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bingwriterxo · 9 months

Text

a clingy drunk

pairing: amber freeman x reader

summary: in which you get a little too drunk at one of amber's parties

warnings: implications of sex, mentions of alcohol poisoning

word count: 1900+

author's note: this was a request (find here!) hope yall enjoy :D

“So, is tonight just the group or is it the whole school?” you asked, your eyes trained on your own reflection as you tried to do your hair in the style that always drove Amber wild. You glanced behind you in the mirror, catching sight of your girlfriend as she looked through her closet for something to wear.

“The whole school,” Amber answered, pulling a cropped shirt from its hanger and holding it up for you to see. “Thoughts?”

You gulped, nodding quickly. “Definitely. Wear it with those low-waisted jeans you got the other day.”

She hummed as she crossed the room, shirt in hand, and leaned down, her chin resting on your shoulder. Her eyes locked with yours in the mirror, and she asked, “Making yourself all pretty for me?”

You shivered at her words, her warm breath fanning against your cheek. “Yeah, Ambs,” you agreed, turning your head to peck her on the cheek. “All pretty for you.”

Amber grinned, leaning in to kiss you. “My pretty girl,” she mumbled against your lips, and butterflies circled your stomach, making you beam with joy. She stood and left your side, going to dig through her dresser for the pants that you had mentioned earlier.

You carried on with styling your hair, humming along to the quiet music that was playing in the room. You loved when things were like this--both of you existing in the same space yet doing your own things; it was pure domesticity.

Amber’s voice cut through your concentration, drawing your eyes back to her through the mirror. “Baby?” she began, her voice soft and lulling. You swore up and down that you could fall asleep to it.

“Yeah?”

“Try not to drink too much tonight, alright? I don’t want to have to call the ambulance again.”

You shuddered at the memory of what had happened at Amber’s last party nearly a month prior. Chad and Mindy had egged you into trying your first keg stand, and, upon successfully completing it, they decided to celebrate by feeding you shot after shot of tequila. Needless to say, the night had ended with you being rolled out on a stretcher, Amber following behind with wide, worried eyes, and having your stomach pumped.

“I definitely won’t be drinking that much tonight,” you promised. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

She smiled, and your heart fluttered at the sight. “Good.” She pulled the jeans from her drawer, a mischievous smirk on her lips and a familiar spark in her eyes. “Wanna help me get changed?”

You leapt from your seat and rushed toward her, giggling the whole time.

* * *

For a good hour, you kept your promise to Amber. While people were still filing into her house, you simply wandered around, offering half-assed greetings to your peers and sipping at your beer; every so often, you’d pester your girlfriend for her phone so that you could change the song, or you’d just walk right up to her and plant a kiss on her lips--she never complained about either.

However, when your friends arrived, your night was quickly turned around.

“Y/N! My favorite girl!” Chad cheered as he walked through the front door, a six-pack of beer dangling from his fingertips. He pulled you into a tight hug, ignoring as you deftly swiped a drink from the case. “How you doing tonight? You ready to get fucked up?!”

“Not too fucked up, Chad,” Mindy interjected as she sidled up beside him, grinning at you. “Can’t have you in the hospital again, can we? Took me days to get that smoothie out of my hair.”

Unfortunately for the twins, at school the day after your little…incident, Amber had taken it upon herself to avenge you, resulting in both Meeks-Martin kids going home early with smoothie dripping from the tops of their heads.

“Definitely ready to get mildly fucked up,” you said, laughing.

Chad frowned. “We can do better than mildly.”

You looked around, making sure Amber wasn’t within earshot, and said, “As long as Ambs isn’t watching, then I’m all in.”

It didn’t take much time for the twins to get you more than mildly drunk. Within half an hour, you were slurring your words and swaying where you stood, your cheeks flushed a bright red and your eyelids drooping.

“Oh, we’re fucked,” Mindy stated when she realized just how intoxicated you were, her eyes flitting from person to person to see if your girlfriend was anywhere in sight.

Chad shook his head, taking a sip from his beer. “We’re only fucked if Amber notices,” he said.

“Amber!” you gasped suddenly, your eyes going wide at the mention of your girlfriend. You whipped your head around, stumbling backward and into Mindy’s arms at the force, searching for the raven-haired girl. “Where is she?”

“Uh, I’m not too sure,” Mindy said, glancing at her brother. “Do you need her?”

You twisted around and nodded furiously at Mindy, your face taking on the most serious expression she had ever seen. “Yes. Need her now.”

Chad furrowed his eyebrows, placing his drink down on the nearest surface he could reach. He put his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to face him. “And why do you need Amber?” he asked.

You sighed dreamily, pulse speeding up at the thought of the girl. “‘Cause I love her,” you slurred. “Love her so much. Just want to squeeze her little cheeks.” You mimicked the action with your hands, scrunching your face up as you did.

Mindy chuckled. “As if Amber would let you squeeze her cheeks.”

“Oh, she does,” you said, your voice convincing. “All the time. She likes it.”

“Are we talking about the same Amber?”

“Why would I want to squeeze a different Amber’s cheeks?” you asked, dead serious, and Chad barked out a laugh. You looked at him, confusion painted on your face. “I only love my Amber. I promise.”

“Oh, I know, champ.” He patted you on the top of your head. “Everyone knows. But, right now, you can’t have Amber because--”

“Because what?” Amber asked, and you squealed at the sight of her standing behind Mindy. You pushed yourself out of Chad’s grip and hurried toward her, immediately wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face into her neck. She was left a little disoriented but no less loving as she quickly hugged you back.

“Baby!” you exclaimed, and she flinched back at your voice so loud in her ear.

“Hi, pretty girl,” she cooed quietly, running her fingers through your hair before settling her sight on the twins. “Why is she so…excited?”

“She’s a little drunk,” Mindy said.

Amber’s eyes narrowed. “How much is ‘a little,’ Mindy?”

“Four beers and three shots,” Chad offered, cringing when Amber’s jaw clenched.

“I thought I told you guys not to let her drink that much tonight!” Amber chided, her hold on you tightening. You nuzzled further into her. “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?” There was a threat in her voice as she spoke, her tone sharp and demanding, and both twins squirmed beneath her glare.

“She’s fine, Freeman. She’s just…really set on being with you right now, that’s all,” Mindy told the other girl.

Chad nodded. “Yeah. She’s at about that point in the night where if you leave her alone, she might cry.”

Amber sighed and glanced down at you. “Guess I just won’t leave her alone, then.” She looked back at the twins. “At least, not with you two. Don’t you dare give her another drink tonight. Or else.”

Both twins raised their arms in surrender, taking a few steps back as Amber nodded, satisfied with their reaction.

“Come on, baby,” Amber said to you. “Let’s go find Tara because I need to get more drinks from the basement.”

Almost immediately, you hugged her tighter, shaking your head. “No,” you whined, and Amber couldn’t help but think it was cute how determined you were to stay with her. She grinned as you emphasized the thought. “Only wanna be with you.”

You looked up, smiling at your girlfriend. You kissed her before raising an arm to squeeze her cheek. She blushed at the action, shooting a deathly glare toward her friends as you cooed like she was a puppy.

