#and the house was out in the woods and my phone was still broken so i couldn’t call 911 and i had to find my brother’s phone

[willowfey]

idk what’s been happening but lately no matter what time i fall asleep, i wake up abruptly between 8:30-9 full of anxiety and extremely sore and remembering vivid unsettling dreams. and no matter how tired i still am i cannot fall back to sleep and the anxiety only starts to lessen when i get out of bed, even if i get back in it and feel fine after washing my face or smth, i have to Get Out of the bed to break it.

[celiastjamesoscar]

Night Shift

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader. Sam x reporter!reader

Summary: Sam blamed you for the 2022 attacks, she blamed you for everything. But guilt drives people into blindness, and Sam eventually finds herself seeking your comfort.

AN: this is the longest fic I’ve ever written, so I apologize if at times it seems redundant. Based off of this request!

Warnings: angst, slight cursing, mentions of past drug addiction, small part of canon typical Scream violence, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of alcoholism, Tara is a little shit. Let me know if I missed anything!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 18.0K

Nothing. That’s all you could think about as you listened to the sound of Tara’s heartbeat monitor. This was your fault. You were the reason Tara was now in the hospital with multiple stab wounds and a broken leg. If only you had gotten to her house sooner, she wouldn’t be in this position. All your friends tried to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that you had no idea some dipshit in a mask was going to attack her, but you knew better.

You were only nine when it happened, but you could still feel the sharp pain of Jill Roberts’ knife plunging deep inside of your abdomen. Sometimes, you swore you could still hear her black combat boots sneaking around on the wooden floor, and the only thing that would play throughout your mind was the sweet release of not having to look over your shoulder at every sound.

The sound of Tara’s heartbeat monitor increasing in speed pulled you out of your thoughts. “Hey, Tara. It’s alright,” you whispered to the sleeping girl, but you got no response. Her heartbeat monitor began peeping so rapidly, that your own heartbeat began thumping in your ears, and it eventually blocked out Tara’s.

Your heartbeat echoed throughout your ears as it continued its rapid pace of 150 beats per minute. You had no idea why you were anxious, but then your surroundings suddenly changed. You were no longer in the monotone gray walls of a hospital, but you now found yourself in Tara’s kitchen. The smaller girl was no longer in her hospital gown; she now wore a pink long sleeve shirt and jeans, and you instantly knew where this was going.

You tried to scream, but no sound left your throat as you watched Tara answer that dreaded phone call. The pounding in your ears continued as you began to sweat and frantically tried to move, but your feet were glued to the floor; no matter how hard you tried to move, you simply could not compel your body to move. You watched as Tara fought against Ghostface, and just like every night, you watched as Ghostface plunged his knife deep into Tara’s stomach. Over and over again.

But unlike the real events that conspired, you couldn’t save Tara. In this version, you watched as Tara bled out onto the floor, her crimson red blood staining the nicely wooded flooring. Her screams were the only thing that drowned out your heartbeat, and you begged it to stop.

“Y/N! Y/N, help me!” Tara cried out in a broken voice as blood now began to seep from her mouth as she tried to crawl toward you, but Ghostface stopped her. In a single motion, he leaned down to Tara and pulled her up by her hair, and slit her throat. When he stood up, you were met with those haunting hollowed out eyes, and when you blinked, the mask was gone.

Jill Roberts stood before you with murderous eyes as she slowly started to advance toward you. You tried to walk backward, but your feet wouldn’t move. Jill was not an arms length away, and you noticed the beautiful glint of light that reflected off the blood as she brought it down in a single motion.

Before the knife could sink into your chest, you were being shaken away. “Y/N. Get up; you’re having a nightmare,” the rough voice of Sam Carpenter stated as she awoke you from your nightmare.

Your eyes instantly shot up as you leaned up from the couch, checking your surroundings. “Oh, thank you,” you weakly replied as Sam let go of your shoulders and walked away from you, not giving you a response. Sam noticed the sweat that lined your forehead and caused some of your hair to stick to your face, but she didn’t care. Why would she care about someone that ruined her life?

Technically, it wasn’t your fault, but it was easier for Sam to blame you for what happened and she liked having it that way. It was her own fucked up way of keeping you at arms length while also always keeping an eye on you.

You checked your surroundings again and you were grateful that you were in your home and not that dreaded house that Tara used to live in. You had fallen asleep at some point on the couch and you left the TV running while your homework was spread out on the coffee table in front of you. You had gained a terrible habit of staying up until ungodly hours while trying to cram in information for your exams.

You groaned while standing up from the couch and you checked the time, 11:30 pm. If Sam was still here, that meant the rest of the girls were here as well, and you dreaded the thought of being around them. That was the worst part about living with Anika; you were constantly around the people that despised you. ‘People’ as in just Sam, but you liked to make it plural for the dramatic effect.

With a sigh, you grudgingly left the living room and went into the backyard, where a fire was going with the group huddled around it while sitting on hay bales. “Good morning, Y/N,” Tara teased with a gentle smile while scooting over on her hay bale, inviting you to sit next to her. “Yeah right,” you mumbled as you sat down next to the girl, ignoring the glance Sam threw at you, “What are you guys doing out here? It’s starting to get cold.”

“We were talking shit about you, but now we can’t do that with you out here,” Mindy joked as she rested her head on Anika’s shoulder. You and Mindy had a special ‘situationship’ going on for a while, but you two ended on good terms and occasionally picked on each other. “I hope it was good then,” you replied with a smile and Mindy nodded her head.

The conversation around the fire was an ideal one as you caught up with the group about any gossip you might have missed while you were asleep. Nothing sparked your interest too much, not until Tara mentioned Sam having a boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sam dryly stated as she stared down her younger sister, “We’re just friends, that’s all.”

“You have been saying that for months, Sam! All you two do is check each other out but you never talk! You have to give this guy a chance!” Tara exclaimed and you felt an unwarranted feeling of jealousy shoot throughout your chest. “What guy are you guys talking about?” You asked, starting to get more involved with the current conversion.

“This guy that has been after Sam’s heart ever since we moved here,” Tara casually remarked as she grabbed a stick and poked around the fire; the little shit had a thing for a fire.

You could feel Sam’s eyes burning into the side of your head as you racked Tara’s words around in your head. Sure, Sam was old enough to make decisions for herself, but the thought of her actually being with someone other than you makes you sick to your stomach. And just like the masochist you were, you had to ask Sam about it. “So why don’t you talk to him?”

Sam huffed, clearly annoyed by the fact that you, of all people, would ask her about her love life. “Why? So you can go and tell Gale about it? No thanks,” she dryly stated with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, you little shit, that wasn’t Y/N! I’ve told you that before,” Tara defended as she comfortably put a hand on your knee, “And even if she did, I support her wrongs.”

“Tara, you’re not helping,” you whispered with a small, awkward laugh. A small groan left Sam’s lips as she stood up from the fire, “I’m going inside,” she said while walking toward the door to the house.

Once she was inside, Tara broke the tension, “I’m sorry she’s like that, Y/N. She doesn’t want to accept the truth.” The comfort from Tara was nice, it actually made you feel like someone at least cared for you that had the last name of Carpenter.

“It’s okay, no need to apologize on her behalf. I get it,” you said with a weak smile as you hid your pain. It was a stupid feeling: pain. You owed Sam nothing, but you still couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt run through your body every time you saw the woman.

“So, Y/N, what’s it like fumbling an amazing woman like me?” Mindy playfully asked, her own way of trying to lighten the tense mood that had settled around the fire, “I need Anika to know how special I am.”

It was a shitty attempt, but it still put a smile on your face. “Mindy once got in a revolving door,” you said with a laugh, “she was in it for a solid 5 minutes.”

“Blasphemy!” Mindy shouted as she quickly stood up from her hay bale, “It was one minute and you didn’t help at all! And you let Tara record it!”

“Oh my god, I need to find that video,” Tara butted in as she pulled out her phone, quickly trying to find the video while Mindy tried to steal the phone from her.

It was small moments like these that you enjoyed with the group; moments were everyone was happy and they could forgot about their fucked up pasts. Those moments were rare, but you cherished them like they were your life support.

As time dragged on and the night got colder, everyone outside called it quits. Well, at least on being outside.

“Hurry up, Gizmo, I’m freezing,” Mindy joked as she walked behind Tara, almost stepping on the girl’s shoes. “Don’t call me a gremlin,” the shorter girl shot back with a glare as she approached the back door to your house, “apologize and I’ll open it.”

“Fuck you,” Mindy retorted as she made a move for the door, bud Tara was quick to react as she kicked one of Mindy’s shins.

“Apologize.”

“No.”

Several beats of silence pass by as you and Anika watch a stare down between the two friends before Mindy inevitably sighs with defeat. “Alright fine, I’m sorry I called Gizmo. You aren’t a gremlin, more like a fun sized Lord Farquaad,” Mindy said, trailing off toward the end of her sentence.

“Hey, hey! Stop it!” You exclaimed, quickly catching Tara’s fist that was inches away from connecting Mindy’s face.

You were too busy trying to keep Tara from ripping into Mindy that you didn’t notice Sam opening up the door until she spoke. “What the hell are you doing to my sister?”

The position you found yourself in was an uncomfortable one, to say the least. You were holding Tara from behind, with your arms holding the smaller girl’s ones back.

“Mind your business, Sam,” Tara stated in a strained voice, trying to get hold out of your tight hold, “this is between me and Mindy.”

Her sister’s words didn’t seem to phase Sam at all, as the older sister couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of you. The way you had your hands on her sister made her blood boil. Deep down she knew that you would never hurt Tara, but that didn’t stop the over growing feeling of protectiveness come through.

In a single motion, Sam stopped out of the house and gripped your bicep with her right left hand. When you looked down, you could see her veins in her hands as her grip tightened, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that was trying to flex as well.

“Let her go,” Sam demanded, leaving zero room for arguing. So, you shrugged your shoulders and let go, not caring to warn Sam about the can of whoopass her sister was about to unleash on Mindy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She was like a tiger! A short-legged one with asthma, but a Tiger!” Mindy cried into her phone, telling her brother about her vicious fight with Tara. Honestly, it was impressive how quickly Tara moved to latch onto Mindy, but even more impressive how surprisingly strong she was. The wounds that Mindy sustained weren’t anything terrible; a small cut on her cheek and a busted lip, but nothing was hurt more than her ego.

“You asked for it,” Anika commented, but then gave Mindy a quick kiss for the look she received. You chuckled at the small encounter as you excused yourself from Tara, who had a smug smile on her lips. She knew where you were going, and she didn’t think about warning you that Sam was also there; it was like her own way of playing matchmaker—a shitty matchmaker, but still one nonetheless.

The kitchen was a weird place you found solace in; nothing was special about it. It was where you went when you needed a step back from reality. Another odd thing: Sam also found the same comfort in the kitchen. Maybe it was the quiet nature, or the dim lights that brought comfort, or even perhaps the shitty decorations that littered the walls, but whatever it was, there was a soft comfort.

“Hey,” you said upon entering the kitchen. Sam was leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over her chest as her eyes refused to leave the floor. To anyone else, it would have gone unnoticed, but not with you, not with it involved Sam. You noticed her slightly heavy breathing and the barely visible sweat that glistened her forehead. And when her eyes finally left the floor, you could see nothing but black in her irises.

It took not even a second before Sam finally snapped out of whatever trance she had found herself in and returned to her usual self. Well, about as normal as Sam could be. She quickly wiped the sweat off her forehead and recrossed her arms as she looked at you. “What are you doing in here?” She all but demanded; her eyes seemed never to leave you as she stared you down.

The question was a weird one, as this was your home, but you just chalked it up to Sam's bizarre way of asking, ‘Why are you here with me and not my sister?’

“Hanging out in the kitchen; it’s where I belong,” you said with a smile, and to your surprise, you managed to pull a chuckle from the Latina. It was a quick laugh, but it sounded like angels were singing in your ears, and you would go through hell and back with nothing but the Hamilton soundtrack to keep you busy if it meant hearing that laugh again.

Sam smiled faintly as she spoke, “Yeah, well, I’ve tried your spaghetti before; you don’t belong anywhere near the kitchen. I’m sure they would have sent you into the army and made your husband stay at home.”

“Okay, wow, that one hurt!” You exclaimed with a joking smile as you placed a hand over your heart, pretending to be hurt, “That one dug deep, but bold of you to assume I would have a husband.”

“Bold of you to assume I would care.”

A tense silence filled the air after Sam spoke, but it was a silence you were starting to grow comfortable with. And for the first time in her life, Sam felt terrible for what she said to you. She wanted to apologize for saying she didn’t care about you, but she couldn’t muster up the pride to admit she was wrong. So all she did was look at you sadly and hope you would pick up on it.

“You know, I seriously thought we were having a moment,” you halfheartedly joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It took several seconds before Sam replied, just as you walked out of the kitchen, “Yeah…I don’t really think the whole ‘husband’ thing would work out for me either.”

This comment certainly caught you off guard. “Why is that?” You asked while returning back to the kitchen, clearly interested in what Sam had to say, “Not much of a marriage person?”

Sam shuffled awkwardly on her feet as she uncrossed her arms, gripped the counter behind her, and looked down at the floor. “No, it’s not the marriage part. It’s the man part,” she admitted while slowly looking up at you with the most vulnerable eyes ever. The look she gave you said a thousand words: this was something not even Tara knew about.

Sure, the Carpenter sisters shared everything, but Sam wouldn’t share this. Her attraction toward women was something that further ruined the bond between her and her mother, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let it ruin her relationship with her only family left. Of course, Sam knew about Tara’s relationship with women, especially once she found out about Tara and Amber, but she still couldn’t help the feeling of being afraid to disappoint Tara.

But before you could comfort Sam, before you could tell her that her fears meant nothing and that Tara would still love her, you got interrupted. “Sam! Y/N! Get your asses in here!” Mindy yelled from the living room, “We want to watch this movie with you two!”

Sam quickly got rid of the vulnerability on her face when she heard Mindy’s voice, not wanting to show that kind of weakness to anyone.

“Sam-” you started, but the woman quickly brushed past you, subtly wiping a tear from her eye as she walked into the living room.

Following behind her, you entered the living room and sat at the only open spot on the couch, which was conveniently next to Tara, who had Sam on her other side. “Thank god, I was starting to think you two were fucking in there or something,” Mindy remarked as she grabbed the tv remote, “Let me introduce you guys to the scariest movie on the planet: The Cat in The Hat Live Action!”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and playful teasing as the hours slowly seeped into the early morning hours. The small banter between Mindy and Tara kept things interesting; Mindy compared Tara to the Things, as Anika tried to keep it peaceful. The stolen glances you shared with Sam had their conversations, and when you went to bed that night, you would consider this night a step in the right direction at changing your relationship with Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One thing Sam hated about working a 9-5 was how inconsiderate most of society can be. It was already a busy day at the cafe, more alive than average, and her nerves were already shot for the next and a half. From people complaining about not getting orders in a short time to people demanding to have their drinks remade, it was a rough day for the older Carpenter.

She had half a mind to tell the next person who complained about their coffee not being proper that it was just coffee; if they wanted it right, they should buy a Keurig and make it themselves. Although that would be funny, it would also end in Sam getting fired, so she just bit her tongue and continued working.

As if her day couldn’t get any worse, you always had a habit of catching Sam at her worst. “Are you stalking me now?” Sam questioned once she saw you approach the front counter.

“Oh yeah. You know me, I can’t get enough of the Carpenter girls,” you said with a smirk as you quickly checked Sam up and down, frowning when you saw a faded coffee stain on her apron. It wasn’t hard to notice the looks Sam got in public, so you could imagine how customers would treat her. If the universe would allow it, you would put Sam in your back pocket and protect her from the rest of the world; God knows that the woman deserves some peace in her life for once.

“For whatever reason, Tara can’t seem to leave you alone,” Sam mumbled as she pulled out a pen and notepad, “What can I get you?”

“Just a small cappuccino, please,” you replied as Sam wrote down your order and took your payment. She liked writing things down, which helped her remember the important stuff. And maybe, in the distant future, she might want to buy you a coffee sometime.

Once you ordered, you went and sat down at a booth by yourself and took in the place: it had indeed calmed down from earlier; only a couple of people remained from the rush hour. You enjoyed the calmness, as it gave you time to observe people. Not in a weird or stalkerish way, but in a way to think about other people’s lives, how these weren’t just random people who had no life. These were people who had dreams, who had family and friends; you enjoyed watching the way the world works around you.

You watched as a man with stress lines on his forehead eagerly type away on his laptop, mouthing every word he typed. How sweat lined his hairline, he could have had a deadline for work that he pushed off until the last minute. You then turned your attention to the girl at the opposite end of the cafe, a book in hand as she wore black headphones over her ears, entranced into the world of fantasy without a care in the world while sporting a soft smile. The world amazed you in ways like that: two completely different people who somehow ended up at the same place at the same time, with different things going on in their lives. Maybe it was fate that brought these two strangers together, and you smiled when you saw them bump into each other before leaving, both wearing a smile and talking about the book she was reading. Maybe that’s what you wished had happened between you and Sam: an accidental meeting somewhere where a good relationship was possible and not this borderline hostile friendship.

A couple of minutes passed before Sam brought over your drink to you. “How late are you working?” You asked once she handed you your drink. The questioning look she gave you was a funny one, but not that it mattered.

“I’m here till 5. Why?”

“Damn, you got a 9 to 5? It looks like I’ll take the night shift,” you joked, but Sam didn’t laugh, only giving you a questioning glare, “Lucy Dacus? No? You’re boring.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not obsessed with three grown women who refer to themselves as ‘boys,’” Sam remarked. She had no desire to learn anything about Boygenius, especially after listening to her sister talk for an hour about all of the unholy things she would let Julien Baker do to her. If Sam was being honest, half of the stuff Tara said deserved at least a ten-year prison sentence.

“But you know who they are,” you said teasingly as you stood up from the booth, “Don’t worry, Sam. You’ll soon grow to appreciate Boygenius. I’ll have Tara fix that.”

“Mhmmm, I’m sure about that,” she mumbled as she returned to the counter, bidding you farewell with a slight nod, not caring to return your toothy smile or wave.

If Sam drove home after her long shift listening to Julien Baker, that was no one’s business but hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sam got home, she only wanted a nice, hot shower and go to bed. She didn’t even bother to eat dinner, as she didn’t have the energy or care to do so. As she opened the door to her apartment, which seemed heavier than usual, she kicked off her shoes with a sigh as she made her way into her bedroom, utterly oblivious to the voices in the living room.

“What’s wrong with her?” You asked Tara once the taller Carpenter had shut her bedroom door. “I don’t know; probably work stuff. Do you have five of spade?” Tara asked, more intrigued with the game she was playing than her sister.

“No, go fish,” you replied while looking at Sam’s door; something was telling you to go check on the girl to make sure she was alright, but you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“Ohhhh my god, you hate me,” the younger Carpenter dramatically stated, dragging out the words as she threw herself backward onto the couch.

“If I hated you, I wouldn’t have done your entire English paper, would I?” You questioned while shooting a glance at the pouting girl, but when your comment earned you a middle finger, you placed your cards down as you stood up from the couch, “I'll be right back.”

Tara scoffed at you as she leaned up on her elbows. “Have you learned nothing from the Meeks family? I hope you don’t come back,” she mouthed off as she started looking at your cards, “you fucking asshole! You did have that card!”

“I never said I didn’t,” you replied with a smirk as you walked toward Sam’s door, ducking out of the way of a flying shoe courtesy of your best friend Tara.

A soft rasping of knuckles pulled Sam away from her almost meltdown. She had felt a constant pressure on her all day, and it started to lift briefly, but it suddenly came back by the end of her shift. Sam was used to the constant pressure and needed to be the best version of herself now that she was providing for her sister, but it all started to get too much for her.

“Sam, you okay?” Great, not only did she have this overwhelming feeling about to take over, but she was also about to have a high speed come apart in front of the person she didn’t want to see her weak.

“I’m good, Y/N. Go back to Tara,” she called out as she backed herself against a wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor.

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem too happy when you got home,” you replied, hoping to get somewhere with the older woman. “I’m fine. Please, leave me alone,” Sam pleaded, but the way her voice broke off toward the end of her sentence told you that she didn’t need to be left alone right now.

Several seconds passed, the sound of Sam’s bedroom clock ticking away, slowly counting down the seconds until Sam couldn’t bear the deafening silence. She felt like she had somehow found herself in her version of ‘The Tell-Tale Heart,’ at any moment, she would succumb to the voices that were guilting her. For what guilt, she did not know; guilty of her origins, guilty of neglecting her baby sister for five years, guilty of torturing her body for years on end, putting any substance into her body to help calm her mind? Sam didn’t know what was causing this constant guilt that followed her anxiety and pressure, but she would do anything to make it stop. And she did make it stop.

