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fr3sh-tragedies · 5 months

Text

Apologize

[Until Dawn] Samantha Giddings x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.04k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: An argument, but nothing really specific

[A/N]: This one's really short compared to the others, but it's because that's what my intention was. I didn't want to stress out over this one, so I gave myself a really low goal of 2k words. It was fun to write this. Hope you'll enjoy. Not sure who I'll write for next. At the moment, I only have six more characters I want to write for.

Enjoy!

It was extremely hard for Sam to get angry at someone, let alone get into an actual argument. She tended to be the level-headed one in her friend group, never one to willingly indulge in drama. Very rarely did she raise her voice in a non-joking manner, so when she did, the people around her she was close to got very uncomfortable. Not necessarily because she was threatening, but because it was so unlike her. Fortunately, her girlfriend was the same way. The two of them hardly ever got into an argument that wasn’t playful.

So when one broke out one night, both of them grew uncomfortable. They got defensive, with Sam trying to steer the conversation in another direction, and [Y/N] trying to just agree to disagree. Neither one of them really remembered how the argument started, but they both knew it wasn’t going anywhere.

Another thing that was uncommon for the two women was for them to say something hateful toward anyone, even if they felt threatened. During the entirety of their relationship, which was running strong for over three years, no one in their shared friend group had ever witnessed them fight with each other. Out of all of them, she and [Y/N] were usually the ones who stayed calm and tried to compromise and keep the peace. And when anyone needed to talk something through with a trusted friend, she and [Y/N] were the go-tos.

Somewhere in the middle of the argument, one of them had slightly raised their voice, which in turn prompted the other to do the same. This continued until they were almost yelling at each other, something they had never done to one another. It was causing a great deal of stress on them both. They couldn’t seem to find a way to fix whatever had begun the whole ordeal.

As they grew louder, Sam shouted something of ill-intent toward [Y/N] in the heat of the moment, wanting to just be done with the argument. In response, [Y/N] threw back a similarly hateful retort, claiming she wished they had never started dating. She didn’t mean to say it–neither of them meant to say any of it–it all just spilled out before they could stop it.

Sam froze at her words, grimacing as she fought back the tears pricking her eyes. She sniffled and took a breath to prevent her voice from breaking.

“If that’s how you feel, then…”

She paused, trying to calm herself down and think things through. After a moment, she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“I’ll give you some space. We both need to calm down before we even try to talk this through.”

[Y/N] huffed. Usually, she’d agree without hesitation. Because of her hurt feelings, however, she was hesitant to do so. Instead, she turned on her heel and stormed into the kitchen, then the pantry. There, she grabbed her car keys and left through the front door, passing Sam on her way out. She slammed the door behind her, and she instantly regretted doing so, but she couldn’t take it back. Not once in her relationship with Sam had an argument gotten this bad. The two of them had never said dating was a mistake, nor had they thrown nasty comments at each other out of frustration.

Sam didn’t know how to deal with the situation quite yet, and neither did [Y/N]. Silently, [Y/N] agreed with Sam about giving each other space before working things out.

She hopped into her car and switched the engine on, pulling out of the driveway and speeding down the road. Once she came to a red light, she popped a CD in and cranked the music up, wanting to drown out her hateful thoughts.

As she drove off to who knows where, Sam remained in the living room of their shared home. She plopped herself back down onto the sofa cushions and sighed, burying her face in her hands as she replayed the entire conversation over and over again in her mind. Each time she recalled the words she spoke, or rather hollered, she flinched, wanting nothing more than to take them back.

There was no excuse for what she said. She didn’t even really remember why things had gotten so aggressive.

As she sat there, counting the hours while she waited for [Y/N] to come home, her guilt began to grow even further. She promised herself she’d sit down and talk things out once they were together again.

Whenever that may be.

She should’ve stopped [Y/N] from leaving.

She should’ve asked her to sit down with her, or at least stay home.

She should’ve kept her cool and ended the argument before it began.

And all the while, as her guilt ate away at her conscience, [Y/N] was battling with her own mind nearly halfway across town.

How could she have said something so cruel? Sam didn’t deserve that at all. She had no right to be that crude towards her. She had been trying to change the subject, but [Y/N], for some reason she couldn’t figure out, refused to give in. Instead, she wanted to just “agree to disagree,” even though she knew that wouldn’t have ended very well. She and Sam were both very stubborn about their personal beliefs, meaning they’d struggle with that concept.

