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[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 9 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: none

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

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

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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“You didn’t!” Tara laughs happily and continues unwrapping the gift I got her which is a vintage video camera.

I figured she’d like it because she wants to be a film major and judging by her reaction, she does.

She woke me a couple of minutes ago by literally sitting on me, wishing me a Merry Christmas before shoving a present for me in my face.

I haven’t opened it yet because I wanted to see her reaction to my present first, and also because I want Sam to be there when I open it because it’s from both of them.

Tara finishes unwrapping and takes the camera out of its box, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “This is so cool.”

She inspects it from all angles and turns it on while I watch, happy that she likes it.

“You guys started without me?”

Sam’s voice makes me look over my shoulder and when I see her standing in the doorway of her room with a pout and sleep mussed hair, I smile and get up, stretching.

“Tara did, but don’t worry. You haven’t missed much so far.”

Sam huffs, but I can tell she’s not really annoyed. She makes her way over to us and plops down on the couch, running her fingers through her tangled hair in an attempt to tame it a little.

It looks like she’s still half asleep and I can’t help but think how adorable she looks like this, wearing faded gray sweatpants and an oversized black shirt.

The memory of her putting a blanket over me last night is still fresh in my mind, and I make a mental note to finally talk to her once we’re alone.

Tara fumbles around with the camera and moves to her sister’s side to show her what I got her. Sam seems impressed and she asks Tara to try and film something and while the two of them are busy figuring out how the camera works I pull off my hoodie.

I’ve been hot since I woke up, but I haven’t had a chance to take it off until now.

“Damn, Y/N,” Tara comments.

I raise an eyebrow as I pull my shirt, which rode up, back down over my stomach. “Huh?”

The camera momentarily forgotten in her hands, Tara wiggles her eyebrows suggestively while gesturing at me. “Someone’s been working out.”

My eyes widen in surprise before embarrassment washes over me.

It’s true, I’ve been working out like crazy since getting back on my feet, and I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been now that playing hockey is my literal job, but I usually don’t like to show it off and I really didn’t mean to expose myself like that just now.

“I mean, do they feed you steroids in Boston, or what?” Tara teases with a smirk.

“No they don’t, shut up,” I fire back weakly, tossing the hoodie at her face.

She catches it in time before it hits her and puts it down next to her, her smirk still present. “I’m just sayin’.”

I roll my eyes and scratch the back of my neck, hoping my cheeks aren’t all too red. “Yeah, whatever. Thanks.”

Tara chuckles and I go to take a seat on the couch next to her when I notice the way Sam’s uncharacteristically quiet.

I glance at her, worried that something might be wrong, but what I see makes my heart swoop in my chest instead.

Her eyes are trained on her fumbling hands in her lap, the tips of her ears are red, and she keeps swallowing thickly. In short, she’s flustered and the fact that it’s because my shirt rode up makes my heart beat faster and makes me feel like it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Not wanting to embarrass her though, I don’t comment on it and take a seat, gesturing for Tara to hand me the other gift on top of my bag.

“This one’s for you,” I say to Sam once Tara has given it to me and the way Sam’s brown eyes widen in surprise makes me chuckle softly. “What? You thought I wouldn’t get you anything?”

“N-No, I just— That’s not,” she stammers, clearing her throat and looking down for a moment before looking back up with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I hand it to her and try not to let it show that a shiver runs up my spine when her finger brush against mine.

Tara puts her camera down and together we watch Sam unwrap the flat, palm-sized box. She shoots me a questioning look, realizing it’s a black jewlery box, but I don’t say anything. I just smile and encourage her to open it with a wave of my hand.

Tara looks at me with a knowing smile and I smile back, loving the way Sam gasps in disbelief when her eyes land on the gold necklace on display inside the box.

“Do you like it?” I ask and the way Sam’s eyes shine when she looks up is answer enough.

Even so, she nods vigorously, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the necklace. “I love it, b-but how did you—?”

I shrug, feigning ignorance, and Tara does her best to hide her smile by busying herself with her camera again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say. “I just saw this and thought you’d like it.”

Sam chuckles incredulously and a, “Liar” slips past her lips, but she doesn’t ask how I knew about it again. Instead she looks back at the necklace, her finger brushing over the sun symbol engraved in the round pendant before taking it out and turning to me with a vulnerable expression. “Put it on me?”

I nod timidly, suddenly feeling shy and doing my best to ignore the questioning look Tara shoots at me before taking the necklace from Sam.

She shifts on the couch so her back is turned to me, and gathers her hair in a ponytail, exposing her neck to me.

I force myself to breathe normally at the sight, wanting nothing more than to press a kiss to it, and put the necklace around her neck.

“Thank you.” Sam lets go of her hair again and turns back around, touching the pendant for a moment before hugging me.

I hug her back and this time I don’t stop myself from pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. It makes her tighten her arms around my neck before pulling back.

“Okay, now it’s your turn,” Tara says, grabbing my present and throwing it in my lap.

I chuckle and shoot Sam one last smile, getting to work on unwrapping my own present.

It’s turns out to be a jewelry box as well, but it’s smaller than Sam’s and when I open it and see what’s inside, I immediately feel tears prick my eyes.

It’s a gold bracelet with my parents’ initials engraved in it in their handwriting.

I swallow thickly and look up to find Sam and Tara watching me hopefully.

“Guys. . . This is—“ I clear my throat and blink my tears away, “—This is beautiful. Thank you.”

The two sisters exhale, relieved, and Tara is quick to climb over Sam to put the bracelet on my wrist.

“There. . . Now you’ll always have a part of your parents with you,” she says, adding, “It was Sam’s idea.”

I rub my eyes to get rid of any more tears and kiss the top of her head before looking at Sam over her shoulder. “Thank you. Really. It means a lot to me.”

I love it. I absolutely love it, but the fact that it was Sam’s idea makes it extra special.

The two of them really are my family, and I just know that if my parents could see us now they’d be glad that we all found our way back to each other.

“So, how are Liam and Paige?” Tara asks over breakfast.

After we exchanged a few more presents we all got ready for the day and made breakfast together. Sam did most of the cooking since she decided we were having pancakes, but Tara and I l cut some fruits, made coffee, and set the table.

“Good.” I say after swallowing the sip of coffee I just took. “Liam just moved to New York and Paige moved to Portland, but they’re both here for the holidays to visit their parents.”

“Paige moved to Portland?” Tara asks with a raised eyebrow. “Why not New York, like Liam?”

Sam hums in agreement and I take another bite of my pancakes before answering, “Because her girlfriend lives in Portland. They’ve been doing long distance for over two years and they were sick of never seeing each other, so they decided to move in together.”

“Hmm, alright. Makes sense,” Tara says, ready to move on, but Sam snorts and stabs a piece of strawberry with her fork, saying, “Yeah, good for them. . . I’d never do long distance.”

