#Jill answers things

[hauntedmilkshakeghost]

What happened to ssahotchwife

She’s in my living room

[karizard-ao3]

Can I ask your top 5 women in fiction?

I've been thinking about this one and it's hard because I don't naturally rank things or have favorites. I'm not that consistent. So I present: "The top 5 fictional women I've been quite fond of in the past few years, in no particular order".

Jill Valentine (from Resident Evil) - What a fucking babe. Good-hearted, brave, strong as hell. I feel like something that especially endears her to me is that her experiences in the game feel really representative of the violence women experience in real life, but not literally because most of us aren't being stalked by a leather clad zombie man or put under literal mind control. Symbolically, though? Yeah. (Please note, I haven't played any of the Resident Evils. I just watch cut scene compilations/ cinematic play throughs because I like the characters and the stories 😅 I can't hold an intelligent conversation about actual gameplay)

Mikasa Ackerman - Obviously haha. What I love about her is that she's the strong silent type, she's a little socially awkward, a little bit of a bitch, but she is also caring and a protector in her quiet way. Still waters run deep, and I feel like people who think Mikasa is boring or a one note character simply aren't paying attention to her (or reading the manga). She's subtle. She doesn't demand attention. But her actions show that she is more than just a girl with a crush. She's not your typical FMC and that's what I love most about her.

Donna Noble - What a queen. I loved that she was kinda basic and absolutely unspectacular and how her adventures with the Doctor didn’t make her change as a person, they just made her more fully herself. She let go a lot of the silly shit that she was using to fill the emptiness in her life and let her natural kindness and empathy fill those places instead. She was the salt of the earth and so perfectly human. I miss her and I wish she’d had a longer run with the Doctor. I’m only on Peter Capaldi right now and I heard she comes back briefly later, so I’m going off her time with 10 here. She was my favorite companion, though. She deserved more episodes and more screen time during her final arc.

Rei Ayanami - Don’t get me wrong. I also like Asuka. But what I like about Rei is that she seems to be in a chronically dissociative state and constantly questioning who she is and what her place is in the world. I also like that she’s suicidal and lonely and trying to find a way to feel connected. I like that she struggles to see herself as a person because she has always been treated as a commodity and replaceable (and she literally is replaceable - that’s got to be a mindfuck). I’m having a hard time describing my perception of how women with mental illnesses tend to be treated in media, but I appreciate that Rei’s issues are treated neutrally in the anime. We don’t need to baby her about it, and we don’t need her to have a moment of clarity that turns her into a boss babe right at the end. (spoilers: yes, in the end she does turn against Gendo in what could be considered a boss babe moment, but it doesn’t really count because it was a result of her switching her slavish devotion to Shinji, who wanted different things. Also, in helping Shinji she got to commit suicide, which is what she wanted all along). 

Also, we are birthday twins, which makes her very precious to me as well.

I’ve been on the fence about who to choose for this last one! So I’m just going to offer up the names of the contenders and if anyone wants to know more about why I like them, feel free to ask!

Yor Forger

Katniss Everdeen

Elphaba Thropp (I’m reading the book right now)

I didn’t put Akane Tendo because, even though I’m a Rankane shipper and I love her and will defend her to the last breath, I feel more of an affinity with Ukyo Kuonji as a character. But Ukyo is not a standout favorite of mine, so I don’t feel right putting Akane above her? Even though I have a lot more to say about Akane than Ukyo? I don’t know. It’s weird. It feels weird to put her on the list but also not to mention her. So I guess Akane Tendo is the Honorable Mention? 

I 100% put too much thought into this but it was fun, so thank you for the ask!

[blissfulalchemist]

6. Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other?

31. Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

55. Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

for Clidna, Jill and Clive? <3

Thank you for asking! Got a little long with the first one but I hope you enjoy the answers!

6. Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other?

Clídna is the most fearful of people leaving her life and being forced to leave. There's times and places for things so she understands and can better accept when Jill and Clive have to go off and do things, but there's a trust there too in them protecting one another. Their line of work involves the three of them unable to be around one another all the time and placing themselves in dangerous situations, there isn't much room to beg the person to stay. Even in leaving for the battle against Ultima Clídna feels the urge to beg them all not to go, but bites her tongue till it bleeds anyway because it is the right thing to do and there isn't another way around it.

The second part is a bit of tricky one as there's a few ways to go about it. Because you have the time Jill and Clídna were in Ironholm and they both would perform secretive missions as the ones giving the orders would threaten them with the other's life if they chose to not to obey. Clídna also did her best to try and keep the men's attention and interest to save Jill from being assaulted, so while she never left very far one could still make the argument. I don't know how much you would count Clídna joining the Empire's army in the hopes that she'd have a better shot at saving Jill but the hope that she could eventually died out. I guess you could say Clídna staying away once the Empire thought her dead was a way to protect Clive cause if he was caught with her after she gained her sense of self back he'd be killed.

Jill kind of emotionally left to better protect those she cared about from herself. Having seen herself as a monster for so long she was convinced she'd hurt Clive and Clídna in some manner, and thought she was already guilty of such a thing by giving Clídna the blessing of Shiva which led to her being exposed her as a Bearer and then tossed to the frontlines. There was a bit of this fear that she'd lose control of Shiva and people would be hurt so the only way to do that was to just cut herself off and run away from her emotions.

I give Clive a pass on seeking out Titan because his intention with that mission was to simply gain information so they could take him down as a group (knowing especially Clídna had a major bone to pick with him). Due to outside forces he was forced to fight Titan which would finally end the feud and looming threat over the Hideaway. And you could make the argument that him leaving to fight Ultima is him leaving to protect them (and the world), so like there's different ways to look at the second part.

31. Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

This depends more on who's sitting next to who. Sitting next to Clídna you might get a little bit of touch or at least have permission to do so to a degree. Jill 100% she's initiating touch in some manner, she's much more sexually handsy with Clive, but does test the waters with Clídna letting her decide if she's okay and wants Jill to be handsy in that way. Clídna and Clive sitting next to one another and they could go hours without touching the other, most of their touches end up in hand holding in some manner. Jill and Clídna though you will see them sitting closer and an arm around the other in some manner, there's a different level of trust there that is in part due to Clídna's trauma. All three of them sitting together and you're more often going to see Jill sandwich, sometimes a Clive sandwich, and almost never a Clídna one (really only on like birthdays will she be in the middle).

55. Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

All three star gaze. Clídna and Clive didn't until they met Jill who did and who would also pray to Metia (a bright red star that was next to the moon) when they were kids/teens. There was always a comfort in it in the more traumatic years, and was something Clive had forgotten while in the army until Clídna became his friend. It was during some of these sessions that the two of them would both talk about Jill without knowing, while Jill who was alone for a time looked up to pray for their safety and to return to her. When they're all together again its something they do at least once a month or so if even for a few minutes. Each have found something among the night sky but there is a sense of hope overall as its the one thing that connected them even when they were all so far from one another, its their beacon, its their hope.

[forgotten-retrouvaille]

"Look at me. Listen to me. You are." he says firmly. "What happened in 2006 happened because you're a good person. Because if you weren't, Wesker wouldn't have resorted to strapping you with a piece of metal and plastic to make you a bad one. No one resorts to that. You're good and you're strong and he knew that. Everyone knows that, everyone can see it."

Good is a stretch and a very heavy one at that. Jill has debated this enough times to fill a library to the brim, and despite the intentions that Piers has, he's not entirely correct. Her goals are good, but she as a person hasn't particularly been so for a long time. She did good, but half decent was the most she could say. Like she said, she's done far too much for it to be even a quarter of the way accurate.

Why did 2006 happen? Because she saved someone in the only way she knew how. To launch herself off a cliff in a suicide mission. Why was she put through that horror? Because Wesker had already found value in her antibodies, and seeing that he needed a source, kept her alive and kept her useful by being a figure of death for everything in that region. It wasn't on a basis of morality, though it was present in some form.

"It happened because he couldn't afford to kill me, and I couldn't stop him."

[fullcollapse-mp3]

i think you might like the band jack off jill idk

ugh I've been wanting to listen to then I've just never gotten around to it

[theflirtmeister]

hot new theory saw traps just make boobs bigger see also: 3d lawrence + hoffman's entire thing (I have Not checked on logan in a while)

oh my god, it's why hoffman's bazongas are so huge, we figured it out

[hereissomething]

saw jigsaw with orgy and whoof, u could feel the joss whedon film era vibes all over this snarky high n mighty script. the only thing of note that i can possibly say is billy had cute glowing eyes and the credits had good buttrock.

0/10 no hoffman, no fun😤

[nhmkhnh]

#SPECIAL ──── KNOCK YOU UP.

CHARACTERS: VI ;; CAITLYN KIRAMMAN ;; CASSANDRA KIRAMMAN ;; SEVIKA ;; JINX ;; AMBESSA MEDARDA ;; GRAYSON ;; ELLIE WILLIAMS ;; ABBY ANDERSON ;; MIZU ;; CLAIRE REDFIELD ;; JILL VALENTINE ;; ADA WONG ;; CHLOE PRICE. PAIRINGS: DOM!AMAB!CHAR X SUB!FEM!READER (one for each scenario) AUTHOR'S NOTE: so sorry everyone for taking so long to post the 600 followers celebration fic 😭 now we’re already almost at 1k and i’m only just getting it up hahaa—anyway, enjoyyy!! 🫶 WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni) TAGS: breeding kink ;; praise kink ;; possessive!char ;; stomach press (r.receiving) ;; degradation (in the best way) ;; mean/soft dom!char (depends) ;; overstimulation ;; belly bulge ;; slow grind. navigation.

vi

her voice is low, almost a growl, when she presses in deeper, the weight of her hips pinning you down like she owns you. and maybe she does—by the way her hands are gripping your thighs, by the way her eyes darken every time you moan her name like it’s a prayer.

“you know what i want,” vi mutters, breath hot against your neck. “want you swollen with me. want you dripping, begging, full.”

she moves slow—deliberate—each thrust a silent promise that she won’t stop until your belly’s round, until her need is carved into you.

“you’re mine,” she pants, forehead pressed to yours, “gonna make sure everyone knows. gonna fuck you so full you won’t forget who you belong to.”

you can’t answer. not with the way she’s wrecking you. not with the way her voice hits deeper than her cock ever could. and when she groans, “gonna breed you, baby,” you swear you feel it—every cell in your body lighting up, desperate to be ruined by her again and again.

caitlyn kiramman

she’s too composed, too calm for how filthy her words are—brushing your hair back with one hand while the other keeps your legs spread, voice smooth like velvet-draped sin.

“look at you,” caitlyn murmurs, cock buried deep, her hips barely moving as she watches your face twist in pleasure. “taking me so well. you were made for this, weren’t you?”

her pace is slow, cruelly steady. she’s not in a rush—because she knows she’ll get what she wants.

“i’m going to fill you,” she breathes, thumb dragging over your lower belly possessively, like she’s already claiming the space. “you’re going to carry me—feel me every time you move. every breath. every step.”

when you whimper, she shushes you, soothing and dangerous.

“hush, darling. i haven’t even started yet.”

and when she finally starts moving harder—faster—it’s with precision. with purpose. the kind of rhythm that says she’s done playing. she’s breeding you now. and she won’t stop until it sticks.

cassandra kiramman

“such a needy little thing,” cassandra purrs, voice like silk wrapped around a blade, one hand pressing your knees up as she sinks in deeper—slow, possessive, all-consuming.

“you want it, don’t you?” she murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “want me to put a baby in you. to ruin you from the inside out.”

her thrusts are slow but brutal, every drag of her cock making your breath hitch, every snap of her hips designed to make you feel her. to brand you.

“i don’t share,” she says, breath sharp now, pupils blown. “you’ll carry me. you’ll be mine.”

her hand trails down to your stomach, pressing down firmly.

“right here. i’m going to fill you so deep, your body won’t know anything else. your womb’ll beg for me.”

when you cry out, she smiles—smirks—and leans in closer.

“and when it takes,” cassandra whispers, “i’ll do it all over again. again and again, until you can’t remember who you were before i owned you.”

sevika

“look at you,” sevika grunts, voice rough and low, hand wrapped around your throat—not choking, just holding. owning. “fuckin’ perfect like this. open. dripping. mine.”

she’s deep already, rutting into you like it’s instinct—like her body was made to fill yours. her cock thick and punishing, stretching you with every brutal thrust until your legs are trembling.

“you want it?” she growls, metal arm gripping your hip tight enough to bruise. “say it. say you want me to breed you.”

you can’t speak, not with the way she’s fucking you like she’s trying to rearrange your guts, but she doesn’t need your words.

“’course you do,” sevika snarls, jaw clenched. “your body’s already beggin’. clenching like it needs me.”

she slams in deeper, harder, and fuck if it doesn’t feel like she’s claiming every inch of you.

“gonna knock you up, baby,” she groans, forehead pressed to yours. “fill you so good, you’ll leak for days.”

and when you break beneath her, sobbing and shaking, sevika just laughs—a low, hungry sound.

“good. now take it.”

jinx

“hah, look at you—fuck, you’re so cute when you’re wrecked,” jinx giggles, eyes wide and wild, her hips snapping forward in erratic, greedy thrusts. “you wanted this, didn’t you? wanted me to ruin you, stuff you full like a pretty little toy.”

she's a mess—sweaty, flushed, cock pulsing inside you as her fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. and her smile? feral. gleeful. completely unhinged.

“bet your head’s all fuzzy now,” she pants, voice high and breathless. “dumb little thing just needed a cock, huh? my cock.”

she leans in, biting at your neck with a giggle that turns into a growl.

“gonna fill you up, baby,” jinx whispers, eyes fluttering. “fill you ‘til you’re dripping and twitching and begging for more. then i’ll do it again. and again. and again.”

her pace stutters as she sinks in deep, bottoming out with a gasp.

“hope you’re ready to get bred, bunny,” she moans, fingers shaking. “’cause i’m not stopping ‘til you’re fuckin’ knocked.”

ambessa medarda

“stay still,” ambessa growls, voice low and commanding as she pins your wrists above your head with one massive hand. her body looms over you like a force of nature—muscle, heat, control—her cock already buried to the hilt, stretching you so wide you can barely breathe.

“you asked for this,” she hisses, hips rolling slow and deep, like she’s sculpting your body to fit her. “asked to be filled. claimed. bred.”

her free hand presses firmly on your lower belly, eyes darkening as she feels the shape of herself inside you.

“you feel that?” ambessa murmurs, low and dangerous. “that’s mine. i’ll fuck you full, little one. and when it takes, you’ll thank me on your knees.”

each thrust is deliberate, punishing. she’s not chasing release—she’s securing legacy.

“a womb like yours was made for this,” she growls, voice breaking as she slams in again. “you’ll carry my blood. my heir. and you’ll wear it like a crown.”

when your back arches and your voice breaks, ambessa just smirks—feral, satisfied.