“You’re the cutest person ever,” you said. “I just wanna be with you forever and ever and ever.”

She blushed even harder. “I love you, too, baby,” she said in response, because she’d have rather died than say something so cheesy where Mindy could hear her. “Now, can we please go find Tara so she can watch you while I run to the basement?”

Your face soured. “Depends. How long will you be?”

“Not even a minute.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, stuck in deep thought, and finally decided, “Okay. Fine. But can we cuddle after?”

Mindy tilted her head behind you, mouthing ‘Yeah, Amber. Can we cuddle?’ with a sly smirk. Amber had never been so tempted to tackle her to the ground.

Through gritted teeth, she said, “Of course,” even though, in reality, she would have loved nothing more, but, again, she couldn’t let Mindy know that.

“Yay!” you cheered, unraveling yourself from Amber. You intertwined your fingers with hers and let her pull you through the crowds in search for her brunette best friend, her thumb rubbing along the skin of your hand comfortingly as she did.

It took a few minutes before you finally found Tara. She was sitting on the couch, a drink in her hand as she talked to Wes. Her head tilted when her eyes landed on you and Amber, lips quirking into a smile at your clearly drunk state.

“Did Chad and Mindy get to her?” she asked Amber, who nodded with a huff.

“Unfortunately,” Amber drawled. “Could you keep an eye on her? We’re out of beer. I need to grab more from the fridge downstairs.”

You frowned, like you had forgotten all about the fact that Amber needed to get more drinks. “Can’t I come with you?” you asked hopefully.

“I don’t think you could make it down the stairs like this, baby. Just stay here with Tara and Wes, okay?” She kissed you quickly before pulling away. When your frown deepened, she added "I'll be two seconds."

“Okay,” you grumbled, throwing yourself onto the couch between your friends and watching as your girlfriend disappeared in the direction of the basement.

“So, having a good night so far, Y/N?” Tara asked.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Guess so.”

“You don’t sound too happy,” Wes pointed out.

“I miss Amber,” you huffed.

Tara chuckled. “She’ll be back soon. You’re a clingy drunk, huh?”

“No,” you denied, even though it was obviously the truth. “Just like being around Ambs. She’s so pretty, and cute, and she always makes me laugh, and she’s a really good kis--”

Amber appeared in front of you, a grin on her face, and you cut yourself off, hopping off the couch and right back into her arms.

“You’re back!” you exclaimed.

She laughed. “I told you I wouldn’t be long.”

You pressed a kiss to the side of her jaw. “Can we go upstairs and cuddle?” you murmured, and Amber nearly melted.

“Sure, baby. C’mon.” She started to walk away, you close behind, before she stopped and looked back at Tara. “Just…kick people out when it gets late, okay? I probably won’t be back down.”

Tara grinned at her. “Have fun, kids.”

Amber rolled her eyes and started leading you toward the stairs, trying to calm the fluttering of her heart as you chanted, “Cuddles! Cuddles! Cuddles!”

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman #amber x reader #mikey madison x reader #mikey madison #scream 5

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 month

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THIS EVENT IS CLOSED 🔒

Welcome to the first edition of SCREAM WEEK! I'm in a spooky mood at the moment (when am I not?), so I decided to create a special event to get back into writing. The event will consist of a week full of new fics involving Scream characters. I’ve made a prompt list of dialogues to choose from or give you ideas (see down below). The rules are simple: pick a dialogue or theme (or both) and send them to my ask. I will be accepting entries/requests from the day this post is up until I begin posting.

p.s. Not all requests will be picked, so you can send 2-3 for more chances to get picked

𖤐 I will be adding new characters and new pairings𖤐 Smut is allowed (and welcomed)

Characters / Pairings list

Ethan Landry x Reader

Billy Loomis x Reader

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Mindy Meeks Martin x Reader

Chad Meeks Martin x Reader

Amber Freeman x Reader

Charlie Walker x Reader

Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher

Amber Freeman x Reader x Tara Carpenter

Prompt list

‘’We’re not friends.’’

‘’Did you touch yourself to the thought of me?’’

‘’I don’t want to talk to anyone else, I only want you.’’

‘’We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.’’

‘’If we get caught it’s totally your fault.’’

‘’That’s stalker shit.’’

‘’You look really good in my clothes.’’

‘’It’s a one-time thing. Don’t start getting ideas.’’

‘’You brought me back to life.’’

‘’We can share.’’

‘’I don’t like people touching what’s mine.’’

‘’Nobody can know about this, okay?’’

‘’Show me how you do it when you touch yourself.’’

‘’Picturing you with someone else makes me sick.’’

‘’I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget his name.’’

‘’The nerd never gets the hot girl, that’s just the way it is.’’

‘’What if I kissed you right now?’’

‘’No underwear? Did you plan this?’’

‘’I never said I didn't want to kiss you.’’

‘’You’re cute.’’

#ethan landry #billy loomis #tara carpenter #charlie walker #chad meeks martin x reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #tara carpenter x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher imagine #mindy meeks martin x reader #mindy meeks martin #scream #charlie walker x reader

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laenordeservedbetter · 1 year

Note

For Samantha Carpenter x fem reader. (If you're doing requests, I'm not 100% sure if you are or not,please.)

Reader is Amber Freeman's half older sister (Sam Carpenter's age). Amber knows that Stu Macher is her sister's father, which she is jealous of. So after attacking Tara and luring Sam back to Woodsboro, Amber attacks Reader at Ambers and rs house. (Sam and Reader dated before Sam left, and once they've all moved to NYC, they get back together. R is also a little reliant on alcohol and weed after everything that happened.)

Holding On To You

Words: 3.3k (I think)

Relationships: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Reader, Sibling!Amber Freeman x Fem!Reader, Implied/Referenced Tara Carpenter x Amber Freeman, Chad Meeks-Martin x Tara Carpenter, Mindy Meeks-Martin x Anika Kayoko

I wrote this this fic in bits, so the timeline is kinda jumbled. I only arranged which part should go where when I finished writing and decided to imply Tamber last minute because why not? Also, Amber's dad raised r as his own, which is why r refers to them as her parents.

The ' * * *' means a long period of time has passed.

Warnings: (18+) this is definitely not my best work, poorly written fight scene, angst, violence, cussing, grief, suggestive themes, reader has problems with alcohol. lmk if I missed any! (I don't remember if the core four were drinking alcohol in Sam and Tara's apartment, so I put something else here)

A/N: I didn't intend for half the fic to focus on reader's dynamic with Amber, but I felt like it's important to show how torn she is by how she feels with what happened. Sorry if I made it too angsty and not what you (anon) asked for 😭

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

Your phone buzzed at the same time you were about to go up the stairway leading to your room. Determining that whoever is texting you is more important than sleep, you unlock the cellular device to read the message.

(1:49 a.m.)

Amber: Tara was attacked.

Three words. Fifteen letters.

Your body turns stiff as if there was a supernatural force compelling you to stay still. Tara was attacked. The first thought that went to your mind was ‘is she okay?’ but for some reason you can’t explain, your fingers typed in different words.