I freeze, but no one notices and Sam goes on, unfazed. “I mean, only being able to see each other five or six times a year, maybe even less? Yeah, no thank you.”

Tara shrugs, obviously not caring, but I stay still, feeling like the rug’s just been pulled out from under me.

I live in Boston and Sam lives here. . . Even if she had feelings for me, she’d never want to be in a relationship with me. She just made that perfectly clear.

The realization feels like a punch to my stomach and I no longer feel like eating, completely drowning out Tara’s voice when she changes the subject.

Sam will never be with me, so it doesn’t matter how she feels about me. It doesn’t matter how I feel about her.

I set down my fork and get up, feeling like I’m in a trance.

Tara and Sam stop talking at the abruptness of my movement, their eyebrows furrowing, and before they can ask what I’m doing I mumble, “I’m going to take a shower, I’m a little cold.“

I’m neither cold, nor do I need a shower, but I need a moment to control my emotions and hide how much what Sam just said hurt me, so I go to my bag to grab a fresh set of clothes.

“Y/N. . .?” Tara asks hesitantly, but I don’t answer. I just go to the bathroom, lock the door behind me and get into the shower.

Sam doesn’t owe me anything. I know that, but what she said hurt and made me realize that the hope I had of ever being with her was futile.

All along, it was futile. We’ll never be together and she’ll never see me the way I see her.

Maybe I should try to move on. . .

A tear rolls down my cheek and I don’t bother wiping it away because the stream of the shower washes it away a moment later.

When I get out of the bathroom, the apartment is quiet and at first I think no one’s home, but then I sport Tara on the couch, figuring out how to work her new camera.

Sam is nowhere to be seen, but the table has been cleared and the dishwasher is running so she can’t be far.

“Hey, Sprout,” I say quietly, taking a seat next to her. “You good?”

Tara looks up and the way her eyes soften at the sight of me makes me wonder if my inner turmoil is really that obvious.

“Sam went out to get some snacks for when Mindy and Chad come over,” she says which makes me frown.

“I. . . didn’t ask,” I say tentatively, not wanting to offend her.

Tara just sighs and puts the camera down, turning to me with her lips pulled into a frown. “No, you didn’t, but I know you.”

That makes me smile nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Tara’s shoulders sag and she wordlessly moves to my side, resting her head on my shoulder and hugging my arm to her chest. “I know you like Sam, Y/N. I’ve known since the day she left. You weren’t just sad because your best friend left. . . You were heartbroken.”

I swallow thickly. I’ve always made it a point not to lie to Tara, so I’m not going to start now by denying anything. I don’t know what to say though, so I stay silent and sink back into the couch, letting my cheek rest against the top of her head.

“I know what she said about the whole long distance thing really bummed you out, but I don’t think she even realizes what it meant to you when she said it,” Tara whispers. “She can be a little. . . insensitive sometimes, but. . . I see the way she looks at you, Y/N, and all I can ask of you is that you don’t give up on her just yet.”

I sigh and nudge Tara’s knee with my own. “Easier said than done, Sprout.”

Tara sighs as well and squeezes my arm. “I know.”

Silence settles over us for a couple of moments until I remember something I’ve been meaning to tell Tara for a while now.

“Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“While we’re being honest I just want to say I’m sorry for how things turned out with you and Amber. I know you liked her.”

Like me, she doesn’t deny anything. She just holds my arm tighter and plays with the fabric of my sleeve.

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Very short chapter, but it was necessary before we dive into the plot of the sixth movie next chapter.

Hope you all enjoyed it!

Next chapter is definitely going to be longer, I promise, but it’s going to take some time to write.

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

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 8 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

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

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

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

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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I open my eyes and stop leaning against the bus window to my right when my music stops and my phone starts ringing.

Our team’s physical therapist, Jackson, cracks an eye open next to me before settling back into his seat. We’re about the same age and he and I have been friends since he helped me get back in shape for hockey while recovering from my Ghostface injuries.

I pull out my phone and chuckle softly at the incoming video call from Tara.

“Hey,” I answer with a tired smile. “How’s it going?”

Tara’s face lights up at the sight of me. “Hi! It’s going great! We just finished unboxing everything and Sam is out to grab some lunch. How are you?”

I adjust my headphones a bit so I can lean back against the window. “Good, but tired. We’re just getting back from a game.”

“Did you win?” she asks with a raised eyebrow and when I nod her smile brightens.

It’s been two months since I moved from Woodsboro to Boston and since then a lot has changed.

Sam moved into my old apartment when Christina Carpenter kicked her out which led to Tara cutting ties with her mother as well, and now they’re both living there with me being their landlord since I own the place.

I didn’t ask for any rent at first when Sam started living there because she had trouble finding a job, but now she works at a local gym an old friend of my dad’s owns, and she insists on paying some rent.

Other than that the two of them keep me updated on each other’s wellbeing and Sam has really proven that she wants to make things up to me by constantly checking in on me. She also helped me move my classes online and even went so far as to take care of putting flowers on my parents grave on the anniversary of their death a month ago.

We have yet to talk about our feelings for each other —more like my feelings for her— but it just seems wrong to do it over the phone.

Good thing I’m visiting them over Christmas in two months. I’m super nervous about getting everything out in the open, but we have to talk.

I can’t not know how she feels anymore. Either she straight up tells me she doesn’t feel the same way which would hurt but give me closure, or she’ll tell me she likes me back which would be. . . good? I guess? Just because she likes me back doesn’t mean she wants to get into another relationship right away, right? I mean, do I even want to get into a relationship right away?

God, I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Do you want a tour of the apartment?” Tara asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Sure.” I chuckle. I doubt a lot has changed since I didn’t take any of my furniture with me, but I’m sure Tara has taken it upon herself to decorate the place to her liking and I kind of want to know how she’s turned the former guest room into her own room.

She switches the camera on her phone and starts showing me everything, pointing out little details here and there as she moves through the rooms.

Jackson, at one point, waves his hand to get my attention and mouths Girlfriend? while gesturing at my phone and I shake my head.

I mute myself for a moment and turn my phone so Tara can’t see me if she looks at the screen.

“It’s just Tara,” I explain which makes him smile knowingly.

“Ah. . . So the girlfriend’s little sister,” he teases and even though he doesn’t know all too much about Sam and me, he knows the gist of it from Liam and Paige who have met him on more than one occasion while visiting me.

They get along great with Jackson and I love it even though they bond over teasing me. Too bad Liam and Paige are still in Woodsboro. They plan on moving to the east coast some time soon as well though because Liam got a job offer in New York and Paige wants to move in with her long distance girlfriend who lives in Portland.

“Shut up, Sam’s not my girlfriend,” I argue weakly, feeling my cheeks turn red.

