❝ Art, Love And Sunny Days❞

❝Echoes, Shadows and Resolutions❞

feel free to request any headcanon here 🠒 headcanons list ★ forgive any mistakes, English is not my native language, and this is so metaphorical, I'm not sure if you'll like or understand the meaning, but still, enjoy, my loves ♡

Amber was bombarding her phone with messages once again, probably for the hundredth time in half an hour. You had ignored her calls and messages all day long; you were hurt and needed some space for yourself. But of course, she didn't like that at all – she never did. You knew you should reply to her, provide explanations, or perhaps thousands of apologies. After all, the blame was all yours, always had been and always would be, or at least that's what she made it seem like. But dealing with her now was tiresome, like wasting words that would fall into the abyss of her mind without even being thought through and rationalized. It was like playing a soft melody in a noisy environment, where the tune gets lost in the chaotic noise – what's the point if, when carried by inertia, it loses its purpose of being appreciated? You immersed yourself in your work, desperately seeking temporary salvation, an escape from the shadows that threatened to engulf you. Each typed key was a blow against your own pain, an attempt to overpower the emotional cacophony surrounding you. Yet, even in the refuge of concentration, her memory lingered, hovering like an invisible ghost, a presence refusing to completely fade away.

The guilt, always finding shelter in the darkest corners of your heart, weighed like an anchor dragging you to the depths of the ocean of sadness. The words you should have said, the actions you should have taken, all turned into ghosts that now danced around you, whispering endless laments and questions. The pain of knowing that the disconnect between you was growing like an irreparable crack in the glass of what once was love had transformed into a silent whisper echoing within the walls of your being.

"To argue; to dispute; to quarrel; to misunderstand" – different words with similar meanings that, in a general context, describe the act of defending an opinion contrary to another, often associated with feelings of revolt. So simple, words that students occasionally encounter in the dictionary, words we frequently use when reading news or when nosy old ladies tell you about a scandal involving your neighbors while you're not at home – such simple words, words that are also actions and attitudes. When our actions are not thought through with humanity, they hurt like a silver dagger to others. Any action can become torturous, even a small one. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that you and Amber argued. Of course not, it was persistent, like removing a sticker from a jar or, more poetically, like the moth that dances around the light – your soul is drawn to it but also burned by the intensities of persistence. But at some point, in a split second between the narrow hands of the clock, you grew weary, how could you not?

Amber was paranoid, suspicious, perhaps confused…

She was also a star, bright and fiery, your star obscured by thick mist, clarity fading into the confusion of suspicion, leaving the mind at the mercy of shadows, but perfect, so perfect. And you were imperfect, not enough, like an unfinished painting where flawed strokes reveal the beauty of imperfection – that's why she constantly accused you of major "mistakes."

And you, being imperfect, in your tormented mind, it was more than logical that you were betraying her, even though she loved you. You didn't deserve her trust, and that's why in the darkness of the night, while tired bodies rested and melancholic minds surrendered to the flow of memories, darkness provided a space for words as sharp as a silver dagger to be thrown at you, freely and harshly piercing the labyrinth of your heart.

"I can't believe this! Do you really think you can fool me? I saw the messages, saw the evidence. You're cheating on me!"

"Amber, stop acting like everything is true. There's no cheating happening here."

"How dare you deny it? I read the words, saw the proof. You're deceiving me behind my back!"

"This is a misunderstanding, Amber. Things aren't what they seem."

"Don't give me your flimsy excuses. I never thought you were capable of this. You're a liar and a traitor."

"I'm not a traitor. I don't know how you came to this conclusion, but you're completely wrong."

"Wrong? There's no mistake here. You're cheating on me, and you thought you could get away with it."

"I'm trying to be honest here, but you're being irrational and don't want to hear the truth."

"The truth? The truth is, you're stabbing me in the back and trying to manipulate me now."

"Manipulate? You're acting impulsively and not willing to consider the possibility that there's more to this."

"I don't want to hear anything else coming from your lying mouth. You've destroyed everything."

"I won't accept this false accusation. I refuse to be vilified for something I didn't do."

"Save me from your theatrics. You're a traitor, and there's nothing you can say or do to change that."

"I won't keep trying to explain to someone who's so closed off in her distorted view. I really need time, and so do you."

"Get out! Get out of my life and never talk to me again. You're not worthy of my time."

You knew when you left for the library, walking hastily and light-footed through the damp streets, surrounded by the scent of freshly ground coffee, that she would still come after you, calling and being like a pebble in your shoe. Even as you tried to ignore and continue walking, at some point, she became painful and distressing, making you stop to remove her. As exhausting as it was, you still cared for her; after all, she was your girlfriend, your love, your golden light at the end of the day. And she loved you; think about all she had done for you. Why leave her alone and even more desperate? Yes, she said terrible things, did terrible things, she was completely unstable. But now, you had restored your peace and tranquility with the completion of your work, at least for now. So why not stop being a selfish, petty person and explain things to her? After all, it was your fault. Why didn't you listen to her? Why didn't you apologize and resolve this? Just wait an hour, wait for the hands of the clock to roll again, for your mind to sort itself out once more.

The clock of circumstances advanced with heavy steps, like a meticulous clockmaker etching marks on the fabric of time. An hour passed like a calm river, its waters carrying away the waves of indecision and doubt that filled the space between you and Amber. The echo of your thoughts resonated within the walls of your mind, like a chorus of restless voices.