“Fuck it,” she mumbled as she pushed herself up from the floor and walked to her door, grabbing the handle but making no motion to open the door. If she opened that door, it would be an invitation to open herself up to you; she only opened up to one person in her life, and look what he did to her. This constant fear of having to look over her shoulder, as if the shadows were going to transform into physical beings and take her life, or even worse, take Tara’s life. Sam wears scars, both physical and mental, from him, and she would lay down her own life if it meant protecting her sister. But when she looked at you, with your innocent eyes that beamed when you looked at her, Sam knew you could never hurt anyone. But Sam was never one to make accurate judgments.

The creaking sound of Sam opening up her door pulled you from your thoughts. Thoughts that weren’t any special; who you would have in your ideal Hunger Games lineup. You knew for a fact that the president would be Cersei Lannister and the game maker would be Jigsaw. However, you still have yet to determine who the twenty-four tributes would be: the only tributes you had so far were Santa Barbara Ellie, Pioneer Kim Kardashian, Regina George, and Chanel Oberlin. It's not the best list, but it's a solid start.

“Hey,” you said quietly, eyes darting over Sam’s bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath. Even at her worst, she always somehow managed to captivate you like she was a siren, slowly bringing you into your inevitable demise. Still, you could never seem to pull yourself away from the beauty that was Sam Carpenter.

Sam scoffed at your weak greeting while ignoring the feeling of her stomach turning at how you looked at her. She knew she looked like a hot mess, and she believed it was your way of silently making fun of her. But the way your lips were slightly parted and your eyes seemed a bit too dilated, refused to leave her own, told her that you weren’t judging or making fun of her. No, you were admiring her, which sent a slight shock of guilt throughout her; Guilt, that was Samantha Carpenter’s best friend.

Sam’s eyes drifted down to the floor, as she couldn’t handle the feeling of your eyes burning into her skull. “Who’s shoe is that?” She asked, motioning down to the floor, where Tara’s shoe landed.

“Well, if you look closely, you can see that it’s a size three for babies,” you remarked teasingly.

“Kill yourself!” Tara shouted from the living room, not caring enough to storm out into the hallway and show you how vicious she can be.

“Charming, isn’t she?” You stated as Sam looked back up and made eye contact with you. Her face told you that she didn’t want to talk, but her eyes were silently begging you to stay. It was a dilemma that you stumbled upon, but you were always someone who loved conflicts. “Is everything alright?”

Sam sighed as she leaned against her doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that what you wanted? To ask me if things are okay?”

“Um, yes and no?” You trailed off, not wanting to make things more awkward than they were, “Hold on.” You quickly moved from Sam’s door into the living room, and Sam ignored the hushed threats being spoken; her sister was an angel, after all.

“Here ya go,” you said with an embarrassingly large smile once you returned to Sam’s door. In your hand, you held a small brown lunch bag. Sam had to fight off any instincts to punch you in the throat.

“I don’t like gifts,” she said instead of resorting to violence. Truth be told, Sam loved gifts; she just hated receiving them, as it made her feel like she was in someone’s debt.

“Well, good thing it’s not a gift,” you replied, smiling, pushing the gift bag toward Sam, who gave you a questioning look before accepting it. The bag itself was featherlight, almost as if nothing was in there. Sam gave you one last questioning look before opening the bag and looking inside.

In the bag were several containers, all hosting different kinds of cookies and brownies, and to Sam’s surprise, they were all her favorites. There was something much more prominent at the bottom, but she couldn’t tell what it was as the rest of the cookies sat atop. Sam gave you a small smile as she walked over to her chest of drawers and began taking out the items, ignoring how you were now peering into her room as you leaned against the door frame.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Sam genuinely said in a weak, almost fragile voice as she slowly got to the bottom of the bag, “I appreciate this. it has been-” The rest of her words died on the tip of her tongue as she stared into the bag, as silence filled the room. Those silent seconds dragged on into a quiet minute, neither of you saying anything. You knew it might have been too bold or maybe even wrong, but you wanted to let Sam know that you were proud of her.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you quietly whispered, gaining Sam’s attention. Your heart broke once her eyes met yours, tears glossing in her doe eyes as her lip quivered. She gave you a slight nod of recognition before turning her attention back to the bag as a single tear ran down her cheek, grateful that you had already left by the time it broke from her eye.

With a dry chuckle, Sam reached into the bag, pulled out a 10-inch cookie, and sat it down on her chest of drawers. She stared at it for several moments before her lips pulled into a smile as a new feeling shot throughout her heart, one that she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. But that feeling of hope wasn’t for her; no, it was a hopeful feeling about you.

Sam smiled down at the cookie one last time before she went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife and plate, thankful that Tara had gone off to her room so she could enjoy her treat by herself.

Once she returned to her room, she pulled the lid off the container and cut a small piece out of the cookie. Making sure not to ruin the words that said, “Happy three years of sobriety.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The minutes seemed endless as you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You didn’t know why you were waiting, but you just were. Your mind was telling you to get up, to do something productive, but your heart and soul were seemingly forcing you to stay put, like something important was going to happen anytime, and if you were just a fraction of a second too late, you would miss it.

It was a stupid feeling, but you couldn’t compel yourself to move; it was as if your mind was in a trance, stuck in some faraway land, and you could do nothing to pull yourself back into your body. You were on the verge of losing your mind when you knew exactly what you were waiting for, and when you finally accepted why, it happened.

Your phone dinged on your nightstand, and you immediately smiled; you didn’t have to look at it to know who it was. In a swift motion, you quickly got up from your bed and grabbed your phone as you read the text message. It wasn’t a long one, or even a special one, to be honest, but the smile on your face was almost comical, and your heart soared. The text read, “I don’t know how you found out about the date, nor do I even want to. But thank you, Y/N, I needed that today.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I will never understand the hype for ‘Hamilton,’” Mindy stated with a look of distaste as she flopped down onto the Carpenter’s couch. It wasn’t movie night but more of a girl’s night. Since it was Tara’s idea to have a girl’s night, she got to pick the movie. But it wasn’t for her, no, it was for Sam.

The older Carpenter sister would never admit to liking such things, but she did have a soft spot for musicals. She didn’t know where this love for them came from, but ever since she was young, she had loved the idea of singing.

Before Sam had discovered her mother’s journal, which had ultimately led to the destruction of her family, she used to sing in her church’s choir. It was the first thing her mother didn’t force her into doing, and she loved singing in front of people; it made her feel like nothing in the world could touch her.

Singing was the only thing Christina Carpenter told Sam she was good at and the last thing she ever took away from Sam.

Once Mr. Carpenter left, Christina stopped taking the kids to church, which caused Sam to be pulled from the choir. It still didn’t stop Sam; she saved up enough money to buy a guitar and write songs while practicing the guitar in her room. When Sam started to dabble around in drugs and alcohol, she slowly started to lose herself. She lost who she really was, but she never lost her voice.

Only when it was the day of Sam’s 18th birthday did Christina finally ruin the last good thing Sam liked about herself, “Your real father had the voice of an angel.”

Sam left that night, and she hadn’t sung since.

But now, five years later, Sam still loves everything to do with music. She was glad that Tara had taken one for the team and turned on Hamilton because Mindy would never let Sam hear the end of it.

“‘Hamilton’ is okay, but not Lin-Manuel Miranda’s best work,” you stated as you stood in the kitchen, making a bag of popcorn for yourself. Sam was also in the kitchen with you, which has become a common meeting place. She was making herself a sandwich as she quietly listened to the banter between you and Mindy.

“I don’t believe you. What is his best work?” Tara challenged as she shifted on the couch, throwing an arm over the side as she looked into the kitchen to glare at you.

“His best work is easily ‘In the Heights,’” you declared with too much emphasis on the movie title.

“No!” Tara yelled, “You only say that because the lead actress looks like Sam, and you said she was hot!”

“I did not say that!” You lied as heat rushed up your neck and flooded your cheeks. It wasn’t embarrassing because Tara called you out; you were embarrassed because you were in the kitchen with Sam. It didn’t help that you could hear Sam snickering as you were defending yourself.

“Yes, you did. Do you want me to pull up the screenshots from the long chain of text messages you sent me?” Tara asked, even though it wasn’t a question, as she pulled out her phone. “Example one: ‘Oh my god, Tara. I’m watching this movie, and this woman looks just like Sam.’”

You quickly threw your bag of popcorn down onto the counter as you sprinted into the living room. You simply couldn’t live with the idea that Sam knows just how you yearned for her.

“Example two: ‘This is Sam, just in another universe.’ Example three, in all caps: ‘Oh my god, Tara! I am not joking when I say that-’” You quickly snatched the phone from the younger Carpenter sister before she could say possibly the horniest text message you had ever sent.

“You are no fun,” Tara whined as you deleted the messages from her phone. “You’re evil,” you retorted before handing Tara back her phone, who was quick to grab it. You walked back into the kitchen to grab your popcorn and became embarrassed when you saw Sam.

She was wearing one of her light-colored long-sleeve muscle shirts again with a pair of gray sweatpants. In simple words, she looked amazing. Usually, when Sam wore some variation of the muscle shirt combo, you could act ‘normal.’ But now that Tara had practically outed your attraction to Sam, you just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Thankfully, she just gave you a small smile as she watched you grab your bag before heading back into the living room, no doubt about to be the subject of constant teasing from Tara and Mindy.

“So,” Mindy started once you sat down on the couch next to her, “Are we going to talk about those thirst messages-” “Start the damn movie, Tara.”

By the time the movie started, Sam had entered the living room, but not without earning a cat call whistle from Mindy, no doubt a jab at you. She opted to sit by herself in the loveseat as she kicked her feet up on the opposite end. She sent you a smile when no one was looking, and you could have sworn both hearts started beating as one.

Throughout the movie, you had to deal with Tara rapping and Mindy ranting about the musical, but overall, it was a fun night. Sam was slowly starting to warm up to the idea of having you around more often, and you slowly felt yourself catching feelings for her.

Of course, there was this natural attraction to Sam, she was simply beautiful, but her protective personality mixed with her stand-off, almost bitchy, personality was merely perfect. But with her bitchiness, she was the sweetest, most caring person you had ever met. Her laugh was so angelic, and the way her eyes crinkled when she did laugh was so heartwarming. Sam Carpenter was perfect in your eyes.

To say that this attraction was one-sided wouldn’t be fair. After you had dropped off her cookie, Sam started to act differently around you. She would smile more, and only at you most of the time. It seemed like she had begun to reserve that confident smile just for you. She started to see you more as an individual with feelings and plans for the future rather than a simple 2-dimensional person who was only in her life to make it hell. Sam had actually started to care for you even though she still tried her best to despise you.

So when the movie finished and Mindy went home, you grabbed your coat to follow suit soon.

“Thank you for coming, Y/N,” Tara said as she hugged you while you were standing next to the front door, “You know I love you, right?”

You quickly reciprocated the hug, pulling the girl into a warm, soft embrace. “I know you do, and I also love you too. Even though you can be a shit sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you love it!” She happily exclaimed while pulling back from the hug to pinch your left cheek, “Drive safe, okay?”

“I will, Ms. Carpenter, I will,” you replied, smiling as you opened the door, and Tara disappeared into her room. You had gone halfway out of the door when someone spoke.

“You’re just going to leave without saying goodbye?” You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was; you could pick that soft voice from anywhere. Granted, she was the only one left in the apartment, but you still have yourself the credit for knowing it was her.

“I didn’t think you would want to say goodbye,” you replied as you entered the apartment and shut the door, “I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with you.”

That was the thing about you: you were so damn respectful. Sometimes, Sam wanted to slam you against a wall to beat the hell out of you. Other times, she wanted to slam you against a wall with her tongue down your throat. Sam had a weird way of showing her attraction to you.

“You didn’t think you were overstepping boundaries when you brought me that cookie?” Sam questioned with a faint smile on her lips. She would never tell you this, but she loved teasing you, as it was the only way she could see the more embarrassed side of you.

“I figured I was, but I thought the gesture of it would be nice enough,” you replied in a weak voice as you rubbed the back of your neck with your hand and shuffled from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry if it was rude of me to do that without asking first. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

The older woman laughed a bit as she walked closer to you and opened the door, “At least let me walk you out,” she offered. You gave her a smile with a nod as you followed her out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind you.

“So, what do you think of musicals?” You asked as you walked down the stairs with her. “Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Sam joked with the slightest hint of flirtation in her voice, and you almost felt your knees give out.

“Ha, you wish,” you replied as you matched her tone of voice, which earned you a playful smirk to get sent your way. If you figured your one way to win Sam’s trust was to flirt with her occasionally, you would go out giving it your all.

You two reached the floor level of the apartment building, and you held the door open for Sam as you walked outside. “But seriously, though, what do you think of them?” You asked as Sam followed you to your car.

“I enjoy them well enough. Why?” Sam responded as she eyed you suspiciously.

“Because the ‘Aladdin’ musical is going to be here soon,” you stated before you continued with your proposal, “And I was wondering if you would want to go with me?”

The offer was a genuine one from you; you wanted to spend more quality time with Sam, but you also have been dying to see the musical. It was a win-win situation all around.

“Y/n,” Sam started with a beaming smile that matched her chocolate eyes, “I would love to go with you. When and how much do I owe you?”

You quickly picked up Sam’s hand and held it between yours, “You don’t owe me anything. Consider it payment for letting me terrorize your sister.”

Sam glanced down at your hands before looking back up at you. Her beautiful eyes held so much darkness in them that they couldn’t help but draw you in. When you looked into Sam’s eyes at just the right moments, you didn’t see the gorgeous woman; no, you would see her father. And it made you yearn for her even more. Sam had never experienced actual love, but when you looked into her eyes, it made you wonder why thieves bothered to steal pieces of art; you knew you were in love with her.

In a swift moment, before Sam had time to think about her actions, she leaned in. She had meant to kiss your cheek, but in a sudden and indescribable moment, Sam slightly turned her head to kiss the corner of your lips, millimeters away from your lips.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she whispered with a small smile as she said goodbye. You were too busy hoping she left a lipstick mark to respond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The seconds seemed to drag on endlessly as you tapped your foot against the floor. Your stomach was wrapped up in knots you could barely remember to breathe; the only thing you could think about was the constant nervousness that was rattling you to your core. You were early, half an hour earlier, to be exact, but you would rather be early and have to wait rather than be late.

You were sitting on the bottom stairs of Sam’s apartment building, impatiently waiting until it would be an acceptable time to go to the Carpenter’s apartment. It was the night of the musical, and you were wearing a simple yet elegant suit as you pulled at the collar of your shirt as if it was slightly choking you.

‘Nervous’ wasn’t the correct word to describe your feelings. Petrified would be a better word for it. You were terrified that you would somehow mess up this night, had somehow overdone it, or that Sam wouldn’t have fun. Self-doubt was your greatest friend, after all.

You picked up the bouquet of roses from beside you and stared at them. “Maybe it's too much,” you thought out loud as you turned them over in your hand. Neither of you had explicitly said it was a date, but the way Sam kissed your cheek was something you would never forget. Even though you wanted to consider an actual kiss, since it was so close to your lips, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Samatha Carpenter is a strong woman who takes what she wants in this world, and if she wanted to kiss your lips, she would have done so.

Your phone vibrated with a text message, pulling you away from self-doubt. It was from Sam, telling you that you can come up whenever you would like.

Like an idiot, you wanted to run up the stairs as fast as you could to get to Sam quicker, but you forced yourself to play it cool, to not look like a loser. So, ever so slowly, you began your journey up the six flights of stairs.

Within a few minutes, you were standing outside Sam’s door. You had arrived quicker than you wanted, but the excitement was too much. Then, your mind slowly started to get the better of you as you stared down at your fancy dress-up shoes. You hoped you weren’t overdressed, but if you were, you could easily change into the clothes you kept in Tara’s room. But then what if you were underdressed? How would you fix that? You wouldn’t have enough time to go home and change into something more congenial, and you certainly weren’t going to make Sam change. What if Sam wasn’t even dressing up at all? What if this was just a friendly outing, and you completely fucked it up? What if-

Before you dive further into the scenarios that could play out, the door opened, and all of the air within your lungs left.

“What the fuck are wearing?” You asked with slight irritation in your voice, bewilderment written all over your face.

“What? You don’t like it?” Tara questioned as she spun around in a circle for you. The younger Carpenter sister was wearing a yellow shirt with a pineapple that had on a thong; underneath the fruit was the word ‘slut.’ She was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, and when she turned around for you, you saw ‘baby girl’ embroidered on the butt.

“Clearly It’s referring to the pineapple, not you,” you said with a smile before it fully registered what was on the girl’s pants, “Hey, turn back around!” Tara did as you demanded, “If I would have known you were wanting to check on my ass, I would have done some squats first,” she teased with a smirk.

When you reread the word ‘baby girl,’ you scoffed at the more petite girl, “Why are you wearing those?”

“Because it's funny! It’s called having a sense of humor!” Tara shot back before an evil smirk appeared, “Why? Do you want me to take them off? I don’t think Sam would like that too much; she gets territorial over you.”

The comment certainly surprised you, and Tara quickly noticed her mistake. “I didn’t mean that,” she tried to explain, but it was too late.

“What do you mean she ‘gets territorial’ over me?” You questioned, completely forgetting about why you were talking to Tara in the first place as the thought of Sam ran rapidly throughout your mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tara replied with a nervous laugh as her eyes darted around the room. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone this, and Sam made her swear not to tell anyone. Now, she has broken that promise to the one person who wasn’t supposed to know.

Now, it was a simple mistake that led to Tara finding out about the flirtatious relationship between you and Sam. It was the night Sam kissed your cheek; Tara saw that bright smile on Sam’s lips and how her eyes held so much admiration. She had never seen that look on her sister’s face, and she knew something had happened.

So, like any good sister, she interrogated and terrorized Sam until she finally caved.

Sam only told Tara the bare minimum; you two were going out later in the week to watch a musical together and that you had gotten her a gift a week ago. She didn’t plan on telling Tara that the gift in question was her sobriety treat basket, but when Tara went to grab a water bottle from Sam’s mini fridge, she saw a small box of brownies with your handwriting on a sticky note. “I believe in you :)” was written on it, so Tara asked Sam about it.

Sam told her sister about the gift, but Tara didn’t seem bothered by it. “Oh, yeah. I figured something fruity was going on between you and the biggest homo of the century. But why the fuck did you keep this from me?!” Tara shouted, moving the box around in the air.

“I didn’t think you would want any,” Sam defended with a weak sigh, but she knew it wouldn’t help.

“I would give a strip show to the old people’s home just for a brownie from this place, and you didn’t think I would want any?” She questioned in a slightly more demanding voice before huffing and leaving Sam’s room with the box in hand.

But now, in the current moment, Tara wished she hadn’t opened Sam’s fridge. That annoyingly hopeful smile on your lips drove her insane, not to mention that lovesick look in your eye.

“Stop it, you’re freaking me out,” Tara stated as she made a disgusted face at you. “No. Tell me why you said that,” you pressed on, hoping to get an answer from the younger sister.

“Y/N, what are you hounding her about?” A soft, angelic voice questioned, and your attention immediately shot to Sam. She was wearing a black dress that clutched her curves and somehow made her look even more beautiful if that was even possible. The dress had a plunging neckline, and you had to force your eyes away from her cleavage, earning you a smile of approval from Sam, but an elbow followed by a look of distaste from Tara.

“You look amazing,” you stated breathlessly as your eyes wandered down Sam’s body, admiring the leg slit that showed off her left leg. You prayed for nights when that leg would be wrapped around your head.

“Thank you. You look not so bad either,” Sam replied with a soft smile as she picked up her black clutch bag and walked toward you.

“Have fun on your date,” Tara sneered as she entered her room. Truth be told, she couldn’t have been happier for her sister, but she would rather die than let you know that.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled under your breath as your eyes followed Tara before they shot back to the goddess before you. “Are you ready?” You asked, and she gave a curt nod before walking to the door. When you got to the car, you opened the passenger door for Sam, and she thanked you with a soft smile that made your heart explode and your knees weak.

The car ride to the theater was a peaceful one filled with pleasant conversation as you asked Sam about her day and her about yours. Sometimes, you would catch her looking over her shoulder with those soft doe eyes, and you had to fight off any urges to kiss her soft lips.

“Here we are,” you stated as you pulled into the back parking lot of the theater. As you parked the car, Sam observed people leaving their cars, dressed in all kinds of formal clothing, as they made their way into the theater. It took several seconds for it to click in her mind; this was a date.

