☆ leto. ☆

✧──────✧ 20 | he/him | (lay-tow, not lee-tow)

[letorip]

| Welcome Desk

leto (or soren, if we’re cool like that 🤨) ☆ 19 year old ☆ he/him ☆ trying not to suck at writing ☆ fuck the idf ☆ cis straight ally

if you have any questions, click that lil ‘ask away’ button at the top or shoot me a message

REQUESTS: closed until i regain my bearings

| Masterlist

jenna ortega (celebrity)

don't delete the kisses tiny moves maps not allowed j’s lullaby

best kisser character headcanons clingiest character headcanons meeting/first date character headcanons tall reader character headcanons

wednesday addams (wednesday)

somethin' stupid ☆ somethin' stupid [ii] ☆ somethin' stupid [iii] ☆ somethin’ stupid [vi] crimson & clover ☆ crimson & clover [ii] ur so pretty aline the way things go

obsessive headcanons jealous headcanons

tara carpenter (scream)

kiss with a fist ☆ kiss with a fist [ii] ☆ kiss with a fist [iii] ☆ kiss with a fist [iv] ☆ kiss with a fist [v] hot to go! nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

headcanons clingy headcanons

lorraine day (x)

the house on prairie street

headcanons

cairo sweet (miller's girl)

i heard your name ☆ i heard your name [ii] ☆ i heard your name [iii] ☆ i heard your name [iv] intolewd second nature

headcanons

mabel (finestkind)

paper bag

headcanons

vada cavell (the fallout)

headcanons

lucy maclean (fallout)

(you) on my arm accentuate the positive

natalie scatorccio (yellowjackets)

casual ☆ casual [ii] ☆ casual [iii] i bet on losing dogs i'm not in love twin size mattress

headcanons

lottie matthews (yellowjackets)

linger your best american girl always an angel, never a god

[halfmoonaria]

ignorant

pairing: cairo sweet & reader

summary: you are the next victim for the evil of cairo sweet, but this time it’s not planned.

word count: 6k

author’s note: somebody asked for more cairo sweet and i’ll deliver

Cairo Sweet was toxic.

Everybody at school knew it, whispered it, even feared it. It wasn't because she'd ever laid a finger on anyone—Cairo didn't need to.

She had a way of ruining people without touching them, a kind of quiet, deliberate destruction that made her dangerous in ways no one wanted to test.

Her manipulation was an art form, her lies sharp enough to shred reputations into confetti. A few well-placed rumors, a convincing performance, and she could have someone blacklisted.

Jobs, scholarships, futures—they all crumbled under the weight of her fabrications. Being on Cairo's bad side was like being branded: the stain followed you wherever you went.

People had seen it happen before. Just last year, Mr. Miller had been the unfortunate target. A teacher with a spotless reputation, gone in an instant.

A single accusation from Cairo had shattered his career. The truth? It didn't matter. Cairo's version of the story had been louder, more convincing.

Even when whispers of her exaggerations began to circulate, it was too late for him. By then, she'd moved on, leaving destruction in her wake like it was nothing.

You'd heard it all, of course. Everyone had.

The looks she got in the halls said enough—half awe, half terror. But what you could never figure out, no matter how much you watched her, was whether she enjoyed it.

Did she like that people were scared of her? Did it give her some twisted sense of power? Or did she just not care? Maybe, in some corner of her mind, she felt guilty. But if she did, you'd never know it.

And yet, despite everything you knew—despite all the warnings, the stories, the very real possibility that she could ruin you too—you found yourself getting pulled in. If that's even what you'd call it.

It all started one afternoon after English class. You'd been shoving your notebook into your bag when Cairo appeared beside your desk, casual as if it wasn't the first time she'd ever spoken to you directly.

"Hey, you mind if I grab a picture of your notes? I missed a few things."

The request wasn't surprising—everyone in English class talked to each other, especially when it came to assignments or study guides.

You'd even exchanged a word or two with her before, though only ever about coursework. She wasn't unapproachable, not exactly. Just... untouchable. Like someone you didn't dare get too close to for fear of the inevitable fallout.

"Sure," you said, slipping the notebook out again and holding it toward her.

She gave you a brief, unreadable smile, one corner of her mouth tugging upward as she pulled out her phone and started snapping pictures.

"Thanks," she murmured, her tone flat but not unfriendly. She didn't walk away immediately, though. Instead, she lingered, flipping through the pages like she was checking for anything she might've missed.

"You always this neat?" she asked suddenly, her eyes flicking to you.

You blinked, caught off guard by what sounded almost like a compliment. "Uh, I guess."

"You should see mine," she said with a dry laugh, tucking her phone back into her pocket. "It's a miracle I can even read them."

You knew that wasn’t true.

It wasn't much, but it was the first real conversation you'd had with her that wasn't about group projects or exam prep.

Cairo had a way of making even the smallest interactions feel like something bigger, like a spark catching on dry leaves. It was enough to leave you wondering as you walked out of class that day why she'd bothered talking to you at all.

After that, it was little things. A nod of acknowledgment when you passed in the halls.

A quick "Hey" when she slid into the seat beside you before class started. And then, somehow, it became more. She'd catch you after school, asking about homework or offering a ride home if it was raining. You told yourself it was nothing—she was just being nice, or at least her version of it.

But the truth was, you couldn't help noticing the way her attention made you feel.

Like she saw something in you that no one else had. It wasn't long before those fleeting interactions turned into something else entirely: Cairo waiting for you after class with that same unreadable smirk, Cairo texting you late at night asking if you were up, Cairo pulling you into her orbit in a way that felt effortless.

You told yourself you should've known better. You'd heard all the stories, seen the aftermath of what she could do.

But every time you thought about walking away, you'd hear her voice in your head, low and teasing, or see the way she leaned a little closer than she needed to when she talked to you.

And then it went further.

It had started slowly. Cairo had begun finding reasons to linger after English class, asking about your interpretations of certain texts or how you'd structured your notes.

She hadn't needed the input—she was one of the best students in the subject, her essays always marked with the highest grades and her name consistently praised in class discussions.

At first, you had assumed it was just convenience; you were one of the only people who matched her level of effort. But the excuses had become more frequent, her attention more focused, until her presence became a constant thread in your life, woven in so seamlessly that you didn't even notice when it tightened.

The night she showed up at your door had felt inevitable, though you wouldn't have admitted it then.

Cairo had mentioned offhandedly how she preferred studying with someone else for perspective, and at the time, you'd barely registered it. But when she appeared, backpack slung over her shoulder, her expression calm and unbothered, it hadn't been a surprise.

There was no preamble, no hesitation. She had walked into your room with a confidence that felt natural, claiming space without even asking.

At first, it had been nothing out of the ordinary. Books and notes spread across your bed, Cairo sitting cross-legged across from you as the two of you discussed the upcoming exam.

Her questions were sharp, her observations even sharper. She had a way of speaking that made you feel like she already knew the answer but wanted to hear what you had to say anyway. You'd spent hours like that, trading ideas and bouncing thoughts back and forth, her handwriting neat and methodical as she jotted down lines in her notebook.

But at some point, the conversation had drifted. It wasn't abrupt, just a natural shift, like a tide rolling in without warning.

She'd asked about the books you read outside of class, about your favorite authors, your least favorite, and before you knew it, the two of you were sitting closer, your legs brushing as you talked. Her voice had softened, her gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

It had felt harmless at first. Cairo had always had a way of commanding attention, of drawing you in even when you knew better.

But when her hand brushed against yours, the air shifted. It was so subtle you almost convinced yourself it was accidental, but then her fingers lingered, trailing against your skin just enough to leave you breathless.

By the time she leaned in, it didn't feel sudden at all. Her lips had met yours with a deliberateness that left no room for hesitation, her hand sliding to the back of your neck as she deepened the kiss.

You'd known then that there was no going back, that this wasn't just another moment to file away under casual study sessions. Cairo had a way of making everything feel inevitable, like it was all a part of her plan from the beginning.

The hours after that had passed in a haze. The notes and textbooks had been forgotten, your conversations abandoned as Cairo pulled you closer, her body pressed against yours in a way that made you forget everything you'd ever heard about her.

She had been as deliberate as ever, her touch calculated but intoxicating, like she knew exactly how to make you fall apart and was savoring every second of it.

When it was over, the room had felt heavier, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of your desk lamp. Cairo had stretched out beside you, her head resting on your pillow, her expression unreadable.

She hadn't said much, only reaching for her phone to check the time before pulling her shirt back on with the same calm, unbothered demeanor she always carried.

And just like that, she had left, her notebook tucked under her arm, her goodbye nothing more than a casual "See you tomorrow." As if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't just turned your entire world upside down and walked away without a second thought.

That was when it all started.

The whole rollercoaster.

One day, it was like you were the only person in her world—her texts coming in rapid bursts, her presence at your side like she couldn't bear to be away from you.

The next day, she'd barely say a word, her gaze sliding past you in the halls as if you were just another face in the crowd. Cairo had always been unpredictable, but now, it felt personal.

