Plot: Jenna and Y/n are a couple, but Jenna struggles with her role as Wednesday: her body seems unwilling to cooperate when she has to show hatred toward her girlfriend.
The neon light on the ceiling flickered, emitting a constant buzz. The room’s walls were white but grimy, marked by time. The concrete floor was rough and cold, stained in dark patches here and there. The air reeked of disinfectant mixed with mold, stagnant from too many years without care.
From an old faucet above the sink, a single drop of water fell every few seconds. The sound repeated endlessly, filling the silence. There was a metal-framed bed against one wall, with a thin mattress messily made. The gray blankets were crumpled, tossed over carelessly, as if no one truly slept there.
Y/n was chained to the wall, arms raised above her head. Her wrists were locked in metal cuffs connected to two short chains. The position was uncomfortable—you could tell from the tension in her shoulders and the way she tried to shift even slightly. Sweat ran down her forehead and cheeks, leaving damp trails across her skin.
She breathed slowly, her chest rising in measured rhythm. The chains clinked every time she moved, even just a little.
Then the door opened.
Wednesday Addams entered without a word, closing it behind her with a dull thud.
Y/n barely lifted her head. Her jaw was tight, her gaze narrowed with disdain. She swallowed slowly, then stretched her arms a bit, searching for some relief. The chains had left red marks on her skin. Her lips curled into a slow, sarcastic smile.
She wore a black top clinging to her chest, leaving her abdomen exposed. The gray uniform pants were one size too large, but still hugged her hips closely enough to show her shape.
“So?” she rasped, voice hoarse, dripping with sarcasm. “What do you think of the place?”
She shifted her weight slightly, just enough to make the chains rattle. The noise echoed in the room again.
Wednesday didn’t move. Her arms hung by her sides, face expressionless. Her eyes stayed fixed on Y/n. She showed no emotion, but the slight tightening of her jaw and fingers betrayed something beneath the surface.
The one responsible for her sleepless nights was right there, chained up. And still, inexplicably, maddeningly captivating.
“This cell used to hold a schizophrenic werewolf. Went on a rampage during a full moon… Summer of ’92, if I’m remembering right,” Y/n said, tilting her head slightly. The chains gave a soft metallic clink.
“Ironic… since a werewolf took you down,” Wednesday replied, her tone cold, with a faint hint of amusement. A flicker of a smile passed across her face for less than a second.
Y/n clenched her jaw, the muscles in her stomach tightening under the sweat.
"It was inevitable. Your morbid curiosity had to lead you here. You couldn’t resist seeing me again.”
“You lie to yourself while you drown in your own solitude?” Wednesday’s voice was sharp, quiet.
“The only one lying here is you, Wednesday… You sensed the monster in me and fell in love for it.” Y/n tilted her head again. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, traced her cheek, and fell onto her bare stomach.
Wednesday lowered her gaze for a split second, then immediately looked back at Y/n’s eyes. She forced herself to breathe steadily.
You’re not in character, Jenna. Keep it together.
Emotions were a chemical problem.
A temporary malfunction.
An irritation of the nervous system.
Nothing that couldn’t be suppressed with enough willpower.
But it was hard—with that voice. With those eyes. With that chained body.
“We’re two dark spirits ready to ravage the world together,” Y/n whispered, her lower lip trembling slightly as if holding back a smile.
Wednesday stared back, unmoving.
“You’re only capable of ravaging the extra fruit at dinner,” she snapped back. She swallowed. Her heart pounded in her throat.
Absurd.
Unacceptable.
Y/n chuckled darkly. Then the smile faded.
“Say hi to Enid for me. Tell her I’ll kill her the moment I see her.”
Wednesday’s stomach tensed. It wasn’t fear. It was something worse: anger laced with a shiver of excitement.
As if the danger wasn’t a deterrent… but a promise.
She took two steps forward.
Each one calculated.
Every heartbeat a system error.
Her hands curled into fists. Nails digging into her palms. Knuckles white.
Keep calm, she told herself. Follow the script. This is just—
“You’re right… I couldn’t resist seeing you…” she murmured, the tone so low it sounded like a thought that escaped her lips by accident.
Her hands rose, drawn by some primal impulse. They landed on Y/n’s hips. Her fingers slid slowly along the waistband of her pants. She felt warm skin beneath her nails. Y/n shivered, but didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.
It was an experiment, she told herself. An observation. A test of control.
One nail dragged slowly along Y/n’s side.
“Admiring you in chains puts a smile on my black heart,” she whispered—completely free of irony.
Their faces were inches apart. Noses barely touching.
Wednesday’s breathing was calm… outwardly.
Inside, every rational thought was struggling to stay afloat.
Her pupils were dilated. Eyelids half-lowered. Her tongue flicked across her lips. Not out of seduction. Instinct. Her throat felt dry. She hated that feeling.
Her fingers tightened against warm flesh.
Then, inevitably, she leaned in.
The kiss was short. But there was nothing soft about it. Just need.Just chaos hidden beneath layers of self-control.
"CUT"
They pulled apart at once.
Y/n’s eyes were wide, a smirk tugging at her lips. Then she burst into a loud laugh.
“JENNA! That wasn’t the scene!” yelled the director.
Tim Burton ran a hand through his hair, visibly exhausted.
“Fifteen-minute break…” he sighed. “And we’re putting a damn glass barrier between them. That was take eight.”
Jenna lowered her head, cheeks flushed. She avoided everyone’s eyes.
Y/n was still laughing. Jenna nudged her side lightly with an elbow.
“Cut it out,” she muttered, voice weaker than usual.
She had failed. Again. For the eighth time.
And not because she couldn’t act. But because Wednesday Addams couldn’t pretend to be indifferent…
summary: An accidental slip up of Wednesday calling you by your name sets you on a first name basis calling spree—life lesson, she shouldn't forget about your endearments next time.
A/N: hell yeah, r and w's dating heree
Warnings!: ooc wed! soft wednesday! 🤭
Masterlist
wc: 1.2k
You and Wednesday always used terms of endearments privately—that has become your own language, only that you both speak of.
So, when Wednesday got back to your dorm, literally fuming, you didn't waste a breath, already asking her what was wrong, or if she needed something to soothe her nerves.
She didn't have a problem with your persistence, she absolutely adores you, but she just wasn't feeling too good tonight. She knew you knew that, you were together all day, although she did part with you after dinner to head to her dorm for her writing time, only for her to find out she ran out of ink, she wouldn't be able to buy some until tomorrow because of the pouring rain.
And, the weight of her bag was too much, how her jaw felt like it's locked in place, the heels on her boots felt heavy all of a sudden, gosh she just wants you to hold her tight and not let go.
"I don't need anything at the moment, thank you Y/N." She sighs, beginning to take her boots and bag off, unbuttoning her vest and making her way to your closet, where your clothes are now practically hers, vice versa.
Though, your abrupt halting clearly wasn't subtle, she saw the hesitance in your body language, the way you began moving at a slower pace, worrying if you moved too suddenly you'd have not only been on a first name basis with Wednesday—but also anxious if Wednesday would prefer to sleep in her dorm room from now and then, too.
You didn't want to give up your nightly routine cuddles! Never!
"You okay?"
Her eyes traced your features, your brows creased. To the motion of your hair to the shift of your foot. She didn't know what had happened, did she say something to set you off? She knew you were big on thinking about everything too hard. She didn't need that tonight.
"Yeah.. I'm okay." You gave her a light huff, with a flick of your thumb hitting the switch of the room's emitting light.
Wednesday giving a sigh of her own, you both began moving towards your cozy bed that was currently calling for both of you to just sleep and relax. That's just what you both needed, right? right.
That's what it was.
...
The next morning didn't go as planned, not that Wednesday anticipated on going thoroughly well with her day. She didn't like the way you said her name, just her name. She didn't like the way you were avoiding eye contact with her either. She loathed everything you were purposely doing!
So, she went to someone who knew you and per chance to get the idea why you were portraying such actions out of the ordinary. Weirder than weird.
"Enid, I think.. I scared Y/N off."
Enid dismisses it as lovers quarrel, saying nothing fixes that issue with no communication. So, that's what Wednesday did! Still, she felt as if the steps she went through were misguided.
"Y/N, it seems I've.. I've— upset you in some way. May I know how?"
Wednesday didn't know why her voice wavered and quivered, she wasn't worried, was she? She didn't think so, Enid's right. Just communicate.
Yet you looked at her funny, like what she had said was silly, gently taking your hand to your lips, a light laugh went out of your throat.
"No, Wednesday. Just stressed, that's all."
Huh. By then you would've addressed her with some sappy nicknames you could've come up with. She didn't mind those nicknames, she even tolerated a few to have given you permission to use it as you pleased.
Yet Wednesday didn't think much of it, sighing in relief, the breath she didn't know she held. Thinking something was bothering you—or she did something to upset you.
It was basically nothing.
...
Although, despite the fact that Wednesday began going back to your terms of endearment, you—somehow stuck with just "Wednesday", even to the extent of just calling her by her last name.
"Oh Wednesday, can you lend me my flask, please?"
“You look even more beautiful tonight than ever before, Addams."
"Wednesday, you're hogging the blanket! Please! I'm freezing!"
"Where's my kiss goodbye, Addams?"
She'd had enough, marching right in your dorm like she owned the damn room.
Like? What was wrong with you! Where's the sap? The cheesy nicknames Wednesday began to tolerate? I mean, not that Wednesday wanted you to call her grimacing nicknames...
Who was she kidding? She loves it, she goes to you for comfort, basically loves every bit of you that exists, may it be the way you sing in the bathroom that would take at least an hour for you to finish, may it be the way you drift off to sleep every time you both study in your room together, may it be the way you'd always hold out the door for everyone, may it be the way you'd serve her as if she were something fragile. And yet—she loves it. She loves you.
"You can stop that, Y/N."
"Stop what?"
The audacity for you to say that.
"I know what you're doing and it's not funny."
She couldn't live with a first name basis and last name basis calling forever!
"Amore, please. Have I done something to upset you?"