Of course, she had assumed it might be considered one whenever you asked her, but as she watched the couples get out of their cars and link hands while they all wore fancy clothing, she knew that this was a date. Sam also knew that if she asked you if this was officially a date, she knew that you would deny it. So when you both stepped out of the car and started walking toward the entrance together, she reached out to interlace your fingers with hers.

It was a simple gesture, but the warmth of her hand in yours was enough to warm your cheeks and set your heart afire. You looked at her, only to find that Sam had already been staring at you.

“What?” You asked with a slight smile and a hint of nervousness in your voice. Sam bumped her shoulder into yours, “Nothing, it's just you look beautiful tonight.”

As if your face couldn’t get any redder, you laughed nervously as you looked down at the ground. The compliment threw you off, but you still accepted it nonetheless. “Thank you. And you look beautiful as well, Sam,” you stated.

“I know; you said that earlier,” she teased as she squeezed your hand, “Come on,” she continued as you two walked into the building.

You held open the door for her as you two entered, and then she patiently waited while you got the tickets.

“My lady,” you said as you returned to Sam, sticking out your elbow. “You are such a dork,” she replied, smiling as she locked her elbow around yours and followed your lead. Sam kept quiet as you led her past row after row, but her surprise never stopped until you led her to the third row up front. “Come on,” you stated as you led her down the row toward the middle, “these are our seats.”

“Y/N. How much did these cost?’ Sam questioned as she hesitatingly sat down next to you. “Don’t worry about the price. Money doesn’t mean anything when it comes to memories,” you eagerly replied, which was the truth. You didn’t care about the ticket price; the only thing you cared about was making Sam happy. Sam was someone who found happiness hard to come by, so you devoted your time to try and make her life better, even if that meant putting a massive dent in your credit score.

“I will stab you in the neck with a knife if you don’t tell me how much you spent on these seats,” Sam demanded with a soulless look in her eyes. It was meant to be threatening, maybe it was, but the only thing you could feel toward those dark eyes was a sense of attraction.

“Shhh, it's getting ready to start,” you silenced her, and soon enough, the lights began to dim as the crowd quickly stopped their chatter and turned their focus to the stage. Sam scoffed at you and turned her attention away from you. She wanted to be angry with you for not telling her how much you spent, but she knew that doing that would only ruin this night, which was something she knew you had been looking forward to for longer than you had been leading on.

So, when the curtains opened, she quickly glanced at you. She noticed how your eyes seemed entirely dedicated to the actors on stage and how your lips were curved up in the slightest of a smile. Sam thought you looked the most beautiful woman in the entire world.

Sam moved her hand from her lap to place it in your lap. She turned her hand so that her palm was facing up, and you didn’t have to ask what she wanted; you interlaced your fingers with hers and pulled them further into your lap.

If Sam noticed the way your hands started to sweat, she didn’t say anything. She was too busy focusing on how your thumb was featherlight stroking her hand to concentrate on anything. No one had ever touched her with such softness; she wanted to cry.

When the play finished, and you took her back to her apartment, she couldn’t help but give you a goodnight kiss as a thank you.

Maybe one day you could bask in the sweet taste of her lips on yours. But for now, you would live with her lipstick stain on your cheek, and you would wear it with honor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things had changed between the two of you. They were highly subtle at first: Sam’s eyes looking for you in a crowded room, her fingertips lingering on your hand whenever she handed you your coffee, and she even gave you another rare kiss on the cheek when you brought a very drunk Tara home late one night. Then things started to pick up; she would text you and ask you to pick something up for her and Tara, and when you would drop them off, Sam would ask you to stay for a while. She would always say Tara asked you to stay, but you knew better, even though you never questioned her.

It was one of those nights at the Carpenter’s apartment, movie night with just the three of you. Of course, typical movie nights with the core four plus Anika and you were on Fridays, but the sisters liked having you over just by yourself, as you weren’t nearly as much trouble as the twins. Tara wanted to refer to you as a plant; check in occasionally to make sure you weren’t dead and give you some stuff to keep you from dying.

“Tara, I am not watching ‘The Babadook,’” you stated as you sat on the couch alone. Tara was doing her dad's stance while flipping through movies to watch while Sam was in the kitchen making popcorn.

“Who?” She asked, not even caring to look back at you. “What-” you started to say before the shorter Carpenter cut you off, “Asked?”

“Why do I even hang out with you? All you do is insult me,” you joked as Tara moved to sit beside you. Well, on you. She threw an arm around your shoulder as she got comfortable on your lap. “Because you love me, obviously,” she remarked, still looking for the perfect movie.

Sam knew it was spiritual love, but she couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy grow throughout her chest. Especially over her sister! With a slight shake, Sam tried to fight off that feeling as she grabbed the popcorn bags, along with some bowls, and made her way into the living room.

“Just two bags?” Tara questioned once Sam entered the living room. “Yeah, I figured you and Y/n would share. Why; is there a problem?” The older sister questioned with a raised eyebrow as she set the bowls on the coffee table.

“No, it's fine. But I am getting an entire bag for myself,” Tara stated as she left your lap to grab a bag from Sam before moving to the opposite end of the couch. “Looks like you two will have to share,” she added with a sly smile.

You shared a look with Sam, who had slight irritation on her face. She handed you the bag as she spoke, “I’ll go make more.” When Sam moved to head into the kitchen, you quickly grabbed her wrist, stopping her from getting further.

“No, I’m alright with sharing. Only if you are, though,” you said quietly, ignoring the snickering coming from the end of the couch. Sam gave you a small smile as she nodded, sitting beside you on the sofa.

A small laugh left your lips as you looked at Sam’s outfit. “What?” She questioned.

“We are matching,” you responded with a smile as you looked up at Sam, who was already looking at you before she looked at your outfit. It was true; both of you were accidentally wearing practically the same outfit: blue plaid pajama pants with solid black shirts.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Sam said with a smile as her eyes met yours. It was a small moment between the two of you, but it was quickly ruined when the sound of gagging pulled you two from it.

“Please, no homosexual activities in front of my popcorn. I don’t want it forced down my throat,” Tara complained as if she wasn’t someone who also suffered from those homosexual tendencies as well.

Sam cleared her throat as she grabbed one of the bowls and opened the bag of popcorn, pulling all of it into the bowl. “What movie did you pick?” You asked as you kicked your feet onto the coffee table, earning yourself a slight glare from Sam. She wouldn’t classify herself as a neat freak, but she hated it when people put their feet on furniture not used for sitting.

“‘It puts the lotion on its skin, or it gets the hose again,’” Tara quoted while throwing a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it with her mouth.

“I love that movie so much,” you commented while grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch, covering up your legs as you got comfortable.

“What movie?” Sam questioned as Tara hit play. “‘The Silence of the Lambs.’ It's one of my favorite movies,” you replied with a smile, leaning over to give Tara a quick fist bump for the choice.

“Is this the one with Jodie Foster?”

“Yep,” you and Tara replied simultaneously, earning a small groan from Sam, but she didn’t protest.

Once the movie began, Sam pulled at your blanket and placed some over her lap. You thought nothing of it until you felt Sam’s thigh brush against yours. You guessed it was an accident, but she didn’t move her leg; you relaxed your body and pushed your thigh against hers. You felt your chest flutter at the slight smile on Sam’s face at the contact.

As the movie progressed, the distance between you and Sam slowly became nonexistent. Your shoulders were now touching each other as you shared one blanket. In a moment of braveness, with a little bit of stupidity, you moved your hand underneath the blanket, which was where Sam had been keeping her own. Slowly, your hand inched toward Sam’s, hoping to reach the desired location without Sam pulling her hand away.

When your hand gently grazed Sam’s, the Latina made no effort to pull away, so you took it as a sign to continue. You linked your pinkie with hers and waited. I waited for her to finally realize what you were doing and pull away or glare at you and then ridicule you for such actions. So when Sam did pull her pinkie out of the lock with yours, you tried not to show your disappointment on your face.

But before you could get too comfortable with your sadness, Sam interlaced her fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle yet firm squeeze. It was a small gesture. Some people might even call it friendly, but how your heartbeat quickened at the contact was embarrassing. You only hoped that your fast heart rate and nervousness would cause your palms to sweat. If they did sweat, though, Sam didn’t say anything about it, which you were grateful for.

As the end credits rolled, you let go of Sam’s hand, much to the older woman’s disappointment. You helped Sam clean up the mess made during the movie while you two let Tara sleep peacefully on the couch.

“I can clean those,” you said while walking into the kitchen. Sam was at the sink washing the bowl that you two had used.

“No, it’s okay. I got it,” she replied as she looked over her shoulder at you. “Thank you for staying tonight. I know Tara can be a little shit sometimes.”

You laughed at Sam’s words as you walked over to her, leaning against the counter. “It’s no problem; I love hanging out with you guys,” you genuinely replied, smiling, “Thank you for letting me stay over. I know we haven’t always had the best past.”

At the mention of the one-sided distaste that was formerly between you two, Sam stopped cleaning the bowl. A frown appeared on her lips as she looked down, refusing to meet your piercing gaze.

She took a deep breath before she spoke, “I’ve been an asshole to you, I know. I thought you were only getting close to us so you could tell Gale, but I know better than that now. I’ve been so…closed off to people that my judgment blinded me. I’m sorry, is what I’m trying to say.”

To say that Sam’s apology took you aback would be an understatement. You had just assumed that Sam would never own up to how she treated you in the past, opting just to pretend nothing ever happened. But you could tell that she had been working on this apology for a long time, so you appreciated it while you could.

“Thank you, Sam, for apologizing. I won't try to play it down, but it does mean a lot to me,” you said with a soft smile as you looked at the vulnerable woman before you, “but I have to ask. What changed?”

A sigh left Sam’s lips as she turned on the sink, washing out all the soap. She then began drying it off to think about her response. It wasn’t a difficult thing to explain. Well, the logical reasoning for her change of mind about you. But what she was trying to avoid was telling you that she also had a change of heart. Sam had started to enjoy your presence and hated being without you; she yearned for your soft, gentle touches that followed your caring words. She wanted to tell you that she still hates you but cares deeply for you.

Sam dried her hands off as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “I honestly don’t know entirely,” she began, “I know my opinion started to change after you brought me that cookie. But I feel like things changed before that, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” you said with a soft laugh, “I think I’ve just gotten so used to you being a dickhead to me that I kind of don’t associate anything else with the way you treat me.”

Sam had to pretend your words didn’t split her heart down the middle; she had to pretend your words didn’t pierce her heart like an ice-cold dagger. She knew she had no business to be hurt by your honesty, but still, she hated being reminded of how things were.

“I am sorry about that. You were there to protect Tara when I wasn’t, and for that, you will always have my gratitude,” Sam stated as she took several moments to decide on what to say next, “Tara told me that while I was gone for those five years, that you took care of her. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” was all you said in a quiet voice, almost as if you were preparing yourself for when Sam started to ask more questions but silently prayed she wouldn’t.

“How bad was it?” The older Carpenter asked with a voice filled with regret. You didn’t have to ask to clarify what she was asking about; you could tell by how her left fist started to clench as she brought her right arm to rub over the median cubital vein in her left arm. She wasn’t asking about how bad the attack was. No, she was asking about how bad Tara’s home life was when she was too high to do anything about it.

“I made sure she wasn’t left home alone,” you admitted. It was the half-truth, and you hoped Sam would accept it, but you knew better. “What was it like when Christina was there?” Sam pressed on.

“Things were okay; nothing was too bad,” you replied, trying your best to sugarcoat the truth.

An awkward, dry chuckle came from Sam as she shook her head, “Don’t lie to me; tell me the truth.”

You debated whether you should spare Sam the details or try to lie to her about how ugly it got sometimes. But fuck it, Sam had been making your life hell for almost a year now, so it's time she found out what you dealt with for five years.

“Christina’s a drunk; everyone knows that. But it got ugly once you left, especially once you left. It was like, maybe three weeks since you had left, and Christina had drank herself into a coma. The only problem was that it was in some European country, and no one back home knew about it. Christina was only supposed to be gone for the weekend and return home by late Sunday. Only, that weekend turned into a week, which then turned into a month.”

You gave Sam several moments to digest everything you told her, waiting for her to object. But when all she did was nod, you continued. “Tara didn’t tell anyone about her mom not coming back, and she only just told me why she didn’t tell anyone about it: she didn’t want people to view her as some monster because her entire family had left her.”

A soft sob came from Sam, and that was when you noticed she had been silently crying. When you moved to comfort her, Sam smacked your hand away from her body. “Keep talking,” she demanded. And you followed your orders.

“I didn’t notice anything different until I heard her stomach growl during lunch. She had been rationing her lunch for weeks, trying to make every piece last as long as possible. School food isn’t the best, but you would have thought Gordon Ramsey had made it how she cherished every bite. By the end of the school day, I finally got Tara to tell me what had happened, and I forced her to stay at my house. I told my mom that she would stay with us for a while, and she didn’t bat an eye; it was like she already knew what had happened but didn’t want to find out. That night, my mom had cooked lasagna; Tara had three full plates of it.”

“She hates lasagna,” Sam said in a choked-up voice. “I know,” you responded with a small laugh, “After that night, I made sure Tara always had something to eat and that she was never alone. But the one time I wasn’t there,” you had trailed off, not being able to finish your sentence without a tear forming in your eye.

Sam knew what you were talking about: the first Ghostface attack. Instead of pushing you away, she reached her arms and grabbed you, pulling you into a hug. It was the first hug you two had ever shared, but it was still the best. The grief you two shared could be felt by each other in that warm embrace, and you both found comfort in each other’s arms, which was something no one had ever made Sam feel.

You two hold on to one another as you both quietly cry over the past, hoping to be free of it with every tear that falls down your face. It was a bonding moment, but it was something you both needed; you two needed to be vulnerable together and for the other one to pick the other up.

After a few minutes, Sam pulled back from. She wiped the remaining tears off your face as she tucked your hair behind your ear and did something unexpected but not unwelcome. Sam leaned forward and placed a small, lingering kiss on your forehead as she quietly muttered, “Thank you.”

Once Sam pulled back, she gently squeezed your shoulders as she left the kitchen. You followed after her, only stopping to watch as Sam picked up a still-sleeping Tara from the couch and returned the gremlin to her bed. While Sam dealt with Tara, you grabbed the blanket you shared with Sam and some pillows to make your ‘bed’ for the night. The couch was comfortable, and you preferred it over sleeping with Tara. As small as she was, she always took up the entire bed.

After you deemed your sleeping quarters right, you went into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Props to being over so much; you had your toothbrush. It was a small gesture from Tara, but it gave you unlimited bragging rights. As you brushed your teeth, you could hear Sam talking to someone. With your curiosity getting the better of you, you peeked into the hallway to see the woman talking to someone on the phone.

“Thank you for inviting me. I had fun going out with you, but I don’t want this to go any further than friendship,” she quietly said into the phone as she paced back and forth. Deciding to give her some space, you stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door before spitting out the toothpaste and then rinsing your mouth with water. You wiped your mouth off with a towel before opening the door and leaving, finding Sam still talking on the phone with a mysterious love interest.

As she continued to talk to the person, you got situated on the couch, but before you could get too comfortable, Sam started to snap her fingers at you.

“What?” You hissed out, staring at the woman growing slightly more agitated as her phone call continued. You noted that Sam had already changed into her pajamas for the night: a loose band t-shirt with a pair of shorts.

“Have a good night; I'll talk to you later,” she abruptly said as she ended the phone call, “Are you seriously sleeping on the couch?”

“Um, yeah? Where else would I sleep? And besides, the couch is comfortable,” you replied as you gave Sam a questioning look. If she was insinuating that you sleep with her in her bed, well, that warranted some questions. But not that you would reject her offer.

“Are you alright with that? I know you usually sleep with Tara, but she might try to fight you if you go in there while she’s already asleep,” Sam said, trying to hide that she wanted to ask you to sleep with her. She found comfort in holding your hand earlier, and she surprisingly enjoyed the depressing conversation you two shared in the kitchen. Sam hated to admit it, but she found herself seeking you out for comfort. Not only the comfort but the fact that you warmed her heart as well; she had started to fall for you most unexpectedly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. And besides, she usually ends up taking up the whole bed anyway. I’ll have more space out here than I will with her,” you responded, and Sam couldn’t help but nod at your words. “Yeah, she’s small, but don’t doubt how much space she can take up,” she said in agreement, “But would you like my bed?”

Now, that offer caught you off guard. You hadn’t even considered that Sam might provide you with her entire bed so she could sleep on the couch. As considerate as it might be, you were either sleeping on the sofa or in Sam’s bed with her, no in-betweens.

“No, I can’t take that from you and leave you on the couch. I’m honestly fine on it; don’t even worry about it,” you stated honestly, but Sam only shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t be a good host if I let you sleep out here.”

Neither of you wanted to be the one to offer it up, but you refused even to suggest the idea of sharing a bed. Nope, that was going to have to be something that Sam does, and you would happily wallow around in her swollen pride.

Just as you predicted, Sam swallowed her pride and offered the best solution if it did come with a backhanded offer. “Since you enjoy being difficult and making me feel like a horrible person, would you want to share my bed with me? Just this once?”

When she said the sentence, it didn’t sound as rude as the first one; it sounded a lot nicer, like she was hopeful that it wouldn’t be just this once, that this night would turn into another night, and maybe even the rest of the nights you could share.

“Only if that’s alright with you,” you said in a calm, normal tone as you tried to convince Sam that you weren’t mentally bouncing off the walls. “Sounds good to me. Come on,” she replied as she pulled you up from the couch and led you to her room. Sam dared not let go of your arm the entire walk there.

Once you entered her room, she only dropped your hand as she walked over to her side of the bed. She pulled back the covers as she got in bed, stopping to stare at you. You stood uncomfortably in the middle of the doorway as you looked around Sam’s room.

You felt like you saw a new side of Sam as you admired her room; the walls had old types of vinyl, and a single guitar was hanging from the wall. Along with the guitar, there were some framed movie posters, one being ‘Kill Bill’ that was signed. There was a singular bookshelf that didn’t have a single open spot. A record player was also sitting atop her desk in the corner of her room. How you missed all of these small details when you dropped off the cookies, you had no idea.

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned, pulling you out of your mind. “Sorry; I was just looking at your stuff,” you admitted with embarrassment as you walked over to the bed. You halted before getting in as if you were waiting for Sam to change her mind and kick you out suddenly.

“Is something wrong?” Sam asks as she leans up in bed, her doe eyes shimmering under the dimly lit light. “No, no. It’s just…,” you faltered on an excuse. You didn’t want to admit that you were nervous about sharing a bed with that goddess of a woman, but you also didn’t want her to think you were disgusted by the thought of sharing a bed with her. “Do you want me to sleep in my street clothes? I have New York on me, and I doubt you want that in your bed.”

With a sigh, Sam exits her warm, comfortable bed to grab you a pair of fresh clothes. She didn’t even bother to ask if you happened to have a spare set here-which you did; she started rifling through her closet.

“Here,” she stated as she handed you a faded shirt before walking to her chest of drawers. Sam opened her top drawer and grabbed a pair of shorts for you.

“Thank you,” you said softly while grabbing the shorts from her, “I’ll change in your bathroom real quick.”

Sam hummed in response as she quickly got back into bed, missing the warmth of it.

After you had changed out of your dirty clothes, you decided to put them in Sam’s hamper—a subtle move at her being able to keep your clothes without offering them.

As you left the bathroom, you were still slightly pulling down your shirt, only showing off the lower portion of your stomach. The skin was only visible briefly, but it caught Sam’s full attention.

The scars that littered your abdomen were scattered, but she could recognize a stab wound from anywhere. The story about Jill Roberts haunted you night and day, so you never told Sam about that nightmare. The only one who had some faint idea about it was Mindy, as she had seen you naked on a few occasions. She never asked about the scars; she felt that asking would have been more intimate and personal than the sex was.

But things were different with Sam; you wanted that intimacy with her. And she liked that intimacy with you. Sam wanted to be able to share every nasty, dark part of her past with you, just as much as she wanted you to tell her your dark past. It was opening up with your pasts that allowed you two to share a possible bright future.

So, she asked you about it. “What happened?”

It was a stupid question, but Sam wanted to know your side. Of course, she was aware of the fact you were involved with the 2011 Ghostface killings, but she wanted to know why you were targeted.

You softly sighed as you climbed into bed next to Sam, who was fully sitting up with her legs crossed as she stared at you, silently encouraging you to trust her. If there was going to be anyone to judge you for your past, it certainly wasn’t going to be Samantha Carpenter.

