#plotting someones demise

[feraltwinkseb]

May 5, 2005 - Barcelona, Spain Source: Vladimir Rys/Bongarts/Getty Images

[prankprincess123]

Having the Triforce on your hand is kinda like those soulmate fics where you have names on each wrist identifying your true love and arch enemy, except if you have the Triforce of Power you get two enemies because you literally cursed yourself to watch their awkward teenage romance and get beaten up by them repeatedly for eternity.

[chaoticke]

I’m still thinking about how in All of Our Demise Alistair was so clearly ready to kill or be killed that the the authors had to give him the “kill people and you die” curse and it was still barely enough to stop him from saying fuck it and burning the tournament and remaining champions to the ground in Hendry’s name

[good-wine-and-cheese]

blorbo bingo ask: either grimmer or tenma!!

Thank you for the ask <3 you get Tenma!!!

I love Tenma a lot as a character and I simultaneously want to see him heal and also go through more situations. Whereas with Grimmer that man has gone through everything already and is more fun just to heal, Tenma is a lot of fun to uh make suffer. I am sorry.

Also when saying fandom takes are wrong and he is underrated, I'm kind of talking about the monster fandom at large which includes older fandom takes and stuff I've seen elsewhere. There are people that thing Tenma is a boring and bad protagonist who has zero development and doesn't have any flaws and I want to know what show it watched because it was not monster. And yeah he's underrated because so, so many people will hold Johan up as the peak character, or even Grimmer or Lunge (rightfully so) but like, Tenma is great too! He doesn't seem to get discussed that much at all by the casual fan compared to Johan. Makea me crazy.

[oh-katsuki]

satosugu fic crumbs >:)) 

[alastors-radioshow]

444

Send me a random number and I will go through my icons to that specific number and post it

[somebodylovesyougcv]

beloved mutuals/followers what fictional couple are you the third in

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[loveinhawkins]

Eddie really can’t afford to be late, but he is anyway; the school year’s slipping away from him again. He nearly falls in his haste to cut across the parking lot—when he curses the sheet of ice beneath his sneakers, it sounds more like he’s cursing himself.

Someone’s holding the front door open for him. Eddie’s torn between hurrying even more or slowing down; he’s gotten used to certain people holding the door only to let it swing shut at the last second. His senior year the first time around was the worst for it: the bruise on his shoulder was as constant as a tattoo.

But the impulse to speed up must win, because whoever’s holding the door makes a motion with one hand, bringing it up to chest height before lowering it, palm tilted slightly up: dude, relax, it’s okay.

And Eddie’s seen that gesture often enough on the basketball court while pretending not to watch the game—spotted it in silent response to a failed throw, or even after an accidental shove from someone on the rival team.

So it’s not really a surprise when he gets close enough to confirm that Steve Harrington is holding the door.

Steve definitely doesn’t need to be; the school secretary is probably plotting his demise because of how long he’s been letting the cold air in.

They don’t exchange any words, but Steve gives a tiny wry smile, like they’re on the same team—although Eddie’s sure that Steve, at least, can afford to be late.

His hair is sticking up at the sides, toast crumbs on his burgundy sweater—Eddie can picture him suddenly, eating hastily as he gets into his car.

And it’s a fleeting, endearingly unpolished image, gone as soon as Eddie’s fingertips touch the door, to be replaced by the buzzing dread of tests and essays; he’s oblivious to the fact that in someplace far colder than this late morning, he’ll tell Steve Harrington that he’s actually a good dude, like the thought’s just occurred to him—thinking all the while oh, I already knew.

[beemochi-art]

SHOCKWAVE AND WHIRL!!

A Dangerous genius from the depths of the nemesis, an unknown danger beneath the depths of their very ship. Whirl, his bodyguard, eyes to the outside and most importantly his consort.

Time to talk about their LORE!

Shockwave awoke, connected to the wall, weak, cold and confused, connected to the wall by cords and wires. So much information was running through his head he had to break free from the wall to catch a break. It took some time The voice’s kept calling him shockwave. It took some time but Shockwave used the database he was connected too to learn the history of the cybertron war, what happened the planet, where he was and most importantly what happened to him. He discovered the decepticons called him shockwave because that’s what they’d call the database ai (similar to Siri.) created by Soundwave. He also figured out no one knew he was in this little room.

It was unknown who Shockwave was before his Empurata ritual happened. He doesn’t remember anything from his past not even his real name. Slowly things here and there would come back to him, memories of his old life, people he cared about but don’t know anymore. With the discovery of cybertrons demise. Shockwave became angry. He want the both decepticons and autobots to die for their war, he knows that their planet may be beyond fixing. He swore a slow revenge for both parties.

But while upgrading and plotting, he started getting some of his emotions, he started getting lonely and wondering if any other Empurata we’re capable of breaking out of their trance.

(Only decepticons have Empurata aka drones in their faction due to have enough resources for them and that they are basically fee labor. Drones are lower class them not really considered alive, so often times they are vehicons or work in dangerous areas. They are lower than servant Class cons)

Shockwave didn’t want to damage any vehicons or cause unnecessary death. So he told himself if he caught one with any hint of life to them he would continue with procedures. Until then he worked on himself and mapped out weaknesses in the decepticon army.

One day he spotted a vehicon looking at itself through windows or lagging behind others. Not entirely paying attention. It wasn’t hard to find him because of the unique markings on its neck. Shockwave stole him away, no one would notice and went though the procedure of waking the vehicon.

The Drone was confused and scared most of the time and barely spoke. Mostly just staying in a corner or looking at their reflection. Shockwave would mostly leave them alone. Eventually tho as the Drones personality began to shine through, they asked questions or make pretty honest remarks, they could offend times be considered rude. Shockwave didn’t care tho, it was nice just to have someone around. Then the Drone personality came back full swing Bold, crazy, honest, crude. Most interesting this mech had no fear. They were also a very skilled and dangerous opponent often pulling insane manic maneuvers when fighting just too win, they were incredibly strong. It was hard for shockwave to keep up. One day the drone remembered his own name, Whirl.

The two work closely together. Whirl pretends to be a regular old vehicon on the surface. While shockwave upgrades and preps their next movie. It’s difficult for Whirl sometimes tho, because he doesn’t take disrespect lightly and he has to keep most of his skills to a minimal level.

[thedemoninme141]

Not A Bad Day.

Summary: Wednesday is having a bad day.

Warning: FLUFF!!! WhippedWednesday! Soggy Shoes! (Author's note: The Office inspired me to write this.) Main Masterlist

Wednesday considered herself well-acquainted with misery, but today seemed particularly intent on testing her patience. From the moment she woke up—thirty minutes late, no less— a mortifying mistake that never would have happened at home. There, her beheading alarm would have swiftly corrected such negligence.

She sighed, Dreams about you might be her demise one day.

Getting dressed was a simple affair, but Wednesday’s shirt decided to be uncooperative, with a button popping off as she fastened it. She muttered darkly under her breath, already plotting how she’d punish the garment later.

She couldn't escape her room without hearing Enid's annoying "Good morning Willa." She can already feel it; this day is going to get worse.

The next blow to her day came in the form of a WHOLE two-point deduction on her literature test. Ninety-eight out of one hundred. Unacceptable. Wednesday had never scored below a perfect hundred in her life, and the sight of that glaring red "98" felt like a personal affront. She glared at the paper, as if willing it to correct itself through sheer force of will. But it remained stubbornly the same.

If that weren't enough, Bianca had beaten her in the fencing match. It wasn't that Bianca was an unworthy opponent; on the contrary, she was the only student who ever gave Wednesday a challenge. She had lost to her before but losing to her today, of all days, felt like a deliberate twist of fate.

Then there was lunch. Wednesday was usually content to sit alone, Only reason she started sitting with Enid is because... You, with your disgustingly wholesome smile, would be there, chatting with the group as Wednesday would steal her glances at you. But not today, you had to sit with the group from your art class. She doesn't care it was because of your group project, all she saw was how you laughed at something someone said, your smile like a knife twisting in her gut. She stabbed her fork into her lunch with unnecessary force, imagining it was the face of each and every person at your table. She dissected them in her mind, weighing their worth and finding them all significantly lacking. Why did you seem so content, so oblivious to her glaring presence?

So hurriedly, she got up, distracted by another sound of you laughing, running into Kent, who managed to spill his drink all over her freshly cleaned boots. The shock on his face as he stammered apologies did nothing to quell the rage bubbling in Wednesday’s chest. She was about to take out her knife and skin him alive in front of the whole school, but the whole school also included "you". So she just shot him a glare that promised retribution far worse than anything he could imagine before marching off to her next class. Her boots squelched unpleasantly with every step, and she found herself grinding her teeth in frustration.

When she returned to her room, She found Enid, frantically digging through her side of the room, tossing clothes and accessories in every direction as she prepared to go somewhere. Normally, the sight would have irritated Wednesday beyond measure, but today, it promised peace and quiet in the room once Enid left. Finally, she could get her writing time all to herself without Enid's constant chatter with Ajax on the phone.

She settled at her desk, getting her typewriter ready, Enid piped up, not waiting for Wednesday to ask what she was up to.

"I'm going to the mall with the girls, Do you wanna come too?"

Wednesday didn’t even look up from her typewriter. "Absolutely not."

Enid didn’t seem fazed by the cold response and, still humming a tune under her breath, made her way to the bathroom. Wednesday was just about to enjoy the rare tranquility of the room when she heard a soft knock at the door.

She opened it with her usual grimace, only for it to fade slightly at the sight of you standing there. Your bright eyes met hers as you greeted her with a warm smile, one that always seemed to disarm her no matter how much she steeled herself against it.

"Hey, Wednesday! Is Enid ready yet?" you asked, your voice light and friendly.

Before Wednesday could respond, Enid's muffled voice rang out from the bathroom, "Five minutes!"

Wednesday shifted awkwardly, the silence stretching out as you stepped into the room. She closed the door behind you, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in her chest.