She knew that, and yet she continued to press on the matter.

She knew that, and yet she still blurted out that the relationship was a mistake.

She knew that, and yet she still stormed out of the house like a child.

With a heavy sigh of defeat, [Y/N] turned the car around and started her journey back to the house. One way or another, she’d find a way to work things out with Sam, even if it took all night.

By the time she made it back, it was well past midnight. Had she not known Sam well enough, she’d assume the blonde would be tucked away under the covers in their shared bed, sound asleep. However, she had known her all her life. She knew her thoughts, tendencies, insecurities, everything. And Sam was the same–they knew each other inside and out, which is what usually prevented these things from happening.

It was no surprise to [Y/N] when she unlocked the door and pushed it open to reveal Sam still sitting there on the couch. She glanced up from her spot on the cushions, a look of pure relief washing over her features. The blonde stood, stepping over to stand in front of [Y/N] once the door was shut and locked behind her. “Thank god you’re okay,” Sam whispered, lifting her hands to cup the smaller girl’s face and press their foreheads together. [Y/N] made no move to lean away from her touch, but rather leaned into her hands.

Her eyes shut softly when her head made contact with Sam’s, a small sigh of solace slipping past her lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry I worried you.” The blonde smiled and hummed, letting her hands slide down [Y/N]’s arms to gently take hold of her hands. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”

They stayed there for a moment, standing together under the dim light above the entryway to the den. Finally, Sam led her over to the couch and sat her down, joining her immediately after.

“I’m just gonna get right to the point. I’m really sorry I said what I did. I had no right to talk about you like that. I’m sorry, I really am,” Sam started, squeezing her hands in her own.

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry too,” [Y/N] replied just as quietly. “The fact I said our relationship was a mistake was disgusting. I didn’t mean a word of what I said, I swear. I just…I was hurt, and panicking, and I just wanted to say something to defend myself in the moment. I shouldn’t have said that though.”

Sam grinned, her thumb caressing the back of [Y/N]’s hand soothingly before bringing it up to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I forgive you,” she mumbled against her skin. “Could we both promise not to do that again though? I think that’s the most stress I’ve ever felt in our entire relationship.” [Y/N] chuckled at her words, bringing another genuine smile to her lips. “Yeah, I’d love to make that promise. Nearly cried my whole way home because I felt so bad about what happened.”

With a featherlike touch, Sam pulled [Y/N] into a hug, tucking her face against the crook of her neck and relaxing at the familiar scent of the girl’s shampoo and perfume. Her eyes fluttered shut, a silent sigh slipping through her lips, still perked up in a smile.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” came [Y/N]’s reply.

A moment passed, one far more comfortable than the situation from a few hours prior, and the two held onto each other as they swayed side to side. Finally, much to her embarrassment, a low rumble sounded from [Y/N]’s stomach, drawing both of their attention away. Sam leaned back and laughed gently. “Should we order something?” She questioned, already reaching for her phone laying face down on the coffee table.

[Y/N] nodded, laughing along with her. “Yeah. I was too worried during the entire drive to worry about eating, so…I guess it’s better late than never, right?” Sam smirked and nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. I’m in the same boat anyway. What sounds good? Not sure what’s open, but I’m sure we can find something good.”

[Y/N] beamed up at her, already feeling the previously thick tension dissolving at a rapid pace.

Sam picked up her phone after [Y/N] mentioned a few possible choices, clicking onto Google and scrolling through the open restaurants to find something that would satisfy both of their appetites. Eventually, they settled on something fairly cheap nearby, ordering said meal and setting everything up while they waited.

While [Y/N] stayed downstairs to pick something to watch on the TV, as well as gathering nearby blankets, Sam headed upstairs to their spare closet and picked out a few of the fluffiest pillows and blankets she could find. She trailed back downstairs, and the two of them bundled up together underneath their small fort of comfort. They were able to watch a decent amount of what [Y/N] had chosen to play on the screen before their order arrived.

Reluctantly, Sam left the comfort of all of the plush covers and pillows, already missing the warmth of [Y/N] by the time she made it to the door to pay the driver and take the order. Once everything was settled with the deliverer, Sam sauntered back over to the couch. She handed [Y/N] her order, including her drink, then managed to wriggle her way back into her previous spot before diving into her own dish.