Then, like a lone star twinkling in the darkness of the night sky, you felt the urgency to try once more. The phone became a magical artifact, a portal to a realm of possibilities. With trembling fingers, as if tracing a seal that could unlock the doors to the depths of the unknown, you dialed the numbers.

And then, the waiting ended. The sound of the ringing phone echoed like a call through the mists of uncertainty. Each ring was like a drumbeat in time with your anxiety, a prelude to the imminent encounter with destiny. The tension in the air was palpable, like a thread of electricity connecting

you and Amber, each vibration amplifying the anticipation that filled the room.

Finally, her voice emerged from the other end of the line, like an echo from a hidden place deep within the forest. It was a sound that carried with it shared memories, the good and the bad moments that now seemed to teeter on the balance of uncertainty. Her words were a distant echo resonating in the cavern of your emotions, creating a painfully beautiful symphony.

"Amber," you said. "I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"Yeah, right," she said. "You're just sorry you got caught."

"No, I'm serious," you said. "I just needed some time to think."

"Well, you had your time," she said. "Now come back home."

In the twilight of reconciliation, like two stars emerging from the veil of night, you and Amber finally agreed to return to the abode of tranquility. Home became a symbol of refuge, an oasis where emotional storms could rest and calm down. It was as if you were about to embark on a journey of self-discovery, exploring the hidden caves of the human heart.

The hours slid by like sand flowing through an hourglass, each moment a grain of possibility. The conversation that unfolded was a symphony of words and silences, like an intricate dance of intertwining souls. The unspoken words were like rays of sunlight filtering through the cracks in the curtains, revealing truths that had been hidden in the shadows.

Apologies were like keys that unlocked the doors to your hearts, releasing the guilt and anguish that had accumulated. Each word of remorse was a raindrop falling onto the dry soil of the relationship, nurturing the seed of mutual understanding. You were like lost travelers who had finally found their way back home, guided by the beacon of reconciliation.

The promise to improve communication was like a gentle breeze sweeping through the dry leaves of autumn, carrying away the remnants of the past and preparing the ground for new growth. It was like a sacred vow etched in the stars, to be more truthful with yourselves and each other. You were mapping emotional territories, where vulnerability and authenticity would be the compasses guiding you.

It wasn't an easy journey, but you and Amber navigated the treacherous waters of resolution. The road to reconciliation was strewn with sharp stones and treacherous currents, but you moved forward hand in hand, like fearless adventurers exploring the depths of the human heart. The winds of change whispered promises of renewal, yet also warned of the fragility of the achieved balance.

And yet, even as the anchors of harmony were being secured, there was a shadow, a dark cloud of uncertainty on the horizon. You felt it, like an unwavering clock, reminding you that the path to redemption was paved with unexpected challenges. The past "mistakes" were not isolated incidents; they were question marks lingering above you, waiting for the right moment to trigger a new cycle of turmoil.

Thus, even as the light of reconciliation shone, you couldn't ignore the shadows dancing in the corners of the future. It was as if reconciliation itself were a fragile shell, surrounded by the tumultuous ocean of uncertain destiny. The commitment to be more honest with each other was there, but you knew that the challenge of keeping that promise would be an ongoing battle against the tides of time and circumstances.

Sou brasileira sim kkl campo grandense, o que me entregou?

Você por acaso faz história com outros personagens de outra séries também?

Sabia! Aakakak, teu user é genial eu amei e como brasileiro é um povo fanfiqueiro.

Por enquanto não estou fazendo para nenhum outro filme ou série, mas faço para todos os personagens de "Pânico".

mas eu ainda acredito que a parte mais triste foi ter que abrir mão do amor porque não era recíproco.

céu de júpiter em: tudo que eu poderia te dizer, mas você jamais entenderia.

Better Than Drugs

Pairings: Namgyu x Fem!Reader | Brief!Thanos x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reconnecting with your shitty ex boyfriend in the games.

Warnings: Language, Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationship, Male Manipulation, Coercion, Smut (+18) mdni, High sex, Dub/con, Choking, Exchange of Bodily Fluids, Unprotected Sex, Unedited (we die like soldiers)

A/n: literally no one will read this but I need him and I wrote this for me!

Being treated like a lamb being led to the proverbial slaughter in a death game sucked ass but seeing your ex boyfriend there sucked even more, somehow. From your vantage point perched on your bed tucked away from all the central conflict, you notice them talking about you again.

Call it past bully traum but you knew when people were talking about you and although you couldn't make out what they were saying, a part of you just knew...

Another vote had ended and Namgyu was still staring at you, his head bowed, chewing his fingernails. He was watching you, while you were forced to watch as democracy crumbled around you.

Your brain made you think Namgyu was perhaps berating you in front of his new friend. Bad-mouthing you to absolutely no end, perhaps saying what a lousy, uptight girlfriend you had been in the outside world. How you kept him from his habit. How you tried to force him into rehab countless times.

And so you shrink into yourself, squeezing yourself further into your bed, hugging your knees.

How were you supposed to know the conversation went nothing like how you thought it was going?

"We need to get her on our team," Thanos had said when the voting concluded and they were watching you pick at your roll of tin-foiled kimbap.

"She's already on our team," Namgyu muttered, more quiet than usual as he watched you through the corner of his eye. He didn't feel like eating. He felt like doing drugs. And fucking, maybe, but eating? It never occurred to him.

Without you to remind him to eat, and to actually take care of his bodily health outside of his substance abuse, he really was a mess.

"Oh yeah," Thanos muttered dumbly before turning back to his own food, "Kay, well, I need to sleep with her."