"Thanks," you said, making yourself comfortable on Enid's bed. You glanced over at Wednesday, your expression softening. "Hey, why don't you come with us? It could be fun." you said just as Enid got out of the bathroom. "Wednesday? Fun? She’s not really into shop—"

"I need to buy a watch." Wednesday interrupted, the words slipping out before she could stop herself. She could have slapped herself. A watch? Out of all the excuses in the world, that was the best?

Enid blinked in confusion, her brows furrowing. "But you don’t even wear a—"

"I wear now," Wednesday snapped, cutting her off sharply. Her cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of color.

"Okay then, Get out of those soggy shoes if you wanna join us," Enid said,

Soggy shoes? Owh... she had been wearing coffee-soaked shoes in front of you the whole time? Where was her mind today? This day can't get any worse.

Yet, somehow, it did. There she was, suffering through the ordeal of Enid browsing through every hideous, brightly coloured dress imaginable. She watched as Enid and Yoko flitted from rack to rack like hyperactive butterflies, pulling out monstrosities of neon and glitter. She shuddered internally at the thought of anyone ever considering those abominations fashion.

"How long can it possibly take to find something as uninspired as a pink sweater?" Wednesday muttered under her breath, glancing at her forcefully bought watch for what felt like the hundredth time. It was getting late. If it were up to her, she’d have left Enid and Yoko to fend for themselves. A mugging wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to them after sunset. But then there were you, and Wednesday wouldn't want you to lose the purse she gifted you on your last birthday. It was annoyingly, pathetically enough to make her stay.

The drive back was hardly any better. The bus was packed, loud, and the journey felt interminable. Enid and Yoko continued their chatter, oblivious to Wednesday’s increasingly sour expression. She stared out of the window, willing the outside world to disappear so she could retreat into her thoughts. If only her powers could manifest to the point of invisibility, she’d gladly vanish right there.

But then, something changed. A weight on her shoulder.

You, sitting beside her, leaned your head against her shoulder as you let out a tired sigh. You had drifted off, exhausted from the day, and the quiet weight of your presence was the most soothing thing Wednesday had experienced all day. Wednesday didn’t move, didn’t dare to breathe too deeply for fear of disturbing you. The chaos around her faded into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of your breathing.

Not a bad day, she thought. Not bad at all.

(Why am I writing so much fluff, Celine would be so disappointed at me lol)

[literaila]

Can we get a scene where reader and satoru get sent to the principals office? I think it would be so chaotic

“y/n,” satoru coos, poking at your cheek. “c’mon, i know you want to say something.”

you slap his hand away, refusing to look at him.

“you’re scowling, and your mouth keeps twitching,” your face hardens even more and satoru sighs. “just let it out. it’s just us, you know? no need to feel self conscious around little old me.”

you let his stupid arrogant voice ring out, crossing your arms.

your eyes are drooping, your neck is sore and you feel… furious, idiotic, nervous, and most of all—furious.

this is all gojo’s stupid fault, with his stupid ideas, his stupid sunglasses, and his stupid gps.

seriously, how dumb can one person be?

you’ve gotten in trouble with him before—for bickering during training, or stealing his snacks, or being late for dinner because someone forgot how to tie his shoes—but it’s never been this bad.

yaga’s never had to step out of the classroom for so long to… what? avoid a heart attack? keep his head from exploding?

so if you’re ignoring satoru and secretly plotting his demise, who can blame you?

if nanami were here, he would approve.

gojo groans. “just say something,” he pleads. “i hate the silent treatment. i might die. do you want me to die?”

and maybe it’s his tone of voice, or the innocence he’s showboating, or his mental incompetence, but you break.

“go to hell,” you hiss, still staring at the chalk board.

damn it.

he grins at you, pulling on the sleeve of your shirt. “that’s not very friendly,” he tells you. “what would haibara say?”

maybe you can’t look at him because his face is another one of your breaking points. if only yaga was as susceptible to his grin as you.

“he would tell you to stop antagonizing me,” you slump down in your seat, feet tapping against the floor anxiously.

“what? i wouldn’t do that to my favorite underclassman.”

“this is all your fault.”

satoru snorts. “i cant even drive,” he argues. “and you’re the one who made the key.”

“only because i was listening to you! you told me no one would even notice.”

“i don’t recall.”

“‘c’mon, y/n,’” you mock, “‘it’ll be fine. everyone’s sleeping. don’t you wanna go for a joyride?’”

“who is that supposed to be?”

“i can’t believe you.”

satoru sighs. “how is this my fault? you’re the one who couldn’t sleep.”

you finally turn to him, eyes sharper than daggers. his smile can go to hell too.

“i hope you’ve enjoyed your life so far because it’s going to be over as soon as we get out of here.”

“go ahead and try, sweetheart.”

“i will kill you—“

satoru shakes his head. then he holds his hands up in defense. “you try and help a friend,” he says, so pitifully. “you try to be nice and instead of thank you, you get threatened.”

you lean towards him unconsciously. everything about satoru is a antithesis to evolution, to karma. “you want me to thank you for getting me potentially expelled?”

he laughs. “you’re worried about yaga? that pushover? when me and suguru broke that wall he just told us that curfew was an hour earlier.”

“well we didn’t break a wall, you dimwit! we stole a car!”

satoru taps at the table, snorting. “dimwit? that’s what you came up with?”

“it’s four in the morning!”

“is that why you’re so moody?”

“i am not moody,” you kick at his leg. “you’re just annoying.”

if nothing else, at least the bickering is a nice distraction from the actual crisis at hand.

in a couple of days you’ll probably appreciate this moment for what it is. appreciate gojo for caring about your insomnia and pulling you away from your hell of a world for at least a couple of hours.

you’ll recognize him for what he is. you’ll remember that the only reason you agreed to a late night drive with him is because of those eyes, because he smiled at you when he asked and—

you’ll look back at this fondly someday.

but for right now you would like to blame gojo for everything and punch him in his stupid face.

he nudges you back. “you’re freaking out about this for no reason.”

“we’re locked in a classroom waiting for yaga’s verdict,” you grind out, “he dragged you in by your ear.”

gojo waves a hand. he leans back in the chair, hands behind his head. “he’ll yell at us for an hour and then make us clean the common room.”

“i saw a vein on his forehead.”

“that’s always been there.”

you sigh and close your eyes. “i’m going to be homeless. i’m gonna be kicked out and i’ll have to work at a gas station for the rest of my life and i’ll probably be fired and i’ll never amount to anything.”

satoru laughs.

you whine, laying across the desk. “i’m never going to see shoko again.”

“i’m sure she’ll visit you at the gas station. you know how much she smokes.”

you make a face. “i’ll have to find some old rich guy to marry.”

“just marry me instead,” satoru suggests, easily.

you give him a blank stare. “you’re already dead in this scenario.”

he yawns, looking around. then he turns back to you. “are you really only going to miss shoko? what about me?”

“i’ll go to your funeral, i guess.”

satoru pouts. “i was helping you! i’m older and wiser. just trust me on this.”

“i trusted you when you said there was no way for yaga to find out.”

“okay…” satoru licks his lips. “so i make one mistake.”

you glare at him. “one?”

he grins. “at least if we get expelled, we’ll be expelled together.”

“are you kidding? me and one of the three special grade sorcerers? you’ll get a slap on the wrist.”

satoru contemplates this for a moment, and you suddenly realize that he looks.. tired. did he stay up just to entertain you? should you feel bad for getting him in trouble because he wanted to make you feel better? should you care about him at all?

he taps at his chin, another smile breaking his face. “you bring up a good point. i’ll just threaten yaga if he tries to kick you out.”

you groan, rubbing your eyes, deciding you don’t care if he’s tired or not. “i genuinely don’t know how you’ve survived this long.”

“well, it’s—“

and then the classroom door opens.

both of you sit up—because despite whatever satoru might say, you know he’s just feigning nonchalance. if anything, he’s at least dreading a lecture.

its just instinctual when you open your mouth, really.

“it’s all gojo’s fault—“

“she’s the one who crashed the car—“

you both turn to each other simultaneously, words clashing into one another.

satoru frowns and you point a finger at him. “it’s called parking you asshole—“

and, okay. maybe its a little bit your fault.

[whatwooshkai]

"put this guy in earthspark" "put that guy in earthspark" I think you are all correct but I've been thinking about it so here's who I would love to see in earthspark and why:

-sunstreaker and sideswipe (this show is all about family when was the last time the twins were on screen together huh. they are speedster twins twitch and thrash would love them)

-ironhide (would be plotting megatron's demise the second he saw him. like optimus' scary dog who barks every time megatron gets too close "he don't bite" "YES HE DO")

-jazz and prowl (I think they should show up together. I think prowl needs someone to handle people for him because if he showed up by himself it would not end well. also I love jazz and find their dynamic fun, plus jazz would love the terrans)

-ratchet and deadlock (specifically deadlock. it would be so funny. imagine ratchet comes into camp and they're like "holy shit thank god finally an actual medic who can help us" but look he's got the cybtertronian equivalent of a feral attack dog following him that adores him and hates everyone else and he's not doing anything about it)

-thundercracker and buster (GIVE HIM HIS DOG!! bonus points if skywarp and starscream are like "oh we don't know about thundercracker. we lost him years ago. we hope one day to find him and welcome him with open arms" and this whole time he's had a dog and been writing screenplays like "oh they know I'm fine" [they don't])

-first aid (I love ratchet but bro's been dominating the medical field. put first aid in. or literally any other medic actually. put fucking pharma in and let him go wild. that would be fun. but back to first aid I love his character and I think his "I'm a medic, but..." attitude would fit perfectly, and he'd love the terrans)

-pharma

-whirl (do it you fucking cowards. and don't do it like cyberverse. make him unhinged. he would be such a bad influence it would be great)

[seafarersdream]

Scaly Tales | Modern AU! (Aemond Targaryen x Y/N)

Y/N works at her dad’s reptile shop, but only because he’s currently out of town. She, on the other hand, is stuck with snakes, lizards, and things that make her skin crawl. To be clear: she hates reptiles. They terrify her. One day, in strolls Aemond Targaryen — tall, brooding, and way too attractive for someone who’s genuinely interested in a green iguana named Vhagar. Word count: 4,1k

TW // Strong language and profanities, mild innuendos, potentially dangerous animal encounters, alcohol consumption (beer).