One moment, she'd pull you into a corner after class, her touch lingering on your wrist as she whispered something that made your chest tighten, and the next, she'd laugh with her friends right in front of you, not even sparing you a glance.

The day after you'd slept together, she had acted like it never happened. She'd sat next to you in English like always, her notebook open and her handwriting as neat as ever, answering the teacher's questions with her usual confidence.

But there had been no acknowledgment of the night before—no sly glance, no shared moment of understanding. Nothing.

You'd tried not to let it bother you. Cairo wasn't the type to wear her emotions on her sleeve, and maybe you'd expected too much.

But then, just when you thought you'd misread everything, she'd catch your eye in the hallway, her lips curling into a smirk that sent your thoughts spiraling. She'd brush against you in passing, her hand grazing your arm, leaving you wondering if it had been intentional or just a coincidence.

The cycle was maddening. Some days, she'd text you late at night, her messages full of inside jokes and clever observations that made you feel like you were the only person who truly understood her.

Other days, your phone would stay silent, and when you saw her at school, she'd talk to you like nothing had changed, her tone casual, her demeanor almost cold.

You'd tell yourself you wouldn't let it get to you, but it always did. Cairo had a way of pulling you in, her charm disarming even when you knew better.

She could make you feel special with a single glance, only to leave you questioning everything with her silence the next day. It was a push and pull, a constant tug-of-war that left you breathless and exhausted all at once.

There were moments when you thought she might care—when she'd show up at your door unannounced, her face softer than usual, asking if you wanted to go for a drive or watch something with her.

Those nights, she'd talk about things she rarely shared, her voice quiet as she told you about her childhood or the pressure she felt to always be in control. She'd lean her head on your shoulder, her fingers brushing against yours, and for a little while, it felt real. It felt like maybe she needed you as much as you needed her.

But then morning would come, and she'd slip back into the version of herself that kept everyone at arm's length. She'd thank you for letting her crash or for the coffee you'd made her, her tone light and detached, and by the time she walked out the door, it was like none of it had ever happened.

The inconsistency was suffocating, yet you couldn't bring yourself to let go. Every time she pulled away, you told yourself it was the last time, that you wouldn't let her back in. But then she'd flash you that crooked smile, or send you a text that made you laugh despite yourself, and all your resolve would crumble.

It wasn't just about the moments she was kind—it was the way she made you feel when she was. Like you were the exception, the one person who could get past the walls she'd built. It was intoxicating, even when it hurt, even when you knew you were only setting yourself up for disappointment.

Cairo never apologized, not really.

When she pulled you close again after days of silence, it wasn't with words but with gestures—a hand on your knee during class, a smirk as she slid into the seat beside you, a text at midnight that said nothing but still made you stay up just in case she sent another.

You told yourself you could handle it. That the highs were worth the lows, that maybe someday, she'd stop running, stop retreating into herself. But deep down, you knew the truth. Cairo was who she was—beautiful, magnetic, and devastatingly out of reach.

And yet, you stayed.

Some nights, the loneliness settled over you like a second skin, cold and suffocating. You'd sit with your phone in your hand, staring at the screen, waiting for her name to light up. It became a ritual—hoping, waiting, trying not to check the time too often because every glance at the clock only reminded you of how long it had been since you'd last heard from her.

It was always the same. Cairo's excuses blurred together over time, a monotonous loop that left you questioning why you still held on. They came hours later, always casual, laced with just enough indifference to remind you where you stood.

Sorry, I was showering.

That one had been her go-to more than once. You could still remember the times you waited, your phone always within reach, even when you shouldn't have been so eager.

Multiple times, you'd been in the shower yourself, the water cascading down your back as you heard the buzz of your phone over the noise. You'd reached out instinctively, nearly dropping it as you wiped your hand on a towel to see her message. The words stared back at you, plain and detached. You replied as always, that it was fine.

It wasn't. But what else was there to say?

Sorry, I had no battery on my phone.

That excuse always came with a hint of carelessness, as if she hadn't even noticed the hours you spent waiting for her reply.

You'd been sitting on the floor that time, your back against the bedframe, knees pulled to your chest. The outlet was too far from your bed, so you stayed there, tethered to the wall like some desperate, foolish thing.

The charger stretched just enough for your phone to stay on, its faint glow illuminating your face. Her message arrived eventually, and you'd stared at it for a long moment, the words twisting something inside you. Still, you'd typed your response. It's fine.

Sorry, I was out with Winnie.

She always mentioned Winnie like she were some unspoken priority, a reminder that you were never really part of her world.

That particular excuse had come while you were in the back seat of a car, squished between your friends as they shouted along to your favorite song.

Their joy felt distant, like a muffled sound through thick glass. You'd glanced at your phone, your heart sinking as you read her words. It didn't matter that you were surrounded by people who cared about you—it only mattered that Cairo didn't. Your reply had been quick, almost automatic. It's fine. But the lump in your throat told a different story.

Sorry, I had class.

That one had come during History once, during a class you'd only chosen because she was in it too. Your phone had vibrated on your desk, and you'd snatched it up quickly, your pulse quickening at the sight of her name.

But the message itself had been underwhelming, just another half-hearted apology. You'd barely had time to respond before the teacher's shadow loomed over you, her hand outstretched to confiscate your phone. You typed back the same words as always, It's fine, even as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. It wasn't fine. It never was.

Sorry, I fell asleep.

That one might have been the worst.

You'd waited three hours that night, staring at your phone until the screen dimmed and the battery warning flashed. It felt pathetic, even in the moment, but you couldn't stop yourself from hoping.

When her message finally came, you almost wished it hadn't. The words felt like a punch to the chest, so casual and uncaring, as if she hadn't realized how long you'd been waiting—or worse, as if she had and simply didn't care. Your response had been the same as always, but this time, your hands had trembled as you typed.

These weren't one-off moments. They were patterns—predictable, painful, and yet impossible to walk away from. Every excuse carried the same weight, a reminder that you were never her priority, never the one she truly cared about. But somehow, even after all of it, you stayed. You replied. You waited.

Because part of you couldn't help but hope that one day, she might mean it when she said she was sorry.

Your friends had tried to tell you before. So many times, actually. They had spoken to you in their patient, understanding tones at first, as if easing you into a truth you already knew but couldn't bring yourself to face.

Cairo isn't good for you. You deserve better. She doesn't care about you the way you care about her.

The words had echoed in your mind, even as you'd brushed them off. You'd nodded, said you'd think about it, maybe even pretended to agree.

But the truth was, their concern had always bounced off the walls you'd built around Cairo. It wasn't their business, you'd told yourself. They didn't see the side of her you did—the glimpses of vulnerability, the rare moments when she made you feel like you were the only one who mattered.

But those moments had grown fewer and farther between. Lately, they felt like distant memories, the kind you cling to out of desperation rather than hope.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when it shifted. Maybe it was the hundredth time she'd left your messages unread, or the way she only texted back when it was convenient for her.

Maybe it was the excuses that started to sound more like indifference than apologies. Or maybe it was the way you realized, slowly and painfully, that you couldn't remember the last time Cairo had truly asked about you—your day, your feelings, your life beyond what you could do for her.

And then there were your friends. They hadn't stopped trying, even when it became clear you weren't ready to listen.

Their voices grew sharper, less patient, but not unkind. You're breaking your own heart, they'd said once. She's not worth it. And for the first time, those words didn't feel like a slap; they felt like the truth.

It wasn't just the words, though. It was the way they looked at you—really looked at you.

Not with judgment, but with something softer, something sad. You'd seen it in their eyes when they caught you checking your phone, hoping for a reply that never came. You'd felt it in the way they lingered after conversations, hesitant to leave you alone with your thoughts.

And maybe that's what finally cracked the foundation you'd built for her—the realization that the people who truly cared about you were right there, offering you more love and patience than Cairo ever had.

You started to notice the things you'd ignored before: the weight in your chest when her name popped up on your screen, the exhaustion that came from trying to decipher her mixed signals, the way her words always seemed to twist just enough to make you feel like the unreasonable one.

It wasn't a sudden epiphany. It wasn't some grand, dramatic moment where you declared that enough was enough. It was quieter than that, slower. Like a tide receding, pulling back layer by layer, until you could finally see the damage left behind.

It happened one night when you were with your friends. They'd said something—maybe a joke, maybe just a passing comment about Cairo—and instead of defending her, you'd stayed silent. It wasn't because you were angry or hurt; it was because, for the first time, you couldn't find a reason to argue.

That silence was heavier than anything you'd ever felt. It wasn't the kind that begged to be filled with excuses or justifications. It was the kind that felt like acceptance.

And that's when you knew. You didn't need Cairo to apologize again, to make another excuse, to promise she'd do better and then fall back into the same patterns. You didn't need anything from her anymore.

For the first time, you realized the person you needed to save was yourself.

Which was why you decided to pull away.

It wasn't an easy decision. Cairo had a way of pulling you back in, of making it hard to let go of the idea of her, even when she'd done nothing to deserve your loyalty. But you'd had enough of being her secret. Enough of being good enough only when it suited her.