Namgyu didn't even look up from his food, still leaning against the metal beds as he murmured a quiet, "Nope." Popping his lip, extenuating the 'p'

Thanos himself was rallied into silence as Namgyu casually clicked his tongue before adding, "I called dibs on that bro," he steals another glance. You're searching your chest for a piece of cucumber that's fallen out of the kimbap

This unfortunately, zeroes his gaze in on your ample chest, miraculously squeezed into that tracksuit jacket. Now Namgyu was thinking about your tits while Thanos' head whips to the side, his brow lifted.

Namgyu couldn't take his eyes off you since the games began. Watching you during voting time had stirred up all kinds of lost emotions. The easy and almost thoughtless way you had pressed the blue button before tucking your hands in your pockets, never sparing anyone a second glance. He had to adjust the bulge forming in his sweatpant. If it weren't for him you might have continued to go amongst the games as an anonymous spectre, with that cash prize as your only goal.

"I didn't know we were calling dibs!?" Thanos stomped his feet petulantly, "That's not fair, man. Not. Cool."

"That's the point of dibs," Namgyu said, pushing his hair behind his ears as he continued to stare you down. "Who knows how long we'll be here?" As he watched you, he tilted his head downwards, causing a thick shadow to fall over his eyes as he watched you. He leaned against the railings of the metal beds piled up to the ceiling, watching you tuck your hands deeper into the sleeves of your sweater. Really fucking cute.

"B-But Homies don't call dibs on girls!" Thanos whines.

"Yeah," Namgyu nods, "but, I'm gonna need more than magic pills and a homie to get me through the night," He made a ring with his index and thumb finger, pinching his one eye shut as he spied at you through it, "She can help,”

Thanos was quiet, eerily so. Good things never happened when Thanos was quiet,

"Let's go over to her right now then. Since she's stealing my homie-"

That immediately snapped Namgyu out of his lust-filled gaze, promoting his shoulders to straighten as he tried to stop Thanos from taking another step towards you.

"Senorita-" he said in a singsong voice and you rolled your eyes as you saw them approaching. Namgyu walked behind like the shadow he always tried to be, with his hands tucked in his pocket. Your bed is relatively low to the ground and your heart stammered when both their shadows fell over you.

"Don't have any change," your eyes whipped to your ex-boyfriend before narrowing, "Or drugs. Sorry." you mustered a painfully sarcastic smile as you attempted to turn in another direction, hoping they might take the hint.

Thanos' teeth stretched as Namgyu swallowed thickly, watching you in that distinctly predatory way of his as he propped his forearm against the railing of the bed. You hate how both of them make you feel and your eye scans in vain around the premises, hoping someone might save you from the duo.

"Lemme make this quick," Thanos said with his drug addicted hand gestures. "My bro wants you and whatever bro wants-" he taps Namgyu's chest behind you- "Bro gets."

Silence passed with you staring deep into Namgyu's dark, almost sinister black eyes. You admitted that you were still painfully attracted to him. Knowing that he knows your body. He's already seen what hid under your blue tracksuit, it was dizzyingly sobering.

He still seemed so devastatingly sleezy it bordered on attractive, like he didn't care about what anyone really thought of him. It still brought an uncomfortable amount of attraction that you didn't really know what to do with. "No thanks," you said, bending your head to take a bite of the kimbap.

"Cunt." you heard him mumble under his breath. That caused your head whip up to glare at him.

"I'm a cunt because I'd rather not fuck a drug addict?"

"No," Namgyu shrugged, "You're just a cunt."

Your nostrils flared as something diabolical ignited inside you. Up until this point, fear had been the only emotion you allowed yourself to feel. The fear of dying to keep you alive. But right now, you're being plagued with another emotion and it's setting you alight with interest.

Your dating preferences were never orthodox. You knew you could never truly be satisfied with any other timid nice guy, and that's what drew you to him. You hated admitting to it but Namgyu calling you a cunt did more than irritate you, it ignited you.

"I'm not here to make friends,” You marvel now, in the tense darkness, how confident you had been then.

“How about a boyfriend then?” Namgyu asked and Thanos whistled lowly as he mutters a ‘nice bro,’

“How about choking?” You shot back, “I tried the boyfriend thing and he stole all my savings to buy drugs.” Namgyu’s jaw ticked and you can see his fist fold and unfold. Thanos’ commentary continues. ‘Shit boyfriend-’ he says under his breath.

“Don't be a bitch so early in the morning…” Namgyu says finally before turning his head, somewhat distracted, “Or at least I think it's morning. Hyung do you think it's morning-”

Thanos raised his hands, “Morning is what we make it in here, bro.”

“Leave me alone of I'll fucking scream.” you cut through all their useless chatter, letting a tense silence settle between the three of you. Eventually, Thanos reluctantly pulls Namgyu away. Murmuring a quiet ‘just take a hint bro.'

Soon, you were left in your bed but not without one more backwards glance from Namgyu over his shoulder. He wasn't done with you and that thought sat heavily on your shoulders until the robotic voice from unseen speakers made the countdown to lights out.

The very last thing you remembered, before the overhead lights were snuffed out, was his black, almond eyes still watching you from his bed.

The blue 'O' velcroed to your breast burns a hole through your conscience as your eyes flutter open in the middle of the night, really needing to pee. The prize money acts as the only source of gold light illuminating the hall while everyone else remains soundly asleep.

Life in the games was so much more stomachable during the day, but when the lights went out, you were forced to sit with your thoughts. That piggy bank didn't have money inside it, it held bodies, and the ghosts practically filled this room.