As the two downed their food and rinsed it down with their drinks, they leaned further and further against each other. By the time they finished their meal and put the plastic containers and cutlery aside, [Y/N] was resting on top of Sam, both of them still buried underneath layers of their collection of blankets. Her head ended up planting itself atop the blonde’s chest, allowing her to listen to her heartbeat with ease.

Soft, delicate fingers raked their way through [Y/N]’s locks before a small kiss was pressed to her head. She glanced up curiously, only to find Sam beaming back down at her with a look of pure admiration. Her smile was returned just as warmly.

A moment or so passed before [Y/N] turned her head back to face the screen again. Her eyes began to flutter shut as Sam continued to stroke her hair. She fought to keep herself awake, but finally gave in when Sam mumbled a soft, “I love you,” and pressed another kiss to her head, lulling her deeper into slumber with ease.

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fr3sh-tragedies · 5 months

Text

You Don't Wanna Know

[Until Dawn] Samantha Giddings x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.52k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: Sam quite literally falls into insanity, mentions of blood, stabbing, knives, language (?), OOC Sam

[A/N]: This was fun to write, ngl, but I also wrote the whole thing fairly quickly in one sitting, so I apologize if it's kind of hard to read. I did read back over it, but I was sleep deprived, so there are probably mistakes.

Enjoy!

Blade in hand, Sam trembled, readying herself to strike the moment the creature lurking in front of her charged. She steadied her breath, her hazel eyes shooting toward Mike. She gave a subtle nod, a signal that he needed to ready himself for when they both took off running. With another puff of air to steel her nerves, Sam lifted her leg and slammed it down, her foot stamping the cold, cracking cement beneath her, echoing throughout the vacant room. A screech rang out unlike anything she or Mike had ever heard. The Wendigo that had been desperately trying to find the two in the room lunged forward toward the blonde. She timed her movements, ducking down when it came too close and managing to hook her arm around its inhumanely thin bicep. Willing her strength into the right spot, she shifted her weight and forced the Wendigo backward with a twist of her body, essentially throwing it to spiral toward the ground behind her.

“Mike, run!” She hollered, briefly glancing back to make sure he did so before her attention returned to the creature now scrambling to get back to its feet. Once regaining its bearings and balance, the Wendigo thrusted itself in Sam’s direction once again. Sam gripped the handle of her knife even tighter and made sure to angle herself to strike. The moment it came towering over her, Sam propelled the blade forward, listening with a grimace as it tore through the skin and thin muscle of the beast’s chest. It staggered backward, unfazed as the sharp steel was pulled out from its cavity, and quickly ran closer yet again, somehow unbothered by the gaping wound now pouring blood by the heart.

Upon seeing that the Wendigo wasn’t going down, Sam panicked, wondering how she could permanently keep it pinned. She couldn’t die here–she had someone she had to get back home to. She needed to be there for her, and she needed to be there for her friends, who had all likely made it back to the lodge and were needing a plan. If she could figure out how to kill these things, she could help the group defend themselves as well.

How could she kill this thing?

How the hell could she kill this thing?

Maybe she couldn’t kill it, but there had to be a way to hold it off long enough to get away.

She studied it as urgently as she could, barely coming up with a half-batched plan as it closed the distance between them. Her hands trembled, and she internally screamed at them to still. As the long, bony fingers of the Wendigo’s hand grasped Sam’s arm, she yelled out, jabbing the beast’s jugular as violently as she could and shoving it backwards. Still gripping her arm, the Wendigo yanked her to the ground as it fell onto its back. Before it could get the upper hand again, Sam shuffled up and gripped the handle with both hands. Planting both knees on either side of the creature’s torso, she dug the knife in further with all the force she could muster, yanking it sideways and slicing the thin muscle of the throat, trying her best to decapitate it. She made it about halfway to the nape of its neck before it screamed out louder in agony, instinctively picking her up and hurling her away in defense.

With a loud howl of pain, Sam slammed against the floor, skidding across the concrete and rolling away for a moment. She hissed as she propped herself up on her elbows, nails digging into her scalp as she tried to clear her vision. Tugging her hand away, she found blood now drizzling down from her fingertips, spilling out and wrapping around her digits like ribbon until it pooled across her palm and the backs of her knuckles. Almost entranced by the way it moved, she wriggled her fingers before clenching them together to form a fist.