“Well, I was nine when it happened,” you began, “and I suppose it all boils down to being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

You waited several seconds, debating whether you wanted to share this information. It wasn’t a secret; it was out there for the entire world to read about, courtesy of Gale Weathers, an author who turned a tragic story into a multi-million dollar yearly profit.

“Jill was my babysitter. It was after the first few attacks, and she was still babysitting me. She was always nice to me, well, about as nice as she could be. I had been messing around in her room, and I found this camera, so of course, I started to watch what was on it. On it were videos of all of the recent attacks, ruthless shit. Instead of telling her I found it, I hid it in my backpack, and I had planned to bring it to Judy Hicks. Well, Jill finds out that it’s missing and goes ape shit.”

You shifted around in bed as you got more comfortable, opting to fully lay down on your back as Sam propped herself up onto her elbow to engage herself in your traumatizing story fully.

“Anyways, she starts ripping the house apart, turning it inside out and upside down. Of course, she eventually finds it in my backpack, and I don’t even defend myself. I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights. The scariest part about it was that she didn’t even hesitate. One moment, she had my backpack in hand, then the next, she had a knife,” you finished, not wanting to recall the gruesome experience.

Sam was silent momentarily as she thought over what to say to you. She wanted to comfort you, but she didn’t know how. In a way, she felt like your attack had been her fault. Logically, it couldn’t have been, but she felt guilty about it, guilty about her father.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, especially at such a young age,” Sam stated. She truly did feel heartbroken for you, but she couldn’t seem to express her sorrow adequately. The only emotion she was good at convening was her anger, a trait she inherited from both her mother and father.

“It is what it is,” you replied with a soft sigh, “Who were you talking to earlier?”

The older Carpenter sister let out a small groan as she fell onto her back, running her hands down her face to add dramatic effect. “It was Danny,” she replied as she interlaced her fingers and placed them on her stomach.

“Oh yeah?” You asked with a teasing tone. Now it was your turn to prop up onto your elbow. “What did he want?”

“He just wanted to go on another date,” Sam responded, to which you huffed. This slight noise got her attention; she turned her head to the side to look at you as if she were studying your facial expressions to try and guess what you were thinking. “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Just curious. You seemed annoyed, and you hung up pretty quickly. Just thought you were having a sneaky link I didn’t know about.”

“Oh, please. If I wanted a sneaky link, I certainly wouldn’t let my family know about it,” she joked softly, and your heart erupted. Sam’s smile was rare, even more rare around you. It was as if the angles had parted the sky, and you could catch a glimpse into heaven. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen, but the most teasing one.

“Okay, but be honest: what happened?” You pressed on while clarifying that you respected Sam’s boundaries if she didn’t want to tell you.

“We went on a date. Danny kissed me because he felt something; I didn’t feel anything. He called to ask me on another date; I said no. Simple as that,” she replied with a monotone voice, but you knew there was more to the story.

“Sam,” you said with a soft voice.

“Mhm?”

“I will throw myself out of your window if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sam questioned with a voice full of laughter as she smiled from ear to ear.

“Tell me, or I’ll paint the sidewalk red,” you joked with a smile that matched hers.

“I told him no because I don’t want to be with him,” she replied honestly as she stared at you with those dark, doe eyes. You swore you could get lost in that void. “Now, will you leave me alone so I can sleep?”

You scoffed at her but entirely laid down nonetheless. “I guess so,” you grumbled as you rolled onto your side, facing away from Sam.

Sam only laughed at your shitty attempt to pout as she got out of bed to turn off the overhead light. Once she was back in bed, she rolled onto her side to face your back.

Slowly and very hesitantly, she wiggled closer to you, wrapping a loving arm around your waist. Sam didn’t have to wait long before she felt your hand atop hers, pulling her closer to you. Soon enough, her entire front was pressed against your back, and you couldn’t have been happy. Your heart seemed to only beat for Sam, as your entire body started to feel like it was catching on fire.

“You know,” Sam whispered into the dark room, “I listened to Julien Baker the other day.”

“That’s not the one I was talking about,” you responded, not missing a beat.

She scoffed at your weak response, “There’s too many.”

“Girl, there are only three!”

“Whatever,” she mumbled while she pulled you closer into her body as if she couldn’t get enough of you. Sam placed a chaste kiss on your head before slowly drifting off to sleep, with you in her arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The picture frames hung on the walls rattled as the loud, booming sound of music filled the air. Against your will, the twins plus Tara dragged you to a frat party. Drunken college students mixed with obnoxious music was not your cup of tea, but you did enjoy the theme: early 2000s club. From Lady Gaga to Timbaland, even to Beyoncé, it was the first time a party had gotten the music right! There’s nothing wrong with today’s music; they don’t make them like they used to.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Tara offered. Even though she forced you to go out tonight, she still wanted you to have fun without pressuring you to do too much. She could be a little asshole sometimes, but she had her soft moments.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you replied softly. The two of you were sitting together on the only couch that didn't have people either passed out or making out, even though Tara suggested doing either with you.

“Tara, I think you are wonderful and completely captivating, but I do not want your tongue down my throat,” you joked with a soft laugh. The younger Carpenter whined in response as she kicked her feet up into your lap.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. It’s the other Carpenter’s tongue you want,” she teased with a wink as she made a V with her middle and pointer finger, bringing it to her lips while sticking out her tongue.

“What is wrong with you?” You questioned while politely shoving the more petite girl, forcing her to stop. “Oh yeah, how come I found you two wrapped up in each other’s arms then? Mmm?” She pressed.

It was a simple question but an entirely challenging one as well. You needed a place to sleep, so Sam offered to share her bed with you, as it was better than the couch. That part you could explain, but you couldn’t explain why or how you woke to Sam’s face pressed against your chest. It was the first time you had ever felt so loved, so seen. It wasn’t just you who had found so much comfort that night. Sam loved falling asleep to your heartbeat; the drumming sound soon became a lullaby.

“She tried to kill me and forced me to share her bed for warmth,” you stated, but Tara didn’t believe you for a second. “You know, if you would have told me that four months ago, I would have believed you. But now that you have stolen my sister from me and somehow tricked her into falling for you, I don’t believe you.”

Your ears perked up at the mention of Sam falling for you, and your cheeks started to get warm at the thought of Sam recouping your feelings. “She likes me?” You asked with a love-sick smile on your lips.

Tara rolled her eyes at your question and pushed herself off your lap. “I don’t know how you did it, but Sam cares about you. I think she started to go soft on you when you took her to that musical,” she stated as she stuck out her right arm to you. You grabbed onto her hand and allowed the more petite girl to pull you off of the couch, then you followed her into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even know that Sam likes musicals,” you commented as you grabbed a Seagram from the bucket full of ice on the kitchen island. “She loves them more than me. I fully believe Sam would sell me for some ‘Six’ tickets,” Tara remarked as she grabbed a beer.

You laughed at the younger Carpenter comment. Sadly, she wasn’t being dramatic; you now knew the extent of Sam’s love for musicals, and you hated that you agreed with Tara.

“Yeah, I hate that you believe you on that one,” you replied as you followed Tara into the backyard. The two of you sat down together on a swing, drinking in silence as you two silently judged the drunks amongst you.

All in all, it was a nice night to socialize; exams were finished up for the week, and you two needed a break from all of it. It was nice to get out occasionally with friends, even though you preferred drinking the safety net of your own home. It wasn’t because you didn’t trust people. It was that you hated being around drunk people, and you were a homebody. But just when you started relaxing at the party, the universe had to ruin it for you.

It wasn’t anything terrible at first; Tara had left to grab some more beers for the two of you. She was back within a minute, and as she walked toward you, a man grabbed her arm and pulled her into him.

You couldn’t hear what was being said, but you could tell from the anger in Tara’s eyes that it wasn’t anything good. Sometimes, you wondered if the Loomis genes were airborne, due to how quickly Tara got angry and violent.

Before you had any time to react, Tara had taken the beer bottle in her right hand and smashed it against the man’s head, causing him to fall to the ground. You quickly sprang up from your comfortable seat as you rushed over to Tara, now held back by two of your friends from college. You checked over her hands to ensure no glass had gotten in them, and when you deemed her safe, you took her from friends, who then went to check on the man, who was still on the ground.

“Come on,” you mumbled as you dragged Tara from the backyard and into the front yard.

When you two entered the front yard, she shook herself from your grasp and dramatically flung herself onto the ground, sighing in defeat. The air was full of tension as you stared down at the more petite girl, who held her head in shame.

“What happened?” You questioned as you sat down next to her. With a sigh, she wrapped her arm around yours and rested her head on your shoulder. “He’s from my theoretical film studies class. The other day, we had argued about the Harry Potter movies. And-do not fucking laugh at that!” She exclaimed as she playfully smacked your arm once you started to laugh at her.

“I’m sorry, but you two argued over Harry Potter?” You asked with laughter in your voice, “That’s insane!”

“Shut up, no, it's not. Anyways, before I was so rudely interrupted,” she replied with attitude, “the argument was over who was the real bad guy: Dumbledore or Snape. We disagreed, but we didn’t have enough time to discuss it before class ended. Tonight, he stopped me to tell me I was wrong and that he was right, and I kinda got a little angry.”

“‘A little angry?’ You smashed a bottle against his head,” you exclaimed with a look of bewilderment.

“I’m little; my anger fills up my entire body, and sometimes it gets the best of me,” she shrugged as she stood up and held out a hand, “Come on, let's go home.”

You accepted her hand as you followed her home. You didn’t need to ask what she meant by home; you both knew it was the Carpenter’s apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You did what?!” Sam shouted as she stared down you and Tara. The two of you were sitting down on the couch together, sharing shame as you listened to Sam ridicule you. “I let you go out for one night and I promised not to text you the entire time, and you do this? And you,” she then turned her attention toward you, “I can’t believe you let this happen.”

“Sam, I'm so sorry. It happened so quick and I-” you tried to defend but she interrupted you. “You had one job, Y/n. One!”

Sam paced back and forth as she rubbed her temples. This was supposed to be a night of relaxing; she had already had two glasses of wine and ate a little bit too much pasta that was acceptable. Sam even had plans to ask you to stay the night again, that’s why she had the wine; she needed that liquid courage to taste your lips for the first time.

But now, as she went over the possible outcomes of her sister assaulting one of her classmates, all she wanted to do was go to sleep. With a sigh, she dropped her hands and stopped pacing. “Alright,” Sam said in a defeated voice, “I will let it slide, but just this once. Go take your shower, but then you are going to bed.”

Tara was out of the room as soon as Sam said it was okay, not wanting to waste a second as she feared that her sister might change her mind. Tara also wanted to give her sister some alone time with you; she noticed the wine glass on the living room table and she was praying that tonight would be the night the two of you stopped pussyfooting around.

“Sam?” Your voice pulled her out of her thoughts and her eyes automatically snapped to you. “What’s up?” She asked.

You stood up from the couch as you approached her. “I’m sorry about tonight. If I would have known that was going to happen, I would have stopped her,” you apologized but Sam was already shaking her head.

“No, it's okay,” she replied as she grabbed her wine glass and finished it off as she walked into the kitchen, with you a few paces behind her.

“Are you sure?” You quietly asked as you awkwardly looked around. “Yeah. Why do you ask?” She questioned as she placed her glass on the counter and looked at you. You could feel her eyes burning into your skin, and you couldn’t help the words that soon poured out of your mouth.

“I don’t know, I’m just worried that you are actually really upset with me but you don’t want to tell me that because you don’t want to upset me. I’m worried that things are different between us now, and I don’t know why I feel that. I’m just terrified I fucked up somehow, and I really really like you, Sam. I’ve worked so hard to gain your trust and now I’m scared I lost it. So, I am so sorry-” she cut off your rambling by cupping your cheeks and pressing her lips against yours.

Your heart automatically started beating quicker as your hands found home on her hips, pulling her closer into you. When you kissed her back, you could have sworn she let out the slightest moan, and it drove your mind insane.

You couldn’t recall her walking toward you, but the only thing that was running through your mind was how soft her lips were; how sweet they tasted mixed with the wine.

The wine.

You quickly pulled away from Sam’s lips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to do anything while you’ve been drinking,” you apologized, but your eyes darted between Sam’s own eyes and her lips.

With a soft laugh, Sam leaned forward and kissed your cheek, something she had found out she loved doing. “It’s okay, Y/N. I really really like you too, and I hope that we could possibly go on another date again soon?” Sam asked with a look of hopefulness, and you had to fight the urge to lean back in.

“You’re also considering the musical a date too?” You questioned with red cheeks. Sam nodded her head with a smile that matched hers, and oh how your heart beat for the woman in front of you. You swore you were love drunk off those lips that you’ve only tasted once, but now that you’ve tasted them, you’re sure that nothing was as sweet.

“Y/N, would you like to stay the night?” Sam asked, “With me?”

“Are you trying to get in my pants?” You teased as you playfully pushed her shoulders, to which she grabbed your hand and pulled you into her.

Sam reached up with her right hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then ran her fingers down the side of your jaw as she admired your features. “I’ve been an asshole to you, I know that,” she admitted as her thumb stroked your jawline, “But I hope over time I can make it up to you fully. I’ve blamed you for things that weren’t your fault and I’m sorry I was that dense. I know you are just following Gale’s writing as a way to forge your own career, and I shouldn’t have blamed you for the book she wrote.”

Sam took a deep breath as she tried to collect her thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for how much of a dick I’ve been to you, and I would like to make it up to you,” her voice got quieter as her eyes refused to meet yours, “By hopefully being your girlfriend?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to wrap your mind around what Sam just asked. When her eyes did meet yours, they were holding so much love and hope that you felt your heart explode. Tears welded in your eyes as you cupped her cheeks and pulled her into a loving kiss, forgetting about the alcohol in her system.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you mumbled against her lips as you quickly pecked them, “But how much have you had to drink tonight?”

The older Carpenter sister laughed at your comment as she grabbed your hand, pulling you toward her room. “I’m fine, Y/N. I’m sure you and the demon child have had more than me. Besides, I only needed a few drinks to actually make a move on you,” Sam admitted as she opened her bedroom door and dropped your hand, to your disappointment, “But how much have you had?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you walked over to the vinyl set in Sam’s room and began flipping through them. “I’m fine; a little buzzed but nothing too bad,” you replied.

“Mhm, yeah, you’re not as awkward as you usually are. I don’t like it,” Sam stated as she handed you a clean pair of clothes to change into you. You noticed they were her clothes, and an embarrassing large smile over took your lips as you finally realized that Sam Carpenter was your girlfriend.

You leaned to kiss her, but Sam placed her hands on your shoulders, preventing you from doing so. You gave her a little pout, so to make you feel just a little bit better, she sighed and gave your cheek a kiss. “Go change and get ready for bed,” she quietly commanded you and you did as told.

The clothes fit you perfectly, as if Sam had bought them just for you. There was a toothbrush laying on the sink, still in its packaging, and you knew that Sam had gone out shopping for you tonight.

Walking into the bedroom, you climbed into bed with the older Carpenter, who was sitting upright with her back against the headboard of her bed, reading a book. “Did you buy me a toothbrush today?” You asked as you laid down and scooted closer to Sam, wrapping your arm around her waist.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied as placed her bookmark in the book and set it down on the nightstand, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because there was a toothbrush that hadn’t been opened yet, and these clothes fit a little bit too nice,” you commented as you watched Sam turn off the bedside lamp and lay down next to you.

“Yeah, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied as she pulled you into her body. Sam brought her hand up to the back of your neck and brought your head close to her chest. You sighed in comfort as you nozzled your head, hoping to get as close as you can to her breasts without making Sam uncomfortable.

Sam placed a kiss on your head as she tightly hugged you, “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight, my lovely girlfriend who used to hate me,” you cheekily replied, earning a laugh from Sam.

“When will you ever let that go?” Sam asked with a slight annoyance in her voice, but you knew she was joking.

“I don’t know, until I’ve deemed that enough time has passed for me to be able to move on,” you replied, “But a goodnight kiss would help.”

The Latina chuckled at your words as the hand that was your head was now cupping your cheeks, pulling you into a loving kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, and you knew that you could never leave them. So when Sam pulled away, you chased after her lips, hoping to taste them for just a second longer.

But she stopped you, much to your disappointment. “In the morning you will give you all of the special treatment you want. But for now, let’s go to bed,” Sam stated in a loving voice, and all you did was nod your agreement. You placed your head back on your chest as you two allowed sleep to overtake you.

When the morning came, you awoke before Sam, greeting her with kisses all over her face and sweet nothings about how much you cherished her as your girlfriend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf @canvascoloredin

[heartmaddie]

somethin' stupid ft. akaashi keiji childhood friends to lovers , angst hurt/comfort to fluff ; 1.6k words note continuation of this ; thank you to the anon who requested this!

"the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get so red and, oh, the night's so blue , and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'i love you'"

his hands are a blur, drumsticks slamming down on the snare and toms with merciless intensity. each beat representing the pulse in his heart, the sound rippling through his earbuds as his arm cried in agony, his muscles burning, but alas, he forbade their relaxation. his phone’s left stray on the ground below him, slick sweat dripping down his face as he pants erratically. each cymbal crash hits sharp, cutting through the air with brutal precision. akaashi and the drums are one, he’s feeding off the sound, driven by it until there's nothing left but the rhythm and his own refusal to stop. what feels like hours pass by, and he doesn’t stray from his seat, that was until one of the sticks snapped in a neat half, flinging through the air before falling to the hard ground with a thump.

“fuck.” he mutters, standing up quickly and he’s immediately confronted by the pain which stemmed from his prior actions which lasted hours. he leans down to grab the broken wood, before his phone blaringly rings. there’s only one person who’d call him at a time this late. he picks up.

“keiijiiii” you coo into the mic, your intoxication obvious through the slurs, “my designated driver left without me,” akaashi could imagine your pout through the screen.

“hm, and what am i supposed to do about that?” he asks tightly, the impatience apparent on his tongue as he finds a stray towel to wipe his moist back and neck.

“come pick me up. please” you whine, and he’s already midway through pulling up black sweatpants. “and don’t text my mom like you did last time!” he slips a thin shirt over his head.

“you vomited all over my car last time,” he mumbles, rolling his shoulders as he grabs an extra towel for you, and his car keys. “where are you? i’ll leave now.” he steps out of his apartment and towards the elevator down to the car park.

“i don’t know.. check find my or something” you reply, still having a whingey tone as he sighs deeply.

“okay, drink some water while you wait.” he slides into the car and checks your location, “i’ll be there in ten.”

“thank you kei, i love you!” you call out before hanging up.

it’s cruel how those words can so easily roll off your tongue, unaware of how they rip him and his heart apart. his canines dig into the flesh of his mouth, sharp pain and metallic taste flourishing throughout. his slender fingers connect his phone to the car right before he accelerates quickly to get to your location promptly.

he hears the party before he sees it, the car approaching the obstreperous house before parking a couple of houses away. he slides out of the car, keys jingling as he walks towards the house, unamused by the immature activities surrounding him. the base was boosted to an invasive amount, and he could feel the music through his bones. as soon as he steps into the house party, a familiar warmth is flung around his waist.

“kei, you said fifteen minutes..” you mumble against his shoulder, clinging onto him as his hand wraps around your waist as well. your breath reeked of lychee soju and the contact made him scrunch up his nose.

“do you feel sick?” he asks, his voice characteristically soft as he leads you out of the house, taking you back to his car. he hums when your head shakes, but he still ensures that you’re comfortable in his passenger seat with a towel draped over your legs.

his gaze can’t help but occasionally flick over you on the way back. he’s driving slower, he’s more careful about the turns that he takes, and if it wasn’t you in his passenger seat, he’d be annoyed by how long it was taking him to drive what should only take ten minutes. you’re illuminated red by the traffic light so he takes a moment to observe you. even if you were nothing, akaashi keiji would still be hopelessly enamoured by you. he was amazed by your soft hair cascading over your closed eyes, and how you strategically applied your make-up to cover any blemishes, but keiji looks past that and admires the beauty you embodied naturally. he wonders if anyone else notices it too.

for the past two weeks he’s tried to distance himself from you, as whenever he saw you, his heart would swell unmeasurably to the point where it ached. he yearns for you, and it’s so cruel how you’ll always just be out of reach for him. he looked over at you and took a deep, grounding breath. this would be the last time he would see you for a while, he decided. his hand reaches to shake you awake once you reach the location of his apartment. you cling onto his side as he helps you out of the car and towards the elevator. how you aerate the air around his neck is quite distracting, and blood paints his cheeks.

it’s almost endearing - watching you stumble through his apartment, searching for the pajamas that you’d usually keep here. he walked into his bedroom and found you wrapped up in his sheets, still smeared in the make up from earlier that night.