Jackson shoves me playfully. “Yet,” he teases and I just shove him back before unmuting myself and focusing back on Tara.

“And finally, my new room,” she says, going on with the tour without realizing that I wasn’t paying attention for a second ago.

“Looks good, Sprout,” I compliment. “I like the fairy lights behind the bed.”

Tara turns the camera again and beams at me. “Thank you. It was Sam’s ideas. She’s going to get some for her room, too.”

“Nice.” I nod in approval and smile sadly. “Man, I miss you guys.”

Them being on the other side of the country and in an entirely different time zone has made it difficult to stay in touch, but we try our best even though talking over the phone is just not the same as seeing each other in person.

Tara’s face softens and she takes a seat on her bed, pouting. “We miss you, too. It’s weird not having you around all the time, but we’ll see each other soon. I already got you your Christmas present.”

That makes me laugh and the homesickness that I was feeling a moment ago fades a little. “Oohh, can’t wait to find out what it is. Speaking of, do you know what I could get Sam? I already have something for you in mind, but I have no idea what to get her.“

Jackson leans over, obnoxiously mimicking kissing someone and I shove him away with a playful glare before looking back at Tara who is too lost in thought to notice my momentary distraction.

“Hmm. I don’t know. There’s this necklace she showed me a while ago that she likes, but I can’t remember where it was from. I can ask her about it though,” she says and I’m quick to nod.

“That would be great, but don’t make it obvious. She can’t suspect anything!” I warn which makes her roll her eyes good-naturedly.

“I won’t, I promise. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

I chuckle. “Good.”

2 months later. . .

I’m finally back in California and as I make my way through the airport’s parking lot to my rental car I can’t help but relish in the warm breeze that rustles some nearby trees.

I’ve come to love Boston and my new friends and teammates, but it’s just so goddamn cold there, especially now right before Christmas.

I was supposed to fly in tomorrow, on the 25th, but I changed my flight two days ago to surprise Sam and Tara, hence why I had to get a rental car instead of the two of them picking me up.

I finally get to the car and shove my bags into the trunk with little effort. I’m so glad I’m no longer injured because if I was, this whole thing would be extremely difficult.

Everything healed nicely, leaving behind nothing but scars, and I can happily live with that. They serve as a reminder that I managed to help Sam and Tara survive Ghostface and that we all made it out alive. The scar on my spine is a different story. I’ve hated it ever since I got it because it reminds me that my parents are dead and that I came close to being paralyzed, both things that I’d rather forget.

I shut the trunk with a satisfying thump, and get into the car, putting on some sunglasses to shield my eyes from the setting sun before pulling out of the parking lot.

The drive to my old apartment is familiar and even though there’s a lot of traffic since it’s Christmas eve, I manage to get home just as the sun goes down, leaving behind a faint orange glow in the sky.

I grab my stuff from the trunk and head into the apartment building, smiling at one of my old neighbors when he recognizes me and opens the door for me.

Okay, this is it.

I smile when I get to the third floor and set my bags down to knock at the familiar door.

I think of how weird it is to knock at my once own door, but that thought quickly vanishes when Tara opens the door ever so slightly, peeking through the gap.

“Oh my God!” She squeaks happily when she realizes it’s me and closes the door again to undo the chain before opening it properly. “Hi!”

“Hey, Sprout. Merry Christmas.” I barely have time to prepare myself for the bone crushing hug she pulls me into, but I’m definitely not complaining. I chuckle and lift her off her feet, spinning around before setting her down again.

“Tara, who’s at the door?” Sam’s voice from inside the apartment makes my stomach fill with butterflies and when she pokes her head around the corner my smile widens.

“Hey.”

Her jaw drops at the sight of me and as soon as I’ve let go of Tara she’s rushed over to hug me as well. Her hug is tame compared to Tara’s, but it’s still comforting and I can’t help but lift her off her feet for a second as well.

“What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to get in until tomorrow. Did something happen?” she asks in disbelief when I pull back and I don’t miss the way her eyes dart all over my face as if checking for injuries.

My smile softens and I squeeze her in my arms one more time before separating from her completely. “Nothing happened, Sammy. I just wanted to surprise you guys.”

“You did,” Tara says, completely oblivious to the way her sister’s cheeks turn red at my use of her old nickname.

It honestly just slipped out, but I can’t say I’m displeased with the reaction it garnered.

“Yeah,” Sam mumbles, smiling shyly. She tucks her hair behind her ears and picks at the black sweater she’s wearing. “Why don’t you come in? We were just about to start dinner.”

I nod and pick up my bags, following the two of them into the apartment.

Not much has changed since I left because most of the furniture is the same, but Tara did do some decorating and there are different pictures on the walls.

There’s also a decorated christmas tree in the corner of the living room that glows in the low light and makes me smile.

I never put one up when I was living here because I always spent Christmas at Liam and Paige’s place anyway.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Sam says nervously which makes me turn to look at her in the kitchen. Tara momentarily vanished into her room which explains Sam’s sudden nervousness. The dining table between us is set beautifully with candles and some more Christmas decorations and until now I hadn’t noticed the soft music coming from a speaker nearby. “Why don’t you- uh— freshen up while Tara and I finish up in the kitchen?”

I get a sense of deja vu since not even four months ago I was saying something similar to her, but I nod without bringing it up, taking note of how awkward things suddenly are between us.

We don’t act like this over the phone, but over the phone we usually don’t see each other unless Tara turns it into a video call, and we usually keep things polite.

This seems more. . . intimate even though nothing’s happening.

“Sure. I’ll be right back. Thanks.” I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, taking one of my bags with me.

I could really use a shower after my long flight, so I quickly strip as soon as I’ve locked the door behind me and get into the shower.

The hot water helps to get rid of the residual cold that somehow still clings to me from Boston, and once I get out of the shower I put on a shirt and a hoodie to make sure it also stays away.

I finish dressing and go to leave the bathroom again, but then my eyes get caught on a small orange pill bottle on the floor next to the sink.

I crouch down and pick it up, realizing it’s Sam’s when I see her name on the lable.

Her antipsychotics.

I take a closer look for a moment before shrugging and placing them on the counter next to the sink where they were probably knocked down from.

It doesn’t freak me out that she has to take them, or that she sees visions of Billy because I know they’re just that— visions, and she herself has said that she’d never hurt Tara or me because of them.

I can tell that they’re tiring though because of how resigned she was when she talked about them the last time, and I make a mental note to ask her how she’s dealing with them now.

“Ah, finally!” Tara exclaims when I make my way back into the living room. She’s sitting at the head of the dining table with a steaming bowl of pasta in front of her and a fork in hand, ready to dig in. Sam is sitting to her right, also with a bowl of pasta in front of her, but unlike Tara, she doesn’t seem to be as eager to start eating.