“good,” she says, panting. “now take every drop like the good, obedient thing you are.”

grayson

“breathe, sweetheart,” grayson murmurs, voice velvet-smooth and patient, even as her cock’s buried deep—so deep you swear it’s touching places no one else ever could. her hands cradle your thighs, thumbs stroking gentle circles, in complete contrast to the way her hips roll with quiet, devastating purpose.

“you’re doing so well for me,” she praises, eyes warm but darkened with hunger. “taking me so beautifully. just like you were meant to.”

she leans down, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, her lips barely brushing your skin as she whispers,

“i’m going to breed you tonight. no pulling out. no mercy.”

and she says it so softly—like a promise. like a vow. her rhythm never falters, steady and deep, each thrust designed to make you feel every inch of her, to coax your body into surrender.

“you’ll be mine in every way,” she breathes, resting a palm on your lower stomach, her voice thick with possessive reverence. “i’ll fill you up ‘til there’s no room left. until you’re carrying me.”

and when you whimper beneath her, trembling, all she does is smile gently and press deeper.

“shh,” she whispers, “let me give you everything.”

ellie williams

“fuck,” ellie groans, her voice all gravel and heat, forehead pressed to yours as her hips snap forward—hard, deep, needy. her hands are gripping your thighs like a lifeline, keeping you spread wide for her, flushed and panting and perfect.

“look at you,” she pants, gaze flicking down to where her cock disappears inside you over and over. “so fuckin’ full of me already. and you still want more?”

she smirks, breath hitching as your body clenches around her.

“you’re so fuckin’ greedy, baby. what, you want me to breed you?” she teases, lips brushing your ear. “want me to fill you up ‘til you’re leaking down your thighs? fuckin’ dripping with me?”

you whimper something broken, and ellie laughs, cock twitching inside you.

“yeah… that’s it,” she growls, thrusting deeper, harder now—like she’s chasing something sacred. “gonna fuck it into you. make sure it sticks.”

she bites down on your neck, hips stuttering, and her voice cracks when she moans,

“you’re mine. mine to fill. mine to ruin. mine to keep.”

abby anderson

“you ready for it, baby?” abby grits out, voice low and wrecked as her thick cock pulses inside you, stretching you open with every heavy, unrelenting thrust. she’s got you folded, pinned under the weight of her body, sweat slick between you, muscles straining as she fucks you deep.

“gonna fuck you full,” she groans, jaw clenched, arms trembling with restraint. “breed this pussy ‘til it knows nothin’ but me.”

her hands grip your hips like they own you—because they do. she pulls you into every thrust like she’s carving herself into your body, marking you from the inside out.

“you feel that?” she pants, breath hot against your mouth. “feel how deep i am? ‘s where i belong. right here. in you.”

you’re shaking under her, whining, gasping, and that only makes her fuck you harder.

“i’ll keep you full, baby,” abby growls, hips stuttering as she ruts into you with desperate, brutal rhythm. “til you’re fuckin’ leaking. til everyone sees who put that in you.”

then softer—gritted, trembling, reverent—she moans,

“gonna give you everything. gonna fill you up ‘til you take.”

mizu

“don’t run,” mizu warns, voice barely above a whisper, her cock already buried deep as your back arches helplessly beneath her. her grip is firm—one hand pressed flat against your stomach, the other cupping your face with eerie gentleness.

“you wanted this,” she murmurs, eyes sharp but low-lidded, movements controlled, almost graceful. “wanted me. now take it.”

she fucks you like she fights—silent, precise, devastating. every roll of her hips is slow but punishing, her cock dragging against every sensitive spot until you’re gasping her name like a prayer.

“you feel that?” she says, voice low and lethal as she presses harder on your stomach. “that’s me. all of me.”

your body trembles, overstimulated, and she just watches—detached but obsessed, eyes drinking in every twitch, every moan.

“i’ll breed you,” she whispers, like it’s a sacred vow. “you’ll carry something only i could give. no one else will ever touch you like this. no one else gets to mark you.”

and when she finally starts moving faster—harder—it’s with a cold, quiet hunger.

“i’m going to fill you until you forget everything else. until all you know is me.”

claire redfield

“shh, sweetheart,” claire murmurs, voice rough around the edges but gentle, grounding—her cock already buried to the hilt, your legs trembling around her waist as she holds you there, stretched open and so full.

“you’re taking me so well,” she breathes, pressing soft kisses to your temple even as her hips roll deep, steady, controlled. “just like i knew you would.”

her hand drifts down to your stomach, spreading her fingers wide and pressing lightly, like she needs to feel herself inside you—needs to know she’s made it that deep.

“i’m gonna fill you, baby,” claire says, her voice thick, low, reverent. “gonna fuck you ‘til your body knows me. ‘til it wants me. craves me.”

she picks up the pace, thrusts a little harder now, breathing more ragged as your walls clench around her.

“you’ll be mine,” she groans, eyes locked on yours. “mine to ruin. mine to breed. mine to keep.”

when you whimper her name, completely wrecked, claire just smiles—soft, aching, possessive.

“don’t worry,” she whispers, hips snapping deep. “i’ll take care of everything. you just lie back and let me fill you up.”

jill valentine

“hold still,” jill growls, voice low and dangerous against your neck, her cock already buried to the base, hips rolling with quiet force that leaves you shaking. “you said you could take it. prove it.”

she’s got your wrists pinned above your head, body stretched beneath hers, every inch of you trembling as she pushes deeper—slow, controlled, deliberate, like she’s training your body to remember nothing but the shape of her.

“you feel that?” she hisses, eyes narrowed, sweat dripping from her temple. “that’s me. right where i belong.”

her hand slips down to your lower belly, palm spreading flat with cruel affection.

“i’m gonna breed you,” she says, firm, final. “gonna fill you ‘til there’s no room left. ‘til you’re leaking down your thighs and still begging for more.”

she starts thrusting harder, cock dragging perfectly with every motion, and your moans only make her smile—feral, proud.

“you think anyone else can fuck you like this?” she pants. “you think anyone else can claim you like i can?”

you’re sobbing now, ruined, and jill leans in close, breath ghosting over your lips as she groans,

“nah. you’re mine. and i’m not stopping ‘til it takes.”

ada wong

“keep your legs open,” ada whispers, silk and smoke, her cock already buried so deep you can hardly breathe. her gloved fingers cradle your chin, tilting your head up until your eyes meet hers—sharp, unreadable, hungry.

“you look so pretty like this,” she murmurs, lips brushing yours without kissing. “stuffed full. trembling. needing.”

her hips roll slow, precise, every thrust a calculated promise—controlled chaos wrapped in red silk and sin. ada doesn’t rush. she studies you, drinks in every gasp, every flutter of your lashes, every tiny, pathetic sound you make.

“you want me to fill you up?” she coos, voice deceptively soft. “want me to breed you like some desperate little thing?”

her hand slides to your stomach, pressing down just enough to make you squirm.

“you’ll take every drop,” she breathes, voice thickening now, her rhythm sharper, deeper. “you’ll hold it. keep it. let it grow inside you until your body forgets who it belonged to before me.”

when your back arches, overwhelmed, she finally kisses you—slow and claiming.

“and when it takes?” ada smirks against your lips. “you’ll thank me for ruining you so perfectly.”

chloe price

“fuckin’ knew you’d look good like this,” chloe grunts, voice rough and low, her cock buried to the hilt, both hands gripping your hips like she’s barely holding herself back. “so desperate. so fucked out.”

she’s got you folded beneath her, legs trembling, breath punched from your lungs every time she thrusts in deep—messy, relentless, like she’s trying to fuck her name into your bones.

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” she pants, forehead slick with sweat, blue hair clinging to her cheek. “wanted me to ruin you. to fill you. make you mine in every goddamn way.”

her palm presses down on your belly, and she grins when you gasp.

“yeah, right fuckin’ there,” she growls. “you feel that? that’s me. gonna breed you so good, baby, you won’t be able to think straight.”

she leans down, nose brushing yours, hips slamming harder now, eyes burning into you.

“not stopping till you’re full,” chloe breathes, voice shaking. “til you’re leaking and marked and—fuck—mine.”

then, through gritted teeth, filthy and wrecked and breathless:

“i’m gonna put a baby in you, babe. and you’re gonna thank me.”

[painlandpalace]

dead boy detectives reading list

with the show finally out i figured it was a great time to share my reading list again! check it out below the cut 👻☠️🔎

-

⏳ the sandman #25 (1991)

this is their first appearance!

🐇 the children's crusade (1993)/free country: a tale of the children's crusade (2015)

1. the children's crusade #1

(2. black orchid annual #1

3. animal man annual #1

4. swamp thing annual #7

5. doom patrol annual #2

6. arcana annual #1)

7. the children's crusade #2

alternatively you can just read free country. whether or not you read the annuals i recommend reading free country's middle chapter

!!! in place of the annuals there is an additional middle chapter that was created for the book "free country: a tale of the children's crusade" where it is placed between the two children's crusade issues. the boys don't actually appear in most of the annuals (they are in two panels of swamp thing and appear in doom patrol) and reading them isn't necessary but i figured i would include them as they are part of the story.

❄️ winter's edge #3 (2000)

this is an anthology. their part is the 'books of magic: waiting for good dough' story starting on page 19

🐦‍⬛ the sandman presents: the dead boy detectives (2001, 4 issues)

i believe the tv show's esther finch was partially based on this run's villain.

*

(they do have a part in 'death: at death's door' from 2003. it's short and really just a retelling of events from sandman #25 with some minor changes. the entirety of their appearance in death: at death's door is included at the end of the next comic im listing so i am not really adding the death: at death's door book to the list)

☠️ the dead boy detectives (2005, one-shot)

this book was made by jill thompson in a very cute manga-esque style

👻 ghosts (2012), time warp (2013), the witching hour (2013)

these three are anthologies. the story 'the dead boy detectives in: run ragged' runs through all of them. 'run ragged' kicks off the next run.

🔮 from the pages of the sandman: dead boy detectives (2013, 12 issues)

this is the comic where crystal is introduced! a book collecting all 12 issues titled 'dead boy detectives by toby litt & mark buckingham' was released in 2023

🔎the sandman universe: dead boy detectives (2022, 6 issues)

the most recent run, centered around some really interesting thai mythology and featuring multiple edwin moments that i am sure you will love

-

and that's everything! i also recommend buying the omnibus if you can. it includes everything minus the 2022 run plus some additional bonus content!

i hope this is helpful! feel free to ask me any questions you may have about the comics. dead boy detectives is my number one interest so i should be able to answer

have fun reading! 👻

[yamumsyadadd]

hidden (2)

part one is here

For the most part, that’s how your relationship went for an entire year. Behind closed doors, hidden away from friends and family. It was truly exhausting.

There was one date out in public, the first and only one you ever went on. When Alexia asked you out, you didn’t even hesitate. The recommendation had come from Jana, it was her favourite hole in the wall restaurant that her and Jill found, she told anyone on the team who would listen.

In terms of first dates, it was awkward, the pressure to do small talk was evident but you both felt well past that. You had seen each other naked and done filthy things to each other before a date was even on the table.

The awkwardness broke when you asked about her foundation and the process of starting it. You leaned forward, fully absorbed into what she was saying. It was like a different side of Alexia was out that night, until she left you there. At the restaurant, alone.

After the waiter politely informed you that it was almost the end of your reservation, you went to the bathroom and Alexia said she’d wait at the front for you. Expect when you returned, she was gone. The waiter informed you that she settled the bill and then left.

It hurt, more than hurt actually. But once you saw Irene and her wife it all made sense.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” Irene’s gaze was intense, looking around for someone who could belong to you.

“Oh Jana finally convinced me to come here.” It wasn’t the best lie, but it was all you could come up with.

“Where is she?”

“Waiting at the car. I needed to use the bathroom, so she said she’d wait at the car, no point staying in here and being uncomfortable, right?”

“Right.” She slowly nodded.

“I better go. I’ll see you tomorrow at training!” you said your goodbyes and then left. Heading towards the carpark so your lie was somewhat more convincing. Alexia’s car was gone, she left. Truly left. No text message, no call, nothing.

Your brain was so confused. In the privacy of your apartment, alexia doted on you. She made you coffee and breakfast, even when she didn’t eat breakfast. But then at training, during the day, you didn’t exist.

As you walked home, a few tears slipped out. Was it your fault that she was like this? Was it how you looked? Were you simply not enough for her? While you walked, you sent Jana a simple message, no details, no fuss. 

If Irene asks, you and I went to dinner tonight.

You thought to yourself that if alexia wanted to pretend you didn’t exist, you would do the same to her. So you did. It only lasted an entire week. It was hard for you to ignore her late-night texts and calls, even harder when she would turn up to your apartment. But she never said anything to your face. At training, you didn’t exist to her expect for as a teammate, and you made sure you treated her the same way.

Sometimes, there was a flash of hurt across her face, it would only last a second or two, but you saw it. It made you feel guilty, sad for her, even if it was the same thing she as doing to you. So on the 7th night, you caved. Answering the door when she arrived fifteen minutes before midnight.

“Why have you been ignoring me amor?”

“Me? Ignoring you?” you couldn’t help the bitter laugh that came out, “Alexia, you pretend I don’t exist outside this apartment? At training? You don’t see me Alexia, really see me.” You didn’t realise that it actually hurt that much until you vocalised it, when she reached out to wipe a few tears that slipped, you let her. “You left me in that restaurant like an idiot. You didn’t call or text. I walked home crying because I thought I did something wrong.”

“No amor you didn’t. I promise. I saw Irene and Lucinda and freaked out. She doesn’t know how I feel about you; how alive you make me feel. I didn’t want her to find out, to try and burst our bubble. I’m sorry, truly I am. I will do better.”

You let her show you how sorry she was over and over again. And over the next two weeks, she did make more of an effort. At training, she didn’t ignore you, but neither of you wanted to outwardly tell your teammates about whatever this was between you two.

For two weeks she made you feel like you were on top of the world. Sending you restaurant ideas and talking openly about you meeting her family. When she asked you to be her girlfriend, officially, you said yes right way under the pretence that things wouldn’t change.

Slowly though, she slipped back into the way she was. When you’d laugh with Jana or Cata, she’d send a dirty look your way, as if you weren’t allowed to have your own friends outside of your relationship. The coldness returned fully after you asked about her family. Her mami and sister were at most of the games, and you simply wanted to meet them.

“no.” alexia didn’t even spare you a glance.

“No? alexia we have been dating for ages, they are always at the games and- “

“no. end of discussion.”

“But why Alexia?”

“Because I said no. why can’t you understand that.”

“I’m trying to understand why you are saying no. what about me makes you so ashamed?”

“Dios Mio, you are so dramatic. You aren’t meeting my friends or my family. End of conversation. If you keep going, then I’m going home.” Your heart broke. She is ashamed of you, but for what reason you didn’t know.

