#same thing with any killer movie

[swan2swan]

Ugh, I can't believe they're doing the "Raptors in the Kitchen" bit AGAIN in this franchise with sickle-clawed killer bird-lizards in an enclosed location where being seen means death, can't they do something ORIGINAL? Look, they're even doing the low-camera shot of the feet to highlight the danger and tension. Just like the original movie. But this time we're in a house I guess. How original.

[thefloatingstone]

You're really gonna make me link it, aren't you?

*sigh* alright fine. I have to do everything myself around here.

“They didn’t give Afton a motive”

Did Norman Bates have a motive? Nope. Did they ever really decide why Hannibal Lecter liked to eat people? Don't think so. You see, it's a lot scarier when there's no motive, Sid.

[happy74827]

A New Moon

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite his gut telling him he shouldn’t, Dexter can’t help but fall deeper into the trap of his own emotions. And the more time he spends with you, the more he starts to realize what exactly those emotions are. {GIF Creds: beautifulguycollector}

WC: 2889

Category: Slight Lime/Spice, Friends to Lovers + Forbidden Love (if you squint) Tropes

Gotta keep this fandom alive somehow 🥲 (also… why are titles so hard to write? That and the synopsis are harder to write than the actual fic)

『••✎••』

You were too good for him. Plain and simple. You were a smart, beautiful, hard-working woman who had goals and dreams. He was a cold-blooded killer. Not to say that he hadn't been there for you, though. The two of you had been friends since… well, a while. A long while.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he started to notice the changes in your relationship. It was a slow, subtle buildup, and the first time you called him your friend, Dexter thought nothing of it. The second time, it made him pause, but not enough for him to consider what the implications of you saying that to him could mean.

But when you said it again and again and again, he realized the meaning behind your words, the affection they held. Dexter couldn't say that he was particularly close to many people. There were a select few he'd consider his friends, but he wasn’t emotionally invested in any of them. And he didn't think he was invested in you, either.

But maybe he was.

Debs was different, and it made him question how much he was supposed to care about someone. But that was his sister, the one person in the world who loved him unconditionally. That reason alone made his relationship with Deb unique. He was sure of that.

The same went with Brian—his brother, as it turned out. And Harrison, his son. Dexter felt things for those people, but they were different. Those were family, the people he was genetically tied to. Of course, he would care about them.

But you weren't family, and yet he still cared about you. It was a different kind of caring. And it was confusing. Dexter had convinced himself for years that he was a high-functioning sociopath, but lately…

Lately, he was beginning to question if that was true. Simple glances from you could bring an unwelcome smile to his lips. And when he heard the sound of your voice, he could feel his chest getting warm. It was a nice feeling, something he'd only experienced briefly with Rita, but then, that relationship was different too.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but being with you was just… easy. And it didn't feel like work. There was no pretending. Dexter didn't have to act when he was around you. He didn't need to try to be someone he wasn't. It was the real him.

It was terrifying.

Because now, as he sat on your couch, watching as you moved gracefully around your small apartment, the feeling was back, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He should have been home with Harrison, but the little boy was staying over at Debra’s tonight, so he didn't have any responsibilities. The passenger within him didn’t see it as a problem either, considering he’d just recently “disposed" his latest target.

It was nice, Dexter decided, to relax every once in a while. Work and family didn't give him a lot of opportunities to do so, and now that the two were temporarily taken care of, he felt he deserved to be lazy for a bit.

You didn’t have a TV in your living room, so the two of you settled for movies. Dexter didn’t really have a preference for them. He could watch a comedy, action, drama, or horror and not feel strongly for or against any of them.

Apparently, you didn't mind what he watched either because he could see the spark of excitement in your eyes when you pulled out the case for one of the worst comedy films Dexter had ever seen.

He'd seen it before. Not with you, one of the movies Vince shoved down his throat when he planned a night out with him, Angel, and Quinn.

It wasn't his favorite, not by a long shot, but the grin on your face and the way you eagerly skipped to the DVD player, set the disk inside, and closed the hatch made him bite his tongue.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that you were a very expressive person. And even though most of the time your feelings weren't displayed on your face, your eyes told another story. Such opposites to his own, Dexter often found himself fascinated by the light they held.

You had a passion for life that was rare, and it drew him in. It was a quality he lacked, and he could see it in everything you did. Whether it was talking about the newest book you read or making coffee, you put all of yourself into your actions.

It was something that Dexter had never understood. How could you have such a strong sense of self? Didn't it get tiring, having to live up to a standard of being so… so good?

But then again, you'd always been better than him. He might’ve been smarter in some regards, but what was intelligence if it didn't come from a place of morality? You were better, purer than him. He knew it, and everyone else did, too, even if they weren’t aware of how pure he wasn’t

That's why this was so wrong. This thing that had been going on for the past couple of months between the two of you. The subtle touches, the longing stares, the late-night calls. It was all wrong.

You were similar to Rita in some ways. You were kind and compassionate, always looking for the good in others. You had a knack for taking care of people, whether they needed it or not.

Dexter could tell that was your nature, and it was one of the things that initially attracted him to you. All the things he lacked, you had. But that didn't mean that you could replace Rita. He didn’t want you to.

And that was the difference. While he may have found qualities in you that resembled the ones he'd found in Rita, you were not her. Rita was gone, and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve to die, and yet she did. She deserved to grow old, to see Harrison grow up.

She deserved better.

The same went for you. You didn’t deserve a monster like him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that he should stay away. It was for the best of both of you.

And yet he was here. On your couch, watching a shitty movie and drinking the beer you'd offered him. Because, despite his efforts, he couldn't keep his distance from you.

He should've known. When it came to you, Dexter didn't have a choice.

His gaze drifted over to your form as you sat down beside him. You were smiling, your eyes bright and focused on the television. A lock of hair fell across your face, and you pushed it back, the sleeve of your hoodie falling down slightly.

Dexter had never been so tempted to reach out and touch someone in his life.

It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him the last few weeks, and now, sitting with you, watching a bad movie, it was at an all-time high. He'd never craved intimacy. But there was something about you, a pull that he couldn't deny.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Reminded him of that need with Lila. God, Lila. What a mess that had turned out to be. Another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes.

And yet, the longer he stared, the more he found himself leaning forward. He didn’t register what he was doing until his lips were a hair width away from yours.

You froze but didn't move away. The only indication that you were startled was the widening of your eyes. They bored into his, unflinching. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He was scared. Scared? Yes. That was what he was feeling. Why? He didn't know. Fear was new. It was a feeling reserved for Deb and sometimes his son, but even then, it was different.

But as Dexter gazed at you, so close and so beautiful, the fear melted away. It was replaced by a warmth that he was quickly becoming familiar with. It made his body thrum and his blood rush. It made him feel alive.

You were the first one to make a move. Well, not really a move, just the smallest shift forward, and then you were breathing the same air as him. You weren't kissing. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to make the final move.

It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you, the power dynamic. He was the dominant one, and you were the submissive. You had never fought against it. You were a people pleaser, and he knew that.

It was one of the reasons he knew this was wrong. Because he couldn't stop, and you would never ask him to. Even now, as he hesitated, you waited patiently. You trusted him.

Why did you have to trust him? Why couldn't you be more selfish, more like him?

But deep down, Dexter knew that it wasn't your nature. You couldn't change, not any more than he could.

So, after another agonizing second, he closed the distance between you.

It was gentle, the way his lips pressed against yours. A stark contrast to the usual forcefulness he applied when taking his victims. No, with you, he was careful. Almost timid.

Your lips were soft and smooth, and the kiss was sweet. Nothing more than a simple caress. Dexter didn’t expect the tingling sensation it would cause, but the slight brush of your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

The kiss was short and chaste, but it was enough to leave him feeling dizzy. The heat spread through him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his cheeks.

Dexter pulled back, and you stared at him. His breath hitched in his throat at the look in your eyes. There was something there, something that mirrored his own emotions.

Was it possible? Was he really capable of such intense emotion?

Maybe he was.

You didn’t move. It was like time had stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was his own uneven breathing. That, and the movie playing in the background, which was forgotten as soon as your lips touched.

The urge to reach out and grab you was there. He could feel the need deep in his bones, in his soul. But instead, Dexter sat, staring. Staring into the eyes of the woman who had somehow managed to break down all the walls he'd spent his life building.

You didn't speak. There was nothing to say. No words could describe the feelings that had surfaced between the two of you. So, instead, you smiled. A simple, beautiful smile that had him feeling weak.

He could have stayed there forever, just looking at you, taking in the beauty that was you. It was a new experience for him, and it was nice.

“Debra is going to be pissed," you finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be bullied into telling her every detail."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then, his lips curled up in amusement. It was true. Eventually, she’ll figure it out. Maybe she already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Debra was good at figuring out things, even if it wasn’t the most obvious answer.

His sister was good at a lot of things, like being a detective. And, apparently, being an interfering matchmaking nuisance.

At least she wouldn’t call you the things she called Lila.

The thought made him chuckle, and you looked at him in confusion, but it would have to stay a mystery to you. For what was life without a few private jokes between siblings, right?

You didn’t press for answers, though. You did what you’ve always done and waited for him—waited for him as if it was his turn in Chess.

And he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed you again. And again. And again. And again. Until he had you pinned beneath him, your arms around his neck, and your breath coming out in heavy gasps.

The kisses were still innocent, just as you were. But he could feel the passion behind them, the hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. It had been a long, long time.

But the longer he kissed you, the more the heat grew, and soon, he was lost in the sensation. Your hands found their way into his hair, and you tugged at the strands. His heart was racing, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

It was exhilarating.

Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the innocence was gone. Replaced by a desire that left him trembling. The feeling of your tongue against his, the taste of you on his lips, the smell of your shampoo mixed with your unique scent—it was all intoxicating.

The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten as you pulled him closer. The warmth in his chest intensified, and Dexter didn't fight it. Instead, he embraced it. He gave in to his emotions and let himself feel.

He didn’t go too far; he knew you weren't ready for that yet. The craving was there, and it was strong, but the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he satisfied himself by touching your skin, mapping out every inch of it, memorizing the way it felt under his fingertips.

And, when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he held onto you, refusing to let go. His eyes searched yours, searching for something. Anything. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

He mostly saw fear, anger, and some regret when he had them pinned down beneath him. Of course, that was usually the case with his victims. Fear, anger, and regret were normal emotions—a reaction to being trapped by their own demise.

Having someone look up at him with emotions on the other side of the spectrum was different. Not a bad different, just... different.

Rita had been the first to look at him like that. Lumen did, too, once upon a time. And Lila, well, her emotions were never consistent.

But you? You looked up at him with an expression that was all too familiar and yet not quite the same. Your eyes were full of affection and desire, yes. But they were also filled with something else. Something he couldn't place.

Something he couldn’t understand.

"Dex,” your voice was so soft, a whisper. He almost didn’t hear it, and yet, he felt it. He felt the way his name rolled off your tongue, and it was like music to his ears.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. He didn’t know why he did that; it wasn't like the two of you were speaking in a library or something. Maybe it was the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the colors reflected off the white walls, casting an ethereal glow.

"I didn’t expect you to be… like this," you murmured. You ran a finger over his cheek, down to his jawline. He swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse quicken.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Not bad," you replied. Your lips curved up, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were red and swollen from kissing, and it was such a contrast to the pale skin of your face.

"You think I'm not bad?" he said, raising his brows. "I'm flattered."

You shook your head. "You know what I mean," you said. "I just meant that you're different than how you come off. I didn’t think you'd be so... bold.”

He snorted.

Bold.

If you only knew.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," he said, smirking. You rolled your eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, only for him to catch it and press a kiss to the back of your hand. It was something he picked up from a movie once, and it seemed to be a pretty romantic gesture. And by the look on your face, it seemed to be appreciated.

You didn't say anything else. You didn't have to. There was nothing else to say. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company, content to just be together. The movie might've been a failure, but the night wasn’t.

And when Dexter finally left, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Not the type of relief he felt after a successful kill, but the type of relief one feels after a burden is lifted off their shoulders. The type of relief one gets when they are finally honest with themselves.

Rita was gone. Lumen was gone. And although his guilt and shame were still there, his self-loathing and fear were slowly starting to fade away. It wasn't gone, it was never going to be, but it was a start.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

A new moon.

Yes, tonight was the night that changed everything. Tonight, Dexter Morgan learned that maybe he was more than the monster he thought he was.

[tubbytarchia]

Etho doodles in which I let my inner dinosaur nerd take over 😔 and also have no idea how to shade

Get it cause he's old and washed up haha... ok but actual raptor Etho hybrid justification below cut

To be honest the main reason was because I really wanted a hybrid in the mix who wasn't some furry creature and a reptile or amphibian or smth instead. Etho still ended up feathered but whatever it's close enough! But for ACTUAL reasoning:

He does feel damn ancient, like an old deity of the mcyt space that no one can dislike. Dinosaurs are the same!! They're old but still thought of with great fascination and fondness, everyone loves dinosaurs...

Dinosaurs are ever so mysterious, as many advancements as we make there's still so much we don't know. Just as we know jackshit about mister Kakashi skin man. Also, there are so many incomplete skeletons out there. I didn't have a particular species in mind for Etho, because where's the mystery in that? He can be one of those 5% skeleton 95% speculation dinosaurs like this guy!! Missing jaw and all

"I'm a runner, not a protector" - so, a raptor, or more specifically the Dromaeosauridae family, which literally has "running/runner" in its name

But! I'm always a fan of stuff going against its nature, especially in this case! Etho states he's not a runner yet protects his allies rather fiercely even in total silence. Eg refusing to kill Cleo in SL or to give away Tango's location during the LimL manhunt, same for Grian in SL. He was a bit flaky in 3L I think? And he only started to have genuine care for allies in LL with Bdubs? Though he is still very much a runner in many cases like during the LL Wither fight. Research also strongly suggests that most if not all raptors were solitary hunters, and the way I see Etho (through my shamefully limited watchtime of his POVs...) he feels a lot like someone who ultimately only trusts himself at the start even if he's pleasant and allying with others, and doesn't seem to think he can carry his weight in groups though he doesn't voice this a lot. That's just how Etho is, very composed, but it feels like there's an insecurity there, showcased especially in SL but again I haven't seen almost any of his POVs in full so maybe I'm talking out of my ass!! Sorry ethogirls I'm only a sidegig ethogirl myself... But yeah tldr to me he gives off the vibe of an otherwise solitary animal struggling to find 100% sure footing in a pack. In whichever ways he does go against his nature, its not usually made a show of

At the mention of a raptor, a lot of people will probably think of the glamourized Jurassic Park Velociraptors. But those awesome guys from the movies are actually the size of chickens. In general though, dinosaurs tend to be a bit.. exaggerated in media, despite how inherently fascinating they already are. And I think it fits Etho because we all know how the Lifers seem to fear and mancrush on him when he's just some dork with perfect capability to become pathetic at a moment's notice. Still, he's a clearly skilled player and still respected without question Etho's not some killer machine like some people make dinosaurs out to be. He's just a fellow creature fulfilling his role in the ecosystem 👍

dinosaurs are cool

The hook-like sickle claws on the feet... something something fishing rod

I swear I'm not turning all my Lifers into hybrids I'm not!! Still plenty normal humans in the mix I swear....... But Etho is such a radical dude, I really wanted to do something more for him. The whole Kitsune thing that I often see associated with him is really cool. I don't actually know the reasoning for it but I assume something something naruto, but also, him being this ancient mythical cryptid who people know so little about, you know? It makes SO much sense. So anyway I turned him into a dinosaur instead rawr

As a herbivore advocate I also considered stuff like the triceratops (known for how they protect themselves and their own) but nah the raptor symbolism...

