#Sam Cross | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peeweekey · 1 year ago

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8:05 | SAM

word count: 3.2k

summary: sam’s ten heart event with a twist.

tags: winter, developing relationships, fluff, swearing, cuddling, hiding from his mother in his bed lol

a/n: this spiralled out of my control and into 3k words… enjoy!

it’s cold.

the fleece coat you’ve bundled yourself in cannot protect goosebumps from forming from the biting chill of the valley’s winter nights. your breaths come out in cloudy puffs of air, the heat slowly draining out of every exhale. it’s dark out, poorly spaced lampposts providing the bare minimum amount of light to navigate.

you got sam’s letter earlier, a clumsily written note that was stuffed haphazardly into your farm’s mailbox—the yellow lined paper he used, all crumpled and ripped.

meet me in front of my house! at 8 pm, i’ll be waiting. there’s something i want to tell you.

the ending sentence is somehow even more sloppily written compared to the ones before it. as if he was debating whether or not to add it in, but ultimately decided for it—it’s funny to imagine him hunched over his desk, stressing over what to write to you.

well, you won’t deny feeling excitement over the possibility of whatever sam has to say. if the subtle skip in your step is anything to go by.

you walk through the silent night of the town, it seems like everything’s frozen in place during the colder times of the year—everyone’s safe at home, toasty under their covers and you’d imagine thoroughly enjoying going to bed at 7 pm.

you do too, sometimes. there’s less to do when the ground is too frozen to plant any crop.

there’s a lot more free time out of the farm during the winter. you’ve really started integrating yourself with the townspeople—helping haley find her bracelet, befriending sam’s prickly coworker shane, and even discovering a shadowperson named Krobus in the town sewers. it really is starting to feel like home.

walking, you cut the corner passing by emily and haley’s house—and there he is.

he looks devastatingly handsome all dressed in winter clothing. his regular denim jacket switched out for a dark woolen coat, his pants are unripped and, surprisingly, not smeared with dirt.

though what you like most about his winter attire is his hair. those wild golden locks are laid flat under a woolen beanie—a stark difference from the spiked updo he usually does (though you like that one too). the tips of his hair are slightly curled upwards, revealing that family trait of curly hair.

you creep closer, just watching him wait for you—the way he folds his arms in an attempt to warm up, and the little shuffle he does on his feet. you laugh softly, he must’ve been waiting a while—just like you have for him.

sam turns at the sound of your laugh, his body unconsciously tilting towards you, like a magnet’s uncontrollable attracting to metal. “you made it,” he breathes, his nose, ears and cheeks pinkened by the cold.

you nod, unable to stop a bashful smile from forming on your lips. “i made it.”

a big grin splits his face, mimicking yours. underneath the lone lamplight he looks jaw-droppingly handsome. you feel yourself become warm just in proximity to him.

“i wanted to talk to you in private,” he says. sam’s buzzing with energy, surveying the dark streets before meeting your gaze with his. “it’s kinda cold out here though… i, um—i can sneak you into my room…”

your heart skips a beat, like you’ve skipped a step on a staircase. “what?” you croak.

your eyes catch onto him wringing his fingers, a nervous habit you can’t help but always notice (not because his hands are nice and interesting to look at, not at all).

“you don’t wanna?”

“no!” you inhale, trying to alleviate the twisting sensation in your gut. “i do wanna, ahem, lead the way.”

sam smiles at you, dimples and all. he leads you towards the tiny bedroom window in front of his house. the window is already open—you assume that’s where he jumped out of to meet you.

he climbs through the window with minimal effort, landing on the flooring with a dull thump!

you raise a brow. “have you done this before?”

sam stretches his hand out to you, waiting. his smile turnt sheepish. “i mean, i think we were all rebellious teenagers once.”

you resist the urge to snort—sam’s nervous, you can tell. he doesn’t have his quips and jokes tonight. and he’s shy, but eager. like a puppy, excited and curious about the world.