(1:50 a.m.)

You: Does Sam know?

Is Tara in the hospital?

How is she?

(1:51 a.m.)

Amber: Such dumb questions. What you should be asking yourself is ‘who’s next?’

Your brows furrow and you frown. She shouldn’t be saying that, you thought. Amber was peculiar but if there was one thing you were sure she’s best at, it was being there for Tara - protecting her. The person on the other side of the screen that you’re talking to feels different from the Amber you know. Something is off.

(1:55 a.m.)

You: Don’t say shit like that, Amber. Tara got hurt. This is serious.

(1:55 a.m.)

Amber: Oh, this isn’t Amber.

(1:56 a.m.)

You: Then who are you?

(1:56 a.m.)

Amber: You’ll find out soon enough.

The chances of being given ample interval to question the sender of the text who is definitely not Amber reduces to zero the second a masked figure creeps behind you and slashes your arm. “What the fuck?!” Blood trickles down your skin, the wound deep enough to nearly make you see your bones. You have to look away from your own body or else you might collapse from the mere sight of it.

You’re panting, looking into the mask of your attacker. He tilts his head at you tauntingly. “And here I thought that the daughter of Stu Macher would put up more of a fight.”

You don’t react, but you run for the kitchen, grabbing the first breakable object you can find: the floral vase.

When Ghostface attempts to lunge forward, you aim the vase at his head, but he dodges swiftly, leaving the vase to smash against the newly-painted wall. You grimace. Your parents were gonna kill you the moment they decide to hop on their plane and get home. “They’re going to be so mad at me.” You complain while grabbing a kitchen knife.

This will do.

“What are you planning to do with that knife?” Ghostface wonders mockingly.

You make a face at him, “No more talking.”

And just like that, you got into a knife fight. You manage to stab Ghostface in the abdomen. He rolls over, his hand going over his stomach to assess the damage. Smiling triumphantly, you let your guard down, which proved to be an error of yours as Ghostface recovers enough to dig his knife near your chest. You drop your weapon, feeling your eyes flutter shut. Your attacker slowly removes his mask, shocking you, yet it was like the time you fade out of consciousness was also planned since you pass out way before you can see what he looks like.

* * *

“We’re waiting for you downstairs.”

You stop what you were doing to look up at Tara. She sends you a sympathetic look and you shoot her one back. “I’ll finish up in 5 minutes.” You say, motioning to the clothes that are yet to be packed into your suitcase.

“Okay.” Tara’s attention is drawn to the picture frame on the nightstand. It was of you and Amber when you were children. She was wearing a pirate costume while you wore a witch’s. “Are you bringing that with you?”

“Yes.” You reply, taking the frame in your hands, fingers ghosting over the photograph. “It was one of our happiest memories together. She was such a sweet kid. I’d like to remember her that way instead of…” You trail off, taking a sharp intake of breath. A month has passed since your sister attacked you and murdered people. You’d never know why she did it nor do you want to. Some things are better left unsaid. Tara, however, felt the opposite. She knew Amber differently and you can understand how she feels, to an extent. “You can keep it if you want. I have other photos in this room stored somewhere.”

Even though Tara shakes her head ‘no’, she is appreciative. “No, it’s fine. I have pictures of my own too.”

The two of you bask in the silence. No other words needed to be shared. Tara leaves you alone after that, but the space she formerly occupied isn’t left empty for long when Sam appears by the doorway.

You grin when you see her, “Hi.” It’s the first time in days that you managed to smile authentically. Going through the worst thing imaginable can dim someone’s light and you were in no position to pretend that everything was okay when circumstances proved the opposite. Although it pained you to think about that night, seeing Sam made you feel that you weren’t alone.

“Hey.” She replies. “Ready to go?”

“Most definitely.” You answer with the truth as you zip up your last bag, ready to leave this place behind and start anew.

Sam holds out her hand, “Come on.”

You don’t take one last look back. You’d be lying if you said you would miss this house. Everything direful that happened in Woodsboro began here, so it is fitting that this is also where it should end.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

* * *

The bottle in your hand weighs lighter than your grief. That’s what you keep telling yourself during these types of moments. It’s a remedy. Ephemeral, maybe, but it helps you forget. That’s the one thing you could ask for.

You nurse your wounds at a bar stool. The time is a bit early for a Saturday for you to be drinking, just how you like it. You take a sip, then another, and another, making you finish your drink earlier than you’d like. “Fucking hell.” A new bottle slides over in front of you before you can ask the bartender for one more drink. Turning your attention to your side, you note a woman staring right at you, a sly smirk on her lips.

Once you give her a nod as a ‘thank you’ for the booze, you go back to the bottle, indicating you want to be left alone. Unfortunately for you, the woman does not take the hint. She moves to the stool next to yours, hoping to shoot her shot.

“Hey.” She says, her bright blue eyes shining in the dim light of the bar. Although you cannot deny that she’s attractive, you’d rather be gazing into a different pair of eyes, preferably brown ones on the face of the only girl you’ve ever loved. “I’m Jolene.”

“Hi, Jolene.” Putting down the bottle, you purse your lips, hoping that this exchange would end soon. You tense when Jolene places a hand on your right shoulder.

Jolene chuckles, unbothered by the signs that you were uneasy, “You’re a little tense.” She pauses, gauging your reaction, “I can help you relax.”

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but, uh. . . I’m kind of waiting for someone, so if you don’t mind. . .” You pull your arm away, pretending to look at the entrance to the bar as if you were meeting one of your friends. Truthfully, it should be a lost cause since you haven’t told anybody that you would be here, including Sam.

“Well, let me keep you company while they arrive.”

You internally groan. “Respectfully, Jolene, and I mean this in the nicest way possible since you seem like a good person, leave me alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent.”

Jolene smiles understandingly, about to get up and turn away, but then her mouth drops open as if she’s seen a movie star, “Wait, you’re one of the survivors of the murders at that one house in Woodsboro! Your sister tried to kill you and your biological father was a killer too, right?! Stu Macher, that’s what his name was.”

Of course. That’s why she approached you. She only pretended not to know who you were until you tried to convince her to piss off. Great. “Bye now.” You throw a fifty dollar bill on the counter, hastily running out of the place as if you were brought back to those nights spent in that house trying so desperately to get away. The feeling of tightness takes place in your chest. You see a stranger pass by with hair that looks exactly like Amber’s and you turn lugubrious. No matter what she did, she was still your sister. You want to hate her for everything she did to you, to Tara, to everyone you thought she cared for. However, missing her triumphs all the other emotions you have. Though that may not be an excuse for her wrongdoings, it makes you mourn what has and what would have been.

You wanted her to go to college. You wanted to be the one on the front row cheering her on as she accepts her diploma. You wanted to be the person she turns to for relationship advice. You would have wanted her there when both you and Sam began getting harassed online just because your fathers were serial killers. Amber would have fought anyone who attempted to cross a line. Sometimes it felt like she was your big sister even though you are technically older.

And then it hits you.

