#quinn bailey imagine

[the-fandom-abyss]

4 Times Quinn Used Her Strength, 1 Time She Couldn’t

Quinn Bailey x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff ♡

Word Count: 2,700 words

Request: here

A/N: I have no idea how to add ‘Keep Reading’ on the app so I apologise for the extremely dashboard clogging fic 😬

1.

When the work load only seems to grow, it's natural for the body to become tired. This leaves room for obstacles that can get in the way of the things that need to be done. Sure, the body can throw warning signs like a runny nose, itchy throat, the occasional sneeze. However, it's not really a sign when the person blatantly ignores them all and is set on pushing through.

And push through you did. All the way through your morning routine, getting ready for another hectic day of classes. Quinn could hear your sniffles, stifled coughs and hesitant sneezes. She also knew how stubborn you could be, thinking that you could run away from your problems. If she didn't intervene, you would run yourself into the ground, and she could not have that. As you walked down the hallway of the New York apartment, she waited patiently for you in the kitchen.

"Good morning" you mustered your best smile, that didn't quite look believable. Quinn took notice of your flushed cheeks, red nose and the ever growing bags under your eyes. She mentally scolded you for how you treat yourself, you deserve so much better.

"Morning" she replied, with an actual smile and handed you a warm cup of coffee.

"Thank you, I needed this" you lifted your mug, before bringing it to your lips. A soft moan left your lips at the taste, warming your cold body from the inside out. You hoped that this was enough to keep your fever at bay.

"You're sick" Quinn blurted out, she couldn't contain it any longer. She dared to step closer to you.

"No I'm not" denial, she knew that this would be your first reaction. She took one more step towards you, gently placing her hand on your forehead. You winced at the sudden cool that hit your hot skin.

"You're burning up" all you could muster was a shake of your head which you instantly regretted. A headache was starting to form after the simple movement. This is when Quinn knew you were truly sick, you didn't have enough energy to fight back. "You're shivering, you can't stop sneezing, you were coughing all night which explains the bags under your eyes. You are sick"

"I'll be fine" you waved her off, heading towards the door. All you had to do was pack your belongings and make a run for it. It sounds easy enough but your legs felt like led.

"You better not be thinking of leaving" Quinn was hot on your tail, her footsteps echoed yours as she walked by your side. She watched as you opened your bag, shoving as much in as possible.

"Quinn I have classes I need to get to" Now Quinn was losing her patience. She couldn't understand why you won't just stop and take your time to rest. You left her no choice.

"Oh no you don't" her arms reached behind your legs, lifting you in the air. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around her waist, your arms sliding around her neck.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you back to bed" you huffed in defeat, too tired to argue further. A smile graced Quinn's lips when she felt you snuggle into her neck, relaxing at the smell of her strawberry shampoo.

2.

When gatherings occur amongst your friendship group, Quinn seems to always come up in conversation. It's usually instigated by you, who has yet another funny, embarrassing or sweet moment to share. She is always surprised at how willingly the group listens to your stories. They hang on each and every word that flows from your lips.

There's just one catch, when you start talking, you tend to lose your filter. Which means little stories that should be kept private, turn into stories shared between friends. One story in particular, she hoped wouldn't escape, one that deeply embarrassed her. However, she couldn't be so lucky, when she knew how you can be.

"Oh you will not believe what happened last week" at the sound of those words strung together, Quinn's head turned with such force, she was surprised it didn't snap off.

"This ought to be good" Chad commented, leaning back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink in anticipation.

"Please don't, please don't" Quinn chanted under her breath, hoping that the cosmos would hear her. You could have spoken about anything, surely you won't say the one thing she didn't want you to speak of.

"Quinn came over to surprise me, brought flowers, dinner, the whole ordeal. She set up my apartment, set the mood, it was actually really sweet" Quinn could not move fast enough, she saw where this was going and there was no chance you were going to stop there. Without raising suspicion, she sped walked from her room to the group, just in time to cut you off. "When she was finished, she thought she had heard me in my room. She opened the door and wrapped her arms around someone, even described what she wanted to do to me and -" before you could even finish your sentence, Quinn had reached you. She had placed a hand over your mouth, while the other wrapped around your waist.

She lifted you with ease, slinging you over her shoulder. Giggles erupted from your mouth, a combination of her embarrassment and the image you were picturing. There was no fights in your movements, after all this was your end goal.

"Wait! How does it end?" Chad called out, hoping you could finish the story. His mind already racing with all the possible endings, he needed to know what happened.

"Well" you entertained, knowing full well you weren't going to finish the story. You just wanted Quinn to panic for a little longer.

"If you even think of finishing, I will make sure you never do" Quinn's tone was harsh, it was meant to be a very serious warning. All you could give in return was a fit of giggles, which brought a smile to Quinn's face.

"Sorry guys" you waved to them as Quinn retreated further from the group. They would just have to be left in suspense, forever wondering what had happened that day.

3.

Quinn had a final assessment due in the next week, that she has been giving all her attention to. Which meant that she had little time and focus to be able to give to you. With the little plan that you had come up with, that should change very soon.

Firstly, you spent your day going about your normal activities. You made sure to dress for the occasion, wearing only Quinn's favourite shirt and lacy panties. On a good day, this outfit would drive her crazy, it would be hard for her to keep her hands off you. You made sure to tidy the bedroom, agonisingly slow, just to prove your point. From time to time, Quinn's eyes would trail from her laptop and follow up your legs until they reached your face. It was enough to hold her attention for minutes, as she licked her lips and tried hard to look away. It wasn't enough though, she was always able to turn back to the task at hand.

When this didn't work, you moved on to physical touch. You nestled in beside her, legs entwined, hand placed strategically on her thigh. When the timing was right, you traced small shapes on to her bare skin. It started off as harmless, until your hand started to travel closer to where you wanted. You could hear Quinn's breath hitch, each time you touched her inner thigh. You left a trail of goosebumps from the bottom of her thigh, all the way to where the curves meet her panty line. You kneaded the exposed flesh, feeling her muscles tense as she tried to stay focused. Quinn had to bite her bottom lip hard for her to stop her mind from wandering. She could see what you were doing, she knew you wanted attention but she needed to finish this assessment. She told herself that once she was finished, she would give you all of her attention and so much more.

When your plan was only mildly disturbing her, only getting glimpses of her focus. You huffed in resignation, you truly thought you would have been able to stop her from working. You noticed her glass was empty, so you decided to put all your efforts into helping her. You reached over her, collecting the glass in your hand. Quinn breathed in your scent, her will power was slowly dissolving with each movement. When you had left the room, her eyes were glued to your retreating form. In the time you were gone, she had made a decision, ultimately closing her laptop and pushing it to the side. She waited for your footsteps to come closer before she made her move.

Within seconds of entering the room, Quinn had you pinned against the back of the door. In the process, the fresh glass of water, spilled down the front of your shirt.

"Oops" Quinn commented with her signature smirk. Her eyes followed the droplets as they ran down your chest. "We'll just have to take it off" she grabbed the glass and placed it on the closest flat surface. There was no time to waste, Quinn was pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your panties. Her tongue traced the path of the water drops up to your neck. She kissed and sucked on your pulse point which earned her a whimper in return. She felt your fingers curl in her hair, tugging at the strands. With her strength, she picked you up, your legs wrapping around her waist. She spun your bodies around, lips still sucking at your neck, leaving bruises in its wake. She walked you towards the bed before tossing you on top with a bounce.

"God, you are so easy to throw around" she said in a breathy tone, taking in your appearance. Tousled hair spread across the sheets, chest rising from the surprise, panties that happen to be ruined and the almost fucked out gaze you're giving her.

4.

College is a great way to make a large group of friends that's going through the same hell as you. One of the many ways to connect is through a frat party which happens to pop up at the end of a hard week. Quinn is the one who drags you to these parties, pleading that you won’t regret it. Most of the time she’s right but tonight, she was very very wrong. The music vibrated off the walls around you, sipping your drink in a not so quiet corner. Quinn was off dancing with her friends, sipping on the same drink she came in with. She wanted to be more present tonight, commenting that this sorority was known for their sleazy students.

While observing your girlfriend, the space beside you became occupied by a man that reeked of alcohol. His stance was wobbly and his eyes were searching for a focus point. However his intentions were clear, all he wanted was a body to take up stairs.

“S’ pretty” he complimented, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You moved over an inch, which threw him off balance. “You feisty” he slurred, unable to form sentences that were longer than two words. He took a bigger swig of his drink, discarding the cup somewhere on the floor. He looked more determined than before, his eyes roaming over your body.

“You can go now” you stated, hoping that the bite in your words would send him on his way.

“I’ll go, if you come with me” a proposition that you were not willing to take. You couldn’t want anything less.

“In your dreams” a scoff and an eye roll would have been enough to show your distaste. Yet, this man was not taking the hint. What made you more uncomfortable was that he leant in further, invading more of your space. His hot breath fanned your face, you scrunched your face at the awful smell.

“All alone” he commented, his hand running up the side of your thigh. Over the course of the conversation, he had backed you into a corner. The only way out would to either go with him or barrel roll through him. You didn’t like your chances on either option. As your last attempt, your eyes searched for a familiar face, someone to come and save you. Quinn had magically disappeared from the dance floor in your time of need. His hand was now firm in your waist, tugging you closer to his body. That was when a force knocked him off his feet. It all happened so fast that you couldn’t comprehend what knocked him over. That was until a certain red head was in your view, towering over the drunk man.

“Touch her again and they’ll never find your body” for a normal person, that threat wouldn’t hold much weight. For someone who has ties to the local police, you wouldn’t want to risk it. He scrambled to his feet the best he could before making himself scarce. Quinn looked back at you, noticing how shaken up you were. She turned to face away from you, giving your leg a tap. That was your queue to hop on. She carried you out of that party, piggyback style, all the way down the street. She only let you down when you were a far enough distance away from the party. All you had to do was walk a couple of streets before Quinn was carrying you again. Mentioning that princesses don’t walk, they should always be carried.

+1

With the influx of recent Ghostface killings, it wasn’t safe to go anywhere. Not even your apartment was deemed safe, never knowing who could be the killer. Quinn insisted that you stay with her, safety in numbers she quoted. She somehow convinced the group with the same idea because now you were all huddled in the apartment.

You joined the ‘core four’ as Chad would say in the dining room. All sharing stories and unshed emotions about what could happen next. None of you expected to hear screams coming from Quinn’s bedroom. You were on a high floor and the doors were all locked, which meant the killer had been in here the whole time. Adrenaline pumped through your body as you were the first to stand. Ignoring the warnings of the others, you headed straight for the room. To your surprise Quinn’s blood decorated the floor as she grasped at her side. Ghostface towered over her, calculating their next attack.

“Stay away from her” you shouted before charging towards the masked person. Successfully you knocked them into the next room, before locking the door behind them. While figuring out the safest way to lift Quinn, you failed to notice how the lock clicked and the door started to open. Revealing a killer that was very done with your shit. They lunged forward, the knife slicing into your arm.

“Y/N” Quinn screamed, hissing at the pain it had caused. She was bleeding at an alarming rate, her skin was growing pale and the pressure she had on the wound was slipping. There was only one thing left to do, run as fast as you could. Without a second doubt, your arms pulled Quinn into your body. With what strength you had left, you picked her up in your arms, bridal style. You made a run for it, trying to avoid knocking Quinn’s head on the door frame. The others understood the emergency, all willing to stop the attacker from reaching you. You had made it safely out the door and down the stairs, gently laying Quinn against the cool bricks of the building. You called 911 with the last push of adrenaline, before collapsing next to Quinn.

“Who knew you had it in you, small fry” she chuckled, trying to lighten the situation. All you could do was smile in return, hoping that you had done enough to save her.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Quinn Bailey Masterlist

none yet!

[the-fandom-abyss]

Please help me write some new fics for y’all! I need the motivation 🥺

Some Things You Can’t Undo - Love Quinn

Blood trickled down your arms, soaking into the fabric that held your body. A hand gripped tightly on the rock that caused so much damage. A quickened heart rate, a thumping headache and adrenaline was a bad combination. Especially for the man that laid lifeless on the floor, eyes wide open as the shock was frozen on his features. It had all happened so quickly, your brain still playing catch up. It left you solid in your stature, unwavering, looking down at the man that was occupied your space.

Death and Dates - Cordelia Goode

"What are you not telling me?" To any normal person, you would be certifiably insane with the way you spoke to yourself. For you, nature always responded, they held the answers to more questions than you could possibly ask. Wind seeped through the bottom of the door, bringing in a cold draft. The action sent shivers down your spine. "Witch hunters" you whispered, responding to the message. "Do I have time?" The flowers sagged like one would when they dropped their head in sadness. That caused the panic to vibrate within your bones. You were too far from the house to alert the others, too close to the danger to escape alive. All you could do was protect the ones you loved, even if their focus was gravitated elsewhere.

Office Hours - Brianna Hanson

"What do you need?" You stopped just in front of her desk. You had a plunged neckline that showed the perfect amount of curved cleavage and a skirt that sits just underneath your ass. Was it work appropriate? Not in the slightest. Did you only wear it to please Brianna? Absolutely.

Off Limits - Quinn Bailey

"What happened?" Quinn rushed to your side at the mere sight of blood.

"Your psycho of a brother, just tried to fucking kill me"

"He what?"

In the Past - Sam Carpenter

"It's all your fault!" You shouted, approaching the very confused woman.