“I swear to god, if that thing comes anywhere near me, I'm quitting my own dad's shop.”

Y/N muttered to herself, fingers clutching the edge of the glass counter as if it might somehow protect her from the green menace that stared at her from across the room.

Vhagar, the reptile shop’s resident iguana, was perched regally on her branch like she owned the place. Which, honestly, she probably did. The shop, Scaly Tales, was a low-key nightmare of flicking tongues, beady eyes, and the occasional hiss that sent shivers down her spine. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with an irritating hum, casting a sickly yellow glow over the rows of terrariums lining the walls.

Y/N tapped her foot impatiently, glancing at the clock. Another five hours until closing. Five hours of trying not to look too closely at the boa constrictor named Smaug or the tarantula in the corner that she swore was plotting her demise.

Just as she was contemplating the merits of accidentally leaving the door unlocked and letting all the reptiles escape into the wild, the bell over the door jingled. She looked up, more out of instinct than interest, and nearly choked on her own breath.

In walked a guy who looked like he’d been carved out of marble and decided to slum it on a random Wednesday afternoon. Tall, lean, with silvery-blonde hair that was braided. He had a scar running down his left cheek that made him look like he’d survived a pirate raid or, at the very least, a really bad skateboarding accident. He was dressed in all black and had a single silver earring shaped like a tiny dragon.

Y/N blinked. Twice.

“Uh, can I help you?” she finally managed, voice higher-pitched than she intended.

The guy glanced around, his one visible eye narrowing as if assessing the situation. “Doubt it,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. He had a voice like whiskey over gravel, the kind that made you want to lean in closer just to catch every word.

Y/N scowled. “Right. Well, the exit’s behind you if you’re lost.”

He chuckled, low and throaty. “Nah, not lost. Just… curious.”

“About?” She crossed her arms, feeling the sharp edge of her dad’s old Scaly Tales polo shirt dig into her skin.

He didn’t answer right away, instead, his gaze drifted past her to Vhagar, who was still sitting on her branch, blinking slowly as if she couldn’t give less of a shit about the entire interaction. “That iguana,” the guy finally said, pointing with a finger adorned with silver rings. “What’s its name?”

Y/N’s arched an eyebrow in confusion but answered anyway. “Her name’s Vhagar”

The guy’s smirk grew. “Curious choice.”

“Don’t ask. I wasn’t the one who named her,” she said, drawing out the word.

He took a step closer to the counter, and for a moment, Y/N’s heart did a weird little jump, like it was trying to hop out of her chest. “I was wondering,” he continued, “if you were looking for help around here.”

“Help?” She snorted. “Mate, you do realize this is a reptile shop, right? It’s no Canary Wharf.”

His grin widened, and he leaned against the counter, one hand casually slipping into the pocket of what clearly looks like a bespoke trousers. “Yeah, I got that. I’m not here for the pay. Just… interested.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into her voice. “Interested in what exactly? Because, no offense, you don’t look like the type who’s into snakes and lizards.”

He shrugged, a movement that seemed annoyingly graceful. “You got me there. Not into snakes. But I’ve got a thing for iguanas.”

She let out a laugh before she could stop herself. “Of course, you do. Why?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering her with that one piercing blue eye that looks unnervingly purple-ish from some angles. “I like that they’re a bit… prickly. Takes a certain kind of patience to handle them. To make them trust you.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that she hadn’t done her hair this morning and was probably wearing yesterday's eyeliner smudges. “Alright, fine,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “You can… I don’t know, volunteer or something. Just don’t get bitten or sue us, yeah?”

He straightened up, looking genuinely pleased for the first time since he walked in. “Deal,” he said, offering his hand.

She eyed his hand like it was a venomous snake. “Name?”

“Aemond,” he replied, his smile turning a little softer, almost boyish. “Aemond Targaryen.”

She stared at him, momentarily stunned by the sheer poshness of it. “Of course, it is.”

He chuckled again. “And you are?”

“Y/N L/N,” she said, shaking his hand reluctantly. His grip was firm, his skin cool against hers. She quickly pulled away, trying not to feel like a teenager meeting their crush for the first time.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said smoothly. “Now, tell me… how do I win over Vhagar?”

She snorted. “Mate, I’ve been trying to figure that out for weeks. Good luck.”

He glanced back at the iguana, who was still watching them with what could only be described as supreme indifference. “Challenge accepted.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “Yeah, alright, Mr. Targaryen. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

As it turns out, Aemond was a bloody animal whisperer.

Y/N watched, slack-jawed and barely breathing, as he casually stuck his hand into Smaug’s terrarium — Smaug, the fifteen-foot boa constrictor with a temper that could put any football hooligan to shame. The snake, instead of latching onto Aemond’s arm and turning him into a human-sized chew toy, just… rested its head in his hand like a sodding pet cat.

“Oh, come on,” Y/N muttered under her breath, feeling a mixture of disbelief and, okay, maybe a bit of annoyance. "Seriously?"

Aemond glanced over his shoulder, that ever-present smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Something wrong?" he asked, and there was no mistaking the amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, loads,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “Starting with the fact that you seem to have some weird Snow White powers over these things.”

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that somehow made her stomach flip. “It’s not that hard,” he said, still scratching Smaug’s head with his fingers. “You just have to understand them. Respect them.”

Y/N scoffed. “Respect them? Right. And what, exactly, do I need to respect about the tarantula that tried to jump at my face this morning?”

Aemond straightened up, moving away from the terrarium, and headed toward the tarantula’s glass enclosure. “Arachne?” he asked, his tone teasing. “She’s just misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood?” Y/N echoed, incredulous. “Mate, she’s got eight legs and hairy fangs. She’s the stuff of nightmares.”

Aemond turned to face her fully, leaning against the counter with a look that said he was enjoying this far too much. “You don’t really like being here, do you?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly as if studying her.

Y/N felt a flush creep up her neck. She shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m not here by choice, alright?” she confessed. “My dad owns the shop, and he’s off gallivanting in Glasgow, so I’m stuck running this freak show until he gets back.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah, so you’re just here to keep the peace?”

“Something like that,” she muttered. “If peace is what you call feeding dead mice to snakes and hoping they don’t escape in the night.”

He laughed again, a real laugh this time, not just a smirk or a chuckle, and Y/N found herself almost… liking the sound of it. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said, a hint of softness in his voice. “They won’t bite unless they’re scared. And they’re only scared if you are.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s reassuring,” she grumbled, but a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Aemond pushed off the counter and walked slowly towards her, his steps measured and confident. “Tell you what,” he said, lowering his voice slightly, like he was sharing a secret. “I’ll handle the scary ones. You just… look cute behind the counter.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, and she felt her face go warm. “Oi!” she sputtered. “I am not… cute. I’m the manager here.”

He grinned, clearly delighted with her flustered reaction. “Right, of course. Very professional. Your dad must be proud.”

She gave him a half-hearted glare, but she couldn’t deny that there was something oddly charming about the way he was looking at her, like he found her reaction endlessly entertaining. “You know, I could just kick you out,” she threatened, trying to sound stern.

Aemond leaned in a little closer, a playful glint in his eye. “But then who would deal with Vhagar?” he asked, nodding towards the iguana, who had finally decided to grace them with a slight head tilt.

Y/N sighed, exasperated. “Fine, fine. You can stay,” she grumbled, waving a hand. “But only because Vhagar seems to like you.”

He nodded solemnly. “A wise decision, Ms. Manager.”

She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help the grin that broke free. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get too comfortable, Prince Charming. This isn’t some Disney movie.”

Aemond flashed her a grin that was all trouble. “Don’t worry, love. I think I can handle a bit of drama.”

Y/N snorted. “Trust me, mate, you have no idea what you’ve signed up for.”

He gave her a mock bow, and she couldn’t help but laugh, a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in ages.

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The next morning, right at 10, just as Y/N was flipping the sign on the door from “Closed” to “Open,” the bell above the door jingled. She looked up, expecting to see some bored teenager or one of the usual reptile enthusiasts, but there he was — Aemond Targaryen, in the flesh.

He strolled in like he owned the place, wearing a crisp white button-up under a dark green wool coat, the kind that probably cost more than her rent. His hair was flowing freely in a way that looked both effortless and like it required some absurdly expensive product. He had an aura about him, like he was about to walk into a high-profile board meeting rather than a slightly dingy reptile shop.

“Morning,” he greeted, flashing that infuriatingly charming grin.

Y/N squinted at him, still half-asleep and clutching her cup of coffee like it was a life raft. “You’re back,” she said flatly, as if she was stating the obvious. Which, of course, she was.

Aemond chuckled. “What, did you think I’d scare off after one day?”

She shrugged, turning back to the counter to hide her smile. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did. Not exactly Westminster around here, is it?”

“Maybe not,” he said, moving closer and glancing around, “but it’s got… character.”

Y/N snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

He didn’t seem to mind the sarcastic jab. Instead, he started rolling up the sleeves of his pristine white shirt, exposing the tattoos that ran up his forearms — dragons, of course, snaking around his skin in intricate black ink. She found herself staring, just for a second too long, before snapping her eyes back up to his face.

“So,” he said casually, “what’s on the agenda today?”

Y/N shrugged again, taking a sip of her coffee. “Well, first, we’re gonna open up the store, then do all the stuff that involves keeping these creepy crawlies alive. But you—” she pointed a finger at him “—are gonna do the heavy lifting. I’m staying a safe distance away from anything that slithers, hisses, or has more legs than I do.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Sounds fair. I’ll take the snake duty, then.”

And he did. He moved with a surprising ease, lifting crates of feed and handling the cages like he’d been doing it for years. Y/N couldn’t help but be a little impressed. At one point, he was juggling a bag of crickets, a box of frozen mice, and a pail of water all at once.

