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denwritesandcries · 28 days

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Hug me Tighter – Sam Carpenter

Pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You’re only trying to make your girlfriend take a nap with you, the fact that it’s in a hospital bed after one of the worst nights of your lives doesn't really matter.

Word count: 1,8k.

Content: post-scream VI, cursing, tooth-pudding fluff, mentions of violence, cuddling, pet names, long dialogues, REALLY soft gfs.

A/N: Damn, this might be the sweetest and cheesy thing I’ve ever written. Could also be an AU, since Anika is alive, or just Scream, if they could actually be happy.

English is not my first language.

You realized that you were waking up at a terribly slow pace, as if everything was suddenly in slow motion and even the smallest movement took hours to run and every second was longer than the previous one. Your body feels heavy and comfortably warm, resting on perhaps the best bed in which you've ever slept. You blinked slowly, failing to keep your eyes open, every movement of your eyelids almost making you fall into unconsciousness again.

Your body shudders with the feeling of a long yawn crossing you and you turn your head to bury your face back in the location and go to sleep again, only to be surprised when you come across hot skin instead of what your brain thought was a really soft pillow. It is only then that you register a movement against your back, light and constant, almost as smooth as your own sleepy state, climbing and descending your spine and enveloping you even more in this security bubble almost supernaturally.

Another weight lies between your neck and your head, right at the point of your wrist and there's another heavier resting on the top of your head, although you're sure of the mess your hair should be right now. Your hands grope and instinctively grab a handful of familiar fabric beneath you, feeling the texture of a sweater you knew very well.

“Sam,” your hoarse voice breaks the silence.

You were tempted to let the darkness and the inviting fog of sleep consume you again as you relaxed and held another yawn, but your resting place vibrated with a low laugh.

“‘M sorry, baby. Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” you denied with a satisfied sigh, sinking against her body.

The chin on your head pulled away and the hand on your back stopped and you immediately missed the contact, finally opening your eyes and lifting your head to protest.

“You're feeling better?”

Sam's question catches you off guard and you pause, staring into your girlfriend's soft brown eyes and raised eyebrow with confusion. Frowning, you finally decide to take a look at the place you are in and come across a messy white room with machines nearby. A hospital room.

The events of the last few hours come back to you in a quick, jumbled flash. The confrontation with the Ghostfaces, the deaths, the police, the ambulance... and the surgery, because of course in addition to all the terror and threats of the last few days you also ended up being stabbed.

Well, that explains why you feel so sluggish then. You're high on drugs. That is, if the IV prick in your arm is any indication.

The hand on the back of your neck moves up towards your face, fingers tracing the contour of your chin and jaw, thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek, your body relaxes and you lean into her touch, sighing all too contentedly at the affection. The memory of waking up a lot more groggy before and convincing Sam to lay down too when you found her sitting next to the hospital bed holding your hand tightly slowly returning to your hazy mind. She was a little hesitant at first, but it wasn't that difficult to convince her to hold you with the excuse that it would only be for a few minutes. You bet it must have been a few hours already.

“Hm,” you murmured absently, stretching against her, “I’m definitely feeling much better now.”

“That's good,” your girlfriend huffed softly, “I can't feel my legs in this position anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“Am I too heavy?” You ask, lifting your head to examine her for any bruises from the previous fight, “I can move if it’s hurting you.”

“No,” She squeezes you tighter quickly, “I’m good here.”

Sam's own eyes were half-lidded, almost closing over the last few minutes you were asleep, but she refused to give in to the urge to doze off too. It would have been such a waste when she could just hug you and breathe properly for the first time since the last few hellish weeks you've all had.

The TV on the wall had long since been muted, with the image of some random animal documentary flickering in the background. Sam's head rested against the pillows and your body lay happily spread over hers – and she looked perfectly satisfied for someone who had complained and complained about your puppy dog eyes before.

Somewhere between convincing Sam to lie down and pretending to pay attention to the screen, you ended up falling asleep, one of your arms hanging lazily over the side of the bed. Sam realized this instantly, feeling your weight finally relax on her. It made her relax too. Not completely. Sam was never completely relaxed, no matter how tired she was, not anymore, especially not after a night like that. But she managed to feel good enough to enjoy the moment.

The environment was as welcoming as any hospital could be, but her embrace brought a sense of security that lulled you perfectly to sleep and the knowledge that everyone was okay and in the next room allowed Sam to let her guard down. Yet falling asleep and losing that, the feeling that nothing could happen as long as she held you tight and ran her fingers over your warm skin, seeing and hearing every sleepy sound and movement you made – from a tired sigh as you fit, to one of your hands founding the collar of her sweater and grabbing it, holding her close – it would be a waste.

“You sure?” You hesitate, searching her eyes for any hint of hidden discomfort.

Sam sighs, nodding: “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable I am right now.”

“Okay then,” you rest your ear on her chest, feeling her head nod and her heart bumping, still a little high. A yawn crosses your lips, “But let me know if you need me to move.”