Still, you can't help but whisper to yourself, “I really have to pee.” The only thing stopping you from going to the bathroom is the gaze you knew would somehow find you from three beds over. Your ex boyfriend watches you, even when the lights go out.

Paranoia be damned.

Cursing softly, you maneuvered yourself to the ground. Trying to make the least amount of noise possible as you moved through the row of beds.

If you were being followed you'd never know. Everything was too dark but a part of you sighed as you reached the small arched doorway completely unscathed.

Almost unscathed.

Your heart hammers in its cage when you feel his heavy arm settle over your shoulders. Your mouth falls open but Namgyu is already banging on the arched door with a closed fist. You flinch with every loud, metallic hit.

The little window opens to reveal a triangle-masked soldier. He stands there emotionless.

“My girlfriend's on her period- she's bleeding everywhere. We need the bathroom.”

There is silence from the Guard who is clearly unimpressed. Just before the little window is about to slide shut Namgyu kicks at the door, “Hey! I wanna fuck my girl- if you want, we could do it out here?!”

You try to wrench yourself out of his grip, toilet be damned but your heart absolutely sinks to find the pink soldier opening the metal door.

Namgyu only twirls, pumping his fist before pulling you in his arms, biting back a smile.

“Can't believe that worked,” Namgyu says, with a raised eyebrow and a happy little shrug as he drags you across the threshold. The trip to the women's bathroom is relatively short as you writhe and fight in his hands. There's virtually no reason for the pink guard to think any of this was consensual but they kept their stoicism on their face as you reached the girl's bathroom.

“We'll be quick,” Namgyu assures the guard with a tight sort of smile before pushing you into the bathroom, and closing the door after himself.

You trip on your way running into one of the stalls and he watches you, biting his nail.

“This is the girls bathroom, or are you too high to notice?” You hiss absolute venom as he bites his fingernail.

“Nah, I'm sober right now, which means I need something to take the load off.”

“Cool. Use your hand,” you sigh from within the stalls before dropping your pants to pee. It irked you that he was standing there, on the other side… waiting for you.

You make quick work of it all. Wiping, flushing, and making a beeline for the sinks. He lets you wash your hands but before you make it to the door his arms are wrapped around your waist.

“Uh Uh,” he tsks, “No ‘i miss you’ kiss, huh?” He drags you into his arms, kicking and screaming as he swipes your brains from across your panicked face.

“Only competent boyfriends get kisses,” Despite the fuss, the door doesn't open. Those guards have quite literally abandoned you in here to fend for yourself.

“I can make it up to you,” he said, “I miss you really bad, baby,” Namgyu's pushing your back against the sink, stained with that sickening, pastel colour as he lowers his nose into the crook of your neck. You writhe as he breathes you in deeply, before sighing. His erection pressed against your thigh.

“Someone else could walk in here,” you cry, feeling a dampness seep out of you, wetting your underwear. Your body was being traitorous because it was enjoying feeling anything other than fear. It yearned for it.

“Sto-” you attempt to catch your breath as he gropes at your breasts from over your tracksuit. “Stop touching me-” you say despite your legs getting weaker and weaker.

“You don't get to touch me anymore. You lost that privilege when you stopped being my boyfriend.” He was so much taller than you when he stretched his hand across your cheeks, forcing your neck back to make more space for his lips. A moan nearly spills out of you.

His hands are trembling and his tongue swipes out to lick the length of your neck. To your shock and horror, you melt in his grasp.

“You don't mean that-” he whispers against your skin. “No one's gonna fuck you like I do-”

“No one's going to steal my money like you do either-”

His hand flies down to your throat, choking as he says through clenched teeth, “I told you I had a problem-” he squeezes and for the briefest moment, you see stars. “I needed help and you abandoned me, you bitch-”

“I didn't abandon you-” His lips are on yours, silencing you in one messy kiss that him forcing his tongue into your mouth.

“You gonna be good for me, Huh?’ He says, hoarsely, your eyes glare up at him.

“Leave me alone-”

“You know I love it when you try to fight back,” his mouth breathes against your hair, “You trying to get me riled up babe, huh?”

His fingers find the lining of your own sweatpants and your heart stammers as he turns to push your front against the sink. Your hand grips at the cheap plaster and you avoid your own traitorous reflection in the mirror, lest you find not only fear in your eyes, but lust

“You know how bad I've needed this- fuck,” his voice cracks when fumbles his cock out, grinding against your ass with his eyes closed in ecstasy and his mouth hanging open. Your finger curls around the sink as the first moan slips out of you. It had his eyes flying open to look down at you in amusement and awe.

“I knew you weren't a completely stuck-up bitch,” he says, pulling you up by the base of the throat, “I knew you still wanted me.”

“I don't,” you squeak out as he pulls down your pants.

“No- but your body does,” he swipes your underwear to the side.

Your body spasms as he roughly sinks his digits into you once before pulling out.

He continues to swipe your arousal from from your ass to your puffy clit and the need wracks through your entire body, building as you arched your ass backwards against him.

“You miss me real bad,” he brings your fingers up in front of your face and your heart drops to find the arousal webbing his index and middle.

His mouth is by your ear, breathing heavily as he lines his cock up at your entrance, already leaking precum, “I know I gave you hell when we were out there-”

“Hell doesn't begin to cover- FUCK-” he rams his cock into you. Positively brimming with need as his hips stutter against you.

“Y-ou stole my fucking savings for drugs-” you get the sentence out quickly before moaning into the air, as your boyfriend fucks out all the frustration he's been carrying, all the need and the withdrawal.