“you’ll get bronzer on my sheets,” he mutters, not being able to control the blush which forms on his cheeks when you roll over and look up at him with drunken, exhausted eyes. he takes a cotton pad drenched in micellar water before swiping it against your face.

you gaze into his deep cerulean blue eyes, and you’re breathless. it was no secret that keiji was a gorgeous man (which is why you’d never introduce him to your other friends), but under the dimmed golden light of his bedside lamp, you have never seen someone so beautiful. there was an emotion that ignited within you with every small glance he’d send your way, something so intimate would sprout within your chest, a feeling found nowhere else. you stared into the eyes which didn’t meet yours as his fingers gently brushed against swollen skin. maybe if keiji akaashi wasn’t so dense, he’d realise that you reciprocated the feelings he felt so deeply as well. soon enough, your gaze snaps away from his and towards the ground, where you notice the small, broken twigs of wood on the ground.

“i thought you hated playing the drums now,” you said simply, looking up at him curiously.

“just felt like it,” he murmurs in response, pushing your hair behind your ears, ignoring the concerned look in your eyes, “i’ll sleep on the couch, text me if you need anything. goodnight.” he moves to leave, fingers squishing the damp cotton pad into a ball, but you stop him. your fingers curl around his slender wrist, and your strength is surprising for someone still a bit intoxicated.

“keiji..” the exhaustion was so evident through your tone, and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around your waist and keep you close forever. “stay with me tonight..” you attempt to tug him towards the bed, but he anchors himself to the ground.

“no, you should rest by yourself.”

“what if i vomit and die like in breaking bad?” he lets out a soft chuckle,

“you’re not gonna die like jane in breaking bad.” he strokes his fingers through your hair.

“okay but what if i do?”

“you won't.”

“you’re not certain of that,” you argue, sitting up on the bed before he nudges you back down.

“fine, i’ll lie down for a bit.” he slides into the opposite side of the bed, surrounded by your warmth. he jolts in surprise when you pull him into your arms, his head resting above your chest, your nose buried in his black hair. he’s so grateful you can’t see him blushing ever so deeply.

“i love you keiji..” you mumble against his scalp. his heart clenches at what seems to be a platonic declaration of affection, but unbeknownst to him, it meant more than he could imagine. you thought he was stupid, how many times would you need to repeat those stupid three words in his ear before he’d stop just humming in response and repeat them right back?

keiji akaashi’s heart pounded within the confines of his chest, he wanted those words to fall off his lips as easily as they did yours, but they couldn’t. his tongue is tied, afraid that the romantic intention behind his words was different from yours, he’s afraid of losing you. but he’s been holding off on his true feelings for so long that he couldn’t deny them anymore, the guilt was catching up to him so quickly.

he looks into your eyes, taken aback by the sight of everything which was you, which was everything to him. the fear of rejection haunted him, but there was something about your intimate presence which grounded him, bringing him right back to reality.

his fingers weave between the silky strands of your hair, lulling you to the brink of sleep before you’re warmed by his soft, devoted words.

“i love you too, more than you know,” he mumbles sweetly against your temple, soaking in the accords of your expensive designer fragrance as you succumb to sleep. for the first time in a while, akaashi keiji fell asleep without pervasive emotions plaguing his mind.

please like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed :p divs by roseraris

© heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 38

Part 1 Part 37

Steve keeps acting like he’s perfectly fine. Like he didn’t have part of his shoulder carved off. Like he’s not suffering through an hour of glorified torture masquerading as physical therapy every day, trying to build his muscle back up. Like the doctor hadn’t told him he might still never get back to shooting hoops and swimming laps with the precision he used to. Like his ribs aren’t still broken, and he doesn’t still have trouble standing, or wake up screaming, clutching at his throat. Like he doesn’t rub the back of his head sometimes and stare into the middle distance with lost eyes. And it’s pissing Eddie off.

Especially now, as he walks beside Wayne, pushing Steve’s wheelchair down the hall toward the elevator. This in and of itself was a feat. First, Steve had argued that he didn’t need a wheelchair, then he’d argued he didn’t need help pushing it. Eddie let Steve flounder for a few minutes, trying to make his useless arm wheel him forward, angry tears springing from his eyes before he acquiesces.

The latest rub is the worst: Steve wants to go home. As if Eddie doesn’t remember the look on Steve’s face when he said he wanted to go to Eddie’s trailer. As if Eddie doesn’t remember the way Steve’s voice broke when he called the trailer home.

“The doctor said somebody needs to keep an eye on ya,” Wayne says reasonably. “Either we do it, or you can stay with Joyce. She offered to put you up.”

Steve scoffs. “My parents—”

“Aren’t home!” Eddie snaps, pushing Steve into the elevator and pushing the down button on the elevator with enough force that his finger hurts.

Steve sits up straighter in his chair, reading for a fight. Wayne doesn’t let him. “If you’re staying at that house, then so are we,” he says, implacable. “Until your parents are there to watch you.” Left unsaid, is that no one had heard from them. That Steve hadn’t asked about them at all.

Steve slumps down in a position that must be hell on his cracked ribs, sighing. “Fine,” he says, like it hurts. “I’ll stay in the trailer.”

It feels like a knife twist. Eddie wants to shake Steve and remind him he’d called it home.

It’s quick after that. Steve signs himself out at the front desk, tucking the physical therapy schedule they’d made for him into the pocket of the sweatpants Wayne had scavenged from Eddie’s drawers for Steve to wear home.

Wayne and Eddie work together to help lever Steve into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. Wayne slides into the driver’s seat without asking, so Eddie grumbles his way into the back.

Steve’s quiet when Wayne pulls up front, quiet while they help him in, quiet when he’s settled onto the couch.

He’s looking around his surroundings just like he had the first time – like he’s amazed people live like this. That first time, he’d wanted to snarl, make sure Harrington knew that there was nothing wrong with this life he’d created with his Uncle. Now, he just thinks of Steve’s empty house, the hospital’s unanswered phone calls to his parents, and feels unbearably sad.

Wayne puts on a basketball game that Eddie doesn’t even complain about, and settles himself at Steve’s side.

Steve falls asleep halfway through the game, head falling on Eddie’s shoulder, warm puffs of air hitting the bare skin of his neck.

Wayne huffs, and Eddie looks up at him, already glaring defensively. “What?” he demands, quiet enough not to disturb Steve.

Wayne raises his hands placatingly, even as he smiles smugly over at Eddie. “I didn’t say anything.”

They all sleep in the living room that night. It’s cozy and warm, especially after Wayne drapes a blanket over them both.

It should feel weird, settling this closely to Steve, now that they’re not depending on each other to survive. Now that they’re back in the real world. But Eddie feels like he’ll fall apart if Steve’s not in sight, so maybe he’s not out of the woods after all.

It's peaceful.

It stays peaceful until the next day when it’s time for Steve’s physical therapy appointment.

“I can take myself,” he says. “I have a car.”

He’s not meeting Eddie’s eyes. Eddie takes a few deep breaths. He knows snapping won’t help anything, but he wants to smack Steve until this is easier. He just— he doesn’t get this. Can’t figure out what the problem is.

“It would take just as long to drive you to your car as it would to just drive you,” Eddie says, cleaning up their half-assed breakfast of toast a cereal off the table. He doesn’t look back at Steve, wants to play this cool and nonchalant, and he just knows one look at the obstinate tilt of Steve’s chin will send him swinging. 

“I can walk,” he says, even though he really really can’t.

Eddie slams a dish into the sink. He’s almost surprised the bowl doesn’t shatter upon impact. He scrubs it, back to where Steve is stewing in silence.

He needs to figure this out. Why Steve is being so difficult, about staying here, about Eddie feeding him and driving him. He does the hardest thing he can think of, and asks, “why don’t you want me to take you to your appointment?”

He doesn’t turn around, just keeps scrubbing the dishes like this is a casual conversation over breakfast. Because it should be.

The silence drags him down, lasts long enough that Eddie doesn’t think Steve will answer at all.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Steve says.

Eddie thinks back – big house no parents – and wonders how long it’s been since someone did something for Steve without strings. He turns around, settles back into his seat and stares at Steve until he raises his eyes from the table.

Choosing his words carefully, he says, “I want to go with you,” Eddie says. “You saved my life—"

“But—” Eddie holds up a hand, and Steve stops, brows furrowed.

“You saved my life,” he repeats, meeting Steve’s eyes. “I’m gonna help you whether you like it or not.”

It’s not quite the whole truth, but Eddie’s not sure how to touch the way it feels like worms are writhing in his stomach when Steve’s out of his sight. How his shoulders only really relax when he knows exactly where Steve and Will both are.

Eddie bites his tongue on the too much of it all.

“Fine,” Steve says, still sullen, but he lets Eddie lead him to the van and drive him to his appointment.

It looks painful. Eddie holds his crossed ankles, to stop himself from leaping up and wrenching Steve away from the doctor’s ministrations.

By the end, Steve looks like he just got done with a basketball game, sweat dripping down his forehead, pits stained. If Eddie squints, he can almost see the uncomplicated jock of days past as they limp out of the hospital.

“You wanna go see Baby Byers?” Eddie asks.

“Please,” Steve says, slumping into the passenger seat like the princess he is.

Eddie drives, turning his music up loud enough to rattle their teeth just to see Steve smile.

Part 39

[scar-crossedlvrs]

All hail ID! Leon!!! I’m wondering how he would reacts when his Reader! young gf got kidnapped or been taken as hostage. Let’s just say maybe she got at the wrong place wrong time? Chris and Leon partnered up to save her 🫢 (I don’t want Leon go thru this alone, he got enough shit already tbh)

(I don’t know if you’re gonna write this up or not but whatever it is, stay safe and take care of yourself gorl 🩵)

Leon S Kennedy - Help Me

ID!Leon is my favorite Leon no questions about it. I have this headcanon that ID!Leon is the one with the most confidence in his skills & second most optimistic Leon era just due to his successes ( saving ashley and the ‘dozens of successful missions’ that shen mei references ). Anyway, watch me rip that all away in one fell swoop.

cw for : f!reader, kidnapping, swearing, blood mention, implied age gap (up to you tbh), reckless driving, chris redfield, it’s mostly just a mess of angst and anger.

gentle reminder that all of my works sfw or not are intended for 18+ audiences.

The inbox is open for requests.

How many times had he told you to lock the goddamned doors?

Fingers drum against the steering wheel as he weaves in and out of traffic. His phone trilled in his ear as he drove and the longer it rang, the more his gut bubbled with anxiety.

“Pick up the fucking phone Redfield.”

The scene was still vivid in his mind. Your front door slightly ajar as he pulled up to your house. Leon had immediately been put on edge by this. The overwhelming feeling of panic however, didn’t set in until he noticed the bright red smear across the white painted wood.

Inside the house wasn’t much better, turned over from top to bottom. Every single one of your meticulously placed photos and knickknacks were strewn smashed on the floor, broken glass, plastic and porcelain everywhere. All decorated with a spattering of red. The same scene played out in each and every one of the rooms. It didn't seem to be a run of the mill robbery though. Nothing of value was missing, nothing besides you.

The worst part was the way your phone went to voicemail every single time he called.

“Hello?”

Leon’s torn from his thoughts at the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. Chris Redfield.

“Answer the phone any slower?” he’s snappy, frustrated, scared.

It must have been obvious, with the way the concern laced into Chris’s words. “Leon? Is something wrong?”

“She’s gone, Chris. The house is a mess and her phone just goes straight to voicemail. Someone was there, and I think they took her.”

The word vomit just spews from his lips as he switches lanes again, white-knuckling the steering wheel as icy eyes dart around. He’s not sure where he’s going, what he’s looking for. He’s not sure of anything anymore.

Had he gotten too cocky, too lax in his security? Everything had been going so well since Ashley. He had been saving people. What the fuck went wrong? Fuck, he should have pressed the issue harder when he asked you to move in with him. At least there he could have kept a better eye on you, kept you safe. This wouldn’t have happened.

Leon was spiraling.

“Are you still with me, Kennedy?” Chris’s voice broke through the haze again.

"Yeah." Barely.

"You sure she was at home? She's probably just not answering your calls."

Chris didn't know you, didn't know that you didn't just ignore phone calls, especially not his calls. You weren't just ignoring him.

"I wouldn't have called you if I thought she was just ignoring my calls. The place was torn up Redfield. Whoever it was, was looking for something. There was blood fucking everywhere." His words came out more aggressive than intended.

They had to, he needed to get his point across.

“Okay, yeah that’s bad. But I can’t just get clearance to do anything..”

“I’m not asking you to deploy the BSAA. I’m asking you to help me” Leon cut him off.

The silence that hangs makes him regret calling Chris. Had he made a call to the wrong Redfield? He should have just called Claire. She wouldn’t have hesitated so much, wouldn’t have wasted so much time. That was if she even picked up the phone.

Either way, for once, he couldn’t do this on his own. Not like this.

"Go home. I'll meet you there. We'll figure this out okay? Don't do anything stupid Leon."

"Yeah."

---

Your head is aching, forehead damp with sweat or blood ( you're not sure which ), feet sore and bloodied from stumbling through the shattered glass on your living room floor. Eyes are covered with a thick blindfold, and the room is dark and quiet.

All alone with your thoughts. Thoughts of how you ended up here. How you had been so distracted, unable to notice the men coming in through the unlocked front door. One snatching you up as the other set out to look for something, smashing everything in his path. Your screams fell on deaf ears, feet being dragged through the mess on the floor as you struggled to break free.

Until a sharp pain to the back of the head forced you into unconsciousness.

There's the sound of shuffling, metal clinking, and there's something pressed to your ear. A phone? There's a few moments of trilling rings before a voice answers with a panicked "Hello?"

"Leon?"

Your voice is hoarse from the screaming earlier, and tears sting at your eyes.

"Baby where are you?" You've never heard him sound like this, scared.

"I don't know, Lee. Help me. I don't know where I am. It's dark and I'm scared."

Before he can respond, the phone is pulled from your ear. The scream ripped from your throat as his voice was cut off by the phone being hung up. A sharp laugh caused a shiver to course through you as you struggled against your bindings.

"Think that got his attention, hm princess?"

________________________________________________

uh i don't know where I was going to go with this, meaning cliffhanger!!! one person says they want more & i'll plan out more <3

[rocorambles]

Final Girl: Act I

Pairing: Daichi x Reader x Kuroo

Tags: NSFW, Yandere, Non-Consensual Drugging, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Daichi and Kuroo being grade A creeps 

Summary: If only you hadn’t been so focused on intently staring at the ground in an attempt to avoid those piercing hazel eyes, maybe then you would have noticed the momentary smug cold gleam in those deceptively kind brown eyes as the two men exchange a glance. 

Link to Final Girl: Act II

You are a complete moron. Torn between screaming and crying, you let out a strangled sound between the two as you furiously clench your fists around your now useless steering wheel. It’s almost laughable how cliche the situation you find yourself in is. You can even see the imaginary script in your head. 

Scene: Girl in broken down car, cell phone out of battery, stuck in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road, torrential downpour

You’ve always rolled your eyes in annoyance at the dumb damsels in distress you’ve seen on screen, all in predicaments easily avoided if they had used a single ounce of common sense. And now here you are, just like them, all because you had stupidly scoffed at the numerous warnings about the inclement weather. 

What harm could a little more rain than usual do? Apparently, a lot.

Weighing your options, a brick of disbelief and hysteria swells and sinks inside of you. There’s no way you can stay in this car. Even if you wait out the flash floods and stormy nightmare outside that looks to have no end in sight, you’ll still have a broken car and dead cell phone with no city or town anywhere near walking distance. You’ll need to venture out into the forests that surround you on either side in hopes of stumbling upon a cabin with kindhearted folks who’ll help you out. 

It’s not a long shot that you’ll find some nearby residents. Despite this area being off the beaten track, you know there are plenty of people who’ve migrated here in search of a quieter and more remote life. You yourself had ventured out here for a long weekend solo getaway to rest and reset (the premise of this whole unfortunate scenario). But that doesn’t stop that same stereotypical script from playing in your head as you anxiously exit your car and delve into that intimidating expanse of greenery. 

Scene: Girl walks into the woods, disappearing out of view from the road, only the stillness and silence of the forest left in her wake   

You grimace as mud squelches under the weight of your steps, as floods of water stream down your face. Your one saving grace is that at least there’s still daylight to guide you, but even that is quickly dwindling as the sun continues to set. Anxiety laced with fear begins to claw at you as darkness begins to spread. 

How long have you been searching? How far are you from your car? Do you even know where you are? Are you lost-

Your body stiffens in shock as your frantic eyes see a glow of light up ahead and your frenzied thoughts are cut short by adrenaline as your legs scramble forward before your brain can catch up, stumbling towards that literal ray of hope you see in the distance. Relief washes over you as the sight of a cabin becomes clearer the closer you get to your destination and primal instincts take a back seat as you slow down, cautiously assessing your surroundings. 

It certainly doesn’t look like a murder house. In fact you’re almost in awe at how chic and charming the “cabin” in front of you is with its sleek black rustic yet modern structure nestled among a gorgeously curated landscape. The inhabitants certainly had taste and money, but you know better than to immediately equate to being “good”. Do you take the risk of ringing their doorbell?

Life makes that decision for you and your heart pounds in terror at the feeling of a hand grabbing your shoulder, head spinning to locate the source only to be locked in a staring contest with sharp hazel eyes. 

“My, my. What do we have here? A little chick separated from her flock?” 

You shudder as the low slow drawl of his words slither unpleasantly against you, an interested predatory lilt in every syllable. This was a mistake, you need to get out of here, run-

“Kuroo, what’s taking you so long- Who’s that with you?” 

So distracted by the sudden stand-off, neither of you had noticed the cabin door opening or the approaching figure of the man now curiously observing the two of you. 

Kind brown eyes worriedly look at you, a crease of concern furrowing between brows as the new stranger takes in your drenched state and before you can utter a word, a warm hand gently but firmly wraps around your wrist, leading you inside. 

You know it’s foolish to let yourself so easily be swayed, but even if you were to run, you doubt you could outrun the two seemingly fit men. Not to mention how your gut is screaming that “brown eyes'' is a far safer option than the man whose hazel eyes are now staring in annoyance at the two of you, not unlike a cat whose prey has been snatched from him, as he glowers and trails behind you causing you to subconsciously hover close to your savior. 

If only you hadn’t been so focused on intently staring at the ground in an attempt to avoid those piercing hazel eyes, maybe then you would have noticed the momentary smug cold gleam in those deceptively kind brown eyes as the two men exchange a glance. 

Scene: Girl enters a stranger’s house

Daichi (brown eyes) and Kuroo (hazel eyes). You now have names to match with the faces. Childhood friends who had decided the hustle and bustle of city life wasn’t for them and had bought and renovated this property together. Freshly showered in a set of Daichi’s spare t-shirt and shorts, basking in the warmth of the fireplace, stomach filled with a delicious meal cooked by the two men, a glass of red wine in your hands, you wonder what you were so scared of. Even Kuroo seems harmless, if infuriating, as Daichi and him teasingly bicker with each other about their mutual friends and shared memories they had growing up together. 

The weather had knocked out most of the power in the area leaving you without wi-fi or a way for you to charge your phone and with the roads as flooded and inaccessible as they were, there was little hope of a tow truck being able to take care of your car anytime soon. But you don’t mind the idea of having to stay a few days longer in this cozy cabin if this is how you’ll be pampered. Taking another generous sip of the ruby red liquid in your glass, you wonder how you can repay the two men. Maybe you can help them cook tomorrow…

Scene: Girl accepts a drink from a stranger

Ever the gentleman, Daichi is there to catch you as your body goes limp. 

Kuroo snorts at the chivalrous display, but it doesn’t stop him from eagerly drawing near as he follows the broader man who bridal carries you up the stairs to the guest bedroom. 

There’s no need for how gentle Daichi handles your body as he lays you on soft sheets, not with the dosage Kuroo had slipped into your wine. But he’d always been more careful with his toys, unlike the man next to him who is practically clawing off your clothes, his long lean frame already pinning you beneath him. 

He can’t really blame his companion though. How long had it been since the last warm body they’d shared? The last foolish prey who’d naively walked right into their trap? So he just patiently watches as Kuroo eagerly partakes of you, only making warning comments here and there when the taller man is close to leaving too many marks that won’t be easily explained tomorrow. And when he’s done, your essence dripping from his mouth, your nipples and clit perky and begging for more attention, trails of Kuroo’s cum littering your body, it’s Daichi’s turn and he carefully savors you, relishing in how sensitive and responsive your body is even if your mind is far, far away, blissfully ignorant of your current predicament.

