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iamnicodemus · 1 year ago

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I've determined that there are three constants in this funny little world of ours: death, taxes, and that a Sam Carpenter fic written by talesofesther is going to be a phenomenal, deeply emotional literary experience that'll leave me wondering how the hell I'm allowed to read this free of charge, let alone have had the honor of beta reading it for you. Even just seeing bits and pieces of this in its developmental stages, I knew it was a masterpiece in the making (but really, what story of yours isn't, at this point?). Imagine my lack of surprise when my prediction turned out to be true.

You poured your heart and soul into this and it shows. This is as much a character study of Sam Carpenter as it is a romance fic, and it absolutely excels at being both. The build and progression of the romance felt natural and absolutely sweet - could not get enough of it. You continue to go above and beyond with the characterization of every character you write about, and your depiction of Sam - her insecurities, her protectiveness, the moments of vulnerability in the face of all the hatred she receives regularly, her journey to letting herself be open to love - it was to die for. And Y/n herself, being the most loving, most compassionate sweetheart of a gf that Sam could ever ask for, her bond with the Core Four+. You pulled off her connection to Quinn/Ethan/Bailey perfectly. A very smooth integration their, and that's never the easiest thing when introducing OCs related to preestablished characters.

All this to say that this fic is perfect, and this is just the first part. I cannot wait for parts two and three. This 10k went by in a breeze.

The steps up the stairs to her apartment felt like a whole workout, after working the entire day Sam was absolutely drained. The hunch on her posture and faint dark bags under her eyes said as much.

Nearing the door, she could hear faint voices coming from inside, one of them she didn't recognize. The tensing of her muscles was inevitable.

Never a moment's rest for the poor girl. The little things, like her tensing at even the sound of an unfamiliar voice in her home. It's incredibly realistic given what she's been through, and at the same time, it's so damn sad.

Sam's eyes drifted to the one who sat beside Quinn; it was a girl she had never seen before, but the gentle smile on her lips made Sam hesitate in her steps.

[Insert Smirk Emoji]

There were several question marks twirling around in Sam's head, but the biggest one seemed to be why she found herself quite trapped in the way the images on the TV highlighted the lines of your jaw, cheeks, and lips. "I'm Samantha- Sam," she stumbled out quickly.

I know what's happening here.

Her little stutter was so cute.

"Her mother died, she has no other family left."

Will say again you did a great job introducing Y/n and making her background completely plausible.

She mentioned it to Tara once, and the girl said she'd believe it once she drinks it; Sam has been waiting for her to stop by.

Makes me kinda sad that Tara's not stopped by yet :/

Sam doesn't mind. She tells herself as much every day before walking in for work. But feeling judgemental eyes burning into your back at least once a day tends to take its toll on someone.

Gettin' emotional reading through this part again, because Sam deserves the absolute world, and instead gets treated like a pariah. How she manages to soldier on despite it all is beyond me.

Ever since she started working here, she has probably made more than a hundred cappuccinos; yet she found herself checking things twice over. Espresso, steamed milk, foam. Everything carefully poured down on the cup.

Sam is SO real for this LOL. Can't nothin' be a hair out of place. Only the best for her crush (and future gf) :D

Quinn had been surprisingly easygoing; telling you all about how cool it was to have a sister instead of another brother. And the question 'I have a brother too?' lingered on your tongue

Two infact, but the second one is six feet under with about 23 holes in his carcass.

Quinn was the easiest of all, she treated you as if you were one of her friends from university and you appreciated it. Ethan was distant, he was kind and polite, but you could tell he didn't want much to do with you. Your father was, essentially, what you expected him to be; he was kind and attentive, obviously a little awkward just as you were, but he seemed to genuinely care about you; as much as one can care about a daughter they'd never met.

Oh, these scumbags. The fact that they (with the exception of Ethan, creepy little shit) treat Y/n with such care just makes the truth about them all the viler and heartbreaking.

This led to you being acquainted with Mindy, Anika, and Chad, who were around just as much as you; plus Sam and Tara, of course.

Found family go brrrrrrrrrr

Your personality matched Tara's quite well

look at my beloved, making Y/n feeling all welcomed <3

Maybe that was part of the reason why you found yourself creating a habit of stopping by a certain coffee shop — after all, they served delicious food and drinks and the place was really cozy; the doe-eyed brunette who worked there was a bonus.

Every time you walked in, you found yourself involuntarily looking for Sam; deep down feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush because of the butterflies that invaded your stomach whenever she remembered your order.

CUTE

The more you came to eat at the coffee shop, the slightly more comfortable she became with you. It started with her serious expression changing to a small smile whenever she saw you, then she started greeting you by your name, and recently, she has been drawing little smiley faces on your cup

awwww! and the SMILEY FACES 😭

Mindy and Chad could be heard bickering about how to properly take said lasagna out of the oven without causing a disaster, Tara was opening up a cheap wine bottle while Anika set the dining table, and Quinn was switching through channels on the TV.

It was a pleasant sight for someone who wasn't used to many of those.

This scene. So lively, warm, and true to each character in the little moment showcases they get. I love it.

Sam felt a little childish when anticipation started twirling in her stomach.

Selfishly, Sam wanted to think that this specific smile of yours belonged to her.

It does <3

"Hi," she greeted you with the same softness you stared back at her with; for the second time today, the first being at the coffee shop.

Sam has known you for a little over two weeks, and there should be alarms blaring inside her head for the way she felt so naturally drawn to you. But there wasn't, there was only the softness of your presence and the way she wanted to drown in it.

you can't just write soft romance like this and expect me to not be obsessed with it. Seriously I-

-I can't get enough of it. "There was only the softness of your presence and the way she wanted to drown in it." AHHHHHHHH

If you were being honest with yourself, you had a lot to thank this peculiar group of friends; if it wasn't for all the laughs they managed to pull out of you at each dinner, maybe settling in on the new city wouldn't have gone so smoothly. They sure took away the feeling of loneliness that had been steadily collecting in your chest ever since your mother passed.

"Family," - Dom Toretto.

Until your eyes landed on the bigger couch of the living room and you saw Sam; she was curled up there, fast asleep with her hands under her head and knees tucked up to her chest, looking much smaller than she actually was

She's so precious 🥺

You could see it from the way her chest moved up and down quickly. And there you followed a single drop of sweat running down from her neck to her collarbone. The night was far too cold for her to be sweating.

I said it before, but this poor woman truly can't get a moment's rest - not in the waking world, nor in the sleeping one.

The fact that she startles awake so quickly, so on edge after what clearly was a restless sleep...

But you did, you also caught onto the hollowness of her eyes and the hair clinging to her damp forehead. You knew it wasn't your place to ask, but Sam looked so alone in the darkness of the apartment, that you feared she might let herself be swallowed by it the moment you leave

God. You write her turmoil, her almost tangible loneliness so, so impeccably. "The hollowness of her eyes" goodness.... It's like she's barely even living. She's surviving, dragging herself from one day to the next, to the next.

You had been there today when a group of teenagers came into the coffee shop, one of them casting accusatory glances at Sam as he whispered — quite loudly — the word 'murderer' to his friends. You weren't able to wave her goodbye after that. She stayed hidden in the back.

How fucking dare they. Cowardly shits.

He kept one hand on your shoulder when he pulled away, seemingly taking a good look at you as a sincere smile appeared on his expression; "thank you for coming, I know we've never been too close, but I would like us to be."

That was enough to cut through the awkward bits of tension still lingering between you. Part of you felt like you were fifteen again, giddy for having your father dedicate a whole afternoon for you and you only.

Ugh. This is heartwarming, but.... damn you, Bailey.

The smile that came to Sam's lips was as big as ever, her heart beating painfully against her ribs as if it was trying to leap from her chest and into the screen of her phone; all so it could reach you. It was becoming increasingly harder to deny the way she started feeling about you; how you seemingly occupied a place in her heart no one else could have; or how she hoped to see you walk into the coffee shop every day, because, on the off chance you didn't, something felt out of place, missing.

That first paragraph speaks for itself.

THE FACT THAT SEEING Y/N IN THE COFFEE SHOP HAS BECOME SO IMPORTANT A PART OF SAM'S ROUTINE 😭

this is love, folks

Sam had been anticipating your arrival ever since the clock hit 4 PM, which was the time you usually stopped by. She couldn't help looking up at the door each time she heard the bell above it.

It scared her, to take a chance like this. Trusting people with your heart only opens room for them to break it. She knows it.

But oh you made her want to turn a blind eye to every single risk, and fear, and doubt.

I'm trying so hard to ensure this reblog isn't absurdly long, BUT HOW CAN I when you keep writing these gams!!

Is this not the most adorable thing? Sam constantly checking the door, feeling so willing to put her heart on the line and let Y/n in?

Fuck. I'm trying not to quote another part of this scene. I really am.

I can't resist.

you walked through the coffee shop's doors and the sky just so happened to have a crack in its clouds, casting a faded glow that bathed you aureate for a moment.

AUREATE IS SUCH A PRETTY WORD AND THIS IS SUCH A SMALL, MAGICAL LIL MOMENT AND OKAY I'M MOVING ON

Sam met your eyes and found there a gentleness no one had ever looked at her with.

I'm gonna cry (SIKE, you thought I was moving on from this scene?)

her sleep at night; there were no permanent scars marking her skin — there was only Samantha, the girl who had almost forgotten what it felt like to just worry about which words to say next to impress the girl she developed feelings for.

That's all she should have to beeeeeee omg my heart

without much of a warning, you brought one hand up and cupped Sam's cheek; the coldness of your skin contrasted with the warmth of hers.

Sam shivered from head to toe, and it wasn't because of the coldness of your fingers, for she could feel her cheeks warming up even more.

This mortal vessel of mine wasn't built to handle this much cuteness. You're killing me slowly with it, and I can't help but savor every moment of my demise.

Your heart was so full of Sam that you could hardly call it your own anymore. And Sam doesn't know what happiness means if it isn't written with the letters of your name.

My favorite snippet from this fic. From many fics. This is so, so unbelievably romantic (you saw how I went on about it in our chat LMAO). I wanna steal and use em in weddings vows. Hell, I wanna propose with em.

The things you're brilliant, brilliant mind comes up with.

I'm glad those lines came shortly before the rain scene, cocooning my heart for the suffering it was yet to endure.

Even still, I reckon getting stabbed repeatedly by Ghostface would've hurt less.

Sam didn't know where she was going to, she was almost sure she was walking in the complete opposite direction of her apartment. She didn't stop, keeping her head low in hopes the rain would completely engulf her being.

"Sam?" The call of her name sounded like a hallucination at first. Too sweet, and too far away to be real.

I wanna quote this entire scene. The writing, the descriptions, are absolutely superb and I will wonder forever how you manage to come up with any of them.

My heart shattered for Sam again and again as I read through it. Reading it again now, the pain hasn't diminished. Sam Carpenter is a sweet, protective, beautiful soul and upon hearing her name called out, she initially writes it off as a hallucination because she's convinced no one could be uttering her name so sweetly. Sad doesn't begin to cover that.

This is a gut punch. This is the most poignant look at what Sam has to deal with in this fic, both from others and within herself.

Your sneakers inched closer and Sam felt your gentle fingers pushing away strands of her wet hair; the softness of your touch amidst all the harshness she was used to nearly made her crumble.

"Did someone do this to you?" You asked even softer.

Another beat of silence, and then; "I don't know why they hate me so much." Was all Sam told you, her voice nothing but a whisper that broke in the middle.

This is almost hard to read in the best possible way. I know that sounds like an oxymoron. Your way with words is on full, masterful display here and the despair emanating from the texts - Sam's despair, her vulnerability, the way she's near her limit- it's crushing.

And Y/n's gentleness? Her attentiveness?

Tell me, Esther, how does it feel to be one of the best hurt/comfort writers out there?

Admittedly, Sam felt out of place. Not necessarily in a bad way; only in the way that you were clearly much better off in life than she was, and it made her feel a little self-conscious to think she'd been fantasizing about a chance with you, when, admittedly, you could do better.

Oh Sam, you are MORE than enough for her.

Under the warm orange glow of the fairy lights of your bedroom, Sam could count the specks of color in your eyes. She could drown in the ocean that was you and everything you made her feel.

I don't know that romance can get any better than this.

She looked like your favorite dream.

See my previous comment.

Her eyes followed each of your movements though, her pupils blown wide and reflecting the vulnerability of a heart that started beating for you, for you, for you.

"For you, for you, for you" now you're just flexing how fucking incredible of a writer you are. Making that snippet of prose take on the rhythm of a beating heart.

experiencing actual turmoil over trying not to quote every single damn line in this scene. How does one choose which to quote, when it's all perfection and you just want to gush about everything?!

Inevitably, Sam melted in your hold, a breath leaving her lips as she closed her eyes for a beat. No one ever held her as if she was something precious. You always did. You were gentle, so much so that Sam hardly felt your lips. You guided her into a chaste kiss, just a touch of your soft lips that fitted perfectly with hers. So perfectly, she'd dare say you were made just for her. "Are you sure?" The words stumbled out of Sam's lips in an unsteady whisper as she took to memory what it felt like to have you this close.

In those dark doe eyes that shone with the dim lights of your kitchen; you saw her fear, her loneliness; you saw the way she thought of herself as a person who doesn't deserve to be taken out of the rain, but who longs for someone to do so anyway.

"More than I've ever been in my life."

I don't know what to say. Begging my brain to offer up the right words so that I can describe how this scene reduced me to a puddle. My brain isn't complying.

What are you, Esther? Surely humans aren't capable of writing this phenomenally.

It's been fifteen minutes already. Fifteen minutes of Sam glaring at her phone as if it would relent and type the message for her.

Real LMAO.

It was almost magical, how your voice sent a wave of easiness through Sam's body. It was almost as if you carefully reached inside her chest and took away the burden there.

I need this in my life.

It's been four months since Sam started calling you hers. Four months since she's been able to gloat because you're her girlfriend. Four months in which she's been the happiest she's ever been in her life.

And my heart SOARS

OMG YES!! Happy Sam is absolutely everything to me.

"I missed you," she spoke against your lips.

You kissed the words, frowning playfully, "you saw me this afternoon."

"Exactly," Sam's smile stretched further, "too long," and then she was leaning in again, and again, and again.

breaking the kiss she had you trapped in so you could place one to her knuckles

You felt the shape of Sam's smile on your palm right before she placed a kiss there.

Living for the little knuckle/palm kisses.

You'd lost count of how many guys she threatened because of you already, each time you went out for drinks together and a strange dude decided to try his luck with you Sam would pull out her taser and aim it right where it hurts most.

I adore how protective she is.

Tension lay heavy in the room, but especially, it radiated off Sam; you could feel it in the tremble of her hold on your hand when the reporter spoke about the several Ghostface costumes left at the scene of the crime.

So much sweetness in this story, I almost forgot that it's Scream. The sudden mood shift, the tension, the revelation that we've entered into the events of the movie, the Ghostface namedrop at the end-

The perfect close to chapter 1, and what a marvel of a chapter it was. This was every bit the masterpiece I anticipated it would be, and so much more. This is a triumph of romance, of hurt/comfort, of fluff and angst, and we're only 1/3rd of the way through. I can't wait until the next installment, and I must reiterate again how grateful I am to have been able to beta read it for you <3

souls tied, bound to burn | ch 1

Samantha Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Your move to New York came suddenly, in the hopes of getting closer to what was left of your family. What you weren't expecting was to fall for your sister's roommate, Sam; and little did you know, she'd be your doom, in the prettiest of ways.

A/N: I feel like this story is told in moments, but I do like how it turned out; it is, after all, a story that I poured my heart and soul into. This is one which took many of my sleepless nights, but it was so worth it bringing this idea to life. Cannot thank @iamnicodemus enough for basically being my beta reader and helping me with everything. There will be two more parts to this storyline, but I can't say when they will be posted, as I'm still writing them.

Word count: 10k (limit? never heard of her)

Masterlist

One thing that Sam was still trying to get used to after moving to New York was the lack of calmness.

She had just finished her session with yet another therapist, it was past 10 PM, and the streets were still as busy as ever. There was no shortage of cars or people passing by her as she walked back to her apartment. Sometimes it could be overwhelming and she couldn't get home fast enough. Sometimes it helped to keep her mind a little quieter.

Sam was still unsure of what it felt like today, maybe a mix of both.

Things haven't been easy after everything that happened in Woodsboro, every day the weight on her shoulders worsens and she has no idea how to even start dealing with it. It only became worse after the rumors started.

The steps up the stairs to her apartment felt like a whole workout, after working the entire day Sam was absolutely drained. The hunch on her posture and faint dark bags under her eyes said as much.

Nearing the door, she could hear faint voices coming from inside, one of them she didn't recognize. The tensing of her muscles was inevitable.