“How are you not dropping any of that?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He flashed her a toothy grin. “Coordination, darling. Comes with practice.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small grin. He made everything look so annoyingly easy. And he had this way of making even the most mundane tasks seem… well, not fun, but bearable, at least.

After about an hour of this, she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the curiosity in her voice. “I mean, don’t you have a job or something?”

Aemond paused, wiping his hands on a cloth before turning to face her, his expression relaxed. “Nah,” he said with a casual shrug. “Don’t need one.”

Y/N blinked. “What, like, ever?”

He nodded. “Pretty much. My family’s loaded.”

“Loaded,” she repeated, not sure she’d heard him right. “Like, trust fund kid kind of loaded?”

He gave her a lazy smile, his eye glinting with amusement. “Something like that. My family's got more money than sense, if that gives you a clue.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you’re here, volunteering at a reptile shop, for free?”

He leaned against the counter next to her, a bit closer than was probably necessary, but she didn’t move away. “Yeah. Thought it might be fun. Plus,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I find your reactions quite entertaining.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck and cursed herself silently. “Oh, do you now?”

He nodded, his grin widening. “Yeah. Watching you flinch every time Arachne moves is becoming quite the highlight for me.”

She huffed, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I’m not flinching. I’m… being cautious. That thing’s got too many legs for comfort.”

He laughed, genuinely amused. “Right, sure. Cautious. Keep telling yourself that, love.”

She glared at him, but there was no real heat in it. “So what do you actually do all day if you’re not… you know, working?”

Aemond shrugged again, as if this was the most normal conversation in the world. “Oh, I read, I go to the gym, I travel… the usual.”

“The usual?” she echoed, incredulous. “Mate, that’s not usual for most people.”

He smiled again, this time with a hint of something softer behind it. “Guess I’m not most people.”

Y/N bit back a laugh. “Clearly.” She turned back to the register, trying to ignore the way her pulse sped up just a bit whenever he looked at her like that. “Alright, posh boy. You want to hang around and be useful, fine by me. But don’t get in my way.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes again, but she couldn’t stop the smile that crept across her face.

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“Bloody hell, the turtle’s loose!”

Y/N’s shout echoed through the shop just as she was flipping the sign back to “Closed.” She spun around, her heart hammering in her chest, to see Aemond standing a few feet away, holding an empty glass enclosure door in his hand like it was some kind of weird prop.

“And that would be which one?” Aemond asked, his face a mix of concern and — was that amusement?

“Triton!” Y/N hissed, eyes wide as she scanned the floor. “The bloody snapping turtle!”

Aemond blinked, then burst into laughter. “The turtle?” he asked, still laughing. “How fast could it have gotten?”

Y/N shot him a death glare. “Fast enough, apparently! And he bites, remember? Like, really bites!”

As if on cue, a low, angry hiss filled the air. Y/N’s eyes darted toward the sound and spotted Triton, the shop’s resident menace of a snapping turtle, making a surprisingly speedy beeline towards the open door of the shop, his jagged shell scraping against the floor.

“Shit!” Y/N cursed, darting forward instinctively before skidding to a halt. “Okay, no, never mind, I’m not doing this. I’m not getting near that little beast.”

Aemond, still holding the glass door like some absurd shield, grinned. “Come on, it’s just a turtle.”

“Just a turtle?” Y/N shot back, her voice rising. “That thing has jaws like a bloody bear trap! I am not risking my fingers, thank you very much!”

Aemond sighed dramatically, tossing the glass door onto the counter with a loud clatter. “Alright, alright. Step aside, manager. I’ll handle this.”

He moved toward Triton, who was now hissing like a demon freshly unleashed from hell, his beady little eyes locked on Aemond’s every step. “Easy there, mate,” Aemond cooed, crouching down slightly. “We’re all friends here.”

Triton did not seem convinced. He opened his mouth wide, revealing a jagged, prehistoric maw that looked like it could snap through bone without much effort. Aemond’s smirk faltered just a bit.

“Uh, Aemond?” Y/N called out from behind the counter, where she’d taken refuge. “You do realize that thing isn’t gonna just roll over and play fetch, right?”

Aemond shot her a look over his shoulder, his smile somewhere between cocky and slightly terrified. “I’ve got this,” he replied, although he didn’t sound quite as sure as he had a moment ago.

“Famous last words,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Aemond took another step forward, inching closer to Triton, who seemed to be winding up like a spring. “Alright, Triton, just stay calm,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You don’t want to bite me. I’m not very tasty, I promise.”

Suddenly, Triton lunged, jaws snapping with a loud clack that echoed through the shop. Aemond jerked back, nearly losing his balance. “Okay, noted,” he said, his voice tight with adrenaline. “Definitely not friendly.”

Y/N, despite the panic racing through her veins, couldn’t help but laugh. “I told you! He’s like the Hannibal Lecter of turtles!”

Aemond threw her a half-exasperated, half-amused look. “Helpful, thanks.”

Y/N glanced around wildly, spotting the broom leaning against the wall. “Use the broom!” she shouted, pointing.

Aemond grabbed the broom, holding it out like a sword. “Alright, Triton, let’s do this,” he muttered, moving in cautiously. He nudged the turtle gently with the broom’s bristles, trying to coax him away from the door.

Triton hissed again, then clamped down on the broom with a force that made Aemond’s eyes widen. “Bloody hell, he’s got a grip like a vice!”

Y/N is sweating bullets now. “Told you! You’re fighting for your life out there!”

Aemond struggled to wrestle the broom free, Triton thrashing wildly at the end of it. He gave the broom one last, hard tug, finally wrenching it free from Triton’s jaws. The turtle, clearly pissed off, made a beeline straight for him.

“Plan B!” Y/N shouted, scrambling onto a chair. “What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B is… I don’t know!” Aemond shouted back, darting around the counter with surprising agility. “Distract him!”

“How the hell do you distract a turtle?” she yelled, almost hysterical.

Aemond grabbed a bag of lettuce from the shelf and tossed a handful in Triton’s direction. “Here, mate, have a snack!”

Triton paused, sniffing the air with apparent suspicion, but then began to chomp at the leaves like a small, angry lawnmower.

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Okay, that… that actually worked?”

Aemond wiped his brow with a dramatic flourish. “See? I told you, I’ve got this.”

Y/N shook her head, half-amused, half-terrified. “Yeah, alright, Targaryen. But next time, you’re wearing armor.”

As the chaos finally settled, Y/N climbed down from her chair. She couldn’t believe they had just survived a snapping turtle attack — and that Aemond had somehow managed to make it look borderline heroic, even with a broom in hand.

She caught her breath and gave him a playful nudge. “You just saved me from a killer turtle. I guess I owe you one.”

Aemond, still holding the broom like some sort of knight who’d vanquished a beast, smirked at her. “What would you even do without me, huh?”

Y/N leaned against the counter, still a little giddy from the adrenaline. “So… do you drink beers? Or are you too posh for that? I was thinking I’d get you a couple as a thank you. Camden’s full of good pubs.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if he’d laugh or roll his eyes at the suggestion. He didn’t seem like the beer-and-pub type — more like the expensive wine in a penthouse kind of guy. But then, to her surprise, his entire face lit up.

“Beers?” he repeated, his tone a mix of intrigue and enthusiasm. “Absolutely. I could use one after that gladiator match remake with Triton.”

Y/N grinned, genuinely surprised by his enthusiasm. “Alright then, it’s settled. First round’s on me.”

Aemond didn’t argue, and together, they locked up the shop. The evening sun was just beginning to dip behind the rows of buildings in Camden, casting a warm, golden light over the bustling streets. The crowds had thinned out slightly as people finished their shopping, but the familiar hum of the city still surrounded them. Street performers were packing up, and the faint smell of food stalls lingered in the air.

They walked side by side, the rhythm of their steps in sync, heading toward one of the pubs just a short walk away. The air was cool, but not cold, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Y/N felt relaxed. Even after a day of dealing with reptiles and rogue turtles.

“You don’t strike me as the type who hangs out in Camden much,” Y/N said, glancing up at Aemond as they walked. “Do you even go to pubs?”

Aemond grinned, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Believe it or not, I’m not a complete hermit. I like going out — just depends on the place. Camden’s… got a vibe.”

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical but amused. “Oh? And what vibe is that, exactly?”

He smirked, looking around as they passed a tattoo shop, a second-hand record store, and a row of graffiti-covered buildings. “It’s raw,” he said after a moment, as if he were describing a fine wine or a work of art. “I like that. It’s not trying too hard.”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “You’re a strange one, Targaryen. Loaded, reads like a scholar, hangs out with iguanas, and now you’re telling me you’re into Camden’s ‘raw’ vibe.”

Aemond chuckled, clearly not offended. “I contain multitudes.”

She laughed, turning her gaze forward as they reached the pub. It was a cozy, unpretentious spot with a neon sign that flickered slightly above the door. They stepped inside, greeted by the warm chatter of a few patrons and the clink of glasses behind the bar.

Y/N nudged Aemond toward an empty booth in the corner. “You grab us a spot. I’ll get the drinks.”

As she made her way to the bar, she couldn’t help but glance back at him. He was leaning casually against the booth, his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking completely at ease in a place that seemed the polar opposite of his usual world. There was something oddly magnetic about him — not just his looks, but the way he carried himself, like he belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Two pints, please,” she ordered, handing over the cash before sliding back into the booth with Aemond.

He took his pint, raising it slightly toward her. “To surviving Triton.”

Y/N clinked her glass against his, laughing. “To surviving Triton,” she echoed.

They took long sips of their beers, and for a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, just enjoying the warmth of the pub and the fading light outside. Y/N leaned back, looking at him curiously. “You know,” she said, her voice softer now, “you’re not what I expected.”

Aemond looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Oh? And what did you expect?”

She shrugged, giving him a playful grin. “I don’t know. Something more… serious. Intimidating.”

He smirked. “I can be. But I suppose you’re lucky — I like you.”