You’d always be stuck in that goddamn stupid, cursed house, persistently wishing that things had been different. That you hadn’t moved there, that your sister never met Richie, that you have the same biological father as Amber. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, you realized that maybe you never left the place at all. You are in New York (You’re not deluded. You know that much.), but a piece of your heart would eternally be in Stu Macher’s house with Amber at the doorway while the other half is chasing after a love that might never be.

* * *

Sam drops by in your shared room to ask what you want for dinner. On Saturdays when neither of you are working, you and Sam order food and watch a movie that is preferably a romcom or fantasy. The unspoken rule being: watching horror is out of the equation.

She notices your swollen eyes and discards her phone on the table to comfort you. Sam climbs into your bed, arms circling around your waist in order to ground you. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

You don’t speak, fearing that your voice might crack and that it might show that you are as weak as you think you are.

But of course, Sam notices. “I know you don’t want to talk right now, so I’ll just hold onto you. If or when you want to talk, you can squeeze my hand. Is that okay?”

You shake your head in affirmation, locking your fingers with Sam’s, granting yourself the permission to crumble in her arms.

Once your heartbeat slows to a calm rhythm and the heartache subsides to a low wave that stays at your feet, you squeeze her hand three times.

“I’m listening.” Sam says, sensing your hesitance. Understanding where your diffidence comes from (she sees it in herself too), she adds, “I won’t judge you. I’m here to listen and if you want advice, I’ll try to give one. If you don’t want me to say anything, that’s fine too. Whatever works best for you.”

She is giving you the space to feel. Not a lot of people can say that and still stay after you’ve poured your heart out. Sam is different from most people because she cares. You are each other’s anchor. That’s why it doesn't take much convincing for you speak of your feelings bit by bit without worrying about falling into a rabbit hole. Knowing that Sam is there with you, listening, holding your hand, is more than enough motivation to keep going.

“. . . Sam, is it wrong? To miss Amber? The whole world tells me what she is. A murderer. But I- I saw it in her eyes that night at the party. Hesitation. Remorse. She told me that she was jealous that I got to be the one whose father was a serial killer but when she pointed the gun at my head, I saw something else flicker in her eyes. I don’t know. It’s probably just my brain making things up to make me feel better. Maybe I should just accept that my sister was a killer and move on. I shouldn’t even be feeling like this when I know she murdered people in cold blood — people I used to know. Am I crazy?” Once you started talking, you couldn’t stop. It was like you’ve been bottling this up to release it at the right moment. The memories of that night resurfaced in the forefront of your mind, acknowledging them for the first time. By now, you were laying on your back while Sam had an arm wrapped around your shoulder and the other still on your waist. For less than a minute, you were scared that she would push you away in a literal sense.

She didn’t.

“It’s not wrong, Y/n. She was your sister, of course you have the right to miss her. Now, I still don’t understand her motive and I won’t try to because she hurt Tara and you. But you knew her better than me or the people calling her names. You knew the kid that she was. You know what’s real. You are allowed to have your own opinion of Amber even if it isn’t what others want you to think. You’re not crazy for feeling these things. I’d be scared if you didn’t feel anything at all. It’s normal. You’re human. Don’t be too hard on yourself because of something you can’t control.” Sam says, soft but stern.

You take this opportunity to gaze into her eyes, seeing reverence, sympathy, and devotion all in one. She took the parts of yourself that you hated and treated them as if they were something sacred. When you have a person like that in your life - one who helps you accept your flaws instead of turning them away -, you start to see flowers bloom in the pieces you considered damaged. She loved the things about you that you execrated.

Before Sam, you gave love a definition: it is a thing that enfeebles you - yet that’s not all that there is to it. Love can be a chain, it can be suffocating, and there is no doubt that it can shatter you until the only thing you have left is a piece of a broken mirror to prove that it existed; but it can also be a tune (like the song you sung as a kid that you never paid much thought to), a soft bed, a dance, or a simple look a person gives that sends your heart fluttering no matter how many times you have been on the receiving end of it.

“Sam?” You call out, realizing that you’ve spent a while not responding.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for listening,” You say quietly. “and for not becoming a stranger.”

She smiles gently.

Your heart flutters.

* * *

Tara lets out a deep breath. She’s laying down with a novel in her hand that became abandoned three minutes ago, her attention now focused on glaring at you and Sam from her position on the couch. “Just get back together already. I’m so tired of watching you two tiptoe around each other with your unresolved feelings!” She yells, roughly flipping a page of the book in order to prove her annoyance. Sam, who was currently on dish duty, dropped a plate upon hearing Tara’s comment. (It didn’t break, fortunately.)

“Are you talking about the book or…?” Of course, Chad would be the one to make the situation far more awkward than it needs to be. You don’t hate the kid, but he does get oblivious at times, which you normally wouldn’t mind if it doesn’t affect you. Mindy punches him in the shoulder. His mouth gapes. He looks at you, then at Sam. “Ohhhh.”

“Idiot.” Mindy mumbles.

“I agree with Tara though.” Anika comments, pointing her apple drink at Tara. (You and Sam don’t allow the kids to drink at the apartment, so the only beverages available are apple and orange juice boxes.)

“Me too, babe.” Mindy beams proudly as if Anika gave the answer to an unsolvable mathematical equation and gives her girlfriend a peck on the lips.

Chad makes gagging noises, averting his eyes away from the couple.

You see the scene unfold in front of you with a smile before you turn away to take the popcorn out of the microwave. “I think we’re driving Tara crazy with the suspense.” You joke, transferring the popcorn to a bowl and placing another bag inside the microwave. Sam shoots you a questioning glance, referring to the amount of popcorn bags that were already cooked. “I was thinking that each couple would have a bag or bowl each. Mindy and Anika, Chad and Tara. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to share with me, which is why I put another-”

Sam takes out the uncooked popcorn from the microwave, interrupting what would have been your rambling, “Of course I’d share with you. You’re my girlfriend.”

You look away, unable to keep a smile off your face. “I will never get tired of hearing that.” As you busy yourself with placing the popcorn on three separate bowls, Sam observes the group on the living room.

“I think we should tell them.”

“Huh?”

“About us. It’s time, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” You take Sam’s hands in your own, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m ready.” You look at her lovingly. “How should we do it?”

Sam sports a mischievous smirk, “I know just the right way.” She ‘accidentally’ drops another plate (which, amazingly, didn’t break as well), drawing the attention of Tara, Chad, Mindy, and Anika. She gives you the go signal and you kiss her, bringing your bodies closer.

“TARA, SOMETHING’S HAPPENING IN THE KITCHEN!”

“WHAT ARE YOU- OH MY GOD!” Tara exclaims.

“CHAD, GIVE ME THE CAMERA!” Anika flails her arms chaotically for Chad’s phone, instantly snapping pictures of you and Sam the moment the device is handed to her.

Chad grins, giving you a thumbs up.

When you pull away from Sam for air, Tara runs up to you with questions at the ready. Sam did most of the talking. You added a few things here and there, looking back at how far you’ve come. The grief never went away. It’s still lingering. Except this time, you don’t feel the panic. You focus on the memories - the good and the bad. Those things are the reason why you’re where you're at right now. Although you’d have liked some of it to turn out differently, you can’t change the past, hence why you don’t shy away from what happened as much as you used to. You hold on to the memories the way you’d want to hold on to the love of your life.