“I was gone for like five minutes,” I defend myself with a smile which makes Sam smile, too. “And you could have started without me, you know that.”

Tara immediately shoves a forkful of pasta into her mouth and shakes her head. “Nu-uh” she mumbles, “Sam made me wait for you.”

I laugh softly and join them at the table. “Well, I’m here now.”

Tara just hums in agreement and continues eating while Sam waits for my reaction to the food after I’ve had my first bite before diving in herself.

“This is great.” My eyes widen in surprise at the taste and I immediately eat another forkful before asking, “You guys made this?”

Sam nods but Tara shakes her head again, pointing her thumb at her older sister. “Sam did. I just watched and set the table.”

Damn. Who knew she could cook like that. I mean, her pancakes were great and all, but I didn’t know she could actually cook like this.

My eyes find Sam’s and when I raise my eyebrows expectantly she finally gives in and shrugs timidly, her eyes avoiding mine.

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just some pasta.” She deflects with red cheeks, trying to downplay her skills.

That makes me nudge her foot under the table, prompting her to look at me again. “Maybe. But it’s still delicious.”

I smile and she turns even more red, saying, “Thank you.”

I watch her with fondness as she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear before eating.

“Come on, move. Let me do something,” I complain, trying to get Sam to move away from the sink.

Dinner was delicious and we all helped ourselves to a second serving. Now, Tara is in her room, talking to Chad and Mindy on the phone while Sam and I are in the kitchen doing the dishes.

Well, Sam is doing the dishes. I want to help, but she keeps refusing and telling me to just go relax after my long flight.

“I told you, I’ve got it,” she shoots back, nudging me with her hip, but I’m not having it.

It’s obvious that I can’t persuade her to let me do something, so I’ll just have to manhandle her out of the way.

“Seriously, Y/N, just—Hey!” She squeaks in surprise when I wrap my arms around her from behind and lift her up, carrying her away from the sink before setting her back down.

“You cooked, and Tara set the table, so I’ll do the dishes.” I raise an eyebrow, daring her to object but she finally gives in with a sigh. Her cheeks are once again red and for a moment she doesn’t meet my eye, but when she does, I simply smile at her and get to work on the dishes.

“Do you— I don’t know— Want some coffee or tea?” she asks and even though I don’t want either I nod, understanding her need to do something.

“Tea would be nice,” I say and for the next minute or so a silence settles over us as we both do our thing.

I’m just drying my hands after putting away the last plate when Sam joins my side again with a cup of tea in hand.

“Here you go.” She hands it to me with a small smile and I take it, mumbling a thanks as I raise it to my lips to take a sip.

“So. . .” I lean against the counter. “How are you?”

Sam hugs herself and mirrors my position against the counter. “Okay, I guess. Can’t really complain,” she says, but the way she avoids my eyes with her own tells a different story.

“You sure?” I push slightly, knowing that Tara is still in her room and there’s no chance of her overhearing something Sam potentially doesn’t want her to hear.

Sam shrugs helplessly without really answering, so I set down my tea and step closer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask softly touching her forearm which makes her look up.

I’m surprised to find her eyes filled with tears. “I. . . Can I have a hug?” she asks quietly and before any tears can escape her eyes I pull her into a hug, resting my chin on top of her head.

Sam lets out a shuddering sigh and sinks into the hug, the smell of her perfume making my heart flutter involuntarily.

The hold this girl has on me is incredible. . .

“What’s going on?” I whisper, running my hands up and down her back.

“Everything’s been just a lot lately, you know? The fight with my mom, being back here, the move. . . not to mention the whole Ghostface shit I’m still trying to get over a-and Richie—“ My hands still on her back at the mention of his name, but I stay quiet, letting her air out her thoughts, “— I still can’t believe he was behind everything. I really liked him and he just threw it in my face and I-I feel like it’s my fault Tara and you were almost killed. I mean people did die because of me. Wes, his mom, Dewey. . .”

I raise a hand to the back of Sam’s head and run my fingers through her hair. It used to help calm her down when we were kids, so I’m hoping it’ll do the same now.

“Sam, no one died because of you.” I hug her tighter. “Richie and Amber killed people because of their fucked up dream of making a new Stab movie. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But Billy—“

“Is your father, yes,” I cut her off. “But just because he is doesn’t mean what happened is your fault. It’s Richie’s and Amber’s. They killed all those people, not you. You’re nothing like them and you’re nothing like your father.“

Sam shivers and pulls back a little to look at me. “I might not have killed Wes and the others,” she whispers with tears still in her eyes, “but I did kill Richie and—“ she looks away, ashamed, “—it felt right doing it. It felt. . . good, stabbing him. It felt so fucking good, and I just couldn’t stop a-and that scares me.”

I tilt my head with furrowed eyebrows and cup her face with my hands, her brown eyes doubtful, yet hopeful that I’ll be able to assuage her guilt somehow. “I get it. You think that makes you a monster, but I‘d been surprised if you didn’t feel that way. Richie took so much from you. He betrayed you and hurt you in more ways than one, and he hurt Tara and me. . . He was about to kill all of us, but you stopped him. Yes, you killed him, but there was no other way. He would’ve just kept coming for us if you didn’t, so of course it felt good to kill him— to know that he’d never be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

A single tear rolls down Sam’s cheek and I’m quick to wipe it away before she hugs me again, burying her face in the crook of my neck.

She’s breathing shakily and I once again run my fingers through her hair, resting my cheek against her temple.

“Thank you,” she mumbles. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

I smile sadly and hold her tighter. “You’re welcome.”

If I could have killed Richie for her I would have done it in a heartbeat, but I didn’t and now she has to live with it. She killed him to save herself and to save the rest of us and I hate that she feels guilty for doing it.

We keep hugging for a couple of moments, silently holding each other until she chuckles quietly against the side of my neck.

“I think my therapist would hate you.”

I pull back and smile at her, glad to see that she’s no longer crying. “How come?”

“Because she’s been saying the exact same thing every since I started seeing her, but I didn’t believe it until you just said it,” she admits with a sheepish grin that makes me laugh.

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, shouldn’t she love me then?”

Sam just shrugs and rests her hands on my chest, playing with the strings of my hoodie right as Tara comes walking into the kitchen.

“You guys wanna watch a movie or something? Chad and Mindy say hi, by the way,” she says without commenting on the position she finds us in.

Sam is quick to take a step back though, rubbing the back of her neck and turning to make herself a cup of tea as well.

“Yeah, movie sounds good,” I say, unbothered, picking up my own tea.

Sam simply hums in agreement without turning around, which makes Tara smile and skip to the living room.

I stir, feeling myself wake up at the sensation of something being draped over me.