The scars on the sides of her hands burst open at the sudden tensing, spilling out into more rivers that joined the staining streaks already there.

Then, upon hearing the echoey gurgling from her attacker, now several feet away, Sam’s head shot up. Her head throbbed harsher at the sudden motion, but she still managed to gain her bearings and assess what was happening ahead of her. The Wendigo, letting out scratchy, broken whines as blood oozed down its form onto the floor, shook and clawed at the skin now torn open on the side of its throat. Aside from the groan when she had been thrown, Sam hadn’t made any noise, meaning the beast ahead had no way of knowing where exactly she was.

She took this as her opportunity, noticing that the Wendigo was struggling to even stumble around, clutching at its throat and letting out another shrill wail. As soon as it collapsed to the floor, Sam turned and slipped against the concrete as she took off toward the direction Mike had gone, wrestling against the urge to look back. Against her better judgment, she clutched the bloodied knife toward her chest, praying she didn’t have to use it again.

A safe distance away, Sam called out for Mike.

Months after Sam and the others had left the lodge, they finally finished giving their statements to the investigators on the case. As far as she knew, everyone other than Josh had survived, though none of them had talked since they were picked up by the rescue helicopter. Sam had refused help from any of the counselors the police had recommended, not wanting to live through the horrors she had witnessed down in the mines all over again.

Instead, she focused on returning home to her girlfriend, who had no idea of what had been going on the entirety of the time she was gone. She had promised to only be gone for half a week at most, but after all of the interviewing, it had been well over three months. The officers on the case let her make a call to [Y/N] so she could explain the situation, but Sam had kept the details very minimal. The last thing she had wanted was to upset [Y/N] even further. And to her relief, the majority of the details hadn’t been released to the public yet, considering they hadn’t gone down to discover the monsters themselves.

Even when they went down to seek them out, Sam knew most of them wouldn’t survive.

Finally, after an excruciatingly long ride home, Sam had made it. She was quick to stumble up to the front door and let herself in, making a beeline to her shared bedroom with the one she was looking for. Before she got upstairs, however, she snuck into the garage and placed something down, then heading back inside. Briefly, she caught a glance of her reflection in one of the mirrors hung on the wall. She noticed the scar leading from her forehead up past her hairline had started to slowly heal, the one she had earned from her first full battle against a Wendigo. Her hand trailed up to gently let her fingertips graze alone the rough tissue, tracing the shape as she hummed.

For a moment, she considered splitting the scar back open, desperate to relive the thrilling moment she had suffered through down in the mines. She ultimately decided against it, figuring it wouldn’t make a difference. The scars would all still be there, even after they healed. She huffed out a small sigh and started toward the stairs again, finding herself standing in front of the bedroom door for a moment before nudging it open.

Normally, when Sam and [Y/N] saw each other again after being separated for an extended period of time, they’d hug one another tightly and spend the entire day together. Despite this routine, when they finally saw each other then, all Sam could do was wobble forward onto the bed before pulling the smaller girl into her chest. “Sam? Holy shit, you’re back,” [Y/N] whispered, sighing in relief as she tugged the blonde closer and turned her head to listen to her heartbeat. “I was so worried.” Sam grinned at her words, silently stroking her hair for a moment before she gave a response.

“Ah, no need for that. Things just got weird.”

In the back of her mind, Sam knew that “weird” was a severe understatement. However, she had no idea how to put what she had seen into words. She managed to dryly answer [Y/N]’s rapid questions for a bit longer, but ultimately fell asleep in the middle of the one-sided conversation, the exhaustion from the whole ordeal finally kicking in.

Days passed, and it was clear right away that Sam had changed. Instead of being the openly kind, considerate woman [Y/N] had grown to love over the years, she had become cold and distant, growing increasingly defensive and aggressive when anything was mentioned about her trip. How could she have grown hypervigilant over a trip with friends? She wouldn’t open up about anything, no matter what [Y/N] tried. She eventually shrugged it off, however, assuming it was just exhaustion and stress from whatever had taken place while she was gone.

She made it her goal to help Sam relax again. She’d cook her meals, get her clothes and everything ready when she’d shower, let her latch onto her when she would occasionally sleep in, and would practically baby her in some aspects, watching her like a hawk to make sure she didn’t collapse or grow visibly sick from whatever thought might’ve crossed her mind. This lasted quite a while. [Y/N] had been hoping Sam would finally start opening up after some time if she was just given the support and space she needed, though that moment never came.

