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tara watching them make out 👁️👄👁️🧍‍♀️

Tara:

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NOOOOOOOOOO 😭😭😭😭 j fell down to my knees crying can’t believe it’s ober give us a epilogue please 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Not quite an epilogue, but I definitely plan on expanding things through oneshots!

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Chapter 4

Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.

previous part <--> next part

The diner gives off the same energy you get from the beach—warm, familiar, and buzzing with the chatter of regulars and clinking dishes. You feel a sense of relief wash over you as the door closes behind you, the chaos of the outside world fading for a moment. The smell of your uncle's cooking greets you like an old friend, grounding you.

Rudy waves you over from behind the counter, his grin wide and welcoming. "If it isn't my favorite niece! And Mabel! Come sit!"

You smile at Rudy's loud enthusiasm, but your mind still lingers on the distant pops you heard before. Mabel tugs on your sleeve, guiding you to a booth by the window. She's already chatting away, but you glance outside for a split second, keeping a watchful eye on the street.

"Hey," she says, her tone soft but insistent, pulling your attention back to her. "You with me?"

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just... keeping an eye out."

Jodie comes over with some water, smiling at how close you two are. You can already tell she has a few things to say just by the look on her face.

"I see you finally got her to let her guard down," Jodie says as she sets some utensils on the napkins she sets out. You purse your lips into a thin line, exhausted by this conversation already. "She's like her mother in that way."

You sit back, rubbing your temples when you hear Mabel chuckle.

She senses your discomfort so she shrugs. "I get the whole having your guard up," she bumps your shoulder with her gently. "But I showed her it's okay to relax around me."

You wish that were true, but right now, you're more on guard than ever—just not towards her. Your eyes keep scanning the diner, examining every person, every potential threat. You hate it. You hate not being able to fully relax around her, not showing her the side of you that she deserves—the dorky, carefree version that you know is buried somewhere under all the layers of vigilance.

Jodie hums, happily and almost dreamily. You raise a brow at her and she gets the hint. She raises her hands up in mock surrender then excuses herself. She tells you Rudy is whipping up a special specifically for you two, leaving you two alone.

Mabel pulls a journal out of her bag, something you've seen her do twice since you've met her. The first time at the beach after you avoided her for a couple days and now. The journal looks worn out, crinkled at the edges and you wonder if the journal was in the bag that fell in the water.

Mabel glances at you, noticing your gaze lingering on the worn-out journal. She flashes a small, almost sheepish smile as she flips it open. "You curious?"

You shrug, but you can't help the slight raise of your eyebrows. "I mean, yeah..." you admit, shrugging again. "I suck at writing. I was always envious of people who were able to transfer their thoughts onto paper easily. And handwriting wise–I mean, I have chicken scratch for handwriting," you tell her, scoffing at yourself.

She chuckles softly, thumbing through the pages before stopping at a blank one. "It's nothing deep. Just a place for me to jot down thoughts, random ideas—sometimes things I want to say but can't."

You nod, trying to imagine her sitting down to write after the beach or in moments when you're not around. "It looks like it's been through a lot."

She glances at the worn edges, smiling. "It has. It was in my bag when it fell in the water. Got lucky though, most of it survived." Her fingers trace the cover as if she's remembering something.

You're tempted to ask more, but instead, you lean back and offer her a genuine smile. "It suits you. Mysterious, a little beat up, but still standing strong."

Mabel laughs, shaking her head as she looks down at the journal. "I'll take that as a compliment." She pauses, then adds, "Maybe one day I'll let you read some of it... if you're lucky."

Your smile widens, and a warm feeling stirs in your chest as you realize just how much Mabel trusts you. She's offering you a glimpse into her inner world, a place where her most personal thoughts and ideas live.

Then it hits you; the trust she has shown you. Yet you haven't shown her not even half of the trust she's shown you.

"You know I trust you, right?" you say, voice suddenly quiet, glancing at her. Mabel raises an eyebrow, her expression curious but kind. "I trust you, really, I do." You're not sure if you're trying to convince her or yourself.

"Of course. Why wouldn't you?"

You shrug, forcing a smile. "I just hate that I can't turn it off sometimes." Her head tilts, confused by your words. "I feel like...like I'm not here. I want to be present, really be here with you."

Mabel tilts her head, her eyes searching yours. "You are here with me," she says softly, her hand finding yours under the table. "Even if you're keeping an eye out, I know you're still with me."

Her words bring you a sense of calm you weren't expecting, a reminder that even if you're cautious, she sees through the armor.

You feel relief wash over you, her words sinking in. They say the transition to civilian life is difficult and you wanted to prove that wrong but you find yourself proving it right more times than not. To know that Mabel has some sort of understanding about it settles your nerves a little. You can protect her, be on guard, while not having to worry you're making her feel unwanted.

It's hard to let go of the instinct to always be on alert, but with Mabel, it feels like there's a part of you that can start to relax. She's patient with you, understanding in ways you didn't expect, and that makes you want to give her more of yourself—more of the version you want to be around her.

"Thank you," you say, your voice low but filled with sincerity. "I promise you, I'm trying. I want to be here. With you."

Her hand squeezes yours, twice and you glance down at your intertwined fingers. You nod in understanding, no words shared anymore, and allow her to write in her journal.

Just as the moment settles between you, Rudy appears from the kitchen with plates in hand, breaking the tension. He gives a knowing look as he places your food on the table. "Special order for two."

You both dig in, with Rudy taking a seat to join you. He starts to talk and takes advantage of times you have your mouth full to tell Mabel embarrassing stories. You can only glare, defending yourself after you've swallowed what's in your mouth.

In the end, you both have a great time. You enjoy hearing Mabel's laugh, seeing her smile and feeling the lightness of the moment. It's a simple thing, sharing a meal and listening to stories, but it feels like a step forward—a step towards the peace you've been chasing.

As the meal winds down, Rudy excuses himself, leaving you and Mabel alone once more. She's still smiling, her fingers tracing the rim of her water glass absentmindedly, and you take a moment to just watch her. You realize that in this moment, surrounded by the sounds of the diner, with her laughter still echoing in your ears, you feel more present than you've felt in a long time.

You lean back in your chair, feeling something shift inside of you, a sense of gratitude for her patience and the ease she brings to your life. For the first time in a while, you let yourself just be—right here, with her, and nowhere else.

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Days pass, and you and Mabel are practically inseparable. She joins you at your nephew's field day, laughing as she cheers him on louder than anyone else. You watch her out of the corner of your eye, her enthusiasm infectious, making you smile more than usual. She fits into your world so seamlessly, like she was always meant to be here. She cheers you and Devin on in the three-legged race and cheers him up when you guys wind up in third place.

Then comes the last day of school. The two of you stand outside the building, waiting for your nephew. When the bell rings, he runs straight to Mabel, throwing his arms around her in excitement before even greeting you. You roll your eyes, pretending to be jealous, but deep down, you're glad they've bonded so easily. He hops into her car and practically begs her to go fast; because she's infamous for her driving.

Mabel laughs, ruffling your nephew's hair as she buckles him in. "I'm not getting in trouble with your aunt today," she teases, glancing at you with a playful smirk.

You cross your arms, shaking your head. Your nephew looks at you, arms crossing in a way that reminded you of your sister.

You look between them. "I'm not liking this duo...I feel outranked." You frown, earning a laugh from Mabel.

Devin pouts, slumping in his seat. "You're no fun," he mutters, but it's clear he's just teasing. He can't help but grin when Mabel cranks up the music, and soon enough, he's singing along, his earlier disappointment forgotten.

As you drive back home, you find yourself watching them interact in the rearview mirror, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

When you pull into your sister's driveway, Devin hops out of the car and races inside, yelling something about showing Mabel his latest toy car. He claims it can go as fast as Mabel's car. You chuckle, shaking your head at his excitement, but then your heart skips a beat when you notice a familiar car parked in front of the house.

Your mom.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, suddenly remembering she had planned to stop by today.

Mabel glances over, noticing your tension. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just... forgot my mom was coming over," you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. "She doesn't know you're here."

Before you can say anything else, your mom steps out of her car, already waving as she approaches. There's no backing out now.

"Faro!" she calls, then her eyes immediately land on Mabel. Curiosity flickers in her expression, but she smiles warmly. "And who's this?"

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling like a teenager caught sneaking someone into the house. "Mom, this is Mabel."

Your mom's smile widens, and she looks between the two of you knowingly. "Mabel." She says it like she's testing the name. Mabel nods, smiling at your mother shyly. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you." She raises an eyebrow at you as she says this, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

It's a lie. You've never mentioned Mabel to anyone except your aunt and uncle. They only know because they've butt into your personal life.

Mabel, to her credit, handles the situation smoothly, shaking your mom's hand with a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you too. Faro, here, has told me some great stories," she laughs, glancing at you.

You sigh quietly, hearing Mabel use your nickname making you... feel different. You've never minded the nickname, but Mabel had always called you by your name until now. You like hearing her say it. Now, you only think of the nickname as something you once were—a version of yourself from before everything changed, before you met Mabel, before life started feeling more complicated. It doesn't bother you, but it belongs to that past self, one that doesn't quite fit anymore.

You want to be that person again.

Mabel's use of the nickname stirs something inside you that's hard to explain, even to yourself. Mabel notices the subtle shift in your expression. Her brow furrows, like she's tempted to ask, but instead, she offers you a small, reassuring smile—one you're starting to understand more and more.

Your mom gives you that look—you know the one—the one that says she'll be grilling you about this later, but for now, she's on her best behavior. "Well, had I known you were coming, I would have brought more stuff to cook," She waves toward the bag of groceries she brought, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

You clear your throat, realizing you hadn't planned to stay for dinner. You only meant to hang with Devin until your sister got home.

"Umm, ma," you start but she cuts you off, like she knows what you have to say.

"Nope," she shakes her head and grins. "I'll go in and get set up after I check on that little monster," she laughs, leaving no room for you to argue.

Mabel attempts to follow your mother but you grab her hand gently, halting her movements. She looks back at you, curiosity filling her eyes. Your mother, with that extra mother sense, glances back at you both.

"There a problem?" She raises a brow.

You clear your throat awkwardly. "You need more ingredients, she needs more ingredients," you say to Mabel, and she laughs at your flustering mess of a speech. "We're gonna go get some more ingredients for you. We'll be–"

"Ahh," your mother wiggles a finger at you, shutting your idea down. "You can go. Mabel, come with me, I want to show you how to make the most popular Peruvian dish," your mom finishes, already pulling Mabel toward the house with a wink thrown in your direction.

You blink, left standing there as Mabel gives you a playful, helpless shrug before following your mom inside. You know exactly what's happening here—your mom is trying to get to know Mabel in her own way, and by the looks of it, Mabel's more than willing to humor her.

As you stand there, it hits you how quickly things have escalated. If the kiss is the start of a relationship, then technically, you and Mabel have only been together for a week. And she's meeting your mom already?

Mabel meeting your mom wasn't on the agenda today, or even for the next month and half she's here. But here they are now, bonding over dinner prep. You feel a strange mix of pride and nervousness. Part of you wants to storm in there and interrupt, but another part knows this is good. Maybe it's time to let your worlds mesh a little more, even if it feels like it's happening too fast.

You rub the back of your neck, chuckling to yourself as you glance toward the door. You can already hear your mom's laughter inside, and Mabel's responding with something you can't quite make out.

It's strange, hearing those two get along so naturally, but it also fills you with warmth. With Erin, it took your mother some time to even acknowledge her as your girlfriend. Your sister claimed she was being protective of her baby but you knew it was because your mom didn't think Erin was a good fit for you. She had been polite, sure, but it was clear your mom kept her distance. Things felt different with Mabel already. Your mom's openness, her immediate warmth toward Mabel, caught you off guard, and maybe that's why it feels like it's happening so fast.

Maybe, just maybe, you've found something real with Mabel, something that fits into your life in ways you hadn't expected.

A couple minutes pass and Mabel sneaks out of your sister's house for a second. You assume she managed to convince your mom to let her go but she tosses you her keys, and you catch it with your jaw dropped.

"Drive safe," she calls out then returns back into the house. You blow out a huff, shaking your head at her actions. Seconds later, her head pops out again and your hopes are up again. "Your mom said to buy limes–okay, bye!"

You stand there, keys in hand, still processing what just happened. Mabel's playful energy and the ease with which she's won over your mom leaves you stunned. You can't help but laugh, a mix of disbelief and affection bubbling up inside you.

Shaking your head, you hop into Mabel's car and start the engine. As you drive toward the store, your mind races, replaying the day's events. It's like everything is happening faster than you ever planned. But, at the same time, it doesn't feel wrong. It feels... right.

There's a comfort with Mabel that you can't quite put into words. Like all the pieces are finally falling into place.

When you arrive at the store and park, your thoughts are filled with Mabel, as they have been since you first met her. In the corner of your eye, you spot a familiar black van with some faded lettering on it. A chill runs down your spine, but you quickly shake it off, dismissing it as a coincidence. You don't want anything to ruin the warmth you feel today, so you rush to grab the items on your list, your mind focused on getting back to Mabel and your mom. You head inside, scanning the aisles with a distracted smile. Everything feels light, but a flicker of unease brushes against your subconscious.

You dart through the produce section, tossing a few limes into your basket, and then head toward the checkout. As you wait in line, your thoughts drift back to Mabel, imagining her laughter and the way her eyes light up when she's excited.

"Glad I caught you in person."

You furrow your brows and turn to see Nick standing there, appearing out of nowhere. You hadn't even noticed him before—lost in your thoughts, you hadn't scouted the store before going about your shopping.

"Nick," you say, forcing a smile. "Doing some shopping?"

Nick chuckles, but it sounds humorless. "Sure," he replies, clicking his tongue as he gestures toward the line that's moved up. You take a step forward, and he isn't far behind. "I got tired of your one-worded messages. And you've managed to dodge my calls pretty well. I got patience, but... to a limit." He grits out the last part, the tension in his voice rising.

You grip the basket's handle tightly, searching for more self-control, trying to ignore the unease twisting in your stomach.

"There's a tradeoff going on tonight at the usual place," he continues, lingering close behind you as the line shifts again. "One of the guys from the docks can't make it, and the other... well, he's a shitty liar, so he's out of commission until his hand heals."

You whip your head back, your heart racing as you try to hide your worry. You hope to God it's Charlie's hand that's broken and not Costa's. Not that Charlie deserves it but Costa is the least deserving of the two.

"Be there at eleven, or if rumors are true..." he lowers his voice, stepping closer to you, his breath brushing against your ear, "Mabel's face will be covered in bruises again."

A chill runs down your spine at his threat, and you take a shaky breath, forcing your expression to remain neutral. How does he know her name?

His lips quirk into a smirk. "Yeah," he drags out, almost giddily. "Mabel isn't a stranger to this world. She knows how things work. As do you. You know how things work in our world. You owe me, and I expect you to fulfill your end of the deal."

Your jaw clenches. You don't care how well Mabel may know of this world. She isn't part of this and you're not going to let them force her back in it.

"I'll be there," you say, narrowing your eyes as you fully turn to face him. "But if you go anywhere near her, I swear–"

"Swear what?" Nick interrupts, leaning in with a condescending grin. His eyes trace your face and his smiles widens. "You're cute when you're mad. But you have no leverage. Pay your idiot of a father's debt by doing what we ask, and if you do it right; no one gets hurt. Cool?"

A mix of anger and dread bubbles inside you. He nods, taking your lack of response as an answer of agreement. You turn back around and move up the line, noticing you're up next to checkout.

"Be happy it's just your girlfriend," Nick says still right behind you. "Had Mabel not showed up, it would've been your mom, sister or that little rugrat of a nephew–man, that kid is adorable." He laughs gently.

Your experience with the military is unknown to him. You're unsure if threats would be less if he knew. What you do know for sure is if he knew you were military, he would use that as an advantage. Oliver is military and they clearly use him to their advantage, so you can only imagine how Nick would spin your past to manipulate you further. The thought sends a cold wave of anger through you. You tighten your grip on the basket, fighting the urge to turn around and confront him again.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't test my patience if I were you," you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

Nick chuckles softly, as if he finds your bravado amusing.

You step up to the cashier, scanning your items quickly and trying to focus on the mundane task at hand instead of the threat looming over you.

"I'll see you at eleven," he pats your back, harsher than any man should push any average person. Lucky for you, you're not average. He earns stares with his actions but he doesn't pay any mind to it. "Don't be late." He winks, taking an apple you had on the conveyor belt.

Your heart races as you finish checking out, your mind racing with possibilities. You can't let Mabel or your family become collateral damage in Nick's twisted games.

As you leave the store, you take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your head. You need a plan. Knowing your mother, she plans on talking Mabel's ear off until the late hours of the night. You hope you can get out by ten, have Mabel home by ten-thirty and be at the place by eleven.

You hop into Mabel's car, your heart still racing from the encounter with Nick. The thought of that apple in his hand irks you—an innocent gesture that feels loaded with intimidation. You shake your head, trying to focus on the road ahead.

As you drive back home, you mentally rehearse your plan. Your mother can talk for hours, but if you time it right, you can slip out before Mabel gets too comfortable. You glance at the clock on the dashboard—only a few minutes have passed since you left the store, but it feels like an eternity.

When you arrive home, you find your mother in the kitchen, excitedly chatting with Mabel about the dish they're preparing. The aroma of spices fills the air, mixing with the sound of laughter, and for a moment, the warmth of the moment makes you forget about Nick.

"You got the limes?" Your mother breaks you out of your stupor. Mabel's eyes are on you and you can tell she sees something is off about you. Either you're easy to read or she's just caught on to how you try to pretend everything is okay when it really isn't. You realize you left the groceries in the car so you excuse yourself to get them.

You're grabbing the stuff from the backseat when you see Mabel join you outside. She walks over to you, quiet and tentative, treading carefully as to not trigger your fight instinct.

Mabel stands in front of you, her eyes scanning your face for answers. She's always had this ability to see through the walls you put up, and today is no different. You can tell she's waiting for you to say something, but you're not sure where to start. You close the car door, trying to mask the tension you're feeling, but it's no use.

"What's going on?" she asks softly, taking a step closer. "You've been off since you got back."

You exhale, looking down at the bags in your hand as if they'll give you an excuse to avoid the conversation. But Mabel isn't going to let it go, not this time. Her voice is gentle but firm, and you know she won't let you keep avoiding the truth.

But you don't want her in this. Not after what Nick said. The less she knows, the better it is for her.

"Just saw an old friend," you lie with a shrug, forcing a smile.

Mabel narrows her eyes, clearly not convinced. She knows you too well to fall for a half-hearted answer like that. You have to be easy to read; which is shameful. You were trained to hide any sort of emotion. But it's like Mabel sees right past that. Her lips press into a thin line as she studies your face, searching for the truth you're holding back.

"An old friend?" she repeats, her voice calm but with an edge of skepticism. "And that's why you've been acting weird ever since you came home?"

You swallow hard, trying to maintain your composure, but it's difficult under her gaze. She steps closer, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Weird? I just forgot the bags in the car," you shoot back, furrowing your brows.

Mabel nods, still not convinced. "Who was this friend?"

You still, fumbling with the bags in your hands. "Umm," you fumble with a lie. "A guy from an old job," your words comes out like a question, which doesn't help you.

"Old job?" Mabel arches a brow, stepping closer. "What old job?"

Your heart skips a beat as the lie begins to unravel. You can't tell her about Nick or the threat he made. Not when she's already too close to the fire. You avert your gaze, trying to focus on anything but her piercing eyes.

"Just a guy from a side job I did before," you mutter, shifting the bags in your hands to avoid her scrutiny. "Nothing important."

Mabel's expression hardens. She knows you're deflecting, and her patience is running thin. "Why do I feel like you're not telling me everything? You're acting like there's more to it than that."

You clench your jaw, frustration boiling inside. She's right—there's so much more, but you can't risk dragging her into this. Not with Nick's threat still hanging over your head. "Mabel, just drop it, okay? It was an old friend; he's a dick, and I don't like the guy."

Mabel's eyes narrow, clearly not satisfied with your answer. Her frustration is starting to show, but she takes a deep breath, trying to keep calm. "A guy you don't like, from a job you barely remember. And that's why you're acting so weird? That doesn't add up."

You're better off starting a fight than telling her the truth. Nick called her your girlfriend, and technically, she isn't.

"Why are you bombarding me with questions? It's not like you're my girlfriend," you scoff, walking past her, not missing the stunned expression on her face.

Mabel's face hardens, the hurt flashing in her eyes before she quickly masks it. She's not one to let emotions show easily, but you can tell your words stung.

"Right," she says, her voice cold. You turn to look at her, guilt troubling your stomach at the hurt expression on her face. "I'm not your girlfriend. So I guess I don't have the right to care about you, or to ask questions when you're clearly upset."

You pause, guilt creeping in as you realize what you just said, but before you can respond, Mabel steps back, distancing herself from you.

"Give me my keys."

Her words hang in the air, and you feel the weight of them pressing down on your chest. You didn't mean to hurt her, just shut her down, but now you've made things worse.