Wednesday rarely pleaded, you knew something bothers her when her facade would gradually slip, her vulnerability that's slowly unraveling, her eyes close to spitting out segments of hesitance—up to this point, you still had the heart to look at her like she hung the moon, just for you.
"Maybe.. I was just getting back at you for calling me by my first name a night ago, I did get upset about it— I'm sorry— I just thought I did something to have upset you when you called me like that! So I hesitated.."
Calling it relief doesn’t come close to what Wednesday felt. A weight was lifted off her shoulders, and she was grateful it wasn’t anything as serious as she thought, although, even if it were, her heart is set on making you happy once more and filling your days with unwavering love.
She began striding towards you, you held eye contact with her, your eyes held so much love just for the Addams, her change of demeanour alone can make your world shake and crumble—nevertheless, the words aren’t always spoken, but the love is always there—her love touches you deeply, in every small way you feel the heartbeat of her love in all she does for you, every day without fail.
She caresses your face, gentle as light, afraid if she moves too fast you'll move away, her fingertips grazing right between your brows to the side of your lips, a subtle smile surfaced. She held eye contact, she saw how your eyes spoke so much emotion all at once.
"I was beginning to get agitated with your bratty scheme."
Your laughter sent shock waves into Wednesday's insides. When she met you, the walls around her heart cracked, and warmth began to seep in.
You gave her a taste of something real—and she’d never give that up for something that wasn’t.
Summary: Inspired by Greylan James - Water at a Wedding. Y/N is at Tara’s wedding and reception and notices her not drinking.
A/N: I don’t typically write fanfic so be gentle
“Mom, I really don’t want to be here right now.”
“You’ve known each other since kindergarten, and it’s her wedding day.”
I roll my eyes and tug at the black tie strangling my neck. Dad’s watching me curiously, like he can see right through the smartass exterior. The flask in my pocket sloshes with whiskey as we move down the aisle.
The wedding planner gestures us toward the left. Bride’s side. Of course.
Chad, the groom, is standing up front, eyes bloodshot, shoulders tense. His bachelor party clearly went until sunrise. He never liked me, and the feeling’s mutual. Maybe he always sensed the spark between me and Tara, his bride-to-be. Maybe it ate him alive that there was a part of her he could never reach.
Meanwhile, his best man or rather, best woman Mindy stares at me from her place at the altar. We’ve been rivals since debate team, and the glare she shoots me feels like old times. I shoot them a fake smile and wave.
And then Sam. Sam Carpenter, Tara’s big sister, walks down the aisle in a green bridesmaid dress that clings in all the right places. My parents had mentioned she’d blown back into town, but I hadn’t believed it until I saw her with my own eyes.
The Bridal March begins. Everyone stands.
And there she is.
Tara.
White lace drapes her like it was spun by hand just for her. A thin veil frames her face. The train of her gown trails behind, elegant, endless. She looks… breathtaking isn’t enough.
Her eyes meet mine, and I swear the whole church holds its breath. She falters, just slightly, like she wasn’t expecting to see me. Her chest rises as she takes a sharp inhale.
Then the world blurs. Voices echo, muffled. I only catch pieces of the reverend’s words until…
“Does anyone object to this union?”
My heart stutters. My throat closes.
I picture standing up. I picture shouting me. I picture running down the aisle, taking her hand, dragging her out into the sun where it’s just us again.
But I stay seated. Because Tara deserves to be happy.
My hands don’t unclench until the applause.
The next thing I know, the church is empty. Just me, my flask, and the ghosts of every memory Tara and I ever shared.
“Hey.”
I glance up. Sam slides into the pew beside me and drapes an arm around my shoulders, warm and grounding. “Long time no see.”
I force a smile. “Hey, Sam.”
“How about we grab a drink? I hear the reception has an open bar.”
The reception hall is smothered in magnolias and roses, the kind of setting designed for fairy tales. I don’t bother looking for my name on the seating chart—I wasn’t technically invited.
Mom kisses my cheek on her way out. “We’re heading home. Your dad’s still not one hundred percent. Take our seats.”
“Sure,” I lie, because I have no intention of sitting down.
Instead, I hover at the back, whiskey burning my throat as the newlyweds are announced.
And of course, that’s when Mrs. Carpenter finds me.
“Y/N.” Her voice is sharp, curling my name like it’s a curse. “I didn’t know you were back. Nice to see you attend Tara’s wedding.” The sneer almost hides beneath her polite smile, but not quite. Even through her alcoholism, she always saw what lingered between her daughter and me.
Before I can respond, Sam rescues me. She takes my arm and pulls me straight onto the dance floor.
“Thanks,” I mouth as she presses close.
Her eyebrow quirks. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always. You were my favorite babysitter, remember?”
“Why didn’t you and Tara ever… you know?”
I look over her shoulder, at the bride across the room. My chest aches. “We were just friends,” I say, too quickly.
Sam doesn’t buy it. I can feel her skepticism in the way she squeezes my hand tighter.
Flashback: Two Months Ago
I was at the local bar, nursing a whiskey and Coke after a long day at the hardware store. Running it for Dad while he recovered felt like slow suffocation.
“Y/N?”
That voice. I turned, and there she was.
Tara Carpenter.
Remember the cliché about being secretly in love with your best friend?
“When did you get back?” she asked, arms folded, eyes sparking.
“A few weeks ago.”
“You didn’t bother to come see me.” Her voice cracked. “Not surprised, since you left and decided to cut me out of your life.”
“Tara, we both went to college. You went to New York. I went to the west coast. Do people really stay friends after high school?”
Her hand flew before I saw it coming. The slap stung, but not as much as the tears pooling in her eyes.
I downed my drink and muttered, “Goodnight, Tara.”
But later, upstairs in the tiny apartment above the bar, a knock came.
I opened the door. “If you came here to hit me again…”
Her lips crashed against mine.
We didn’t stop. Clothes fell. My hands knew her like they’d always been meant to. That night was fire and ache and years of what ifs burning down to ash.
The next morning, I woke up sore. Alone.
Back in the reception, I see Tara across the room, smiling, laughing. Chad brings her a glass of champagne. She accepts it, then, slyly, pours it into a vase when no one’s looking.
Not once tonight have I seen her actually drink. No bubbles. No sips.
My chest tightens.
I follow her when she slips into the bathroom and lock the door behind us.
“Tara.”
She turns, startled. “Y/N?”
“Are you pregnant?”
She freezes. Then nods.
“How long?”
“Two months.”
The math slams into me. My mouth goes dry. “Is it….”
“Don’t ask that question.” Her voice wavers, but her eyes don’t leave mine. “It doesn’t matter. The baby will belong to my husband.”
I can’t breathe.
She reaches for the door, but before slipping out, she glances back over her shoulder.
“But I hope they have your kind eyes.”
And then she’s gone.
The sounds of laughter and music seep through the bathroom walls. I take a slow sip from my flask, hands trembling.
I stay there a long time, staring at my reflection. Wondering how you move on from someone who’s still yours in all the wrong ways.
pairing: tara carpenter | reader
summary: tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn.
word count: 3726
warnings: mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick, friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general.
a/n: will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!
masterlist
When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once.
Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device.
tara ♥︎
can you come pick me up?
please
this is the worst date ever
😭
Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location.
tara ♥︎
im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something
chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore
please come fast
Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.
It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.
Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car.
“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home.
“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”
“I'm watching Stranger Things.” The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.
“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”
“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.
“He has a small dick.”
“I'm all ears, princess.”
The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.
The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date.
According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar.
You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.
“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”
“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.
Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college — where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.
“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”
“Black socks really do sucks…”
“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.
Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”
The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.
“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”
“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”
“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”
“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”
“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.
“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”
“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”
“He didn’t have any?”
“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”
“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.
“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”
“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”
“Where did that come from?”
“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”
“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”
“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?”
You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”
“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”
“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”
Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand.
“Kiss me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Kiss me.”
You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.
“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”
“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”
“Then why wasn’t he hard?”
“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.
“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”
“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t.
“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”
“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.
“Please…”
“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”
“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”
“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”
“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip.
“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.”
“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?”
You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”
When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace.
You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.
Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard.
Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.
“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you.
“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.
Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.
Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly.
She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.
It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release.
This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.
“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly.
The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.
“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”
“And how do you wanna cum?”
Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.
Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling.
She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move.
“This feels so fucking good.”
Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.
Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist.
Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie.
Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile.
“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.
“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?”
Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.
“Are you proud of yourself?”
“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.
Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm.
“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?”
“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.
part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii
summary: More parties, races, and heart felts?! Go Bruins!
word count: 9k
————
The diner on campus buzzed with life, sunshine poured through the windows, casting everything in a golden glow, like the universe itself was saying, “Hey look at this beautiful day full of endless possibilities!”
It was the kind of morning that screamed optimism.
Maybe someone would ace a test they didn’t study for. Maybe someone else will finally make a move on their crush. Hell, maybe that one guy in the corner would finally figure out how to eat a breakfast burrito without it falling apart.
But maybe optimism wasn’t the theme at a certain table.
“Can someone pass the syrup?” Hunter asked, breaking the silence.
No one moved.
“Cool, I’ll just go fuck myself then.” He inconveniently reached across Aliyah for the syrup bottle.
Aliyah was quiet, bouncing her foot up and down while her sister was zoned out staring at the patterns students’ have carved on the table while waiting for their meal.
The tension at the table was unbearable, and you weren’t even there yet. Finally Jenna had enough of her sister’s leg bouncing and blurted out, “Aliyah what is it!”
“Did I fuck up Y/s/n?” She says without missing a beat.
“Y/s/n?”
"Yours and Y/n's ship name."
"There is no me and Y/n," Jenna says calmly.
"Yeah not anymore," Hunter says with a mouthful of food, entering the conversation.
"I told you to let loose, you wouldn't have danced with that guy if it weren't for me!" Aliyah panics, feeling immense guilt for the events of last night.
Jenna looks between her sister and Hunter bewildered with their words. "Oh come on guys! It's not like I fucking kissed the guy!"