[denwritesandcries]

Dating Tara having a scary dog HCs

Pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t expect your girlfriend to act like that around your dog, but it's still pretty funny though.

Word count: 1,4k.

Content: cursing, fluff, tara being dramatic and a caos gremlin, author never had a dog, mentions of scream V.

Note: Still don't think I'm really good at hcs but I had fun writing these!

English is not my first language.

- Tara could admit that she didn’t know much about you when you first started to go out, which probably would have caused Sam to have a meltdown if she’d found out about it, but, well, making impulsive decisions was her specialty.

- One of the things Tara had come to learn about you — details, mere details — was that you had a dog, after hearing you mention it once or twice.

- Tara, who had never had a pet before, was immediately excited with the prospect of meeting and having one in her life, wondering what it would be like.

- You hadn’t shown her any pictures, and on your Instagram there were a surprising amount of different dogs for her to be sure which one was yours, so Tara tried to guess. Would it be a puppy, happy and gangly? Or even an older, relaxed and well-behaved one, a childhood dog maybe? Would make a good cuddle buddy.

(Whichever one it was, she hoped it to be a short-haired; her asthma and allergies would be very grateful.)

- What she hadn’t imagined, however, was to come across her girlfriend smiling and waving brightly, with a damn hound on a leash on what should have been a perfectly romantic and uneventful date.

“What is that?”

“Hi, baby!” you greet, oblivious to her incredulous and apprehensive tone, “That’s Cujo.”

“Cujo,” she echoed, hesitantly, “Like… the rabid, murderous dog from the movie?”

“No, not the movie, the book,” you corrected. “Don’t worry, Tar, she’s a sweetie.”

“Your Cerberus is a she?”

“It’s just a doberman, babe.”

Great.

- Tara’s definitely scared of your dog at first, but she won't admit it. She's faced crazy killers before, for God's sake! A little pet was nothing.

- You know she's scared from the start. It's honestly kind of funny how she tries to act all brave, especially since you know Cujo wouldn't hurt a fly if she could (and she could), so you do your best to make her relax.

- Trying to get her used to it at first by asking if she'd like to hold the leash on walks, even though she always refuses it, “If it decides to start running I might get dragged across town until I fall down some drain. Would you dare do that to your poor asthmatic girlfriend?”

- Trying to avoid situations where your dog is involved doesn't work for long, though, it lives with you, after all – duh, Tara, really? – and your house is the only place you two can have some privacy without Sam hovering like a hawk all the time, so she has to get over it, like, urgently.

She stops you at the door the first time she comes over:

“So, is there any more… unexpected pets I should know about?”

You shrug, “I have some sea monkeys too.”

- She’s completely dramatic about it at first, as she always is when things don’t go her way. But it’s endearing, and it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with her anyway.

- So… Tara, who has staring contests with your dog every time she comes over for the night or to just hang out, because she can’t stop squinting suspiciously every time she gets too close to the furry form you idolize so much.

- Tara, who gets upset and sullen when you’re gonna cuddle and the dog is faster, taking up your entire lap, the place she should be.

“You can just lay or rest on her, baby, I swear she won't bite.”

“No freaking way! Here, just hold me closer.”

Well, she swears that your dog would have laughed at her if she could.

- Tara, who's sure your dog has something against her and chases her around for the pure pleasure of it, no matter how much you argue about projecting, dark eyes making her jump in fright whenever they're in the same room.

- Tara, who huffs and whines when you go to sleep and the dog follows you, sprawling at your feet in the bed like she's its owner.

“Oh man, even here?”

“Tar, she's sleeping. It's a dog, it's not planning something against you.”

“She's threatening me on purpose!”

“She probably knows that you dislike her, you know, it's pretty obvious.”

“Whatever, I'm not apologizing to a dog.”

- Tara, who actually finds it pretty comfortable sleeping next to the furball, who keeps the bed less lonely and stops the heat from escaping when you get up early to make breakfast.

- Tara, who warms up and attaches quickly afterward, even if she doesn't want to admit it out of sheer stubbornness.

“Awn, I see you guys are getting along. You're petting her now! That’s so great, honey!”

“I'm not! I'm just checking to make sure she didn't bring any dirt from the park earlier.”

- Tara, who turns into an absolute menace once she and your dog bond and you honestly don't know if that's a good thing or not, but it's chaotic anyway.

- Tara, who struts around, holding on to the leash to save her life and still managing to look completely smug like a damn small gangster, laughing at those who stray from their path or get scared by the sudden barking.

“Ha, look at them! Scared of such a little pup, losers.”

“If she ever gets up she'd be literally bigger than you, Tar,” you sigh, “And you acted just like them too.”

“Liar! All lies!”

- Tara, who spends her money on thousands of clothes and accessories that she thinks would look good on the dog, even though your pet already has a lot. Most of them are silly costumes from movies she likes, and one day you come home to find your dog on the couch wearing a cheap Michael Myers costume and you can barely breathe from laughing when she comes running up to greet you by the door.

- You definitely notice your dog wearing a big colorful bow that conveniently matches your girlfriend’s shirt and teases her shamelessly. All you get is a ‘she looks like a princess, leave her be!’

- She calls the dog by cute pet names and talks in a baby voice – which she denies to death – when she thinks no one is listening. Sometimes you even get confused about who the ‘hi baby!’ is for when she walks through the room.

- You're a little jealous when she prefers to snuggle with your dog instead of you, but you end up finding it so adorable that the problem is solved by cuddling them both together and that way everyone’s happy and content.

- Sam almost has a heart attack the first time she sees Tara with the dog, as do Chad and Ethan; Mindy’s a little hesitant and Anika’s the only one genuinely excited and happy about everything, wanting to pet it as soon as she sees her lying on the carpet.

- With that, Tara also defends your dog from anyone who dares to open their mouth and say something bad about her, whether they're your friends or the Karens you meet when you're out together (you have to stop her from throwing hands with them occasionally).

- Teaches the dog to purposely bark to scare Ethan every time he says something stupid and inappropriate and you're left wondering when the hell she had time to do that without you knowing, completely ignoring your claims of 'being a bad influence.'

- Protects the dog from absolutely any of your scolding, no matter what the reason, dramatically covering its ears and looking personally offended by your complaints. You can never stay mad for long with the sight of your girlfriend trying to cover up a dog who's clearly more intimidating than her and literal puppy eyes staring at you with intensity, letting go even if your couch or plants have been destroyed.

- You end up with a happy little family before you finish college without even realizing it, which ends up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

- Tara's favorite part of all of this is the slow and warm mornings when you two don't have to be anywhere and can sleep in, feeling your arm around her waist and your dog curled up between you – under the covers too because it got cold during the night – when she can sigh contentedly and enjoy what you have without any more fears about the future.

“You know, remembering how scared you were of Cujo in the beginning, I never would have expected it to end up like this.”

“That name still doesn't fit,” she says stubbornly, “And I’ve never been scared of our dog, I just wasn’t a pet person.”

“Our dog?”

“Oh, shut it.”

She would never admit it anyway.

- Tara could admit, though, that you were right: your dog really is a sweetie.

[ghosts-to-reid]

Red Herrings

~SPENCER REID REQUESTS OPEN~

Request: Heyyy, so I don’t know if you even like Taylor Swift, but I NEED a smutty Spencer fic inspired by Guilty as Sin x So Highschool…I‘m talking build up and idk after a case the team all go to Rossi‘s house and the next thing they know is they‘re drunkenly playing spin the bottle…maybe Spence getting jealous or something? And once reader spins again and it lands on him he can’t hold back anymore, so they make the best of the time they have going at it like horny teenagers. She‘s been waiting for that since she first met him. Imagining how it would feel to finally touch him. @mariechristine00

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, Unprotected sex, dom!spencer, sub!reader, kinda emily x reader??? not really, spin the bottle, Fingering, teasing, jealousy, orgasm denial, creampie, rough sex, cockwarming

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I have had very bad writers block, i hope this is ok!

Four women had died before the team had arrived in Arkansas. All of them had been sex workers, murdered in the same fashion as Jack The Ripper's victims. It wasn’t uncommon for serial killers to replicate Jack the Ripper, but this Unsub had paid incredibly close attention to the habits of the original Jack, which should’ve made him easy to find, right? Predict his next move based on the timeline of the original crimes. Except- This unsub had adapted Jack the Rippers techniques to the modern day, even sending red herrings, making him harder to catch. After 8 days though, the team had finally done just that, leaving everyone to finally feel the full effect of exhaustion.

The jet journey back had been fairly quiet, you and Spencer had fallen asleep on the couch together, your head leaning against his shoulder, his head resting on top of yours. The team had shared a look after spotting the pair of you in such a position. 

They had noticed shared glances between you both, how Reid would always bring you cups of coffee, how you’d bring enough lunch for two- knowing he wouldn’t eat if you didn’t. They’d heard all about your weekend hangouts, nights at the movies, dinners at each of your apartments. More often than not, you’d find both of you at one of your apartments, having stayed too late from a movie marathon, or even simply just wanting to stay  in each other's company.

Any outsider who saw you both would think you were together, but you weren’t. Not like it want something either of you wanted, no it was quite the opposite. There were definite feelings between you both, and neither of you denied it. Both of you were just afraid to ruin what you had, so instead of facing them, you both lived in willful ignorance. Something the team were becoming exceedingly frustrated to watch, but neither of you would take their advice either. Leaving them stewing in frustration as the pair of you willfully ignored your feelings.

So, seeing you both sleeping on one another? Not as exciting as it used to be, but still made them happy to see.

Rossi is the one who woke the two of you up after the jet had landed. The rest of the team were gathering their things as the two of you stirred, sitting up straight at the sight of the older man before you, making him chuckle.

“Just wanted to let the pair of you know that we're having a dinner party at my house tomorrow night. 6pm Sharp, okay?” Spencer glanced over to you, whilst you rubbed your eyes, sleepily muttering an agreement. Following your lead, he smiled at Rossi, accepting the invitation on his own behalf. 

Spencer helped you gather your things before guiding you out to his car, you often carpooled together and when you were at work the day of the case was no exception. You were still half asleep as he sat you down in the passenger seat of his beat up car, before sitting himself in the driver's seat.

“Can I stay at your house tonight, please?” You quietly asked, head leaning on the window, gazing at him through half lidded eyes “I feel bad for you driving all the way to my house, and doubling back to your apartment.”

The man driving smiled and muttered a small ‘Of course’, keeping his eyes on the nearly empty road. This wasn’t uncommon, ever since a mix up with hotel rooms a few months back, sleepovers had been added to your roster of ‘totally platonic’ activities you did together. Cuddling, sharing space, even beds, was now normal for you two. The rest of the team, if privy to this information, would point out how this was a manifestation of your feelings for each other; pushing the boundaries between friendship and romance, to try and fulfil your longing for each other subconsciously. Damn profilers.

The fact that this aspect of your relationship was secret from the team was also further proof that you both understood the implications. But you were just friends, right?

The car journey was quiet and quick, Spencer passed your go bag to you, mirroring you when he slung his own over his shoulder before grabbing your hand and leading you inside of his building.

Once inside, the pair of you set about your bedtime routines, changing in the same room, backs to each other. Brushing your teeth together, and slowly sliding into the warmth of Spencer’s Dark green covers. Small good nights are bid as Spencer pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, leg habitually landing over your him, effectively caging you as close to his chest as he could.  Though, you were no different, lacing your arms around his middle, crossing your leg over his, if you could get any closer you could. It was just natural to the pair of you, being as close as possible to one another just made you both feel better, but you both would never mention that to anyone. 

After a few minutes, when Spencer is sure you have fallen asleep, he places a small kiss to the crown of your head. Gently stroking the back of your head till he soon follows suit.

The next day, the two of you wake up entangled in each other's arms still. The mid morning light streamed through the curtains, gently rousing you both from your slumber.

Spencer lazily rubbed his fingers along your arm, up and down, until you finally roused fully. Sleepily smiling up at him, you hum as you bring your hand to meet his, intertwining your fingers together. Nudging yourself closer into his chest, he lets out a small chuckle.

“Morning, sleepy head.” He smiled as he squeezed your hand, he could hear a muffled “g'morning’” from you. Slowly, and hesitantly, he pulls his hand from yours, moving your head from his shoulder so he can look at you. He loved how you looked when you just woke up. Lips in a pout, eyes still half lidded, a slightly confused look on your face; he thought it was the cutest thing. As your eyes met his, his smile grew at the sight of your slightly messy hair. The hand holding your face slowly smoothes it down as he speaks.

“Do you want to shower and I'll go make breakfast?” He asked quietly, you nodded, still half asleep. Neither of you wanted to move yet, content in each other's arms. If you were lovers, it would be acceptable to say ‘no, I want to stay in bed with you’- But you are only best friends, nothing more. The realisation dawns on you both simultaneously as you both finally break from each other's hold. Though now feeling empty, you both move to perform your respective routines for the morning. It was around three that afternoon that you finally left Spencer’s house. After breakfast, the two of you had settled on his couch watching TV all morning, until you realised that you should probably go home to get ready for Rossi’s party tonight, Spencer offered to come to your house instead and sit with you as you got ready. He showered quickly, grabbing a change of clothes, before driving you both to your apartment around four.

Sitting with you was exactly what he did as you got ready, he sat in your room reading through your bookshelf as he waited, occasionally watching you as you put on your makeup and did your hair. When you were ready, he had changed as well, the pair of you dressed smart  but not too fancy. Your idea, of course.

“I’m sorry but there is no way I was going to a Rossi party in a tight dress,  I want to comfortably eat as much pasta as I want without feeling like I can’t move” Was what you had said.He laughed, and you both climbed into your car. You had worn a long summer dress, it flowed loosely around your frame, landing just below your knees. The dress was a a darker lilac, with dark purple flowers haphazardly splashed around the fabric. He had picked it for you when you had asked him to choose between two, unsure which you wanted to wear. Obviously, he chose his favourite colour. The thin straps accentuated the curve of your shoulders, he found his gaze landing on your neck for a moment too long before he reminded himself that you were just friends.