"Wait, Mabel, I'm sorry–"

"Look, I get being guarded, but have I not shown you that I'm here for you?" Mabel interrupts, her voice steady but tinged with frustration.

She's better at controlling her emotions than you are. Maybe you should have stayed in college. Maybe you have been more emotionally mature if you had.

She's staring at you, her arms crossed tightly, waiting for an explanation you're not sure you can give. "I've been patient, giving you space, but this—this is different."

You run a hand through your hair, the guilt and frustration mixing with the growing pressure of Nick's threats. "It's not like that," you say, your voice quieter now. "I just... I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Mabel repeats, her tone incredulous. "By pushing me away and lying to me? How does that protect me?"

You don't have a good answer. Not one that will fix the way she's looking at you right now, as if you're slipping further away from her.

"I don't want you involved in something you don't deserve to be a part of," you admit, voice low.

Mabel's eyes soften, but only slightly. "I can take care of myself. You don't have to shut me out. But I'm not going to stick around if this is how you're going to deal with things."

Her words sting more than you expected. You've been trying to keep her safe, trying to keep her at a distance from all of this, but in doing so, you're pushing her away—maybe for good.

"Now," she ignores the pained look in your eyes, "my keys." She holds her hand out.

You ignore a voice in the back of your head shouting at you to stop, to not give her her keys. To not let her walk away. But you're an idiot, who gives her her keys.

"Tell your mom I'm sorry," she snatches keys from your hand then walks to the driver's side. She pauses and looks at you.

The silence between you stretches painfully as Mabel pauses by the driver's side, her hand resting on the door handle. You can feel the weight of the moment, the finality in her movement, and it gnaws at you.

"You're not going to say anything?" she asks, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. She looks at you, waiting, hoping maybe you'll give her a reason to stay.

But you don't know what to say. Everything you've been holding back, all the fear, the threats, it's locked inside, and you can't bring yourself to drag her into that mess. You are your father's daughter. He never said anything either.

Then be different, you hear your grandfather's voice in the back of your head.

"I—" you start, but the words die in your throat. You see the disappointment flicker across her face as she turns away.

"Take care of yourself," she says, the sadness in her voice unmistakable before she climbs into her car.

You watch as she drives away, the tail lights fading into the distance, leaving you standing there in the cold emptiness of your driveway, feeling like you've just made the biggest mistake of your life.

Seven days. It's fitting, considering it's your favorite number.

You had seven perfect days with Mabel. It was bound to end someday. Whether with her leaving at the end of the summer or by your stupidity. How your father managed to keep your mother is beyond you. Your father was worse than you.

How did he do it?

You don't bother to even think of it, returning back into your sister's home with your head down. Your mother asks for Mabel and you come up with a better lie to her than you did Mabel. She makes you swear to invite Mabel over again, to treat her well because she loves her.

And you hate yourself for already disobeying your mother. You hate yourself even more because you do, too.

Three weeks since you met her. Seven days since you kissed her. And already, you love her.

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |15 - Final|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Sam stood next to Tara as she got patched up in the ambulance. Sam couldn’t believe she made it out without another stab wound and that Tara only got stabbed in the shoulder. Her eyes drifted across the way to see you in the back of another ambulance, getting stitched up once again. It seemed you had been right; you tore open all of your stitches, again.

Chad was standing next to you, seeming to talk rather animatedly as he gestured around crazily with his arms. Sam was sure that when they got outside, they’d find Chad in a puddle of blood, but they didn’t, he had been completely fine. When Chad hadn’t been able to get ahold of Mindy, he said he went to go inside but the doors were all locked, so he ran to the nearest police station. By the time they were leaving the building police and medics were already waiting, a few minutes earlier and maybe Bailey and the others would have been arrested instead of dead.

“You know,” Tara said, interrupting Sam’s thoughts. She looked to see her sister was all patched up and now had a simple makeshift sling as she hopped down from the ambulance. “They’re not so bad,” she nodded in your direction. Sam followed her sister’s gaze and couldn’t help but smile. “I think you picked a good one.”

Sam let out a breathless laugh. She knew Tara was right, you were one of the good ones. They didn’t lose anyone with you by their side, you ended up getting the most hurt out of all of them in fact. Sam didn’t even want to know where they’d all be without you, she certainly didn’t think they’d make it out and she didn’t think she could handle losing any of them.

“I almost got them killed,” Sam said. She couldn’t see why you’d ever stick around; no one was crazy enough to put up with her after seeing her life. She figured you’d return to North Carolina and go back to your special ops missions; you were clearly quite good at it after all.

Tara scoffed and Sam looked back at her sister just in time to see her rolling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” Tara said. “They almost died for you!” She gestured at you. Sam furrowed her brow; Tara said the same exact thing she just did but in a different tone. Sam couldn’t figure out how it was any different, she was pretty sure you almost dying for her and her almost getting you killed meant the same thing.

“They’re still here,” Tara said slower as if that would make Sam understand better. Sam guessed it was obvious she was still confused because Tara threw her head back and let out an exaggerated groan. “They know everything,” she gestured widely. “And they still stayed.”

“They had a whole life before me.” Sam watched as the medic finished stitching up another one of your wounds.

“And you could be a part of it.”

“I don’t-”

“You deserve to be happy Sam.” Sam snapped her head towards her sister in shock, Tara sounded so confident when she said that. “You just got to take the chance:”

Sam sighed and looked back over at you. You stayed, you got hurt protecting her and her friends. Not to mention the fact that you also killed two people for her, probably would have done all three but you let her have Bailey. You didn’t need that kind of drama in your life, you could go back to your own life before you ever met her. Sam wasn’t even sure what a relationship with you would even look like. She worked two jobs to pay for the apartment and Tara would always be her priority. She would be stuck working dead end jobs because she never went to college, she barely got her high school diploma, but you were exceptional, you were smart and strong, you were a hero.

“Hey,” Chad said as he jogged up to the sisters. “I just got off the phone with Mindy.”

“Is she okay?” Tara asked. Sam watched Chad’s face with worry, they didn’t know anything besides the fact that Quinn apparently stabbed her. Chad had been asking for information on his sister since they got outside, several people said they’d learn what they could.

“Yeah,” Chad nodded. “She’s at the hospital, she said Gale also made it.” Sam couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, her and Gale may have had their differences, but she certainly didn’t want to see the woman die, Gale didn’t deserve that. “I was going to head down there now; did you want to come with?”

Sam opened her mouth to say yes, she wanted to see Mindy and even Gale for herself. She wanted to be able to tell Gale that they got them, that it was finally over. The words never came out though as her eyes drifted back over to you. Chad whipped his head back and forth looking between you and Sam, when she finally turned back to answer Chad he was giving her a knowing smile.

“They’re okay,” Chad said without even being asked. “Giving the medics a hard time.”

Sam couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle and roll her eyes. That definitely seemed accurate, they were probably trying to give you the best care possible while you insisted you were fine. Sam was sure the only reason they didn’t take you to the hospital was because you, once again, denied doing so.

“But you should talk to them,” Chad continued. Sam raised an eyebrow at that, she knew how much Chad liked you. Only one conversation and you had Chad vouching for you and had him telling you all about them, probably when you didn’t even ask. “They seem great!” He smiled innocently.

Sam rolled her eyes again; between Chad and her sister she didn’t know what she’d do. “We’ll meet you at the hospital in a bit,” Sam finally said. Chad nodded and ran off to a police officer who seemed willing to give him a ride.

Sam looked up just as you smiled and thanked the medic as she packed up her supplies. She looked back to her sister who gestured at her to go over to you. Sam sighed and made her way towards you. She had talked to you plenty of times, it wasn’t until you almost died trying to save her life, but since then it seemed like the two of you shared a lot. You talked about your past, Sam talked about hers, the two of you even shared a kiss when you spent the night. None of that meant you wanted anything more, if anything you’d probably want nothing to do with her.

“Hey,” you said as you hopped out of the ambulance.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked. She looked you up and down, her eyes seemed to only go to the injuries she knew you had and a the blood covering your shirt. She knew most of the blood couldn’t have been yours, it was most likely from Quinn and Ethan.

“Yeah,” you shrugged as if everything that happened to you was no big deal. “What about you?” Your brow scrunched up as your eyes searched her face. Sam hadn’t even been stabbed and yet you were asking if she was okay. “And your sister,” you nodded at something behind her and Sam glanced back to see Tara watching the two of you.

Sam rolled her eyes; Tara was relentless when she made up her mind about something. “She’ll be okay, has to wear the sling for a few day.”

You let out a knowing hum. “And Chad said Mindy and Gale made it. Guess everyone made it out,” you smiled.

“Only thanks to you.” You scoffed and let out a little chuckle as if you didn’t actually believe Sam’s words. “I’m serious.” You rolled her eyes, still clearly not ready to accept what Sam was telling you. “Hey,” without thinking Sam reached out and caressed your cheek which you almost instinctively leaned into. “You saved us, there is no way all of us would have made it out, especially with most of us unscathed.”

You gave her a soft smile, finally seeming to accept the fact that you wouldn’t win this argument. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence and Sam couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes as they stared into her own. “Your sister is staring at us,” you whispered, never taking your eyes off of Sam.

Sam felt her face heat up at that, she should have known you’d notice, you proved to be rather observant. “She’s making sure I talk to you,” Sam admitted.

“About anything in particular?” Your mouth twitched up in a smirk, as if you knew what Tara wanted Sam to talk to you about.

“I just…” the words got caught in her throat as she stared into your eyes. She couldn’t believe the person who was looking at her with so much cared had just killed two people, had killed them for her.

“Just what?” you rasped out. Sam wasn’t sure when she got so close to you, she had heard you as if you were the only two in the world.

Sam shook her head and pushed out all the voices telling her this was a bad idea and that you could still hurt her. She didn’t hesitate as she shot forward, catching your lips in a surprising kiss. She felt you stiffen but before she could pull away you grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. Sam couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, it was even better than the first one and this time she didn’t intend on stopping you.

Eventually the two of you did have to breakaway because both of you needed to catch your breath. Sam couldn’t remember the last time she smiled so much, she bit her lip as she looked up at you shyly, as if she hadn’t just been to make the first move. She didn’t ask permission; she just went for it and the soft smile on your face was making her want to do it all over again.

“My life’s a mess,” Sam blurted out, but this time she was smiling as she spoke. “As you’ve seen,” she gestured to the chaos around them. “But, would you maybe,” Sam couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip as she was suddenly unable to look you in the eye. “Want to go out sometime?”

Sam glanced up through her lashes and was met with your soft smile. “I’d like that,” you said.

Sam smiled; it had been a long time since she asked someone out. She almost felt like she was back in high school, having her first crush. You gently put your finger under her chin and tilted her head up, so she was looking into your eyes again. Both of you couldn’t seem to help but smile as you leaned in for another kiss.

You broke the kiss quicker than Sam would like this time; she wanted to chase after your lips, but it was clear you had something you wanted to say. “Maybe I’m overthinking and rushing this,” you whispered. “Maybe our first date will go horrible, and you won’t want another.” Sam couldn’t help but silently chuckle at that, she didn’t think that was possible. “But I’m not easy to be with.” Sam furrowed her brow at that.

“I’m military, if I’m not deployed, I’m in North Carolina, I only get to come back home, to here, when I’m on leave, maybe a weekend, if I’m lucky,” you sighed, you seemed to really be stressing how little you would actually physically be able to be in the same place at Sam. “A lot of people don’t want to put up with that. You’re trying to lessen the complications in your life, I don’t want to add to it.”

Sam rested a hand on the side of your face, you closed your eyes as you leaned into her touch and Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “I don’t think either of us can make any promises, or that we should,” Sam said. “But I’m willing to try.” You gave her what she could only describe as a relieved smile, as if you expected her to back down. “Let’s just live in the moment and take it day by day.”

“I like the sound of that.” You smiled and it seemed like you were about to lean in for another kiss, which Sam was more than happy to meet in the middle when the two of you were interrupted by someone calling out Sam’s name.

Sam furrowed her brow and turned to see Kirby being wheeled out on a gurney. “Oh my god,” Sam yelled and ran to Kirby’s side. “You’re alive!”

“I’m so glad while I was bleeding out, you two were making out,” Kirby mumbled, slightly drowsy from the drugs the medics gave her, or the blood loss.

“We weren’t the ones and who got ourselves shot,” you snarked.

“Hey,” Kirby pointed a finger at you, leaning up from the gurney slightly. “Remember who gave you that gun.” Sam’s eyes widened, she completely forgot you had a gun, one you didn’t tell her about. “And it seems it came in handy.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes and waved her off. “We’ll stop by and visit in a bit.”

Kirby nodded, seeming to get more sleepy the longer she laid there. “You did good sergeant.” You smiled at that and nodded for the medics to continue on towards the ambulance.

Sam crossed her arms as she stepped in front of you. She raised an expectant eyebrow at you, and you just tilted your head, as you pretended to be confused. “You failed to mention Kirby gave you a weapon,” Sam said.

“The less people who knew the better,” you defended. Sam scoffed; she couldn’t believe you were trying that with her. “And look, your sister is coming over,” you gestured to the side, effectively changing the subject as Sam glanced over and saw Tara was indeed walking over.

“So, you two together now?” Tara asked as a greeting.

“No!” Sam denied, she was sure her face was bright red after that. “We’ve barely known each other three days.” It felt like she had known you a lot longer than that, even if she didn’t count the longing stares she gave you at the gym the last three months. “But, we are going on a first date.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Guess that’s something,” she mumbled. Sam smacked her sister in the arm and nodded towards you. Tara gave a dramatic roll of her eyes again. “You did good,” she nodded at you. “Total badass.” Sam closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, that wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. “And thanks for saving our lives,” Tara mumbled under her breath.

You took it well though and just quietly chuckled at her sister. “You weren’t so bad yourself,” you said.

“Come on,” Sam said, giving you and Tara a tired smile. “Let’s go check on Mindy and Gale.”

The three of you walked away from the flashing lights and the chaos all of you just survived. Sam couldn’t help but smile as her hand brushed against yours, until you took the initiative and took her hand within your own. She glanced at you out of the side of her eye and saw you looking ahead, the only evidence that you knew what you did was the smirk on your face.

“So,” Tara said, interrupting the peaceful silence. “How many dates do the two of you have to go on before I can meet the dog?”

Sam chuckled to herself; she should have known that would be a thing. The second Tara learned you had a dog her face lit up. Sam wasn’t sure she wanted to see your dog again; she was still a bit intimidated but based on the smile on your face and the way Tara was looking at her, she had a feeling she’d be seeing a lot more of the dog.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler @marsyay78

[persevereforahappyending]

SUPERMAN (2025) dir. James Gunn

[persevereforahappyending]

David Corenswet as Superman/Clark Kent

Superman (2025) dir. James Gunn

[persevereforahappyending]

SUPERMAN (2025) dir. James Gunn

[persevereforahappyending]

WIP Wednesday Last Sentence You Wrote

As always, I appreciate the tag @uncleasad (and I also can't believe it's already Wednesday.)

Make a new post with the last sentence you wrote on your current WIP (and tag some friends if you want)

Chad nodded and ran off to a police officer who seemed willing to give him a ride.

From No Man's Land, Part 15

[persevereforahappyending]

Back To You - Part 6 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Getting the doctors to release me was a hell of a lot harder than I imagined. They tried to convince me to stay since I lost a lot of blood and underwent a serious surgery less than twenty four hours ago, but I was persistent and they finally handed me some discharge papers.

Now, discharge papers signed and my bag slung over my shoulder, I’m limping down the hall to Tara’s room where Sam and Richie are helping Tara get ready to leave as well.

The hospital offered me a wheelchair or some crutches, but I refused both. Tara’s going to be in a wheelchair and two of them would be just too much. Crouches would also only get in the way, and they wouldn’t be very useful anyway since I can’t use them properly because of the sling my left arm is in.

They did give me a brace for my knee though to stabilize it and make sure I don’t move too much while it heals.

“Y/N!” Tara’s eyes light up when I enter her room and Sam has to put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from getting out of her wheelchair to greet me.

I smile weakly and cross the room to take her hand when she reaches for me. “Hey, Sprout,” I say quietly, bending down slightly. “How are you feeling?”

“High,” she replies with a loopy smile before turning serious as her eyes roam over me. “You? You look like shit.”

I scoff playfully and grimace when it makes my side sting. “Been better, but I’ll be fine.”

She looks unconvinced, but squeezes my hand. “Okay.”

I squeeze back and press a kiss to the top of her head before letting go and straightening back up with a not so hidden wince. Sam is watching us with a wistful look and when our eyes meet she smiles a tiny bit.

She goes to say something, but just like so many times before, Richie interrupts her. It’s unknowingly because he has his back turned to us while he zips up Tara’s bag, but it’s an interruption nonetheless.

“Alright, that was everything. Let’s get out of here.” He turns and slings the bag over his shoulder, kindly offering to take my bag too.

“No, that’s okay,” I say, “Thank you.” I don’t like him and even after everything that’s happened, I don’t trust him. Apparently so much so, that I’d rather be in pain carrying my bag than give it to him.

“Okay then, let’s go,” Sam says. She makes sure Tara is comfortable and warm enough in her pink fur jacket before wheeling her out of the room while Tara holds onto the crutches the doctors gave her.

Richie follows them and I follow after him, glancing back once more to make sure nothing important was left behind.

When we get to the lobby, I’m not surprised to see Gale Weathers and Sidney Prescott sitting in one of the hospital’s waiting areas. Every time a new Ghostface shows up, the two of them show up as well.

They get up as soon as they see us and while Sidney steps up to Sam, Gale rushes over to me, pulling me into a hug.

The two of us were never as close as I was with Dewey, but before my parents died and she and Dewey separated, she was a fairly important person in my life.

“Thank God you’re okay,” she whispers shakily, clutching at my shirt.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” I say, hugging her back as best as I can with one arm. “About Dewey. . . I tried to go back, but—“

“I know.” She pulls back and briefly cups my face with her hands. “There’s nothing you could have done to save him.” Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t cry.

I swallow thickly. “He saved us.”

She nods and smiles sadly. “That’s what he did— always saving people. . .”

I exhale shakily and nod as well. It’s true, Dewey always saved people whether it was from something, someone, or themselves. It’s a shame that, in the end, he couldn’t save himself.

“You’re Billy’s daughter.”

I tense and take a step away from Gale to stare at Sidney. She and Sam were just having their own little conversation and I wasn’t listening because I was focusing on Gale, but now I’m definitely listening.

Sam’s chest heaves and she blankly stares at Sidney for a moment before Richie speaks up.

“Uh. We’ll bring the car around,” he says, looking uncomfortable as his eyes dart back and forth between Sam and Sidney. Then he looks at me and Tara, expectantly, but I’m definitely not going to just leave Sam alone.

I also don’t want Tara to be alone with Richie, so I shake my head and grab the back of her wheelchair. “No, we’re not, but we’ll give you some space,” I say. I tilt my head to the side and motion for Richie to follow me when I push Tara towards one of the couches nearby.

It takes a lot of effort to move her because I only have one function arm and an injured leg, but I manage without asking for help.

He follows without complaining, but when his eyes meet mine after he stops watching Sam and Sidney, his face hardens.

“What was that?” he asks impatiently, throwing his hands up.

I lean against the arm of the couch while keeping my hand on the back of Tara’s wheelchair. “What was what?” I shoot back.

“Why did you humiliate me like that in front of Sam?” he hisses which makes me scoff.

“Humiliate you?” I shift to take some more weight off my injured leg. “I didn’t humiliate you. I just didn’t want Sam to be alone with those two.” I gesture at Sidney and Gale. “Besides, we’re not taking her car. We’re taking mine and I’m not letting you drive.”

Sam and I agreed it would be better if we took my car earlier when we talked about leaving. It’s an old Bronco that my mom and I restored when I was younger and it’s way bigger than Sam’s Prius which makes it easier for Tara and me to sit comfortably with our injured legs.

“Why not? I can drive,” he defends and I’m quick to shake my head again.

“I’m sure you can, but I don’t want you to. No one gets to drive my car except me.”

Richie crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, looking me up and down with a snarl. “Oh yeah, and how are you planning on doing that.”

Shit. I didn’t think that far ahead. He’s right, I can’t drive in the state I’m in. I need both legs and hands for the clutch and the gear shift.

Before I can think of a retort though, Tara pipes up, her voice even as her eyes cautiously dart back and forth between Richie and me. “Maybe Sam could drive?”

I feel myself soften and look at her. She’s got a point.

“I mean, you did teach her how to drive when you were younger, right?” she asks and I nod.

As soon as my mom and I finished restoring the car, I forced Sam to learn how to drive it. We were both sixteen at the time and she complained at first since she thought it was unnecessary because she never planned on owning a manual car, but once she got the hang of it she actually enjoyed it and we’d sometimes just drive around the city at night, listening to music.

“Yeah.” I sigh. I really don’t have a different choice here. Either Sam drives, or Richie, and between the two of them, Sam’s the obvious choice.

“Good. It’s settled then,” Tara decides.

