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ramblers-lets-get-ramblin · 5 months

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Team Spirit- Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel Miller Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Rating: E for EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Summary: When you go to an Eagles bar to watch the football game, the last thing you expect is to get railed in the bathroom by a Cowboys fan.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: drinking, unspecified age gap, unprotected PIV, creampie, (kinda?) public sex, tommy miller is a fucking menace to society, football references.

Immersability: reader is able-bodied and can be lifted/picked up

Author's Note: i am a sportsball girlie at heart and i wrote this for all my other sportsball babes. just some silly PWP. Enjoy!

shoutout to my love @dancingtotuyo and my wife @wannab-urs for beta reading and the amazing comments they left in my google doc!

“Do I really gotta do this?” Joel asks his brother.

“Shouldn’t have let your mouth write a check your ass couldn’t cash.” Tommy laughs. “At least you get a new jersey out of the deal, right?” he shoves the bag into Joel’s hands and laughs.

“Yeah. Right.” Joel deadpans. He opens the bag and pulls out the silver and navy jersey. “PRESCOTT” reads the back in white letters with a number 4 underneath. He should have known better than to take a bet with Tommy. He prefers to give the terms after he’s already won, doing his damndest to stick his older brother in the most uncomfortable positions possible. He also should have known better to bet on the Rangers, given the season they were having. Besides, everyone knows the Astros are cheaters. Now he’s gotta wear this Cowboys jersey to go watch the Dallas vs Philadelphia game. At an Eagles bar. While wearing a Cowboys jersey. Joel sighs and trudges up the stairs to get ready.

By the time the Uber pulls up Joel is dreading this evening. The bitter rivalry between the Dallas Cowboys and The Philadelphia Eagles, and their fans, goes back decades, generations. Shove a bunch of people into a small space and fill them with beer, well, you’re just asking for trouble. Add a football rivalry on top of it and the odds go up even more.

“We don’t have to stay the whole time, right?” Joel asks.

“‘Course we do, Joel. We can’t let those Eagles fans think they ran us off, can we?” Tommy replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He almost seems like he’s hoping for some trouble. “Besides, Sarah is at Mom’s all night. Maybe we can find some girls to go home with.” he laughs.

“In an Eagles bar?” Joel scoffs. “Not likely, little brother.” he claps Tommy on the shoulder and laughs.

~~~~~

You step out of the Uber calling a “Thank you!” over your shoulder to the driver. You walk past the entrance to The Bee’s Knees, and climb the stairs to its sister bar, The Cat’s Pajamas. The tiki decor of the rooftop bar that once caught you off guard now welcomes you like an old friend. A set of jet skis sit in one corner, next the bathrooms. On the opposite side of the bathrooms is a large screen that the games are projected on . The bar is an enclosed square in the middle, complete with a fake grass roof. Two sides are furnished with stools, one is open for customers to line up. The fourth side, the one directly in front of the projection screen, the stools have been replaced with five large, wooden swings. They hang from the roof with rope handles. As you well know, after a few drinks those things can be dangerous.

As you survey the room, looking for your friends, a man sitting at one of the picnic tables along the back wall catches your eye. He’s older than you, by about fifteen years you guess. He’s wearing jeans and a denim jacket, zipped all the way up. His patchy beard is graying and his brown hair is just starting to curl around his ears and the nape of his neck. His eyes flick from one of the many tv screens to yours and back again. Then, he looks towards you again, holding your gaze this time. One side of his mouth turns up in a smile, albeit a shy one. The hint of a dimple appears on his cheek. You return the smile but your view of him becomes obstructed by another man. He’s younger and his jet black hair is long and curly. He sets a tallboy of Lone Star down in front of the first man. You aren’t sure if they exchange words but the younger man turns to look at you over his shoulder and gives you a grin, displaying his perfect pearly whites.

You feel a little nervous so you continue in your quest to find your friends. By the time you’ve made the rounds, saying hello to all the regulars, your friends still haven’t arrived. You sit on a barstool near the end of the bar. The opposite end from where the handsome man and his companion are. You glance towards his table once more and find that his gaze had returned to the tv. Kickoff is in five so you give your drink order to the bartender and pull out your phone. You have several unread texts, all from your friends. “Shit.” you say under your breath. None of them are going to make it. Oh well, you think. You’re already here and there isn’t a place in downtown Austin where you feel safer. You aren’t super close with anyone here, but you know quite a few of them well enough to feel comfortable staying here alone.

The bartender slides you your own Lone Star just as the game starts. The Cowboys are receiving first and the Eagles defense holds them off. After three downs and only twenty yards gained, they punt the ball to the Eagles. By the end of the first quarter, you’re on your second beer and the score remains tied at zero. You drain the can and raise it in the bartender’s direction. “Another, please!” you call down to him.

“Put it on my tab.” you hear from beside you. You turn and see the handsome man from earlier. He’s holding up two fingers to the bartender. “Plus another round for me and my brother.” he turns and smiles at you. A real one this time. His eyes are a deep brown and the skin crinkles at the corners. His lips are full and topped with a plush mustache.

“Thank you.” you offer him a smile of your own in return.

“I’m Joel.” he says, handing you your beer.

You take the can from him and he smiles again when you tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you. Mind if I sit here?” he asks, pointing at the stool in front of him.

“Not at all.” you say with a shake of your head.

“Let me go drop this beer off to my brother. Be right back.”

He struts over to the picnic table, he appears to hold his head just a little higher now. When he sets the beer down in front of the other man, and cocks his head in your direction. Two two men exchange a few words and when Joel’s brother looks in your direction, you drop your eyes down to your phone. They’re too far away for you to hear what they are talking about anyways. After a moment, Joel returns, leaving one stool empty between you as he sits on the next one.

You place your phone on the bar and when you look back over to him, your eyes feel like they might bug out of your skull. Is he fucking serious? You wonder and your mouth gapes open. He took off his jacket and left it at his table. He’s sitting there in a Cowboys jersey.

“You’re brave for wearing that thing here, ya know?” you say, tilting your beer can in the direction of his jersey. He laughs and raises his own can to his mouth. He swallows with a few loud gulps and you can’t help but be mesmerized at the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down with each swallow. You find yourself wondering what the deep hollow of his throat might feel like under your tongue.

“I lost a bet.” he replies, setting his beer down on the bar and nodding his head towards his brother. “You look a little disappointed.” he says with a soft chuckle.

“I am.” you reply bluntly. “I was just starting to think you were cool.” he looks a little disappointed himself until you curl your lips into a smirk.

“Would you still be willing to let me watch the game with you?” he asks, leaning his shoulder a little closer to you.

“Sure! As long as you don’t get any closer. Wouldn’t want any of my friends to think I was fraternizing with the enemy.”

He raises his eyebrows and something mischievous flashes in his eyes. “Is that what we’re doin’?” he asks. “Fraternizing?”

“Game’s back on.” you say, avoiding the question. You turn back towards the tv and turn your beer nervously.

“Mmhmm.” Joel replies, returning his attention to the game. You see the smile return to his face from the corner of your eye and feel a little flutter, low in your belly.