“You should leave.” You said quietly. Feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

“amor- “

“No go home alexia.” You slammed your bedroom door closed, sliding down the back of it and letting yourself cry into your knees. She left quickly after that, slamming the door hard and it caused you to cry even harder.

There was no one you could talk to about this. You’d promised to keep your relationship on the downlow, your friends at home didn’t even know. So you cried yourself to sleep. Alexia was still mad when you arrived at training the next day. Everyone was on edge as their captain stomped around the locker-room.

“God what is her problem today?” Jana said as she sat down next to you.

“Maybe she got dumped?” Esme whispered, you felt your chest tighten. Theres no way that Esme could know, is there? When you went to look up at her, she was already looking at you, eyes soft with pity.

“Maybe.” You said with a shrug, looking back down at the floor.

Alexia stayed mad, all day. You tried to ignore her, to focus on training but that became impossible when you were forced to face her in the final part of training. At first it was fine; she didn’t need to mark you and you were able to keep clear.

Then Jona changed things. With every elbow and every shove you could feel yourself growing more annoyed. By the end of it you decided to play her game, you wouldn’t let her treat you like this. At home or at training.

The tackle was clean, you didn’t make any contact with her body, only the ball. But the sheer force of it forced alexia to stumble, sending her body hurling to the ground.

“What the hell was that!” she screamed in your face.

“Ale, it was a clean tackle.” Irene came in-between the two of you before you had a chance to bit back.

“Bullshit it was!”

“Enough!” Jona’s voice cut through, “trainings done. Everyone go home.”

You all but ran back to the locker-room, not wanting to deal with the questions from your friends nor the wrath from Alexia. You didn’t move fast enough though because she came bonding in.

“What is your problem!”

You scoffed at her, as if she didn’t know she was the cause of it all, “leave me alone alexia.”

“No. you’re behaving like a child! You-“

“A child? Me? I think that’s you. Ever since-“ Irene’s entrance into the locker-room stopped you dead in your tracks, this wasn’t the time nor the place for it. “Forget it. Forget everything Alexia.” You through your bag over your shoulder and left. Ignoring the pleas from Jana and cata to stop.

The fight lasted a few weeks, it wasn’t completely radio silent. You would let her come over when you needed sex but never when she needed it. It wasn’t until right before Christmas break that Alexia came over and wouldn’t leave until you talked to her.

“I’m sorry okay? Im sorry.” She pleaded through the door.

“Go home Alexia.”

“Please let me talk to you and then I’ll go.”

“Talk.” You knew that as soon as she was in front of you, you’d forgive her. You love her too much not too.

“Open the door please.” And you did. Alexia looked like shit, in one hand she held a piece of paper, and the other was tucked safely in her pocket.

You left her standing there in the hallway, walking to the couch and sitting down. For a moment, alexia hesitated. She wrote a letter with everything she wanted to say, but now that she was here, she was scared.

She cleared her throat before starting, “I am incredibly sorry for the way I have treated you for the last four months. You deserved better, the truth is that I’m scared. Because I love you, so much. Every time we are together, I never want to be separated, I want to marry you, to have a family with you. But I can’t be public with this. Not now and maybe not ever.”

“Alexia, not once did I ask you to make this relationship public. I just wanted to be seen by your friends or your family. I wanted to know them, but you refused. Never telling me why and starting fights instead.”

“I know, I know. You can meet them, my sister, Alba, she would love you. My mami too. Please just let me show you.” She came to crouch in front of you, pulling your hands apart and placing hers on top.

“Okay.” You whispered out, getting lost in her hazel eyes as she searched yours.

Her hands cupped your face, and she kissed you hard. There were only a few days between the conversation with Alexia and Christmas break. To be fair to her, she did take you out. It was only to the Barcelona Christmas festival, but to you it was something. She openly held your hand, took photos of you and with you. Laughed and genuinely seemed like she was a changed person.

even over the break, while you were in America and she was in Spain, she called, she texted, she put in effort. To you, alexia had changed, had become the person she promised you.

She kept the promise of introducing you to her sister, it was only brief, but it was enough to satisfy you for now. There was a comment she made, about how it was almost Alexia’s birthday, something you knew, but what you didn’t know was that there was a party planned. A party you weren’t invited to.

There was a part of you that held out hope, that alexia would incite you, but she was just waiting for the right time. But that hope quickly disappeared as you sat there on your couch, on February 4th waiting for your girlfriend to turn up. She had agreed, you would make a nice dinner, give her a present and sex. But as the clock ticked closer to 1am, you realised that you were being stood up.

It was a reoccurring event. Alexia would make a promise, shed break the promise, a fight would ensue and then apologies, she’d change for a few weeks, maybe even a couple of months, but then go back to how it was. You decided, then and there, you’d give her until May, after that, if she hadn’t changed probably, then it was the end.

When may rolled around, you knew what you had to do. It was just about the timing. You didn’t want to go through a breakup in the weeks leading up to the champions league final, but you also didn’t want to continue in this hell scape of a toxic relationship.

Every time you tried, you chickened out. You couldn’t even bring yourself to stop inviting her over. As you stood in your living room, looking at all the odds and ends that Alexia had left in your apartment, a knock sounded.

“Esme?” you were confused, none of the girls had really ever been at your apartment, “Are you ok?”

“I actually came here to ask you that.”

“Come in.” you moved out of the way, letting her lead the way through to your loungeroom. Neither of you spoke for a little bit, Esme was looking around the apartment, probably making note of all of Alexia’s things like you had done mere minutes before her arrival.

“I have a girlfriend.” Esme looked at you, really looked at you, “we have a private relationship. But all our friends know, occasionally we post each other on Instagram but not super often, it’s something we both prefer… but you and alexia are different?”

“How did you know?” You were shocked, truly.

“I live a few doors down. I’ve seen you, in the hallway, in the garage. I’ve heard the fighting too.”

“it’s complicated.” She gave you a look to go on, you took a deep breath and unloaded, “for almost a year we have been in this cycle. I want to meet her family and her friends, but she doesn’t want it. At training, she acts like I don’t exist, but here, at home, it’s like im the only person in the world. I’ve tried, and tried, but it only starts fights and now, well, I’m tired.”

“there’s a difference between a relationship being a secret and hidden. Yours seems to be hidden.”

“It is. I don’t want that. I love Alexia, I love her so much, but all the fighting and making up, I can’t keep going like this.”

“you’re going to back up with her?” you nodded your head, Esme raised her eyebrows, “can you like wait? Until after the champions league? I’d like to win.” You laughed at that, because you too wanted to win.

The champions league final was electric. Something you had never experienced and were so incredibly grateful that you got the chance. By the end of the game, Barcelona were the European champions.

It was probably the high of the win, mixed with the alcohol, but when Alexia pulled you into her side and dragged you to meet her family, you felt almost disgusted. It seemed that you were only now worthy of meeting them because you scored in the final.

As you looked toward Esme, Irene stepped into your line of sight. She did not look happy at all, and you knew she wasn’t a fan of this relationship which made you feel better about ending it.

After the high of the Champions League win and the end of the season looming, you knew it was time. Alexia would stay in South America after the team had left, then going to her own camp to prepare for their first Olympics, you would fly back to America and stay there until it was time.

The plan was simple, you invite Alexia over, break up with her and then lock yourself in your room. But that never worked. Every time she came over, she looked even more beautiful, there was a glow about her, something you couldn’t shattered.

So as you sat on the plane, flying the mere two hours back to LA before international break, you sent her a simple text. You knew it was fair, but she hadn’t been fair for the majority of the relationship.

To Alexia: I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry alexia.

You tucked your phone away, letting the tears fall. Just because it needed to be done doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

[witerh]

Learning Cowboy Hat Etiquette || re:di boyfriend!leon

NSFW!

warnings: soft/dom, porn with some (no) plot, fluff and dirt, bites, p in v, sex on the couch, face sitting counts, ride on the tongue, aftercare, leon is mean, he doesn't talk much, leon kinda corny

notes: omg i can't wait for the trailer (which should be) where capcom show us at least jill and leon and my fingers will forget what a vacation is + sorry for mistakes in the drabble i was drank O⁠_⁠o

rating: explicit

summary: a borrowed for you hat and some curiosity of yours about leon's bull riding days brought you both to the point that you don't know etiquette cowboy hat at all. he will fix it.

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask suddenly, turning your gaze away from the tv and the shitty movie they had opted for that evening.

“Miss what?” he leans back, studying your face with a glowing curiosity and pretending to be a fool for you. “Lemme a hint for old man.”

“Rodeo.” you shrug, draping your legs across his lap.

“Hmmm, sometimes, I guess. Why are you asking?”

You had often wondered how much of that part of his past sculpted this body, the way it pushed and pulled and flexed and rippled. Had his years of fighting buck for buck been responsible for the perfect, hard lines of his abdomen? Tanned juicy biceps? The thick ropes of muscle in his arms? In the dark, you wondered shamelessly if it was responsible for the fluid rut of his hips when he fucked her.

“Just wondering. You don't really talk about it much.”

“Well, not sure I mentioned it, but getting kicked in the head repeatedly tends to take the fun out of things.” the corner of his lips twitchs, fighting a self-satisfied smirk at his own joke.

“What do you miss most about it?" It is earnest, the way you press. He shifts on the couch, the chatter of the movie fading idly away. There is something more to the coy look you are wearing, something that made him swallow thickly despite himself.

“I dunno,” his laugh was wary, and he folds his arms close to his chest. He feels, somehow, there was an expected answer, one he is beholden to without knowing. “I dunno. I guess I miss that moment where it just clicks, y'know? You get the rhythm of it, and it doesn't feel like fighting anything, just working with it.”

As he speaks, his features softened, blurred by dreamy memory of a time long enough ago that the rose-colored tinge has nearly disappeared.

“Oh. I thought you would say winning,” you admit with a shrug. “but I guess that's cool too.”

His laugh showers over you, curving your lips contentedly. You lean over to kiss him before standing from the couch and vanishing through the doorway, a breeze perfumed with sunlight and vanilla left in her wake.

He crooks an arm behind his head, thought cinching his brow. Though he is attempting to determine the gambit, decode your game, there simply isn't time before you sauntered back towards the couch, hips taking liberties as they sway. You are clad only in a tee shirt and black panties, slung low on your hips. He draggs his sight up your body, from the long, tender spanse of your legs to the breathtaking flutter in your hips, and finally up to your luminous face. On your head, he nots in sheer delight, is his hat. You toss him a sly glance from beneath its wide. He thought about how much he wanted those smirking lips pressed to his.

“You know, you're breaking all kinds of hat etiquette, sweetheart,” he tuts, the growing strain in his voice rival only by the strain between his thighs. “wearing another man's hat is a no-go. And inside too.”

“I think you could make an exception for me,” you purr, lithe footsteps bringing you directly in front of him. Your lowered register lands on his ear like a sedative, he can feel himself melting and moulding to your mercy. And you are right—an exception can be made, one he is quite willing to concede.

“Well you know what that means then, don't you?” he smirks, fastening his hands to the sloping curves of your waist.

“Tell me.”

"Means you're all mine, sweetheart." he ushers you towards him, your thighs coming to straddle either side of his lap, feverishly painting the hollow of your throat and the curve of your neck with kisses.

"I can live with that. And besides," you manage between sighs, "what else am I supposed to wear when I ride?"

He didn't have to search for meaning in your words, the roll of your hips over his promised wickedness of the highest order. He groans, the edges of his voice running raw. Grip tightening possessively around your waist, he bucked his hips against yours.

“I'll give you something to ride, honey.”

The pulsing at your core was desperate, need dousing your with each snap of his hips. You ground against him, greedy for the friction, greedy for the eager rise you could feel beneath the fabric of his sweatpants.

When he crushed his lips to yours, knocking back the brim of the hat, their kiss was ravenous as a man starved. His fingers slipped up your ribcage, brushing over the curves and contours up to the round of your breasts, a rising pride in his gut as he cupped them, as he felt the peak of your nipples beneath your shirt. He drew one hand higher still, curling it around your neck. His index finger and thumb rested beneath either side of your jaw, poised above your scrambling pulse, his palm pressed to the flushed skin of your throat.

“Think you can take it?” he gruffed, tightening his fingers only slightly, just enough to make your blood quicken, to make your breaths turn ragged and lurid.

“Please-”

“Show me you can handle it,” he inclined your chin towards his face. “show me you can take it.”

You ground against him again, breathless and desperate and hungry. The tug of cotton between them made her whine, the thought of what it kept from your almost too much to bear. One of his hands had anchored at your waist, thumbing the peak of your hipbone and urging with each clothed rut. You whimpered, the words stolen from your as a new flood of desire found its way between your legs. Need was making speech impossible, incoherent mumbles all you could manage. You needed this. Needed him. Needed something to soothe what was careening through your veins like a drug.

“Need some help there?” he chuckled, the gravel in his voice only serving to pull at the threads that made your come undone. Gently, he eased you off, just long enough to rid himself of his shirt, then his pants and the boxers beneath. You were marvelled for a moment at the etched columns of his body, the flexed sinew of his thighs, perfect, tanned skin over fortified muscle. It was enough to make your throat run dry.

Stepping out of your underwear and shirt, you discarded them altogether and clambered back into his lap. The searing line of his hardness was nestled maddeningly beneath your, the staccato of his heartbeat thrumming between their skin.

“Last chance to back out,” he rasped, the solid planes of his body trembling with the effort it demanded to not fuck her straight into the couch. He had to keep his mind steadied on the game at hand, intoxicated by the thought of bygone wins that she so lovingly made him recall.

“I can take it, Leon..." you brushed it off, the ember of lust flickering in your eyes were enough to illuminate his most salacious fantasies.

“Prove it.” he goaded, a broad smirk running recklessly across his cheeks.

Breaching the tightness of your heat, you were already soaked as you took him to the hilt with a feverish whine. Tossing your head back, the tendrils of your hair brushed against your shoulder blades. The hat tipped precariously from your head, and you threw a hand up to clasp it desperately, unable to hear the low, lewd groan he rewarded your with.

You were every fantasy he had ever had made real; hips sweeping against his, lips parted in a euphoric cry, breasts so tantalizingly close he could nip and suck if he tried. But truly, it was the sight of his damn hat on your head. You were a dream. A vision. Something he was almost certain he would have to wake up from, but as he felt the flutter of her walls around him, he knew it wouldn't be any time soon.

“God, baby, you're so tight,” he growled covetously.

You had no control of the indelicate sounds falling from your lips like rain. The only anchors you knew for certain were the sculpted taper of his hips, and the faded, lended hat. It spurred in your a stubborn determination to ride out each and every thrust and aftershock, to clutch a win forged from his own lust.