She hums in response and you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the sound of machines running and your soft breaths in the same rhythm left you trying your hardest not to fall asleep again until you felt your girlfriend's chest vibrate beneath you again in a barely contained laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re tired.”

“Huh?” you muttered, lifting your drooping head and finally refocusing your vision on her.

“I should probably get up now, let you get some rest.” Sam said, reluctantly removing her arms from you so she could move away.

You shook your head, grabbing one of her hands and letting them fall to the side of the bed, swinging freely in the air.

“No, I’m good here.” You echoed, denying nonchalantly. You let your head find a place on her neck, making her lie back against the pillows.

Sam sighed against you slowly, much more out of satisfaction – and relief – than annoyance at your insistence, returning to the task of running her fingers down your back until you spoke again.

“Where’s Tara?” You ask, voice muffled by the face buried in her neck, “And the twins?”

“They're watching Anika.” She responds and you get alarmed, before Sam reassures you, “She's gonna be alright, she just needs to stay in the hospital for a while longer. And also a lot of rest. Like you, by the way.”

“I am resting.”

If Sam hadn't been fighting sleep for over an hour now, she would have a wide, stupid grin plastered on her face at the sound of your indignant mumble. Since that wasn't the case, she contented herself with a small smile.

“Whatever you say, amor.”

She surrenders, completely this time, without any more false attempts to leave. Sam felt as if you were the one rocking her and not the other way around, as if nothing else could touch her, even for a little while. There were no worries about horrible jobs, breakdowns in therapy, pressure with college exams and much less paranoia about the existence of cinematic serial killers. Nothing else could exist in your – literal – white room. Just the two of you in that small bed.

Each synchronized breath of your chest next to hers pressed her own ribs, the delicate breath sending delicious shivers down her spine and making her completely aware of how close your bodies were and shocking her at how it still didn't feel close enough.

“I love you,” she says. Rasped, you barely hear it. “I love you so freaking much that sometimes I just want to drown into your chest and curl up between your ribs, with your heart.” She takes a breath, then pauses, hesitantly: “...Is that too weird?”

“...Well,” you gasp, heart completely racing against your ears, “No weirder than what we already go through on a daily basis, I guess.”

Sam groaned at your response, feeling like a lovesick teenager in one of the movies Tara and Mindy love to make fun of. Rambling poetically about her passion.

But, screw it, that's exactly what she is, right? Sam thought. Let her have it. She deserves it.

(Her therapist would definitely pat her on the back for that thought.)

Unlike what Sam thought she should feel with the realization of that thought, her heart didn't skip a beat uncomfortably, her hands didn't get sweaty and cold with the doubt of how to deal with this. It kept pounding in that same slow, steady, familiar rhythm, with one of the most precious and loved people of her life completely aware of how she felt.

“I feel like drowning into your chest all the time too.”

Her favorite place in the world was anywhere you were together and it was physically impossible to be closer than that at the moment, although she wouldn't give up trying.

It was pure and simple happiness. Warmth and security that captured her stomach and left it churning with what felt like a million bubbles popping simultaneously.

When you first came to her life and Sam realized being falling for you, she thought her love would swallow her. That it would be something she would keep to herself until it exploded. You seemed to have made it your mission to prove her otherwise.

“I didn’t say ‘all the time’ tho.”

Here you were, together and fine.

“Oh, shut up.”

Your grip on Sam's hand tightened in very bad feigned irritation and when you rose quickly to give her a kiss, your girlfriend burst into laughter and your lips hit her strong jaw instead.

“That tickles, baby.”

“I was shooting for your lips, but you moved.” You simply shrugged, leaning into her again and this time she met you on the way, a stupid smile growing between you and breaking the kiss too soon. You lay back down and Sam took a long breath, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

This time, when her head feels heavy and droops from sleep, Sam does nothing to stop it, letting the feeling finally consume her.

Nothing, not even in her most vivid fantasies, had ever been so perfect.

And if by chance Tara ends up sending Sam a photo of the two of you napping the next day when everyone is getting ready to go home and it becomes the new wallpaper on her phone, well… that's nobody's business.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter imagine #scream x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #scream 6 #scream vi #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x you #wlw #denwrites

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denwritesandcries · 2 months

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i will defend misty quigley to the ends of the earth. also she is guilty of literally everything she's accused of & probably lots more.

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denwritesandcries · 2 months

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ik like every first episode ever is called this but naming the first episode of the Plane Crash ™️ lesbian horror show “Pilot” is objectively hilarious

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denwritesandcries · 2 months

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the way sophie nelisse didnt get an emmy for this fucking episode is INSANEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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denwritesandcries · 2 months

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The Wilderness Wants Us To (Kiss) – YJS

Pairing: poly!yellowjackets x fem!reader

Summary: Have you ever experienced all kinds of weirdness since the plane crashed months ago, so why the weirdest thing so far is it seems like all the girls are suddenly courting you?

Or, a series of kisses between you and your dear football team.

Word count: 4,6k.