Pulling up to Rossi’s house, you parked the car. As you learnt into the back seat to grab your purse, he quickly hopped out of the car to open your door for you. He took your hand, closing the car door with the other. You smile at how much of a gentleman he is, intertwining your fingers with his before he has a chance to pull away. Hands staying intertwined the entirety of the walk into Rossi’s living room, breaking only to greet the rest of the team.

As the night flowed on, so did the wine. Dinner had been eaten, Spencer was amused at your gleeful motions as you reached for seconds, having your fill without worry. The team imbibed hard, bottles of Rossi’s expensive wine collection had been emptied before he had shooed the team away. Penelope, always the party animal, invited the team to continue the party at her place. Hotch was the only one who refused, wanting to get home to Jack. JJ and Will had agreed without hesitation, JJ’s mother being in town they had the whole night off, Emily followed suit of JJ, Derek agreeing without hesitation of course. The team glanced at you, Spencer and yourself sharing a look, silently communicating before you both agreed. Ordering a taxi to Penelope's house, you all piled into the minibus they sent. 

One quick trip to the 24/7 liquor store around the corner, the team minus Rossi and Hoth were gathered in Penelope’s living room. Spencer sat behind you on the sofa whilst you sat on the floor, between his legs. The team were thoroughly drunk now, enjoying their time off as best they could. Derek, ever the party animal, finished his beer with a loud ‘Ahhh’, grabbing everyone's attention. He held the now empty bottle into the air with a triumphant grin.

“Do you know what time it is, ladies and gentleman?” He smirked, an evil glint in his eye as he scanned the room. Confusion painting the faces of everyone around you. “Spin the bottle!” He laughed, moving to sit on the floor in line with you. Penelope squealed in glee, clapping her hands as she moved from her position to sit across from Derek. JJ shrugged to Will, who chuckled and joined the rest of the team on the carpet. Emily sat beside you soon after, and Spencer, albeit reluctantly, slinked from his place on the sofa behind you to sit. Once the team had gathered, Derek explained the rules as he moved the bottle into the middle of the newly formed circle.

“Ok, we’ve all played before. You spin, and whoever it lands on you give them a big old kiss” He paused to wiggle his eyebrows at Penelope, who giggled at him “If it lands on yourself, spin again”

The man looked around, seeing the team ready, before starting the game. He gave the bottle a quick spin, and leant back as he watched the bottle spin. After a few moments, the bottle lands on JJ, who he respectfully pecs quickly on the corner of the mouth, like she was his grandmother, Obviously slightly disappointed to land on the one married woman in the circle. 

“My turn?” JJ asked with a small slur,  she held a glass of white wine in her hand carefully, leaning to spin the bottle. Landing on Emily, There is a small pause between them before they share a longer peck, Emily quickly moving on.

“Please, God, do not make me kiss Reid.” She joked, making the team laugh as she spun the bottle. Whilst the team watched the bottle spin, You nudged Spencer’s shoulder comfortingly. You knew Emily wasn't being mean, and so did he.

The bottle did, however, land on you. Raising your eyebrows in surprise, Emily clapped her hands

“That was close!” She laughed, JJ smirking and shaking her head amused. Penelope sighed 

“I want a go” She pouted “I want a chance to kiss the one and only Derek Morgan.” She complained loudly. Everyone laughed at her fake tantrum, before Emily quickly moved in before you, softly grabbing the sides of your face, and bringing you in for a big closed mouthed kiss. It took you by surprise, and after a few seconds she pulled away, patting you on the shoulder.

“You’re welcome.” She deadpanned, making the rest of the team laugh once more. Still taken aback, you didn’t notice how Spencer had tensed up beside you after he saw your bewilderment from Emily’s short kiss. He watched silently as you leant forward to take your turn, eyes shooting up in surprise when he realised the bottle had landed on him. 

A chorus of ‘OOO’s’ rang through the living room, Red painted both his face and yours as you turned to each other. He blinked slowly at you and, after a second, the wine he had been drinking flushed him with confidence, he softly grabbed the side of your face, kissing you deeply, tongue running lightly over your bottom lip before he pulled away.

 Another chorus of cheers were heard from around you, the team celebrating seeing one of you finally make a move. Spencer smirked as he pulled away, seeing your shocked face from Emily’s kiss change. You were staring at him, pupils blown and  doe eyed, panting lightly through parted lips, cheeks flushed. He didn’t have a moment to enjoy it, as a knock ripped through Penelope’s apartment. She jumped quickly, answering to find her elderly neighbour, complaining about the noise. 

That was your cue to go. Spencer called a taxi for you both, you had already planned for him to stay the night. Both of you had shared a few bottles of wine between Rossi’s and Penelope’s, but that kiss seemed to have sober the two of you up. The taxi ride wasn’t awkward, more so quiet. Neither of you knew what to say after the kiss, just sharing the occasional joke about the night. 

Walking up to your house, you opened the door silently. After you both take your shoes off, he takes your hand once more, leading you to your bedroom- Once more setting off into your night time routine. Once you are changed, you sit on the edge of your bed, busying yourself by putting on hand lotion, you hardly register that Spencer has finished in the bathroom until you feel the bed dip behind you. Without thinking much of it, you continue slowly rubbing your hands together when you feel Spencers hands grab your hips. A jolt of electricity shot up your spine before Spencer’s lips connected to your neck. 

The surprise caused you to let out a gasp, your hand shooting up to hold his curls.

“S-Spencer?” You gasped the question as his grip tightened, continuing to kiss and nip at your exposed neck. It felt amazing, his lips against your skin, tender yet hungry. His desperation for you translated through every touch of his lips to flesh. Eventually, his lips assault reached your jawline, You heard him moan as you lightly tugged at his hair, an involuntary action after he lightly nipped at your earlobe, eliciting a low gasp of pleasure from you. One of his hands let your hip go, moving your head to face him. He stared at you with such hunger, such adoration, his eyes were full of so much love, but painted with a dark lust. His eyes flickered between your eyes and lips, he was just inches away. Both of you panted as you looked at one another, Spencer leaned in first, crashing his lips to yours. He kissed you with such fervour, it caught you off guard. Eventually, you melted into his kiss, moving from his grip to face him head on. His arms found their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Snaking your arms around his neck, he sighed into the kiss. After a moment he pulls away and begins to plaster kisses all over your face

“I don't…” he kisses your forehead “want you” he kisses your cheek “ Kissing anyone”  He kisses your nose “But me.” He locks eyes with you for an intense moment before placing another kiss to your lips. 

When he pulls away, he's still got one hand on your hip. You are both out of breath after his massacre of kisses. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He meets your eyes, searching for any regret of what you just did. He finds none, but he needs to hear you tell him. He watches as you bite your swollen lip, he stops himself from letting out a small groan at the sight of you like this. Your face is flushed, hair messy, giving him that wide doe eyed look once more. He can’t help the rush of heat that travels through him at the sight of you, shifting himself in hopes you do not notice. 

“Don’t stop…” You spoke quietly, and before you knew it, Spencer had you pinned on your back to the bed. His mouth was on yours, a feverish pace as he kissed you, hands now exploring every inch of you he could. He slotted himself between your legs as you opened them, wanting him closer. You had become a moaning mess at this point, muffled only by his lips on yours. He explored your mouth with his tongue, hand dipping to the hemline of your pyjama shorts. His fingers played with them for a moment before you pulled them down, along with your underwear. Spencer smirked at your action, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“You’re so eager…” He purrs,  eyes moving slowly down to see you, his words suddenly make you self conscious. Making a move to close your legs the best you could with him between them, he quickly stopped you, prying your knees wide. He lets out a low moan as he looks down at the state of you, already wet for him. The way he looks at you makes you squirm, never had you seen someone so excited to see you, all of you. The look in his eyes was dark as one of his hands grazed slowly down your thigh. His eyes move to meet yours in question as his fingers inched closer and closer to your throbbing core. Nodding feverishly, he smirked once more.

“Use your words. Tell me what you want.” His voice was harsher than the Spencer you knew, his tone was authoritative, nothing like the timid man you knew.

“I want you, Spencer.” Was all you could whisper out, overwhelmed by how he was making you feel. Without any further hesitation, his lips caught yours in another fervent kiss. One hand held your cheek, whilst the other was making its way down between your legs. 

Smirking at you squirm under him, his hand finally reaches its destination. Long fingers begin to explore your folds, occasionally bumping your clit as he gathers your slik. From his position over you, you can see how much he's enjoying this. How he knows he has power over you, the look on his face says it all. He’s almost observing you, brows furrowed as his eyes are glued to your face. He smirks at every pleasured moan, every twisted expression as you grind against his palm involuntarily. 

“You like that?” He asks you, smugly. A long finger now teasing your entrance, you can’t help but whine in response. He lets a low chuckle out, finger dipping into you, only slightly. His grin widens when he hears the strangled moan, disrupted by disappointment. 

“More…” You gasp, he has sat up straight now, one hand still teasing your entrance, whilst the other moves to hold down your hips.

“You want more? I’ll give you more.” He bites his bottom lip as he pushes his finger knuckle deep, he doesn’t let you adjust as he begins to fuck you steadily. Absent-mindedly, you grind down once more, only to be stopped by Spencer’s grip. “No, not yet, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He cooed, sounding entirely unsympathetic as he slid another finger in.

This was a side of Spencer that you’d never thought to exist. The look in his eyes, the way he moved, the way he spoke to you- It was primal. The sweet, innocent nerdy bookworm was currently ruthlessly finger fucking you. You never thought a day like this would happen, but with the way he was making you feel, it was almost electric. 

As he continued, he brought his other hand down to your clit, massaging small circles into the sensitive nub. Gasping his name, you can’t help but grind your hips against his hand, seeking any kind of relief you could.

“I-I’m so close-” You manage to choke out “Im gonna cum-” 

Spencer quickly removed his fingers from their place inside of you, causing you to let out a frustrated cry “No! Sp-encer… WHy” You pant, it was embarrassing how needy your best friend had managed to make you. As you slowly managed to recollect yourself, you managed to meet his gaze. A smirk was still present as he brought his fingers to his mouth, popping them into his mouth. Biting back a whimper, you watch him suck your slick clean from his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn't help but watch him, lips a part, eyes doe like, a dumbfounded expression that he loved. The same expression you gave him after he kissed you. Letting out a low groan, he began to remove his sweatpants, keeping his eyes trained to yours as you watched him release himself. 

He made quick work of aligning himself with your aching entrance, looking up to give you one last mischievous smirk before leaning in to whisper to your ear

“When I do this, you're gonna promise to be just mine?” His breath is hot against your skin, you eagerly agree. HHe stays leaning over you as he slides in, slowly. A  groan is muffled in your shoulder as he bottoms out, staying still for a moment. You can't help but dig your nails into his back, the way he felt filling you up was just too good.

Without warning, Spencer began to move, sluggish at first, but he quickly began to gain speed. A loud moan escaped you as he sped up, lewd sounds filling the room as he began to fuck you relentlessly. 

“Spencer!” YOu cry, he leans up, pulling you down the bed by your hips, he pulls your legs around his shoulders as he finds a new purchase. The new position makes him hit your core in a way you’ve never experienced. “Dont stop”

He doesn't reply,distracted by the feeling of your pussy around him. A tight knot began to wind in your stomach, once more threatening to snap.

“I'm gonna cum, please can i cum?” You begged through tears of pleasure. Spencer let out a malicious laugh, loving the mess you had  become. He didn’t reply, simply speeding up his hips, answering your question. All you could do was grab the bedsheets as he brought you to your climax, a loud groan filling the space as he continued to fuck you, cooing praises as he rides you through it. 

As your orgasm winds down, you feel his hips begin to stutter irregularly. He grunts with effort, hair sweatily covering his face. “Where can i cum, baby?” He gasps, hips tense as he tries to hold on. Involuntarily, the sight of him now struggling turned you on, making you clench around him. A loud gasp interrupts him “Fuck, let me cum inside, please?” He begs

“Yes!” You moan, without a second thought, you felt the man release, filling you up completely. He lets a loud strangled groan as he bottoms himself out once more, collapsing on top of your body.

There is a moment of silence as you both lie there. It seems to dawn on you that you have just been fucked by your bestfriend, making you panic momentarily. The panic subsides when you notice the tickle of his fingers on your bare side, tracing small patterns as he nuzzles closer into your neck. Bringing a hand up to play with his hair, you let yourself melt into his touch. His weight on top of you was a comfort, his warmth radiated from his skin to yours, and all you could do was feel safe. 

After a moment, your clarity comes back. Curiosity takes over, you weren’t complaining about what had happened between you both, in fact, you wanted this for years. But why now?

“Baby?” You hum out, testing the waters of your new predicament. Though, it seems silly to be hesitant in a pet name when he was still currently inside of you. His head perks up nonetheless, the usual sweet and smiley Spencer seemingly coming  back as he gives you a soft smil;e at the nickname.

“Yes, baby?” He hummed back, a dopey smile on his face as he emphasised the pet name, Making your heart flutter.

“Not that i'm complaining about this… but what brought this on?” You asked, quaking a brow in question. A blush creeps across Spencer’s face, shifting slightly in his place on top of you. 

“I… Well. I was jealous…” He mutters, now exceedingly shy compared to the side of him he has just shown you. The surprise made your brows shoot up, giving him a questioning look, spurring him to continue “When Emily kissed you… I just got jealous, the look on your face… I’d never seen it before. I didn’t want anyone else to look at you like that, but after your turn…” He trailed off, eyes trailing your naked body underneath him. The sight of you seemed to re awaken his dominant side as he caught sight of where you were both still connected. He lets a huff of a laugh out as he drags his hips out slowly, before slamming himself back into you, happy at the moan he managed to take from you. That cocky grin found his lips once more as he continued his motions, slowly dragging his hips out and slamming himself back in, all the way to the base.

He didn’t need to say anything else, as soon you were both too preoccupied in the feeling of one another once more.

When the two of you return to the office together on Monday, Hand in hand, Spencer still in the same suit the team had seen him in Friday, the team all but threw a parade. Derek dejectedly passed Emily a twenty as they watched the man, not so secretly, kiss you in the kitchenette.

[forthegothicheroine]

I like how all the major big-time warlords in the Mad Max series have something they want to embody, and in some way they all fail.

Lord Humongous wants to be a monster, the scariest damn thing in the wasteland, whose mere name strikes terror into anyone who hears it. He isn't- every movie that follows brings a bigger, scarier bad guy- but that's what he wants to be.

Aunty Entity wants to be a captain of industry. She wants to give her people bread in the form of Bartertown and circuses in the form of the Thunderdome, and be the fearsome but fair re-builder of civilization. She isn't- she breaks her own rules to betray anyone who challenges her authority, and she hires outside agents to disrupt her rivals- but that's who she wants to be.