"What is? I don't even know you"

"Oh you will!" You charged at her, tackling her to the floor. A punch was directed to her face, leaving a bruise to start to form. Before it could go further, Dewey pulled you off her and held you as you thrashed in his arms.

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, let me know!

friends @fiore-della-valle @redbirdblogs @greenbergsays @idkfandomwhatever @luckyspike @obaewankenope @mad-madam-m @sleepymccoy @eriquin @sosobriquet @qprstobin @spacebarrette @andavs @zainclaw @anonymousdandelion @flameraven @fractalgeometry / Requests @aparticularbandit @madnessfromthemountains @makeroftherunes @not-orpheus @1attheedge @preetsramblings @whimsicalmeerkat @kidsomeday @lizhly-writes

[gothicknightz]

family ties | ethan landry

notes: oh boy you guys are gonna like this one. VERY MAJOR SCREAM SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!!!!! I cannot get any more specific than that.

part 2 out now!

When she moved to New York with her best friend, they both had planned on getting an average college education, having fun, and graduating. 

That was it.

Why couldn’t it have been that simple?

The four of them were stranded in the abandoned lobby of the theatre when Sam had gotten a call from the Detective, claiming that he had done some digging into Kirby and that she was let go from the FBI a couple of months ago for being mentally unstable, and he believes she is the killer.

She quickly turned her attention towards Sam, “What?” She snapped, her arm still wrapped up from her paired attack alongside Mindy on the subway. 

Putting a foot down, she crossed her arms, “There’s no way we can stay here.” Attempted to try the entrance in which they came in, to find out it was locked, “Shit.” She turned around quickly to face the, “It’s locked.”

The group frantically looked for a way out of the theatre, as they weren’t going to be trapped with the possible killers. Tara had noticed some sort of fire escape, but that wasn’t until Ghostface appeared and attacked the group, which they fought back. 

Chad decided it was a good time to be a hero, as he fought against Ghostface so that the girls could run. This proved to be a bad decision for him, as a second Ghostface came up and started stabbing alongside the other before ushering the trio back into the theatre.

As the five of them make their way back into the theatre, Kirby suddenly reappears out of nowhere and claims that she was knocked out by two Ghostfaces, but the trio can’t trust her after the Detective’s claims, who arrives subsequently after Kirby.

After what seemed to be a battle for trust, the Detective shoots Kirby, revealing himself as the third killer.

(y/n) screams as she was the closest, her heart racing in anticipation, afraid of what was going to happen next when the other two Ghostfaces de-mask themselves. Subsequently, after the Detective reveals himself to be the third killer, the Ghostface wearing Nancy Loomis’ mask revealed himself.

It was Ethan, (y/n)’s best friend. The friend she had planned on getting a college education and graduating with. The friend she had known for years, the friend who was responsible for their firsts.

Somebody she had trusted.

It was then revealed that Quinn was the final Ghostface, much to everyone’s shock, as they had seen and heard of the brutal murder Quinn had endowed.

The trio was cornered at each end by the three killers, with Sam slowly connecting the pieces that all three of the killers were related to none other than Richie Kirsch, one of the killers of the Woodboro Massacre in 2022.

As the trio was attacked and coerced back to the center of the theatre by the killers, the Detective sighed, “It wasn’t until I saw that photograph of what you had actually done to him, that I knew.”

“That I knew you had to fucking die- that you had to be punished, along with anyone else who stands in our way.”

Pushed and insulted by Quinn, Sam, and Tara were forced to stand in front of the Detective, with Ethan taking hold of (y/n), and holding a knife to her throat.

As the Detective went on about how he indulged in his son’s love for the Stab movies, and how they were a bit dark for him, he explained that there was no deeper bond than of a father and his firstborn.

“Despite the loss of Richie, I couldn’t have been happier after learning of a new addition to our family.”

The look on both the sisters’ faces was beyond puzzled as they watched the detective make grandiose gestures as he waved the gun in (y/n)’s direction.

“I knew it was a bit young for those two to get hitched, but,” the Detective paused, taking a breath for a brief smile, “She made it a lot easier to get us in here, and I’ve never been more proud of a future daughter in law, right (y/n)?”

The Carpenter sisters had another round of fear and shock as they turned their heads to one of the closest friends the gang had had, with even Mindy trusting them.

(y/n) was breaking away from a kiss with Ethan as Tara and Sam watched them in awe, the girl breaking into a fit of giggles and a content sigh.

“You know, Sam,” She said, turning towards the illegitimate daughter of the original Ghostface with her boyfriend slash fiance’s knife in hand, “You should really save the date.” She took a swing at the eldest Carpenter sister and laughed.

“Because it does fucking run in the family.”

[rollingsins]

Quinn Bailey Must Die, p5

P1 | P2 | P3 | P4 | P5

summary: Tara deals with the fallout of Sam leaving. all hers universe.

warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Implied sexual content.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey

word count: 2.6k

a/n: enjoy babes! let me know your thoughts, as always

The first thing Tara does when Sam closes the door is tighten her shoulders and barge into Sam’s bedroom.

You follow, hastily. 

Watch as she reaches for Sam’s clothing rack and tries to pry the lot off the rack and onto the floor. 

“Tara, stop.” You grab her hand as Sam’s jackets crumple to the ground. 

“Don’t, babe,” Tara says, her voice sharp, “This is all going in the dumpster. Don’t try and stop me.” 

“She’ll be back in a week,” You protest, “She’s going to need this stuff.” 

“I don’t care,” Says Tara, rounding on you, “She can walk around naked for all I care. She’s picking Quinn over me. Her own sister.” 

“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” You ask, voice quiet, “We did go behind her back and try to seduce… whatever Quinn is to her. It makes sense she wants space.” 

“She’s done this before,” Tara growls, “When she was fifteen. She picked her deadbeat boyfriend over us. Over me.” 

Before you can stop her she’s pried Sam’s cluster of picture frames off her dresser and into a trash can. 

You sigh. 

And let her tear through Sam’s room like a Doberman off the leash. You’ll fix it yourself tomorrow. 

You sink into Sam’s mattress and watch your girlfriend. 

Her hands are shaky. Her eyes are watering, though you know she’s too proud to let the tears fall in front of you. 

She’s hurting. 

“Why don’t we call Dr Colmann?” You suggest, voice gentle, “She always makes you feel better, babe.” 

“I have to finish this tonight,” Says Tara, “As long as her shit’s in here, I won’t be able to sleep.” 

You bite your lip. 

“Let’s call Dr Colmann,” You suggest, “And if you still want her stuff gone after the call, I’ll help you myself.” 

Dr Colmann had given you her personal number for Tara related emergencies. 

“Tara is a special client,” Dr Colmann had answered after you’d raised an eyebrow, “And I want to make sure you can come to me if you need it.” 

You had never used it. 

Until now. 

“Dr Colmann?” You ask, a little anxious. 

You’d finally convinced Tara to sit, and firmly planted yourself in her lap so she can’t get up and continue her tirade through Sam’s room. 

“We need your help.” 

-

It’s a little after twelve in California, and Dr Colmann looks as if she’s just gotten back from the gym. 

You apologize - taking a work call on a Sunday afternoon seems criminal. Even if it’s your only option. 

But Dr Colmann doesn’t seem to mind.

“What’s going on, Tara?” Asks Dr Colmann, “You seem a little on edge.” 

You rub her back. 

Press the softest of kisses to the side of her head.

“My sister is abandoning me,” Tara says, voice a little fraught. 

“She’s leaving for a week,” You correct, hastily, “We had a small disagreement.” 

“What kind of disagreement?” Dr Colmann asks. 

“That isn’t important,” Says Tara. 

Dr Colmann sighs. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t want to be honest with me Tara.” 

Tara bites her lip. 

“I don’t like the girl she’s seeing,” Says Tara, “It’s the Quinn girl. The one we told you about last month.” 

“The roommate who tried to pursue you?” Asks Dr Colmann, taking notes.

Tara nods. 

“So the fight was about this girl?” Dr Colmann asks. 

Tara hesitates. 

“Kind of,” She says, “I thought… I thought maybe if tried to seduce her, I could show Sam she wasn’t serious about her.” 

Dr Colmann pauses. 

“And do you really think that was the best thing to do, Tara?” She asks, sounding skeptical. 

“I didn’t have a choice,” Says Tara, “She backed me into a corner.” 

Dr Colmann sighs. 

“Tara,” She says, gently, “Have you tried apologizing to your sister?” 

Tara frowns. 

“Apologize?” She asks, as if the word is foreign to her, “For trying to help her?” 

“Tara, trying to seduce the person your sister is interested in, is wrong, regardless of your intentions.” Says Dr Colmann, sternly. 

“And what about her?” Tara asks, heatedly, “It’s okay for Sam to date someone who tried to break up my relationship?” 

“No,” Says Dr Colmann, “If you’re not comfortable with who Sam is seeing, Tara, you should express that to her. In a calm, and non confrontational manner. You can lay out your reasoning and explain why you don’t think her seeing Quinn is a good idea.” 

Dr Colmann hesitates. 

“But, at the end of the day, Tara, you can’t control who Sam sees or who she dates. We’ve talked about this, Tara - you don’t have control over other people’s actions. You need to make peace with that.” 

Tara lets out a discontented grunt. 

You squeeze her shoulders. 

“Start with an apology,” Dr Colmann suggests, “Call Sam and tell her you’d like to apologize in person for your behavior. Start a dialogue, but remember Tara - calm and collected. Telling somebody they can’t do something only leads to them wanting to do it more.”

“Thanks, Dr Colmann,” You say, rubbing Tara’s back, “Should we reach out right away?” 

“It can’t hurt,” Says Dr Colmann, “But she’ll likely need some time. Give it to her. Tell her you’re sorry, and let her come to you.” 

-

Dr Colmann isn’t wrong about Sam needing time. 

She won’t answer Tara’s calls, so Tara texts her. 

“Really sorry, Sam. I don’t know what came over me,” Tara reads from her phone, lip between her teeth, “I just wanted to protect you from her as I think she’s going to hurt you. I crossed the line and I know what I did was wrong. I’m hoping maybe tomorrow we can meet up and I can apologize in person.” 

She looks up at you, a little shy. 

“Is it okay?” She asks. 

You kiss her. 

“It’s perfect,” You assure, “Sam will appreciate it.”

Tara curls into your side, the moment she presses send. 

She’s a little calmer, after the call with Dr Colmann. Sam’s wardrobe hasn’t been touched, and you’d managed to sneak in and replace all the things Tara had ripped down. 

“I hate this,” Tara admits, nuzzling her head into your neck, “I hate feeling powerless.” 

You press a kiss to her forehead.

“Remember what Dr Colmann said,” You say, “You can’t control everything, babe.” 

“Can we watch Alien?” Tara asks, blinking up at you, “It always makes me feel better.”

You kiss her. 

“I will never understand how horror movies calm you down,” You say, with a sigh, “But of course we can.” 

-

Sam doesn’t text back until the morning. 

“Thanks for apologizing, Tara,” Tara reads out, eyebrows crinkled, “I need some time. I’ll be back next week and we can talk.” 

Tara frowns, dropping her phone. 

“It’s not all bad, babe,” You soothe, reaching out to wrap an arm around her, “Dr Colmann said she’d need space.” 

“Yeah,” Tara says, resigned. 

Then, she flops back into the couch. 

“Sam thinks I don’t love her,” She says, after a long moment, “Because I never say it.” 

You tilt your head. 

“Babe.” You say, dropping down to her side. You brush a strand of hair out of her face, 

“I do love her,” Says Tara, sounding unhappy, “But she doesn’t love me. Not the real me.” 

Her eyes are sad, vulnerable. 

You kiss her, deeply. 

“It’s difficult,” You say, choosing your words carefully, “But Sam loves you. For better or for worse. You’re her baby sister.” 

“She left before,” Tara accuses, “She’d do it again. I just know it.” 

“Hey,” You say, pressing your lips to her cheek, “That’s behind you now, remember? We’re in therapy.” 

It doesn’t placate her. 

“How can you love somebody you don’t even know?” She asks, a little mournful. 

“I loved you before I knew,” You say, nudging your nose against hers, “And I love you after. Always.” 

“That’s different,” Says Tara, biting her lip, “You’re in love with me. You’re the exception. Do you really think Chad or Mindy or Liv or Sam would stay around if they knew the truth?” 

“They’ll never know,” You promise, “Baby, I know it’s hard, but you can’t live your life being scared of rejection. Sam loves you. Your friends love you. You’re a different person than you were before. You’re a good friend. And you’ve been holding back from Sam, but I know you’ll be a good sister too. The best sister. Just like you’re the best girlfriend.” 

You kiss her once more. 

“You just have to let yourself be vulnerable,” You say, “Let Sam know you love her. And the rest will fall in place.” 

-

Quinn’s apartment is beautiful. 

High ceilings, expensive artwork, luxury furniture. 

It makes Sam’s head spin. 

“You can be louder, if you want,” Quinn says, biting her lip, only moments after Sam had cum hard with her hand against her mouth, “This place is sound-proofed. Dad made sure when he bought it.” 

“Why did you ever live in that dump with my sister?” Sam wonders, sprawled out across Quinn’s pillows, “This place is great.” 

Quinn laughs, and curls herself into Sam’s side. 

“I was trying to be independent,” She admits, “I was trying not to live off my Dad’s money.” 

Sam tilts her head. 

“Did your Dad invent the toaster or something?” She wonders aloud.