~~~~~

“FLY, EAGLES, FLY

ON THE ROAD TO VICTORY.

FIGHT, EAGLES, FIGHT

SCORE A TOUCHDOWN 1-2-3

1-2-3

HIT ‘EM LOW

HIT ‘EM HIGH

AND WATCH OUR EAGLES FLY

FLY, EAGLES, FLY

ON THE ROAD TO VICTORY

E-A-G-L-E-S

EAGLES!”

Joel groans in his seat as the bar breaks out in yet another round of the Eagles’ fight song. The one you all sing after a Philly touchdown. He excuses himself to the bathroom at halftime and when he returns, He takes the stool right next to you. You don’t miss the dirty looks he, and now you, are getting from the ever rowdy crowd. You get to know each other better during halftime. Joel tells you about his daughters, Sarah and Ellie, who are away at college, and the construction business that he owns with his brother. Tommy has had no trouble chatting up all the ladies, even in his own Cowboys jersey. You’re pretty sure the tight fit was a conscious choice, same as his jeans. You tell Joel about your own job and family, and what it’s been like growing up an Eagles fan in Texas. You were wrong about his age. He’s even older than you thought. But, damn, he looks good for his age.

You both switch to water when the second half commences. It’s Monday night after all. Joel’s enthusiasm for the game starts to sour at the end of the third quarter, with the Eagles winning 42-7. He finds it hard to keep his attention on the screen at all, in fact. He’s much more interested in you. Your own interest grows by the second. He’s charming and handsome, sure. But what really gets you is the way he beams with pride when he talks about his daughters.

The bar erupts in cheers when the Eagles force yet another turnover. With less than two minutes remaining in the game, Jalen Hurts takes a knee. He repeats the action twice more, running the clock down to under forty seconds. Joel lets out another groan and buries his head in his hands on the bar. Suddenly, an idea strikes you.

“C’mon.” you say, grabbing his hand and dragging him off the stool.

“Where are we goin’?” he asks curiously. But he follows along, gripping your hand even tighter.

His rough palm engulfs yours and you lead him to the far corner of the bar where the employee bathroom is hidden.

“What are you doin’?” he asks when you haul him into the bathroom and click the lock behind you.

“Givng you a consolation prize.” you say slyly. “Unless you don't want it.” you tease.

Joel picks you up and spins you around. He presses your back against the door and your legs circle his trim waist. Your skirt rides up and you can feel the soft swell of his stomach against your clothed core. “I’ve been thinkin’ about doin’ this all night.” he says.

“Well go on then, Cowboy. Do it.” you urge.

Joel’s lips crash against yours and he grabs the meat of your ass through your skirt. He moans into your mouth when you gently tug on the curls at the nape of his neck. He grips you tighter and spins you both around. The bathroom is small so he only has to take two steps before he’s setting you down on the counter, never moving his mouth from yours. When you finally separate to catch your breath, you are both panting. Neither of you have any desire to take things slow. You pull Joel’s jersey over his head and he catches it right before you drop it on the floor.

“Let’s not be naughty, huh?” he teases and drops it onto the counter beside you. He grabs a knee in each hand and spreads them wide. He drops to his knees and runs his hands up the insides of your thighs. The work-worn, rough skin of his palms catches on the thin fabric of your fishnets. His hands disappear beneath the hem of your skirt and his thumbs stroke the creases of your thighs. The heat from his skin is so close, but not close enough. Your hips buck of their own accord, your pussy aching for some attention. Joel moves his thumb to your covered mound, searching for your clit through the layers. “This where you want me, darlin’?” he asks, pressing against the lace of your underwear, the cute ones you almost didn’t wear.

He tsks when you nod in response. “C’mon now, baby. You had plenty to say earlier, all that trash talk. Use your words.” he instructs. You open your mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a whine. Joel snatches his hand away, resting it just above your knee. “Words.”

“Yes, please. That’s where I want you.” you pant. Desire courses through your entire body. The flame he stoked with just a few strokes of his hand burning low in your belly.