“Still with me?” the words were little more than a strained groan as he prodded, delivering a wicked thrust that made the fingers of one hand root into the couch cushion behind his head.

“Mhmm...” you are humming, lucidity fleeing with each lope of your pulse.

Thoughts were drowns by the vicious snap of skin against skin, the scent of sweat and sex and whiskey and leather that makes the air around them dense. He felt the air knocking from his lungs at the obscene, divine feeling of unsheathing only to the tip before slamming into the warm, tight clasp of your pussy once more. The drag of his length through your silken walls, his languid withdrawal only to the sensitive, swollen head, drove him wild. It conjured raw, animalistic thoughts; ones that any other time would be chased off by more chivalrous sensibility.

You want to let your thoughts scatter away like stardust, to be carrying off by the carnal bliss, but a thread of competitiveness kept your bound to your goal. You still, after all, have to win. You roll you shoulders, expelling a candied sigh as you rearrange your features into a wanton glower. Some lever in your have been pulled, one that offer resolve in tandem with its unfettered lust. You demand the reigns with each push and pull of your hips, dominating the rhythm that he, until now, have been leading.

He wasn't sure when he had yield to your, when he had allowed the control to slip from his fingers like grains of sand, but he knew he wasn't regret it. Beneath his skin, white-hot pinpricks began to rise. With each thunderous roll of your hips, each sensuous flick, he was contending with his undoing. The valley between your breasts have blossomed in a flush, crystalline specks of sweat like dew rising above the skin.

He leaned forward, dropping his head to trace your sternum with his tongue. The hot, wet trail invited a whine from your, one that made your grip at his hair and pull his face flush with your skin once more. The rise and fall of your hips against him had reached a fever-pitch, the crash of his pelvis against your clit threatening to break your in two.

You were on the precipice, the pulsing ache in your sex shooting like fireworks throughout your body. All he had to do was push, and you would tumble. You were unaware, however, that they were standing atop the same peak. Her assertiveness, the silhouette of your from beneath the familiar brim, the smell and feel of your all around; he was hopeless.

Unwilling to forfeit to his undoing, he steeled, motionless for a moment.

“Hey-” you hissed, prepared to admonish him for breaking the rules, however unspoken they may be, but he unlatched from the shallow of your collarbone to offer your a wolfish grin.

“Let's see you ride something else,” he drawled.

Tilting your head, your brow furrowed. It was difficult to untangle his words from behind your hedonistic veil, but he had already shifted them. He now laid beneath your, having positioned your knees beside his ears.

Though the move was partially out of preservation of his pride, he still found himself craving the sweetness between your legs. A campaign, now, to devote himself to drawing pleasure from your with his mouth, with his hands, like a religion.

You felt the gunpowder in your veins start to ignite with the first long, flat stripe of his tongue along your slit. His glinting eyes were visible from between your thighs, his sight catching yours dangerously. It twisted something in your gut, the steady gaze he maintained while he devoured your. Your knees hugged his ears as his palms braced the round of your ass. Beneath your, his arms were firm, keeping your pinned under his wicked mercy.

Relentless teasing against your entrance made you cry out, the wildfire scorching your body threatening to consume your whole. A delicious pressure sparked as he pressed into your heat, fucking you with his tongue. You keened against the contours of his face, feeling the brush of his teeth at your clit. Her hips jerked, chasing pleasure as it teased and ebbed from his lips. He nipped and suckled and taunted, sending static through your veins. Dismissing a hand from your back, he slipped it beneath your thigh to roll a thumb over the bundle of nerves, tongue lapping hungrily at your dripping sweetness.

You have never felt your molecules turn to vapor before you met him, you have never been reduced to a supplicant, wanton wreck until he first captured your beneath his practiced mouth.

“Shit-” you seeth, writhing and wheeling as he working your swollen bud deviously with his hand. It is a petty distraction from the way he is laving at your glistening pussy with such rapt attention that it cost you the air in your lungs, the thought of anything in your mind other than his name, primal moans ripping from your throat. You have finished with a sharp gasp and a celestial ringing in your ears. Victory flooded down his cheeks and over his lips, wetting his rough bristles, honey and warm.

Even from across the length of your body, between the dip of your quaking thighs, he could see bliss storming features of yours. You are becoming untethered from orbit, spend and exhaust as he orchestrated another orgasm that crashed over like the dark of nightfall. It was cruel, he knows, to drives you to you brink once again, still in a free fall from your previous climax.

“All mine. All fuckin mine...” his lips leave yours for a moment before bitting down your bottom lip.

You were far too gone to even acknowledge his words, focusing on your release rather than anything he was saying.

“So impatient...” he groans roughly, moving his fingers in you to collect your juices, slowly and gently taking his fingers out of you, making you let out a small whimper.

But boyish ego was captaining his mind, taking command of his body, and he drops his hand to part your glistening folds. Spread open for him like a perfect bloom, his tongue once again dipped into your cunt. The bright, heady taste of her pull a shameless moan from the depths of his chest, its reverberations shooting through your. He wanted to worship and revel and languish in your forever.

You have lost count of the times bring your to ruin, though somewhere in your mind you begrudgingly ascertained he has won. Not that it mattered. Not when he had filled you and stretched you with three fingers, crooked as if in beckoning. Not when be was coaxing pleasure from each and every cell in your body, proclaiming his triumph in each whine, sigh, moan, and sob. No energy could be spared to think about their trite game, not when his mouth, hot and adoring, was fixed to your pussy.

How you remain upright, you cann't begin to say.

You feel limp, spend, giddy, but you know you cann't afford to be done just yet.

With what resolve remain and much to your chagrin, you pull free of the work of his mouth and shuffled down on the couch. You align the begging tip of his cock with your entrance and gasp brokenly as you lower yourself, letting him drive home in your. You are sensitive in ways you have not feel before, it dance with pain like a lover, the ache igniting the pleasure, the pleasure fanning the ache.

The buck of his hips are gentle, he has been flirting so dangerously with his own climax long before you bury him in your once more. He is taken by the sight of yours gingerly meeting his pace, hat still perch on your head, eyes glimmering with something beyond love. You are what he has been waiting his whole life for, even if he hasn't known it. When your hand find his cheek, brushing along his temple as you push your hips over his, he feel the coil beginning to snap, wound too tight by your heat, by your love, by your tenderness.

When he comes, it was with a bliss so entire that he was silent for a moment. It is only when the final wave of his orgasm subsides that he finally dragged in a rabid, shattered breath. He is certain you could hear his heartbeat through his sweat-beaded skin, though you can feel it in his groin, feel it hammering against of yours where they were still joined.

He finally surrenders, drawing his softening length from your with a mutual howl. You, in turn, slip the hat from your head on the floor, suddenly overcome by a pervasive vulnerability. You fit yourself into the space beside him on the couch, nuzzling against the crook of his neck with a sated smile, covering your nakedness with whatever the borrowed hat would cover.

“So... who won?” you ask suddenly, the toll of their escapade evident in the grain in your voice.

“Well, me, of course. Who can win beside me, huh?” his grin is rugged.

You swat at him playfully, rolling eyes. “Let's call it a draw. Is... is that how it works?” you giggle, delirium infecting your mind.

He kisses your forehead, the damp line of hair. “No. But I win either way,” he chucked your bottom lip, tilting your face towards his. “Because I have you, my lovely girl.”

[wonderjanga2]

TW: Chiseling of human flesh, flesh smoothies, everything like that is only really mentioned an not gone into detail

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five (Here)

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you” and when they are referred to by other people, its “they” so… Yeah! Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense.

Chapter Five

Knock Knock Knock!

“In a minute!” Jill yelled from the kitchen as you both grunted and groaned as you lifted your latest victim into the ice cream freezer. God, this guy was huge! He barely fit the 18 cubic feet.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

Jill groaned as you slammed shut the freezer and did the latch. She gestured to the door with her head.

“Wha— I don’t wanna talk to her!” You whisper-yelled at your best friend. The person knocking at the door was a woman named Mrs Broflinski. Neither of you knew her first name. Not that either of you cared to know anyways. Mrs Broflinski was the Franzelli’s next door neighbour. She was a creepy old woman who would wave her cane around like she was about to hit you at any moment. She did one time actually. She whacked you in the shins once. When you didn’t go down and clutch at them, she hit Jill’s instead and hobbled away, cackling like the bitter little old witchy bitch she was.

Excuse your language.

“[Name], I’m not talking to her this time.” Jill stated firmly, crossing her arms as she stripped off her raincoat and stomped around, picking up tarps and seranwrap covered in blood. Jill was always mad when the old bat was even mentioned. She was still salty over the wack to the shins.

“But Jill…” You were ashamed to admit that sounded like a whine. “She’s a bitch!”

“I know! Now go answer before she gets her chihuahua to piss on our door.” She shooed you off. You sighed, stripping out of your own raincoat and walking over to the door. You had to take a deep breath and ready yourself. It’s fine! This is fine. She’s been your guy’s “neighbor” for six months. You can do this.

Is it also a good time to mention you’ve owned this apartment with Jill for nearly six months? Killing for six months? Covering up murders for six months?

Fictional Couple goals! (The Franzelli’s are married after all)

You opened the door, trying your best to sound civil and adult like. After all, adults couldn’t own apartments. Unless this person who isn’t an adult is an emancipated minor.

Or simply rich.

“For the forty millionth time, I’m sorry for the screaming, Mrs Broflinski.” You gave your, once again, most civilist smile as the old woman glared up at you. She started waving her cane around with one hand and clenching her purse, oh look, her chihuahua is in there, with the other.

“You’re sorry, yet you still continue to do it.” Her voice was heavy with both annoyance and an accent you couldn’t place. It sounded European though? Like Russian maybe? Nah, it sounded a little different from that. She rapped her cane against your door, trying to be menacing. It worked, but you could barely feel fear anymore, let alone pain, so it didn’t do much.

What? Just because you can’t feel that much fear anymore doesn’t mean you can’t think a little old lady the next door over isn’t menacing.

“I know you Italians are loud, but sometimes it’s better to just shut your traps sometimes.” She bit out, her rabies-infested-looking chihuahua growled, almost mimicking its owner in the way its lips curled back to snarl at you.

“Excuse me?” That felt offensive and you weren’t even Italian. Or were you? You don’t remember what your mother was and you have no idea what your father is either. Was Bruce Italian? Wayne didn’t sound Italian. Who knows at this point?

“Nevermind. Listen, I’ve been here at least once a month. It’s getting to a point that it’s annoying.” She sneered.

You didn’t really know what to say to that if you’re being honest. Jill has been the one to handle every single one of these talks too so you don’t know how to appease the codger. You opened your mouth to try and find some words before deciding to just pull the first thing you could think off out of your ass. “We’ll… soundproof the place?”

“You will?” The geezer sounded skeptical. Her chihuahua had also calmed down and was now just staring ahead, both eyes facing different directions because there was obviously something wrong with it.

“Yuuuuup.” You even popped the p just for emphasis as you nodded your head with the dullest expression on your face. Soundproofing would be good anyways. If Gotham were any normal city, someone would’ve called the police by now because of said screams. “Look, I’ll pull up wiki-how right now.” You said, actually getting out your phone to look it up. You started leaning on the doorway as you scrolled through the search results. During that time, Mrs Broflinski waddled away while you kept scrolling.

“Is she gone?” Jill asked from behind you, looking for the old woman over your shoulder.

“Yup.”

“Did she say anything vaguely or outright racist or homophobic?”

“Yes actually?” You turned around in the doorway to look at her. “Has she done that every single time you went to talk to her?”

“Yes, and weirdly, every comment has been targeted towards Italians.” She crossed her arms, shaking her head.

“Oh. You don’t think it’s cause Franzelli’s an Italian name, right?”

“It wouldn’t be surprising.”

“Huh.” You paused for a moment. “Well, anyways, I just got this idea. Soundproofing! Now, hear me ou—”

It was the next day, a Saturday, that Jill dragged you with her on her latest paranormal shopping trip. Over the course of the last few months, Jill’s dragged you to every voodoo-y, creepy-crawly, supernatural monster related shop she could find. This was because she wanted to find out more about your zombieness. This one was called Suzie’s Strange Store and from what you could spot from outside the shop, there were beaded curtains just behind the door.

She dragged you inside before you could complain about this being the third shop you’ve both been to all day. As soon as you both stepped in, the shop owner, you decided she was probably Suzie, she looked like a Suzie, was in front of you both and a little two close for comfort. At least she smelled like eucalyptus, though, the fact you could smell her wasn’t something you wanted to consent to.

“Can I help you dears?” Suzie asked with an airy voice, pushing a coil of curly hair behind her ear.

“Uh… Hi. Good afternoon.” Jill waved awkwardly, the two of you sharing a couple looks. “We… are doing a very legitimate National Geographic Documentary on the history of the undead.” The fact Jill said that with a completely straight face and an only slightly wavering voice impressed you.

“That is right! And in order to make it as accurate as possible we’ve been visiting paranormal bookstores, looking for information on outbreaks and possible remedies.” You jumped in with a little too much enthusiasm in trying to sell this.

“Ah.” Suzie nodded her head along with this very legitimate and thoughtful cover story. “You’ll find our zombie literature in the lifestyle section next to the fertility crystals. If you’ve run into the potion ingredients, you’ve gone too far.”

It was a while later of flipping through children’s books of cartoonish zombies that you felt slightly offended over, that Suzie came over to inquire about your guy’s “research”.

“Is there anything you can use?” She asked in the only way you could really describe as whimsical.

“Not really. I’m looking for something… a little more adult. Do you think you have anything like that?” Jill asked as she slid the book back into the shelf.

The shop owner seemed to think for a moment. “Well, we do have one thing in the back. We don’t normally show it to customers.”

“Really? What is it?” You piped up. Were you both finally getting somewhere? Would this finally be the last godforsaken trip? Would be the last time you were offended by the a children’s book severely misrepresenting your people? (As if you know any other people amongst your “people”)

“Zombie porn.”

You both stared at the woman with the blankest face for the longest time before Jill grabbed your hand. “Thank you for you time. Come on, [Name], we’re leaving.” She sounded so resigned as started to drag you out to door. The door was just about to shut behind you when something caught your eye. Your hand shot out to brace on the door, stopping her from pulling you any further. Instead you yanked her back inside until you were both in front of three paintings near the door.

The both of you stared at the painting before looking at each other. Then at the puzzled shop keeper still behind the two of you.

“Say, how much for these paintings, miss?” You asked with a big smile as both you and Jill looked back to her.

(Jill’s slightly horrified face at the paintings was a nice contrast)

Back at Sam’s apartment, as soon as you both got inside, you laid the paintings on the kitchen counter. One depicted a person eating another with some text from a language near the bottom. The other depicted a person vomiting with a red raisin looking thing out and looked to the ice cream freezer. You walked over and after a bit of digging, as it was underneath the body of your latest kill, (Which Jill keeps nagging you to chop up into your little meat packages but you keep procrastinating) you pulled out your little organ-ball-thing. Yes. Your organ-ball-thing. Neither of you still had a name for it.