Richie glares daggers at me and I glare right back, but neither of us objects and a moment later, Sam comes over with tense shoulders and furrowed eyebrows.

“We’re leaving,” she states, oblivious to the tension between Richie and me. “Come on.”

She moves to grab the handles of Tara’s wheelchair, but I stop her, pushing myself off the couch to tug on the sleeve of her green jacket.

“Wait.”

She stops and looks at me expectantly. “What?”

Tara and Richie watch us curiously and when I catch the way the muscle in Richie’s jaw twitches, I pull her aside and bend down so only she can hear me.

“I think we should leave without Richie,” I say lowly, ignoring the way Sam’s breathing hitches when my nose brushes against her temple.

“What? Why?” She pulls back abruptly but keeps her voice low so the others don’t hear us.

“I don’t know, I just have a weird feeling about him,” I say honestly.

Sam stares at me, bewildered, and hisses, “What are you talking about? He’s been nothing but helpful and may I remind you that he almost got killed saving you and Tara?”

Impatience washed over me, but I do my best not to let it show. “Yeah, but that’s just it,” I say urgently. “Ghostface had the chance to kill him twice, but he didn’t!”

The first time was right after I punched Richie when he came into the room Tara and I were hiding in. Ghostface could have done so much more than just cut his arm, but for some reason he didn’t. And then the second time when Ghostface attacked Dewey. . . Richie was on the ground, helpless, but for some reason, all Ghostface did was go after Dewey.

Sam’s bewilderment turns into anger and she takes a step back to put more distance between us. “Are you kidding me? That’s your reasoning? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?“

“I do! But something seems off and—“

“No.” Sam lifts her hand, effectively cutting me off.“We’re not arguing about this. Richie’s coming with us and that’s final.”

“No, it’s not, and no, he isn’t!” I argue, no longer caring about keeping my voice down. “I promised Tara I’d keep her safe, and I don’t trust him, so he’s not coming.”

I can tell Sam is about ready to explode, but instead of snapping, she takes a steadying breath and calmly says, “Tara is my sister, Y/N, not yours, so what I say goes. Richie is coming with us and if you have a problem with that, you can just stay here.”

I actually flinch at that and recoil as though she just slapped me. She might as well have with how much her words hurt. “I. . . Wow. That’s— That was a low blow.”

Tara’s been the only person I think of as family ever since my parents died and the implication that I’m nothing to her makes me physically weak.

Sam falters slightly, and a hint of regret flickers across her face, but she’s quick to square her shoulders and stand her ground. “Well, it’s true, so it’s up to you. Come with us, or stay. Either way, we’re leaving now.”

I debate it for a moment, hating how she’s backed me into a corner, but then I feel Tara’s eyes on me, and sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

I promised her I’d stay and make sure she’s safe until all of this is over, so I guess I’ll just have to deal with Richie for a little while longer.

I take my car keys and shove them into Sam’s hands before limping past her.

“Is everything okay?” Tara asks, tugging on my shirt as soon as I’m within reach and I nod, trying my best to ignore the smug smile on Richie’s face.

“Everything’s fine. Let’s just go.” I pat her head playfully and readjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. Then, I turn on the spot and lead the way outside to my car in the parking lot.

We’ve been on the road for only ten minutes at this point, but I’m already fed up with the whole situation. Not only because of Richie’s presence and the lingering tension between Sam and me, but also because I don’t like that we’re going to Modesto. Ghostface is just going to keep on coming after us, but we literally have nowhere else to go.

“You good back there?” Sam asks after a while when Tara pushes off my shoulder and starts rummaging through her bag.

Tara shakes her head, now searching frantically for whatever it is she’s looking for. “Fuck, where is it?”

I frown and put a hand on her arm. “Where’s what?”

Sam watches us through the rear view mirror and Richie turns in the passenger seat.

“My inhaler,” Tara gasps, her breathing shallow. “You brought it to the hospital and I— I had it just before we left. I must have forgotten it.”

My frown deepens. I double checked her room before we left, and I didn’t see her inhaler, so she can’t have forgotten it.

“Should we go back?” Sam asks but before Tara can answer, Richie beats her to it.

“Woah, okay. I vote for not going back to the murder hospital.”

Okay that’s it. I can’t take it anymore. Even though I agree with him, I’ve had enough of his attitude.

“Nobody asked you!” I snap which makes Sam’s eyes snap to me in the mirror.

“Y/N!”

“What?!” I fire back.

Richie scowls and I just know things are about to get ugly again, but then Tara gasps for air and I immediately redirect my attention, asking, “Do you want to stop at a pharmacy?”

This isn’t the time to argue, Y/N!

Tara shakes her head and continues going through her bag. “I need a prescription, but I left an extra one at Amber’s. Her house is on the way.”

I nod and rub my hand up and down her back. “Okay then. We’ll stop and—“

“No, no. No, no, no!” Richie protests and I have half a mind to strangle him from behind with the strap of my bag.

Honestly, how can Sam like this guy?!

“I’d be in and out,” Tara pleads, her chest heaving as she takes labored breaths.

Sam glances at us through the rearview mirror, worry written all over her face as she asks, “You think you could hold out ‘til Modesto?”

Tara grabs my hand and squeezes it to calm herself down. “I don’t think so.”

Sam looks back at the road, and for a moment the sound of the engine is the only thing breaking the silence that settles over us. “Okay. . .” She nods and takes a deep breath. “Okay, what’s the address?”

“123 No-Fucking-Way-Lane,” Richie says before Tara can answer and even though I just reminded myself this isn’t the time to argue, I can’t help but snap at him again.

“Oh my fucking God. Tara needs her inhaler and we’re going to get it, so will you just shut it for once?!”

Richie’s eyes widen and he looks at Sam, probably waiting for her to scold me agin, but this time, she actually agrees with me which makes him protest weakly.

It does nothing to change her mind though and before long we’re pulling up outside Amber’s house where a party is in full swing.

“Oh perfect.” Richie groans. “She’s having a party. Who has a party in the middle of a killing spree?”

I grit my teeth, getting irritated by just the sound of his voice even though I agree with him.

“Look,” he continues. “We should leave. It’s too risky.”

Tara looks at me, worried, but Sam is quick to shut him down before I even get the chance to open my mouth. “No, no, we’re already here. I’ll go in quickly and get it. I’ll be back in five.”

She takes the keys out of the ignition and gets out of the car, only to stop a second later when Tara unbuckles her seatbelt and shouts, “Wait, I’m coming too.”

Wherever she goes, I go, so even though I’m in no mood to walk into that party, I unbuckle myself too and say, “Me too, hold on. I’ll help you out of the car.”

Richie mumbles something about not staying out here alone as he gets out of the car as well, but I don’t pay him much attention as I help Tara with her crutches.

Sam is quick to help as well and before long we all make our way inside the house.

The smell of alcohol is almost overwhelming and the noise level is through the roof, but I know we won’t be here for long, so I’ll just deal with it.

“Tara!” A bunch of people cheer when they spot us which makes Tara shrink in on herself. She looks so small and scared, clinging to her crutches, so I place a reassuring hand on her back and smile comfortingly when she glances up at me.

I’m here, I mouth, and when I look up I’m not surprised to find Sam once again watching us with a wistful look.

I kind of feel bad for her because even though she’s back, Tara turns to me for comfort, but I guess it just goes to show that she is like my sister too even though we’re not actually related.

“Hey! What are you doing out of the hospital?” I turn my head at Amber’s familiar voice and step back so she can hug Tara. She looks her up and down with furrow eyebrows and asks what we’re doing here, so Tara tells her about needing her spare inhaler.

That makes her furrow her eyebrows even more and she asks why she needs it and when Tara tells her we’re leaving town, she asks where we’re going.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say before Tara can tell her. The less people the better.

Amber looks at me with an unreadable expression for a split second before giving in with a sympathetic smile. “Okay. No, it’s fine. Don’t tell me. I get it.” She turns back to Tara and brushes a strand of hair off her forehead. “Just be safe, okay?”

Tara melts under the touch and I’m pretty sure I see her cheeks turn pink for a second, but there’s no time to dwell on that now.

When all this is over I’m going to tease the shit out of her though.

Who knew? Tara and Amber. . .

“I think it’s in my room,” Amber says softly before turning and addressing the crowd over the loud music. “Alright everyone, thanks for coming, but the party’s over!

A chorus of complaints erupts and Amber shouts, “Time to go!” But the crows still doesn’t listen.

Sam’s eyes meet mine and I just shrug, so she turns to Richie and mouths something.

He lifts an eyebrow for a second, clearly not understanding what she wants, but then it clicks and he springs into action. He turns on all the lights and asks for the music to be turned off before awkwardly addressing the crowd, telling them to leave.

Like Amber’s though, his efforts to clear out the house aren’t well received and I can’t help but smirk when one guy throws a solo cup at his head, saying “Fuck you.”

“Okay, I’ve tried to be nice.” He’s mad now and I can see a vein pulsing in his forehead when he sees the amusement on my face. “Get the fuck out!”

Reluctantly, people start filing out, throwing dirty looks Richie’s way until, eventually, everyone’s gone.

It’s a relief and I feel like I can breathe properly again, moving further into the house and taking in the decorations and pictures on the walls while Tara and Amber wander off to get Tara’s inhaler.

Sam stays with me, typing something on her phone while Richie goes to the living room, making sure everyone did in fact leave.

Minutes go by and the longer we stay, the more antsy I get. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. We should be on the road again. Every second we stay here gives Ghostface a chance to catch up with us if he isn’t already here, that is.

I glance at Sam and she seems to think the same thing because she keeps checking the time on her phone while chewing on her bottom lip.

It’s something she’s always done and I have the urge to reach over and tug her lip free, but I don’t, mentally cursing myself for even thinking about it.

She’s not mine. I have no right. She’s with Richie and we haven’t seen each other in five years.

Back when we were younger, I wouldn’t even have hesitated, but things have changed, we have changed, and I can’t just do stuff like that anymore.

Feeling my eyes on her, Sam looks up and I’m quick to look away, clearing my throat softly.

How does she still have this hold over me?

“What could possibly be taking so long?” I ask in an attempt to distract from being caught staring.

“I don’t know,” she whispers and when I dare to meet her eyes again, I’m surprised to find her already looking at me with an unreadable expression. “But I don’t like it.”

We stare at each other for a moment, so many unspoken words and feelings between us until she looks away, scratching her neck. She checks the time on her phone again and sighs.

“We should go,” she says and I agree, following her back into the foyer where she shouts up the stairs. “Tara, we’re leaving!”

There’s no reply and I feel worry creeping into the pit of my stomach, but before either of us gets to call out again, Sam’s phone rings.

I watch her look at the screen with pursed lips and move a little closer to see that it says Maybe: Sidney Prescott under Unknown Caller.

We share a worried look and I gesture for her to answer it which, after a moment of hesitation, she does. “Hello?”

I can’t make out what the other person is saying, so I step even closer.

“How do you know where I am?” Sam asks when the person on the other end of the line, a woman, probably Sidney, tells us to get out of the house.

Her question though never gets answered because Sidney just tells her to get out of the house again because as it turns out, we’re in Stu Macher’s old house.

I don’t know much about the Stab movies, but I’m familiar with the original story and I know Stu Macher was one of the original Ghostface killers.

My stomach drops and I suddenly feel sick, my eyes meeting Sam’s who is just as horrified as I am.

This is a trap. . .

Not even a second later there’s a sharp thud and a scream and when I realize it’s Mindy, my blood runs cold.

I don’t think when I spring into action. I just run toward the living room where the scream came from as fast as I can.

A burning pain shoots up and down the back of my leg, but I push through it, panting and limping.

Mindy. Just get to Mindy! Ghostface is here.

Sam is hot on my heels and when we reach the living room, the sight that greets us makes my heart drop.

Ghostface is standing over Mindy, trying to stab her, but Mindy’s got her hands on his wrists, keeping the knife away from her.

She’s covered in blood and trembling, having been stabbed in the shoulder where I was stabbed too, and with every passing second, her strength seems to be dwindling.

We have to do something!

My eyes get caught on the lamp on the dresser right next to us, and I nudge Sam before pushing it toward her.

I can’t pick it up and throw it with just one hand, and there isn’t enough time for me to get the sling off, so she’ll have to do it.

She instantly knows what I’m want and picks it up, hurling it at Ghostface’s back without second thought.

The ceramic bottom part of the lamp explodes upon impact with Ghostface’s back and I just know getting hit by it hurts.

Good. He deserves everything that’s coming for him.

Ghostface almost topples over, but he catches himself just in time before spinning around with his knife still in hand.

Fuck. He’s going to come for us now.

I didn’t think this far ahead when I thought of throwing the lamp.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears and when Ghostface takes a step in our direction, I’m quick to grab anything within reach that could be used as a weapon which turns out to be a metal candlestick.

Sam tries to take it from me, probably thinking she’s better suited to fight than me, but I tighten my grip on it and shrug her off, stepping in front of her.

If Ghostface wants to get to her, he’ll have to go through me first.

I grit my teeth, feeling my hands shake, ready to strike, but not even a second later, Ghostface just bails, running out of the room into an adjacent hallway.

What the—?

I share a bewildered look with Sam, but then Mindy gasps and Sam rushes to her side.

I follow her, but keep my eyes on the hallway Ghostface vanished into in case he comes back.

“Mindy? No, Mindy, stay with me,” Sam pleads, pushing her hands down on Mindy’s shoulder where she was stabbed.

There’s a lot of blood and the smell of it makes me queasy. I never liked the sight or smell of blood, but my discomfort with it never went so far that I passed out because of it.

Sam desperately looks at me for help, but then Amber’s scream cuts through the air and we both whip our heads around to find her standing in the doorway with Tara.

“What did you do to her?” she screams and rushes over.

“God, Mindy.” Tara follows with shock written all over her face and when it registeres what Amber just said I can’t help but defend Sam

“It wasn’t her!”

“The killer— He—“ Sam stutters, but she’s cut off by the sound of a glass bottle shattering on the floor.

I spin around with the candlestick raised in hand, instinctively moving in front of both Tara and Sam, only to lower it a second later when I realize it’s just Richie.

“What the fuck?” he mutters in shock, his eyes glued to Mindy.

“Richie, where the fuck were you?” Sam exclaims, her blood covered hands shaking.

“I just went into the basement to get some beer,” he rambles and I stare at him in disbelief while my instincts scream at me not to trust a single word he’s saying.

I don’t voice my doubt though because Amber beats me to it. She’s got a hand on Tara’s shoulder and looks at him with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “You went to the basement alone?”

Richie raises his shoulders and gestures at Mindy, stammering, “I asked her to come with me! She said no!”

For a moment, a tense silence settles over us, but then a door nearby slams open, startling everyone.

Yet again, I raise the candlestick, ready to fight, but it turns out to be just Liv, Chad’s girlfriend. She stumbles into the room, pale and wide eyed.

Amber immediately raises her hands to keep her at bay and says, “Stay the fuck back.”

But Liv is so out of it, she doesn’t even react to it. She just cries and whimpers, “Jesus Christ. . .”

“I was with Tara, but the rest of you were wandering around,” Amber says, breathing heavily and pointing a finger at all of us while Tara just stands next to her, wide-eyed. “One of you is the fucking killer!”

Liv continues crying, her voice breaking when she says, “Fuck you, Amber. Fuck you!”

“Why is there blood on your hands?” Sam asks which makes everyone look at Liv’s hands.

Her hands are covered in blood, but Liv seems not to have known until Sam just pointed it out because she stares at her hands as well, letting out a sob when she sees the blood.

“I found Chad— I found Chad and he’s outside—“ she stammers, her voice faltering.

I have to admit, I don’t know her all that well, but my gut is telling me she’s telling the truth. No matter how psychotic you are, you can’t fake this kind of distress.

“Chad?” I cut her off, confused and worried, but before I can ask anything else Amber says, “You’re fucking lying.”

“No.” Liv whimpers, but Richie doubles down on Amber’s statement.

“You’re the killer.”

No she’s not.

“No, I’m not,” Liv cries, getting into a screaming match with Amber who keeps telling her to just stop lying.

“Fuck you, Amber! I’m not the fucking killer!” Liv says through gritted teeth and I have to admit that Amber’s insistence is setting off alarm bells in my head.

When she actually agrees with Liv a moment later though, pulling out a gun and shooting her in the head in cold blood, I’m as shocked as everyone else.

I drop the candlestick and let out a strangled cry as Liv sags to the floor with blood streaming down her face.

A hand grabs mine from behind, but I have no time to turn around and see who it is when Amber suddenly turns and points the gun at Richie who’s standing right next to me.

“Welcome to act three,” she says with a sinister smile and Richie shouts, “Run!” just as she fires the gun, missing him by a couple of inches because Tara pushes her arm up from behind.

The gun gets fired again and the hand holding mine lets go, and when I look over my shoulder I realize that it was Sam’s. Despite her protests, she gets pulled out of the room by Richie and I quickly turn back around, tackling Amber to the ground just as she aims the gun at Tara.

“No!”

Not Tara. Not after everything.

We struggle on the ground and even though I normally would have had an advantage over her because I’m taller and stronger, Amber quickly gains the upper hand by punching me in the side right where I was stabbed.

If it wasn’t clear before that she’s Ghostface, it definitely is now because how else would she know about that weak spot.

I yelp and fall off her, and the last thing I see before she slams the butt of the gun into my face is Tara’s tear-streaked face.

I groan when I regain consciousness, and I immediately look around frantically, not knowing how much time has passed since I was knocked out.

Why am I not dead?

My entire face hurts and I’m pretty sure my nose is broken, but other than that, I’m fine. Well, I am still injured from the previous attacks, but I don’t have any new injuries besides the broken nose.

I’m still in the living room and when I look down I see that my sling has been removed and that both my hands and feet have been tied up with duct tape.

Shit.

Where’s Tara? Where’s Sam?

Adrenaline surges through me and I feel panic growing in my chest, but then my dad’s voice in the back of my mind reminds me to stay calm.

Panicking won’t do anyone any good. I need a plan. . .

First, I have to free myself. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment, thinking.

It’s eerily quiet and it’s hard to focus, but then my eyes fly open and I spot the shards of the lamp Sam threw at Ghostface.

I drag myself across the floor, wincing in pain until I get to them. I pick one up and quickly saw at the duct tape around my ankles until they’re free.

Then I use my feet to hold the shard in place before getting to work on my hands.

It’s a little more difficult to free them because the shard keeps slipping out from between my feet, but I manage to free myself eventually just as a gunshot rings out somewhere in the house.

It’s followed by unintelligible shouting and I pull myself to my feet.

I have to help. Sam. . . Tara . . .

I don’t even consider the possibility that something could have happened to either of them while I was out because they just can’t be hurt, or worse, dead. They just can’t be!

I limp to the foyer where the shouting is coming from and press a hand against my stinging side. “Fuck you, Amber,” I growl underneath my breath, freezing a moment later at the sight that greets me when I get to the front door.

Ghostface, who I now know is Amber, and Sidney Prescott are lying on the floor, winded and clambering to get to a gun on the floor while Richie is limping down the stairs.

“Richie!” Sidney groans. “Gun. Get the gun!”

“Yeah, kind of hard since you shot me in the leg,” he bickers, one hand gripping the banister while the other is clutching at his thigh.

Tara and Sam are nowhere to be seen and I’m about to make a run for the gun, but then Richie stumbles slightly and my eyes get drawn to something that slips out of his pocket.

It’s small, and orange, and clatters on the wooden stairs.

Tara’s inhaler.

No. . . I knew she didn’t leave it behind. . .

Richie took it!

He’s in on everything.

He planned this.

He wanted us to come here.

He and Amber are working together!

There are two Ghostfaces. . .

I don’t know how I didn’t realize it sooner.

The Ghostface that attacked Mindy was taller than the one in the hospital and at the Carpenter’s because of course, Richie is taller than Amber and they’ve been taking turns wearing the mask to divert suspicion.

But why?!

A blur of brown hair makes my head snap to the side and when my eyes land on Sam at the bottom of the stairs, picking up the gun, my heart skips a beat.

“Yes! Yes!” Richie shouts, pretending to be glad she got the gun before Ghostface.

Sam has no idea. He’s almost down the stairs. He’s going to get to her.

“Shoot him!” Sidney groans but Sam hesitates. She reaches out for Richie to pull him behind her when he finally makes it to the bottom of the stairs.

“No, Sam! Look out!” I yell, rushing forward, but I’m too late.

Richie stabs her in the side while she’s focused on me and when I stumble forward to help her, Richie just kicks against the side of my injured leg, making me cry out in pain and fall against the wall while he drives the knife further into Sam’s stomach and takes the gun from her.

Wide-eyed, Sam looks at Richie and the betrayal and heartbreak on her face makes me physically sick. I try to push off the wall to help her, but my leg gives out underneath me and I slam back against it.

“Thank God you’re okay,” Richie says, a disgustingly smug smile pulling at his lips, “Because I really wanted to be the one to kill you.”