Sam turned the doorknob and slowly made her way inside, she closed the door behind her without turning around. There wasn't anything different about the place — TV turned on, cheap yellow lights in the kitchen illuminating the dirty dishes on the sink, low music coming from Tara's room — except Quinn was talking with someone on the couch.

Though Sam didn't know who it was, she already relaxed at the fact that there was no trouble in sight.

She ran a hand through her hair whilst walking to the kitchen, there were leftovers of dinner on two pans over the stove; but despite only having lunch on her stomach, she wasn't hungry. Picking up a clean cup, she filled it with water on the sink and gulped it down.

"Hey, Sam's home," Quinn announced with a chipper voice.

Sam closed her eyes with a sigh before managing a smile, she really didn't feel like socializing right now. But she turned to Quinn anyway.

The girl was perched over the back of the couch, waving Sam over, "come here, I want you to meet someone."

Involuntarily, Sam's eyes drifted to the one who sat beside Quinn; it was a girl she had never seen before, but the gentle smile on her lips made Sam hesitate in her steps. She did walk up to them though, making herself comfortable on the loveseat beside Quinn.

"Sam, this is Y/n, she's my sister," Quinn motioned to you with a grin.

"Sister?" Sam's eyes were huge as she looked between you and Quinn.

"Well, half-sister," Quinn concluded, "it's a long story."

You then gave them a tight-lipped smile, raising your hand in an awkward wave whilst looking at Sam, "it's uh- a pleasure to meet you."

Quinn raised her eyebrows in amusement, a beat of silence passed before she tilted her head towards Sam, "yep, that's Samantha Sam."

The older Carpenter kicked herself internally about ten thousand times. That was awful.

A weird weight filled the air after that. Sam didn't know what to do with herself, she didn't know if she should stay or just go and lock herself in her room. She ended up settling for pretending to watch the TV while you spoke with Quinn. From what Sam heard, you had just arrived in town and were staying in a hotel until you could find an apartment, because apparently, your mother had left a significant amount of money in your name; she also overheard that you were yet to go visit your father.

When it was nearing midnight, you decided to leave, saying something about it already being too late.

Sam watched as Quinn walked you to the door and bid you goodbye with a brief hug. And before the door clicked close, your gaze caught Sam's and you gave her that same gentle smile she'd seen earlier; all the same, it froze her, and Sam saw herself just staring back at you with an emotion even she couldn't place.

Quinn dragged herself back to the living room then, laying down on the empty couch to wait for the inevitable interrogation.

"I didn't know you had a sister," Sam started eventually, mindlessly switching through channels. The room was dimly lit, with the only other lights coming from the kitchen, the brightness of the TV hurt her tired eyes.

"Neither did I."

At that, Sam's attention was fully on Quinn, her brows furrowed.

Quinn shook her head, dismissing the worry, "I mean, I knew, sort of," she explained, "she's from a fling my dad had before he met my mom, I think they broke up when she was born and her mom took her to Boston. Never met her until like, yesterday."

Now, the pieces from what Sam had heard were starting to come together. She wondered just how detached you were from this side of your family until now. "And your father never told you had a sister?"

"He did, in passing, sometimes I heard the calls he'd give her to check in. But she's always been distant," Quinn shrugged.

Sam mulled over the words in her mind, part of her couldn't help but feel wary, "why is she here?"

"Her mother died, she has no other family left."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It didn't take long for Sam to bump into you again. It happened actually only two days after your visit to Quinn at their apartment.

It was a mildly calm afternoon at the coffee shop Sam worked at. At least for a Thursday, it felt calm. Just a few booths had people sitting on them, and every few minutes someone would stop by to grab a cup of coffee to go.

What the place lacked in fanciness it made up for in coziness — between her shifts here during the week and at the bowling alley on the weekends, it was easy for Sam to pick a favorite, nothing beats the vibe of a coffee shop — the place held warm tones to its decor, brick walls here and there with a few black boards hung up that had order choices written on them with white chalk; there was also a vintage radio on the corner that Sam always sneakily changed the songs of.

Against her own beliefs, she became rather good at preparing lattes and cappuccinos. She mentioned it to Tara once, and the girl said she'd believe it once she drinks it; Sam has been waiting for her to stop by.

Though as with everything, it wasn't perfect. Even before the rumors blaming her for the murders started, Sam was already an outsider, not quite allowed to fit in. She had no friends amongst the staff, only colleagues; and after the rumors, she even considered that to be a stretch.

Sam doesn't mind. She tells herself as much every day before walking in for work. But feeling judgemental eyes burning into your back at least once a day tends to take its toll on someone.

So she keeps to herself, she does her job, and she tries not to give them more reasons to bother her.

The small bell above the door dinged as someone came in, pulling Sam back to the present when she realized she would be the one taking the order.

She straightened her posture and smoothed down her uniform, looking around on the counter for her notepad and pen. Upon finding them, Sam finally glanced up and felt her breathing get momentarily stuck, the usual 'what can I get for you' dying on her tongue.

Part of Sam thinks she'd ironically recognize you anywhere. She realized you had that about you, something that felt unmistakable.

Same thing that happened to her apparently happened to you as well, as your lips hovered yet no words came out. It was that weird moment of I know you but I don't actually know you yet.

You were the first to talk, and Sam wanted to thank you for it. "Hey," you chuckled, somewhat awkwardly, "it's uh- Sam, right? It's nice to see you again."

Try as she might, Sam wasn't able to hold your gaze, she glanced down at her hands before looking at you again, "that's me," she gave you a small smile, "can I get you anything?"

"Yeah…" You dragged on, stuffing your hands on the pockets of your jeans as your gaze skimmed over the order options, "just a simple cappuccino to go, please." You eventually decided.

Sam felt your eyes on her as she scribbled your order down, even if it was just a cappuccino, she had the habit to write them all down. "Coming right up," she said, before turning around to make your order.

You were standing right where she left you once she brought the order to you. That same gentle smile she saw two nights ago was present on your lips when you paid her and bid her goodbye.

Secretly, Sam wondered if you'd be back some other day.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It was never your plan to come to New York, let alone on your own. But tragedy strikes when you least expect it.

When, on one of his monthly calls to check in on you, you broke the news to your father that your mother had passed, he told you you should come live closer to him if you wanted to. And honestly, not feeling so alone in the world felt appealing.

So you packed everything you had of value, and took the leap. You had your mother to thank for being able to simply do that out of nowhere, she'd left everything of hers in your name, including her company's income.

But money hardly solves all problems, because you never actually met your father's side of the family. All you had were his phone calls, where he would sometimes briefly mention a sister you'd get along with if you were to meet, and not much else.

Upon knowing you'd be coming to the city, he gave you Quinn's contact, promising she would help you find a place to stay. You weren't exactly keen on meeting your sister for the first time all by yourself, but Quinn had been surprisingly easygoing; telling you all about how cool it was to have a sister instead of another brother. And the question 'I have a brother too?' lingered on your tongue, but you thought it would be a weird thing to ask. That was a few days ago, and you settled in a hotel for the time being.

In any way, you had a lot of catching up to do.

And now, anxiety was bubbling relentlessly in your stomach and you clutched tightly at the straps of your backpack. The police station was kinda busy at this time of day, but it was exactly the time he asked you to come in, so you did.

You didn't know exactly what to feel other than anxiety. How is one supposed to feel when they're about to see their father for the first time in their life?

It's a weird situation, though you couldn't really blame your mother for it; yes she took you away shortly after you were born, but from what she told you, she and your father didn't end on the best of terms. From the moment you were born, she'd been protective.

You reached the front desk, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. "Hello," you greeted the woman there.

She glanced up from the pile of papers she'd been sorting out, "hi there, what can I do for you?"

"Um- Detective Bailey asked me to stop by," you explained, and the woman in front of you raised an unamused eyebrow. Even before saying it, the words already felt somewhat strange in your mouth, "he's my father."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Your first two weeks in New York were hectic. Meeting a whole new side of your family was a strange experience, but you'd say it went well. Quinn was the easiest of all, she treated you as if you were one of her friends from university and you appreciated it. Ethan was distant, he was kind and polite, but you could tell he didn't want much to do with you. Your father was, essentially, what you expected him to be; he was kind and attentive, obviously a little awkward just as you were, but he seemed to genuinely care about you; as much as one can care about a daughter they'd never met.

Quinn had been quite insistent on having a sister bonding time with you, so you'd find yourself at her apartment more often than not. This led to you being acquainted with Mindy, Anika, and Chad, who were around just as much as you; plus Sam and Tara, of course.

The youngest of Quinn's roommates took an instant liking to you. Your personality matched Tara's quite well, you were happy to hear every gossip she liked the share about her colleagues at the university and the usual rant about her sister.

Sam, she was not an easy one to read; at first, you thought she might not even like you, but Tara explained that 'that's just how she is, she'll warm up to you eventually'.

You'd usually stop by later on in the afternoon, when the sunlight had that deep golden glow just an hour or so before disappearing behind the horizon. It was a time of day the coffee shop was a little more crowded, but not as much as it was in the mornings.

You quickly realized the importance of details with Sam. The more you came to eat at the coffee shop, the slightly more comfortable she became with you. It started with her serious expression changing to a small smile whenever she saw you, then she started greeting you by your name, and recently, she has been drawing little smiley faces on your cup.

The usual booth you'd sit at was tucked in a more reserved corner, just beside one of the windows; you liked the privacy. Each time that Sam brought your cappuccino and apple pie, you held yourself back from asking if she could sit down and have a coffee with you.

Maybe tomorrow, you'd think to yourself.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The smell of freshly made lasagna filled the whole apartment. If you had a good enough sense of smell, you'd be able to tell it was just the slightest bit burned, but no one seemed to care.

It was a pleasant sight for someone who wasn't used to many of those.

Sam had just gotten out of the shower, towel in her hands as she finished drying off her hair. She had managed to get out of work earlier today and ditched therapy so she could have dinner with her found family — which honestly felt more like therapy than actual therapy.

A chuckle escaped Sam's lips when Mindy called her brother a moron with a halfhearted slap on the back of his head.

And then, three soft knocks came from the front door.

"I got it," Sam told them, hanging her towel over her shoulder as she got over to the door and steadily undid all the locks in it. She knew who it was, Quinn warned you'd be coming for dinner today too. Sam felt a little childish when anticipation started twirling in her stomach.

Selfishly, Sam wanted to think that this specific smile of yours belonged to her.

"Hi," she greeted you with the same softness you stared back at her with; for the second time today, the first being at the coffee shop. Sam figured she wouldn't mind seeing you more often, "come in, dinner is almost ready."

"Hey Sam," you smiled timidly as you walked past her and inside the apartment.

"Hey new girl," Mindy called, her voice ringing loudly through the room as she peeked over from the kitchen with a grin, "you like lasagna?"

"Of course," you grinned, taking off your jacket and failing to see the way Sam's gaze lingered a little too long on you, "who doesn't like lasagna?"

Mindy pointed a finger at you, "right answer," she quipped before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Sam awkwardly cleared her throat next to you, "let me take this for you."

You glanced beside you to see the girl subtly gesturing for your jacket, unsure if the redness of her cheeks was a trick of the light or not. "Oh, thanks, Sam."

"Alright y'all, dinner's on the table," Mindy announced, getting everyone to flock to the dining room.

It was maybe after the second or third time you'd stopped by that you had unconsciously assigned a seat for yourself at their table. Ironically, it was the one beside Sam.

And you had found a reason to like every single one of them; Mindy was naturally funny and made you feel as welcome as if you'd known her your whole life, and so did Anika; Chad was the exact opposite of what you'd picture him to be, sharing his sister's tendency for kindness; Sam was… you couldn't find a word to describe her quite yet, maybe entrancing could work; and Tara, well, you'd just found out tonight she shared your penchant for horror movies.

That's how, after dinner, you found yourself laying with Tara on her bed as you watched a movie of her choosing.

"You know, I'm glad you decided to come to New York," Tara told you out of the blue, the sound coming from her TV almost covering her voice.

Her room was dimly lit, the only source of light being the TV itself and a small lamp on her desk, you could barely make out her features. "I am too, I'm sure glad I met you guys."

Tara chuckled fondly at that, "Sam seems to like you," she told you quietly, her voice sounding as if she was letting you in on a pretty secret, "she could use a friend, you know."

You caught the hidden words in her soft tone. You weren't blind to how lonely Sam tended to be sometimes. Isolating herself even in a room full of people who cared about her.

Though it stunned you for a brief moment that Tara was asking that of you, you wondered if she saw something you didn't. At this point, you already knew of their story, at least partially; from articles online about the Woodsboro killings, and consequently, from the rumors circling around about Sam. Needless to say, your heart broke for them.

"I'd be happy to be her friend, if she'd have me," you meant it.

The movie extended longer than you predicted and Tara was already dozing off on your shoulder by the time the credits rolled. So you carefully turned off her TV and sneaked yourself out of her bed, your steps as light as a feather touching the floor.

You closed the door to her room with extreme delicacy and only as you turned around, did you notice the absolute darkness of the rest of the apartment.

It looked like everyone had already called it a night.

The only thing illuminating your steps was the soft orange glow coming in through the windows from the street lamps outside. The apartment held an eery silence to it, the clean plates and cutlery you all had used earlier rested on top of the table, there was an occasional sound of water droplets falling from the kitchen sink, and the red numbers of the clock on the coffee table read 12:37 AM.

The darkness and silence were a striking contrast to the commotion from earlier.

You opted for turning on the lights in the kitchen so you could look for your jacket and go home for the night; though after a good five minutes of unsuccessful searching you were almost considering leaving without it. That's when a soft, barely there whimper caught your ears.

It got a cold shiver running up and down your back, momentarily making you imagine yourself in a horror movie.

You couldn't help the swelling of your heart. She was undeniably endearing.

There was the sound of a siren passing by in the distance. You looked out the window by instinct, but you couldn't see where exactly it came from.

When your eyes settled back on Sam, you found her clutching at the cushions under her head, a frown etched unpleasantly on her eyebrows. Her hair was messy, you realized; maybe from tossing and turning too much.

You were genuinely not sure what got into you, it's not like you have enough intimacy to even be seeing her like this. But you crouched down in front of her, one hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder.

Before you could even fully touch her, Sam was already stirring awake. Her body was visibly tense and her eyes a tad too wide and alert for someone who just woke up.

"I'm… sorry," you said quietly, feeling embarrassment crawling up your neck and to your cheeks, "sorry I woke you up."

Sam held herself up with her elbow, her free hand running through her messy hair. She wasn't looking at you, attempting to regulate her unsteady breathing.

You wanted to reach out, but didn't. "I was just wondering where you put my jacket," you continued when she remained quiet.

Sam felt bare in front of you, somewhat timid. There were goosebumps rising on her skin. She nearly didn't find her voice, "I'll go get it for you."

You waited for her by the front door, shifting on your feet. She came back with your jacket in her hands, clutching tightly onto it so you wouldn't catch the shaking of her fingers. But you did, you also caught onto the hollowness of her eyes and the hair clinging to her damp forehead. You knew it wasn't your place to ask, but Sam looked so alone in the darkness of the apartment, that you feared she might let herself be swallowed by it the moment you leave.

"Are you okay?"

Sam's expression did something complicated, unsure of how to feel. Several beats passed in silence, as if she was considering how to answer you. Eventually, she nodded softly, "I'm alright, just tired from work."

It was a half-truth. You had been there today when a group of teenagers came into the coffee shop, one of them casting accusatory glances at Sam as he whispered — quite loudly — the word 'murderer' to his friends. You weren't able to wave her goodbye after that. She stayed hidden in the back.

Maybe your heart felt something it wasn't telling you yet, because it was hurting, for her. "For what it's worth," the words rolled off your tongue in a soft whisper, "I don't believe them."

Sam's lips parted, her mouth going dry and her doe eyes glinting with a sudden vulnerability. The grip she had around your jacket tightened.

Your smile was bittersweet this time, "the rumors, I don't believe them."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

"I don't think I see you," you spoke on the phone, squinting at the evening sun shining on your eyes as you walked the busy streets of New York.

Last night your father had called you just before he left the police station, asking if maybe you would like to have an afternoon snack with him today; stop by at a popular bakery to catch up on lost time.

You felt an unfamiliar warmth on your chest at the request, agreeing promptly. He was trying to form a connection with you, and honestly, it was something you wanted too. You already lost one parent, you didn't fancy losing the other.

"I see you."

He spoke over the phone.

"Look to your right."

You followed his instructions and sure enough, he was on the other side of the street, his arms up and obnoxiously waving you over so you'd see him.

A chuckle escaped you as you hurriedly crossed the street, tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. You smiled tentatively then, slowly closing the distance between you and him without knowing if you should lean in for a hug or extend your hand for a shake.

Bailey decided for you, he was opening his arms before you even reached him.