“o-kay,” you say, one hand in his hand the other set firmly on the windowsill. “make sure i don’t fall please.”

sam nods, eagerly. the curled ends of his hair shake along with the motion as he does.

how endearing.

you tighten your grip on his hand, hauling yourself through the small window, trying your damn best to not make any sudden noise. which is successful for the most part, only a tiny huff of exertion escapes you.

annoying, yes. but the chill of winter burns through any energy you have faster than other seasons.

your feet connect with the wood of his floor, hand still clasped in his and the chill merely at your back. it’s warm inside, with him.

his room is the same as it’s always been when you’d visit before—shelves, band equipment, posters—but the ambiance is different. a little more charged with tension so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

sam does not bother turning on his light, you don’t mind it all that much. but it takes some effort to avoid tumbling over stray objects that clutter his bedroom floor.

“look, I know I’ve been about nothing but the band for a while now…” he starts. “but I don’t want you to think that’s all i’m interested in.”

you chuckle, clasping your fingers behind your back. “it certainly takes up a big chunk of your interests.”

he pouts, literally pouts. it must be the love bug you caught because you think it’s just plain adorable. “i’m really trying over here!”

“sorry!” you grin, “okay, continue.”

“well, um… shoot, this is kinda hard, huh?” he forces an awkward chuckle. “and nerve-wrecking… but what i’m trying to say is…”

“i’m really happy that we’ve grown this close, and well…” sam looks at you, he’s stupidly red—the color spreading all over his face. “i—i’m just wondering, do you think of me as… just a friend?”

your breath stutters, and you feel yourself blushing before you can do anything to stop it. you stare at him as he does with you. the two of you locking eyes for a second, it feels like it’s just you and him in the world.

you feel your shy admittance at the tip of your tongue. no, you’d say, you’re more than that for me, if you want to be.

sam smiles at you, shy but so, so overwhelmingly bright—it’s blinding. your head is running a mile a minute when you finally get the courage—

“sam!” you hear jodi’s groggy voice from outside the door. your stomach drops with dread. “somebody’s at the door! go and check please?”

you lock eyes once again, this time for entirely different reasons, and with entirely different feelings.

“oh my god, sam,” you whisper hurriedly, panic gripping you. “your mom doesn’t know i’m here—what do we do—”

“hold on—” he replies, with the same sense of urgency as you. “okay, okay—i have a plan, just trust me, ‘kay?”

you think you might break out into a cold sweat. you look at him quizzically, “what?”

sam gives you an apologetic smile with that stupid beautiful face of his, he moves forward, grabbing you by your wrists, and moving you with him—towards his bed.

“sam!” you hiss, alarms are blaring in every corner of your mind as sam all but drags you under the toasty covers of his bed. he lifts the blanket and stations you by the edge, covering you in the blanket—which is now a lumpy mess.

this is his childhood bed you’re in, where his mother and brother are just by the door.

and his mother is calling him.

“i’ll get this over with quick,” he says to you, already heading towards the door of his room. “hang on tight, ‘kay?”

you breathe a sound of agreement, way too jittery to formulate any proper response as you quieten under the covers.

though the sheets do feel nice, and smells overwhelmingly of that specific cologne he uses (stolen from joja inventory, he told you once). you will yourself not to relax and melt into the sheets so fast. instead, you listen for each and every sound that may give hint to whatever the hell is happening.

there’s a commotion that you can hear happening, the door swings open, the hinges creaking along with it—this whole surreal experience feels a little like the confrontation part of a horror movie, the helpless victim hiding and the heavy footfalls of the killer.

though in your case, it’s not one set of footsteps, but two.

“what are you two doing here?”

“you’re the one who called us over, remember?” you can recognize the band’s shut-in pianist’s voice from anywhere. “you were all like, stop skipping practice, seb.”

sam’s voice is oddly pitchy when he responds. “…well, tonight’s no good!”

you hear the other person huff, you strain your ears harder to listen. the huffing person clearly fed up with the strange behavior sam’s putting out right now.

“my mom and vincent are asleep,” he adds hurriedly. “they’d wake up—”

you resist the urge to groan, stifling your mouth under a sweaty palm. jodie was just speaking to him minutes ago, there’s no way they’d buy that. he cannot be a more obvious liar.

thankfully they gloss over the fact. “sam, why are you acting so damn weird?” sebastian asks, straightforward as ever.

“yeah,” the other voice adds. feminine but strong. which you now identify as abigail’s, you hear a pinch of impatience in her voice. “and why are you red? did you sit outside in the snow or something—”

sam chokes, which he tries to conceal as an odd sounding cough. abigail pauses mid-sentence. the shift in the atmosphere is palpable. you screw your eyes shut, hearing the rapid rate of your heartbeat. it’s so loud you’re almost convinced the trio can hear the thumping from your hiding spot under the sheets. this is it, they’re going to discover you.

