Oh, the pain. She wouldn't wish this kind of heartbreak on anyone or anything.

The apartment was large, courtesy of his checks. He could already afford it on his own, then, the both of them married just a few years ago and he didn't expect her to pay a dime, despite how much she insisted. Instead, she bought food and handled upkeep. If it got too expensive, then he would chip in. She would have to move out eventually, his remaining income and life insurance the only thing keeping her afloat. Just another thing that she can’t fathom.

It was 3 bed, 2 bath. One was their bedroom, the other was his office, she's been going in there a lot as well, and they always wondered what they would do with the last room. For so long, it was empty even before she moved in with him. He never knew what he could use it for. He had hoped that she would turn it into a hobby room, she loved to paint and she played the violin a little, but there was a beautiful terrace attached to the apartment that she opted for instead and she insisted the living room had the best acoustics so the room remained a mystery. Until last year, when he dropped a bomb on her.

It was an extremely average day for the both of them. They were both home from work, nothing interesting to report, and were deciding what to eat for dinner. She suggests something they could cook, and he agrees. As the night goes on, something seems off about Miguel. He's quiet and zoning out a lot. Something has to be on his mind, right?

"Babe," she calls for him snapping him out of his trance.

"Hm?"

"Everything alright?" She puts her hand on his shoulders and gives him a worried look. Miguel swallows his spit then turns towards her grabbing her hand and placing his on her waist.

"I've been thinking..." His voice is small. She starts to grow anxious as she had never seen him look so timid. He was more nervous than when he asked her to marry him.

"W-What is it?" She stutters. He kisses her knuckles.

"It's just something that I've been wanting for a while now. And if you don't, then It's completely fine. I care about your happiness above everything."

"Miguel, stop being so cryptic and tell me what's up," She half jokes.

He nervously bites his lips and looks away. Then, taking a deep breath, he looks into her eyes and says, "I want to have a kid."

She felt it was best to pretend the work-in-progress nursery didn't exist. In her mind, the room is still empty. There wasn’t a crib set up. The walls weren't in the process of being painted. They didn't have arguments about what to put on it because they didn't know the gender. In fact, gender of what? They weren't planning for a baby. The third room is as empty as she is.

The both of them were foolish, deciding to get everything set up before she got pregnant instead of winging it like everyone else. She should have winged it. Then maybe she would still have a piece of him with her.

It was so fucking hard to focus on what mattered. She was hanging on a thread that thinned out every single day. Before the funeral, she wondered what would be her breaking point? The point where she finally got up and decided to keep going.

The weather was very fitting for that day. The sun was gone, and the rain came in waves. Her tears, however, never stopped. It was a stupid decision to make it open casket. She gazed upon his resting face for the first time since he died in the hospital then turned and ran to the nearest bathroom to empty her stomach. She hadn’t even gotten to say her speech; Miguel’s mother read for her instead.

Something inside her snapped. Sometimes the pain is a dull ache in her chest, and she’s numb everywhere else. Other times it’s a sharp twang that she can feel in her back. She has to lay or sit down when that happens. Sometimes it courses through her entire upper body and she can’t even move. But this…this stabbing, twisting, and searing pain that ripples through her heart and travels to the tip of her fingers and toes…she hasn’t felt this before.

This was the breaking point, but it did the opposite. She didn’t talk for the rest of the day, her and his family begging her to stay with them. She didn’t listen.

It was nights like tonight that she felt completely alone. She knew she wasn’t, if she just picked up the phone and texted someone, then maybe she would be okay. She just needed to stop looking at the ceiling, turn to her nightstand, pick up her phone, and call her mother. But it was 1 in the morning, and Miguel looked so happy in her lock screen picture…

Her and Miguel had been up here on the top of the apartment building so many times before. They liked to dance, he would watch her play or paint, they had picnics together, it was perfect when they wanted to get out of the apartment, but still have some privacy.

The view was nice. They could see across the entirety of Nueva York. Central Park in the fall was especially amazing to gaze upon. But now it fills her with grief. As she steps on top of the edge, she decides that if this couldn’t make her feel better, then nothing could.

She’s glad she’s doing this in the middle of the night, where no one could see her and call for help. She was sure that she would traumatize a couple people when morning came, a problem that she couldn’t be bothered by. She was ready to be back in his arms. So she walked off. And closed her eyes as she plummeted through the air.

She’s scared. But excited. She only has to feel excruciating pain for a second and then never again. It’s almost over.

She hits something, or more so, something hits her. She’s still flying through the air, but it’s different now. There’s a warm body holding onto her for dear life, and she’s soaring upwards into the night sky. Opening her eyes to gaze at her savior, she sees a masked silhouette. It-it’s Spider-Man…but he looks completely different. She can barely see him, the only source of light being the moon, but she could swear that this wasn’t his mask.

They land on the rooftop again and he puts her down. She crawls away from him, embarrassed and ashamed at what she’s done. She was still alive and now she was in more pain than ever before. Wailing on the floor, she glared up at him in vitriol.

“Why did you save me?” She yelled, her voice powerful for a woman who hadn’t been verbal for a week. Spider-Man didn’t answer. She wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her. “I didn’t want to be saved.” Still, he said nothing. So she continued to cry, and she cried harder and harder until she felt a sensation on her back.

He was trying to comfort her, but when she turned he backed off, holding his hands up instead. Her lips quivered, then she threw herself into his arms. His hold on her body was snug and comforting. Her anger for him dissipates immediately as she accepts his affection. For the first time in a while, she felt safe. She didn��t want him to let go.

And he didn’t. He stayed until she fell asleep in his arms. Then, he picked her up, gazing upon her peaceful face with the light from the inter dimensional portal, then walked into it with no intention of coming back.

This wasn’t her room.

She sat up in the bed and took in her surroundings. These weren’t her sheets, that wasn’t her wallpaper, the blinds were different, the floor wasn’t carpeted, everything even the floor plan of the room was different. This isn’t her home.

Her heart begins to pound. Where was she? She was still in her clothes, but that’s the only comfort that she had. Immediately, she shoots out of the bed, the comforter tangling in her feet making her fall onto the floor. The large thump that her fall makes scares her. She stays on the floor, still and quiet as a mouse. There's no noise for a couple seconds. Then, the sound of someone walking.

She hyperventilates, quickly removing herself from the blanket and standing up. But she realizes that she has no where to go. There's a small closet in the room, and space under the bed, but those the only hiding spaces she can think of. And the footsteps were getting closer. What can she do, she wonders as she backs into the wall.

The door swings open. And her heart stops.

Miguel stared at his wife's variant in concern and turns on the light. The woman blinks and shields her eyes, but the bewildered look that she sported quickly comes back. "What happened?"

When he spoke, she gasped and took another step back. She smacked her hand over her mouth. Her eyes glistened with tears, her breath shuddered. "You're alright?" Miguel asked her again. She didn't answer.

For what felt like the longest time, they just stared at each other. He was afraid of approaching her thinking he may scare her away. She was in completely disbelief at what she was seeing. Miguel raised his hands and stayed near the door way. "Please, don't freak out," he began.

She let out a sob, tears escaping her eyes when she did. Placing her hand on her chest, she lifts herself from the wall. Miguel takes this as a sign to keep going.

"I know you must be confused. You're probably upset and angry. I understand." She took a step forward. "But if you would just left me explain..." Another step. Then another. And another. And she held her hand out in front of her. As she approached him, he realized how badly she was trembling, and it only got worse the closer she got. But still, she moved forward.

The speech Miguel had been practicing before she woke up died in his throat. He was speechless as he watched her courageously close the space between them. When she finally stood right in front of him, she hesitated. He could hear her soft gasps and cries. Then finally, she softly touched his chest. He looked down at her hand, then up at her face. Even though she was crying profusely, she looked upon him in wonder. He just wants to reach out and grab her, but he holds himself back.

She begins to rub his chest and torso, appalled by his presence. He looks back down at her hands. Then, they trail themselves up to his neck, stopping right under his chin. He lifts his head up. They both hold their breath for a second. Then, with a gasp from her, and a sigh from him, she finally touches his cheek. Miguel closes his eyes and leans into her palm. He lifts his arm up, and encases her hand in his, keeping it in place.

Her lips begin to move. With a tiny shaky breath, she whispers, "It's you."

Miguel's face is troubled. He has a small frown and his eyebrows were upturned. He twists his head in her palm to give it a small kiss.

Her eyes flicker all over his body. It is him...but he's different. He's taller now. His build is thicker and he feels tense. Miguel was a gym buff, but this man...this kind of definition is not built in the gym. His frown is deep, and so are his wrinkles. His eyes were more troubled than hers, and had the slightest hint of red. And his teeth...she could feel his sharp canines with her thumb.

"No," she realizes. "It's not you."

Miguel opens his eyes and stares at her. He can see the fear growing on her face, and he starts to panic. He moves his hand to her wrist to hold it gently. But he's prepared to squeeze it if she tries to run. "I'm not him. But-"

"But you look like him." She continues, her voice on the precipice of hysteria. "And you sound like him." She holds both of his cheeks and caresses his face with her thumbs. "And you feel like him..."

Miguel winces as he watches her cry louder and louder with every observation. "Cariña, please," He takes her hands off of his face and kisses her knuckles. She completely breaks down crying. Miguel reaches his arms out, and she throws herself into his chest, sobbing into his neck. "You don't have to cry anymore. I'm here now."

"But who are you?" Her voice muffled by his shoulder.

He gulps. "...I am Miguel, but-"

"But you're not my Miguel, are you?" She lifts her head up to stare at him. She looked anguished, her brain not being able to process what was going on. He doesn't answer. "Did you save me?" He nodded. "Why?"

"I had to, baby. I-"

"Where did you come from?" She pushes herself off of him, and Miguel can't find it in him to hold her there. He let's go of her, knowing that there is no where she can really run where he won't find her. "No, where have you been?"

He furrows his brows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Where the hell have you been?" She screams at him in unbridled rage. Her tears were never ending, and her glare was fierce. "I was in fucking agony when you died. I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't get over you. I didn't want to. I missed you so much." Her anger turned into desperation and she falls to her knees on the floor, weeping into her hands. Miguel looks on in desolation, his eyes filling with tears as well. He walks to her and leans down, trying to get her to stand. She flips her head up at him. "Who are you?"

"Please, let me explain." He sits on the floor with her, holds her face and leans into it. She doesn't pull away, instead, she kisses him first, her cries never ending. Her hands tangle themselves in his hair. Miguel wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into him. He sits back and pulls her into his lap.

The kiss lasts until they run out of breath, then they pull away, panting in each others' faces. "I...am Miguel." He starts. "But not your Miguel. And you are not my Y/N."

She shakes her head and scrunches up her face. "Just listen." Her mouth closes again, and she relaxes preparing herself to take in every word he says...

...Miguel spent a lot of time watching her. His Y/N, across the multiverse. In each one, they are together. It's fate. And in every one...she dies. No matter what that universe's Miguel does, she dies. That must be fate, too. Then he found a universe where that didn't happen. He died instead. He took a chance, and when he replaced himself he was the happiest he had ever been. And then everything was destroyed. An entire universe...gone. He swore to never interfere with fate again. He whispered a soft 'sorry' to every Miguel he found after that.

He saw her, Y/N on Earth - 548. Happy as ever with her devilishly handsome husband. He felt for him. He had no idea the heartbreak he was about to experience. But, for the second time in his studies, he was the one who died. He cried, knowing that he could never do anything about it. When she became a shell of her former self, he focused all of his attention on her. Putting all of his work on Jess and Peter, he monitored her. He watched her cry, she spent all of her time off from work at home rolling around in her bed as if the emotional pain was so strong that it was physical as well. He watched her touch herself at night, whispering his name into the empty air, him joining her from where he was spying groaning her name as well, wishing his cum was dripping from her cunt instead of down his hand. He called for her, hoping that his prayers to keep her safe would reach who ever was listening. They didn't.

He knew that when she sat up like a ghost from her bed that fateful night, she was about to do something rash. He held his hand over his watch, ready to jump as soon as he felt he needed to. When she began to walk to the edge, he decided to not even risk it and hopped into the portal.

He didn't expect her to turn and scream at him the way she did. He hadn't heard her beautiful voice for some time, he missed it so much, and the first thing she did was yell at him. He was stunned. He couldn't believe she was right in front of him. He looked at his watch. No indication of a canon event. There was nothing. Which meant...she was never supposed to die.

He was impulsive, he knows that. But, it worked out in his favor. She was supposed to be alive. He had done right. And now he had a decision to make. Does he leave her here to figure everything out on her own, or does he take her with him...and let her family think she's dead…

“You were watching me?”

Miguel refuses to meet her eyes. She didn’t move, but he tightened his grip around her just in case. Her voice was wavering.

When he didn’t answer, she continued. “Why didn’t you save him?”

He looked up at her that time. Above everything else, she was melancholy. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I just couldn’t, mi amor. You don’t understand.”

With her face contorted in pain, she released a choked sob. Her mouth was hung open. If she chose to believe this imposter, than hearing that nothing could have been done about the love of her life brought her no comfort. It wasn’t fair.

She gripped Miguel’s shirt letting her head fall forward into his chest. He held her for a long time while her shoulders shook. “Please, believe me.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her cries stopped. He began to worry, but she soon lifted her head up and looked into his eyes. His flicked back and forth between hers, and the both of them dive into another passionate kiss. This time, they don’t let up from each other. It gets more intense. Miguel’s breath picks up as his hands begin to explore her back and waist. She pushes her body up against his, rubbing their chests together.

She’s the one who pulls away opting to kiss down from his cheek to his neck. “Just come to bed with me. Please?” She begs into his skin.

Miguel, in a daze, whispers “Okay.”

He lifts her up and lays her down onto his bed, kissing her sweetly as he climbed on top of her. He felt so much bliss, he never imagined he would be able to do this again.

The way she grabbed his face made him never want to physically leave her side again. This was where he wanted to stay for the rest of their lives. She kissed him with so much despair, so much need, how could he ever leave her mouth? But, the strain in his pants and the grip she had on his back get worse, and he finds a reason to pull away.

She whimpers, missing the way his tongue caressed her mouth, leaving her lips swollen and shiny. Her eyes open, silently asking him where he was going, until he reached under the hem of her shirt and lifts it off of her, exposing her beautiful breasts. She gasps when he begins to rub his hand between them, eventually grabbing one to hold and play with. Miguel grins at her while she watches him rub his thumb across her hardened nipple. Which turned into her watching him dip his head down to her sternum and leave the smallest, lightest kiss.

The restraint he had on himself as he trailed his mouth down her body was unnatural. His claws had long since come out, ripping into the bedsheets as he tried so hard not replace them with her luscious hips. She was responding unbelievably well, making him happy he didn’t listen to Lyla tell him how terrible of an idea this was.

Lyla was wrong, he told himself when he heard her soft cry as his tongue played with her nipple. She began to squirm from frustration, and he just had to push his hips in between her open legs, the heat from his dick making her rub her wet panties along his shaft. Miguel moaned with her nipple fully inside his mouth, her moaning with him from the vibration against her chest.

She’s not scared of me, he thought as he leaves her nipple and kisses down her body. His lips finally met up with her panties, opting to push them to the side instead of taking them off completely. He places a kiss on her sensitive clit, his precum staining his underwear when she yelps. Miguel takes a moment to look at her glistening pussy, then he closes his eyes when he finally licks it.

And she doesn’t hate me. Miguel looks drunk when he starts eating her out. His eyebrows are raised and he gently placed her hand on her spread thigh, caressing the soft skin. Her whines making him even more desperate to please her, he presses his tongue into her center harder. His lips are covered with her fluid. Miguel gives her thigh a nice squeeze, then a slap, then he stands up straight.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, her heart races. His eyelids were low, and he towered over body making her feel smaller than she was. His stare was filled with infatuation, wiping off his lower face with one swipe of his large hand. Without breaking eye contact, he rips his shirt off and swipes his pants and underwear down, his large member bouncing back up. Miguel spit into his palm and started jerking himself off. Then, he climbs onto the bed, aligning his hips with hers.

He drools onto her pussy, her shuddering as his spit meets her clit and runs down her lips. It does well to lube her up with Miguel rubbing his tip in between her folds. “Ngh…fuck,” he mutters, the feeling of her wet cunt on his sensitive head giving him a feeling of euphoria.

She grew impatient, while Miguel was trying to take his time and savor her, she was ready to feel him split her apart. This was something she’s been dreaming about since she lost him. She waited for the day his naked body would engulf hers, his face on her cheek whispering filthy insults and sweet praises into her ear. As she remembers how sex used to be with her love, she starts to tear up.

“Miguel,” she whined making him look at her worriedly. When his eyes open, the red she noticed before is even more prominent. His mouth was opened slightly so she could barely see his fangs. How he could look so similar yet so different from her Miguel, she doesn’t know.

“Yes?” He asks her.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer. I want…” She moves her hips on him again. Miguel looks down at their hips and holds hers still.

He doesn’t respond, just pushes his length into her slowly. He grunts as he sheathes himself inside her warmth, reveling in her cries. “Shit, baby.” She’s tight and squeezing him so nicely, he can’t stop until he's inside of her fully.

She’s breathing heavily with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Her back is arched lifting her naked chest into the air. “Look at me,” Miguel commands. She lifts her head up giving him what he wanted. Her eyes are filled with tears. It hurts, but feels so good. She missed him so much, and now they were one again.

Miguel whimpers at her beautiful face. “Hermosa,” he reaches out to her cheek to hold it. “Don’t cry.”

“But I love you,” she tells him.

He gasps. His hand lifts from her face. Freezing, he stares into her eyes in disbelief. “W-What?”

She takes his hand and brings it to her lips, leaving a gentle smooch. Her eyes close and the tears fall. “I love you, Miguel.”

His eyesight gets blurry as well, and soon Miguel is crying profusely. “Oh, baby,” he leans over her and pulls his hips backwards. Then he slams himself back down, making her yelp. She grabs his face and kisses him. “I love you too.”

As Miguel fucks her slowly, neither of them can find it in them to stay quiet. Miguel has to tell her how terribly in love with her he is. She has to let him know how much she missed him. He leans into her neck and whispers how he missed her too, and to stop crying because he’s here now. Even though, he can’t stop crying either.

She’s so happy to hear that he will never leave her side. She decides to believe him, accepting happiness instead of reality. She ignores his red eyes, his sharp fangs that press against her neck, as if he can barely hold himself back from biting her. She ignores how different the rumbling in his chest is from her Miguel. It’s not soft or sweet nor does it make her content. This one is predatory and dangerous, it makes her nervous.

She dismisses the way he grabs her neck; tight, leaving her with no air, whereas her Miguel knew that she didn’t like it rough. Honestly, neither did he. This Miguel went faster and harder. He grunted into her ear. But, she doesn't care.

She completely ignores how different this Miguel was. Her wishes were answered. She got him back. It doesn’t matter that his hold on her hip was so strong that he’s scratching her. That he didn’t stop or slow down when she came making her overstimulated. She let him cum inside her soon after, knowing that she wasn’t on anything.

“I miss you so fucking much,” she wailed when he slipped his dick out of her, his cum following suit and staining the bed beneath her.

Instead of getting a warm towel, Miguel laid down next to her and pulled her into his arms silencing her cries. “I told you baby, I’m right here.” But she doesn’t correct herself. She doesn’t calm down. She grips him for dear life and Miguel grows nervous.

Lyla was wrong…right?

“You know she will never love you the way she loved him. It will never be the same. Miguel...are you listening?”

“Lyla…shut down.”

ending a/n: Heyyyyy, did y'all like it? This will definitely not be my only Miguel fic but rn I don't really have any ideas for him. My brain is filled with thoughts of Hobie, and I need to stop neglecting my baby daddy Toji, lmao. So I'll be working on a real quick Hobie imagine and my AO3 stories as well for now. Unless I think of something else. I've been thinking about requests but I will fuck around and make a whole story from it cuz idk how to stop writing so damn much. Y'all I rly dk if I want to make another part to JFTN I rly like how it ended and I can't rly think about how I would continue it. Y'all might just have to deal idk girl. I love ya though! Anyway, I'll see y'all in the next story!🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 smut #yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader

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soggyriceee · 10 months

Text

Helping Hand | dbf!Captain Price

summary: after your parents argue again, you walk over to your neighbors house who, you've had relations with in the past. true feelings are brought up be end in the most romantic way, loooooong back story but I feel like that makes the smut part of it so much better

warnings: dbf!Price, female!reader, age gap (reader 22, Price 45), unprotected P in V, fingering, daddy kink (bc hes daddy)

another restless night. your mom screaming at your dad for being at the bar late at night, him screaming back that he needed the break. "I work 60 hours a week!" he'd yell. "you are never home for dinner, barely make it to your kids important days!" she'd yell back, sometimes throwing a pan at him. it was bad. and you'd have to hear it every other night. your brothers drinking was no help either. family arguments were common, no matter how much you tried to avoid them. your mom would burst into your room, telling you to take her side, your father having the same idea.

"can you guys please stop I have exams tomorrow." you remember telling them, trying your hardest to focus on the notes in front of you. it was 12 in the morning. they were all supposed to be asleep. but of course, your dad stumbled in drunkly, waking up your mom and brother. it was peaceful in the house until it wasn't. thats why you'd often saunter over to your neighbor, John, to get some sleep.

"of course kid, you never have to ask." he always told you, smiling down as he opened the door wide. his wife was always delighted to have you over, she saw you as one of her own seeing as they never had kids. John was too busy with the military, kids was never truly an option for him. but he never saw you as his own, as his kid. he saw you as a woman. a woman who caught his eye the second she moved in next door two years ago.

your family had moved next door so it was closer to your college, but also to your fathers job. and Price and his wife were very quick to welcome you all into the neighborhood. they were the first people who invited you to their cookouts, parties. anything. your father had grown so close to Price, it was like they were brothers. and thats what made Price's feelings towards you even more conflicted and morally wrong. he knew he couldn't pursue you. he was significantly older than you, married and friends with your father. there were a surplus of negatives rather than positives and he was not willing to risk anything.

but when the summer time hit, and you'd slide into his pool, the pink or white bikini latching to your skin, he couldn't help but excuse himself up to his room and fuck into his fist, moaning your name into his hand. and what was the worst part about it all, he didnt care about what his wife would think. he cared what you'd think.

his marriage was falling apart quickly. his wife was very passionate about having kids, even though she was 40. "please, at least before im dried up for good." she'd beg him. but he wouldn't budge. kids was not something he wanted to have, ever. and because of that arguments were not a foreign thing for the two of them. so, it wasn't that you were young. or maybe it was. but it was because you would give him a new sense of life, a breath of fresh air away from arguments and constant stress.

the first night you had come to his home, tears falling from your cheeks, he was instantly worried. he pulled you into the house, pulling you into his chest. his wife came out quickly, gaping at your disheveled look. "oh my.. what happened my dear?" she ask, dropping the cup of tea in hand and running to hug you alongside John.

from that night on you made it routine to come sleep over in their house, whenever you needed. they even gave you a key. you felt more at home with them than you did at your home. they let you decorate the guest room into your own, took you out on small little events. it gave John's wife a sense of motherhood, one that she wanted for years.

so, when you and Price were in your room together, making out passionately, his hand gripping your boobs, your hands tangled in his hair, it didnt strike her as odd when she walked in to see you both on your bed. "she was having a hard time in school.. English test, right?" John said to her, quick to have an excuse. you nodded, swallowing hard. "y-yea I just.. needed to vent." you said, looking at her.

that was a month ago of course, she had believed you both. but that was the last time you and Price had ever really done anything of sorts again. and that was the last time you had been to their house. the feelings, tension between you both was too much and you both knew, that you wouldn't be able to make the right decisions if you both were alone together again.

but things were getting hard again and you needed to escape home. another family fight, this time about your father bringing up another woman's name during sex. it was disturbing, gross and uncomfortable for you to be around. but the screaming, breaking glass. it was not something you wanted to spend your summer night listening to.

looking out the window, you bit your bottom lip before making the final decision to sneak out and head over to your home. your real home. grabbing your phone, laptop and AirPods, you made your way out the window, landing on the mini roof in front of your window and slowly, climbing down to where the floor was. silently, you made your way across your lawn and over to Mr. Price's, looking at all the new flowers his wife had recently grown. a part of you felt guilt, selfish even for coming into their home, knowing what had happened between you and Price a few weeks ago. but you needed peace. you needed him.

knocking on the door, you crossed your arms behind your back, waiting anxiously for the door to open. a few seconds after, the door slowly opened, revealing a disheveled looking Price. his face was bright red, lips glossy. he had no shirt on, but a grey pair of sweats. a part of you felt embarrassed, but a bigger part of you felt a bit of pain, assuming he was just fucking his wife upstairs. "o-oh.. hey kid." he said, clearing his throat. " hi.. John. I guess this was a bad time but I-"

"no.. no its not." he said quickly, shaking his head. "I-i was just.." he pointed his thumb behind him, maintaining eye contact as he tried to find the words. you gave a small, apologetic smile before turning. but he was faster, gripping your wrist and pulling you back. " stay. please." he whispered, looking down at you, his eyes submissive. you swallowed before looking behind him, seeing an empty bottle of whiskey on the table. "isn't.. Mrs. Pri-" "she's not Mrs anymore.." he cut you off, looking away from you.

you felt guilty for bringing up the topic, even more guilty for thinking he was fucking her upstairs instead of you. his grip on you loosened and he backed away. "you don't have to stay.. but i'm assuming your here cause your parents. and you shouldn't.. be around that. you shouldn't be alone.. and I don't wanna be alone anymore either." he said, his words growing breathless towards the end, his eyes moving back to yours. your heart felt heavy for him. he was struggling for God knows how long alone. you gave him a small nod, his hand taking yours before he pulled you gently inside.

the door closed and you looked around the empty home, dishes and beer cans scattered about. "im sorry for the mess I uh.. its been hard to-" "let me help you." you turned to him, looking up at him. his doe eyes pierced into you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. that was all the confirmation you needed before turning back around, grabbing the empty cans and moving towards the kitchen recycling can. " thank you." you heard him say from the living room. "dont mention it. its a good distraction for me anyways." you said, the memory of your parents fighting coming back to you.