“You okay?” Sam asks, rubbing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You realize that you’ve been crying. “Yeah, they’re happy tears. It’s just. . .” You breathe out, feeling the weight of hopelessness on your shoulders disappear.

It felt like finally coming home after a long journey.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter #scream 6 #scream vi #scream #tamber #tara carpenter #amber freeman #anika kayoko #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #stu macher

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sannapersikka · 8 months

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARTIN FREEMAN!

I hadn't gone through life thinking I was God's gift, but I always hoped I'd look great or have brilliant bone structure. Now I am happy being me, because no one else can do it. (x)

#Martin Freeman #Happy Birthday!#zsu-gifs

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pawnshopbleus · 1 month

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Miller's Girl

Chapter Three - The Meeting

Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!College Student!Reader Very Loosely based off of the new movie, Miller's Girl, starring Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman

Summary - Your landlord decides to raise the rent in your studio apartment the day you are fired from your job. In need of money, you sign up for a babysitting service your friend suggested. You didn’t expect to get an offer so quickly, and you also didn’t expect to come from your professor.

Series contains - cursing, mature language, teacher x student relationship, age gap, smut, fluff, angst, non beta read chapters and everything else I forgot to mention

Authors Note - after i dont know how long and several fights and bomb and shooting threats at my school, i'm back. I wrote this at 12 am so I hope you can understand it.

College, no outbreak, and modern AU

The Miller residence was a cozy two story home in the suburbs of Austin. The exposed brick fireplace climbed up the side of the black and white home. The green grass was a little too long for the pristine way Professor Miller held himself.

You walked along the concrete walkway to the front door. You wiped your sweaty hands on your black pants and knocked on the door. You hoped that Professor Miller wouldn’t notice the circles under your eyes or the fact that you wore these exact pants to class two days ago.

When the door opened you didn’t see Professor Miller towering over you. You didn’t see anything until you looked down a little bit. Standing there in all her might was a little girl no older than thirteen.

“Sarah! What did I tell you about opening the door without asking who it is?” you heard Professor Millers stern voice yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Sorry Dad but I think the babysitter is here!” Sarah yelled back.

Sarah looked at you and shrugged her shoulders before skipping away. You stood still, not wanting to enter the home uninvited. The door was left wide open and you could feel the cold air wafting out of the home. The pay as a professor must be stacked to keep the AC running in the middle of October.

“What are you just standing there for? Come in,” Sarah says with a hand on her hip.

“Did your dad say it was okay?” you ask, not wanting to make your professor and future boss angry.

“Yes, I did.” Professor Miller says from the stairs.

He’s wearing something much more casual than what you are used to seeing him in. The blue jeans and white shirt that are sticking to his body make him look like he does something physical for work. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought that he was some sort of contractor.

“Professor I-” “When you’re here it's Joel. Just Joel.”

You nod your head and look at your shoes. Your beat-up Converse aren't exactly appropriate for a meeting with your future employer, but it was these or the flip flops that squeak every time you walk.

“Go ahead and sit on the couch. Sarah, go to your room.”

Sarah stomps up the stairs and into her bedroom. Joel walks over to the accent chair across from the couch and sits down. He huffs as his body hits the soft velvet of the furniture. He leans back and spreads his legs, almost as if he were making room for someone to sit on his lap.

Your eyes roam from his lap to his grey eyes that are staring back at you. You’ve just been caught eyeing your professor like a slut. Whether he minded or not didn’t come up as he gets straight to the point.

“Look, you are the most qualified person for this job. Your resume and experience are great and you seem like a nice girl, but I don’t know if I can trust you with my daughter.”

“Look, Joel, I know that my being late to your class could have affected your perception of me, but I think I would be great with your daughter. She was wearing a Madden Boys shirt when I walked in, right? Well, I saw the Madden Boys in concert just last year! I think having a cool babysitter would do her some good.”

“Did you just call yourself ‘cool’?” Joel asks.

You open your mouth to say something and then close it as nothing comes out.

“How about I give you a trial week? You’ll get paid a flat rate and if Sarah likes you then you can stay.”

“That would be wonderful! Thank you, Joel.”

Your peppy attitude threw Joel off. When you first arrived at his home, you were cautious and timid but now you were smiley. He has never seen someone with such a bright smile. All thirty-two teeth were on display as you shook his hand and thanked him once again for this opportunity.

Your hands were also unbelievably soft compared to his calloused hands. The same hands that cramp when they hold a pen for longer than fifteen minutes.

You leave his home after that, your mysterious scent lingers in the spot where you once sat. Joel jogs up the stairs and almost trips on his daughter who is sitting on the top step.

“I like her,” Sarah mumbles, her voice barely audible as her face rests on her knee.

“Well, we’ll see about that kid,” Joel says as he walks to his office and closes the door behind him.

As much as Joel wants to not like you. As much as Joel wants to blame you for being late to his class, he can’t. He could tell how sincere you were when you apologized to him. Your soft eyes begged for his forgiveness while he tried his best to not look into them. It was like a siren's call, slowly luring him into a trap that he didn’t want to be in again. He loved one woman and she left him alone with a baby and no money.

The optional homework he assigned burned a hole in his desk. The key word was ‘optional’ and still almost all of his students did it. As much as he loved it when his students took advantage of every opportunity they got, he hated that he had to grade the work.

After almost a hundred essays on why Victorian architecture is important, Sarah knocked on his door. She opened the door and placed a basket of cookies on his desk. The basket looked like Easter came very late. There was plastic wrap covering every inch and crevice of the pink and white basket. Pink and blue bows stuck to the top and bottom of the basket. Inside the basket held what looked like two dozen cookies.

“The babysitter came by and dropped these off. She said that there's a note in there but only you can read it.”

Joel peered around the basket for a sign of the note but couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Can you hurry up and open it? I really want a cookie.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her weight on one hip.

“Sarah Miller, are you rushing me?” Sarah nodded her head. Joel shook his with a smile on his face. He loved that his daughter felt like she could be sassy with him. This type of banter made him feel like he was a good father.

Unwrapping the basket was Joel's idea of hell. The texture of the wrap felt weird under Joel's hands and the bows and glitter fell to the floor, making a mess. A pink bow fell into his black coffee which made him groan. He would have to make another.

Sarah snatched two cookies and skipped her way to her room. Coincidentally, those two cookies were hiding the note that he was looking for. The small white square of construction paper housed five words. In loopy writing, it said ‘I hope you like cookies.’ It was so simple yet it made Joel close his eyes and rest his head on the back of his chair.

#joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fic #tlou

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martinsharmony · 4 months

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In defense of RP Shipping and RP Fiction

I don’t normally come out and give my opinion on things like this so plainly about such controversial things. I tend to shy away from confrontational writing such as this. However this idea has been brewing in my mind for some time now so I had to write it.

I am a Real Person Shipper.

I’m seeing people talk a lot more about RP shipping (and the hate towards it) since David Tennant and Michael Sheen appeared smiling at each other in a photo after David's appearance in Macbeth.