Content: cursing, kisses, fluff, suggestive, angst if you blink, slightly dark, intoxication, the doomcoming, the wilderness but nobody has been eaten (yet).

A/N: They’re all weirdos in a romantic, toxic and codependent way.

English is not my first language.

Your life has stagnated into a familiar routine since the plane crash. To clean. Hunt. Eat. Exist. Survive. Doing the same chores in the cabin, the usual hunting trip, seeing the same faces every day, not dying of hunger. Not dying of boredom.

Nothing really seems to change other than the cultish trends that your friends seem to be slowly embracing, so if something different happens, you notice it immediately.

Once is an incidence.

Two, it could be a coincidence, but there are no coincidences in the wilderness.

Three is a pattern. That exists in the wilderness.

And the fourth is proof that there is definitely something weird going on – if you even have a sense of what is normal or not –, something that you have no idea what it is, but you know it’s there.

There's something wrong with your teammates. I mean, there's something wrong with all of you, but that's different even for them.

The thing is that you, thinking that maybe it was just in your head, only realized that you weren't imagining anything after the fifth time it happened and now that you know you can't stop thinking about it. Events keep coming back to you from times when this has happened before and you never connected the pieces.

You didn't notice at first, of course you didn't. Physical affection was becoming more common and normal between all of you every day and also because it was Jackie, the captain of your team, and physical affection on Jackie's part was already completely normal even before the plane crashed. She liked to pat you on the shoulder and hug you goodbye after classes and parties – as if she hadn't spent the day barking orders at everyone during practice, but it's Jackie and you really like her a lot, so it's okay –, you could always see her clinging to Shauna's arm, if not hers, then whoever was closest to replace her for a few minutes. Jackie likes to touch and you know it.

Receiving affection from her is like second nature, so you don't even blink when, on yet another boring and lazy afternoon, you give Jackie her old walkman, now repaired and working, and get a kiss as a thank you.

It was a silly treat to make her smile, just because she seemed so sad lately that it made you sad too. She squeals loudly and excitedly, before wrapping her arms around your neck and placing a kiss on your cheek.

She immediately runs off somewhere saying she was going to test it and show it to Shauna, completely abandoning the task of pretending to chop wood so you can complete it.

You only process what just happened when you hear a giggling coming from nearby, because of course Jackie would kiss you in front of your younger colleagues. One of them points at your cheek provocatively and you lift a hand to your face to feel the texture of pink and shiny lipstick marking your skin. Of course, silly you not to assume that Jackie Taylor wouldn't stop wearing makeup just because of some plane crash.

Whatever, you thought, not bothering to clean the mark. Jackie is sweet. She does things like that all the time, obviously you wouldn't think there's anything weird about it. It wasn't even the first time she kissed you. Kisses on the cheek were a thing long before you left civilization.

You only wipe the stain from your face, in a short and hasty gesture, when you return to the cabin and Mari makes one of her smart comments about it, because there really was no big deal, but the provocation still makes you a little nervous.

(Jackie wears lipstick a lot more often after that, even though she's quickly running out of the only one she has left, but you don't say anything. It would be really weird to imply that you noticed her lips that much. Which you didn't do, no way.)

The second time it happens shouldn't have left you as perplexed as it did, after all everyone knew that Shauna Shipman was never far behind Jackie in the things she did, but it didn't pass through your head that she would kiss you. It was Shauna. Even though she was never rude, you weren't really close and it was embarrassing to admit that you found her a little intimidating. She had a tendency to stare in silence for a long time, which made you avoid conversations whenever you could.

Well, it wasn't a kiss-kiss since it wasn't actually on the mouth, but seeing as you weren't expecting it at all, it could have been. You're learning that reading Shauna is much more complicated than it seems, making it difficult to know if what awaits you is a punch, a bite, or – the most recent discovery – a kiss.

It happened because of the thing that seemed to drive your little society: meat. Because the food was almost running out and no matter what you and Natalie brought, it seemed like there would never be enough. And Shauna was hungry. Painfully hungry.

She always seemed to get hungry more quickly than the others, craving meat with an almost drunken need and you didn't quite understand why, even though you had noticed this detail some time ago. So when you and Nat are seen arriving back at the cabin carrying a deer, a big deer, Shauna practically runs up to the two of you, basically ripping the antler out of the blonde's hands and making you stumble to follow her back to the meat house.

You offer to help her just out of politeness and how rushed she seems, without expecting a positive response since it was common knowledge that Shauna preferred to work alone.

However, she nods her head enthusiastically as she hands you a knife and you swear you've never seen someone look so happy to slit an animal's throat alongside someone else.

When the task is done, you end up at the door with a full tray ready to be prepared for dinner back and Shauna is right behind you, with that same enthusiasm and silent yearning. It's a little unnerving, but at least she's not staring at the back of your head like she's trying to burn you like she usually does. You guessed any progress was welcome.