English with Mr. Solace was where it started.

Cairo slid into the chair beside you like it was hers by default, like she hadn't spent days treating you as if you barely existed. She gave you that soft smile, the one that always felt a little too rehearsed, before it shifted into something sharper—teasing, flirty. The smirk that had once made your heart race now only irritated you.

You kept your eyes on your notebook, pen moving in deliberate strokes. You weren't writing anything meaningful, but it didn't matter. The point was to ignore her, to refuse her the attention she always seemed to expect.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her watching you. She didn't like being ignored. You could feel her presence, her attempts to draw you in, like a weight pressing down on your shoulders.

She leaned back in her chair, her bag sliding off her shoulder and onto the floor with a soft thud. Her arm brushed yours briefly as she adjusted herself, and you knew it wasn't accidental.

But you didn't move. You didn't flinch, didn't look, didn't react the way you might have just weeks ago.

Mr. Solace’s voice filled the room as he began his lecture, his words blending into a low hum in the background. You were just starting to think you'd get through the class without an incident when you felt it—her fingers brushing against your thigh.

It was subtle at first, just the barest hint of contact, like she was testing the waters. Then her touch grew bolder, her palm hovering before she let it settle lightly against your leg.

Your heart didn't race this time. Instead, it sank.

This was Cairo, wasn't it? Always acting like you belonged to her when no one was watching, when it was convenient. Always making sure her actions stayed hidden, as if she couldn't bear for anyone else to know what you meant to her—if you even meant anything at all.

For a moment, you froze. The old you would've let it slide, let her hand stay there, and hoped it meant something more than it ever did. But not this time.

This time, you pulled away.

Your chair scraped against the floor as you shifted back, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of Mr. Solace’s lecture. A few heads turned, but you didn't care.

You felt Cairo's hand drop away immediately, her fingers curling into her palm as if she'd been burned. For a moment, you didn't dare look at her. Your focus stayed locked on your notebook, your pen frozen mid-stroke as you tried to steady your breathing.

But the silence beside you was deafening.

Finally, you glanced sideways, just briefly, and what you saw caught you off guard. Cairo wasn't wearing her usual mask of indifference. Her brow was furrowed, her lips slightly parted like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Her eyes darted toward you, then away, as if she was trying to figure out what had just happened. She looked confused, maybe even hurt—but there was something else too. Anger. That familiar glint of frustration she got whenever something didn't go her way.

You forced yourself to look away before she could meet your gaze fully.

The rest of the lesson dragged on, but the tension between you didn't fade. Cairo sat rigid in her seat, her hands resting stiffly on her desk. She didn't try to touch you again, but you could feel her presence, heavy and unrelenting, like she was willing you to look at her.

You didn't.

When the bell rang, you stood quickly, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder in one smooth motion. Cairo hesitated, her movements slower, almost hesitant, like she wasn't sure what to do next.

You didn't wait to find out. You walked out of the room without a backward glance, your heart pounding in your chest.

The hallway was a blur of noise and motion as you pushed your way through the crowd, your bag slung over one shoulder and your gaze fixed straight ahead.

You didn't want to linger. You didn't want to give her the chance to catch up, to say anything that might make you second-guess the boundaries you were finally starting to set.

You weaved around groups of students loitering by the lockers, dodging the occasional stray elbow or careless backpack.

The dull roar of conversations and laughter filled the air, but it all felt distant, muffled by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Your locker wasn't far now—just a few feet away. If you could make it there, if you could grab your things and blend into the crowd again, you might be able to avoid her altogether.

But then you heard it.

"Y/N!"

Her voice cut through the chaos, not loud enough to draw attention from anyone else but clear enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You pretended not to hear. You kept walking, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag as if holding on to something solid could keep you from looking back.

The distance and the noise of the hallway worked in your favor for now, her voice fading slightly as another group of students spilled out of a nearby classroom, blocking her path.

For a moment, you thought you might actually make it.

But you should've known better. Cairo never let things go.

Her footsteps were quick and purposeful, cutting through the crowd with an ease that only someone like her could manage.

You felt the shift in the air before you even saw her—felt her presence, familiar and inescapable, closing in on you like a shadow.

"Y/N!" This time, her voice was closer, sharper, laced with an edge of frustration.

You didn't stop, didn't slow, even though the knot in your stomach tightened with every step. You could feel her catching up, her determination practically radiating off her like heat.

And then her hand was on your wrist.

The contact was sudden, firm, and you had no choice but to stop as she turned you around to face her.

Cairo stood there, her chest rising and falling slightly from the effort of chasing you down. Her hand stayed wrapped around your wrist, not tight enough to hurt but strong enough to keep you from pulling away.

Her expression was unreadable at first, a mix of emotions flickering across her face so quickly that you couldn't pin any of them down.

Her lips parted, like she was about to say something, but for a moment, she didn't. She just looked at you, her brows furrowed and her jaw tense, as if she were trying to piece together what had just happened.

The noise of the hallway felt like it faded away, the two of you caught in a strange, charged silence.

You pulled your wrist from her grasp, the movement sharp and deliberate, and took a small step back, putting space between you.

Cairo stayed where she was, rooted to the spot as if the act of you pulling away had left her momentarily stunned. Her hand fell to her side, and she tilted her head, her gaze fixed on your face, searching for something she couldn't seem to find.

Confusion flickered across her features, quickly giving way to something sharper—something almost hurt.

Her lips parted, but when she spoke, it wasn't vulnerability that came through. Instead, there was an edge, a hint of attitude in her voice that sharpened every syllable.

"What was that all about?" she asked, her accent thick, the natural rasp of her tone cutting through the air between you. Normally, it was the kind of thing you would've found endearing, even attractive. But not now. Not after everything.

You crossed your arms, schooling your features into indifference. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Cairo blinked, caught off guard for a split second before she let out a low, almost mocking laugh. She leaned slightly toward you, her cocky demeanor sliding effortlessly back into place.

"Oh, come on," she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear over the hum of the hallway. "I tried to touch you, and you freak out?" Her lips curled into a smirk, the kind she always used when she thought she had you right where she wanted you.

Her eyes narrowed, teasing, self-assured, as she added, "Am I that intimidating?"

She said it like it was a compliment, like it was supposed to make your heart skip a beat the way it always used to. It was a flirt, the kind of thing that once would've left you fumbling for words or glancing away to hide the flush on your cheeks.

But not now.

You didn't falter. You didn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you met her gaze with a calm, steady look that made her smirk falter, the corners of her mouth twitching downward as uncertainty crept into her expression.

"No," you said simply, your voice firm. "I just don't want to do this anymore."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Cairo's brows knit together, her lips parting in surprise as she stared at you like you'd just spoken a foreign language. Then, her expression shifted—confusion morphing into something sharper, almost disgusted, as though she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"What?" she said, her voice laced with attitude, the word drawn out like she was challenging you to explain yourself. Her tone was a mix of disbelief and defiance, as if the very idea of you pulling away from her was both shocking and offensive.

You couldn't tell if she genuinely didn't understand or if she was playing dumb, but part of you suspected the latter. Maybe she hadn't considered this possibility—hadn't imagined a world where you would be the one to step back, to say no.

If she did understand, she was probably thinking about how this wasn't supposed to happen to her. People didn't end things with Cairo Sweet. She ended things with them.

But this wasn't even an ending, was it? It wasn't a breakup, because this wasn't a relationship. Not really.

Whatever it was, though, it was over. You weren't going to let her keep playing you like this.

The silence stretched between you, the tension palpable. Cairo's gaze darted over your face, searching for any hint of hesitation, but you didn't waver. For once, you were sure of yourself.

And it was clear, for the first time, that she didn't know what to do about it.

"Look, Cairo." Your voice came out steadier than you expected, even with the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on your chest. "I don't know what this is," you continued, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, "but I want it to be over."

Cairo's head jerked back like you'd slapped her, her brows knitting together in a sharp furrow as her lips parted slightly. For a moment, she just stared at you, blinking like she couldn't quite process the words you'd just said.

Her mouth twisted into something unreadable, almost like disgust, but you knew better. It wasn't disgust. It was shock. Maybe even hurt, though you weren't sure if it was for the right reasons.

"What?" she finally said, her voice low and almost breathless, like she'd forgotten how to breathe properly.

You could've stopped there. Maybe you should've. But there was too much left unsaid, too much that had been building up for far too long.

"I'm tired, Cairo," you said, the words simple but cutting.

Her expression shifted, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing her face before she quickly masked it with that familiar attitude, the one that had kept you hooked for far too long. But she didn't say anything, didn't interrupt, so you kept going.

"You treat me like I'm supposed to be grateful for the scraps you throw my way," you said, your voice low but firm, the words landing like a stone in the pit of your stomach. "But I'm done. I'm not waiting anymore."

Cairo's jaw tightened, her arms crossing over her chest defensively as she stared at you. There was no cocky smirk now, no teasing glint in her eye. For once, she didn't look like she had all the answers.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said finally, her tone sharp, almost dismissive, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. "Yeah, you do. You just don't like hearing it."