"hey.." he said, somehow coming up behind you. you quickly turned, wiping your eyes quickly and giving him a fake smile. his hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping the tears. " your here now.. safe." he whispered, keeping his eyes on yours. his lips trailed from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes. " John.." you whispered, pulling your head out of his grasp. he cleared his throat, stepping back. you both wanted it, bad. but it was wrong. and you both agreed to it, nonverbally of course, but it was an intuition.

" im sorry." you said softly, looking down to your shoes. "dont apologize. you have done nothing wrong." he said, patting your arm before walking away.

the rest of the night you spent in 'your room', reading up the rest of the texts you had for your exams. it was raining pretty hard outside, thundering and lightening. it was peaceful, more peaceful than your home.

stretching, you sat up from your bed and made your way down to the kitchen, hungry. you were sure price was hungry as well so why not make some grilled cheese? as you hummed your way down the hall, you heard what sounded like cries coming from inside John's room. you stopped in your tracks, standing in front of his room. you then heard empty bottles rolling against the floor. sighing, you leaned your head against the door. you didnt know if you should open the door, or stay outside. or just walk away.

but your heart was more powerful than your mind and you couldnt stop your hand from knocking against the door. "John.. can I come in?" you asked softly. when he stopped sniffling, and all you could hear was the empty bottles, you slowly opened the door. in front of you was John, sitting against his wall, tears running down his face with another bottle of whiskey by his side. he wasn't moving, wasn't blinking. just crying.

you slowly approached him, sitting in front of him. you took the bottle, placing it under his bed, out of sight. " can i.. hold your hand?" you asked, looking at his blank face. when he gave you a soft hum, you reached for his hand, cupping it in both of yours. he felt his breathing go from fast to slow, his hooded eyes making his way to yours. "i'm here John.. you don't have to be alone anymore.." you said softly, scooting closer.

for the next hour John spent crying into your chest, apologizing for being drunk around you. " I-im sorry for.. for this. I know drunk p-people probably make you feel-" "stop. you have a valid reason. I understand. id actually prefer being around drunk you than my drunk father anyways.." you said, running your hands through his hair. he held your waist, sniffling every now and then. he was finally calm, finally at peace. he felt safe in your arms and despite how embarrassing it was to be the older person seeking out comfort from the younger, he knew the last thing you'd do was judge him.

"are you hungry?" you asked, realizing John had been playing with the hem of your shirt for a bit. he looked up, his eyes scanning your lips before meeting your gaze. a soft smile was painted across your face, your hands still in his hair. "im.. im sorry." he whispered. before you could ask him what he meant, his lips pressed against yours, his hand slipping around the side of your neck. he poked your lips with his tongue, asking for permission. and you embarrassingly fast let him in.

he shifted so he was sitting now, pulling you onto his lap. his tongue roamed your mouth, occasionally sucking your tongue and earning a moan from you. when he finally pulled away, a short string of saliva connected you two. heavy pants and the sound of rain was all that could be heard as you both stared at each other, waiting for whats next. just as you opened your mouth, he spoke.

"i.. I know you think its because im drunk. but I promise you.. ive wanted to do that for so long." he whispered, eyes going back to your wet lips. " I dream of it, even when she was here. I couldnt bring myself to not think about you when I kissed her. when I fucked her. when I laid beside her. I know I sound like a horrible person, and I know what im risking here saying this to you. but.. but I have a feeling you feel the same about me.." he said softly, his hands holding your hips in place, hoping and praying you wouldn't run away, never speaking to him again. but you wouldn't do that. because you cared about him too much. you wanted this to happen as much as he did and you weren't going to let this moment slip away.

your hands cupped his face before leaning in again, John accepting the kiss before your lips even met. it was a slow, passionate kiss. he pulled you closer into him, moaning into the kiss when you'd pull at his bottom lip. his hands slowly snaked up your shirt, now holding your waist. "I need you.." you breathed against his lips, eyes still closed. it was desperate of you. but you didn't care. seeing how badly he wanted you made you want him even more. you didn't care if she walked in and saw the two of you, told your parents, the whole neighborhood. you guys could run away, live in a different state, a different country even. you guys could be happy. and as much as you wanted that, you knew the right now, this was the best you'd get.

he slowly pulled you off his lap, standing up before lifting you up. he laid you gently on the bed, resting between your legs. his lips attached to yours again, his hand finding your covered breast immediately. your whimpered into the kiss, thrusting your hips up to feel his hard on. his other hand found the side of your face, holding it as to keep you close. his lips moved down to your jaw, then your neck. he was careful to not make too many marks, especially ones to high up. you whimpered at his teeth nibbling your skin, his tongue sliding slowly across the mark to ease the pain. " ive wanted this.. for so long." he Sid against your skin, his hands working to pull down the pajama pants you had put on a while back.

he threw them behind him, not caring where they end up. he sat up, looking down at your panties. a large wet spot shone threw, a breathy chuckle eliciting from him. "is this all for me baby?" he asked, his fingertips ghosting over the spot. you nodded quickly, bucking your hips up. " use your words darling." he said again, looking up at you this time, his fingers still ghosting over the same spot. "y-yes.. yes daddy." his face formed a bright smile before looking back down at your panties, fingers slipping under the hem and pulling them down. "daddy huh? dont think ive ever been called that." his fingers ran up your slit and stopping right before your clit. you groaned at the teasing, trying to move your hips to meet his fingers.

"patience baby.. daddy wants to take his time with you." he said, chuckling at your desperation. nothing was funny to you, but you wanted him do bad, you'd be willing to do anything he asked of you in this moment. his fingers continued to tease you until he slid one inside you for just a second, before quickly pulling it back out. he loved how fast your cunt clenched around his finger, the surprised gasp leaving your lips when he slid it in, then out. "you like that?" he whispered, watching how your pussy clenched every time his finger got close to your hold again. "yes please.. please do it again." you begged from beneath him, eyes pleading with his distracted ones.

he smiled to himself, adding two fingers in at once this time and watching them completely disappear. your head pressed firmly against the pillow, your eyes squeezing shut. he moved his fingers in and out slowly, then fast, analyzing which pace got you reacting to his touch more. when he found it, he continued with it, his eyes finally moving up to your face. your beautiful face. he felt like he had fallen in love all over, watching your face twist in pleasure. it scared him most certainly. he'd spent what felt like years and years in a somewhat loveless marriage. seeing you, your beautiful face, kind personality and hearing your beautiful voice made him scared. scared that if he did commit to you, you both would end up like his marriage.

but now, he couldnt worry about that. your moans and whimpers were too much of a distraction for him to think about anything serious. he wanted to focus on now, and thats what he did. "feel good baby? is daddy making this pussy feel good?" he asked above you, body completely hovering over you as he tilted his head to the side, looking down at you. you nodded, opening your eyes and gripping his shoulders. "s-so good~" you whined, nodding your head quickly. " good girl. such a good girl for me aren't you? gonna cum on daddy fingers huh? gonna show daddy how good you feel?" he asked, his thumb quick to find your clit and moving at the same pace your fingers were.

no matter how hard you tried to talk, his fingers were doing magic on your lower region. you felt a knot forming at the pit of your stomach, your moans increasing in pitch. " I-im gonna cum" you cried out, pulling him down into your chest and hugging his shoulders. he grunted in your ear, keeping the same continuous pace, whispering how beautiful you were, how hes gonna claim your pussy. how hes gonna gonna make love to you, rather than just fuck you. his genuine words, surprisingly, made you finish, your cum soaking both him and his bed sheets. he gasped, peeking down at your cunt as his fingers slowed in pace, listening to the squelching noises your pussy made for him.

he sat up, looking down at the mess beneath you both. he hadn't realized it, but his fingers kept moving in and out of you. it was like he was in a spell, a spell from your pussy. " j-john" you finally called out, getting his attention. he smiled and slid his fingers out, sliding them in his mouth. he hummed around them, causing you to hide your face in your hands. he was quick, however, to remove them. "dont hide from me. I want you to see how good you taste." he said before pressing his lips back onto yours. your own taste flooded your mouth, your hands tangling back into his hair.

at the same time, he began to pull his sweats down, his dick springing free, slapping against his lower stomach. the sound made you pull away and look down. to say you were nervous was an understatement. but he was quick to shut down any worries you had. "im gonna go slow with you.. I promise." he said, lifting your head. he gave another small smile down at you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and smiling. it almost slipped from him, but he held back the ' I love you' as he watched you lean into him. his heart was fluttering and he felt like crying all over. happy tears though. because he was truly in love, an the knew that after this, you'd have to go back home. pretend like what happened never happened. at least in front of people. but he didnt want that. he wanted to show the world you were his and he was yours.

he was so deep in thought again, you had wrapped your legs around him to get his attention. "s-sorry. your just so beautiful" he smiled, kissing your forehead before standing from the bed, pulling his sweats and boxers off completely. he was quick to slide back between your legs, his tip hitting your soaked pussy. he looked down, grabbing the base and moving it around your cunt. "shit your fucking drenched honey." he whispered, watching as strings of your wetness rose from you as he lifted his dick away. you whimpered in embarrassment, a bright pink covering your cheeks.

"its sexy." he said, looking into your eyes. he swallowed before looking back down. "like I said, I wanna make love to you. I don't want this to be just us fucking. i.. I see you more than that." he said, his eyes wandering your body nervously before meeting your gaze. you smiled up at him, pulling him closer so your foreheads touched. " then make love to me John." you whispered, looking at him through your lashes.

his lips pressed onto yours, his hands holding onto your hands as he slowly, and carefully, slid into you. it was easy, considering your slick. but it still hurt, the stretching of your walls around his thickness. the moment you let out a pained whimper he stopped, telling you to tell him when you were ready for more. and it did take a while, but he eventually bottomed out inside your cunt, groaning at the warmth and wetness. his head fell into your neck, catching his breath before he tapped your hips. "are you ready for me love?" he asked into your neck, lifting his head to see your face when you answered. when you nodded, giving him a shy 'yes', his hips moved out, slow, and back in, slow.

at first it hurt. yes, you had small flings in college, and you had definitely told him about them before you figured out how in love with him you were. but never had they meant a lot to you. you are drunk for most of them, causing you to regret not waiting for the right guy which, in this case, would be John. you looked up at him, his bottom lip between his teeth as his browns knitted together. he let out soft grunts with every thrust, a breath after a few more. he looked beautiful, so handsome.

" darling s-stop looking up at me before i.. I finish too soon." he breathed out, looking into your eyes finally. you blushed and looked down to where your bodies connected. the sight alone made you clench around him, a whimper slipping past you. your hands found his neck, your eyes squeezing shut. his thrusts remained pretty slow, causing you to buck your hips up. "faster.. please." you whispered, opening your eyes to see his already on you. "anything for my princess." he responded, kissing your forehead as his thrusts picked up in pace. he wasn't going super fast, but he was going at a decent speed.

whimpers slipped past you with each thrust of his, your head falling back into the pillow. his name, and a few daddy's, slipped past your lips every so often, encouraging him to keep going. " f-fuck princess you're.. you're so tight" he groaned, his breathing picking up in pace. his grunts slowly turned into moans and you had assumed he was close. he took one leg and wrapped it around his waist, allowing deeper access into your cunt. his tip every so slightly hit your cervix, emitting more moans from you.

you hadn't realized it at first, but your nails dug into his back, leaving both crescent marks and scratches. and he fucking loved it. it was your way of marking his body, what was yours. he wanted more. " fuck baby.. mark me. I-im all yours~" he moaned, his head dropping into your chest as his thrusts began to become a bit more fast. he was certainly close, and you were too. " John im gonna cum" you moaned, leg tightening around his waist.

his breathing grew rapid, his head raising to look down at you with hooded eyes. his hands gripped the side of your neck, his other around your hip. he felt his dick pulse inside you, scared of cumming inside you, but also hoping you'd let him. "inside me.. please" you whimpered out, sensing his worry. he gave out a quiet whimper, his eyes squeezing shut.

it was perfect, your bodied moving together. and what made it even more perfect was the fact you both were going to cum, together. it was beyond romantic and made the feelings between you both even stronger. he opened his eyes, feeling as though he couldnt hold back any longer. he didnt know what had came over him, if it was your pussy, the alcohol, or just his emotions, but he couldnt stop the words from flowing out.

" fuck princess I-im cumming- fuck I love you.. oh I fucking..love. you!" he groaned, the last few words accompanied with a powerful thrust. his cum shot into you, a loud groan and a gasp escaping him. his grip on you tightened, his eyes watching as your cum shot out of you as well, mixing with his.

his eyes fluttered closed, his body falling onto you. you looked up at the ceiling, breathing hard as you just recalled what he had admitted to you. 'he loves me..?' you though, your chest feeling heavy, but a good heavy.

he eventually rose up, swallowing as he looked down at you. "I-im sorry im probably still drunk I didnt mean-" your lips slammed against his, discontinuing the sentence he had planned. " I love you to John." you said against his lips. you felt the smile spread across his lips as he moved back down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him.

the rest of the night you both spent cuddling, watching tiktoks on your phone. when you eventually dozed off, he placed your phone on the charger, went to use the bathroom one last time before coming back next to you. he pulled you into his chest, spooning you. he kissed your bare shoulders, whispering 'I love you' after each peck. he was happy. he didnt worry too badly about what could happen. he was happy now. and he wanted to stay that way forever.

| aghhh after serious writers block I give you guys this. this was a lot more cute than my other ones so I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did |

#call of duty x reader #call of duty fan fiction #cod x reader #cod #captain price smut #captain price #john price smut #captain john price

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mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

Purity Weeps

Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You don’t talk about home very often and Tara finds out why.

Warnings: violence, gore, murder, domestic abuse, manipulation, tara is a terrible person, bad parents, repeated words and phrases

Word count: 7.7k (god...)

Notes: this is a request, i changed it up a bit so it could fit with the first part but the general gist is there. i also wrote like half of this with food poisoning so sorry in advance...

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

One thing Tara noticed about you was that you never talked about home.

You had no problem talking about yourself—your various likes and dislikes were something Tara had memorized within weeks of your arrival to Woodsboro—but you never talked about your family.

She only knew the most basic details. You lived with your parents. You had no siblings despite your longing for one. Your house was exactly six and a half blocks away from hers. And recently, you told her that your parents were getting divorced, something you seemed almost relieved about.

That was it. Even her knowledge about your parents was equivocal.

Your mother she’d met a handful of times when she picked you up from school before Tara designated herself your personal chauffeur. A polite woman, if a bit aloof. Never quite meeting Tara’s eyes when she talked, but she liked her well enough.

Your father, on the other hand, remained an enigma to her.

The only time she’d ever seen him was on your first day off school when he dropped you off. In the time since, he hadn’t been present for any school events with you and your mother. Not even a picture. He remained but a silhouette in her memory, and that made the situation all the eerier to her.

And you barely spoke a word about him either, only bringing him up when it was getting late, and you wanted Tara to take you home.

“My dad wants me home by eight,” you’d say and when Tara hesitated, wanting more time alone with you, you would follow it up with a quiet, “Please, Tara, I can’t be late.”

No matter how Tara felt about you having to leave, the tremble in your voice would have her grabbing her keys within seconds.

She always saw the way you shuffled in your seat when you were cutting it just a bit too close, sending anxious glances toward the clock.

There were even times, back when Tara wasn’t taking the situation quite as seriously as she should have been, when you would get out of the car without a goodbye, practically running into your house.

It angered Tara initially, that you had such strict rules being placed on you that were visibly afraid to break them, but with time that anger gave way to concern.

Your overly timid mannerisms when she brought up your family, the tight leash your father had on you, the anxiousness on display when you tugged a little too hard on that leash—it all painted a rather grim picture.

Her concern hit its peak when, after being together for a few months and friends for even longer, Tara realized that she had never been inside your house. She had seen the outside of it countless times when she picked you up and dropped you off throughout the week, but she had never seen the interior.

Why that specific revelation unsettled her so much, she wasn’t sure but it stuck with her.

Tara was used to being able to see her enemies. Amber, Daniel, Rowan, and Jason were all people she knew, people she saw eyeing you in a way they shouldn’t have been, touching you when you weren’t theirs.

Your father was something different. A man she had never once met or seen. Someone she was almost sure was hurting you in some way but without proof, she wasn’t able to confidently act.

This wasn’t a problem she could just stab to death. At least, not without having potentially catastrophic effects on you and your mental health.

So she was going to try something different. She began making plans but every idea she came up with ended up being scrapped. Nothing she came up with felt right.

Tara did not at all care for rules and boundaries. Made up guidelines that served no purpose other than to irritate her. Imaginary lines in the sand that were made to be crossed. She permanently left those behind the moment she donned the Ghostface mase. But when it came to you, she took them very seriously.

The thought of breaking your heart and trust is what made her once again adhere to the made-up rules, what kept her feet firmly planted on the right side of the line in the sand.

It’s what kept her from breaking into your house and surveilling you and your family. What held her back from slitting the elusive man’s throat with no remorse. She couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you or driving you away from her.

But the idea of doing nothing didn’t sit well with her either.

Other, non-violent plans took form. She tried to be more direct, asking you about your father, what he was like, how close the two of you were.

You didn’t shy away from her questions but the answers you gave were always vague. Just enough to qualify as an answer, but not enough to give Tara any real information to work with.

When she realized she wasn’t getting results, she pivoted and decided to put more emphasis on being supportive. Reiterating how she would always be there for you and that if needed, you could tell her anything.

But no matter what she did, the curfew never budged and your avoidant attitude about your home life never changed. It was starting to get to Tara.

She wanted to believe that you trusted her enough to tell her if something was going on at home. But at the same time, if her suspicions were correct, there was much more to it than simply trust.

Sam would likely tell her to call the police, and that might be an option Tara considered if she had a modicum of trust in the Woodsboro police force to handle the situation correctly. But she didn’t. Law enforcement in Woodsboro had become a joke ever since Dewey stepped down as sheriff.

And she knew that if this situation didn’t get handled correctly, then whatever possible abuse you were enduring would get worse in the aftermath.

For the first time in her life, Tara was stuck. She had no idea what to do.

She was frozen in place, stuck in an endless loop of watching and waiting. Watching and waiting. Watching and waiting.

It was maddening.

Part of her, Ghostface she supposed, wanted to just gut him and get it over with. Like she’d done to everyone else that had been in this position. But if she was wrong,

So she was stuck. Suspended in time and space, unable to do anything but her set routine.

Watch and wait.

Until something, or someone, broke the cycle.

Today wasn’t a great day for Tara.

It started it off well enough. You stayed glued to her side all day, your attention completely on her just as she liked it. She didn’t catch anyone staring at you or trying to talk to you.

Hell, not even Wes tried to bug you throughout the day like he usually did.

It really was going so well.

But then at the last second, you canceled your usual Friday movie date with Tara, citing an urgent family issue. She had driven you home after school without complaint because she knew it wasn’t your fault, and you looked just as upset about it as she did, but she was still bitter.

She needed her time alone with you. You were an addiction that she could hardly keep at bay. Withdrawal symptoms began to set in before you were even gone.

Those symptoms were raging within her now, hours later. It was somewhere around midnight. Sam left only a few hours prior because she liked working night shifts for some reason, so Tara took the opportunity to have another Stab marathon.

She was about halfway through Stab 2 and debating whether or not to just call it a night. It wasn’t like she wasn’t enjoying it—Stab movies never got old to Tara, but the fact that you were supposed to be there with her taunted her, sucking the excitement out of her.

At some point near the third act, she allowed her thoughts to stay on you, disregarding the film entirely.

Lately, she hadn’t been able to spend too much time alone with you after school. The newly finalized divorce was your ongoing reasoning. Your father was moving out and you were helping him pack his things.

You seemed both relieved and conflicted but Tara, of course, was overjoyed about this development. The cycle she was in was being broken without her needing to intervene. Soon, both you and her would be free of this.

And once he was gone, you could spend as much time with Tara as you wanted. That was something she needed to constantly remind herself of when you canceled plans because she missed you.

Hopefully whatever issues you were dealing with (having something to do with your father, no doubt) didn’t take all weekend.

If it did, this would be one of the first weekends you spent without her since Amber’s untimely death. And if she missed you now, she couldn’t imagine how much worse it would get over the coming days.

Her rambling thoughts were interrupted by your familiar ringtone.

She hurried to pick up her phone. Maybe she had caught a break. Maybe your family issue wasn’t urgent after all.

She brought the phone up to her ear and answered with her usual, “Hey, baby.”

But instead of being greeted by your sweet “hellos” or melodic laughter, she was met with what sounded like frantic sobbing.

Immediately, Tara was on her feet, searching for her keys while she tried to figure out what was happening.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?!”

You tried to blubber out an answer, but it wasn’t anything she could remotely begin to decipher. Snatching her keys off the kitchen counter, she tried to ask again. “Take a deep breath. Can you repeat that for me?”

She heard you take in and release a shaky breath. “T-Tara, I…i-it’s my dad, he’s…” More cries echoed from the phone speakers, urging Tara to move faster. “Please, I don’t-I didn’t mean to.”

That set off alarm bells in Tara’s head. What did you mean?

“Just stay on the phone with me, ok? Don’t hang up. I’m on my way,” she hurried out as she stepped into her shoes, not even bothering to tie the laces. She was out the door and in the car in seconds, her raw panic nearly driving her to hysteria.

The call dropped as she backed out of her driveway, cutting you off mid-sentence. Tara’s heart stopped and only restarted when she noticed that her phone was dead. She took her own advice and took a deep breath.

She needed to get to you. Now.

Tara made it to your house in record time. She left her keys in the ignition, barely remembering to close the car door before she was running up to the door, grabbing the spare key she knew your mother kept under the potted plant by the doormat, and unlocking it.

The moment she stepped inside she froze.

Whatever she was expecting paled in the face of what she was met with on the other side of your door.

A man, presumably your father, lay limp on the floor. The back of his skull was caved in against the edge of the glass coffee table in front of the couch, staining the table and the carpet beneath it an achingly familiar shade of crimson.

After getting over the shock, Tara’s eyes were drawn to you standing a few feet away, looking unsteady on your feet.

Shamefully, her first thought was how amazing you looked with someone else’s blood on you. A depraved part of her was excited by the sight.

But that excitement was quickly drowned out by her concern at your state. To put it simply, you looked forlorn. Tears cascaded down your face in seemingly endless waves. Your eyes were flitting between your father’s body and your blood-stained hands, breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. You were shaking so vigorously that Tara was afraid your legs would give out, finally prompting her to move.

Slowly, Tara stepped inside and softly closed the door behind her. The sound of it, though quiet, still made you flinch. Your head turned, and once your eyes met hers, she saw some awareness creep back in.

“T-Tara,” you sputtered. She smiled sweetly and cautiously approached you, putting her body between you and your father’s corpse.

From this close, she could see the beginnings of large bruises blooming across your neck and upon closer inspection, she saw how heavily the outlines of the darkening marks resembled fingers.

Red clouded Tara’s vision. The familiar burn of her rage rose within her, but she forced her voice to be soft and soothing. The last thing you needed right now was her anger.