Quinn presses a sly kiss to her lips.

“He’s done well for himself,” She admits, “He’s a detective. A very senior Detective.” 

“And here I was thinking government employees lived paycheck to paycheck.” Sam mumbles. 

“Most do,” Quinn admits, “But like I said - he’s done well for himself.” 

“Do you see him much?” Sam asks. 

Quinn pauses. 

“Not really,” She says, “My brother - he’s the problem child. Dad spends most of his time wrapped up with Ethan.”

“Little brother?” Sam asks, head tilted. Quinn nods. 

“The youngest… they’re always the problem kids.” Sam says, knowing from experience. 

“I know you can’t choose your family,” Says Quinn, “But man, don’t you sometimes wish you could?” 

Sam thinks. 

“I would still choose Tara,” She says, voice a little soft, “She’s a brat, yeah. But it’s only because my parents never taught her how to behave. They failed her. Heck, they failed me too.” 

Quinn smiles.

“That’s sweet,” She says, “I love how you love her. Even after what she tried to do.”

Sam shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. 

“She was just looking out for me,” Sam says, “In her own way. In her Tara way.” 

“She doesn’t need to,” Quinn promises. She leans over and kisses Sam, “I’m crazy about you. You know that.” 

Butterflies bloom in Sam’s stomach. 

“I know it’s only been a couple of weeks,” Quinn says, nudging her nose against Sam’s, “But I’m falling for you. Hard.” 

Sam blinks. 

And the butterflies evaporate. 

Uneasiness replaces them. 

“Quinn,” She says, slowly, “Like you said, it’s only been a couple of weeks-” 

“I know,” Quinn says, rubbing a hand over her hip, “Sorry, I don’t love you or anything. Not yet. I just wanted you to know I’m falling.” 

“Alright,” Sam says, voice even, “I just- it’s not-”

“Stop freaking out,” Quinn says, and kisses her softly, “I only wanted to say I like you. Don’t think so hard, Carpenter.” 

Sam relaxes. 

“I like you, too.” She says. 

And Quinn kisses her. 

-

Sam stays at Quinn’s place longer than a week. 

It’s two weeks at first, then three. 

Quinn’s kisses are ample reason to stay. Tara’s texts, each a little more desperate than the other, remind Sam of why she can’t go back. 

She loves her sister. 

But Sam’s been suffocating her. 

Dinners, breakfasts. She does Tara’s laundry and cleans up after her. Makes her bed. Helps her with homework. 

She’s been trying to replace their mother. 

Sam loves her sister, but a mother she is not. 

Sisters need boundaries. Sam needs boundaries. 

And so she calls Tara to explain. 

“We can talk,” Sam promises over the phone, “Tonight, if you want. I’ll come to the apartment. But Tara, you should know I’m planning on staying with Quinn. It’s better for both of us if I stay with Quinn.” 

“I miss you, Sam,” Tara says, voice unhappy, “I promise I’ll be nicer. I’ve been talking to a therapist, she’s helping me. YN and I won’t even fuck when you’re home - if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sam bites her lip. 

“That’s - sweet Tara,” Says Sam, “But that isn’t the problem. Not the whole problem. We’re adults now, both of us. Sisters aren’t designed to live together, forever.” 

“Not forever,” Presses Tara, “But for right now? We should be together.” 

Sam sighs. 

Quinn’s pouring her a glass of wine, wearing a particularly low-cut top. 

Sam’s gaze veers down. 

“I’ll speak to you, tonight,” Sam promises, mouth dry, “Love you, T.” 

Tara hesitates. 

“Speak to you, tonight.” She echoes, voice hollow.

-

“Ugh, why do you have to go and speak to your sister?” Quinn murmurs, a little later, when Sam is a sweaty mess under her. 

“Because she’s my sister.” Sam reminds, a little pointed, as she leans up to kiss Quinn.

“She tried to seduce me.” Quinn says, a little sharp, “I think the silent treatment is more than effective, here.” 

“You tried to seduce her first.” Says Sam, retracting herself from Quinn’s grip, “Relax, Quinn. It’s time I patched things up with her.” 

“You’re coming back after, right?” Quinn asks,  little on edge, “You’re not moving back in? Because you can stay here as long as you want.” 

Sam kisses her. 

“I’ll be back,” She promises, “But I need to borrow a jacket. I left mine back at the house.” 

Quinn’s grip is tight. For a moment, Sam wonders if Quinn will let her leave at all. But then she releases her grip on Sam’s waist. 

“Closet,” She says, with a murmur, “You know, you wearing my clothes is kind of hot.” 

Sam kisses her once more. 

Sam rifles through Quinn’s closet, a little mindless. It’s expansive. From denim to leather, seemingly Quinn has it all. Sam works through them all. She settles on a bare-bones black leather jacket that’ll go with her jeans. She pries it off the rack and slips it around her shoulders.

But then, she notices something buried near the bottom of her wardrobe. 

Her brow creases. 

It’s a picture. 

Quinn she recognises - an older man that must be her Dad. A younger guy that must be her brother, Ethan. 

And then she sees him. 

To say the wind is knocked out of her is an understatement. 

She recognises him immediately. Curly brown hair. Piercing blue eyes she stared into hundreds of times. 

Eyes she’d seen flutter closed for the last time. 

It’s Richie. 

Quinn knows Richie. 

Sam panics. 

She stumbles back, takes out Quinn’s mirror in her wake. Her chest heaves. Her eyes prick with tears. 

Out, her mind screams, you need to get out.

But Quinn’s all over her before she gets the chance. 

Sam flinches as Quinn’s arms loop around her waist. She reacts immediately. 

She pries herself out of Quinn’s arms and turns around as if she’s just been burned. 

“Sam?” Quinn asks, looking startled, “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” 

Sam’s eyes are wide. 

Quinn’s eyes flicker down to the bottom of the wardrobe. To Richie. 

Her eyes widen, almost mournful. 

“Oh, Sam,” She says, softy, “I really wish you hadn’t seen that.” 

It happens in a flash. 

One moment Sam is backing up, against the wall. The next, Quinn’s pressing her to it, hand over her mouth. 

“Shh, baby,” Quinn says, as Sam screams, “It’s okay. I can explain everything. But you need to stop screaming. Nobody can hear you now.”

[darkfemininenergy]

I CAN���T IGNORE YOU ━━ ethan landry

pairing: stalker!ethan x fem!reader

warning: stalker behavior, mention of killing/hurt, kind of creepy (if any signs of that kind of behavior make you uncomfortable don’t read it), gf!ethan

author’s note: this is my first time writing on tumblr so it probably won’t be that good sorry, still hope that you will like it !

stalker!ethan who follows you home to make sure you're safe

stalker!ethan who goes to all the parties you go to to look after you

stalker!ethan who befriends your friends to get closer to you, even force himself to get closer to his roommate chad since you two are good friends

stalker!ethan who knows your coffee order by heart and sometimes even order it for you in the morning, letting it in your kitchen with a note before you woke up

stalker!ethan who's always trying to bump into you in the college corridors

stalker!ethan who watches you through your window and takes pictures of you just for himself

stalker!ethan who, after getting your number off chad's phone, sends you messages. « you looked really pretty today », « you’re coming home from classes this late ? all alone ? my my, y/n, that's pretty irresponsible of you, don't you think ? », « but don't worry sweetheart, it's a good thing that i’m there to take care of you »

stalker!ethan who one day, when you weren't in your apartment, infiltrated it and installed a camera, stealing one of your underwear in the process

stalker!ethan who hurts everyone who touches you, one day when you were coming home from a late class, a creepy man followed you and he dragged him into an alley to kill him. what would you do without him ?

[ghostlyaerobics1984]

Please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface. I want to be in the sequel.

Summary: Being Tara’s boyfriend is no easy feat when the “Ghostface” killer from Woodsboro resurfaces in New York. Reader has a personality similar to Stu Macher.

Pairings: Tara Carpenter x Male!Reader

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: Heavily implied sexual content. Depictions of stabbing/kidnapping.

“Damn, Tara. Your sister is HOT.”

You had a red solo cup in your hand, which used to be filled to the brim with alcohol, and you’ve might’ve been moderately drunk.

You were crowding Sam and some creep that had laid his hands on Tara and tried to drag her up to his room by force with the full intention of having sex with her.

Like, WHAT THE FUCK? You and Tara were open about your relationship; The two of you couldn’t be seen without the other hanging off their arm.

How could one lack a moral compass that bad to be dragging someone else’s woman into bed with them? No one can expect a man with the coined nickname “Frankie” to be smart, and that was the PG version.

You have been intoxicated out of your mind and you were in no shape or form to be fighting dudes reeking of testosterone, and later, you were going to be pissed off that Chad and Sam had to fight your own battles for you.

It was a good thing Sam showed up to the party when she did. Frankie got what he had coming to him—A good ass whooping, aka, tased in the balls.

It was hot when Sam’s boundless, protective, older sister nature was uncovered. That’s why you declared your admiration for the whole party to hear.

It’s also the primary reason she was the one person you and Tara did not flaunt your relationship to.

Imagine what would happen if Sam Carpenter found out you were dating her younger sister? She was hellbent on keeping Tara safe for every day of her life.

So yeah, your intimate relationship has been kept under wraps from her to spare Tara’s sanity and for your best interest.

Tara’s friends didn’t know either, only Mindy and Anika because their gay radar was too strong and they were smart women, picking up on various hints that you and Tara dropped. Okay, technically, it was not an exclusive relationship.

Though, you had a sneaking suspicion Chad knew. There was a time when he would be seen attached to Tara’s side and making her laugh, but weirdly, he’s been keeping his distance and directing his attention to his roommate, Ethan.

He still made her laugh, and so did the rest of her friends. It would be mean if you took that away from him.

Tara thumped your arm, causing you to wince and mumble an ‘ouch’. She wielded so much strength despite her small body size. “I’m your girlfriend, asshole. Don’t take her side.”

You faked an offended gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “I wasn’t taking her side. I was merely making a suggestive comment on the situation.”

Tara rolled her eyes; Your stupidity went in one ear and out the other. “What are you doing here? I cannot believe you followed me.” She was talking—more like yelling—to Sam.

Your girlfriend, being a defiant young adult, was too agitated to listen to her sister’s explanation and favored dramatic exits.

You were the obedient, caring partner and supported your lover in her many tantrums; hence, you pursued Tara outside as she marched on the street to blow off steam.

Sam blew past you like a blur of wind, hot on her sister’s heels. “Will you stop?!” She demanded.

It wasn’t said rudely. It was a desperate, I-need-to-talk-to-you kind of demand.

Tara did stop, but then she launched into a rant about how Sam’s constant, overbearing supervision was suffocating and prevented her from achieving the future she desired.

You strayed a few feet apart from both of them, watching the back of Sam’s head, because it was best to let the sisters resolve the conflict themselves.

Your girlfriend had this terrible habit of locking away her emotions until they festered and exploded in her face.

Sam fell prey to Tara’s angry outbursts 99.9% of the time. Of course, you weren't immune from the angst either just because the two of you were dating, but on the several occurrences it happened, it was misdirected.

The same applied to her friends. If they expressed any semblance of concern for Tara’s safety, she would berate them, whether that be in public or in private.

She did need to see a therapist, not just about her feelings and impulsivity, but about the post-traumatic stress disorder she cultivated because she was a victim of fucked up killings in Woodsboro.

Yes, you knew. The internet was at the entire world's fingertips and made it extremely tough for you to dodge the information acquired by social media.

You had tried to offer a referral to your therapist, but Tara just refused without considering it.

You felt a presence by your side and watched in your peripheral vision as Chad, Ethan, Mindy, and Anika assembled in a horizontal line next to you and listened to the argument.

“I have been going out with—!” Your eyes expanded to the size of golf balls at the slip-up. Tara stopped mid-sentence, her eyes flicking over to yours nervously.

“You’re dating? Who?” Sam looked around, apprehensive, and urged Tara to confess who her suitor was.

You shook your head in a silent no, and Tara was quick to cover her mistake. “No one! I'm not dating anyone.” She resumed her indignant tone, “Because you won’t let me go."

This was not how you envisioned Sam finding out, blurting out secrets during fights was the absolute worst way to reveal information.

If Sam just caught her sister in a lie, she didn't mention or show it. She was annoyed, but not more than usual. “Tara, If you want to date, you can. I never took that choice away from you. You know my rule, don't sleep with assholes."

“And I'm not! I haven't.” Tara exclaimed. “I never gave that douchebag permission to take me upstairs. I can't believe you think so low of me.”

Sam’s voice raised to the same pitch as Tara’s, which was a striking contrast from her previous, calm demeanor. “If you want to be a crazy party girl, then that's what I'm going to think you are.”

She was losing her patience, it was being stretched thin like a rubber band.

Tara scoffed and called her sister a hypocrite, then mentioned something about letting go.

Both sisters sounded like they were holding back tears, they went back and forth, and the argument was soon tired out.

There was a long night ahead of you.

“I'm sorry about your shirt.” You were apologetic as you leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Sam scrubbed aggressively at the fabric, which had been stained with Cherry Coke or some other beverage.

“Not your fault.” Sam gave you tight-lipped smile in return, it didn't quite reach her eyes.

She pulled her shirt over her head and tugged it off. You ogled her for a second too long, drummed your fingers against the counter, and left the kitchen area to see your girlfriend since her sister wasn't much of a conversation starter.