————
The poolside lights shimmered on the water as Jenna sat with Markus. She wasn't the happiest when the group got separated, but her main priority was to keep an eye on Aliyah. Her brother had urged her to meet some of his friends and she complied. With the whirlwind of her life back in Summer Valley, she definitely missed a lot of his life in the last 2 years. The least she could do is get acquainted with his friends.
She hadn't missed the way you stiffened once she took her jumper off. You immediately turned away, hands flying to the back of your neck. It was quite adorable, you were a mess, and her wearing a bikini had been the cause of your unwinding. She had to thank Aliyah for the outfit later.
But you too had returned the favour, shedding off your extra layer, revealing parts of your body that were usually covered in a plain tee or rugged jacket. She couldn't believe you were hiding all that from her, and maybe it's the drink she's slowly sipping on talking, but she was having curious thoughts about your abs.
While one of Markus' friends was talking about something she could care less about, her gaze drifted to the bar.
She noticed the group of girls watching you like hawks, their attention fixed and intentions clear. Her focus shifted to you, standing near the bar, talking to the host of the party. Jenna raised her brow. Did it not bother you that he had openly expressed his interest in her? She thought she saw your jaw clench in frustration when he had taken her hand, but here you are in deep conversation with him.
Jenna felt a pang of something she wasn’t ready to name.
Aliyah slid onto the lounge chair beside her. "You're way too tense for a party. Live a little, girl." She nodded behind Jenna, where a guy had been eyeing her for the past ten minutes. "Go. Have fun. You deserve it. Who knows? It might push a certain someone to action," she smirks.
Jenna rolled her eyes and hesitated but eventually stood. She wasn't interested in the guy. Her thoughts kept wandering back to you. As he led her to the dance floor, she scanned the room, trying to find you, wondering if you could see her right now. Her heart jumped when she caught your eyes following her briefly before you turned back to the bar.
She moved with confidence, sauntering across the floor as though it was her stage, but her motive wasn't as bold as it appeared. All she really wanted was your attention. She didn't know how to ask for it directly—how to confront you and say what she felt. This seemed easier.
And then after some dancing she had to force herself to partake in—she spotted you.
You were on the dance floor now, with a girl pressed close to you. Jenna's heart sank. This wasn't what she planned. She wanted to provoke you, to make you react. But seeing you with someone else? She felt her blood run cold.
Her jaw tightened as she watched the girl drape herself over you, her hands trailing your chest, her lips dangerously close to your ear—maybe even brushing them. She laughed at something you said, and Jenna's stomach twisted. It took everything in her not to storm over, shove the girl away, and scrub every trace of her off you.
Jenna's retaliation out of jealousy was instant. And then so was yours. She hated the current circumstances, but she couldn't help but admit the slight giddiness she felt. Your retaliation meant that you cared. That you wanted to get a rise out of her, just as she wanted to get one out of you. Maybe you were jealous? And maybe the extent of your relationship was more than just racing politics.
But those thoughts quickly vanished as soon as her sights fell back on the girl slithering all across your body.
Jenna had enough. She turned back to her dance partner, got up on her tippy toes—god she curses herself for choosing a freakishly tall dance partner and stumbles as she places her hands on his shoulder so she doesn’t fall and whispers in his ear, “I got what I needed buddy, thanks for the dance.”
As soon as Jenna left the grasp of the guy she spun around with a new motive. She was done with the games. This back and forth was maddening, and she wanted to end the night with you, not someone else. She was going to dance with you. It was clear that this little bit both of you had going on was for each other. But once she glances at you, she stops in her tracks.
You were frozen.
The girl you’d been dancing with had stopped too, looking at you in confusion. Your expression was impossible to read—shock, hurt, maybe even relief. Whatever it was, it stopped Jenna in her tracks.
It was clear you had some big emotions going on, and Jenna was confused. You both were doing the exact same things? What caused the reaction?
Before she could process it, you turned and walked off without hesitation.
“Holy shit!” Aliyah’s voice pulled Jenna out of her daze as she sprinted over.
Markus joined moments later, wide-eyed while Hunter walked over to you.
“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.” Markus said, his voice shaking. “And I’ve seen Aliyah try to parallel park.”
Jenna frowned, confused. “What just happened? Why did she—what’s going on?”
None of them answered. All Jenna knew was that something had changed, and it was big.
————
"Wait does she think I fucking kissed him?" Jenna panicked looking at Hunter and Aliyah with wide eyes. "What did you two talk about?" She fires at Hunter, hoping to get some more insight of what was going on in your head.
"Why would it matter if Y/n thought you kissed him?" He asks, taking a sip of his orange juice and turning to the girl.
Jenna sputtered, her mind racing. "Because—because it's not—" She paused, realizing what Hunter was doing, and the dangerous territory she was entering.
But Hunter wasn't done. "Come on, Jenna," he pressed. "If you wanted to make her jealous, you've got to own it. You're both obviously playing some game here, but at least admit it to yourself that you care."
"You know what?" Jenna said, shaking her head. She was ready to end the night with you last night—to dance with you. Admitting this to her friends wasn’t going to kill her. "Fine. I do care. But the point is, I didn't kiss that guy." She shot a sharp look at Aliyah. "Does she think I kissed him?" she asked Hunter again, her patience running thin.
Jenna huffed, her face flushed with the weight of her own admission. She couldn't shake the feeling that part of her hoped you'd walked off because you were jealous, that you were feeling the same rush of frustration and desire that had been building up inside her. But then another, more terrifying thought crept in. What if you thought she'd kissed the guy and now wanted nothing to do with her? The idea left a bitter taste in her mouth.
But the part that really scared her—the part she didn't want to acknowledge, was the chance that maybe you didn't care about her the way she wanted you to. That maybe it was foolish of her to even think you'd walk off because of her, or because of anything related to her. The thought of it twisted something deep in her chest.
Hunter sighed. "I think you're both just too stubborn to admit what's obvious to everyone else." He glanced at Aliyah, who nodded, silently agreeing. "You two are so clearly wrapped up in each other's heads. Just talk about it already."
Jenna's fingers were gripping the edge of the table. Her heart was pounding. All she knew was that she couldn't keep pretending this didn't matter.
Hunter frowned, noticing the girl's distressed state. "Look, the last thing I want to do is to put words in Y/n's mouth, but don't worry, she knows that you didn't kiss that guy. I think she was just feeling overwhelmed. I don't know how she's feeling this morning after everything but I urge you to talk to her, because I am sick of this shit."
And with that Markus and you both walk into the diner.
————
You sat rigid, your coffee untouched, the events of last night replaying in your mind on loop. Everyone had hoped that a night's rest would dampen the feelings of the night prior. You were pissed last night, so much that you didn't even spend the night at Markus' dorm once the party was over. You crashed the night at Darius'—the host of the party, and Markus joined you since he didn't want to leave you alone. Darius was unsurprisingly very understanding as he saw what happened first hand.
When you and Markus arrived at the diner to meet the rest of the group for breakfast, your eyes immediately found hers.
She looked up at the same time, like she’d been waiting.
You forced yourself to break eye contact, and slid in the booth next to Hunter while Markus grabbed a chair to sit at the head of the table.
Jenna cleared her throat, her voice softer than usual. “Hey.”
You hummed, nodding once. Not cold, not dismissive, just careful.
"I feel like we're always eating pancakes," Aliyah says, trying to make small talk. Opting for some safe conversation, knowing what she said makes absolutely no sense since this is only the second time you've all had pancakes together.
"Everyone loves pancakes. They're neutral. Safe. Unlike, oh, I don't know... last night." Hunter shrugs. Aliyah groans, burying her face in her hands. Of course, he would turn the simplest of words related to the topic everyone was trying to avoid.
Markus mutters, "Honestly, I'm kind of impressed by how bad that was." Hunter grins, unbothered. "Thank you. I try."
Jenna’s eyes never left you. “Y/n,” she tried again, more cautious this time. “Can we…talk? After?”
Your chest tightened. The part of you that wanted to keep her at arm’s length wrestled with the part of you that had spent all night thinking the moments you shared this last month, her laugh, the undeniable chemistry between you both, her moves on the dance floor, the way her eyes had searched for you before everything went sideways. You quickly looked at Markus, who gave you a nod, alluding to the conversation you, him, and Darius had the night before.
You finally looked at Jenna, really looked. Her face was a mix of nerves and determination, like she was ready to fight if she had to, but terrified of losing you in the process.
And you couldn’t be mad at that. Not when she looked at you like that.
“Yeah,” you said quietly, clearing your throat, you add. “We can talk.”
Jenna’s shoulders eased, with a slight smile.
Hunter smirked to himself. Aliyah kicked him under the table. They both knew what this meant. The ball was finally rolling.
Jenna kept looking at you, clearly itching to say more—anything to air her frustration from last night or spark a reaction she could use to get more words out of you. But you didn't so much as glance her way after that. Instead, your focus was glued to your phone, your fingers moving steadily as you texted someone. Her annoyance simmered into anger, her mind racing with possibilities. Who were you texting? Was it that girl from last night? Did you get her number? The thought alone made her grip her fork tighter.
"Anyways," you mutter. "I think it's time we have the conversation that we tried to have yesterday morning."
"Uhm yeah sure," Aliyah agrees to your suggestion breaking the awkward silence at the table.
You take a deep breath, your focus sharpening. "I was just texting Madison. Apparently there was a break in at the garage," you say, directing your words toward Hunter.
His expression shifts instantly. "What the fuck?" he mutters, caught off guard. "Do they know who did it?"
Jenna doesn't react to the break in at all. She's too focused on the mention of this Madison character.
"Nope," you say, shaking your head. "Of course, the cameras only seem to work when I bring a girl to the garage." You roll your eyes, nodding toward Jenna, who still hasn't said a word.
"They take anything?" Aliyah asks.
"Surprisingly no," you admit, flipping your phone around to show them the image Mikey had sent just moments ago. A dark red smear stretches across one of the empty walls of the garage, the paint thick and uneven—almost like blood.
'Back Off'
The table falls into an uneasy silence. There's no mistaking what this is. A threat. A warning.
"Damn, is this play about us?" Aliyah mutters, breaking the tension.