“Hi, sweetheart. Can you tell me what happened?”

“He-he tried to…” Your words broke off into choked sobs. But you didn’t need to finish. The bruises on your neck told her everything she needed to know.

“He-I wanted him off. So I pushed him and h-he…He tripped and…” You trailed off, eyes refocusing on the body over her shoulder. She saw the anguish rising and put a stop to it.

“Hey, no. Don’t look at that.” She brought you into her arms, guiding your face to her neck. You nestled into her instantly, clutching onto her like a lifeline as you wept once more. The blood on your hands was staining her shirt, something she took note of while she wrapped her arms around you.

Tara held you close, softly running one hand up and down your back while the other held your head. On the outside, she made sure she appeared calm and comforting, but on the inside, she was anything but.

Pure, unadulterated fury surged through her. Usually, Tara loved being proven right, loved the satisfaction and vindication that came with it. But this time she could feel nothing but malignancy because he tried to strangle you.

And the fact that you had to be the one to kill him deeply infuriated her.

A death at the hands of an angel was far, far better than he ever deserved.

She wished his heart would somehow restart, just so she could have the pleasure of making his last breath as painful as it should have been.

Better yet, she wished she could have gotten to him before he laid his hands on you.

Tara allowed herself, briefly, to daydream about what she would’ve done. A man like that didn’t even deserve the time it took to plan an intricate murder, so she would have kept it simple. Slow, excruciating exsanguination. Death by a thousand torturously shallow cuts as she forced him to keep his eyes open, so the tears could flow unimpeded. So she could watch the life slowly drain from his eyes.

So she could see the terror on his face when, instead of an angel, he spent his last fleeting moments staring into the eyes of the devil.

Your voice broke her out of her fantasies.

“What am I gonna do, Tara?” you sobbed into her neck. “I-I…he’s dead. And I did that.”

Tara hugged you closer and let you cry for a few minutes. It was painful to listen to, but she needed to put her focus on formulating a plan. Plus, it was probably good for you to let it out anyways.

While you wept, Tara took stock of the situation.

There was one body. Cause of death was a fatal head wound which meant there was lots of blood to clean. Luckily, you had a carpet to soak it up. A quick glance told her that nothing else appeared to have any blood splatter, significantly lessening the amount of cleaning she would need to do.

But even with all that in mind, she still had to find a way to get rid of the body. And that would be a tall task to undertake on her own.

There was also the matter of your mother’s whereabouts. Her car was in the driveway. Tara’s car was parked right beside it, so she had to be around here somewhere.

She decided to concentrate on locating her first. Both to make sure she wasn’t informing anyone else about the situation and because, as much as Tara hated to admit it, she would need help with disposing of the body in a timely manner.

Your father could wait a bit. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon anyways.

With her mind made up, Tara gently pulled you back and cradled your face between your hands. “Do you know where your mother is, sweetheart?”

You blinked then looked away, biting your lip in concentration as you thought about the question. A smile pulled at Tara’s lips at the sight. Even now, you managed to be cute. You looked back a moment later, shaking your head shamefully. Tara just gave you an encouraging smile.

“That’s ok. I’ll find her,” she assured, wiping your tears with her thumbs.

You sniffed. “You will?”

“Yeah.” She looked around, eyes landing on the couch. Gently, she brought you to the back of it, guiding you to sit with your back against it. “Wait here for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

A nod, and you were burying your face in your knees, your shoulders starting to shake again. Tara wanted to comfort you but there was work that needed to be done, so she set her mind to the task at hand and began her search.

It didn’t take very long.

She found your mother in the kitchen, only a room over from where you were. The woman was curled into a ball by the stove, blank eyes staring out into space.

Tara’s brows shot up. Had she been there the entire time?

“Hey,” she called out, staying a healthy distance away.

No reaction. Tara sighed, looked at the clock on the stove.

12:17 a.m.

There was no time for this. Tara knelt down before the woman, getting directly in her line of sight. That worked and her gaze slowly drifted to Tara’s.

“Are you hearing me?” she asked.

Her inquiry was met with a languid nod. Good, Tara thought. She decided to ask her most pressing question next.

“Did you call anyone?”

Sluggishly, the woman shook her head. Tara let out a silent sigh of relief. Not having to worry about police made this a bit easier, but getting rid of a body on such short notice was still going to be a challenge.

“You were in here the entire time?” She couldn’t resist asking, needing to know if your own mother just sat by and listened while you were being attacked.

She averted her eyes away from Tara’s, choosing not to respond. But the silence itself was an answer, and not one that Tara liked. Her muscles tensed instinctively, fingers curling into fists, but she forced herself to relax.

After a breath, she asked, “Are you hurt?”

Another silent shake of her head and Tara had enough of this conversation.

“Then you are going to get up and help me help your daughter. Do you understand?” she gritted out, colder than she probably should have been.

For a long moment, your mother said nothing. The silence made Tara’s jaw clench painfully. Eventually, she gave another painstakingly slow nod, but the tension within Tara still remained.

Realistically, she knew your mother wasn’t entirely to blame for this situation, likely being a victim herself, but she had knowingly allowed you to get hurt. And there was no forgiveness for that. Not for Tara.

Still, she needed the woman’s help right now if she wanted everything taken care of in a timely manner, so she relaxed her jaw and scrubbed away the impatience in her tone.

“Good. Stay here, I need to take care of something real quick.”

Tara was striding out of the room before she had the chance to respond. Rounding the couch, she found you again. You had your knees pressed to your chest, mirroring your mother’s position.

With a sweet smile, she crouched down in front of you.

“Hey, I found your mom.”

Your eyes widened. “Is she ok?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” she affirmed, bringing a hand up to your shoulder. “I need you to listen to me carefully, ok?”

“Ok,” you mumbled.

“Go upstairs and take a shower. Put these clothes in a plastic bag and leave the bag in the bathroom. Then you can go lay down in your bed and rest. I’ll come up when I’m finished.”

“What are you gonna do?” You sounded scared, she wanted to alleviate that fear.

“Your mom and I are going to take care of your dad.”

You still looked hesitant. Tara brought her hand up to trace your jaw, stared deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered immediately, making Tara smile.

“Then I need you to do as I say right now. Everything is going to be ok.”

“Promise?” you whispered. Your red eyes and quivering form made for a truly heartbreaking sight. One that Tara hoped she would never have to see again.

With a tender smile, she said, “Yeah, baby, I promise.”

She planted a kiss on your forehead then pulled you to your feet. You lingered for a fleeting moment before following Tara’s orders and heading up to the bathroom. Once Tara heard your footsteps upstairs, she went back to the kitchen.

Your mother was exactly where Tara left her. The smaller girl barely spared her a glance as she spoke.

“Alright, I’m going to need you to gather some things for me.”

Finally, she spoke up for the first time, feeble and low. “You have a…plan?”

At the question, the younger girl paused. She definitely didn’t, but she needed to come up with something, and quickly. She began brainstorming.

She had neither the time nor the tools to try the more elaborate methods of disposal that she’d seen in movies over the years. Things like cutting the body up and hiding the pieces, or melting the body with chemicals were off the table.

So she went with the easiest, least time-consuming plan that came to mind.

Turning, she said, “I need the largest bag you have, a shovel, a sheet, a hat, a bandana, a shirt, a pair of gloves, and your car keys.”

Your mother’s brows raised in disbelief. “My car keys?”

“Yes,” Tara answered, an equal amount of disbelief in her tone. There was no way she was going to potentially get your father’s DNA in her car. She wasn’t stupid. “Do you need me to write all of that down for you?”

She stared at Tara with that disconcerting look again before shaking her head and leaving to gather the items Tara asked for. While she was gone, Tara ventured to the kitchen, searching all of the cabinets until she found plastic wrap.

Returning to the body, Tara lifted your dad’s head off the carpet, careful to get as little blood on her as possible, and began wrapping the plastic around it. Layer after layer of plastic wrap was wound around his head as tightly as Tara could make it, using the entire roll to be safe.

She was just finishing up when your mother returned, the various things Tara requested in her arms. All but the shovel, Tara noticed. A large duffel bag was set down beside her, and Tara glanced up just in time to see her still.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing Tara with a queasy look. Tara’s fist clenched. She hated being interrupted while working.

“I’m wrapping his head so his brains don’t leak out inside of your car,” she explained flatly, shifting briefly to give the woman an annoyed look. “Unless you want that in your trunk?”

She paled, shaking her head vigorously. Her complexion was looking a bit green by the time she regained her train of thought. “The uh, t-the shovel is in the basement.”

Tara blinked. “Then go get it.”

A hurried nod and your mother was practically running to the basement. Tara rolled her eyes.

She took a long look at the bag beside her. It was a bit smaller than she would’ve liked, but it could work with the right positioning.

Taking advantage of your mother’s absence, Tara stripped her bloodied shirt off and shrugged the new one on. It was a simple t-shirt, solid black thankfully with no designs. Perfect for what she was going to be doing.

She dropped the bloodied shirt onto the carpet so it could be disposed of along with it and began unfolding the sheet on the floor next to your father. Very carefully, she rolled him over onto the sheet then did it again and again until he was completely wrapped inside of it like a burrito.

Once he was fully wrapped, she slid the hat over her head, tucking her hair up into it, and tied the bandana over the bottom half of her face.

Just as she was slipping the gloves on, footsteps sounded from the basement stairs and her accomplice appeared at the top of the steps, shovel in hand.

“Put that by the door, I need your help with this,” Tara gestured to the wrapped corpse.

Her eyes widened, noticeably avoiding looking at the body Tara was referring to.

“Y-you want me to help with…that?”

Tara bit back the scathing retort on her tongue and took on a pleading tone instead.

“Yes. Please,” she tried, “I can’t lift him into the bag by myself.”

Conflict flashed in her eyes. She swallowed roughly, still unmoving. Tara was about to give up and try putting him in by herself when she finally moved to where the smaller girl was.

Tara opened the duffel bag, and with some initial struggle, they maneuvered him onto his side, pushing his knees to his chest so he could just fit inside. It was a tighter fit than anticipated but they made it work.

Together, they lifted the bag and walked it to the car, placing it in the trunk alongside the shovel. Tara grabbed your mother’s arm before she could go back inside.

“Listen,” she spoke lowly, “while I’m gone, you’re gonna roll up the carpet and burn it in the firepit out back. Get the clothes from the bathroom and burn them as well. If there’s anything else that got blood or DNA on it, then throw that in too. Understand?”

A timid nod was the only response she got from the woman before she walked back toward the house.

“Oh, and clean the table too,” Tara called out as she reached for her own keys in her pocket and popped the trunk.

She was suddenly very thankful that she kept her platforms in her trunk for… spontaneous occasions.

With a practiced ease, she tied the shoes on and unlocked your mother’s car, quietly slipping into the driver’s seat. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel and she found that her body was more tense than usual.

The next part of the plan relied entirely on luck, something Tara didn’t particularly like. But she had no choice.

Turning the key in the ignition, Tara pulled out of your driveway and began the drive across town.

Woodsboro was a sleepy little town. Very few were out and about after 10 p.m. and even less were out now, well after midnight. But still, she needed to be as careful as possible.

She drove slow, headlights off, taking as many backroads as possible to avoid any cameras and the sightlines of any major streets or apartment buildings in case anyone was awake and watching.

After about twenty minutes of driving, Tara pulled into one of the two cemeteries in Woodsboro. A slow ten-minute circuit around the place told her that there was nothing of use there. It disheartened her a bit, but she couldn’t give up, so she set off to her next destination.

Thankfully, luck seemed to be on her side because a few minutes into her drive around the second cemetery, she found exactly what she was looking for.

A freshly dug grave.

It had been a real gamble. But considering most funerals were held on Saturday’s and it was a Friday night (or early Saturday morning, now), there was a chance she would find one.

Tara quickly got out and opened the trunk. She grabbed the shovel with one hand and the bag with the other, almost falling over as she tried to lift it out of the car.

Very quickly, she gave up trying to carry the duffel bag and settled for pulling it along by the bag strap with both hands.

“Heavy sack of shit,” she mumbled as she dragged the bag across the grass.

She lugged him over, grumbling, and set him down by the hole. Tara noted the dirt piled around the dug out grave. At least she wouldn’t need to worry about making a mess.

When she checked the time before getting out of the car it was already 12:47.

She had to get this done so she could get back to your house. Back to you.

With a sigh, Tara grabbed the shovel, jumped into the grave, and got to work.

Digging was an arduous process. Aside from how taxing it was on the arms, Tara had no real way of knowing how far down she was digging, so she had to just trust her instincts. She only stopped when she confidently estimated she had dug around two feet down.

Getting back out was a challenge even with platforms on to accentuate her height. Being short was a curse, Tara was convinced. But after a few attempts (and a lot of embarrassment) she managed to haul herself out with the shovel in tow.

Once back on her feet, Tara roughly kicked the duffel bag into the hole and started covering it with dirt.

Trying to gauge how much dirt she was putting in while also attempting to make it perfectly even to not arouse suspicion was difficult with the limited moonlight. She could have used her phone flashlight, but she wasn’t trying to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, so she made it work.

By the time she stumbled back to the car, threw the shovel back in the trunk, and collapsed into the driver’s seat, Tara was exhausted.

Her arms ached with a fierceness and she didn’t even want to think about how they would feel when she woke up in the morning. She sighed.

Why did breaking the law have to be so much goddamn work?

A glance at the clock told her it was 1:56 A.M.

You had probably long since finished your shower by now. She pushed her fatigue aside and got back on the road.

The knowledge that you were waiting for her made her want to slam her foot down on the pedal, but she held back. This was the home stretch, getting caught now would potentially ruin everything.

Tara let out a sigh of relief when she pulled into your driveway. She turned the car off and took the shovel out the trunk, the thought of every step bringing her closer to you driving her forward.

As she stepped inside, she set the shovel by the door and instantly spotted your mother, cleaning the blood off the glass table just as Tara asked. She was also pleasantly surprised to see that the carpet that formerly resided under the table was missing.

It seemed that the feeble woman actually was good for something.

“How is she?” Tara asked while taking the hat and bandana off. Silence followed. Tara threw the garments onto the couch and looked to your mother, who had stopped scrubbing to stare at the floor.

Tara blinked. Hard. Her eyebrows shot up.

“Have you not gone to check on her?” She couldn’t bother to keep her incredulousness in check.

Again, the room lapsed into silence as the older woman kept her head down. Tara couldn’t believe what she was hearing—or rather what she was not hearing.

After sitting by while your own father—her ex-husband was trying to kill you, she couldn’t even be bothered to check in on you. “Angry” didn’t even begin to cover how Tara felt at the flagrant display of cowardice.

She couldn’t help but wonder, was this even the first time something like this happened while your mother hid instead of intervening? Was this the first time she refused to look at you because of her own shame or selfishness or both?

Enough was enough, she decided.

“She’s staying with me.”

That got your mother’s attention. She shot to her feet; eyes trained directly on Tara’s for the first time since she stepped back into the house.

“She absolutely isn’t. Why would you think that?”

“I think it’d be better if she’s away from this house for a while,” Tara gritted out, patience running thin.

“There is still a killer on the loose in this town. I won’t let you take my daughter somewhere where I won’t know if she’s safe or not.”

Indignation burned bright and hot in Tara’s veins. Her lips curled into a distorted smile.

“And you think she’ll be safer here? With you?” she spat, enjoying the way your mother’s eyes widened. “You couldn’t even protect her from your own husband, do you really think you could protect her from a vicious murderer?”

The woman blanched and inched back, but Tara didn’t stop, taking a step into her space as she continued.

“Even tonight, as your husband tried to kill her, what did you do? Did you try to stop him? Or did you cower in the kitchen like you were when I came?”

Tara waited for an answer. None came. She persisted.

“That’s right, you did nothing. You didn’t try to stop him; you didn’t try to save your own child. Hell, you didn’t even try to call the police. Your daughter had to call me for help after he died because you were being too useless to even stand up.”

Your mother had gone completely still, a slight tremble setting in. She was close to crumbling, Tara knew. One more solid push should do it. So Tara leaned in real close, eyes dark, voice but a whisper.

“You couldn’t protect her all these years. What makes you think you can now?”

As predicted, that did it. Tara watched her shatter in one swift motion.

Tears pooled and spilled over as all of the blood drained from her face. The tremble in her limbs became a violent shake, sending her to her knees with a gargled whimper.

Tara just stood, watching the display with distaste. Languidly, she knelt down before your mother and caught her teary gaze.

“If anyone asks where your ex-husband is, you tell them that he moved out west and cut contact with you. Use the divorce as an excuse,” she instructed slowly. Eyes darkening further, Tara leaned forward, dropping her voice. “You will not speak a word about what happened here tonight to anyone. Your daughter will be staying with me until she’s able to feel safe in her own home again. Do you understand?”

It was a statement more than it was a question, the finality in her tone leaving no room for argument. There was only one acceptable answer for Tara. And it seemed that she understood that. Lips trembling, she gave Tara a shaky nod, making the smaller girl smile.

Satisfied, Tara stood, intending on collecting you and leaving, but your mother apparently wasn’t finished annoying her.

“P-please, please tell her that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” she gasped out between miserable sobs, weakly grabbing Tara’s hand.

Tara’s lips curled with disgust. Even now, after everything that had happened, your own mother couldn’t give you the apology you deserved to your face.

How pathetic.

Snatching her hand from the woman’s frail grasp, she began making her way upstairs, letting the pitiful cries fade with distance.

Tara entered the upstairs hallway, scanning it quickly. There were four doors that branched from the hall. The one all the way at the end was partially open. She made her way to it, taking a peek inside the bathroom along the way, pleased to see that the bag you presumably left on the floor was indeed gone.

At least your mother was good at following orders.

Pushing the door open wider, she was greeted by the unfamiliar sight of your room. It was a surprisingly sparse room for someone with so much personality. If Tara didn’t know any better, she wouldn’t have even guessed it was yours.

The walls were bare, lacking all the decoration that Tara’s had, and the furniture was more of the same. Plain, brown, and devoid of all the emotion and spirit that she envisioned it having. The only sign of life in the room was on your bed, where you laid unnaturally still.

You rested atop your comforter, your damp hair fanned out on the pillow beneath you, gradually soaking it. But you either didn’t notice or didn’t care, staring resolutely out your window. The bruising on your neck was already darker, a nauseating shade of purple that made Tara’s stomach stir.

She approached quietly, not wanting to startle you in your seemingly fragile state, and sat down on the edge of the bed. You didn’t register the shifting of your bed, so Tara tentatively slipped her hand into yours.

Finally, Tara saw you inhale, and your attention shifted from the outside world to her.

“Tara,” you whispered, voice gravelly, “my dad, w-wha-“

“Don’t worry about him, baby. I took care of everything,” she cooed, stroking her thumb over your cheek.

“Did…you call the police?” you asked. The soft furrow of your brows would be adorable if it weren’t for the worry in your eyes that accompanied it.

Tara shook her head. “No. No police.”

“Wh-“ A harsh cough forced its way from your throat, making Tara wince in sympathy. “What’s gonna happen now?”

The fear in your eyes made her chest ache. To combat it, she put a small, comforting smile on her face. “Actually, that’s what I was coming to tell you. I talked it over with your mom we came to an agreement. You’ll be staying with me for the time being.”

She half expected you to say no, to refuse being uprooted from your home so suddenly. Instead, you asked, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude on you or Sam.”

Tara almost sighed. You had a way of constantly making yourself out to be a burden when you were anything but.

“You could never intrude on us. Sam loves you and so do I. More than you could ever know. If you want to stay, you would be more than welcome,” she paused then posed the question. “Do you want to stay with me?”

She tried to brace herself for whatever you would say but your answer, only one small syllable, was said so fast that she didn’t even have time.

“Please.”

The rush of relief she felt was so powerful it almost knocked the air from her lungs.

Tara went over to your closet and started putting clothes into the overnight bag you used when you stayed with her for the weekend, grabbing your favorites first. The bag wasn’t big enough to fit everything, but it didn’t really matter, she could always come back and pick up more if need be.

Or you could wear her clothes. Tara liked that idea much better.

Once it was as full as she could get it, she turned to you and froze. You were sitting up now, brows drawn together as you stared at nothing.

Concerned, Tara dropped the bag and knelt down in front of you, reaching to cradle one of your hands between hers.

“Hey,” she prompted, voice soft, “what’s going through that head of yours?”

Pursing your lips, you tried to look away, but Tara wasn’t letting you get away that easily. She leaned forward, following your eyes. A sigh was expelled through your nose, voice dropping to a grave whisper.

“Do you think I’m a monster, Tara?”

Tara swore she could feel her heart fracture.

“No,” she asserted, shaking her head. “No, look at me.”

You did. She chose her next words very carefully, trying very hard to steer clear of anything resembling “he deserved it” (even if it was true).

“What you did was an accident,” she started, speaking slowly and clearly. “You didn’t want to hurt him, but he was hurting you and you reacted. You couldn’t have known that he would trip. And if you did know, you probably wouldn’t have done it. Why? Because you’re not a monster. You could never be one, not to me anyways.”

There was a brief silence after her small monologue. You took in her words while she watched you, admired you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. She just smiled, placing a feather-light kiss on your lips.

Tara tried not to dwell on how you would view her if you ever found out about the sins she’s committed without remorse.

She stood on unsteady legs. “Are you ready to leave?”

Thankfully you nodded, seeming just as eager as she was to get the hell out of this house.

She grabbed your bag and escorted you out of the house. Tara didn’t miss the way you barely glanced in your mother’s direction as you passed her.

The ride to her house was silent, as expected. You looked on the verge of either falling asleep or breaking down and nothing Tara could say would change that. Still, she reached over to intertwine your fingers with hers at the first red light.

Sam’s car was in the driveway when Tara pulled in, which made her groan. She was hoping she could at least wait until morning to explain the situation to her sister, that would have given her time to come up with a suitably vague excuse for your indefinite stay.

But her sister surprised her.

She stood from the couch as you both entered and took your shoes off, that irritating look on her face that indicated to Tara that an interrogation was imminent, but the minute she saw you, her mouth clamped shut.

The way her wide eyes trailed over the bruises on your neck didn’t escape Tara’s notice, and she was just about to step up and get defensive when Sam wrapped you in a delicate hug and told you that you could stay as long as you needed to.

Tara was shocked. She didn’t think it would be so easy, but she supposed this fell in line with Sam’s newer personality quirks.

Sam had a recent habit of being… protective of the people she cared for. It annoyed the hell out of Tara but, if it could help her get what she wanted, as it did just now, then she would learn to tolerate it.

So she sent her sister a large, grateful smile and pulled you upstairs, making a mental note to find other ways to take advantage of Sam’s overprotective streak in the future.

Tara debated bringing your things into her room, but she figured you deserved a space of your own that could truly feel like it was yours. She led you to the guest room, conveniently right across the hall from her room, and placed your bag on the edge of the bed.

She paused then, finding herself entirely unsure of what to do next. Part of her wanted to invite you to her room like usual, while the other argued that you may want some space to process what happened earlier.

Discordant words interrupted the beginnings of her internal debate.

“Can I sleep with you?” you rasped, sounding shy despite the fact that you’d shared a bed with her dozens of times before. Tara smiled.

“Of course.” She took your hand in hers again and took you across the hall, gesturing for you to lay down while she changed and put her dirty clothes away. She made another mental note to wash those clothes tomorrow. Just in case.

In the few minutes that took, you were already on the verge of falling asleep when she turned back around.

With a small grin, she laid beside you and opened her arms. The tiny smile you gave her in return was blinding. You burrowed into her and buried your face into Tara’s neck like you always did when you slept together. Tara started carding her hand through your hair, knowing it would lull you off faster.

You were asleep within minutes. She couldn’t blame you, it had been an eventful night, and Tara herself should have been passed out instantly with the amount of physical labor she had done not even a few hours prior, but she just couldn’t shut her eyes.

How could she peacefully sleep knowing what she did to you?

This entire situation was her fault. Her inaction led to this moment, her hesitance to possibly hurt you nearly got you killed.

Her hesitance made you kill. That was devastating.

Tara wasn’t oblivious. She wasn’t so naïve as to think that her ultraviolent impulses were normal. No, there was a reason why she hid her true nature.

Whereas she found killing to be exhilarating—as utterly satisfying as scratching an itch you hadn’t been able to reach—you found it to be tormenting. She saw how stricken you were earlier, heard how terribly you thought of yourself for your actions just earlier in your room.

This would torture you. Would be a burden you carried for a long time. Because of her.

Just the thought was agonizing. The knowledge that she had hurt you, intentionally or not, made her want to drive a knife through her own flesh.