The hug was brief but welcomed. He kept one hand on your shoulder when he pulled away, seemingly taking a good look at you as a sincere smile appeared on his expression; "thank you for coming, I know we've never been too close, but I would like us to be."

You reached up to the hand he still had on your shoulder and squeezed his wrist in reassurance, "I would like it too."

It didn't make the pain of losing your mother go away, but it engulfed it into something more bearable. Something you could get used to.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It was about an hour after lunch that Sam received a rather urgent call from Tara. The only words she managed to focus on were "asthma attack" and "inhaler at the apartment."

The problem? Sam was basically on the other side of town.

Her first option was Mindy, but the girl wasn't picking up her phone. And then neither was Chad. Her last resort was calling her own apartment in the hopes that Quinn was home and could drive to the university with Tara's inhaler.

The line ringed, and ringed, and ringed. Until…

"Hello?"

The thought about why she recognized your voice so easily flew by. "Y/n?" Sam stopped in her tracks, forcing the other people on the sidewalk to walk around her.

"Sam?"

"What are you-"

"No, I didn't break into your apartment."

Sam heard your chuckle from the other end of the line.

"I stopped by to bring something to Quinn."

"Y/n, I need you to-" Sam took in a deep breath, running a hand through her hair and gripping at the roots of it. She closed her eyes tightly, "Tara is having an asthma attack and she left her inhaler at the apartment, could you ask Quinn to-"

"Sam, calm down."

Your soft voice made Sam realize she was having trouble breathing.

"Breathe, okay? I'll take it to her, I'm less than five minutes away by bike, I'll let you know when I get there."

Sam bit at the inside of her cheek, nodding even though you couldn't see it, "thank you."

Only mere minutes passed by — though they felt much longer than usual — until Sam received a text from you, it read 'hey' and she could see you were still typing.

Sam held onto her breath and only released it once you sent her the next text, which read 'all is good'. Instant relief washed over her and she leaned back on the wall of the random store she was standing in front of.

Her cellphone vibrated again, and this time it was a picture of you and Tara making silly faces while you held her close.

Sam typed back; 'I owe you one.'

She held back on sending a heart emoji.

It was becoming increasingly harder to deny the way she started feeling about you; how you seemingly occupied a place in her heart no one else could have; or how she hoped to see you walk into the coffee shop every day, because, on the off chance you didn't, something felt out of place, missing.

Maybe it was time for her to do something about it.

And the opportunity presented itself on the very next day.

It was a cloudy Tuesday afternoon, the coffee shop lacking its usual golden rays that came through the window at this time of day. There was a slightly colder breeze in the air, it came through each time a new customer opened the door and it forced Sam to wear her jacket on top of her uniform.

Sam had been anticipating your arrival ever since the clock hit 4 PM, which was the time you usually stopped by. She couldn't help looking up at the door each time she heard the bell above it.

It scared her, to take a chance like this. Trusting people with your heart only opens room for them to break it. She knows it.

But oh you made her want to turn a blind eye to every single risk, and fear, and doubt.

Sam wondered, for a moment, if destiny was playing with her. Because when the clock hit 4:47 PM you walked through the coffee shop's doors and the sky just so happened to have a crack in its clouds, casting a faded glow that bathed you aureate for a moment.

Sam's eyes were unfocused, caught in a daze that was only broken when you were already standing in front of her.

"Good afternoon, Sam," you smiled, your cheeks flushed from the cold wind outside.

"Hi," Sam stumbled out, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she cleared her throat, "the usual?"

"Please," you confirmed, already reaching inside your backpack for your wallet, but Sam's hand on your forearm stopped you.

The touch of her skin on yours felt electric. Sam pulled her hand back quickly, timidly curling her fingers to try and keep the feeling of you a little longer. "This one is on me," her voice wasn't nearly as confident as it needed to be for that line.

You were about to open your mouth to protest, but she beat you to it; "please, let me do this. As a thank you for you helping Tara yesterday."

A sly smile crept into your lips, your eyes roaming over Sam up and down before you spoke; "only if you drink something with me."

Your boldness surprised Sam, in the best of ways. She was burning up inside, her heart working overtime to keep up with her feelings. Despite the cold, she felt suddenly warm.

"I have a break in ten."

When Sam brought your order to your table — the usual table in the far right corner near the biggest window — she sat down in front of you. She carefully placed down your cappuccino and apple pie before closing both her hands around the simple cup of coffee she had for herself.

You took your time with taking a sip from your drink, closing your eyes when the slightly sweet, warm beverage hit your tongue.

Sam followed each movement, from the way your fingers closed around the mug to the way the corner of your lips lifted just the smallest bit after tasting the coffee she made — for a moment you were all she could see. Though she shook herself off of it pretty quickly, realizing how it might be creepy. Sam took a generous drink of her coffee as well.

"Do you like it?" Came the sudden sweetness of your voice, "working at a coffee shop?"

A faint smell of burnt bread reached Sam's nose, it was probably Enrique forgetting about the oven again. She could hear loud chatter happening at the entrance of the coffee shop, it was probably the five students who usually stopped by at this time of day. Sam was hesitating. Between apartment visits because of Quinn and everyday meet-ups for her to make you coffee, Sam didn't plan for herself coming this far with you.

"Could be worse," were the words that eventually escaped her mouth, "beats the bowling alley."

You chuckled, a lovely sound as you sheepishly glanced down, your thumb tracing the edge of your mug. Sam wanted to pull her cell phone out and trap this moment in time; it felt precious enough to do so.

"I definitely prefer coming to coffee shops instead of bowling alleys," you smirked.

Sam somewhat mimicked your smile, "are you liking New York?"

You hummed, choosing to take a bite of your pie before answering, "all things considered, I am. It's a lot of getting used to," you had a faraway gaze out the window then, leaning your chin on your hand, "meeting a whole new side of my family is… strange. But we're getting along surprisingly well, I've been going out with my father at least once a week, Ethan is more distant but still nice whenever we meet, and, well, I've been visiting Quinn quite regularly, as you know."

Sam took in each of your words, softly nodding along, "it's good one of us is feeling at home, sort of." She gulped, mulling over her next words, "you know you're welcome at the apartment whenever. Tara adores you… everyone does."

If you caught Sam's 'I adore you' you didn't comment on it. Instead, you asked; "how are you settling in? Tara mentioned you guys moved in only a few weeks before I did."

That had Sam holding back a sigh. She leaned back on her side of the booth, "feels like all the shit that happened in Woodsboro followed us all the way here."

Some days were better than others. Some days the weight on her shoulders felt more bearable and the people around her weren't as menacing with their baseless accusations. Some days were worse.

"I'm sorry about everything that's been going on the internet about you," you said.

Sam met your eyes and found there a gentleness no one had ever looked at her with.

"You don't deserve it, Sam."

Being with you was as easy as breathing. For a fleeting moment inside the walls of the coffee shop, there were no rumors crucifying Sam for something she didn't do; there were no bad memories taking her sleep at night; there were no permanent scars marking her skin — there was only Samantha, the girl who had almost forgotten what it felt like to just worry about which words to say next to impress the girl she developed feelings for.

And if she went to bed that night with the ghost of a smile on her lips because you kissed her cheek goodbye earlier, that was nobody's business but hers.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

"Guys, what do you say we order pizza for tonight?" Sam threw the idea into the night.

It was nearing 7 PM and it was a Saturday, meaning it was the unofficial girl's night of the week. Sam, Mindy, Anika, Tara, and Quinn sat together in the living room of Sam's apartment watching a random action movie. Dinner time was nearing and none of them really fancied cooking tonight.

"I think it's a good idea," Mindy agreed, leaning back on the couch and pulling Anika with her, "do you think one is enough for the five of us?"

"Six," Sam spoke without looking up from her phone, already searching for the pizza place's number, "I invited Y/n over."

Save for the movie playing in the background, there was a sudden silence in the living room. It stretched on until Sam found the number and looked up to see everyone staring at her.

A frown slowly came to her eyebrows and she chuckled awkwardly, fidgeting with her phone, "what?"

"You invited her?" Quinn started.

"You two have been growing quite close," Mindy added, an all-too-knowing grin on her lips.

Tara had her lips hung open, being the last one to catch up on her sister's painfully obvious crush.

"We're… friends, she's nice," Sam shrugged, feeling herself grow self-conscious with the attention and involuntarily curling in on herself a little. She got up from the couch then, deciding to go make the call to order the pizza outside in the hallway as she figured she wouldn't have much peace inside right now.

She put on her house slippers and walked to the front door, hearing Mindy shout; "I've heard that before," right as she closed the door behind her.

Sam found herself slowly roaming to the lobby as she spoke on the phone, a cold air came from the entrance doors of her apartment building as she spoke on the phone, making her hug herself to preserve the warmth.

The pizza would be arriving in about thirty minutes, and just before Sam turned around to walk back inside to the coziness of her apartment, her cell phone dinged with a message from you letting her know you were here.

Sam saw herself smiling at the screen of her phone, at the small heart emoji you added beside the text.

The main doors of the entrance hall hinged as you walked in, and the first thing Sam noticed was that you were quite underdressed for the weather outside; only a thin jacket kept your body warm, your hair was all tousled from the wind and you had your hands buried in the pockets of your sweatpants. Still, you smiled brightly when you spotted Sam coming towards you.

"Aren't you cold?" Sam chuckled as she met you in the middle, coming to a stop a little closer to you than she should. Her eyes involuntarily roamed up and down your body, always engraving the image of you in her mind as if it was the first and last time she'd be seeing you; even if she has known you for nearly two months now.

"You bet I'm cold," without much of a warning, you brought one hand up and cupped Sam's cheek; the coldness of your skin contrasted with the warmth of hers.

Sam shivered from head to toe, and it wasn't because of the coldness of your fingers, for she could feel her cheeks warming up even more.

Unable to hold your gaze as she did so, Sam took hold of your freezing hand, "come on, let's get you warmed up. I ordered pizza."

You followed her willingly, nuzzling against her shoulder as you walked.

You're both not sure when this newfound intimacy happened. But you weren't complaining. Your heart was so full of Sam that you could hardly call it your own anymore. And Sam doesn't know what happiness means if it isn't written with the letters of your name.

Though it wasn't until a whole week later, that you did something about it.

This Friday was a rainy one, the skies had grey clouds looming over everyone on the streets as heavy raindrops fell steadily. Water splashed around people's shoes as they walked, holding their coats close to their bodies and their umbrellas above their heads.

Sam didn't have an umbrella. She'd given hers to Tara this morning because technically she wouldn't need it, she'd catch a ride with one of the nicer coworkers at the coffee shop when it was time to leave.

Sam was walking in the rain.

She never made it to 7 PM, which was usually the time she'd get off work. Her boss had dismissed her much earlier today; 'it doesn't look good to have a barista covered in coffee' was what he'd said.

Now, the huge coffee stain on her shirt was barely there, being replaced by the water falling from the sky. The pouring rain had already soaked through Sam's clothing; it trickled down her chin and made her hair stuck to her forehead. It was cold, she was shaking, and her fingers were becoming numb.

Today had been one of those unfortunate days. It was a group of teenagers, Sam can't exactly remember what they looked like; she had been the one to bring their orders to the table, and when their eyes met hers she could instantly see the hatred there. Various false accusations left their lips as one of them 'accidentally' spilled their coffee all over Sam. Today wasn't a good day.

"Sam?" The call of her name sounded like a hallucination at first. Too sweet, and too far away to be real.

"Sam!" Now it was closer, clearer between the heavy raindrops hitting the pavement.

It made Sam look up, one hand brushing over her eyes to clean the rain stuck to her lashes. Instantly, she forgot how to breathe.

You were coming towards her, one hand holding your coat and the other holding a faded pink umbrella above your head. You looked distressed, there was a frown on your eyebrows that Sam wanted to smooth away with her fingers.

Between the smell of coffee on her shirt and the rain on her skin, Sam had forgotten this was the time you usually came to the coffee shop.

Sam was suddenly shielded from the falling rain. You had to stay close so your umbrella would cover both of you. "Sam…" Your tone was sorrowful as your evident worry escaped you, "what are you doing out here like this? What happened?" You looked her up and down, taking in her purplish fingertips, her soaked clothes and hair, and the barely there coffee stain of her shirt.

The image of you in front of Sam started to blur over; she opened her lips to speak, tasting the raindrops there, yet the words were clogged up on the lump in her throat. A feeling of shame was crawling inside her guts, piercing through her heart for having you see her like this. Sam avoided your eyes, focusing on her boots instead.

Your sneakers inched closer and Sam felt your gentle fingers pushing away strands of her wet hair; the softness of your touch amidst all the harshness she was used to nearly made her crumble.

"Did someone do this to you?" You asked even softer.

Another beat of silence, and then; "I don't know why they hate me so much." Was all Sam told you, her voice nothing but a whisper that broke in the middle.

In the same heartbeat, with the hand that wasn't holding your umbrella, you took hold of Sam's waist, pulling her body close to yours in a warm embrace.

Sam clung to you as if you'd vanish into thin air any minute. Both her arms instantly came around your shoulders in a close-knit grip as she bunched the fabric of your coat between her fingers.

You adjusted your hold around her waist, mimicking the same strength she held you with. Part of you knew she needed to feel that kind of reassuring pressure, shielding her away from reality.

Her body was worryingly cold, the wetness of her clothes was seeping into your own but you couldn't find it in yourself to mind. Because Sam buried her head into the crook of your neck and you could feel steady wet drops falling into your skin, and you knew they weren't from the rain.

Sam's sobs were muffled against you. And as her body trembled in your hold, your heart shattered.

"Let me take you home," you whispered, your lips brushing the skin of her shoulder until you placed a kiss there.

Sam's grip on you tightened, bringing your bodies closer together if that was even possible. "Okay."

And you did take her home. Sam only didn't imagine that when you said home, you meant your apartment, not hers.

To say your place was better than Sam's would be an understatement. Your apartment wasn't overly luxurious, but it was evident that it was expensive.

You let go of your umbrella but kept holding onto Sam's hand, leading her to your bedroom, "come on, let's get you some dry clothes."

Your bedroom was the most 'you' room in the house. There was a double bed in the middle, a dresser, a desk with a computer and a whole lot of other things on top — books, a collection of pens, a couple of sketchbooks, small fantasy figures such as soldiers on horses and dragons — a mirror just beside the dresser, a bookshelf, and several pictures and fairy lights stuck to the walls. Everywhere Sam looked, there was a bit of you.

She hovered in the middle of it all, shaking from head to toe because of how cold her body was, and hyper-aware of the water still dripping from her soaked clothes and into the wooden floor.

You rummaged through your dresser until you found a comfy pair of purple sweatpants and a hoodie of the same color. You handed them to Sam, "the bathroom is just down the hall, feel free to take a shower and warm yourself up okay? I'll be in the kitchen."

Sam gulped down the lump still stuck in her throat, nodding along with your words, "thank you, you didn't have to do all this," her voice still held that same rawness to it, though the corner of her lips quirked up.

You let out a breathy chuckle, tilting your head to the side as if she just spoke a foreign language. "Yeah I did, that's what people do when they care about each other."

Under the warm orange glow of the fairy lights of your bedroom, Sam could count the specks of color in your eyes. She could drown in the ocean that was you and everything you made her feel.

Sometimes, you look at each other as if you're about to kiss.

Sam wondered if it was the same for you when she caught your eyes drifting to her lips. Before she could figure it out, you were sheepishly avoiding her eyes and walking off to the kitchen.

When Sam walked out of the bathroom, her skin now warm and her hair with the smell of your shampoo, you had just finished making two mugs of hot chocolate.

You heard her bare feet approaching you, felt her lingering gaze on your back. You could tell Sam wasn't allowing herself to be completely comfortable here yet. You hoped to change that.

Turning around, you were met with the endearing sight of Sam in your clothes, her hair still damp and cheeks now flushed from the hot water of the shower. She looked like your favorite dream.

You walked up to her, handing her one of the mugs, "now it's my turn to serve you," you winked.

Sam closed both hands around the mug, an inevitable chuckle escaping her.

You leaned back on the counter of your kitchen, hearing the rain that still poured outside hitting the windows. "Feeling better?"

Before answering, Sam took a sip of her hot chocolate, humming at the sweetness and warmth of it. "Much better."

"You can stay as long as you'd like," you told her, because you knew she needed to hear it.

Sam's thumb traced the rim of her mug. You could see her lips pulling thin, feel her uneasiness.

"I would like you to stay, Sam."

Thunder started rumbling in the distance as the rain picked up even more. Sam would be stuck with you for a while; maybe you should make the most of having her all to yourself.

You put down your mug and pushed yourself away from the kitchen counter. Sam could be fragile sometimes, you realized; there was a part of her that always remained guarded, waiting for the next blow to come. Yet you could almost feel the desperate calls of her lonely heart.