"Probably," you exhale, running a hand down your face. "After that meeting, I doubt it's about anything else. Apparently the crew's ready for war, and Anton? He's losing his fucking mind."
The silence around the table is thick. You exhale, steadying yourself. "And there's more."
Jenna and Aliyah exchange a glance, already sensing where this is headed. But you know they don't know the entirety of it.
"So, the meeting," you start, your voice low. "What we heard there? That was real shit. Pushing Ghostsmoke onto our streets—it's gonna affect our families. And I don't know what this means for the crew," you glance at Hunter. "I have no idea what it means for Brimstone. And I sure as hell don't know who's gonna get caught in the crossfire."
"Did you recognize any of the guys there?" Aliyah asks, glancing between you, Hunter, and Jenna. "The Raven douche," you roll your eyes. "The one who was hitting on... the one I raced against." You quickly correct yourself, glancing at Jenna and back in front of you.
"And of course, Percy was there too," Jenna adds with a slight sneer.
"How do those two know each other?" you ask her, genuinely curious. "Do Vipers and Ravens have history?"
Jenna feels a pang in her chest at how easily you're talking to her now. It's like nothing happened. No tension, no jealousy. Just... normal. She pushes the hurt aside and tries to stay logical. You both are single, you both are allowed to dance with others. You don't owe each other anything. You're allowed to act like this.
"It's always just been friendly competition with the Ravens," she says. "Nothing like the tension with the Sinners though. But I've always thought the Ravens had some sort of grudge against us."
"What? Why?" Hunter asks, raising an eyebrow. "It's just always been a thing," Jenna shrugs. "Anyone from Ridgewater and Summer Valley—it's like a rivalry. Every town around here hates each other. Don't worry, Brimstone isn't the only one."
Markus speaks up then, breaking his silence. "I don't know much about what's going on right now, but I do know that it's always been about money. Summer Valley's always been top-tier, the richest of the rich. Ridgewater's a close second, but being second place stings more than being last like Brimstone, you know?"
He shoots a playful glance at you and Hunter. "It's like they're almost there but just can't quite get over the line, so they stay polite, keep up the rich people front like they're supposed to, but it's clear. They can't stand being second."
The gravity of the situation settles in, and for a fleeting moment, the tension between you and Jenna feels like it's been pushed aside, though the unspoken weight of it lingers in the background. Neither of you is sure where this fragile truce will lead. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. The next part wasn't easy to say, but they needed to hear it. The stakes weren't just abstract—they were personal.
"There's something else," you begin, your voice faltering slightly. "Families have already been caught in the crossfire of this operation." Hunter's expression hardens, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. You hesitate, your gaze lingering on Jenna a moment longer than necessary. She doesn't break eye contact, her searching eyes piercing through your defenses like she was trying to decode every one of your thoughts.
The oldest Ortega had already mentioned to you in passing that she told her younger siblings about your father and Anton's being the founders of the Sinners. So you were grateful they weren't missing too much context.
"...they started it for fun but it became a way to survive, to give Brimstoners a chance at something better," you explain, your tone heavy with meaning. "But...they're both gone now. And I can't help but think that what happened to them wasn't just bad luck." You make note of their concerned faces and continue. "During that meeting, they mentioned something about not wanting a repeat of Bullet and Apex," you continue, your fingers tapping lightly against the table. "Did either of you catch that?"
Aliyah nods. "Yeah. Didn't think much of it at the time, though." You glance at Jenna before looking down at your hands. "My dad's racing name was Bullet. And my uncle, he was Apex." Your voice falters, but you push through, the weight of the memory haunting you.
"For the past eleven years, I believed it was just a freak accident. My dad was driving—it was during one of those crazy races he was known for. He always pushed the limits, reaching speeds that no one else dared to. Anton's dad was riding passenger that night. I thought... I thought he just lost control. That's why they crashed. Those are what the reports said."
Jenna's eyes widen, a flicker of realization sparking in her gaze. It clicks—something she hadn't connected until now. She remembers watching you during the Raven race, noticing how deliberate your driving was. You weren't reckless, weren't pushing the pedal to the floor like everyone else around you. Even in all the times she's ridden in the car with you, she recalls how meticulous you were, never straying above the speed limit. And now it all made sense. You don't go over the limit. Not on the track, not on the road, not anywhere. It wasn't just a choice—it was a line you refused to cross, a boundary etched deep into who you were. And hearing it now, understanding why, gave the phrase a weight she hadn't realized before. It wasn't just a habit, it was a scar.
She didn’t realize how bang on her read on you was, the night you both stole the Aston.
"I'm sorry, I don't even know if I'm rambling or making any sense," you lightly laugh at yourself, unable to get your thoughts in order. "I don't have all the pieces yet, but I'm starting to think their deaths weren't accidents. That this whole...Ghostsmoke thing? It's connected."
You pause, your gaze flickering toward Jenna without thinking. Her expression once frustrated, now carries a softness you hadn't expected. Concern lingers in her eyes, and though you hadn't intended to, you find yourself drawn toward her, seeking an anchor in her presence. "It's not just about the drugs," you finally say, your voice firm despite the tremor underneath. "It's bigger than that. It's about control. About power. And somehow, my family—my dad, my uncle—they're at the center of it."
Your goal today wasn't to scare them, it was to protect them. It always had been. You dragged everyone into this mess, and they deserved to know that lives were at stake.
Aliyah frowns, her voice hesitant. "Are you sure you're ready to dig into this? If what you're saying is true, it sounds like some dangerous people are involved." You glance at Jenna one last time before responding, her quiet presence giving you the strength to say what needed to be said. "I don't think I have a choice anymore."
Then, turning to the group, you add your final words to the discussion. Though directed at everyone, you mean them for one person in particular. "More importantly, I need you all to know that it's okay to back out now. This is my problem. I don't want anything happening to you—" you hesitate, correcting yourself, "—to you guys."
"We're in," Jenna says immediately, her voice steady. Her siblings exchange glances before nodding in agreement. She knew she didn't have a choice anymore either. She cared about you.
————
"I don't even know if I have the right to be upset with her anymore," Jenna sighs.
After paying the bill at the diner, the group decided to take a walk through UCLA's campus, letting both the meal and the weight of their conversation settle. Naturally, they split into two groups—Jenna and her siblings lagging behind while you and Hunter walked ahead, about twenty paces in front.
"Why not?" Aliyah quirks a brow. Jenna squints at her sister, dumbfounded. "She literally just opened up about her dead dad. About how our lives are in danger. We have way bigger things to worry about!"
Aliyah shrugs. "People fall in love during the apocalypse, Jenna. If Katniss could have a romance while the world was literally crumbling, then so can you." She pauses, letting that sink in before continuing. "Besides, she's not innocent in this either. You're both dancing around each other, even with all this Sinner drama. If she truly thought now wasn't the time for a love life, she wouldn't have indulged in whatever this is."
"And look—she doesn't even seem that upset!" The three of them glance ahead. Hunter is practically bouncing on his feet, grinning about something you just said, while you shake your head with a small, reluctant smile.
"Just have a chat with her," Markus mumbles, offering his two cents. "But you're allowed to be upset." Suddenly Aliyah stops walking and pauses. The other two turn to look at her in confusion.
“You do technically realize that you and admitted you have feelings for Y/n right?” Jenna ignores Aliyah's romance comment, but Markus's words linger. Her thoughts drift back to last night—to you spending the night with Markus and the host of the party. There's no way you didn't talk about her. She turns to Markus' retreating figure. "Tell me everything that happened last night."
————
“I’m proud of you,” Hunter pats you on the back. “I know that wasn't easy, opening up to the group like th—"
"I have feelings for Jenna," you interrupt.
Hunter blinks. And then he blinks again.
He lets out a short laugh—because for a second, he thought you just said you had feelings for Jenna. But when you don't take it back, don't laugh it off as a joke, and you just stare at him confused, his smile falters.
"Oh. Oh, you're serious?" Hunter stops mid-step. "Finally!" He throws his hands up like you just told him the best new of his life. "Halle-fucking-lujah!" He shouts jumping up and down.
"Bro, chill," you mumble, trying (and failing) to hide a smile. "She's right there."
Hunter ignores you, too busy basking in the moment. But then, as if a thought suddenly hits him, he freezes and squints at you. "Okay, hold up. As happy as I am to finally hear you admit it, this is coming outta nowhere." He points at you. "I've been trying to get you to say this forever, and just yesterday you were still in full denial mode. What the hell happened?"
You sigh, he was right and admitting this outloud was already so difficult for you and so out of character. You were aware you were a flight person not a fight. And after acknowledging your feelings you realized how in denial you were, neglecting your own feelings. "I guess last night was a slap in the face," you admit. "And I don't know... just seeing her with that guy, I—I couldn't stand it, man. It was killing me. I didn't want to see her with anyone else. I wanted her to be with me the way she was with him."
Hunter nods like he's soaking in every word. "I'd just like to point out that I have been telling you to bag your girl before someone else did. But please, continue."
You roll your eyes with a laugh. "Anyway. Markus and Darius were talking to me about everything. And Darius kind of touched on it at the party, but I guess I have the thing all these college kids are chasing. He was saying how I was about to lose one of the best things to ever happen to me just because I was too stubborn to accept it. And that if I actually did something about it earlier, she probably wouldn't have danced with that guy."
Hunter nods again, looking way too pleased. "Ah yes, wise words. Also exactly what I've been telling you this whole time. But hey, I'm so glad all it took was a trust fund frat boy to finally get through to you."
"Awh are you jealous Hunt," you nudge him teasingly. "But hey relax it wasn't just that. Ever since the meeting, I've been thinking. And when Mikey sent me that message last night about the break in. I realized I have to stop being scared. This is my problem. I can't keep cowering away from the questions and uncertainties. I need to know what happened to my dad Hunt."
"I’m glad you’re ready to face this. Avoiding it was only holding you back. But don’t you think you’re changing a little too fast?"
"Time’s not on my side, man. I’ve already wasted too much of it being scared and confused. I need to act," you say, voice firm, though you aren’t sure if you’re talking about Jenna or street racing.