“I'm sorry for telling Sam about the party.” Quinn was standing in Tara’s room when you came in. “It's just–she was really upset, and I couldn't help my mouth.”

“It's fine, really.” Tara had a disingenuous smile on her face. It bothered her more than she let on. “She’s all on my ass, like usual.”

Quinn eyed you like a vulture would a carcass when you stepped into her field of view and sat down. “Who is this cutie?”

“Y/n is a friend.” The lie rolled off Tara’s tongue easily. Guess she didn't trust Quinn enough to not blab to Sam about your relationship with her.

“Friend, huh?” Quinn didn't seem like she believed it. She slow-walked to the door. “Okay, Tara’s cute friend. If you ever find yourself pent up from lust and wanting a release, I’m a room away.” She sent a wink in your direction and stalked off.

You turned to Tara once Quinn was out of earshot, blinking in shock. “What the hell was that?”

Tara joined you on the bed. “That was Quinn.” A small, amused smile tugged on her lips. “She’s my ‘sex-positive’ roommate.”

“Huh.” You remarked with zero substance to the conversation. “I could picture that.”

It took Tara a minute to catch on, and she whacked your shoulder in faux annoyance. “Gross! It’s not like that, perv. Get that image out of your mind.”

You laughed, grinning at her aghast expression as you stuck your tongue out. “I’m just playing, baby.”

Tara huffed an exaggerated, annoyed sigh, and repositioned her legs so that she was turned to you. “I know you are, dumbass.”

The mattress dipped as you scooted closer and patted Tara’s thigh, still having that goofy grin plastered on your face. “I want to go out there and get drunk with Chad.”

You were ridiculous, talking about drinking again when barely even sober from the alcohol consumed at the party.

“Or…” Tara dragged out the ‘r’ syllable, leaning forward. “You bring a beer in here and I’ll sit on your face.” She smirked, an eyebrow raised as if she was daring you to refuse.

“Sold.” That was the fastest you ever hustled, power walking—because running in an apartment was crass unless absolutely necessary—from Tara’s room to the living area.

Pilfering two beers from Chad’s hands, you made a beeline to her room. Tara was suppressing a laugh when you returned, you did not waste time, and it was painfully obvious. “Close the door.”

You did as she said before the sentence was finished. Tara was calm and collected, but a closer look at her face said otherwise, more specifically, the anticipatory gleam in her eyes. She was as desperate as you.

You wrapped your arms around her neck and slinked down, your butt finding a seat on her lap. "No more demands."

The beers were held in one hand by the neck of the bottle, and you set them aside because it was inconvenient for your hands.

The bottles lay sideways on the bed, temporarily forgotten.

"None?" Tara feigned disappointment, her gaze following your tongue while you licked your lips.

"No more." You confirmed in a light whisper.

Your lips brushed against hers, not quite touching them because you wanted to keep your girlfriend on her toes.

Tara barely reached the average height, and your current position made it difficult for her to be comfortable.

She squirmed under you, "I said I was going to sit on your face, y/n. I didn't mean you on my lap." You smiled at her halfhearted complaint.

"I thought you planned to get drunk?" She playfully mocked your words from a few minutes ago, now that you had changed your mind.

"Nah. I don't need it because you intoxicate me." Before she could reply to your less-than-remarkable pick-up line, albeit in a judgmental way, you closed the distance and kissed her.

It was a gentle, short, and sweet kiss. Tara wore cherry-flavored lip gloss; the taste of it lingered on your tongue, and her hand found your cheek.

You had a daydream-like appearance when she disconnected her lips from yours, sporting a warm, lazy smile and dilated pupils.

“You’re so cute.” Tara couldn't help but copy your smile, she still looked as composed as ever. “Now get in position before Sam becomes suspicious and invades the privacy of my room.”

“Aye Aye, Captain.” You crawled to the other end of the bed, grabbed one of the beer bottles, and sat against the headboard.

You twisted the cap off and took a swig, a satisfied “Ahh,” leaving your mouth.

Tara observed all this with a roll of her eyes and crawled to you, picking up her beer. “Dork.” She swung her legs around both sides of your arms and sat on your chest.

When both of you were done drinking, you reached over and set the bottles on the nightstand, looking back at Tara with hungry eyes. You asked, “Ready?”

“Hey, T. I think I left my phone— Oh my god!” Quinn covered her eyes with her hand after waltzing into Tara’s room.

Soft moans filled the room along with other lewd sounds, both of you were too preoccupied to hear the door opening, and Quinn’s disgust went unnoticed.

“I’ll come back later!” She shut the door and scurried away. Mumbling under her breath, “Friends, my ass.”

You and Tara freshened up after having the ride of your lives in the bedroom. Tara orgasmed on your tongue, and she didn't want you to leave unsatisfied so she returned the favor, which led to you outstaying your welcome.

Not a drop of mess spilled on her sheets because if she had to clean them, Sam would have immediately found out about you two.

Tara lit a scented candle to rid the smell of sex from her room, and you helped her reorganize the bed.

Mostly everyone was chilling on the couch watching television when Tara walked you out to the living room, your hands intertwined with hers.

“I had a great night.” You said with a big grin while standing outside the apartment door.

It was late, and it was time for you to go home. “Minus the argument you had with your sister, but the party was pretty fun.”

Tara nodded, her face soured a little when Sam was mentioned, and the door was being propped open by her arm. “It was fun.”

“See you soon?” You were already excited at the thought of seeing your girlfriend again and you hadn't even left her place yet.

Tara crossed one leg in front of the other, and a light blush formed on her cheeks. “See you soon.” She affirmed.

She waved as the door was closed in your face. You walked away with a skip in your steps, happily humming the tune to a song you liked.

Unknown to both of you, it would be a while before you saw each other again.

You were at work when your phone chimed with a text alert from Tara. “Hanging out with my sister, Mindy, her girlfriend, and Chad. Wanna come over? I'm losing my mind.”

You smiled at the message, already imagining the group having fun and laughing. You typed back a response, “Wish I could. I am busy with work.”

“It’s cool.” She might’ve said it was cool, but you knew she was upset you couldn’t make it.

Another text alert and Tara had sent you a message. “Chad just nicknamed us the Core Four. Kill me now.”

“That is not happening.” You chastised her over text, laughing quietly to yourself because you could tell how annoyed she was.

Your phone was tucked inside your pants pocket and you opened the door to your place of work, walking inside.

That was the only conversation you had with her on the day following the party. Work was exhausting, you were scheduled for 9-hour shifts a few days a week and you often fell asleep straight after arriving in your dorm.

You had been stuck with a closing shift again, which was why you were spending your time at work instead of sleeping in or making out with your girlfriend.

Speaking of, you really would've liked to be with her. You haven't seen her for only two days, but it felt like an eternity.

A phone rang. It was yours, you dug it out of your pocket and pressed the answer button. Tara was calling. “Babe, hey. How are you?”

“Quinn and Anika were killed.” Tara’s voice was frail over the phone as she informed you about her friends’ deaths.

Your heart relocated to the pit of your stomach, and you immediately dropped what you were doing to comfort her. “I am so sorry. What the fuck happened?”

“Ghostface. He's back. She’s back, whoever the fuck it is.” Her words were sharp enough to cut through the phone.

You had stepped out where there was less noise, and so you could take a break. “It's going to be okay, alright?”

You glanced around the outside of your workplace, the only person there was a coworker dumping trash into the dumpster.

Tara sniffled. “A professor was killed by someone I knew, and he died too. It was on the news after you left our place.”

“I know. I caught the news before I went to bed. It’s unfortunate.” You never knew Jason well enough to care about him, only knowing him as the guy Tara hung out with too often, but it was alarming to learn there was a pattern of serial murders forming.

Someone was talking to her, but it was indiscernible on your end. “Mindy wants to know where you were last night while the murders and shit were taking place.”

You paused, feeling uneasiness wash over your body like a blanket. “I was working, babe.”

“For that long?” Tara sounded skeptical, and as a result of your stubborn attitude, you started to become defensive.

“Yes,” You slouched against the wall adjacent to the back door while pinching the bridge of your nose. “I'm the designated closer and I'm closing again tonight, working the morning shift right now.”

“Alright.” Tara wasn't as engaged in the conversation as she usually would be. She was dismissive and full of doubt about you.

“Y/n? Are you there?” You were deep in thought. Your mind ran a mile a minute as you panicked on the inside.

It wasn’t because Tara was skeptical of you, but because you were assessing the reality of the Ghostface killings.

“I don't think we should be together right now.” It was abrupt, both of you were surprised at your request.

“What? Are you serious?”

“Just until all this blows over.” You knew it was in poor taste and timing, but the possibility of being hunted and killed because you were in a relationship with Tara was far more gut-wrenching.

“Your friends were attacked and that means I’m next.”

“Look,” Tara’s voice turned exasperated as she attempted to sway your fear, “Whoever it is, has to be close to one of us. If we end our relationship, it will not work because they’re already gunning for you and me.”

“What if there's a chance it could work, though?” It was a stupid question—Deep down, you knew she was right.

Tara stated with utmost sincerity, “Y/n, I need you. I can't do this without you.”

You heard the trembling in her voice and your eyes felt misty, but you had to stay strong. “I know you do. This is what's best for us, though. I don't want to put my life at risk.”

“I'm risking mine as we speak, y/n.” Tara was growing frustrated with you. “Mindy—stop.”

“No! Stop! I'm not giving you my ph—” There were shouts of protest from Tara and what sounded like the phone exchanging hands by force.

“Hello?” You cringed, having to pull the phone away because Tara and Mindy were shouting in your ear.

“Y/n,” It was Mindy who answered you. “Terrible idea. I just asked where you were as a formality! You should stick with your girl or you'll regret it when your insides are—”

It sounded like Mindy was swatting away Tara as the latter demanded her phone back.

“Mindy, what are you even saying??” Sometimes, she could be a terrifying scary movie geek.

“One of the most important rules of horror moves: Splitting up is no bueno,” Mindy stressed every word to ensure you understood her point. “Tara—No!”

There was some fussing, and Tara returned to speak to you. She had wrangled her phone back. “Is there anything I can say or do to change your mind?”

You considered her question, biting the inside of your cheek. “No...” Your response was uncertain.

Your stomach churned, even it was sending signals that this was a bad idea, but your mind had been set... somewhat, anyway.

“I feared this was going to happen.” A heavy, dissatisfied sigh from your soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. “I guess this is goodbye, y/n.”

She was about to end the call, but you begged her to wait. “I thought you would fight me more on this.”

“What more can I say? It's your decision.” Her tone implied that she was not in the mood for a discussion anymore. “No one wants to stay when my sister and I have a huge target on our backs. I get it.”

Tara was still there, your Tara, the one you had grown to love. She was dealing with a lot right now.

You could hear your boss yelling at a coworker and asking about your whereabouts from inside your workplace; you needed to conclude this call fast.

“Tara.” You processed her words before you said anything irrational.

“When it gets out that I am innocent,”—enunciating the word ‘when’—I want you to know that I love you, I would never hurt you, and I hope this Ghostface bastard rots.”

Your phone beeped once, indicating that Tara hung up on you.

You scoffed in disbelief, staring in shock at the black screen in your hand.

She didn't say it back.

You headed back inside to do your job before your boss popped a blood vessel and triggered an aneurysm. Working would help distract your mind from the heartbreak that was settling in.

It was 10:30 P.M. and, like you said, you were closing tonight. It was just you, by yourself, in the dimly lit deli.

A detective with a full head of gray hair had stopped by earlier to interrogate you about your alibi and whereabouts during the time window of Jason Carver’s murder and the double homicide of Quinn and Anika.

He didn't say it outright, but you guessed that he was Quinn’s father because he had trouble saying her name without choking.

You were honestly perplexed that he hadn't been removed from the case due to a conflict of interest, but it was easier to answer him and move on.

You were in the back running deli meats through the company-bought slicer in preparation for tomorrow.

The whirring of machinery and the dicing of thick meats were the only sounds that occurred in the building, otherwise, it was eerily quiet.

You were just coming back from a bathroom break, whistling, when you were greeted by an uninvited guest.

Well, it took you embarrassingly long to notice the figure clad in a Ghostface mask and black cloak until you had turned around to investigate a noise, and there they appeared, armed with a knife, ready to kill.

It was a real-life jump scare. Your heart skipped a beat and your soul felt like it evaporated from your body as you screamed so loud, it was deafening.

Ghostface jabbed the knife at you, and you dodged, the knife cutting through the air where your head just was.

The space you were in was small, not fit for running or a two-person scuffle. All you could do was duck and avoid their attacks because you were cornered by this masked killer.

One thing led to another and you were pinned down on the counter, being slid toward the machinery you had just used to slice meats, the rotary blade was menacing as it neared you.

You struggled and released aggravated grunts. In a frenzy, you nailed Ghostface in the groin with an unsynchronized kick.

The cloaked figure sunk to their knees. A groan sounded suspiciously like a male’s, and it did not come from you.

Panting from exertion, you bent your knees to get a closer look while squinting your eyes. “Ethan?”

That name triggered something in the masked assailant, and they lunged at you with surprising momentum.

You were trapped on the counter once more, his grip was unforgiving on your wrist.

The palm of your hand lay flat on the surface, facing upwards. Ghostface stabbed the blade through your palm and the tip of it embedded in the counter, a guttural cry ripped from your throat.

Tears were flowing down your cheeks and you were weeping incoherently.

There was only one person you couldn't stop thinking of. “Please, I want to see Tara again. We have so much to talk about, I can’t leave her like this—Shit!”