Y/N’s heart did that little flip again, but she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too cocky, Targaryen. You’re still not off the hook for tomorrow’s snake feeding.”

Aemond laughed, the sound low and warm between the bustles around them. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[celiastjamesoscar]

No Hard Feelings

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: Tara makes plans with you to go to dinner and watch a movie, but she forgets and can’t go. So she sends Sam in her place

Warnings: slight spoiler for No Hard Feelings (small scene, no significance to plot), light cussing, mentions of Ghostface attacks

Read part 2 here

Word count: 7.6k

Tara sat on the floor of her and Sam’s apartment with a mountain of papers spread around her. To her demise, her past self thought it would have been a good idea to put off her month and a half project so she could-in her words-"be older so, therefore, wiser,” and she would get a better grade on it. Now, her present self wishes she could go back in time and politely murder her past self, as she would have to stay up all hours of the night even to get a passing grade on her project. She could call Y/N and ask for help, but she knew that the girl was probably busy doing who knows what.

Since the move to New York City, Tara found it hard to make friends she could trust; the only real people she did trust were the Meeks-Martin twins, Anika, her roommate Quinn, Y/N, and Sam.

Tara met Y/N when she first moved to New York through Anika, as she was her roommate. Anika introduced her to the core four one night while they watched movies and swam at their shared apartment. When Y/N first met everyone, she immediately clicked with the group, except Sam.

Sam was naturally standoffish towards new people, especially Y/N. Sam didn’t know if she disliked the girl because she shared the same love for horror as Mindy, her undeniable charm, her beautiful features, or the fact she was a fucker that fed off of Tara’s little fucker energy. So together, they just become this giant mass of fucker energy that wreaks havoc on innocents. Sam tries her best to make sure that her and Tara are not left alone together-God only knows what mischief they would get up to if left unattended-but that usually meant she was the one keeping an eye on them. From dragging them out of karaoke bars to forcefully stopping them from shooting fireworks at each other, Sam has seen enough to know she wasn’t too much of a fan of Y/N.

On the other hand, Tara and Sam haven’t always had the best relationship (Sam left her for five years with her alcoholic mother), but they loved each other dearly, and everyone knew that. However, Tara does things to get under Sam’s skin for fun. For example: going to frat parties after Sam told her not to, getting too drunk at said parties, throwing up because of the alcohol after Sam specifically told her not to, waiting until the last minute to do projects, and the one Sam hated the most, trying to set her up with her friends. Tara would spend days writing out plans of setting Sam up with her friends, pouring hours she should have spent doing homework into Sam’s love life.

Sam found it funny how Tara and Mindy worked together to try and set Sam up with someone, even though she never went out with the people they set her up with. She also admired their dedication to it, but she would never tell them that. Tara would invite some of Chad’s football friends over for a game night and hope one would hit it off with Sam, but Sam shot down every guy. Eventually, Tara got fed up with it and asked Sam, “Are you ever going to give a guy a chance?” Sam just looked at Tara with the most trustworthy eyes as she spoke, “I’ll never give a guy a chance again.” And with that, Tara stopped trying to get Sam with men.

Since that conversion, Mindy had been Sam’s “wingman” in picking up women, and it was not going well. At all. They’d go to a bar every other weekend, Mindy would point out a woman that Sam might be interested in, and immediately get shot down.

“What about her, Sam? She’s pretty, plays the guitar, and keeps looking over at you?”

“No.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘no’?”

“No, she looks like she bites.”

“Biting can be good in some instances.”

“No.”

“Okay then, moving on. What about her-”

“No.”

And it continued like this until Mindy eventually had enough of it. “Dude, your sister refuses to give anyone I point out a chance! At first, I thought she was wary of getting romantical with someone because of he-who-shall-not-be-named, but now I think she’s doing it out of spite.” Mindy complained to Tara over a game of Uno one night.

“She’s not doing it out of spite; she’s doing it because she knows she’s getting set up.” Anika butted in while placing down a blue five. “You just need to set her up with someone without her knowing it’s a setup.”

And at that, Tara and Mindy shared a telepathic thought when their eyes made contact and simultaneously reached for their phones. Not reading the room, Chad threw down a blue draw two while standing up and yelling, “Uno!”

Mindy sent him a glare before speaking, “Do you want me to call her, or should you?”

“I’ll call her; just wait for me!” Tara exclaimed as she left the table with her phone in hand, walking about ten feet from the group before dialing Y/N’s number. Mindy and Tara’s plan began to hatch that night.

Tara would invite Y/N to the apartment everyday. She would even invite her over if she had somewhere else to be later that night, leaving the poor girl alone with either Sam or Quinn. Y/N was rather fond of Quinn; she enjoyed the redhead’s stories about her strange hookups and they played a very intense game of Blackjack on occasion. On the other hand, she hated being left alone with Sam. Sam would either not say anything or just glare at Y/N; she didn’t know which one was worse.

Sometimes when Y/N was over, Tara would excuse herself to leave her and Sam alone for long periods. Naturally, the two of them would sit in awkward silence while the tv played in the background. They would occasionally discussed what was on TV, but that never lasted more than four sentences.

Of course, Y/N was drawn to Sam: her beautiful tan skin that she sometimes dreamed of stroking, those beautiful brown eyes that reminded her of old brick libraries and vintage books she sometimes got lost in, and her protectiveness for her sister.

She's Everything. Y/N’s just Ken.

In the present, Tara groaned and rolled around the floor, “Why do I do this every time?” She whined while looking at her papers.

“I know; I thought you would have learned your lesson by now,” Sam joked as she watched her little sister dramatically roll around the floor. “I told you to spend at least twenty minutes a day working on it, but nope. You said you would be smarter by putting it off, and now look at you.”

Surprised by Sam’s words, Tara quickly sat up and looked at her sister before falling back onto the floor with an exaggerated groan. Sam rolled her eyes at Tara’s actions and sat on the couch. “What are you working on?” Sam questioned as she picked up a piece of paper with chemical formulas.

“I’m supposed to show what acid, like from soda, does to teeth. But I hate chemistry, and I’m seriously considering dropping this class.” Tara stated as she picked herself up off of the floor and stretched. As she was stretching, there was a knock at the door.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it. You just finished your project.” Sam said as she got up and walked towards the door, ignoring the slight grumble of words Tara let out as she sat back down on the floor.

As she approached the door, Sam looked out of the peephole, as no one in the apartment was expecting any guests. When she saw who was at the door, she uttered a small cuss word as she opened the door, “What are you doing here?”

Y/N scoffed at Sam’s words but spoke with a gentle smile, “Tara and I have plans tonight to go to dinner and see a movie; I’m here to pick her up. Why? Are you jealous I’m here for her and not you?” She finished with a smirk that Sam wanted to smack off her face. She just scoffs at her words but lets her into the apartment.

Sam took in her outfit as she walked in: black dress pants, a black blazer, and a black lace strapless corset top. If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume you and Tara had a date planned, which hurt her heart a little.

“Hey, Tara, you ready to… go?” Y/N asked as she looked around the living room and found scattered papers everywhere.

Tara looked at her with bug eyes before frantically searching for her phone. Once she found it, she checked the time and date, which resulted in her smacking herself on the forehead. “Oh my god, I am sorry, Y/N. I completely forgot about our dinner and movie night; I just got so wrapped up in my project.” Tara apologized as she stood up from the floor.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Y/N stated as she popped her head to her left. Sam noticed that Y/N does that whenever she’s upset or doesn’t like talking about something. Sam hates that she sees the little things that Y/N does: rubbing the back of her neck whenever she’s anxious, bouncing her right leg when excited about something, and picking her nails whenever she’s stressed. The list goes on of the little things Sam noticed about Y/N, but she’d simply defend it as making sure Y/N wasn’t lying to her about whatever she and Tara were doing.

“No, it's not. You’ve already bought the tickets and made the reservations for dinner. I don’t want it to go to waste because I pushed off this stupid project.” Tara complained as she turned towards the spread-out work. “Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“I’m serious, Tara. Don’t worry about it at all. We can go another time.” Y/N suggested. She didn’t want to see Tara upset over some movie tickets and a dinner reservation.

Tara sighed as she looked at Y/N, “But you’ve gotten all dressed up-you look amazing, by the way-and I don’t want it wasted.” Tara said as her eyes slowly drifted towards Sam, who was listening in on the conversation from her bedroom doorway, and a brilliant idea popped into her head. “Actually, what if I found someone to go with you?”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed at the question but told Tara to continue. She had no idea who Tara had in mind but hoped it wasn’t Sam. She could hardly stand to be in the same room as the movie. Let alone go on a dinner and movie date with her. Not a date, though, because Y/N would never think about Sam in a more than platonic way. No way at all.

“Uhh, sure. Who is it?” Y/N as she looked at Tara with wary eyes, already knowing who Tara had in mind.

Tara looked at Y/N with innocent eyes and a mischievous smile, “Sam will go with you.”

“Abosulety not,” Sam said as soon as her name left Tara’s lips, already walking back into the living room, “I am not going anywhere with her.”

“Sam, you are going whether you want to or not. You’ve been talking about going to see No Hard Feelings since the trailer came out, and now you can watch it; I’d be a bad sister if I let you pass it up.” Tara reasoned while staring at Sam with determined eyes. She has the perfect opportunity to force her two favorite people together, and she’ll be damned if she lets Sam wiggle her way out of it.

“Tara, please, it’s not that big of a deal. If Sam doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to go.” Y/N pleaded, hoping Tara would let it slide.

“Yes, I agree with it,” Sam stated rather dryly.

Y/N turned to face Sam and pointed at her before exclaiming, “Hey! Do not call me ‘it’! I have feelings and thoughts!”

“Yeah, feelings and thoughts of being a pain in the ass,” Sam said as she rolled her eyes at Y/N.

“I will fight you right here and now, Samantha!” Y/N declared as she walked towards Sam, invading her personal space.