Her brows furrowed even deeper, her mouth opening like she was about to argue, but she hesitated, the words catching in her throat. For the first time, Cairo Sweet looked uncertain.

And it was oddly freeing, seeing her like that, knowing that for once, you weren't the one left doubting everything. You were done playing this game.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you looked at her one last time. She still hadn't said anything, her mouth slightly open as if the words were stuck somewhere between her throat and her pride. Her arms were still crossed, but you could see the cracks in her armor now—confusion, maybe even hurt, flickering across her face in ways she couldn't quite hide.

But it wasn't enough to stop you.

"Maybe you should find someone else to play with," you said evenly, your voice low but sharp enough to cut through the tension between you. You didn't say it with malice or anger, just a quiet, undeniable finality.

Her lips parted further, her eyes narrowing as if to mask the shock that was written all over her face. She didn't respond, and you didn't wait for her to.

Instead, you turned and walked away, your footsteps firm and deliberate, even as the noise of the crowded hallway swallowed the moment whole. You didn't look back, didn't let yourself wonder what her expression looked like now or if she was still standing there, watching you leave.

Because this time, you weren't leaving to get her attention.

[letorip]

new theme alert 🚨🚨🎄 feeling quite festive

[letorip]

helping tara through an asthma attack?

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

“as long as you’re with me, you’ll be just fine”

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: after tara’s date ghosts her at a party and tara forgets her inhaler, you help her through her asthma, and in the process reveal how much you really care for each other

warnings: angst at first but quickly turns to fluff, mentions of asthma, small medical crisis, confessions and kissing, for the most part, fluff

word count: 2.8k

A/N: a very adorable and small oneshot i got to write! thank you for the request, it was greatly appreciated and im sorry i only got to finish it now! i cut down a lot for time's sake but i did get it done, so sorry iff it's shorter, i left more irrelevant bits out

*also, i am english and know little to nothing about new york, but i did my best

===+++===

===+++===

She wasn’t doing a thing that you could see except sitting there on the stairs, leaning on the bannister, holding the universe together.

Parties were many things, but you had never considered them beautiful. Tara Carpenter was what made them beautiful. Grabbing you tightly by the hand and tugging you onto the dance floor despite your protests, brushing the hair from your clammy forehead when you had too much to drink, and, even now, frowning at the bottom of the staircase. That was beautiful. It was so beautiful that calling it a crush didn’t feel like enough.

She doesn’t see you until you clear your throat from the other end of the foyer, leaning on the doorframe. It’s almost empty, most people squeezing into the kitchen and living room on the other side of the house, and you can hear Jump Around muffled through the walls.

“Looking for me?” she asks, a grin forming. It’s infectious, but Tara’s an infectious person: anything she does, she makes you want to do it too.

You smile back. “Always,” you nod, shoving your hands into your pockets and crossing the room to set yourself down next to her. Neither of you say anything for a minute, watching the few people go by, Tara picking at her nail polish and fiddling with her cup.

"Is this (Y/n)-code for wanting to leave?” Tara says after a while, nudging you gently with her knee. You shrug. You’d do the right thing always when it came to Tara. No matter how much fun you had been having, her frown came first, and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to lift it. Staying at the party longer would only keep reminding her how she had been let down again.

“It is getting kind of late," you murmur. She scoffs, shifting away from the railing and resting her head on your shoulder, nuzzling herself into your neck.

"It's only 12.” You can feel the vibrations of her voice against your body, warm and human. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you leave while the party’s still young?”

“A kind one,” you snort. “I’ve got a bed calling my name.”

She hums, pretending to think on it for a second, and then nods. “Five more minutes.”

You say okay and sit back in silence, letting the background music wash over you both. The clinking of bottles and laughter from the other room is loud, but mostly, you can hear her breathing against you, slow.

Tara lifts her head from your shoulder, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he’s a no-show,” she mutters after another minute, staring down into her cup and biting her lip.

“Yeah,” you nod, giving her a sad smile and bumping her with your shoulder. “What an asshole.”

It lifts her a little bit for a momentary smile that flickers in your direction, but it falls away again. “He was a really nice asshole. Something about me ‘deserving more’ and seeing ‘the real’ me.”

You hum at the sincere line said before by all too many insincere people. Tara was always the real her, and it was part of what made her so… her. Even her attempts to hide her wounds only made them more visible. To suggest otherwise was to mean he hadn’t known her very well. “It was the guy from the karaoke bar, right?” you ask.

She nods, eyes looking a little misty. You remember him well— reeking of alcohol and jostling her shoulder harshly while they sang Copacabana off key and miraculously off beat. You hadn't liked him much then, though you never did when it came to who Tara had moved onto. You hated him now, for almost making her cry.

"I guess someone told him about the attacks," she mumbled. "He said he didn't 'want to be next.' Funny part is I don't either."

"He's just a knob," you say, shaking your head. Then, you remember a particularly special piece of information you had been holding onto for the few weeks she had been talking to him. You lean into her ear, smirking as you whisper. "Though from what I heard, he didn't have a particularly large one."

It finally manages to pull a giggle from her, and she smacks you on the leg with a brilliant smile, the one that always makes your heart beat a bit faster. "What a perverted thing to say," she chides, rolling her eyes, but she still so clearly finds it funny.

"Coming from you, that's super rich," you tease. "Your imagination's gonna get you a passport to hell one day."

She smacks you on the arm again. "Come on, we should get you home, you've clearly had too much."

"So all I've got to do to convince you it's time to leave is make dirty jokes?" you grin as she stands, turning to you with an outstretched hand. You take it, letting her pull you up from the staircase.

"Nope," she replies, popping the p. "I just think it's nice out tonight."

"Yeah right," you say, walking towards the mountain of coats, grabbing her pink puffer one from the pile and then your own heavy jacket. "It's cold as hell."

"To you, you big baby," Tara teases, ditching her cup on the nearby mantle. She still zips herself all the way up, shoving her hands into her pockets, until she looks down. "Shit."

You furrow your eyebrows, turning around from zipping up your own. "What?"

"My shoe's untied," she groans. "And I already zipped this damn thing up." You roll your eyes. She could easily unzip it and do it herself, but you know she doesn't want to.

"Just ask already, slick."

She's beaming at you again and you suck in a breath at the way her brown eyes always seem to twinkle, even in dim lights. "Tie it for me?" When you don't move, she clasps her hands together mockingly. "Please?"

"And we have a winner," you grin, bending down. She's wearing her beaten-up white Converse, and you tie it quickly, double-knotting the old, weathered laces. "Y'know, for the holidays, I'm getting you a new damn pair, these things have definitely seen better days—" you stop in your tracks when you look up. Tara's eyes are watching you with an odd expression you can't place, in a way you've never seen her look at you before. "What?" you ask.

As quickly as it flashes, Tara shoves it away, shaking her head. "Nothing, nothing." She herself seems surprised, blinking a few times as you stand back up. "We should go."

"Okay," you shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your pants. Tara leads the way out through the propped-open front door, right out into the cold. Tara lets out a cough, out into the air, and it turns to a condensation cloud in the cold.

New York is already icy, gearing up for winter, and the trees have shed their leaves to become small, barren branches. The house party wasn't that far from your flat or Tara's, which was part of why Sam was so okay with the both of you going. The only person more protective of Tara than you was Sam.

"So, how'd you find that out about him?" Tara asks, coughing, taking your arm in hers. She always said you were freakishly warm to the touch, but right now, it was probably a plus.

"I told you we have class together, right?"

Tara nods, her breath a little wheezy. "Yeah?"

"I talked to this girl, Ada, in that class, and she said it was true. I didn't ask how she knew, though, but she really laid into him for being an asshole."

"Hm," she hums. "And you didn't say anything about it?" You know she's teasing, but you shake your head.

"You seemed excited about him, and you can make your own choices. Plus, I didn't know if you'd really care, to be honest." She doesn't say anything back, but that weird look is back on her face, so you avert your own eyes, feeling a burning on your cheeks.

"Thanks," she whispers. "You always trust me more than Sam does."

The both of you walk about another block before Tara speaks again. "I'm hungry," she says, coughing into her hand.

"I've got food at mine?" you suggest, the cold night air tickling at the roof of your mouth as you speak. The tips of your ears are freezing, as is the back of your neck, and you shiver after a particularly harsh gust of wind. It's unforgiving, in that way, and the wind barrels down the tall streets, chilling people throughout the winter. Tara coughs again and you shoot her a look.

"This cold air is really messing me up," she says with an eye roll. "I'll be okay, let's just get home." You send her another wary glance but turn your attention back to the city. You and her pass a few high rises with people in the warm windows.

"Must be nice to be indoors right now," you grin. Tara smirks right back at you.

"Maybe we should've just stayed in and watched some movies."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, now who wants to take my suggestion?"

"Yeah, well, now I've got the bath calling for me," she says, unlinking your arms to adjust her jacket. "That and Love Is a Losing Game and the block button."

"Poor baby," you tease. "Must be nice having a bathtub."