Dementus wants to be a king. He wants to be loved and feared in equal measure, a generous protector of orphans and a better leader to his men than any of the "big shots" who would take them for granted. He isn't- he's the one who orphaned that child, and he'll sell out his own people the moment it becomes the most convenient option- but that's who he wants to be.

Immortan Joe wants to be a god. He wants to be worshipped in a way that goes beyond either love or fear, to be the singular figure who commands not only his men but the existence of the wasteland itself, and he wants his very name to be an ideology. He isn't a god- he dies like a man, and those same war boys who worshiped him swear allegiance to his killer- but that's who he wants to be.

[willieverseetheland]

like you mean it (pt. 1)

Dexter Morgan x fem!reader

Summary: You haven't felt very appreciated by your (serial killer) boyfriend recently, so he shows you how much he really cares.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, implied smut, language

Pt. 2

From the moment that you met Dexter, you knew he wasn't like everyone else. He can be a little socially inept at times, as well as insensitive. However, at the same time, he's incredibly loving, charming, and funny. You love him and all his quirks. Compared to the men you’ve been with in the past, he’s a saint. He's respectful, kind, and you actually feel safe with him.

But at the end of the day, he’s still a man.

He has a hard time seeing things from your perspective, which can cause a lot of arguments, that are almost always one-sided. You try not to nag but it's hard feeling like the only one putting in effort. He often forgets the things that you tell him. You figure he doesn't find importance in the same things that you do. Lately you've been feeling a little neglected. Monday you asked him to come over for dinner, but he said he was busy. Wednesday you asked him to go lunch with you on his lunch break, he said he was busy yet again. You had a movie date planned for Friday; he bailed last minute because he was...busy.

You always get excited thinking he’s going to say yes, planning cute outfits, spending time on your makeup and hair, all for him to say no. You end up sitting on your couch in front of the tv, with a pint of ice cream instead.

Finally you convinced him to come over tonight. You would love for it to be a relaxing and romantic night, but you know you need to have a talk with him. You hate having these talks because it can feel like talking to a brick wall at times. You know he means well; he just doesn't see it the same way or doesn't even mean to make these mistakes in the first place. But it is hurting you, and you're tired of feeling like your boyfriend doesn't want you.

Of course, he won't be here until late. He has to "take care of a few things first". You knew blood-spatter analysis was a complicated job, but you didn't think it would require this much overtime...

Even though you're slightly mad at him, you don't want him to starve so you make dinner for the two of you. As you're setting the table you hear your apartment door unlock.

In walks Dexter, with his adorable face and dorky smile. You may be irritated but you can't help but smile at the sight of him.

"I made dinner, would you like a beer?" you ask

"Sure" he says with a soft smile

He comes over to give you a kiss on the forehead. You make a half-ass smile in response. When you don't kiss him back or even look at him, he can tell something is wrong.

"What did I do?" he frowns

You immediately sigh

"Dexter, I...I just feel like you don't care. About me, about us."

"What? That's not true at all, why do you think that?" He exclaims

"You've been so distant recently. Gone all the time, always bailing on our dates, always busy, you hardly call or text! I just wish you would put in a little more effort, that's all." You can feel tears begin to form; you didn't realize you were this upset about it.

"Y/n, you know I'm busy with this case, they just really need me right now." He's looking at you, looking through you. You can't read any emotion or remorse on his face. This only makes you want to cry more.

"It feels like I don't mean anything to you! I feel like you don't want me anymore." You can feel your face getting hot and your chest tightening. "Fuck, do not cry right now" you think.

You bring your hands to your face, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to ward off the tears.

"What do you mean? Of course you matter to me; I've just been busy." he has a look of confusion, like he can't understand why you would feel this way. He's here now, isn't that all that matters?

"Well, it just doesn't feel like you mean that."

"Well I do, you're my girlfriend, of course I want you." he sighs

"Then prove it! Show me that you mean it." You look into his eyes, you think you finally see it, regret, remorse, guilt.

He brings his hand up to your cheek, he finally sees how upset you are. You sink into his touch, stepping closer to him.

"How? Change? How do you want me to show you that I want you? That I care?" He's looking into your eyes, brows furrowed.

Even with all the hurt and anger, all you want to do in this moment is kiss him. Feel his body against yours. Not only has it been long since you've had any quality time or even a deep conversation, but you also haven't had sex in weeks. You feel guilty for thinking that in this moment, but you just want to feel close to him, connected.

You place your hand over his

"Stay the night. Be with me... Fuck me, like you mean it. Like you want me, like you care."

SURPRISE BITCHESSSS! I told y'all I was on my writing GRIND. If you want a part 2 lmk! Someone return the favor and write Dex fics for me please and ty <3

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |12|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Killing, Talks of Murder

Word Count: 2.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Tara ran off almost instantly after Mindy said the shrine would be the killers lair, then pointed out this wasn’t a normal Stab movie. Sam moved to go after her sister, despite trying to play everything as normal and as if the attack last year changed nothing, she knew Tara was struggling. Kirby waved her off though and said she’d check on Tara herself. Sam frowned but she knew it was probably better if Kirby went, she had been through this before and every time Sam tried to talk to Tara it almost always ended in an argument.

Sam turned back to the display case that contained the cloak of Billy Loomis. Her eyes trailed from the white mask down to the blood knife at the bottom. So, many lives were ruined just by Billy putting on a stupid costume. She wasn’t sure who could possibly be after them this time, though she didn’t expect her boyfriend to be the bad guy last time either. Whoever was coming after them did their research though, they had everything from each of the Ghostface attacks, going back all the way to the very beginning. She noticed there was even a small display about Sidney’s mom, the murder that started it all.

Sam didn’t know how to protect everyone. Two random kids were killed, which Sam couldn’t care too much about because they were apparently planning to kill her and her sister, but then she was attacked at the gym, she only survived because of you. Since then, the attack at the bodega and then the attack at the apartment, everyone had only survived because of you. She didn’t know where they’d be without you, who else would be dead. She knew she still had to be cautious around you, but you were proving more and more that you were trustworthy and nothing like Richie.

The floor creaked behind her, and she froze. She slowly lifted her head to see you through the glass, standing behind her. You hadn’t said a word, you hadn’t pressed her for answers too hard, answers you rightly deserved. She owed you an explanation about everything, who she was and why this was all happening. You knew who she was, but Sam owed it to you to tell you everything from her own mouth.

“Are you okay?” You asked, finally breaking the silence.

Sam turned around and saw you looking at her with nothing but concern. She wasn’t sure how you could see all of this, see this mess that went all the way back to her birth father and not flinch. There was still no judgement in your eyes, you were looking at Sam with the same kindness you always had. Your first question since seeing all this wasn’t to demand an explanation or ask who any of these people were, you just asked if she was okay, you truly were too good for her.

“Why are you still here?” Sam asked as she spun around. “You’ve been cut and stabbed,” she gestured at you. “Shot at, almost died three times all for some stranger who goes to your gym.” She shrugged, you might have been too good for her, but you also seemed to be crazy.

You only smiled at her words, making her furrow her brow. Maybe you really were her type, you were definitely crazy. “I assure you; this is nothing compared to what I’ve been through,” you said. “And you’re not just some girl from my gym anymore, I think I know you well enough to not want you to get murdered.”

Sam shook her head. You were military, special forces at that, you had definitely seen some things. With the way you handled yourself, first with the knife, then the gun, and then even in the apartment you used your surroundings to your advantage, nearly choking Ghostface out with a curtain. You could more than handle yourself, Sam could only imagine what you would do with the right equipment and an actual plan instead of getting caught off guard. But this wasn’t some war zone, you were at home, you shouldn’t be fighting for your life like this.

“You don’t know me,” Sam mumbled. “Not really, but if you insist on sticking around you should probably know what you’re getting into.” Sam walked across the stage and took a seat, letting her legs hang off the edge. You slightly followed after her, taking a seat right next to her but leaving enough space so the two of you weren’t touching.

Sam stared across the theater, Ethan was walking around, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked around, Bailey stared at a few of the displays, furrowing his brow at the sight of some things. She looked to the side to see Gale staring longingly at one of the displays, Sam could only assume it had something to do with Dewey. Then there was Mindy, crouched down as she tried to comfort Anika off to the far end, with Chad standing a couple feet away, his arms crossed as his own eyes scanned over the group.

Sam clenched her hands into fists. She had heard a bunch of crap about her life and her family ever since that world learned the truth. She had known the truth since she was a teenager, she had spoken the words more than once. For some reason just opening her mouth to tell you seemed impossible. You could go online right now and find several articles talking about what she was about to tell you, saying the words out loud shouldn’t be a big deal.

“Whatever you say,” you said, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. “I promise you; it won’t change anything.”

Sam glanced at you and saw nothing but patience and understanding in your eyes. No one could really say nothing would change until they knew whatever it was, but you truly believed what you were saying. Sam knew she shouldn’t doubt you, you knew the rumors, you knew the basics, and you still stuck around. Everyone who learned the truth though ran and when they didn’t run it was usually because they had an ulterior motive, or they betrayed her.

“When I was younger, I learned my father wasn’t who I thought he was,” Sam let out a shaky breath as she got started. “My real father is Billy Loomis.” She could hear you suck in a breath at the name. “He’s the one who inspired all this,” she gestured around the room. “A year ago, my sister was attacked, by her best friend.” Sam shook her head, there were times she still couldn’t believe last year happened. Amber had never liked her growing up, but she always just figured Amber was an angry kid, she never imagined the girl would be a serial killer.

“Turns out it was all a ploy to lure me back home,” Sam let out humorless chuckle. “My now ex,” she wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t believe she had fallen for Richie, he had been so sweet and charming, that should have been the first indicator that something was wrong with him. “Set it up. He manipulated me, pretended to love me, then he tried to kill me,” she shook her head. “Oh, and he was apparently cheating on me the whole time with Amber.”

“Your ex, that was-”

“Richie,” Sam cut you off. “He tracked me down, became my co-worker, then friend, and then…”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“And it was all to make a stupid movie,” she scoffed. “He’s dead. I made sure of that. So, is Amber.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam looked at you with a furrowed brow, after everything she just said she wasn’t expecting another, I’m sorry’. “He might have been an asshole and a psychopath.” Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at your bluntness. “But whatever you felt for him was real, that doesn’t just automatically end because of what he did. It’s okay to be hurt or even feel bad about it.”

Sam nodded, no one had ever told her that before, well her therapist did but she dismissed it at the time. “But I don’t feel bad,” Sam whispered. “I don’t feel bad one bit,” Sam let out a humorless chuckle. “It felt good to kill him after what he did to me.”

Sam rested her head in her hand as she looked at you. You were looking down at the ground with your eyebrow scrunched up in concentration. “Someone started rumors about me online,” Sam said, making you look up, your brow still scrunched together. “Saying I set the whole thing up last year, that I killed my boyfriend, and he was actually the hero.” Sam shook her head, despite Sidney being there, despite all the police statements, the world seemed to believe some random reddit user over the facts.

“The world sees me as just another killer,” Sam shrugged. “Just like my father.” Sam ran a hand through her hair. “Now you know what a mess my life is,” she scoffed. “Why it would be a terrible idea to get involved with me.”

She thought back to the kiss the two of you shared just the other day. She had stopped it; she said she couldn’t. She told herself it was because she couldn’t fully trust you, she didn’t want to risk getting involved with someone else. The truth was she didn’t want to bring someone into her life, it was such a mess, she didn’t want someone else having to deal with the looks and the comments. You certainly didn’t deserve to be with someone like that, you were too good for all that, you deserved to have someone normal, someone who wouldn’t potentially get you stabbed every other day.

You had been silent most of the time and when Sam looked at you, she saw you nodding along. “Your life is a mess,” you finally said. Sam couldn’t help but smile, you were still as blunt as ever, she found she kind of liked that about you.

“About a year ago I was shot,” you said, your voice becoming distant as if you were going back to the memory. Sam furrowed her brow, she had seen the scars all over your body, she knew you had been shot before, she never imagined one of those injuries was so recent though. “Centimeters from my heart.” You kept touching a spot over your heart, Sam could only assume it was where you were shot. “It’s why I’m in town.”

“But you seem fine,” Sam said. Kirby said it was odd you were in town for longer than usual, that you were stationed in North Carolina. Kirby also said you were still active duty, if you had been injured enough to be discharged then that would be one thing but if you were healed and still active duty it didn’t make sense for you to be home for so long.

“Physically I am,” you rasped out. You were looking across the theater, but it was clear your mind was somewhere else. “But up here,” you tapped your head. “Haven’t been cleared,” you clenched your jaw.

“You seem pretty sane to me,” Sam offered. You were the most stable person she had met, which maybe she wasn’t the best judge in that department knowing her track record.

You huffed out a laugh at that. “Well, not according to my therapist. She won’t clear me until I talk about what happened.” Sam thought back to when you had told her you had a therapy appointment, you had said it was mandatory, that meant you were ordered to see your therapist, it wasn’t something you willingly went to like she did.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” If you had been seeing your therapist this long and it still didn’t seem like you were any closer to getting clear that meant you probably hadn’t talked about whatever it was yet. Sam might have been comfortable seeing a therapist and wanted to talk about her issues, but she knew that wasn’t the case for everyone, her sister in particular refused to see a therapist or talk about what happened in any meaningful way.

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s been long enough.” Sam remained silent as she nodded, she would give you as much time as you needed. “We had been deployed for a few months, it was supposed to just be a peacekeeping mission,” you shook your head. “Had done plenty of them before, meant to help build relations, and make connections. But then…”

You blinked away tears that had begun to fill your eyes, but you never let them fall. “A local militia attacked, we were caught off guard, we’re meant to always be prepared but it had been months without incident,” you continued. You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice as unwavering as possible. “My whole team was killed, my brothers,” you buried your head in your hands.

Sam sucked in a breath; out of everything she was expecting you to say it certainly wasn’t that. She couldn’t imagine the guilt you must be living with being the only survivor of something like that. The only reason she was as okay as she was was because of her sister and Chad and Mindy, without them she couldn’t imagine what she’d be like. They might not have liked to talk about what happened, but they relied on each other, they leaned on each other when one was struggling, and they celebrated together when something good happened.

“I was meant to die that day,” you whispered. “I should have,” you shook your head. You pressed your palm against your eyes before finally lifting your head again. “Somehow the bullet missed my heart, and the rescue team got to me just before I bled out.”

Sam opened and closed her mouth a few times. She wasn’t even sure where to begin with something like this, she was pretty sure there was nothing she could say to comfort you.

“See?” you said, giving her a tired smile. “I got just as much baggage as you.” Sam gave you a sad smile. “But I promise you, I’m much more screwed up, you don’t want any of this,” you gestured at yourself. “Coming into your life. Trust me,” you whispered. “It’s you who’s better off not getting involved with me.”