“Good girl.” he says softly, looking up at you from where he kneels. He pulls your skirt the rest of the way up and the countertop stings your skin cold. He hooks his fingers in the crotch of your fishnets and rips. He tears them all the way up, so they are only held together by the elastic band at your waist. He taps his fingers against your hips as he grabs the sides of your lace panties. You hold on to his shoulders and raise up off the counter, allowing him to drag your underwear down your legs. He pulls them over the toes of your clunky boots, one at a time and slips the black scrap into his back pocket.

His knees crack as he stands and moves between your legs. One hand rests on the back of your neck, tilting your head up towards his. With the other, he drags his finger up the seam of your cunt, separating the slick folds, making room for himself. When he leans down, you think he’s going to kiss you, but he surprises you by bringing his mouth to your ear.

“I’d give anything to be able to take my time with you.” he whispers. The heat of his breath causes a shiver to run up your spine. “To lay you down on my bed. Take you apart with my hands, my tongue.” he dips a finger inside you, but just barely. He gathers the slick forming there and drags it up. “And then split you open on my cock, again and again.” your breath catches in your throat when he begins to circle your clit. “Until you’re beggin’ me to stop.”

He pulls away from your ear and catches your bottom lip in his teeth. At the same time he slips his middle finger into you. You arch your body into his and he continues rubbing circles over your clit.

“Fuck, Joel.” you whine. “I’m so close, baby.” he curls his finger inside of you and picks up the pace with his thumb.

“C’mon, darlin’.” he urges. “Come for me.” and when he attaches his lips to your pulse point, you do. You bury your face into his chest, sinking your teeth into the flesh to muffle the sounds of your pleasure. Joel moans loudly in your ear the moment you taste the warm copper on your tongue.

The aftershocks have barely abated when your hands fly to his belt. Your thighs want to clench at the sound of metal against metal, but you can’t. His thick thighs block the motion. You flick the button and drag his zipper down and Joel’s mouth never leaves you. Your mouth, your jaw, your neck. You grab his jeans and boxer briefs and shove them down. He pulls you forward on the counter so that your ass is teetering on the edge.

His cock pops out of the waistband of his boxers and rests against the soft trail of hair under his belly button. He looks over his shoulder, double checking that the door is locked and runs the tip of him through your soaked folds. He catches at your entrance and when you moan, please, he pushes inside. He feeds his cock to you slowly, allowing your walls to stretch for him, mold to the shape of him, until he’s sheathed fully.

Joel’s breath is quick and heavy in your ear as he pumps his hips in and out of you, hand held tight to the small of your back. The nudge of his thick head against your cervix punches the breath out of you. You rake your nails across the broad expanse of his shoulders and he groans against your ear. The muffled sound of the fight song trickles in under the door and you find yourself thankful for the noise. Then, an idea strikes you.

Joel doesn’t seem to notice when you first begin to hum in his ear. Either that, or he’s too pussy drunk to care. Your own rendition of “Fly, Eagles, Fly” is interrupted by moans and stuttered breaths, but you persevere. The rivalry doesn’t just go away because he’s inside of you.

“The hell are you doin’?” he punctuates the question with a particularly sharp thrust.

“C’mon, Joel. Say it just once. For me?” you clench your walls around him, squeezing him tight. His pace falters and he squeezes you tighter against him.

“Pussy’s so good, baby.” he groans. “But it ain’t that good.”

Suddenly, he pulls out of you. He grabs your ass and pulls you off the counter, hands on your hips to steady you. Once he’s sure your legs won’t wobble, he spins you around. He gathers both of wrists in one of his large hands and holds them in front of you, stretching them towards the mirror. There’s a near feral look in his eyes when he raises his hand, bringing it down in a swat to your ass cheek.He watches the ripple of your skin as he takes his cock in his hand and eases it back into you.

“Oh my god.” you cry. He’s so much deeper from this angle. He nudges against something devastating inside of you. Something you never knew existed. It doesn’t take Joel but a moment to build up to a bruising pace. Your eyes never leave his face in the mirror, watching him pound into you with a hunger you didn’t expect from a man his age. Tension coils through your entire body, like a snake gearing up to strike.

Joel’s eyes catch yours in the mirror and he gives you a devilish grin. “Gonna fuck that team spirit right outta ya.” he growls. He grips your shoulder, pulling you back onto his cock with each thrust. The smile returns when he feels your pussy fluttering around him. “That’s right, darlin’. Be a good girl. Give it to me.”

Your orgasm crashes through you. You can feel it everywhere, the strain in your biceps where he’s stretching your arms. The tips of your toes where you stand on them to give him access. Low in your belly when you gush around him, drawing his own release from him. He comes with a shout, pulsing inside of you. He’s so big, fills you so completely, that you can feel every throb and shudder of his cock as he paints your walls.

He releases your wrists and you fall against the counter. Joel slumps over your back and the two of you fight to catch your breath. The noise from the bar begins to quiet down as people disperse for the evening. Joel stands and pulls his pants up and you hide your ruined tights as best you can with your skirt.

Joel chucks you under the chin and presses a light kiss to your lips. “Guess we better get out there huh?”

You sigh and smooth your clothes once more, nodding in agreement. Joel unlocks the door and pops his head out, making sure the coast is clear. “I’ll go first. See you out there?” he nods towards the bar with his head.

“Yeah,” you nod. “See you out there.” the door closes behind him and you turn to the mirror to give yourself the once over. Satisfied that you don’t look freshly fucked, you step into the hallway. You feel a twinge of disappointment when you don’t see Joel, but continue down the hallway, back to the bar.