“And I ate you out as an apology-” He reaches his hand around to clamp down on the base of your throat. Your mouth falls open when he cranes our neck back, his eyes boring into yours. “Don't you miss it baby, don't miss having me inside of you?”

“Y-Your eyes are diluted-” you begin to say, utterly incredulous. “You're high right now!”

His hips thrusts in shallow, quick strokes. “And your pussy's wet, guess we're both fucked.”

“That it…” he whispers, “Don't think I haven't forgotten the way you abandoned me out there… But in here,” your eyes roll to the back of your head, “You dont so much as fucking breathe without my permission.”

Your pussy tightens around him like a long lost friend, it knocks you out how deeply you've craved him. Needing reprieve from all the fear. “You're squeezing around my cock, you fucking slut-” that nearly has you seeing stars. Your body spasms.

Your eyes squeeze shut as his cock hits that particular pillow of nerves inside you, nearly flipping you off the edge.

You do it without thinking about it and his eyes widen as he presses that same hand to your clit.

“Spit on my hand,” he says, an edge to his voice that let you know he was far too close. You forgot how messy things got when you had sex with him. How much of a mess he made of you.

“F-Fuck!” Your eyes are squeezed shut as he reaches around to rub you to your orgasm. His movements only fumble when his hips start stuttering.

“N-Need you to cum for me-” he breathes out. “I’m jittery- baby. I need it- shit-” you slip into your orgasm right in front of him, milking his cock for all its worth. “F-Fuck this is so much better than drugs,” he murmers, eyes rolled back as a drunken smile ghosts over his face. He's in complete and utter euphoria.

Two rough knocks on the door signal the need for your return but Namgyu's cock is still spilling ropes of his cum inside you and you're doing nothing but taking it.

“I hate you,” you breathe out, because it's true. If it weren't for him you wouldn't be here.

His breath is warm against your neck as he says, “I love you too.

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

❝Sidney Prescott x fem!reader❞

feel free to request any headcanon here 🠒 headcanons list

★ protective nature: Sidney is fiercely protective of her loved ones and would do anything to ensure their safety. This extends to her romantic partner, as she becomes their unwavering shield against any threats or dangers;

★ empathy and understanding: Sidney has a deep well of empathy and understanding due to her own experiences with trauma. She is a compassionate listener, always there to offer support and comfort to you whenever they need it;

★ mutual strength: you share Sidney's resilience and strength, forming a powerful bond between you. You inspire and empower each other, becoming a formidable team in facing challenges and overcoming obstacles;

★ adventurous dates: Sidney and you enjoy going on thrilling and adventurous dates. Embark on adrenaline-pumping activities like bungee jumping or skydiving, embracing your shared love for excitement;

★ late-night talks: Sidney and you have deep, meaningful conversations late into the night. You discuss your hopes, dreams, fears, and everything in between. These intimate talks strengthen your connection and deepen your understanding of one another;

★ supporting your passions: Sidney encourages you to pursue your passions and goals. Whether it's writing, painting, or any other creative endeavor, Sidney provides unwavering support and believes in your abilities;

★ shared trauma healing: Sidney and you find solace in your shared experiences of trauma. You help each other heal by providing a safe space to process your emotions, offering comfort, and reminding each other that you are not defined by your pasts;

★ Sid's strength: Sidney is a strong and resilient woman, both physically and emotionally. You admire her strength and find comfort in her unwavering presence during difficult times;

★ surprise love notes: Sidney leaves little surprise love notes for you to find throughout the day. Whether it's a heartfelt message on a sticky note or a sweet text message, these gestures remind you of Sidney's love and affection.

❝ Toxic relationship❞

feel free to request any headcanon here 🠒 headcanons list TW: toxic and abusive relationship, violent and degrading behavior

★ possessive and jealous: she doesn't like it when you talk to other people, especially if they're of the opposite sex. She gets mad easily and accuses you of cheating on her even if there's no evidence to support it. She doesn't trust you and often interrogates you about your whereabouts and who you were with. She may even go as far as stalking you on social media or in person;

★ control of the relationship: she makes all the decisions and doesn't care about your feelings or opinions. If you disagree with her, she gets angry and starts an argument. She doesn't compromise or try to find a middle ground. She wants things to go her way or no way at all;

★ emotionally manipulative: she knows how to play with your emotions and uses them to get what she wants. She often threatens to break up with you or harm herself if you don't do what she wants. She may also use guilt-tripping or emotional blackmail to get her way. You feel like you're walking on eggshells around her, always afraid of upsetting her;

★ constantly putting you down: she criticizes your appearance, intelligence, and abilities. She makes you feel like you're not good enough for her and that you should be grateful to be with her. She may even compare you to others, making you feel inadequate and insecure;

★ doesn't respect your boundaries: she invades your privacy, reads your messages, and shows up unannounced. She doesn't care about your personal space and expects you to always be available for her. She may even force you to give up your hobbies, friends, or family to spend more time with her;

★ belittles your interests and hobbies: Amber belittles your interests and hobbies, and tries to make you feel guilty for spending time on them instead of with her. She often insists that you prioritize her over everything else. She doesn't want you to have a life outside of the relationship and may even try to isolate you from your support system;

★ verbal abuse: Amber is quick to anger and uses verbal abuse to control you. She insults and demeans you, and may even escalate to physical violence. She may hit, slap, push, or kick you, leaving you with bruises and scars. She may also use objects or weapons to hurt you;

★ sexual behavior: Amber is manipulative in her sexual behavior. She may use sex as a bargaining tool or withhold it to punish you. She may also pressure you into sexual acts you're uncomfortable with, or force you to have sex when you don't want to. She doesn't care about your pleasure or consent;

★ volatile and unpredictable: her moods can swing rapidly and drastically, making it hard for you to know how to act around her. She may be sweet and loving one moment, and then turn into a raging monster the next. You never know what to expect from her and are always on edge.