Scene: Girl is taken advantage of.  

You groan, head throbbing, the daylight sneaking through the curtains doing nothing to alleviate-

Wait, daylight? 

Momentary panic sets in as your mind whirls to remember what had transpired, eyes taking in the strange room you’re occupying. 

Had you…drank too much? But you could have sworn you only had a couple of glasses… Maybe it was just the exhaustion from the trying night you had? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by knocking on your door and you instinctively tense up as a head of spiky black hair peeks out at you. Despite the questionable first encounter the two of you had, you had convinced yourself that it was just a misunderstanding, that Kuroo was just a little more crude and rough around the edges than the average person. After all, if someone as kind as Daichi was close to him, surely Kuroo couldn’t be so bad, right? 

But now that it’s just the two of you again, no Daichi to act as a comforting barrier, apprehension freezes you as Kuroo ambles towards your vulnerable figure still tucked underneath bed sheets. You swear there’s hunger in those hazel eyes and you shudder under his gaze, feeling it rake across your body, shivering at how small you feel as he towers over you when he reaches you, his legs pressed against the bed frame, upper body teasingly leaning over you. 

“Some water for Sleeping Beauty.”

Technically he’s not touching you, but that thought does nothing to comfort or protect you from the heat of his body or the vibrations of his words as he practically cocoons you, going out of his way to almost embrace you as he uses the act of carefully placing a glass of water on your side table as an excuse. But before you can even react, he’s already pulling away, a self-satisfied smirk splayed on his face. 

“Prince Charming is making breakfast. Come down when you’re ready.”

As your thoughts race with the conviction that you need to do everything you can to escape this place, Kuroo hisses in satisfaction, calloused hand palming the growing bulge in his pants outside your closed door. Fuck, if only you knew how delectable you look, trembling, scared, at his mercy. He can still taste you on his tongue, his cock twitching as it remembers how perfectly your walls had wrapped around it. And he wants more. 

Time to wrap this little play up. 

End of Act 1. 

[xo-hugs-n-kisses-ox]

Rumination

Ruminate

(v.) To think about something deeply

After Edward left her, Bella Swan fell apart. Desperate to try and save his eldest daughter, Charlie brings his youngest daughter to Forks to see if she can bring her sister out of her depression.

Now, y/n must try to help her sister find her way back to the light while also trying to navigate her Junior year of high school in the odd town of Forks.

---

Chapter Eight: Home, Safe.

Now Playing: Everlong by Foo Fighters

Charlie was pissed when he found out that Bella had run off to Italy to save Edward. I couldn’t really blame him.

Jacob was pissed that she was running back to him after all the shit he put her through. The rest of the pack agreed, but I thought they were a little biased. I agreed with them, so I suppose I was biased, too.

I was grounded for not telling Charlie about Bella leaving, so for the entirety of Spring Break I was locked in the house until Charlie fell asleep. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? I sounded like my sister.

When Charlie fell asleep, I would slip through my window and into the woods. Jacob would be waiting for me in wolf form, letting me climb on his back so he could whisk me away to Emily’s. I would wait anxiously for a call from Bella, but all I got was radio silence.

She had left the first day of break. Three days later, and she still wasn’t back. I had no explanation, no texts, and no returned calls.

Sitting at the dinner table at Emily’s was comforting. We had two new additions to the pack; Seth and Leah Clearwater.

I didn’t think Leah was meant to turn. She was twenty one, older even than Sam was when he changed. The proximity to a vampire triggered it, though, just like everyone else.

Her brother, Seth, was forced to change before his body was ready. He was only fourteen, and he had been a scrawny kid, too. The stress of his father dying and sister turning had shoved him into his own change.

Jacob had told me that the first change was painful for everyone, but that it had especially hurt for Seth. His body had rapidly developed the fever, shooting his temperature up from ninety-eight degrees to one hundred and eight. He had passed out, his body trying to save him some of the pain as it tore itself apart during his transformation into a wolf.

Jared had whispered to me that Seth had broken or tore nearly everything in his body. They had to call his mother to come help set it all again so he would heal properly. I realized then that rapid healing didn’t always mean correct healing.

I snapped back into reality when I realized that everyone was looking at me. I cleared my throat, “Sorry, zoned out.”

Quil laughed, “You need some sleep, Y/n.”

“I’m well aware,” I sighed, reaching out to take a sip of my water. The phone rings and Paul answers it as he’s getting another burger. His eyes go wide.

“Y/n, it’s Bella!” He says, and I’m up as soon as he says my name. I clamor around the table, nearly tripping over Jared’s large furry ass as he lays on the floor in wolf form. I quickly regain my balance as Jacob hauls me back to my feet, the two of us anxious to hear my sister speak.

“Bella?” I ask, my heart beating in my chest, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m okay, we’re all okay, Y/n,” She says, her voice slightly raw. “We’re heading back to Forks now.”

I glance at Jacob, and he gives me a meaningful look.

Carefully, I ask, “You mean yourself and Alice, right?”

She hesitates, and I sigh loudly.

“Am I on speaker? Actually, no, he can hear me anyway, right?” I don’t wait for an answer, barreling on with my rant, “Edward, you sparkly leech, leave my sister the hell alone! She was finally happy and now you have to go and mess everything up again!”

“Y/n—” Bella tries, but I cut her off again.

“No! No, he needs to hear this!” I say vehemently, “He needs to know the hell he put you through while he was traveling around the world for funsies, and how he’s going to screw everything back up by coming back!”

I speak directly to Edward now, “I don’t care if you’re some immortal vampire, asshole, if you come back to Forks to fuck up my sister’s life again, I’m gonna make you wish you had never been reborn as a sickly reanimated corpse!”

There’s silence on the other end, and I know Bella’s hurt by my words. I don’t care. Let her be hurt by the truth and by the fact that neither Charlie nor I can stand that boy.

“We’ll be back tonight,” Alice says, “I’ll deliver Bella safe and sound to your home, Edward will stay away.”

“Thank you, Alice.” I say, my voice harsh but infinitely kinder to her, “Drive safe getting here. Bella; I love you, I’ll see you soon, and also you’re grounded. Charlie’s pissed.”

She sighs, mumbling, “Yeah, I figured. I love you too, Y/n, I’ll see you tonight.

The line goes dead and I hang the phone up.

“She’ll be back home tonight,” I announce, cheers ringing up. I continue, “She’s bringing that freak back with her.”

Boos and gags sound, and it makes me feel better. An idea floats in my mind, and I grin.

“Jake, I need you to go into the spare closet of the house and get the duffle bag of clothes we haven’t donated yet.” I order, and he salutes me, grinning, before turning and running.

“Why’re you grinning like that,” Embry complains, “It’s scaring the children.”

“I’m not scared!” Seth protests, but Embry shoots him a baffled look, “I’m children! I’m scared!”

I ignore them, “Sam, I need to borrow any shirts that don’t fit you.”

He eyes me, “What for?”

“To piss off Eddie boy, what else?” I ask, going into the laundry room and finding all the clothing scraps we haven’t been able to throw away yet. I put them in an old grocery bag and set them in my room. When I get back, Jacob is panting as he hands me the duffle. I grin, setting it down on the table and pulling out shirts.

I hand a pile of shirts to everyone with instructions to either hold them, wear them, or somehow make them smell like a werewolf. The biggest pile goes to Jacob, and I take the remaining pile and crouch beside Jared, still in wolf form.

“Hey buddy,” I say slyly, and he almost seems to laugh as he rolls over onto his back. I snicker as I rub several shirts over him, looking up when I hear laughter.

Quil has stuffed himself into one of my old shirts, and it looks like it’s about to burst at the seams. It fits him like a crop top, tight as a corset. I cackle as he pretends to model it, laughing harder when he moves a little too much and splits it in half.

---

When Bella comes back, I had already hidden the clothes around the house. In the vents, under her floor boards, under her mattress, in her pillows, behind the mirror in the bathroom, anywhere and everywhere I could think of was fair game. I was even wearing one of the shirts, just in case Edward made an appearance. I had a good deal of them hidden in my room, and Charlie’s. Again, just in case.

He didn’t come, thank god. Alice wrinkled her nose when she got here, but gave me a hug anyway. I hugged her tight, thanking her for keeping my sister safe.

Bella went and showered. I sat in her room and waited for her to come out. When she did, I saw how weary she looked. I didn’t ask questions, just wrapped her in a blanket and turned off the lights.

Charlie was furious the next morning, telling her she was grounded until she wasn’t anymore. She accepted it with grace.

---

Months passed. It was summer now.

I stormed into Emily’s house, throwing the door open as they all sat down for lunch.

“Woah, what’s got you bent out of shape?” Quill teased, and my scowl deepened.

“That stupid, idiotic girl is accepting him back into her life so easily!” I yell, flinging my hand out in a direction that isn’t necessary towards my house. Jacob dodges my arm easily, continuing to eat moodily.

I pitch my voice higher, “‘Oh Edward, my sickly Victorian child, I missed you so much! Please, make me your vampire child bride! I don’t want my soul anymore, I don’t care what this will do to my family, I—”

I take a shuddering breath, hot tears streaming down my face. Emily stands, coming to hug me tightly.

“Oh, Y/n,” she says quietly, rubbing my back.

“She’s so stupid,” I bite out, “Throwing away her life for—for him!”

Jacob had stopped eating, staring furiously at the table. His hands were clenched into tight fists, his body shaking. He looks up at me, his eyes blazing.

“Well then, I suppose that we’ll just have to try and be voices of reason.” He spits out, and I sniff, nodding.

“Besides Edward,” Sam said slowly, “Why does she want to become a vampire?”

I swipe at my eyes furiously, “Apparently Alice saw her as one in a vision. You know, the ones that are constantly subject to change.”

I know I sound bitter, but I feel betrayed. I don’t want to lose my sister.

---

Edward had appeared at Roy’s the day I started back. I scowled when I saw him, but he held up his hands.

“I’m here to tell you what Bella isn’t.” He said, and my attention was snagged.

I stared for a moment, then slid into the booth seat across from him. I had gotten off work already, so I had time.

“Bella wants to become a Vampire.” He said, and I nodded. “I don’t want that. I want her to remain human for as long as possible. I want her to stay human forever.”

His words surprised me. I had figured that he was the one to put ideas of vampirism into Bella’s head, but he was apparently thoroughly against it.

“She had my family vote.” My heart stopped in my chest. He continued, “Everyone voted yes aside from Rosalie and I. Neither of us want her to be changed.”

I clenched my hands into fists, “Why tell me this?”

He sighed, “Because I’m hoping that you can talk sense into her. I haven’t been able to, Rosalie can’t. You and the wolves are our last ditch effort to dissuade Bella from becoming a vampire.”

I was silent.

“What are you telling her to keep her from getting someone else to do it for her?” I asked, and he paused. I scoffed, “She wants you to do it, right?”

He nodded, and I continued, “She’s stubborn. If you won’t do it for her, she’ll get someone else to. My bet’s on Alice.”

He let out an odd sort of snarling sound, vaguely similar to one of the snorting sounds that the guys would make in wolf form when they would fight playfully. This was out of frustration, though.

“Tell her something, anything that would keep her from getting someone else to turn her,” I begged, “Buy time, and I’ll change her mind.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“I’ll do my best.” He said quietly, looking almost defeated.

He got up to leave, but I grabbed his arm.

I flinched, so used to feeling higher temperatures that it was a momentary shock to feel his frozen skin.

“Give me your number. We’ll keep each other updated so Bella can’t hide or lie.” He nodded, handing me his cell. I punched in my number, texted myself so I had his, and nodded.

“I still hate you.” I told him, “But I hate you less for this.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then let out a breathy laugh.

“I’ll take what I can get, I suppose.” He said, then added, “I did think I was doing the right thing, leaving her. I thought she would be better off.”

“She was.” I tell him, adding, “But there’s nothing we can do about that now.”

---

Ok!! Short chapter to transition between New Moon and Eclipse! I do plan to give reader some more clarity on Edward’s feelings btw bc I knowwweww he was pressed about Bella wanting to be turned.

Anyway, I hope yall enjoyed ☺️

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Continuation of last Friday's prompt, as some of you asked for.

Extraterrestrial or an Illusion?

It takes a while to calm down. John’s screaming doesn’t last that long, but his heart races like he’s run for hours. He looks down at the two phones in his right hand. One is his own, the other is Sherlock’s, and John has no idea how the latter got there. The text Sherlock sent him only minutes earlier and John’s reply are still visible on the screen when John taps it.

Someone in the hall. Come at once. Be careful. SH

In the hall. Where are you?

John does not believe in anything paranormal, but he can’t explain this. The full moon still shines brightly, but John can see that clouds will soon obscure it. He shivers slightly from an unexpected chill, as if something cold just passed him.

Sherlock. Must find Sherlock.

He gazes at the stairs, takes a firmer grip on his gun, and ascends cautiously to the upper floor. No sounds from anywhere are heard. Apart from his pounding heart and his breathing. 

When he reaches the landing, he hesitates. 

Left, or right?

As he turns left, a sudden darkness sets in the corridor. The clouds have hidden the light from the moon effectively. John swallows hard, switches on his torch again, and walks to the first door, which is slightly ajar. He opens it carefully, and to his relief it makes no sound.

The room he enters is a nursery. All the toys are old, and some are even broken. A doll with half torn off hair, stares up at him with empty eye sockets. He turns around quickly with his gun raised. When he realises what’s making the sound he reacted to, he feels the hair on his head stand up. 

An antique rocking chair in a corner of the room is moving as if a person sits in it, but there’s no one there apart from John. The windows are closed, so it cannot be explained by the wind causing the chair to rock back and forth. He makes a sweep around the room and decides to move on to the next door. The chair stops rocking once he reaches the threshold.

His pulse slows down after he’s searched the other rooms. They’re all empty. He turns to explore the rooms on the right side of the stairs. A bright light makes him gasp, before he understands that the clouds have moved away from the surface of the moon.

Full moon frenzy can make the most rational person a little unhinged.

He takes a deep breath and opens the first door. It creaks. A lot. John winces, but there’s nothing for it. His determined steps carry him over the threshold and into a bathroom. In the corner is a large bathtub that stands on claw feet. On the floor is a wooden bucket. A big hole in the bottom tells him that it hasn’t been used for decades. The cabinet on the other wall is open, its doors long since removed. All the shelves are grey with dust and in the upper corner is a fragile spider’s web.

When he once again stands in the doorway, he freezes. The other three doors are all wide open. Before he entered the bathroom they were closed. His palms start to sweat again, and he almost loses the gun.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “If this is a trick, Sherlock, I’m going to kill you with my bare hands!”

The house is still eerily quiet. He steals himself for an encounter with whatever this house is concealing. Two of the rooms are empty, but the third, and last one is not.

A gigantic four-poster bed is oddly enough placed in the middle of the room instead of by the wall. It’s made of dark brown wood with twisted posts. John can’t see if anyone is lying there, because all four sides are covered with velvet curtains in dark green, adorned with gilt embroidery.

Apart from the large furniture, the room is bare. He walks around the bed, trying to get a glimpse through an opening in the curtains. When he finally finds one, his heart skips several beats, and his gun slips out of his hand. His trembling fingers clutch the velvet curtain and shoves it aside. On the bed lies Sherlock, dressed in his suit and Belstaff. His face is lit up by the moonlight. He looks peaceful, but too pale for John’s liking. The lack of pulse does that to a person, he muses, before everything goes black.

To be continued...

----------------------------------------------------------

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[medicetwork]

Mercs if they had modern day cellphones!

Heavy:

The screen is too small and his fingers are too big.

The screen also tends to hurt his eyes after a while but he absolutely refuses to turn down the brightness, saying it would make it even harder to see than before

His main favorite functions are video calls with Medic or his family and listening to music.

His life is complete when he discovers E-books

He can’t read them on the screen but he loves being able to clean Sasha while having his favorite book read to him

Medic:

Really doesn’t use it for much else than phone calls and the occasional google search at first

When he discovers mobile games that takes his interest though!

He becomes a candy crush mom.

Oh you have a broken arm? Wellll…You can tough it out, champ. He’s on level 7,229 right now.

He would make all the other men get Life360

Scout:

Total social media zombie(I say as if I am not one)

Surprisingly he’s very popular on apps like Twitter and Tik Tok. People think he’s hilarious!

Unfortunately somewhere along the way he says something less than respectful about something and his account gets banned

Eventually he’s on account number 6 and trying to regrow his following

It never recovers

He finds out about NFT’s

Sniper:

Mainly uses it to watch youtube and play music

His phone is always on silent and Do Not Disturb

He loves those videos where those guys go out into the middle of the woods and just start building a fucking house out of clay and sticks.

He prefers texting to calling, finding it much faster(he just like me fr)

Baffled by just how much porn he has access to now….

But he’s not complaining.

Soldier:

He doesn’t use it because he just keeps breaking his phones.

They’ve been dropped, blown up, set ablaze, dropped in water, eaten by a bread-tumor monster, eaten by Soldier(???) and run over.

Even if they didn’t get destroyed within 3 days he still wouldn’t use it for much else besides setting alarms and sending confusing group texts.

However, with each new phone he has gotten he asks Pyro for stickers and sticker bombs his phone just for fun

Has an American flag wallpaper

Pyro:

Watches a lot of Youtube!

They love art tutorials, cooking tutorials and those videos with the guys that put molten hot metal balls into water and those videos of people crushing things in Hydraulic presses

Their search history is so fucking strange:

“my little pony free episode”

“my little pony movie free”

“how to draw clouds”

“gasoline cheap prices”

They follow Scout’s pages and always send him nice comments and like his videos

Engineer:

Loves listening to music and watching movies on his phone

Eventually learns how to code and make his own apps

This is also how he discovered he could jailbreak his phone and turn it into a universal remote for his sentries

Very slow texter

Uses way more emoji’s than needed

“Hello yall 👋🏻 going to the hardware store today 🔨let me know if yall need anything while im out👋🏻🚶🏼”

His most used app is the settings app

Spy:

Of course all of his phones are burners.

He never uses one for more than one week

Loves pirating movies on it and watching them in bed

He has no contacts. No personal information and keeps his location off at all times

Likes to pretend to be different people and play around with Google and Youtube’s targeted ads and algorithms

One day he’s an 86 year old woman that’s recommended nothing but metal bands and funeral home ads

The next week he’s four years old and getting recommended Mario and Minecraft let’s play videos

He uses twitter

He’s doxxed many people on Twitter

Like Scout he has MANY banned accounts and has also hacked and stolen many accounts

…He hacked one of Scout’s accounts and got it permanently banned

Demoman:

Loves watching Top 10 videos

Also loves having so much ease and access talking to his lads

He video calls his mother often even she just nags him the whole time and keeps accidentally hanging up

Is frequently texting the other team’s Soldier and laughing at what he says back

Uses Discord and Reddit and is in many servers and communities that focus on paranormal activity, urban legends and cryptids

Actually makes his own youtube videos searching for said cryptids

Frequently comments “cringe” under Scout’s posts

[stevesjockstrap]

TikTok Tricks

@steddiemas day 3: needing to be quiet

Rated: E | cw: exhibitionism, brat!Steve

Laying on the couch, Steve scrolled around on his phone while he waited for Eddie to finish getting ready. Soon heavy breathing and grunts filled the room and Eddie appeared around the back of the couch with wide eyes and his toothbrush still in his mouth.

“What the fuck are you watching?” He asked incredulously after he yanked the toothbrush out of the way.

“This guy chopping wood. On TikTok,” Steve replied innocently, turning his phone so Eddie could see but he could keep watching.

“Uh huh. It sounds like porn.”

Incidentally the man in the video then let out a whimpery that’s it, c’mon causing Eddie to squawk and point at the phone.

Steve bit his lip to hold back his laugh, rolling his eyes and waving him away. “A little jealous much, babe? Alright, I’ll find something else to watch and you finish getting ready. We’re already well past ‘fashionably late,’ I don’t want to have to hear about it.”

Eddie stomped off back to the bathroom.

At dinner, Steve decided to keep riling him up. Letting out little groans and gasps when he took bites of food, smiling innocently when Eddie would quirk an eyebrow at him.

Getting bolder towards the end of the meal, while everyone else was distracted, he set his hand casually on his knee. He traced his finger up and down the inner seam of Eddie’s pant leg, getting closer and closer to-

“I have to use the bathroom,” Eddie said quickly as he stood up from the table, rattling some dishes.

Steve gave him a few minutes before quietly leaving the table himself.

He opened the bathroom door without knocking, smirking when he saw Eddie leaning over the sink and cupping handfuls of water to his flushed cheeks.

“Doing okay?”