“Don’t call me ‘Samantha,’ you fucker.” Sam stated as she pushed Y/N’s shoulders, causing the woman to stumble backward away from her. Y/N ignored how gentle the push was and fought the urge to smile at the thought of Sam not wanting to hurt her.

“Hey! Knock it off, you two!” Tara commanded as she stepped between the two women, even though she wanted to see how their ‘fight’ would end. “Sam, go get changed into a nice outfit. Y/N, you’ll help me with my project while you wait for Sam.”

Sam opened her mouth to argue with Sam, but Tara's glare caused her to close her mouth quickly. So instead, she sauntered into her room and looked for a decent outfit. “I’m going to shower and get ready; give me thirty minutes.” She called out from her room.

Y/N grumbled while sitting on the couch, waiting for Tara to give her instructions. “Why are you making me take her? I know that Mindy wants to see it. I can just take her instead.”

“Because, Y/N, you and Sam will have fun. You’ll go to a fancy dinner and watch Jennifer Lawrence in a comedy. It’s like the ideal date.” Tara said with a devise smirk on her face. Tara knew Y/N’s feelings for Sam and used that as leverage over the girl.

“You’re an asshole. You know that?” Y/N said as she looked at Tara with pleading eyes, hoping she’ll just call Mindy and explain the situation to her.

“Wrong. I’m just a little guy, so I cannot be held accountable for my actions.” Tara informed as she sat down on the floor.

Y/N scoffed at her words and rolled her eyes, “You cannot use your size to justify yourself for being an asshole.”

“Yes, I can, and I will. Now shut up and help me with this.” Tara stated as she turned on the tv and picked out a movie for them to watch while they passed the time. Y/N looked up at the tv once the film began playing. “‘The Babadook’? Really?”

Tara knew of Y/N’s irrational fear of the Babadook and loved to tease the poor girl about it. They’ve had many arguments about the movie: Y/N claiming it’s the scariest movie ever to exist, while Tara defends it saying it’s a comedy movie. Y/N believed Tara had lost her mind. Tara believed Y/N was a baby.

“It’s my favorite movie. Why wouldn’t I want to watch it?” Tara questioned as she began working on her project while Y/N made zero effort to help.

Y/N scoffed at her words before uttering, “I’d stab someone too if they told me their favorite movie was ‘The Babadook.’” Tara playfully hit Y/N’s leg while rolling her eyes before returning to her task.

Tara told Y/N about the Ghostface attacks she and the core four survived after knowing her for a few months. Tara knew she could tell the girl anything and wouldn’t be judged. Y/N listened to Tara talk about the trauma her and her friends went through, and when Tara was done, Y/N lifted up her own shirt to show Tara where she had been stabbed in her stomach.

It was in the left lumbar region. Y/N had little cuts that littered her torso, but none went into her body besides the one. Y/N explained to Tara that she understood what she went through, as she was eight years old when Jill Roberts tried to murder her. The two bonded over their shared trauma of Ghostface stories and quickly used it to joke with each other.

As Tara worked in peace while watching the movie, Y/N sat away from the tv, refusing to watch it. They patiently waited for Sam while the annoying sound of Samuel’s voice could be heard in the background.

“I hate that kid; he deserves every bad thing that comes his way,” Y/N stated coldly, refusing to watch the tv.

“You just hate little kids,” Tara replied, turning her attention to Y/N. “You should check on Sam; it’s been over thirty minutes.” Y/N didn’t see the smirk on Tara’s face.

“So she can stab me? Yeah, no thanks.” Y/N shrugged. Sam could stab her, and she’d thank her, but Y/N would never tell anyone that secret.

“Just go check on her, you giant baby,” Tara stated as she threw a shoe at Y/N. And with that, the girl got up and walked over to Sam’s room, gently knocking on the door, hoping the woman was ready to go.

“Sam? It’s been over thirty minutes. Is everything good?” Y/N asked quietly, afraid Sam would strangle her if she spoke any louder. Not that she would complain: Sam could do almost anything to Y/N, and she wouldn’t complain.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just give me a minute.” Sam called out from behind the door.

Not even a minute passes before Sam calls out again, “Could you help me with something? I’m in a bit of a bind.”

Y/N looks at Tara with wide eyes, silently pleading with the girl to intervene, but Tara does nothing but mouth “Babadook-dook-dook.”

Y/N flipped Tara off before replying to Sam, “Yeah. Of course. Just let me know when it’s okay for me to come in.”

Sam instantly replied to Y/N and told her to come in, so she did. Sam was facing a full-length mirror in the corner of her room. She wore a black dress with a leg slit on her right leg that wonderfully highlighted her curves. She wore black heels as well. When Sam turned to face her, Y/N was left speechless. The dress had a shallow dip that showed off Sam’s cleavage beautifully, and Y/N had to fight herself not to stare at the woman’s boobs.

Sam noticed the way Y/N stood straighter when she walked in. She saw the way her eyes refused to leave her own. And she noticed how Y/N wiped her palm on her pants, trying to get rid of sweat.

“I need help zipping up the back,” Sam admitted with a defeated tone, turning back towards the mirror.

“Y-yes, of course,” Y/N mumbled while approaching the goddess before her. She went to grab the zipper on the lower part of Sam’s back but accidentally bumped her hand against Sam’s ass, causing the woman to stare down Y/N’s eyes in the mirror.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Y/N apologized while refusing to meet Sam’s challenging gaze.

She grabbed the zipper and gently began pulling it up. Y/N looked into Sam’s eyes through the mirror, and they held each other’s gaze until the dress was zipped up. The atmosphere was so full of tension that Sam swore Tara could feel it in the living room. Sam wanted nothing more than to throw Y/N onto that bed and make her her own, but she had to show some restraint as she didn’t wish for Y/N to get the idea that Sam liked her. She could hardly tolerate the girl, let alone care for her enough to want a relationship. No way at all.

Y/N let her hands linger on Sam’s back before whispering, “Okay, all done.” Afraid her voice would give out at any second. Sam slowly turned around to face Y/N; they were so close that their breath fanned each other’s lips.

“All ready?” Sam questioned, still making eye contact with Y/N.

Y/N nodded as she spoke, “Yeah, let’s go.” She wanted to stare into Sam’s eyes forever but quickly glanced away, afraid Sam could read her not so pg-13 thoughts.

They left Sam’s room and bid Tara goodbye before going to the apartment level. Once they had left, however, Tara quickly sent Mindy a message, telling her that their plan worked and that Sam and Y/N were on their way to dinner.

A month and a half ago, Mindy and Tara devised the “perfect, fool-proof plan” to get Y/N and Sam together. The plan was relatively simple: Tara puts off doing her project, makes plans with Y/N to go to a fancy restaurant and movies the night the project is due, and then bails because she hasn’t started the project. Tara had done her entire project in one night and stashed it in Mindy’s room, so now all they had to do was sit back and relax while their plan unfolded.

When they reached the ground level, Y/N walked out in front of Sam and held the door open for Sam as they walked out onto the street. Y/N gently touched Sam’s lower back and led her to her car. Sam ignores the way her touch shot sparks throughout her body. Y/N opened the door for Sam—which Sam scoffed at—but she climbed in nonetheless. Y/N walked around the driver’s side and got in.

The two sat in awkward silence while Y/N started the car. Her phone automatically connected, and the soft voices of Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus could be heard. Y/N looked over at Sam after pulling out onto the road. “You look beautiful.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Okay.”

Sam refused to admit that Y/N’s words caused her face to heat up, and a small smile threatened to appear on her face. She’d never had someone call her beautiful before, but to hear that word fall from the lips of someone she wanted to strangle and kiss all at the same time, she thought her head might explode.

The two drove the entire way to the restaurant in silence; the only thing that filled the silence was their fast-beating hearts and the graceful voices of Boygenius.

When they arrived and walked into the restaurant, Sam had to clench her first, trying not to murder Y/N violently. The restaurant they were at was an upper-class one, and Sam felt out of place, borderline uncomfortable. She began fidgeting with her hands, and her eyes nervously darted all over the room. Y/N noticed this and slowly reached for Sam’s hand, hoping the girl would accept the lifeline, and she did. Y/N held Sam’s hand down by their waists as she approached the front desk. “Hello, I had a reservation for two under L/N.” She spoke politely to the hostess. The hostess quickly looked through her book before leading them to a small table set up just for two.

Y/N gently pulled out Sam’s seat for her and pushed it in once she sat down. Y/N then walked over to her seat and joined Sam at the table. The two looked at their menus silently, waiting for their waiter to take their order. A small but enthusiastic man approached their table, “Hello, my name is Matt! What can I get for this lovely couple?” He asked with a gentle tone.

“We aren’t a couple.” Y/N and Sam both stated at the same time while looking at the man. He seemed a bit taken aback but quickly recovered. After that, they both ordered their meals and watched the man disappear.

Y/N laughed to herself before speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, “he thought we were a couple.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Y/N's comment but didn’t say anything in return; she knew arguing would have been useless.

“So, what do you do in your free time?” Y/N questioned as she leaned her elbows on the table, eagerly awaiting Sam’s response.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I would like to know you on a more personal level. I don’t like the level I’m on right now.” Y/N stated as she looked into Sam’s eyes, maybe sneaking a glance at her boobs as well.

“Fine, but you have to stop looking at my boobs,” Sam said with a playful smile as she called the girl out.

“I’ve only done it a couple of times!” Y/N defended with a blush on her face that Sam noticed. “I promise to stop looking. For now.”

Sam nodded and drank her water before discussing her interests, and Y/N listened. Y/N loved the sound of Sam’s voice and wished she could hear the woman talk forever. She had the kind of voice that could put sirens in a trance, and Y/N loved it.

The pair bonded over their love of nature and wanting to live in a cabin in the woods. They both loved reading and discussed their favorite books. As their food was brought out, Y/N brought up different scenario questions, and they went back and forth with their answers.