Hunter watches you carefully, pleased by your determination but still finding your sudden shift strange. He decides to let it slide—for now.
"So… you’re not mad at Jenna?" he asks.
"Oh no, I’m fucking livid. What the fuck! I thought she was actually gonna kiss that bastard," you fire back, exasperated.
Hunter bursts out laughing. "Dude, it did not seem like that at all. You did not look like you cared," he points out with a shrug.
"Yeah, because I also realized she has the right to do whatever she wants, Hunt. She’s not mine," you mutter the last part. “And I had this whole plan to show up this morning all angry, but I saw her face… and—yeah,” you sigh with a smile shaking your head.
"By the way, who was that chick?" He smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes. "That was so unlike you." He chuckles, clearly enjoying this way too much. You just groan wishing you could jump forward to the time where you don't have racing drama and girl drama.
You dismiss Hunter’s question, not wanting to entertain the idea of this other girl. And he immediately fires his next question. "So when are you telling her?"
“When are we telling who what?” Aliyah’s voice suddenly interrupts, as she shoves her way in between you and Hunter. And before you knew it, you three were the ones lagging behind, as Markus and Jenna were now ahead.
“Uh-uhm when are we gonna tell the group that we have an entire day to kill and have nothing planned? Yeah nothing planned,” Hunter awkwardly makes up, shooting you a wink that equated to nailed it, she suspects nothing.
You roll your eyes and look ahead. Up front, Jenna was all smiles while talking to her brother. She was skipping and hopping side to side, all over the path you were on pointing at buildings and signs, speaking animatedly about god knows what.
Never has she smiled like that in all the time that you’ve known her. Not once in Summer Valley nor Brimstone.
“She sure does know her way around here huh?” You say to no one in particular.
The younger Ortega sighs. “She probably misses it. Even though she was only here for a semester.”
“Wait Jenna went here?” Hunter asks, stealing your exact thoughts.
“Briefly. Then all that Percy stuff happened, and she dropped out to come back home to me.”
Hunter noticed the guilt in the girl’s tone and immediately changed the subject.
But all you could think about was how there was this completely different side to Jenna. A girl with plans, college dreams, and something beyond street race crews. For a second, the thought almost spooked you. There was a time when that kind of discovery would’ve sent you running, it was proof that you didn’t really know her. But instead, you found yourself leaning in. Curious. Wanting to know it all. What she studied. Why UCLA. If she joined clubs. If she had a favorite corner of campus.
You wanted to know everything there was about her.
Somehow while aimlessly following Markus and Jenna, the group ended up in an empty lecture hall. Markus explained that since it was the summer semester now, more classrooms were bound to be empty.
Like troublemakers, you and Hunter bolted up the steps to the back row, collapsing into seats side by side
“Did you ever wanna do college?” You ask Hunter, getting comfortable in your seat.
“Yes and no,” he smiles. “Not for education. I wanted the parties. The hookups. The freedom. Just… being reckless without consequences, you know?”
You hummed in agreement. That tracked. He flicked the question back at you.
“If anyone in Brimstone was gonna make it out, it was you,” he laughs, knocking your noggin. “Being the mechanic that you are with no formal training is insane.”
“I don’t know what else I’d even do,” you admitted. “The freedom here sounds nice, but… I wouldn’t know what to study. What I’d even be here for.”
“Well in an alternate reality you’d be driving up to see your hot college girlfriend,” he muses while looking at Jenna down at the podium with her siblings.
“That would be nice.”
“Damn, no defensiveness?”
“No,” you mumble into your arm. “I’m really tired Hunt.”
He looks at you sensing you’d elaborate.
“Even though last night made my heart drop to my ass. It felt nice having my biggest problem be that the girl I liked was dancing with someone else. I felt like my age for once. It wasn’t only about survival.”
“Hopefully soon it’ll all blow over. I have a feeling it will,” your best friend offers with a pat on the back. “And worst case scenario, you boost another car and we leave the city driving off in the sunset,” he laughs.
“We?”
“You’re not ditching me,” he says sternly.
Before you could argue, Jenna started up the steps towards you and Hunter as her siblings left the classroom. You look at your hands, wanting to avoid eye contact.
“Hey Hunter, is it cool if…?” She starts.
“Absolutely,” Hunter said, way too quickly, and practically launched himself down the steps.
It was then just you and Jenna in the dim lecture hall. Surrounded by over 500 empty seats. You wait for her to say something, but it doesn’t come. And for some reason you recall the Jenna you met on day one. The one full of sass and comebacks, and not letting you let your guard down for even a second. That’s the same girl who can’t even get a word out to you right now.
“Aliyah told us that you used to go here,” you break the silence.
The shorter girl smiles, “Yeah, two years ago before it all went down with the street racing stuff. Only for a semester though, I didn’t even get to write my finals.”
“What’d you study?”
“English.”
That surprised you. You turned to look at her fully. “Really? What was the plan after that?”
She hesitated. “Write things, I guess.” A blush crept into her cheeks. She was protective of this, you could tell. “Articles. I wanted journalism. But committing to something that specific? It felt too final. So… English.”
“I can see that, you always have an opinion. Always piecing things together, speculating, pulling threads. You’ve already kinda been doing the whole insider thing journalists do, getting the hot goss,” you teased, trying to ease her nerves.
She just hums with a polite smile, not really present in the convo. Before you can ask what’s wrong she speaks.
“Why aren’t you angry with me?”
“Do you want me to be angry?” You raise a brow at her.
Jenna groans putting her face in her hands. “I want you to tell me or at least show me what you feel.”
“I don’t have the right to be upset,” you sigh. “You don’t owe me anything Jenna.”
“You know I didn’t kiss that guy right?”
Oh. So we’re doing this, you tell yourself.
“Yeah I know,” you say calmly, staring back into her eyes that were looking at you.
“Then why didn’t you come back to Markus’ dorm last night?” Her frown deepened, scanning your face like she was bracing herself.
You inhaled sharply, weighing every word like it might tip the scale between building something with her and wrecking it completely.
“I think I was scared.”
Jenna looks at you intently waiting for you to continue.
“I thought you were going to kiss him,” you admitted.
Her gaze drops to her hands, her jaw tightening with shame, like the admission alone hurts her.
You take a breath, steadying yourself. “But what scared me wasn’t the idea of you kissing him. It was how much it scared me. It made me realize just how much I care about you. And that… that shook me. I didn’t know what to do with it. So I panicked. I walked away because I thought if I stayed, you’d see right through me—and I wasn’t ready for that.”
There’s silence, the kind that sits heavy. Jenna lifts her head then, her expression soft and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.
“I didn’t kiss him,” she whispers, almost pleading. “I didn’t want to. The only reason I even danced with him was—god, it sounds so stupid—because I wanted your attention. I wanted you to look at me and care enough to do something about it. And when you walked away… I thought I’d ruined everything.”
Your chest aches at her words. “You didn’t ruin anything. I was just… overwhelmed. I’ve been through a lot, Jenna. Survival’s always been the only thing on my mind. But last night? For a second, the biggest problem in my world was the girl I like dancing with someone else. And that scared the hell out of me. Because it felt… normal. And normal isn’t something I know how to hold onto.”
Jenna’s lips part, her breathing uneven as she takes you in. She looks like she wants to reach out, to close the space, but she doesn’t. Instead, she lets her hand hover on the desk between you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her.
“I like you too,” she finally says, her voice trembling but firm. “More than I should. More than I know how to admit most of the time. And it sucks, because all I want to do right now is kiss you and forget about everything else.”
Your eyes drop to her lips instinctively. For a long, suspended moment, you’re both caught there, gravity pulling you together. But neither of you move. You both know why.
You force yourself to lean back, though every nerve in your body screams against it. “Maybe… after all this racing shit blows over, we can give it a real chance. You and me. No distractions. Just us.”
Her eyes soften, but the disappointment lingers, clear and heavy. She nods slowly, swallowing down the same ache that’s pressing against your ribs. “Yeah. After. But don’t think for a second I don’t want it now too.”
The words hit you like a sucker punch. Heat rushes up your neck so fast you swear you’re going to combust. Want it now too? You’re dying. Absolutely dying. Your brain short-circuits, your heart sprints like it’s doing laps around the track
You manage to force out a weak laugh, though it sounds more like a wheeze. “Cool. Totally fine. Not dying at all over here.”
“Oh and just so you know I’m pissed you danced with that girl.” Jenna rolled her eyes giving you a playful shove.
You were going to say something in defense, but she smiles at you, that quiet, knowing smile—and you know you’re done for.
————
The walk back from the lecture hall was quieter than you expected. You found yourself lagging behind Jenna just a few steps. She walked confidently to the group, but there was a softness in her eyes now. You kept your hands stuffed in your pockets, pretending to be casual, but your chest felt heavy.
She wants it too. She wants me too. And she can’t have me right now.
And it was your fault that nothing is happening now. You were the one that told her to wait till you deal with the racing politics.
Every step was a battle between wanting to turn around, grab her hand, and just kiss her, and the knowledge that now wasn’t the time.
Hunter, ever perceptive, threw a glance your way. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah, fine,” you muttered, trying not to sound like you were dying inside.
Jenna, a few feet ahead, glanced back at you. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and quickly looked forward again. God, you could die here and now from the sheer idea of this girl returning your feelings.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. The group snuck into some lectures. Lunch was light and awkward, you couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Hunter tried to keep the mood light, teasing you whenever you drifted off into thoughts that had nothing to do with lunch or campus tours. “Man, you’re a wreck,” he said with a grin. “Relax. She’s just a girl. A really, really distracting girl, sure, but still.”
Distracting doesn’t begin to cover it.
By late afternoon, the group decided to hit up one of Markus friend’s small backyard get together—string lights, music low enough to talk over, the smell of burgers on a grill. You trailed behind Jenna again, trying to pretend you were casually observing the setup. But you couldn’t help noticing how one casual sip from her drink made her seem lighter, more daring. Her eyes caught yours for a brief moment, and she tilted her head, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips.
One drink, and she’s already dangerous, you thought.
It soon became late, and the string of lights shone brighter against the dark night sky. Although you thought it was a small get together. The party was packed with college students, all looking for another night out.