(I still want to write a one-shot about this, but I don't know where to start yet :( Thank you for asking, I promise to do it in a few days)

"You always were too smart..."

"...for your own good."

Scream 1996

Yandere! Billy Loomis X F!Reader

Synopsis: The Woodsboro massacre was a case that had been announced to be closed as soon as it was opened. The answer was obvious, right? There were two witnesses after all. Mr Prescott snapped, killed a bunch of kids, then shot himself in the head as a result of the nearing anniversary of his wife's death—two of your close friends confirmed it. Why, then, did you feel the need to meddle? Why couldn't you just mind your own goddamn business?!

Warnings: Mentions of death, Gore, Manipulation, Threat/Violence

"It just doesn't make any sense!"

None of it did. The witnesses, the evidence, the murders—it was just too big of a headache to deal with.

You didn't know why you were still doing it; still looking into this case even in the depths of midnight. It was closed, the chief said so himself—your two best friends were there, they saw what happened and recalled the events as such, their stories had even been perfectly aligned...

...almost too perfectly.

It was dumb—and you were probably being paranoid but—nothing felt right. If this was all Sidney's dad's doing then... why kill Casey Becker and Steve Orth? What did they have to do with him? You would've understood if they had attended Stu's party and were just caught in the crossfire but that wasn't the case, they were killed before the massacre—days before, in fact. Why? Why target them?

And—why would a murderer, who made sure all of his victims were dead, stab both Billy and Stu just perfectly so that he missed their vitals and didn't dig deep enough for them to actually be able to die of blood loss?—or, at least, not for a long while. Wouldn't he want to also make sure they were dead before offing himself?

The weapon too—why the hell did you only find a gun at the scene of the crime when there was evidence of a knife being used as well? If he didn't care enough to dispose of the gun he used to kill himself and others, why dispose of the knife?

None of it added up. None of it was making any sense.

"Fuck!"

Frustration coursed through you, crawling through your skin to visibly cause the bulging of your veins and urge your brows down further than ever before. The deep bags under your eyes weren't doing you any wonders either.

You were struggling and it showed.

Papers sat haphazardly strewn across the desk in front of you, each one depicting different inked up versions of the crime scene—from the body of Tatum Riley hanging by the driveway door, to the very gun that brought about the end of the accused 'murderer' himself. To the normal civilian, it would be hard to stomach—to you, it was just another Tuesday.

Except, this Tuesday seemed to really want to bash your head in.

With another aggravated huff through your lips, your hand shot out to the messy pile before sifting through it, trying to find something—anything—that would satisfy this god-awful itch in the back of your mind.

Then—a creak.

Your eyes shot up, muscles tensing as you scanned the shadows leaking through the corners of the room for the cause of the noise. One hand kept hovering above the sheets and the other slowly inched towards the drawer beneath you, fingers steadily winding around the knob before—

"Kid, what are you doing here?"

The flick of a switch came with the familiar voice that asked you that question; a voice that instantly caused your optics to widen and your back to suddenly go from lax to rigid as you clumsily fumbled around in your seat. "Sheriff!"

He grunted, voice gruff as he continued, "It's almost one, you have school tomorrow, why the hell are you still here?"

You parted your lips—ready to respond—when he squinted and scanned the desk, opening his own mouth to speak again before you could.

"Are those all from the casefile of the Woodsboro Massacre? Kid, that case is solved. It's done. The hell are you doing still in the station this late with those files?"

Your lips tugged down as your gaze trailed his own. "It just... it doesn't feel right, chief."

When he didn't respond, you chose to keep going.

"I mean, why would he kill his own daughter? I was close with Sid, I knew her and I knew how much her dad adored her—"

"That's the thing with psychos, Y/N, they—"

"He isn't just a psycho though!" That came out unnecessarily loud, and the chief seemed to think so too with the way his brow rose pointedly as soon as the words fell out, "Sorry, I... this case has been killing me all night. It just... it doesn't line up. If he really did snap, why target Casey Becker and Steve Orth days before the anniversary of his wife's death? Why specifically them? And why leave Billy and Stu with non-lethal wounds before killing himself?

"I know I should be grateful that they're still alive considering they're my best friends and all..." you continued, tone solemn, "and I am! I really am! I just... I can't help but find this all too strange."

And as you hung your head down, your ears soon perked up to the sound of several more creaks slowly growing louder as they made their way over to your seated form. 

Then, a warmth blanketed your shoulder, causing your head to tilt up and your eyes to meet with a pair that seemed to slowly soften the longer you spent looking at them.

"Look, kid, you're a genius. That's why you work at this station. That's what you worked hard to prove to everyone here. Every cop in this town respects you—including me. If you say you think something's up with this case, then I believe you."

Your eyes lit up.

"Just... promise me you won't stay up this late investigating it. You can come down to the station as soon as school is over tomorrow but let me give you a ride home today."

You could do nothing but nod vigorously, too elated to form words as of that current moment. The nodding was enough though, and soon, you found yourself situated in the chief's car, buildings passing by in a flurry of colours as he drove over the bumps of the rocky road beneath you, gaze focused ahead.