You just didn't expect it to progress to Shauna pulling you by the elbow to face her and tilting your face towards hers. You're so startled by the sudden touch that you only feel your face heat up as hot, wet lips meet the corner of your mouth when Shauna pulls away, taking the tray from your hands as if it weighed nothing and continuing on her way, muttering a quiet and embarrassed “thank you” over her shoulder.

You stood there like an idiot, feeling your bottom lip and part of your cheek tingle where she touched you just a moment before.

So Shauna kissed you. Okay. Nice. Maybe she was just very grateful and very hungry. Twice, coincidence. Nothing more than that.

Right?

(Shauna looks away from you when she's caught staring at that night, which never had happened, but you attribute her red face to the fact that you're sitting by the fire.)

The third time is the one that makes you go “okay, maybe that's a thing now,” because apparently the kisses have nothing to do with Jackie-Shauna or simply gratitude – at least not entirely – and much more to do with the fact that it's you.

Which actually doesn't make much sense. Van and Taissa are together, why would either of them feel the need to kiss someone else? Why would they both feel? And why you? It's true they haven't told anyone yet, but you know. It's a little hard not to notice when they both disappear at the same time into the forest or behind the cabin so often, but still. You don't kiss other people when you're committed. It's a principle, damn it.

Anyway, it's starting to get cold, you think there's just over two months left until winter arrives, maybe less, which makes tasks much more complicated and annoying to do. Especially when it comes to washing clothes.

Luck – Mari's damn shuffle – decided that you, Tai and Van would be the ones to do the laundry this time and the three of you dragged yourselfs grumbling and complaining to the lake, carrying piles of clothes in your arms.

Now, of all the things you have to do around the cabin, scrubbing clothes in cold running water is probably the one you hate the most. Cold, wrinkled hands, chills running down your spine, ew. The fact that Van and Tai went with you makes things at least a little less boring, with the redhead happily filling the silence, her silly jokes making the task almost bearable to accomplish. Almost.

“Ugh,” You groan for what feels like the thousandth time in the last hour, “We’re gonna end up catching a cold like this.”

“You definitely will, if you keep annoying me like this,” Tai replies, swinging her arm towards you, cold water splashing in your arms, “I'm gonna push your dramatic ass into the river, I'm warning you.”

The drops make another chill run through your body, so just for the audacity, you straighten up and let your body fall against hers with the most done expression you can muster in a few seconds.

Tai screams your name indignantly when a wet t-shirt slips out of her hands and falls straight to the ground, but you don't pay much attention when lets out a loud and exaggeratedly long sigh, hearing Van’s laugh as she watches the scene.

And Van, wonderful, too sweet for her own good, Van, decides to finally take pity on your little show – maybe you really were spending too much time with Jackie – and finish what you had left of your part of the pile and you would definitely have jumped in her arms and kissed her for it, if you weren't, you know, in front of her girlfriend.

It turns out that blinking your eyes and sighing doesn't work as well for you as it does for Jackie, because as soon as you get ready to go back, bending down to pick up the heavy basket full of clothes, a familiar hand pushes your chest.

“Shit, Taissa!”

“I said I would do it, didn’t I?” She stands in front of you, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised as she watches your form lying, shaking and soaking wet at the river's edge.

Van's laugh doesn't bring you that rush of happiness from moments before, since now you're sure that she only decided to help you because she knew what Tai was going to do anyway. That little shit.

You walk past them with the basket in your hands, a trail of water in your wake and a frown on your face.

The way back is completely silent, except for the sound of your fast breathing in your rush to get there and warm up and the girls' requests for you not to get upset over a silly joke. Whatever. You won't say a word to them no matter what they do.

“Oh, come on,” Van wraps an arm around your neck, “We didn’t want to make you so upset, right Tai?”

Tai moves closer, her shoulder brushing against yours, but you remain quiet regardless, even if your willpower to remain upset wanes a little.

“Right” she agrees, sounding very unconvincing, “What can we do to make it up to you?”

“We are so sorry,” Van reiterates, blinking innocently.

Your only response is a noise from your throat that sounds a lot like a petulant mumble and you feel the look they exchange over your shoulder.

And then Van's arm brings you closer and there are lips on either side of your neck. You freeze, breath hitches.

It's not fast like the other ones, but long and drawn out as if it's trying to prove you. A shiver runs down your spine and the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand up, even though you swear it's just because your skin is still damp from the fall. You can feel Van's hair tickling your face and Tai's breath is warm against your chin.

You blink and Van is walking away with a wolfish smile on her lips, whistling absentmindedly and Taissa has the basket you were carrying in her own arms.

“Aren’t you coming?” Van turns when she notices you still standing and Tai arches an eyebrow, as if to say 'so?' and you stumble after them.

“...Sure, whatever!” You stutter, face as red as your goalie’s hair, “But if I get sick, that’s on you!”

“You won’t!”

You return to the cabin with your head down, but for a completely different reason this time. You feel weird, embarrassed, even with your friends walking calmly beside you. It feels weird to just call them friends too.