You took a slow sip of your soda, leaning against the porch banister beside Hunter.
“So…you and Jenna, a thing now?” he asked, cracking open a fresh beer with a grin.
“Nope,” you said, letting the straw slip with an obnoxiously loud slurp.
Hunter groaned. “I hate you. One step forward, five hundred steps back!” He shook his head. “Seriously, what’s holding you up now?”
You don’t answer Hunter immediately as your phone starts buzzing, you check to see if it was anything important and pocket your phone. Giving your attention back to the party. You shrugged, eyes drifting toward the Ortega siblings laughing on the front lawn, each with a drink in hand. “I told her we should wait until all this racing shit blows over.”
Hunter whistled low. “Man… I can’t believe you. Tomorrow’s never promised.”
You turned to watch Jenna across the yard, the string lights making her glow as she animatedly talked to someone else. Guys were clearly circling, trying to catch her attention, but she wasn’t looking at any of them. And yet… she liked you.
You couldn’t help but laugh, a mix of disbelief and stunned amusement bubbling out. “Look at her… all those guys, vying for her attention. And she likes me?!”
The laugh felt like it released some of the tension you’d been holding all day.
————
Somehow you found yourself on the lawn with the crew. You laughed at something Jenna said, and for a brief moment, she leaned a little too close, brushing her shoulder against you. Your heart stuttered, and you felt your face heat up like a furnace. You shifted slightly, kicking your foot against the grass. She caught the movement and smirked, a teasing glint in her eye.
“Careful,” she said softly, leaning back just enough to give you a sliver of space, “or I might think you have a crush on me.”
Your brain short-circuited, and you mumbled something incoherent, your foot still nervously tapping. She laughed lightly, the sound warm and soft, before turning back to the group.
But before you could fully process the moment, Hunter shouted for you to help him grab some more beers. By the time you and Hunter started walking back to the group, arms full of drinks, a distant roar caught your attention.
You and Hunter looked at each other.
You really couldn’t escape this shit anywhere you go.
Cars. Multiple cars, engines revving in unison, tires squealing against the pavement, music blasting so loud it rattled the windows. Your stomach dropped—you didn’t even have to see the cars yet to know something was about to go down.
You pushed through the crowd, adrenaline kicking in as the noise grew louder. From a distance, you could hear the guys leaning against their cars, voices full of bravado.
“Who’s even gonna touch us tonight? No one’s beating this lineup,” one said, tossing his polo clad shoulders back with a smug grin.
You finally got a clear view as they circled in front of the house. Collars popped, pastel polos clinging to muscles they barely earned, sunglasses perched on their heads—even though it was nighttime. Total wannabe-bad-boy energy.
The entire party was quiet, watching what was happening. Then Jenna’s laugh cut through the tension, sharp and amused. “Oh, please. You act like no one outside your little frat lane could touch you.”
The guy’s smirk widened as he sized her up. “And what, you know someone who could?”
Jenna didn’t flinch. She took a casual step forward, her drink dangling lazily in one hand, eyes locked on him. “Yeah. I do.” She jerked her chin toward you before you even had a chance to react.
Every head swiveled your way.
Your stomach dropped. “Jenna—”
She just smirked, like she’d already won the argument. “She’ll smoke you.”
The guy laughed, but it was strained, irritation creeping into his tone. “Her? Please. I’d eat her alive out there.”
Something snapped in you at the condescension, maybe pride, maybe the way Jenna’s gaze burned into your side, daring you. Your mouth moved before your brain caught up.
“Then line it up. Let’s see if your car’s as loud as your mouth.”
Jenna’s grin widened, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.” She glanced at you again, that same teasing glint in her gaze that had you both dying a little inside just moments ago.
The guy’s friends muttered amongst themselves, clearly impressed—or terrified—but he just scoffed, clearly not used to being challenged like this.
You felt Jenna’s hand brush yours briefly as she leaned in, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Don’t hold back.”
Heat rushed to your face, your heart racing. You were sober, focused—but damn, her confidence and closeness had your nerves on fire. This was the Jenna you remembered meeting on the day of the Sinner Viper race. The one that didn’t care about the concequences.
The tension was electric, and you could tell this night was about to get messy…and exhilarating.
————
“Where the fuck am I gonna get a car?” you mutter under your breath, eyes scanning the driveway. The frat boys were already circling, revving their engines like they owned the streets, blasting music and showing off. Your stomach twisted, half dread, half excitement.
“Need a car?” an unfamiliar voice cuts through the chaos. It’s the host of the party, leaning casually against the garage door with a smirk. “I’ve got a car in the garage that’ll do the trick.”
You glance at him, skeptical. “Yours?”
He laughs. “Yeah. And between you and me, I’ve been waiting for someone to put these wannabe bad boys in their place. Everyone at this party is sick of their shit.” He gestures toward the frat guys, who are still strutting around like they own the block. “Go on, take my car. Show them what happens when you actually know how to drive.”
You dap the host up, and make your way towards his garage with your group. Was it just a UCLA thing, but why were these party hosts so hospitable? You shake your thoughts as soon as your eyes land on the car. A dark blue 95’ Volkswagen Jetta.
Hunter hollers in excitement, and you couldn’t help but grin. You were worried, not knowing what the host was offering up. But these killers were reliable, and you just confirmed your win.
The host claps you on the shoulder. “Trust me, they won’t see it coming. And bonus, if you win, you get to watch them squirm.”
Jenna rushes to you and takes hold of your bicep, with a spark in her eyes, “Go on. Show everyone here why they shouldn’t underestimate you.”
Everyone leaves the garage except Hunter. He lingers, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, still looking at the Jetta like it’s holy ground.
“Dude, you cannot lose,” he says, grinning but dead serious.
You roll your shoulders, shaking out the nerves. “I won’t.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice like he’s asking something heavy. “Want me riding passenger? You know, backup hype man. Just in case.”
You glance at him, then at the Jetta. For a second, you consider it. But no—you need focus. Just you, the car, and the street.
“Nah,” you shake your head. “Not this one. I gotta do it solo.”
Hunter studies you for a beat. He gives your shoulder a squeeze before heading out.
————
The street was already coming alive, the crowd shifting to the sidewalks to clear the makeshift track. Engines roared, headlights cutting through the night, and the bass from someone’s speaker rattled windows.
Jenna stood near the start line, arms folded loosely, her drink forgotten somewhere inside. People shouted over each other, someone was going over the “rules”—basic stuff like: first to the end of the block and back wins, stay in your lane, no intentional ramming. The crowd was eating it up.
But Jenna wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fixed on you. The way you moved around the Jetta with sharp focus, adjusting the seat, checking the mirrors, rolling your shoulders like a fighter stepping into the ring. The nerves were there, but underneath them was something else—something that made her pulse quicken just watching.
Hunter sidled up next to her, arms crossed. He was grinning like a maniac.
“She’s about to experience the craziest racer’s high of her life,” he said, nodding toward you.
Jenna’s brows knit, lips tugging into a half-smile. “Racer’s high?” she asked, tilting her head.
Hunter just smirked knowingly, eyes still on you. “Yeah. You’ll see.”
————
Engines snarl side by side, headlights burning into the dark. The crowd closes in at the edges, phones raised, voices echoing across the street. Your palms are slick against the wheel.
Across from you, the frat boy revs obnoxiously, music pounding so loud his whole car rattles. He’s leaning out the window, flashing that smug grin at the crowd like he’s already rehearsed his victory speech.
The host of the party steps onto the street, arms raised high and explaining the track. The noise dies into a tense hum.
Your heart thuds. The wheel vibrates under your grip. You fix your eyes straight ahead.
Arms drop.
You launch. Tires shriek, smoke billows, and the car kicks forward hard enough to slam you back in your seat.
The frat boy lurches ahead, pedal to the floor, engine screaming like it’s begging for mercy. His car jerks side to side before he stabilizes, raw power but no finesse. You keep steady—smooth, measured, pulling just enough out of the Jetta to keep pace.
The street opens up in front of you, neon signs and streetlights streaking into blurs. People are screaming from the sidewalks, the sound muffled behind the glass, but you feel it vibrate in your chest.
Gear shift. The Jetta growls and surges, sliding closer, bumper to bumper with him now. He glances at you, throws a cocky little salute, and pushes harder. His car bucks forward, tires squealing dangerously.
You let him have it. For a second.
Then the turn comes.
He slams the brakes too late, his car fishtailing wide, cutting into the opposite lane. Gasps ripple through the crowd as he scrambles to pull it back under control.
You take it clean. Hug the corner like the street belongs to you. Tires grip, body leans, the motion sharp and fluid all at once. When you come out of the bend, you’re already ahead.
The frat boy’s still wrestling his car, but he guns it, desperate, clawing back the distance. You can hear his engine straining behind you, louder and louder, like a beast clawing at your heels.
Your veins light up.
It’s not fear. It’s something hotter. The rush. Every nerve on fire, every muscle alive.
Another stretch. You slam into the next gear. The world sharpens into streaks of light and shadow, and the Jetta roars like it was born for this moment.
The frat boy surges up beside you again, his face twisted, jaw tight. He’s reckless now, swerving too close, trying to scare you, shake you.
Instead, you smile.
And push just enough.
The finish is closing in—Aliyah’s voice booming in the distance, people screaming, waving, phones flashing.
You breathe, steady, and cut him off on the inside. Clean. Precise. A move so tight it leaves him choking on your taillights.
The line flies up fast.
You blast across it, brakes slamming, the Jetta sliding sideways in a sharp, controlled stop. The crowd erupts—cheers, laughter, someone even screaming “That’s how you do it!”
The frat boy screeches in a few seconds later, his car groaning like it might fall apart. The look on his face—red, humiliated—is worth every second
And then you see her.
Jenna’s already pushing through the crowd, eyes wide, lips parted like she can’t believe what she just watched. She doesn’t look at the frat boy, doesn’t look at anyone else—only you.
Your pulse kicks even harder, but it’s not just from the drive. It’s her. The way she’s walking toward you like there’s no one else here.