You sunk your teeth in your lip as Ghostface ripped the knife from your hand and put an end to your mindless rambling.

You craved a distraction from the pain.

Ghostface leered over you, tilting his head, the screaming mask was especially daunting when you were his next victim.

He lifted the knife stained with crimson, and you screamed for the umpteenth time that night, your throat was becoming raw. “No, no, no!” The weapon was brought down in one swift, stabbing motion.

Outside, sirens blared, cars revved on the street, and the city bustled with life, but your cries of terror went unheard in the darkness of the night.

It was a new day and the weather was fine. Tara hadn't been in contact with you since you suggested a breakup.

She hadn't been in contact with you since you said those three words, and she didn't say them back. Still hasn't.

Tara didn't know what she was waiting for. You loved her irrevocably, and she knew that.

She had always known, starting from the time you guys shared a first kiss and when you gathered the courage to ask her out.

God, she missed you.

Everything you did and said swept her off her feet and into your arms. She wasn't being exactly fair to you. You were right to be frightened about her past, she didn't know why it hurt so much though.

Tara and her sister turned a corner, coming into full view of your place of work—Marceli’s Deli—but something was wrong, police cars and news reporters surrounded the building, and dispatch could be heard faintly over the radio.

Detective Bailey was on the scene, looking forlorn. The two women rushed to him.

Tara blurted out a string of questions before he received a proper greeting. “What happened?! Is y/n okay?”

“Oh,” Detective Bailey winced, lips tugging back in a grimace. “I'm afraid I have some bad news.”

Tara’s devastated expression hardened into an impassive one. “What? Is Y/n in there?”

She strained her neck to get a peek at the damage done, but Sam prevented her from sprinting inside.

Bailey raised his hands to his chest and pushed downwards, imitating a gesture that meant calm down. “Y/n has gone missing; The forensics team hasn't found a body, or... remnants of one.”

He glanced away from the Carpenter sisters, an offhand look in his eyes as he waved an officer over. “If you ladies will excuse me, this is an active crime scene, and I have unfinished work to do.”

Tara scoffed, then gasped like she couldn't believe what she just heard. Sam ushered her sister from the chaotic scene, softly murmuring, “We should go.”

“Sam! Tara!” Oh, they recognized that voice, it belonged to the shallow, selfish, self-serving liar herself, Gale Weathers.

And she swarmed into their personal space without reading the room or caring for Tara’s distraught demeanor. “How do you feel now that Ghostface has followed you to the Big Apple?”

Gale spoke into a microphone while someone filmed behind her. “Care to comment on the recent murders?”

“No. Leave us alone.” Sam said through gritted teeth. She was okay before Gale Weathers showed, but now she was aggravated.

Gale was annoyingly persistent, following after the two women when they tried to leave, and spouting an overwhelming plethora of questions.

Sam had enough. She spun on her heels, and with a roll of her eyes, threw a punch in Gale’s direction. The targeted newswoman anticipated that it was coming, and swerved.

“Nice try, sweetie,” Gale smirked, her voice amplified because of the microphone. “But I've been through this dance before—Oh!”

Tara’s fist struck her in the cheek and made Gale swivel. Tara leaned forward, threatening, “Stay away from us.”

Gale stood, dumbfounded, pressing a hand to where she'd been hit.

Sam was resting against a wall with her arms crossed once she found a secluded area for a genuine talk with Tara. “Is everything okay?”

Tara had been twisting her hands and gnawing on her lip, which were all signs that pointed to extreme anxiety and worry. “We were dating. Me and y/n.”

It came out like word vomit. Sam was surprised Tara confessed information about her private life without the usual opposition.

She blinked and straightened her posture, curiosity peaked. “Oh, Tara. Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because you're—” Tara was going to say something mean, but she stopped herself, her voice trailing off. “You.”

Sam listened to her younger sister with a glimmer of guilt in her eyes, and Tara despised that look, like she was a wounded puppy Sam had just run over.

She eyed Sam before finding solace in the ground and absentmindedly rubbing at her sore knuckles. “But Y/n has gone missing, or might not even be alive, and it's all my fault.”

Sam frowned and wrestled with a thought. “Is it possible—”

“Don’t.” Tara shut down the question before Sam could complete it, because if it was voiced aloud—there was a chance it could be true.

And she didn't want it to be true.

Sam nodded and held her tongue; her lips were set in a straight line. She didn't want to upset her sister further. “Okay.”

“It's not over.” Sam shuffled over to Tara, their shoulders almost touching as they both leaned on the building. “We're going to find Y/n and kick the asses of whoever is accountable for hurting all of us.”

“Promise?” Tara half-smiled at her sister.

She wouldn't be wholly content until you were in her arms again, but knowing she had Sam by her side, that made her feel better.

“Swear on it.” Sam held out her pinky, her tone was sweet, but her face expressed a certain maliciousness.

In agreement, Tara hooked their pinkies together. She just missed one vital piece that would make her life almost okay again... you.

A lot has happened. Gale Weathers had been stabbed, Mindy was stuck with Ethan on a train and she was falling behind, and Tara was spiraling into depression because you remained missing.

Prior to Gale’s attempted murder, the reporter had found an abandoned, secret hideout with Ghostface graffiti scattered on the outside and guided Sam and Tara to it—everyone else followed along—as an apology for being a conceited bitch.

It kinda worked. Tara felt a little remorseful, but she deserved that punch.

Turns out the inside was even more of a freak show, occupied with Ghostface collections and a fucking shrine of mannequins wearing cloaks and wielding the knives of past killers, only all the masks were missing.

Tara did not like it here. The place gave her the creeps equivalent to a thousand bugs crawling down her back.

She hoped that you would show up out of the blue, in good health, with a smile on your face, saying something like, “I'm sorry I ran away,” and tease her like you always did by being your goofy self.

But with every passing moment that specific scenario didn't happen, the likelihood of you being alive became less likely, and her heart grew heavy.

Tara didn't want to admit it, because then your disappearance would become a reality, but her hopes were diminishing.

Sam was also going through her own internal turmoil; Tara has seen the way her sister looked at Billy Loomis’s display when she assumed no one was watching.

“What are you doing?” Tara didn't mean to spook Sam. Her eyes gleamed, not out of fear, but because she was concerned.

“Yo, Tara!” Chad had cupped his hands over his mouth to shout and was beckoning for her to walk with him.

Tara glanced over at Chad and back at her speechless sister, who was struggling to form a sentence, her gaze sympathetic.

She turned away to follow Chad.

“Who uses this place anymore? It's so old,” Tara remarked while smirking.

She stood at a dusty concession counter with Chad. He smiled at her comment and shifted closer to her.

He reached for an old box of candy at the same time she did, and their fingers brushed.

Tara flushed from embarrassment. “Oh, you can have it.”

Chad withdrew his arm, grinning sheepishly. “I'm sorry. You can have it.”

“No, you can take them.” Tara insisted, her smile fading while handing the box of chocolate to him.

But Chad just wouldn't get the hint. “No, you wanted them...” He tossed the candy down on the counter. “You take it.”

“I don't want them. They're a hundred years old. I actually—What are you doing?” Chad had tried to kiss her, but Tara pushed him back.

“Kissing... You?” He arched a brow in confusion, sounding unsure of himself.

“I'm dating Y/n. I was. We broke up.” She rambled, using her inhaler before she was sent into a panic attack. “It's complicated.”

Chad wasn't unattractive in the slightest. He had a buff build, muscles, and a soft heart underneath the tough jock exterior.

Sometimes he said things that made him seem brainless, but terrible timing aside, she didn't see him like that—more than as a friend.

Even if you were out of the picture, which was a thought she couldn't stomach, her relationship with you was still fresh. She didn't want to date anyone else.

Chad was quiet, and all Tara wanted to do was drown herself in the silence.

Sam lingered away from the Ghostface mannequins, and stepping down the stage, she called out, “Tara? Chad? Kirby?”

She was alone, in the room by herself. They had dispersed to different areas of the theatre and left her.

Tara and Chad stood beside each other with their backs turned to the counter, seeking comfort in the other’s presence.

“I'm stupid, aren't I?” Chad had a pained smile on his face. He was trying to make the situation less awkward by joking.

Tara couldn't help the small, amused smile that tugged on her lips, partially serious as she answered him. “A little bit.”

Dejectedly, he hung his head and blew a puff of air. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Tara shook her head, “You're going to be fine.” She corrected herself, “We are,” and playfully nudged Chad.

Sam slowly crept toward the corridor, her ears picking up on muffled thumping sounds that resembled rats running through pipes.

Chad and Tara kept talking in the other room while Sam was investigating the noise. “I think you're beautiful, Tara. You're strong and I like women who can throw a punch.”

Trailing her hand along the walls, Sam had Billy Loomis’s knife out at the ready, on extremely high alert as she neared the source.

“I can't be with you, not now, probably not ever” Tara replied curtly.

He wouldn't drop the subject and it made her uncomfortable. “Maybe if you told me before I met y/n, then it would be different.”

Bingo. Sam’s hand found a small handle in the paneling. She pushed, then pulled and it gave away, revealing a thin, hidden compartment.

“The thing is, I didn't realize how much I wanted you until I saw you with someone else,” Chad admitted, taking a tentative peek at her.

He was speaking from the bottom of his heart, but still, Tara didn't love him like she loved you.

It was dark, but Sam could see the silhouette of a person and glistening eyes. “Y/n.” she breathed softly; her heart broke at the condition you were in.

There you were. Alive, held captive but not dead.

She flipped the knife so the blade was facing the floor, and crouched down.

“Tara is here with me. We're going to get you out of here, okay?” She fumbled with the duct tape on your wrists, glancing at your tear-stricken face. “She'll be so, so happy to see you.”

Your eyes brightened, but what you were attempting to say was unintelligible because your mouth was duct-taped as well.

You were happy though, that much Sam could tell.

A scream echoed in the corridor. It was Tara’s.

Sam’s eyes snapped to yours and reluctance showed on her features. She began to pull away, even though she was not finished setting you free.

“Sam.” You looked at her expectantly.

She was reminded of that time in Woodsboro when Tara was locked in that closet and she had to decide whether or not she should set her sister free.

Guilt tugged on Sam’s heart, but she stood up anyway. “Wait here. I'll be back, I promise.”

You began to shout muffled objections. The secret door was shut back in place, leaving you to stew in your thoughts and emotions once more.

Sam went to find her sister, but she didn't have to go far because Tara ran into her, hyperventilating. “They got Chad! They got him! Two of them.”

Sam gripped Tara’s arms and waited until she calmed down to tell her what she'd discovered. “I found Y/n!”

“What? Where is he?” Tara attempted to search for you, but Sam kept her still.

“Not now. He's safe.” Sam brushed back a strand of hair from her sister’s eyes, moving her hands to hold both sides of her face. “Hey, let’s finish this okay? Then we can go home.”

Tara nodded and allowed Sam to guide her to the room where the mannequins and Ghostface memorabilia were.

It was time for Act 3.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes morphed into hours. You were just sitting there, waiting, in the cramped space when the door slid open again.

Sam stared down at you, sporting a familiar, black cloak that you had witnessed Ghostface wearing. “Did you see who took you?”

A slow nod from you.

Was it Ethan or Quinn?” She was digging for information about the culprit of your kidnapping; you shook your head at both of the names mentioned.

“Detective Bailey. Old cop guy with grey hair.” Your confused expression shifted into a knowing one.

Sam smirked, an evil glint in her eyes. “Be right back.”

She slid the door closed; you were enclosed in the secret compartment again.

Sam tore the mask off her face and let it sit on her head. She turned out of the center stage, walked through the projector curtains, and joined Tara on the steps.

“Thank you for letting me go.” Tara’s face was stained with black splotches, and she looked the same as Sam did—A total mess.

They had just finished killing a family–Richie’s family, in fact. Quinn, Ethan, and fucking Detective Bailey were all relatives of his.

Detective Bailey was the only one left alive for their final act. It was a team effort; Tara called him over the phone pretending to be Ghostface.

Sam wore the costume, stealthily approached that dipshit, and stabbed him until he couldn't scream anymore.

Of course, she did stab him in the eye as a preventative measure. He deserved a worse fate than death, but he also didn't deserve a second chance to torment her family. Yes, that included you too.

Sam smiled, and this one did reach her eyes, resting her head on her arm. “I knew you could take care of yourself.”

Tara’s smile faltered and her gaze dropped to her shoes.

“I want to be in your life though,” Sam added after a beat of silence. Tara made eye contact with her sister, her expression softening. “But only as much as you want me to.”

“I want you to be in my life.” Tara declared with complete honesty, squashing Sam’s doubts. “And y/n, Mindy,” Her voice wavered at the next name, “Chad.”

Sam reached over and placed a hand on Tara’s knee. She was sympathetic to her sister’s feelings.

They both have dealt with this specific trauma two times, too many.

Tara chuckled and a wide grin formed on her face. Sam giggled with her, just glad to laugh after the day they had.

A loud bang! and a clatter startled the sisters, causing them to jump up apprehensively.

You stumbled into the room with a bruised eye, and a bleeding cut above the eyebrow of your other eye. Your face was roughed up as if you had been in a horrible fistfight.

There was a long and wide, jagged, exposed gash that went across your nose, under your left eye and stopped at your earlobe.

Your feet were taped together and the tape on your hands had been cut.