(Three times – or was it four? It's a pattern. Definitely a pattern.)

You do, in fact, get sick and the fifth time feels more like a fever dream than anything.

Seriously. You survive a plane crash without any serious injuries, but a flu is what knocks you out. You end up in the attic, with a heavy chest, incessant sneezing and a high fever that won't let you sleep.

And of course, Misty Quigley hovering over you like a hawk.

In fact, all your friends seem to be hovering over you in an overprotective way these days, which might not be strange considering the situation, but other people in the group have gotten sick before, including the younger ones, and none of them have reacted like this.

Van and Tai spent the entire time staring like kicked puppies from across the room until Misty kicked them both downstairs so you could try to get some sleep. It wasn't doing much good, but the momentary tranquility was really aporeciated.

Misty has been with you the whole time since your fever started and you let her ramble happily while she plays nurse, putting damp cloths on your forehead and helping you drink hot tea, even though you insist you're well enough to do so. She seems very happy to be helpful, so you let her spoil you as much as she wants.

You turn over on the cold floor, wrapping the blankets tighter around you as you sneeze again and Misty sits next to you, but there's nothing she can do at the moment to make you better, so she stays still, looking nervous and pushing her glasses on the tip of the nose with her fingers.

You think about how she seemed to have looked with longing and something that might have been envy when Jackie ran her hand through your hair in the morning before going outside with Shauna after leaving you another blanket. She looked the same when Lottie rubbed your shoulder gently and spent time by your side throughout the afternoon, leaving what appeared to be a half-cut crystal near where your head rested. It's just like she wanted something, but didn't know what or if she could do it. You don't know exactly what too.

Your ears ring and you think about your teammates, your friends and kisses. Four kisses on three occasions. Things that didn't happen before, but apparently happen now and that follow a strange pattern. You wonder who will be next to follow it.

You do what you do next in the fog of sleep and fever, because you'll never be able to actually sleep if you don't have a proper place to rest your head. It has nothing to do with the possibility opened in your last thought.

Her legs are soft under the blue and yellow shorts she wears when you crawl around and rest your head on them and it's certainly much more comfortable than the floor.

“Talk,” You mumble, clearing your throat at the hoarse voice.

“What?” She squeaks and you can tell it caught her in surprise by the way her eyes roam over your form, unsure of what she just heard and what's going on.

Misty is clearly alarmed, arms raised above her body as if she's afraid to touch you, her glasses falling onto the tip of her nose again as she looks down to face you, blonde curls falling across her face.

“What– What are you doing?” She asks.

“Weren’t you saying something about Plato?” You hold back a yawn as you fix yourself on her lap, ignoring her question completely, “Come on, keep going.”

She seems to ponder for a second, jaw dropped in confusion, but you don't move, so she picks up where you assume she left off. After a few minutes listening with your eyes closed, you feel her soft hand rest hesitantly on your back, running her fingers up and down when you don't protest.

You let out a sigh when you finally manage to relax, her voice calming the ringing in your ears a little and when you squint your eyes, Misty seems perfectly satisfied.

That's it, you think, that's what she wanted then.

Your body still has sporadic chills, but you feel like falling asleep, having lost track of how much time has passed with Misty talking to the walls about whoever the philosopher of the moment is. Your head feels heavy, you can barely keep your eyes open. It's good not to be alone when you're like this.

You're not sure whether or not you imagine the cold lips against your warm forehead when you sleep, but it counts as success for your little test. Five.

(You only wake up the next morning, feeling much better and more energetic, even without remembering a single word you said to Misty, just having fallen asleep on her lap for a while. The way she blushes and laughs after that, staring and following you around whenever she can, says that she remembers it very well. Coach Ben gives you a look full of sympathy when he sees her clinging to your arm, which you don't quite understand.)

The sixth time happens in the middle of the forest. It's windy, sun almost down, with Natalie walking beside you. It's the most peaceful moment you've had in your life in weeks, and it's also the moment you realize that maybe there's something wrong with you as much as the rest of the team.

Nat is talking, complaining about how Travis – the closest thing she'll have to a boyfriend in this place – is mad at her. He won't hunt or talk to her, much less touch her.

That's why you're following her, actually, the hunting part. You don't have much sense of your place in the group compared to the others, doing a little bit of everything when necessary, but Natalie seems to enjoy your company on these occasions, even if your aim with the rifle isn't as good as hers.

You spend so much time listening to her complain about mundane things like condoms and the flask of old booze she found in dead-mummified-guy's stuff that you feel the absurd urge to laugh. It's so strangely normal – except for the mummy part, but still.

Maybe that was what made you open your mouth after minutes of silence and broken snorts:

“So he can't get it up once and now he's mad at you? Damn Nat, if you need someone to make out that badly then I could help you with that.”

It comes out half as a mockery, half as truth, because that's what you do. Help people, fix things. But it's sarcastic, because it's just a stupid idea for Natalie to even consider.

Except she suddenly goes quiet and when you turn your head, she's looking at you. Eyes half-closed, mouth open, wanting.