The racer’s high hits. A wild, dizzying cocktail of victory, adrenaline, and something hungrier, sharper. The world is still roaring around you, but all you hear is your own heartbeat. All you see is Jenna. You curse yourself, it was the exact same feeling you felt when you had your first race against the raven. But this time it was different. You didn’t need to control it—did you?
She stops right in front of you, close enough to touch, her chest rising and falling fast. For a second, you just stare at each other, the tension snapping tight.
And then you don’t think. You don’t plan. You just grab her face and kiss her.
The crowd howls, but it all fades when her lips press back into yours. Soft but certain. Electricity sparking between you, hotter than the race, stronger than the win.
For the first time tonight—ever, you feel like you’ve completely lost control, and you don’t care one bit.
summary - reader would do anything, anything, to protect wednesday…
warnings - punching, blood, nose broken, SAPPY
an - missed wednesday and r, (mostly wednesday), so i thought id get back into bliss before season 2 comes !!
—————————
It was a beautiful Monday afternoon in New Jersey, golden rays of sunlight bathing the mansion floor in a beautiful blanket of bronze. The windows were open to the outside world, a warm breeze flowing through the house and invading the walls with the scent of pine and apple pie.
You were in the kitchen, humming along to one of your favorite songs while you stirred ingredients together to make a sugar glaze. Your pie was in the oven, almost ready to be taken out and admired for how damn talented you were at baking, but it needed a few more minutes to reach perfection. It’s crust was a delicious looking light brown, dusted with a bit of salt for flavor, that covered the mouth watering apple filling that was crafted from your great grandmothers secret recipe.
Your cooking and baking skills were a great blessing, especially since your wife has a bit of a sour tooth when it comes to entrees. You always made sure to craft each dish to the exact perfect condition of what she was craving in that moment, and every time, without fail, she would praise you in her gothic ways about how delicious each meal was.
Speaking of your wife, she was currently typing away on her typewriter in the office, working on a new book series since finishing her last collection. Becoming such a well respected writer had boosted her confidence a lot, which in turn helped open more doors to new plot lines and perspectives of storytelling and imagery for her to explore. You had been her biggest supporter throughout her journey and definitely earned the title of “#1 Wednesday Addams Fan” after showing up to every conference and book signing wearing her face on your shirt.
She scolded you for it every single time.
“Doing okay, babe?” You called out, whisking the icing gently.
The ‘tap tap tap’ of the typewriter abruptly stopped, and the sound of footsteps ranges out softly in the house as your partner approached the kitchen. You turned your head just in time to see her round the corner, your breath catching in the back of your throat from the sight of her.
Wednesday Addams was a glorious view, and just so easy to look at for you even after all these years. Her skin was supple and pale, almost ghostly white from lack of melanin in her cells. Her eyes, black as ever, were filled with a sense of warmth that to others, would be discomforting; to you, it was home. She was dressed in a knee-length black skirt that held her checkered sweater tucked in at her waist, with a thin silver chain hanging loosely from the front of her hip to the back. She had white, shin-length socks on that hugged her calves in such a way that it was almost hypnotic to stare at her. Her hair was in her usual duel braids paired with her beautiful bangs that you loved oh so much, and she wore an expression of admiration on her face when she spotted you.
“Hey you.” You said, setting your whisk down to fully turn to her, “Finished the third chapter yet?”
“Not yet.” Wednesday replied, stepping into your personal space and tilting her face up to you, “I am stuck in the torturous prison of what the people call ‘writers block’.”
You chuckled, taking her chin in your hand and leaning down to kiss her. She stood up on her toes to meet you, her hands resting on your hips while you cupped her jaw. She tasted divine, her lipgloss flavor consisting of black cherries and dark chocolate with a hint of eucalyptus to complement the sweetness.
“Hi.” You murmured to her after pulling away, staring into her dark eyes.
“Hello.” She whispered back, her hands slithering around your waist, “I missed you.”
“We live together.” You teased, smiling when she undid the tie of your apron.
“You have been baking all morning.”
“Could’ve joined me.”
“And suffer with the nauseating effect of home life and domestication? I’d rather be nailed to a post.”
You giggled, moving around her to hang your apron on the pantry door hook before coming back over to the oven to peak at your pie. It seemed to be done, so you grabbed your black mittens and carefully took the hot dish out and placed it on the stove. The aroma of apple hit you like a warm pillow to the face, and you felt your whole body physically relax from the touching smell.
“I hope to get a slice later.” Wednesday said, sliding her hand into yours once you took the mittens off, “It looks divine.”
“I thought Wednesday Addams didn’t like sweet things?” You asked, scrunching your nose at her.
“I like you, isn’t that enough proof?”
You hummed, pressing your lips to her forehead as a loving gesture. The radio sounded light static before Foolish Girl by Marjorie filled the room. Your unoccupied hand slide to rest on your wife’s waist, gently beginning to sway to the music with her. She let her head rest against your chest, her eyes falling shut at the sound of your heartbeat.
“Twenty-five years old and you still dance like you’re fifteen.” You mumbled, smoothing the wrinkles out of her sweater.
“I need to perfect my skills, I just haven’t had the time.” She replied softly, burying her nose into your hoodie, “Fifteen year old me would be devastated.”
“No.” You said, lifting her head and reaching to cup her face, “She would be so proud to see what you have achieved; you’re incredible, baby”
Wednesday blushed, shamelessly letting her eyes run over your features with pure admiration. You both stayed like that for a while, content in swaying in each other’s embrace whilst occasionally sharing little kisses here and there. The moment was perfect, until a sharp knock at the front door startled you.
“Who could that be?” You wondered aloud, knowing you weren’t expecting anyone today.
“A spokesperson maybe.” Wednesday grumbled, turning and heading towards the front door, “I’ll tell them to leave.”
“It’s not like we get solicitors.” You said, knowing it’s a pretty long walk from the road to your front door, “Be nice, please!”
She waved you off, rounding the corner out of sight but not of earshot. You heard the front door open, and a male voice respond to your wife’s question of his presence.
“I’m here for you, actually.” The person said, his words slightly slurred.
“Sorry, not available, please leave.”
“Seem pretty available to me; pretty cute too.”
“Use the word ‘cute’ to describe me again and i’ll remove your finger nails with my pliers.”
“No need to get attitude with me, gorgeous. How about I come inside and we chat a little?”
You tensed up, dropping the plate you were drying onto the counter and briskly walking to the front door. There was a tall man in the entrance, holding the door open with his hand so Wednesday couldn’t shut it on him. He was scruffier looking, his greasy hair long and his wiry beard unkept on his bumpy skin. He had a smirk on his face that was unsettling and gross looking, like something that came out of a shitty thriller from the 60’s or something of the sort.
“Who the fuck are you?” The man drawled out, seeming to size you up when you approached.
“Her wife.” You deadpanned, standing to slightly in front of Wednesday to block him from entering your home, “And I’m pretty sure she asked you to leave.”
He laughed, his breath reeking of scotch and beer when it hit your nose. You recoiled slightly, mistakingly taking a step back in disgust. The man saw that as an opportunity to strike, and shot his hand out to grab Wednesdays arm.
It felt like everything happened in a millisecond; one minute you were pinching your nose to block the smell, the next you were swinging your fist into his face, his nose breaking with a satisfying ‘crack’. He fell backwards onto your concrete front porch, his hand immediately covering his injury. You breathed heavily, your chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Not many things angered you, but if someone ever put their hands on Wednesday, you would see red.
Call it your wifey instinct.
“OW! What the fuck?!” He screamed, cradling his face, “Son of a bitch!”
“Never, ever, touch her again.” You growled, squaring your shoulders to make yourself appear bigger, “Now get the hell off of my property before I call the cops.”
With that you slammed the door once he retreated down your steps and to the street, locking the deadbolt with a grunt of annoyance. Blood coated your knuckles from the impact of the man’s nose breaking, but you could honestly care less as your focus was on the women standing in front of you.
“Are you okay?” You asked, reaching for her arm to make sure she wasn’t scratched or bruised.
“I am fine.” Wednesday reassured, a glint of love in her eyes as she stared at you, “That was the most attractive thing I have ever seen.”
“Wednesday, I just punched a man in the face.”
“And it was divine.” She replied, biting her lip in a teasing way, “The way you spoke to him; impressive.”
You sighed with a smile, wrapping your arms around her and kissing her softly. She responded with leaning into you, titling her head to the side to welcome you in as much as she could.
“I’m glad to have you.” You whispered against her lips, “Truly.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She whispered back, tugging you forwards with her as she walked backwards.
“The pie is still on the stove.” You reminded her as she began to run her hands down your chest, “Didn’t you want a slice?”
She pulled back from your embrace, nodding in the direction of your shared bedroom. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes, a small smirk coming to her face.
A/N: Thank you everyone for the love you've been giving to this little story I've been writing.
Summary: We find ourselves in the eye of the storm. Within a situation quickly escalating, Tara finally realizes the damage she has been creating all on her own and starts facing the consequences of her actions.
Warnings: Not proofread, English isn't my first language.
Word count: 2.5k+
| PART 1 | | PART 2 | | PART 3 | | PART 4 |
“Where are you going?”
After everything that happened at the Coffee shop with Anika, you needed to confront Tara about what you found out. You weren't mad, not at all; that wasn't the reason you wanted to talk. You just wanted an explanation: why did she have to lie? Why couldn't she just approach you? You never wanted her to go down this road.
When you arrived at the apartment, it was empty. Sam had previously told you that she went out with Danny, and after that, he was going to drop her at therapy, and Tara…well, let's just say you were waiting for her to arrive. You stayed there on the couch, thinking about what you would say or how you would tell her that you know what she has been doing all these past weeks.
It's been two hours, and Tara finally arrived, acknowledging you for a second just to say “Hi” and then go to her room, you didn't move or say anything at all. Minutes passed, and she finally exited, wearing a different outfit than the one she arrived in and heading straight to the door. That was the moment you asked.
“Tara, where are you going right now?” You pushed again, wanting an answer, wanting to see if she could keep up with the facade that she invented for herself. You watched how her right hand transformed into a fist, but quickly relaxed, and finally looked at you.