“You still don't understand, Tara!” Ethan screamed, veins exuded out of his neck and his eyes bulged. “In the sequel, the perfect boyfriend died.”

“Quinn.” Detective Bailey demanded. “Go fetch, y/n. We have a crime scene to stage.”

“On it!” Quinn strode past the sisters and turned into the corridor that led to the other rooms of the theatre, disappearing from view.

Sam looked up through hooded eyes into the soulless ones of Detective Bailey. “Wow. You and Richie have similar plans.”

He was aiming a gun at her and tilted his head, confusion etched on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Your son took my sister hostage.” There was a faux sweetness behind her tone. Sam was taunting him. “He tried to convince me that Tara was the killer, but guess what? I untied her.”

As if on cue, Quinn exclaimed, “Uh, I can't find him!”

Detective Bailey’s voice boomed as he shouted back, “He can't have gotten far!”

Some things were tossed and slammed around in her search for you. A sharp ‘thwack’ sounded and Quinn cried out.

“I let him go,” Sam smirked.

Tara ran and wrapped her arms around you in a bone-crushing hug, nearly knocking you off your feet, a choked sob escaped from her.

Pulling away to inspect you, she reached out and peeled the tape from your lips. “Tara.” You croaked.

Your throat felt like sandpaper due to a lack of water and food, and your lips were cracked.

“Y/n,” Tara mumbled softly, tears welling up in her eyes. She brought her hand around the nape of your neck and drew you in for a kiss.

You succumbed to the warm sensation of her lips on yours and deepened the kiss. The suffering you had endured was washing away now that your girl was in your arms.

Tara had that power; she always knew how to make your pain forgettable when you were with her.

You parted for air, already missing her lips on yours.

You also had something really important to say and it couldn't wait, “Tara, I want to undo the breakup.”

Tara beamed at you and grinned ear-to-ear. Teasingly, she asked, “We broke up?”

Her face glowed with a certain happiness that was only expressed in your presence.

You rolled your eyes, and the small smile on your lips made it obvious that you were humoring her. “Come here.”

You lured her in for a second kiss and your lips nearly connected with hers, but a loud, animalistic growl forced you and Tara to spring apart in fear.

Ethan Landry was still alive. He had a bloody maw and roared like a beast, rushing, aiming for all three of you with a knife raised.

It was so unexpected and too fast for any of you to formulate a defensive strategy. You, Sam, and Tara could only gape at Ethan’s grotesque appearance.

Something creaked, and in the blink of an eye, the tv that killed Stu Macher tipped over and claimed Ethan Landry as its new victim.

Kirby popped out from behind the display where the TV used to be. Like the rest of you survivors, she was in terrible shape.

She smiled, “Saw that in a scary movie once.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and pulled Tara close to you, a smile returning to your face.

Sam moved closer to you and Tara, looking proud of you two. She placed her hand on your back, between your shoulder blades, and gave you a one-armed hug.

You leaned into her embrace and rested your chin on her shoulder. It was nice of her to do that, and you felt like crying because, from the moment you started dating Tara, you hoped to bond with her sister.

Sam didn't let you go right away; she was dragging out the hug for as long as possible, and it's what you needed. “How would you feel about going out on a double date? You and Tara, Me and Danny—my neighbor—who I've been seeing.”

Her voice was smooth and inviting, even if you considered saying no, it would've been hard to refuse. “I'd love that, Sam.”

She broke off the hug to gauge whether you were being serious or otherwise. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” You had a grin on your face.

“Already talking about me behind my back?” Tara chimed in, staring at you with an eyebrow raised, and suppressing a smile.

“Aww, is my lovebug feeling lonely?” You did a silly, comical impression with your voice and pulled her flush to your hip, tenderly squeezing her shoulder.

“I can't stand you.” You and Sam laughed together at Tara’s empty insult.

Tara protested and elbowed you in the ribs, but soon, she was laughing as well.

“Oh, man.” When the laughter died down, you groaned and touched your forehead, dangerously on the verge of fainting or spilling out your guts. “I need to go to the hospital.”

Two weeks have passed.

Tara strutted through a fitness gym, wearing sunglasses and holding a coffee. All she could hear were misogynistic, sweaty men grunting and using the exercise equipment.

“Come on! Come on!”

Two men were practicing boxing. One man was holding up mitts, acting as a target dummy, and the other was throwing punches.

Tara approached them, removing her glasses. “Y/n.”

You stopped mid-punch, saw who called your name, and disengaged from your boxing stance. “Babe, hey!”

You walked to her with open arms and pulled her into a big, sweaty hug. “We were just finishing up.”

Danny was the man who you were sparring with. He peeled off the gloves and tucked them under his arm, sporting a toothy grin.

“I got you coffee.” Tara offered you the to-go cup when you pulled away.

You took the coffee off her hands. “Oh, sweet. Decaf?”

“Uh huh, only the best for my beau.” She smiled while watching you chug the hot beverage.

“Is Sam ready?” Danny asked, joining you and Tara.

“Yeah,” Tara pointed her thumb at the entrance of the gym. “She’s waiting outside.”

You finished drinking the coffee and lowered the cup in your hands. “How is Chad, by the way?”

Tara perked up when you asked; she seemed excited to talk about him. “He’s recovering pretty fast. It's impressive, according to his doctor. He’ll be out in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s good to hear!” You said cheerily with a hint of sarcasm. “I still need to fight him for trying to kiss you.”

Your girlfriend released a small, airy laugh. “As much as I would love to see both of you acting like idiots, fighting is unnecessary. He’s already dealing with my rejection.”

“I imagine that's gotta hurt.” Danny chortled while glancing at you.

“Yeah, imagine.” You smirked, refraining from laughing when Danny gave you a knowing look.

Tara shook her head and she didn't bother to hide her signature eye roll. “I'm hating this... bromance or whatever this is between the two of you.”

You chuckled. Danny pressed his hand to his chest and faked a hurt expression. “Ouch, Sam’s little sis.”

“Speaking of, I wouldn't want to keep Sam waiting.” You slung each of your arms around Danny and Tara and propelled them forward. “Let's go eat!”

Both of them complained while you used their necks as props as you reached the doors to exit, and Tara smacked you until she was freed from your arm.

You met up with Sam, who was standing right outside the gym, and the four of you walked on the sidewalks of New York to a nice, fancy restaurant.

You and Tara were seated together at a table with Sam and Danny, surrounded by great food, jokes, laughter, and a warm ambiance.

You clinked your alcoholic drink against theirs and chatted the night away.

Ghostface? Stab series? They didn't cross your mind once.

[Tags: @jacelion because they are so supportive of my posts <3 ]

[nat054]

The knife swap is the hottest gf moment

[screamsortega]

i won’t let anyone hurt you;

summary: as news of a new ghostface arises you get painful flashbacks from the year before, luckily, your boyfriend ethan is there to comfort you.

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, murder, all that stuff.

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

*lowercase intended*

“what’s going on?” sam spoke, rushing in not too long after chad called for her.

“…where the mutilated bodies of two students..” the news reporter on the tv spoke.

“cute boy, nice.” quinn said, pointing to the guy that followed in after sam.

“their names have just been released by the police, jason carvey and greg bruckner.” the reporter continues before mindy chimes in.

“holy shit,” she began, “that’s that chode from our film studies class. the one obsessed with argento.”

“Also found at the scene were various ghostface costumes, a character popularized by the stab movie franchise.” as soon as the reporter said those words, you could feel your face grow pale before you all looked at one another.

“Pack a bag, we leave in ten.” sam spoke, walking into the kitchen to grab a knife.

“sam, wait, sam!” tara spoke up, walking over towards her sister.

“we’re getting out of the city.”

“what?” the guy, danny, that followed behind sam said.

“thank you, suspicious new guy, but we got it from here.” chad says, slightly pushing danny back out of the apartment. “have a good night, get home safe.”

“sam.” tara said, “sam, wh- hold on, no, wait, let’s talk about this for a second. cause this might not have anything to do with us.”

“are you serious?” sam asked.

“it’s a big city! it’s halloween, everybody’s wearing masks!” tara defended.

“tara, this isn’t a coincidence.” sam spoke, hee voice slightly raising. “you knew him!”

“barely.”

“chad, mindy, y/n? back me up.”

“i mean, it is a little bit..” chad started as mindy finished his sentence. “close to home.”

“see?” sam said, turning back to tara.

you had been sitting in silence, blanking out, ethan had taken notice of this. “y/n?” he spoke, his voice low enough to where only you could hear.

ethan’s voice caused you to bring yourself back into reality, you get up and walk into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you which causes the group to stop in the middle of their conversations.

“is — is she okay?” anika questions, looking from one person to another.

“this is bringing shit back for her,” tara began, “everything that happened last year traumatized her for like, life.”

“didn’t it happen to all of you, though?” quinn asks, trying to keep up.

“well, yeah, but it just had a way harder hit on her. she hasn’t been dealing with it well either.”

ethan glances at the ground, contemplating on whether or not he should try and comfort you.

he gets up, heads to your bedroom door but before he reaches for the handle mindy chimes in. “she probably doesn’t want to be bothered right now, dude.”

ethan rolls his eyes, ignoring mindy’s comment as he walks in your bedroom and closes the door behind him.

“hey, you okay?” ethan asks, sitting besides you as his hand rests upon your shoulder.

you shrug his hand off, “go away, e.”

the two of you sit in silence for a moment, ethan deciding on what to say. “do you wanna talk about it?”

you just sit there, knees up against your chest as your head hangs low. “i know this must be hard for you, and i’m sorry that you have to go through this again.” ethan began.

“i care about you, y/n, and i’m here for you. so, please, talk to me.”

for some reason, tears just start to pour onto your face, your head falls upon ethan’s shoulder. “i can’t do this shit again, e, i can’t.”

“i know, it’s okay,” ethan began, his hand crept up to your hair, brushing through it. “just take deep breaths, okay? in and out.”

“ethan,” you began, finally controlling your breathing. “you have to get out of here, okay? if ghostface is really back then that means they’ll come after everyone, and that includes you and i can’t lose you, e.”

“yeah, well, you must be crazy if you think i’m leaving you.” ethan spoke, “i won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?”

“just let it all out, y/n”

[the-fandom-abyss]

You wanted a sentence prompt, here you go!

It was all going well until Character A walked through the door

It was all going well until Ethan walked through the door. He was sporting his usual smug look accompanied by his Ghostface attire. It only took one glance for Quinn to observe the blood that stained his costume. It was hard to see but it glistened underneath the light overhead.

“Where have you been?” A question that does not often flow naturally after discovering your brother in such a state. Yet, it passed Quinn’s lips with ease.

“Just getting some practice before the big day” Ethan walked closer to his sister, eyes never leaving her as he observed his prey.

“Do tell me who the lucky victim was”

“Y/N” a shiver coursed through Quinn’s spine at the mention of your name. A name that she had carefully hidden so that her family would not target you. Her efforts were for nothing as she knew that Ethan was not bluffing. You were dead and she was the cause, a burden that weighed heavily on her shoulders. Ethan, however, grinned wider at the shock that overcame Quinn, that’s all the reaction he needed.

[baby-alien11]

imagine walking during a ghostface meeting

Ethan and you started dating since the last year of high school managing to have a stable relationship that included enrolling in the same university to be together

But during the time that left to start college, you and Ethan stayed at a small department to have your stuff ready for moving day

A few weeks before starting university, Ethan and his family decided to have a little reunion to planify things about the Ghostface situation

Ethan didn't had a problem that you would wake because you were tired after the activities that both of you did last night, so he was surprised to see you walk in the living room using only one of his shirts and shorts

That made Wayne to sigh in anoyance for the interruption, while Quinn only laughed at her brothers red face

"Sorry, I didn't know about the reunion", you excused yourself while walking to the kitchen"I just wanted a coffee, please continue"

"If we continue talking you are going to get involved", Quinn sayed getting a scared look from her brother, "It could be dangerous"

"What, you are planning a murder?", you joked but soon the serious faces of the three stared at you, "Oh shit"

"Y/N, come here and sit", Wayne order, causing you to sit next to Ethan who inmediatly put his hand on your thigh

Hearing the explanation of Wayne about how they lost Richie and their plan of vengance towards the Carpenter sisters, you were surprised of how detailled was everything

"You know, it's so lucky that Benoit Blanc doesn't exist in real life because all the murderers would be screwed", you laughed a little

"Wait, you are not going to run and scape?", Ethan asked with surprised

"I mean, it's crazy, but your reasons are valid", you said taking a sip of your coffee, "And I have a condition"

"What?", Wayne sighed a little anoyed

"I don't wanna be stabed or cut, maybe slammed on walls or something to don't look suspicious", you answered, "But not cuts or stabs"

"I agree with her", Quinn nodded, "Your skin is beautiful"

"Thanks sis", you smiled towards her, "Finishing this I'm going to share some of my skincare products with you"

"So, Y/N", Wayne spoke regainning the attention, "You're in?"