Sam opened and closed her hand. She wanted nothing more than to reach for you, to try and comfort you. She didn’t believe you; she was definitely not better off without you. You didn’t deserve anything that had happened to you, you weren’t to blame for your team dying. Ever since Sam had met you, all you had done was prove how good you were, you protected her, you joined the group to help protect everyone when you didn’t even know them. You told her your story as if you were warning her to stay away but it only proved to her that you truly were one of the good ones.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler @marsyay78

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #19

"I hate it here! It's cold and wet—I hate being locked in the basement!"

Your captor hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as you stumbled over your words, your anger making it hard to form sentences. It's only been a few days since you've been kidnapped and taken to an unfamiliar place, locked in a dark basement, and ogled at your captor's pleasure. But you were fed up with this treatment!

"The food tastes like shit, and I keep feeling bugs and spiders crawl over me! It's enough! I don't know what I did to you, but this has to end, please!"

Tears were dripping from your eyes, your voice cracking as you were overcome with emotions. You reached up to wipe them away, but they were quickly replaced with more, your eyes unleashing the floodgates without you having any say.

"I'm scared; I want to go home," you whimpered, and you heard your captor sigh, his steps coming closer. You flinched hard when you felt his arms wrap around your body, pulling you close. In stark contrast to you, he smelled pleasant—someone seemed to have the opportunity to shower.

You felt crazy when you buried your face in his chest, accepting the hug, relieved that he wasn't touching you inappropriately. He was also warm, so damn warm! Everything about this made you angry, but all you could do was continue crying into his shirt, spitefully hoping it would stain.

How could someone be so cruel yet treat you so kindly, his hand rubbing up and down your back comfortingly? He didn't push you away, no matter how much you must have stunk after days without showering, and he gently brushed out the knots in your hair while he let you cry your frustrations into his chest.

"There, there," he mumbled calmly as the tears began to dry out, and you wanted to kick him in the shin now that he was close enough to hurt him like he had hurt you. But it also felt like a childish rebuke, even though he deserved it.

"You can come upstairs with me. There's heating, and we can cook your favorite meal. Also, I have a TV and books waiting for you."

His sudden suggestion surprised you. You opened your mouth to agree but luckily stopped yourself in time, so you didn't agree blindly right away. There must be a catch if he suddenly offered you this change of scenery after being so dismissive and cold towards your complaints before. You already knew he was up to no good, so could this perhaps be another trick?

"Can I really?" you asked, carefully probing at the possibility of leaving this horrible basement. Going into detail on how he mistreated you and how you deserved at least that mucht might just upset him again, and who-knows-what would happen if he was the one to get angry. It didn't help the feeling of submitting to him and his whims, but you liked the idea of at least not being isolated down here anymore.

Your captor pushed you away slightly, and you looked up at him, noticing the faint grin playing on his lips in the dim light of the basement. He looked at you with the madness of a movie killer, but his touch remained gentle, and his eyes even softened when he looked at you.

"Of course. I hate seeing you unhappy. I told you I'm doing all of this for you, didn't I? If you feel ready to accept me the same way I do you, we can finally be a family, hang out, and talk. I'd love to show you the new bed I got for us, it's so nice and comfy, and I'll buy you all the things you always wanted but couldn't! That is, of course, as long as you behave appropriately. Would hate to have to send you back down here."

That wasn't what you wanted at all! Sure, going up there inevitably meant you'd see more of him, but you never intended to play house with this man! "What if... I don't want that?" you asked hesitantly, noticing his grip tensing tightly around you.

"Maybe it's too early still..." he muttered, disappointment dripping like venom audible in every word. "You still don't know what is good for you."

With that, he let go of you, walking away with a sour look on his face and stomping up the staircase as if he was a spoiled brat whose fun got ruined.

"W-Wait!" you called out, running towards the end of the staircase, your ankle chain rattling as you stretched it out full. To your surprise, he stopped, looking back over his shoulder condensendingly. "You'll buy me everything I want? Can't we just start there, maybe try to make this basement less... icky?"

"Oh?" he hummed, turning around and leaning against the railing. And what's in it for me? Are you going to treat me to something I want if I do that for you? My offer was already quite generous. Aren't you going to give me something for your demands?"

"What... would you like?"

Another thoughtful hum escaped him as he thought briefly. Not long enough to make you believe he hadn't considered this before, but in this negotiation, you'd always draw the short straw, so it didn't really matter. Your captor walked back down two steps, standing just out of reach.

"I'll get my phone, and then you'll sit on my lap—you can't get up until I tell you to—while we order three things you want. You stay in this basement until they are delivered, and then you have to fulfill a wish of mine in exchange for each of the items. So, three wishes in total."

You gulped. Honestly, it sounded almost worse than playing house with this crazed bastard, especially with him grinning smugly as he talked about the wishes. You wanted to inquire more, get all the details but he cut you off, wagging his finger at you as if he knew what you were going to ask.

"Ah-ah," he chuckled, "It's a surprise! But you can choose: Come upstairs with me or earn yourself some comfort down here. Of course, you can also stay in the basement indefinitely without comfort, but you should stop complaining when I have given you so many options, or I might just get angry with you."

Chewing on your lip, you thought for a moment, his grin widening as he watched you contemplate your options. Of course he'd find enjoyment in your struggles—that was just the kind of psycho he was.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[oldwritingm]

Creepypasta/MH - How They Would Welcome You Back (after not seeing you for a while)

Characters: Nina the Killer, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Tim/Masky, Jane the Killer

Nina

Shouts your name when she sees you, and BOLTS into you

She crashes against you, almost losing her balance from the sheer force

Her arms are flung around you, pinning your own arms to your sides with surprising strength

"Eek! Y/n! Aah... I missed you so much!"

She giggles as she finally lets you go, settling her hands on your shoulders while she looks at you with a huge smile

She compliments your appearance eagerly, and blushes when you do the same

She can't stop giggling throughout the whole process though

Literally nonstop... but she's just so happy!!

Normally she'd suggest a more exciting hangout, like stalking people at the mall or... y'know... putting the laughter in slaughter or smth legal activities

But this time she just wants to stay home and hold you :3

And maybe watch a movie with ice cream too!

Jeff

Pretends to be all nonchalant about it

"Oh, you're back. Hey."

Especially if others are around

But his eyes keep lingering on you, and though you're across the room it feels like he's looming over you

His presence is just so..... unsettling? Like, more than usual lol

Bro's just watching so closely

It'd make anyone nervous, but if you're dating Jeff you're definitely crazy enough not to be too disturbed

Because you know what's actually waiting for you when you're alone

Not murder, but:

He throws an arm around your shoulder and another under your knees, scooping you up wordlessly

Then it's cuddle time :]

He'll be doing something else while you cuddle, and he won't say anything, but if you try to move or get up he'll glare daggers at you

In his mind, you're making up for lost time together

Eyeless Jack

He'd have been waiting for your return

No matter how long he had to wait, he was always ready

Clean home (well, as clean as a cannibalistic demon's home can be), hot food ready, fluffy blankets on the bed...

So when you finally do come, he gets straight to the point

The point being spoiling you ofc

He loves taking care of you; that's his way of showing affection

So he's just excited to finally do that again!

He wouldn't have given you any physical affection when seeing you I think

The most he'd have done would've been to grab your hand to lead you along

"Y/n! I'm so glad to see you again... come on, everything's ready for you."

Tim/Masky

He's dumbfounded when he sees you again

Like, he just blinks at you

It's as if he never expected you to return :(

"Y/n..?"

Then he pulls you into a hug, finally processing the fact that you're there

The same smell of cigarettes and coffee fills your nose, and you breathe it in deeply

(He's lowkey doing the same with your smell)

The hug finishes with one more super-tight squeeze, then he pulls away to look at your face

"Hey."

He's so smooth guys <3

But on a real note, he's just so surprised to see you; he doesn't know how to react

Trust me though, he's never letting you go again

Jane

I think she'd have something planned too

So when she sees you again, she gets really excited

She tries to keep it somewhat cool though, greeting you warmly with a kiss on the cheek and a hug

But you can tell she's trying not to act excited... she's rocking on her heels way more than "usual" (never)

Finally she tells you to close your eyes, and you can really tell she's excited now

She puts something in your hands and kisses you on the mouth

When you open your eyes, you see a jewelry box in your hand

It's your favorite form of jewelry (ring, necklace, bracelet, anklet, etc) in your favorite gemstone/color!!

She loves seeing you wear the things she gets you, especially when she puts so much thought into them

Just like she did this time ;3

Bit of a different style from the other one, but here we go!! Thank you so much for reading, take care my duckies! <3

(divider by saradika)

[darkmuffinstudios]

headcanons 2 electric boogaloo part 103 because i'm still not normal

(The first post cut me off in character limit, so here's the continuation :3)

(These can be general headcanons, found family, queer platonic, or poly if you want to interpret them in any way ^^)

There's couch that can fit then entire gang on it that everyone likes to sit at. Dust dislikes anyone taking his spot, Killer constantly keeps changing spots, Cross always picks his spot last, Horror sits on the floor, and Nightmare sits in a arm chair off to the side.

Killer forces all of the gang to watch movies every so often, typically when things become stale around the castle. The rest all act like they hate it, but Horror still makes popcorn, Dust collects all the blankets, and Cross helps set up the TV.

During the winter, the gang all huddle up in Nightmare's room for a large sleepover. The castle can be big and chilly.

Nightmare used to keep a moderate distance between his subordinates and himself. However, the first time Killer ended up in the infirmary changed that. It was only the two of them, and Nightmare realized the fragility of mortals that day.

Nightmare is a worrier for several reasons.

Nightmare mixes and matches his team in groups of 2, rarely sending any one of his men on solo missions (unless absolutely necessary). Safety in numbers.

Horror's love language is giving gifts and acts of service. He feels conflicted receiving it back, preferring touch instead.

Same with the last point, Horror is a cuddle bug- to Killer's delight.

Dust can't sleep in one, continuous stretch. This results with him taking 2-3 hour power naps at varying times throughout the day.

Horror snores in his sleep. Not loudly, but kind of like a soft rumble with each breath.

Dust likes Horror's snoring. It's therapeutic.

Killer sleeps like a corpse. Still and silent- which is strange when juxtaposed by his usual, lively demeanor.

Cross is an early riser and late sleeper. His circadian rhythm is exact, and runs like clockwork.

We're not going to talk about Killer's sleep schedule. He knows its bad. No one can fix it.

When Cross first joined, he felt extremely guilty for his chocolate cravings. After a while and some encouragement from the others, he finds himself indulging himself (at least in this one regard).

Cross loves sweets, not just chocolate. Chocolate just happens to be one of his favorite things/flavors though.

Cross keeps a mini snack stash in his pocket at all times. On missions, out and about, in his room, training, etc. You can look over at him and see him pop a chocolate kiss in his mouth. His one guilty pleasure.

Nightmare and Dust enjoy their fair share of alcoholic drinks. Nightmare has quite the collection- ranging from various years of quality, make, and base. Of course, they are all expensive.

Horror and Cross are indifferent to alcohol. They may indulge in it when there is a special occasion, but otherwise they don't go out of their way.

Killer is the only one that does not enjoy alcohol. If you see him drinking, leave him be. Bro is probably going through it.

Dust sometimes wears glasses to read. Depends on if he cares to put them on or not.

Out of the group, Cross is the designated driver. Nightmare not only doesn't know how to, but also doesn't have full peripheral vision. Horror and Dust would get stressed out/overstimulated on the road.

Killer is the backup driver, but there is a 80% chance of the car crashing at the end. Despite this, he's one hell of a getaway driver.

Horror likes to spend time out in the garden.

Killer is the only one which has explored every room/inch in the castle. He sometimes uses secret passages to scare the others, or cut his walking time in half.

Cross has a nervous habit of fidgeting with his heart locket.

Dust has claustrophobia. Small spaces, large crowds, feeling trapped? He'll come out swinging.

Everyone knows this and always is careful to make sure Dust has an easy out whenever they nap together.

Nightmare is always the one to attend to any of their wounds when they get hurt on missions. He fusses and lectures and rants the whole time he's bandaging them up, mending broken bones, treating illnesses. Everyone knows its because he cares.

Dust get sick the easiest. Because his own magic is trying to boil him alive from the inside out sometimes.

Killer is the least likely to get sick.

Nightmare can't get sick.

Okay, well, Nightmare can, but it would have to be like. the plague to end all plagues.

Nightmare doesn't let any of the boys buy apples.

The only times Horror wears his hood over his head is if its raining/snowing. His head gets itchy if he wears it up for too long.

Killer has a knife on him at all times. You can pat this man down, take off a couple of knives, and he can still shank you afterwards.

All of them, to some extent, have trust issues. They learn to trust each other over time, though.

Nightmare hangs up pictures of his boys up in his office. He even frames them.

Nightmare has a secret picture tucked in a drawer in his desk. It's a drawing that Dream had made for him (a crude drawing of the both of them in a field of flowers), one he had safely folded and tucked into his favorite book as a child.

After the whole apple fiasco, the book barely survived (the picture along with it) and Nightmare rereads it whenever he's feeling sentimental.

Killer is extremely nosy. If he can't get what he wants by asking/prodding, he'll snoop. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back and all.

I don't remember if I mentioned this in the other post, but Nightmare's bed is HUGE. Like King Deluxe plus plus. It also has those fancy canopy, curtain things that can close around the bed.

Killer's bed doesn't have a bedframe, just a mattress.

Dust's bed is circular and decently big. It also has that drape canopy that can cover it, as well as a shit ton of pillows.

Horror gets cold easily.

Nightmare makes sure Horror gets enough blankets during particular cold nights. Maybe a heater too.

Killer has a bad habit of sleeping in other people's rooms. He just barges in and makes himself at home. Over time, the others have let him get away with it.

Lots of mirrors in the castle were taken down after Dust shattered the first few.

That doesn't stop Killer from having a full body one in his room though.

Cross has a favorite training dummy.

Horror names his weapons and kitchen tools. He tends to keep that to himself.

Killer, weirdly enough, knows how to repair clothes. Hole in your jacket? He can stitch it back fairly neatly.

Dust has ripped quite a few sets of clothes in his days. He's gotten used to shrugging them off and dumping them on Killer.

Killer always returns Dust's stuff with a little chocolate inside the pocket/with it (probably stolen from Cross's stash).

When Horror gets anxious, he starts to pick at the crack in his head. To stop this habit, he just sits on his hands.

Nightmare thinks its a little amusing that Horror sits on his hands. Hey, if it works for Horror, then that's all the king needs.

Whenever Nightmare needs to run errands, he always brings Cross with him and lets Killer hold down the fort in his absence.

Cross works hard with Nightmare every year to ensure that their realm can't be found by anyone else. Encrypting code, manipulating magic, etc. While this is an annual thing that they do, Cross checks up on the state of it every month diligently.

Nightmare and Killer like the ocean. They visit it sometimes.