Jill threw it in the freezer one day after her mom found it in her own freezer and tried to throw it away. Neither you nor Jill knew if it was important yet, so it was just sitting at the bottom of the ice cream freezer collecting the smell of ass and dead bodies as it sat there.

You sat it on the counter next to the paintings. Jill was typing something on her phone.

“So, I think this text is Serbian.” She said putting her phone down to look back at the paintings. Gosh, it was literally you! Just like, if you were in… 900’s Serbia? You don’t know when these paintings were made. Your eyes flicked to Jill every now and then until you noticed her eyes weren’t staring at the paintings anymore and instead at something beside them with the most confused and weirded out expression you’d ever seen.

At least it wasn’t the traumatized expression anymore. You didn’t know whether it was good or bad you were seeing less of that expression.

Your eyes followed her gaze and— oh. What the hell? You both watched as your ball-organ-thing, which somehow sprouted legs, spider-looking legs, mind you, was trying desperately to get out of the little plastic bag it was in. You both watched it futilely struggle and try its hardest to get out before it gave up for a bit as if it was tired. It then started trying to get out again.

Jill let out the loudest scream imaginable.

To think, she’d seen multiple dead bodies and even contributed to having some of them end up dead, but bugs and bug-like things still scared her.

[Name] ended up naming it Balls Jr.

The both of you ended up going to the nearest pet store, which was actually just a fish store. You got a tank, some little rocks, a miniature palm tree and a miniature tiki statue for Balls Jr.. When you finished setting up the tank while Jill was curled up on the tiny twin bed in the corner of the room, having a mental breakdown over the fact Balls Jr. sprouted legs, you let the little guy loose inside it. He looked(?) around? He didn’t have eyes but you were pretty sure that’s what he was doing. It started stacking the stones after a bit.

“Come on Jill, just say hi! He’s a friendly little guy.” You called over your shoulder. You had one of your hands inside the tank, petting the top of Balls Jr. with one of your fingers.

“I’m good, [Name].” Jill grumbled from where she was curled up on the bed, facing away from you and Balls. You continued to pet Balls while he stacked stones until you heard some shifting from behind you.

“Hey… So, what do you think he eats?” She asked hesitantly.

You just shrugged. “Same things as me? I’ll just chisel some skin off… what was his name?”

“Peter. Peter Micheals. Killed three women. We went over this with the Lopez guy literally yesterday.” She sighed.

“Oh yeah… anyways!” You jogged over to the ice cream freezer and grabbed your chisel and hammer and got to work on the guy’s shoulder. Jill’s expression twisted at the sound of it. She sat up. “I’ll be outside.” She said, sounding slightly sick as she walked to the door.

“Wait, Jill!” You yelled as you chisel some flesh off.

She looked like she wanted to hurl but looked back. “Yeah?”

“You still want me to buy you Batburger on the way back to your place, right?” You asked, finally looking back to her.

“I— yeah, [Name]. I’ll be waiting for you outside, okay?”

“Okay.”

She couldn’t have scurried off any faster when the conversation was done. It wasn’t even a minute later, when you were giving Balls Jr little thin pieces of Pedro or PayPal, you already forgot the guys name again, that she burst right back in.

“THERES A SERBIAN FLAG ON MRS. BROFLINSKI’S WINDOW.” She yelled, startling you and making you drop all the chunks into Balls’ tank. You just decided to shut the top of the tank and call it a day on giving your attention to Junior.

“Really?” You looked over to her.

“Yes! Grab the paintings!” She all but shoved you over to the kitchen and made you carry both, because for some reason, another side effect to being a zombie was that you couldn’t get tired. No seriously. All you’ve had was a two hour nap. Other than that, you just stare at Jill from the floor in your burrito-cocoon while she sleeps. In short, you wouldn’t complain if you had to carry something for hours.

In no time, the two of you were in front of the old bat’s door. Jill knocked.

The old woman opened the door, cigarette in her pursed lips. “So you’ve finally come to apologize to me for all the noise.”

“N—” You tried to tell her FUCK NO, but Jill elbowed you in the side.

“Yes, Mrs. Broflinski. Question, are you Serbian?” Jill asked quickly. Wow, straight to the point.

“Yes? What’s it to you?” Her little hobbled over and was now next to her leg, growling ever so slightly.

“We were wondering if” Jill turned to you and grabbed a painting and showed it to her. “you could translate for us? You do speak Serbian, right?”

“I do.” She stared for a long moment, before taking a drag from her cigarette and blowing at the two of you before walking into her apartment. “Come in.” You both followed after her, careful of her little dog.

She made you and Jill sit on a couch while she sat on a nearby arm chair. You both got the paintings out and put them on the coffee table in front of you three. When she got a good look at the paintings, she shivered. “Where did you get that?” She asked, sounding disturbed.

“A stupid little shop, but anyways, could you please just tell us what it says?” Jill was getting impatient, you could tell.

“It says man eats man to live. It’s probably based off of the story of Pozica, a village. When I was a little girl, they told this story to frighten children. A whole village, Pozica, turned into monsters. Man would eat wife. Wife would eat children. Dead would eat life. My father used to tell me, that if I was bad, he’d send me to Pozica and they’d eat my face.” Her face was scrunched up as she spoke.

“…so many different styles of parenting.” You murmured.

A small silence filled the room, followed by a pointed glare from the old broad.

“Anyways! So what does this one mean?” Jill tried to steer the woman’s glare away by showing her the other painting.

“Without cure, man will die.”

You and Jill shared a look.

“There’s a cure?” Jill asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Who knows.” The old bat waved her hand dismissively. “The pictures come from a very old book, but the book is probably really rare. Some collector probably has it stashed in his basement.” Mrs. Broflinski shrugged. Oh, so the things weren’t paintings. They were prints or maybe even pages from the book.

“I see… I see. Well, thank you for your time.” Jill stood up. “[Name], come along now.” Jill walked to the door, leaving you to pick up both prints and jog after her.

It was the next day that you were at Jill’s apartment with Jill’s mom. You were drinking a flesh smoothie, like actual blended up dead guy in a cup while watching the Simpsons with her when all of a sudden Jill ran into the living room.

“[Name]. With me.” She beckoned you over with her finger.

“Yes ma’am.” You stood up immediately and walked over to her.

“What’s so secret that you can’t tell [Name] with me around?” Ms Jill’s mom asked from her spot on the couch.

Jill grabbed the hand not holding your smoothie and started to drag you into her room as she spoke. “Nothings a secret, ma. Promise.”

Ms Jill’s mom shrugged at that and went back to watching the Simpsons.

She all but threw you onto her bed, hot, as she whipped out her phone and sat beside you.

“Look at this.” Jill said, as she showed you an article on her phone. It was on the book.

The book.

You shot up from where you were sprawled on her bed. It was at the fricken Gotham Museum! Are you serious?

“Holy cow!”

“I know!”

“How convenient!”

“I know!”

“We gotta rob this place!”

“I kno— Wait NO!”

It was three hours later, around eleven pm that you now both stood outside the museum. You were both in your shadiest, darkest, most suspicious outfits. You were also both wearing ski masks, and just to be even safer, Jill was wearing a pink power ranger mask and you were wearing the red one. Both were Samurai Power Ranger masks too.

“Alright, so if we’re gonna do this, we need code names.” You said as you looked around the front of the museum.

“Code names?” Jill sounded like she thought you were being ridiculous.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be Cody. I’ve always liked the name.” You said, nodding your head. Since she couldn’t see your face, you figured you’d be more expressive with your body language in return.

She was definitely silently judging you. “…No offense but you don’t really look like a Cody.”

“What do you mean?”

You both stood in silence for a bit.

“Okay, how about you just be Red and I’ll be Pink, okay?” She said as she gave you a pat on the arm.

“That felt offensive and you weren’t even Italian. Or were you? You don’t remember what your mother was and you have no idea what your father is either. Was Bruce Italian? Wayne didn’t sound Italian. Who knows at this point?”

By the way, in case anyone is confused, you might be Italian, but also, who knows? It’s yourself. You. You can be mixed, you can be fully white, black, Asian, whatever, I’m not actually making you Italian. This isn’t me giving you an ethnicity. I want to be inclusive to everyone. And if you’re actually Italian… Cool! 👍 You’re Italian.

Also! The Cody bit isn’t like gender exclusive to boys or girls either. If you’re a boy, she just doesn’t think you look like one. Same if you’re non-binary. If you’re a girl she says that because well… you’re a girl.

Also also! The reason I haven’t posted in like a week was that I was on a cruise! I know! And the internet was shitty. I didn’t want to write and then not have it save either because tumblr sometimes would work, but then stop mid use and just stop working or not save. It happened a couple times so just gave up on posting during the week. Today was the day I got back so that’s why you guys get a chapter!

Taglist: @shinning-stars @tuabuelaenvinagrexd @lettucel0ver @holderoflostmemories @cherrydaisymanic @11queensupreme11 @vanessa-boo @darktrashpoetry @nyra-42 @horror-lover-69 @chemicalwindexbottle @sadslasher13 @mintynilla @otakusimp1 @1abi @exactlynumberonekryptonite @ceramic-raven @depressed--therapist @nisarelle @justannie18 @time-shardz @dandelion-delusion @capcryooo @tenswife @klutzymermaid

[suushiiii]

Stubborn skateboarder

Vivianne Miedema x Skateboarder!reader

Summary: You get injured and Viv is there for you.

Word count: 4.2k

It was late in the afternoon. Vivianne had just finished with training and she was in the locker room, putting the last of her things in her bag. “Hey, Viv. We're getting some lunch. Do you want to come too?” Vivianne turned her head, meeting Jill. “I would love to, but y/n asked if we could have an afternoon for ourselves.” Vivianne explained and Jill smirked. “An afternoon for yourselves, huh?” Vivianne rolled her eyes, because she heard the teasing tone in Jill her voice.

“Yes, an afternoon for ourselves.” Vivianne said with a sigh. Before Jill could make another remark, Viv her phone rang. Viv frowned, because it was a number that she hadn’t saved in her contact, but something in her gut told her to answer it. “Hello, is this Vivianne?” A female voice asked on the other end of the line. “Yes. What can I do for you?” Vivianne asked, her voice still very suspicious.

“Euumhh, y/n had been in an accident during practice and she can’t drive.” Viv her eyes changed from suspicious to concern. “I’m on my way.” Viv said and hung up the phone. She started to shove the last things in her bag, while Jill gave her Dutch teammate a confused look.

 “What is going on?” Jill asked concerned, still a bit confused. Vivianne let out a sigh, before speaking again, “y/n had an accident during practice and she can’t drive.” Vivianne answered, trying to keep her voice steady. “Accident? Doesn’t she play the best England skateboarders tournament in two months?” Jill asked, because you hadn’t shut up about your chance of maybe going to the Olympics for England. “Please, don’t remind me. It’s all y/n talks about.” Viv said with a proud smile. “Okay, let’s go!” Jill chimed and took her bag, while Viv gave her a confused frown and took her own bag.

“You are coming?” Viv asked with a raised eyebrow. “Jill, you don’t even like being there. You have been there once and all you did was complain.” Viv reminded Jill, who shrugged. “In my defense; they all rolled so slow on the course.” Jill said with her hands up in defense. Viviane let out a quiet laugh and shook her head. “Alright, speedy, let’s get moving.” Vivianne joked and walked past Jill, who followed.

Twenty minutes later, Vivianne and Jill arrived at your skateboard training facility. You sat in the changing room, ice wrapped around your elbow. The door opened, revealing your girlfriend and one of your close friends. “Viv, what are you doing here?” You asked and Vivianne walked over to you, taking a seat next to you on the bench.

“Your coach called.” You groaned. “I’m fine, really.” You insisted and Vivianne let out a laugh. You have been known for your stubbornness, even when you were injured. “Are you? Because I see clearly that your elbow is wrapped up with ice, doesn’t scream ‘fine’ to me.” You rolled your eyes, but no real annoyance behind it. “You sound like my coach.” You huffed and Viv just kissed your forehead.

“I love you too.” Viv teased and that earned a small laugh from you, while you played with a lock of her hair. “How did you fall?” You looked up, meeting Jill her eyes. “Well, I just did a easy rail grind, but I miss-timed my landing and well, I fell and caught myself with my elbow.” You explained a bit embarrassed, because it was a simple trick. “Maybe, your mind was somewhere else or should I say, with someone else?” Jill teased and looked at Vivianne, who rolled her eyes. “Please, stop talking Jill.” Viv finally said, but with a small smirk on her lips and she turned her attention towards you again.

“Does it hurt a lot?” You nodded and tried to bend your elbow, but Viv stopped you mid-motion. “Don’t. Do they know what it is? Do they know if it’s broken?” You nodded once again. “No, they said it’s just sprained, nothing serious.” You said with a sigh of relief, because if it was broken, you would miss the tournament. The door opened again, it was your medical team.

“So, we examined the scans we made and it looks like you will be out for 3 to 6 weeks.” The medic announced and you shot your head up, meeting his eyes. “No, no, no. I can’t…I have the tournament in two months.” You shook frantically with your head, Vivianne placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to keep you still. “We know, but if you take enough rest and ice it every now and then. There is a chance you’ll be back sooner and can still participate in the tournament.” You let the words of the medic sink in. Rest.

You never were the one to sit still, so that was going to be a challenge. “Okay, take things slow. I can do that.” You said with a confident nod, Vivianne gave your shoulder a squeeze. Letting you know that she will support you. The medic gave Vivianne a few advices, about icing your elbow and about what you can’t do. “Okay, that’s about it. Ohh and y/n? Please follow your girlfriends instructions.” The medic teased and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t worry, I will keep an eye on her.” Viv laughed and you stuck your tongue out to her.

“You are enjoying this way too much.” You huffed and leaned against the wall. “Well, it’s nice to boss you around. Think about it like payback.” You raised a eyebrow at that. “Payback for what, exactly?” You asked, but you knew the answer to that. “Ohh, you know. When I got injured with my hamstring, you bossed me around.” Viv reminded you with a smirk and you? You let out a groan, while Viv and Jill tried to hold their laughter.

“Okay, drama queen. Let’s get you home.” Jill said and Vivianne helped you on your feet. You were about to reach for you bag, but your girlfriend was ahead of you. “I have two arms!” You yelled, but Viv was already heading towards the door with smirk at her lips. You let out another huff, before moving towards the door as well, Jill bumping her shoulder against yours.

2 weeks into recovery

It was 2 weeks in your recovery and it went well or that’s what you thought, because in Viv her eyes, it was exhausting. You had tried to sit still, you really tried, but your ‘I need to move’ genes thought otherwise. You sat on the couch watching TV. Viv was at training, so you were home alone. You looked around the apartment. There were a few boxes scattered around the room, so you took it upon yourself to clean them up.