You see him walking towards the table he started the night at, interrupting Tommy’s conversation. Tommy looks up at his brother and breaks out into a grin. His eyes flick over Joel’s shoulder to you, and he gives you a wink. Joel turns and smiles, waving you over. He introduces you to Tommy, who shakes your hand before returning to his own chance for a consolation prize.

“So,” you begin. “Maybe I’ll see you here next week?” you ask hopefully.

Joel huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “No, darlin’. I don’t think you will.” When you look down at the ground, dejected, Joel once again raises your chin with his fingers. “But you can come over and watch the game at my place if you want.” he offers hopefully.

“I’d like that.” you tell him. Offering him your phone to input his number.

Tommy throws an arm around Joel’s shoulder. His other is slung across the waist of the woman he was talking to. “C’mon big brother. Ride’s waitin’.” he says. Joel hands you back your phone and bends to kiss your cheek. When he does, Tommy lets out a loud “Whoo!” and before you know it, your forgotten panties are clutched in his fist. “What do we have here?” he teases and pushes the balled up fabric into Joel’s hand.

Joel glares at his brother before tucking the panties into the pocket of his jacket. “Text me when you make it home?” he asks quietly. You nod and they leave. As you watch him walk away, you realize what you just agreed to. The game meant something different to you than it did him. Now you gotta go watch a fucking Cowboys game.

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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hwangism143 · 1 month

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dim lights (work nights)

synopsis: work party. seungmin is a suit. a glass of wine. oh, you are so done.

pairing: lawyer!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: workplace romance, fluff, teensy angst

warnings: drinking, punching jokes, swearing

word count: 1.2k words

a/n: been in my drafts for like a week hehe. suit seungmin has me screaming. anyways, enjoy and pls drop any and all feedback!

"I'll be charging ten dollars to punch him in the face, upon your generous request," murmured a low voice tantalizingly close to your ear.

You scoffed, "The things I want to do to Davies go far beyond a modest punch to the face. Those things could get me in jail."

One arm across your waist and the other's elbow propped upon your hand, you turned to face the owner of the honeyed voice that just offered you an extremely lucrative deal moments. Swirling around the remaining wine in your wine glass, you studied Kim Seungmin as he studied you.

"In that case," Seungmin sighed, "You'll have to pay my legal consultancy fees which, I'm afraid is far higher."

A laugh bubbled from your lips as Seungmin smirked at your rage. Watching one of the many people you were currently pitted against for a promotion kissing up to your boss made anger blossom within you. Then again, you weren't exactly known for being the most level-headed lawyer employed at the Prescott, Park and Daley Legal Firm.

But you, along with Seungmin, were known for being the best.

You offered Seungmin eyes that reflected betrayal. "I thought you would bail me out for free. I thought we were friends," you chastised.

"We most definitely are not friends, darling," said Seungmin smugly.

A smirk was forming on his lips and an eyebrow was ticked up. You felt yourself being stripped bare under his piercing gaze and flirtatious smile. Oh how he loved torturing you.

You caught your lip between your teeth to drink him in, deciding to conveniently ignore the fact that your teeth were currently in the process of being stained by your dark red lipstick. Seungmin's hair was styled to perfection, his skin was glowing and his eyes stayed on you as if you were a person he wished to learn every fold of. His three-piece suit was tailored to perfection and hugged his body perfectly.

You looked away and hoped he attributed your flushed face to the wine you were drinking. He was right though. You and Seungmin were not friends, not in the conventional sense. It was more of a situation where being paired up so much over the seven years that you spent at the firm caused to the two of you to become comfortable in each other's presence.

Both you having graduated top of your class from law school (you went to Harvard Law while Seungmin opted for Princeton), you both joined the law firm at the same time, full of dreams and aspirations. At first, you both considered one another as rivals. Constantly being compared truly made you inhibit a sort of begrudging sense of dislike towards him.

However, working your first together, truly made you realize how he was actually a very caring person. Seungmin constantly knew what to say to you without even saying anything. He brought you food and made you ramen after he found out your extreme affection towards the Korean delicacy.

You and Seungmin, however, came from strikingly different backgrounds. Seungmin lived comfortably and had a wealthy upbringing, which caused people to often underestimate his hard work. You went to school on an eighty percent scholarship but still worked three jobs to pay of your student loan, causing people to often very offensively doubt your etiquette.

You heard the rumors about rich kid Seungmin during your initial weeks at the firm. Allegedly (you are a lawyer, of course you use the word allegedly more than any other word over), he lived in a high rise apartment with so many floors that a helicopter, a fucking helicopter,crashed into the side of it.

You took extreme pride in being the only one to know that this was, in fact, true, as confirmed by the man himself.

Forcing your eyes to go back to Seungmin, your gaze sat on the horrendous lump which he called his 'tie'.

"It's on wrong," you remarked, motioning towards Seungmin's tie. He gave you shrug. "Fix it for me?"

You set down your now empty glass on the sleek granite table and the private restaurant lounge your colleagues and high playing clients were currently in. The low jazz music and soft lighting gave the entire room an ambience of romance. This was only heightened by Seungmin's sudden desire to covertly flirt with you.

Reaching around his neck to undo his tie, you never broke eye contact with him. You could feel his gaze start from your eyes and trail all the way down to your black stilettoes. He had a faint smile on his face. So he likes what he sees?

Finishing with a scoff, you send him away with a pat on his arm in a futile attempt to diffuse the tiny fireworks that were popping all over your body. Seungmin disappeared into the crowd to socialize, leaving you his scent surrounding your very being.

Grabbing another drink (a mojito), you walked over to the table where Seungmin's paralegal, Hyunjin, sat scrolling on his phone. Both of you being ambiverts who leaned more towards the introverted side, you both often found yourself sitting at the quiet people table in silence.