It would never happen, that she would make sure of.

With reinvigorated purpose, Tara pulled a blanket over the both of you and pressed a long, firm kiss to the top of your head. A silent promise to do better. A vow that for as long as she had you, she would never let another soul do you harm.

And the next time she even suspected anyone of laying their hands on you, there would no hesitation and absolutely no mercy.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #ghostface!tara #scream #scream vi #jenna ortega #i still don't know what damn tags to use lmao #shoutout to the mutual that informed me about exsanguination #ur a real one!#hope this isn't too disappointing

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lottiembae · 3 months

Text

𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉; alex dunphy x fem!reader

Summary: in which alex asks her family to be normal when she introduces y/n, her girlfriend, for the first time. they didn't do it.

Warnings: fluff.

Note: English is not my first language.

Alex sighed for the sixth time, her eyes glued on the screen with Y/N's chat open. Haley walked into the kitchen and heard her sister, she could see the stress on Alex's face.

"It's only dinner, Alex. Stop worrying." Haley reassured her, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and walking towards the cushion where her sister is. "She met us before."

"Yeah, don't remind me that." Alex muttered, blocking her phone and throwing it at her lap. "This time is different, Haley. It's the whole family." She pointed out, biting her nails.

Haley grabbed her hand, stopping the damage she is doing on her nails. "Well, if she didn't run away with dad, there's no necessity to worry." She tried to light the mood, sipping from the bottle.

Alex let out a small smile, remembering when her dad said some of his silly jokes and Y/N laughed, then her father leaned on her and said that she needed to keep that girl. Alex knew that there is no necessity to worry, not when Y/N had the approval from her parents and siblings. Claire was sceptical at first, someone dating her daughter or any of her children was difficult for her, but after meeting Y/N, Claire adores her too.

Maybe Alex is being a little paranoid.

"You are right," the brunette murmurs, looking at her old sister and giving a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Haley said smiling. "Well, are you going with that clothes?" Alex rolled her eyes, used to Haley's criticism of her style.

"No, Haley. I will change, but if you want to choose the clothes for me,-" Alex was interrupted by Haley excited squeal, not letting her finish and grabbing her hand, the older sister dragged Alex upstairs. "It's my fault to not explain to her how sarcasm works." Alex muttered to herself.

•••

"Alex! You need to pick up Y/N. Hurry up!" Claire yells from the living room.

"I know. I'm grabbing my keys car!" Alex went there, making Claire frown because she thought her daughter was in her bedroom.

"Let's go then. We will see you in your granddad's house." Her mother said, disappearing in the bathroom momentarily.

Alex scoffed. "You seem more excited to see Y/N than having dinner with the whole family." She mutters, leaning on the frame with a ghost of a smug smirk.

Claire looks at her with a raised eyebrow. Alex rolls her eyes and walks to the front door. "Also, you look beautiful, honey!" Her mother complimented her, coming back to the bathroom.

"Haley picked it up." Alex states, pushing her glasses up and closing the door, going to her car.

She drove towards Y/N's home. They are on vacation, and they would pass a period away from each other. Y/N going to a new job to save some money and Alex doing the same thing, they barely would see that summer.

"You have a dress!" Was the first thing Y/N told Alex when she entered the car.

"Really? Almost two weeks apart and you told me that?" Alex said reproaching while crossing her arm, an indignant look on her face.

Y/N rolls her eyes with a smile. "You look beautiful, Al. I missed you." These words soften Alex's features, the start of a blush creeping on her cheeks.

"You look beautiful too and I missed you." Alex said too, in a low voice. Their arms go down and put her right hand on the gear lever, gazing at her girlfriend. Y/N grabs her face between her hands and pecks her lips, receiving a whine from Alex when she separated. "A proper one." She mutters on her mouth, her hand sneaking behind her back and closing the gap in a tender kiss.

They separated after a few minutes, Alex intertwining her hand with hers and caressing the palm of her hand with her thumb. Y/N peck one more time on her lips and hurry her up.

"You don't seem nervous at all. Usually people feel like that." Alex points out, starting the engine and driving to her granddad's big home.

Y/N snorted. "Yeah, like you with mines." She murmurs, Alex scoffs offended. "It was sweet, baby. Alex Dunphy nervous. I will never see you like that again." She said, chuckling and caressing her arm playfully.

Before Alex could answer and give a long explanation, a call from her phone interrupted the moment. She reads the name on the screen and curses under her breath, Y/N looking at her with a teasing smirk. Since she saw Alex doesn't go to answer the call, Y/N presses the green button, gaining an incredulous look from Alex.

"Hi, Ms Dunphy!" Y/N said cheerfully, her eyes never leaving Alex's indignant face.

"Hello, Y/N! How are you? And I told you to call me Claire, sweetie." Claire greets back. They engaged in a conversation, for Alex's dismay. It worsened when Phil, Alex's dad joined the conversation. "Alex, honey I almost forgot. Can you go at home and bring the cake I made last night? I thought Luke grabbed it."

"Oh, I exist again." Alex annoyed said, gaining a slap by her girlfriend on her arm for that. "Yes, mom. I'm on my way." She said in a monotone voice.

"Thank you, darling. Don't be late!" Claire warned them gently and hung up after Y/N's reply.

"She thinks we would have sex in your home?" Y/N asked curious when Alex parked the car.

Alex made a thinking face before getting out. "Maybe you should get in too. I can show you my bedroom." She said in a suggestive tone, making Y/N laugh.

"Nice try, baby. But the first time we make it in your house, there needs to be people. I like the risk." Y/N held her laugh when saw her girlfriend do a grimace.

"Stay here." Alex lowly said and went to her home, letting behind Y/N laughing for her reaction.

•••

Y/N walked to Alex's side when she got out of the car, the cake in her hands. She perceived Alex was nervous, her demeanor radiated it.

"Are you sure about it?" She asks gently, starting to walk to the front door.

Alex looked at her with a confused face but nodded, her left arm finding comfort on Y/N's waist. "Yes. It's... I don't know. I don't want them to make you feel uncomfortable." She half confesses, stopping a few centimeters away from the front door.

Y/N gives her a reassuring smile. "Baby... What would be more embarrassing than my family picking you over me because I'm not that good at that silly game or calling you to ask you if you still are in love with me?" She saw how Alex relaxed a little, a tiny smile on her lips now.

"They are joking when they ask that." Alex said, kissing her cheek.

"Well, maybe I can joke with them just like you joke with my family." Y/N said, seeing Alex nod and resume the way towards the door. She knocks a few times.

Not passed about five seconds that the door opened and revealed a beaming Claire. "Thank you so much girls! Come in." She said, grabbing the cake from Y/N's hands and giving her a quick hug before going to the kitchen.

"Woah. It's really big." Y/N commented, her eyes scanning the place.

"It is." Alex said, closing the door.

"There she is!" Phil exclaimed, walking towards them and engulfing Y/N in a warm hug. Alex's heart melts a little seeing not only her mother, but her father too to have a soft spot for Y/N.

"Hi, Mr Dunphy! Sorry, Phil. I'm glad to see you again." Y/N happily said, correcting herself when Phil gave her a warning look for calling him Mr Dunphy.

They exchanged a few words before the rest of the family came. Haley and Luke approached Y/N to greet her just like their dad. Then, Alex introduced the rest one by one.

"And he is Jay, my grandad." She finishes, seeing her granddad gift her a smile and hug briefly Y/N. It surprises them a little, usually Jay is not a person who shows love publicly easily. Only Gloria and Stella are the lucky ones.

"Hi, Mr Pritchett. Nice to meet you." She said politely, unaware about the gesture received.

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Call me Jay, do you? What?" He asked when saw the receiving looks from his family. "Excuse them, they are sometimes weird people." He said in a teasing way, making Y/N chuckle softly.

Then, Y/N's eyes illuminated when she saw Stella approaching, going to greet her immediately. Jay makes a cheerful sound, pointing the scene not only at Alex, to Gloria too, who rolled her eyes and called them to go to sit down.

"I don't know why you are so worried. She has the big boy in her pocket." Haley whispered at Alex, seeing Y/N play with Stella.

•••

Alex thought the same when Haley said these words.

She sat down between Y/N and Luke, meanwhile her girlfriend had at her left part at her mother. They all seem very interested in Y/N, making her questions, something that Claire did ten months ago when they met for the first time. Until her mom, who else, started to say embarrassing stories about Alex, making her blush and shutting her up without success. It's not only her mother, they all joined against her for some reason and recalled the very embarrassing moments about her.

"OKAY! I think she knows all of your stories about me! Can we move on, please?" Alex exploded, throwing her napkin on the table and standing up, walking outside.

The whole table stayed quiet for her outburst. Y/N follows her figure until she disappears. An awkward silence installed, and Claire stood up to go where Alex is. However Y/N stood up and asked her if she could go, something Claire nodded for.

She walked slowly towards the pool, where Alex was sitting with her feet on it, playing with the water. She chose to sit down on her lap, Alex hiding her face on her neck immediately, wrapping her arms on her hips.

"I know for you it is embarrassing... But for me it is really cute." Y/N commented softly, playing with her hair.

Alex frowned, raising her head and letting it to centimeters of hers. "How? For me it isn't only embarrassing. It's humiliating. Some of them I felt out of the family." She confesses, some frustrated tears forming on her eyes.

Y/N softens more, grabbing her cheeks with both hands and looking directly into her eyes. "Maybe, but they treasure those moments because you are involved. I don't think they wanted to feel humiliated. I only see pride when they speak about you." She wipes the tears that fell for her cheeks with a smile. "I can't wait to say this type of thing to our children. God, I'm going to embarrass them so much." She said looking dazed, making Alex laugh.

For Alex, every time Y/N spoke about their future and she included her, forming a family, she thinks she could do the same all again if she would meet you every time. She leaned and captured her lips in a sealing kiss, a promise one.

A noise made them separate and look where it came. Y/N smiled but Alex painted an exasperated expression on her face, seeing her dad with a phone directed towards them, the sound was a photo he took of them.

Y/N stood up and tended a hand towards her, who grabbed it and they walked hand in hand. Cam was a little emotional, Mitchell gave them an apologetic smile. Gloria went to hug them both, the rest quickly following.

"Y/N, do you have a sister for Manny? I don't trust anyone for him. He is too good and someone like you is what he deserves." Everyone let out a laugh for it, less Manny who protested for it. Maybe Gloria said it to distract or not, but Alex thanked her with a look. It means the whole family approves of her girlfriend.

"Oh! I have a story," Y/N said when they separated, walking in. They looked at her curiously, Alex confused. "The story about me and Alex meet. It's so funny." She said cheerfully, clapping with her hands and ignoring the whine and the begging look Alex threw at her.

They all cheered, wanting to know everything.

#alex dunphy #alex dunphy x reader #alex dunphy imagine #modern family

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wardenparker · 5 months

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 9

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Family drama (past), revelations, family estrangement, the truth will always come out. Summary: The revelation of your grandfather's identity is not the only secret that will unfurl itself into your life. Notes: This week has just been another shitshow of utter chaos, but it is LOVELY chaos, so I hope you enjoy the chapter my darlings! As always, sorry for any errors I miss. I’m just an exhausted little nerd doing my best 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

"How are you here?" And, more over, how are you real? But one thing at a time. The fuzzy edges of the memory that washed up on the shores of your dreams are still nudging at your waking mind.

He sighs sadly, his eyes shuttering slightly as he reflects on what has brought him back to you. “It was only because of your abuela’s sacrifice, muñequita. It was the only way to lift the spell. She loved you more than anything else on this earth.”

"I don't understand." Whether it's the fog of waking up so suddenly or the confusion of memories and dreams and daydreams all slamming together in your mind, you can't quite tell.

“I am your grandfather.” He tells you with a charming grin. “Some call me ‘The Thief’, since it has been years since anyone but the people in this house have known my name. But you always called me ‘Yayo’.” He bows slightly as he tells you his real name.

“Holy shit.” Max hisses, his eyes wide as he stares at his sire. The pieces are clicking into place, but even he is shocked at how close you really are to the man who had created him, who had saved him when he had been destroyed. How was it possible? A vampire cannot have children, at least that’s what he’s been told.

"But...I made you up." That's the rational half of your brain. The part of you that knows dreams aren't real, that fantasies can't come true through manifestation alone, and that love is a feeling rather than a universal force. But the other half of you? The witch who was born of witches who once conjured fire with nothing more than a thought and bare hands? That part of you knows he's telling the truth. "Didn't I?"

Again, another sigh. A habit he had picked up from his late soulmate. The human-ifcation as she liked to call it. “No. When your mother took you away, banned us from seeing you, the only way I could visit was through your dreams. Apparently the spell she cast had also made you forget about myself and your grandmother.”

Max is tense beside you and you cover his hand with one of yours, squeezing it as if it might reassure him that everything is okay. You can feel that intrinsically even if the logic for how you know that escapes you. "I think..." Like a rapid-fire collage on the inside of your mind, flashing of visits with your grandparents burn to life as very real memories instead of gauzy wisps of dreams. "I—um—" Looking between the two men, realizing that you're in bed and in your pajamas, you look back to Yayo with wide eyes. "You're not a witch, are you?" You ask, needing confirmation more than you actually need to be told. The memories are there in your mind, but they aren't clear.

Chuckling quietly, he shakes his head. “No witch.” He promises, letting his razor-sharp fangs descend from his gums to show off his true nature. “A vampire who was soulmates with a witch, just as my protégé.” His eyes shift to Max. “Now you understand why you were brought back.”

The next puzzle piece clicks into place in your mind and you gasp, looking over to Max with wide eyes. "Are you— I mean— did he?—" You sputter inelegantly, running out of breath all at once as you try to stutter out a coherent question. " Your sire is my...grandfather?"

“I didn’t know.” Max shakes his head in awe, apparently nearly speechless considering he knows that this vampire is older than any other that he knows.

"There is much to say." Yayo's eyes move between you on the bed, coming back to you after a few seconds and holding your gaze. Not in an entrancing way, but with the soft eyes of a doting grandfather. "We can talk anywhere you like, muñequita. But when you were a little girl you were very grouchy before breakfast."

"I should at least get dressed, I guess." For the second morning in a row, you are starting out disoriented and with an unexpected visitor. But this time you're not afraid. Curious? Oh yes. But there is none of that deep, intrinsic fear that there was yesterday.

“Then I shall meet you in the dining room.” Yayo bows and turns to disappear through the door like a ghost, completely silent as he moves.

It's icy cold around you when he sweeps out of the room without a sound, and you turn to Max in wide-eyed confusion. "Um..." you huff, shaking your head. You want to ask how he had possibly gotten in the house, but that seems like a moot point by now. "Good morning?"

“It seems like there is a lot going on.” He snorts slightly, reaching out to you to stroke your arms lightly. “How are you feeling?”

"Weird." The sense of safety that you have with Max is absolute, and you nearly collapse into his side to beg silently for more of his comforting touch. "I dreamt about him again last night. And it was a dream. But it felt so real..."

“I don’t think it was a dream, Queenie.” Max murmurs softly. “I think your grandfather made you relive a memory. He was here, all night.”

"He was here?" When your head pops up again you want to harrumph about having two vampires sit around watching you sleep, but as soon as you think it you think again about how safe that is. And how no one else in the world would probably feel as safe around creatures who drink blood to survive as you do. "Max?" Your head tilts slightly and you find his eyes. "Have you ever known your sire to lie?"

“Never lie.” Max tells you. “Sometimes he doesn’t tell you everything. He’s…enigmatic, but not a liar.”

"I remember my parents fighting," you tell him quietly, pressing a kiss to the tip of Max's shoulder before you push back the blankets to crawl out of bed and find some clean clothes. You're doubly glad that you took a bath last night. It had helped you relax and be sleepy for bed, but now it takes away the need to wash this morning. "That's what I dreamt about. My parents fighting with my grandparents." Right before you disappear around the corner into your dressing room, you turn to look at him with sadness in your eyes. "About me."

“Families sometimes don’t agree.” Max can understand that you are hurt by that. Zipping over to you to wrap his arms around you. “But you can find out why now. And….” He bites his lip. “You have family still.”

"One person." Though you nod against his chest, knowing that he's right as you hug him back. "It was too much to let me know both of them, I guess."

“He said something about a sacrifice.” Max doesn’t want to cloud your opinion before you talk to his sire. “I know that it was Cookie’s choice to stop taking his blood. He did not agree, but he could not stop her.”

"Allison said Cookie...abuela was trying to break some kind of spell. They were working together trying to combine their magic to make it happen but they couldn't." Realizing that you were technically brought here under false pretenses is odd, but you can't find it in yourself to be upset about it. Apparently, this situation is far more complicated than you knew.

“Then we should hear the unfiltered story from his mouth.” Max encourages, giving you a small smile as he reels from the developments of the morning.

"I guess that is what breakfast will be for." Looking at your closet, you look back to Max with determination. "You said your sire was a big deal in the vampire world, right? I should...try to dress up? Dress respectfully?"

“Dress in whatever makes you feel good.” He arches a brow. “This is your grandfather, important vampire or not. Your imaginary friend isn’t so imaginary anymore.”

"What's your favourite color?" It seems like a silly question, but in the face of so much chaos you're looking for an anchor. Something solid to hold onto in the storm. And if that thing is as simple as wearing your soulmate's favorite color, then that's what you're going to do.

Max smirks slightly as he leans against the door frame. “Blood red.” He teases for a second before he shakes his head. “No— actually, yellow is my favorite color.”

"Okay." Yellow...you have a few yellow things somewhere...you can definitely find something, at least. For now you reach up to hug Max as tightly as you can and exhale an unsteady breath. "I'm just going to get dressed and then I'll meet you downstairs?

“Of course, sweetheart.” Max understands that you might need a few moments to yourself. He nods and then disappears out of the doorway to dress himself and go down to the dining room.

The photograph of you and your mother that stares back from your vanity mirror is a tantalizing route back to those memories that still escape you. You find yourself staring at it for longer than you should, tracing the curve of your mother's face and seeing the way that Yayo's curls somehow had ended up on her head. How had you never noticed? Or were those curls just something you found so comforting that it simply hadn't occurred to you not to give them to your imaginary friend? But he isn't imaginary at all. He's so very real. And he is your family.

Sighing, you dig into your dresser until you come out with an amber colored cable knit sweater and a pair of dark brown corduroy pants. The comfortable ones that Derek hated because he said they weren't putting your best foot forward. Fuck that. You've always loved these pants. If comfort is a way to take back power, you are absolutely here for it.

Max is dressed in a flash, downstairs and waiting for you. His eyes fixed on the stairs as he tries not to ask his sire any questions that you might wish to know the answer to while he waits.

As quickly as you can, you head downstairs, only to find both men standing at the bottom of the grand staircase instead of sitting in the dining room as you expected them. "Waiting for me?" You ask, knowing the answer but feeling unduly self-conscious about it all of a sudden.

"I would wait to eternity for you muñequita." He promises, soft affection glowing as he steps forward and offers you his arm. While he understands the modern customs and traditions, he still prefers his way of being. Set in his ways about some things, and the opportunity to touch you is still a delightful experience. "Your breakfast is nearly ready, and I believe the tea service is already on the table."

“Mrs. Taylor is wonderful.” And you’ll never downplay that, especially not now that you realize your housekeeper has been his housekeeper for a very long time. Taking his arm instead of Max’s feels strange only in that you aren’t used to Yayo being solid. In all the thoughts you have of him, he is a figment of your imagination and not much more. Realizing that there is more at stake here is a lot to process.

“She is.” He won’t deny that in the least. “She took care of your mother when she was a child as well.” Since she had been with them for so long, Mrs. Taylor had known the entire history of the family.

“Mom…grew up here?” It’s only a few steps into the dining room, and Yayo pulls out your chair for you before sitting down on your right. Max takes the seat on your left and you note quietly that there are only three places set. Allison and Eddie must have gone back to Allison’s house last night after their date.

Settling beside you, his eyes are focused on you. “This house was built in 1852.” He explains. “When I found out that your grandmother was pregnant with your mother. She gave birth to her in this house.”

“What?” The math doesn’t add up. Not at all. The woman you remember — the woman you have photos of — was maybe in her mid-30s at the oldest. “Mom was…over a hundred and fifty years old?”

“Yes.” He knows it’s nearly impossible to imagine, but it’s true. “Your mother was half vampire, half witch and like me, nearly did not age.”

“Will you…” you sigh softly, and pour yourself a cup of tea with shaky hands. “Will you start at the beginning, Yayo? Please?”

Again, there is a carafe of blood, and he pours himself and Max a cup before he pick up the elegant tea cup and smiles slightly, remembering how he had bought this set for his Cookie. “When I was a young man, I was a thief.” He tells you, wanting you to understand the background of your family line. “The best. I was never caught save for one time.” He flashes a grin. “When I stole from the Devil.”

The Devil. For the moment — and for as unbelievable as the rest of the story seems to already be — you suspend your disbelief and nod. “How long ago was this?” You ask, trying politely to get a handle on exactly how old Yayo is.

"201 B.C." He answers with a small smirk. "I am quite a bit older than most would guess." Even Max's eyes widen dramatically, unaware that his sire was such an ancient vampire. "As punishment for my sin, the Devil decided to make an example of me." He takes a sip of his blood and pauses dramatically. "I was the first of our kind. The undead. The first vampire to walk the earth."

When you glance at Max it’s very clear that your soulmate fully believes the story that is being told, and you would never take Max for easily misled. More over, he knows a hell of a lot more about vampires than you do. So you sip your tea in contemplative silence for a long moment before sitting back in your chair again. “And you met Ms. Brown—Cookie—that is…abuela…in the 18th century?” The timeline here is mind boggling, but you’re trying your best here. To understand it all. To believe it.

“Part of my punishment was that I would walk without my soulmate for over a thousand years.” He snorts elegantly. “Apparently a few hundred extra years is no matter to the Devil.”

“And abuela was born a witch?” The genetic differences between witches and humans had dwindled over time to become very subtle. The powers they manifested were less powerful, too, and you regret now that you never listened more deeply to your father when he tried to tell you about your ancestors. Your mother’s intense desire to live a human life had overruled that sort of talk as you got older.

“Yes.” The proud gleam to the ancient vampire’s eyes reappears and he caresses the edge of the teacup. “Cookie was formidable. A powerful witch. When we met, she had come to the colonies because her own coven had cast her out. Scared of the power she possessed.”

“She was remarkable.” Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway from the pantry with a plate of fixed breakfast for you, as the only warm blooded person at the table, and a bowl each of fruit and raw nuts for the vampires to pick at with their blood. “Good morning, sir. I am glad to see you have decided to leave the tower.”

“So that’s where you’ve been camped out.” Max snorts, smirking at his sire. “Dramatic as always.”

“Is that why Renee looked like she’d seen a ghost when I asked her about the locked room?” You thank Mrs. Taylor softly, as always, and inhale the beautiful scent of the last pieces of quiche from yesterday — one of your favourite leftovers that you had begged her to save — alongside a fresh salad, a few slices of bacon, and a warm croissant. She has outdone herself, as always.

Your grandfather clicks his tongue at Max, slightly annoyed at making it sound dramatic, even though it is. "I had a room next to Cookie's spell room. It was so that I would not bother her, but I could rest easier closer to her." He frowns slightly, still getting used to talking about his beloved in the past tense.

“Max is going to help me turn the teahouse into a little spell cottage.” The urge to be excited and proud for something you’re sharing with your soulmate is overwhelming, simply because after yesterday morning — and so many years before — there was not much to be excited about. And certainly no family to share anything with.

He smiles, a flash of fang and white teeth. No longer hiding them now that he's not just in your subconscious. "That is wonderful, muñequita." He agrees. "Every witch would have her own space. Your mother preferred her room, no other would do, when she would work on her magic."

“Her room was the one with the silver wallpaper, wasn’t it?” Somehow there is no doubt of that in your mind. The powerful feeling of belonging and comfort you had gotten from it when you first walked through the house now makes perfect sense, and you’re glad that you didn’t choose it for yourself. From now on you can go and sit in your mother’s room when you miss her, and that almost brings happy tears to your eyes. Because gods above, you have missed her so much.

"It was." He smiles as he realizes you must have felt a connection to the room. A presence. Since his daughter had passed, he had hoped that the feeling of her spirit - her early spirit - would remain. It and you were all he had left of his beloved child. "The portait hanging above the bed is your mother, nieta. She was twenty when it was painted."

“Abuela kept it close.” It isn’t even a question. You understand completely that that is how it ended up in the bedroom that once belonged to your grandmother and is now yours. “Was it for when she came out? Or…did Mom ever have anyone? Before Dad, I mean?” It’s a delicate topic but an important one, and something pulling at the back of your mind pushes you to ask it now instead of waiting.