It’s dark, I notice when my eyes flutter open, and I realize that I must have fallen asleep sometime during the movie.

There’s no sign of Tara, but Sam’s standing over me, adjusting the blanket she draped over me so it covers my feet.

She hasn’t realized I’ve woken up, and I don’t want her to feel bad about waking me, so when she turns back to face me I quickly close my eyes again and pretend I’m still asleep.

There’s some shuffling and it takes everything in me not to flinch when Sam’s fingers brush against my forehead a second later, moving some hair out of my face.

She sighs and I think she might say something since she thinks I’m asleep, but she doesn’t.

She does place a delicate kiss to my forehead though, and it’s so surprising that as soon as I’m sure she’s gone into her room, I open my eyes again, touching my tingling forehead where her lips were a moment ago.

We really need to talk.

_______________________________________________

Happy new year, everyone!

We’ll be diving into the plot of the sixth movie in part 10, so enjoy some fluff for now <3

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

[tortillamastersblog]

Happy New Year!! Wishing you an amazing 2025 🥳❤️ exciting to see what fics you have in store for us

-🐨

Thank youuuu! Right back at you ❤️ I’m looking forward to hearing what you think of all the upcoming fics 🤞

[tortillamastersblog]

Mateeee I thoroughly enjoyed The Proposal fic! Thank you so much for writing it Santa 🫶 You have made my weekend! It was so adorable, pretty sure I got a sweet tooth out of it haha. I liked how it wasn't the perfect proposal, makes it more memorable. I hope you have a great weekend!

-🐨

Yay! So glad you liked it ❤️ I hope you have a great weekend too.

- 🎅

[tortillamastersblog]

♕ The Proposal | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: none, just pure fluff

Summary: You finally pluck up the courage to propose to Lena, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Masterlist

_______________________________________________

I’ve done a lot of nerve wracking things in my life, especially during my time in the Army, but nothing could have ever prepared me for the nervousness and stress that comes with a proposal.

The constant sneaking around, organizing everything without Lena knowing, and worst of all, hoping she’ll say yes in the end.

“It’ll be okay.” Harper tries to reassure me for the hundredth time as she follows me around my gym while I organize some stuff. “Lena is head over heels for you. I’ll be dammed if she doesn’t say yes.“

“But—“

She throws up her hands and slaps my shoulder. “No buts, Y/N. You’ll propose, Lena will say yes, and that’s that! You two will live happily ever after and I will have to learn how to live with your lovey-dovey behavior for the rest of my life.”

I sigh and set down the punching bag I just took down. “Okay, okay. . .”

I’m still super nervous, but she’s right. Lena will almost definitely say yes since she’s been hinting that she wants me to propose for some time now, but there’s still a chance that she’ll say no after all.

“So, what’s the plan?” Harper asks when we make our way back to my office.

It’s Friday afternoon and I closed the gym a couple of minutes ago and because Harper wanted to see me before the proposal tomorrow she decided to stop by.

I shuffle some paper around on my desk, looking for a certain contract I’ve been meaning to sign and say, “I’m taking her to the beach house I rented tonight and then I’m going to propose on the beach tomorrow morning.“

Harper squeals and claps excitedly. “That’s perfect! She’s going to love it. A walk on the beach, just the two of you. . .” She sighs dreamily. “She’s one lucky lady.”

I laugh softly, finally finding the contract and signing it. “I’m the lucky one.”

Harper sighs again and nods. “You’re both lucky. You’re literally perfect for each other.”

“Thank you.” I smile at her and square away everything on my desk before grabbing my bag.

“You better text me as soon as she’s said yes tomorrow, I need a reason to open that fancy champagne Luke got,” she says, trailing behind me as I make my way out of the gym.

Luke is her new boyfriend. He’s sweet and kind, and reminds me a lot of Noah. They’ve been dating for nearly a year now, and I’m sure Noah would approve of him as his “replacement”.

It took a while for Harper to move on because at first she felt like she was somehow betraying Noah by dating again, but as time went on she stopped feeling guilty and now she’s as happy as I’ve ever seen her.

“I will, I promise,” I say. We walk to my parked car and I ask Harper if she needs a ride home, but she declines.

“No, no. I’ll take the subway. You just get home to Lena,” she says, giving me a hug. “And remember—“

“To text you, yeah, I got it.” I cut her off with a chuckle and get in my car, waving at her before driving off.

The drive home goes by faster than anticipated because there’s barely any traffic and before I know it I’m unlocking the front door of my apartment.

I got a new one after returning to National City from Metropolis because the old one just held too many memories and Lena’s been living with me for the last one and a half years.

“I’m home!” I shout, toeing off my shoes at the door and dropping my bag on the floor.

Lena’s reply is almost instant and it makes me smile. “I’m in the bedroom, Darling.”

I tap my thighs nervously and make my way to her, finding her where she said she’d be with a half packed bag on the bed. I didn’t tell her where we were going when I sprung this weekend getaway on her, but she didn’t mind. She’s just excited to get out of the city for a while and I can’t blame her because over the last month she worked extra hard on a new invention before presenting it to the public.

“Hey, how was work?” she asks with a smile when she sees me. The loose jeans and hoodie she’s wearing are a far cry from the things she used to wear when she was CEO of L-Corp and I can tell she’s way more comfortable like this. She still works hard, but she gets a lot more down time and the most important thing is that she gets to work on whatever she wants.

I close the distance between us and peck her lips in greeting before answering. “Good, I closed up earlier so we could get on the road.” I tuck a strand of dark hair that escaped her braid behind her ear and hum against her lips when she kisses me again. “You ready yet?”

“Almost,” she mumbles into the kiss. “Five more minutes.”

I smile and pull back. “It’s okay. No rush.“

“Thank you.”

She gets back to packing and I leave her to it, making sure I’ve got everything as well by going through my own bag out in the hall.

The ring box is shoved inside one of my sneakers because I didn’t know where else to put it. Lena is known to go through my stuff to find something cozy to wear and shoes are the only thing she can’t steal from me, so that was the best hiding place I could come up with.

My hands are already sweating thinking about her potentially finding it and when she emerges from the bedroom a minute or so later I jump involuntarily.

“You alright?” she asks and I nod quickly, taking the bag from her and picking up my own stuff to carry it all down to the car.

“I’m okay, just lost in though,” I say, kissing her cheek. “So? Ready to go?”

“Yes.” She smiles and we put on our shoes before making our way to the car.

Lena gets into the passenger seat and I load our bags into the trunk. When I get into the car as well, starting it and pulling onto the road, Lena takes my right hand and laces our fingers together.

“How was your lunch with Kara and James?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road.

“Good. We went to that Italian restaurant on 5th and— Oh! Kara’s finally been promoted to Editor in Chief.”