When you took a step closer to her, Sam didn't take one away from you, and it was all the confirmation you needed. She had a white-knuckled grip on her mug, though it relaxed immediately when your hand enveloped hers and you took the mug, putting it aside on the counter.

Sam was holding herself as stiff as a corpse; if you were anyone else, she would have taken her chance already, but you were you, and the fear that she might fuck it up spoke louder. Her eyes followed each of your movements though, her pupils blown wide and reflecting the vulnerability of a heart that started beating for you, for you, for you.

Both your hands eventually reached up to her cheeks, your fingers tracing her jaw and your thumbs brushing the skin beneath her eyes.

Inevitably, Sam melted in your hold, a breath leaving her lips as she closed her eyes for a beat. No one ever held her as if she was something precious. You always did.

First, your lips met her forehead in a kiss that felt like a promise. Then, your nose brushed hers when you leaned in; your breaths mingling as your hands found the back of her neck to pull her in.

You were gentle, so much so that Sam hardly felt your lips. You guided her into a chaste kiss, just a touch of your soft lips that fitted perfectly with hers. So perfectly, she'd dare say you were made just for her.

Small as it was, the gesture of affection got Sam grasping at your waist; her hands holding onto you with the same desperation as before. As if happiness, for her, was limited.

Sam didn't dare open her eyes when you pulled back. It was foolish, but she wanted to utter those three words just for the fact that you didn't go far, choosing to keep your forehead leaning against hers.

"Are you sure?" The words stumbled out of Sam's lips in an unsteady whisper as she took to memory what it felt like to have you this close.

You pulled away and she felt like crying.

It was only enough so you could look into her eyes, and there you saw everything she didn't want you to see. In those dark doe eyes that shone with the dim lights of your kitchen; you saw her fear, her loneliness; you saw the way she thought of herself as a person who doesn't deserve to be taken out of the rain, but who longs for someone to do so anyway.

"More than I've ever been in my life," you whispered back, pulling her in before you even finished speaking. You clashed your lips together, not holding back this time, because if she didn't believe your words, she would believe your touch; she would believe the way your hands tangled in her hair and how your tongue brushed over her bottom lip, tasting the lingering sweetness of hot chocolate there.

Yet, between each breathless kiss, you'd mumble, "I promise."

And Sam would hold you more firmly, her arms encircling your waist as she traced a path down your neck with her lips, confessions rolling off her tongue.

You had her at your mercy; she was yours. But you were hers too.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It's been fifteen minutes already. Fifteen minutes of Sam glaring at her phone as if it would relent and type the message for her.

"Sammy, this is getting sad," Mindy popped a popcorn in her mouth, side-eyeing Sam's figure; who was huddled in a blanket on the couch beside hers, "just ask her already."

"Yeah, I will," Sam groaned, hugging her blanket closer to her chest, "just… finding the right words."

"The words are: 'do you want to go on a date with me? Yes or no?' Simple." A popcorn flew in Sam's direction as Mindy explained, "stop making a big deal of it, it's not like you guys never went out together anyway."

Sam pursed her lips, staring at the little picture of you in her contacts. It's true, you've met for outings multiple times already; but there was something more now, an incessant swarm of butterflies in her stomach whenever Sam thought of you.

"It's different," she said quietly, "I don't wanna mess it up." Her vulnerability dripped from each syllable.

Mindy softened at that, forgetting about the movie playing on the TV and properly turning to look at her friend; "you won't mess it up, Sam. She likes you, everyone can see it."

It felt nice to hear the words out loud, it made them all the more real — as if your make-out session from a few days ago wasn't enough. Sam could feel her cheeks growing warmer by the minute as she finally typed her message and hit send before the small bit of courage went away.

Mindy had been right, after all.

That night, Sam took you out for dinner and a movie; classic, but she learned that you loved the classics. Especially when you pressed your lips to hers again before saying goodbye, in a kiss that Sam would be happy to live in forever.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The stairs that led up to her apartment weren't the most comfortable seat, but the empty hallways provided much-needed peace.

Sam buried her head in her hands, clawing at the roots of her hair. Her shirt was still damp, the smell becoming annoying. She could feel the back of her eyes stinging but she gulped back the feeling.

"You know you don't always have to wait for me down here."

It was almost magical, how your voice sent a wave of easiness through Sam's body. It was almost as if you carefully reached inside her chest and took away the burden there.

You were walking up to her, a smirk on your lips and a backpack hanging from your shoulder, "I know the way to your apartment."

Sam mimicked your smile, getting up with more haste than usual and meeting you halfway in the empty hallway. She didn't give you much of a warning before bringing you into a searing kiss, her hands cupped your cheeks and she had your bottom lip trapped between hers; chasing the feeling only you could give her.

A gasp escaped you when she collided with you. Your giggles got muffled by her lips and you took hold of her waist to steady yourself.

"I missed you," she spoke against your lips.

You kissed the words, frowning playfully, "you saw me this afternoon."

"Exactly," Sam's smile stretched further, "too long," and then she was leaning in again, and again, and again.

Sam could be intense sometimes, but you knew how to recognize when she was doing it for fun, or to forget about something else.

You took hold of one of her hands then, breaking the kiss she had you trapped in so you could place one to her knuckles, "is that cherry coke I smell on you?"

"Maybe," she dragged the word, her fingers intertwining with yours.

"Are you making a habit of having people throw drinks at you?" You raised an eyebrow at her before squeezing her hand reassuringly, "what happened?"

Sam let out a halfhearted groan, shrugging her shoulders as she avoided your eyes, "just some conspiracy psychos… and Tara is pissed at me."

"Did you guys have another fight?" You asked sympathetically.

"She was at this party and I tased a guy who was trying to take advantage of her, and now she's mad at me," Sam distracted herself by playing with your fingers as she spoke, "keeps telling me I should let her go."

In your four months with Sam, you learned how protective she could be of those she cares about, especially after what happened in Woodsboro. You learned that because you were now on that list too. You'd lost count of how many guys she threatened because of you already, each time you went out for drinks together and a strange dude decided to try his luck with you Sam would pull out her taser and aim it right where it hurts most.

In truth, you understood both sides. Yes, Sam could be overprotective sometimes; but she had her reasons.

"Family can be complicated, I would know," you pushed back strands of Sam's dark hair, never having enough of how she leaned into your touch, "but Tara will come around soon."

You felt the shape of Sam's smile on your palm right before she placed a kiss there. Part of you lived only for these sweet, precious moments.

"Hey guys," Chad's voice suddenly broke your peaceful bubble. You and Sam looked up to see him on the stairs, "come up here, quick."

Sam walked into her apartment holding onto your hand, and her grip only tightened when she saw what everyone was watching on the TV.

A student from Blackmore University had just been murdered, Mindy recognized him from their film studies class.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sam’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @alexkolax

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter fanfic #sam carpenter imagine #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #scream #scream vi #scream 6

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sweetnestor · 7 years ago

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odlt extra #1 | a very jet lagged valentine

‘but you havent even finished odlt yet’ shuuuuttt up

idk idk!!!! i was feeling Soft and slightly lonely on v-day for god knows what reason and i just,,,,,,, vomited this out!!! here is a teeny tiny break from all the Angst that the main fic has to offer. enjoy

PREVIOUS FICS (u should read these if ur new here)(srsly this is ethan x oc)

February 2018, aka when the European tour started.

CrankGameplays: “Happy valentine’s day! You’re my favorite person and im glad i get to experience all the things with you. Love you :)”

You’d think he would post one of the many decent candid photos he’s taken of me. You know, one where my highlight was catching the light, or one where I was smiling, or one of the two of us looking disgustingly adorable. But no, Ethan went with the photo he took of me passed out on our bed in our Amsterdam hotel room, my wavy pink hair sprawled out in an ungraceful manner. I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep, nor was he. It just happened. And now my sleepy self was all over Instagram.

Ethan was just as groggy when I shook him awake. Unlike me, he was a very handsy, cuddly being when he was sleepy. He rolled onto his side and groaned in the way he would when he wanted to hold me, so I scooted into his arms and let him.

His skin was warm and weirdly soothing. We were supposed to be getting out of bed… I was supposed to be insomniac due to sheer anxiety. Time zones were out to get us. Yet somehow, it felt like the holiday itself.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I spoke softly into his collarbone.

He squeezed my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. “Did you see my picture?”

“Oh, did I.”

“I meant every word I said.”

Ah yes, that extra bit of validation. I smiled as I wrapped my arms around his waist. I had no idea what time it was, so I didn’t know how much time we had before we had to be in the lobby with everyone else.

“When’s the next time we’ll be alone a hotel room?” I asked, now looking up at Ethan.

He shrugged. “No idea. Why?”

“Do you think we’ll be able to sneak around like we did last time around?”

If he was struggling to wake up before, then my question sped up the process. He met my eyes, red tinting his cheeks. “Oh… I don’t know. Do you want to sneak around?”

“If we can,” I told him as I leaned in to kiss the crook of his neck. “If not then… we're alone now.”

That was all I had to say to make run late. Excuse: jet lag.

I was grumpy and tired when it was time to get up and do the tour thing all over again. I had a rough flight… or, two flights. We had stopped in London between flights, in which I had a panic attack and a case of the nervous shits while everyone else ate and tried not to fall asleep. Then, we were off to the Netherlands, where I fell asleep the second I got to the hotel. Ethan fell asleep too, but not before taking pictures of my sleeping, drooling face. I didn’t really mind that he would do that. I took my own photos of him while we were on the plane.

And that was what I posted on Instagram that morning in the shuttle on the way to the venue. I picked a selfie of me clutching a pillow to my chest on the plane ride over here. Ethan was in the seat next to me, his head tilted back as he slept. As sleep deprived and generally nervous as I was, I was seriously considering captioning the photo with something absolutely cheesy and deep. I actually started writing it out.

bellasanti: “To the guy who found me at my lowest point, who helped me get to where i am now… the person who has always been nothing but kind and wonderful since day 1. My biggest supporter and my best friend… I cant even begin to explain how lucky i am to have found you, and how proud i am of you and how far you’ve come. I love you more than words could describe 💙💖💙💖💙💖”

A small smile was etched on my face as I read the caption over and over again. I looked over at Ethan, who was practically standing as he “touched lenses” with Mark. They were both vlogging and being rather loud about it. More than a year later, and my heart still went all soft and mushy just by looking at Ethan do what he does best. Gross, I know.

Suddenly, the caption felt far too revealing. I had hit two million Instagram followers recently, plenty of which were also Ethan’s. Did I really want to expose bits and pieces of our relationship? I mean, it’s not like we interact a lot online, anyway. We liked to keep some things private. I copied the original caption, and then deleted it apart from the hearts. Then, I made the photo public. I sent the words to him in a Twitter DM instead, knowing he wouldn’t see it until much later.

He sat back down in his seat a couple minutes later, looking back at the footage he just recorded on his camera. I glanced at him once, and then continued looking through my phone.

“Love you,” I said softly and mindlessly.

He suddenly looked up, as if I didn't say that all the time, just loud enough so he could catch it. I saw him look at me through my peripherals, I could tell he was blushing.

“Love you too,” he replied, poking my cheek.

Finally, he put his camera down and pulled out his phone. Neither of us said anything more, but I was somewhat anxiously awaiting him to notice either my DM or my Instagram post. Somehow, just silently sitting next to each other while scrolling on our phones became one of my favorite pastimes.

“Aww,” he mumbled at one point.

I glanced over his shoulder once, only to see a flash of Jack and Signe on his Twitter feed. Why hadn't he seen his DMs yet? What was taking him so long?

Feeling uncharacteristically mushy, I lied my head on his shoulder. He smelled good, and he was soft and cuddly as ever. I was suddenly missing our short time alone back in the hotel room. We wouldn't be alone together until next month, and it suddenly seemed like a difficult challenge.

Last month, when the tour went West, Ethan and I did a full three sixty. Instead of angrily texting each other and crying in bathroom stalls, we were sexting and getting it on in the dressing room, the bathroom, and even once in my bunk when everyone else was asleep. It showed just how strong we had gotten over the last few months. But because of those raunchy activities from not only tour but also when we were home, I went to great lengths to make sure my birth control hadn't failed me. I didn’t have any symptoms, apart the usual anxiety nausea, but I still worked up the courage to schedule a doctor’s appointment prior to tour. So far, my uterus wasn’t occupying anything I didn’t want it to.

Ethan put his arm around me just as mindlessly as when I said I loved him. He was still scrolling on his phone, now on Instagram. This time, I saw him scroll up to my post, and he made a noise of protest.

“When did you take that?” he asked, showing me the plane selfie.

“When do you think?” I asked in response. “You have the best sleeping face.”

He chuckled. “You know you’re the only person who tells me that? Everyone else says it’s creepy.”

“I mean it is,” I said, half joking. “But you’re my boyfriend, and I always think you’re cute. Even when you sleep with your eyes half open.”

Ethan blushed and ducked his head a little. He always grew a little timid when I complimented or praised him. It was equally parts adorable and frustrating, because he never took the compliment.

“Stop,” he said softly.

“Have you checked your DMs?” I asked, unable to wait any longer.

He gave me a look and then went to open the app. “Well, what did you send me now…?” he asked in a funny voice.

I busied myself with intertwining my fingers with his. Then I kissed his hand and waited for him to read my sappy message.

“Aw…” He smiled. He was speaking very softly, like he didn't want the people sitting around us to hear. “That's real sweet… real cute…”

“I was gonna post that on Instagram, but decided that only you can hear things like that,” I replied in a voice just as soft. “And it's not just today, I feel that every day.”

“Aahhhh,” he groaned, now scooping me up in his arms.

Except, he did it in a way so my back was to his chest, and my head hung out in the walkway of the shuttle, capturing the attention of some of the people around us.

“Hey,” I said to Tyler, who was sitting in front of us.

“What’s up?” he replied casually. “Just hanging, I see?”

“Just hanging,” I repeated.

“Whatcha doing, Bella?” asked Mark from a couple of rows behind.

I turned my head and saw him with his vlogging camera. My cheeks reddened a little bit. “I’m not here by choice!”

“She said nice things and deserved hugs!” Ethan said.

“God, we’re gross,” I said under my breath before I was let go.

#crankgameplays x oc #ethan nestor x reader #odlt fic #odlt extra #ylh extra #ethella fic #sweetheart writes #stand back i thINK IM GONNA VOMIT #for real when i was writing this i was like *insert heart emojis*#now im just itching to get back to angsty sad shit lmao #anyway ill make a masterlist of all the extra one shots ive posted that have to do with this series #figured it would be nice to see bella and her boyf and her pals in a moment of Fun and Peace ya feel me #i have bella and ethans whole life all planned out lmao like #ive invested way too much time in these nerds #OH MY GOD i also have to post the angsty belliplier i promised skdhlask #maybe tomorrow or the next day

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arcanadreams · 3 years ago

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That time you and your demon boyfriend went viral

hi yes hello obey me fandom!! my name is Gabbi and i have never played a single second of the actual game but i have read enough fanon content for the past year to have this idea swimming around in my head and now i am finally letting this accursed thing out of my brain and putting it in yours

also i’m only doing the brothers because any more than that and i’d have an aneurysm probably. oh and shoutout to @obeythebutler and @beels-burger-babe for inspiring me with their works to feel brave enough to write for this fandom

Lucifer:

You and Lucifer go viral on Asmo’s Devilgram story!

You’re in the kitchen helping Asmo with dinner duty and singing along to one of your playlists of human realm music that you like to show him.

Asmo starts filming your cute little dance while you stir the pot on the stove because you are just adorable!

About ten seconds into him filming, Lucifer appears in the doorway with quite the stern look on his face. You know, the one that comes right before a “MAMMOOOOOON” and strikes fear into the heart of all those with functioning eardrums. That one.

He opens his mouth, presumably to tell y’all to shut the fuck up, but then there’s a lull in the music and the eldest can hear your voice ever so slightly above the song’s vocalist and he freezes.

Man stops in his tracks like someone just smacked him in the face with a midair volleyball.

Asmo can be heard stifling a laugh behind his phone.

Lucifer’s face gets so soft and he almost, almost, loosens his metal-rod-through-the-ass posture before you notice him and give a little wave and ask if you and Asmo were being too loud like the considerate darling you are.

Lucifer clears and his throat and says something like, “No, you aren’t. I was just coming to check on how dinner is coming along,” and leaves, after which Asmo immediately presses the post button.

Screenshots of Lucifer’s heart eyes for you go absolutely viral because every demon on Devilgram goes absolutely feral for seeing the eldest demon brother lose his dignified composure. It becomes a meme template. “Get you someone who looks at you like Lucifer looks at MC” and “me at the delivery demon when he shows up with my spicy bat wings” posts become commonplace. (Asmo thinks the memes are totally worth getting strung up with Mammon for laughing at them.)

Mammon:

Much like Lucifer, you and Mammon end up going viral off Asmo’s Devilgram. (Noticing a pattern here?)