“Your mother had a soulmate that she was with.” The memory makes him frown, his brow furrowing slightly.

“She did?” That is startling news, considering she always told you that she didn’t have one. But apparently there are a great many things your mother didn’t tell you.

"It is probably my greatest regret." There is a dramatic sigh for show from the vampire and he sets his tea cup down. "I, like any parent, made mistakes, muñequita." He admits. "Like Cookie and I, we believed that your mother was destined to be mated with a vampire. By the time she had come - which was a miracle - there was a large coven of witches and vampires. Despite my best efforts, there had been tensions between the two groups." He bites his lip. "Our nature, our bloodlust, craves the blood of a witch more than anything else." He reveals. "It's nearly ambrosia to a vampire and because of that, there had been some hard feelings among the covens because of our...less than responsible vampires."

"You believed she was meant to be mated with a vampire even though there were objections to vampire and witches interacting?" It isn't a judgement call, you're just trying to understand. Apparently your little suburban family with typical holiday dinners (and atypical holidays) was far less typical than you thought. "And Mom...didn't want that?"

"Vampire and witches are stronger together." He tells you quietly. "Especially for us. My line. We were the only ones capable of having children. Of creating a lineage." He sighs again. "She was in love with him. Emanuel was a smart, talented young man. Her mother and I were proud when we discovered they had matching marks."

"So what happened, then? Did something happen to him?" It must have, otherwise your father would have been a very different man. And Yayo wouldn't look so terribly sad.

“I made the mistake of changing him.” He murmurs quietly. “I didn’t do it without his permission. He wanted to become a vampire.” It’s almost as if he was imploring you to believe him.

"But you didn't talk to Mom first?" Though it is only a guess, it is a solid one, and you put your fork down for a moment. "It was a long time ago, Yayo. A very long time ago. I'm not judging you. I just want to understand what happened to my family."

“No, I did not talk to your mother.” He had hoped it would be seen as a gesture on Emanuel’s part. His acceptance of the family he had joined. “Unfortunately, your mother’s blood called to him. He tried to drink from her and she—” he winces. “She destroyed her soulmate.”

“Gods.” If you had been holding anything you would have dropped it instantly. Your mother killed her soulmate over bloodlust. That makes you stammer for a moment before all you can do is reach for Max’s hand and try not to shudder at the idea. You know Max would never hurt you. He’s proved that. He’s your port in the storm. “I’m so sorry, Yayo.”

"She blamed me. As she should have." He watches as you reach for Max and it soothes him in a way that he would never be able to explain. Your soulmate is a vampire and yet you are still drawn to him, comforted by him. "I had not yet learned how to bring one of my protégé back, so he was lost to us."

“Thank you for learning.” Your hand tightens around Max’s subtly, fingers flexing and keeping his grip. “For…making sure Max was here for me when I needed him.”

"Of course, muñequita." He nods his head seriously. "You should have met him years before and I cannot fix the past, but I could make sure you would meet him."

“And you have no idea how much that means to me.” He has no idea of what you’ve been through. What has gone on in your life between childhood and now. But at least you can say to his face that you’re grateful.

“I spent many years trying to find the way to fix my mistakes.” He murmurs quietly. “I am afforded the luxury of time, so I decided to put it to good use.”

“They did raise me a witch.” It’s the most reassurance you can give him, since your parents did not give you even a hint of the reality of vampires in the world. They had taught you magic, yes, but you had never had a real talent for spell work. “I’m sorry to ask you all of these things all at once. I just…I guess I don’t understand why we haven’t been in contact since the accident?” Allison had told you something about helping Cookie break a powerful spell, and that that was why she chose to stop drinking Yayo’s blood. But you still don’t quite understand.

“Your mother, while she wished to be human,” he sighs again. “Was a powerful witch. Some of her own talents far surpassing even her mother’s.” He picks up a few of the nuts and rolls them around in his hand. “There is a spell, a protective barrier, that would keep anyone away until the blood price has been paid.” He stares at you solemnly. “Death.”

“She really didn’t want me involved in all of this…” Something which is both stunning and rather appalling to you, considering coming to Newport might truly have saved your life. Who knows what might have happened to you if you had had to live in your car in Tennessee. Knowing that your sweet, steadfast mother was angry enough with her parents to separate you for life is daunting.

“Your mother…” he doesn’t wish to speak ill of the dead, and especially of the daughter that he had loved for centuries and will continue to love until he is destroyed. “Was very much human in the fact that she was not infallible, none of us are.” He doesn’t wish for you to hold a grudge against her, even as he tries to explain things. “I pushed too hard and tried to see you again after that last memory I showed you. That was when she cast the spell.”

“A spell that kept you and abuela away…and made me think that I made you up?” That is a remarkably impressive spell, you will admit it freely. Your mother’s abilities must have been far greater than you could ever have dreamed.

“Yes.” He bites his lip. “It was one that took us a long time to even figure out what she had used and even longer to discover the key to breaking it.” He reaches out and touches your hand. “Your abuela left you a letter, in case these truths ever came to light.”

“I would like to read it. If it’s not too much trouble.” A few of Cookie’s own words might be wonderful, if you’re honest. Though you do already feel the fullness in your mind off memories beginning to resettle now that you realize they are memories and not only your imagination. “It…doesn’t have to do this moment. It will take some time to process all of this.”

“Whenever you feel like it.” He promises, smiling indulgently at you. “I will have them placed in your room for when you are ready.”

“I’m…” There isn’t technically any reason to feel this way, but you still squeeze his cold hand gently. “I’m sorry we were apart so long.”

“Muñequita, do not feel guilty.” He chides softly, aware of that expression on your face. “It is I who am the guilty one. You have suffered for so long because I could not find you. I could not reach you.”

“It isn’t your fault that I was in a bad situation. Or Max’s either.” Acutely aware that Max views himself as responsible for that entire situation because he had been expelled that night, you won’t hear of it for even a second. “It seems like this is a new beginning for all of us.” New, aside from the specter of your ex-boyfriend that now hangs over Newport.

“Though I hear you had a visitor yesterday.” Your grandfather’s youthfully middle aged face drops unhappily and his eyes darken fiercely.

“I—” Mistaking his displeasure for anger directed at you, your eyes stop to the table instantly. “He was not invited,” you defend immediately, not wanting anyone to get in trouble on your account.

He pauses when he realizes that you think he is upset at you. “Yes, this…Derek will be dealt with.” He promises you. “Although I do not understand why you will not let your soulmate kill him.”

“Because I don’t believe that murder is ever the answer. Regardless of the question.” Suffering, pain, death — none of it. You’ve lived several lifetimes of all that hurt and you would be happy to never have another second of it near you.

“Kind and empathetic.” He hums, not displeased with the idea at all. “I will promise you this—” he taps your hand gently. “If he harms you again, nothing on this earth or in hell will protect him from me.” It’s not a threat, it’s a promise. A pact to repay every hurt he has ever bestowed upon you tenfold.

“I will say if I am hurt or not.” That is the bargain you will make. To make your grandfather feel as though the door is open, though you need intend to go through it.

His eyes narrow for a moment in contemplation and he nods. “Agreeable.” He decides.

******

For the rest of your meal, he answers your questions, never shying away from the answers and it surprises Max. His sire has always been elusive at times, and yet, he is very succinct with you. Perhaps it is because of the want to keep you close.

After he leaves you, your grandfather goes back to the tower. The locked room beyond Cookie’s potion room now opened. The mahogany box retrieved from a shelf and his fingers brush over the inlaid gold. The letters are inside. Lovingly preserved for you. His soulmate had taken to writing you at least once a week since deciding that she would sacrifice herself to break what she viewed as a curse. Her thoughts, hopes, memories all immortalized in ink, her familiar script beautiful as he opens the box and lifts a letter to his nose, inhaling the scent of her perfume. “You would have loved her, Cookie.” He murmurs sadly. “She’s stronger than all of us.”

******

The cadence of his footsteps is unfamiliar, and nearly nonexistent, but you know it’s him coming into the library a few minutes after breakfast has ended without ever having to look up. Mrs. Taylor has left menus for you to approve and Max is outside at the teahouse with Mr. Taylor — and Renee is altogether too bright and sunshiny for such a quiet entrance. But when Yayo appears holding a beautifully and intricately carved box in his hands, the arrival is near-silent and solemn.

“I had considered leaving these in your rooms.” He admits quietly, his voice low and soothing like it always is. “But then, I did not know if you would want that.”

“Would you…” you push the tray of menus aside, knowing that Mrs. Taylor won’t object to getting them later today. Not when these letters are so important. “Want to sit with me? While I read some?”

“I would be delighted.” Silently and much faster than Max, he moves over to you with the box.

The letter box is lacquered mahogany, trimmed in gilded dragons done after the Chinese style in what you now know intimately as chinoiserie — a Gilded Age specialty. It’s yet one more thing in this house that someone else would sell for a fortune at auction and instead you cling to it desperately as a connection to your family’s past. The key that he has left resting on top fits neatly into the lock and you open the box with a small smile as you bite your lip in concentration. The box is very old, after all, and delicate. What’s inside, though? Dozens of letters. Some thick and some thin. All stamped with blood red wax and addressed to you. “There’s…so many of them…”

“My late soulmate was a woman who loved to write letters.” He admits, his smile wistful. “There is a trunk of letters she had written to your mother while we were…estranged.” He reveals. “At one point after learning of her death, she had thought to burn them all, but could not.”

“The accident wasn’t easy for anyone,” you admit, glad to see him pull up a chair beside the large library desk with you instead of pacing anxiously or giving you distance. There has been so much distance for so long — all you want now is to keep him close. “I almost withdrew my place in college and just stayed closed up in the house. But I knew they wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“No, they wouldn’t have.” As much as he regrets not being there for you, he admires your courage. You might not think so, but you have been extremely strong-willed through the last ten years.

“And these are…all for me?” It seems incredible to you, that anyone would have spent so much time and effort just thinking of you, but the reality of things has been so different than what you thought they were for your entire life that it bears a sort of…reinspection.

“Yes.” He smiles at the box. “She would sit at her writing desk and talk to me about you. Wondering what you were like, how you were doing.”

“What was your favorite thing to imagine?” There is no way they could have guessed the truth, and that is your comfort. That you hope they never feared for you.

“You used to love to dance.” Your grandfather hums. “We spent hours dancing in your living room when you were small. We used to imagine you dancing. Laughing as you were guided along the dance floor.”

“I stopped for a long time.” You admit, not ashamed of the fact although you’re ashamed of the reason. It’s just what happened. It was your life for many years. “But I’ve started again…because of Max.”

“That’s brilliant.” His eyes sparkle in delight and his lips quirk up in a pleased smile. “You were so happy to learn when you were just a baby.”

“I loved ballet.” The slipper blanket still in your room is proof enough of that, and you smile. “But I do love ballroom more. And Max did danced competitively in college. It’s…honestly so nice to be able to share that with him.”

“It was my rule for the school that all students must take an elective that was creative.” He tells you with a dramatic flip of his hand. “I think it appealed to him because I was teaching the class and your soulmate is a bit of a suck up.”

“So you teach, then?” Ignoring the comment about Max — because you used to be a little bit of a suck up in dance class, too — you leave the letter chest closed and focus on Yayo. “In Romania?”

“That is how I discovered your soulmate, Muñequita.” He hums. “When I saw the birthmark, a mark I would know anywhere, I knew. I knew I had to take him under my wing.”

“I’m so grateful that you did.” If not for Yayo, who knows who Max’s sire would have been? Who knows how you ever would have found him again?

“I made mistakes with him as well.” He can admit that, flashing a fangy smile. “I let him get too arrogant. But he has learned his lesson.”

“According to him, he was already arrogant,” you tell your grandfather. “But he says that his attitude has changed enormously since you brought him back.”

“It has.” He agrees with Max’s assessment of himself completely. “This house, his stay here has been good for him.”

“This house has been good for me, too.” Yesterday morning notwithstanding, of course.

“Of course it has.” To imagine anything else would be unbelievable. “Despite your mother’s ill feelings, I had this house built to be a refuge, a haven, if you will.”

“Mom didn’t like having her hand forced. I didn’t understand it then, but I do as I get older.” It makes you shrug, though, not wanting to start an argument with your grandfather. “But this house has certainly been a haven for me. So thank you.”

“If I could have done things differently, I would have.” He admits quietly. “I would have bitten my tongue and realized my daughter’s dreams for life weren’t mine for her.”

“Regretting and wishing can’t bring them back,” you murmur, voice finding the same tenor as his. “If it could, we would have had my parents back immediately.”

“You are right.” He reaches out and pats your hand. “You are as wise as you are beautiful.”

“I have had a lot of time to think it over. Not as much as you, of course, but…” A slight shrug of your shoulders comes as your hand runs over the box in front of you again. “There is so much I would say to my mother if I could see her again.”

His smile turned mysterious and he hums. “Think of what you would say to her, Muñequita. Never forget it.”

“I wish she could meet Max.” The thought had already occurred to you more than once, and as much as it hurts you also have to believe that she’s watching over you with your father beside her. “I think they would enjoy teasing each other.”

“She had a robust sense of humor.” He chuckles. “Perhaps one day you will know what she thinks.”

“It would be too wonderful for words, I think.” Dwelling on it for too long threatens to drown you in a wave of sadness, and your expression flickers — faltering slightly. “But I can dream.”

Sensing that you might want some space, he pats your hand again and stands. “I think I will go have Mrs. Taylor bring you up a pot of tea while you go through your abuela’s letters.” He decides.

“Thank you, Yayo.” Your hand catches his, squeezing his fingers tight for a moment before letting it go again. “For everything.”

“It is my pleasure and my duty.” He nods and bows slightly before disappearing from sight.

The box in front of you is full to bursting, and when you open the lid it is clear that some letters consist of a single page while some are self-contained novelas. They seem to be stacked in order of writing, but not with any semblance of order in the time between each letter. Selecting the first — a single sheet neatly folded, waxed, and dated — you carefully slip the seal and open the paper.

My Darling Girl— It has been a month and a week since we visited you last, making today your ninth birthday. I hope it is joyful, sweetheart, and that you know how very dearly your grandfather and I love you. When we see you again we will bring your gift and heaps of books, and your grandfather will dance with you until you are too exhausted even to laugh. And it will do my heart so much good to see you both reunited. You are the magic of our hearts, darling, and always will be. But in case this letter is only the first of many you will not see until you are a grown woman, know that we are thinking of you and missing you every day. And that we are so proud of you, no matter what path you choose each day. Happy birthday, darling girl. We love you. Granny Cookie

The heavy vellum paper is quite old, the scrawling, looping handwriting a work of art. Cookie had whimsically decided that your letters would be written with a quill, like she would have before. Making it a labor of love.

There are so many that it seems daunting, and something tells you not to read them in order but that might just be a response to how many there are. You’re still toying with the box, though, when Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway with a tea tray.

“Your grandfather said you might enjoy some tea while you read.” She smiles as she walks inside. “I took the liberty of making Cookie’s favorite tea for you.”

“You’ve known the entire time.” Far from being angry or accusatory, there is awe in your voice. Her loyalty and steadfastness to your grandparents is astonishing.

“I have.” She doesn’t apologize, her smile softening slightly. “It has been hard not to mention your mother, since you look so like her.”

The tea tray she sets down on the desk beside you is sparse, but Mrs. Taylor never brings * only* tea. There is a plate of scones today, with jam and butter. “Did you ever meet me before?” You ask cautiously, unsure if you had ever even been to this house as a child or if the housekeeper had ever traveled with your grandparents. “When I was young?”

“We have met before.” She answers vaguely, a curious twist to her lips. “There was a time we spend quite a bit of time together.”

“I wish I could remember.” It must have been when you were just a baby, considering that first letter from your abuela was at your ninth birthday. “I wish I could remember this house. Or visiting here.”

“A side effect of the spell.” She murmurs quietly. “It’s as if this house never existed to you before now.”

“I knew my mother was powerful, but I guess I never really knew how much.” There were always signs of it growing up, and of course your father has considerable magic as well, but this is a level far beyond what you knew was possible. “But…I never knew she was half-vampire, either. I suppose there was quite a lot they kept from me.”

“Your mother…” she sighs softly, a sound just for you. It had been amazing learning how to do those things again when you don’t need to breathe. It conveys so much. “Always looked at the other side of the field and admired the grass there. Even though her side was perfectly lush.”

“She wanted to explore.” Even as young as you were when she died, you know that. “Explore new experiences and meet new people. The more and the more different, the better.”

“She had been that way for her entire life.” Mrs. Taylor hums, happy that she had never lost her spark. “She was the first of her social circle to wear pants when it was so terribly taboo.”

“I can see her doing that. Being a rabble rouser.” In fact, from alternative choices at bake sales to extra adventures on field trips, your mother was always ready for anything. For a long time, you had wanted to grow up to be just like her. Fearless.

“Despite that, she broke many hearts when her soulmate was found.” She tells you. “She had quite the number of gentleman callers before.”

“Dad always joked that he had to treat Mom like a princess because there would always be another guy who would if he didn’t.” Mostly those jokes had been to encourage you to look for someone who would treat you the same, but you hadn’t really understood that at the time. Now, you think it might be a big part of why your father might have approved of Max. “So I can see that.”

“That is true.” She agrees. “I did not get to know your father well, but he seemed like he was a good man. He loved your mother, that was obvious.”

“He did.” You nod, agreeing with that statement easily. “He loved her more than anything else in the world.”

“Then that is all that matters.” While she’s sure that her soulmate would have been amazing, she’s not lived for as long as she had without knowing that you don’t have to be a soulmate to love someone completely.

“They were wonderful together.” It warns a small, almost wistful sigh from you and you smile. “Completely wonderful.”

******

Max had not meant to leave you alone all day. After breakfast with his sire, he had gone off with Mr. Taylor to look at the Tea House. Looking had turned into doing and half the afternoon was gone before he realized. Strolling into the morning room, he grins when he finds you still reading letters, happy to see you enjoying yourself. Carefully handling the folded and wax sealed paper as if it were precious, because it is to you. “How many secrets did the old bird spill?”

“You’re never going to believe some of the stuff she wrote out for me.” Having moved from the library after tea to the window seat in the morning room, you’ve been basking in the near-sunset while you read uninterrupted. But now that Max is back inside? You shift to one side of the seat and sit up, making room for him to join you. “She wrote down as much as she could stand to, I think. Sometimes just little notes and sometimes pages upon pages.”

Max plops down next to you in a graceless flop that would have looks undignified by anyone else. He makes it look almost elegant in its casualness. “So it’s like a journal….in letters?” He asks curiously, peeking at the script of the one you are holding.

“Kind of.” You nod and shift closer to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne when he puts one arm around you. Since vampires don’t sweat, the only underlying scent is the intensely powerful sunscreen he wears everyday to keep from being affected by the sun. Enchanted, according to him. “Some of these are stories about my mom. Others are talking about powers she suspects I might have had, or would be able to develop. Others are just memories. Sometimes she even wrote down stories about her and Yayo.”

“Really?” His eyes widen and he playfully waggles his brows. “Don’t know if you should be reading those.” He teases.

“They’re not intimate stories.” You pinch Max with two fingers and laugh, feeling lighter this afternoon than you thought you would be able to. “They’re my grandparents.”

“Uhhhh, hate to tell you, babe…” Max grins even wider, happy you are laughing and smiling. “Grandparents fuck.” He snorts. “Otherwise there would be no parents to have the grandkids and make them grandparents.”

“Yes, they do.” The way you roll your eyes is just for show, playing along with his teasing. “But they don’t typically tell those stories to their twelve-year-old granddaughters.” The letter you happen open to be holding is on the thicker side, dated the summer you were twelve. “Usually.”

He snickers and shrugs. “It would be a lot cooler if they did.” He jokes. “Let the g-kids know how hip they were at one time.”

“I think I would have been horrified to hear that when I was twelve,” you tell him honestly. “I was a very innocent kid.”

“Very innocent, huh?” He leans in and kisses your cheek. “We’ll change that, Queenie.”

“I was an innocent kid.” The last word gets emphasis, and you tilt your head to kiss his lips as of that proves some sort of point. “I don’t think what we did the other night counts as innocent in the least.”

“Just a little harmless grinding.” His grin turns positively wicked. “It’ll be less innocent when my ‘no need to breathe’ face is planted in your pussy for hours on end until you can’t take another orgasm.”

It should be abundantly obvious from the shock on your face that you hadn’t yet put that puzzle together, and the heat in your cheeks radiates off you in waves. “Yep…” you manage to swallow finally and half-nod. “That will be…not innocent at all.”

The chuckle he gives is filthy, accompanied by a wink. “So I was thinking about another date tonight.”

"You were?" the suggestion lights you up immediately, although it is tinged with that unfortunate but real paranoia. "Did you have something in mind?"

“I know you love to dance, but I don’t want to be a one trick pony.” Max hums, leaning in against you. “So I thought we could be disgustingly cliché. There’s a pumpkin patch, with a corn maze and a ‘haunted hayride’.” He puts air quotes around the last portion. “They do all the cutesy shit and sell hot chocolate. I thought you would love it.”

“Are you going to protect me from all the jump scares and fake vampires?” It’s your own small brand of teasing, because even though you love horror movies as an adult there is something about jump scares in real life that is less fun and more anxiety-inducing. The one thing you do know, though, deep in your heart? Is that Max will protect you no matter what.

“Absolutely.” Max practically giggles. “Gotta show off so your little pussy throbs at what a strong, manly vamp I am.” He winks to show that he’s teasing, but he would protect you from anything.

“And you can smell it, so I can’t even pretend like it doesn’t affect me.” Which, admittedly, could be slightly embarrassing. But for some reason Max being so in tune with your emotions is a wicked turn on.

“You can pretend it doesn’t affect you at any time.” He hums. “Just because you’re turned on, doesn’t mean you are in the mood, sweetheart.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Although he does have a point, and you appreciate him acknowledging it out loud. “I was thinking more like…it’s harder to play innocent. Since I kind of have an inkling that you might enjoy that sort of thing.”

“Hmmmmm but I like when someone plays hard to get.” He admits with a grin. “Knowing they want me but making me chase is just as thrilling.”

“So this works for you perfectly then, I guess?” It’s one less thing to have on your mind, if he’s telling the truth. And Max has never given you any reason to think he would lie. “You probably love those great big doe eyes some girl have. The innocence and purity of it all.”

“I like your eyes.” He flirts shamelessly. “They are the prettiest I’ve ever gotten lost in.”

“I’m already yours, ya know.” Despite the protest, you absolutely melt in his arms and become a puddle against his chest. “You don’t have to flirt.”

“I want to flirt.” He promises. “Flirting is good for the body, mind and soul.” He announces. “It makes you feel good, makes you feel wanted and it makes you easier to kiss.” He teases, turning his head and kissing your nose.

“In that case?” You could not be more putty-like in his arms if he had been literally kneading your shoulders. “What time do you want to go out tonight? Because hay rides and pumpkins and chilly fall things with you sounds like a dream.”

“Six? Six-thirty?” He asks. “That way we still have plenty of daylight to pick out pumpkins? I know you will want one or two.”

“That’s perfect.” You would probably put a pumpkin or two in every room of the house if you could, but that sounds like a mess waiting to happen. “Do you want to sit with me for a little bit or do you have something you want to do before then?” It’s about a hour and a half away, and there are so many more letters from your grandmother to read. The box seems never ending. It might even be enchanted to hold extra, you can’t tell.

“I’m right here until we change,” he promises. “I’m thinking this will be our casual date. Leggings, boots, for you of course.”

“Maybe we can alternate?” It’s just a small idea, but knowing that he loves to dress up and make a splash and you aren’t typically as well dressed as he is lets you both have moments of fun and moments of relaxation. “Something fancy and something casual?”

“That sounds good to me, Queenie.” He flashes you a grin. “Can’t hurt and it’ll keep you from getting bored.”

“I have a feeling I’ll never be bored with you.” It’s just a feeling, but it’s right in the back of your mind and hovering over your heart, so it’s undeniable.

“It’s because I’m incredible.” He boasts, but it’s all just an act. His thigh is pressed against yours and he looks over at the letters. “Want to read me one? Or is it something you’d rather keep to yourself for now?”

“I think it’s safe to say that my family is your family…since my grandfather is literally your sire and all.” It does sort of call the structure of vampire families into question in your mind, but that is a detail you will ask Yayo about later on. “You can read the next one. That sounds nice.”

“You want me to read it to you?” He asks, brow raised at the thought. “I will.”