You could see Hyunjin's welcoming eyes move from you to somewhere behind you, morphing into one of distaste. You followed his line of sight to find your paralegal, Yeji, downing shots like her life depended on it. Although Hyunjin loved his cousin, he wouldn't be caught dead doing the things she did.

"You're painfully fond of him," started Hyunjin in mock annoyance, "It's disgusting."

You rolled your eyes at him and gave him a light slip. Hyunjin dramatically feigned pain and pushed a plate of food towards you. Your stomach rumbling as if on cue, you pounced on the food and relished it. That was one good thing about these corporate meetings; they had free food, at least as far as girl logic went.

Finishing up with a satisfied sigh, you looked up only to lock eyes with a notorious Mr. Peterson, a heavily disliked client who loved hitting on women. The bartender, Chan, offered you a sympathetic smile and slid you a shot of tequila.

"You're gonna need it," he said pitifully, patting your hand twice for reassurance.

Suppressing the urge to slap the now emerging Mr. Peterson and plastering on a fake smile, you turned to face the cause of your sorrow. The short, balding man's attempt at making any nonsensical, non-professional conversation was shot down by you quickly. You waved around your hand around, hoping he would take note of the large diamond ring that sat nestled in you finger.

You hoped he would take the hint about your marital status. You were loyal to your husband to a fault. Behind you, a Kim Seungmin watched you in amusement. You felt both sadness and anger seep into you. Sadness because he wasn't near you and anger because you were left alone to deal with a human shaped insolence.

Finally escaping from the clutches of Mr. Peterson grubby hands, you put your head down on the cold marble slab. Your hands held your heels and your head was already pounding from the effects of alcohol. Behind you, you heard a laugh that you knew unmistakable belonged to Seungmin. Turning around, you came face to face with a seemingly put together and knowingly exhausted Seungmin.

"Working hours are over," you said wearily.

"So?" came Seungmin's dry response.

You held your arms up like a child. "So, would you like to carry your extremely drunk yet adorably lovable wife home?"

Seungmin pressed a kiss to your forehead and duly obliged.

main taglist (reply to be added) - @linoalwaysknows

#stray kids #skz #seungmin #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #seungmin angst #seungmin imagines #- via's fics <3

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cobaltperun · 2 months

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Lost (22) - So Far Away

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.3k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-I have so much to say but you're so far away-

The room he sat in was the last place he’d associate with the woman who owned this apartment. The walls were hidden behind shelves, filled to the brim with books. Books in English, Russian and German, he guessed, ranging from classics to modern literature, from massive encyclopedia to magazines, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere near them. The last time he saw the woman she was fifteen and so stuck in her martial arts training he doubted she ever touched a book. Perhaps he was, as a twelve-year-old in awe of her, simply mistaken. The room had a vintage feel to it, with heavy table in the middle of it, and two tall armchairs on each side. The chandelier above him didn’t seem like it was often used, instead it was there more for aesthetics, instead, he believed the lamp on the table was used for reading during the nights. The woman lived alone, after a brief marriage that ended in a divorce, and he didn’t really know the details of her relationship.

There weren’t many people who intimidated him. Sidney Prescott did, with her refusal to be defeated by one of the Ghostfaces despite already being past her prime. Samantha Carpenter did as well, her brutality against Richie Kirsch and his father a year later was frightening. His cousin frightened him even more.

Anya Golubeva lost her title when she fought against you, but she regained it right away and considering you were forced to retire, she reigned supreme for the next three years, until she went and retired, now, at thirty-four, she was still a formidable fighter. She would be the counter to you, a fighter that spent even more time training, a fighter that nearly defeated you, because that match could have gone either way. Thomas made a mistake, he made you angry, he got cocky, she wouldn’t, because she knew exactly what you were capable of.

“So, cousin, what brings you to me?” Anya walked through the door, holding a tray with two cups of coffee. “This far from home?” she sat down, at ease in her home, at ease because there truly wasn’t much that could hurt her.

Cousins… Yet he was nothing like her. Despite his admiration for her, Igor wasn’t a good fighter, he had no talent for martial arts, or sports in general, he didn’t have the dedication needed to overcome the lack of talent either. No, he wasn’t the best fighter, but he had other skills, he was a good hunter, resilient, good with knife and various guns, and, if he could say so himself, he was conventionally good looking, dark hair and blue eyes, in good shape. He could have been so many things, he could have had so many different interests, but in his youth he, much like Richie Kirsch and Amber Freeman, and many before and after them, developed a fascination with Stab franchise, and, more importantly, with Ghostface.

“I,” he hunched a bit, making himself seem smaller, trying to remind Anya of how he was as a child. “got into trouble,” he spoke slowly, regretfully, just for a moment glancing up to meet her eyes and then immediately looking down. “With a cult, and now I don’t know how to get out,” there, he said it. He also believed he was an acceptable actor, capable of fooling people.

He heard Anya lowering her cup and leaning forward. “What cult?” she sounded more concerned than anything. Family was always important to her. That was why he was certain he could get her to help him and the cult. If she believed she was doing it to save him then he had a chance to convince her.

Instead of telling her anything, he pulled out the mask with a bear painted on the side. His Ghostface mask.

“Ghostface?” her eyes widened as she watched the mask. “Why? You’re neither young nor stupid?” she demanded, so forcefully he genuinely flinched at her tone.