"Where's my mask?", you smiled

Hearing that, the Baileys looked at each other with evil smiles happy to had another accomplice

A/N: I literally wrote this in less than twenty minutes, I hope you liked it

[ethansluvbot]

CARDIGAN | ETHAN LANDRY

summary: after figuring out ethan is ghostface along with quinn and bailey you start to distance yourself.

warnings: SPOILERS!!!, knifes, blood, stalking (not mentioned in this part)

an: i watched the movie one of the first days it came out and let me just say i liked it!! my favorite is still four but that won’t change :) sorry for the shitty writing. also i need more request so feel free to :)

❛ YOU DREW STARS AROUND MY SCARS

you were watching ethan sit for awhile. he looked nervous? shaking his leg and looking around every minutes. you started to develop feelings for him soon after you met him. you met through chad at a random frat party.

you were glad that chad introduced you two. you finally had met someone that was like you in multiple ways. you both read the same books, watched the same films and both were attracted to horror films. you knew the moment he said he liked the stab movies that you were compatible.

you had him wrapped around your finger without knowing. he always would try to please you or make you notice him. the way he was staring at you made you realize something was up. it shocked him to see you staring right back at him with a growing smirk.

one thing about ethan is he can’t take hints. no matter how many times you’ve tried to get him to notice he didn’t. you once even told him you flat out liked him and he was still oblivious.

ever since you figured out ethan was ghost face people you tried to stay away. you probably should’ve told someone about your discovery but you were scared. ethan was one of the only people you trusted with everything. now he would be taken away from you.

you stood up walking out of crowded room. ethan was not far behind grabbing your wrist. turning around you flinched taking your wrist away. he stared into your eyes letting go.

“did i do something to you? if i did please tell me.” he looked down at you with pleading eyes. you’d usually ignore this type of behavior from other guys but it was different. you pulled him into a hug while you still thought about his mask. could ethan really kill all those people?

you roommates still weren’t home to your surprise. they both were big party people so it wasn’t unnecessarily surprising. you tucked the key under the mat just incase they needed a spare.

the sight of the doorknob turning scared you. immediately grabbing a knife you went into your room locking it. thankfully it had a window if needed. you already knew one killer what if he found out? what if he has to kill you now that you know.

a quick knock came from your door followed by a low voice, “you didn’t answer the phone, i thought it was time to pay you a visit.” you didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking.

“go fuck yourself ethan!” you screamed as the knife plunged into the door. you quickly went to the window opening it. pushing yourself out of the window. you were the third floor. chances were you’d break a few bones. or you would’ve until you felt a pair of hands yank you down.

you cried out as a knife plunged into your skin. even though you were in searing pain you began to fight back. ethan pulled the mask off looking in your eyes.

“i think your bleeding a bit,” he tilted his head motioning to your leg. you never believed ethan could be ghostface. even after mindy going on extreme rants about how he was.

“i never wanted to kill you, you are so precious, but someone had to figure out who i was. now this is your ending.”

AND NOW IM BLEEDING ❜

[flowerbxuquet]

The only truth

Amber Freeman x fem!reader

A/N: GOD GUYS I HAVENT WRITTEN FANFIC IN LIKE TWO YEARS SO THIS IS probably really shitty but shut up just take it :P

WARNINGS: uhhh gore i think..there’s a lotta violence and it’s pretty angsty

The small town of Woodsboro had been rocked with fear when the gruesome Ghostface attacks were brought back to the once quiet and homely town. Among the chaos though, between your friends, you had found comfort in your best friend of all, Amber Freeman, your girlfriend.

Amber was beautiful, witty, artistic, athletic, she was perfect, she was your rock, a shoulder to lean on in the darkest moments of the Ghostface massacres.

You spent countless nights with her after the news spread, terrified you were next.

Amber consoled and soothed you in her arms those nights, you slept like a baby through the whole night.

Loving the way that you thought she would stay in bed with you those nights when Amber had really been sneaking away when you were at your most vulnerable.

The sound of the gun shot still rings through your ears even as you hide in the closet of the house- Stu Macher’s house, the house you had been mindlessly staying at for nights for comfort, turned out to be the most horrific house you’d ever stepped foot in.

You can still see the look on Liv’s face when Amber—your rock—the love of your life, had shot her right in the head.

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted when you hear heavy boots clunking through the hallway at a rapid rate, you knew it was Amber.

Your breathe catches in your throat as you cover your mouth, tears pricking at your eyes as you desperately try not to make a sound.

Suddenly, the door slams open and you let out a scream of terror. Amber looks pissed but her gaze immediately softens as she looks at you, lowering her knife that her gloved hands were holding, the gloved hands of the Ghostface costume.

“Baby..” Amber coos softly, her voice is so quiet and soothing, completely different to when you could hear her screaming and laughing mockingly at Sidney and Gale just downstairs.

Amber sighs, seeing your terrified expression. “Sorry, baby, i’m just..um..looking for Tara. Why don’t you come out? I’m not going to hurt you..” Her voice sounds so loving, so caring and trusting.

But you see her hand reaching out to you and you can see the ghostface gloves and come back to your senses.

“How could you do this to me?”

Your voice is meek, it cracks slightly as tears roll down your face and you stare up at her with a look of utter betrayal.

Amber’s eyes fill with remorse and she sighs, “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I never wanted you to get hurt.” A lie, it was all a lie, she manipulated and lied to you for months, she was a monster. You loved her so much and she betrayed you.

Your heart shattered as you struggle to comprehend the betrayal. "You used me. All this time, you were lying to my face while people died because of you!"

Amber reached out, desperate to touch her beloved girlfriend but you flinched away from her touch, backing up into the wall of the closet like a feral cat.

“You..lied to me for months.” You whisper softly, Ambers heart breaking each time you spoke with that damned broken voice that just made her want to kiss and comfort you. “Is there any part of you that’s real?”

Amber nodded, her voice barely audible. "The part that loves you. That's the only truth I have left."

You were torn between conflicting emotions. Those words tugged at your heart strings and made your heart soar..but you knew what happened in all of these movies. You knew the gruesome deaths that each Ghostface faced, and with Sidney and Gale in the house now, you were certain she wouldn't make it out of this alive.

Out of nowhere, Tara comes stumbling out, slamming her crutches into Ambers face and Amber screams, falling onto the ground while Tara takes heavy breathes, bringing her crutches down and onto Amber over and over and over again.

You stare in shock and quickly leave the closet when Amber gets back up and moves to grab Tara, you move swiftly and barrel your body into your lovers. Amber yelps in surprise and is thrown over the couch, wincing in pain as she falls against the glass table.

Tara quickly grabs the knife from Amber’s hands, staring down at Amber who’s trying to get up but her body is impaled with the glass from the table.

Tara hands you the knife slowly, her hands shaking as she gives you a nod.

You’re confused, hurt, angry.

“The second you’re not of use anymore, she will kill you just like the others.” Tara whispers softly with a frown, she knows how hard this must be, especially since Amber was also her best friend.

You feel like you’re not in your body anymore as you stand over Ambers limp body, completely dissociated.

Amber’s face is covered in blood and there’s some glass in her cheek as she stares at you with pleading eyes.

“Y/n..I love you..no one will ever love you the way I do.”

Amber whispers, her voice shaky and frightened.

You take a deep breathe, pushing aside your emotions as you close your eyes tightly. Thoughts are flashing through your mind, your first date with Amber, her little laughs, how possessive and jealous she would get which you used to find cute, how she would hold you close, whisper in your ear, kiss you so tenderly.

You exhale as you bring the knife down in your hand and feel the knife enter Amber’s forehead, suffering the same wound as Liv. Your heart breaks, your eyes still squeezing shut—

—After you killed the love of your life.

[gothicknightz]

3am pt. 2 | ethan landry

notes: omg you guys 😭😭 i love appreciate every one of you ty for keeping the hype alive, SCREAM 6 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

She awoke up in a horrible cold sweat, having the worst nightmare about getting attacked by Ghostface on her way back from a party Chad had invited her to.

Sitting up in a disarray and out of breath, the quick pain shooting from the side of her stomach hitting instantly.

So it wasn't a dream.

Now sitting up, her heart was racing as she looked around and spotted Ethan, her boyfriend, passed out on a nearby chair, his phone still in hand.

She could barely remember what had happened before she passed out, but she assumed that Ethan had found her.

Then his phone started to ring.

This startled Ethan awake, nearly dropping his phone in the process. As he noticed his girlfriend in front of him, he rushed over to her side immediately.

“(y/n), you're awake.”

He was careful when it came to hugging her, as her stab wound was recently patched up, and it was a miracle that the knife didn't hit any vital organs.

"Yeah," She mumbled, groaning as she attempted to sit up, "Someone's callin' you, Ethan." Her eyes flashed to caller I.D, which flashed a picture of Chad in a Hawaiian shirt and cowboy hat.

Ethan was too tired to react properly, and in turn, picked up the phone without a proper introduction or 'yeah.' Instead, the news was dropped onto him that Anika and Quinn were murdered by Ghostface.

"What?" His face was painted in a look of shock as he glanced worriedly at (y/n), holding her closer yet gently.

"How's (y/n), is she doing alright?"

"She's a fighter. I'll be there."

As he hung up, Ethan turned to his girlfriend and planted a kiss on her head, "Look," He said, placing an arm around her shoulders, "Anika and Quinn were murdered, and I- I'm gonna go check up with everyone, okay?"

(y/n) shook her head dismissively before pushing herself upwards, Ethan quickly going to her side for her aid, "I'm coming whether you like it or not. I wanna catch this guy as much as I want him dead."

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

As Ethan and (y/n) arrive at the crime scene, Mindy was fairly accusatory after the death of her girlfriend, Anika, to which Ethan brought up the fact that he was with (y/n) at the hospital after her attack.

"Mindy, what the hell?" (y/n) ran a hand through her hair as she sat on one of the open ambulances, sighing, "I've literally been in the hospital. How could Ethan be the killer?"

"Maybe that's the cover-up. Maybe he had someone paid to dress up as Ghostface and stab you. Maybe you two are both in on it. Just think about what happened with Richie and Amber."

This annoyed (y/n), who got up and pointed to her right lateral side, "I literally got fucking stabbed! Lay off the accusations, expert, your girlfriend just dropped dead."

Mindy narrowed her eyes at the pair before being held back by her brother, who was subsequently followed by Gale brining up something that the gang would want to see.

In a matter of minutes, the group of teenagers accompanied by Kirby, Gale, and Detective Bailey, were all at some supposed 'Stab' shrine in which all of the costumes and clothes of victims were compiled into an abandoned movie theatre.

Unsettled by the fact that the past was unearthed in front of her, (y/n) was by Ethan's side the entire time, not understanding any of the backstory that came with the tragedy.

Taking a dark trip down memory lane, (y/n) sighed before the words of Kirby got her attention, dragging a way to catch, or at least, trace the killer.

Hopefully, this was the end of it.

(ughhhhhhhh im not satisfied with this ending, you know there's automatically going to be more.)

[emiliehornby]

diesel is desire (you were playing with fire)

pairing ethan landry x fem! riley-weathers! reader

synopsis the shadow of somebody you used to know comes back to haunt you in more ways than one when your ex-boyfriend takes part in a master plan to murder you

warnings canon typical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of death

author’s notes a friend of mine actually let me edit this and repost so if you think this fic looks familiar, it’s probably why!! no plagiarism involved i promise, just some fun writing exercises. hope you guys enjoy!! love you!!

Tara’s final blow to the masked killer falling to the floor made it incredibly hard to focus.

You and your friends shared a look, the realization that Kirby’s double crossing blindsided you all. You thought on your feet, turning the corner of the counter to try and find another way out, only for the lock to betray you. You kicked the door, knowing that the only way out was through the way you came, but you couldn’t take that risk of finding an accomplice awaiting your presence.

Walking back towards the unlocked exit, you watched as Sam’s hands cupped Tara’s cheeks, examining her. It was the reprieve you craved as you longed for your mother’s warmth to engulf you, but reality settled in and your heaving chest began to with every breath. Honestly, that was supposed to be the least of your worries.

You just really wanted to get out of there.

Your fingertips barely touched the doorknob when Tara's scream cut through the air. Turning around, Chad was on his two knees with the two Ghostfaces going at it, stabbing him until his sweatshirt stained red.

Your eyes widened, “Oh shit.” Looking between Sam, who was struggling to hold Tara back from stepping in, and Chad, whose eyes pleaded for you to escape, the split second decision was made. You moved past the Carpenter sisters to grab a framed poster off the wall. Sam seemed to figure out what you were doing and reached out to stop you.

“Y/N, wait!” She barely brushed over your arm when you hit one of them over the head. Their grip immediately loosened on Chad, who fell limply while you kicked Ghostface One towards the wall. When you heard a hard thud from the impact, you threw the frame aside to turn around. Your gaze was on the second killer, who’s knife was dangerously close to piercing your skin.

You screamed at the sisters, “What are you waiting for? Go!” You lifted your arms to defend yourself, only earning yourself a stab in the thigh by Ghostface Two, who’d finally come to their senses. That was Sam’s wake up call, pushing Tara out the door despite her insistent screams to do something. It broke your heart, but when they disappeared, you let your guard down enough for them to take the knife to your shoulder. Screaming, they pushed you up against the wall before letting you slide down to the floor like a rag doll. You clutched your wounds, attempting to get up but you only scrambled yourself into a corner.

Bracing yourself for these last moments, you knew you couldn’t go down without a fight. Not if that meant Sam and Tara could escape, or the slim chance Chad could still be alive.

“You aren’t the first shitheads to try this, you know. And you probably won’t be the last. So kill me! I dare you to try…” You spat. 

The ghostface, who’s mask resembled much of Nancy Loomis’, pulled your head back to meet their gaze. Their knife slowly traced over your throat and you hissed when they nicked down towards your collarbone. The other ghostface, with Stu Macher’s mask, wanted to finish you off when the former’s knife cut through the air to stop them. Conflict vibrated between them, daring you to smirk up at them, “Unless you’re too scared to?”