“I like your voice,” you admit sheepishly, sinking down in his arms a little in a rush of embarrassment. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Oh no, you aren’t getting out of it now.” He teases, reaching into the box and selecting a letter. “Hmmmm, how does this one look?”

“Perfect.” Every time he shows such amusement or happiness at little compliments from you, you feel that same skip in your heart that you’re starting to think might become a permanent fixture in your life. Max never ceases to surprise you with his affection and it really is wonderful.

“Puuuuurrrrrfect.” He rolls his ‘r’ playfully as he slides a neatly manicured nail under the wax seal and breaks it. Stopping and shuddering before he looks over at you. “Did you feel that?”

“It’s just a little chilly in here.” You explain it away instinctively, not even realizing that a breeze would have no effect on Max whatsoever.

“Sppppooooooky.” He’s playing it up, but there had been a current to the air when he broke the seal on this letter. Clearing his through is purely perfunctory as he opens the stiff paper. “My darling Muñequita,” he begins and says the date.

This is a later letter, something from you were a teenager. Max must have gone deep into the box. You hum happily at that and snuggle into his side like a cat.

“You really are the cleverest witch I have seen in my time. And considering how old I truly am, that is saying something.” He tilts his head and glances up at you before looking back at the letter. “To think that the answer was right in front of us, just a few words difference is simply magical, pardon the pun.”

“Are you sure this one is addressed to me and not my mom?” Though the question is rhetorical, there is also a nugget of truth to it. You haven’t done any sort of remarkable magic in years.

“It says it’s to you.” He huffs, flipping it back over so you can see the way it’s addressed. “Hush.” He blows you a raspberry. “Take the compliments. Now where was I?” He scans the page again. “For centuries, we had just believed that it was a myth, as fanciful as that sounds. Time travel. Who would have believed H.G.Wells was a witch?”

“I’m sorry.” Sitting up ramrod straight in an instant, your eyes go wide. “Did you just say time travel?”

“Are you always this disruptive?” Max teases as he waves the letter at you. “It’s right here. Do you want to read it for yourself?”

“But time travel is impossible!” Managing to snatch the letter from his hand, you settle back in his arms with a furrowed brow and your two front teeth firmly biting down on your lower lip as you reread what he had just read out loud. “Who would have believed H.G. Wells was a witch? Of course, everyone know that magic, alchemy, and science are all the same thing. But not everyone knows how to harness it to emotion. But you are such a clever thing, we ought to have suspected that you would find a way.”

“Sounds like someone did something.” Max intones, his voice playful, but he’s impressed.

“I can’t imagine what. By the time this was written, they hadn’t been allowed to see me in more than six years.” Still, the pull of this particular letter is far too strong, and you turn back to it with curiosity. “It took us an embarrassingly long time to understand it fully, Muñequita, but once we did you cannot imagine how foolish we felt for not seeing it years before.”

“Wow...incredibly intriguing.” Max snorts, impatient as always. “Like- what did you do? I wanna know.”

"I'm disruptive and you're impatient," you tease, but you keep reading. "To know that you managed to visit us from your time is remarkable beyond words. And how clever you were not to let us know, to never have even given us a whiff. You have your Yayo's talent for keeping secrets, darling girl, and we are so proud of the power you have finally come to. We will keep the portrait you so graciously left with us in the house and I will display it proudly for all of my days, telling anyone who asks that my granddaughter has a warm and loving heart and a doting, charming husband."

“Husband?” His own eyes widen slightly and his lips curve into a slow grin. “Something I should know, Queenie?”

“At the moment you know exactly as much as I do.” Your hand is practically shaking with the letter in it, but the slightly smug, pleased grin on his face makes you huff out a laugh. “I have no idea!”

“Wellllllll, now we have a mystery to talk about.” Max chuckles. He knows that you don’t know, but it’s intriguing.

“If I had to guess?” Being the kind of little kid — and sometimes adult — that had dreamt yourself into every possible and impossible kind of situation, you avoid his eyes slightly when you shrug. “If this is true, then you must have been there, too. I wouldn’t call anybody else that, and depending on when we went to, dating doesn’t exist. It’s married or unmarried, and an unmarried woman has a hell of a lot more restrictions on how she can act than a married one.”

“That would be interesting.” He snorts and shrugs. “I promise I won’t demand my husbandly rights if you’re correct.”

“Maybe we’ll actually be married by the time it happens, who knows?” It’s such a ludicrous ides that you can’t really take it seriously in the first place, and you shrug. “Besides, it’s time travel, honey. It’s not true. It can’t be.”

“And vampires don’t exist.” Max reminds you with a grin. “It’s so unbelievable that you would go back in time to visit with your granny when your soulmate doesn’t have a pulse and drinks blood?”

He has, frustratingly, a very good point. So much so that it makes you pause with your mouth already half-open to a pithy reply and shut it again with a furrowed brow. “I guess…” you swallow a deep breath. “If I wear every going to visit anyone…”

“She would be the one to visit.” Max finishes for you. “I wonder when you visit her. Obviously you haven’t yet.”

“After Mom was born.” You can answer that easily, even if your voice is quiet. “Any time when Mom was young. I always wondered what she was like as a young woman…and she never liked to tell stories. I get why, now. How could she rephrase a story about the 1870s to make it sound like modern life?” The idea of seeing your mother again is painful it’s so sweet, and you sniffle quietly, burying your face in your free hand. “I miss her so much.”

“I know you do.” Max hums thoughtfully after a moment. “You can’t have gone to the past when she would remember it, would you? Otherwise, she might have done things differently in life, right?”

“I guess…it would have to have been long enough ago that she wouldn’t have a strong memory of me. Or at least that she would never make the connection.” It feels like such a weird thing to contemplate, but Max is looking down at you so intently that you find yourself just spinning in the idea. Trying to follow the thought all the way through. “And I certainly wouldn’t use my real name. It would be Dolly. Or Queenie.”

“When we time travel, don’t use your real name, got it.” He gives you a thumbs up and snorts playfully. “Can I have a code name too?”

“Sure.” If you do roll your eyes at him it’s all in good fun and teasing. “What do you want your code name to be? James Bond?”

“Bond.” He imitates with an English accent. “James Bond.” He laughs and shakes his head.

He is laughing, which has you giggling, and you shake your head at him in pure amusement. “I genuinely can’t tell if that’s a yes or no,” you tease.

“I would need something way cooler.” He huffs and smirks at you. “Something that is subtly acknowledging my sexual magmatism.”

“Bruno?” Just about anything would be silly, and you can’t resist his smirk anyway. “Should we call you Jean-Claude van Damme?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Romania, not Austria, babe.”

“What would you like to be called?” What he wants is more important than anything, after all. At least, it is to you.

“I was just teasing, sweetheart.” He promises. “Call me Max, I promise it’ll be alright with me.”

"We won't ever need to worry about it." You're certain of that, somehow. Even with the evidence sitting right there in your hand.

“With this discovery, do you still want to go out?” He asks quietly. If you’d rather read more letters, he wouldn’t blame you.

“I think I need some time to adjust to the idea,” you admit, putting the letter down without finishing it. It’s taking up so much space in your mind that you feel as if you might explode. “Maybe I’ll shower before we go out? I know we said tonight is going to be casual but I still want to look nice for you.”

“Go shower, sweetheart.” He encourages you. “Or better yet, go soak in that claw foot tub.”

“Yeah?” It’s a very soothing idea, and you have to agree that it might do you a world of good. All the same, though, you don’t want to be too far from Max. “Are you going to go back out to the tea house?”

“No.” He can sense your unease, and he quickly decides that he will stay nearby. “I’m going to go see if my jeans still fit.” He jokes with a grin. “Haven’t worn them in a long time. No need to, until now.”

“I know you’ll be very handsome in whatever you choose.” It is touching, though, that he is dressing down for you. Because you know that his suits are his suits of armor.

“I know the leather jacket is what you’ll focus on.” He jokes, winking at you.

If you could stop yourself from blurting it out you would have, but your immediate reaction is an unapologetic: “You have a leather jacket?”

His eyes light up when you give yourself away and he nods. “Yep.” He hums, leaning in to you, crowding you slightly. “Black leather.”

“That…” When you swallow it’s slightly embarrassed but interested all the same. “That sounds nice.”

“Does it?” He rubs his hand down your arm. “That’s good. Maybe we’ll see how you look in it tonight when you get cold.”

The thought of being marked as his in any way makes you burn in the most unexpectedly lustful way, and you clear your throat before standing up. “I going to go take a cold bath.”

“You do that, sweetheart.” Max reaches out and pats your hip. “I’ll be here when you get out.” He pauses. “Better yet, I’ll be at your door when you’re ready.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

VW: @haileymorelikestupid, @miraclesabound @nastiasnow @vabeachazn @oberynslady @grogusmum @kittenlittle24 @8-900 @survivingandenduring @ktmadden86 @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sweetnsaltyclussy

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #mysterious inheritance #The Thief #Casillero del Diablo #magic #witch reader

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elcpsstuff · 10 months

Text

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F)

Summary: Y/N couldn’t wait until the days she could return to cousins, but this summer was different. After boundaries were broken and mistakes were made from the summer before, all she wants to do is forget. But when you live with the mistakes you made, how can you not remember?

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, sexual content, swearing, angst and fluff, cancer mentions and treatment.

A/N: First story! Had the inspiration due to tsitp season 2 coming out. Also intense love square warnings and slow burn so be prepared, please enjoy!

—

(THIS STORY UNDER REVISION)

Note to readers: Hi guys! first of all, thank you so much for the love on this story. This was my first ever time writing a full story like this and the fact that you guys love it so much makes me happy inside you have no idea :0 However, after months i’m not very happy with how this story ended up. I had a very different plan when beginning it and the story kind of went off the rails. So, while I appreciate the love on the story it will be re written in some aspects! Some things will stay the same but I feel like this is for the best to fix the plot lines. Thank you! <3

—

I felt the sun burn my face through the window, and I was immediately awoken. I looked around to see Belly and Steven jamming out in the front. I looked to the left of me to see an angry Laurel shaking her head at their screams.

“Ah! Y/N! You’re awake?” Steven says, and I roll my eyes at him. Peering back out the window, I saw the cousins beach sign pop up, and a smile appeared across my face.

“You all know what I said earlier, right?” Laurel looks at all of us, “You need to be better this summer. Last summer was.. it was..” she trailed off and I felt the heat of the car pool into me and suddenly I was rolling the window down.

Summer. It was my favorite thing in the whole world, but, things were different now. I was different.

I’ve been coming to cousins since I was a baby, but it wasn’t always with the Conklin’s. My mom and Susannah grew up together, and often not she would come to cousins with her a lot. Then in college, they met Laurel who eventually married my mom’s brother, John.

I lived right down the street from my cousins during the school year, and then with them in the summer. Steven always used to joke claiming we were the “coolest cousins in cousins.”

Weird right?

Everything was normal until it wasn’t. Until my parents were driving home through a bad storm and there car swerved right into a drunk drivers.

sweetie, it’s your parents.

they got in a car crash, and are in critical condition.

they didn’t make it—

They died this September, and that’s when I moved right next door in with my cousins. Nothing really changed, we were always inseparable but now we just lived together.

Anyways, i told myself now was the time to move on. I grieved all this year and did the bare minimum to pass sophomore year with Belly, but I survived.

“I’m gonna be sick if I sit in this car with Steven driving any longer.” Belly looked back at me with a wink. Our favorite hobby was annoying Steven.

“Better then you, you’ll be dead within a week once you get your license—” He paused, “Actually, make that a day—”

Laurel smacked the back of Stevens seat, “Don’t make jokes about that.” Steven rolled his eyes until he realized what Laurel meant and his face went red.

I smirked, “Yeah Steven, are you wishing death on me?”

“i think death is afraid you, Y/N.”

—

As Steven honked his horn, I felt the cousins breeze pass my face. There was nothing more beautiful than this. Susannah came running out, with Jeremiah not too far behind.

Belly took Jeremiah by surprise, due to her huge glow up. I stood there watching them hug, with a knowing look on my face. Belly’s crush on Jeremiah wasn’t as oblivious as she intended it to be.

Jeremiah put Belly down and looked my way, a smile spreading across his face. “Look at.. you.” My face felt flushed and he ran up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me around.

“Jeremiah! Put me down!” I pleaded, but he kept spinning me until I I felt like throwing up. Asshole.

“You look nice.” He says, once again. I smirk and ruffle his hair a little bit.

Jeremiah puts me down and rushes over to Steven, when a bruiting cloud appears over the house. I look at their silhouette and feel my body tense up.

Conrad. Conrad. Conrad.

My feelings for the eldest fisher brother were obvious, at least to Belly and Susannah. But after everything that happened with my parents, I was different. And besides, I really didn’t want to think about everything that happened last summer. Me and him.

“Y/N, you look beautiful.” Susannah says, pulling me into a hug. I feel her warmth radiate onto me and I embrace it. Susannah was the sun that shined over the house, and the clouds never worried her at all. In fact, she could probably find positive things about the clouds. “How have you been?”

“Fine. I missed you, Susannah.” She smiles and leads us all into the house. The boys grabbed Belly and did their whole Belly flop thing. I just watched from inside the house with Laurel and Susannah.

Being back in cousins was amazing, but something just felt different this year. I mean - things were different. A lot had changed. I felt a hand behind me and turned around to the beautiful blonde women.

“Have you spoken to Conrad yet?” She almost whispers. Damn it. Fuck.

“Umm, maybe?” I basically spat while saying it.

“He misses you, Y/N.” Susannah has a way of saying things that almost made me believe it. Believe anything. Anything but this.

“Please, say hi at least?” She pleads. How could I say no to her? But how could I say hello to him..?

I smiled at her, not wanting to ruin the mood. She walked towards the family room beside Laurel and Belly comes dripping inside.

“Belly! Don’t get me wet!” I yell at her, but with a playful tone.

“Blame the boys, not me.” I looked towards the patio and saw Conrad sitting outside. He looked back at me. Fuck, fuck again. I should make Susannah happy, I have to.

Before I can go outside he turns the corner, and he’s gone.

I sigh and walk out the door and near the pool, maybe If i just wait he’ll come back. Then again, I’ll look totally desperate. Maybe i’ll just go inside again—

“Hi.” I freeze. I turned around to see him standing in front of me with a half smile.

“Hey.” I say. Dry.

“How are you?” He says, and there’s a million things I could say.

“You know, i’m decent. I’m here.” I use my hands to express what I’m trying to say but it just comes out weird.

“Right, that’s good. I’m glad you’re doing better.”

There was an awkward tension wafting in the air and I nodded before rushing back into the house, not daring to look back at him.

—

I really didn’t want to talk about Conrad. Or anything. I was moody because apart of me loved cousins but after being here for a couple of hours I just wanted my parents back.

“He feels different this summer, you know?” She says, flopping onto my bed.

Believe me, I had noticed. I caught him smoking a joint after I abruptly ran away from him. I pretended to know nothing, though.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Really? I thought you would notice, you’re like all crushy about him.”

I laughed, “Crushy is not a word.”

“You get what I mean. Like, did you even say hello to him? Like a normal person?”

I grabbed her by the sides and started tickling her, “Isabel Conklin, since when did you get so mean?” I finally let go after a good minute and we were both breathless on the bed.

“I’ve changed. We both have.” She sat up, bringing me along with her. “I mean, we’re hot now. This is our summer.”

I looked into the nearby mirror and couldn’t help but frown. This was supposed to be our summer, but what was summer without my mom? Without things ever being normal again?

—

“I’m so happy we’re all here.” Susannah said, raising a glass at the dinner table.

We all just nodded and let Susannah talk about all the things she wanted to do this summer, which led her to pull out two cards from her pocket.

“What are those?” Belly says before I can ask.

“I wrangled Belly and Yn an invitation to be a debutante!”

Oh gosh. Susannah handed me and Belly the invites and a harsh breeze passed through the air as I recognized these all too well.

“My mom wanted me to do this. She talked about it earlier this year before—” I stopped myself, but it was too late. Everybody knew.

I could feel Conrad’s eyes on mine. All the memories seeping in. We’re my lungs closing in? That’s what it felt like. Belly smiles.

“That sounds like so much fun!” Steven let out a laugh, but Laurel was not amused.

“Those balls are ridiculous. Yn and Belly are not fit for that at all.”

Belly frowned, “Why?” She was obviously more eager to participate in this than I was.

Susannah offered me a small smile, “At least think about it? It will give you two a chance to meet some new people.”

I looked down at the paper, and even though I didn’t want to, I just couldn’t say no, and maybe it was my mother but I couldn’t.

“I’ll think about it.”

—

A/N: What do you guys think? Sorry this chapter is kinda short and slow, it’s an introduction lol. The next one will be coming out very soon!

#conrad x reader #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #team conrad #team jeremiah #love #summer love #chris briney #gavin casalegno #belly conklin #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp

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shou-jpeg · 8 months

Text

-Back on the Beat-

Part 4. 06

One year later

November 19th, 9:50pm

Kim hits a high note and the crowd goes wild.

He’s sweaty and high on adrenaline, approaching the end of his largest show yet.

It’s only a few hundred people, but it’s also a sold out show, and Kim still feels a little overwhelmed with that knowledge.

Porchay is in the crowd.

He had walked into their apartment five weeks ago and announced to Kim that he was going to celebrate the end of his first year of university by devoting himself wholly to being WiK’s #1 fan; a job he then applied himself to with as much, if not more gusto than he applied himself to studying medicine.

He looks ridiculous right now, dressed head to toe in unofficial, homemade WiK merch. He’s also holding a handmade sign above his head and Kim has to stop himself from smiling like an idiot every time he looks over at him so his fans don’t start rumours.

They'd agreed to keep their relationship on the down-low, for now. Only while Kim builds his audience, since being single sells.

He holds Chay’s gaze throughout the entirety of the song they wrote together and the people around Chay are definitely noticing. Kim isn’t doing a very good job at being subtle, he thinks.

Oh well.

He’s exhausted, but he raises his arms over his head and makes a heart with his fingers to thank his audience as he closes the set. The crowd goes wild once more and Chay is giggling into his hand over something.

He’s so cute.