I push off the wall again, rage cursing through me at the pained whimper that leaves Sam, and this time, I manage to stay on my feet. I don’t get far though because Richie points the gun at both me and Sidney who’s just starting to get off the floor. “Sit the fuck down, Prescott! And you”— his manic eyes land on me—“stay back, or I’ll shoot you right now! You’ve been a pain in my ass ever since I met you. It’s a shame Amber hasn’t managed to kill you yet, but don’t worry, you’re time will come.”

I clench my jaw and shake with fury when all I can do is watch helplessly as he twists the knife in Sam’s stomach, making her scream in pain.

“Stop! You sick fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you!” I shout.

Sam sinks to her knees, and Richie goes down with her, completely ignoring me as he hands the gun over to Amber who just took off the Ghostface mask.

The pained grimace on Sam’s face makes me want to do something, anything to help her, but I can’t. If I move, Amber will shoot me and I’m of no help when I’m dead.

“I can’t believe this worked,” Richie says reaching for something in his pocket, probably the inhaler. He frowns when he realizes it’s not there but Sam’s already spotted it on the stairs, knowing exactly what he’s trying to get at.

She’s shaking in pain and disbelief and Richie just tilts his head and smiles, feigning sympathy. “I know. It’s a bummer it’s me”—he reaches for his pocket again and pulls out a little gray device, a voice changer, I realize as he holds it up to his mouth —“But it really was the best choice for the movie.”

A movie?! What the fuck? This is why they’re doing this?

He chuckles gleefully, the voice changer distorting his voice eerily.

No. . . All this pain, all this fear and suffering. . . For a lousy movie?

I didn’t like him before, maybe because I was jealous, maybe because my gut was telling me something was off about him, or maybe both, who knows, but now I straight up hate him.

How could he do this? How could they do this?

Sam trusted Richie as much as Tara trusted Amber, and they just went behind their backs like it was nothing.

“This isn’t a fucking movie!” Sam exclaims angrily, getting over the initial shock of the betrayal and voicing my exact thoughts.

Richie just smiles that stupid smile of his again and shakes his head. “No. . . But it will be. That’s the point, right, Amber?”

I scowl and my nose scrunches when Amber says, “Right, hon!”

Ew. They’re fucking? And I though this couldn’t get any worse.

“Third act bloodbath, check. Killer’s revealed, check. Time for the big finale!” Amber shouts, grabbing Sidney by the hair and shaking her head.

She’s currently not focused on me, so I try to step into the shadows to call the police, but she notices before I get the chance and points the gun at me. “Stop. You’re not going anywhere. One more step and I’ll blow your brains out.”

I freeze and lift my shaking hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. . .”

My entire body hurts and I can barely stand on my injured leg since Richie kicked against it. My nose has stopped bleeding, but my lips and chin are sticky with half dried blood, and my side and shoulder ache dully.

If we get out of this alive, I just know the recovery from all these injuries is going to be long and painful.

Sam looks at me for a moment, her eyes full of fear and guilt and regret, but then Richie puts a hand on her cheek and turns her head back so she’s once again looking at him.

He chuckles softly and when she desperately whispers, “Richie. . .” he just shakes his head and shushes her before pulling the knife back out of her stomach.

Sam groans, doubling over in pain and Richie cradles her head against his shoulder.

No! That’s going to kill her. Everyone knows that your best chances of survival after getting stabbed are to leave the knife in because it stops the bleeding.

Now all I can hope for is that he didn’t hit anything vital, or she’ll be dead in a matter of minutes.

“Let’s get ‘em into the kitchen. Let’s go, bitch!” Amber says, pulling Sidney to her feet by her hair. “And you”— she points the gun at me again and gestures for me to walk in front of her—“get a move on!”

I nod and swallow thickly, biting down on the inside of my cheek to suppress a whimper when I put weight on my injured leg.

That bitch. I hate her. I absolutely hate her, and I don’t even want to think about what she did to Tara.

She’s still nowhere to be seen, neither is Mindy, or Chad, and chances are they’re all already dead.

I promised I’d protect her. . .

Tears prick my eyes at the thought of her, but I quickly blink them away since the last thing I want is for Amber and Richie to mock me about it.

I limp into the kitchen, closely followed by Amber, Sidney, Sam and Richie.

“Someone has to save the franchise,” Richie laments as Amber pushes Sidney against the counter next to me. “You see, no one has made a great Stab movie since the first one. Not really.”

He snarls and shoves Sam, making her stumble and cry out in pain. Before she can crash into the counted though, my arm shoots out and I catch her, pulling her against me.

She shudders and winces, but sags back against me. Her hand moves to the stab wound on her stomach and I curl my arm around her from behind to place my own hand over hers, applying pressure.

She’s sweating and her skin is cold to the touch, all signs of blood loss, and I pull her closer, fearing that this will be the last time I’ll ever get to hold her like this.

“Hey, baby, you want to go get the very ex-Mrs. Riley?” Richie asks Amber, raising the knife to keep Sam and me in check.

Ah, so Gale is here as well. Great. I try not to think about it and focus on keeping pressure on Sam’s stomach.

“Yeah, I do,” Amber says gleefully. She hands Richie the gun and leaves the kitchen.

Sidney uses the momentary distraction to lunge for the knife block, but Richie is quick to react.

“Hey, hey! Whoa.” He raises the knife at her and forces her back with a wicked chuckle. “Sidney Prescott. . . You know, I’m a really big fan.”

I scowl at that and tighten my grip on Sam. What a fucking psycho.

“Go fuck yourself.” Sidney seethes and when she and Richie get into a fight about the Stab franchise, Sam leans her head back agains my shoulder and whispers, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. You were right about him. I should have trusted you.”

I shake my head and lean down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t say that now. Save it for later.”

Sam trembles and grabs onto my forearm with her free hand. “No, I need you to know. I’m sorry. For everything.” She gasps when I accidentally apply too much pressure on her stomach. “You’ve always been there for me a-and after I left, you were there for Tara and I don’t— I don’t know how to ever thank you for that. For any of it. . .”

I can feel tears pricking at my eyes but this time I don’t force them away. The reality of the situation we’re in is starting to sink in and I know now that we’re probably going to die here tonight.

I thought we’d have more time to patch things up and make things right, but it turns out, we don’t.

Sam’s made mistakes. A lot of them, and huge ones at that, but here she is now, in what seems to be one of our final moments, apologizing for everything she’s done wrong instead of pleading for her life.

I thought I needed time and space to forgive her for what she did, but not right now. We’re about to die, and I can’t just let it happen with her thinking I’m still mad at her.

I would be if I knew there was a way we’d be getting out of this, but being on the brink of death has changed my perspective.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I whisper, closing my eyes and pressing my forehead against her temple. “It’s okay. . . We’re okay.”

She whimpers quietly and her grip on my forearm tightens. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay,” I say again and just then, Amber returns with Gale.

She forces her onto a chair and when Gale moves her hand on her stomach I see she’s been shot.

When the fuck did that happen?!

Richie hands Amber the knife and walks over to Sam and me with the gun in his hand, a satisfied smile on his face.

Sam lifts her head off my shoulder and stands up a little straighter to glare at him without letting go of my forearm.

“You did all this just to make me the hero of your fucked-up movie?” she asks, venom lacing her voice.

Richie shakes his head and chuckles in disbelief. “Sweetie, you’re not the hero.” He steps even closed and uses the barrel of the gun to lift her chin a little higher. “You’re the villain.“

I want to yank that gun out of his hand and bash his head against the counter, but I’m hurt, standing behind Sam, and I can’t risk him shooting her, so I stay still.

How dare he talk to her like that? How dare he call her sweetie? Sick fuck.

His face turns serious and he continues, tilting his head ever so slightly. “You’re the daughter of Billy Loomis who sees fucked-up visions of her dead dad. Sidney Prescott killed your father. You did all this just to get her back to Woodsboro.”

That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. We’re going to die anyway.

“Shut the fuck up,” I snarl which makes him raise his eyebrows in mild amusement. Sam’s fingers dig into my forearm, trying to get me to stay quiet and stay where I am, but I pull my arm back and slowly step in front of her.

Richie entertains my boldness by taking a step back to grant me some room. The gun is now pointing at my chest and I can feel Sam’s fingers curl around the back of my shirt.

“You know,” Richie says, kissing his teeth, “I saw this coming from a mile away.”

“What?” I ask lowly, aware of all the eyes on us.

“This!” He waves the gun at me and Sam who’s peeking out from behind me. “I mean, the way you look at her. . . ” He laughs mirthlessly and I feel my cheeks heat up.

There’s obviously nothing going on between me and Sam but he’s managed to see right through me.

“Shut. Up.” I hiss through gritted teeth, but it just makes him laugh for real this time.

“There it is again. That’s what I’m talking about.” He jabs me in the chest with the barrel of the gun. “So pathetic. . . I mean, just— Why? She’s a psycho! Her dad’s a literal serial killer. Is that, like, something you’re into, or—“

He doesn’t finish because I spit in his face, baring my teeth while Sam sucks in a breath behind my.

For a moment, everything is still. Nobody moves or says anything, but then Richie slowly raises his free hand and uses his sleeve to wipe the spit off his cheek.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy gutting you, that’s for sure,” he says, sounding dangerously calm. “And I’m going to make Sam watch.”

Before I can retort anything, he grabs the back of my neck and knees me in the stomach, making me double over, coughing.

“Y/N.” Sam snakes her arm around me from behind and pulls me back so I’m standing next to her against the counter. Her brown eyes are filled with worry even though she’s in pain herself and I’m quick to nod my head weakly, silently telling her I’m okay.

I have no idea how she feels about what Richie just revealed, but now’s not the time to address it.

“Enough chit chat!” Amber cuts in and I look back up, once again pressing my hand against Sam’s stomach.

“You know what the biggest problem with the Stab movie is?” Amber asks, tapping her knife against Sidney’s chest. “There’s no Michael Myers or Jason Vorhees. No bad guy to keep coming back. But the illegitimate daughter of the original mastermind?” She scoffs with a smile on her face. “Now that’s a fucking villain.”

I can’t believe this. They’re trying to make Sam the bad guy.

Sam exhales shakily and looks at Richie with confusion and betrayal written all over her face. “How did you know?” she asks weakly, but it’s Amber who answers her, not Richie.

“Oh, about your father?” she asks sarcastically. “ I mean, it’s a small town, and your mom’s a drunk!”

I curl my free hand into a fist, but still don’t move or say anything.

“I met Richie on the Stab subreddit,” Amber goes on while Richie alternates between pointing the gun at me and Sam. “I’ve been obsessed ever since my parents bought this house. . . We realized pretty quickly we had similar ideas.”

Richie nods and tilts his head mockingly at Sam. “It wasn’t that hard for me for find you in Modesto,” he says, glancing at me for a second before adding, “It wasn’t that hard for me to fuck you, either, but I guess a sexually available woman is supposed to be empowering these days.”

Oh, how I want to cut off that motherfucker’s dick. . . I’m shaking with restraint because I can’t do anything unless I want to get kneed in the gut again, or worse, get shot.

“Fuck you!” Sam fires back, jutting her chin out and the anger with which she says it fills me with a tiny sense of pride.

Richie doesn’t seem to be bothered by it though. He simply chuckles and says, “Well, now you’re just quoting the original.”

Amber chuckles, too, and once again goes on to ramble about bringing back legacy characters and what would or wouldn’t work for their movie.

I’m honestly tired of listening. All I’m thinking about is Tara, Mindy, and Chad, and how Sam needs to go to the hospital.

It seems like we’ve managed to slow her bleeding by applying pressure to the wound, but she will go into shock eventually if she loses any more blood. Her breathing is already shallowing and I can feel her ever increasing heartbeat under my palm.

I’m so focused on that, that when Sidney lunges for a knife on the kitchen island, I flinch in surprise.

“No!” Sam yelps when Amber stabs her and Gale tumbles off her chair in her attempt to get to her friend.

Richie just sighs and crouches down next to Sidney who’s fallen to her knees. “I’m so sorry, Sid. We can’t let you live either. I mean surviving this many times. . . that would just be ridiculous. This time the fans are gonna be the ones who win.”

Sidney groans and Sam slumps against me, resigned.

“Does that cover it?” Richie asks and Amber, ever the loyal girlfriend, nods with a love sick smile on her face.

“Nailed it, baby.”

Urgh. There it is again. Disgusting.

Both of them get back to their feet and I don’t really think much of it, knowing we’re about to die any moment now, but then Richie says something that makes my head snap up.

“Get Tara out of the closet. We’ve got to start staging the bodies!”

Tara. She’s alive.

For a split second, I’m relieved, but then reality sinks in once again. She’s alive, yes, but she won’t be for much longer, just like the rest of us.

“Stay with me, Sid,” Gale whispers weakly from her position on the floor. “Stay with me.”

Sidney exhales shakily and leans against the kitchen island, pressing her hand against her stomach.

All the while, Richie gleefully goes on and on about how Sam should have listened to Dewey because he apparently told her to look at him, the love interest, and how he almost even managed to convinced her Tara was one of the killers, but then Amber’s voice from somewhere in the house makes him stop and frown.

“She’s not here,” Amber shouts and my heartbeat instantly speeds up.

She’s not here. . . Tara’s not in the closet. She must have gotten away somehow.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘she’s not here’?” Richie shouts back, blinking in confusion.

“She’s not here!” Amber shouts again and when Sam starts smirking ever so slightly next to me, my eyes widen.

“I untied her,” she says casually, staring Richie down. “Guess you’re not as persuasive as you thought.”

Damn. That’s my girl. Wait—no. She’s not—

Richie flinches when the land line next to him suddenly starts ringing and when Sam tells him it’s for him, he pales visibly, his grip on the gun faltering.

“Amber!” he shouts. “Fan out. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

“I can’t find her,” Amber shouts back, but then a second later, we all hear a struggle break out and the sound of Tara’s rage induced scream fills me with relief and scares me at the same time.

She’s already hurt. Amber’s going to get the upper hand.

“Amber!” Richie shouts, momentarily distracted.

This is my chance.

I grab Sam’s hand and squeeze it once, very briefly, before letting go again and rushing forward, yanking at Richie’s arm in an attempt to disarm him.

His grip on the gun is almost iron clad though and I can’t get it off of him. He even fires it once, but misses and we go down in a tangle of limbs.

“Run!” I shout at Sam who’s frozen to the spot and watching us with wide eyes. “Sam, run! H-Help Tara!”

She snaps out of it at the mention of Tara’s name and stumbles out of the kitchen.

“Piece of shit!” Richie grits out and for a moment I have the upper hand, but just like Amber did before, he punches me where I’ve been stabbed which makes me recoil. He shoves me off him and gets back to his feet, stomping on my injured leg to make sure I stay down before also dashing out of the kitchen.

“Sam! Where are you going, huh? Your big scene’s coming up!” he shouts and I drag myself across the floor, going after him.

Back in the kitchen a different struggle breaks out, this time between Gale, Sidney and apparently Amber, but I can’t turn back around and focus on them now.

Sam and Tara are my priority and because I don’t know where Tara is, I’m going after Sam for now.

I’m slower than a slug, I know, but I can’t stand. I think it would honestly hurt less if Richie’d just chopped my leg off, but it is what it is now and I’ll just have to deal with it.

“Sam? SAM!” Richie’s furious shout coming from the staircase around the corner a moment later makes me move faster.

A sickening thud echoes through the house and when I finally, finally get to the foyer I see that he and Sam took a tumble down the stairs.

“Sam.” I gasp and she coughs, her eyes meeting mine for a split second before I shout, “Look out!”

Richie’s managed to get back on his feet in record time with his gun in hand, but it’s not she whom he aims at when he fires it. It’s me.

“Y/N!”

I scramble to get back behind the corner and groan when I feel blood trickling down my already injured shoulder. The bullet grazed me. If it had been a couple more inches to the left, he’d have shot me in the head.

Fuck. These close calls are getting a little too much.

Seemingly satisfied with the way he scared me into hiding, Richie turns his attention back to Sam.

He taunts her as she tries to move away from him, and I desperately want to look around the corner and see what’s happening, but I know if he spots me, he’ll just shoot at me again.

“You’re the villain.” He’s seething and I can feel my heartbeat rising in my throat as he goes on. “And the villain dies at the end. Those are the rules.”

For a split second it’s quiet, but then Sam speaks up and I hold my breath.

“I’m introducing a new rule.”

“And what would that be? Huh?” He cackles which sends a shiver down my spine.

Sam’s voice however is even and calm a moment later when she says, “Never fuck with the daughter of a serial killer.”

What?

Richie groans and screams in surprise and pain, and I can no longer just hide around a corner. I have to see what’s going on.

I pull myself up to my feet and move along the wall until I can finally peek around the corner.

Sam somehow managed to get a hold of a knife and is now relentlessly bringing it down on Richie, which is a sight that momentarily makes my brain short circuit.

He’s writhing underneath her, screaming and trying to block the onslaught of stabs, but she’s got him trapped.

She just keeps on going, stabbing with all the strength she’s got until Richie makes a gurgling sound and pleads for her to wait.

Surprisingly she does, her chest heaving and her entire face and front covered in blood as she glares at him.

“What about my ending?” he whimpers pathetically with blood trickling out of the side of his mouth and when Sam leans down and presses the knife against his neck, saying, “Here it comes,” I quickly look away.

He squeals and a no falls from his lips before all that can be heard is his gurgling and choking on his own blood.

There’s some shuffling and when I dare to look back, I see Sam stumbling to her feet with the knife still in hand. She’s breathing heavily and staring at what she’s done with a hint of disbelief on her face.

“Sam?” I prompt carefully, moving out from behind the corner. She doesn’t react, so I say it again, approaching her cautiously.

Again, she doesn’t react, but then a floorboard creaks beneath me which is what makes her eyes snap up.

“Y/N,” she whispers and almost instantly her shoulders sag and she drops the knife.

I close the remaining distance between us without any more second thoughts and pull her into a hug, not caring that she’s getting blood all over my clothes.

My shirt is already stained with my own blood from my nose and shoulder, and if the last twenty four hours have taught me anything it’s that it’s probably a good idea to invest in some hydrogen peroxide to get rid of any future bloodstains.

“Are you okay?” she asks, desperately clutching at my shoulders.

“No. You?”

She shakes her head and I hold her close for just a moment longer until Gale and Sidney emerge from the hallway that leads to kitchen.

Judging by their calmness, I’m assuming Amber’s been dealt with which makes me lower my guard a bit.

When their eyes land on Richie’s body they seem to be impressed with how well Sam’s managed to handle herself, but then Sidney says, “Careful, they always come back,” which makes Sam pull back from our embrace and take the gun Gale’s holding.

She fires it at Richie’s lifeless body twice before aiming at the head and shooting one last time.

“Okay then,” Gale says, shrugging awkwardly only to flinch a moment later when a scream erupts from behind us.

I spin around and pull Sam behind me, my eyes widening when they land on Amber who’s coming at us with a knife in hand and half her face melted off.

God, can the dead please just stay dead for once?

Amber doesn’t get very far because another gunshot rings out and she drops to the floor a split second later with a bullet hole in the side of her head.

Holy shit.

I slowly turn my head to the left where the shot came from and when my eyes land on a trembling Tara who’s pointing a gun at where Amber just stood a moment ago, I let out a breath of relief.

“I still prefer The Babadook,” she says and even though I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, I limp toward her and pull her into a bone crushing hug.

Almost instantly, she starts crying and when I see Sam sobbing over Tara’s head, I lift one arm, wordlessly inviting her to join us.

She rushes over and throws her arms around both of us, and for the first time tonight, I drop my defenses entirely and allow myself to cry as well.

They’re okay. They’re both okay. We’re going to be okay.

_______________________________________________

Holy hell, that was a long one, but I did promise it, so I can’t complain.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23

[persevereforahappyending]

Doctor's In - Holiday Special

Summary: You get ready for your first Christmas with the Maximoffs, but not everything goes according to plan.

Part 2 of 3 of the Holiday Special

A/N: Can you spot the major character we're introducing?

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

Wanda wakes up, alone and confused. The light outside tells her it’s later than usual, and she suddenly remembers it’s a school day.

The woman hurries down the stairs, finding you in the kitchen.

“Hey, chatty patty” you say with a smile, loving her disheveled state. “Hungry?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 11” you look at your wrist watch, pushing a plate towards her.

“School! The kids!”

“I already drove them to school, and yes they had breakfast that wasn’t just cereal” you explain. Wanda finally sits, and looks at the french toast you’re offering.

“This is really good” she praises as she takes a bite.

“I know I call you cute when you’re cooking, but that’s not the only reason I watch you do it, baby” you smile, kissing her temple as you stand up to pour her some coffee. “In Medicine you learn by watching and doing. I’m trying to learn cooking as if it was the same”

“You’re on the right track. Thank you” she comments as you hand the mug. “I’m just a little lost, why did I not wake up?”

“You really don’t remember?” you say, amused.

“No. Did we…?” she says, suddenly afraid that she fell asleep in the middle of sex.