My eyes widen but I keep focusing on the road. “Really? I mean, it’s about damn time, but still.”

Lena nods eagerly and out of the corner of my eye I can see the proud smile on her face. “I know, and James got a dog a week ago. He was almost as happy about it as Kara about her promotion.”

That makes me laugh as I make a right turn onto the highway out of the city. “Well, he’s got his priorities straight.”

Lena laughs as well, agreeing, and for the rest of the drive up the coast the car is filled with small talk and stolen kisses at red lights.

When we got to the beach house last night, Lena couldn’t stop gawking. It was truly beautiful and we roamed around the property and explored the house before having some dinner.

I payed the owner of the house to stock the fridge with a couple of things before our arrival, which he gladly did, so we cooked together and had some wine.

After that, we each took a hot shower before heading to bed.

I almost lunged at Lena when she went through my bag to look for something cozy to sleep in, which made her frown and laugh at the same time. Luckily, she didn’t find the ring, but she came close to it and the adrenaline that cursed through me after that kept me from falling asleep for several hours.

Blissfully unaware, Lena slept through the night though, and when she woke up this morning she teased me about looking tired and told me I needed to take some more time off than just a weekend.

Now, after a hearty breakfast and some coffee, we’re strolling along the beach with intertwined hands.

Lena keeps talking about an upcoming project, and I try my best to listen, but every time I feel the ring box shift in my pocket, I get distracted.

This is it. I’m going to propose. . .

There is no one around, and even though I’m glad about it, I can’t help but realize it’s because of the weather.

It’s the end of September and the weather for this weekend was supposed to be good, but it seems as though mother nature had her own plans.

The sky is overcast and a cold breeze has forced Lena and me to keep our shoes on and wear thick sweaters.

This is not what I had planned, but I will make the best of it. Besides, Lena doesn’t seem to mind the weather. When we left the house earlier the first thing she did was close her eyes and relish in the breeze that swept her hair out of her face.

I wonder if she likes it because it reminds her of Ireland and her mother, or because it’s just been a warm summer and she enjoys that it’s finally cooling off.

We continue walking, clinging to each other for a bit of warmth until Lena suddenly stops.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” I look at her with wide eyes, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Did I miss something? Was I supposed to agree to whatever she was saying? Was she asking me something?

Lena frowns and raises a hand to touch my cheek gently. “You’ve been distracted all morning,” she says, adding, “And you’re jumpy,” when I jerk away from her other hand that comes close to the pocket the ring is in.

“I’m not—“ I shut my mouth almost instantly when she raises her eyebrow, looking unimpressed.

Right. I forgot she can read me like a book.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, once again looking concerned. “Did something happen at work? Or did I—“

“No!” Her eyes widen. “I mean, no. . .Nothing happened at work and you definitely didn’t do anything wrong.”

Shit, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. She really hasn’t done anything wrong, I’m just nervous.

“Okay. . .” she looks skeptical and goes to take her hand off my face again, but I’m quick to grab it with my free hand and keep it there.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize quietly, closing my eyes for a moment.

“Hey, no. . . Don’t apologize.” She steps closer and lets go of my other hand to properly cup my cheeks. “I’m just worried about you. What’s going on?”

I open my eyes again to find her already looking at me with nothing but worry written all over her face, and let out a shuddering breath.

“I’m. . . nervous,” I admit which seems to only worsen her confusion and worry. She tries to step even closer, but I can’t risk her feeling the ring in my pocket, so I shuffle back.

“Y/N, why are you—?”

I cut her off by pecking her lips gently before stepping out of her reach completely. For a moment hurt flashes across her face, but then her eyes get drawn to my hand when I reach into my pocket.

I guess I’m proposing right now. I can’t lie to her, and I was planning on proposing in the next few minutes anyway. I was just hoping to initiate it a little differently.

I take the ring box out of my pocket but keep my fingers wrapped around it, preventing Lena from seeing anything. Her curiosity has definitely been sparked though, and her eyes keep darting between my hand and my eyes.

“What’s that?” she asks quietly, but I don’t answer. Instead I take a deep breath before smiling tentatively.

“Lena. . .” Her name effortlessly rolls off my tongue and something in the way I say it makes realization wash over her. Her eyes widen and she takes her own step back, raising her hands to cover her mouth in shock.

Oh God. Is that a good or a bad sign? Maybe I should have waited till we got back to the house? Or maybe I shouldn’t have planned this in the first place.

Does she even want to get married? Of course she does! She’s been straight up telling me to propose for a while now.

But what if she doesn’t like the ring? Will she still say yes? Oh God I hope so. Sam and Ruby helped me pick it out. Right. Sam and Ruby. I promised I’d call them too. . .

“Y/N?”

Lena’s shaky voice snaps me out of my thoughts and when I focus back on her I see she’s already got tears in her eyes. Her hands are no longer covering her mouth because she’s now got them balled into fists and tucked under her chin.

“Shit. . . Right.” I clear my throat a couple of times.

Focus, Y/N!

“Lena. . .” I start again, clenching the ring box in my hand. “This wasn’t how I was planning on doing this, but I guess it’s happening now, so. . . The last two and a half years were the best years of my life.” I laugh softly, nervously, before going on. “After I got back to Metropolis, I knew the first thing I wanted to do was see you, so I did. The way your whole face lit up when you opened your front door. . . It told me everything I needed to know. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, so I asked you out right then and there and—hmpf!”

Lena’s lips on my own take me by surprise and I almost drop the ring when she throws her arms around my neck.

“Yes!” She laughs and cries into the kiss, frantically pulling me closer. “A million times, yes!”

Relief like none I’ve ever felt before washes over me and I relax instantly, kissing her back with a not so contained smile.

She wants to marry me! She actually said yes! Wait, I didn’t even ask her yet.

I pull back despite her protest and nudge my nose against hers. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“You don’t have to,” she pants, brushing her lips against mine again.

“But I want to,” I complain against her lips which makes her smile and pull back. I expect her to say something, but she just looks at me expectantly with her bright eyes, so I unwrap her arms from around my neck and step back again.

I take a shuddering breath and sink down onto one knee. Tears fill my eyes at the way she looks at me with so much love and longing, but I don’t bother to get rid of them.

I had this whole speech planned out, and just a moment ago I did want to finish it, but now I just want to ask her to marry me.

I uncurl my fingers from around the ring box and open it, revealing the ring to Lena who sobs happily at the sight of it.

“Lena Kieran Luthor, ” I whisper over the sound of the breeze and the waves crashing onto the beach next to us, “will you marry me?”

She nods frantically and wipes at her eyes. “Yes. I already told you. A million times, yes.”

I take the ring out of the box with a sniffle and get back to my feet, smiling through my own tears. Lena immediately gives me her hand and once I’ve slid the ring onto her finger, she’s once again kissing me like her life depends on it.