RP Shipping is not a choice.

When I caught the shipping bug, it hit me like lightning. It occurred to me one night as I lay in bed next to the husband with which I had a deteriorating relationship: “are there stories about Dave Gahan and Martin Gore…being together??”

Dave Gahan/Martin Gore (Gahore) are in Depeche Mode. They were my 1st ship as an adult. You can read about it here. Obviously Depeche Mode is a band so there is no fictional narrative anywhere to follow. I quickly learned that RP shipping was taboo. However in my shipping community we all shipped the band so I was more or less insulated from it.

I dove in headfirst. I literally couldn’t not do it. It was something my brain needed. Sure I could have forced myself to not go look for it because of some kind of moral (?) imperative which I wasn’t even aware of at the time, but even if I stopped myself, that would not stop my brain from wanting it. Making up stories and scenarios. Finding evidence in videos, songs, interviews, etc. I shipped these two people because of what I had observed between them.

I saw love. So did my shipping friends. We all saw it. I needed to experience it. My life lacked it.

My next RP ship was Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch (FreeBatch). First I fell in love with Sherlock and John, obviously. But then as I started to follow the fandom, I started noticing the same things that others noticed. My brain just went there. I literally had no choice. It’s not as if I could tell my brain “don’t do that”. It would not listen. You can’t tell a starving person to not think about food. In fact telling them that probably makes it worse.

In my personal life, I had been through a breakup with the man I dated after I got divorced, and then I began dating a woman for the 1st time. I really started to relate what I was seeing on the screen and reading on Tumblr and in fic to my own life. I was starting to process my own bisexuality. I started to notice things about Martin and Ben that other people were noticing too. Shipping them helped me navigate that time in my life because I saw myself in it. I related to it. But it wasn't a choice. My brain just went there. Maybe I was Baader-Meinhoffing but even if I was, that doesn’t mean it’s something I didn’t need to explore, work out in my mind, and discover.

Shennant (Michael Sheen and David Tennant) is my 3rd RP ship. Yes I fell in love with Aziraphale and Crowley of course, but again, as I started to follow the fandom and David’s and Michael’s careers specifically, watching interviews, watching Staged, etc, I started noticing the same thing that many others noticed. I literally couldn’t help it. My brain, again, just went there. Also in Staged of course, they play themselves. I have to say that my RP Shipping really took off after I watched them in that. They play themselves. Their actual partners are in it. If one were to write Staged fic, is that not RPF? Where is the line between what is supposed to be okay and what is not?

Again, with this ship, I had big things going on in my personal life. Dad passed away almost a year and a half ago, and now I'm taking care of my elderly mom long distance. It's a huge emotional burden. I'm not dating anyone right now mostly because of that but also because I was in a poly relationship with the male half of a het married couple (longtime friends of mine) that ended extraordinarily painfully (so this was V or chain-style poly not group-sex poly). Since then I've been alone for more than 2 years. I'm still getting over it.

The love I see between Michael and David feels unconditional. I see adoration. If they are indeed in a healthy poly relationship, my god, how on earth did they do that? Even while navigating fame? It’s certainly a lot more difficult than my own situation. I can explore it: What kind of person feels safe to me the way I believe David feels safe with Michael? What kind of relationship can withstand the kind of obstacles they (and I) might face? What would have had to actually happened for them to be as happy as they seem to be? What discussions were had? What agreements were reached? How does one do this the right way? What does that tell me about my own relationship and what went wrong? What should have happened?

This is, in its most academic sense, a tool for my brain to heal and to discover what kind of a relationship I want. And my brain knows it. That’s why it ships. My heart doesn’t know that. It just knows I love seeing them happy together. This is the magnet that drew me.

RP Shipping helps us to work shit out in our personal lives.

I bought Spark edited by Atlin Merrick recently. One of the essays by Angela Nauss, LMFT (Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist) really stood out to me is titled Sympathy for the Devil: Attachment Theory and FanFiction.

The article is about fanfiction authors, however I would extrapolate this to include readers and RP Shippers as well. RP Shippers are authors of narratives in their own mind, even if they are not always written down.

From the book:

“Fanfiction authors process attachment wounds using fictional characters as proxies…to process and understand the origin of the problems encountered during adolescence.”

“Some authors write fanfiction to humanize uncomfortable aspects of their identity, grieve and repair damaged relationships, and process attachment wounds…by exploring how the character would behave in adaptive relationships.”

“Fanfiction authors project their unconscious trauma onto the characters.”

“The characters gain insight into their behavior and no longer feel responsible for their childhood attachment wounds. Through their writing, the author incorporates repressed trauma and attachment wounds into their conscious experience and achieves catharsis.”

“Writing fanfiction is a valid form of therapeutic self-exploration.”

I’ve been in therapy for several years, In fact the poly relationship I was in is why I seeked out therapy in the 1st place. I know that shipping these people, exploring aspects of that, is helping me to heal attachment wounds and the trauma caused by past relationships.

As part of my healing from this poly relationship I was in, I intend to write a meta and/or a fic about David and Michael. I know it will aid in my healing. I may or may not post it.

Also, even Shakespeare wrote RPF.

I’m seeing people say that we RP Shippers are terrible, immoral, disgusting, gross people and that we want David and Michael to leave their partners. That we want to break up their families. Let me be clear that I want nothing of the sort.

There are people out there that want to "protect" them from this “immorality” by shaming us, berating us, calling us names. Even sending certain blogs directly to Georgia and Anna! This is the exact opposite of what actions like this are actually doing. This does not protect them from harm. It creates it.

There is no such thing as thought crime.

Not only is it impossible for me to choose not to ship these people, but I also get the sense that even thinking about it is supposed to be wrong. That it makes me an immoral person.

Something I keep seeing is that people are so upset that we RP Shippers are doing this. Like, why don’t we just, stop. Just look at all the other appropriate characters that are out there to ship! Or just never start in the first place. As if this was a choice we are making to consciously ship real people.

When shippers ship a couple, do they choose that couple consciously? Do they say, hmm, I'm going to ship X person and Y person because it's...logical? Or for whatever consciously thought of reason? I'm going to go out on a limb and speak for mostly all shippers and say no. Shippers ship because we see something in those 2 characters that we are drawn to like magnets, for whatever reason. Real People included. If you're on Tumblr for a fandom and read fic, you know what I'm talking about.

Male/Male relationships is a fetish, or a kink, for me. And by extension, RPS/RPF as well. I do enjoy thinking about what might be the "reality" behind the curtain that we are shown as part of their public personas. This is part of the ingredients to this fetish, or kink, for me.

Kink is defined by Wikipedia as “the use of non-conventional sexual practices, concepts or fantasies. The term derives from the idea of a “bend” (a “kink”) in one’s sexual behaviour, to contrast such behaviour with “straight” or “vanilla” sexual mores and proclivities. It is thus a colloquial term for non-normative sexual behaviour.”

A fetish is defined by Wikipedia as referring “to any sexually arousing stimuli, not all of which meet the medical criteria for fetishism. This broader usage of fetish covers parts or features of the body (including obesity and body modifications), objects, situations and activities (such as smoking or BDSM).”