That caught their attention, a sudden pain shooting through your torso in response. When the knife met your warm flesh, you gritted your teeth when they twisted it into you. The Nancy Loomis lookalike merely tilted their head at the action. Yanking the weapon away, the killers couldn’t be bothered to look back before they left. You rested your head against the wall as they traced down the Carpenter sisters, and you could only hope they were long gone from this killbox.

You started to mentally prepare yourself when the door shut behind them. Taking one big breath, you attempted to push yourself up from off the ground. Any small movement shot pain through your veins, but you continued to fight when thinking of Chad, who was lying only a few feet away from you. Slowly, you were able to reach him, falling to your knees to see how seemingly lifeless he looked. You immediately pressed two fingers to the pulse point in his neck, sighing in relief when you felt it beating weakly against you.

“Chad, can you hear me?” You slapped his face.

No response.

You gradually hardened your blows. Still no response. Tears began to fall down your face, dissolving into the bloodstains. Somehow, this made your stomach hurt more than when you were stabbed, but you weren’t one to give up easily. You checked his pulse again. It was slower than before, prompting you to grab his shoulders. Staying mindful of his head, you shook him until he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned heavily. You let out a choked sob, a laugh bubbling from you for the first time in days.

Reaching over to grab his hand, you thought out loud in hopes you could talk him through the unimaginable pain he was in, “Okay good! That’s good. Now listen-”

“Ta…Ta…ra-“ He cut you off with a whisper.

You frowned, “I don’t- I don't know where Sam and Tara went.” Fading gunshots and distant yelling then echoed through the building. You glanced at the door, then back down at Chad to tell him, “But you gotta listen to me. I’m gonna come back for you. okay? I'm gonna find them, and then I'll come and get you. I promise we’ll be okay.” You gave his hand a squeeze before gently placing it down on his chest.

You shifted all your weight to your uninjured leg, trying to hold yourself up despite the pain in your shoulder when you stood up straight. Lightheadedness momentarily rook over until you caught yourself with the corner of the counter. Slowly, you limped your way back to the main room, where the muffled voices finally began to make sense. But your gaze was drawn to the clear case that stored your father’s gun. You couldn’t help but pry it open and made sure the gun was loaded before stashing it in your waistband. Solemnly, you stared at his sketch, pressing a kiss to your thumb to run across his face. Cracking a small smile, you picked up the extra bullets to place in your back pocket.

“...Stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy on the train. I mean, they’re not dead yet, but I guess killing Y/N is going to be good enough for now.” You perked up at the mention of your name and decided to make fun of the masked killers.

“God, you guys are shit at playing your own game, you know that? I was unarmed and I was by myself, And guess what? I’m still not dead!” The Carpenter sisters turned around at the sound of your voice. You kept your gaze on them the entire time, heart clenching when Tara choked out a sob upon seeing you. Once you were close enough, she stepped forward and took you into her arms. Sam kept a hand on you both while Tara held you for dear life. You hugged back with just as much fervor, but couldn’t stop yourself from looking over her shoulder to see the robed figures without their Ghostface masks. You weren’t sure if it was the blood loss or the reality of the situation, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were seeing things. “Ethan? What the fuck?” You said.

“Hey baby.” He smirked. Okay, he was definitely real. You tensed up when he scoffed, “What’s the matter? Don’t you remember how badly you wanted me to be here?” His gaze grew sinister, almost as if you meant nothing to him.

This wasn’t the Ethan you knew. He had spilled coffee on your shirt and after apologizing profusely, offered to help clean it up with three spare tissues he had in his pocket. You thought he was going to be it for you But this wasn’t the Ethan you eventually grew to love over the years either. The boy was sweet, awkward, and absolutely nerdy but you soaked up every word he’d ever said because you loved the sound of his voice. Every day with Ethan was a good one…until all of that changed. A spring break you were meant to spend together was taken away from you when Woodsboro called. Ethan had said you’d come back a completely different person, and your emotions ran high, effectively straining your relationship. Your breakup was imminent, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt.

Tara lightly shook you out of your trance, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You gulped.

“And- and Chad?” She hesitated to ask. You finally spared her a glance to offer her a small nod. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment when Sam spat at Detective Bailey.

“Fuck you!” She smacked Billy Loomis’ mask out of his hands. Ethan retaliated quickly by slashing her shoulder.

“Hey, you stay the fuck away from them!” Tara reacted quickly. She kept one arm around your waist, the other holding the brick to defend you three. Sam continued to yell, questioning their motives and denying the murderous trio’s allegations of her masterminding the 2022 Woodsboro Massacre.

Your gaze instinctively went over to Ethan. The boy who once made you feel safe was the same reason you were fighting for your life. Fear flickered through your poker face upon being surrounded, a look of hurt glazing over him. Ethan’s lips momentarily twisted into a frown with his eyes growing glassy when he met your hard stare — the same look on his face when you broke it off. But Ethan’s facade faltered fast, his mood only shifting into something crazier.

“They’re still not getting it!” He pointed out.

You all whipped around at Detective Bailey screaming, “You’re a killer. Just like your father!”

“No I’m not!” Sam wailed.

“Yes you are, you motherfucker. You killed our brother!” Quinn seethed.

Tara furrowed her eyebrows, “You said your brother died in a car accident.”

“No…you said that your brother left for college when you were thirteen and he never came back. Or was that a lie too?” You spoke up. Ethan grew bitter, your words cutting him almost as deeply as your wound. But you couldn’t pay attention for long when Quinn strides towards you.

She ran the blunt side of her knife down your face with a sigh, “You’re getting warmer! Think a little harder, maybe you’ll figure it out before these dumbasses do.”

Tara's grip on you was almost bruising. Afraid to abruptly pull you away in case Quinn tried something, you barely batted an eye when the cool metal couldn’t compare to anything you’d endured prior to entering the main room.

You looked straight at Ethan while explaining, “You wanted to be just like him.” The wheels began to turn. A special interest in the 2022 Woodsboro massacre mixed with a brother whose fascination with the horror genre appeared almost genetic…had Mickey Altieri not died twenty years prior, you would assume they were related. But it didn’t add up until you noticed the striking resemblance in Ethan’s dark eyes and wicked smile.

You didn’t realize that you’d spaced out until Quinn tapped the knife against your face, instructing, “Hey! Eyes on me.” You clenched your jaw, turning back to her. She hummed in satisfaction, “Good girl. So, have you figured it out yet? The clock's ticking here.”

“You’re Richie’s family…” You revealed.

“What?!” Sam reacted.

Detective Bailey confirmed, “And we have a winner!”

“We knew you’d get it eventually.” The sweet cynicism dripping from Ethan’s voice made you sick.

“Wow. Real great parenting job you did, by the way." Tara said. Her sarcasm earned the three of you a large push. Sam broke your fall and you all stood in a circle to cover your bases against each killer. Detective Bailey began monologuing the mourning of his son’s death and seeking vengeance, something that didn’t make much sense to you.

“So what happens next? What happens after this? You guys just disappear?” You asked.

“No, we gotta make sure Mindy and Gale don’t pull through. Because everybody dies! Everybody who had anything to do with the death of my son suffers and dies.” Detective Bailey pointed the gun towards sam. He urged her to put the mask on, and Sam spared you a glance before her aura darkened. She looked up at Detective Bailey with a cold and calculated look in her eye while he pressed the barrel against her forehead. The act was your cue to hold Tara back with whatever energy you had left while they fought it out.

“Your son? He was a man baby who made his girlfriend do all the killing.” She started.

Detective Bailey fumed, “He was a strong, virile young man!”

“He was a limp dick little fuck who cried before I slit his throat.” She didn’t back down.

“You said Y/N helped kill Richie. They were there that night…” Ethan muttered. His family immediately glared at him. Your gaze switched between him and Quinn, who’s knife was now pointed towards you. She nicked your arm when she moved around to create a barrier between you two.

“Well you shouldn’t have believed the other fucking rumors then. Because he died under my hands. no one else’s. But if we’re talking about his little girlfriend Amber, then that’s a different story…” Sam responded.

Quinn seemingly had enough, yelling, “Shut the fuck up!”

She was ready to stab you when Tara hit her over the head with a brick. As if on cue, Kirby got up again and shot at Detective Bailey. You followed her lead, pulling your father’s gun out to shoot at Ethan. Narrowly missing, you couldn’t fire anymore when Tara called your names.

You made your way to her just as she reached the top of the balcony. You paused when Sam never followed, and Tara seemed to think the same to yell, “Come on Sam!”

Her body was hunched over Ethan’s, but she pushed him down and grabbed Kirby’s gun.

You waved at her to come closer. The moment you could reach her, you gave her a lift in order to reach the ladder. You wasted no time when Sam barely began making her way to the balcony by jumping up and grabbing onto it yourself. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, the pain nonexistent while your knuckles grew white at your tight grasp.

Around halfway to the top, your heart jumped out of your chest seeing how close the exit seemed to be. But reality ripped you far from it when a heavy weight pulled down on your leg. Looking down, Ethan was trying to drag you back down to the main floor. You thrashed your leg around to get him off of you, but he managed to grab a fistful of your jeans. Your hands, still stained with blood, started to slip from the handles. The sisters screamed your name and held their arms out for you. Sam’s fingers brushed your own, but one harsh tug caused you to fall and hit him on the way down.

You immediately tried to defend yourself, but your shoulder was killing you as you got off Ethan. Blindly, you began reaching for your gun while the guilt consumed you.

This was your fault.

It was you who couldn’t find it in yourself to fully cut Ethan out of your life and settled for a friendship. It was you who merged your hometown and city life by introducing Ethan to the Core Four the very day they came into New York. It was you who vouched for him time and time again, unable to escape from the old patterns and feelings that never really left. And it was you who was about to face death when Ethan had the upper hand. He turned you around to face him, his legs resting on each side of yours.

His lips ghosted over yours, whispering, “Say hi to your dad for me.” You struggled and screamed in his grip when he stabbed you straight through your side. The knife left your body as quickly as it came in, the metallic liquid pooling in your mouth. It woke you up from your thoughts, finding a space to trap his foot between your own. Building enough momentum, you rolled yourself over and pressed your forearm against Ethan’s neck. His hands uselessly clawed the air.

You taunted him, “Hm. If only Richie could see you now, so helpless and defeated. You really are just like him…”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your gun mere inches away from you. So you shifted your weight, barely grabbing the handle when shots were fired in your direction. You immediately ducked down, curses slipping from your lips while trying to scramble off of Ethan while picking the gun up. Ethan tried to grab you again, but you kicked him square in the nose and made a run for it. You shot back, trying to ignore the ringing in your ears while mentally counting each shot until you were sure there were none left.

You screamed when the glass cases surrounding you shattered. A bullet haphazardly came flying into a column nearby, causing you to duck. You caught a glimpse of Ethan, who was pushing his dad’s gun out of his hands mid-shot. You took that as a distraction and trailed into the dark corners just behind the wings of the stage.

Ethan was practically begging, “Dad…Dad stop! Please don’t hurt them.” Your heart beat faster, as the stupid part of you thought he would be willing to double cross the detective. But you were dead wrong when he continued with, “Y/N’s mine.” The bold statement sent shivers down your spine. You could even envision him lightly twirling his knife in pure delight.

Shakily, you pulled the empty mag out of the gun. You haphazardly placed it on the shelf in front of you before your hand reached into your back pocket for your extra ammo. Easily replacing it with a firm push, a soft click! indicated the bullets were in. You tugged downward to ensure they were seated safely just in time for you to hear Ethan’s voice echoing through the theater.

“You can’t hide forever, Y/N,��� You could see his reflection in the glass cases that held a former Ghostface’s robe. Trying to remain silent when his ears were searching for you too, you exhaled deeply and crawled around another corner when the empty mag fell off the shelf. You covered your mouth and held the gun to your chest when his footsteps grew louder. It was like your heartbeat drummed in your ears when he laughed mockingly, “I bet that I won’t even have to find you! You could never stay away from me too long, after all, could you baby?”

You shut your eyes, taking yourself back to the late nights you shared long after your breakup, the days you dragged him along to see your friends, and everything in between as you craved his comforting presence while reliving your fears that were larger than life in the city that never slept. Those good times quickly faded into a searing pain when you watched Anika die in front of you at his hands, knowing your mother had been brutally attacked and almost left for dead by his sister, seeing Chad so still, all reflected in your own wounds. Your hands lightly traced over each scar Ethan inflicted, and you knew what you had to do.

You were gonna fucking kill him.

[caitlynskitten]

Choosing the Carpenter Sister(s)

Y/n: Oh god. Tara or Sam. Sam or Tara. I love them both…. but who do I choose? I mean Tara has been my best friend since high school…. but I really want to get to know Sam more…. She’s funny, kind, considerate, reassuring…. Oh god.

*knock at the door*

Y/n: Oh god it’s Tara. What did I do? Wait…. Maybe it’s Sam. I remember she said she was coming by later to drop of something…. Why am I panicking holy shit, what is going ON?!

*knock at the door again*

Y/n: Fuck it. Here we go. Here goes nothing.

*answers the door*

Quinn: Oh hey, y/n! Sorry to bother you but I was wondering-

Y/n: *breaks down on the ground* NO! No, no, no, no! NO! Noooo! Why did it have to be you?! I was waiting for her oh my god, NO!!!

Quinn:

Quinn: Okay that was a little hurtful.

Partially inspired by @bingwriterxo fic