He pulls a silly prank on your asses and honestly I don’t know how you fell for it. But hey, they say “idiots in love” for a reason, so...

You and Asmo are sitting in the common room of the House of Lamentation just chillin. Well, he’s chillin, you’re on the floor studying for an upcoming exam.

The video starts in the middle of a conversation you and the avatar of lust were having.

“No, Asmo,” you say. “Mammon and I don’t use pet names for each other.” Now that’s just a darn lie, and every demon and crow within ten miles of Mammon and you together knows it.

“Really? I find that very hard to believe, MC.~”

You sigh in response to Asmo’s teasing. “Okay, he has a lot for me but I’m just not much of a pet name person, y’know?” The rest of the exchange goes like this:

“Oh, I totally get it.” *pause* “Hey MC, what do human world bees make again?”

“Honey.”

Cue a sheepish Mammon sticking his head in the doorway at the bluntness of your tone when you answered Asmo.

“Yeah, babe?” he looks like a puppy left on the side of a highway oh my god hUG HIM-

Asmo turns the camera back to his smug ass face and in the background you can be heard tripping on the damn carpet trying to get up and hug your mans. (”MAMMON GET OVER HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU” “W-WHAT? I THOUGHT YA WERE MAD AT ME?!?!?!?!”)

Leviathan:

Streamer Levi? Streamer Levi.

You guys go viral the first time you make an appearance on one of Levi’s weekly (insert cool Devildom streaming service name here) streams.

It’s completely unintentional. You had been asking him for weeks to play with him on there, but he’s the avatar of envy after all. He doesn’t like sharing his partner, even if it’s with random strangers who have no real access to you.

However, he has his stream on a Thursday instead of a Friday one week, and you come into his room carrying dinner because 1) You didn’t realize he was streaming and 2) No matter what he was doing, the boy needed to eat. It wasn’t unusual for you to bring him dinner, so you had no idea why he was blushing and stammering even more than usual this time in particular. Boy was speaking in beached whale trying to tell you what was wrong.

Then you notice his screen. Oh! “Hi chat!” You wave, setting Levi’s food down on his desk in front of his keyboard. “M-MC!” He full-on whines, slamming a hand over his mouth afterwards when he remembers his viewers could hear that.

Honestly, they’d meme the fuck out of him if it weren’t for the fact that they are FINALLY SEEING HIS HENRY!!! THE MYSTERIOUS MC!!!

Chat is bombarding you with questions while you make Levi eat dinner. And by make him eat dinner, I mean literally feeding this man forkfuls/spoonfuls while he games because you love how flustered he gets when you do that.

Does it impact his score? Absolutely. Does he care? Not really when you’re pampering him like that.

You start answering chat’s questions about you while he’s chewing so he can’t tell you to stop LMAO-

You’re a natural on stream. The VOD becomes the most popular on Levi’s account in a matter of hours and soon cute highlights compilations of you and him on that stream start making the rounds on Devildom Twitter.

Satan:

There was buildup to Satan going viral, similar to Levi in a way.

Satan does have a Devilgram, but it’s basically a white woman’s Instagram with added book reviews for variety. Unless you’re a reader his account is pretty boring: candles, books, fireplaces, and cats.

However, after you two started reading together fairly often he began posting pictures of your legs draped over his while you sat together. They’d always be captioned with vague ass pretentious literary criticism.

This goes on for months, and he gains a lot of (horny) followers after the leg pics start up. He doesn’t really get why but you both joke that it’s because you have some damn nice legs and I mean neither of you are complaining about the new following.

You two go viral when he finally shows your face, entirely by accident.

The post is a video, which is already strange for him and grabs attention. In it, you’re scoffing and reading an excerpt of a book, mocking its understanding of female anatomy.

“I’m quoting here, Satan: ‘her breasts bouncing around like giant pacmen.’ I’M SORRY?? THAT ISN’T HOW BOOBS WORK SIR. WHY ARE MEN ALLOWED TO WRITE?”

(fun fact that is a very real quote from a very real book I really read last month pls save me)

Originally the camera is focused on your body, with your head out of frame to protect your privacy, but your righteous anger made Satan laugh. Like, a real laugh. The one that makes you and everyone in earshot wonder if he truly was never an angel cause he sure as hell laughs like one but anyway-

When he threw his head back, his DDD angled up just a tad without him noticing, and your face was in view for like .2 seconds. Screenshots of it are making the rounds on Devilgram almost immediately: FINALLY THE LEGS’ OWNER HAS BEEN FOUND.

Satan apologizes profusely but you honestly find it funny and you two opt to just start taking selfies while reading with both of your faces in them from now on.

Asmodeus:

I’m gonna be real with you: you and Asmo go viral all the time. Pretty much everything Asmo posts can be considered viral because of his social media following and his status as one of the seven avatars of sin.

However, there are some fairly cute highlights to be pointed out among the times you were both featured in a post that blew up.

Your favorite is probably that time Asmo livestreamed on of you guys’ ‘Nail Nites,’ as you call them.

You’re both on the floor, doing your nails and kicking your feet back and forth while talking to chat. A lot of the questions are about your relationship, and there’s a lot of flirting back and forth between the two of you.

A particular clip of the stream does blow the fuck up on Devilgram, though, when someone screen records it and posts it with a bunch of heart emojis edited over it.

“’What colors do you think best describe each other?’ Ooo, that’s a good one, chat!” Asmo claps his hands together excitedly, making sure to be careful of his nails.

Pretty much everyone expected you to say pink, but you surprised both your boyfriend and your viewers when, after a pensive few moments, you replied with “Hmm...probably yellow or orange.”

“Can I ask why, darling?” Asmo tilts his head in confusion. I mean, yeah, those colors look good on him, but he doesn’t wear them often so he’s wondering about your thought process.

“Well, in the human world those colors often represent happiness, optimism, and positivity. You’re always the cheerful presence I need in my life when things get hard, so you have the vibe of those colors.”

Asmo proceeds to burst into tears and hug you, messing up both of your nails and prolonging the stream since you both have to start over. But neither of you particularly care.

Fun fact: Asmo has the clip that demon made of that portion of the stream saved on his DDD and watches it whenever he feels sad.

Beelzebub:

Beel and you probably go the most viral out of everybody. Like this moment is an entire phenomenon across the Devildom internet.

It’s a video, or well, multiple videos, taken at the end of a Fangol game that Beel’s team had just won. Everyone is cheering and going crazy, yourself included, and you just really wanted to congratulate your boyfriend.

So, like the rational person you are, you elect to climb up onto the railing of the bleachers and wave to get his attention.

You were absolutely fine up there, and sat all comfortably motioning Beel over to you. He notices, of course, and jogs over, standing right beneath you and looking up. (Back where you were sitting, Mammon is screeching like a hyena in heat and Belphie, who is laying down, has one eye open to glare at him. The youngest knows Beel would never let you hurt yourself; you’re fine.)

A bunch of assorted demons at the game has started filming while you were sat atop the railing since you were rather noticeable. Therefore, there’s a shit ton of different angles of the adorable events that follow:

You slide off the railing, landing right in Beel’s waiting arms bridal style. You’ve got this brilliant smile on your face as you pull his helmet off. None of the DDDs filming can hear it over the crowd noise, but Beel asks you why you just went through all that trouble and you tell him it’s because you wanted to tell him how proud you are.

Soft boy’s chest puffs up and he smiles this big cheesy smile at you reach up to run a hand through his hair. You feel him practically purr at the contact, and with a laugh you pull him in and plant a big ole smooch on him.

The crowd, at least those of them that can see, scream. Everyone is running high on adrenaline and happy emotions; something that cute causes a ruckus!! When you pull away Beel proceeds to put you on his shoulders and you celebrate with him and the rest of his team.

The videos of you two being adorable go completely viral and there are some threads dedicated to stockpiling every single angle taken of the event. Beel is completely oblivious to the attention but you have a lot of them saved on your DDD.

Belphegor:

If you think Belphegor has any sort of social media presence whatsoever then you are sorely mistaken. (Well okay he actually does run some anonymous troll accounts to meme on Lucifer’s posts but that’s neither here nor there-)

Therefore, naturally, you two go viral off of Asmo’s Devilgram.

Okay so someone in the obey me tag the other say headcanoned that Belphie will go out of his way to nap in ridiculous places and my brain really took that and RAN WITH IT.

So what happens is that Belphie will fall asleep in the fucking weirdest places. I’m talking on top of the fridge, underneath the dinner table, on top of bookshelves...you name it, he has slept there, no matter the effort it takes to get there in the first place.

And, ever since you two started dating, you would join him. Sometimes it involved putting yourself at risk of great bodily harm, but the little smile he gave when you he saw you fucking scaling the countertop to reach him made it worth it.

So anyway, since Beel adores the both of you to no end, he takes pictures whenever he sees you two napping together, whether or not it is in a crazy place. He sends these to the family group chat because he thinks they’re adorable.

Over a span of weeks to months, Asmo has built up a stock of images of you and Belphie cuddles up in seemingly impossible places. Once he has about ten or so, he posts a compilation of them to his Devilgram with some cheesy ass caption like “The things we do for love <3″.

They become a meme SO QUICKLY. Like UNBELIEVABLY quickly.

The picture of you and Belphie sleeping on top of a bookshelf, in particular, is a big hit. Memes abound.

“If my girl doesn’t climb up a bookshelf to cuddle my ass, she don’t love me.” “Get yourself a partner who scales bookshelves just to be with your ass.” Etc etc...Belphie doesn’t give a shit but you laugh at a lot of them so he sees that as a good outcome.

#IM SO HAPPY TO HAVE FINALLY WRITTEN THIS #obey me #my writing #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #posts

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sgtnightwolfinthetardis · 3 years ago

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The Cheer Up Checklist

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,011

Summary: When the holiday season brings about a change in your boyfriend’s behavior, you are determined to get to the bottom of it. Johnny might be a ridiculous man-child, but he is your ridiculous man-child, and you make it your mission to cheer him up and return the smile to his face.

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit sexual content (oral – f receiving, p in v, fingering). Unprotected sex. A pinch of angst, a dash of smut, and heaping tablespoons of fluff. Soft!Johnny. Perversion of Frozen lyrics. A Johnny that is ridiculously, heart eyes in love with his girl. Shameless use of fire puns and fire related terms. 18+ only.

A/N: This is a fic of firsts for me. My first time writing for Marvel, first reader insert, first real time writing smut, and the first thing I have written after a ridiculously long dry spell. This fic is for the Happy Hoelidays Challenge hosted by the lovely @stargazingfangirl18, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, and @navybrat817-shares . Thanks so much for hosting this challenge, I had so much fun writing this fic. I’ve included the recipe I got after the fic.

It felt like the universe was taunting you for every eye roll you had ever made, every blush that you had ever begrudged, and every curl of embarrassment in your gut that you had ever wished away. Loving Johnny Storm was an experience, and while you loved the ridiculous man-child more and more each day, he could be a lot sometimes. Johnny was all suggestive grins and filthy comments rolled up with ludicrous puns, and a charming attitude that made people gravitate towards him. You were definitely not as gregarious as your boyfriend, and he excelled at getting you into situations that tried your patience and overall tolerance for embarrassment.

While you wouldn’t want to change him, you were guilty of wishing on more than one occasion that he would tone it down just a bit. In the past few weeks, you had gotten your unspoken wish. Johnny had been different. It felt like, and heaven help you if he ever found out what you were thinking, but it felt like the fire had gone out inside him. It was everything you had wanted in your most embarrassed and exasperated moments and it was absolutely unbearable. It was after the third cancelled date that you’d had enough. He always had a perfectly reasonable excuse, but it felt like he was doing everything in his power to avoid seeing you in person. It made a kind of sense; Johnny might be packing the fire power, but you had your own kind of power over him, and he knew it. If something was wrong it wouldn’t take you long to ferret it out once you laid eyes on him.

“Alright hotshot, if this is the game you want to play, then game on.”

Grabbing your laptop, you made quick work of logging in and calling out of work for the next day. A quick trip to the kitchen found you gathering all the ingredients for his favorite cookies, taking care to crush up the Oreos by hand to sprinkle into the batter. As the cookies baked, you brooded, wondering what could possibly be bothering Johnny to the point that he was actively trying to keep it from you.

By the time you received your goodnight text from Johnny (filled with a truly obnoxious amount of fire emojis), the cookies were cooled and packed into a Tupperware container. You set your alarm and crawled in a bed that was always too cold without Johnny in it. Despite what people said, the grass wasn’t greener on the other side. If the occasional embarrassment was the price to pay for loving Johnny, then you’d pay it every time. You wanted your ridiculous, happy-go-lucky, flirt of a boyfriend back and dammit, you were going to get him!

If it wasn’t for the circumstances surrounding it, the look of utter shock on your boyfriend’s face would have had you rolling on the floor. As it was, you couldn’t even bring yourself to smile. It was nine in the morning when you stepped into his apartment. Johnny should have been up and showered from the early morning gym session he attended religiously. Instead, he was still in bed, curled around a pillow with stubble on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes.

“Oh, Johnny.”

You shucked your shoes and jeans as you made your way over to him, tugging the pillow out of his arms and lying down next to him to take its place.

“You should be at work, babe,” he croaked out, despite tightening his arms around you and burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“Hush, you’re not allowed to talk when you’re being stupid,” you grumbled at him, reaching up to run your hands gently through his hair. You smiled as he groaned slightly in response and you felt some of the tension drain from him.

“So, you going to tell me why I had to call out of work and stage a stealth mission to be able to see you?” you asked.

“Stealth mission? You?” Johnny snorted. “The last time you were here you walked into my couch.”

“Johnathan Lowell Spencer Storm.”

“Geeze woman, why are you full-naming me?” Johnny asked with a pout, running his hands up and down your back. “Wait scratch that, how do you even know my full name?”

“Susan told me when we started getting serious, she thought I’d need it sooner or later. Now stop trying to change the subject and distract me; it’s not going to work,” you said, placing your hands firmly on his chest. “You’ve been avoiding me, you’re still in bed at nine in the morning, and you look like you haven’t slept in days. Out with it hotshot, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. I can sleep in if I want,” Johnny muttered stubbornly, latching onto the one part of your statement he could at least somewhat refute.

“Johnny, this isn’t like you. I’m worried,” you said as you reached up to cradle his face in your hands, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Please talk to me.”

Johnny let loose a long sigh as he tried to avoid looking at you. He could never stand to see you cry, and the longer your hands remained on his face and you gazed up at him, the more he felt his resolve crumble. He had wanted to keep it from you, avoid dragging you into all of his shit, but now you were here and warm and curled up against him, and he didn’t have the energy to shut you out anymore.

“My mom died around this time of year. It was snowing the day of the accident.” Johnny rolled you both over and settled you on top of him, closing his eyes and focusing on the feel of your body on his as he spoke. “Then my dad lost his shit and everything went to hell. The holiday season isn’t my favorite, but I know how excited you’ve been. I’d been talking myself up so I wouldn’t let all of my crap affect you but then Susan told me that she and Reed were going to Hawaii for Christmas. I know it’s stupid, but we’ve never been apart for the holidays and I’m not handling it well.”

You felt your heart breaking for the sweet man you were lying atop of. Neither of the Storm siblings spoke much about their parents, but their mother’s accident and their father’s subsequent gambling issues and run-in with the criminal underworld weren’t a secret.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and brushed a gentle kiss against Johnny’s forehead. Moving slowly and with languid purpose, you peppered every inch of his face with soft kisses.

“There is nothing stupid about how you are feeling,” you said firmly, running a hand through his hair. “There’s nothing wrong in taking comfort from your family and wanting them around when times are tough.”

“I’m a fucking adult, I shouldn’t need my sister around like a security blanket to avoid falling apart,” Johnny snapped, though it lacked any true heat. He just sounded tired.

“Is that so? I guess I missed the part of adulthood where you are required to totally cut yourself off from the comfort of others. I knew I should have read the Terms of Acceptance more clearly,” you said dryly.

“Stop making sense at me,” Johnny whined, shuffling you off him so he could pull the blanket up over his head.

“An adult, huh,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Come on hotshot, I made you cookies, but you only get them if you get out of bed, shower, and shave. You’re all prickly.”

Johnny poked his head out of the blanket. “The cookies with the Oreos?”

“I took off work to come and see you; you don’t think I brought the big guns with me? Yes, the cookies with the Oreos. Go on, I have an idea I want to run by you when you get out.”

After a moment of consideration, Johnny pushed off the blanket, rolled out of bed, and made his way to the bathroom. “I guess the cookies with the Oreos are worth getting up for.”

You rolled your eyes again and his lips twitched into a small smile.

“Hey Y/N?” he called from the bathroom door. “Thanks for coming.”

You smiled at the soft look in his eyes. “Every time, hotshot.”