“I didn’t realize they were serious, I swear! I thought they’d stop after Richie and Amber got killed, but they didn’t! At that point it was too late to back out, they knew me, they’d kill me!” he exclaimed, frantically grabbing the mask and shoving it back into his bag. He moved as if he was about to leave, as if he gave up on her.

“Fine, fine, settle down,” Anya calmed down first, and now she once again looked more concerned than anything else. That got him to sit back down, and he had to cover his face, pretending to clutch his head in desperation to hide the small smirk he couldn’t suppress. “What changed now?”

He dropped his hands, his expression the perfect mask of desperation. “If you can help me get rid of one person I can walk away,” knowing how it sounded he quickly raised his hands. “No one will know it was us! Please, it’s either her or me!”

She remained silent, and he just hoped this would work out, that Anya would be willing to at least hold you back enough for someone to finish you off if she didn’t want to actually kill you.

“Who is it?” she asked after several long, dreadful minutes.

“Y/N L/N,” Igor said, and her eyes narrowed. For a moment he feared she’d reject him, but instead, she nodded. Perhaps the sting of loss caused resentment toward you.

~X~

No one knew where you were.

Those words repeated in Tara’s mind as she stared at the wall in front of her. She didn’t say a single word since Danny gave in and told her what he knew.

You were gone. No one knew if you were alive, or if you were hurt, or who had you. No… that was obvious. Ghostface had you. She barely registered a glass of milk and a plate filled with pancakes being set down on the coffee table next to her.

“Tara, you need to eat, for your baby if not for yourself,” Danny crouched next to her, likely trying to get her to look at him. And she did, for a brief moment she did look at him, and she saw the apology in his eyes.

Pancakes. Of course he went with that. It didn’t take long for anyone to find out how often you made them for Tara. They were her comfort meal, a meal she didn’t feel bad to ask for while you were kids, the first meal you made after you two got together, and then again and again, every time exactly how Tara loved them.

Danny knew how to cook, definitely better than Sam, but not as well as you did. She still nodded, picking up the plate and eating more out of obligation to your child than anything else. She barely ate two pancakes when her phone buzzed, signaling she got a message.

Tara frowned and saw it was a photo, and then her eyes widened, and she dropped her fork, and she had no idea how she didn’t immediately throw up the pancakes she managed to eat. “Danny!” she yelled, making him run back into the living room.

“What?!” he frantically looked around for an intruder, but Tara just got up and showed him the message she got. It was a photo, of a muscular woman whose face was covered by a Ghostface mask tied to a chair. “Is that Y/N?” his voice wavered a bit, as he spoke what went through Tara’s head when she saw the photo.

A moment later an address popped up and Tara grabbed her jacket ready to leave right then and there, consequences be damned she’d get to you. She needed to see you. She needed to be with you.

“Wait, we need to call Kirby,” Danny grasped Tara’s forearm just firmly enough to keep her from leaving.

“I need to get to Y/N!” she shouted, yanking her arm away from him.

“We don’t know when the photo was taken! It’s an obvious trap, Tara!” he argued back, this time choosing to step between her and the doors.

“I don’t care, she might be there!” she knew she was being unreasonable, that you’d berate her if you knew she was willing to just walk into such an obvious trap, but she knew you’d do the exact same thing. No, not only that. If the positions were switched you would have went to Kirby demanding information so you could start looking for Tara. Even if it meant rushing into whatever location Kirby managed to connect with the cult.

Luckily, Danny understood her by now. “We’ll go, okay? But we need to call Kirby first, in case we need a back-up,” she could work with that.

So, she sent the photo to Kirby as Danny set up a Zoom call and while they waited for Kirby to join it, Tara just looked at the photo.

Finally, Kirby joined them. “Hey, Tara, Danny. Tara, I’m sorry we kept these things from you,” Kirby opened with that, but Tara shook her head, there’d be time for that conversation later.

“Can you do anything?” Danny asked.

“Not much, but the address does match a warehouse near the harbor,” she said, sharing her screen and showing the map as well as some photos of the warehouse. It was old, clearly not in use anymore and abandoned until the cult decided to start using it.

“It’s not Y/N,” Tara suddenly declared. “It’s not her, I know it isn’t her,” she knew it, even if three weeks passed, this wasn’t you. Ghostface would taunt her with your face, or at least show a scar so she wouldn’t have any way to doubt it was you. And the woman wasn’t as muscular as you, she was muscular, no doubt about that, but not as much as you. So, no, it wasn’t you.

She was still going to walk right into that warehouse, because there was a chance someone there knew where you were, and she’d never forgive herself if she let this opportunity go. If she had to go alone, she would,

“Tara, listen to me, you’re pregnant, don’t get both of you killed by being reckless,” Kirby told her, but Tara was already getting up.

“Either come and help, or don’t do anything, but I’m not waiting here for someone to tell me what’s going on. You’ve already proven you won’t tell me anything anyway,” she snapped, glaring back at the screen before putting her jacket on and grabbing the biggest knife Danny had.

“Shit! Tara, wait!” she heard Danny running after her, but she didn’t slow down, she just glanced back, saw that he also had a knife and smiled appreciatively at him. “Well,” he shrugged. “I can’t let you go alone,” he said.

~X~

The warehouse was abandoned a long time ago, the windows were broken, glass was everywhere, and there was a lot of dust. So much, in fact, that Tara coughed a few times when they stepped inside. There were a few exits, through the windows, though that would likely be very painful unless they could open the window before jumping through. The doors they just came through and there were two sets of stairs leading to the first floor, that might give them a chance to maneuver if needed.