“oh, oh i see,” abigail grins. “on second thought, i wouldn't risk catching all those germs. i’m feeling starved, let’s hit the saloon, seb.”

the aforementioned man grumbles, seemingly puzzled by the sudden switch in abigail’s attitude. ��huh… why?” abigail must have whispered something to him—you can barely hear over the muffle of sam’s blanket comforters. “ugh, alright. fine. you owe us one, sam.”

“oh, of course! mhm, yup,” you cringe at the immense awkwardness of sam’s response, feeling the overwhelming urge to pull out your own hair. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? now shoo! wouldn’t wanna get you both sick or somethin’…”

“huh?” sebastian replies, rightfully puzzled as they’re forcefully pushed out of the room. “why would we see you tomorrow if you’re sick—”

“well seb,” abigail says smugly. “let’s just say sammy here is taking care of some important business—”

“okay, bye!” you hear the door click shut. to your utter bewilderment, sam shut the door in their faces.

the room is deathly quiet, the air is stagnant and stuffy. once you feel it safe enough, you crane your neck out of the blankets to check over him. to trace any lingering feeling the sudden visit might’ve given him. sam’s got his back rested against the wood of his door, his back slumped.

“i—i wasn’t expecting that,” you say quietly from your hiding spot on his bed. peeking the top half of your face, watching the door carefully. “kinda nerve-wracking.”

and embarrassing.

“i know—i’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “i didn’t expect them coming over.”

“sebastian said you invited them for practice, though.” you point out.

“maybe i did,” he admits, creeping closer to you on the bed, even if he’s guilty and embarrassed. “i totally forgot—i mean, i was really nervous! my mind blanks when i get nervous…”

sam stops right by the side of the bed, as if he’s waiting for your permission to get in with you—in his own bed. and to be perfectly honest, you really want him to.

“kinda ruined the atmosphere too,” he looks away from you, eyes downcast and melancholy. “i had this whole thing planned too, and i, just… ugh…”

your eyes soften. “sam, it’s really fine. okay, maybe a little shocking but you know it’s not enough to scare me away.”

he looks down at you, worried. his eyebrows are ever so slightly pinched—you wish you could run your fingers over it, and smooth it out yourself.

“plus,” you murmur, reaching over the small amount of space between the two of you to clasp his wrist. “i’m not just gonna leave… just tell me what you were going to say—before the… interruption.”

that gives you the final push to gather your courage to tug him into bed with you. sam follows, flopping onto the empty bedding next to you without a fight. for a moment, it’s just the two of you, side by side, slowly huddling closer and closer for warmth.

and sam is warm. he’s practically radiating comfy heat you wish to burrow into—or wrap yourself around. the perfect bed-partner for winter nights like these.

you find yourself becoming addicted to the feeling.

sam angles his body towards you. you on your back and him on his side, it feels intimate and special. and for some reason, it feels familiar—like you’ve always belonged by his side.

“i think you know already,” he tells you, his eyes are not clear in the dim light but you know, there are practically hearts in them. “that i like you.”

you giggle softly. “and i think you know the same about me.”

sam tentatively grasps your hand, the freezing fingertips thawing under his careful touch. the caress of his hand on yours sends tingling electricity down your spine, your whole body feels alert—alive.

he speaks again, but this time his tone is a whisper of what it usually is. “stay awhile?”

“yeah,” you swallow, squeezing his hand in your grip. a small smile on your lips. “yes, i want to.”

“good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkle at the edges so softly and the dimples on his cheeks deepen. there really is no one else who can compare for you. “hey, you’re really cold… let me warm you up?”

you turn to your side, facing him. at this angle, your faces are mere inches apart. you can trace every dip, line and curve of his face, and he yours. your hand tingles with the overwhelming urge to reach for him and squeeze.

“it is cold,” you agree. “i’d very much like that.”