“Oh, no. If we did, you’d remember. Trust me” you say in a low voice, moving closer. Wanda’s eyes drift to your lips and you smile, pleased with her reaction. “No, we didn’t have sex, baby. You woke up at two in the morning talking about a book idea and I wrote it all down until you went back to sleep”

Wanda notices the notebook on the counter, and she takes it. The story is about a girl that makes a drawing of her perfect pet. Her brother sees it and adds things like dragon wings and fangs. By night, the drawing comes to life, and it follows the girl everywhere she goes.

“This is a full story”

“Mhm”

“This is like three months work”

“Glad to hear we were productive” you nod, not understanding her issue with saving months of work.

“This never happens!”

“Counterpoint, you never had a light sleeper that woke up to your mumbling” you point out, stealing some of her toast.

“Yeah… that’s a good point” Wanda says, frowning. You miss the way she looks at you, as you lean forward to read over everything she said while asleep. Honestly, the story is sweet and very original. To think it was something she came up while asleep is bonkers.

“Wow” you laugh as Wanda lunges forward, kissing every inch of your face.

“You’re so hot right now” she says against your neck and you sigh, pleased.

“Well, let me show you what other stuff we could do to lose some sleep” you propose, carrying her to the couch.

—

For the next day, while you’re at work, Wanda is focused on meeting with Laura and her publisher. You get a few texts here and there, but you know she’s in the middle of a creative storm and you’re happy she finally found the inspiration needed for her next book.

Still, it’s a tough shift as you lost sleep on your day off.

“Wild night?” Darcy says as you’re sprawled across the break room couch.

“Jealous?”

“Meh” she shrugs her shoulders. “I hear Fury is going to be lighting up the Christmas tree in the foyer. Wanna come see?”

“Oh, yeah!” you stand up, eager to check if it will go down the same as every year. Without fail, someone forgets to test the lights and as he plugs it in, nothing happens.

Darcy and you are leaning against the railway, chuckling while Fury screams.

“Every damn year! We run a hospital. Why can’t anyone check the lights?”

“It never gets old” you smile, feeling like the holidays are finally here. You’re about to suggest a trip to the cafeteria when Carol comes right behind you, borderline hysterical.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Uh… is there an emergency? Did you page me?” you check your device, Darcy frowning at Carol’s outburst.

“Yes, there’s an emergency! Come here, the both of you”

With surprising strenght, she pulls you to one of the meeting rooms, a couple of sample cakes in display.

“We’re tied”

“Who is?” you say, reading the flavors written in the small cards.

“Maria wants one flavor and I want another one. We need a tiebreak. You are my maid of honor. So, help me!”

“Ok, we’ll try them out. Jeez”

“I’ll be right back” Carol says, leaving the room in a hurry.

Grabbing a fork, you begin to take little bites of every cake, nodding approvingly.

“Chocolate ganache is to die for” you moan, feeling so happy that Carol is in the middle of this predicament.

“You should have red velvet for your wedding” Darcy points at the one she’s tasting.

“I’m not getting married”

“Yet”

“Darcy, come on” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, like you don’t have an idea on how to propose to Wanda already” she mocks, which shuts you up real fast. “I know you better than anyone. And I better be your maid of honor”

“I’m not getting married” you insist, this time  with less conviction.

You keep discussing the flavors and come to the conclusion that chocolate ganache is the winner.

“That’s the wrong answer! Carrot cake!” Carol huffs when you tell her your decision.

“Not everyone likes it. It’s just a weird choice” you say, while Darcy nods.

“Everyone likes chocolate” she points out.

“Fine, whatever! You win, Willy Wonka” Carol storms out of the room.

“Wow, you dodged a bullet there” Darcy says and you nudge her side.

“Don’t be mean. She wants her wedding to be perfect. That’s nice” in that precise moment, you get paged and you decide to take the rest of the chocolate cake to eat on the way. “See ya!”

“Thief!”

A couple of emergencies take your attention, making you go into the OR. Your phone is forgotten and by the time you check, there’s a single text from Wanda.

W: Are you coming for lunch? I want to tell you something important.

Your heart begins to race, and you remember a few days ago during the snow storm. She mentioned something but you distracted Wanda and you figured it wasn’t that important.

Y/N: Is everything ok?

Coming out of nowhere, Carol once agains blindsides you.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Go…”

“Dress fitting. Your bridesmaid dress”

“Now?” you look at your phone. Wanda hasn’t replied. But Carol looks ready to kill you and you won’t take your chances. “Sure, let’s go”

Y/N: Gotta take care of something, will try to be back for lunch. Love you.

There’s no reply and during the entire car ride, you look out the window, wondering if you messed up in any way.

“I’m sorry” Carol says, mistaking your silence with annoyance. “For snapping at you”

“Oh, that’s… well, not cool, but I don’t take offense. I just never thought you’d be the Bridezilla type, Danvers” you joke.

“It’s more about the holidays. Maria’s family and mine are coming over. They’ve met each other a few times, but you know… it just feels like whatever happens during Christmas will set the tone for the wedding. And marriage”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure” you agree.

“I admire you for setting boundaries with your mother”

“It’s not a boundary, it’s more like thousands of miles and avoidance” you reluctantly admit, which makes her laugh. “It’s all gonna be fine. You’re marrying the girl of your dreams, and I will be there as well, in a cool, not at all pink bridesmaid gown to help with whatever happens”

“Actually…”

“It’s pink?” you say, mouth wide open. Carol nods, avoiding your eyes and you huff. “You’re lucky I’m such a good friend”

—

Wanda’s buzzing with excitement as she stops by the cafeteria, ready for her second meeting of the week with Laura.

It seems as if this new book will be out fast, and if it’s as successful as her past stories, Wanda could finally have some free time to focus on a whole different thing: a trilogy for young adults.

Wanda leaves the cafeteria carrying a tray with two cups and scones, knowing that you’d be the first one to support her if it all works out.

She’s surprised to find you walking across the street, as your last message gave her the impression you still had work to do. Wanda is about to call for you, when someone else joins you in the sidewalk.

Carol says something that makes you smile, linking her arm with yours. Both of you walk in the opposite direction of Wanda, getting inside a store.

Wanda replays the moment where Carol opened the door for you over and over again.

“Ready for day two?” Laura says as soon as her friend walks to her office. “Wanda?”

It doesn’t take much for Wanda to tell her what she saw. Beyond that, she goes over your strange attitude recently, smoking compulsively and having trouble sleeping.

“Maybe she’s rethinking our relationship, maybe Carol is trying to win her back…”

“Wow, slow down. You said they were going inside a bridal shop?”

“Yes, I think it was”

“Well, what if… she’s thinking about… ya know” Laura says, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly.

“No, I don’t. What do you mean?” Wanda says, resisting the urge to drive back and get answers straight from you.

“Ok, so she’s been nervous, she visits a shop with all kinds of things for a wedding. Could it be that she’s working up the courage to propose?”

“No… I don’t think so. Do you think that could be it?” Wanda says.

“I think based on everything I’ve seen and heard about Y/N, that makes a lot more sense than her cheating on you” Laura shrugs her shoulders. “Look, just tell her you saw her. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation”

“But what if she is proposing and I ruin the surprise?” Wanda pouts, torn between what to do.

“Let’s get to work, I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do” Laura tries to divert the conversation, which works for a little while.

Except, she’s typing and Wanda is just doodling instead of creating sketches.

“Would you say yes?” Laura asks, amused at Wanda’s enamoured look.

The woman shrugs her shoulders, biting her lip as she imagines what it would be like to be married to you.

Needless to say, she doesn’t get much work done after that.

—

The flowers might be too much, but you rather be on the safe side. Wanda never replied to your text, so you drove straight home as soon as you came back from the dress fitting.

“Honey, I’m home” you joke, leaving your winter jacket and scarf at the coathanger. To your surprise, Wanda is sitting at the kitchen counter, looking conflicted.

“Hey” she says, letting you kiss her cheek. “What is this?”

“My favorite girl’s favorite flowers” you sit next to her, worried. “Is something wrong? I know you wanted to talk”

“Yes. I…” she takes a deep breath and turns to look at you. “Is something going on between you and Carol?”

“What? Is that what you wanted to talk about?” you say, confused. Where is this coming from?

“No. I was at the cafeteria around Bleeker Street and saw you with her” she admits, sighing.

“Wanda, I’m sorry. No, nothing’s going on. Carol and Maria are getting married and she asked me to be her bridesmaid. I said yes, before even thinking about consulting you. I guess I didn’t even know how to bring it up. I know our past… makes things weird”

You hesitate about reaching out for her hand, but then she lets out a laugh.

“I was about to ran over Danvers’ bike” she says, bringing her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry for not trusting you”

“No, I’m the only one who should be apoligizing. I should have told you. Can you please forgive me, love of my life?”

“There’s nothing to forgive”

“You know, you should play hard to get” you point out, your arms around her middle, placing a kiss against her temple. “Don’t forgive me so easily, I was planning on taking you out to a fancy place to earn it”

“Mmm, you’re right. I’m too forgiving” she jokes.

“Wait, you sent me the text before I left with Carol. So that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about” you suddenly remember.

Going back to face her, you lift Wanda’s chin with your hand, making her look at you. She seems suddenly nervous.

“I was thinking… you don’t have to answer right now. And also, with this new book, I might be too busy and the house will be a mess for a while and you don’t wanna be around for it, you want your own space… forget I even asked”

She’s rambling, so you craddle her face in your hands, making her stop with your lips on hers.

“You haven’t even asked anything” you nudge your nose against her, smiling lovingly at the way she melts against your touch.

“Move in with me. Us”

“What?”

Never in a million years would you have guessed this was coming.

“This is your home as much as it is ours. I want you here all the time, I want to make room for your stuff, look for my clothes in the closet and stumble upon your scrubs” Wanda says. “Either way, you spend more time here than at your own place. You could also save some rent money”

“You had me at this is your home, my love” you laugh, kissing her again. “And no worries, no wet towels in the bathroom, I promise”

“We have a deal” she smiles against your lips, heart beating faster at this new step you’re taking together.

—

You should have listened to that Kondo lady when she was all the rage. Your house is full of crap, and none of it brings joy. Only dust and boxes that get in the way of packing.

Good news, it’s gonna be an easy move. All you have are clothes, books, some records and pictures.

“Are you sure you wanna throw this stuff?” Wanda says, holding a couple of trophies from Science Fairs and other stuff.

“Yes, baby” you nod, handing over a box. “I don’t think that has any value to my career as a surgeon”

“I think they’re cute. You were a nerd”

“Yeah, that I was” you smile. You keep digging through old boxes, until you get to one you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“What is this?” Wanda kneels next to you. She sees the picture you’re holding. “Is that your dad? Oh my God, you look exactly like him”

“Yeah, two peas in a pod” you laugh, admiring your matching Halloween outfits. Ghostbusters, obviously. You flip through the album, grateful that you had the sense to take it with you after you left for college. You know your mother would have thrown it in the trash.

“Why isn’t this in a frame?” Wanda takes a lose photo of you two during Christmas.

“I guess I never got around to doing it” you shrug your shoulders. There’s a tin box, and you kinda wished you hadn’t opened it. A broken wrist watch is the only thing inside it. “He loved this watch. Was wearing it on the day of the accident” you mutter, suddenly feeling small.

Wanda let’s you sit in silence for a few minutes and then places her hand on your shoulder.

“We can take a break from all the packing, yes?”

“Yeah, ok” you nod, standing up. Wanda takes your hand and leads you back to her -and now your- place. There are already several boxes in the living room of your new home.

Home, that word fits so well with how you feel here.

The only other time where you felt like you belonged was in college, in the dorm you shared with Darcy and then at the hospital, which wasn’t strictly a home.

Without saying anything, Wanda pulls you to the couch, and you let her rest her head against your chest as you watch “Golden Girls”. She had you to thank for introducing her to a whole new obsession.

“Shouldn’t we go pick up the kids now?” you say after a while, looking at the hour.

“Sharon is driving them here”

“Now she’s your best friend”

“I’m sure she only offered to see you again and annoy me” Wanda chuckles, looking up at you. “Unfortunately for her, I don’t share”

“Mmhm” you smile against her lips, enjoying her possesiveness.

By the time Sharon drops off the kids, Wanda’s shown you how she really feels about sharing, making sure there’s a visible mark on your neck as you walk out of the house to greet Tommy and Billy.

“Hey, Y/N” Sharon says, playing with her sunglasses.

“H-hi, Sharon. How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know. Enjoying the cold days, wishing I had someone to warm me up”

“Yeah, it’s cold. Outside, and inside too if you don’t have any heating” you mumble, trying to end the conversation. “Stay hot. I mean, warm. And thanks for dropping off the kids”

“My pleasure”

Sprinting back home, you lock the door and lean against it, hoping you won’t have to talk to the woman in a very long time.

“I see that little mark on your collarbone wasn’t enough. Maybe I should leave more on your neck” Wanda taunts.

“Baby, I could tattoo your name across my forehead and that woman would still try to get in my pants” you sigh, hands resting on Wanda’s hips. “Are we telling the kids about me moving in?”

“Yeah, come on”

Billy and Tommy are in the backyard, throwing a ball that Sparky chases around. They both approach you as Wanda calls for them, and she kneels to be at eye level with them.

“Boys, we have news. Y/N is moving”

“What? Where? You’re not gonna have your house across the street?”

“Mama, we should all live together” Tommy says, pleading to his mother.

“Oh, my darling boys, Y/N is gonna move with us! We’ll all live here. What do you think about it?”

“Yaaay” they run towards you, talking as fast as they can.

“I’ll make room in my drawers for you!”

“You can take one of my shelves”

Each kid takes turns on ideas to make room for you, and you hug them closer.

“I’m sure we’ll find a place for all my stuff. Don’t worry about it, I’m just happy you want me to live here”

“We do” Billy says, and then he turns to his mother. “Can we please get pizza to celebrate, pleaaase?”

“Yes, can we?” you join, pouting.

Wanda rolls her eyes, laughing.

“I can’t believe I set myself up. Now it’s three children against one of me”

“You love us” you say, standing up and pulling her in for a kiss.

Wanda smiles against your lips.

“I do”

—

You’re buzzing with excitement to tell everyone the news, but you want Darcy to be the first to know.

While you sit in the cafeteria, the perfect oportunity presents itself.

“Ugh, one of your presents will arrive too late for me to wrap it up. I’ll send it but you have to promise you won’t open it”

“Yeah, yeah. Just send it home”

“No. I’ll send it to Wanda instead. She’ll keep it away from you”

“Same thing. Home for me, her. But I won’t open it” you smile as you take a bite of your sandwich, waiting for Darcy to understand what you mean.

“You? And her? Moving in together?” this is the first time that you see Darcy so excited over your relationship, and she hugs you. “You’re not gonna die alone”

“Oh, shut it”

“What are we celebrating?” Carol says, taking a seat next to you.

“Y/N and Wanda are moving in together” Darcy says, practically singing. “And now I have to rethink my second present”

“Why do you give her two Christmas presents?” Carol looks between you two and Darcy gasps.

“She saw you naked but didn’t tell her about your birthday?”

“Eh, what can I say? I have intimacy issues” you shrug your shoulders, laughing as Carol catches up with everything.

“Your birthday is on Christmas Eve”

“That’s correct” you nod. Eager to change the subject, you ask about the wedding. Lunch is cut short as they’re both paged and you walk back to the front desk, dropping off some paperwork about discharges and patient forms.

You’ve been talking for a bit with the nurses when you feel someone stand behind you.

A beautiful redhead with striking green eyes smiles at you, and it takes you a moment to notice you’re staring.

“Hi. How can we help you?” you say, pulling the charts close to your chest, pretending to be casual.

“I’m looking for an old friend”

“Sure thing, do you know his room number?”

“I know his name. Nick Fury” she says with a smirk and you laugh.

“Oh, the Chief. He should be in his office reviewing schedules right about now. Just go upstairs and turn rigt” you point behind her.

“Thank you, Doctor…” she leans forward to read the name on your badge. “Y/L/N”

You’re about to ask her name when you’re paged.

911.

“My pleasure. Enjoy your reunion with the Chief” you excuse yourself, going back to the ER.

As a group of people involved in a car crash arrive, everything that just happened becomes irrelevant.

You have no idea how crazy your day is about to get.

—

“Let me see if I understand” Fury says, the tips of his fingers aligning as Natasha looks from the other side of her desk, impassive.

She’s got a poker face that no one can break, not even someone as respected as Nicholas Fury.

“You want to teach us the new surgical method your mother invented"

Natasha nods.

“Why the sudden interest in sharing with us?”

“You’re a teaching hospital. Stark is on this quest to make everything accessible for everyone. It gives us good press, and will draw attention to your program”

“No ulterior motive?”

“The world is getting more complicated. The Starks and Romanoffs are the families with the greater research capabilities, I think it’s time to stop competing with each other and work together” Natasha says.

“Just like that?”

“Well…”

Natasha doesn’t get to complete her sentence, as Tony walks in the room without knocking.

“Chief” he says, a bit distressed. It takes him a minute to process the other presence in the room. “Romanoff?”

“Hey, Tony”

“What are you…? Ok, that’s for later. There was an avalanche in Silverton Mountain, several people are trapped and injured. They’re requesting aid”

“Let’s page Y/N and prepare the ER to receive them”

“Sorry for cutting your meeting short, I’m sure it wasn’t important” Tony winks at Natasha.

“I’ll be back later” she says. “Don’t be such a sore loser, Tony, not everyone can have a Nobel Prize”

“Your mother won that, not you” he says, trying to keep his cool.

“Well, let’s see if another Romanoff can beat you to it again” the woman says, smiling while Fury stands up.

“Children, not now. Call me tomorrow, Romanoff”

The two men leave his office, walking to the ER to find the head of Trauma.

“Is it a good idea to leave her alone there?”

“She’s not a spy, Stark”

“Her mother sent her for some nefarious purpose, I’m sure”

“That’s a talk for later. Y/L/N” Fury finally spots you.

“Chief, what’s up?”

“Avalanche in Silverton Mountain. I’m sending the chopper with you, Barton and another doctor of your choice”

“We’re only transporting critically injured patients, the rest will be taken by ambulance to local hospitals” Tony adds, while you walk back to prepare.

“Ok, I’m taking Bishop with me. Anything else I should know about?”

“Expect a long day” Tony pats your shoulder and you sigh.

Looking for the storage room, you find a three layered rescue suit, preparing for the cold and relentless weather of the mountains. Next are medical supplies, rope, thermic blankets, comms and avalanche probes.

Once you check everything’s set up, you change your sneakers for hiking boots and carry everything in a waterproof backpack. Just as you’re about to leave, Kate comes in. You show her the clothes she should change into, and what to put in her own backpack.

“I’ll meet you at the rooftop”

Wanda doesn’t pick up the phone when you call her, so you leave a voicemail explaining you won’t be reachable for a couple of hours.

As you walk to the elevator, you meet the mysterious woman again.

“Up or down?” you ask as you both reach for the button.

“Down. You?”

“All the way up”

“Going somewhere?” she teases.

“Just a helicopter ride. Care to join me?” you say, not knowing what makes you joke with a stranger.

“Perhaps next time. Take this one. I’ll wait for the other elevator” the woman says when the doors open. You nod your thanks and your eyes meet as you press the button. “I do hope we’ll see each other again, Y/N”

“I didn’t get your name”

“Natasha” the woman smiles, doors closing. The last thing you see is that cryptic smile as the elevator starts to go up.

The cold wind hits your face as soon as the doors open, Stark’s helicopter ready for the 15 minute flight to Silverton.

“Hey, Barton. Wilson?” you say, surprised. “Didn’t know you could fly these things”

“Hell, yeah. This is Redwing” he says, pointing at the helicopter.

“Stop calling it that” Stark grumbles.

Clint and you check for everything to be in its place and you nod as Kate joins you.

“I’m having everyone on standby, we’ll start preparing as soon as you call with more information on number of patients and status” Fury says. Then he turns to look at everyone else. “Stay safe and good luck”

The building becomes smaller as you fly away, and Barton chats with Sam for a bit about the weather and the rescue plan. You follow the conversation here and there, but instead look out the window and then to Kate, who seems to be deep in thought.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just nervous” she admits and you nudge her knee with your hand.

“It’ll be fine, you’re gonna fly back with patients that need to be at Stark hospital. I’ll show you what to do”

“Ok”

As soon as you land on the area, a group of first responders run to greet you.

“Lee Jones” the team leader introduces himself. “There are six people still missing, we secured the area and will be starting a second round of search” he says, pointing at a nearby hill.

“Doctor Bishop, head to where the rescued people are to evaluate them” you say, and she walks back to an operations center with several stretchers. “Do we have a list of the people missing?”

“Here”

You take the paper, inspecting it. Two women, one children, four men. Your stomach drops as you get to the last name.

“Barton” you pull him to get his attention. He reads over your shoulder, alarmed as well.

“Is this accurate? Have you doble checked these people are not back in their hotel?” he says, knowing that information could get lost during rescue.

“Yes, sir”

“Crap” he says, looking at the hill.

The name at the bottom of the list is Pietro Maximoff.