You hadn’t looked at the time, but Vivianne would be back from training in fifteen minutes. After a while, you had moved the light boxes away, but now you only needed to do the heavy once. You picked one up and winced at the sting in your elbow, but you ignored it. You walked slowly to the spare bedroom, but then you heard it, the lock of the door. You closed your eyes, hoping that it would make you disappear. “What the hell are you doing?” Vivianne her voice cut through the silence of the living room and dropped her bag on the ground. You sighed and put the box down, wincing again.

“Please tell me that that is the first box you wanted to move?” Vivianne asked with a sigh and your eyes dropped on the floor. “y/n…” Vivianne started and walked over to you, tossing the keys in the bowl on the counter. “How many boxes did you move?” Viv asked and cupped your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. There was no anger in your girlfriend’s eyes, only concern. “Four.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I swear, they were the light ones.” You whispered again.

You felt the tears in your eyes. You didn’t want to sit still, you didn’t want to rest, you wanted to move and do things, you wanted to practice. “I know…I know I shouldn’t have moved them, but I don’t want to feel useless.” Your voice cracked halfway through your sentence and Viv pulled you into a hug, her hands making circles on your back. “You’re not useless, you hear me. You are healing, your elbow is healing and that takes time.” Viv whispered in your ear, pulling back from the hug to meet your eyes.

“You know, you are acting the same way I did, when I was injured, remember?” You let out a laugh, because you remembered it all too well. “Yeah, you moved around the house, like you were doing a marathon, but you needed to rest.” You recalled and Viv nodded. “I was very stubborn and what did you say to me?” Vivianne tilted her head. “I said that you needed to sit back on your ass and let me do the household tasks.” You said and a laugh escaped your lips.

“Exactly, so let me do that now and you sit your ass back down.” Vivianne ordered, after she pressed a kiss on your lips. You only hummed and walked to the couch, while Vivianne picked up the box. “Also, I will ice your elbow, after I have taken care of the boxes.” Vivianne yelled from the hallway and you leaned your head back against the couch. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, while you heard Viv move in the spare bedroom.

4 weeks into recovery

In the fourth week of your recovery, your elbow didn’t hurt anymore. You got cleared to do some light arm exercises. The exercises went well, you could complete them all, without wincing or taking a break, so you got the green light to train again. On your first day back, Viv went with you. “Are you ready to roll around the course? And please, don’t miss-time your landing again, okay?” You turned your head to Viv, your skateboard in your hand.

“Ohh, c’mon, you’re never going to let me live that one down, are you?” You asked with a sigh and Viv just nodded with a smirk. “Not a chance. Now let me see what you got.” You nodded and headed to the entrance of the course, Vivianne leaning against the low wall. Her eyes followed you around the course.

You were hesitant at first, but that left after you made your first tricks. You have been practicing for an hour, until you reached Viv, who had a proud smile on her face. “Well, well, you still got it in you.” Viv teased and you let out a huff, and playfully hit her arm. “It’s like riding a bike.” You said with a smile and wiped some sweat from your forehead.

“Here, you need it more than I do.” Viv said and handed you a water bottle. You took the bottle from Viv, your fingers brushing against hers. “You really looked like yourself out there. Instead of the stubborn skateboarder that I got to know in the last 4 weeks.” Vivianne teased and you shot her a playful glare, before closing the water bottle.

“Stubborn? I call it determined.” You stated with a nod and handed the bottle back to Viv. “What are you doing?” Viviannes asked with raised eyebrows and you smiled. “I’m going another round and you can watch how good I am.” You stated, before going down the ramp. “I already know how good you are!” Viv yelled, but you didn’t hear her, you were already too far away and too concentrated on your balance. Viv sighed with a smile and put the bottle on the ground.

“You’re going to be the death of my patience some day.” Viv mumbled under her breath, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Viv her eyes followed you over the course again. You were completely in your element. Doing grinds, doing air tricks after you skated on the ramps. Vivianne held her breath every time you went up in the air, afraid that you would fall.

Viv knew what you were doing, but it still scared her to death, that you would fall or miss your board. “You are going to the Olympics, don’t you worry.” Viv mumbled under her breath again, when she saw you doing your signature move. You flew in the air, flipped your board with your feet and eventually you landed perfectly on your board and Viv? She could breathe again and she gave you a little nod.

Back to full training

It was 2 weeks later and you got cleared to fully train again. You were alone this time, because Viv had training herself. “y/n, how is the elbow?” You turned your head and met Emma, your coach’s eyes. “Good, nothing to worry about.” You grinned and Emma gave you an approving nod, before walking over to you.

“Here is your set list for the tournament.” Emma announced and handed you the paper. You scanned the paper. You loved your current set list, but a feeling gnawed at you. You have done this set list for 4 years now, you wanted something new, something to impress. You wanted to let England know that you deserve to go to the Olympics. “Something is bothering you. Spill it.” Emma, her voice interrupted your deep thinking.

“Yeah, it’s just…” You paused, because Emma had always made your set list. “y/n, what is it?” You sighed and handed her the paper back, while you ran your other hand through your ponytail. “The list, it’s a bit boring,” You started and wouldn’t dare to look Emma in the eye, afraid to see her reaction. “I love the tricks, don’t get me wrong, but I just want…” You trailed off and Emma sighed, taking a seat next to you. “You want something new.” Emma finished and you looked surprised at her, because there was no hurt or disappointment in her voice.

“Yes, but aren’t you mad?” You asked surprised and Emma shook her head  with a laugh. “No, of course not. We’re a team. You’re allowed to say what you think.” Emma reassured you and you pulled her into a hug. “You are my favorite coach, you know that?’ You said with a smile, which earned another laugh from Emma. “I’m the only coach you have had.” Emma huffed with a smile and you bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see what we have.” Emma said and looked at the paper. “Y/n, are you sure about this? Because these are some of the most difficult tricks in the sport.” Emma said, the seriousness in her voice. You looked at the list in your hand. You knew you needed to train hard, if you wanted to get these new tricks to stick, but you needed to impress the judges.

“Look, I know you want to go to the Olympics, but this list,” Emma started, gesturing vaguely to the list in your hand. “that’s not your only chance, you can go to the Olympics with your basic list.” You closed your eyes. You knew that Emma was right, but you wanted this, you needed to do this. “Look, you only need to say yes and we’ll do this list, but you can always say no. We are a team, remember? You make the call.” You opened your eyes again, meeting Emma her eyes.

“I can do this. I’ll get this list under control and once I do, I can do these tricks in my sleep.” You said with a confident nod and a smile. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Emma said with a smile and stood up from the bench. “Make yourself ready. This will be the longest 2 weeks in your career.” You nodded and started to prep yourself, while Emma walked out of the room. Once the door closed, you stopped prepping for a second. Letting the moment sink in that this was the best decision you ever made or this would be the worst decision you ever made.

After a few minutes, you arrived in the skating hall, your skateboard in your hand and you had your gear on. You frowned, because the course was empty. “Emma, where is everyone?” You asked and Emma turned to you, “they cleared the course, because you can’t be interrupted by others.” You nodded in understanding and put up your helmet.

“Alright, just start easy and then you can try the new tricks we have added on your list.” Emma instructed and you nodded, before turning to one of the beginning ramps. “Just breathe.” You whispered to yourself, because if you had to tell the truth? You were terrified to do new tricks, ones you had never done before. You closed your eyes and remembered Emma her words ‘just start easy’.

You opened your eyes and started. Emma stood on the side, seeing your balance and your movements. “y/n, spread your balance!” Emma yelled, but it was too late. You did one of the new tricks, but you lost your balance and fell on the ground, your skateboard rolling away from you. “y/n, are you okay?” Emma asked, once she reached you. You laid on the ground and groaned, but it was more out of frustration than pain.

You were about to respond, but then the door opened. “y/n!” You pushed yourself up on your elbows, seeing Viv running on the course. “Hi, love.” You said with a smile and got up on your feet. “What happened?” Viv asked with concern and you just shrugged. Emma left, so you two could get some privacy. “Explain.” Viv said and you sighed, while you took off your protecting gear.

“Well, Emma and I have made a new trick list for the tournament.” You said with an awkward laugh and Vivianne raised an eyebrow, because you hadn’t discussed this with her. “Since when?” You sighed, dropping your helmet on the ground. “Since this morning.” You said and rubbed the back of your neck.

“Look, I know you don’t agree with it, but I want to get that ticket to the Olympics. You know how much that means to me.” You explained and Viv nodded, because you hadn’t shut up about the Olympics, ever since you got the news “I know, I know. Are you sure about this?” Viv asked with a defeated sigh, because there was no way of talking you out of this.

“Yes. I will do what I need to do. I will get it right.” You said determinedly and Viv saw it in your eyes. “Well,” Viv started and picked up your helmet. “you better get on that skateboard of yours.” Viv teased and put the helmet on your head. “Yes boss.” You saluted her and picked up your skateboard. Viv and Emma stood to the side and looked at how you started again.

The tournament

It was the tournament day, two weeks after you had made a new trick list. You had trained hard, harder than ever before. You were determined to place first today. Earning that ticket to your first Olympics. You were the last to perform, so you could watch all the acts. It didn’t help your nerves, because everyone before you, got high scores. “If you keep staring like that, you will burn your opponents.” You turned around, seeing Viv sitting casually on the couch.

“Oh, maybe that will give me a higher chance of winning today.” You said with a sigh and walked over to your girlfriend, who handed you an apple. You shook your head and started to pace from left to right, going over your tricks you need to perform. Vivianne sighed and stood up, setting the apple on the table. “Hey, come here.” You looked up once again, seeing Viv her hand reaching out. With a smile you took her hands in yours and she pulled you into a hug. “Are you sure you don’t want to do your old list? You know that in your sleep.” You opened your mouth to argue, but Viv her smirk cut you off.

“Trust me, I’m sure you did an aerial trick once in your sleep.” You shoved Viv playfully back. You were about to say something, but the loud claps of the audience were ahead of you. “Next up is; y/n y/l/n!” The speakers yelled and you felt a lump in your throat forming, when your name was getting called. “Here.” You met Viv her eyes. Viv had your skateboard and helmet in her hands. “You’ll do great and remember, you don’t have to do things you’re not comfortable with.”

You huffed, because you thought Viv was going to say something else. “I really thought you were going to say; “And remember, I’ll always be proud of you”.” Viv chuckled at that, while you took your gear. “I was about to say that, but you were ahead of me.” Vivianne said with a smile. “But I was serious on the part, that you don’t have to do things you’re not comfortable with.” Vivianne now said in a serious, but still concerned tone. You smiled at her, but quickly pulled her towards you and kissed her on the lips.

Viv let out a sigh through her nose, her hands finding your waist and your hands on the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. Viv pulled back, you both a bit breathless from the kiss. “Go, before you get disqualified.” Viv teased. You gave her a quick kiss on the lips, before taking your stuff and heading to the course.

Vivianne moved to the railing, her eyes on you. She saw the hesitance in your eyes. Even though you had practiced your new list, you were terrified that you would screw up. But you needed to do this, to do tricks that are out of your comfort zone. You tilted your head, your eyes scanning the crowd, but they stopped on Viv, who mouthed ‘I love you" to you.

This gave you confidence. You let out a steady breath and stood ready to start. The buzzer went off and you jumped off the ramp. Viv her eyes followed you everywhere. How you grinded on the rail, how you flipped your board when you were in the air. You were a bit shaky in the beginning, but once you were in your element, you were at your best. Viv her face was filled with pride.

Two months ago, you were stubbornly moving boxes in the living room and now you were doing tricks that you had to learn in two weeks. “Yes, y/n!” Viv yelled and clapped in her hands, when you did the first trick. Vivianne had seen some of your tricks during practice, but not all of them. You were almost done, but you only needed to do your signature trick. Your eyes glanced over to the usual ramp you used. It was a low ramp, but your eyes quickly landed on the highest one. You changed your direction and headed to the high ramp.

A few gasps and whispers were heard, but nobody could take their eyes off you. Vivianne her hands gripped the railing, her knuckles turning white. “What are you doing?” Viv whispered, because she hadn’t seen this. Because every time during practice, you ordered Vivianne to leave, because this was a surprise. Vivianne held her breath, when you moved onto the ramp with full speed.

Once you were in the air, you turned once, twice and a third time. Your feet made contact with your board and you landed perfectly on the ground. Vivianne let herself breath, once you stood still, the crowd around you erupted into cheering. You looked at the scoreboard and you had a complete score, 190 points, the highest score out of everyone.

Tears pricked in your eyes and dropped to the floor, because you actually did it. You would go to the Olympics for England. “Yes!!” You felt arms wrapped around you. “You did it, love!” Vivianne whispered into your ear and you let the tears of joy fall. “I did it!” You cried and tightened your grip on Viv her arms. Viv pulled back and took off your helmet. You saw the tears in Viv her eyes.

Before you could react, Vivianne her lips met yours, it tasted salty because of your tears, but you didn’t mind it. You would go to the Olympics and you were kissing the woman of your dreams. “You did.” Viv whispered against your mouth, her voice full of love and affection, while wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it.” You choked out a laugh and buried your face in her neck. Viv tightened her grip around you, one of her hands resting in your neck. “I love you, I really do.” You said to her, after you pulled back, just to meet her eyes.

“I know and I love you too, you have no idea y/n.” Vivianne said, before pulling you into another kiss. You broke the kiss and hugged Viv again, the tears had stopped, but you still felt all the emotions. “I’m going to the Olympics, Viv. I’m going.” You finally said and you heard a soft laugh escape from your girlfriend’s lips. “Yes you are.” Vivianne whispered and tightened her grip on you once again. 

[glitter-stained]

Jason Todd Meta Masterlist

With all the misconceptions and (frankly insulting and at times sexist) assumptions I've seen about Jason Todd fans, I've decided to make a post gathering the meta I could find that helps make sense of why he's my (and so many other people's) favourite character. (Spoiler: it's not because I'm shallow, it's not because he's hot, not because I love guns and the death penalty, and not because I think he's secretly a woman.) This list is incomplete for a bunch of reasons: I haven't read all the meta that exists, if there's a good meta with like one sentence I disagree with I usually don't include the meta, there's a lot of meta I disagree with, and if there's a very good meta analysing dynamics or characters based on a comic I really hate, I will simply not include it (for example i've seen good analysis of Nightwing Brothers in Blood, unfortunately it's one of the worst comics i've ever tried to force myself to read so I can't include any of it in Jason analysis without betraying a fundamental part of myself). This will include some serious analysis commentary, some lighter/trivia stuff, and there's also a part dedicated to some misconceptions I've seen running around and posts that address it. Some of this is jaybin analysis/appreciation, some of this is red hood analysis/appreciation, some of it fits for both, and there's nuance here due to the fact I'm very critical about many parts of red hood's writing, so some jaybin posts might be red hood critical, but they're still parts of the reasons why I like jason so I'm including them. If you have suggestions for more meta posts to add, feel free to share them, though be warned that I may not be able to edit and include them all due to reasons previously mentioned! (And do not be afraid to share your own meta we love self-promo in here).

