Loving You A Little Louder (Pt.2)
Reese Wilkerson x fem!Reader
I couldn't find anymore without the text :(
It didn’t end with the window creaking open this time.
A slammed door. The sharp thunder of boots on the stairs. And then the kind of silence that presses against your chest like a held breath, waiting for the world to fall apart.
Not a particularly important one. Not a birthday or a holiday or the night of some great storm. Just one of those in-between nights where the air felt thick with things left unsaid, and the moon was low and bone-colored behind drifting clouds. It was one of those nights where the world felt tilted.
It started, like always, with the creak of the window.
The soft thunk of muddy sneakers landing on the floor. The recklessness of Reese, crashing into her room like a storm disguised as a person.
"Okay, tell me the truth," he said, half-breathless. "If I died impaled on your rose bush, would you still tell people I was cool?"
Y/n sat on the edge of her bed, hair a mess, and heart pounding. Reese stood a few feet away, his jaw clenched, his green eyes wild and lost and furious all at once. His hoodie was inside out. One sock was halfway off. He looked like someone who was caught mid-dream and dumped into a nightmare.
Y/n smirked, already tugging him under the covers, her hands finding the warmth of his neck. "I’d say you died doing what you loved—being dramatic and trespassing."
"That’s so hot," he whispered, voice low and smug.
"You weren’t quiet today," she whispered, eyes wide. "I told you he stays up late on Fridays. He watches those war documentaries and pretends he's not crying."
"I was quiet!" Reese hissed back. "Your floorboards are just out to get me. I think they squeak louder when I’m here on purpose."
Everything was normal. Everything was perfect.
Turns out, they'd seen him.
Hal had gotten up to use the bathroom. Saw Reese out the window, sneaking across the yard with the subtlety of a raccoon high on cocaine. Lois had caught wind before he even made it over the back fence.
Of course she followed. Of course she dragged Hal. Of course she made him drive two blocks over and park across the street like they were on a stakeout.
Of course she watched through binoculars. (Yes. Binoculars.)
She wasn’t about to miss the action, even if it meant looking like a total creep from the bushes.
Y/n’s dad met them at the front door—already half-awake from the noise upstairs. He looked at Lois like she was a bomb someone had left on his welcome mat.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
“I’m the mother of the delinquent climbing through your daughter’s window,” Lois snapped, storming in like she owned the place. Hal trailed behind her, looking awkward and holding a half-eaten granola bar.
“Oh boy,” Hal muttered. “This is going to be a thing, isn’t it?”
Upstairs was absolute chaos.
Reese was pacing, whisper-swearing under his breath, trying to figure out whether he should jump out the window and risk breaking both legs or just accept his fate.
Y/n sat on the bed, pale, heart thudding. “Should I—should we go down?”
“No,” Reese hissed. “Maybe if we hide really well, they’ll forget we exist.”
Then the door slammed open.
There he stood. Mr. Y/l/n. Six feet of fury in a Marine Corps t-shirt, veins visible, fists balled like twin anvils.
Y/n’s dad and Lois stood shoulder-to-shoulder like war generals. Hal peeked in from the hallway, giving an apologetic little wave.
“YOU,” Y/n’s dad said, jabbing a finger at Reese. “GET. OUT.”
Reese didn’t move. Not yet. For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Fear, sure—but something else. Something bold.
"No," he said. Just that. Quiet. Stupid. Brave.
Y/n’s mouth dropped open. "Reese—"
"No," he repeated, louder now. "I’m not leaving just ‘cause you bark like the world owes you something."
Her father stepped forward. But Reese didn’t flinch.
"You have exactly ten seconds to disappear before I make you disappear."
"Why do you even hate me so much?" Reese snapped. "I’m not selling drugs! I’m not dragging her into some crime ring! I brought her a stuffed penguin last week, man!"
"Yeah," Y/n muttered under her breath, "he did. It had a little hat."
But her dad didn’t laugh. Of course he didn’t. The man had a laugh quota of maybe two per decade.
"You sneak in here like some criminal. You act like the rules don’t apply to you. You’re reckless. You’re unstable. You set my grill on fire!"
"It was propane’s fault!" Reese shouted. "Don’t gaslight me—pun intended!"