Talking with Sam was just as easy as breathing for Y/N, and Sam would hate to admit it, but she slowly felt herself loosen up around the girl. She could see now why Tara trusted her; she was easygoing, normally calm, and always had a good smile. Sam felt like she could trust Y/N with anything, which terrified her. She hated the idea of trusting someone that wasn’t a part of the group from Woodsboro, afraid that if she let anyone in, they would betray her. So, she began asking Y/N what her interests were; she wanted to know more about the girl in case she became a threat, and definitely not because she started to warm up to the girl.

Y/N talked about her love for horror movies, even though Sam already knew that. She mentioned her fear of the Babadook, and Sam found that hilarious (and cute). She even mentioned a “band” she was in with her friends.

“I play the guitar for my friend’s shitty band,” Y/N admitted with a slight frown as she picked at her food.

Sam noticed the slight frown and the way Y/N’s eyebrows turned down, “You in a band? I don’t believe it. Bud why do you sound so disappointed?” She questioned.

Y/N sighed as she looked up at Sam, “It’s not a band; we just do shitty covers of songs for fun. That’s about it. But we don’t do it as much anymore because we all moved to different states for college.”

As Y/N spoke, Sam felt her heart break a little when the woman mentioned how her friends had moved away from each other. Against her better judgment, Sam reached across the table and grabbed Y/N’s hand, squeezing it gently, subconsciously rubbing her thumb on the back of Y/N’s hand, “I’m sorry about your friends moving, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes quickly shot toward Sam’s hand, and smiled at the contact. She wasn’t used to Sam being nice to her, so seeing this new side of Sam was interesting, but she slightly missed the grumpy Sam she had grown accustomed to. As Y/N admired how Sam’s hand squeezed her own, Matt quickly made his way to the table, a knowing smirk plastered on his face when he saw the women rapidly pull their hands back when they felt his presence. “Alright, ladies, how are we doing the check today.”

“Seper-” Sam began to say, but Y/N quickly cut her off.

“Together, please,” Y/N stated while looking at Matt, refusing to acknowledge the death glare sent at her from the end of the table.

“Okay, I will be right back with your check,” Matt said, hoping to leave the tension-filled area as soon as possible.

Once he left, Y/N looked at Sam with puppy dog eyes and gave her the most loving smile she had ever seen, which made her heart yearn. “When you told me about what you like to do, you always mentioned how Tara liked to do them. You always said, ‘Tara and I’ or ‘I do this because of Tara.’ You never said that you do anything for yourself. I’ve known Tara for roughly six months now, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do anything just for yourself; you are always taking care of others. You never let anyone care of you. So tonight, I want to do that. If you’ll allow me.” Y/N said softly, hoping she didn’t push things too far. She wanted Sam to know she cared for her and saw her as more than just her best friend’s sister.

Sam didn’t say anything back. She couldn’t. Sam tried to muster up words, even a thank you, but nothing left her lips. She simply nodded her head, praying that Y/N would understand her predicament. Sam never had anyone in her entire life do something for her that was out of the kindness of their heart. They always expected something in return, but when Y/N smiled at her after she handed Matt her card and asked her if that was okay with her, she felt every doubt she had about Y/N slip her mind. Y/N ignored the tiny tears that formed in Sam’s eyes, and Sam felt like kissing her for not saying anything about it.

Once Matt returned Y/n’s card, they left the restaurant and got into Y/N’s car. Sam was the first to break the silence as they drove toward the movie theater. “Thank you,” was all she said. Y/N looked at her and smiled, admiring the alluring woman on her passenger side. She started to let her eyes wander down to Sam’s breasts but was interrupted by Sam yelling, “Watch Out!” Y/N quickly slammed on the brakes, almost running the red light.

Sam was getting ready to rip apart Y/N for being reckless but was interrupted by Y/N’s laughter. Sam didn’t understand why the woman was laughing, but she soon joined in until she gained enough sense to ask her why it was funny. Y/N turned up the radio as Taylor’s voice softly sang, ‘You almost ran the red ‘cause you were lookin’ over at me.’ Sam rolled her eyes and softly slapped Y/N’s arm as the other woman drove again once the light turned green. They both ignored the way Sam’s hand never left Y/N’s arm.

The movie theater was in an outlet strip mall, surrounded by food places and clothing stores, but most importantly, a dollar store. “Come on; we’ll go to the dollar store, buy our sneaks, and get our popcorn and soda at the theaters,” Y/N said as she got out of the car and approached the store. Sam laughed at Y/N’s words but quickly followed behind the woman.

As they are walking, a faint song could be heard playing over the speakers, and Y/N suddenly spins around in a circle with her arms stretched outwards, singing, “To live for the hope of it all. Cancel plans just in case you’d call and say, ‘Meet me behind the mall.’” She ended while pointing at Sam.

Sam stared blankly at the girl while saying, “I will never call you nor tell you to meet me behind some mall,” with a serious tone but a playful glint in her eyes. Y/N just scoffed at Sam’s remark, goes to say something, but closes her mouth, as they approached the front doors of the store.

Y/N held the door open for Sam, then led the woman to the candy aisle in record time. This clearly was not the woman’s first time sneaking in candy. “I’m going to get some sour patch kids along with-What the fuck?!” Y/N exclaimed as she bent down and got a closer look at the candy.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked while laughing at Y/N’s words. She reached for her own box of sour patch kids.

“I’m going to cry. They don’t have cookie bites,” Y/n said as she stood up and pretended to wipe a tear from her eyes, “my life is over now.”

“You can probably buy some at the theater,” Sam suggested as they made their way to the checkout.

“Yeah, but I’m not paying $6.50 for a box of candy,” Y/N grumbled with a slight pout on her lips. Sam almost kissed it off of her.

“Whatever, stop being a baby,” Sam stated when she saw Y/N cross her arms as if she was throwing a fit. Y/N mumbled something under her breath at her remark.

Sam paid for her snack while Y/N paid for hers and left the store. Y/N led them back to her car, where she grabbed her backpack purse and put the snacks inside, then they made their way toward the theater. Once again, Y/N held the door open for Sam as they entered the theater.

The two got their tickets and ordered drinks and popcorn while Y/N still groaned about her cookie dough bites. After entering their auditorium, they sat down and silently watched the previews. They had rather good seats, third row from the front and in the middle. Sam just hoped it wasn’t too busy for no particular reason at all.

Once the lights start to dim, the screen cuts to a woman walking through a puddle on the ground, and Y/N immediately turns to Sam, “We come to this place for magic,” she says along with Nicole Kidman on the screen. “We come to AMC theaters to laugh, to cry, to care. Because we need that, all of us.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Y/N’s words, trying to pay attention to Nicole, but then turned toward Y/N once she stopped talking, “If you do not stop, I will leave.” Sam threatens.

Y/N smiles as she continues, “That indescribable feeling we get when the lights begin to dim, and we go somewhere we’ve never been before.”

Sam quickly looks around, only seeing four other people spread throughout the room before whispering, “Stop it right now, or I will walk out. I’m serious, Y/N.”

“Not just entertained, but somehow reborn together again. Dazzling images on a huge silver screen–hey, where are you going?” Y/N asks whenever Sam gets up to leave. Whisper-shouting at Sam as she walks up the aisle, “Sam, come on, stop being an asshole.” And with that, Sam walks out of the theater. Y/N felt her heart shatter when Sam left; she felt she had fucked up her one chance to be with the woman of her dreams. All she wanted to do was make Sam laugh and forget about all her problems, but all she did was make it worse. Y/N was an overthinker, and her thoughts quickly filled up with outcomes of her and Sam’s situationship–if one could call it that–and none of them were good.

Filled with shock and not knowing what to do, Y/N quickly sends Tara a text message telling her that Sam had just walked out on her. Tara soon responds with a thumbs up, saying, “Very nice.” Y/N grumbles at the text message but shuts off her phone and slides down into her seat, praying that no one else in the theater just watched the perfect woman leave her.

The intro to No Hard Feelings begins to play as she gets ready to text Sam, ‘I’m sorry I continued talking after you told me to stop. I should have listened to you. I was just trying to make you laugh, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Will you please come back and watch the movie? If you don’t want to, I will take you home. I am so sorry, Sam. Please give me another chance. I really like you, and I don’t want to mess this up,’ but before she hits send, Sam walks back to her seat and pretends as if nothing happened. Y/N quickly turns off her phone, hoping Sam didn’t read any part of the pitiful message she almost received.

“Jesus Christ, Sam! Don’t do that! I thought you had left!” Y/N whispered while Jennifer Lawrence appeared in the background screen. Sam chuckled before shoving a small candy box into Y/N’s side.

“You got me my cookie dough bites? Why?” Y/N quietly asked while looking at Sam like she had just hung the moon and stars.

“So you won’t bitch the whole movie. Now shut up; Jennifer Lawrence is on screen.” Sam said with her eyes glued to the screen, trying her best to ignore the woman she’s put in a trance beside her.

When a beach scene comes up, Y/N leans forward in her seat; her lips form into a mischievous smirk while her eyes are lustful. Sam is about to ask Y/N why she is so suddenly interested in the movie when a naked Jennifer Lawrence storms the beach and beats up three teenagers, even suplexing one. “I want her to do that to me,” Y/N muttered, staring at Jennifer Lawrence like she was a god. Sam just scoffed at the woman, her chest getting heavy with jealousy, but nodded in agreement because same.

When the movie ends, everyone begins to leave the auditorium except Y/N. “Hey, the movie’s over; let’s go,” Sam says quickly, placing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder while she stands up.

“There might be a post-credit scene, so we must stay,” Y/N says, looking up at Sam with puppy dog eyes.

Rolling her eyes at Y/N’s words, Sam states dryly, “Not every movie needs a post-credit scene.” Y/N stares at Sam before getting up, causing Sam to move her hand from Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N frowns slightly at the loss of contact but doesn’t say anything as they leave the room.

When heading towards the doors to leave, Y/N quickly stops as she exclaims, “Oh my god, Sam! I have to get your picture next to it.” Sam turns to look at what Y/N is talking about and then rolls her eyes.

Y/N has stopped in front of the Barbie poster. “I am not taking a picture with the Barbie poster, Y/N,” Sam said as she crossed her arms.