With all that said:

if you're a Jason fan looking for more meta, a comic fan who doesn't understand the hype and is genuinely wondering what people see in him, a fic writer determined to do his character justice, or new to fandom and wondering if it's worth it getting into him, this post is for you! And of course if you don't like him I'm not arrogant enough to assume I can change your mind, you're perfectly allowed your taste, all that I ask in return is that you do not try to police mine.

Now let's get to it!

Mental illness

So, this meta is kinda organized by how important those points are to me, and it turns out I'm a complete freak about psychopatholgy (the study of mental disorders). Now, is Jason a good depiction of mental illness? Eeeeeh... Compared to my other favs with stories building up around trauma like Mia Dearden or Jill Carlyle, he has a lot more material to sink our teeth into due to sheer number of appearances, and there's loads of interesting stuff in that, but he also often falls victim to dc's classic love for demonising metal illness. So what makes Jason's mental illness compelling to me, someone who loathes the Joker's character so much? That's a complicated question I attempt to answer in here. Now this is an ongoing compilation of different psychological analysis meta (we're playing meta masterpost matryoshka!! Yay!) and doesn't have all the answers yet because I need time to write this shit but anyway, if anything, it's a good opportunity to learn about psychology through Jason, and I think how much I love sinking my teeth into those depictions already shines into it. So basically: The depiction of Jason's mental illness, despite often very flawed, is extremely compelling to me.

On victimhood

Now say it with me: you can like several things at once. Jason's character isn't the only one who is a victim, and he isn't the only one where victimhood features as an important theme, and none of that diminishes the fact that the way victimhood is portrayed and handled in Jason's story is compelling both for its meta commentary on the narrative and the catharsis it can bring. Here are some meta that analyse Jason's character in relation to victimhood:

-Jason and Joker's other victims

-How Jason's story resonates with victims of SA

-Jason and childhood sexual abuse

-How Jason is blamed for his death

-Jason's UTH monologue is sincere, and he has a right to his anger

-Jason's point isn't about the villains, it's about the victims

-Victimhood VS Survival

Philosophy

Now when it comes to this section, a lot of people associate ethics (for instance what Jason considers right and wrong) and politics (what solutions/actions he thinks should be taken as a result of those ethical beliefs). Of course that makes sense with the way those concepts intertwine, but they're not the same question (crucially, you can agree with his position on one without agreeing on the other) so I've tried to separate the posts into those two categories the best I can.

Ethics

I couldn't find a jaybin post that was only on ethics (though the political jaybin posts cover it a little) but some of my favourite stuff about Jason is the discussion of ethics. Honestly I consider it much more enjoyable than the political part of the discussion, it has my preference for sure.

On love and Red Hood

A reading of UTH as an invitation to incorporate emotions into our ethics

Pragmatics vs sanctity? Jason does value human life

Politics

I'm subdivising this one again because Jaybin and Red Hood wouldn't agree on everything here (I don't think the gap is irreconcilable, but it would require writers to put effort into bridging it which I never see dc do, at least not correctly.)

AS JAYBIN

Ethics, crime, grief and vigilantism

A philosophy of love and care

AS RED HOOD

Does Red Hood valorize organised crime?

Red Hood is a pimp (no, wait, listen)

On the death penalty

Jason's political thesis in UTH: you cannot rule through fear alone

Jason's point isn't about the villains, it's about the victims (yes, this one is here twice because it fits into both categories what do you want me to say)

Symbolism

You know I love me a character with some cool symbolism. I only got two posts on the matter so far but if anyone has articulate meta posts about Jason wrt Paradise Lost, Abraham and Isaac, Orpheus and Euridyce or literally anything else please share it I would love that so much I have so many thoughts about it but not all of them have a meta that develops them. Anyway here's another reason to like Jason Todd: he's got a lot of symbolism to sink your teeth into.

My thoughts on catholic Jason Todd

Jason Todd VS The Bible

Jason & Isaac

Abilities and skills

Now a lot of that was about what makes Jason interesting to me but one thing Jason is that he's also extremely fun. He's just all around an enjoyable character! To me his #1 best fun trait is how witty/funny he is, both as Jaybin and Winick's Red Hood, which is a shame because I don't have a post gathering panels of how funny he is (if anyone has one please feel free to share!). But his #2 best fun trait, to me, is that he's a hyper-competent jack-of-all-trades. And I don't mean a gary-stue! He's probably not one of the world's best at most of those things, but he's pretty good at a whole bunch of things and he's also very resourceful and underhanded, making for great battle scenes because it's always fun to watch pull tricks out of his sleeve! This is especially true for his villain era, because while hyper-competent heroes can become annoying, I find hyper-competent villains/antagonists super exciting. So here are just a tiny tidbit of metas I could find about some of his skills!

"The dumb Robin"

Jaybin is a skilled hacker!

Languages

Marksmanship (amongst other skills)

Jason and Bruce

Warning: if you're here it means you haven't blocked the anti batman tags but like, this isn't a super Batman-friendly blog. The meta in this part doesn't exactly hold Bruce in high regards so like, if you're a fan of him like, be aware of that.

With that being said, I find Jason's story, and the criticism of Bruce/Batman that ties into it, very interesting. I also am personally drawn towards stories around child abuse for cathartic reasons, and DC, albeit unintentionally, draws a very realistic depiction of abusive families within the batfam, which I also find really compelling. So here's a bunch of meta about Jason and Bruce and utter misery! Parenting tip: don't do that.

-Jaybin era Bruce was far from perfect

-Bruce projects on jaybin

-Parentification

-Analysis of Jason's grave

-Can you believe Bruce yellow-wallpapered Jason?

-Jason as a meta character

-Jason's isolation wrt his relationship with Bruce

Jason and Mia

-Green Arrow: Seeing Red makes a great point about victim-blaming

-On defense of jaymia : So, this one requires some explanation. It's kinda funny to include this in a meta masterpost/character manifesto since 1) the ship is not canon and 2) i do not ship nor particularly like the ship (no offence to those who do!). However, a lot is said about these two characters, and as a fan of both characters I have a lot of thoughts and feelings on the matter, and I believe this post is a good breakdown of some conceptions and views wrt these two characters, even outside of the shipping length. I have more analysis about Seeing Red in the works, but it's bound to take a long time to happen!

Some other misconceptions I found interesting to mention

-Jason isn't a loner

-A quick forray into pre-crisis: Jason and Dick's backstories were similar, but they had their fair share of differences! They're far from the same character.

Trivia

And finally, as a palate cleanser after all that stuff, some trivia for your writer's needs.

Jason's taste in food and drinks

Jason's music taste

Books Jason Todd has read

Anyway, shout-out to all these amazing people for all that meta, and please note that just because I included one of their post in my meta and character manifesto doesn't mean they have to agree with everything I said (should be evident but like, just in case. Leave those people alone if your issue is with me.)

I'm leaving you with these comic recs from laufire! and this collection of pretty jason fanarts!

Hope you enjoy ✨✨

[celiastjamesoscar]

Night Shift

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

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

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

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

My Masterlist

Word Count: 18.0K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Apologize.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bold of you to assume I would care.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here till 5. Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this the one with Jodie Foster?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sam,” you said with a soft voice.

“Mhm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Girl, there are only three!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The wine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf @canvascoloredin

[nhmkhnh]

⋮ ⌗ ┆ SPE ──── MY PILLOW PRINCESS ˚⊹

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ CHARACTERS: vi ;; caitlyn kiramman ;; cassandra kiramman ;; sevika ;; ellie williams ;; abby anderson ;; mizu ;; claire redfield ;; jill valentine ;; ada wong ;; chloe price.

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ PAIRINGS: all above character x sub!fem!reader (each for one scenario)

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ WARNINGS: lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni)

vi.

“you just lay back and let me do the work, baby.”

the mattress creaked under her as vi straddled your thighs, gaze dark and sharp, full of mischief and heat. the lights were dim, a faint orange hue spilling in through the cracked blinds, painting the hard lines of her shoulders in a glow that made her look both dangerous and divine.

“you really don’t like moving much, huh?” she asked, voice low and playful, her grin cocky as ever.

your breath hitched as her fingers trailed up the inside of your thigh, featherlight. “you—” you tried to answer, but she cut you off with a low hum, one hand pressing against your stomach, keeping you still.

“nuh-uh,” she murmured, lips brushing your ear. “tonight, you don’t lift a damn finger.”

your back arched when she dipped her head and kissed the inside of your knee, trailing open-mouthed kisses up your leg like it was something to be worshipped. she spread you open with ease, your body already pliant and eager beneath her.

“look at you,” vi whispered, thumb grazing over your clothed center, wet through your panties. “so fuckin’ needy and you haven’t even moved once. you just lie there, all sweet and soft and begging for it.”

she peeled your underwear down slowly, dragging the fabric with her teeth halfway just to make you whimper. her eyes didn’t leave yours—not even for a second. that smug glint in them told you she liked watching your helpless reactions more than anything else.

"yeah," she growled, finally slipping her fingers through your folds, teasing, slow. "this is how i like you. laid out. dripping. letting me ruin you."

she pushed in two fingers without warning, and you gasped, clinging to the sheets. she curled them just right, every thrust calculated, every drag of her knuckles leaving you speechless. your thighs trembled, but vi held you open, her other hand wrapped around one leg, keeping it wide for her.

“that’s it,” she said, voice strained from how wrecked she already was just watching you. “you’re my pillow princess, aren’t you? my good girl who just lies back and lets me take care of her.”

your moan was answer enough.

vi leaned down, teeth grazing your jaw. “cum for me just like this. don’t move. don’t do a fuckin’ thing but feel me.”

and you did. just like that—shaking, toes curling, your hands fisting the sheets. vi never stopped, even through the aftershocks, pressing kisses to your hips, your thighs, your belly, her voice low and adoring.

“you’re so good for me, baby. so damn good.”

caitlyn kiramman

“such a spoiled thing… lucky i enjoy pampering you.”

caitlyn’s bedroom smelled like lavender and clean linen—refined, elegant, everything like her. she was already stripped down to her bra, hair slightly tousled from where your fingers had tangled earlier, and now she sat between your spread thighs with that calculating gaze that always made your pulse race.

"you like this far too much," she murmured, brushing a perfectly manicured nail down your bare inner thigh. her voice was velvet-smooth, laced with fond exasperation. "lying there like some helpless little doll. do you ever plan to return the favor?"

you whimpered something incoherent, trying to pull your knees together, but her hands were already sliding beneath them, pushing you open again—wide and obedient for her. caitlyn raised an eyebrow, amused.

"no?" she smirked. “of course not. my pillow princess doesn’t move unless i tell her to.”

she leaned down to kiss your belly, slow and deliberate. her mouth left a burning trail, pausing just at your hipbone, her breath teasing your skin. when her fingers brushed between your folds, featherlight, you gasped, hips twitching—but she pressed a hand down on your pelvis with a firm tsk.

"none of that," she whispered. "stay still. be good."

your thighs trembled, your breath hitched as her fingers began to tease—never quite giving in, just circling your entrance, brushing your clit with maddening precision. her touch was clinical, deliberate, like she knew every nerve ending under her hand—and she did.

then her voice dipped lower, a hum against your thigh: “you lie there looking so pretty, so utterly spoiled… it would be a crime not to indulge you.”

and indulge she did.

two fingers slid into you at last—slow, deep, curling just right. her other hand reached up, slipping behind your knee to keep your leg steady as you began to moan. caitlyn didn’t even blink. just watched your face, studied your every reaction like she was solving some delicious mystery.

"that’s it," she purred. “don’t move. don’t think. just take it.”

she fucked you with calm, calculated precision—each movement designed to draw out every whimper, every sweet shiver from your body. her mouth dipped to your chest, biting lightly, then soothing it with her tongue. but her fingers never slowed, and your brain slowly unraveled under her relentless, steady pace.

you came with a cry, back arching—but caitlyn only shushed you gently, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“such a good girl,” she whispered. “my perfect little pillow princess.”

cassandra kiramman

“lie still, sweetheart. i didn’t give you permission to squirm.”

the bed was satin. of course it was. cassandra kiramman didn’t settle for anything less than luxury—even in the way she handled you.

you lay on your back, bare and trembling, the softest sheets under you, the sharpest woman above. she hadn’t even undressed yet. she stood by the edge of the bed in her black silk robe, sipping from a crystal glass of wine, watching you with a lazy, indulgent smile that made your stomach flutter.

“you look exquisite like this,” she murmured, voice rich as velvet. “open. obedient. needy.”

you whimpered, reaching out—just to touch her, to feel the warmth of her—but cassandra tsked and set her glass down on the bedside table.

“no, no, darling,” she said, stepping close enough for the silk of her robe to brush your knees. “you don’t reach for me. that’s not how this works.”

she leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. her hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip with devastating gentleness.

“you lie back. you take what i give. and you thank me for it.”

her lips descended on your chest, her tongue slow and thorough as she took her time tasting you—neck, collarbone, breasts. every inch received her attention, every soft sigh of yours fed her ego. but when your hips bucked, just once, seeking friction, cassandra stilled.

her eyes met yours—calm, dangerous. “what did i say?”

“i— i’m sorry, i—” you stammered, but she cut you off with a kiss. a firm one. a claiming one.

“i know you’re sorry, sweetheart,” she purred. “but let me remind you how i want you.”

she eased onto the bed beside you, her hand sliding between your legs with confidence that spoke of experience, of power. her fingers trailed through your slick folds, teasing, just ghosting over your clit enough to make your breath catch. then she leaned in, lips brushing your ear:

“my sweet pillow princess… my precious girl… let mommy take care of you.”

and she did.

her fingers slipped into you in slow, deliberate thrusts, curling expertly. her other hand rested on your stomach, holding you down every time your hips tried to rise. you were squirming again, already close—but cassandra gave no mercy.

“stay still,” she whispered. “i’ll give you what you want, but not until you behave.”

it was unbearable—the way she kept you on edge, murmuring praise in your ear, kissing you like you were hers to consume. you were dripping, trembling, whimpering her name over and over until finally—

“good girl,” she breathed, just before pressing her thumb to your clit and curling her fingers deep.

your body shattered under her, every nerve lit up, and cassandra just held you through it—smiling, composed, possessive.

“my perfect little thing,” she whispered, lips pressed to your cheek. “so easy to please… as long as she’s kept in her place.”

sevika

“you’re such a lazy little thing, huh? good. i like my toys soft.”

the door slammed behind her.

you were already on the bed. legs parted, cheeks flushed, wearing the tiniest excuse for lingerie—because you knew exactly what she liked coming home to. and sevika? she stood in the doorway, arms crossed, smirk lazy and dangerous.