"I don’t want you near my daughter," Mr. Y/l/n said, cold as ice. "You're not good for her."
Hal raised a hand, trying to keep peace. “I think we’re all a little—uh—heightened right now. Hormones and yelling and teenage trespassing, it’s a lot—”
But it was too late, the damage was done. Reese didn’t yell after that. He just stood there.
And in that second, the air felt thick with secrets and failure and the sweet rot of teenage rebellion, he looked like everything he tried so hard to be: a screw-up.
Until a voice cut through the tension like a butter knife at a crime scene.
“Hey!” Lois stepped in front of her son like a feral wolf. “Don’t you talk to my kid like that! He may be dumb, reckless, and completely unqualified to have a girlfriend—but he’s still mine!”
“Then take him!” her dad snapped. “This is the third time I've caught them! I told him if he came back here again—”
“Oh what? You gonna ground my kid?” Lois shot back. “Because trust me, that doesn’t work."
Reese muttered, “She once grounded me from oxygen.”
"You," Lois said to Mr. Y/l/n, "are being ridiculous."
"I’m just trying to protect my daughter."
"No," Lois shot back. "You’re trying to control her. There’s a difference."
"I’m not gonna let some reckless, no-future boy ruin her life—"
"Excuse me," Reese interrupted, holding up a finger. "I could have a future. Like, a really cool one. Like—like a stuntman. Or, like, one of those guys who test out mattresses by jumping on them all day."
"Shut up, Reese," Lois snapped.
Lois turned back to Mr. Y/l/n. "Listen. My son? He’s not perfect. He’s messy, loud, and he still thinks pickles count as vegetables. But he loves your daughter. And she clearly loves him back. So unless you want her to start sneaking out through the roof, I suggest you pull your head out of your emotionally-stunted backside and deal with it like an adult."
The silence that followed was heavy. Y/n didn’t breathe. Reese blinked.
Her dad’s eyes landed on her. And suddenly, all the Marine bravado fell away, and he looked... tired. Older than she remembered.
"Y/n," he said, quietly. "Is this what you want?"
She stood. Her hands were shaking, but her voice wasn’t.
"Yes," she said. "This isn’t just some dumb thing. This isn’t sneaking out to meet some loser. He’s—he’s stupid, yeah, but he's Reese. He makes me feel like I can breathe. Like the world isn’t as heavy as it feels. Like I matter. And I love him. "
Then Reese turned to her. “Wait—you do?”
Y/n rolled her eyes. “Yes, idiot. Have you not been paying attention?”
“I mean, yeah, but—I thought maybe it was just the illegal part you liked.”
Lois let out a tiny, victorious hum, as Hal smiled softly.
Y/n’s dad looked like someone had punched him in the gut.
“You love him?” he repeated.
Silence stretched, long and uncomfortable. A cricket chirped somewhere outside. And Hal coughed awkwardly.
Finally, her dad sighed. It wasn’t surrender—it was more like exhaustion.
Mr. Y/l/n looked at her for a long time. And then at Reese.
And finally, he sighed. The kind of sigh that says this is going to haunt me later.
"Fine," he muttered. "But if you get her pregnant, I will hunt you."
"Fair," Reese said, already slipping his hand into Y/n’s.
Lois smirked. "You’re welcome."
“But if he’s staying,” he muttered, “he’s trimming that damn rose bush in the morning.”
They didn’t talk much after that. Everyone cleared out. Lois dragged Reese by the ear. Hal waved goodnight and thanked Y/n’s dad for the hospitality like they’d just had dinner together instead of a verbal shootout.
But before Reese left—before the window closed again—he turned to her.
“You really meant it?” he asked.
She nodded. “Every word.”
Reese grinned. That dumb, crooked, heartbreaker smile.
“I’m gonna marry you someday,” he said.
Just a shadow in the night. Muddy footprints on the carpet. A rose thorn caught in the cuff of his jeans.
And later, much later, when Y/n lay in bed with the world quiet and still, she smiled to herself.
Because love—real love—wasn’t always soft.
Sometimes it came dressed in denim and bruises. Sometimes it crashed through your window and ruined your lamp. Sometimes it was messy and loud and smelled like cheap apple shampoo.
And in the end, that was enough.
Because this?
This was still love.
Still messy.
No longer a secret.
But it was still theirs.