I happily kiss her back, ignoring the way her tears land on my cheeks until I realize the it’s not just her tears I’m feeling on my skin.

“Shit.” I dig my fingers into her hips and look up at the sky with narrowed eyes.

It’s raining. This is really not how envisioned the day would go.

I look back down expecting Lena to be upset by the change in weather, but she’s just smiling, unbothered by the ever increasing amount of rain.

“I love you,” she says, standing on her tip toes to kiss me again.

I hum against her lips. “I love you, too, but we should head back to the house, I don’t want you to get sick.”

She nods and pecks my lips agains before grabbing my hand. “Yeah, let’s go.”

We stumbled over the beach, hand in hand, kissing occasionally until we get back to the house, completely drenched.

The rain has turned into a full blown storm now and I’m quick to get some towels so we don’t ruin the nice wooden floors on our way to the bathroom.

“Wait!” Lena says when I pick her up to carry her upstairs.

I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head in question. “What?”

“We have to celebrate,” she chuckles, brushing some wet strands of hair off my forehead.

“We will,” I say with a smirk, but she just shakes her head with a playful whine.

“No, not like that, although I’m not opposed to it later,” she explains, tightening her legs around my hips. “There’s champagne in the fridge.”

Ah, yes. She saw that last night and asked me about it and when I just brushed it off and said the landlord must have forgotten it, she believed me. Now it’s obvious why it’s there though and I can’t blame her for wanting to open it.

“Right, okay. Into the kitchen we go then,” I say with a chuckle. I carry her into the kitchen and set her down on the counter before grabbing the champagne from the fridge.

We look absolutely ridiculous in our wet clothes, and things didn’t at all go as planned, but that’s what makes this moment even more special.

I set two glasses onto the counter next to her and loosen the cork on the bottle, but then Lena wraps her legs around me and pulls me closer before swooping down and kissing me softly.

Her lips are just too damn distracting and all I can focus on is her and not the way the cork loosens. That is until she pulls back and it goes flying with a pop, hitting me in the face right above my left eye.

I yelp and lift a hand to press my palm against my eye, almost dropping the champagne bottle in the process. “Ow!”

“Oh my God.” Lena takes the bottle from me and sets it next to the glasses. “Are you okay, Baby?”

I want to snap and say no because it really hurts, but then the ridiculousness of the situation makes me smile involuntarily until I’m chuckling and shaking my head in disbelief. “I’ll live.”

A smile is tugging at Lena’s lips too, and when she grabs my wrist to see my eye she sighs in relief. “I think so, too. It’s a little red, but it shouldn’t bruise. You’re lucky it didn’t hit your eye directly. Here, let me kiss it better.”

She grasps my jaw and pulls me forward so she can brush her lips against the offended skin. I smile and let her do her thing as the pain subsides, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

“Better?” she asks and I nod.

“Totally. . . Now, where were we?” I grab the bottle again and fill the two glasses, handing one to Lena before taking my own. “To us?”

She beams and clinks her glass against mine. “To us. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I take a sip and set the glass back down, not waiting until she’s finished before pulling her off the counter again.

She squeaks in surprise and wraps her arms and legs around me, spilling some champagne down my back.

“Y/N!” She doesn’t get to set the glass down because I start carrying her out of the kitchen. “What are you doing?!”

“Taking you upstairs so we can have a bath.” I bend down in the hallway so she can place her glass on a random dresser.

“But what about celebrating?” she complains with a playful pout and I’m quick to kiss it away as I make my way upstairs.

“We can do that in the bath, too.” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively but pause to see if she’s okay with it.

She just rolls her eyes and nods, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

I laugh and press a kiss to her neck, making my way to the bathroom. “I know.”

_______________________________________________

This one was very short and sweet, but I needed a break from all the Back To You angst.

*not proofread yet

[tortillamastersblog]

I’m glad to hear your day has been awesome, sounds like a good time! Are you sure you aren’t Santa?!? Another gift!! I’m excited to read it 👀

Also an idea for Angels Don’t Cry universe, maybe reader is ready and has been sneaking around relearning how to fly again to surprise Mor. All good if you don’t vibe with the idea, just throwing it out there :)

-🐨

Hahhahaa we’ll never know 🎅… I hope you’ll like it.

Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. I’ll definitely add it to the list ❤️

[tortillamastersblog]

Ahhh what a great christmas present you’re gifting us with the last part of Angels Don’t Cry!! Thank you 🫶 it was so comforting and fluffy. Love the way you write angst and fluff. I hope you’re enjoying your day so far!!

-🐨

You’re welcome!! And thank you, I try my best 🫶🏼 Yes, my day’s been great so far. Been spending time with my family and relaxing on the couch ❤�� Btw the next upload is going to be one of your requests 👀

[tortillamastersblog]

꧁ Angels Don’t Cry - Part 7 | Mor ꧂

Pairing: Mor x reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, injuries, blood, kidnapping, explicit language, and mentions of SA

Summary: After Hybern’s defeat, the Inner Circle makes a grave discovery in the late King’s dungeons. . .

Previous Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

The bond just snapped into place for me.

“Mor,” I croak, my knees shaking.

Her jaw is slack and her eyes dance all over my face. “I know.” She tugs on my hand. “Come with me.”

We weave through the crowd without anyone noticing until we’re in a dark and quiet hallway where Mor lets go of my hand and takes a step back to look up at me. “A-Are you okay?” she asks quietly.

“I. . .No.” The bond is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s overwhelming and amazing all at once. It feels like my entire body is filled with desire and love almost to the point where it’s painful.

Mor’s face falls and she looks saddened. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want this and you can always reject it, but—“

No, no, no. That’s not what I want at all. She’s got it all wrong.

“No,” I blurt out which cuts her off. She snaps her mouth shut and swallows thickly, a storm of emotions raging in the depths of her eyes. “No. . .” I repeat, this time much softer as I shuffle closer, tentatively placing my hands on her hips. “I want this, but—“

“But?” she asks quietly, hopefully, as she steps into my personal space.

“What I really want right now is to kiss you,” I admit which makes her eyes widen.

My heart thuds in my chest and I tighten my hold on her hips to hopefully hide how my hands are shaking.

“You want to kiss me?” she asks shakily.

I nod and wet my lips, my eyes dropping from her eyes down to her lips before snapping back up.

“Then kiss me,” she whispers and I don’t have to be told twice. I close the distance between us and tentatively brush my lips against hers.

Sparks fly instantly and I feel my knees weaken when she starts moving her lips against mine, her hands coming up to grasp at my neck, pulling me into her even more.

Her sandalwood perfume clouds my senses and the taste of wine on her lips makes my head swoon.

I’ve been kissed before, but never like this. It’s absolutely reality altering, and my heart swoops in my chest because of it.