Desperate, she had even researched possible ways to work through whatever was swarming through Sam’s mind. She reached out to a few licensed therapists here and there, but they weren’t able to do much since Sam wouldn’t cooperate with any of their questions. Nothing seemed to work. She just wanted the woman she fell in love with to come back to her.

As painful as it was to see her lover and best friend slipping away and becoming someone new, [Y/N] eventually respected her wishes and let her be, gradually halting her questions about the trip to the lodge. She couldn’t get into contact with anyone else from the friend group either–and she wondered if it was for the same reason that was causing Sam to treat her so differently as well. She hoped they wouldn’t all shut everyone else out the way the blonde was already doing to her.

The days would all go by the same way: [Y/N] would get up early when Sam would finally let go of her, fix breakfast for the two of them, eat alone in the kitchen, and head out for the day, usually catching a glimpse of Sam sauntering downstairs and sitting down at the table to finally eat. It was like she was running on a survival schedule. She’d only eat and sleep when she absolutely needed to. Anytime she tried to take a nap, she’d end up springing up from the cushions in a cold sweat, always out of breath. It didn’t take long for her to stop trying to rest throughout the day.

During those times, when she wasn’t able to sleep, she’d tap at the scar adoring her forehead then bring her hand back down, picturing the way the waves of her blood had danced against her skin months prior. She’d find herself staring at her palm for hours, losing track of time. It was hard for her to remember to eat when this happened, so she had to be reminded.

[Y/N] would text her at lunch, checking up on her, and hardly ever got a response. She’d carry out the rest of her shift for the day, then head home, always finding Sam blacked out on the sofa in the den or in their shared bedroom, struggling to stay asleep for more than a few minutes. She’d never greet [Y/N] anymore, but she would still make some kind of motion to let her know that she acknowledged her coming back into the house: a small hum, a little nod, or just a simple glance in her direction. Not once did she utter anything.

Then, to end the evening, [Y/N] would prepare dinner or order takeout. To her surprise, Sam would actually sit and eat with her most nights, though she never made conversation.

The two would then trudge up to bed once they finished cleaning up, shower and get changed into their nightwear, and then collapse into a deep slumber the moment they made it under the covers. This repeated for days, which shifted into weeks, and then shifted into months. As the time passed, Sam seemed to get a little less aggressive, though she was still relatively mute. One night, Sam got a call as they sat in the living room, picking at their fast food and watching something random on the TV. She seemed to grow relieved at whatever the caller had told her.

When [Y/N] asked what it was about, Sam simply pocketed her phone and shook her head, returning to her meal. “You don’t wanna know.”

[Y/N] frowned at this, but gave up instantly, forcing herself to push through her sudden nausea and finish her dish. As she took her last bite, she glanced over at Sam, who had put hers down on the coffee table and began to stare blankly at the wall across the room. With a small sigh, [Y/N] stood and picked up both plates, carrying them over to the kitchen to toss the remaining food and rinse off the forks and plates.

As she turned to slide the rack of the dishwasher open, [Y/N] blinked and froze upon seeing Sam wander out into the garage.

The blonde made sure to shut and lock the door behind her once inside the large space, her socks coming into contact with the chilled stone beneath her and hardly doing anything to keep her feet warm. She didn’t mind it though. Instead, she ignored the chill that shot up her spine and waltzed to a loose panel being pressed into place behind the multiple boxes she and [Y/N] had piled up for storage.

She lifted a few boxes, sliding them across the ground after moving them behind her, then wriggling the loose wooden plank from the wall and propping it up against a few heavier boxes a few feet away. Her hand reached inside the dark opening now revealed to her, not flinching so much as once at the feeling of cobwebs grazing her skin and entangling themselves around her fingers. She rummaged around momentarily, but cracked a small smirk upon feeling the thin plastic top of the bag she was searching for.

With a quick tug, she lifted the bag up and towards her chest, lazily moving the panel back into place before turning around and retracing her steps to the door leading back into the house. She flicked her wrist and unlocked the door with ease, pulling the door open and letting herself inside. Barely closing the door behind her, she casually walked into the kitchen, planning to stroll straight past [Y/N] without being noticed.