"It is," she nods, still fiddling with the zipper and pulling it down a little. "I can have all the wine and bubble baths I want." She's still coughing, struggling through her words.

"Greedy," you laugh, walking on ahead. You get only a few steps before you notice Tara isn't following you.

"Hey, what—" When you turn around, you can see her eyes wide, and she wanders towards the curb, plopping herself down on the freezing pavement and clutching at her throat.

"Shit," you rush, quickly coming over and kneeling down in between her knees as she continues to cough. "Shit, shit, shit." Her eyes are wild as she struggles to breathe, and she grabs your hand tight, squeezing it sharp with her nails. "Tara, what's happening? Is this an attack?"

She only manages a small nod, coughing awfully and trying but failing to take in a wheezy breath. You swallow the lump in your throat, looking around for someone, anyone, but the street is deserted. "Where's your inhaler? Where is it?"

Tara's nails dig into the skin of your hand in between her coughing, drawing small crescent moons of blood. Her other hand goes to her jacket, lifting up the bulge over her chest that is her interior pocket. You nod, trying to unzip it, but for some reason, it's not coming down.

Her eyes are full of fear and the brimming of tears as she struggles to breathe, and you mess with the zipper, trying to pull it down in the cold. "God fucking dammit, it won't—" you try to explain, yanking on the damn thing, which continues not to budge. Her own fingers reach up to try and get at the zipper, but you beat her to it, harshly ripping it open.

Her medicine bag falls right out, and you open it, dumping everything out onto the pavement and picking up her small blue inhaler. She sends you that weird look again as you shake it for a few seconds, handing it over. She takes a wheezy breath out and places the inhaler over her lips as she shuts her eyes, breathing in as deep as she can. You wait nervously as she holds it in her mouth, before finally letting out a much easier exhale.

Tears are pricking the corner of her eyes, and you raise a soft hand to gently brush them away with the pad of your thumb as relief washes over you. She's breathing and she's okay, and that's all you really care about.

Tara's hand finally drops its grip on yours, and though your hand is stinging in the places she drew blood, you pay it no mind. You turn your attention to her medicine bag, picking up the bottle and bandaids you dumped out as she waits and takes another puff. You don't say anything, just silently start picking up her things and putting them away, zipping up the bag.

When it's in order, you give her a gentle smile and put the bag back into her jacket, plopping yourself down next to her as you wait for her to let you know she's okay. After another puff and about another minute, her breath is slowed, and the fast beating of your heart begins to slow as well.

===+++===

Tara doesn't say much, staring out onto the street in total silence as she takes deep breaths in and out. You watch her with a worried expression, tensing every time she lets out a cough, but it's quickly pushed away as her lungs relax. Even after twenty minutes go by, you both remain there, sitting in silence, your eyes never leaving her face, except for the occasional passing car.

After long enough, she scoots a bit closer to you, letting her own eyes find yours. "That was scary," she whispers.

"Yeah," you nod. "Sorry about... well, your jacket. I think I might've broken the zipper. Guess I'll have to get you that for the holidays too—"

She raises her hand, brushing some hair back from your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment and then brushing themselves down your cheek. You freeze at the touch of her cold hands but do not pull away, feeling her trace your jaw and then lower, her hand stopping against you just below your collarbone, right above your heart. She's so close you can hear her breathing, feel her warmth and how it fans out across your cheeks.

"Tara—" you breathe, but before you can finish the sentence, which wouldn't have been particularly coherent anyway, she gently presses her lips against yours. It's soft and gentle, her lips slotting against your own in a perfect match. Before you can even process the divine sensation or try to give anything in return, she's pulling away, squeezing her eyes shut and apologising.

"Sorry, sorry, I must've gotten it wrong, I just, well...," she starts. Your mind is reeling at a thousand thoughts a second. "It's just that you're always there for me when no one else is, and I guess I—"

But this time, you're the one to cut her off. You lean forward, not even caring what else she has to say, instead kissing her back hard. She groans into it, her hands cupping your cheeks, holding you against her. It's magical, she's magical, and all those moments of wishing it was you she was kissing are gone because you are the one she's kissing.

Your hands slip around her waist, holding her against you as your lips move together in sync, the breeze gently moving against your skin. "I love you," she says against you, pulling you back in. It's softer than your hungry attack, but you cherish it more, letting her pull away and rest her forehead against yours. Once more, the cold is tickling at the newfound warmth you feel.

She pulls away from your lips but not from you. "I think I thought love was supposed to be this grand, tight battle. It's what my life was, some big battle. But not you. You're as easy and helpful as breathing. I love it about you that you love everyone else, too," she whispers. She reaches up placing a kiss upon your forehead. "Get it?" she laughs. "Breathing?"

"Too soon," you scoff, shaking your head. "I've loved you a long time, Tara," you reply, feeling your cheeks flush. "Through the assholes and the cowards and the people who wanted me. I've loved you. It might be chronic, I think I always will." You're so damn warm it's antithetical to the freezing chill that attempts to throw itself at you and Tara, only to be batted off by your hands upon each other.

She lets out a soft smile, putting her head back on your shoulder, only this time, it's your other one. "Maybe I should almost die more often if it means I get to have you."

You shake your head, leaning it against hers. "That's not funny," you scoff, and she rolls her eyes at you, gently prodding you in the side. "Besides," you smile. "You can have me any time now, you dork."

"That sounds nice," she hums against you. "But I still want pizza."

"Do you want to come back to mine? I think I have one in the freezer."

"Hm," she murmurs, then nuzzles deeper. "Five more minutes."

As easy as breathing, together.

===+++===

really struggled with the ending speech but i kind of liked not really having one? it's just kind of understood. no nice-guy 'it was me all along' or 'i'm sorry i didn't notice you sooner.'

[letorip]

Will get get part 4 for the Cairo sweet series anytime soon?

i was planning a big chapter for part 5 of i heard your name but i could always split it up? i just got to sidetracked with a bunch of the other series that took off but i do intend to finish it up soon, though i haven’t decided how it will end yet

[letorip]

i know i just changed it but do i update the theme again?

[letorip]

aline

“et j'ai crié, crié "aline!" pour qu'elle revienne, et j'ai pleuré, pleuré, oh j'avais trop de peine”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: sometimes you’d talk about dying to wednesday, though it was something an addams couldn’t ever really fear. that was, until the person being lost was you.

warnings: erm you die lol, major character death, wednesday being sad, mentions of blood, self sacrifice, maybe a little contrived way to die but too bad

word count: 1.6k

A/N: i promise im okay but this was truly an interesting plot line to follow, and i couldn’t bear not writing it down. if it made you sad, don’t worry, because i have more fluffy stuff on the way. it was something short i had considered doing for a long time, so even if this flops i'm completely happy with how it came out.

===+++===

===+++===

"Wednesday?" you asked, eyes on the wooden ceiling of her room. From the way her head rests against the warm plane of your chest, she can feel the smooth skin move as you say her name, heart right under her ear. It nearly lulls her to sleep, had it not been a question.

"Yes?" she purrs, lazily propping herself up on her arm. There are heavy weights on her eyelids, but the line of your mouth tells her something is troubling you. You’re too saturnine, much too glum for what you and Wednesday just did, and her eyes soften imperceptibly, her thumb going to your side to quietly stroke itself back and forth there. “What’s plaguing you?”

You can’t help but shudder at the contact of her hand and the goosebumps the pads of her fingers leave in their wake. “Are you... do you...," you attempt, the question falling flat on your tongue. She furrows her eyebrows at your hesitation.

"Say your thoughts,” she says, forehead creased in concern. It's almost funny, how caring and soft she is, now that she's given up on trying to seem aloof and apathetic towards you, her skin warm against your own.

The Addams Curse to love someone with every fibre of their being had taken hold of Wednesday entirely, and she looked at you sometimes like you held her beating heart in your hands, or at least like she'd cut it out for you, if you were to need it. She raises a hand, gently brushing a few hairs from your forehead.

“Are you afraid of dying?”

Her eyebrows furrow even further, scanning your face for any indicators of harm. “Where is this coming from? Has something been done to you?”

But you shrug, finally looking down to look her in the eyes with softness. “I was just wondering… are you?”

She narrows her eyes. “You know I’m an Addams. Death is a friend, not a foe. Fear of that serves no purpose. Only cowardice from facing a fight. Only to make you weak.”

Your eyes flit away. “Hm.” There’s no hiding of disagreement in your tone, and it has an embarrassing amount of power over her, how she itches to know what goes on in that head of yours.

“What?”

“I think… I think my fear is what makes me strong. I’m afraid of losing those I care about. And so I fight with every bit of sweat, blood, and tears that I have. Your loss is my deepest fear, Wednesday. My deepest.”

She stared at you momentarily, then looked out the window to the stars. “How is one to fear death when it is far from the end? Death may take me from your sight, but it cannot take me from your heart. There I live, vibrant and whole. Forever.”

===+++===

You’d never even realised how much blood the human body could actually hold, until you were standing there in the centre of the quad with an arrow straight right below your heart, its steel tip poking from your back. Your own blood coated your hands where you cupped it, dribbling down the splintered wood and splattering in droplets to the cobblestone in thick, dark red splotches.