“There’s nothing here,” Danny said as the two of them looked around, for clues, for any sign of presence, for anything really. All they saw was the chair the person on the photo was tied to. The fact that the chair was whole was just another proof to Tara that you weren’t on the photo. If you were, and if you were untied, you would have fought back, and that chair would have been at least damaged if not in pieces and stained with blood of your captors.

They heard them before they saw them. The boots stepping on the shattered glass, steps indicating there were at least two people with them. Tara pulled her knife out and turned around, pointing it toward Ghostfaces.

“Where is Y/N?” she demanded, for the first time coming face to face with the redesigned Ghostface, the robes were the same, the mask was almost the same. These two had animals painted on the side of the mask. One had a bull, the other and elephant. A way to differentiate each other now that there were so many of them. At least the entire cult didn’t come to greet her.

The one with a bull just tilted his head to the side, as if feigning confusion. The two remained silent, slowly approaching her and Danny.

“We’d rather avoid a fight, just tell the lady what she wants to know,” Danny warned them, stepping in front of Tara and she had to admit, he did look imposing, even with two Ghostfaces coming closer and closer.

One of them lunged forward, aiming to stab Danny, but he clashed his own knife against the Ghostface’s blade and closed the distance to land a good punch to the side of Ghostface’s head. Tara’s eyes widened slightly, she knew you and Danny often sparred, but she didn’t realize Danny could hold his own outside of sparring. And he was proving he could hold his own, as he went for the neck with his knife, after all, they needed just one Ghostface alive.

But he stopped, his hand shaking as if he just realized what he was about to do. Tara jumped in, ready to finish the job he clearly couldn’t while the Ghostface was still dazed from the punch. She managed to stab the Ghostface’s chest and stomach, before the other could step in. She pulled away, knowing better than to stay in one place for long as the other Ghostface, the one with the bull painted on the mask pulled his partner back and engaged Danny in combat.

Danny deflected and dodged several stabs, but he struggled to find another opening to land a hit himself. Finally, he got an opportunity to kick the Ghostface away just as the one Tara stabbed was getting ready to jump back in.

“Run!” Danny exclaimed, ushering Tara toward the stairs. They were out in the open, and there was a good chance someone else was in the building with them, so staying in the middle of an open space wasn’t the best option for them. Not right now. And… a small part of both of them, hoped that maybe, just maybe you were held here despite not being on the photo.

Tara took off, running for the stairs with Danny right behind her as the Ghostface duo chased after them. Though risky, the moment Ghostface duo began climbing up the stairs, Danny abruptly stopped and slammed body first into one of them, sending them down the stairs and just barely managing to stay on his feet. He grunted though, and Tara could see the handle of the knife sticking from his side.

“Shit!” she exclaimed and stopped, ready to go back down for him.

“Keep going!” he began running again, pushing through the pain and Tara could see the determination in his eyes. “I’m going to yell at Sam when she comes back. If she was here we could have easily taken these two,” he complained jokingly, mostly to reassure Tara.

Tara nodded, seeing through him, but still appreciating the gesture.

They reached the top of the stairs and realized every door was locked. The only way out was back down, and the Ghostface duo split to cover each side of the stairs.

Tara looked at Danny and then looked toward the Ghostface she stabbed. She’d handle that one. So, they waited as the Ghostface duo began slowly climbing toward them, they stood, back to back, ready to fight the two.

And it ended so quickly Tara barely registered what was happening. Danny took initiative, attacking the one with bull on the mask. He ducked under the blade, grabbed the Ghostface’s leg and pushed him down to the ground, grappling the way you usually did when you were in a rush. This time he didn’t hesitate, and stabbed his knife through the Ghostface’s chest several times.

Tara on the other hand clashed her knife against Ghostface’s, she stepped to the side, slicing quickly and managing to cut through the robe, but not through the flesh of Ghostface’s arm. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Ghostface swinging his arm toward her head and just barely managed to grab and stop it from hitting her. Thinking fast she lifted her leg, kicking Ghostface between the legs. Ghostface grunted, but didn’t fall to his knees, instead he tried to stab her again.

Tara dodged the blade, but hit the wall and in her daze she couldn’t move out of the way. She could only put her arms between her attacker and her stomach. The knife never came though, as a gasp came from Ghostface in front of her. She opened her eyes and saw a knife sticking out of the Ghostface’s neck, courtesy of Danny. Both Ghostfaces were dead, both killed by Danny.

“Damn,” he took a step back, letting the dead Ghostface fall to the ground. “Guess we’ll have to find clues some other way,” he said making Tara nod.

“Thanks, let’s get out of here,” she wasn’t any closer to finding you, but two enemies were dead.

Danny nodded and the two of them began walking to the doors, carefully watching for any movement.

A loud sound pierced the silence, pierced right through the illusion of safety and Tara’s eyes widened when she saw blood staining Danny’s shirt. She watched in horror as he looked down, shakily touching the red spot just below his chest that was growing larger with every second. “Danny!” Tara cried out, somehow managing to catch him before he fell to the ground. There was too much blood, as hard as she tried, as much as she pressed her palms against the wound, she couldn’t stop the bleeding and his breathing was getting shallow. “Stay awake, you hear me! Come on, you need to yell at Sam for leaving, remember?”

He chuckled a bit at that. “I’ll leave that to you,” he said and moved her hands away. “They hit my liver,” the blood, the bullet going through it, the stab wound, Tara just sat back, tears streaming down her face. There was nothing she could do. Even if she could call an ambulance, they likely wouldn’t make it in time.

Not that it mattered. Footsteps came from behind her, and she turned around just in time to see three Ghostfaces approaching her. Three marks, bear, fish, and monkey, and the one with bear on the mask was carrying the gun. He was the one who shot Danny, she was sure of that. No… he may have pulled the trigger, but Tara was the one who brought them there, she was the one responsible for putting them in danger.