It hadn’t taken long to find the perfect rental in upstate New York and convince Johnny to go away with you.

“You know when you presented the idea of a long weekend away, I didn’t realize we would be living out your obsessive Hallmark movie dreams. My ideas of what we would do this weekend were not rated PG,” Johnny said with a smirk as he pulled the car up and took in the picturesque cabin and snowy landscape.

With an only partly exaggerated sigh, you stepped out of the car and went to grab your suitcase from the trunk before eying him with a cocked brow. “Considering you cried at the end of the last Hallmark movie we watched, don’t start with me.”

Johnny flushed scarlet. “They both made it home after a harrowing journey together! She saved her family’s business and he broke his writing slump and wrote the Christmas song for his mom. It was a touching moment!”

“Whatever you say, hotshot,” you said, trying to hide your grin.

“See if I put out for you this weekend,” he threatened with a grumble, turning his nose up as he walked towards the path that led to the door.

“There’s an empty threat if I ever heard one,” you said with a scoff, laughing when Johnny turned around to stick his tongue out at you.

Once he was far enough away you let go of your suitcase and grabbed for the snow that lay plentifully on the ground. Rolling a quick snowball, you let it fly a second before you called for your boyfriend. Bullseye!

Johnny sputtered around the face full of snow that he had turned into, but his vision was clear enough to see the second snowball that you threw. Bringing up his hand, he let his powers flare, melting the snowball well before it hit him.

“Oh, babe,” Johnny said with a dangerous smirk on his face, dropping his suitcase and reaching down to make his own snowball. “Don’t you know that fire always beats ice?”

You squealed as you abandoned your suitcase and ran for it. Snowball after snowball pelted your back, your legs, and your arms until you felt a solid weight tackle you from behind.

“Gotcha!” Johnny said triumphantly, eyes twinkling, as he maneuvered you so you were pinned under his weight, his face inches from yours. “Now admit that I am the supreme snowball champion.”

“I don’t know about the supreme champion,” you said with a straight face that only held for a few seconds. Giggling, you leaned your head up to capture Johnny’s lips in a gentle kiss. He quickly took control of the kiss, his mouth demanding and so, so warm.

Johnny smirked at your breathless and dazed state when he finally pulled away. “Lucky for you I accept submission in the form of kisses.”

You could do nothing but gaze up at him in awe as he got up and shook off the snow, running a hand through his hair. He really was stupidly good looking.

“Come on, babe, let’s go see if there is a fireplace in this cabin and I can get you all warmed up.”

“Just going to light a fire, are you?” You asked skeptically as you accepted the hand he offered to help you up.

“In so many places babe, in so many places,” he said with a filthy smile.

As you walked with him up to the cabin, trying to ignore how hot and bothered his heated gaze was making you, you mentally checked off an item on the list you were affectionately referring to as the Cheer Up Checklist.

Goad Johnny into a snowball fight.

You smiled as the credits to Frozen rolled, detangling yourself from Johnny to head for the door.

“Come on babe, you can’t be serious,” Johnny whined as you pulled on your boots. “Don’t leave me here all alone.”

“I asked you to come with me, you’re the one who is setting yourself up to be all alone.”

Johnny huffed from his spot on the couch surrounded by empty plates, bowls, and mugs. It had been a lazy morning spent watching movies, eating cookies, munching on popcorn, and drinking hot chocolate.

“A snowman, really?” Johnny asked, as though your answer was going to suddenly and miraculously change. “You are actually leaving me here to go outside and build a snowman.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Johnny. I haven’t built one since I was a kid and watching Frozen put the idea in my head.”

“But building a snowman is for children,” he said with a full-on pout.

“So is pouting,” you pointed out. “If you are so concerned though, I’ll put a martini in his hand when I’m done, or drink one while I’m building him.”

He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could start. “No, I don’t want to hear anything from you that isn’t snowman related. You can either come with me and have fun, or stay here and sulk.”

Johnny thought for a moment with a frown on his face. After a while, a smirk started to slowly grow to take its place. It made you decidedly nervous because the Grinch had nothing on Johnny Storm in that moment. A hundred scenarios started running through your mind, each full of potential disaster, but nothing prepared you for your boyfriend getting up from the couch and starting to sing.

“Do you want to build a hoeman? Or take a ride on this dick and balls? I think some company is overdue, My own hand just won’t do, I’m getting such blue balls!”

“Stop! Stop defiling an innocent Disney song!” you shrieked as you leapt forward to cover his mouth with your hand.

He looked at you with innocent eyes before licking your palm with his tongue.

“I wish I could say I was surprised,” you said as you wiped your palm on your pants. “Alright, now that you have ruined my ability to ever watch, listen to, or think about Frozen in public again, will you please come and build a snowman with me. For reasons that I sometimes question, especially in this moment, I actually want to spend time with you.”

Though he grumbled a bit while getting ready and was constantly trying out new lyrics to go with his first stanza, Johnny did come and help you build a snowman. It wasn’t a perfect snowman, especially since the carrot you had brought out for the nose had been appropriated by Johnny to serve as a different part of the snowman’s anatomy. In the end though, you couldn’t complain. It had just made it easier for you to convince Johnny to build a second snowman. Every horny snowman needs a horny snowwoman with big boobs to keep him company, after all.

As you pulled out your phone to take a picture of a boyishly grinning Johnny standing next to your two creations, you smiled to yourself and checked off another item.

Build a snowman couple.

The rest of the weekend flew by in a flurry of activities. You and Johnny had baked cookies, eaten s’mores, made a gingerbread house that was definitely not structurally sound, ate the gingerbread house when it collapsed, and of course found the time to christen almost every room in the cabin. You worked hard, trying everything you could think of to keep your boyfriend happy, and his thoughts away from sad things.

You hadn’t planned on taking a nap, but when you had almost nodded off against Johnny’s shoulder while you were cuddling on the couch, he insisted on taking you to lie down. It was cold when you woke, prompting you to look around for your favorite source of warmth. He was sitting by the window, watching the snow fall, a small flame dancing around his hand.

“Good nap?” Johnny asked without looking over.

“It was better when you were in bed with me,” you answered honestly, causing his lips to curl into a small smile. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking,” he replied, still gazing out the window.

Your stomach turned, and your mind raced for the best way to distract him before his soft laugh distracted you.

“Already thinking of ways to distract me, aren’t you? You don’t have to worry; I’m not thinking about home, or about Susan, or about the season.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, squirming slightly.

Johnny let the flame die out and finally turned to face you. The look on his face gave you pause. He’d eyed you with passion before; Johnny was practically passion incarnate. He’d turned soft looks on you at times. This however, this was different. His gaze smoldered as he looked at you, intense and serious in a way he seldom was. The longer he looked at you, the faster your heart started to beat.

“I think you do. You’ve done nothing but try to keep my mind occupied since we got here. You planned this trip to get me out of the Baxter Building where reminders of Susan are everywhere. You’ve plied me with sweets and delicious food, let me lose myself in your gorgeous body, and bantered with me just enough to try and trick me into thinking it was all happening naturally. To make it so I wouldn’t notice how much work you had put into it, how carefully you had planned every detail.”

You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. Embarrassment coursed through you at how easily you had been seen through. On top of that was the embarrassment of falling victim to the same façade that strangers did. Johnny flirted and was playful, with a penchant for acting immaturely, but they don’t send idiots into space, and your man was an astronaut. Johnny was way smarter than he let people see, and as his girlfriend you should have known that better than anyone. You did know he would be hard to fool, but you had just ignored that knowledge and tried anyway because you wanted to take care of him, to bring back his smile.

Warm hands touching your face pulled you from your thoughts, forcing your chin up to meet his eyes. The smoldering look was still there, setting your heart racing, but it was the soft smile on Johnny’s face that sent heat shooting straight to your core.

“Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” He questioned softly, cupping your face in his hand. “To know that the woman I love spent all this time and energy just to cheer me up. To know that she was so affected by my pain that her immediate thoughts were about how she could eradicate it, even after I had stupidly tried to shut her out.”

“Johnny, I…” you started, eyes fluttering shut when he brought a warm finger up to your lips to hush you.

“I’ve never felt so loved, so seen, so cared for. That’s what I was thinking about by the window, about you, and about how lucky I am that you are mine,” Johnny said, running a knuckle gently down your cheek. “Now open those pretty eyes and look at me Y/N.”

You managed to pry your eyes open to look up at him and he smiled at you, leaning down to press his lips against yours in a brush so soft it could barely be called a kiss. It was back, you realized in that moment. The fire that he had lost in his sadness. It wasn’t the bright flames of passion that you were used to, but something softer, something hotter and deeper and smoldering. Something that was going to consume you in a way you could not even begin to wrap your head around.

“Let me love on you, babe,” Johnny begged, voice low. “Wanna make you feel so fucking good.”

At your nod he slowly stripped the clothes from your body and laid you back against the bed. His eyes wandered up and down your body, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to stop and look.

“So beautiful,” Johnny murmured, dropping to his knees beside the bed and tugging you down to the edge. “My beautiful girl.”

You moaned as he pulled your legs over his shoulders, his praise making your pussy throb. He moved slowly, kissing his way up one thigh and then down the other, ignoring where you needed him most.

“Johnny, please!”

“Shh, I know, beautiful girl, I know. I’m here. I’m going to take care of you,” Johnny soothed, nuzzling against your inner thigh before leaning forward to lick a wide stripe from your hole to your clit.

You cried out as your knees closed around his head. Warm, it was so warm. Johnny always ran hot,but this was something else. Heat radiated off of his tongue and you felt your toes curl as he continued to slowly lick through your folds.

“How’s that feel, babe?” Johnny asked, bringing his head up so you could see his face, chin wet with your slick and flames dancing in his eyes.

You let out a weak noise and he smiled brightly.

“Yeah, I thought you might like it hot. Was thinking about how I could make it good for you,” Johnny said as he brought his thumb up to rub slow circles on your clit, his thumb radiating the same intense warmth as his tongue. “Wanted to overwhelm you like you’ve overwhelmed me. Thought of how good you feel around me, so warm and tight. Wanted to give you that warmth, make you feel what I do.”

You thrashed blindly when Johnny leaned back down and traded his mouth for his thumb, alternating between drawing the small nub into his mouth to suck at, and pulling back to blow a cooling breath on it. Your pussy clenched around nothing. He was driving you insane but it wasn’t enough, you needed more. Words failed you when you tried to speak, nothing but whimpers and moans coming out. You reached for his hands and pulled at them desperately.

“It’s okay babe, I get it. I know what you want,” Johnny said and you nearly sobbed in relief as he slid two fingers into you and then curled them, searching for that spot that lit you up.

With his mouth on your clit and two fingers slowly fucking into you it didn’t take long for the coil in your gut to tighten.

“Faster Johnny, please,” you cried, desperate for release.

“I know babe, you’re close. Can tell, you’re squeezing my fingers like a vice. I’ll get you there beautiful girl, don’t worry. You look so gorgeous when you let go. Go on now, come for me, beautiful girl,” Johnny crooned at you before leaning down to flick your clit with his tongue while speeding up the pace of his fingers.

You came with a wild cry, your back arching off the bed while Johnny lapped up everything you gave him.

“Nothing sweeter,” he said with a blissed-out grin as he crawled up the bed to plant a sweet kiss on your lips. You groaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

“Off!” you whined groggily as you tugged at his shirt. He had no right to still be clothed when he was driving you insane with desire.

“Want something, do you, beautiful girl?” Johnny teased gently as he worked to strip his shirt, pants, and boxers.

“You, Johnny,” you sighed as you took in the sight of his toned body and his flushed and leaking cock. “I just want you.”

Johnny smiled at your wrecked voice and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ve got me, Y/N. You’ve always got me.”

You watched as he stroked his length a few times, his groan shooting straight to your core. He caged your body under his as he slid between your thighs and put a hand on either side of your head.

“Hey, beautiful,” Johnny said, as he rubbed his nose against yours playfully.

“Johnny, come on!” you whined, rocking your hips up against his to try and goad him into action.

“Easy now, beautiful girl. Some things are meant to be savored,” Johnny said with a grin as he started to kiss his way down your jawline, sucking love bites into your neck.

He was going to kill you. All those times when he had wrecked you so hard you were afraid your neighbors were going to lodge a noise complaint, all the times he fucked you like a man possessed, and it was this soft, reverent Johnny that was going to do you in.

“Please Johnny, I need it so bad. Need you so bad. Please!” you pleaded shamelessly, tears starting to fall from your eyes.

Johnny ran a gentle hand over your hair as he took in your tears and desperate begging. “Okay beautiful girl, hush now. You don’t have to beg for me, I’m all yours. I’ve got you.”

Johnny lined himself up and started to push into you, your moans echoing in tandem when he bottomed out. The heat of his tongue and fingers had nothing on his cock. You felt like you were being consumed by his warmth and you clung desperately to him.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this,” Johnny groaned as he set a leisurely pace, deep thrusts that made you feel every inch of his cock.

You met him thrust for thrust, eyes rolling back when he started to grind his hips deeply into yours at the end of each thrust.

“Feels so good, Johnny,” you panted out, bringing your legs up to rest on his ass.

It did feel good, so good, but you wanted more. You appreciated the slow pace, and the meaning behind it, but he was driving you crazy and you needed him to fuck you. Luckily, you knew just the buttons to push. You reached your hands up to curl in his hair and pulled until a broken groan left his lips. You dug your heels into his ass and pulled him closer.

“Fuck babe, I’m trying to love on you here. Stop trying to kill me!” Johnny said as his hips stuttered on the next thrust.

“I know and it’s the sweetest, but love me later, hotshot. Fuck me now!”

“As you wish,” Johnny said sweetly before grinning a wicked grin and pulling out in order to flip you over onto your stomach. “Hands and knees, beautiful girl.”

You scrambled to comply, your head still slightly dizzy from the speed at which Johnny had flipped you. You had barely gotten to your knees when you felt him grip your hips and thrust into you, drawing a wild keen from your throat.

“This what you needed?” Johnny asked as he pounded into you, his strokes deep and his pace unrelenting.

“Fuck!” you moaned out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Johnny laughed as he reached down and pulled you up to his chest. The angle brought him even deeper into you and you felt so full. You brought your arms up and around his neck, needing to touch him, needing something to ground you as a fire ignited inside you.

“You feel so good beautiful girl, fuck. You always feel so good, squeezing me so tight. I’d live here if I could, just spend my days buried inside you.”

“I‘d let you,” you swore, shaking when Johnny moved a hand to rub furiously at your clit.

You didn’t even have time to warn him, the coil shattering as you came with a cry. You felt your body go slack, held up only by Johnny’s strength. His thrusts grew more erratic and you could hear him grunting and groaning in your ear.

“Give it to me, hotshot,” you slurred out, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

Johnny came with a low growl, collapsing onto the bed and pulling you to lie curled in his arms. You drifted peacefully in his arms as you both came down from your highs. Johnny pressing small kisses on your head, neck, anything he could reach without moving.

“So can I love on you now or what?” Johnny teased as you lay resting, petting up and down your back.

You giggled, burying your head into his chest. You just couldn’t stop and soon Johnny was joining you. It felt so good, so right.

“My beautiful, demanding girl,” Johnny said fondly, turning your head so he could kiss you deeply.

You yawned as he pulled away, snuggling deeper and wrapping your arms around him.

“I should go and get something to clean us upm” Johnny murmured, though it didn’t stop him from pulling the blanket up over the two of you.

“We can shower in the morning before we leave,” you cajoled, clinging to him. “Don’t go, ’m so comfy.”

Johnny groaned before letting out a yawn of his own. He wriggled a bit so he was lying more fully on the pillow and pressed a final kiss to your head.

“Twist my arm, why don’t you” he said, reaching out his arm to flick the light off. “Goodnight, beautiful girl. I love you.”

“’Night, hotshot. Love you more,” you said, smiling as you felt Johnny’s breathing even out. You took a last look at your boyfriend who slept peacefully beside you, your love for him following him into dreamland.

Mission accomplished.

As your eyes started to close you checked off the last item on your list.

Fall asleep in a glorious, post-sex haze.

#Artemia writes #happyhoelidays2021 #Johnny Storm #Johnny Storm x reader #Johnny Storm fanfiction #johnny storm x y/n #johnny storm x you

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gleefulpoppet · 3 months ago

Note

Thanks for letting me know what emoji that was meant to be @lilacdaisyrose 👨‍👧‍👧 Do you tell people in real life that you write fic?