“phew,” he softly sighs. sam drags his fingers up your arm, stopping at your elbow. wherever he touches, a whisper of him lingers on your skin—a bone deep imprint you yearn for him to spread all across your skin.

you roll into him with little to no effort at all. sam drags you to his chest, your ear perched right above his heart, you can hear the steady thump! of his heartbeat from underneath. sam winds his arms around you, intensifying the heat you feel by tenfold—it’s not uncomfortable at all, though. you like it.

your bodies fit perfectly together, just like puzzle pieces. a mess of limbs tangling together. the warmth of him making you shudder in honey-like delight. it feels syrupy and soft and warm wrapped in his arms.

his hand at your back travels downwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake you feel even through the thickness of the fabric separating the skin of your back and his fingertips. his hands feel rough and calloused at the small of your back—from playing guitar and his skateboarding incidents—but you enjoy the feeling.

you trail your fingers under the thick fabric of his jacket and shirt, feeling the smooth skin underneath—the action has no deeper meaning than you wanting to feel.

sam’s uncharacteristically quiet. his breaths are slow and long, like he’s on the verge of sleep. yet his arms are wound tight around you—like he never wants to let go of you. your nerves make you feel like a slow simmering soup. warm and slowly cooking over the fire.

you two stay entangled for a while, in comfortable silence. sometime during the night you’ve matched your breathing to his, and he pulled you somehow even closer to his body.

but, a thump comes from his window, a light tapping sound. soft but persistent. the two of you opt to ignore it, in favor of snuggling closer to each other. yet the taps continue, and become louder and faster.

disrupted by the noise, sam mournfully throws the covers from over him to check, untangling himself from your grip. leaving a very him-shaped indent on the bed left in his wake. you groan, sticking your bottom lip out, you miss the warmth of him already.

“oh shit.”

the expletive makes you sit up in his bed, the comforter draping off your middle. you can make out the shape of him even with the dimness of the light—sam’s back is towards you, and if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks like he’s shrinking into himself a tiny bit.

“what is it?” you whisper-shout to him.

he slowly turns to you, wide eyed, his shoulders stiff. sort of resembling a kicked-dog. sam bows down his head—with what you think is shame, for what reason, you can’t tell. rubbing your eyes of sleep, you furrow your brow, craning your neck to look out the window behind him.

abigail and sebastian are there, waving wildly at you. your eyes widen. abigail and sebastian are waving at you with smug smiles plastered on their faces.

your stomach drops for the umpteenth time that night. you honestly feel too horrified to speak.

you bury yourself under the sheets, a feeble attempt to conceal your mortification. so that’s why abigail was playing along with sam’s urgent ramblings—she knew (not that sam was any good at keeping a cool facade, he is totally incapable of lying smoothly). you groan, you feel like a rebellious teenager again, only the part where you get caught and utterly humiliated.

outside, you can hear the loud roaring laughter of the duo through the glass, alongside the awkward, embarrassed chatter of your newly-minted boyfriend. (not technically official, but the title succeeds to relieve your horror by the tiniest bit)

still, you stay put. through the mortification and embarrassment you still stick yourself to sam’s side, or more literally, on his bed—because you know, there’s no other place you’d rather be.

you spare another glance out of the covers at the trio—to your surprise, sam’s beat you to it. looking at you with heart eyes and the most lovesick expression (you’re pretty sure yours looks the same).

you know there’s going to be a lot more explaining to do in the morning. but it doesn’t matter to you, not right now when you’re in sam’s bed on the verge of sleep.

not when you feel so warm.

a/n: shoutout to the ass trio for making an appearance in the fic! i love you abby and seb.

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holyblonded · 4 months ago

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first day nerves | always sunny in australia

pairings: sam kerr x teen!reader, arsenal x teen!reader

summary: your first day with your club brings up anxious thoughts

warnings: just anxiety

notes: i’m loving writing for chickadee

You let your alarm ring, its shrill beeping filling the otherwise silent room. But you didn’t move. You had been awake long before it went off, staring at the ceiling as anxiety churned in your stomach. The weight of everything—the expectations, the pressure, the uncertainty, sat heavy on your chest. A knock at the door cut through the stillness.

“Chickadee,” Sam’s voice came from the other side, gentle but firm. “Time to get up. Caitlin’s coming over for breakfast with Kyra and Steph.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to sit up. “Coming,” you mumbled, though your voice barely carried past the door.

With a deep breath, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching out the stiffness from another restless night. You moved on autopilot, pulling on a hoodie and shorts before making your way out of your room.

The smell of eggs and toast filled the kitchen by the time you entered, and Sam was already at the stove, flipping something in a pan. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard your footsteps.