“Come on, no time to waste” you say, sprinting. A couple of people follow you, and you have to remember the training you got.

The first 15 minutes are crucial. And now, the people who didn’t die instantly, will pass from asphyxia, hypothermia or critical injuries.

Except Pietro. He knows what to do to stay alive. You just gotta find him.

“We gotta let Wanda know” Clint shouts next to you, the cold wind hitting you straight in the face.

“There is nothing to tell her now”

“Y/N”

“Go back and call her if you want. I can’t waste time right now, Clint”

It looks like there’s a storm forming. If you’re lucky, you’ll get an hour of not so bad weather and then, it will be too risky for them to continue.

Not you, though. You’re not leaving until you find Pietro.

“Here!” two people shout at the same time. You turn to run where they are. One of the rescuers is digging through the snow, and a woman’s face is visible. You want to keep looking for Pietro, but you came here to help everyone.

“I’ll keep searching” Clint nods your way.

The second person they find is the woman’s child.

“Hypothermic, hard to say if they have other injuries. I’d recommend you take them back to Stark Hospital, call and ask for doctor Lewis and Rambeau. Wilson will fly them there” you instruct the rescuers.

“I found one, he’s dead” you hear through the radio and your heart drops. You race to where the rescuer is, praying that it’s not Pietro. “Male, approximately 50”

You take a minute, holding your side as the cold air makes it hard to breathe.

“Mark the spot so we can recover the body and alert his family” Lee instructs.

They keep using the avalanche probes, to no avail.

“You’re walking too far away and the wind is getting worse” Clint warns you, but you ignore him. Pietro has to be here.

“Come on, come on” you walk faster, the wind almost knocking you down.

“Y/L/N, come back” Clint says, this time through the radio so everyone can hear him. “Now”

You ignore him, looking around. Everything is white… except.

A spot of color. Bright yellow and green. Just like the gloves you gave Pietro.

“Pietro” you run towards it, heart beating out of your chest. There he is, you can see his face, and part of his hands, as he managed to dig through the snow to be able to breathe. “Clint, I found him”

Pietro’s vitals are weak, but he whines when you call his name. Everyone comes running to help you, digging him out.

“Can you hear me? Frosty, come on” you insist, inspecting every inch of his body. “He’s going back to Stark Hospital with us, now”

“As soon as Wilson comes back”

You nod, stabilizing his neck as the men carry him to the operation center. You hear through the comms that they found the last man, unfortunately deceased as well.

“It’s a miracle we found him alive” Clint comments.

You stay quiet, going over statistics and the list of injuries that could be life threatening and you won’t know about until you do imaging.

“I’m calling Laura, so Wanda’s not alone” Clint says. You should have brought your phone. He greets his wife, and a moment later his face falls. “Wanda’s there with you? Can you put her on the phone?”

Now it’s your turn to feel dread, taking the phone with shaky hands.

“Sweetheart” you say, feeling awful when you hear Wanda’s voice, knowing what you’re about to say will destroy her. “You might want to sit down”

—

“Male with helmet and airbag, was conscious during rescue and prior to boarding the helicopter. Heart rate weak, slow, irregular due to hypothermia; passive warming techniques started on the way to the hospital. No visible trauma, do a complete body scan” you say as soon as you land, Carol and Stark the first to greet you at the rooftop.

Wanda’s not here yet and you’re not ready to face her, especially since you have no idea on the extent of his internal injuries.

“Are you ok? You’re shivering” Darcy comments when you change into your scrubs, and all you can do is nod.

“Fine”

Thoracic spine fracture, comminuted knee fracture and intracranial hemorrhage. The room is silent as you look at the images, knowing it’s gonna be a long and challenging intervention.

“Wanda’s here” Kate says as soon as you take the elevator to the OR.

“Not now, Kate. Tell her we’ll keep her updated and then scrub in”

Carol gives you a curious glance, but keeps her comments to herself.

There’s silence in the OR as you work with Carol and Kate, while Stark and Parker deal with the hemorrhage.

“Doctor Y/L/N” Fury steps in.

“Not now”

“Miss Maximoff would like an update”

“I don’t have one for her” you let out an exasperated sigh when Fury insists, turning to look at Stark. “Do you have an update? How about you, Danvers? Alright then, when we know something other than his body is all kinds of fucked, we will give Miss Maximoff an update”

“You’re too close to this”

“No, I’m stabilizing his spine so he can teach his nephews how to ride a fucking bike and all you are is a distraction. Leave my OR, now”

You can feel Fury’s angry stare in the back of your head, but ignore it and keep working.

Stark is the first to break the silence, if only to ask for more suction.

“I’m done with the knee. If you want to update her” Carol says after a while.

“You heard her, Bishop”

“You should go. I’m sure Wanda will want to hear it from you”

“No” is all you say, voice shaking.

No, you can’t face Wanda now. You don’t know if Pietro is gonna make it and you won’t lie to her.

Beyond that, you can’t imagine what she’ll say to you if you can’t save him.

Why didn’t you find him faster? Why didn’t you help him?

This is your fault.

“BP’s dropping” the nurse alerts you.

“One minute” Tony says, eyes glued to his work.

“Stark, he’s crashing” you insist. He ignores you and you’re about to throw your scalpel and start CPR when Pietro’s vitals stabilize.

“You gotta let me work too” Tony says. “Peter, close here. Let’s see that spine now”

After three more hours of work, there’s nothing left to do but wait. While Pietro’s transferred to the ICU, you stay back, removing your facemask and surgical cap.

Carol stands next to you, without saying a word.

“If he doesn’t make it, Wanda’s never going to forgive me” you say, looking at the ground.

“You don’t believe that” Carol says.

“I don’t know. But I guess I’ll find out”

“It’s gonna be fine” she says, giving your arm a squeeze and you nod, leaving the scrub room.

Your hands shake as you press the elevator button that will take you to Wanda. The adrenaline is slowly leaving your body, but your muscles can’t relax, still waiting for an even bigger disaster to come.

Forcing yourself to step into the hallway, your eyes meet Wanda’s across the room. They are reddened by the tears, her hair a bit disheveled and all over the place.

Whatever you were about to say dies in your throat. She stands up, walking towards you, and you brace yourself for a myriad of insults and bitter words.

Instead, she throws herself in your arms, crying.

“You’re ok” she keeps saying. “I was so scared. I’m so sorry”

“It’s fine. I’m here” you hold her closer, kissing her head and shedding a couple of tears. “We did everything we could, Wanda, please believe me. Now we have to wait for him to recover. Please, please don’t hate me”

“You saved him. He’s alive because of you” she says, her arms still on your back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“I’m here” you sigh against her temple. “It’s all going to be fine”

But you don’t know if that’s true.

—

Natasha answers the call as soon as she’s in her suite, knowing her mother only had a few minutes to chat.

“Hello, dear. How did it go?”

“It was cut short. An emergency” the redhead sighs, sitting in the bed and taking off her heels. “They used Tony’s helicopter and everything”

“The Stark boy, always wanting to be the center of attention” Melina tsks. “Did you get to see their ER?”

“Not yet. I did meet their Head of Trauma”

Natasha’s mind goes back to you. She was honestly surprised when she saw you waiting for the elevator in the rescue gear. You weren’t like any other of the Trauma surgeons she had met before.

“What did you think of them?”

“Very heroic. Jumped straight into the danger, no questions asked. And she yelled at Fury when he tried to keep her out of the OR”

Another pleasant surprise. It was hard to tell you had that fire in you, with those kind eyes and gentle smile.

“Do you want to hire her or date her?” Melina picks up on her daughter’s tone.

“Can’t I do both?”

“My darling girl, of course you can. When was the last time you didn’t get what you wanted?”

—

It’s cold and you can’t reach for whatever it is you’re looking for.

What were you trying to find in the middle of nowhere?

It’s dark, except for a circle around you, and there’s no way to tell up from down.

Except when you see something next to your feet, and you kneel down. As you pull from it, the snow moves and you can see Pietro’s face. You dig deeper, and then you see Wanda. Every time you remove snow, there’s another face, until you find your father, staring at you.

You try to reach for him, but the watch on your wrist reaches zero on its countdown, the beeping sound mocking you as you run out of time.

“Wait” you jump up, looking around.

On call room. You’re in the hospital. There’s solid ground beneath you, not layers and layers of snow.

The sound comes from your pager.

911.

Everything feels like an emergency these days. You’ve lost track of time, alternating between your shifts and the ICU, where Pietro is still recovering.

It’s been four days and he hasn’t woken up yet.

“What do we have?” you ask Kate, who begins to give you the overview.

It’s not something that requires surgery, which makes you sigh with relief. This is the end of your shift and you need to eat something before heading back to the ICU.

“When was the last time you left the hospital?” Darcy says and you shrug your shoulders, eating your sandwich and feeling ill the second you swallow.

You have to force yourself to eat lately.

“I don’t know”

“The day of the accident. Five days ago. You can’t keep going like this” your friend says, but you avoid her stare.

“Wanda is not allowed in the ICU and Pietro shouldn’t be alone in there”

“Pietro is unconscious. Wanda is the one that’s at home, alone and scared. I think her brother would appreciate you keeping her company” Darcy reasons with you.

You rub your temples, trying to not throw up.

Truth is, you’re scared that the other shoe will drop. That things between you and Wanda could turn sour if her brother doesn’t show any signs of improvement.

“You are carrying an immense responsibility and burden, that it’s not yours. Nor anyone’s. It was an accident. It’s life” your friend insists, knowing very well the meaning behind your silence.

You keep looking down, chin resting on your hand as a couple of tears run down your cheeks.

Darcy’s expression softens at that.

“I’ll stay with Pietro for a bit. Wanda is in the foyer, ready to take you home. Please, go with her”

You try to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. It’s been like this for days. When it comes to work, you function even better than usual, accostumed to chaos and uncertainty. The minute the conversation pivots, your throat closes, making it hard to utter a single word.

In the end, you nod, throwing away your barely touched food to go meet your girlfriend.

Guilt overwhelms you as you notice the bags under Wanda’s eyes. It’s impossible to be everywhere and be everything to all the people that matter to you, but you still feel like a failure.

“He…” you prepare the update, but Wanda kisses you, stopping the words from leaving your mouth.

“I’m here to take care of you. I already know everything there is to know. Let’s go home”

Taking a breath, you nod and walk behind her towards the exit. The light hurts your eyes, and you have to look down, frowning. Wanda’s hand is on yours, leading you to the car.

The ride home is silent. There are still some boxes in the living room, pushed to the wall to make room for walking. It gives an eerie vibe, another reminder that your entire world stopped almost a week ago.

“Are you hungry?”

“Just tired” you say in a low voice. “I smell like hospital”

Wanda nods, closing the door and walking you upstairs. All you’ve done for the past days is take quick showers, with cheap shampoo that is in the hospital and leaves your hair dry.

For the first time, you don’t have to hurry and jump into a spray of cold water, rinsing as fast as you can. The warm temperature  and pressure on your muscles feels like a luxury.

“Feels good?” Wanda whispers against your ear and you nod. She places a kiss on your shoulder’s scar. You step back, trying to chase after her touch, and she laughs.

That sound is enough to make you feel ten times lighter.

As you step out of the shower, you admire the way Wanda places a towel around her, and without thinking you meet her in a slow and tender kiss.

“Missed you” you say against her lips.

“I missed you too, sweetheart”

There’s no rush as you change into comfortable clothes, and rest your head on Wanda’s lap while she reads a draft for Laura to review.

“How’s the book coming along?”

“Good, very fast thanks to your help”

“So, do I get credited on the cover or something?” you joke, looking up.

“I can pay you in other ways for your very valuable contribution”

“I’ll hold you to that” you joke, feeling sleepy as Wanda runs her hand through your hair. 

The next time you open your eyes, it’s past noon. You turn in bed, Wanda looking at you.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“No” she answers way too fast. “Maybe. I… you looked upset. Like you were having a nightmare. I just wanted to make sure you were ok, that’s all”

“I’m ok” you promise, pulling her so she’s resting against your chest. “How are Billy and Tommy?”

“Quiet. I know they’re worried and they’ve been missing you too”

“We could go out to the movies today” you suggest.

“Actually, they have a surprise for you” she looks up and you smile.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And I promised them you are wearing an ugly Christmas sweater”

“Is that so?” you turn her in your arms, tickling her sides. “I don’t have any”

“I got you one” Wanda says between giggles and you pull her closer as she tries to get away from you. “Stop, please”

“Not until you show me that ugly sweater”

“Nu-uh, you’ll find a way to get rid of it”

“Then, you shall pay the consequences” you declare, laughing as she distracts you with a kiss.

—

“Is this absolutely necessary?” you say, walking towards the school auditorium. The sweater is not exactly ugly, it only has some paper figures hanging along the arms, which makes it uncomfortable to move around.

The biggest issue is that Wanda and everyone else is wearing normal clothes, which earns you a couple of funny looks.

“Babe, let me get changed, I have some scrubs in the car” you turn around, but Wanda catches you and pulls you back.

“I promise you, I’ll make it worth it” she says in a low voice against your ear. The little kiss Wanda gives behind your ear seals the deal.

“Are you gonna wear something slutty?” you whisper against her temple and she laughs.

“You’ll have to find out, detka”

“Detka?” you repeat, your pronunciation awful. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you later. It’s part of your Christmas present” your girlfriend says, biting her lip.

She’s such a tease.

“Show’s starting, come on”

“Show?” you say, following her all the way to the front row. The lights go out but to your horror, your sweater glows in the dark. You struggle to take it off, but Wanda takes you by the wrists, laughing while you look around, embarrassed.

The first number is of really small children, who try to follow their teacher as they sing and dance, but looking adorably confused is enough to have all the parents clapping and cheering. After two or three more songs, you finally know why you’re there. Billy and Tommy are in the front of their class, singing Holly Jolly Christmas.

“Those are our boys!” you shout excitedly, looking around so everyone knows they’re your kids.

“Baby, I think they got it” Wanda smiles lovingly as you take out your phone and record, zooming in on the twins.

Once the song ends, you give them a standing ovation, and the only thing most people can see is a floating figure that glows in the dark.

The show goes on for another forty minutes, but you’re the first to go find the kids backstage. As soon as they see you, they jump into your arms.

“You were amazing! Next stop, Broadway!”

“Did you like the sweater we picked out for you?”

“Yes, it’s so original!” you say, hearing Wanda laugh behind you. “Come on, let’s get some pizza. Or burgers and milkshakes, whatever you want”

“Can we go to Burger Galaxy?" Billy says and you nod.

"Sure, let me check if it's open" you say, pulling out your phone. You frown at the missed calls from Darcy. She's still at the hospital and there's only one reason why she'd call. "Give me a second"

Walking away, you dial her number.

"He's awake"

"How is he...?"

"Just come to the hospital" she insists. Wanda is talking to the boys as you return, her face dropping when you lock eyes.

"We need to go to the hospital"

You take the keys from her shaking hands, smiling as she tries to control her breathing. The ride feels like an eternity, but it's only ten minutes. You're about to head to the ICU, when Darcy sees you.

"Over here"

"How is he...?" you catch up, aware that Wanda and the kids are right behind you.

"Awake and annoying. A bit confused as well, but all things considered, he'll be fine. Congrats, pal. You worked a Christmas miracle"

You stand by the door as Wanda walks past you, speaking in Sokovian and holding her brother's face between her hands. Tommy and Billy stand next to his bed, waiting for a chance to greet their uncle. Between all the fuss, Pietro looks at you, mouthing a thank you.

You can't help the tears from clouding your vision. After taking a breath to calm yourself, you wipe the corner of your eyes and smile at him.

"Welcome back, Frosty"

[persevereforahappyending]

i sit down to write and suddenly i am the most distracted human alive. the chair is uncomfortable. my coffee is too hot. my playlist isn't quite the vibe. i need to research what victorian houses smelled like in 1872 for exactly 45 minutes even though my story takes place in space. and yet the moment i'm trying to fall asleep? every single sentence i've ever needed just lines up perfectly in my brain like some kind of creative parade i'll never get back.

[persevereforahappyending]

➜ The Witcher IV - Cinematic Reveal Trailer

[persevereforahappyending]

The Witcher fandom, seeing the Witcher IV reveal:

[persevereforahappyending]

tara looking at yn like “uh is this the psycho my sister is in love with? ooook we listen and we don’t judge”

Psycho or protective?

Only green flags here!

[persevereforahappyending]

sam is so lucky i wish yn would kill someone in front of me 🤤

😂😂😂

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |14|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Fighting, Shooting, Guns, Stabbing, Blood, Killing, Murder, Death

Word Count: 5.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

“Remember, travel in public,” you heard Bailey say through the phone as you and Sam walked over to the group. “The more people around you, the less likely he is to try something.”

Sam flicked a glance at you, but you didn’t say anything. Traveling in public was useful at times, using the crowd to hide yourself and make your way to a target, or spy on them without them knowing. It could also be dangerous, you had a lot less control when traveling in public, never knowing what or who you might run into. Depending on the place, there was also the high probability of getting separated or losing sight of your target.

Ghostface had already attacked in public many times. You saw the news report of the lady killed by her student; you knew this psycho wasn’t that guy, but he stabbed her in an alley with people actively walking past it. Not to mention when Ghostface first went after Sam, it was when she was at the gym, sure it was late, but it was clearly not planned out, they had no idea if she’d be alone or how many people would be there. Then most importantly, when he attacked at the bodega, sure he came at you guys from of the shadows, but he had no problem running into a public space and shooting anyone who got in his way.

You weren’t sure what the better option was, the subway was cramped and upped the risk of getting separated. The crowd could also work against you, it was Halloween weekend, people were always dressed in costumes. You had plenty of assignments that involved you subtly taking someone out, just as they were simply walking down the street, only for them to stumble forward after you were long gone and collapse. A cab was no better, you didn’t have the risk of being around a crowd but there was no way all of you would fit in a cab, separating was the biggest risk you could take. Then there was walking, the shrine wasn’t close, and anything could happen between Gale’s apartment and there, if Ghostface came out of the shadows again he could force you into a public space, hurting more innocent people, or force you into an unknown location.

“What are you thinking?” Sam asked.

You crossed your arms as you silently debated with yourself. You went over every option, now you just had to determine which was the best course. “The subway,” you settled on. “Just make sure to stick together,” you looked at each of them. “Don’t let go or lose sight of each other.” When everyone nodded, they all made their way out of the building and towards the subway.

You pushed past people, everyone bumping shoulders as you forced your way down into the subway tunnel. Just as you expected, it was overly crowded, as usual, and half the people were wearing costumes or a mask of some sort. Once all of you reached the platform the doors to the subway opened and everyone began shoving each other to get in while others shoved to get out.

You heard someone screaming to wait but you couldn’t make out their voice. You kept your eyes on Sam, she was leading the group and shoving her way onto the subway. Tara was between you and Sam, but she started to fall behind when more people started to shove themselves between them. You instinctively reached out and caught Tara by the shoulders when she bumped into you. You felt her tense, probably at feeling someone touching her but as soon as she looked at you, you felt her relax in your grasp. You gave her a reassuring smile and continued forward, making sure Tara stayed in front of you and didn’t get pushed back again.

Once you were safely on the subway with Tara and Sam you looked back to see Chad in the doorway reaching back for Mindy. It was no use, people kept shoving Chad into the car and Mindy further away until the doors finally closed, separating them. You furrowed your brow when you saw Ethan a couple paces behind Mindy, but while she was still reaching and slamming her hand against the closed doors, Ethan remained still, as if he wasn’t even trying to get on the subway.

“Oh my god,” Tara whispered. You looked up, your eyes widening slightly at the sight of a handful of people dressed like Ghostface.

You understood the appeal of Halloween; you had dressed up plenty of times. What you didn’t understand was the appeal of dressing up like a serial killer. Jason, Freddy Krueger, you got it, they were iconic villains from classic horror movies. You also knew Stab was a movie, but it was based on real events, a real person dressed up like Ghostface and terrorized his classmates. Dressing up like Ghostface seemed rather tasteless, it wasn’t like most people were going around dressing up like Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy.

“Stay together,” you mumbled. Tara was already pressed into her sister’s side and you put your hand high on the pole Sam was next to, making sure, in a way, you had a protective arm around both of them, with Chad between you and Sam but behind Tara.

“Mindy said she and Ethan will get the next one,” Chad said. He didn’t bother looking up from his phone as he continued to text his sister.

“Tell her to keep her guard up.” Chad looked up at you and nodded before typing away on his phone again. You learned Mindy was naturally a suspicious person, you still didn’t want her to take chances. You didn’t trust Ethan and you didn’t like that Mindy was completely alone with him, even if they were surrounded by people, there was a risk.

The four of you rode in silence, your eyes flicking from each person in a Ghostface costume and back. All three of them could be standing in the same car with you and you wouldn’t even know it until one made a move. They could easily make a move, they would just need to get close enough, then once the car jostled, like always, someone could take a knife to the gut, and Ghostface could slip back into the crowd, with everyone none the wiser.