When she kisses you, you're already waiting, longing for it, arms wrapping around you and pressing your body against the nearest tree. You think about how she was the only one who had the courage to chase your lips, to take what she really wanted.

The only thing you can feel is the weight of Nat's hands – cold, always so cold, even though winter is still a while away – on your hips, one sliding up your back to grasp the hair at the back of your neck, lips parting and tongue finding yours almost desperately and then you can't think about anything else but her. Natalie, who is much stronger than she looks and who also holds her own to stay sane in this place much better than anyone could imagine. Natalie, the bane of your existence and also your best friend. Natalie, who kisses like she hunts: with all the confidence her reputation demands.

If you close your eyes tightly and try hard, you can almost pretend you're at one of Lottie or Jeff's parties, listening to your friend complain about a stupid boyfriend, getting euphoric because she likes you better than the said stupid boyfriend.

And then she's pulling away, mouth swollen and hair completely messed up from where your hands had been placed. The moment ends and you come back to reality, picking up the rifle from where it was lying on the grass and looking around uncertainly. You guys didn't catch anything today. Food is running out.

You return to the cabin in complete silence.

(You don't see Natalie trying to talk to Travis after this, nor him with her, but you don't think she cares.)

You stopped counting after that, kisses and touches becoming a blur in your mind as the days pass and your worry increases. Whatever this is seems less important than what's happening at the moment: little food, few coats, winter approaching, a fucking baby coming.

However, it all comes back to them anyway, when you finally realize that you were right all along, that there really was something wrong with all of you and everything goes south quickly when someone decides to put mushrooms in the food.

It was an unspoken knowledge between you that the Yellowjackets would never be able to have a proper homecoming, so when the idea of a doomcoming came up in the conversation, even as a bad joke, you were one of the first to agree to it. A bittersweet goodbye sounded better than nothing.

You just didn't expect everyone to end up on drugs and acting like they were in some kind of cult. What did you miss that got you all to this point?

There is someone howling in the forest. Someone, not an animal. Or maybe they really were animals, given the way they're all chasing you now.

Just a moment ago you were genuinely enjoying the night, dancing with Ravi to Lottie's humming music and drinking fermented punch for who knows how long, even with a small feeling of being watched sent shivers down your spine at times. Then there was no sign of Ravi or Travis – nor Coach Ben, but he escaped somewhere in the woods with Natalie's canteen in his hand the second Misty's back was turned – and things started to get... confusing after everyone helped themselves to some stew.

Now there's someone howling in the forest and your head is spinning, hurried footsteps sound behind you as you end up back in front of the cabin after running in circles, a rabbit cornered by an entire pack.

Leaves are stuck in your hair, the hem of your dress is torn and covered in dirt, and you're sure you scraped one of your knees while running. There are also a bunch of dilated pupils focused on you.

Shauna is the first to approach, which surprises you so much that it gives the others time to do the same, big, sad, hazy brown eyes seeming to see deep into your soul.

“Why do you keep running away from us?” she asks, a pout that you can't tell if it's fake or not formed on her face, sliding a hand gently up your arm to your waist pulling you close and keeping her grip tight.

Jackie has her head cocked to the side and a smile painted red rather than pale pink like the first. She looks a little more composed than you'd expect, standing next to Shauna and bouncing in her step expectantly.

That was all it took to realize that you couldn't pull away even if you wanted to, melting against the scalding skin as if you had no problem getting burned.

“I'm not. I just… I don’t know what’s going on.”

The words came out slow and slurred on your tongue as if you didn't know exactly what you were referring to. This whole crazy night? Absolutely, but there are also so many other moments not recognized before.

You find yourself guided back to the cabin when you hear Lottie's voice in the background and Misty taking your hand to guide you. It all ends up there anyway.

You're unsure when you're placed in the pile of blankets and sheets on the floor, the lit fireplace warms the room like never before and there seem to be hands everywhere when Natalie enters your field of vision.

“I think you're a little too high right now, hun,” Nat scoffs, as if she's amused by your slowness.

You feel a laugh grow in your chest though you don't mean to, “You– you think so?”

“Yep,” she clicks her tongue, “The mushrooms hit hard.”

“Mushrooms!?” You let out a squeak of surprise when you're suddenly pulled back against someone's front, recognizing Taissa's nails scratching your back through your dress.

“Sorry,” Misty mutters disjointedly, tracing the lines of your palm like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“What–”

You stop mid-sentence when you make a sound in the back of your throat as you feel Van's teeth graze the junction of your shoulder and neck, bright green eyes and a wolfish smile on her recently healed face. You knew right away who the hell was howling.

“Oh, come on,” Van echoes with the same provocation from the day in the lake, “Don't tell me you're afraid of It.”

“It?” Your breath hitches when a hand guides your head up and there she is.

Lottie Matthews looking down at you, an antler crown on her head that makes you slack-jawed and hazy looking, looking completely divine and you hesitate when you realize that the entire team has gathered around you, as if they were waiting for something. What the fuck is going on?