“I’m going with Mindy to this event that our film class is launching.” She said it in a very smooth way, as if she had rehearsed all her lies to make them sound convincing. It made you a bit sick to see how easily she could lie, and how she had been doing it for the past few days.
“That sounds fun, can I come?” You wanted to test her, see how far she could run with this, see if you could make her crumble and finally confess, to come clean and just talk it out; you knew that if you started this and told her how you already knew everything, the situation would just turn even messier, you still had hope…you still wanted to save what you both had.
Tara tensed again and started looking anywhere but you. She started murmuring things, trying to come up with an answer to give you and for you to get off her back, “Actually, it’s only for students, so no one else can come, sorry.”
Now it was time for Tara to look at you. Why were you acting like this so suddenly? It was supposed to be THE night for her; she decided that this would be her last party for a while. It was becoming way too much to keep hiding and doing all this, so one last party and she could put it on hold for a while. So why were you starting to ruin it? It wasn’t fair; she didn’t need this right now. She wanted to go already, but something in the way you looked at her made her feel uneasy.
Seconds that felt like hours passed while you kept looking at her, you thought she would come clean, that she would finally tell you what she had been doing in the shadows, why did she have to keep lying? Things weren’t like how they were in the past. Sam got better and has been giving Tara her space. You even stopped worrying much until this day. Did she not notice that? Well…You couldn’t blame her. Why would she see all these changes if she was never home?
“Oh…I-I understand, have fun.” You said, and without even looking at you again, Tara left the apartment. She didn’t notice your sadness, didn’t see the way your figure gave out, and immediately dropped down on the couch with your hands to your head; she didn’t hear the way you started to break, and how your tears drenched your shirt. Tara, the Tara you knew, was gone; she left, she left and lied, the girl that promised you would be together and who was by your side when everything happened, the girl that crumbled in your arms after shooting her best friend in Woodsboro, she was gone…it was all over.
AT THE PARTY…
The place reeked of alcohol and some other substances mixed all together, the music was deafening due to the volume, everyone was doing whatever they wanted, just getting the motivation from the cheap beer and whatever concoction someone put in the drinks; and even with all those warnings, Tara wanted to stay and feel the same.
Her friends stayed in a secluded area, Mindy and Anika sitting on the couch with a drink in hand and just chatting, while Chad was just being himself and playing beer pong with some other guys. Tara was free right now, no supervision or anyone by her side, she was alone, and she loved every second of it. She poured some of the suspicious stuff in a cup and drank it, feeling the oh so familiar burning sensation going down in her throat, and she kept on doing so until she lost count and the drinks ran out.
Mindy noticed how Tara was starting to act so dizzy and moving side to side, sure she usually got drunk but never like this, this time it was different, Tara was out of control and they couldn't handle this alone, she knew that, she wanted to call you, they needed you, you had to help them and get her to safety.
She hesitated a bit, she remembered Tara telling all of them how you were so busy and never had time for them due to stress, so it was best to leave you alone for a moment, but let's just think a bit here, wouldn't you want to know if something happened to your girlfriend? That's what Mindy kept telling herself. She knew that Anika saw you today working in a coffee shop, and all went well, so that should have been a sign too that it was okay to call you…so she did.
AT THE APARTMENT...
You were crying in your bed, deciding to just let your blanket be the provider of warmth and console you while your tears stained your shirt. Sam would still take some time to arrive. You didn't want her to see you like this; she would start questioning what happened, and then the truth about what Tara has been doing would come to light, even if things were rough between the two of you, you still cared…God, how stupid you were, huh? You felt so lost right now, so when your phone started ringing and the name of Mindy appeared, you just answered on autopilot.
“Hello?” You said while coughing a bit, trying to disguise the fact that your throat was a mess due to your sobs, thankfully, Mindy was occupied with her own worries to even notice.
“Y/N! I'm sorry to be calling you, I know that Tara told us that…” You stopped listening for a bit, getting hit by the reality once again about how she lied to you all this time and played you, played your friends, everything. “...here.” She stopped, and you went back to the call.
“Sorry, what did you say?” You asked, confused as to what was going on, and due to you spacing out.
“Didn't you hear me?!” She asked exaltedly, and you had to put your phone a bit away from your ear due to how she was raising her volume. “We need you here! Tara is really bad right now, and she needs you. She's been drinking a lot.”
Putting your phone in your bed while your thoughts ran like a wildfire, everything was just spinning, how bad could she be? She's been doing this for weeks, and you never noticed just how much she drank this time?
“Y/N? Are you there? Say something, dude!” Mindy yelled desperately, and you picked up the phone again.
“I will get there in 5 minutes.” You finally said and hung up.
BACK WITH TARA...
Things at the party started getting out of control; there wasn’t a single drop of alcohol left, and Tara felt like she was starting to lose it. How could it be? You would expect that for a party this big, people would have gotten better supplies to overcome the shortage that she was experiencing right now. As she was looking through the empty bottles to find at least a gulp left in them, someone approached her.
“There is no more left, huh?” He was tall, a bit buff, and with a smirk on his face that would make everyone wary of his intentions, but Tara was too far gone to even think about it, so she just ignored that and chuckled.
“Yeah, such a shame tho, the party was getting good.” She said, slurring her words and being a bit wobbly, something that the guy took notice of. Tara couldn’t help but feel a bit down; something in her was screaming to go already, but there was also that other side of her that wanted to keep hiding here and just drink her weight in alcohol.
“I have a bottle of booze up there in my room, if you wanna go,” He said while offering his hand and smiling, his eyes travelled fast around her body, scanning her, but Tara still wasn’t able to see that. Like thinking about it, she just stared into his eyes and with a simple nod, smiled and took his hand. The guy seemed nice. Why would she be suspicious? He was just going to give her what she needed, a last drink to be satisfied for a whole week. After all, you were already growing suspicious of her antics, so she needed to lay low for a while.
Following him among all people, Tara thought for a second what you would be doing right now, watching a movie maybe, catching up on some work you had, maybe you were already sleeping. It’s been so long since you both had an actual conversation and spent some time together, well…not really if you counted the talk they had before she left, but you seemed a bit off, now that she thought about it, you seemed…drained, like something was holding you back. She paused for a second and just stood there. Did she leave you while you looked so…down? The last thing she remembers while closing the door was hearing something like a sob, but she brushed it off, too excited for the party.
What if you already knew? Did she blow things up? Was she that dismissive? How could she not notice? All these questions were starting to consume her. Was that need to fill a void so big there was no place for something else? Has she been pushing you away that much? No, no…It couldn’t be, she was your girlfriend, yeah, maybe she hasn’t been around that much, but that doesn’t change things. Clearly, after this, you would see that she just needed some space and everything was okay; it had to be okay.
“You coming or what?” The voice of the guy pulled her out of her thoughts, right…she was following him upstairs, but was this worth it? The realizations of what happened earlier made her sober up a bit and question what the fuck she was doing. When did she let all this happen? Enough wasn’t enough. Things were starting to be clearer, and with that, Tara started feeling how her chest began to ache. She just felt so trapped before, but was she really trapped? Or was it just her that made that happen? Could she not see beyond her pain and think about the others who were around? Was she really that selfish? Did she really hurt you? How could… “Hey, I asked you something.”
“Yeah, no…I think I’m going home.” She said before even processing everything, there was so much going on, but one thing was clear for sure, she needed to go back home, home to you. All this time, she has been so blind, trying to fix something with a new sense of liberty that in the end only made her feel more trapped. What was the purpose of drinking and partying if she still had to live a lie? Hide away from her girlfriend and sister, her family. Lie to her friends, the ones who always remained by her side. She messed up big time; she needed you right now, she needed to come clean.
“Oh, come on, the real party is just getting started.” The guy ignored what she had previously said and, while still having her hand in his, started dragging her up the stairs. Tara started panicking. This guy was bigger than her, and even if the effects of the alcohol were disappearing, she was still weak compared to him. With rough movements, she tried to get away from his grasp, sitting on the stairs and putting whatever weight was enough to make him struggle. “Don’t be such a bitch, you basically agreed to this.” He said while trying to remain a bit of composure so people wouldn’t start noticing what was going on around them, everyone was still deep into their own conversations.
Were these the consequences of her actions? Being so blind to everything else that she got dragged into this situation by her greed and desperation, Tara started questioning if she should just give up; she was the one to blame after all…The way she lied, the way she used to be before all this, the way she was feeling before, and now, realizing how really nothing changed in that last aspect, what felt like freedom was only a cage she designed for herself. How stupid she was, and before she could even give up, she felt another hand starting to hold her up.
“She doesn’t want to go with you.” A familiar voice said, and when Tara looked up, she saw you right there. Throwing a punch at the guy, Y/N removed his hand from Tara’s and watched as the guy quickly stumbled. That was the perfect opportunity for them to go.
Y/N started dragging Tara out of the house, saying a quick “thank you” to Mindy, who was there watching the interaction with a blank face, so she was the one who called you. Everyone started noticing the guy there left on the stairs and started questioning what happened, but you were already inside your car with Tara in the passenger seat.
None of you said anything, focused on the road that was in front of you, and that remained until you got home. Opening the door, you entered without looking to see if she was right behind you, being too consumed in your thoughts, until Tara finally spoke.
“Y/N…” She tried to say something more than your name, but the shock and the shame she was feeling right now were consuming her whole body.
“Good night, Tara.” You didn’t even look at her, didn’t even try to approach her, you just left her there and went into your room, banging the door and putting the lock on.
She messed up…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for your attention! Hope you enjoyed reading this, part 4?
What happens when you, a rising director, suddenly land your dream project and find yourself working alongside someone you never expected to matter so much?
Chapter 1:
You step into the whirlwind of your first major film festival, nerves on edge, applause echoing in your ears, and fleeting moments that hint at something (or someone) unexpected.
Chapter 2:
After a wild, disorienting night at the after-party, you wake to a world that feels entirely new. Offers fly in left and right, and your name is now amongst the biggest in Hollywood, but one unexpected name makes your chest tighten and your pulse race.