You were silently counting the stops as they happened, with each one, more people cleared out, but just as many got on. You clocked ever person entering and exiting the car, even if Ghostface wasn’t currently in the same car, it didn’t mean he couldn’t hop on at one of the stops. The stop before yours was when one of the Ghostface’s started moving. You effortlessly slipped around behind the others to get on the other side of Sam and turned so you were facing her but bocking her from any potential attack, your hand still gripped the pole, just above her head.

“Hey,” you whispered.

You could see Sam fighting a smile, but her eyes quickly shifted back to the figure over your shoulder. You used the reflection in the glass to track the Ghostface’s movements and turned your head just as they exited the subway.

“That was smooth,” Sam said, giving you a small smile. You just shrugged but didn’t bother moving, opting to stay right where you were, close, and face to face with Sam until your stop.

The four of you were the first ones out the door as soon as they opened. You followed closely behind the others as you made your way down the dark street towards the shrine. You still hadn’t heard from Mindy as far as you knew, you didn’t know if she was safe and, on her way, or if something had happened. Ghostface had appeared out of the shadows more than once and you weren’t putting it past him to do it again, you were sure he knew you were planning on taking him out tonight.

“Hey,” Kirby greeted once you were outside the shrine. “I just got done clearing the place.”

“Great,” Sam said. “Any word from Mindy?” she looked at Chad.

Chad shook his head and held up his phone as if that would make a text from Mindy magically appear. “I’m going to try calling,” he mumbled.

“Do you want us to wait for you?”

“No,” Chad waved her off. “I’ll meet you inside.”

Sam seemed reluctant but she nodded and followed Kirby into the shrine, with Tara right behind them. You moved to follow as well when you turned and looked back at Chad, frowning at his phone as he still tried to get ahold of Mindy. “Hey,” you called out, making him look up at you. “Be careful.” Chad glanced around, seeming to realize he would be standing on the side of the street at night, right outside of the Ghostface shrine, alone. “Want me to wait?”

Your offer seemed to shake Chad out of his daze as he quickly shook his head. “Nah, they need you more,” he nodded towards where Sam and Tara disappeared to.

You nodded quickly jogged to catch up with the girls. You didn’t feel right about leaving Chad outside alone, he was a perfect target for Ghostface. Ghostface could quickly take out Chad before making his way into the shrine and none of you would ever know.

“This is the only way in or out,” Kirby said, as you walked up behind them, slipping through the door before she closed it. “He comes in, the doors lock, and he’s trapped.” You hummed, it wasn’t a bad plan. “Our own little kill box.”

“Weapons?” Sam asked.

“One gun.” You and Kirby shared a knowing look, silently agreeing to still keep your gun quite. “And I have it.” Sam didn’t seem happy about only one of you having a weapon, but Kirby was quick to remind her she was the only one with a badge. You didn’t point out that a badge didn’t matter if you weren’t actually arresting Ghostface, if anything holding a badge just made things more difficult.

The four of you walked around, glancing at the display cases again. Your eyes scanned over the area, before you had been looking for threats and taking everything in, now you were scoping out spots to hide and what could be used to take someone out. If you had your gear, you could knock out all the lights, propel down and take out each Ghostface before they even knew what hit them. You could take out the lights still, but it would be less fun since you couldn’t propel down from the ceiling, and there was no window to break through.

“I’m going to check the perimeter,” Kirby said. You nodded and watched as she left the main room and through one of the side doors. The place wasn’t overly big, but there were still too many places you could be snuck up on.

Sam pulled out her phone and brought it to her ear. You watched her with a furrowed brow. “What?” she shouted into the phone, clearly shocked by whatever the other person said. You looked back at the cage; Chad still hadn’t entered the building yet. When you looked back at Sam she was making her way across the stage, until she was standing in front of Billy Loomis’s display case. You didn’t question her as she opened the display case and took out the still bloody knife that was inside.

You approached Sam slowly, glancing down as she tucked the knife in her jeans, but you still opted not to say anything. “Everything okay?” you asked. Almost as soon as the words left your mouth the lights flickered, several of them going out as if someone flipped the switches for them.

Sam turned to you, her eyes searching your face for you weren’t sure what. You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong when a scream interrupted you. Sam whipped around and your head snapped up towards the door to the side of the room. Neither of you hesitate to run through the door, not even caring what would be on the other side.

You burst through the door and saw Tara on the ground, her shoulder bleeding, and Ghostface standing over her. You didn’t even hesitate to grab Ghostface by his cloak and slam him into the side of the counter that was next to him. Sam took the opportunity to pull her sister to safety while you faced Ghostface.

Ghostface pushed off the counter and swung his knife at you. You effortlessly dodged it, trying to keep him distracted from Sam and Tara. You barely ducked in time as the door to your right burst open and a knife was swung at your head. You whipped around to see there was now two Ghostface.

“Go!” you shouted. You slowly backed away until you heard the door open, telling you Sam and Tara had listened. You made your way towards the door and pushed an old popcorn machine over to buy you some time as you ran down the hall after Sam and Tara.

You quickly caught up with the sisters and the three of you burst through the door that led back out into the main room. “How the hell did they get in?” you asked as the three of you stood in a circle.

“Because it’s Kirby,” Sam said. You stopped in your tracks and looked at Sam cautiously, never once did it seem like she suspected Kirby. “Bailey said she was fired from the FBI,” she gave you a curious look.

“Forgive me for not taking Bailey’s word for it,” you said.

Before anything else could be said Kirby stumbled into the room, a trail of blood dripping down the side of her head. “We know it’s you Kirby,” Sam whipped around, holding up the knife she stole from the display.

“Wha-No,” Kirby said confused, shaking her head. “Someone knocked me out.”

“Get away from them Kirby!” Bailey called out, coming down the center aisle. You narrowed your eyes at Bailey, unsure of when he arrived and how he got in without anyone hearing him. “We know it’s you!”

“He’s lying!”

“You two aren’t going to get away with this!” You furrowed your brow at the word two but then your eyes widened when you realized he was looking at you. You scoffed and shook your head, now you knew he was killer.

Sam gave you a confused look and took the slightest step away from you. “He’s lying,” you said calmly. “He’s clearly behind this.”

Bailey let out a humorless chuckle. “My own daughter died because of you!” You glared at Bailey, it was obvious he was behind all of this, but you didn’t think he’d actually kill his own daughter, something was off. “It’s been you two since the beginning,” he gestured between you and Kirby with his gun.”

“No,” Sam said, shaking her head. “It can’t be.” Her eyebrows were scrunched together as she tried to make sense of everything.

“Who was the one with the file on Y/N?” You glared at Bailey, that was a thin argument at best, Kirby was FBI, she would be able to get your file. “Who’s been sneaking off and conspiring in corners?” You rolled your eyes, you and Kirby never snuck off, you just whispered quietly away from the others. It seemed to be enough to make Sam look at you differently though.

“Come on,” you said calmly. “Sam, you know me,” you held up your hands to show you weren’t a threat.

“But I don’t,” she said more to herself than you.

“Sam.” She looked up at you, but you could see her trust wavering, you could practically see her questioning whether last year was happening all over again. “Remember what I told you.” You gave her a knowing look and mouthed the word ‘Three’ even if you and Kirby were behind everything, there was still a third person out there. Sam saw you in the gym when two other Ghostface attacked her, she knew this.

“I-”

“Look out!” Kirby shouted, interrupting all of you.

You all turned to see a Ghostface running up behind Bailey, with his knife raised. Bailey raised his hand and shot at Kirby before any of you had time to react. The Ghostface slowed to a stop right beside Bailey and the second one appeared on Bailey’s other side. “Good work you two,” Bailey said with a smile.

“You?” Sam said, slightly confused and disbelieving.

“Me,” Bailey shrugged, clearly proud of himself. “The only one to figure it out,” he waved a finger at you. “What gave it away?”

“I clocked all three of you the second I met you,” you said. “Isn’t that right, Ethan?” you raised an eyebrow.

The Ghostface on Bailey’s left took off his mask, revealing Ethan was in fact underneath. “Still don’t know how you figured me out,” he said confused.

“But then who…” Sam started, turning her attention to the Ghostface that was still masked. “Mindy?” her voice cracked as if she truly couldn’t believe her friend might behind all this.

“No,” you said with a shake of your head. Mindy got separated with Ethan, so it made sense for Sam’s mind to go to her first. “Right, Quinn?” You felt Sam and Tara both snap their heads towards you, but you kept your eyes on the Ghostface as they slowly took off the mask, revealing Quinn.

“Surprise,” Quinn said, holding up the mask. “You’re good,” she chuckled.

“You were all painfully obvious.”

“But you died!” Tara said. “We saw you die!”

“But I didn’t,” Quinn snarked. “It’s quite easy to fake your death when your dad’s a cop. Got me off the suspect list,” she shrugged. “And gave me the perfect opportunity to attack Gale, then Mindy on the subway.” You heard one of the sisters suck in a breath, you just had to hope Mindy would survive, though you now knew why she wasn’t answering Chad.

“But why?” Sam asked. “Why do any of this?”

“So, everyone would see you for the killer you truly are,” Bailey said.

“But I’m not,” Sam shook her head. “Those posts are lies! I didn’t kill anyone.”

“No!” Quinn cut in, her voice rising with emotion. “You killed our brother!”

“Your brother?” Tara asked confused.

“You’re Richie’s family,” Sam said, seeming to put it together before you or Tara. Your eyes widened, you didn’t know anything about Richie, but it was clear his entire family was psychotic.

“Yeah,” Bailey sighed, his eyes filled with the sadness at the mention of his dead son. “Now it’s time to die,” his voice became devoid of any emotion.

Bailey pointed his gun at Sam, but you moved quicker, whipping out the gun you had concealed. You didn’t point it at Bailey though, you pointed the gun higher and fired at the light above them. All three of them flinched at the sound of the gun but then were forced to cover their heads as the light shattered above them and glass rained down. You grabbed Sam and Tara and pulled them to safety before Bailey could start firing again.

“Go,” you said, nodding to one of the doors to the right of you. Sam looked at you then looked down at your gun, if you survived this you were sure you’d be hearing about this. You reached down and rested a hand on top of Sam’s, forcing her to look at you. “Go.”

Sam seemed reluctant to leave your side but eventually she relented. You watched as her and Tara got into position to run across the room. You gave Sam a nod and as soon as they took off you stood up and provided cover fire, forcing Bailey to duck out of the way and not shoot at them. Ethan swiped his knife at you, forcing you to dodge him and not shoot at Quinn as she made for the door on the other side. You figured Sam and Tara could hold off Quinn long enough for you to deal with Bailey and Ethan though.

Ethan raised his knife and lunged at you again. You effortlessly caught his hand holding the knife with your own, holding it high in the air. You used your other hand that held the gun and fired, shooting Ethan in the knee. Ethan howled out in pain but as he fell forward, you twisted the arm that was in your grasp, keeping him standing up right.

You drove his own knife into his back and as soon as he released his grip your hand took his place, giving the knife a sickening twist before ripping it upwards. Ethan screamed out in pain again.

“No!” Bailey yelled. You turned around, making Ethan turn with you to use him as a shield.  “You sick bastard.” Bailey pointed his gun at you but didn’t fire, he couldn’t unless he was willing to kill his own son.

You couldn’t help but give a small smile, that probably looked rather sadistic to anyone else. You ripped out the knife and wrapped your arms around Ethan’s neck, effectively putting him in a headlock. You stared Bailey straight in the eye as you twisted your hands, the sound of Ethan’s neck snapping instantly filling the room. Bailey’s eyes didn’t even have time to widen in horror before you pushed Ethan’s body towards him, using it as cover as you dove behind the seats.

Bailey’s screams of horror filled the room, as he began shooting blindly into the seats. You stayed low, army crawling and rolling under the rows of seats as you made your escape. “Where are you?” Bailey screamed. You peaked your head over one of the chairs to see Bailey spinning around in circles, his gun raised as he searched for you. “Come out and face me!”

You watched Bailey, making sure to duck when he started to turn in your direction. When he wasn’t facing you, you took your chance and did a somersault across the floor, so you were now behind one of the displays. When you peaked around the display you got the perfect view of the balcony where you saw Sam and Tara facing off against Quinn.

Sam had one arm around Tara, trying to keep her as far away from Quinn as possible while her other arm was stretched out, the knife she took from the case raised. You could see Quinn smile and hop around as if she were having the time of her life. They were evenly matched, but Sam had Tara to worry about, putting her at an extreme disadvantage. Quinn knew that and was just toying with them, she just needed to keep them occupied long enough for Bailey to join her, then they’d easily take out the sisters.

You looked over as Bailey slowly made his way down the aisle, whipping his gun side to side as he continued to search for you. You slowly continued up the aisle, making sure to keep your eye on Bailey with each move you made. You made your way behind the back of the seats and did a somersault when you had to pass the main aisle. When you got to the end of the seating, you looked up, seeing Tara and Sam back against the wall. Sam stabbed the knife at Quinn, it was the only thing she could do to keep Quinn at bay.

You raised your gun over the seats and fired a few rounds next to Bailey, breaking several of the display cases in the process. Bailey covered his head as he ran for cover, he raised his gun and tried to blindly shoot once again. You took the opportunity to run to the staircase that led up to the level Sam and Tara were on.

When you got up to the top level you slipped through the door as quietly as possible. You stayed low as you made your way towards Sam and Tara, weaving in between the rows of seats as you did so. It didn’t seem either of the sisters had seen you yet, which you were fine with, you didn’t want them to react anyway. You were crouched down as you stepped down on the main pathway and slowly stood up. You tucked the gun away in the holster once again when you were directly behind Quinn.

You caught Sam’s eyes widen as she finally saw you, but you didn’t pay her much attention. Just like you did with Ethan you put Quinn in a headlock but instead of snapping her neck you drove the knife into it, then dragged it across her throat. You held the knife down at your side, not even paying attention to the small pool of blood it began forming on the ground.

You stepped back as Quinn turned around, a hand to her neck as blood gushed between her fingers. She opened her mouth but only spit up more blood. She reached out towards you as she stepped forward, but you stepped to the side. You stared emotionlessly as she stumbled forward, eventually going to far to the side and tumbling over the balcony.

Bailey let out another cry as soon as his daughter’s body crashed into the displays below.  He seemed to forget about the three of you up top as he ran to Quinn’s side. You looked over the balcony, seeing Quinn’s lifeless eyes staring up at you. You let out a hum, even if she wasn’t dead yet she soon would be, you cut her neck deep enough that she would certainly bleed out in seconds.

“Let’s go,” you said and nodded towards the door.

Tara gave you a look but did as you asked. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you so you turned to her and just saw her staring at you, though you couldn’t place the emotion on her face. She just watched you slit a girl’s throat and watch her walk off a balcony, all as if it were a completely normal task for you. Even though Quinn was trying to kill her you probably most certainly scared Sam away, especially if she caught what you did to Ethan.

You led the way down the staircase back to the first floor. You peaked around the corner to see Bailey still sobbing over Quinn. “What about him?” Tara asked.

“We take him out,” Sam said before you could answer.

“Got a plan?” you asked.

Sam nodded. “First, we need to hit the lights.”

The three of you moved, sneaking around Bailey and making your way through another door. Once you were free of Bailey’s gaze the three of you began searching until you finally found the electrical room. “Stay here,” Sam ordered her sister. “I’ll send a text when it’s time to hit the lights.” Tara seemed reluctant but nodded anyway. “Ready?” she asked, looking at you, which you gave her a firm nod to.

You left the electrical room, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible behind you. You and Sam gave each other an understanding nod before splitting up. Sam went around the side so she could get up on the stage without Bailey seeing her and you peaked out the little window of the door, making sure Bailey wasn’t looking as you slipped back out into the main room. You pressed yourself against the side of the stage as you waited for the signal to make your move.

“Come on!” Bailey yelled, shooting to his feet and spinning around in a circle with his gun raised. “Show me what kind of killer you really are!”

A moment later the lights shut off, throwing all of you into darkness. You smiled as you started moving, using the edge of the stage to guide you. Right on cue the giant screen clicked on, playing more of those home movie’s Bailey originally had going.

“What’s the plan Sam?” Bailey yelled as he predictably began making his way towards the stage.

You kept yourself low, blending into the shadows of the stage as Bailey got closer. Your hiding was made easier by Bailey not expecting you, he was too focused on the screen, waiting for someone to pop out somewhere up on stage. As soon as his foot got to the second one from the top you sliced your knife across his right heel.

Bailey let out a pained hiss as he tried to hold in his scream. He immediately stumbled forward, needing to lean all his weight on his left leg so he remained upright. You looked over the side of the stage to see Bailey, as predicted, hadn’t made it far, so you sliced your knife across his left heel, sending him crumbling to the floor.

You hopped up on the stage in one effortless move. Bailey raised his gun, trying to shoot behind himself but you grabbed his hand and arm, and brought your knee up, snapping the bone at his elbow. Bailey sobbed as he brought his arm to his chest, his gun falling to the floor as he was no longer able to hold it. You walked around to the front of him, kicking his gun across the stage so he didn’t get any ideas.

You crouched down so you were eye level with Bailey and tilted your head at his broken state. “I was right about you,” Bailey said through gritted teeth, tears streaming down his face from the pain he was in. “You’re just a trained killer.” You tilted your head to the other side then stood up without a word, backing away as you made way for Sam.

Sam came out from behind the screen, which was still playing the home movies. She was dressed in her father’s Ghostface costume as she walked towards Bailey. She crouched down, twisting the knife in her hands as she stared at Bailey through the mask.

“You can’t do this to me,” Bailey seethed. Sam stood up and took a small step back. “You can’t do this to me!” Sam ripped the mask off, letting it fall to her side. “You can’t do this,” Bailey shook his head. “I’m a decorated officer, you can’t-” he was cut off by Sam shoving a knife through his eye.

You gave a nod of approval as Bailey fell backwards, his body unmoving. Sam looked back at you, and it was like you could visibly see the relief of this all being over in her eyes. She looked past you and you turned, following her line of sight as Tara joined the two of you on stage.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, looking at her sister.

“No,” Tara admitted. “I’m going to get so much therapy after this.” Which made Sam chuckle.

You smiled but quickly winces when you moved to stand next to the sisters, all the adrenal quickly wearing off. “I’m going to an ambulance,” you said. “I’m pretty sure I tore all my stitches.” Both sisters laughed and you couldn’t help but join in as the three of you made your way off the stage.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler @marsyay78

[persevereforahappyending]

Chapter 3

Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.

previous part <--> next part

You check your mailbox again, sighing at the lack of mail. Nothing but advertising which is beginning to upset you. All this wasted paper–oh look, a new Chinese buffet is opening this weekend.

Your stomach growls of the thought of the restaurant, but you stuff it back into the mailbox with a groan. You don't plan on leaving your place for the rest of your life. You shut the mailbox shut and enter back into your place, the dark room a stark contrast to the bustling world outside. You flick the light on, illuminating the cluttered but cozy space. Your shoes squeak on the hardwood floor as you step inside, kicking them off in a corner. The familiar scent of takeout containers from last night still lingers, but you ignore it, sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh.

The silence feels oppressive, a constant reminder of the choices you've made to keep to yourself, avoid getting caught up in things outside your control. But lately, that isolation has been harder to bear. As you stare at the blank TV screen, your mind drifts back to the mailbox. Even a stupid coupon for a Chinese buffet feels like a reminder that the world keeps moving, even if you don't.

It's times like this when you wish you had given in when you saw those puppies for sale at the nearest grocery store. You'd have a dog that would force you to go out during times like these. You just want to crawl into your bed and sleep your life away.

You pause.

"That's death," you mumble, throwing your head back with a loud groan.

The realization hits you harder than expected. You've been avoiding the world for so long, sinking deeper into isolation, that it feels like you've hit a wall. The emptiness isn't just in your apartment—it's creeping into your life, seeping into the corners you thought you could ignore.

It's been three days since that swim for that shipment and you have managed to avoid having to go out. No sale has been made for those weapons and you, shamefully, lied to your sister about being sick so you didn't have to pick up your nephew at school. Mabel even texted you, apparently Rudy gave her your number. You were too busy freaking out about her having your number to be pissed he gave your number out. In the end, you told her the same lie you told your sister.

You sit up, staring at the clutter around you. Takeout containers, unwashed dishes, laundry half-done. It feels like a reflection of how you've been living—putting things off, hiding from the inevitable, from the people and choices you know you need to face.

With a frustrated sigh, you push yourself up from the couch. "Alright," you mutter to yourself. "I'm not doing this anymore."

You walk over to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag and starting to clean up the remnants of your quiet retreat. As you toss old containers and forgotten leftovers, you feel a small sense of relief. It's not much, but it's a step.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, pulling your attention away. You unlock it to see a message from Mabel.

Hey, your uncle sent me to bring you some soup.

You freeze, the bag in your hand dropping, spilling all the contents in it on the floor. "Oh fuck."

Your heart races as you stare at the message, trying to process what's happening. Your uncle sent Mabel? You weren't prepared for this. The lie you spun to avoid facing everyone has come back to bite you—and now Mabel is about to show up at your door with soup, of all things.