The blood— your blood— is coming out even more now, and you turn to look at Wednesday, where you had shoved her out of harm’s way. Her eyes are wide in horror, like she's seeing something straight from a nightmare of hers, and you take a clammy step towards her, frigid and burning at the same time.

“Wens—” you stammer, and suddenly your knees are giving out. She rushes forward, trying to catch you in her arms, but you're too heavy, deadweight that tugs on her. You fall onto them, your knees, clutching at the newly opened maw of your chest with a gasp, and before you know it you’re falling forward towards the floor.

Wednesday follows you down, catching you before you can land, and she holds you tight, turning you over onto your back as the arrow sticks straight up from the heart she cherishes so much. The wood is already splintering, nearly falling apart, and her hand goes to your wound as if trying to put your blood back into your body.

It’s uncomfortable, with the metal tip of Xavier’s arrow sticking from the back of your chest and lightly prodding at her front, but she squeezes you tightly against herself, hands frantically travelling the length of your torso and raking over your arms, anywhere she can reach. But there’s nothing she can do. It’s a thought she refuses to confront, but Wednesday specialised in dealing with dead things; she was unfamiliar with how to keep things alive, no matter how much she needed you to stay that way.

Crackstone is cackling from his belly, a toothy sneer spreading itself out onto his leathery face as he looks at the damage he’s done, stomping towards you. “Hey!” Bianca yells from the opposite door, and the pilgrim whips around, as Xavier takes another shot at him. It lands in the pilgrim’s arm but he pulls it out like a twig, snapping it and tossing it to the ground, before he makes his way towards Bianca.

Your white shirt is completely soaking itself in your blood, droplets running down Wednesday’s fingers where she tries to hold the wound and apply pressure. But there was no saving a skewered heart.

"No, no, no," she coos, voice barely above a whisper and tears already pricking at the corners of her eyes. You're crying out in pain as the arrow shifts within you, fingers scrabbling at Wednesday's arms where they hold at you. Your fingernails sink into her skin, and she winces but doesn't pull away.

"Wens," you say again, infinitely weaker than before. "Wednesday…” It’s like your mouth won’t move coherently with your brain, like words mean trudging through ice and slush to come out, even the red-hot ones you need to say. “H—Hurts,” you spit out, and with it comes a small stream of blood from your mouth as you cough and air becomes less and less available.

She nods in a rush, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “I’m aware, I know,” she’s completely crying now. “We will get you care, cara mia, just hol— just hold on for a little while.” But you’re shaking your head.

“Don’t have— I don’t have—” you’re coughing up more blood, and she wipes it from your chin with a shaky hand. There’s just too much of it, everywhere. You had once gifted her some as a token of your devotion and it was a prized possession of hers, but now there was so much and she would have given it back in a heartbeat if it gave you any more of those.

She can vaguely hear Bianca and Xavier yelling on the other side of the quad, and various fires rage on in their chaotic yet vibrant corners, tickling against her skin in large crackles, burning in the reflection of your eyes that stare up at the sky. Your head is leaning against her shoulder, and she raises her hand, stroking through your soft hair as you heave in her arms.

“You must live, I promise you,” Wednesday insists fiercely, “I promise you, if you die right now, I will kill you.” But its tears that streak down her face, her jaw clenching and dark eyeliner running down her cheeks. She’s squeezing you right against herself, feeling the pain of the sharp arrow poke at her own skin.

“Vibrant and wh—whole?” you said with a smile, feeling your voice begin to slow down and with it, the beating of your heart. The blood has pooled in a sick puddle around your body.

She’s shaking her head. “Cara mia, we don’t need to do this, we will get you to a doctor. You will be—”

“—Wednesday,” you interrupt. Your voice has reached an eerie calm that sends a shiver down her spine, and it snaps her from any sort of hope. “Vibrant… and whole?”

She looks down at you for a moment, tracing the features of your nose, the planes of your cheeks, the colours of your eyes and the wryness of your smile. Wednesday swallows. “Forever. You know that. You must always know that.”

You nod, letting out a small laugh. It hurts, she can hear you wheeze right after you done it, but you sit in silence for a moment, and she can feel you get slower and slower, and your shirt gets redder and redder. The tears are uncontrollable, now, as she sits there with you. Her friends are losing in the corner, but she's losing something unthinkable, and she's so damn scared the entire time it's happening.

"The stars look beautiful tonight," you whisper so only she can hear it, your voice cracking at the end. In seconds, you're gone. She can feel the life, the glorious life, evaporate from you, your head lulling back against her and your weight becoming a hundred times heavier, but she doesn't move, squeezing you against her.

She's unsure how long she stays like that, but when she can no longer take it, she shifts, laying you down on the ground. You look peaceful, looking up at the stars, and it takes an effort to close your eyes that Wednesday had never felt with the dead before. She gently closes them, shutting the door on the eyes that used to captivate her very heart. It's almost like she could convince herself that you're only resting for a moment, and she leans over you, placing a meaningful kiss upon your forehead, just like she would when she snuck out after a night of sleeping over, and there were no prying eyes there to watch.

"Vibrant and whole," she whispers like a promise, turning back to the fight with a piece of the sword in her shaking fists. "For you, cara mia."

===+++===

well that was sad... anyways more happy stuff coming next time

[letorip]

the arcane ending made me cry and i don’t usually cry at shows or entertainment in general but holy shit… that absolutely wrecked me…

[letorip]

okay so there’s a chapter 1 of a new series i may be starting for lorraine day, but it’s a lot of plot to set up for part two and three, which is where the main drama will take place….

would you lot be interested in reading something more set up or would you find that boring? i promise there’s a little bit of a juicy moment that happens but it is by and large set up for the rest of the story

[3igbootyl0ver]

A New Face Pt.2

pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

summary: Tara was devastated you didn't text her. That was until you met her at a party.

word count: 2248

Pt.1

a/n: hey guys, first of all thank you all so much for the overwhelming support 🥹 I didn't expect this much attention at all especially for my first ever pic I've written. Anyways, I'm always open to feedback and requests if you have any. Take note I'm still getting used to this whole Tumblr thing so it may take a while for me to put up master lists and all that stuff (p.s sorry if there's any mistakes, a part of me feels like this lowkey sucks lolz)

It’s been 2 weeks since Tara had last seen you. And during those weeks, Tara’s mind had been fogged by you. Her mind kept repeating your interaction and every time a smile grew on her face. The group of friends had been making fun of her ever since they entered the lift after leaving yours and Chad’s apartment, saying she looked like a kid getting a lollipop for breakfast, all giggly and in a daze, but she didn’t care. 

She wanted to see you again badly. She started plotting and thinking about ways your paths can collide again. Like, she could plan walking in school and “coincidentally” cross paths even though her classroom was nowhere near yours and at least 10 minutes away from your building. But she wouldn’t do that! “I’m not that crazy” Tara thought. But would she? (A teeny tiny part of Tara knows she’s capable of doing so.)

She didn’t have the guts to text you and it’s already been two weeks! A part of her was hoping that you’d text her, but a pang of disappointment hit her when you didn’t. She usually isn’t this hung up on a person like this. Sure, she found some individuals cute from time to time, but she wouldn’t go up to this extend. She wouldn’t chase for someone, but for you, maybe, just a little bit, she would start jogging a little. There was something so.. alluring and appealing about you that Tara couldn’t comprehend. It’s like her mind glitched and was programmed to think about you 24/7.

 Tara was currently lying on her bed occupied by her mind (thinking of you obviously) when there was aggressive knocks on the front door.  “Give me a minute! Jesus..” murmured Tara as she walked towards the threshold. She opened the door which revealed Mindy looking impatient. 

“Dude, are you not dressed yet? We planned to go this party at least a week ago!” 

“Oh shit, I forgot about this Mindy I’m sorry! Give me 15 minutes to get ready” Tara replied apologetically while Mindy rolled her eyes and plopped herself down on the couch, kicking up her feet onto the coffee table and reached for the tv remote. After an excruciatingly long 15 minutes (it was actually 45 minutes), Tara and Mindy were set to leave and make their way to the party that was a few blocks away.

The house reeked of alcohol, weed, and cigarettes. The party-goers were dressed casually, with some wearing revealing and tight clothes to attract attention, no doubt trying to get laid. There was r&b and occasionally hip hop music blaring through the speakers. Mindy met up with Anika, dragging her to get a drink to get the night started which made Tara lose track of them, leaving her all alone. Tara’s stomach churned when she kept seeing couples making out in the hallway as she strolled to the kitchen to get a drink. (She kept this like a dirty secret, but she had imagined as if it was you and her making out)

“Hey Tara!” She turned around and saw Chad, with a random girl with his arm around her waist. 