“Don’t resist, or else,” that voice, the same voice she heard when Amber first attacked her, the same voice that so often haunted her nightmares, she heard it again and this time… instead of pointing a knife at her, the monster pointed a gun at her stomach. “I heard you played a game like this once, only there isn’t an MMA fighter to save you,” Tara narrowed her eyes, but didn’t move. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t risk it, not when there was nothing she could do to save him.

The Ghostface holding the gun motioned toward her and Danny.

“Let her leave,” Danny demanded with what little strength her had left as he tried to sit up.

“I don’t think so,” one of the other two Ghostfaces said as one grabbed Tara’s arms and pulled them behind her back. She heard the click of handcuffs, felt the cold metal around her wrists and knew there was absolutely nothing she could do.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she knew it was over, she knew exactly what would happen next, she still flinched when she heard Danny yelping as he was slammed back onto the ground and then she heard the knife slicing through his neck.

“There, just like Samantha cut Richie’s throat,” one of them said and Tara dared to look at him, dead, with blood pooling around his body. His eyes that once held so much love for her sister now stared forward, lifeless.

~X~

She knew she should have assigned someone to watch over Tara, and now she was gone and Danny was dead. Kirby sat with her head between her hands and photos laid on her table. The Ghostface she was sure was Sam, the tied-up woman she was sure was you, even if Tara denied it, and painted masks, and other photos she had painted a picture she couldn’t understand.

“Tara is right, this isn’t Y/N,” Gale Weathers being there definitely wasn’t helping.

“How are you so sure?” Kirby demanded. They couldn’t see any scars to confirm if it was really you, but there weren’t as many women as muscular as you.

“It’s not her style. If she even suspected this photo would reach Tara she would have given them hell,” Gale gave her a cheeky, though small smile. “Besides, if someone can recognize Y/N underneath all this it would be Tara.”

Kirby had to agree with that. While she wasn’t there when Richie and Amber did their killings, she was very much aware of what you did for Tara, and while she never got to see you actually hurting someone, she did get to see how protective of the younger Carpenter you were. She had the front seats experience when you came into a bar her, and Sam were at once to confront Sam. It was civil, but she could feel the tension, the barely restrained anger on both sides.

It was baffling, really, watching you and Sam argue, after years of seeing the two of you getting along. Sam was never as happy as she was at your and Tara’s wedding, and she more than once expressed how much she appreciated your protectiveness over Tara. And then it was like someone snapped their fingers and the relationship fell apart along with Sam.

And now no one knew where you were, Tara was captured, Danny was dead, Chad, Mindy and Anika couldn’t come, or they would not only be in danger but would be able to kiss their careers goodbye and Sam was… likely a Ghostface. How did it all fall apart like this?

Knocking on the door brought her out of her thoughts and she looked up just as Sidney walked in. “Since when does Ghostface try to blow up cars?” she demanded, distraught, filled with panic and almost desperately looking for answers.

“What?” Gale asked, just as puzzled by the question as Kirby.

Sidney slumped into one of the chairs and leaned her head back as she dug her fingers into her hair. “He called me, said I’ll never see my family again. I managed to call Mark and get him, and my children get out of the car. Less than a minute later the car exploded,” she explained, fury burning in her eyes. “I need to get this fucker before he harms my family.”

Gale approached her and placed a hand on Sidney’s shoulder. “We’ll get them Sid,” she promised and caught Sidney up with the situation. From suspecting Sam, to your situation, to Tara being captured and Danny being killed.

“I want Tara alive as much as you two, but how do we know she was just kidnapped? Why would they keep her alive?” Sidney asked and Kirby would be lying if she said that thought didn’t cross her mind when she first realized Tara wasn’t at the warehouse. Gale was the one that reassured her.

“It’s not their style, to take someone and kill them somewhere else, even if this Ghostface doesn’t operate the way we’re used to,” Gale told Sidney the same thing she told Kirby.

Kirby sighed, frankly, even if she agreed now that Tara was alive she still wasn’t entirely sure what the actual reason she wasn’t killed was, but she had her suspicions. “It’s either Y/N, or Sam that they are afraid of,” that was the core reason. “I don’t think they’ll kill Tara just yet.”

“If Tara is alive, they can blackmail one or both of them, if they kill Tara, those two won’t let that go,” Gale agreed and took the photo of Ghostface with dog mark. “Guard dog,” how ironic.

“Even if Sam joined them, she’d turn on them if they hurt Tara,” Sidney agreed, now seeing the logic. “We need to find Y/N.”

And that was the plan, because even if they couldn’t count on Sam being sane enough to help them, they could count on you. Especially when you learn that Tara was captured.

Kirby’s phone rang and all three of them nearly jumped out of their skin, but Kirby relaxed when she saw the name of one of her colleagues. “Yes?”

“Special Agent Reed, we identified the number the message came from. It belongs to Samantha Carpenter,” there was no doubt anymore.

Sam was Ghostface, there was no longer any doubt about that in Kirby’s mind. And either she sent the message to Tara, or someone was using her phone.

There was a chance that Sam was too far gone.

A/N: Well… people are dying, I wonder who is next… Anyway, recently someone suggested a tag list for Woe out the Storm, so I figured, If I'm making it for that story, I guess I could make it for Lost as well. So, if you want to be on the tag list either send a message, an ask (though I won't answer it if it's just that you want to be on the tag list) or tell me in a reply. (Note that tag list is story specific, so specify which story you want, and yeah, that's about it)

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader

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