She was noticed, though. It wasn’t just her presence that was acknowledged.

Instantly, [Y/N]’s eyes trailed down and landed directly on the bag pressed tightly against Sam’s chest. She bristled at the sight of the rusted knife in the bag, coated in dried, flaking blood. Her gaze shot back up to Sam’s, who was now staring blankly at her.

“Sam?” She started cautiously. The blonde had no reply, only blinking at the sound of her name. “What is that?” Still, she was met with a deafening silence.

Finally, fed up with the lack of responses over the months, remembering each time Sam avoided the subject of the lodge, [Y/N] stepped forward and feigned her best look of strength. A newfound sense of anger bubbled up underneath her skin and up her throat. The questions began spilling from her lips before she could stop them. “Sam, what the hell is that? Why do you have it? Has that been here this whole time? Is that from the lodge? Did you fucking kill someone?”

For the first time since she made it home, Sam smiled, though it sent a chill down [Y/N]’s spine. The blonde’s grin only widened as she stepped forward. A sound mimicking a chuckle erupted from her throat, more of a low, broken rumble. She shook her head and lowered her tone as she spoke, adding onto the signs that were triggering alarm bells in [Y/N]’s head. She got her answer, even as Sam gave an indirect one.

“You don’t wanna know.”

She brushed past the trembling girl, calmly heading upstairs and into her office down the hall from the bedroom. There, she found the stand she had purchased shortly after making it home. Her fingers traced the lines of the bag still in her hands, toying with the corners before tugging it open. With a sickening smile, she slid the knife out at a painfully slow speed, marveling at the way the light overhead made the browning blood staining the rusted steel glisten.

A hum of admiration slipped from her lips as she dropped the bag by her feet, lifting the knife up higher to get a better view. With a gentle motion, she lowered it to rest on the wooden stand in front of her. Her feet led her backward enough for her to get a better view.

From the corner of her eye, she could see [Y/N] peering in from the doorway, beads of sweat trickling down her face and neck. Sam beamed at her, motioning for her to come in and stand next to her. Afraid of what would happen if she refused, [Y/N] did as told, hesitantly planting herself beside the blonde, whose hazel eyes were trained on her form. Finally, Sam waved her arm forward, motioning toward the knife.

“You sure you want to know what this is?”

With a loud swallow, [Y/N] nodded. “This is the knife that I used to save myself back at the lodge. I slit open a Wendigo’s throat to survive. Thought I’d keep it as a kind of token of sorts. Anytime I start to feel unsure about something, I can look to this as a source of motivation. It saved me once, it can save me again.”

[Y/N] could only stare ahead, her mind spinning as she struggled not to faint. What was a Wendigo? How would this knife be a token of motivation? How was Sam so disgustingly calm about murdering something? That wasn’t like her at all. She hated seeing the smallest of animals being hurt–how could she just murder one? Was this even the same Sam that she had been waiting for back when she was at the lodge to meet up with her friends? Who was the woman standing by her side?

She had so many questions–too many questions–and she wasn’t sure if she would ever get answers to any of them. Or even if she wanted to.

Finally, she tore her eyes away from the source of her spiking nausea to look up at Sam. Her blood ran cold when she turned to find the blonde staring down at her already, something in her eyes confirming [Y/N]’s fear that she had changed. That stomach-churning smile still painted her lips, though now it seemed far more menacing. A hand slid down to clasp [Y/N]’s, making her yelp and jump at the contact.

She glanced down to find Sam now interlocking their fingers, then back up to find the smile gone.

“What’s wrong, [Y/N]?” Sam questioned, her tone flat and devoid of any emotion.

She leaned down, now uncomfortably close to the smaller girl’s face, seemingly staring dead into her soul. She cocked her head to the side, almost in a mocking motion. “Did you not want to hear about this after all? I sure hope that’s not the case. It’d be a shame. After all, I’m trusting you to keep this little prize of mine between us, and only us. Will you do that for me?”

[Y/N] couldn’t speak, terrified of saying the wrong thing. She screamed at her mind to say something, anything at all. All she could do, however, was stare. She gave a small, almost unnoticeable nod after a torturous string of silence. One in which Sam only stared, unblinking, into her eyes.

Finally, Sam’s lips split into a grin again. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Good. Let’s see just how long you can keep that promise.”

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