Eddie jumped, grabbing the hand towel to dry his dripping face. “Fuck, Stevie. Are you trying to make me implode today?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he murmured, sidling closer to slot himself between Eddie and the sink.

“You know exactly what I mean. I know we’ve been busy this week, but you don’t need to stoop to this level, teasing me with your little porn video, cornering me in the bathroom at your aunt’s house…”

Steve huffed, trying to keep up the charade for a bit longer. “It was just a TikTok, Eds. But he is super hot, you should see- mmph-“

Eddie picked him up by his waist and sat him on the counter, stepping even closer as he deepened the kiss. Steve raked his hands through his hair and groaned as his dress shirt was tugged out of his pants.

“You gotta be quiet, baby,” Eddie breathed into his neck before grazing his teeth across his skin. “This is what you’ve been needling me for today, huh? Good thing I don’t have any respect for your aunt, but if you get us caught you don’t get to come.”

Steve whined, pulling on his hair to bring his mouth back to his. Remembering something, he pulled back with a gasp, “Lock the door.”

Eddie smirked at him and extended his long arm to push the lock in. “Good thinking, honey. You got this all planned out, huh?”

He laughed and shook his head, “No, I just want you.”

“You got me, and I gotta tell you, all your teasing definitely had the desired effect,” he chuckled as he pulled Steve’s body to the edge of the counter to press his hard length against him.

Steve tried to slide off the counter, wanting desperately to get his mouth on him, but Eddie wouldn’t let him. “We’d be too loud, Stevie. You want them hearing you choke on my cock? Yeah I bet you would. But you’d be the one all flustered when we walk out of here and have to face them.”

Eddie opened both of their pants and stroked them together. Steve gasped and pushed his face into the dark curls, keeping himself quiet by mouthing at his neck.

He added his own hand into the mix, squeezing tighter around Eddie’s hands and making him groan.

“Shh,” Steve tried but was broken off with a gasp of his own as the hands around his dick quickened their pace. “Oh fuck,” he hissed.

“That’s it, c’mon,” was breathed into his ear as his orgasm hit suddenly, making him see stars as his hips jolted up into their conjoined hands. As the aftershocks went through him, he pulled back in time to watch Eddie throw his head back and come between them, biting his lip to keep quiet.

After a hasty clean up and an even hastier exit, they came to a stop at a red light when it hit him. Steve shoved Eddie’s shoulder. “Did you seriously quote the TikTok guy at me? As I was about to come?”

Eddie ducked his head but then laughed. “It’s been rattling around in my head for hours. No wonder you were all hot and bothered.”

“Oh, wait til I show you the Rubik’s cube guy.”

[five-rivers]

My KoF pollfic! Continued from here.

.

Danny didn’t actually know that the other two people in the room needed help.  Maybe that’s what they looked like when they were working.  And, even though he really shouldn’t judge people based on their appearances, the thin man didn’t look like he’d be all that amenable to being helped.  He also didn’t really want to get babied by the attendant.  So…

It was probably safest for him to work on the printing press.  

The problem wasn’t huge, just fiddly, and if he messed up, he had his parents on the other end of the Fenton Phones to help him out.  Although how much help they’d be for something this old fashioned (not to mention, not a weapon or tool for ghost hunting) was debatable.

He sidled up to the machine, feeling somewhat ridiculous for even the attempt at stealth when he was bleeding light into the air.  

“Danny?  What are you doing?” asked Mom.  

“Fixing this,” said Danny.

“Awesome!” said Jack.  “That’s a properly old machine right there.  A real beauty.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” asked Maddie.  “They might have left it like this for a reason.”

Danny grunted and used a touch of telekinesis to reach and twist a set of screws.  With his aura flared out like this, it was surprisingly easy.  With a little more work, the broken piece - the part of the press that pressed - came free.  Danny examined it for a moment, and then its housing.  It looked mainly as if one of the bits that held it to the mechanism above had come loose from the wood, but whoever had been operating the press hadn’t noticed the problem in time to stop the pressing, so part of the piece had splintered and another had bent.  

After a little more consideration, Danny smoothed out the metal with his fingers.  

“Always forget you can do that,” mumbled Dad, still clearly audible.  

“I don’t know why,” said Danny, filling in the splintered bits with ice.  “It’s not like I hide it anymore.”

It took a bit longer to match the ice to the wood and make sure the ice wouldn’t melt, or cause undue stress on the machine - Mom ran through a couple quick calculations for that - but then, all too soon, Danny was done.  Satisfaction filled him briefly, then drained like water through a sieve.  

He looked around the room again.  The large man was there, frowning more deeply than ever, and there was still the attendant, and the work she had offered, but the thin man had left.  

He should just go on, pass his work to the attendant, and start exploring the library, but…  He was…  How did he feel worse than before?

He had to help. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 11

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, manipulation, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

You pull out a drawer from the counter, taking in the quaint kitchen space. A set of french doors look out onto another sprawl of wilderness, a wooden bench draped in vines, and a round table with carved chairs set around it. You slide it shut as you part to get a better glimpse of the dimming sky.

A spec of moisture lands on the top pane, then another, and another. The rain taps off the glass and blur your vision as you stare out. The clouds have finally broken and the sky darkens much earlier than usual.

You don’t hear Curtis until he’s almost right beside you. He rests his hand on the wooden trim around the glass and exhales. As he watches the downpour, it grows heavier and a roll of thunder shakes the house.

“I thought we’d beat the storm,” he says as he drags his other hand over his hair, “sorry, bun. Bad timing.”

“We’ll wait it out,” you assure him as you back away, hugging yourself as the rain sends a chill through the cracks. “I’m sure it won’t last long.”

He faces you and his lips curve slightly. He stares at you with a glint of admiration in his pale irises. He touches your cheek and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“So, what do you think? You like the place?”

“It’s nice,” you answer, “very nice. I can’t believe you can afford all this.”

“Ah, it’s not very expensive. Small compared to most,” he shrugs and shifts to stand parallel with you again. He slips his arm over your shoulders, “it’s nice to get out of the city. Away from the restaurant.”

“Restaurant?” You echo curiously.

“Work,” he says dully, “long nights, hot kitchen, not exactly relaxing.”

“Huh,” you tap your lip thoughtfully.

“What?” He asks as he nuzzles the side of your head.

“Makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, you’re a way better cook than I am,” you giggle, “I guess I should’ve asked sooner.”

“I haven’t exactly given you a chan–”

A clap of thunder booms and the sky lights up. Curtis quickly backs you away from the door as you let out a startled yelp. Holy! He curls his arm around you and pulls you in tight.

“You okay, bunny?”

“Yeah, yeah, just… that was loud,” you babble.

The rain pelts against the doors, rattling them as the sky turns almost black. You can’t believe how quickly the weather’s turned. You hope it passes quickly.

“Let’s stay away from the windows,” he girds as he leads you back through the kitchen, “I can get a fire going in the front room until it’s clear. There’s some puzzles too.”

“So,” you peer around, “you come here often?”

“Haven’t had the chance yet. I’ve just been fixing it up, moving in… summer isn’t here just yet.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the first person I’ve shown.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t have anyone else to share it with,” he takes you to the couch and lets you go.

You sit and he draws the blanket from the back of the sofa and wraps it around you. You thank him with a smile and he strokes your cheek gently. He turns away and gets down to his knees before the fireplace. He works at stacking the wood as your eyes skitter around the room. For such a new place, it looks well lived-in.

🐰

You check the time on your phone. It’s almost ten and the storm is still blowing. You shake your head and put your cell face down beside the border of the puzzle. You take a piece but aren’t really paying attention to the patches of those already connected.

“Something the matter?” Curtis asks as the fire crackles and flickers in the warm space.

“Just thinking about work,” you rest your chin on your hand and try to push the piece into another, “gonna be a late ride back.”

“Uh, yeah,” he hums, “you know, bun, I don’t know if we’ll be able to get back tonight. I wouldn’t want to get in an accident. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

“I can’t stay. I have to work at like eight.”

“I know, bunny, but… it’s too dangerous. The roads out here aren’t maintained and there’s no lights.”

You huff and sit back as you drop the puzzle piece. Shoot. He’s right. You’d feel horrible if something happened and all for what? Work? You just weren’t prepared to be stranded here. You just want to be home in your own bed.

“We can try leaving early,” he offers, “or you can call your work and let them know you’ll be late.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you pick up your phone again but frown at the status bar. “If I have service then.”

“Should come back once the storm is gone,” Curtis assures. He’s strangely calm, even with the wailing just on the other side of the door.

“Right,” you mutter.

He’s quiet as he puts a piece into place. You set your phone down again and stare at your palm, tracing the lines as you think. You’re lost in your mind, in going back to the standard Monday to Friday. This short weekend has felt like an endless dream, sometimes skewed, other times disarming.

“What’s wrong?” Curtis asks in a deep rasp.

You pop your head up and shake it, “nothing, just… guess I’m just spacing out.”

“You think I knew or something? Forecast said the storm was coming at 4am. I didn’t wanna be stuck out here either.”

“I know, I didn’t…. Didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it, weren’t you?”

“No,” you pout, “no, I was just thinking about work. What I’m going to tell my boss.”

“Your boss? I’ll take care of him if I have to. Tell him it’s all my fault.”

“Yeah, I… guess.”

“Just, you’re here with me,” he insists, “so why don’t you enjoy it.”

[siriusleee]

adamantine chains | part 11 - finale

"Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus." "What does that mean?" "Love is rich with both honey and venom." "I suppose that is true." Or which in König finds you broken in the mountains. König | F!Reader a/n: if you like this, and you can, consider donating on my ko-fi or commissioning a custom fic. We'll we're finished. I know I'm the worst at replying to comments, but I want every to know who has - you've really kept me going with this.

find the rest of the chapters on my masterlist

König agrees to your suggestion of a hike. He zips you into your jacket, protection from the snow that threatens to flurry on the mountain. His hands tease against you, tickling the sensitive skin beneath your ears until you twist away from him. 

"There's a trail near here," he says, nearly lifting you off your feet as he straightens the shoulders of your jacket. "It's a fifteen minute drive. I've got sandwiches made - do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm good."

Camera around your neck, you follow him out of the house. You make sure to leave your phone in the bedroom, tucked beneath your pillow. You'll check the doctor's voicemail when you get home; you don't want to spend today worrying after all the time König has been gone. 

The wind has shifted through the night, pouring down colder from the mountains - the heater in the car doesn't do enough to warm you up in the short drive it takes for you and König to make it to the trail head: a small cut out in the trees that line the road that winds into the mountains. You try to take the backpack of lunch, but König takes it from you before you get the chance to get it on your back.

"Watch your step, Taube; the trees here have a habit of reaching out and grabbing you."

His voice is light, but the image doesn't make you giggle like it usually would. 

König sets the pace, slowing down for you when he realizes that your legs could never keep up with him. Every so often the two of you stop so that you can take a picture, you try to capture the way König walks ahead of you - like he's spent his entire life prowling these woods and he's finally back home. 

"The first time I saw you here," König says, walking just slightly in front of you, "I thought you were dead. You were so still, and so blue that I didn't even realize you were breathing."

A stitch is building in your side, and it tugs on your lungs when you speak.

"What made you save me?"

König pauses without looking back at you. When you catch up to him, he looks down at you, the mask he usually wears outside of the house hiding his expression. 

"You were so beautiful. So still and quiet. I would have never been able to live with myself if I left you there."

You wind your fingers in with his, breaking the gaze between the two of you as you speak, pulling König forward. 

"I thought I was dying," you start, rubbing circles on the back of König's hand, "I was praying that I would die quickly. Everything was going so slow. I thought - I thought you were the wind picking up and carrying me down the mountain, you were so soft."

König's hand squeezes yours painfully, and you know he's back there with you, remember the walk down the mountain with you in his arms. 

"I was so scared of you when I woke up," you continue, not pulling away from König even though the feeling of him squeezing your hand is starting to hurt, "I thought you were some monster come down to get me. I dreamed of my grandfather; he was telling me to run. And when I woke up, I thought you were who he was warning me about."

The two of you crest a fallen tree, König lifting you up so that you can scuttle across. 

"Oma told me I was a fool to keep you here. I have connections in the United States - I could have sent you home any time you wanted. But I wanted you to stay with me."

It's a confession; König says it in a whisper, refusing to look down at you. You grip his hand tighter as the two of you turn a curve in the trail, the trees dropped away from the side of you guys to show a view of the mountain - the village just a speck in the distance. 

"I know. But I never asked you to either."

"I laid in bed with you," König's voice is basically a whisper through his mask as the two of you press on, following the faded signs promising a stop to rest, "you were so cold. Oma and I couldn't warm you. We tried everything. But you were screaming in your sleep, and you didn't stop until I got in with you."

You know he's waiting for you to recoil, to pull away at the confession that he crawled into bed with you when you were still just a stranger to him. Instead you pull him towards you, feet catching on one of the roots emerging from the ground below. 

The snow starts to fall when the two of you pause on the switchback, a fallen log where you take your rest. König hands you your sandwich, as you watch the snow melt the moment it hits the ground. 

You eat slowly, trying to figure out a way to capture the way the snow hits the ground for half a second on camera. König wanders towards the trail edge, peering down the sharp face of the mountain at the jagged rocks below. 

So when hot hands grab you, you scream, camera smashed beneath your feet as you try to struggle away. Before König can get back to you, there's a knife under your jaw and the feeling of familiar hands around you. 

König finds you pressed tightly against Marcus and freezes, hands half raised in a defensive position. They stare at each other over your shoulder before Marcus pulls the knife closer towards you.

"Take your mask off. I want to see your face."

König, so slow you're almost not sure he moves at first, peels the mask off, blonde hair stuck sweaty to his forehead. You can see his pulse jump at his throat, but he looks like he does this every day.

The knife is cold against the soft bite of your underjaw. It bites into you; you can feel your blood warm as it runs down your neck and onto your chest. He still smells the same as he always has. Mint and cognac - a bitter that you'd never gotten used to. 

"It's been a long time, I'm surprised you're still here with him."

You claw at Marcus' arm, trying to pull him away. Trying to get a better purchase against the wet ground.

"Marcus what are you doing here?"

"He didn't tell you, did he?" He growls in your ear, eyes still trained on König. He jerks your hair back, forcing you to make eye contact with König across the trail. "What he really does for a living. That's why you're still here, why you haven't left yet."

A low growl emits from König, and you realize with a second sharp cut of the knife beneath your chin, that he's been the wolf stalking your dreams. He has been the warning you were supposed to heed. 

"I bet he told you he was in the Special Forces? Right?"

Marcus shakes you when you don't answer fast enough, and König lurches forward, only stopping when Marcus digs the point of the knife into your throat. A warning to stop, to stay frozen. 

"Answer me."

"Yes! That's what he told me!"

Marcus laughs mirthlessly in your ear, the hand that's not holding the knife wrapped around your stomach, pulling you closer to his body. You can feel his heartbeat through his chest, and his breath - spearmint like always - washes over your face and turns your stomach.

"He's a fucking liar," Marcus growls. "He's a fucking mercenary. All those times he's been gone away from you he's been out killing people. How else do you think he can afford to take care of you? You fucking leech."

"Marcus please-"

"He's the one who tried to kill me."

At his words, König stiffens, hands curled into claws by his side. The only thing marking him from a statue is the shallow rise and fall of his chest. But König doesn't make a move to say anything against him. His lip curls, teeth digging into his lip.

"He was supposed to kill me. He came after me because of my job. Can you believe that? You've been fucking the man who tried to kill me. He was so busy trying to save you that he didn't realize he left me alive. Tell her!"

"Taube, listen to me-"

"Don't you fucking - you don't have the right to call my wife anything other than her name." 

With every word Marcus speaks, he digs the knife in deeper. You clench your jaw together so tight you feel the ache in your teeth, trying to bite back the scream growing in you.

"You're wife?" König's voice is low, dangerous, and teasing. "She never seemed very sad that you were gone. She never seemed like your wife when she was in my house - in my bed."

"She's mine - you've done nothing but defile her."

"Nein. She doesn't belong to anyone, not like you want her to belong to you. But know - when we make it down this mountain, she'll be my wife. Have my last name."

The knife beneath your jaw loosens for a half a second before digging in again; you can feel it dig into your jawbone. This time you scream, biting it off halfway when Marcus jerks you. König circles the two of you, mask discarded in the dirt beneath him. He doesn't look at you.

"Did she tell you?" 

Marcus' voice is razor thin, and you know he knows. Knows about the doctor's appointment, about the phone call you've been trying to avoid. Whatever he'd been looking for in the house, he'd found a different sort of secret.

"Marcus - please." 

Your blood feels frozen against the front of your jacket.

"She's pregnant, you know. Your bastard child." 

König doesn't move, but his eyes betray him. Marcus picks up on the way König's eyes open just a millimeter wider, and keeps the taunt with glee. 

"Oh she didn't tell you? I'm not shocked - she's probably scared of you. I saw them all, all the pregnancy tests in the trash when I broke in. Do you know what she used to tell me when I mentioned kids? She would laugh at me - tell me she never wanted to have kids."

Marcus is winding up; his hands shake so bad that you feel the knife cut nicks into the bone. The pain is sharp enough to make you want to pass out, but you keep your feet under you to the best of your ability. König's lips twitch up, his incisor digging into his bottom lip. You can see his thoughts behind his eyes - know he is measuring what to say next.

"Of course I knew; when I fucked that baby into her we laughed about how you never could."

That does it; Marcus' hand jerks down, cutting you from your jaw to your collarbone. You hit the ground hard, vision white at the pain. But you keep your eyes König, trying to keep your focus from shifting into black.

The moment Marcus' hands leave you, König springs on him. You had imagined what he did when he was away, but there was no amount of imagination that could have prepared you to watch him tear Marcus apart. 

He is the wolf your grandfather warned you about - all gnashing teeth and curved claws. The two of them tear at each other, but König is feral. He fights Marcus with everything in him; through the tears in your eyes you wonder why Marcus even tried; there is not a moment where König isn't ripping into him. The knife that had been beneath your jaw flashes, and you hear König grunt. You worry that it had found its mark, buried itself inside him, but the next moment it's flung into the woods. 

It could have been hours your blood mixed with the dirt and new snow or minutes in the time it took König to destroy Marcus; the only think you know as you watch Marcus' limp body thrash around is that König had already killed him, and the anger kept him going. 

When he finally lifts off of Marcus' limp body, the blood runs down his face, pours from his mouth. But you know it is not just his. It's viscous and heavy against his pale skin, leaving crimson trails as it drips down. 

You've never seen that look in his eye before - the sharp flint that strikes against the gentleness he normally has inside of him. The adrenaline inside you doesn't differentiate between touches; ears still ringing with the sounds of König's growls and Marcus' screams as he was being torn apart. 

So when he reaches out to you, you flinch back, hand scraping against the rocks beneath you. Something wild inside of you screams that he is the predator to run from; that the blood pouring from your jaw and chest are from him. König doesn't flinch back, just crouches down before you, wiping away the blood from his mouth casually. 

"You are going to pass out Taube if you don't let me stop the bleeding."

You can't speak around the pain, around the shaking and the shivering. Slowly, the flint in his eyes starts to dissipate. But you don't move towards him.

"Remember the last time I carried you down Taube? I was the West Wind, and so gentle with you. It's just like that this time."

You skitter back from his hands that reach out again, but this time you're stopped by a stump in your path. König sighs, hands on his thighs, ready to push himself into a standing position. You think that when he speaks again, he's going to be angry, but his voice stays soft.

"Remember Taube. You are mine, and I am yours. Please."

Finally, the fear starts to loosen inside of you, and you reach out to König, hands needing to find some purchase. His hands find you, pressing against the blood that still flows on your jaw. He picks you up, the West Wind again, and your blood mixes with the viscera on his shirt.

Your vision slips in and out on the car ride, but König's voice is gentle the entire time. You can't make out what he's saying to you, sharp German intermingling with English. At times you think he might be speaking in Polish, your grandfather's voice rumbling out of him. 

But his hands are warm when the hospital is cold. When the doctor tells him to leave, König argues. You try to tell him to be nice, but you can't make your mouth open up wide enough. 

You dream again of your grandfather, crying gently as you hold his hand. You're in his hospital room again, but this time you're the one laying in the bed. He apologizes to you, and you try to beg him to stop. You can't listen to this - can't listen to him begging for your forgiveness for something you can't even remember. 

But he doesn't stop.

Warm hands brush the hair out of your face, and pull you out of the dream. The room rolls around you, and you heave, stomach acid and bile the only thing that can come up. A gray basin is shoved beneath your mouth. 