Generally, modern sexual health thinking seems to say “So long as your fetish doesn’t get in the way of your own well-being, the safety of others, and your partners participate enthusiastically, there is nothing wrong with it.”

It seems to be another taboo to claim gay (or bi/pansexual) men as a fetish, or a kink. There are some who claim that it’s objectifying the very real experiences of gay men. I struggle with this because I can't deny that I enjoy it but I also don't want to hurt anyone.

I am not a gay man. I will never be a gay man. I am a cis bisexual woman. I can never know what that experience is like. This is, in essence, the core of the fantasy. It can feel as good and perfect and romantic and loving as I want it to be because I don’t have the parts or experience to know it first hand. Therefore I've come to the conclusion that my thoughts in my head and anything I write down in a safe space does not hurt anyone. For me personally, it’s a way to disconnect from myself. People enjoy fic for all sorts of reasons. I shouldn’t have to prove that my reasons are "wholesome" to be allowed to enjoy it.

I don’t enjoy reading het fiction for reasons I won’t go into, however they are probably not individual to just me alone. Hoards of women like me also enjoy the same thing.

So yeah. To the surprise of absolutely no one, thinking about Michael and David, or Martin and Ben, or Dave and Martin, or men in general, kissing or having sex or a romance with each other – turns me on. That leads me to state the following:

Anti-RP Shipping and Anti-RP Fiction is kink shaming.

When I say "Anti", I'm referring to those who loudly object to it. Not those who (thankfully) say "that's not for me" and move on. Just like I would with say, Omegaverse.

Because my interpretation of these real people is in reality, “fiction” in my own head, then by definition all RP Shipping is RP Fiction. It cannot be reality because I don’t know them. Therefore any stories, speculation, comments, analysis, conclusions, art, etc, IS ALL FICTION.

Real people are characters to your brain.

Obviously I don’t know them personally, so anything that I were to believe or create in my head about them is by definition, fiction. My brain makes it up according to what I’ve seen, read, heard, observed and drew conclusions from. This creates a fictional reality for my brain to consume. It can’t be reality because I don’t know them.

Wikipedia says RPF writers are “building a fictional universe based on the supposed real-life histories of their idols. Information from interviews, documentaries, music videos, and other publicity sources are assimilated into the stories. It is also very popular to write fiction about celebrity couples. Communities of writers build collective archetypes based on the celebrities' public personas".

I would never, under any circumstances, present any RPS/RPF questions, stories, insinuations, or even mention it at all directly to the actors/musicians/personalities or their partners or even anyone associated with them. I would be beyond embarrassed to do so. Even though Michael himself seems to be accepting of it, I would never present it to him. Never. (I mean it’s not like I could really anyway but still).

I believe that 99.9% of RP Shippers would do the same. It’s the .01% that have done so (and unscrupulous “journalists” looking to shock by asking questions/showing them the RPF, and those people claiming to prevent harm by sending it directly to them “for legal action” or tattletale “look at what these terrible people are doing” and blaming the RP shippers for creating it – wow talk about projection) -that make a bad name for us all. Showing it to them and asking them about it IS a choice.

If RP Shipping is not a choice, a way to work out personal mental health issues, is fictional by definition, and a non-pathological aid to sexual excitement that hurts no one if it is contained within safe spaces such as fic sites and Tumblr, then what exactly is the harm?

Tumblr is a safe space.

Why is there such vitriol against RP Shipping and RPF? You claim to be protecting the actors or people in question, but by raising your voices so loudly in various ways, you are harming the very person you claim to be protecting. I think you have to ask what it is within yourself that makes you so aggressively hate this? Why can't we just say "that's not for me" and move on?

Don't we on Tumblr and on AO3 celebrate non-mainstream ideas such as this? Or if not celebrate, at least live and let live. The fact is that Tumblr is supposed to be a safe space. I should feel safe speaking my mind here. I know quite a few RP shippers follow me so I don't feel completely alone, but I don't feel entirely safe posting this.

My morality is not yours to police.

I strongly doubt I’ll be changing anyone’s mind with this. If you’re Anti RP shipping and Anti RPF you’re probably going to stay that way.

Don’t like, don’t read.

You can unfollow, block people, block tags, filter tags on AO3...any number of things. Think of it like a trigger. Just please don't spew hate.

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iheartamberfreeman · 4 months

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Meet me under the mistletoe

Amber Freeman x Fem Reader

summary; Tara and Mindy have a plan to get you guys together

warnings; none. just fluff

an; I wrote this in like 20 mins so sorry if it isn’t that good. Also if you’d like to listen to the song while reading there’s a link below. Happy holidays! <3

Mistletoe by Justin Bieber

For Christmas, you and your friends gathered at the Meeks-Martins' home. You and Amber have liked each other for a long time, but neither of you has made a move because you're afraid of rejection and feel the other person doesn't like the other person. So Mindy and Tara have a mission: use a mistletoe to get you two together by the end of the night.

"Hey Minds, does your mom need help baking the cookies or with the hot chocolate?" You asked as you stood up from the couch. Mindy looked at you, then at Tara, then at Amber, and then back at you, nodding, "She does actually." "Why don't you go help them, Amber?" Mindy said with a smile.

"Alright," Amber said softly. Martha was in the kitchen making the cookies when she followed you inside. Mindy, in the meantime, observed as an idea started to form in her mind. You give Amber a quick smile as you approach Martha and asked if there is anything you can do to help. After that, Martha instructed you to bake the cookies and gave Amber instructions to warm up some milk for hot chocolate.

Mindy approached Tara and said, "Will you help me hang the mistletoe over the kitchen doorway?" in a whisper. Amber busied herself with heating up the milk for hot chocolate, her eyes occasionally flickering towards you. She thought you looked beautiful and couldn't help but smile slightly. Tara and Mindy hurried to the kitchen doorway and attempted to hang the mistletoe before you and Amber noticed.

After placing the cookies in the oven, you turned to face Amber. When you noticed the girl's eyes were on you, you blushed softly and quickly turned away. “Hey," Amber called out softly, "Want to help me with the hot chocolate?" You turn to face Amber again and grin. "Sure," you say as you approach her, “What do you need help with?"

While you and Amber were distracted, Martha noticed that Mindy and Tara were having trouble hanging the mistletoe and immediately left the kitchen to help them. "Just stirring and pouring," Amber replied with a small grin. She handed you a spoon and the milk, her fingers brushing against yours as she did so. "So," she began, "How are you feeling about tonight?"

As you pour milk into the mugs, you grinned and said, "Happy. It's nice to spend time with you all, and having everyone around for Christmas is a great plus.” After Tara, Mindy, and Martha hung the mistletoe, the girls hurried back to the living room as Martha walked back to the kitchen. “How are cookies and hot chocolate coming along girls?” Martha asked you and Amber.

"Almost done," Amber replied, flashing a grin at you as she stirred the mixture. "I think we're just about finished here." You nod, “Yeah, we’re just waiting on the cookies now.” "They're almost done," Martha stated as she opened the oven to check on the cookies. She then opened a cupboard to grab the icing and sprinkles.