“Chad? I didn’t know you were coming to this party” Tara explained, ignoring the dirty looks and stink eye given from the girl

“Yeah, I didn’t want to actually, but Y/N asked me out to this party and….” Whatever gibberish Chad spewed out was ignored as you occupied Tara’s mind. You were here? Y/N? Chad’s sexy and hot and super cute roommate? She’s doomed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?! Oh god! Oh my god, Do I look good? Do I have anything between my teeth, I knew I should have put on a sexier outfit”

“Tara- Tara calm down. You look good, okay? Don’t worry about it. If it makes you feel any better, they called you cute after you guys left the other day.” Chad commented, putting a stop onto Tara’s word vomit. You called her cute? Tara felt butterflies in her stomach. But why didn’t you text her? All Tara could hope for is that the universe is on her side tonight and let her catch a glimpse of you, and preferably not drunk to make a fool of herself and to earn atleast a decent conversation. 

She chugged down the alcoholic drink she made and decided to make one in an instant, trying to get rid of her blush since just thinking of you made her stomach do somersaults. She sat down on the couch, hoping she could see you soon. After almost half an hour, her patience was wearing thin, she hadn’t seen you yet. How even big is this house? Why couldn’t she see you? It was as if this house was alive and kept shifting its walls purposely to block her view of you. She made her way to the kitchen to make a stronger drink. Mindy was probably making out with Anika in a random room anyways so she doesn’t really bother, which left Tara looking like a real loser all alone weeping in the kitchen. 

She chugged down another shot of her drink, before making a new one. As she lifted her head to swallow her drink in one go, she felt a presence behind her. She smelt a scent of a wood, earthy with a reminiscent of smoke notes, along with a subtle smell of sweat. 

“Hey stranger. What’re you doing here all alone?” Tara choked on her drink when she heard your voice. Damn it, even your voice is hot. How does that even work? Tara had a coughing fit, while trying to cover up her blush and not make a fool out of herself (she already did). You made it even worse by wincing slightly and putting your hand on her lower back, rubbing it up and down her back and trying to at least comfort her while she was having a crisis.

“You alright there? Let me get some water for you,” You softly chuckled before proceeding to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water, opening the cap and passing it to Tara which gobbled it down. It took her a few moments to settle down and for her blush to subside.

“Thank you, really. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, I can’t debate with you about horror movies if you’re dead, right?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. Anyway, I didn’t know you were coming to this party. I assumed you were too cool and busy for this type of stuff.” Tara  teased. She took this time to take in the sight of you, you were wearing baggy jeans with a fitting t-shirt, revealing your tattoos. There goes the butterflies in her tummy again.

“I didn’t call in a shift today and I had nothing to do. Plus, it was an impromptu thing to come here since, well, I had a feeling you were going to be here and..I wanted to see you.” You softly chuckled, with your voice lowering at the end. Now it was your turn to start blushing, and Tara found it adorable.

“Well, I’m right here in front of you, cutie. What did you want to talk about?” Tara boldly added in the nickname, in hopes of seeing you blush again. You smiled at the term which revealed those dimples AND your blush. Tara gave her a pat on the back for the double victory. You opened your mouth to give a sly reply back, however your response was cut off by someone calling out for you.

“Y/N!! You in to play some beer pong?” You looked at Tara apologetically for the disruption and invited her to play along with you as a pair.

You both were up against another pair, which was obviously experienced beer pong players at that. You were willing to drink the cups that your opponent successfully had thrown the ball in, but Tara insisted on drinking it while you focus on throwing the ball. Understandably, both of you lost and while you thanked them for the round and lost gracefully, Tara stomped off like a little kid while mumbling swear words to herself, evidently affected by the amount of alcohol she had to drink. You chased for her and found her in the kitchen, mixing different liquids to create an abomination of a drink.

“Tara, you had enough for tonight don’t you think? Let me walk you home.” You suggested while taking her cup away as she was right about to sip it, making her whine. Tara turned around and looked at you as if you had said the most ridiculous sentence she had heard in her lifetime.

“NO!!! Please, let’s just stay a lit-little longer. I p-promise I’ll behave. I just want to spend time with you.” Tara begged and slurring her words, while learning against you for your warmth, and looking up at you with those undeniably adorable doe eyes, giving you the best puppy look she could express.

“We can talk on our way to your apartment, okay? I promise I won’t leave you alone” Tara huffed and rolled her eyes, but continued leaning against you for support. You only made it to the threshold of the exit holding her beside you until you couldn’t handle it anymore with how Tara kept moving around and losing her balance. You offered to give her a piggyback ride, which she immediately accepted after nodding her head enthusiastically.

“Why didn’t- didn’t you text me? I was waiting..waiting for you all along, man, fuck” Tara slurred, having hiccups in between her sentences.

“I’m sorry Tara, would you feel better if I said I was too nervous to text you?” You replied smugly, which made her wrap her arms around your neck a little tighter. You could feel a sudden warmth on the side of your neck, indicating that Tara was blushing. “Cute” You thought.

“Whatever..Whatever, dude. I just wanted to ask what horror movie you preferred,” Tara tried to shrug off and tried to act nonchalant as if your silence for the past 2 weeks didn’t bother her.

“I loved watching Terrifier 2. Art the clown really is a masterpiece,” You softly commented. You’ve reached the entrance of Tara’s apartment and entered the lift, softly asking what level she lives at before the lift door closes. You’re surprised you that didn’t feel tired of carrying her at all. Even after walking atleast 2 miles from the party. Most of the time carrying her home was in silence, since Tara was falling in and out of sleep.

“Me too!! I l-loved watching him kill random people” You walked her towards  her door, slowly getting her on her feet and stabilizing her when she was swaying around clumsily.

“Oh yeah? Well, I heard the new Terrifier 3 is coming out. Maybe we could watch it together during the premier? Like, a date?” You suggested, blush slowly creeping up from your neck to your cheeks. You knocked on the door, hoping Sam was awake to bring her in.

“Yes.” Tara simply replied while nodding insistently. You chuckled at her boldness.

“It’s a date then. We’ll talk about when you’re sober and having a hangover tomorrow, okay?” Tara nodded her head, her arms snaking around your neck to pull you closer. Your hands landed at her waste, feeling her being overly warm, probably from drinking too much. You decided to lean in and give her a kiss on her cheek, holding it for a little longer just to tease the shorter girl.

When you pulled back, you could see her blushing, probably not expecting the kiss. However, she decided to lean in this time, and now aiming for your lips. Just as both your lips brushed each other, the door opened, revealing Sam looking upset with wide eyes. You both pull back, with you coughing awkwardly under Sam’s gaze. Tara entered her apartment after saying her goodbyes, leaving you and Sam. You tried to talk to her, but ended up backfiring after she rolled her eyes and slammed the door on you even before you could utter a syllable. You made your way home and tried to ignore the interaction with Sam by occupying your mind with the younger Carpenter. You know talking to Tara won’t be easy due to her overprotective sister and friends, but you’re always up for a challenge, especially for a girl you’re falling in love with.

On the other side of the door, Sam was relentlessly scolding Tara, since she didn’t inform her of the party she was going to attend and that she had been worried sick the whole day. The least she expected was Mindy or Chad sending her home. Not you. Tara ignored Sam and went in her room, and plopped down on her bed with a huff, and fell asleep not even 5 minutes in.

The next day, Tara woke up with the most excruciating throbbing headache, it got worse when Sam continued her nagging about her going to parties without informing her. It took her awhile to adjust herself, with eating breakfast and taking a hot shower. She realized her phone had died since yesterday and decided  to charge it. When it turned on, the first notification she saw was from you.

Y/N: Heyy, hope you’re feeling better.

Sent at 11.33am.

Y/N: And I’m also hoping you didn’t forget the date we planned. Looking forward to seeing you soon :)

Sent at 11.36am.

[letorip]

Are you planning on updating crimson and clover after you finish kwaf? Just wondering bc I really liked the concept.

yes, i will hopefully be out with part 2 fairly soon! there are two oneshots that i want to come out within the next two weeks but depending on how fast i get them done we’ll see crimson and clover at least by the end of the month definitely and possibly kwaf as well because i know that cliffhanger has a lot of people on edge

also i love that my followers are now just referring to it as kwaf i find it very funny

[3igbootyl0ver]

A New Face

pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

summary: where the group of friends meet Chad's new roommate.

word count: 1737

a/n: heyyyyy this is my first ever fic I've written, don't mind it being cringy and I'm open to feedback teehee hope ya'll enjoy (p.s I'm new to this whole Tumblr thing cut me some slack 😭)

Chad has been trying to convince the core four to hangout at his apartment. He had been feeling lonely recently since Mindy and Anika had recently moved in together. 

It took him a few weeks to finally convince them into hanging out at his apartment. With Sam’s paranoia and busy work schedule, and the heavy workload for Tara,Mindy, and Anika in college, they were finally able to make the time and hangout. Plus, they could use a new scenery besides the Carpenter’s apartment, right?

That particular day they were supposed to meet up at Chad’s apartment, Tara was feeling under the weather, her finals for her college exam was killing her; And all she wanted to do was eat some greasy dough with sauce and meat while watching scary movies. 

“Hey guys! Come in, the pizza is getting delivered soon.” Chad exclaimed while hopping on his toes, feeling ecstatic since he hadn’t met them for a while. 