Lottie leans down to your level, face dangerously close to you, and you swallow hard when your eyes settle on her lips. She never kissed you, not like the others, something that always left a doubt in your head; an almost embarrassing curiosity to know what it would be like.

She meets your eyes with a malicious gleam, like she knows exactly what you're thinking and leans in a little more and just as you close your eyes to meet hers, hunger lips stray to your jaw.

“Lottie–” you squirm and the hands on your hips hold you tighter.

Nat silences you, running her fingers through your face provocatively while Lottie trails kisses down your neck, working her way down. Everything seems too stuffy, like you're melting at their touch.

“It's okay,” she reassures, cold, chapped lips finding your chest, teeth scraping the skin, “It wants us to, can't you feel It?”

You can't feel it, not really, you never understood this strange connection everyone seemed to feel with the wilderness that you didn't, but there are gentle hands caressing you, making you sink deeper and deeper and Lottie is finally kissing you, just like you wanted; lips stopping right over your heart, as if she wanted to devour it.

“Yeah,” you say, “I feel it.”

You're sure the cabin is on fire, but you're the only one who's burning.

#yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #van palmer x reader #taissa turner x reader #misty quigley x reader #shauna shipman x reader #jackie taylor x reader #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets show #denwrites

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denwritesandcries · 3 months

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everyone always goes on about jealous hazel letting it out sexually but what about jealous hazel being all sad girl mitski music about it

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denwritesandcries · 3 months

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sleepy!Tara Carpenter Headcanons

Pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: In all the times you fall asleep with Tara, she's always in your arms.

Word count: 1,7k.

Content: cursing, mentions of ghostface, fluff, slightly angst, LOTS of cuddles, sleep disorders, tara's horrible sleep habits.

A/N: Alright, I don't know who first started the headcanon of Tara sleepwalking, but thank you cause it made me think about things.

English is not my first language.

- Tara has many different facets of behavior when she's sleepy and all of them end with her acting like a clingy koala.

- Will use you as her personal pillow at every opportunity she gets, whether in quick naps or during the night. Don't even try to escape it. Head lying on your shoulder or lap, leaning against your body and completely melted in your arms.

- If she's too drunk after a party, she'll pass out on you the second you lie down and even if she's mad after a fight, she'll drag you to the bed by your wrist and put your arms around her waist, fixing you the way she wants, before crossing her arms with a frown and her back turned to you.

- It's no use tho, a few minutes later she turns around again to bury her face in your chest or neck and intertwine your legs together. A stupid argument isn't worth a bad night's sleep, even if she's still very mad at you (she’s not).

- Has frequent nightmares, but doesn't like to talk about it. Tara wakes up scared and with her heart racing and becomes extremely shy and quiet as she asks you to hold her tighter.

- She insists that her dreams don't scare her anymore, but the way she's clearly alarmed after it happens tells you enough to know that it's not true, so you just do as she asks and do your best to make sure she doesn't spend the nights alone and embarrassed of being affected by it.

- Tara often can't go back to sleep after them, so she follows you around the apartment while you stay up with her, insisting that she's not tired even though she yawns loudly while you prepare a late-night snack or put on some random show for you to watch on TV.

- Poor baby has had a lot of trouble falling asleep since Ghostface – she has practically chronic dark circles under her eyes – let alone sleeping peacefully, so when it happens, Tara sleeps like a rock. As if there could be a bang in the house and she still wouldn't wake up.

- It’s a sleepwalker and sleep talker. Tara is very restless – you've already been kicked a few times because of that. Better be prepared to be frightened a lot until you get used to it, because she won't admit that she actually does this. You don't know if she just doesn't want to admit it out of shame or if she's in denial – or maybe she's just gaslighting you for fun, who knows? Your girlfriend can be a little smartass when she wants.

- Tara says disjointed words most of the time, what she's dreaming about or conversations you've had throughout the week, topics you didn't even remember talking about but suddenly her hoarse voice wakes you up and she's mumbling about something silly that the core four did together or even full sentences that leave you simply confused.

- At first you think she’s actually talking to you and you poke her to ask what she's saying and she wakes up irritated. Girly gets so, so grumpy about you waking her up, why the hell did you do that? She was so comfortable sprawled on top of you. What is that? No, she didn't say anything. Shush.

You wake up one night with a hand too small to be another Ghostface slapping you squarely in the nose, propping yourself up on your elbows and looking around in alarm, only to find Tara in the far corner of the bed lying in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable, one of her legs hooked into the crook of your knee.

“...the car,” she mumbled and you moved closer to hear better, confused and scratching one of your eyes to ward off the tiredness.

“What?” You ask quietly, holding back a yawn, “What you said, baby?”

Tara shifts her position, looking slightly uncomfortable, her hand almost reaching you again as she rubs her face into the pillow.

“No,” she turns again, “The blue car.”

Why does it feel like she's angry with you?

Noticing that her eyes were still tightly closed, you arch an eyebrow and lightly shake her shoulder.