He’s probably laughing at Kim though, Kim thinks warily.

~~~

A few days later, Chay announces that a photo of Kim from his concert is going viral on twitter and is doing wonders to boost his popularity both nationally and internationally. Something about people thinking he’s cute?

Kim considers how much he can press and the wary way the bodyguards back at the compound look at him when he walks past.

He’s definitely not cute.

Porchay won’t let him see his phone though, and he can't be bothered to check himself.

Whatever. So long as it’s getting him good reviews.

May 23rd, 6:05pm - a few months earlier

“I think Jimbo likes you more than me now.”

Porchay scoffs. “That’s just because I’m the one who feeds him most of the time. You’re always out these days, being all popular and in demand. What will we do when you become proper famous?”

“You don’t like having a popular boyfriend?” Kim pouts, turning to look at Porchay from where he lies on the bed, watching him play with their cat. Porchay only moved in last week, yet he’s taken on being a cat parent like nothing else. Kim has barely even cleaned the litter this past week. It’s been a weird disruption to his daily routine, but it has given him a lot less to worry about with his increasingly erratic schedule.

He released the song they wrote together last month and it hit the national top 10. He’s had three different studios reach out, wanting to sign him.

Kim tries not to think about it too much; it’s too overwhelming, how good he feels about it. The bars he usually performs in are starting to become too small for the crowd that he draws.

He should probably hire a manager.

Porchay looks up at him. “P’Kim as your biggest fan, I could not be more thrilled to be dating my idol. It’s like I’m living inside of a fanfiction.”

Kim hums, hesitant.

“Does that mean we get to live happily ever after?”

It’s way too soon, they’ve only been together six months. Kim was ready to spend his life with Chay from the moment Chay unblocked him, but he’s pretty sure there are rules around these things.

Kim isn’t good at this. Porchay told him so himself… though he was smiling at him fondly when he did.

He’s smiling that same smile at him again now.

“Yeah,” Chay says, soft. “We get to live happily ever after, p’Kim.”

February 10th, 9:28am

“I want to study medicine.”

Porsche looks at him with almost comical surprise, and Porchay tries not to laugh at his expression.

They’re out at their new weekly brunch date together, and Chay has been waiting for the right moment to bring this topic up. He’s spent a lot of time over the past few months, both on his own and with Kim’s help, figuring out what he wants to do with his future. He’s feeling pretty confident in his choice, but he hasn’t even begun looking at universities yet and enrollments are coming up soon.

“I’m not sure what field I want to specialise in yet, but I’ve thought a lot about it and medicine feels like the right direction for me. I should have at least a year of classes before I have to choose my field - I want to feel it out a little and see what feels right for me. I was hoping you could help me look at university courses?”

Porsche puts his fork down and settles back, serious but obviously trying to hold back his glee. “Of course, Chay. We can get you into any university you want.”

“No!” Chay interrupts him, “I want to get in on my own merit. I only want help finding a good course… please…”

Porsche smiles at him, big and wide and happy. “You can do it! Come around here, let’s start now!”

Chay gets up and moves around to join Porsche on his side of the table, bringing his phone with him.

“Okay, so I’ve already been looking at a couple courses. Tell me what you think, hia…”

February 6th, 11:39pm

“What about some sort of doctor?”

Porchay looks up at Kim.

They’ve been going through lists upon lists of career ideas and quizzes and self help guides. It’s been nearly four hours and Porchay really shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was with the seriousness and intensity at which Kim approached the task.

Kim loves solving cases and sorting through things. It’s something Porchay discovered recently, and even though the topics themselves sometimes aren’t so cute, the way Kim gets when he has something to solve in front of him definitely is.

He reaches over to smooth the little furrow between Kim's brows. “What kind of doctor?”

“I don’t know. You said before that you wanted to do something to help people, but didn’t put your own self at risk.” He's right, but it’s also a little left field. All the results from Porchay’s quizzes have pointed him in the direction of something creative, and they haven’t done much research outside of creative careers yet.

Doctor.

Porchay thinks about Porsche and his new, scary job. He thinks about Kim and his tendency to push himself too hard.

He thinks about Khun, and Kinn and all the bodyguards.

Doctor.

Yeah. Something about that feels right.

January 26th, 10:45am

It’s their two month anniversary and Porchay is nearly jumping on his heels as he waits in the lobby of Kim's building. Kim approaches slowly, trying to look cool and not at all as nervous as he feels inside.

Chay has been secretive about today, only telling Kim to keep his schedule completely clear. He's been distracted every time they've seen each other over the past couple of weeks abd Kim has had to put a surprising amount of effort into not trying to suss out what Chay has been planning for them.

An effort that proved even more challenging when Khun's crytic texts began rolling in even couple of days.

Of course it turns out Khun was on the money with everything. As usual.

“You never use it, so I stole it back the other week and made you this.”

November 28th, 10:35am

“I’m a little nervous.” Chay is sitting across from him, boba tea in hand and a light flush to his cheeks.

They’re at their usual boba tea spot, but it’s also their first date.

Kim is feeling the same.

“Mmmm.”

Chay laughs at him lightly. “P’Kim! Are you nervous too? You’ve hardly said anything since we got here.”

Kim takes a moment to consider, looking up from his tea at Chay’s slowly growing smile.

“...mmmm.” Chay laughs loudly enough that a few people around them turn in their direction. Kim smiles.

Success.

THE END

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Playlist

#kimchay #kinnporsche #kim theerapanyakul #porchay pachara #porchay kittisawasd #i want you bach au #i want you bach au part 4 #this epilogue/end thing has been giving me such a hard time #mostly because im sad it's over ):#thank you for reading!#I hope you enjoyed it!#very likely: more to come (but not story. just pieces)

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weirdkpopgirl · 1 year

Text

Starving Yourself | Dream Reaction #6

Reaction: When their gf skips meals

Genre: Angst, slight fluff

Warnings: subtle mention of eating disorders, body image issues, lots of crying (I apologize)

Word Count: 3435k

Author's Note: I've had this subject in the back of my mind for a while now. A few days ago, I just got into it and thankfully finished today. I want to first credit my friend who helped me come up with scenarios for this lol.

Just a little disclaimer, I wanted to say something for those with poor body image. I feel like you hear things like this a lot, and you might read more things like "oh I also struggle too," and "please don't feel bad about yourself." When I was working on this, I did write some of the stories based on experience. So I don't have any right to advise on improving your self-esteem or working to have better eating habits. I'd be a hypocrite if I said those things. All I can say is that I know how what self-hatred is like, and how it can take you down some dark paths.

Please stay strong. I am very sorry for how long this note is 😅

~ ~ ~

MARK

His life was going normally, being a workaholic as always. At the same time, he felt more at ease since he was dating you. The other night, you guys went out on a movie date to see the new Black Panther film. It wasn’t until near the end of the movie that he noticed the popcorn you bought was barely touched. But knowing your slight dislike for greasy foods, Mark didn't think too much about it.

After dropping you off, he returned to his dorm. He was met by the Dream members who appeared to have been waiting for him. They watched quietly as their leader removed his shoes and took his jacket off.

“Hyung?” Jisung asked cautiously.

“Yeah? What’s up?” The Dreamies exchanged looks with each other that he couldn’t quite read. Was it uncertainty?

“I don’t think he knows,” Chenle murmured, causing Mark’s brows to furrow in confusion.

“Know what?”

Chenle glanced at his hyung, and back toward the members beside him. But he was going to tell Mark the truth no matter what.

“That (Y/n) collapsed at her university last week.”

Mark stepped back, clearly shocked by this news. “What? Why?!”

“Apparently she wasn’t eating much,” answered Jaemin.

“She’s your girlfriend. Didn’t you notice something was off?” Haechan’s voice raised slightly. As one of your good friends, the singer couldn’t help but show his irritation. He knew Mark had been so caught up in work recently. But you’ve been struggling for a long time now.

Now in distress, Mark ran a hand through his hair as he searched his memory for anything he might’ve missed. He paused for a moment, remembering the popcorn from earlier. Then he was dashing back out the door, despite it starting to rain.

That was how you heard the sound of your doorbell ringing close to midnight. Luckily you were awake, but you were surprised to see Mark soaking wet. He also looked as if he was about to cry any second.

Despite your befuddlement, you pulled the man inside so he could change into some dry clothes. Mark would bring up to you what the guys told him earlier. At that moment, you began to regret hiding your problems from your boyfriend. You’ve never seen him so worried before.

You spent the rest of the evening—or morning cuddling in bed. Mark kept repeating how much he loved you and apologized for making you feel like you couldn’t come to him. All he sincerely wished for was for you to be happy and healthy. He wasn't going to allow another incident to happen.

✎__________________________________________________________

RENJUN

You had spent nearly an hour getting ready to meet up with Renjun’s parents. Seeing them was the first thing on your list for a weekend trip to your boyfriend’s hometown. It’s been nearly a year since you last met his parents, which made you more nervous than usual.

Renjun’s eyes lit up when you finally came out of the bathroom. He instantly recognized the white blouse with a dark blue floral print and the matching blue skirt you were wearing. It was the outfit he bought you not too long ago.

“Wow, you look so pretty!” He exhaled. There was no hiding how taken away he was with you.

Even though you didn’t agree with his compliment, you thanked him shyly. Renjun noticed something wasn’t quite right pretty fast. The previous times you were about to meet his parents didn’t feel like this. But he couldn’t pinpoint why things felt strange with you.

Deciding to not dwindle on it, you guys left the hotel to meet up with Renjun’s parents at a restaurant. His mother quickly stood up when she spotted you two coming in. While she happily hugged her son, you exchanged greetings with his father.

“It’s so nice to see you again, (Y/n),” Mr. Huang smiled warmly.

You bowed your head politely, “Thank you. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

Mrs. Huang pulled away from her son to get a better look at you. Her eyes filled with slight concern, and she took your hands. “My Dear, you’ve gotten skinnier!”

That's what it was. Renjun now knew what he was wondering about earlier. Preoccupied with carrying on a conversation with his mom and dad, you didn’t notice how he observed you throughout dinner. He waited until you guys came back to your hotel room to confront you.

“(Y/n), are you okay?”

Your body tensed slightly at his question. “Of course I am. What makes you ask that?”

“It’s just—you’ve become so thin lately. Also, you barely ate anything tonight, and you love Chinese food,” He pointed out. “Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

Honestly, you felt like you’ve been playing a game over the past few weeks. Wondering how long you could hide your unhealthy eating habits from Renjun. Of course, it didn’t take him very long.

Your eyes dropped to the floor. “Nothing—I just haven’t been hungry recently.”

“(Y/n)-ah, please don’t lie. You have to eat,” Renjun chastised.

He walked over to your side and lifted your chin with the tips of his fingers. “Now I know why you’ve been so tired lately. If you keep this up, you can faint or something worse might happen.”

“I’m sorry. I guess, I just wanted to look my best for you and your parents,” You admitted, after a short pause.

In return, Renjun pressed his lips against your forehead. “For the record, my parents love you, and so do I. You don’t need to change anything about yourself. Especially if your health is at risk.”

You melted into his touch, and let yourself sink into his embrace. Renjun was always there to reassure you that you were more than enough for him.

✎__________________________________________________________

JENO

Jeno and you were a newer couple, after having met through mutual friends at university. His major was computer programming, while you studied creative writing. So your schedules were different, but you did share one class.

Your boyfriend was the one to convince you to take dance. Honestly, you were a little reluctant at first. But you ended up signing up for the class to spend more time with him. Since Jeno was more athletic, dancing was a lot easier for him. You…not so much. It was still fun, despite the increasing levels of anxiety the class gave you every week.

One afternoon, you met up after both of your classes finished. That’s when he asked to eat lunch together later. Yeah, a typical thing for a just-got-into-a-relationship boyfriend.

You agreed to his sweet offer. But you didn’t think when you jokingly added that it felt weird since you usually ate one meal a day. Jeno turned to you in astonishment.

“Eo? Only once?!”

Confused by his reaction, you slowly nodded. “Yeah…”

He stopped walking and moved his hand to your shoulder.

“(Y/n)-ah, that isn’t healthy,” He lightly scolded.

But you quickly brushed off his concern for your eating habits. You took his hand and dragged him to the school’s dance studio. “It’s not a big deal, Jeno-ssi. We better hurry, class starts soon.”

In spite of Jeno being slightly wary, you seemed to be learning the new dance routine fairly smoothly. That was until you were changing formations and you started to become dizzy. Huffing quietly, you shook your head to dismiss the slow onset of a headache and kept up with the next moves. This feeling was something you were used to whenever you did any intense physical activity.

However, things were different when the room suddenly began to spin. Your legs were the first to give out, shortly after. Wincing, you pressed your knuckles against your forehead. Gasps and words you couldn’t process only irritated you more. Fortunately, Jeno rushed to pick you up off the ground and carried you to the health office.

The nurse checked up on you after getting settled. “Did you eat anything today?” She asked.

Jeno couldn’t hide a scoff when you told the woman you had. He frowned when the nurse advised you to rest. Once she left, Jeno allowed himself to sigh.

“(Y/n), you need to eat more.”

“I-I think I just need rest,” You contradicted him.

The boy crossed his arms in persistence. “How can you rest when you have a headache because you don’t eat three meals a day?”

His tone softened a bit when he realized how fatigued you were. Lecturing wasn’t going to help you in this state. With another sigh, he made his way to the chair you were sitting in.

“Rest for now,” He said gently. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Jeno petted your head and pecked you on the lips before dashing out of the room. You waited anxiously for about 15 minutes before your boyfriend came back with assorted types of kimbap. He must’ve bought some from the nearby stand owned by a halmeoni.

You almost cried when he opened the wrapper and fed you. For the first time, someone showed you that they cared. Though you were both early in the relationship, you couldn’t stop yourself from falling deeper for Lee Jeno. Most likely, love.

✎__________________________________________________________

HAECHAN

Due to upcoming exams, you and Haechan spent your Saturday afternoon in the library preparing. Studying on a weekend may not be an ideal date in Haechan’s opinion. At the same time, he knew how stressed you got when exam season came around. But that didn’t stop him from complaining now and then.

“Aish, I missed breakfast because Jaemin was taking too long,” Haechan groaned.

He pouted when he received no response from you. His salty mood prevented him from getting anything done. On the other hand, you were ultra-focused on finishing up an essay for one of your English classes. However, you snapped out of your zone by Haechan’s hand tapping on the corner of your laptop.

“Are you hungry too? Did you have breakfast?”

Almost instinctively, you replied to his question with a simple “no.” You shook your head when he asked if your roommate was also running late this morning.

“I just forgot,” You said absentmindedly.

He watched your eyes flicker back to the computer screen in front of you. It kind of seemed like you wanted to end the conversation quickly. But you couldn’t escape your boyfriend that easily.

Then he asked, “How do you forget to eat breakfast?”

The cool expression on your face slowly faded, as you stopped to think for a moment. Lately, finals haven't only been your source of stress. This past month was spent traveling back and forth between Seoul and Pohang to take care of your sick mother. On top of that, you were balancing school life and hiding your problems from everyone. You guessed self-neglect was a result of all that.

Haechan noticed your sudden change and instantly became worried when tears formed in your eyes. He proceeded to reach his hand across the table to take yours.

“(Y/n), is everything okay?”

You promptly clasped your opposite hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs. At least you still had half the mind to cry quietly, remembering you were at a library. Usually, you were the last person to have an emotional outburst. But Haechan’s question made you realize how not okay you were.

Fortunately, your boyfriend was quick to act and rushed to your side. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you in a tight embrace that would hopefully calm you down.

A few minutes later, Haechan closed your laptop. “Okay, you’re going to stop thinking about school for the rest of the day.”

“Hyuck…” You wanted to argue, though you knew he was already standing up and packing your things away.

“You can tell me what’s been bothering you over lunch,” He added, “Does jjamppong sound okay?”

Haechan had no idea what was causing you to break down, or why you weren’t taking care of yourself. But getting you to eat was his priority, and he started by recommending your favorite dish.

Since then, he’s become a lot more protective and gone out of his way to take care of you more. Whenever he was down, you were always there to support him. So that’s what he was going to do for you.

✎__________________________________________________________

JAEMIN

The first thing he did after getting out of bed was to look for you. He was a little sulky that you didn’t get to wake up together. Especially since he hasn’t seen you in one month and two weeks. Jaemin loved his job, but he hated how it also brought this distance in between you two. What made him feel worse was how you never complained. Not even this time, when he showed up at your apartment at one a.m. Instead of scolding him for coming over at such a crazy hour or for walking to your place in the cold, you simply led him into your room to get some much-needed sleep.

Luckily, it didn’t take long for Jaemin to find you. He was greeted by one of his favorite aromas when entering the kitchen. And there you were at the counter, carefully pouring a pot of steaming dark liquid into a blue mug. Watching you he realized you had gotten up early to make coffee for him.

As his heart swelled with a dozen emotions, he walked up to stand behind you. Barely startled by his presence, you merely glanced upward to see the tired grin on his face.

“Did you sleep well?” He responded with a delicate kiss on your exposed neck.

His arms circled your waist, gently pulling your back to meet his chest. It was then, did he notice how his girlfriend’s waist was practically nonexistent, or in other words, thin. Thinner than usual and definitely not healthy.

Jaemin’s smile contorted into a look of concern. Slightly pulling away, he turned to you.

“Jagiya, have you been eating well?” His tone was soft, despite his deep voice.

Automatically, you could tell your boyfriend wasn’t speaking in a casual small talk way. Nonetheless, you pretended not to be fazed.

“I’ve been on a diet…” You set the coffee mug down.

He frowned. “What kind, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You cursed in your head, as you hurriedly made up a lie.

“A low-carb diet,” You tried your best to sound assertive.

“A low-carb diet or a no-carb diet?”

You froze in place when you noticed the hint of anger in the last part of his question. Jaemin slowly turned you around to face him. “(Y/n), be honest. Have you been eating well?”

Several seconds of silence passed by, as you couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“No.” There was a catch in your throat, as your lips quivered.

Jaemin brought you back into his embrace when you began to cry. His chin rested on the top of your head, as your tears soaked his shirt. His heart broke at the sound of your sobs. All he could do was press kisses into your hair, and pat your back.

You sniffed, “I just…I just see pictures of us, and I hate how I look when you’re so perfect.”

“(Y/n)-ah…”

“I know it sounds stupid. But I want to be a girlfriend who is also beautiful.”

Jaemin cupped the right side of your face and sighed, “(Y/n)-ah, you’ve always been beautiful to me. You don’t need to lose weight or do anything else to prove that.”

As comforting as his words were, Jaemin knew that it would take more than that to make you feel better. From then on, he didn’t miss a chance to shower you with compliments and affection. He loved you and had no problem making sure you believed that.

✎__________________________________________________________

CHENLE

You were currently on opposite sides of the room. Chenle was watching Instagram videos on his phone, and you were writing the next chapter to a story you started a while ago. This was agreeably considered hanging out with each other. Doing your own thing until someone broke the silence. And this time, it was Chenle.

His stomach growling did not go ignored by him. Naturally, he pulled up a delivery food app. He then paused and looked over to you who was typing away on your computer.

“(Y/n)-ahhh, I’m ordering food. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” You replied, without looking up.

Chenle sat up in his spot on the couch. “Do you want tteokbokki?”

“Um, I’m not in the mood for tteokbokki.” He saw your head shake behind the computer.

“Jokbal?”

“Haechan will be upset if we eat that without him.”

“How about tonkatsu?”

“Eh…”

“Okay, what about-”

Losing concentration, you shut your laptop in frustration. “I’m not hungry! Just order something for yourself.”

“I want to eat with you though,” He whined. You closed your eyes for a moment and sighed before starting to speak again.

“But—”

“No buts. You’re going to come here and help me choose something.”

Just as you opened your mouth to protest, Chenle already decided he had enough. He lifted you from your chair which earned him an “are you crazy?” look. Then he brought you to where he was previously sitting. While doing so, he noticed that you were very light.

“How are you not hungry?” Chenle asked. “Your stomach is practically crying out to me.”

You wrapped your arms around your waist self-consciously. “You’re exaggerating, Chenle.”

Even though you made it sound like not a big deal, Chenle had a feeling there was an underlying problem here. He knew that you had a small appetite, but having no desire to eat was separate. For someone who was such a big foodie, the idea of his girlfriend starving herself worried him.

“We haven’t had a meal together in so long,” Chenle pretended to sulk. “But if you really don’t want to eat, I won’t force you.”

Ugh, you just couldn’t resist the rare look of sadness on the boy’s face. He knew you hated to be guilty.

So with a sigh, you slowly made a new suggestion. “Actually…maybe we can get tteokbokki. Can we just share the bowl?”

As if he wasn’t moping a second ago, Chenle smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “Of course. Anything for you, Cutie.”

✎__________________________________________________________

JISUNG

He sat patiently in the lobby, waiting for you who was at a doctor's appointment. You insisted this was nothing but a normal check-up. But that didn’t stop Jisung from accompanying you. He stood up in slight surprise when you came out earlier than expected.

“(Y/n)-ah! You’re done?” You bobbed your head and grabbed his hand with a small smile.

Jisung noticed you were being quieter than usual during the drive to your place. But he thought you might be tired from a long day of classes before having to visit the doctor’s office. You’d probably feel better when you got back home.

Once you guys arrived, Jisung was left alone when you went to change into more comfortable clothes. As he plopped down on your small couch, his eyes darted to the medical papers you had previously left on the coffee table. Out of habit, Jisung picked up the papers to organize them.

However, your recorded weight on the first page caught him off guard. His eyes widened in horror at the number. He knew you were small, especially compared to his size. But he didn’t think you were underweight to the point that it was dangerous. This must’ve been why you barely said anything earlier.

Tears flooded his eyes in an instant when he saw you walk out of the room. Suddenly confused as to why your boyfriend was crying, your lips parted to ask what was wrong. Then you spotted the slightly crumpled papers in his hands.

“Jisung—I can explain,” You spoke calmly, in an attempt to keep your voice stable.

Jisung looked at you in despair. “Is this why I haven’t seen you eat lately? Or how you don’t want to go shopping together anymore?”

Your confirmed silence made him feel worse. Regardless he rushed up to hug you, engulfing your small frame into his taller figure. The two of you stayed in that position for a long time. Your fingers stroked his back as you also tried to calm him down. You made sure to reassure him that you knew you had a problem and were going to try to build better eating habits. Jisung would offer any support he could give you.

✎__________________________________________________________

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4ln-stay8 · 2 months

Text

Behind closed doors - part II

>summary: Han isn’t too happy to find out what his sister is doing lately

>author’s note: I still don’t know how I feel about it… I also take requests if you have any ideas… I’m also working on some fake texts bits haha …THERE MIGHT BE A PART III

>warning: angst, Han is kind of a dick (Im sorry babygirl) not proof read

>pairing: lee minho x han jisung's sister

Part I

Masterlist

*Y/N'S POV*

It’s been three weeks since your argument with Jisung. Three weeks since you both talked to each other. He didn’t came home after that night due to his busy schedule but he tried and talk to your parents as much as he could. Your mother tried to make you speak to each other but neither of you wanted to reach out first.

On that night your mother asked what happened to her kids after she saw Jisung dropping you off and leave the next second. You told her everything while crying your eyes out and nothing she said could make you stop.

You never thought that your relationship with your brother could fall to the ground all because you fall in love with the wrong man. Don’t get me wrong, you didn’t regret falling for Minho, you didn’t regret anything about him or anything about your relationship with him. Anything besides keeping it a secret from Jisung.

Maybe things would be different if you would’ve told him sooner. Maybe he wouldn’t have hated you so much right now. You were spiralling down the rabbit hole and all you could think of was “what if”.

You barely talked to Minho in the past few weeks, you hated yourself for putting him through this. He had to work and spend every day with his best friend who probably hated him right now, all because of you.

You were way past the whole “it’s not only my fault” part and got straight to the “it’s all my fault” part.

You were miserable to say at least. You hated yourself for being the reason why your brother hated his best friend. You hated yourself for being the reason your brother hated you. You hated yourself for being the reason why your boyfriend was treated poorly by you in those three weeks.

You tried to be a good girlfriend, you tried to be one considering all the bad you’ve caused to him in his other relationships. You tried your best but you just couldn’t look him in the eyes while knowing what he had to go through.

Thats why you asked him to talk, in the small window he actually had. That’s why you showed up at the coffee shop near the JYP building while looking like you were just hit by a meteorite, waiting for your beloved.

- Hi jagi! It’s so nice to see you, I missed you so much! said minho while talking the seat opposite from you - Hi! Uhm…. Can we talk? you asked straight forward not wanting to be there longer than necessary due to barely being able to keep the tears behind your eyes - Uhm sure…. What do you want to talk about? he asked anxiously - I’m so sorry Minho! I’m really sorry about everything. I didn’t want to get between you and Jisung! He is right, I do ruin everything! you said, your voice barely above a whisper with tears running down your face -Wha-what are you saying jagi? he whispered confused but yet expecting the worst

-I ruin a lot of things Minho, but i refuse to ruin your life more than I already did. It's not fair. I'm sorr.y Minho... we're over. you whispered, pain evident in your voice as you got up quickly, running out of the coffee shop

You ran and ran, not stopping until you got home. You ran straight into your room, falling down the wall in the quiet room, the only sound heard being your heart breaking. You gave up on the anger you held against your brother, and with a last text sent to him, you gave up on yourself.

*MINHO'S POV*

He stood there, watching you run away, taking his heart with you. It took him around 15 minutes to actually process the entire thing.

With small robotic movements, he stood up and slowly walked out of the coffee shop, going back to the dance studio where all his friends were.

He walked in the studio and with small steps he went straight in the furthest corner, collapsing on the floor hidinghis face in his knees. He didn't wanted to cry in front of his friends, let alone cry in front of the few staff members that were there at the time.

Chan, being the good leader and the great friend he is, he Minho's appearence in the corner. With a ferm voice he let everyone know that they are free for the rest of the day, saying that they practiced so much lately that they need a break before someone gets hurt.

His voice was so serious that no one dared to question him and everyone just picked their stuff up and left, everyone besides the band members who were still picking up their stuff while messing around.

With small and calculated steps, Chan moved closer to where Minho was sitting, kneeling close to him, putting a hand on his shaking shoulders.

-Everything okay Min? How did the date with Y/N went? he asked softly

-She broke up with me. She said she couldn't ruin my life anymore.... Thats such bullshit Chan. he whispered, slowly raising his face to look at Chan.

The moment Chan saw his teary eyes he pulled him in a big warm hug, trying to comfort his friend.

*HAN'S POV*

Even tho it was weird for Chan to just call it a day mid practice, Jisung never dared to question his leader, looking forward to hiding behind his bedroom door and avoiding Minho with all costs.

He didn't spoke to his hyung almost atall in the past three weeks, only speaking when needes. It was common knowledge that he was avoiding him after the fight they had on the night Han dropped you home.

He stopped talking to you as well, against his mother's protests. He always asked about your condition and about your state whenever he called home. He didn't wanted to be the first to break and to see a message from you left him in complete shock. He opened the message reading it carefully. Honestly he had to read it twice to fully understand the words he was reading, replying vaguely and confused with your words.

His head flew up the next second, looking around chaotically. His eyes immediately landed on Minho who was currently in the arms of their hyung. He found himself walking closely to them.

-Wha-what happend? What did she do? he found himself saying, panick noticeable in his voice

-She ended things. She didn't wanted to ruin our friendship more than she did. whispered minho realising Chan and whiping his tears. Without a warning Minho stood up and stormed out of the dancing studio, all eyes on him. Han never saw Minho like this, so vulnerable and broken and he found himself feeling guilty.

Without saying a word, he took his belongings and ran out the studio, straight to his car. He found himself in front of his home, 20 minutes later.