With the incessant chatter of the radio echoing in the background, you almost couldn't hear your own thoughts. But, they were there. And they were just as unyielding in their fight for your attention.

Your skin crawled at the thought of Billy's expression if he ever found out about your doubt in his eye-witness account. Stu could brush it off easily but Billy... he was troubled, to say the least. He had a lot going on and you were one of the only people he trusted enough to share it all with; so to hear that you found him suspicious in any way would... well, it would crush him.

But, justice was justice. You pursued being a detective because it needed someone to deliver it with an iron fist. If that meant having to doubt the words of someone close to you then so be it. You worked so hard to get to where you were, you would be sure to honour it wholeheartedly.

"Here we are, kid." You blinked, turning to the officer beside you. "Get some rest, alright? See you tomorrow."

With a nod, you stepped out of the vehicle, and it didn't move an inch until you made it inside the house—staying there for a couple more seconds after the door closed before the wheels turned again as he started off once more.

And you didn't know if it was just because he was gone—his presence always being able to make you feel so much more safe than you did on a daily basis—but... a sudden chill ran down your spine, pricking your skin with a feeling you couldn't quite place your finger on but an unsettling one nonetheless.

You didn't quite get enough sleep that night.

But then again, when did you ever? Perhaps your paranoia was at an all time high because of insomnia—but, you digressed.

Besides, it was a new day and you had just arrived at school. You should focus—

—that was a lot easier said than done, though. Almost mindlessly staring into your open locker, you let your thoughts drift to the nefarious case for the umpteenth time. 

Stop it, Y/N. Save it for the station.

With a sigh, you slammed the door shut and almost jumped when you caught view of what seemed to suddenly appear by your side.

There, stood one of the very boys your mind couldn't seem to hold off on thinking about recently—leaning against the locker with his defined arms crossed over his chest and his parted bangs falling over his face to frame it perfectly, basically forcing you to notice the way his lips were slightly twitched up as he gazed back at you.

"Billy," you whispered.

"Y/N," he responded, lips twitching up just a bit more, "I was wondering if you wanted to come over later? Watch a movie with me? I was gonna watch with Stu but then his family had that last minute trip thing."

Instantly, you were brought back to your conversation with the chief yesterday and your gaze drifted off to the side as you spoke—albeit a bit hesitantly—"I don't know... I should really get down to the station..."

He frowned at that, one arm unfolding to reach for your own, landing on your bicep before his fingertips slowly trailed down, ghosting over the exposed skin to send tingles down your spine as his palm finally found yours, fingers interweaving not too long after.

"C'mon, you spend so much time at the station now—it's like you're more hung up on this case than me. I barely ever get to see you. I miss my favourite girl."

That was true. Not the part about him barely seeing you (well, that was true too but—), the part about you being more hung up on the case than him—and he was actually there in person. It had only been a few days but Billy and Stu had seemed to move on just fine—which was strange considering the fact that, y'know, both of their girlfriends were dead.

Maybe, if you said yes, you'd be able to ask some specific questions to Billy; see if he was hiding any details from you.

"Okay," slowly, you nodded, "Yeah, sure, I'll come over."

At that, his lids fell halfway down his eyes before he purred out—voice borderline seductive—"Perfect."

To any girl who was none the wiser, that would send pleasant shivers down their spine—the shivers running down your spine, though, were anything but pleasant.

The rest of the school day breezed by and all you could find yourself thinking about was the case and Billy—he was practically living rent-free in your head. Even as he showed up at your last class—leaning against the wall in that way that just screamed Billy Loomis—you found yourself too stuck in your thoughts about him to be able to pay attention to the real him.

And he noticed.

"Y/N? You good?"

You blinked, tilting your head to his form as he walked beside you, the light breeze blowing slightly against his beautiful brown locks. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He frowned, reaching the hand that had been brushing against your own this whole time further towards you before asking, "You sure?"

Lightly, and as subtly as you could, you pulled your hand away. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He tilted his head down towards where your hands would've met and you watched as his lips pulled taut, expression almost appearing... blank as he stared at the empty space before his gaze flitted back up and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, muttering out a gruff 'okay' as he did so.

The rest of the walk to his house was silent—the wind and mindless chatter of other teenagers being the only thing your ears could pick up on.

And as you made it to his door, your heart constricted a little—thoughts wandering back to the look on his face after you rejected his seek for touch. Billy wasn't usually a physical person, at least, not with anyone but you and his now-dead girlfriend.

Though, even with Sid, his touch seemed a little more tense and uncertain than with you. You noticed the way he barely hesitated to hold you; the way he almost seemed relieved when he did finally get to feel you—be it against him or just your presence in the room. 

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he had a crush on you. But he had a girlfriend already—one he asked out, no less—so that couldn't be the case. The only explanation was that he really valued you as a friend. And that thought pricked you so much more than it should've.

Perhaps... perhaps you were being too paranoid with your thinking. The case was done. Over. You should just lay it to rest before you ended up really hurting one of your best friends.

Yeah... yeah. You'd do just that. You were going to enjoy this day with Billy. No more getting caught up in cases that were already solved. Nope. It was time to be there for your best friend.

With that thought in mind, you reached out your hand, slowly intertwining your fingers with the tall boy's own as he opened the doors of his home—pausing for a moment to glance back at you with wide eyes before his lips stretched up more than you had ever seen before and he tugged on your arm.