“Morning, Kid,” she said, her eyes flicking over you like she was assessing if you’d actually slept. You knew better than to think you could fool her.

You hummed in response, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you shuffled to the fridge for some juice. Before you could even pour yourself a glass, the front door swung open.

“Oi, you didn’t lock it?” Kyra’s voice rang out as she stepped inside, followed closely by Caitlin and Steph.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Didn’t know I had to with you lot showing up uninvited at all hours.”

“You love it,” Caitlin grinned, dropping a bag of pastries onto the counter before stepping over to ruffle your hair. “Morning, Chickie.”

You huffed, ducking away, but she just laughed.

Steph plopped down at the table, stretching her legs out with a satisfied sigh. “This better be a good breakfast, Kerr. You promised quality.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam muttered, plating the eggs as Kyra hopped onto the counter, stealing a piece of toast right off the cutting board.

You watched them all with a small smile, the familiar chaos settling some of the unease in your chest.

The car ride to Arsenal training was a mistake. You should have known better than to let Kyra sit next to you. From the moment you got in, she was relentless.

“Oi, Chickie,” she started, nudging your arm. “You nervous? Bet you’re nervous.”

You stared out the window, pretending she didn’t exist.

“C’mon, mate,” she pressed, leaning in closer. “First day at Arsenal. Big club. Lots of expectations. What if you—”

Caitlin reached from the front seat, smacking Kyra’s leg without even turning around. “Leave her alone.”

“I’m just saying,” Kyra continued, completely unfazed. “Pressure’s on. What if she trips walking into the training ground? That’d be embarrassing.”

Steph, driving, snorted. “She’s not you, Kyra.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Kyra, shut up.”

“Wow. Rude.” She clutched her chest like you had wounded her. “I’m just trying to prepare you for all possible scenarios.”

You turned to her, deadpan. “You’re actually just annoying.”

Kyra gasped dramatically, then turned to Caitlin. “You hear that? My own teammate. Betrayed.”

Caitlin didn’t even look up from her phone. “Yeah, you deserve it.”

Steph grinned at you in the rearview mirror. “You’re handling her well, Chickie. Usually, she takes longer to break people.”

Kyra crossed her arms with a pout. “You’re all just jealous of my natural charisma.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. The nerves were still there, sitting heavy in your stomach, but with them around, it felt a little easier to breathe.

“Remember, you are going to be fine. Take deep breaths, use your counting technique, rub your chest, and if you feel uncomfortable or worried in any sort of way, scream, and one of us will come running, okay?”

Steph cradled your face in her palms, her thumbs brushing over your cheeks as she scanned you over, looking for any telltale signs of distress. Caitlin nodded along from where she leaned against the wall leading to the locker room, her arms crossed as she watched you carefully.

“Jeez, she’s just getting a tour from Leah and Kim. She’s not going off to war,” Kyra teased, giving you a playful hip bump. But you knew her well enough to tell that, despite her words, she was a little worried too. Kyra always used humor to mask it.

You took a shaky breath and nodded. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

Steph still looked unconvinced, but before she could say anything else, the doors swung open, and Leah and Kim stepped in, both wearing easy smiles.

“There’s our newest little Gunner,” Leah said, ruffling your hair. “Ready for the grand tour?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. Your nerves were buzzing, and your fingers twitched slightly at your sides. But this was Leah and Kim, they were supposed to be looking after you. You could handle this.

They led you through the training facilities first, pointing out the locker rooms, gym, physio rooms, and common areas. You took it all in quietly, nodding and offering small smiles whenever they looked your way. Kim did most of the talking, explaining the routines, the expectations, and the team culture, while Leah threw in jokes and reassurances along the way.

Eventually, you reached an open lounge area, and that’s when you saw her.

A chocolate lab lay sprawled out on the floor, her long tail wagging as she perked up at the sight of new people. Your heart melted instantly.

“Oh my god,” you breathed.

Leah grinned. “Meet Win, Arsenal’s therapy dog. She’s the real star of the team.”

Win trotted up to you, sniffing your hand before pressing her head against your leg, her tail thumping against the floor. Instinctively, you dropped to your knees and ran your fingers through her soft fur. She leaned into your touch, her big brown eyes filled with nothing but love.

“She likes you,” Kim noted, watching with a small smile.