He walked out of the car and straight inside, walking to the door of your bedroom. He knocked softly without saying a word. When he didn't hear anything form the other side of the door, he slowly opend it, being welcomed with your body still against the wall, looking into nothing.

He slowly walked thowards yoi, tears picking up in his eyes at the sight of his baby sister being so heark broken. And all because of him. He sat slowly beside you looking at a imaginary dot on the opposite wall. -You were right you know? I was indeed being selfish. I just didnțt wanted to have to share you or Minho. He is my best friend and I would hate to know he is the cause of your pain, but instead I was, and I hated myself even more. whispered jisung trying to get your attention

-You were right, I do ruin everything. Im so sorry for all the things I ruined between the two of you. I am the worst sister ever. you whispered

-You didn’t ruin anything y/nnie! I did! I ruin the relationship between you and me, the one between me and Minho hyung and the one between the two of you. I’m really sorry! Please go and fix this! I know I’m too late but I do want you to be happy!

-It doesn’t matter now, he probably hates me! And its ok Ji, I should’ve told you from the start.

-Minho hyung doesn’t hate you! Is he hurt, yeah. But he doesn’t hate you!

-Not so sure about that Jisung ! you said quietly

-My point is, I see now how much you love each other and I would be a terrible person to stand between you. I would be worse than I already am.

-I get where you’re coming from, I do but you’re my brother and your opinion matters the most to me. Seeing you so mad about the idea of me having a crush on Minho broke me. I tried at first to get rid of them but I couldn’t get rid of his feelings and I couldn’t get rid of mine.

-For how long has this been happening? he slowly asks, his voice softens with each word

-We confessed to each other at Changbin’s birthday party. you whispered slowly

-That was like 7 months ago!! he raised his tone surprised

-I know, Im sorry!

-How did it happen?

-We got drunk at the party and after a while we were just making out. The next morning I woke up behind the couch cuddling with him. We were both so embarrassed but he had the balls to confess. I told him that I wanted to wait to tell you until we were sure that it will work. I wanted to tell you, then you asked me about my crush and I tried to hint it but that didn’t get me the reaction I wanted.

-I overreacted a little didn’t I?

-Yeah, but I understand why. You’re not in an easy position. Sneaking aro was easier but it wasn’t fair to you or to Minho. I was just too scared of losing both of you.

-And now you are whiling to lose him. he whispered feeling guilty

-As much as I love him, you’re my brother. My relationship with you is more important than a boy, at least to mom who is constantly begging me to forgive your sorry ass! you said teasingly

-Hey! You’re not the only one she begged!

-I mean it tho, one day we will be the only ones left. Yes, we’ll have partners but we’ll still be alone. Mom and dad won’t live forever and it is important that we get along well.

-It’s not that important if it’s making you miserable! I know i was wrong, I reacted with knowing the full story. I really am an asshole! But I didn’t wanted to have to choose between you and my best friend, yet I made you choose between me and your boyfriend.

-It was my choice. You didn’t asked for it. It was for his benefit.

-It’s not! He is as miserable as you are! He even hugged Channie hyung back when he hugged him to comfort him. He even cried in front of us! You need to fix this, for you, for him, even for me! I would hate myself for being the reason you both are like this. And trust me I won’t forget myself for the way I reacted.

-Do you think he’ll have me back? you asked shyly

-There’s only one way to find out.

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mirkwoodshewolf · 9 months

Text

Princess of Starlight; Thranduil x elfling child reader

*Author's note*

Well guys this took me awhile to get around to making and a couple of weeks to write it all down but this weekend I finally had some time to fully sit and write it out and now it's ready! So @soralinklokidottirofmirkwood I appreciate your patience with me and I now present to you your request. Hope you enjoy it as well as any reader who catches this little gem.

Warnings: parental death, spiders (yeah those arachnophobes out there like me, BEWARE OF SPIDERS!!) mentions of infertility and stillborn children, some angst and fluff.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

____________________________________________________________

I managed to duck down into the root of a tree and quickly buried myself with some old leaves and twigs and stayed as quiet as I could until I heard the sound of their clicking and hissing. I then watched as their shadows went past the tree I was hiding under, hoping and praying to the Valar that they wouldn’t see me.

After what felt like forever, the last of them finally walked passed my tree so I slowly peeked out clenching my father’s crystal necklace he had given me before he and mother told me to run and hide. There was nothing but silence in the woods, no birds, no wind, not even the sound of running water.

Very carefully I decided to venture out of my tree in hopes of finding another place to hide, or maybe get out of the woods all together. Suddenly out of nowhere I was pinned down by three long, hairy legs and heard a hiss-like roar behind my back. I tried to fight but I felt myself being wound up in the sticky web of the spider that had me pinned.

Then as quickly as I felt it starting to wrap my up, it stopped. I heard the whizzing sound of arrows being shot, blades being unsheathed, and the terrible sounds of the spider that had me pinned along with more spiders from above the trees. Soon there was silence once again and I heard someone say in my language.

“How many are left?”

“I counted five more escaping during the skirmish my lord Legolas.” Said a female voice.

“Kill them all. None must be left alive. By order of the King.” The male voice said again. The female then proclaimed an Elvish command and I heard some running away from the area.

“My lord Legolas, what about the victim?” oh no. I tried to wriggle myself out of the web but it was so thick and sticky, I couldn’t even move my arms up that had been pinned to my side. So like a warm, I tried to inch myself to a hiding spot (even though I could barely see through the silked webs) but I was soon stopped by another foot.

This was it, this is where I would meet my end. Not by spiders but by my own kin. I felt as the webs were being cut away and I was now staring into the sharp, blue eyes of an elf in what almost looked like dragon-like armor.

“Stand down, she’s only an elfling.” He ordered to the few dozen guards that remained at his side. Unlike the others who had either dark or red hair, this elf before me had blonde hair, just like my mother did. I jumped out of my web trap and pressed myself against one of the trees and the elf told me, “It’s alright. No one will hurt you.”

Even though he looked intimidating, there was a comforting aura around him that I was sensing from him thanks to father’s necklace.

“Do you speak in the Eldar? Or do you also know common tongue?” he asked me. But before I could answer, I noticed a large shadow slowly coming down from above. It was one of the younger spiders whose feet are so light, they couldn’t even be detected by our Elvish ears. One of the guards happened to look where I was looking and proclaimed.

“Hir nin Legolas!” my necklace soon glowed and I extended my hand out and a powerful wind blast sent everyone falling down including the spider. It’s back slammed hard into the trunk of a tree before falling down on a spiked log, piercing it through it’s center and it quickly fell limp. The elven guards plus the elf who had tried to talk to me, Legolas according to one of the guards. They all looked at me in either shock or awe at what I had just done.

“I’m sorry.” I finally spoke to show that I knew both Elvish and common tongue. “I didn’t want that one to hurt you. They’re more deadly than the bigger ones, nana and adar were attacked by one just like that. The venom spread so quickly mother barely had the chance to cry out.” Suddenly one of the guard withdrew his bow and arrow and aimed it at me. I jumped back fearfully but Legolas stood in front of me, shielding me from the oncoming attack.

“Lower your bow Feren!”

“My lord, she had hurt you!” Feren snapped.

“It was an accident. She saved my life, and as such it would do you more harm than good to bring harm to my rescuer.” Feren without question removed his arrow from his bow and stood down. Legolas turned back towards me and knelt back down in front of me. “Little one, how do you know magic?”

“My father’s amulet. It just—glows whenever I feel high levels of fear and fires the magic. I didn’t mean to hurt you I swear it.”

“No apologizes necessary, may I be permitted to see your father’s amulet? Don’t worry I won’t take it from you.” I looked into his eyes and felt deep down he was telling the truth. I reached underneath my shirt and pulled it out and held it out to him. He gently took it in his hands and as he admired the crystal gem, I noticed how his eyes widened when he turned it around to look at the runes on the back.

“Am I—in trouble?” I asked nervously. He looked at me and told me as he handed me back my father’s amulet.

“No penneth. But we would like for you to come with us, the King would like to know of your presence in our part of the forest.” The King? As in King Thranduil? I had made it to King Thranduil’s palace?! I had but lost hope that I would make it here.

Before I had lost my father, he had told me to reach the realm of Thranduil. If I showed him my amulet, he could protect me. Those were his last words before the younger spider got to him and dragged him off into the woods, never to be seen again. Legolas kept his hand out for me to take it and so I did and he ordered the remaining guards to follow us.

As we walked, I soon began to feel the light of the sun upon my face as we reached a different part of the woods. I couldn’t recall the last time I had felt the light of the sun or have been able to feel all of Yavanna’s great creations all around me. The feel of the spray of the rushing waterfalls beneath us, the smell of the fresh air instead of the decaying one I had been under.

We soon came to a great fortress that had been built within the trees themselves. Gates of iron stood before us as Legolas ordered the guards to close the gates behind us. Once inside I was amazed at the interior of this grand palace.

Narrow walkways of tree bark and light that seemed to be glowing on it’s own from what appeared to be sap from the trees. Elves all around were walking the various pathways that either were below or on top of us. Soon enough, we came before a large, intimidating throne of wood and stone.

Large antler-like structures stood on either side of the throne that was at the foot of a narrow staircase at the foot. And sitting upon the throne wielding a staff was none other than the King of all Mirkwood, King Thranduil.

He resembled Legolas almost to a perfect picture but his eyes held a harshness that felt like winter wind hitting you in the face. A crown of autumn leaves stood upon his head and he wore robe of onyx and hanging off his shoulders was a blood red cloak.

“Legolas,” his voice held a deep booming sound to it that almost resembled thunder in the far off mountains. “Who is this child you have brought before me?”

“My lord, this young elf was found within the outer boarders of your realm. The spiders had ambushed her and nearly had her killed. She in returned saved me from a spider that we had missed that would’ve killed me.” Thranduil’s eyes shifted to me.

Seeing him upon his throne lounging against it and his icy blue eyes staring down upon me gave me an intimidating feeling.

“And you had killed it? It wasn’t left alive?” he asked me.

“Yes, Great King of Wood and Stone.” I said bowed to him.

“The child has manners. And a great debt is owed to you for saving my son.” He told me. Legolas is the son of the King?! I had saved the Prince of Mirkwood?!

“It is also best that you know this young elfling saved me not with a steel of any weapon, but of magic. A powerful magic that I had never crossed paths with before.” Legolas said again. I watched as Thranduil slowly came down the steps of his throne and stood before us and told his son and the guards.

“Leave us.” They bowed and soon I was left alone with the great King of the Wood. “Rise young one.” I got back to my feet and looked up at him nervously, fiddling with the ends of my tattered dress. “How long have you been traveling in the woods on your own?”

“I—lost my parents what feels like an age. But counting from what I could tally in the ground and trees, it had been nearly a year and a half since I had been on my own.”

“And from where did you hail from in my kingdom?”

“The Southern borders of Mirkwood my lord. Near the fell fortress. My parents and I escaped the spider raid when they first came upon the lands.”

“What were your parents names?” he asked me.

“My mother’s name was Thessa, and my father’s name was…..”

“Orrian.” The King finished for me. I looked up at the King in shock.

“You knew my father?” the king knelt down to my height and asked me.

“Answer me this, do you bear his family’s amulet? A clear diamond surrounded in silver?” I reached down into my shirt and pulled out the amulet necklace and Thranduil’s eyes widened. “By the grace of Varda. You are her. You are Orrian’s young starlight. You are just as he described.”

“My father spoke highly of you, but I always thought it was because you were the King of our realm.”

“Not only that child but your father and I go back a long time into our elfling hoods back in our old home of Doriath. He was the youngest cousin to the Queen Melian. And my greatest friend. Oh the times we had together as elflings.” His voice held a warm, gentleness and his eyes that once struck me with a cold feeling now held a warm, tender look to them. “I am sorry for your loss my dear child, but know that your father truly loved you. More than anyone, more than life.”

“That’s what he said before telling me to find you. Saying that you would protect me. I had but given up hope that I would even find sanctuary and that his and my mother’s deaths would’ve been in vain.” Thranduil placed a comforting hand to my shoulder and said.

“You need not think that anymore dear one, your parents can finally rest in peace knowing that you will indeed be safe here in my realm.” Then I did something I never would’ve thought I had the guts to do.

I embraced the Elven king. He tensed up at the surprised hug but gladly embraced me back.

Later that night after being provided with proper lodgings, food and medical attention to the scraps and bruises from running through the thick shrubberies. Thranduil sat down with me on my bed telling me all the stories of him and my father growing up.

“And had it not been for me, your father would’ve never had gotten the courage to ask a dance from your mother.” He finished the tale of how he had helped my father and mother begin their courting.

“Father always said he’d learn to thank you for giving him the proper push.” I fiddled with his amulet necklace. My heart growing heavy with grief. “I miss him and mother every day.”

“And they loved you dearly. They feared that they would go through life without being able to conceiving a child. Everytime your mother started to bear one, it was either a stillborn or she ended up losing it. But when you came along, there was something about you that made your father believe that you were the one. You were going to be the grace of Varda herself, and he was right.” He tucked some of my hair behind my ear and turned my chin up to look at him, “An elfling born with the power of the Stars and wind, and it is through that amulet that was brought down by his family line that helps harness your powers.”

“Yet they didn’t appear till after I had lost them. If only I was able to use that power to save them.”

“There is a saying your father used to say, ‘Yesterday is history, tomorrow’s a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present’. We cannot choose what happens in that time frame or what events will fall, only after what’s done is done, do we have the strength to follow through to the next event that may fall upon us.” I nodded and leaned my head against the king’s arm.

I felt his arm come around me, pulling me onto his lap as my head rested on his shoulder.

“I promise you (Y/n), you’ll never know fear or loneliness ever again. I swear on your father, I’ll try to give the same amount of love as he and your mother gave you.”

“Thank you my lord.”

“No more formalities. You may call me by my name when it is just us, okay?”

“Okay, Thranduil.” I felt him bring me closer to him in a loving embrace and he lay a kiss upon the top of my head.

For the rest of my life, Thranduil kept his word. I was raised at his side like his own daughter and Legolas came to see me as his own little sister. I was trained not only in weapons by my brother and father, I was also taught how to better control my magic. Though for those lessons, I was sent to Rivendell where I was told by Lord Elrond that he and his wife were good friends of my mother.

Lord Elrond taught me of how to better control my magic and how to use it in combat. Throughout the lands I became known as the Starlight Princess of the Woodland realm. Any orc that I came in contact with was blinded by my powers of Starlight and shuddered in fear whenever the winds would blow, signaling my arrival. And whenever I felt doubt or fear of forgetting what my parents looked like, my adoptive father was willing to show me old pictures of him and my father and tell me more stories of them and their lives together. And I never had to live with fear or doubt ever again, just as my adoptive father had promised.

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thisisntmyrightera · 2 years

Text

How to adopt a genius child and a series of unfortunate events | Eddie Munson x Fem Reader.

Summary: Eddie and You are the parental support of Dustin and Max is making fun of it.

Words: 2,977

Note: English isn't my first language, so i make my best.

All interactions are well received and appreciated.

Thanks for reading!

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Every Friday since you was 9 years old was sleeping ‘’party’’ at the house of someone in the group, sometimes Nancy other nights Steve, they were your friends since elementary school, then Eddie came when he was 12 years old and a little later a wild Robin appeared joining the team, you were the ‘’Weird 5'' when Jonathan started dating Nancy he joined the group for a while until he moved to California, the other guys, the younger ones use to called you ''The Growies''.

This weekend Nancy organized the night in her basement, she was in charge of cleaning, Steve to pick up Robin and bring pizza and enough food to not come out of the burrow until the next day while Eddie had to pick you up and buy drinks and beer at the gas station.

Although you had already lived that night for years, you never got bored, you always talked about what had happened during your week, made fun of how Steve failed again in love, Robin told his nonsense stories that seemed to come out of some channel 5 comedy , Eddie was explaining his D&D campaigns and how his band had found another Metallica song to play, that week you came in with a new story, Chance one of Jason's best friends had asked you out but you told him you'd think about it for that you weren't sure if your parents would let you date, it was a lie, you weren't interested in that guy at all or any other member of the basketball team, but that didn't stop Eddie from being silent for a long time and keeping his jaw clenched as he played with the lace of a cushion that adorned one of the sofas, after hours talking, listening to music and some getting drunk one by one you fell asleep s, you never chose a place to sleep, you just did it where you found enough space and the next morning you use to woke up with back or neck pain.

-Guys..? -Mrs. Wheeler went down the stairs of the basement a while she was still carrying in her right hand a tool to turn pancakes- you have a call

Her voice made you wake up stretching out your arms realizing that all night you were lying on Eddie's lap, his hand was gently around your waist and his head was lying on the back of the sofa while he snored softly, that made you smile a little looking at it for a few seconds until you got up slowly rubbing your right shoulder and walked to the phone that was on the wall

-Hi? - you barely managed to say while covering your mouth yawning

-Y/N? Thank God it's you, are you at Nancy's house? -Dustin spoke faster than he normally did

-Hmm yes...here we are, is everything alright? - you looked confused to one side of the room thinking about the possibilities in which Henderson had gotten into trouble this time

-Well... not at all, I promise you it wasn't as serious as they make it out to be and...

-To the point Henderson...it's...-you raised your left arm looking at the clock on your wrist, adjusting your eyes still asleep to the small golden circle - it's 8:20, really? it's saturday kid

-I'm in prison - Dustin said without any emotion making the sleep that was still in your body disappear quickly

-Dustin what did you do? how can you be in prison, you can't be in prison you are 14 years old

-Well, I'm at the police station, I promise I didn't do anything wrong, but can you come get me? I don't want to call my mom or Max mom - Dustin lower his voice a little embarrassed, sounding something tender, maybe to pity and touch your heart

-Max? the redhead is also with you..- you sighed pinching the bridge of your nose- we're going there and shut your mouth just like that girl, you'll get into trouble if you don't watch your words, understood? - You hung up annoyed, sighing, walking to Steve who was asleep on the one piece sofa as if a truck had hit him in the middle of a highway, moving him slowly trying to wake him up - Steve... Steve wake up

-Hmm, mom, it's Saturday... I don't want cereal - Steve murmured, settling down with his back to you as he crossed his arms over his chest, your eyes quickly moved to Nancy but she was still asleep as was Robin, both of them almost hugging on a blanket in the middle of the room, so your eyes looked at the last option

-Eddie - you approached him slowly and you spoke even more slowly knowing that little Munson did not like to be woken up abruptly - Eddie...-you moved him slowly making him settle on the sofa frowning his eyebrows babbling something- Edward - you move him stronger making him open his eyes looking everywhere lost between dream and reality

-What happened?..what...what happened? are you OK? what happened? -Eddie looked at you sitting on the sofa removing the hair from his face and adjusting his DIO shirt

-We must go look for Henderson, he got into trouble with Max and is at the police station - you looked at him somewhat embarrassed while He rolled his eyes in annoyance and rubbed his hands on his face getting up and grabbing his jacket from the floor to follow you up the stairs to the Wheeler's kitchen.

-Good Morning! -Mrs. Wheeler smiled looking at you while she arranged some strips of bacon in the pan- how was the night?

-Good morning - you smiled as sweetly as possible, accommodating your hair - it was perfect, right? - you looked at Eddie trying to seem normal although that made you both look more than suspicious

-Yes…yes - Eddie looked at you still trying to wake up and then he smiled adorable towards the kitchen island- good morning Mr. Wheeler - Eddie greeted creating an awkward silence by not receiving a good morning back

-Well we have to go but we'll be back later to help Nancy yo clean and collect our things... thank you very much for letting us spend the night here Mrs. Wheeler - you smiled walking slowly towards the door

-you don't have to thank me, you’re always welcome, you shouldn't leave without breakfast, take a pancake for the road - she smiled offering you from a plate where the pancakes already had some butter and strawberry jelly, Eddie and you took one for not looking rude as you kept walking waving goodbye and almost running to Eddie's Van

-I'm going to kill that boy, I could barely sleep and now have to go get his ass out of all the problems he gets into - Eddie sighed annoyed starting his Van while you looked at him with eyes that judged - what?

-Doesn't sound familiar to you Munson?

-I called you once to save my ass...one damn time

-Three

-Three times, that's nothing compared to what Henderson does - he sighed again annoyed speeding up a little and then braking when he remembered that he didn't have his seat belt on, but this made your body move abruptly and the pancake you were holding in your hand falling on your pastel pink blouse covering with jelly staining it completely, your chest rose and fell deeply annoyed as you tried not to look at Eddie even though out of the corner of your eye you could see how he pursed his lips to keep from laughing

-I'm not going to go like this...i look ridiculous

-I have...maybe a shirt in the back, go get it - He smiled at you adorable tilting his head as you unbuckled your belt and moved to the back looking at all the mess, empty beer cans, chocolate wrappers , some guitar picks and a toolbox - did you find it?

-I'm trying...- you just murmured trying not to touch the candy wrappers and at the same time not to fall due to the movement of the Van until on one side you could notice a completely wrinkled shirt - it's...-you took it with both hands looking at disappointed- it's a Hellfire shirt... do you want me to wear this?

-You can still wear your shirt with jam, you can say it's a new fashion, something European - Eddie laughed looking at the traffic signs and then turned right

-European...idiot - you sighed with no other option taking off your blouse while you took Hellfire's but not before smelling it to know if it was dirty, but the aroma was not unpleasant at all, a mixture of Eddie's cologne with a touch of tobacco, It was the aroma that characterized him

Eddie glanced in the rearview mirror in short bursts so you couldn't catch him, but seeing you sniff his shirt while you were only wearing your pastel blue bra with a little pink bow in the center made him smile thinking it was the most cute scene than he never would want to erase from his head

-I think... it doesn't look bad - you told him as you returned to your passenger seat looking at the shirt- I could join the Hellfire club, right? -Eddie stopped at a red light looking at you out of the corner of his eye while he raised one of his eyebrows-What? it suits me better than you

-Keep it, I'll make a new one for me later - he sighed trying to seem annoyed, but the fact of imagining that you would wear his shirt made him feel some butterflies in his stomach

The rest of the way there wasn't much to talk about, really almost nothing, it was just the radio playing the same old trash music as Eddie called it but he refused to change the station because he knew that was the music you liked

-Eddie let me talk, okay? -You looked at him as he parked outside the police station-You only be Dustin's emotional support if he goes into one of his crises

-Well, anyway I don't think I'm welcome here - Eddie got out of the Van at the same time as you, opening the door and making a slight bow for you to pass before him

-Hello, good morning Dustin Henderson called me a few minutes ago, is he here? - you rested your arms lightly on the high desk of the police that was in the hall while she reviewed some papers

-Let them in, they're coming for the boy - Hopper spoke leaving one of the offices while he was holding a folder

-Thank you - you smiled kindly at the policeman and walked back a bit when you saw that Eddie was lost looking at the poster of fugitives, making him walk while you took his wrist to follow you - Hi - you smiled at Hopper- is it very serious? - you followed him slowly while he was talking explaining that Max and Dustin had gone to a private property to use a "Radio Tower" and the owner of the place panicked and called the police, your hand wouldn't let go of Eddie's, In fact, you didn't realize that you were both holding hands until in the distance you saw Dustin and Max sitting in front of a desk, he looks sad and Max looked too upset - do we have to pay a bail?

-No, I know the boy and I know he wouldn't get into trouble, they're just kids experimenting with his...technology I guess - Hopper gave you the file with Henderson's "criminal" record, there was no point in filing it away for such a stupid reason - just take them away and keep an eye on them...especially on you - Hopper looked threateningly at Eddie as he put his hands on his belt adjusting it- it's strange to see you around here without having you handcuffed Munson

-It's my day off sir - Eddie smiled sarcastically erasing the smile when he felt a squeeze on his hand, looking at you whispering a ''What''

-I'm sorry - you smiled - they are kids right? - You laughed trying to relieve the tension of the moment - I'll go for... the other kids now, thank you sir

After signing some papers for the freedom of the criminals involved and giving them a slight scolding for how irresponsible they were, the 4 left the station, the scene was totally bizarre, like two parents taking their children out of the principal's office after getting into in trouble, Eddie got into the Van banging hard on the door while you got on the passenger seat and the other two got on the back seat, the silence lasted a few minutes, Eddie didn't start the car, he just kept holding the steering wheel waiting that one of the two said something

-I... I'm sorry- Dustin understood Eddie's silence and apologized as he played with his cap.

-I’m sorry? - Eddie repeated annoyed looking at him in the mirror - I'm sorry? I'm hungover Henderson, I drove up here because for some reason you decided to put a fucking tower on someone's property for what? call aliens?

-It was to call Suzie..

-I don't give a damn if you were going to call your girlfriend or the president himself, entering private property is not right

-But...I didn't know it was private property...I thought it was the open field - Dustin rise his voice a little

-Don't look for excuses now - Eddie turned a little looking at him annoyed as Dustin look at you looking for support

-Eddie, he already told you that he didn't know that the property had an owner, he already apologized

-Don't defend him- Eddie now directed his body towards you

-I'm not defending him, why do you have to bother so much about everything? because you have a hangover? why don't you get upset with yourself for not knowing how to drink instead of taking it out on us - your voice was high making Eddie take a deep breath puffing out his chest

-Don't bring my drinking into this, this isn't about me Y/N!

-It's not about you? then why do you have to make a scene Edward!

-A scene? you're making a scene, I always have to be the bad guy in this, you're the good one I'm the one who behaves like shit - Eddie hit the steering wheel with such force that even his curls jumped a little

- Ok do you want me to scold him? Dustin - your body turned towards the boy - you did something bad, don't do that again because you'll get in trouble again for a girl who lives on the other side of the country

-WHAT DOES SUZIE HAVE TO DO WITH THIS? - Dustin rise his voice making Eddie turn quickly towards him pointing his finger

-Don't talk to her like that, don't ever raise your voice towards her again, do you think you're very smart? She made me drive up here to save your fucking ass and you yell at her?

Dustin sighed crossing his arms annoyed looking out the window, you looked out the window on your side imitating Dustin's pose and Eddie started the car while Max looked at the 3 in silence holding laughter.

-Someone is hungry? – after some minutes driving Eddie spoke with an annoyed but calm tone

-I'm hungry- Dustin barely said.

-Me too - you said without taking your eyes off the landscape

Max couldn't contain herself anymore and she laughed covering her face making you and Dustin look at each other curiously and then see Max as she writhed with laughter in the seat

-Are you okay red? - Eddie looked at her in the mirror curious

-You guys are so funny -Max laughed wiping the tears from her eyes - you guys are like...the Munsons, you're the typical Hawkins family, Dustin, your parents are so funny - the girl kept laughing holding her stomach

-What are you talking about? - you looked at her without understanding

-Y/N...you and Eddie fight like a married couple with a problematic child, why don't you make this official? get married and adopt Dustin - Max stopped laughing noticing that none of you were laughing but she did not erase the smile from her face

-You're crazy - you sighed settling in the seat fastening your seat belt

-Crazy? Eddie is the one who is crazy in love with you-the redhead smiled wickedly biting one of his nails- why don't we all wear Hellfire shirts at the ceremony, it would be fun, don't you think?

-I'm tired - Eddie sighed as he stop on the road looking at Max - get off

-Eddie - you looked at him worried denying- you can't get her out of the car we're still far from her house

-Yes, mom... tell him I haven't done anything wrong - Max laughed looking at Eddie challenging him

-Max shut up ok...- you sighed feeling your cheeks flushed trying to hide them between the strands of your hair - let's go Eddie she's just joking

-Joking? - Dustin looked at you smiling- in fact I like the idea, Dustin Munson sounds good and also the last name matches your name Y/N

- Get out, you've are so annoying - your hand on the steering wheel prevented Eddie from driving as an evil smile formed on his face

-You heard mom...get out - Eddie smirk looking at you

Everyone began to laugh, even you who had no choice but to cover your face with your hands trying not to lose your sanity.

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