A select few! I've met a few friends from Tumblr in "real life," so they know, of course! And my hubs is hilariously supportive in a "don't tell me the details" kind of way. He's always saying things like, "You know what you should write about? [insert bizarre idea here]." But the one I remember the most is when he came home from the grocery store, and he was so excited, "You should write a story about your boys at Whole Foods, and they can only communicate using the lyrics to Hungry Like the Wolf from Duran Duran!" (Mind you he's only seen maybe three episodes of Glee). I laughed so hard I was crying. But he knows how much I need to write for my mental health, so it's very nice to have his support. Nobody else knows. My extended family would never-ever, in a billion years, condone or support the stories I write. I left a very oppressive religious background behind me a few years ago and have never looked back. Also, this is something I do just for me and to be able to share with anyone who wants to read (I'm an artist and graphic designer for my job), so my energy and creativity are always open to scrutiny and the pressure of paying the bills. So writing has become this secret, cozy, safe place for my mind and heart to create without strain from "real life," if that makes any sense at all! ♥ Thank you again!

Hi! I love reading your stories :) For the ask game, 💖 🧑‍🧒‍🧒 📝

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy them ♥♥♥ And thanks for playing along for this ask game [X].

💖 What do you like most about your own writing? There is no manufactured drama for the sake of drama. I'm all for angst and action when they're needed; stories, of course, require that—and I love it when it makes me cry when I write, but I hope it never feels "made up" or unnecessary. When it happens, it matters. Also, I love writing character growth; usually, the boys at the start of the story are very different from the ones at the end of it. And I LOVE to write that kind of journey.

I think these next two emojis 🧑‍🧒 are supposed to be Kurt and Blaine because they aren't on the questions list?! #klaine #always

📝 What is one growth area you have for your writing? Trying different tropes/genres I haven't attempted, which is hilarious because even when I try to do that, it's still, at its core, my favorite thing in the entire world, Kurt and Blaine having deep conversations while cuddling. But that is why I started writing (to see more of that), so I suppose it's okay. My newest story, A Door to Nowhere and A Door to Somewhere, has been a blast because my goal was to throw everyone right into the climax of the story and let the reader figure out how they got there through the snippets Kurt and Blaine share through the dialogue. It's been challenging, and I've loved it so far!

Thanks again! (Still accepting asks if anyone else wants to)

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isagisyoichi · 4 years ago

Text

PINKY STAR (RUN) :｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

SYNOPSIS: isagi as your boyfriend

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: isagi yoichi my boyfriend of many several years

WARNINGS: swearing? i think idk i forget also yah pretend they all go to the same school and stuff. also horribly self indulgent if u couldn't already tell

A/N: if you remember my old one delete it from your memory it was literally so bad help anyways the re-up because my boyfriend deserves better. also i really like this one and i feel like it’s more in character for him :P lol i've had this in my drafts for like, ever <3 but also my last post for a while because i have ap exams and my sat soon :P

FOR: the anon that asked me where my original isagi bf hcs went :’)

after the initial awkwardness of being in a new relationship fades and you two become comfortable with each other, a relationship with isagi would be like dating your slightly awkward best friend who you make out with sometimes.

like, i don’t really see isagi being high maintenance, so i feel like a relationship with him would definitely be on the relaxed side, but still romantic, you know?

isagi’s inner monologue is so funny and he definitely lets his thoughts out to you. it makes you laugh to see your usually friendly-to-all boyfriend have his moments, too.

you guys are one of those couples that give each other a look when someone’s doing something weird in public #telepathicconnection <3

but, isagi’s really such a sweetie with you. i know user isagisyoichi may be slightly biased when they say this, but believe me when i say that isagi’s 100% boyfriend material.

walks you to class whenever he can. always either holding your hand as he listens attentively to you complaining about school.

writes down things he feels are important about you in a digital note entitled “y/n 💗,” so he can remember them in the future.

isagi's used to talking to all kinds of people, so even if you're not the most talkative, he can adjust with no problem.

and he’ll always entertain you about whatever stupid conversation you wanna have.

kinda basic with pet names. babe, baby, dork (he would, i don’t wanna hear it), are his usual rotation.

randomly compliments you/says these really romantic things out of nowhere because he can’t control himself and often blurts things out.

“yeah, of course, when we get married, i’ll-”

“when we get married?” you inquire as you cut isagi off. you two have never discussed marriage, just but the thought of isagi wanting to spend the rest of his life with you is enough to make your head spin.

isagi’s eyes go wide when he realizes what he’s said. damn his mouth that moves faster than his mind.

swallowing hard and taking a breath, isagi says, “y-yeah, when we get married,” further affirming his statement with a nod, albeit a bit of a nervous one.

now both of you guys are flustered LOL.

likes to sit his head in your lap and have you play with his hair, while you two talk or just sit in silence.

such a good listener, perfect person to rant about anything with. he’s very understanding, he’ll hold you if you need him to, wipe your tears if you’re crying, give you advice if you need it, just overall so sweet.

also always knows when you're sad because of his intuition. isagi encourages you to open up to him, but ultimately doesn’t force you, just lets you know that he’s always there for you <3

(that's kind of lie because isagi does pry a little LOL, but he means well)

takes care of you! nags you a little, tries his best to make sure you're not doing anything stupid, and if you are, that someone responsible (him) is watching you, looks after you when you’re sick, etc.

gives you his jacket when you’re cold (he’s been waiting to do that his whole life bro LMAOO), carries your things, always texts you good morning and good night, just overall sooo good to you.

but as soft as he is for you, isagi does have this tendency to get these random spouts of confidence, so sometimes he’ll say or do something really bold out of nowhere.

like, he’ll suddenly grab your waist and pull you closer to him, or he’ll kiss you out of the blue. the flustered expression that rests on your face for a change always makes him smirk *heart eyes*

in general, though, isagi's still kind of awkward sometimes regardless and does say or do things that make you go "???" and make him be like "why did i do that" LOL he's so cute though <333

he’s pretty basic with dates, usually opts for things like restaurants, walks in the parks, movie nights, or stuff like that, but they’re still really fun!

but, if you ever want to do something out of the norm, he wouldn't be opposed to it, either. but, you do have to tell him ‘cause he's not a mind reader lol.

(okay but, one time, isagi tried to watch a scary movie with you because he wanted to do that thing where he wraps his arm around you during the scary parts, but HE ended up being scared instead 😭)

isagi’s the type to put your name with a heart emoji or the date you guys started dating in his instagram bio LOL

y/n 💓 IHS Forward #10 ⚽️ *insert some soccer quote about grinding*

it’s a bit middle school, but you let it slide because you know he just wants to show you off <3

study sessions are normal between you two but, you guys always get bored or distracted halfway through and start watching youtube or something LOL.

it’s canon he’s a thigh man lol, so if he ever sees you wearing an oversized shirt, especially one of his, with shorts, isagi will literally short circuit in real life.

he keeps his hand on your thigh when you guys cuddle that day, tracing patterns on your skin, or just squeezing it every now and then.

in general, though, isagi likes poking at and playing with them whenever they're out <3

once, isagi wanted you to do that trend on tiktok where he sits between your thighs and stuff, but he had no idea how to bring it up LOL

so, isagi just watched tiktoks of it in front of you and hoped eventually you would get the hint 🙄

and you did, thanks to his incredible lack of subtly. he doesn’t even care when you giggle and tell him how bad he is at being slick, isagi got your thighs around him, he won!!!!!!

takes a picture (or two or three) to savor the moment.

(even though he could literally just ask you to do it again in the future, but whatever, i guess)

when you’re dating isagi, the team comes with him too LOL

they’re always snapchatting you pictures of isagi when they’re hanging out without you, with stupid captions like, “look how sad your boyfriend is without you 😞”

isagi’s not even sad in the picture, he’s just confused as to why they’re shoving a camera in his face 😭

isagi one hundred percent attempts to get you to run the mile with him during gym if you don’t already.

“babe, just try!” isagi pants, as he catches up to you and your friends, as you guys are still on your second lap.

admittedly, the effort is cute, but beloved, i hate to break it to you- i will not be doing anything of the sort.

he will sit down or walk around with you after you finish the mile, though. if he’s not already playing soccer lollll.

when he does choose to go with you, expect exclamations from the team about how isagi “abandoned us for his little relationship” 👎

isagi’s receiving love language is words of affirmation (also basically canon LOL) so, he really values the compliments you give him with his whole heart.

you could tell him how his hair looks nice in the morning, and isagi will think about it all day.

whether it be about how cute he is, or how talented of a player he is, isagi really is happiest when you praise him <3

speaking of soccer, isagi has this tendency to get lost in the moment and talk your head off about some soccer related tangent that probably makes no sense to you.

his eyes light up and his voice is just oozing with passion for what he does as he goes into detail about how he made this crazy goal at practice while you stare at him with the biggest heart eyes ever, adoring his dedication.

and of course when isagi realizes he was rambling, he apologizes profusely for “boring” you, like the gentleman he is.

but when you reassure him that he could never bore you and that you want nothing more than for him to go on, isagi begins to feels lightheaded due to his adoration for you <3

if you're the type to go all out when it supporting isagi at soccer- like make one of those corny signs, yell from the crowd, wear his spare jersey to games, isagi will physically have to withhold his heart from jumping out his chest.

he's a little embarrassed that you're doing all that for him, but the effort means soooo much to him.

and speaking of soccer, it would mean a lot to isagi if you not only supported him at games and stuff, but expressed an interest in learning more about soccer as a whole, too.

you know, learn a little more about the game on your own accord, ask him to teach you how to properly play, or even challenge him to a one on one, do stuff like that, and he’ll literally be head over heels for you. well, more than he already is.

(he always goes easy on you on your guys 1v1's and he thinks your efforts are adorable, no matter how much you may or may not suck)

he'd repay the effort and try to get interested in whatever your hobbies are!

also, you can get him to do almost anything if you pout and beg hard enough, you’re literally so hard to say no to in isagi’s eyes <3

isagi’s the type to not realize when other people are flirting with him LOL

he just thinks they’re being nice (unless they’re being straight up) and i don’t think he would really process it because he’s so focused on you romantically, if that makes sense.

once he realizes you’re jealous, isagi apologizes earnestly, reassuring you over and over again that you're everything he could ask for and that he would never intentionally try to hurt you and all that jazz.

although, i will admit, sometimes isagi’s kinda smug when you're jealous, especially when it’s over a dumb reason 👎

however, when he’s jealous i feel like it could go one of two ways-

on normal days, isagi would just stand there to “intimidate” the other person, maybe cough a little for emphasis until they go away lol.

but on days where he’s already mad/filled with adrenaline/or someone’s really not taking a hint and you’re visibly uncomfortable- oh boy, it’s like a switch flips in him.

has those same fiery eyes he has during the climax of a game. the energy he’s exuding is dead serious, and that alone is enough for the person bothering you to go away. not bad for a man that’s only 5’8 🥰

adding on, isagi doesn’t take any shit about you, ever. even if it’s from his friends. usually isagi’s very neutral and doesn’t actively try to start conflict, but there are some things he’ll always defend and you’re one of them.

isagi always listens/watches/reads/etc whatever you recommend him (on that note, please recommend him good anime because isagi’s out here willingly telling people his favorite anime is darling in the franxx), even if he doesn’t necessarily like it LOL

you could show isagi objectively, the worst song ever and he would be like “yeah, it was good babe!” (it was not)

also does the same thing when you bring him shopping with you, like he's absolutely NO HELP 😭

you could try on the ugliest sweater known to man and he’d like “you look nice 🙂” pls be honest isagi, you can say it’s hideous!!!!!!

but isagi’s also being somewhat truthful in his statement because he does genuinely think you look nice in everything <3

also loves when you wear his clothes- always feels a mixture between pride and slight shyness?

kinda lol idk but overall, isagi really is sooo happy you wanna show him off that much, especially when you're wearing something of his around his friends :')

he says “i love you” first, no doubt.

he’s a bit nervous when he does because he doesn’t know if you’ll reciprocate, but he really does love you and he feels like he physically can’t hold it in anymore.

“i promise you don’t have to say it back!” isagi reassures anxiously. “i know it’s a really big commitment, and if it’s too early for you right now-”

“i love you, too.”

#queued #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #isagi yoichi #isagi #isagi blue lock #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi headcanons #isagi fluff #isagi imagine

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eleganteldritch · 2 years ago

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───── ❝ 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: ❞ ─────

⤹

﹒

feel free to refer to me by either ‘names’, as i will not reveal my real one (personal choice)

please use gender neutral or masculine leaning pronouns!

‣𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 & 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐﹔𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚒 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦/𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬��：Markiplier Cinematic Universe/Iplier Ego content

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬/𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬：Jacksepticeye Cinematic Universe/Septic Ego content, D&D (as a whole & D&D related content and media like Critical Role), League of Legends/Arcane, Overwatch, Dragon Age, Kollok, Vampyr etc.

‣𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛/𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝

writing has been an extensive interest of mine for a little over 10+ years, and editing for less time. i do both, and theorize, all in my spare time! ...and with enough brainpower to spare. i’ve kept to FB primarily but had tried other sites/apps in the past. plan to also bring my writing on other sites (wattpad, a03, here) 〙

‣𝕋𝔸𝔾𝕊 (𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥)—[#voices from the void]normal posts, [#the void rambles]theories, headcanons, and general rambling, [#vile void]vent posts, [#vital void]any important info or update, ???

‣𝕋𝔸𝔾𝕊 (𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜/𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫)— 〙[accursed attorney : M]District Attorney/Captain / Y/N sona, [heartbroken hero]Actor/Actor!Mark, [forgetful friend]Wilford/Wilford Warfstache, [analytical android]Google/Google IRL, [pitiful puppet] Chase/Chase Brody, ???

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Requests Open !

✔️ DO/REQUEST： ego headcanons and theories, ramble(s), writing requests/asks[mainly do fluff and angst & open to write canon content and self-insert / Y/N content], inquiries or questions on DA/Captain sona M (current blog appearance), inquiries on personal thoughts of ego lore, questions for me!

❌ DONT/REQUEST： suggestive/18+ NSFW content IF YOU’RE A MINOR[minor/ageless blogs will be blocked if needed], edit requests (will not be sharing edits here), spam hearts or reblogs, invasion of privacy/ask for any other personal information about myself that i haven’t shared or chose to make known

note–i will be taking my time on any asks or requests sent in, as i always have something else going on IRL and with my well-being in some way. i suggest not requesting anything if you’re looking for a fast or timely writer/poster. please be patient and respectful.

yes ik there’s several other blogs out there that do the same things i do, and that have been around longer and provide better written/more favorable content, so please don’t compare me to other blogs or otherwise diminish my content in any way. this isn’t a competition

i have the choice to accept or deny any writing, theorizing, or headcanon-ing asks/requests if i either cannot reply in some way, or feel comfortable and confident enough writing topics outside my knowledge and comfort zone. not that i fear differences in things or feedback or constructive criticism, but i’m not looking to add any unnecessary stress

i am quite the introverted and reclusive individual, and have trouble interacting sometimes and making new friends. as friendly as i can be, i usually don’t seek to openly make friends on my own/by choice.. so respect my lack of interaction especially when i’m busy or unwell

asks/requests are free to be submitted anonymously, and to lmk what sort of anon to refer you as via symbols or emojis, or any sort of pen name!

───── ❝ 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 ❞ ─────

⟳

𝐛𝐢𝐨/𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞(𝐬) : @ aestheticbio

#voices from the void #vital void #blog intro #blog info #self promo

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stealing-jasons-job · 4 years ago

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Dear fanfic readers...

I want to start this by saying I love you all. Seriously. I honestly wouldn’t still be writing fanfic if you guys didn’t exist. And I think that’s probably true of a lot of writers. We thrive on readers enjoying our work, leaving kudos/comments, reblogging, sharing with friends, etc. And 99% of people who read/comment don’t fall into this category.

But I have to address something. Er, I have to address a few somethings. Tonight, one of my dear friends received a nasty comment on one of their fics. It was, frankly, a mean rant disagreeing about the choices said writer made in the chapter update. But what really struck me was what they said at the end of the comment—that they admire the author’s work and that they are excited about future chapters. Which to me, meant that they meant their comment as a constructive criticism rather than to be purposefully hateful.

Which leads me to my first “something”:

Long comments about things you personally disagree with in a story is not constructive criticism.

I say this as someone who gives actual constructive criticism to writers for a living. Calling someone’s work horrible or hollow or misguided or flat or [insert long list of other adjectives I’ve seen non-writers call someone’s work] isn’t constructive criticism. It’s not constructive. It’s just mean.

Moreover, constructive criticism has to be founded on mutual trust. If you’re commenting on ao3 or Tumblr or Twitter on someone’s work who did not ask you specifically for constructive criticism, that trust isn’t there.

You’re welcome to your opinions about someone’s story or work. But you are not welcome to share those negative opinions when you don’t have consent. Even when you DO have consent, that constructive criticism needs to be well-structured to include real reasons why something isn’t working in a story (”I don’t personally agree with this choice” is not an example of a real reason) and ways to improve. That respect is the very least a writer deserves when someone is asked (notice how I bolded asked, bc it’s fucking important) to give feedback on work that they spent time and effort on. Which leads me to my next “something”:

Fanfic is provided for free, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t cost something.