It was the littlest of force but it was sudden enough to send you tumbling into his chest as his arms engulfed you wholy; entirely. You could practically feel that familiar sense of relief radiating off his form and you couldn't help the laugh that echoed off yours.

"God, I missed you," he mumbled into your hair and a small, gentle smile graced your lips.

"I missed you too."

You stood there for a few more moments, basking in each others presence for just a little longer before you decided to pull away—albeit being met with a little resistance from Billy's end but, you were eventually successful.

"Alright, c'mon, you big sap, let's go in and watch your favourite scary movie." 

He grinned at that, instantly moving to grab your hand again as he led you to his room—rushing through the clear, monotone halls before he arrived at his wooden door and opened it with a wide swing of his arm. 

Soon, you found yourself seated on his bed, feat kicking back and forth as you awaited his presence. He had gone to go retrieve the VHS containing his movie from the ground floor so it was just you sat in the confines of the room riddled to the brim with horror posters from all sorts of media.

For a jock, he sure was a nerd.

One particular thing stood out to you, though—a small, rectangular bit of paper clipped to a string. It illustrated a smaller version of both yourself and Billy, stood beside each other with large grins on your faces—carefree and bright in their nature; loving and tender.

He still had that?

Unable to stop yourself, you moved to get a closer look—

—only to almost stumble when your foot caught the edge of something that certainly wasn't the ground.

A box—dull and beaten up. It was made up purely of cardboard which definitely wasn't doing it any wonders when it came to durability, that was for sure. The brown colour was quite unsightly to look at and the way some parts seemed almost... maroon was strange, to say the least.

Ever the investigator, you almost couldn't help the way your fingers naturally curved around the lid, slowly lifting the rough material up before shifting it to the side just in time to catch a familiar mask staring right back at you.

Mouth opened wide in an endless scream as soulless black eyes glared into your form—the sharp silver of a cutting blade coated in crimson laying beside it. It was almost too much to process at once.

And as you picked up the leather notepad sat beneath the dark robe under the mask, the gears slowly started turning in your head.

Flicking through the pages only further solidified your conclusion.

That mask belonged to Ghostface. That knife laying next to it was coated in blood. Unless there was some other murder that happened between now and the massacre, this was definitely the missing evidence from the crime scene. 

And it was all in Billy Loomis' room.

You had an inkling, but this... this was on a whole other level.

The notebook detailed different ways to rid yourself of evidence when committing a murder, each one being linked back to a particular horror movie—even going as far as to have quotes obsessively scribbled near them with timestamps and everything. It was insane.

But, by far, the craziest thing was that Billy—your Billy—committed all of this. And if Billy was in on it, then so was Stu.

They both had murdered your whole friendship group that night.

Your fingers shook as you slowly stood up, legs barely able to hold your weight with how weak that realisation rendered you. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed onto you, drenching you from head to toe with the cruelty of the world.

Then—a click.

Slowly, you turned, book slipping from between your fingers as your eyes landed on the figure at the doorway.

Instantly, your hands shot up.

Billy stood there—expression blank as his eyes seemed almost... lifeless—with one hand raised and fingers wrapped around a black L-shaped object.

Your muscles grew tense. "Billy..."

"Stu's a fucking idiot," scoffed he, "I told him to burn all that stuff but he insisted we keep it as some sort of memento mori—something to remember our success with."

He took a step forward. You took a step back.

"But let's be honest, Y/N, you would've found out eventually, right?" As he spoke, your gaze stayed trained onto the gun, watching as he flailed it around—pupils shaking and hysteria slowly but surely clouding his eyes. "You always were too smart for your own good."

Your heart was beating ten miles a minute, practically playing drums in your ears with how it loud it was as you continued to back away. "Billy, put the gun down."

"Y'know, Stu wanted to kill you... but I said no. Wanna know why?" He was now grinning from ear-to-ear. "'Cause I love you. I always have. Even as I was fucking that stupid whore Sidney that night, all I could think of was you."

You were running out of room to move back to. "Billy..."

"There! I confessed!" He suddenly rose his volume, and you winced a little. "Isn't that what you want?! A confession?! There's your fucking confession, Y/N!"

Getting kind of sick of all the ignoring, you spat back, "You know damn well that isn't the type of confession I want!"

"Well, maybe if your hadn't been such a snooping whore I wouldn't have to give you it!" 

Here. There. Everywhere. He kept pointing that thing around so carelessly while his finger stayed hovering over the trigger, just one jerk away from a misfire; one jerk away from your possible end.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I promise."

"Billy! Be careful with that damn thing!"

A slam.

"You know, Y/N, I wouldn't even have to use this if you minded your own goddamn business!"

Your back hit the wall, and the barrel was now pointing directly. at. you.

"So pretty for me," he whispered, voice having mellowed out so suddenly—so dementedly—you almost couldn't believe your ears as he closed in on you, practically pressing his body right up against yours, "My pretty girl."

The barrel of the gun was directly under your chin now, being used to tilt your head and lock your gaze with his own, crazed one.

"Such a clever girl, aren't you, dollface?" His praises came out steadily, voice low and husky as he continued to coo, "My clever little detective."

And as the world went black around you, you caught one more voice enter the room.

"Took ya long enough."

solidão

não é sobre estar sozinho é sobre não pertencer a lugar nenhum (nem a si mesmo). a.

why are you using he for Sam? Sam is a girl and therefore uses she/her. Not he/him

Hi, honey, I am using feminine pronouns for Sam. However, I am Brazilian. English is not my native language, so there might be some errors, and for that, I apologize. I like to write in English to practice and expand my vocabulary.