Your jaw burns where it stretches - your chest where it pulls as you heave up an empty stomach. Gentle German tries to soothe you, but you don't stop until your entire stomach is empty.

"Hush Taube. I don't want the nurse to tell me I have to leave again."

König swims into view, one hand still in your hair and the other holding the bed rail so hard he's white knuckling it. 

"Why?" Your voice cracks beneath the strain of not being used, "why did the nurse tell you to leave?"

You hope that he can hear the teasing edge of your voice. When he smiles, you realize that he doesn't have his mask on, eyes dark from lack of sleep.

"They wouldn't let me bathe you. They said I could make you bleed again. But I couldn't stand seeing you like that, so - " he trails off, smiling sheepishly. 

"So you were rude?"

"I suppose."

His fingers trace the edge of the bandage that starts at your jaw; the itch of the adhesive is starting to pull at your skin.

"How bad is it?" You ask, refusing to look down at the stitches on your chest. König sighs, resting his head against the edge of the bed so that he's eye level with you.

"The doctor said your jaw was wrecked, but they put it back together. You'll have a scar on your chest, but he said it could heal nicely."

The dull ache of pain is starting to build; you know you only have minutes left to talk before you can't anymore.

"Am I hideous?"

"Disgusting."

It hurts to laugh. The IV in your arm crinkles as you shift, trying to turn to face König better. He looks as horrible as you feel, but you keep that to yourself. His breath is warm on your face.

"I'm sorry Taube."

"König-"

He hushes you, hands gripping the bed rail so hard you think it might shatter beneath his fingers.

"No Taube. I should have sent you home. I should not have kept you trapt here with me. I didn't give you another choice. I just - I was so in love with you from the moment I picked you up. And this is my fault."

His hands shake, just minutely enough you can barely see. You hook one of your fingers with his, trying to calm whatever is threatening to break through.

"And now this - he could have killed you. And the baby-"

Even in the haze from the pain and the painkillers, you can tell this is what he has been sitting here worried about. What he's been racking around in his mind to try to tell you. 

"Did the doctor confirm it then?"

"I am sorry Taube."

And you know that he is apologizing for tying you to him, for what he thinks is some sort of death knoll he has rung for you. You pry his fingers off of the bed rail, and grip them tightly between your own.

"König, it will be ok."

His voice is steady, even though he can't look at you when he speaks, his eyes trained on where your hands hold him. 

"I didn't even do you the honor of marrying you first."

The pain in your jaw is too much to speak anymore. König notices, and reaches over your body to press a button wired to the opposite side of your bed. Beside you, some machine starts to whirl, the liquid in the IV starts to flow. You can feel the burn in the crook of your arm.

You fall back asleep with the warmth of König's hands on your own.

When you get home, bandages on your chest still being changed every two days, König tucks you into the spare bedroom. Into your bedroom. Each day you can open your jaw a little further, Valentina coming to visit you with some horrific soup that she swears her grandmother makes and can heal everything. Behind her back you pour it down the kitchen sink.

Some days Oma comes to see you, helping you change the bandage that disappears between your breasts. König's hands had shaken too hard the day you asked for his help. But when the stitches are ready to be cut out, you ask König to go with you. 

The sound plucks at something inside of you when the doctor snips the stitches away, leaving you with a trail of small holes down your chest - Frankensteinian in nature. König helps you button your shirt, fingers pulled away as far as possible from the swell in your stomach.

The ride home is quiet, fingers tapping against the window. Outside the snow is starting to grow thick, and the ice on the road gets thicker each day. The blacktop rolls smoothly underneath the wheels when you finally grow the courage to speak.

"Are you ever going to let me move back into the bedroom?"

König 'hmms' at you, fingers tapping against the steering wheel anxiously.

"The house only has two bedrooms," you explain, shifting to relieve the pressure that starts to grow on your hip. "Unless you want to give the baby the big bedroom."

König's breaths are measured, and you give him the time to shuffle his thoughts before he speaks.

"You do not wish to go back home when the baby is born?"

"Why would I do that?"

You know König is thinking of a thousand reasons, but he doesn't voice any of them. When he speaks again, his voice is thin and nervous, accent so thick you can barely understand him for once.

"Do you want to come back to bed with me?"

Fingers sneaking across the center console, you touch him gently on the thigh. 

"Every night."

The snow crunches beneath the tires as König turns into the driveway, lights illuminating the side of the house. Neither of you move once he shifts into park, engine idling smoothly in the winter air. König speaks as he turns the key, killing the engine.

"How about tonight?"

[changingplumbob]

Woods Household: Chapter 2, Part 3

When you want to jog for pictures but it's cloudy...

CW: Moderate level sim spice. Content Warning Guide

Carrying on from last chapter, Samir has a voice in his head now that he's a werewolf. When it "speaks" to him, it will be in italics. When he answers back, just in his head, it will be bold.

Reece and Samir wrap up and head out for a jog together. As usual Samir is in front.

Samir: Come on, I’m beating you

Reece: Wish you were, gently though

Samir: Focus

Reece: But you have superhuman speed now, I am only human

Samir: I’m not a vampire blondie, I think you’re just making excuses

Reece: My phone says it’s freezing

Samir: Then you better keep up to stay warm

Reece: So that’s the tunnels where…

Samir: Yeah. I’ll probably go looking for more stuff this week, see if these werewolf senses can help with anything

Reece: Just be careful lover. And come home

Samir: I always have, I always will. You warm enough

Reece: I could do with a cuddle

Samir: After the run… if you can beat me

Reece: *huffs* I’m trying!

Nearing the bridge back they encounter a patch of ice that almost sends Samir flying! Luckily he has Reece to grab on to! Unluckily the closest part is his butt.

Reece: *squeaks*

Samir: *chuckles*

He pulls himself up and gives Reece's butt a slap for fun.

Samir: Thanks for saving me from the fall

Reece: No fair! I thought that meant you-

Samir: Can’t hear you, too far ahead

Reece: You have ridiculously high expectations of me

Samir: You meet them every time though

Back home Reece is pretty chilled despite the run so Samir orders a thermostat to help keep the house warm enough for him.

Reece: *chattering* co… co… cold

Samir: I have an idea that could help

He raises his eyebrows and Reece is putty in his hands.

Samir: You’re taking a shower with me. Clothes off, now

Reece: *pouting* Just a shower?

Samir: Don’t talk back or it will be

Laughing Reece follows him into the warm water where he finally warms up and gets what he’s been angling for since he woke up. The increase in sensation since Samir became a werewolf is an adjustment Reece never tires of.

Around midday Keira pops by to help Reece with his homework for biology.

Reece: You’re still so tanned

Keira: What can I say, the honeymoon was good. Marta says to say hi

Reece: She’s sweet. Now can you explain the types of alleles again? I thought it was just dominant and recessive

Keira: Sure. So it was in high school. But at this level it’s also about if the allele is on the x chromosome, y chromosome, non-sex chromosome or in the mitochondria. Hey- don’t pull faces, you can figure it out

Outside Samir has been keeping himself busy. He fixed one of the turbines that had broken down and then went on a hunt. He got some kind of meat back, we’re not to question it, he is a carnivore. Then he finishes a half done garden planter that is sitting on the workbench. He levels up level 3 handiness and finally sees the benefits of carving with a saw instead of a knife. Then quick mail check.

Reece: That makes so much more sense now!

Keira: It’s pretty logical in the end

Samir: Hi Keira

Keira: Oh hey Samir, you want to study biology

Samir: *chuckles* I’ll leave it to Reece. Thanks for coming over

Keira: No problem

The Foster pair get back to work and Samir goes into the bedroom to practice on his violin.

Keira: Did he not want to practice out here?

Reece: He’s a shy guy Keira

Keira: Right, I know, I’m a loner to. You just look at him and he doesn’t look like he should be shy you know?

Reece: I’m so glad mum got him that violin

Keira: You should thank Carson

Reece: For peeking in my journal? Never

Laughing, Keira sees herself out and when the coast is clear Samir comes out.

Reece: You’re sounding really good boss

Samir: Thanks blondie. I’m just going to mark the property, back in a sec

That’s it, make sure that murderer knows to stay away. That’s not why I’m doing it. No? Could have fooled me. I’m just marking what’s mine. Don’t let those dinner guests lay claim to one inch of your territory. Yeah yeah yeah.

Heading back inside Samir is glad the place smells like him and grabs a book off the shelf.

Reece: Any luck seeing stuff in there yet?

Samir: I don’t- wait… this could be something

He turns the book on a weird angle and begins to read.

Samir: The Moonwood Collective is here to help those in need, to teach control, for the betterment of werewolves around the world. Any who come to Moonwood Mill have a pack waiting for them.

Reece: That sounds… good?

Samir shrugs and goes to get started on dinner.

Samir: I don’t want a pack. I don’t need a pack. I have you

Reece: Yeah but… some kids would be nice one day right?

Samir: Yeah, of course they would. They’d be ours

Reece: *smiles* How’s the Gollum/Smeagol situation thing going

Samir: We watched the film but I still don’t get it

Reece: *sighs* How’s the inner wolf

Samir: Peeved at the idea of dinner guests

Reece: What ya making?

Samir: Steak Tartare. Closest I can get to raw meat without seeming like I didn’t try

Reece: You don’t think they’re vegetarians do you

Samir: I… No? Why didn’t we ask

Reece: You wanted them off your territory

Samir: Hmm, guess this will just have to do

Reece: Table is all set, we’ll be ready

Previous ... Next

[astroprompts]

✧ —𝐁𝐎𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 [𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝟸]

“Why do we even have saucers? We don't drink tea!”

“Do you have a thousand dollars? Because each minute I spend talking to you, that's how much money I'm wasting.”

“You're the only one in this building who isn't a total snooze-cooze.”

“No one watches this show to feel feelings. Life is depressing enough already!”

“All this time, I assumed there was more to me than everyone thought. But maybe there isn't.”

“I don't care if you are happy or not. You have a job to do.”

“Look who finally decided to pick up the phone.”

“You must think I'm a real monster.”

“You were born broken, that's your birthright.”

“Can't say I'll miss it, but we did have some crazy adventures together these last few weeks.”

“Sometimes you wanna go where no one knows your name.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“I want to do things with you. Fully clothed, sober, in daylight hours.”

“Look, you obviously really care about this girl and that scares you, so you sabotage yourself.”

“How about you just stop sulking and go win her back, dummy?”

“I'm cynical, and I'm possessive, and I can sometimes fly off the handle. I'm not always the best at being not terrible. But I want to be better, I'm trying to be better.”

“Why do I always do this? I push away everyone I care about.”

“No matter what, we're going to stick together.”

“I'm no good with funerals. When I cry, it messes up my makeup and then I get really bummed out.”

“Okay, you're clearly in one of your moods.”

“Why serve dates and not have a place to put the pits? You know, some people just have no class.”

“There's so much to hate about what you just said.”

“Shove it up your ass with a spoonful of sugar, you supercalifragilisticexpiali-bitch!”

“You know, maybe it's for the best we don't get together that often. We'd most likely drive each other mad.”

“No one knows how to get under your skin like family.”

“You wanna check out this cool new game I got?”

“I know there's no accounting for taste, but come on.”

“There is no shame in dying for nothing. That's why most people die.”

“Quick, jump out the window, shimmy down the drainpipe and wait in the car.”

“When you don't regret the tattoo in the morning, that's how you know it's love.”

“I guess I was just foolish enough to believe this dumb world still had a little spark of romance in it.”

“Look, what happened back there is not your fault.”

“If you wanna go for a walk in the woods at night, go crazy, but I'm not going anywhere.”

“Look, pal, I'll pay the bill, just-- Just let us get you to a damn hospital.”

“Um, do you wanna talk about what happened?”

“Any time someone tries to love you, you shove them away.”

“I was this badass overachiever that had these big plans to change the world.”

“So, now you're just gonna do whatever a teenage girl says?”

“I don't need you to like me. It would be fun if you liked me, because I'd prove my parents were wrong to never support me, because I earned the admiration of an authority figure, proving I have intrinsic worth, but it's not a big deal or anything. Jeez.”

“You know, sometimes I feel like my whole life is just a series of loosely-related wacky misadventures.”

“When you think something isn't about you, you find a way to save the day and realize that it was, all along, all about you.”

“Oh, is that that thing where you strangle yourself in an attempt to heighten sexual arousal?”

“So, noose-wise, what are we talking? You use a standard sailor's knot or more like your average birthday-present bow?”

“I don't know if I want your jack-off kit at my house.”

“This is the part of the movie where you get your heart broken. Where the world tests you, and people treat you like shit. But it has to happen this way. Otherwise, the end of the movie, when you get everything you want, won't feel as rewarding.”

“Jesus, why does cantaloupe think every time it gets invited to a party, it can bring along its dumb friend honeydew?”

“When we know what we know about a monster like that and we still put him on TV every week, we're teaching a generation of young boys and girls that a man's reputation is more important than the lives of the women he's ruined.”

“I don't understand why you can't be on my side about this.”

“I asked you, really nicely, not to make a big thing out of this.”

“Why does it suddenly matter what I want?”

“All I ever wanted was to be your friend.”

“Stop kidding yourself. If you really wanted the simple life, you'd have a simple life.”

“Love is an illusion, and happiness is fleeting, no such thing as God, and all your favorite musicians beat their wives.”

“Well, I'm sorry that things have been so hard for you, but that doesn't give you the right to be shitty to me.”

“I can't be around someone who's just fueled by bitterness and negativity.”

“You know, it's funny. When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.”

“I wish I could just go home right now and crawl into bed and not have to talk about anything or explain anything.”

“I'm sorry I'm not the person I thought I was.”

“Hey, you wanna climb up on the water tower?”

“I'm really glad we left that stupid prom, but I'm kind of bummed we didn't get to dance.”

“Look, sometimes when you're an adult, the right thing isn't always the best thing.”

“You're the first grown-up I've ever met who actually treats me like... You know, a person.”

“I said so many things when I was young. I thought I was so deep.”

“It doesn't matter where you are, it's who you are.”

“So many times in my life I've done the wrong thing, but this is the right thing, and I have never been more sure of anything.”

“I've wasted so much time sitting on my hands and imagining what could have been.”

“If you are not out of my driveway in 30 minutes, I will call the police.”

“If you ever try to contact me or my family again, I will fucking kill you.”

“Wake up, captain dumbshit.”

“Now let's get out there and tell all those garbage rat bastard sons of bastards what we really think of them, once and for all.”

“If you're holding out for something better, well, I hate to break it to you, but you're gonna be alone for a long time.”

“Every day, it gets a little easier. But you gotta do it every day, that's the hard part.”

[kissorkill16]

Listen: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Trinity goes to confront Nicky about Mr. Murtaugh.

Trinity couldn't sleep. She had too many things on her mind, but one particular thought kept poking at her.

She had just recently found out that Nicky had been talking to Mr. Murtaugh about their private activities.

And not only that, but Mr. Murtaugh was also a cultist.

She managed to get some proof of it, along with the disgusting decapitation of the science teacher. When she was outside, she shared it with the group chat.

Why was Nicky talking to a cultist about their Crowface investigation? Did Nicky even know he was a cultist?

It would probably explain how the Forest Protectors knew where they were during their last time in the woods.

...Was Nicky the traitor?

Trinity shook her head.

No! She didn't want to believe that! She didn't even want to think that! There's no way Nicky could be the traitor, he's the one who got her so interested in the weird mysteries in this messed up town in the first place.

...But that still didn't answer her question.

She decided to ask him about it.

She got dressed, snuck out the window and ran to Nicky's house, her phone in her pocket.

Tonight, she was going to show him what his personal counselor really was.

When she got to his house, she noticed that all of the lights were off. She walked to the backyard and noticed that his window was still broken from his mental breakdown, and it looked like his parents tried to cover it up with tape.

Regardless, she picked up a rock and threw it at the window, making a semi loud bang noise. As she picked another one up, she heard a voice come from the window.

"Hey!", said the voice, "Stop! I don't want to have to explain to my parents why more of my window is broken."

It was Nicky.

Trinity dropped the rock, "Nicky, you're awake!", she said.

"Yeah, and so are you. We're both up at 11:00 at night. What a coincidence.", said Nicky. "But why're you here?"

"Because you and I need to talk."

A moment of silence, then Nicky walked back into the darkness of his room. Minutes later, a long rope was thrown out the window. Trinity grabbed onto the rope and climbed up until she was in Nicky's room.

Trinity dusted herself off and straightened her skirt.

"What'd you want to talk about?", asked Nicky, "And could you try to keep your voice down? My parents are asleep."

Trinity locked eyes with Nicky and asked him, "Why are you talking to Mr. Murtaugh?"

Nicky's eyes widened, then he sighed. He didn't want to have to explain this, but he kind of knew that this would happen at some point. "He's my therapist."

Now Trinity's eyes widened, "Yeah, he offered to have private talks with me every week. I've been telling him everything that's been happening or had already happened."

"Even our private investigation on Crowface? The one where we all agreed that no adults would get involved?"

When Trinity said that, Nicky looked down at his shoes in shame. "I may have told him a little about that."

"Nicky, why would you even consider talking to him about this? He's a total creep and when I first got to that school, you've been hiding from him since day one.", said Trinity.

"I know, but I feel like he's the only one who truly listens to me.", said Nicky. Trinity was surprised, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"What're you talking about, Nicky? I listen to you."

"Yeah, you do.", said Nicky, "Just not about my pain."

Trinity was even more confused, and kind of concerned. "What pain?"

Nicky pointed to his bedroom wall, and Trinity nearly fainted when she saw what was on it.

A tall, dark, distorted shadow in black colored pencil with spiraling eyes and huge, claw hands. It looked like it was going to rip off the wall and grab at them.

"Ever since I was in the basement, that thing has been haunting me. I kept thinking it was a figment of my imagination, but then it kept saying that it was Mya and Lucy and shapeshifting into their forms. I don't think anyone else is able to see it though, because if they did, they'd be in the same state I was in. It kept forcing me to play games with it and threatened to hurt me if I didn't, and whenever I was in extreme distress, I felt like it was getting bigger and bigger."

Now Trinity was less confused and more concerned.

"Then Mr. Murtaugh came into the picture, and I didn't want to admit it at first, but he was actually really helpful. I felt like I could really talk to someone about my problems and they wouldn't judge me or walk away when I needed them. He even prescribed me these sleeping pills, and they keep me out like a light. I feel like I really vibe with him, and he gave me so many reasons to trust him. When people bullied me for making fun of my trauma, he was there. When Finch took that humiliating picture, he was there. When the thing kept haunting my dreams, he was there. He was always there."

Trinity smiled, then that smile fell. "But what about me, Nicky? I'm your friend."

Nicky sat down on his bed and looked at his lap, "I know, but I feel like I can't talk to you about these things. You already have so much going on with leading a whole team and trying to find the truth behind the Golden Apple coins, I don't want to put more weight on your shoulders. Also, I feel like Mr. Murtaugh actually keeps his promises. He promised he would always be there whenever I needed someone to talk to, and he was. But in Mr. Peterson's house, when you promised to be right back for me...you..."

Nicky didn't need to finish that sentence, Trinity already knew what he meant.

"But I know you didn't mean to leave me in there, you just -"

Trinity leapt forward and trapped Nicky in a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry, Nicky. I didn't mean to ignore you or leave you in there. Everything was just so hard for me ever since I got this stupid coin and I feel like they really do mean bad luck. Everything going on from one of my own friends being a traitor, from Crowface trying to stop us, and now I find out that you don't even trust me anymore."

As Trinity said these things, she felt herself beginning to cry.

"I swear, this just makes me want to lose the coin on purpose."

When she said that, Nicky wrapped his arms tighter around her.

"Please don't!", he nearly shouted. "I don't want you to die! I've already lost so many friends, and some of them were probably already caused by Crowface and those stupid bad luck coins. Please don't die, I can't handle losing another friend."

Then Nicky started to cry. Trinity let him bury his face in her shoulder, and she slowly rubbed his back.

Hearing all of this, she decided to just keep the video she took to herself and the gang. She didn't want to see Nicky heartbroken when he found out that he was once again hurt by someone he thought he could trust.

Nicky started to take deep breaths, and finally pulled away from Trinity, wiping his eyes.

"Nicky, I promise I'll try to be a better friend and a better leader. And I promise I won't die on you.", said Trinity, "And I actually mean this promise."

Nicky smiled at his friend, still wiping his eyes.

Then he nearly felt his heart jump out of his body when Trinity leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Before he could say anything, Trinity ran to the window and climbed out, "I'll see you tomorrow.", she said before climbing down the rope.

All the while, Nicky was still processing what she just did, and he didn't even notice that he was sweating, or that his face was red.