Horror makes sure to create meals that are balanced, healthy, and to preference. Also likes to keep the fridge stocked up.

Cross and Dust sometimes play chess with each other.

The whole gang (minus Nightmare) love playing cards.

Uno cards are banned from the castle after Nightmare repaired the three large holes in his castle wall.

Horror puts all of his food scraps in a compost bin and recycles it into his garden.

Aaaaand that's the limit again.

Very silly to think about, but I might make a separate one concerning ships/bsp because my mind started to wander LMAOOOOO

Hope you enjoy these!

[thepunkmuppet]

the possible future of the hatchetfield series: hatchetfield halloween party livestream full rundown

again apologies if someone has already done something like this, but I’m procrastinating doing my coursework and just want to talk about hatchetfield I want everyone to be aware of this exciting stuff that was announced in the stream so here you go:

the next starkid musical to be released will not be in the hatchetfield universe.

the guy who didn’t like musicals will soon be ready to license.

nightmare time 3 was originally planned to be released in the same year as nightmare time 2 and will wrap up the overarching nightmare time stories (which seem to be miss holloway and the foster sisters respectively).

if they did a fourth hatchetfield musical, it would be about miss holloway and her backstory. it is already written. I am very very extremely normal about this fact 😃

there is a possibility of a hatchetfield movie, and workin’ boys was sort of a test for this concept. it would be a slasher murder mystery centering around the hatchetfield community players (zoey chambers and the cast of workin’ girls, possibly also with ruth, hidgens, alice and any other theatre-oriented characters but that part’s just my speculation). the transcription of the teaser description can be found below the nmt descriptions.

ok so here are the transcriptions of the nmt3 episode descriptions:

Story #1: Bottle Imps

Bill Woodward has been chosen to test CCRP’s latest and greatest product; Bottle Imps. These reality-bending buddies will bring their owner the one thing they desire most. When his new imp, Lovely, leads him to his soulmate, Bill decides to use his magical companion to play matchmaker. But to help Charlotte find the man of her dreams, Bill will have to bend the Imp’s rules. Rules he’s been warned, must never be broken…

Story #2: Frankenruth

Desperate to see a naked body, Ruth Fleming and Richie Lipschitz volunteer at the morgue of St. Damien’s Hospital. Their terrible plan becomes exponentially more terrible, when they become unwitting subjects in the experiments of the body-snatching madman, Doctor Laszlo, who claims to have conquered death itself. If Hatchetfield thought Ruth was bad before, then they will cower before the unspeakable horror of… Frankenruth!

Story #3: Becky Barnes Climbed a Tree

Becky Barnes is on top of the world! Not in a literal sense, of course. She’s deathly afraid of heights. After years of struggle, Becky’s life is finally everything she dreamed it would be. She’s engaged to her high school sweetheart, Tom Houston, and the two have a surprise baby on the way! But, as the couple prepare for the arrival of baby Marie, a shadow from Becky’s past returns to haunt them.

Story #4: Devil’s Night

Tim Houston has a crush. Unfortunately, it’s on his older, mature and totally cool babysitter, Grace Chasity, who he fears will never see him as anything but a snot-nosed little kid. But when a devilish maniac with murderous designs on Grace attacks Hatchetfield the night before Halloween, Tim must protect his beloved, or join the killer’s growing body count. It’s another slashing adventure on the night HE came home… Devil’s Night.

Story #5: (long special episode) Miss Holloween

It’s Halloween in Hatchetfield once again, and Miss Holloway is celebrating the same way she’s done for decades, staving off the horrors that go bump in the night. But when Duke gives her an invitation to his wedding, the dejected Miss Holloway begins to chafe under the terms of a contract forged many years ago. She strikes a new bargain, but unfortunately her creditors are known for their tricks, not treats. Just as Miss Holloway gives up her powers in exchange for a mortal life, a monstrous new threat rears its ugly head. As All Hallows Eve descends, and all Hell breaks loose, Miss Holloway must save the town or die trying… for real this time.

Story #6: (long special episode / season finale) Orb Weaver

Lex Foster had a life once. A home. A boyfriend. Now there is only the road, and her sister, and the fear of the men who are hunting them. As Hannah Foster watched Lex sink deeper into despair, she is certain of only three things: Webby is gone. She cannot help them. They are alone. Elsewhere, an old soldier awakens from a catatonic state. Returned from some unimaginable Hell with a mission. He knows that somewhere, two magical girls require immediate evac… then maybe some coffee.

very important: if you want nightmare time 3, WATCH NIGHTMARE TIME 2. BUY A TICKET TO THE LIVESTREAM. SHOW THAT THERE IS LOVE AND DEMAND AND IT’S WORTH THEIR TIME AND MONEY I AM BEGGING YOU

hatchetfield movie: Cast Party Massacre

The Hatchetfield Community Players. You will never find a cattier troupe of two-faced thespians. But when the blood begins to flow at their latest show’s cast party, they must consider: is there a secret murderer in their midst? And more importantly, who amongst them is a good enough actor to pull off such a performance? Can they set aside their petty squabbles and tangled romances, or is it curtains for this ensemble? Who will survive… the Cast Party Massacre!

[gamblersdoll]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐒?

ghostface! todoroki who plays out your sick fantasy.

mask kink, p in v, finger sucking, nipple sucking, fear tactic.

“are you sure you want to do this?” todoroki questions, a stoic but somewhat worry on his face. “what if something goes left and i hurt you?”

“you wont hurt me, baby.”

“what if you forget that we are doing something like this and you freak out?” he presses, fidgeting with his fingertips and avoiding eye contact.

“baby, if youre worried so much we dont have to do this.” you remind, kissing his cheek and a small smile. “i wont force you to do anything you dont want to do.”

“yeah, but i wanna make you happy, thats what im supposed to do.” he sighs,rolling his eyes at himself.

“and you are either way it goes.” you scratch his head, a soft groan from his throat as you dig your nails into him. “ill be happy and love you either way this goes.”

“okay,” he nods, tilting your head up and kissing your lips. “gotta go to the store for dinner, feeling like soba tonight.” he says, standing up and holding you for a minute. “love you.”

“i love you too.”

you eventually hear the downstairs front door close and lock, sleep taking over your body and you fluttering your eyes shut into a resting place and feeling your body start to drift away.

but, maybe an hour later, something does wake you up. a sound of something ruffling around, could be birds in the attic or maybe another fucking squirrel got into the dryer again. but, your sleepy brain not working right, you pull yourself out of bed and look at the time.

‘ten forty three.’

shoto isnt home yet?

walking downstairs, you turn the dryer light on, there wasnt any chipmunks or squirrels in there. and yet, you still hear noise from somewhere.

‘click!— front door open.’

your heart races a bit, looking over to the door to see what apparently is a man in all black, with a ghostface mask and he just stands there. you chuckle, rolling your eyes. “okay, shoto, you actually want to do this?”

no movement, just the man you think is your todoroki standing in place.

“helloooo?” you snap your fingers in his face, still no movements from the masked man, but scoff and fold your arms. “shoto, again if you dont want to do this—“

finally, the man who wasnt speaking, pulls out a small amount of rope. which was weird, todoroki doesnt really like ropes,being the fact it’s easy to get rope burn. you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise, your overthinking starting to save you. “are you not todoroki..?”

he shakes his head no, putting up five fingers.. and your legs do all the running on their own. he wasnt chasing you, no. but it still is fucking creepy.

that damn boy probably left the door unlocked!

you lock the door to the bedroom, scrambling to find your phone. you unlock it, dialing the number to his phone, and it picks up.

“todoroki— someone broke into—“

“no todoroki shoto here, little girl.” the other line says, making your heart drop and tremble within fear of somebody, something hurt him and was doing the same with you. “do you like scary movies?”

oh, thats how this fuck wants to do things? textbook definition?

you swallow thick, feeling rage and yet fear within your bones. “adore them.” you spit, peering out the window curtains.

“okay, lets play a little game then.”

“whats the name of that one big killer in silent hill?” the line asks, waiting on your response.

“pyramid head.” you confidently reply, getting a satisfactory chuckle. “if youre going to kill me, give me better questions so it means something.”

“ohh, youre so mean, what about your poor shoto?” he asks, a coo behind his words. “if you get all of them right, ill tell you where he is.”

you chew on your nails, anxiety pulling over you. you grunt, an approval of his mind games with you. “okay then, who was the first killer in scream?”

that almost threw you off, but you knew who it was. “there wasnt just one killer for that first girl.. casey was her name.”

“oh? mind to share with me and shoto?” he asks, you have to hold your tongue to try and not sacrifice his life on accident.

“billy called the girls phone, stu killed the boyfriend, billy killed the girl.” you say, knowing that you’re right about all of it, it was simple really.

“oh, what makes you so sure? how can you tell?” he asks again, curiously trying to see if you would second guess yourself. anyone would, especially in the scream movies. but you werent stupid, you watched enough of those movies to realize that mistake.

“billy was more fueled by rage and revenge, causing his movements to act erratically, stu was just there with him.”

“bingo! next question..” he cheers, a pause in the line. “in the paranormal realm, was it the conjuring that goes first, or annabelle?”

“annabelle, then conjuring.” you say, hearing a dissatisfied voice. “what?”

“are you sure about that? thats what you want to go with?” he asks, was this his trick again or were you wrong..?

“thats how they go, it wouldnt make sense if they were reversed.” you shout, hearing a small chuckle.

“you lose.” he says, the line ending and hands grab at your shoulders, a scream coming from your throat as you thrash and writhe in his hands.

he kneels down on your forearms, wrapping the rope around your body and hands as you still struggle. he was bigger than you, your legs and knees only able to kick air and some small parts of his back. you try to pry your way out of the rope’s confines, his hands starting to paw and push up at your clothes and your heart drops.

is this how it’s supposed to be? your boyfriend supposedly dead and you get the short end of the stick?

you look away, not bothering to watch yourself be ruthlessly taken by a masked killer who just happens to also be a fucking creep. you feel his hands on your body, warm but cold hands on your stomach.

warm and cold ?

his lips attach to your nipple, you jumping from the temperatures in his mouth. he mustve eaten something cold or something. or, maybe he had taken some kind of medication that makes him cold?

he swirls his tongue, his breath being pushed onto your skin, and the temperature of his breath is colder—

fucking todoroki, its been him this whole time.

your nerves relax all the way, getting the best confirmation of your lover being the one who has you in his reigns, his mouth on your nipple, and the one who is pulling his cock from his pants.

you wouldve thought it was someone else, since he shaved his shit apparently. he hears you chuckle, looking up at you. you try to bite back another, just imagining a ghostface mask staring up at you while positioning themselves against you— meanwhile knowing their identity.

“please dont kill me mr. ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel.” you feign fear, feeling his hands push you into the ground deeper and feeling his cock slip in, moaning about it. your clit jumps for a second, twitching from the cut pubes prickling against it for only seconds at a time.

the masked man kneels, pulling your body back and forth along his length as he hears your yelps and moans, them being elongated. the mans’ gloved fingers find their way into your mouth, you sticking your tongue out as he thrusts his fingers down and out your throat. his glove gets wet, soaked with your spit and you gag slightly when he has you throat his fingers.

his pace gets meaner, too honestly. his hips smacking against your rear and his other hand holds the ropes on your back, steadying himself and you. deep breathing can be heard through the mask, sometimes feeling the air become a little warmer but then colder. wet squelching and slaps of skin reverberated through the room, some of your hair becoming disheveled and ass becoming sore and red.

your moans becoming whiny, a light drenching of your essence and creamy rings along his cock as you curl your toes, “fuck—hah!”

the masked man breathes deeper as well, his hips slowing down as he stills inside of you. you feel his own ejaculation inside of you, making your folds slicker than any lubricant ever. the masked man lays you down, untying your restraints and pulling his mask off.

tuffs of red and white hair show themselves, and a worried shoto. “are.. are you okay—“

you bonk the top of his head, hearing a ‘ow’ after that. “what the hell, todoroki!” you squeal, shaking his arms. “what kind of idea was that?!”

“well.. you said that you wanted to try something new..” he says, his own hands on your shoulders shaking them.

“i know that much— but you scared the fuck outta me!”

“sorry.. how did you figure out it was me?” he asks, confused and worried eyes that stare and burn into yours. “was it that noticeable?”

“your palms are two different temperatures, and your mouth was cold.” you point out, pulling your shirt down and rubbing your wrists. “i almost didnt, because of the rope and the phone call— hold the fuck on, who answered the phone then?”

“uh.. midoriya?”

a knock comes to your front door, its about eleven twenty four at night. especially after tonight, todoroki walks you to the door, just in case you were still worried about anything. you weren’t worried in the slightest.

you unlock and open the door, green patches of hair the first thing you see. “uhm— hi there.” he says, the freckled boy rubbing the back of his head and a nervous chuckle.

“hi there, ghostface.” you say, both men tensing up and you fold your arms.

“well!—“ he starts, nervous and scrambling for an answer. “in my defense! todoroki cane to me about it and i wasnt trying to scare you too bad! i hope i didnt..”

“both of you did, so both of you can get beat up.” you say, watching izuku hand todoroki’s phone back. “but.. i guess i give credit when its due.”

“i hope i didnt cause any trouble..”

“you didnt, but its getting late.” you remind, the three of you saying goodbyes and a thought comes to you. you turn to tell izuku, “izu!”

he turns back and responds with a distant ‘yeah?’ wide eyes and a smile.

“annabelle comes before the conjuring, take more notes!”

[dangermousie]

I was chatting about this with a mutual and it made me want to expand this because I've been thinking about this for a bit on and off.

I think the disconnect/arguments between people who watch/read books/shows/movies etc, label things as green flag/red flag and complain when there are "problematic" characters or "dynamics" - both in terms of the narratives and people who enjoy these narratives being targets and people who like me love some intense/fucked up/weird stuff is because these two groups of people approach fiction in two fundamentally different and incompatible ways.

The former view it as a sort of aspirational content or self-insert - they want to watch/read about people/lives/situations they would enjoy being in/with in real life. It's sort of a self-insert wish fulfillment, the way other people watch youtube channels about traveling the world or cooking or home decorating - you imagine yourself in this.

And I think this is where the disconnect comes in - because a decent chunk of them assume everyone else uses fiction for the same reason so if you enjoy e.g., watching a dysfunctional relationship or a bad dude/lady or some world set up that is nuts it's because you think this is all great in real world and that you want to be (or be with) with a problematic partner/in problematic situation and you think it's morally worthwhile.

To that former "aspirational" type of fiction consumer, fiction taste = morality.

But the disconnect is that for that latter "we like fucked up/dark/problematic/intense/whatever" group it's not really about aspiration or self-insert. People didn't love Hannibal because they secretly long to run off and cook humans in a stew. The fans of 2ha don't really want to kidnap their hot teacher and keep them as a sex slave in a palace. Harem dramas aren't popular because women are dying to poison and frame others to get to sleep with a fat old powerful megalomaniac. Most of consumers of mafia romances don't really think it's a great idea in real life to be taken against your will by a hot killer with abs who can't control himself around you and is great at forcing you into orgasms against your will.