“look at you,” she said, voice low and gritty, boots thudding against the floor as she stalked toward you. “didn’t even try to act innocent tonight, did you?”

you swallowed hard, watching her toss off her coat, her metal arm gleaming under the low light. she looked wrecked from work, muscles tense, jaw clenched—and you? you were aching to be used.

“i mean…” sevika shrugged, eyes dragging down your body like a wolf appraising dinner. “can’t blame you. you know i like it better when you don’t move.”

you gasped when she grabbed your ankle, dragging you toward her in one fluid motion. her hands were rough, heavy, claiming.

“you lie back, spread those legs, and make those pretty noises for me,” she growled, climbing over you. “that’s all i want from you tonight. you think you can manage that, princess?”

you nodded, breath hitching.

but sevika wasn’t satisfied. she leaned in, her hand gripping your jaw tight, eyes narrow. “say it.”

“i-i’ll be good,” you stammered. “i’ll stay still, i promise.”

“there we go,” she purred, letting go with a pat to your cheek. “that’s my girl.”

and then she destroyed you.

her fingers were thick, two pushing inside you without warning—stretching, filling, setting a brutal pace right away. you cried out, but sevika only chuckled darkly, leaning in to lick up your neck. her body was heat and pressure and weight, pressing you into the mattress like you were nothing but her favorite plaything.

“don’t move,” she snapped when your hips bucked. “you wanna be good, don’t you?”

you nodded again, tears pricking your eyes as pleasure wracked through you. sevika leaned down, biting your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

“you look so damn good like this,” she rasped. “helpless. leaking. my perfect little pillow princess.”

you came once, then twice—sevika didn’t stop. didn’t let you stop.

only when your body was twitching, trembling from overstimulation, did she finally kiss you—slow, possessive, her metal hand holding your jaw in place.

"next time," she whispered, dragging her thumb over your swollen lip, "i want you dressed in nothing but my shirt. on your back. waiting."

you could only nod.

good girl.

ellie williams

“just lie there lookin’ pretty for me, yeah? that’s all i need.”

ellie was already half on top of you by the time her shirt hit the floor. her necklace dangled between you, and the way her smirk curled made your stomach twist into knots.

“you really just… lie there like that?” she said, quirking a brow as she hovered over you, one hand braced beside your head. “goddamn. you’re gonna kill me.”

you squirmed under her gaze, feeling like you were already melting into the mattress. she took her time drinking in your body, from the flush in your cheeks to the way your legs shifted restlessly. and then she chuckled—low and cocky.

“look at you,” she whispered, brushing your hair out of your face. “all cute ‘n needy. you even know what you do to me?”

you opened your mouth to speak, but she shut you up with a kiss—sloppy, possessive, full of teasing tongue and muffled groans. her knee nudged your thighs apart and she hummed like she was unwrapping a present.

“fuck, you’re soaked already?” ellie grinned, fingers slipping under the hem of your underwear. “you really like being my little pillow princess, huh?”

you nodded, breath hitching. that earned you a full laugh—gravelly, heady, dangerous.

“shit, you’re perfect.”

she didn’t even bother teasing—ellie slipped two fingers inside you, slow but deep, her forehead pressed to yours as you gasped.

“that’s it, baby,” she murmured. “just lie there and take it. let me do the work.”

her thrusts picked up, deliberate and rough, curling her fingers just right while her other hand held your waist down. you were already shaking, moaning, eyes glassy—but ellie didn’t let up.

“c’mon, don’t hide those sounds from me,” she whispered, kissing your neck messily. “you sound so fuckin’ good when i’m inside you.”

and when you came—legs twitching, mouth slack, body trembling—ellie just leaned in, tongue trailing along your jaw as she smiled wickedly.

“not bad for someone who didn’t lift a damn finger,” she teased. “you really are the best pillow princess, huh?”

you nodded again, dazed.

she grinned. “good. 'cause i’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

abby anderson

“you’re not gettin’ outta this bed until i say so.”

you weren’t sure what made your legs shake more—the weight of abby’s body caging you in, or the rough way she’d just pulled your panties down with one hand like they were nothing but tissue.

her tank top was still on, hair in that low braid, arms glistening with sweat from her evening workout. she hadn’t even cooled down before pinning you to the mattress like you were some treat waiting to be devoured.

“look at you,” abby murmured, voice rough, low. her hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look up at her. “lyin’ there all soft. all mine.”

you whimpered. she laughed.

“don’t get shy now, princess,” she growled, dragging her calloused fingers down your chest, between your thighs. “you were beggin’ for this shit earlier. i heard those pretty little whines.”

and then, without warning, her fingers shoved into you—deep, relentless, thick and rough. you cried out, legs jerking, but abby didn’t even flinch. her free hand locked over your hip, holding you down.

“keep still,” she hissed. “don’t make me hold you tighter.”

the room filled with the wet sound of her fingers thrusting in and out, your breath catching, your body already nearing the edge—but abby? she was just warming up.

“such a damn pillow princess,” she muttered, lips brushing your temple. “don’t do a fuckin’ thing, and still fall apart like this. what a spoiled little mess.”

you could barely answer—too lost in the way her thumb rubbed circles over your clit, your thighs trembling with every motion. abby leaned down, breath hot against your cheek.

“you cum when i say. not a second before.”

and somehow, when she finally let you fall over the edge—voice in your ear commanding “let go. now.”—you came so hard you saw white.

but she didn’t stop.

“round one, sweetheart,” she said, tongue dragging over your throat. “now let’s see how long you can keep that cute little voice goin’.”

mizu

“don’t move. don’t speak. just… let me have this.”

the rain drummed softly on the paper windows of the teahouse. the tatami mats beneath your back were still warm from where she’d sat moments ago. now, mizu hovered over you, hair undone, eyes darkened with something primal—something she'd spent her whole life running from.

you reached up to touch her, but she caught your wrist mid-air. her grip wasn’t rough—but it trembled.

“no,” she said, voice husky. “don’t touch me.”

you stilled instantly, chest rising and falling beneath your robes.

mizu’s fingers ran down your arm, her breath uneven. her whole body looked like it was at war with itself, hovering like she didn’t trust her control—like she was holding herself back with every breath.

“you don’t understand…” she murmured, leaning down, her lips barely grazing the curve of your neck. “what you do to me.”

you whispered her name, pleading.

that broke her.

in a sudden movement, mizu pinned your wrists above your head, lips crashing against your throat—not soft, not gentle. her hands fumbled at your robe, parting the silk to expose your bare skin to the cool air.

"you shouldn't…" she growled against your collarbone, her voice nearly cracking. “but i—can’t stop.”

her fingers found your folds, trembling but firm, and you gasped at the contact. she watched you—intently—as if memorizing every reaction.

"you always lie there like this,” she whispered. “like you trust me. like you know i won't break you.”

her voice faltered. “but i want to.”

she pushed two fingers into you, slow at first, then deeper, faster, desperate. the way she fucked you wasn’t refined—it was hungry. furious. like years of discipline had been peeled away in seconds. her thumb circled your clit with rough insistence, her breath harsh near your ear.

"don’t move," she commanded, voice tight. “don’t speak. just—just take it. let me have this.”

your body obeyed.

the pleasure hit hard and fast. you cried out, but mizu only silenced you with her mouth—messy, teeth grazing, hands refusing to let you squirm.

and when you came, trembling, flushed, unable to breathe—she didn’t stop. she kept moving, burying her face in your neck like she was ashamed of herself.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, but her fingers were still inside you, still curling like she couldn’t let go. “i’m sorry. but i need you.”

and you—helpless, ruined, adored—let her have you again.

claire redfield

“don’t move. i need—fuck, i need you right now.”

the door slammed behind her with a force that rattled the hinges. her boots scuffed hard against the tile. breath ragged. eyes wild.

claire had just saved your life. again.

you were still in shock—blood humming, legs shaking—but all you could focus on was her. her shirt half-torn. holster hanging off her shoulder. face streaked with grime and sweat and that look—that look—in her eyes.

"get over here," she growled.

before you could take a step, she crossed the room in three strides and had you pinned against the wall, lips crashing into yours. her body radiated heat, her hands everywhere—gripping your thighs, dragging them up around her hips.

“safe,” she breathed against your mouth. “you’re safe now. fuck—"

you whined, barely able to process the shift from terror to lust, but claire didn’t give you time to catch up. she dropped the holster, didn’t even bother taking off her boots—just ripped your shirt up and over your head, teeth grazing your collarbone as her hand slipped between your thighs.

"so fuckin' soft," she muttered, voice strained. "all i could think about while shooting those bastards was this. you. laid out. begging."

you whimpered, already soaked, your back pressed flat against the wall as she shoved her fingers past the waistband of your underwear. rough, fast, desperate. her other hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head back so she could devour your throat.

“you gonna lie there and take it like my good girl?” she rasped. “you gonna let me make you cum while the world burns outside?”

you nodded—helpless, breathless.

"good."

two fingers plunged inside you—hard. you cried out, legs tightening around her, and claire groaned like it was killing her not to fuck you right there on the floor.

“you make me lose my goddamn mind,” she growled, thrusting deeper, faster, thumb circling your clit with expert pressure. “every fuckin’ time i look at you. you ruin me.”

and you did ruin her—because when you came, sobbing her name, writhing on her hand, claire lost it.

she held you against the wall, panting into your skin, still working you through every wave of pleasure. and then she leaned back, eyes dark, fingers still inside you.

“bed. now,” she ordered.

and you knew—she wasn’t finished.

jill valentine

“keep your legs open, sweetheart. if i have to say it again, i’ll make it hurt.”

you didn’t even hear her come in—silent as the grave, until the weight of her body pinned you to the bed.

your back arched on instinct, but jill was already between your legs, her thigh pressed hard against your center, and her gloved hand cupping your cheek with a cold, warning touch.

“don’t move,” she said, voice low and calm. “you’ve made enough noise for today.”

you whimpered, hands fisting in the sheets as she tilted your head up with just two fingers under your chin. her eyes scanned your face like she was reading every tell, every weakness. and then she smirked.

“you like being this useless, huh?” she whispered. “all spread out, waiting for someone to handle you.”

her thigh ground into you, slow and devastating. you gasped. she didn’t stop.

“tactical mistake, baby,” she murmured. “now i’m gonna take my time.”

jill reached down, unbuttoned your shirt with quick, practiced fingers—like she was disarming a bomb. and maybe she was, because the second her mouth hit your chest, you detonated.

“you lie back and take it. that’s your job tonight,” she said, licking a stripe up your neck. “mine is making sure you don’t forget who you belong to.”

then she slipped her hand into your panties, slow like a tease, but the second she touched you—all precision was gone.

"fuck—so wet already," she hissed, her fingers working you open. “you’ve been like this all day? waiting for me to come ruin you?”

you nodded, barely able to breathe.

“keep your legs open, sweetheart,” jill said again, voice dropping. “if i have to say it twice, i’ll tie them down.”

her thumb rubbed your clit with brutal accuracy, two fingers curling inside you with merciless rhythm. her body stayed calm, steady—just that single thigh pressing harder into you every time you moved, controlling your squirming without even trying.

“you’re close,” she whispered in your ear. “i can feel it. you gonna come for me, princess?”

you sobbed her name. she chuckled.

“good girl.”

and when you broke—shaking, helpless, drenched—jill didn’t even look ruffled. she just kissed your throat, slow and possessive.

“now. we do that again. and you don’t make a sound.”

ada wong

“stay still, darling. you’ll ruin my lipstick.”

ada had you against the cool silk of her hotel bed, lit only by the orange glow of the skyline bleeding in through the curtains. her red dress was still on—barely. the slit high enough to reveal the curve of her thigh as she straddled you, lipstick dark and perfect, not a single smear. yet.

“you always look at me like that,” she murmured, brushing a gloved hand along your cheek. “so innocent. so ready to be used.”

you swallowed, body already pliant under her. she hadn’t even touched you properly yet, but her gaze alone was enough to pin you in place.

“don’t move,” she whispered, leaning down until her lips just hovered over yours. “you’ll ruin the moment.”

her mouth trailed lower instead—along your jaw, down your throat, teeth grazing—but never biting. not yet. her fingers slid under your panties like silk itself, slow and elegant. and when she finally touched you?

“mm,” ada purred. “already soaked. what a surprise.”

you whimpered, and she smiled—soft and cruel.

“don’t worry, sweetheart,” she murmured, pressing two fingers into you with decadent ease. “you just lie there and be good for me. that’s all i want.”

her fingers were slow. precise. every curl was expertly angled. you couldn’t stop the way your body arched—but she tsked, free hand splaying across your belly, holding you down.

“i said don’t move,” she chided, voice cool but coaxing. “good girls lie still when i’m playing with them.”

the pressure built fast—too fast. you whimpered her name, and she only smirked.

“you want to cum?” she breathed, lips brushing your ear. “then stay still and take it.”

and when you did—when you shattered beneath her like glass—she still didn’t let up. she kissed you, slow and possessive, pulling back just enough to admire her handiwork.

lipstick: still perfect.

you: ruined.

chloe price

“god, you’re so fucking pretty when you just lie there like that.”

chloe had one knee pressed into the mattress, a cigarette still smoldering in the ashtray by the window. the room smelled like weed, punk rock vinyl, and her—faintly metallic, messy, sweet. you were already laid out beneath her, legs parted, shirt discarded.

and she was just… staring.

“you really just gonna let me do all the work, huh?” she asked, smirking, blue hair falling over one eye. “fuckin’ brat.”

you bit your lip, looking up at her with those wide, expectant eyes. that did it.

“goddamn it,” chloe muttered, crawling fully on top of you, her chain bracelet cold where it brushed your ribs. “you don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

she kissed you like she was starving—fast, reckless, biting at your bottom lip. and her hand? already slipping down your stomach, fingers rough but eager.

“bet you’re soaked already,” she muttered into your mouth, and then groaned when she felt exactly that. “fuck. i knew it.”

two fingers slid inside like she owned you—deep and messy, thumb already teasing your clit in slow circles.

"don’t move," she rasped, teeth grazing your neck. "don’t even think about moving. i wanna see how good my girl takes it."

you whimpered, body arching, but chloe just pressed her hand harder on your thigh to keep you down. her voice dropped, low and filthy:

“you’re my little pillow princess, right? just lying there. all sweet. all mine.”

her pace picked up—fingers thrusting faster, harder. your moans got louder, and she laughed, breath hot against your ear.

“yeah, that’s it. fuckin’ beautiful.”

you came hard—legs trembling, chest rising and falling—but chloe didn’t stop. just smirked and kissed your jaw.

“you’re not going anywhere tonight,” she whispered. “so be a good girl and stay exactly where i left you.”