I saw a post on here recently (linked here) that talked about how fanfic is provided at no cost to the reader, but that doesn’t mean it’s “free” for the writer. And this is something I think some non-writers don’t quite understand.

Writing a story—whether it be based on characters from a TV show like this fic or based on original characters of your own creation—is a lot of fucking work. It takes hours of your time and so much mental energy. There's the planning and the plotting and the actual writing and the editing and the working up the nerve to post it so that others can see it and hopefully like it. And all of that labor, all of that emotional/mental/physical labor is done for free. So that the stories in our heads and hearts can exist and so that readers can enjoy them.

EVERY choice is thought out. Every. Single. One. Every conversation is considered, every dialogue tag is placed with intention, every choice the character makes is one we make first. And do we always agree with the choices our characters make? Do these choices always perfectly mirror what would likely happen in real life or even if another write were to have written the story? No, not always. But damn if we didn't have a reason for letting them make them regardless. Every facet of a story is considered—especially for longer fics.

So hours of work and a mountain of emotional, mental, and physical energy is put into a fic. Writers open up a door for readers to see into our minds and hearts and souls for these stories. And the very least readers can do is tell us when those stories resonates, and be kind and respectful regardless of if it resonates or not. Deciding to shit on a story because you don't personally agree with the direction the story is headed? That's heartbreaking. And irritating. And frankly unmotivating.

Which brings me to my final “something” of this post:

Negativity and indifference are killing Fandom.

We’ve all seen how Fandom (and I’m not just talking about one specific fandom, I’m talking about capital-F Fandom as a whole) has gone downhill in recent years. There’s less engagement with works, less discussion happening between readers/creators/writers/casual viewers of a fandom, and more writers/creators leaving Fandom behind.

That’s mostly because of negativity and indifference. There are a lot of posts about how people (and I include myself in this because I really need to do better, and I’ve been trying) need to make a mindful effort to comment on fics you like, kudos fics you like, reblog, retweet, converse with your favorite writers/creators, etc. So I won’t harp on that again here.

But negativity is another culprit here. Putting a fic or a piece of art out into the world is terrifying. More terrifying to some than others, but there are nerves and anxieties that go into it no matter who you are. And unlike paid authors publishing books or showrunners air tv shows, the only thing we get in return are the kudos/comments/reblogs/retweets from readers. That’s it. So when we put hours of time and effort and those little pieces of our soul into works only to be met with indifference or hateful comments (even when they are misguided attempts at constructive criticism), it makes the benefit of all that work less and less appealing.

I’ve seen too many writers abandon works and leave fandoms (including t100 fandom, specifically the bellarke fandom) because of this. And I hate it. We have too many talented writers and creators for that. Moreover, the world needs those talented writers and creators to keep making things they love for it to keep spinning (a topic for another long Tumblr post).

So how can Fandom be a better place for writers/creators?

First thing’s first, participate. See a piece of art you loved? Reblog it. Read a fic you adored? Comment something to that effect. Find authors or creators you admire? Reach out to say hey! Or just hit the follow button and interact with posts if you’d rather not say hi. We appreciate all of it and love you immensely for it.

But the kicker once you start participating is doing it mindfully. Think about what you’re commenting and whether it’s helpful or harmful. A long string of emojis bc you can’t put how much you loved a fic into words? We love to see it. Novel-length tags in your reblogs about your favorite lines? Will probably make our day. DMs or asks about upcoming chapters or fic ideas? We’ll scream our joy and talk your ear off.

A rant about how you thought the characterization of Bellamy in this fic was off? That’s not helpful if the writer didn’t ask you specifically for that kind of feedback. And hateful comments about how a fic needs to be updated sooner or how a certain update didn’t mean your qualifications for how you personally wanted a story to continue? Definitely not helpful (and a honestly a dick move).

I have no qualms about speaking on behalf of all fanfic writers when I say that we LOVE every single person who reads our shit. We thrive on people reading our stories and then telling us and their followers how much they loved it. No (kind) comment goes unnoticed or unappreciated.

So please, please, please spread kindness whenever you can to writers and creators. <3

All my love,

A fanfic writer who is terrified that negativity is going to drive all my fandom friends away, and who might get carpal tunnel if I have to write another novel-length rebuttal to someone being an ass on AO3 to one of my friends

#fandom #the 100 fandom #fanfiction #for the love of god be kind to writers/creators #this was long but like it needed to be said #so no regrets #y'all read 100k fics on the reg so y'all can read this lol #to all the readers who comment and kudos and share their fics #I LOVE YOU

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years ago

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Blue Moon - Part 4

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) I felt it necessary to say, remember, these are all following along with the episodes from 03x04 on till the end of 3A. Without *directly* inserting the reader into the plot line, but more an off screen role. (Aside from the beginning, where, obviously, Derek fought the Alpha’s while Cora watched from the sidelines.) And because of that, it’s more angst than I usually write. It was a very angsty season. And the prompts have inherent angst, but lots of fluff, and sass, so once we get out of the murkiness that is Jennifer Blake (can you tell I don’t like her? - which, kudos to the actress, who I think is beautiful and brilliant, for making me hate her so much. 😆) we can move on to that happy, feel good, Sourwolf love we all enjoy so much. But until then, I guess this counts as a slow burn of sorts?

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,633

Xxx

The next day was lonely. Stiles would text you every now and then, but other than that it was a quiet day. No word about Derek from anyone other than Peter and Cora going to get his body and it not being there. And neither was Ennis’, who Derek had pulled down with him. You decided not to dwell on the many possible things that could mean.

You drove in silence to all the places Stiles had mentioned the night before and spoke meekly at each one. You felt almost like you were floating through the day, going through the motions, but your mind was a million miles away.

The meet ended up getting canceled due to weather, and they were all going to be stuck staying at some crappy motel that Stiles insisted was haunted through multiple texts with an excessive amount of emojis. You couldn’t get ahold of anyone else, which was kinda odd, but also not totally abnormal.

To top it all off, you needed something you left at the loft, so you told the Sheriff - who had taken the night off and ordered a pizza to stay in with you this evening, after finding out Stiles wasn’t coming right back - you would be back in a flash, you just had to “run home real quick”, careful not to mention the loft, to which he just chuckled and said something along the lines of, “Just make sure you run the speed limit.”

Sighing as you pulled into the loft parking lot, you glanced through the windshield up at the top floor where it sat. It was so ominous looking, bathed in moonlight, it almost gave a faint glow. Resting your forehead on the steering wheel, you took some deep breaths, panic rising as flashes of your tango with an Alpha came back rapidly. But instead of feeling like a badass, it made you hyperventilate. There was this gnawing feeling that it had been a one time thing, and that should you ever encounter them again you would be in so much trouble.

Taking one last deep breath to steady your nerves, you stopped mid inhale, slightly cocking your head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Derek.

You had caught Derek’s scent. Well, it’s his loft, you rationalized to yourself. But no. This was fresh. Less than a few hours old. Glancing back up at the loft one last time, you grabbed the handle and yanked your door open, mustering the courage you could find to climb up the winding staircase and see for yourself.

Taking them two at a time, you felt your courage build with each step and your hope that Derek was there along with it. As you stood in front of the loft door, your outstretched hand just shy of the handle and trembling, you took a tentative breath and knew Derek had been here very recently. That was the final push you needed to firmly grip the handle of the loft door, preparing to give it a hefty pull, but something made you stop short.

A whisper.

Just on the other side of the door, a woman's voice, then Derek’s. Surely your mind was playing tricks on you; you didn’t smell anyone else. You did pick up on something vaguely familiar, but couldn’t place it. The smell reminded you of school, and the crime scenes of the sacrifices you had been at, and lately, the loft. Unable to place the smell, you slowly slid the door open, stopping after only a few inches to peek in.

What you saw made your heart speed up, as there Derek sat on the edge of his bed, covered in scratches and blood, but alive. He was alive.

Your feet that had been glued to the floor suddenly felt like they were floating, the distance between him and you too much. You couldn’t contain the smile that brought to your lips, but it soon melted when another figure stepped into view in front of him. On instinct you had started to move forward, barely making it over the threshold before the other silhouette made you pull up short.

Jennifer.

You covered your mouth to hold in whatever was about to come out, anger, disgust, pain, you didn’t know, they were all swirling in your gut at the sight. You fell to your knees, bracing yourself on the doorframe to try and stay just out of sight.

No, Derek hadn’t caught your scent yet, which is what you found the most strange, and worrisome, and only reinforced that she was doing something to his mind.

You finally placed the smell as belonging to Miss Blake, but it was different from her scent she had all the other times you had seen her, and that somehow made it worse. It didn’t smell like emotions or anything, it smelled like an entirely different being. Barely even human.

This last thought made you knit your eyebrows in determination, about to rise to your feet, charge in there, and show the she devil a thing or two, but you only made it to one knee, still bent on the floor, before you froze, eyes wide, eyebrows practically in your hairline. What you saw could never be unseen. Like two dogs in heat, they were on one another as if space between them was too painful. Your grip on the door frame and the loft door handle almost broke them under the pressure.

You felt sick. Physically sick to your stomach. Whether from the feeling of betrayal, knowing you were right that something was weird about this whole thing, the fact that they had been getting it on in front of you, or all of the above, you weren’t quite sure.

Sliding the door shut calmly, you tried to keep it together as you softly, but quickly, made it back down the stairs, into your car, and back to the Stilinski driveway, putting your car in park and shutting off the engine before you let yourself feel anything.

You wanted to kick and scream and sob your eyes out because you knew she had been doing something to him, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t go with your gut, and now here you were. In your car, alone. In front of the Stilinski house. Silent tears racing down your face at the feeling of betrayal, both from seeing them together tonight and at yourself for not doing something sooner.

A tap on your window made you jump, and you saw the Sheriff trying to peek in. Opening your door, you hopped out, swiping rapidly at your tears, and plastering a smile on your face. “Sorry that took so long.”

He looked at you skeptically, waving it off. “Nah. The pizza just got here. You’re right on time.”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he ushered you into the house, quietly closing the front door behind the both of you. He stayed silent until you were both in the living room. He had the remote in his hand about to press play on the movie, but it dipped once in hesitation before he sighed, and it fell along with his hand to the armrest beside him. Scrubbing his face for a moment with his free hand, he finally looked up at you. Opening his mouth once before snapping it shut, staring blankly in front of him as if the space held the right thing to say, he scratched his forehead with the remote, his face making the face you had come to learn and love earlier on from Stiles. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You stopped trying to grab a slice of pizza from the box, clearing your throat and wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans before nodding gently, staring at the floor. “Yeah.” You looked up and met his gaze, seeing concern painting his features. “Yeah, I’m okay, Mr. Stilinski. Just boy trouble. Thanks for asking.” You smiled as best you could, and he seemed to do the same.

“Well, we’ve known each other forever, sweetheart, and I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

The smile on your face felt a little more genuine. “I know. Thank you.”

“No matter how uncomfortable it makes me,” he continued as if you hadn’t said anything. The words sounded pained and forced, his brows knit like he was eating a lemon, and you finally let out the full smile that had been trying break through, even laughing.

His lips twitched up gently. “There she is.”

“I will. Thank you. But for both of our sakes-” you leaned in, placing a hand on his forearm- “I’ll probably just tell Stiles.”

“Oh, thank God.” He let out on a huff of air, making you laugh again. “Now. Let’s watch this movie.” He hit play, and you settled into the couch, letting the plot unfolding on the screen take you away, if only for a little while.

Xxx

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, waking you up with a start.

The DVD menu played softly on a loop, the movie long over, and to your right the Sheriff was snoring with his head on the back of the couch.

You tossed the blanket you had been using on top of him before leaving the room and checked your phone, only to see it was Stiles.

“Stiles?” You spoke quietly into the receiver, not wanting to wake the Sheriff.

“Y/N? Why are you whispering?” Stiles sounded kind of stressed, just a little bit off.

“Your dad took off work tonight and we had a pizza - yes, I let him have pizza, don’t you dare jump on my case and go on a tirade about how he needs a salad, let the man live, Stiles - and we watched a movie.”

“I was wondering why that soundtrack was playing on a loop in the background. He used a DVD, didn’t he? I taught him how to use streaming-”

“Stiles!” You cut off his tangent with a chuckle. “Why are you calling me so late. Or, is it early?” You checked your watch to find it was early morning, still dark outside.

“Well, let’s just say tonight has been interesting, we are all alive, which is good, but sleeping on the bus-”

“The bus?”

“The bus. Our rooms weren’t safe, and I don’t mean because of roaches or mysterious stains, Y/N.” You grinned. “Although there was this one smell in my room that was rather suspect….”

Smell. Scent. Shit.

Screwing your eyes shut, palm on your forehead, you spoke quickly, “Stiles, don’t be angry with me.” Peeking your head into the other room to see the Sheriff still soundly asleep, you stepped onto the back porch and closed the door behind you, ignoring Stiles’ incessant questions as you did.

“Stiles! Hush! I had to leave the room so your dad didn’t hear!”

“Oh,” was all he said. You heard the squeak of the bus as he slumped back against it, obviously doing the same as you and trying to get a bit of privacy.

Taking a deep breath, you told him everything you saw at the loft.

The only thing he did was suck in a sharp breath, but was otherwise silent. Finally he said, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Yeah, thanks, whatever.” You cleared your throat, looking down at your feet before lifting your gaze to stare vacantly across the yard. “My main concern was that scent. It didn’t smell human, but not entirely not human.”

“Well, that’s terrifying,” Stiles said blandly, making your lips twitch up just slightly. You heard another voice on the other end, Scott, and Stiles mumbled something about speakerphone before the phone was jostled around a bit. You could hear a mumbled, “Well, no, you don’t need speakerphone because you’re a freak of nature, Scott, but I, a mere mortal, need the aid.” You chuckled and could hear Scott let out a groan and soft chuckle himself.

“Y/N?” Finally Scott’s voice came through clearly.

“Yeah?”

“First of all, thank you. For everything.” His voice sounded distant, and you sure as hell were going to interrogate them when they got back as to what the hell happened that night at the motel, but for now you just nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see you and rolled your eyes.

“You’re welcome, Scott. The feeling’s mutual. Thanks for making it so easy.”

Stiles humphed. “I feel like that last part was directed at me.”

“But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A mumbled, “Thanks, I guess,” but you could hear his smile.

“Y/N, the scent. The one you smelled at Derek’s loft.” Scott was back to business. “I think I smelled it here tonight.”

“Really? How is that-” You were cut off by Scott who was obviously talking to Stiles.

“Right before we decided to stay in the bus, when Lydia saw something in the fire, after the explosion-”

"Okay, what the hell happened to you guys?!" you asked loudly, cutting them off. Grimacing, you quickly used your hearing to pick up on the Sheriff's continued snores, let out a sigh of relief, and lowered your voice. "I feel so left out."

“No, I’m glad you weren’t here,” Scott said. “Long story short, something went after a specific group of our friends, and when it finally showed its face,” you heard Lydia cut in from somewhere behind, “I’d barely call that a face,” and you didn’t know whether to laugh or be afraid.

Scott continued pointedly, “When it showed its face, I got a whiff of something I can only describe how you described the smell at the loft. Not human. But also not… not…. human.”

A smacking sound could be heard, and you realized Stiles was patting Scott on the back while saying, “It’s okay, bud. It’s been a long day.”

“One question.” You took a deep breath, trying to decide on the winner of thousands that swam around your brain right now. “Why is Lydia there?”

“She came with Allison.”

“Why was Allison there, Stiles?”

“Uh-uh. You said one question.”

“This is still technically the same question since they apparently came together.”

“….Touché,” Stiles finally came back with, before sighing. “Look, I’ll tell you everything when we get back, okay? It’s been a hell of a day and I just want to sleep,” he continued in a mumble, “if I can ever sleep again after seeing what I’ve seen.” A brief pause. “You werewolves need to come with a disclaimer. ‘May cause sleep disturbances’.”

You laughed loudly. “Okay, okay. I know I’m not going to get anywhere with you guys this tired. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” came a chorus of voices, and you felt relief wash over you at the sound of each one, knowing they were safe and sound.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” Stiles’ voice came through by itself after some fumbling, probably taking you off speakerphone.

“Goodbye, Stiles. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay on the phone until you fall asleep? I mean, I am part of the reason, after all. I do come with a disclaimer.”

“I would absolutely love that, but I need to save my battery and I am in a bus surrounded by werewolves, whatever Lydia is, and a hunter. I think my security system is pretty good for tonight.”

You chuckled. “Okay then. Goodnight, Stiles.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Oh!”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being there with my dad.”

“No problem, Stiles. You know he’s like family to me. He was there for me when I came back from the loft, said I could talk about it if I needed.”

“He offered to listen while you talked?!” He was almost yelling.

You laughed again. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

He chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Xxx

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