“Yes, you are. Now get it in front of it.” Y/N said as she put the popcorn bucket between her arm and side and took out her phone.

“No.”

“Sam. Get it in front of the poster. Now.”

“Why?”

“Because it will be funny, Sam! Just do it for me.” Y/N pleaded, already having her phone opened to the camera. Sam rolled her eyes at the woman and walked over to the poster. She stood with her hands by her side and didn’t even bother to smile. “Come on, take your picture.”

“No, you have to smile and do the pose Margot Robbie is doing.” Y/N motioned to the poster beside Sam.

Sam turned her head and looked at Margot Robbie's pose, “absolutely not, Y/N. You wanted a picture of me next to the poster, and you will get it. Just take the damn picture you-hey! Do not throw popcorn at me!” Sam exclaimed as she reached down the front of her dress to grab a stray piece of popcorn Y/N had thrown at her.

“I will continue throwing popcorn at you until you do the damn pose!” Y/N deadpanned, getting ready to throw more popcorn. Giving in, Sam raised her right leg slightly and lifted her left arm up into the air with barely a smile. Y/N quickly took the picture with a giant smile on her face, definitely because she had gotten Sam to do the pose and not because when Sam lifted her leg, it showed off more skin.

After the picture was taken, Y/N showed it to Sam, “See? You look so beautiful in it too.” Y/N said honestly as she tried to fight the blush that crept up her neck. Afraid to speak, Sam just nodded and told Y/N to send her that picture as they left the building.

When they arrive at Y/N’s car, Y/N again holds the passenger door open for her while saying, ‘My lady,’ as Sam gets into the vehicle. She smiles at the woman’s words as the door closes. Y/N jogs around to her side and gets in. “So, what did you think of the movie?” Y/N asked as she started the car and drove back to the Carpenter’s apartment.

“It was good; I’m glad that raunchy comedies are coming back; too many superhero movies,” Sam joked as she looked at the beautiful driver.

“I agree with you on that,” Y/N said as she stopped at a light and looked at Sam, quickly glancing at the woman’s lips before turning her attention back towards the road. Y/N hoped that Sam didn’t notice how she smiled when she looked at Sam’s lips, wondering if they felt as soft as they looked. As they drove, Y/N asked Sam to text Tara on her phone to let her know they were on their way back.

“Why can’t I just text her from my phone?” Sam questioned as she took Y/N’s phone from her hand.

“Because I might have texted her and told her that you walked out on me during the movie, so I feel like a text from me would be best.” Y/N reasoned as she brought the car to a stop at a light.

“Okay,” Sam simply said, not wanting to argue with the woman, “What’s your password?”

“120384.”

“Any significance?” Sam questioned while she typed in the password.

“Yeah, that’s when my wife was born. Natalia Alianovna Romanov,” Y/N stated with a dreamy voice.

Sam didn’t respond to Y/N, as she opened Y/N’s phone to the text message Y/N almost sent her. Her heart was flattered when she read, ‘I really like you, and I don’t want to mess this up.’ She felt her entire body heat up over those few words, and she couldn’t help herself as she thought about having a relationship with the younger woman.

Not wanting Y/N to know what she just read, she quickly backed out of the chat and entered her chat with Tara, “Alright, right do you want me to say?” Sam questioned as she read the text message Y/N had sent to Tara.

“‘Just kidnapped Sam, heading back to the apartment now. I severed minor damage, but I will live.’”

“Really? You kidnapped me? Alright then.” Sam laughed as she typed the message out. Y/N nodded her head in agreement.

The drive back was filled with jokes and laughter, and Sam pretended she didn’t notice how Y/N drove the entire way under the speed limit. When they arrived at the apartment, Y/N walked Sam back to her place. As Sam opened the door, she felt sadness fill her chest as she prepared to say goodbye to Y/N. “Despite my better judgment, I actually had fun with you tonight,” Sam said as she stood in the doorway to her apartment.

Tapping her foot on the ground, Y/N grinned at Sam, “Yeah, I had a lot of fun too, Sam. Even when you walked out on me.”

Sam laughed at Y/N’s remark and subconsciously moved closer to Y/N. When Sam stepped closer, Y/N rubbed the back of her neck while her eyes darted around the room. She took a deep breath before asking, “Would it be alright with you if we did this again sometime?”

Smiling at Y/N, Sam leaned in and kissed her cheek, leaving behind a faint outline of her lipstick, “Of course, Y/N, I’d love to go on another date with you.”

Flustered and taken awake, Y/N automatically placed her hands on Sam’s hips before dropping her hands back down to her sides in case she made Sam uncomfortable. “Yeah, a date. Of course,” Y/N said as they made eye contact and simultaneously looked at each other’s lips. Sam slowly leaned in to kiss Y/N when a voice called behind her, “Hey, you’re home!”

Tara practically ran to the door and quickly stopped when she saw how much space Y/N and Sam put between each other. “Am I interrupting something?” Tara questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“No.” Y/N and Sam both exclaimed; now Tara knew that she had, in fact, interrupted something and was getting ready to smack herself for it too.

“Well, alright then. I’m just going to leave you two to it then.” Tara said as she sent Y/n a playful wink.

After ensuring Tara was far away, Sam returned to face Y/N, “Text me when you get home, okay?” She said as she placed her hand on Y/N’s cheek.

Y/N lightly pressed her face into Sam’s hand and gently kissed her palm. “I will, Sam. Don’t worry.”

They shared one last smile before Y/N left, but she stopped halfway down the hallway and sent Sam a wave. Sam softly smiled and blew Y/N a kiss, which the girl pretended to catch and place on her heart before turning to leave Sam with a yearning heart that they both shared.

When Sam saw Y/N disappear, she shut the door and made sure to lock up the front door before quickly disappearing into her room, sending Y/N a text asking if she had made it out to her car safely.

Unbeknownst to the two women, Tara crawled out from under the couch after listening to their entire conversation. She quickly sent Mindy a text, “Our plan worked!”

(I projected a little bit of my fear of the Babadook onto the reader ngl)

[delusional-mushroom]

Aaravos x reader where reader is also a startouch elf who was Aaravos’s lover but got imprisoned at the same time he did but in a different prison so instead of trying to lead Claudia and Viren to his prison he’s insisting they save his lover (but in his own ‘No! You can’t do it on your own you need this elf’s help!’ To avoid revealing something that would break his mystery facade- maybe reader had like a pet that guards their last residence and Aaravos is just like ‘oh yeah, that’s just ___ he bites.’ Feel free to add some plot to this it’s just a lil scenario that poofed into mah brain hole.

🌟 anon

Oh hello 🌟 anon. Thanks for the request >:3

Side note: sorry this was a bit rushed, especially towards the end. I’d be happy to part two it if you guys want.

After Leola’s death, you and Aaravos shared your grief. When you had no more tears to cry, and the crater of her demise was full to the brim, you began plotting your revenge.

At first, everything was going great. No one suspected a thing.

But then, a human girl— A human girl, had the audacity to stick her nose into where it did not belong, and rat you two out to the arch dragons.

It all happened so fast, one moment Aaravos was shielding his lover from the onslaught of attacks; and then the next they were both enveloped in a crude, blinding light.

Your look of horror was the last thing he saw before he too was imprisoned.

The two of you were both granted a visage through intricate looking glasses, spared with only one shellshocked glance at each other before you were given to the arch dragon of ocean, Domina Profundis.

Every day, and every night, Aaravos cried in his prision.

First Leola, his kind and loving daughter, and now his spouse: the only thing he had left in this cruel world.

Everything seemed hopeless.

He might never hold you in his embrace.

You two might never see each other again.

That was until a middle-aged dark mage stumbled upon his looking glass. How it got from the clutches of Avizandum and Zubeia to the treasury of Katolis, he didn’t know. But old habits die hard, and Aaravos didn’t mind reusing some old tricks…

“Avizandum is dead.”

What…?

Avizandum, King Of The Dragons, the ringleader in his and his lover’s imprisonment. He was dead.

Aaravos felt a satisfaction he had not felt in a long time. Not only was this going to make his schemes easier, but hearing the news of his passing made Aaravos almost giddy with joy. Maybe he wasn’t the one to end Avizandum’s life, but knowing of his death was almost just as good.

Maybe this middle-aged, emotionally fragile man had potential. Maybe he would be a useful pawn.

Finally, after centuries in his prision, escape was within his grasp. He could leave this dreaded place. He could take revenge upon those wretched dragons and elves.

But in a final moment, he relented.

“No.”

“What do mean ‘no’? We’re this close to freeing you!” Claudia squawked indignantly, pinching her fingers together to emphasise her point.

“You need to free someone else first. Someone just as powerful, and just as essential to the plan.” Aaravos insisted, his ghost-like apparition pointing a finger to a second dot on the map.

“And who would that be?” Viren inquired, Raising and an eyebrow in suspicion.

The star touched elf resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His use for the old man was beginning to dwindle. “You will see when the time comes.”

Reluctantly, he managed to get Viren, Claudia, and Terry to agree, though the earthblood elf didn’t really put up much of an argument.

Roaring and ticketing sounded through the mountain where your prison was kept. Allegedly, the magic orb that contained you was imbedded into an ancient tree. In order to acquire it, the tree needed to be felled. Easy, right? Wrong.

The tree was guarded by a serpent-like dragon by the name of Mortem, who’s bite held enough venom to kill an archdragon.

“Don’t get bit.” Aaravos instructed.

He was so close to you. He could feel your energy radiating through the mountain.

And somehow, the earthblood elf managed to lead Mortem away and distract him long enough without getting bit for Claudia and Viren to cut down the tree and grab your prision.

The scrambled journey back down the mountain made his breath bait in anticipation. This was it. He was finally going to be able to see you again.

Once the ritual was complete, your giant form kneeled down to look the three mortals in the eye. Shrinking yourself down, his ghostly appearance caught your eye.

“Aaravos?” You ask incredulously.

“I’m here, beloved.”

I’m here…