“Perfect," Amber murmured. "Then we can start distributing the hot chocolate and cookies." She glanced at you again, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Do you want to help me carry these to the living room?" You nod “Yeah,” you reply, smiling, picking up two mugs, and following Amber out of the kitchen.

As Amber gave one to Chad and Liv, you give Mindy and Tara a cup and say, "Here." With a smile, Tara and Mindy thanked you. “Let’s go back to the kitchen. We have to get Wes his hot chocolate,” You say to Amber as you walk back to the kitchen. Amber followed you to the kitchen but came to a stop when she heard Mindy call your names. She turned around to face her.

"Yeah?" you say, turning to face Mindy. Mindy and Tara exchanged smirks before Mindy pointed to the mistletoe above you. "Oh," Amber murmured as the realization hit her. She flushed deeply and felt her cheeks warm. "I-I didn't realize..." She glanced at you, unsure what to say or do. You blushed as you noticed the mistletoe. "I didn't either," you replied gently.

"Well," Amber started, clearing her throat. "We don't have to kiss if you don't want to." She said as she tried to play it cool. "It's tradition," you shrug, smiling. You approach Amber and lean in. You pause to allow Amber to close the remaining gap if she wants to. Amber took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She closed the distance between you, reaching up to cup your cheek with her hand.

You kissed her back and couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips as you kissed. The group cheered as you guys finally made a move on each other, even if it was with a little help. Amber's heart raced as she felt the warmth of your lips against hers. She returned the kiss, their first one, feeling more electric than she could have imagined. As the cheers filled the air, she deepened the kiss, lost in the moment.

You swallowed the sound that threatened to escape your throat as Amber deepened the kiss before pulling away. You look at Amber with a grin, "You don't know how long I've been dying to do that." Amber's cheeks were still flushed a deep shade of red, her heart still racing. "Me too," she admitted with a shy smile. "I didn't expect it to be like that." She laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You smiled, "I didn't either." Mindy made a gagging noise, "Ok, get a room lovebirds.” "I guess we better go give Wes his hot chocolate," Amber said with a laugh, trying to regain her composure. She took your hand and led you back to the kitchen, a big dopey grin on her face. Martha looked at you both with a knowing look as she finished decorating the cookies, "And they're done. Thanks for the help girls."

You nod, "Anytime Martha." You grab the cookie tray to help Martha take it to the living room as Amber grabbed the rest of the hot chocolate mugs. "Yeah, anytime," Amber agreed, following you to the living room. She couldn't help but feel giddy from your kiss, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. The day ended with lots of laughs, hot chocolate, cookies and some christmas movies. As well as a new couple in the friend group.

#amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #scream

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panelshowsource · 5 months

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alex talked about that recently in this interview! [rubs hands together like a mischievous little shrimp] i hope we see it one day heh

hehehe it was a fun task! we've NEVER seen alex play such a character during a task like that — he's received cuddles and made demands and eaten meals, but this was next level Alex Acting — so that was really fun!

lucy talking incessantly about alex's legs but mans also got his long sparkly toes

i think people are too quick to call this or that iconic, but ngl the second i saw this final image...it's practically a horror movie poster...PERFECT

can you imagine greg davies being your drama teacher and then he quits to become a comedian and the next day you see him on tv as Massive Greg hand feeding a man with no teeth who is pretending to be a tortoise

honestly if that's the one that haunts you i'd say you got off pretty easy, i scrub my eyes with concrete mix every night to try and forget ass sandwich and yet... but hey at least when he hurt his hand he finally had an excuse for that stupid bandage he wears hahaha

she was being so sincere and he was Such A Little Shit 😭

you know what i was binging some simon stuff as well, since it was his birthday, and ran across this again after all these years!

aw anon i'm so glad ♡

moooost of my fave episodes are like ~2005–2015ish? probably the nostalgia!

21.01 with jess hynes bc she is an icon to me

21.05 love seeing simon and miquita together

21.07 with martin freeman

22.02 with stephen fucking fry YES

22.04 was crazy like conchords-era rhys darby was there (i LOVED flight of the conchords lmao) and then johnny vegas and danny dyer next to each other? what a lineup

22.12 with josh groban, omid, martin freeman, heston is an ALL-TIME CLASSIC

i LOVE the guest-hosted episodes with martin freeman, rhod gilbert, frankie boyle (especially 24.12 with miles jupp and professor green), jack dee, alex horne, kathy burke, and johnny vegas

23.12 doctor who special HANDS DOWN

24.02 it's hilarious how respectable catherine tate is offset by how ridiculous catherine tate is

25.06 when greg hosted with frankie boyle, h was there just being h, holly walsh angel, it was a riot

john barrowman is also extremely iconic on buzzcocks, probably most so on 19.05 but also when he hosted 25.12

there are tons of older episodes from the lamarr era that i love — bob mortimer is so funny on this series especially on sean's team, 12.05 when jimmy and claudia were with phill, fun to see ian dury on 5.01, and so on — but these above are some of my personal all-time faves!

aw i really appreciate the rec! first i would like to say i looked it up on youtube and stumbled across the american version and holy shit the dude who hosted brainsurge on nickelodeon is hosting that and WOW my brain would have died never having remembered he existed if i hadn't seen him just now — so that was very weird. ANYWAYS i'll check it out!

imo it didn't start with ben miller...rob is always like this... sometimes when the pod episodes are shorter (less than 10min? does he do that anymore), you can tell some of the bullshit is edited around, but now that they're longer-form conversations he is dominating every episode. i'm certainly no rob hater, but it's really unsurprising to me because facts are facts — rob is self-involved, extremely concerned about being seen and being heard, incredibly pouty if not outrightly bitter when he's not recognised, when fame/success doesn't chase him, when he's getting less from life than he believes he deserves. there are aspects of rob in the trip that aren't far from reality, if you see what i mean. rob is, honestly, quite showbiz. don't get me wrong, he's funny, affable, talented, we love him! but he's not a stellar podcast host because he doesn't have the attention span to let someone else have a moment. have a story. put something on the table. there are definitely times i give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he's trying to form a connection by sharing a related experience/feeling/whatever, but other times he's just being self-involved, pivoting the convo, and it is what it is. it's too bad when we don't always get lengthy, insightful content for someone we love — like miles, let's say — and when we finally do rob isn't doing his part; i felt that way about the dara episode. i don't think rob means any malice, it's just how he is...+ a dash of being a middle-aged white man in showbiz...

i got this one yesterday...

...and i'm going to dedicate it to you<3

and frankly sign me up for the woz/vcm experience i am happy to be a little tomato in that flapjack sandwich

you guys are really sweet, it makes me smile ♡ i don't know why some days the trolling can really get to you and other days you forget it in a couple blinks... i feel like i've been having some bad days. last week i saw something on my own dash with thousands of notes outright mocking me and i haven't really recovered from the uncomfortableness/just general hurt feelings. i want be better about letting those things go, but i also think a holiday break will do me good. anyways, thank you for always enjoying the blog and taking the time to be so kind ♡

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