That latter group (among which I find myself) likes all that stuff precisely because it's nothing they have or want to have in real life. It's a safe way to explore fantasies that would not be great in real life (I assure you most people who have noncon fantasies don't want to be raped in real life; also in real life no most people don't want to bang a buff but super murdery villain; fiction is a safe place in a way) but also to explore situations and interactions and characters you would never want to in real life from the safety of the page/screen. To use a very easy example - think of the large audience of action movies. I am pretty sure most fans of action franchises don't want to be in car crashes/insane chases/explosions/etc. Any more than roller coaster enthusiasts want to actually be thrown upside down for real or horror movie fans want to either chase someone with an axe or be chased with one. I myself love really intense situations in fiction, ones that push characters to their limits and sometimes beyond, but I cannot imagine anything less pleasant to go through in real life.

Unlike with the self-insert group, this is actually the very opposite. It's like a game of what-if, a glimpse into an alien world fascinating precisely because of its difference with my life. An exploration of aspects of life/relationships that one could never safely or happily do in one's life but are interesting at a safe fictional remove.

This is getting repetitive so I am going to stop but I really do wish more people would understand that enjoying X in fiction does not mean enjoying X in real life (or approving of X in general.) I mean, I love period epics but you'd pry antibiotics and rule of law out of my cold dead hands.

The moral panic over fiction reminds me both the old "video games make you into killers" panic of a few decades ago and the much older belief that reading novels would wreck morals of society especially by those weak women since the novels' (lack of) morality would warp them. Most people have brains and use them and can distinguish between fiction and reality. I wish people would accept that.

P.S. A corollary is conflation of morality/quality/enjoyment. By that I mean I wish more people would accept that moral message, quality, and enjoyment of work are all three separate things. You don't need to prove that some fictional piece is immoral and/or badly made to justify you not enjoying it. It can be well done and just not for you. And conversely, you do not need to prove a work having societal value or being high quality to justify enjoying it. It's fiction. Just enjoy it or don't.

[denwritesandcries]

Fall(ing for You) – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x soft goth!reader

Summary: Sam is certain that Tara's new quiet friend may turn out to be Ghostface, unfortunately – or not –, that friend is you.

or, it takes the help of tara and a dog for sam to finally come to her senses.

Word count: 6,0k.

Content: scream 6 but without the killing, r's 23, cursing, wingman tara ft. yr dog, jokes abt r being ghostface, fluff, pining, sam falling first AND harder, silly movie references.

Note: hey guys, It's been a while since I've written for scream but I rewatched it recently and finally got some inspiration again! I describe the reader a little more in this but it won't really affect anything if you choose to ignore it.

English is not my first language.

Tara made a new friend.

Sam still isn't sure exactly, but the only plausible explanation for the way Tara has been acting lately is that her sister met someone interesting enough to keep her attention so that she gave everyone a break from her tantrums and reckless behavior since their new start outside of Woodsboro.

Now, that could be a good thing, it had been months since the kids started college and they were all doing relatively well. Mindy had Anika, Chad had Ethan and also there was Quinn, even though she wasn't very close to anyone. Tara should have someone too.

The problem is that Sam has no idea who this person is. Tara just won't tell her.

You see, Sam understands that she might have been a little too protective of her sister and that this made Tara's behavior become defensive towards her. Her new therapist – after she got rid of that quack – is helping her work through that, okay? But curiosity and worry were eating away at her insides. The curfews, the tasers and pepper sprays, and especially the ID checks were all important to keep them safe, dammit! Mindy and Chad had no problem with it, and it was only after all the appropriate measures were in place that Sam could breathe and let these new people be a part of their lives. Not knowing this so-called friend, let alone who they were, was driving her to the brink of a breakdown.

She was trying to give her some space, probing with subtle questions here and there and the most she got was an eye roll and ‘It’s just a sophomore I met at the film club, haven't you said I should try to be part of something that didn’t involve frat parties?’

Well, at least it wasn’t a boyfriend, given the lack of dreamy sighs, giggles into the phone and late-night escapades. That was good. They already had enough problems to deal with and a new relationship so quickly was the same as asking for a ghostface to go for them again and Sam hadn’t been back in Tara’s life long enough to know how to deal with this part of being a big sister yet.

Sam had understood that she wouldn’t meet this mysterious person for a while, at least until her sister’s tantrum had passed, and between two shitty jobs and trying to keep a structured life being responsible for a bunch of teenagers in the big city, she couldn’t find it in herself to insist on the subject any further and get the risk of causing a fight. She thought it would be forgotten.

Now just imagine Sam's surprise when she came home one night after a long, exhausting shift, expecting to eat the leftover pizza she had hidden in the fridge and fall into a deep sleep, only to be knocked over by an noisy and strange dog with a piece of pizza in its mouth as soon as she opened the apartment door. Her pizza.

“Koda!” Someone called. Someone unfamiliar. It wasn’t just the dog, there was a stranger in her house.

Sam’s hand instinctively moves to reach for the taser hidden in her jacket when a pair of black-clad legs show up in her vision. Does Ghostface work with dogs now? She wonders in confusion for a moment, and has given up on the voice changer?

The only thing stopping her from tasing this potential killer in front of her is the pure bewilderment and Tara’s laughter filling the room.

“Oh my god,” the figure bends down, picking up the dog who turns out to be a very excited puppy, the pizza falling from its mouth and onto her shirt, getting it all over her, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s a girl, a face she’s never seen before, looking completely mortified.

“Hey, Sam,” Tara stops beside her, a barely hidden tone of satisfaction in her voice, “This is my friend. I thought you’d like to meet her.”

It's safe to say that Sam didn't like Tara's new friend at all.

“You didn’t think about telling me you were bringing someone?” Sam exclaimed, rubbing her temples wearily, “Especially that Lydia Deetz project right there? I almost shocked her in the middle of the hallway!”

Quinn shifted from where she was leaning against the counter in the small impromptu meeting and didn’t bother to hold back her laugh, “Nah, I think Tara would fit that role better.”

“Quinn,” Sam groaned exasperatedly.

“If I had told you you would have said no,” Tara shrugged.

“Yes! Because we don’t know her!”

It was quite awkward sitting on the couch in their living room less than five feet away from the kitchen and being able to hear every word spoken as if you weren't right there, with your messy dog ​​happily chewing on the sock on your ankle.

This wasn't the turn you expected your night to take when you decided to accept Tara's sudden invitation for a movie night, visiting her off-campus for the first time since you became friends.

You met her at the start of the school year, the day she showed up for a film club meeting before anyone else arrived, well, anyone except you. She seemed completely lost and suspicious, even though she was clearly struggling not to show it, which made you like her right away.

Getting attention and starting conversations was never really your thing, this whole club thing wasn't either, honestly, but you ended up being one of the last older members to join with most of the others having recently graduated and the responsibility of looking after the new freshmans gradually fell on you. Most of the time you kept to yourself, preferring the behind-the-scenes side of things to participating in the long-winded debates of high school teens obsessed with slashers and making Stab parodies, but you noticed the way Tara seemed desperate for any sense of normalcy beneath her laid-back facade and the whispers of murder that haunted her.

You took what seemed like a rabid kitten under your wing and ended up cornered by the personification of a Doberman because of it. Talk about doing good deeds and stepping out of your comfort zone. What a joke.

Tara’s older sister, Sam, if you got it right, stared at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes – just like Tara when you first approached her – towering over your figure that tried to look smaller than it actually was on the couch, as if she was trying to learn every little hidden detail about you.

“So…” you began hesitantly, wanting to break the awkward silence that had ensued, “you have such a beautiful house.”

“Aren’t you too old to hangout with a freshmen?" Sam cut in coldly, one eyebrow perfectly arched in distrust.

You sighed, this conversation sure started off very well, “I’m 23,” you cleared your throat, “Tara’s in the same club as me, and I’ve just been helping her with some classes I used to take when I first started here.”

You hear Tara’s distinct chuckle, clearly amused by your frustration, which doesn’t help your situation much. What a wonderful friend, indeed.

Sam hummed with fake indifference and the other two housemates watched the exchange intently, eyes darting between you like they were at a tennis match, amused by the sight of Sam trying to intimidate the poor unsuspecting twit that you were.

A great friend, for sure. Ugh, this is why you don’t sponsor obviously troubled kids.

It’s not like Sam Carpenter is really intimidating or scaring you out the way she seems to want to, she has bags under her eyes and a greasy pizza stain on her shirt and you’re a grown woman, for God’s sake! It’s just that it was extremely embarrassing to cause a scene like that, especially with someone who you really wanted to make a good first impression.

Interacting so much socially lately was becoming relatively exhausting and you expected it wouldn't become a thing, as you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. You hoped this would be the last big meeting you had for a while. Tara had told you a lot about her sister, mainly about how it was a pain in the ass to always have someone hovering over her, but it was something you never took seriously because of the way she sounded when she talked about it, too loving for someone who hated the situation so much. No, Sam was important and Tara had insisted that you meet her after doing the same with the twins just a few days ago. You had carefully planned how it would happen, what clothes you would wear and what you would say and now your chance to make things right was ruined, the words seeming to have escaped you in a flash. You were reserved, quiet, small in the midst of so much hustle and bustle, used to watching everything go by from the safety of the shadows. Being a mouse was easy.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Less easy when caged with a lion.

“Look,” you tried again, silently squirming as your pup start sniffing Sam’s combat boots furiously as you stood to pick him up, “I really didn’t want to cause any trouble or misunderstanding, Tara called me earlier while I was walking this little guy and insisted it would be okay if I came over for a movie. I can leave now if you want to, I’m really sorry for… well, all of this.”

You noticed Sam's expression became conflicted, as if she didn't know exactly what to make of you standing in the middle of her living room without showing any threat and wasn't used to people actually listening to her on sight. Still, she wasn't going to give up that easily.

“Great,” Sam nodded, her voice sounding less firm, “go then.” She pointed directly at your dog, now sitting at her feet with its fluffy head tilted to the side in a guiltily innocent manner, “And make sure to take that pizza thief with you.”

(You swear he looked personally offended.)

“What? No!” Tara seemed to realize that her little game could backfire and came out from behind the counter in your defense.

“Tara—”

“Come on, Sam, it's movie night!” She stomped her foot loudly, “I refused the invite to Jason's party for that, we were marathoning all the Texas Chainsaw Massacres!”

You don’t even have to be good at reading people to know that Sam had lost that fight the moment Tara looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing that there was no way to blame her for simply doing what she asked.

That didn’t stop Sam from rolling her eyes and huffing in irritation.

“Fine,” she practically growled, shifting her attention back to you, “But I’m gonna keep an eye on you, so you better not act all smart and keep that fleabag away from me.”

“His name’s Koda.” You pointed out, before softening, “And thank you, I promise I’m not gonna—”

“Shush.”

Sam was sure this was all part of an act of yours, just the first step to infiltrate their lives and pull the rug out like others have done before, because no one in their right mind would sit quietly next to someone who nearly shocked and threatened them in many ways just a few minutes ago.

Especially if that someone is burning holes in your head with their eyes, like she's doing now.

Sam watches shamelessly and intrigued, shooting daggers at your figure as you lean back with Tara babbling enthusiastically between you, your puppy completely knocked out on her lap, oblivious to the sounds of death and fake blood spurting from the TV. She notices the way you effectively ignore her, responding to Tara’s remarks with genuine interest, even if your voice doesn’t match her enthusiasm.

You remained quiet beyond those moments and the tiredness along with your lack of sudden movements made Sam feel secure enough to leave the room and finally take a shower – because along with everything she never saw much fun in these movies like Tara –, warning you that it was better for everyone to finish the night when the movie ended.

(She also forced Quinn to take her place on the couch and promise to scream if anything happened. You didn't comment on that either.)

Sam only falls asleep when she hears the sounds of goodbyes coming from the living room and the door house being closed, finally relaxing after all the interaction, deciding that it was enough. You could have been at her house, but that doesn't mean she would let you come over again.

You come back, because of course Tara doesn’t give a damn about Sam’s warnings about being careful around strangers – incessantly claiming that you’re not a stranger – and there you are at the next game night that Chad insisted on making a tradition.

At least there’s no sign of the shirt-destroying furball this time and there are pizzas smelling good on the kitchen counter.

“‘Sup, Sam!” Chad greeted loudly as she walked through the door, waving excitedly from the couch, “We’re playin’ uno!”

Her eyes landed on you, who waved at her with a small, tight smile, awkwardly sandwiched between Anika and Ethan, the way you stood out among them so comical that Sam suppressed a snort. She decided to join in without much protest, someone responsible still had to watch you, after all.

Sam wouldn’t admit to anyone, absolutely anyone, that she was enjoying the evening, listening to the heated exchanges as everyone got competitive. Strangely, she noticed that you didn’t try to engage much in the conversation, just like the other night, seeming happy to just be there. She thought you had been withdrawn then because of her behavior towards you, but maybe you were just shy.

That made her raise an eyebrow, Tara didn’t usually embrace introverts. Actually, she had always been pretty popular even before Sam left, if she remembered correctly, so this was new. She felt a small piece of curiosity spark inside her instead of more mistrust as she expected and it disconcerted her.

“The whole point of the 7 card is that you're not supposed to talk, man!” Mindy throwing chips at Ethan interrupted Sam's flow of thoughts.

“This rule is stupid! The manual doesn't even mention it, read it for yourself!” Ethan shuffled the cards wildly – ​​everyone at the table had seen his hand – pointing, “And you’re talking too!”

“Whatever! Nobody reads the fuckin manual to play uno, Ethan!”

Tara groaned, “Guys, just shut up and everybody buys a card.”

“But that’s not how you play!”

She decided to abandon the game and all the fuss in favor of getting some air and a slice of pizza and was surprised to find that her favorite was still untouched, which was a miracle in such a crowded house.

“Tara said that you liked this flavor,” your voice coming from nearby startled her and Sam saw you gesture to the box in front of her, “My treat, for the other day.”

She cleared her throat hesitantly, “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” you dismissed with a wider smile, “My dog ​​left you without dinner.”

Sam didn’t respond, but you leaned against the counter next to her anyway, picking at the dark polish on your nails casually, listening to your friends arguing in the background.

“Get tired of the crowd?” Sam asked, deciding that ignoring you wasn’t an option since you clearly weren’t leaving.

“Yeah,” you agreed, shrugging with an odd laugh, “I guess I’ve had enough socializing for one day.”

Sam wasn’t sure why she didn’t just send you away then, seizing the perfect chance to dismiss you like she’d wanted all along and avail everyone's presence to remind that you weren’t welcome, but that strange spark flared in her and made her smile unconsciously, more sincere than the previous tense ones.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” she agreed slowly.