You smiled, the most genuine one you’d given all day. “I love her.”

Leah laughed. “Yeah, that tends to happen.”

You stayed with Win for a moment longer, scratching behind her ears before reluctantly standing up to continue the tour.

As much as you tried to focus on what Leah and Kim were saying, your mind kept racing. Every hallway, every new face, every unfamiliar sound—it all added to the weight pressing against your chest. You kept your hands clasped behind your back, fingers fidgeting as you nodded along to their explanations, offering the occasional quiet “thank you” or polite smile.

Kim was steady, her voice calm and reassuring as she walked you through the team culture, the expectations, and the routines you’d soon be a part of. Leah, ever the charismatic leader, balanced it out with playful remarks and a relaxed demeanor, making sure to keep the mood light.

When you reached the locker room, Leah pushed the door open with a flourish. “And here,” she declared, “is where the magic happens.”

The room was spacious, lined with red and white cubbies, each one personalized with a nameplate. A few players were gathered inside, either finishing up training or just lounging around.

“Hey, we got the newbie!” Katie McCabe, Caitlin’s Katie, called out, grinning as she slung an arm over the back of a chair.

You felt your stomach flip as all eyes turned to you. You shifted on your feet, suddenly very aware of how small you felt in the doorway.

Kim, sensing your hesitation, placed a hand on your shoulder. “Alright, let’s not scare her off on her first day.”

“Don’t worry, Caitlin would kill me if I did,” Katie shot back, but her teasing was accompanied by a wink.

You managed a small smile as Leah guided you further inside. “This’ll be your spot,” she said, tapping an empty cubby. “We’ll get your nameplate sorted soon. And don’t worry, we keep the initiation rituals pretty mild these days.”

“‘These days’?” you echoed, eyes narrowing slightly.

Leah just smirked. “You’ll see.”

You barely had time to process that before a blur of energy shot across the room and crashed into Leah.

“LEE!” Beth Mead practically tackled her in a hug before turning to you, eyes bright with curiosity. “Oh, you must be the little one they’ve been talking about.”

Little one. You flushed slightly, not sure if it was from embarrassment or warmth.

“She’s not that little,” Leah defended with a chuckle, ruffling your hair again.

Beth hummed as she sized you up, then grinned. “Nah, I see what they mean. You’ve got that whole ‘wide-eyed, new kid’ thing going on. It’s cute.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you just ducked your head, your fingers twisting in the hem of your training top.

Kim, always the steady presence, clapped her hands once. “Alright, let’s keep moving. Still more to see.”

The tour continued, but the nerves were still there, bubbling under the surface. Every introduction, every new space, every unfamiliar voice, it was a lot. You tried your best to absorb everything, but your voice stayed soft, your responses clipped and cautious.

And then, finally, you stepped onto the pitch.

The moment the fresh air hit you, the tension in your shoulders loosened. The smell of freshly cut grass, the feel of solid ground beneath your cleats— it was familiar. It was safe.

Kyra, who had apparently been waiting on the sidelines, immediately perked up when she saw you. “About time!” She jogged over, her usual cheeky grin in place. “Alright, Chickadee, first things first. Can you still kick a ball, or have you lost your touch since we last played together?”

You scoffed. “I could outplay you any day, Ky, you know that.”

“Ohhh, big words from the kiddie,” Kyra teased, grabbing a ball and nudging it toward you. “Prove it.”

Something flickered inside you, something comfortable, something playful. You met Kyra’s gaze, then, with a flick of your ankle, sent the ball nutmegging her perfectly.

The reaction was immediate. Leah let out a sharp laugh, Kim smirked in approval, and Kyra spun around, her mouth open in exaggerated betrayal.

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Kyra gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been personally offended.

You shrugged, the edges of your lips tugging up. “Guess so.”

Beth, who had followed along, let out a loud cackle. “Oh, I like her.”

Kyra let out a dramatic sigh before slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Alright, Chickie, since Harps isn’t here it’s official, you’re my partner-in-crime. At least here.”

You playfully shove Kyra away from you, the weight in your chest felt a little lighter. The nervous energy still hummed beneath your skin, but as you stood there, laughing with Kyra, surrounded by the steady presence of Leah and Kim, the warmth of Beth, and the approving glances from the others, you started to believe Sam was right. Maybe, just maybe, you could belong here.

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