You quickly glance around your apartment. It's a mess—takeout boxes everywhere, laundry half-finished, dishes piled up. There's no way you can let her see this, let alone face her with the lie hanging between you.

"Shit, shit, shit," you mumble, scrambling to pick up the trash you just spilled on the floor. Your mind races with excuses—maybe you can pretend you're asleep, maybe you can text her back and tell her not to come—but it's too late.

A knock on your door echoes through the apartment, sending your anxiety into overdrive.

It can't be Mabel. That was too quick.

"Who is it?" You call out, waiting for a response.

There's silence before, "Mabel?" she sounds confused. "Did you not get my message?"

You grit your teeth. You should have pretended you weren't home. Now its too late for that.

"Uhh," you clear your throat. "Just leave it at the door. I don't want to get you...sick," you grimace, your words coming out too slow and hesitant.

"Open the door."

She figured you out. The pound she hits on your door just serves as proof.

Your heart races as you stare at the door, the weight of the lie pressing harder with each second of silence. Mabel knows. There's no hiding it now.

You can almost hear the impatience in her voice. "Come on, I'm not leaving until I see you."

You let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through your hair. There's no escaping this. You pick up the trash you dropped early then move to open the door.

Mabel stands there, arms crossed, her brow furrowed in concern. "Seriously? Sick?" she says, her voice softer than you expected. She steps closer, peering into your eyes like she's searching for the real reason behind your avoidance.

You shift uncomfortably, looking away. "It's... complicated," you mutter, trying to dodge her gaze. "And you lied too. Where's my soup?" you shoot back.

Her eyebrow raises. "Seriously?" She huffs and you step aside, allowing her entrance. She walks in and her eyes examines your place. "I knew you were faking. I asked your uncle where you lived since he told me you were most likely hiding like the natural hermit you are–his words, not mine," she adds quickly, raising her hands up in defense.

You huff, shutting your door then leading her to your kitchen. You pick up as much as you can in your kitchen as you do, glancing over your shoulder at Mabel. "Well, he's not wrong," you mumble, tossing a takeout box into the trash. "But it's not like I wanted to be this way."

Mabel leans against the counter, watching you clean up with a knowing look. "So, why are you?" she asks, her voice steady but gentle, like she's trying to pry without pushing too hard.

You pause, hands gripping the edge of the sink, the weight of everything threatening to spill out. The weapons. The lies. The guilt gnawing at you. But you swallow it down, just like you've been doing since that swim. "I'm just... dealing with a lot," you admit. "And when things get too overwhelming, I shut down. Or go for a swim but..." you trail off, frowning because your past time has been ruined.

A silence fills the space between you two and when you look at her, really look at her, you remember Charlie's words. I'm not risking her getting hurt again. Again.

You don't want Mabel getting hurt at all.

"Makes sense why I haven't seen you at your usual spot," Mabel breaks you away from your thoughts. You lean against your kitchen counter, crossing your arms as you avoid her eyes. "You said you would teach me how to swim, remember?"

Right. That's backfired on you.

You feel a pang of regret at her words, the memory surfacing like a distant wave. "Yeah, I remember," you reply, your voice low. "I just... I haven't felt up to it lately."

"That's fine," Mabel shrugs, taking a seat at your kitchen table. You rub your temples, missing the way she looks at you.

The way she's waiting for you to confess. She went out to look for answers on how you managed to stay under the town's radar, avoiding the rumor mill this town always has spinning. She found little because she knew if she wanted to find out more, she had to go to some people she swore she would never interact with again.

You can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers fidget with the edge of the table. It's like she's waiting for a confession to slip from your lips, but all you can muster is silence. The truth hangs between you, heavy and unyielding, but you can't bring yourself to share it—not yet.

"Look, I get it," she says finally, her voice softer but firm. "You don't want to talk about it, and that's okay. But I want you to know that I'm here for you. You don't have to handle this alone."

You have a feeling her offering help to people she barely knows got her into whatever mess Charlie was mentioning before. That thought lingers in your mind, making you hesitate. Mabel's willingness to help people, to care for them no matter what, could be what got her tangled up in a dangerous situation before. And now, here she is, offering the same to you.

You search her eyes, the guilt already creeping in as you think about how to push her away. If she won't leave on her own, maybe you can hurt her enough to make her back off. It's cruel, but if it keeps her safe, then it's worth it.

"What are you doing?" You ask, your tone switching to a much firmer one. She's stunned, the sudden raise of volume catching her by surprise. "You talk about knowing what real mess is, so what are you doing? Offering help to strangers–is that the same way you met Charlie?"

Mabel's eyes widen at your sudden change in tone, and she flinches slightly, but quickly recovers, her gaze hardening as she processes your words. "What does Charlie have to do with this?" she asks, her voice steady but edged with tension.

"You said it yourself," you continue, pushing forward despite the guilt creeping up your spine. "You're always getting mixed up in other people's messes, trying to fix things that aren't your problem. It got you into trouble before, didn't it? So what's stopping it from happening again? What's stopping me from being the next one to drag you down?"

Mabel's jaw tightens, her arms folding defensively across her chest. "That's not fair," she says quietly. "You don't get to make assumptions about my life, about the things I've been through. And you definitely don't get to use Charlie to push me away. You don't even know the half of it."

You feel the sting of her words, but you press on, hoping she'll see the danger before it's too late. You scoff, rolling your eyes. "The half of it, please," you shake your head, "fine, maybe I don't, but I know enough. You get involved, you get hurt. Why can't you just walk away from this?"

Mabel stares at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before she speaks again, her voice trembling just slightly. "Because I care about you. And I'm not going to walk away just because things are messy. You might think you're protecting me, but shutting me out isn't going to help us either."

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, you're torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer.

That word lingers in your mind—us. It feels foreign, like it doesn't belong in the mess you've created. But hearing it from Mabel... there's a part of you that aches for it to be true.

You want to believe there could be an "us," but you know better than anyone that dragging her into your chaos would destroy whatever hope there is for that. You can't risk it, not when she's already been through enough.

If she's been hurt once, you don't want her to get hurt again. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself.

But she's stubborn, you don't need to be a genius to figure that out. Not when you turn your back to her, to avoid her eyes because you felt yourself wanting to give in.

Mabel steps closer, her voice firm but filled with that same stubborn determination that both frustrates and captivates you. "I'm not trying to save you. I just want to be there. If you push me away now, you're making that choice, not me."

"Maybe it's the right choice," you whisper, gripping the sink, knuckles turning white.

Mabel lets out a quiet chuckle. "Then it's time I make the wrong one," you glance at her, eyebrow raising, and she shrugs. "I've chosen what I think are the right choices–what I believe was the right thing to do. Maybe it's time I do the wrong thing." She finishes, her voice soft but unwavering.

You're out of fight, at least when it comes to her. You want to be selfish for once. Pick yourself–by choosing her. Fuck the consequences. You'll worry about it later.

So in one swift move, you turn and grip her waist, bringing your lips to her, connecting them. Mabel freezes for a moment, caught off guard by the suddenness of your kiss, but then she melts into it, her hands finding their way to your shoulders. The tension that had been building between you two seems to shatter in that instant, replaced by something raw and undeniable.

You don't know what's going to happen next—if this is a mistake, or if it's the right kind of wrong. All you know is that in this moment, being with her feels like the only thing that makes sense.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, her eyes wide as they search yours. Neither of you speak, but the silence says everything. You've made your choice, and so has she.

Mabel smiles softly, her forehead resting against yours. "Guess we're both making bad decisions now," she whispers, and despite everything, you find yourself smiling back.

"You're going to regret it," you tell her, some teasing in your voice but she can hear how serious you are.

She shrugs, her fingers brushing your hair gently. You practically melt, haven't experienced something like this in a long time.

"I'll take my chances," she murmurs, pulling on the back of your neck to bring your foreheads together. You shut your eyes at the connection, feeling her fingers continue to play with your hair. "Quit with the mystery. I'm not going anywhere. You can't scare me away."

You open your eyes to meet her eyes, and just the thought of her getting hurt because you infuriates you. You make a promise with yourself to make sure she stays safe, no matter what. Even if it means keeping her closer than you'd originally planned. She's not going anywhere, like she said, and you find yourself grateful for that.

You nod wordlessly, lifting your hand to her cheek. You run your thumb over her cheek, inscribing every detail of her face in your memory. Not like it's difficult. This photographic memory thing really comes in handy.

I won't let anything happen to you, is what you want to say but instead you connect your lips with her again, but in a slow, deliberate kiss. It's not just about the desire anymore—it's about the promise you're making, even if it's one you'll never speak aloud. She deserves to know, deserves to feel that you're not just pulling her closer to push her away later.

When you finally pull back, you linger there, foreheads still touching, both of you breathing the same air. Mabel opens her eyes, her lips curving into a small smile, like she understands what you're trying to tell her without words.

"You don't have to say it," she whispers, reading you better than you thought possible. "I already know."

That's the thing about Mabel—she always knows. And maybe, just maybe, that's why you can't seem to push her away, no matter how hard you try.

"Wanna go for a swim?" Mabel asks, dimple on her cheek appearing. You chuckle, but nod, brushing your thumb over her dimple. She bites her lip then takes your hand, dragging you into your room to get your stuff ready.

\\\\\

"Think you can go in a few more steps?" you ask, a hint of teasing in your voice as you stand a few feet away, watching her carefully. She eyes you, a mix of determination and hesitance crossing her face, and you can't help but chuckle.

It's not just the apprehension that you find amusing; it's the sight of her in your old high school gym shorts and that tattered soccer jersey hanging loosely on her frame. It makes her look small, almost adorable, but definitely small.

"Come on, this was your idea," you say, splashing her lightly. She jumps back slightly, her glare shooting daggers at you. "At least let the water hit your waist," you encourage, standing tall as the waves lap at your chest.

Mabel hesitates, her determination flickering, but you can see her resolve slowly building again. You bend your knee, letting the water hide half your face, and you wait patiently for her to take the leap. Another wave crashes against you, and you duck under, mentally laughing as you hear her call out for you.

"Mabel! Come on, you can do it!" you shout, surfacing to see her still standing at the edge, glancing back and forth between you and the water.

"You scared the shit out of me," she exclaims, once again, glaring. You wipe your face, laughing gently. "The waves are bigger than last time. Are you sure it's safe?"

You forget the teasing and joking, noticing the genuine worry behind her words. You walk over to her and take her hand, pulling her into you carefully. Her arms go around your waist, like a habit, naturally, and you feel a sense of warmth radiate between you.

"It's safe," you say softly, meeting her gaze. "I won't let anything happen to you."

You finally say the words out loud to her. A smile is on her lips, probably figuring out you mean it more than just right now in this moment. She pecks your lips and you wish she had kissed you longer. But she turns and looks at the water with determination, and you don't want to break her concentration.

"Okay, I can do this," she mumbles, mostly to herself but you hear her loud and clear. She tugs on your hand and you take it as your cue to walk further into the water, hoping she follows.

You wade deeper, the cool water rising to your chest, glancing back to see Mabel right behind you, her expression a mix of excitement and resolve. The gentle waves lap against you, and you feel the rhythm of the ocean pulse around you.

Soon, she's in front of you, shivering slightly but still grinning ear to ear. You take her in your arms and kick your feet to have you both floating. She stills, but only for a moment, relaxing as the waves appear to settle around you.

Her arms wrap around your neck, practically clinging onto you like a lifeline. For a few minutes, she just rests her chin on your shoulder, the sound of the ocean filling the silence between you two.

You admire the sun in the distance, still hanging high, giving you a positive outlook for the rest of the day. How your day started is completely different from how it's going. You didn't expect for it to go like this at all.

"Who taught you how to swim?" Mabel ends the silence, but her voice is above a whisper. In the distance, you can see some fishing boats and some teenagers who most likely skipped school since the school year is almost over.

You turn your head slightly to catch a glimpse of the fishing boats bobbing on the waves, their silhouettes framed by the sun's golden glow. You smile, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like the gentle waves.

"My dad," you reply, your voice barely above the sound of the water. You watch the boat disappear, sort of like you did whenever your father went away on a job. "He took me out here every summer. Said it was important to know how to swim, especially around the ocean."

Mabel nods, her fingers playing with the ends of your hair. "I wish I had someone like that. I just...never really learned. Was always too scared, I guess."

You smile sadly, tucking your face into her neck. You hide your face for a moment before you decide to share a little more.

"I was terrified," you admit it, chuckling at the memory of your first swimming lesson. "My dad bought those above ground pools, and as soon as it was full of water; he tossed me in there–no warning."

Mabel pulls back slightly, an amused smile on her lips. "Seriously?"

You shrug. "Forced me to learn," you say, as if it's no big deal. And it wasn't. Because it was a great first lesson. "I knew how to doggy paddle which saved me from drowning but then he further advanced my skills. Once I learned, they had to drag me out of the pool."

Mabel laughs, the sound bright and infectious, echoing against the backdrop of the gentle waves.

You chuckle, the memory warm and nostalgic. "Yeah, my mom hated it, because I wouldn't come out until my hands and feet were pruny. I went from being terrified of the water to begging to swim every chance I got. By the end of the summer, I was diving off the side of the pool and having battles with my water type Pokémons." You nod proudly, unashamed.

"Water type...Pokémons?" Mabel raises an eyebrow, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"Well, yeah, I'm not going to use my fire type Pokémons in the pool," you say, like it's obvious.

You don't see the amusement until you hear her laugh again. You raise a brow, unsure what's so funny.

"Oh, my god," she covers her mouth, laughing in between apologies. "You're secretly a dork." She says and your jaw drops.

You splash her gently and she splashes you right back, giggling.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you shrug, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

"Well, Sergeant Dork," you tilt your head, deadpan at the joke. She cracks up even more before continuing. "I hope you know our fingers are pruny, so..."

You look at your fingers and hum. "Not pruny enough," you say, pulling her into you. She laughs but doesn't argue, returning her chin back to rest on your shoulder.

Time appears to slow down, and you find yourself lost in the warmth of her presence, the gentle sway of the water cradling you both. The sun shines down, casting golden rays that dance on the surface, illuminating the moment.

Mabel's laughter fades into a comfortable silence, and you breathe in the salty air, the sound of the ocean providing a soothing backdrop. It feels as though nothing else matters—no worries, no past mistakes, just the two of you suspended in this perfect moment.

That's why you love the ocean. It made you forget about what was happening on land. So what you did a few nights ago? It was like your two worlds colliding. The only way they collided before was when the waves crashed into the sand, so it hurt that it was you crashing into the ocean.

"Hey," she whispers, breaking the stillness. "What if we just stayed out here forever?"

You wish. No, literally. You wished for that as a kid.

"I think we're better off leaving the city than staying in the ocean," you say with a huff, your words coming out tiredly. That was another one of your wishes—to leave the city without having any guilt.

Mabel pulls back slightly, studying your face. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, the salty air filling your lungs as you weigh your words. "When I was little, I used to imagine running away to live on a beach somewhere. No responsibilities, just the sound of the waves and the warmth of the sun. I thought if I could just escape my reality, everything would be different. But then I grew up, and... well, life happened."

You laugh gently, recalling a specific moment in your childhood. "I actually packed a bag and took some pillows and blankets from the closet to build myself a fort out here," you say, turning your head to look for the spot where you planned to make the fort.

"What happened?" Mabel asks, watching you search the shore.

"My parents caught me," you mutter, frowning as Mabel laughs at your expression. "I mean, I couldn't exactly sneak off. I had a giant suitcase with the blankets and pillows; it was just easier to carry. Plus, I think my sister snitched on me. That's what I get for inviting her," you huff at yourself.

Mabel laughs again, her fingers returning to play with the ends of your hair. Her mouth opens to say something, most likely to tease you, but then you hear a pop in the distance. To anyone, it could just be some random noise. But with your knowledge of what was picked up a few nights ago and your training, you're on edge.

"You okay?" Mabel asks, feeling how stiff you are. You look to where the sound came from, your jaw tightening; you hope Nick's friends aren't dumb enough to sell in broad daylight.

You hum, Mabel's question processing in your mind. "Oh, yeah," you answer, but the unease lingers. You were trained to trust yourself and your instincts, and right now, they're screaming.

In the Army, you had your team with you, who looked out for you while you looked out for them. But here, you just have Mabel to protect, and she doesn't have your training.

"Let's head back," you say, placing your hands under her thighs to pick her up. She gasps in surprise but quickly wraps her arms around your neck, her laughter fading into concern as you carry her back toward the shore.

As you wade through the water, you can feel the tension coiling in your chest. You scan the beach, looking for any signs of trouble, your senses heightened. Mabel notices your demeanor and leans closer, her voice low. "What's wrong?"

"Just... a noise I heard," you reply, keeping your tone casual but focused. "Let's not stick around to find out what it was." You push through the waves, feeling the cool water lapping at your legs, but your mind is elsewhere, concentrating on getting both of you back to safety.

As you reach the sandy shore, you set her down gently, scanning the beach once more. Everything seems normal, but that unsettling feeling still lingers. "Stay close to me," you say, taking her hand and leading her further away from the water's edge.

Mabel squeezes your hand, her eyes darting around as if sensing your unease. "Was it that popping sound?" You glance at her, closing in to where you left your towels. "I know you were at war and all that, but...this is still America. People shoot their guns randomly when they're bored."

"Near the beach?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light despite the tension in the air. You don't want to scare her, but the instinct to protect kicks in fiercely.

She shrugs. "People are idiots," she says as she reaches for your towel, then hers. She hands you yours, then uses her own to dry herself. However, she looks at you, not even acknowledging the towel in your hand, scanning your surroundings. "Hey—"

You flinch, her touch surprising you. A mix of regret and guilt crosses your face when you see her stunned expression.

"Sorry," you stutter out, exhaling a breath. "I didn't mean to... You just caught me off guard."

Mabel's brow furrows, her expression softening as she studies you. "It's okay," she says gently, placing a hand on your arm. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

You take a moment to breathe, the warmth of her hand grounding you. "I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile. "Just... instinct, I guess. I'll let my guard down in a second."

Mabel nods, then reaches for your bag and hers. "Let's grab a bite to eat," she points down the street, and you already know where she wants to go. "Your uncle's place is actually pretty good. Come on," she squeezes your hand.

She gives your hand an extra squeeze, and it's like someone lowered the volume of your surroundings. You still feel the need to protect her, but it isn't as over-heightened as before. You're on the lookout while you walk to your uncle's diner, keeping her at arm's length as you scan everything and everyone around you.

Despite your vigilance, you manage to listen to her as she talks. You can tell she's trying to settle your nerves, sharing little anecdotes about her day and making jokes about random things she's seen around town. It isn't until she mentions her classes for the fall do you decide to join in.

"And it's my third semester, still no major declared," Mabel sounds resigned, almost disappointed in herself. "I'm on my last two prerequisites, and I've taken random intro classes like psychology, business administration, and music appreciation, but I just don't—"

"Hold on," you plant your feet, stopping both of you from moving. Mabel looks at you, probably surprised you were paying attention. "You do understand it's totally okay not to have it figured out yet, right? I mean, that's what college is all about."

Mabel nods, but there's still a frown on her lips. "Yeah, but," she sighs, "all the people I've had classes with all have their majors declared or know what they're working toward, but I'm just... taking it one class at a time." She shrugs.

"So what?" you say back with a shrug. "You got financial aid, right?" She nods, and you nod in return. "Good. I mean, they usually have a timeline for you, but they also can't control if you have a major declared or not. You could decide on... marketing today, but you could always change your mind and switch to... law—I don't know," you add when you see her facial expression.

Mabel laughs, but you can tell she's taking your words seriously.

"Look at me," you say, gesturing to yourself. "I had my major declared, but I dropped out a semester later. Figure out what you want to do on your own time, and if financial aid or the world has a problem with that, tell me; I'll deal with them."

A small smile begins to form on her face. "You really would?"

"Absolutely," you reply, feeling more confident now. "I'll even call them up and say, 'Hey, Mabel's doing just fine figuring things out. Back off!'"

She chuckles softly, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe," you admit, "but I'm serious about this. You don't have to rush into anything. Everyone's path is different, and just because they seem ahead doesn't mean they have it all figured out."

Mabel's eyes soften as she considers your words. "You know, I think I needed to hear that. Thanks," she replies, her voice sincere.

You shake your head, realizing you've settle down from earlier. Your heart rate has slowed down and that disturbing feeling in your gut is gone. It's a dangerous world but you know and feel that Mabel is safe right now.

"Thank you," you say, and she only nods, pulling on your hand to lead you both to your uncle's diner.

As you walk, the familiar scent of your uncle's diner begins to fill the air, a comforting reminder of home. The noise of the street fades as you focus on Mabel, her laughter echoing in your mind like a soothing balm. You feel a sense of ease settle over you, grateful for her presence.

When you finally reach the diner, you hold the door open for her, and she walks in with a smile. As you follow her inside, you can't shake the feeling of being grateful for this moment—of being here with her, where laughter feels lighter and worries seem a bit further away.

Rudy and Jodie greet you both, loud as always; so loud, you miss more gun shots pop off in the distance.