Your expression brightens in surprise, as if you expected a cold, blunt rejection or maybe a slap (probably both) and Sam feels a bit guilty by it. Sighing, she waves you towards the apartment’s tiny balcony, silently inviting you to join her, to which you respond with a firm nod as you watch her unwind the chain on the sliding door – they keep everything locked up tight now – and follow her.

Sam swears she’s not doing this to be nice or anything, all she wants is to repay you for your politeness, that’s all.

The night breeze is refreshing and sends pleasant shivers down your arms and shoulders as Sam leans against the railing and the two of you fall silent. It’s pleasant, actually.

Sam takes a moment to look at you, like, really look at you for the first time since you met and her breath hitches.

Your relaxed features look cheerful and are well-emphasized by the makeup you’re wearing – she tries to search her memory and gets frustrated when she can’t remember if it’s the same style as the night you met – your hair blows a little in the wind and your clothes just fit. Every single thing about you seems to have been specially made to be this way, charming, beautiful.

Your elbow brushes hers in the small space as you lean in to better contemplate the dreary, empty New York sky and Sam’s skin is burning and she doesn’t understand why.

Sam didn’t realize, through all the haze of anger and suspicion and tantrum, until she was touching a pretty girl, that you were, in fact, a pretty girl.

Shit.

“You’re trying so hard not to like her that I’m getting embarrassed for you.”

It’s late. Everyone has already left, including you, who went early claiming you had to work the next morning. Tara should be in bed by now, but she’d be upset if Sam told her to do that, so she doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam dismisses, packing up the last of the leftover pizza to put in the fridge.

“But you do,” Tara hums smugly, stifling a yawn, “Just admit that you were wrong and that I’ve made a friend who’s not a potential serial killer. And that you might have a crush on her. I saw you two on the balcony.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she grumbles, “And I wasn’t wrong for being worried that you brought home a stranger without telling me, even if she’s not dangerous.”

“Ha!” Tara points out, “So you admit she’s no danger.”

Sam sighs tiredly, bringing a hand up to massage her temple, “She can keep coming over for movie nights or whatever if that’s what you're asking me.”

Tara cheered, jumping up from where she was sitting on the counter to finally go to sleep. She stopped just before turning the corner to her room.

“Seriously though,” she caught Sam’s attention, “You guys have more in common then you might think, that’s why I like her. I think you could too, if you get to know her better.”

“That’s impossible, Tar,” Sam says weary, looking at her sister with the most done expression, “I don’t ‘get to know’ anyone, I already have all the people I need in my life.”

“Maybe you’ll be surprised,” she shrugged, “It would be good for you anyway.”

Sam's approval was all Tara needed to make you a regular fixture in their lives and make movie nights an official thing. Sam usually walks in when they're in full swing, with the two of you deep in conversation about the completely random movie you decided to watch that day, and now she greets you back instead of ignoring like she did before and you look happier every time she does it openly.

She finds excuses to wander around the living room and kitchen when she hears Tara pause the tv for whatever reason, just so she doesn't leave you unsupervised in their house – it was still too early to rule out all the care, after all. It ends up making her feel kind of ridiculous, because, hell, she shouldn't have to make excuses to wander around her own house! But you guys talk during these moments, sometimes.

Sam learns more about you as time goes on, and she tells herself that it's just gathering information, that you're not friends at all, but she finds herself soaking up every bit of detail. What are you majoring in, how long have you been in town, if you live close to campus like most students or if you have roommates like them.

(Actually, when she thinks about it now, Sam probably sounded more like a maniac trying to find out where you live, but at least you didn’t call her out on it.)

Then movie nights are joined by study sessions that Tara insists on having as her first week of finals approaches, and you manage to convince Sam to let you bring your puppy too so he won’t be alone for so many hours and she can act a little more normal around you and have a conversation that doesn’t sound like a job interview. You tell her about the movies you like – which consist of more than just an extensive list of slashers like she initially assumed – in a loud and excited tone instead of your usual repressed one, and it stirs something inside her, which leads to several other facts. Your favorite color, what kind of music you like, what you do when her sister isn't dragging you somewhere, and why you decided to adopt a dog so young when you already had so many other responsibilities.

“He helps me not feel alone,” you replied, looking deep into her eyes, “my roommate graduated last year and moved out. I guess I couldn’t stand coming home to empty houses, you know? And he’s my guard dog, he takes care of me and I take care of him. The little guy might be small but knows how to do damage.”

She could relate to that, in part.

And then you start asking too, suddenly and Sam finds herself with a dilemma after so long avoiding your attempts to get to know her. She’d rather remain closed off.

But a trade isn’t a fair trade unless she gives you something back, is it? And you’ve been quenching her thirst for knowledge for a long time now, you gave her a lot.

So, during one night when you insist on helping her make dinner, she confides in you – somewhat reluctantly – that she really enjoys cooking, especially healthier meals. She doesn't look at you, nor does she say it clearly but still, you listen and Sam is surprised when she finds herself speaking.

“You really should ask her out.”

And of course, Tara is always close enough to raise an eyebrow with a knowing look at her on practically every occasion.

“I've told you already, it's not like that.”

“You're cuddling her dog right now.”

“Just so he stays quiet and doesn't disturb you two! Shouldn't you be studying, by the way?”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Sam can almost, almost admit that you're her friend too.

(Though she kinda wished it were a little more than that.)

Movie nights evolve into sleepovers, because Sam argues that it’s simply too late and dangerous for you to come back alone and she feels embarrassed – and guilty as much – when Quinn brings up that it has always been dangerous and she didn’t mind letting you go before, when she didn’t care about you.

Now there are some of your clothes in a drawer Tara set aside for you just like a colorful food bowl in the living room for your dog – Mindy jokes that it's theirs now – and there’s rarely a day that goes by where she doesn’t see you.

And when you don’t come over, Tara makes sure to remind her of how anxious she looks waiting for a knock on the door and how she lights up when you greet her first when you finally arrive.

“I swear that now she comes here more to see you than me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Yeah, sure,” she huffs, “And when are you gonna make a move again?”

“Never, Tara.”

Sam hasn't heard a thing about you in days. Tara said yesterday that you ended up getting really busy with a college project, preparing a presentation that, her sister quotes, 'needs to be perfect because public speaking is horrible and there's a big chance I'll embarrass myself.'

It's not that Sam asked, it's just that she doesn't text you often and Tara thought it would be convenient to talk about it out loud when she was on the phone with Mindy.

Anyway, it doesn't really matter, it's not like you two are close. You are Tara's friend. If it weren't for her, you two wouldn't even have a reason to see each other. There's no reason to be so stressed.

But she misses you anyway. She's having a shitty day at her shitty job and everything seems to go by even slower because Sam knows that when she gets home at night you probably won't be on the couch waiting with the soft smile she's grown accustomed to looking forward and if she has to deal with another group of rude teenagers she'll freak out.

The sound of the bell ringing at the entrance draws Sam’s attention back to the counter and she ends up face to face with the person who has been on her mind all day.

“Sam!” you approached with a tired smile, your dog wagging his tail happily on a leash in one hand and a paper bag in the other, “I was looking for you.”

You'd never visited her at work before, she didn't even know you knew where it was, having only mentioned it in passing, but there you were, with the smile she wanted to see and bags under your eyes.

“Hi,” she cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up. Damn, she looked like a teen girl with a crush, “I didn't expect to see you here, what, uhm, what do you need?”

You snorted at her flustered attending voice. Seeing her show any kind of nervousness was very unusual.

“Tara called me today demanding I get out of the house for a bit and ‘touch some grass’, so I decided to bring this buddy along, he was begging me for a proper walk,” you shrugged, “And she asked me to bring your lunch.”

Sam paused at that, Tara definitely didn't make lunches for her, much less go to the trouble of delivering them like that.

“...Thank you,” she accepted the paper bag you held out delicately, eyeing the package suspiciously. You held back a giggle when she looked at you again, “Anything else?”

“Oh, um,” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, obviously nervous, “I’m taking Koda to the park nearby and I thought maybe you’d like to come with us. If you can, of course.”

Sam couldn’t really, it was still a few hours before her shift ended at the coffee shop, but she didn’t want you to leave without the promise of seeing you again.

“Of course,” she found herself replying instead, “I can meet you there in a few minutes.”

She knew she’d made the right decision when you gifted her with one of your warm smiles.

“Okay! Nice,” you nod, absently twirling your dog’s leash around your fingers, startled by the sudden, loud bark he lets out at the delay, breaking the oblivious bubble you were in, “Alright, I should go before he starts trying to jump over the counter.”

Sam barely hears the sound of the bell announcing your departure over how loudly her heart pounds in her ears.

It takes a lot of willpower and her last pack of good cigarettes to convince her insufferable coworker — who’d watched the whole thing with a bored expression and loudly chewing gum while cleaning the coffee machine — to cover the rest of her shift. He ended up ordering her lunch too, thinking it might be something special, only to complain when he was met with a sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a carton of warm apple juice. Tara really didn’t cook… but then why had she done that?

(She laughed at him anyway.)

“You owe me, Carpenter,” he grumbled, taping a note to her arm that had fallen out of the package.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Sam was out the door before he could change his mind.

Taking a deep breath of the damp autumn air, she picked up the yellow post-it note curiously, recognizing her sister’s handwriting immediately.

‘u looked so depressed lately that I

decided to send u a gift

DO something this time

good luck!!’

She knew. She fucking knew that smartass had set her up. Sam should have guessed it before. Tara would never let her get away with this without doing something with her own hands. At least she hadn’t brought Mindy into the scheme this time.

The park you had mentioned was more like a small square and with the rainy cold weather of the last few days, it was pretty empty. Sam could spot you without difficulty, sitting on one of the few benches watching the scenery and she made her presence known when she got close enough.

“Can he even sit still sometimes?” Sam asked, hands in her bomber jacket pockets, pointing with her chin at the dog playing alone on the grass. You moved a little so she could sit next to you and subtly moved closer when she did.

“It rained last night and he's a big fan of puddles,” you chuckled, “I guess he's just excited, we haven't been out much lately.”

He wasn't the puppy he'd been when Sam had first seen him a few months ago and the sight of him running around the trees chasing flowers and stray twigs was actually quite funny.

“He's so covered in mud that it looks like a bear.”

“Well, his name's Koda,” you pointed out amusedly, “I would have called him Pongo but he always looked more like a small bear than a dalmatian anyway.”

She snorted, “If you say so.”

Sam couldn't remember a time when she felt so relaxed, with the weight of your shoulder resting against hers, enjoying the weather of the early season, the ground covered in orange and yellow leaves framing your surroundings.

She couldn't stop the restlessness she felt inside her chest, watching your profile. Feeling warm inside, but also shivering with a terrible fear of ruining everything. Do something, do something, do something echoing like a mantra in her head.

Sam took a deep breath. She'd faced murderers before, for God's sake! She could be braver than that.

"So..." She coughed, "Tara set this up, you know? The lunch stuff and everything."

You turned your attention to Sam, raising an eyebrow with a confused look.

"She did?" You asked, "Why would she do that?"

It's now or never, Carpenter. Focus.

“She did it so I could see you,” she looked away, “Because I missed you. Because I…” She felt your hand reach for hers and noticed a fallen leaf on your shoulder.

“Because you…?” your voice echoed anxious. She could do this. She's going to do this.

“I—”

A loud howl scared the two of you and you turned to see Koda behind a pile of leaves, pupils dilated and jumping up and down.

“Oh no.”

“What?” She stammered.

“He saw a pigeon.”

You see, Sam is not a pet person. She has only had one guinea pig her entire life and only before her father left and a 6-year-old Tara let it escape from its cage never to be seen again – poor Darwin would always be remembered – she does not know how to handle dogs, much less big, excitable ones like yours.

Yet she grabs the leash from your hands when you finally reach your dog who won't stop barking at a tree and ignores your warnings that he is heavy and strong, Sam, it will end up dragging you away and tries to gently pull him to convince him to let go so you can get out of there. Because she is big and strong and she wants to show you that she can handle a mere happy dog.

He acknowledges her like she wanted and also drags her like you said he would.

This manages to surprise her more than the first stab wound she took, how one minute she’s standing still, telling your silly dog ​​to walk in a confident condescending tone, and the next she’s running at full speed through the trees and puddles of the park, your worried voice ringing behind her, as does your laughter.

“Sam!” you exclaimed from a distance, hands cupped around your mouth and dark red scarf falling from your neck, “You need to stop!”

She does stop, yes, but only after your dog has already circled her and Sam must be a ridiculous sight with a colorful leash wrapped around her legs and a dog panting with its tongue out next to her.

“Oh my god,” you lean in closer, unable to hide the amusement in your voice, “Are you okay?”

Sam huffed, feeling a strand of hair fall across her face: “A little help would be appreciated.”

“Sure,” you laughed, reaching out to carefully untangle it, “Maybe I should call him Pongo after all.”

She rolled her eyes: “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you, it’s just cute.”

Sam opened her mouth to retort, only to realize how close you two were, with your hands resting on her shoulders to steady her and your faces just inches apart, your breath tickling her skin. You seemed to realize the same thing, tongue coming out to wet your lips, your gaze fixed on her mouth.

Do something. Do something. Do something.

She finally does something. She kisses you.

It's all a mix of sensations, she feels when you sigh, breathing through your nose in surprise and satisfaction, she feels where your hands tighten on the fabric of her jacket and tastes you, warm lips contrasting with the cold skin of your cheeks, with traces of coffee, lipstick and something else so undeniably you that Sam swears her heart might stop.

You pull apart hesitantly, breathing fast, noses touching, eyes shining, and she feels herself falling, literally. Your dog jumps on your waist, demanding to be petted, and you fall, taking Sam with you.

Landing in a pile of leaves is more uncomfortable than the movies make it out to be, but Sam can’t find it in herself to protest when you’re the one on top of her. She smiles and you laugh out loud. She didn’t mess up.

“You’re covered in leaves,” you say, running your fingers through her hair, “And your face is smeared with black lipstick.”

She scoffs, “I wonder who’s responsible for that.”

“He is,” you point innocently at the dog standing next to you.

Sam rolls her eyes, but cups your face with her cold hands to pull you close again, and the second kiss she gives you is just as magical as the first.

Tara doesn’t expect to find a dog taking up the entire couch for the first time in days when she comes back from Chad’s dorm after sending you off on a fake mission to find her sister. Yet, hours later, there it is, with one of the sneakers she forgot to put away when she got home from class stuck in his mouth and trails of mud and leaves across the room.

“C’mon, man, that’s not a toy!”

She hears a laugh and finds herself face to face with Sam, looking completely filthy despite the sound of the shower running in the hallway and Tara knows Quinn isn’t home yet. Oh.

“So, you finally did something?”

Sam nods solemnly, pointing to the dark kiss etched into her jaw.

“I did.”