“What car?” you ask when she finally opens her eyes.

“What?” Tara looks just as perplexed as you.

“The car. The blue car,” you repeat, curious, “What about that?”

She stares at you for a long moment, seeming to try to assimilate what you're saying.

“You woke me up to talk about a damn car?”

"You tell me!" You exclaim, “What’s with the blue car?”

Tara snorts in complete disbelief, adjusting herself back in your arms and choosing to ignore your confused expression. You lay there, cradling her safely and being the one without sleep this time, wondering what the hell car she was talking about.

- Sometimes she murmurs variations of 'I love you', spoken softly against the skin of your neck, so over time it stops confusing you and becomes just captivating.

- You almost have a heart attack when you see her sleepwalking for the first time, thinking that someone had broken into the apartment.

- Sam had to sit down with you and explain to you that Tara does this since they were kids, after the high scream you gave when you saw a five-foot shadow trying to open the wardrobe with unfocused eyes and failing miserably.

- You woke up the whole house – including your girlfriend – with the sound, but at least it gave you all a good laugh and a completely confused Tara cursing everyone and going back to bed.

- In defense of her and your sleep, this doesn't happen that much. These are peculiarities that occur mainly due to stress; if she has a fight with you or Sam, for example, or during college tryout season.

- It also happens because of the nightmares she has. You and Sam are convinced that this would improve if she went to therapy like her sister, but you know how stubborn your girlfriend is.

- This also becomes captivating, you no longer wake everyone up when you find her sitting at the kitchen counter writing a grocery list in the dark because she forgot to do the task during the day and kept that in mind.

- You always gently guide her back to bed and she curls up around you immediately, because as much as the 'You can't wake a sleepwalker!' thing is bullshit, it's better not to have to deal with the sad pout on her tired face when this happens.

- Tara is a BIG cuddler. Even if she doesn't stay like that all night, she has to have your body touching hers and fall asleep like that.

- She is usually the little spoon, but likes to be the big one when she is angry or feeling protective about something.

- It's comical when that happens, it's like having a little backpack clinging to you, even if you're not much taller than her, because Tara insists on trying – she never succeeds – to rest her chin on the top of your head in those days, so the difference is always stark. Girl is determined.

She's upset after a stupid party where a random guy hit on you, practically foaming at the mouth while mumbling about 'That fucking dumb bastard, how dare he?' on the way back.

Your girlfriend is still upset as you prepare for bed, even though your reassurances and soft kisses have calmed her earlier anger. Now she's just quiet, insecure.

You lie down among the sea of pillows and blankets spread out on the bed, opening your arms: “Come here, dear.”

Tara goes, but instead you feel her weight sink into the mattress behind you under the blankets, warm arms wrapping around you tightly.

She only truly relaxes when she buries her face in your hair and breathes in your scent. You feel her melt, like she can't get enough of your touch.

- Her favorite position, however, is when she is turned to you, her face buried in your neck and her body pressed against your chest, with your arms around her waist keeping her close.

- Likes to nap during the day and stay up late making movie marathons or finishing college work. Takes every chance she gets to simply rest with her head on your thighs for a few minutes.

- On those occasions when you are not with her and find her dozing on the couch, Tara will wake up for a moment, blink her eyes innocently and ask you to join her for just a few minutes. Her doe eyes can be very convincing, there's no way denying her that.

- You promise to yourself that you won't fall asleep, but you end up passing out less than 20 minutes later, with her warm body sprawled on top of you. It's like you can't help it, your girlfriend is basically a walking heater and she's so comfortable.

“Tara, I need to finish this book.”

“But baby,” she takes your hand in hers, rubbing circles into the wrist with her thumb, “Lay here with me just for five minutes. Please?”

You sigh, knowing you’ve lost immediately: “Fine, but just a little.”

- She’s not really afraid of the dark, but feels safer in a brighter place, sometimes leaving the door ajar to let a flight of the light from the hallway enter the room.

- You buy her a cute night light as a gift once and she gets angry at first, thinking you were mocking her, but over time she starts to shyly take the item out of the drawer to turn it on on days when nightmares haunt her. You keep a few extras at your dormitory too, just in case.

- She doesn't snore or breathe through her mouth – in fact Tara is very silent except for her occasional murmurs – but sometimes she breathes heavily in her chest due to her asthma. She loves it when you rub your hand up and down her back to calm her and follow her breathing, especially on days when she's feeling under the weather.

- She sleeps with as many blankets and pillows as she can fit on the bed and curls up in them like a ball – don't worry about feeling too hot, she almost always ends up monopolizing them all at some point during the night.

- Set several times to wake up in the morning, all with the same default sound because music annoys her.

- Always gets satisfied when she wakes up next to you, the sleepy smile marking the dimples in her cheeks while there is a good morning kiss waiting for you.

- In short, sleeping with Tara may have its... peculiarities, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #scream 6 #jenna ortega x reader #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter fluff #denwrites

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