“What’s with you? you’re acting like a kid, dude.” Mindy commented, noticing her twin brothers’ gleamed faced and excitement. 

“Sorry, I’ve been lonely and I’m just glad we’re all together again. THE CORE FOUR! And Anika, of course.” 

“Didn’t you put up an online ad for a roommate? Where are they?”

“You don’t learn, do you?” Sam added, frowning with Chad’s method of calling in someone to fill in the extra room. 

Chad abashedly chuckled, and lowered his head, his cheeks burning up from embarrassment. It was Sam, who wouldn’t be scared?

“My roommate is cool! They’re out for work and should be here soon. They’re not a psychotic serial killer, I promise.”

Sam was skeptical, rightfully so. Meanwhile, Tara was sat on the couch, with her legs on the coffee table while scrolling through the tv to find a movie to watch. She couldn’t bother joining in on the conversation. She felt mentally exhausted from her exams and just wanted a day’s rest. 

After a while, the group was playing card games while eating their pizzas and watching movies. 

“That’s not fair Mindy! Stop giving me all the +4 cards!” Tara shrieked, feeling frustrated after getting the card that made her double the number of cards she had at least 4 times, making her chances of winning low.

“Whatever you big baby. Just admit that you suck in uno,” Mindy responded, smirking triumphantly while raising her voice

Tara rolled her eyes, not accepting her defeat and continued arguing with Mindy, with the rest watching amused by the entertainment. Unsurprisingly , Tara lost after Mindy getting rid of her cards before her. She couldn’t get rid of her cards with the suspicious amounts of +4 cards Mindy had. 

“Uno! Looks like I win, LOSER!”

“How about I shove this uno cards up your a-“

Tara’s reply was interrupted by the front door opening, revealing you carrying your backpack on your shoulders and your motorcycle helmet hanging off your hand (which peaked Tara’s interest, of course.) You looked tired, with dark circles under your eye, wearing your hoodie and sweatpants. 

Even so, Tara still thought you were the most beautiful human being she had ever seen. She was practically having heart eyes and drooling at this point, with Mindy noticing her stare and grinning cheekily. 

“What’s up dude. Tough day at work?” Chad commented, trying to create a conversation. 

“You know it, man” you softly chuckled while locking the door. 

“Anyways, my friends are gonna be here for a while. I hope you don’t mind,”

“Not at all, I’m probably just going to take a nap anyways,” you replied, finally looking at the group of people staring you. 

Mindy gave you a nod, already knowing who you were from her brother. Anika smiled and waved at you, which you responded by giving a soft smile back. Sam was staring you down, which made you uncomfortable and creeped out but ignored her action. Tara was well, staring at you? But not how Sam stared at you, she had a blank look on her face. 

Once you left and went into the hallway to your room, Mindy decided make a certain Carpenter’s life a living hell. 

“Tara, are you blushing right now? I didn’t know you had a type” she teased

“Shut up, Mindy. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You guys don’t find her suspicious? Seriously?” Sam commented, wondering why they weren’t skeptical like they usually were when there was new people around. 

It wasn’t new, after the incident of Ghostface, they all had their guards up, scared to open up to new people, to new faces. 

“They’re nice, I promise. How about I call them out so you guys can get to know them? They’re Y/N, by the way” Chad suggested, trying to convince them (especially Sam) to get to know you better before jumping into conclusions that you were a serial killer. 

All of them collectively agreed, with Tara nodding with a slight tint on her cheeks. Chad went up to your room and called you out, suggesting that you should hang out with them. Tara assumed it went well, as Chad grinned toothily and walked away. 

You’ve really peaked her interest. She didn’t know she had a type. The people she had dated before didn’t really cast a spark on her.  She didn’t feel happy or enjoyed her time during those relationships. It felt like she was the problem, however the thought was down the drain after going to a few therapy sessions with Sam after the Ghostface incident. Through the sessions, Tara found out that she didn’t feel happy through the lack of trust and being paranoid that her partner would be a killer. That’s understandable, it’s not everyday that your (ex) girlfriend tries to murder you. 

However after seeing you for 10 seconds, her mind was clouded by you. She noticed that you were as tall as Chad and probably plays sports too, based on your physique. All she thought of was finding out more about you.  Do you study in Blackmore? What bike do you own? Do you prefer cats or dogs? Did you find her cute?

‘Come on, Tara. Get it together.’ She reminded herself  after that embarrassing thought. 

When she saw you come out with the same sweatpants, but with a black t-shirt that showed off your arm sleeve tattoo on your left arm, she was practically drooling. You looked hot as fuck. 

“Hey guys, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N”

“I’m Tara,” she quickly replied, seeing Mindy and Anika grinning at each other with a knowing look from her peripheral vision. 

You gave a smile. You looked cute. You had that cute ass dimples no one could ever resist, Tara thought. You might be the death of her. 

The group settled down and decided to watch a movie, you sat the end of the couch while waiting for the movie to start. Mindy, being an (alleged) amazing wingman she is, literally forced Tara into sitting beside you by pushing her. She sat on the couch with a sigh, annoyed at Mindy’s antics and rolled her eyes. Sam was just giggling at the other side of the couch. 

As much as Sam didn’t trust you, she was glad that Tara could act like a normal teenager again. After multiple therapy sessions, she gave Tara a little bit of more freedom and let her make her own decisions, even if it’s distasteful to her. That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t tase someone in the balls again, though. 

You mistakenly thought the sigh Tara gave out was because she had to sit beside you. You had known about what happened to their group from Chad, after he poured his heart out when he was blackout drunk. You understood the group of friends can be lack trust and be suspicious of new people. 

“Sorry, did you want to sit with someone else? I can sit on the floor if you want-“

“No! I mean it’s okay, I don’t mind sitting with you,” Tara replied with a heavy tint on her cheeks, embarrassed at her sudden reaction. 

Throughout the movie, you were munching on your pizza, oblivious to the amount of times Tara took glances at you while trying to think of topics to create a conversation with you. 

“So..How do you find the movie?” Tara questioned you, trying to get to know you a little bit better. 

“It’s alright, though I prefer other scary movies. I definitely do have favourites.”

“Oh, what’s your favourite horror film?”

“I absolutely love The Babadook, it’s amazing because I..” Any words that you uttered out of that beautiful mouth of yours disappeared. The universe must be sending a sign, she needs you badly. There’s no way Chad’s super cute, hot roommate would coincidentally like The Babadook, Tara thought 

“Blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff..” was all she could hear. 

You on the other hand, only saw Tara staring at you blankly while she had her own inner turmoil and crisis.

“Uh, Tara..? You alright there?” you chuckled awkwardly.

“What? Oh, yeah sorry. I love The Babadook too! What’s your favourite scene?” Tara smoothly taught of a way to continue the conversation, silently cheering for herself. 

It took you both 2 horror films and a shared bag of popcorn to exchange numbers. Tara was secretly cheering in ecstasy of course. She would’ve jumped around and start dancing if she could. It was already close to midnight, and Sam decided that they should go back home before it’s too late to catch the last train.  Tara was devastated, she wished that she could’ve spent more time with you. 

“Soo, I’ll see you next time then? It was nice seeing you.” You initiated a conversation, seeing that Tara was pouting at Sam while trying to convince her into staying a little while longer

“Y-Yeah, see you. We should continue our horror fanatic activities again,” She chuckled, trying to prolong the moment. You nodded your head, giving her a soft smile while leading her, Sam, and the couple out of the apartment, since Chad was knocked out and asleep.

You took your last goodbyes with the group, even giving Sam a small wave, before closing the door. 

In the elevator, all Anika, Mindy and even Sam did was tease her on how red and lovestruck she looked. She didn’t pay any mind to it, all she could ever think of was you. 

[letorip]

Love the new theme!!!

thank you! agonised all over it when i made it, had to change it so many damn times but i’m glad it turned out nice

[letorip]

Hiii! It’s the movie anon! I’m back with a new one!

I just saw this movie this morning and maaaan..

It’s called “ Le bal des Folles” (Mad women’s ball), it’s a french movie.

It’s about women being sent to asylum just bc something wasn’t “normal” about them, in the end of the 19th century, so it’s a bit intense but not too much.

‼️Based on a true story‼️

The music is great, the acting 🤌🏼🤌🏼 Lou de Laànge (main cast) won an international award I think, and the atmosphere of the asylum is.. 😔💀

It’s on amazon prime :)

Sensitive people should check out the parents guide tho :/

that sounds really interesting, i’ll check it out 🙃

[letorip]

i hope we die in kwaf

i don’t think anyone agrees i think the readers would actually kill me if i killed reader 💀

[letorip]

As someone who voted Harris. I am incredibly fearful of our future at this moment. I understand your concerns and comments.

i’m just kind of confused more than anything because 4 years ago the biden guy won and i thought that meant trump was done for with the eating dogs stuff

hoping all those who are worried about their lives are okay rn

[letorip]

Trump has his faults, but he is the least worst option among them.

Just an opinion, don't come at me. <3

could not disagree more anon