All too soon, Mor pulls back and I’m left chasing her lips with my eyes closed which makes her laugh breathlessly.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks lowly, her nails scratching the back of my neck.

My eyes flutter open and when I see her glazed over brown eyes watching me intently, all I can do is nod.

“Okay, let’s go,” she whispers, stepping back and taking my hand before leading me to a secluded balcony. “Ready?” She asks once we’re standing on a hidden and secluded balcony. It’s the only place one can winnow to and from when visiting the house of wind, and only a few people know about/are able to do it.

“Yeah.” I tightened my grip on Mor’s hand and close my eyes when she wraps her other hand around my upper arm before winnowing us somewhere else.

The distant sounds of the party fade and when I reopen my eyes a moment later, I’m standing in front of a huge white manor. Snow is falling all around us, but I don’t feel cold, and through the stillness, I hear a horse neighing in the distance. We’re miles away from Velaris, surrounded by rolling hills and dark forests, and if I strain my ears I can even make out the sound of the ocean gurgling in the distance.

“Where are we?” I blink in surprise and turn to Mor who’s already looking at me. The lights from inside the house light up her face and make her eyes twinkle

I expected her to winnow us to my apartment, or her apartment for that matter, not. . . here?

“This is my estate,” she says quietly, leading me to the front door. “Athelwood. I bought it three hundred years ago. I come here sometimes to escape from the world.”

“You never mentioned it before,” I observe as the double doors swing open in front of us. Mor leads me inside and I marvel at the dark wooden floors and the chandelier dangling from the high ceiling above us.

“That’s because no one except Rhys knows about it,” she explains as we keep walking which makes my heart flutter.

No one but Rhys knows, and that’s probably just because he’s the High Lord. The fact that Mor is trusting me with this means the world to me.

“I—It’s beautiful,” I whisper which makes her smile shyly.

“Thank you.” She squeezes my hand and leans up to press a kiss to my cheek.

I smile and tuck my wings in tighter when she pulls back and it’s only then that I realize she’s led me into the manor’s kitchen.

The white marble counter tops are in perfect contrast to the dark floors and the high paneled window to my left allows for an amazing view of the moonlit countryside outside.

Mor lets go of my hand and leaves me standing at the kitchen island which makes me frown, but then she grabs something from the fridge and when she turns back around I find myself smiling once again.

“Strawberries?” I chuckle in disbelief. I round the kitchen island and wrap my arms around her waist while she places the bowl with the strawberries on the counter next to us.

“I told you I liked strawberries the last time you offered me some, but back then I couldn’t eat them because of the bond, but now. . .” She plucks one of the strawberries from the bowl and lifts it up to my lips with a mischievous smile.

Right. I already forgot about the whole accepting food-from-your-mate thing again.

I tighten my arms around her and take a bite of the pre-offered strawberry, humming in satisfaction at the sweet taste while keeping my eyes fixed on her.

“Good?” she asks and I nod, swallowing before bending down and kissing her softly.

“Perfect,” I mumble against her lips which makes her laugh. I straighten back up after pecking her lips again and take the half eaten strawberry from her and offering it to her the same way she did me.

She eats it with a smile and grazes her fingers against the underside of my jaw while she chews.

“Good?” I tease quietly once she’s swallowed.

“Mhmm.” She chuckles and moves her hands to the back of my neck to pull me in for another kiss.

It’s official now. We’re mates. We’re mates. . .

The thought makes my stomach flip pleasantly and I find myself deepening the kiss and pushing her back against the counter with my hands on her hips.

It makes her moan softly and I shiver at the sound of it.

“Do you—“ she nips at my bottom lip and digs her nails into my shoulder, “—want to take this to the bedroom?”

“Yes,” I reply without thinking. I bend down and hoist her up by the backs of her thighs. It makes her dress ride up and pool around her hips, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she wraps her legs around my waist.

“Okay,” she pants against my mouth, reconnecting our lips in a fiery kiss after adding, “Upstairs. Second door on the left.”

I tighten my grip on her and stumble out of the kitchen.

It’s incredibly difficult to walk and focus where I’m supposed to go when Mor keeps kissing me, but I’m not about to tell her to stop.

I don’t ever want her to stop kissing me again because for the first time since being captured by the king of Hybern I feel alive again.

I carry Mor up the stairs, thankful there are no servants to witness my struggle, until I finally manage to make it to the bedroom.

It’s a stunning room, just as beautiful as the rest of the house. The dark floor is covered by an ivory oriental rug, the high, arched windows are framed by beige curtains, and the cream colored upholstery of the chairs by the fireplace match the sheets on the king sized bed. The bed’s frame is made of dark wood that matches the floors and the chandelier dangling from the ceiling is similar to the one in the foyer.

It is truly beautiful, but I don’t dwell on it because of a certain blonde in my arms. Since getting to the top of the stairs she’s been trailing her kisses across my jaw and down my neck, and it’s so distracting, I almost trip over the rug on the way to the bed.

“Careful.” Mor chuckles against my neck before biting down on it, making my wings twitch.

I huff in mock offense and tap the back of her legs so she unwraps her legs from around me, allowing me to set her down by the foot of the bed.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, catching my breath while brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Normally she would smirk and say something along the lines of I know, but this time, much to my surprise, she doesn’t.

She just leans into my touch and tugs on my belt loops to pull me closer.

The light of the fire that started roaring in the fireplace the moment we stepped into the bedroom flickers over her features and intensifies the way her brown eyes shine with longing.

It makes me gulp and when she takes my hands and lifts them to tug the straps of her dress off her shoulders, I feel my heart skip a beat.

The dark green fabric slowly slips down her body until it’s pooled around her ankles and leaves her standing in front of me in nothing but her underwear.

I shudder at the sight before looking back up to meet her unwavering eyes again.

“Mor. . .” I let out a shaky breath and close my eyes, touching my forehead against hers.

Mor shivers and I feel her hot breath on my lips before she kisses me softly. Her hands start undoing the buttons of my shirt and I let her, shrugging it off as soon as she’s done.

When her fingers brush against the button of my pants though, I freeze and one of my hands shoots out to grab her wrist.

I abruptly break the kiss and swallow nervously when I see her frown and look at me with worried eyes.

“A-Are you okay?” she asks and a I’m fine is on the tip of my tongue, but then the memory of the King of Hybern’s voice makes me shake my head.

You do whatever they want, you hear me?!

Strip!

Stop whining, by the Cauldron! You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.

I recoil and let go of Mor‘s wrist, backing up until I’m flush against the wall with my eyes closed.

No, no, no, no, no! Why does this keep happening to me? Every time I feel good about my new life, my past catches up with me.

I want this, I want Mor, but I don’t know if I can do it.

“Hey.”

Soft hands on the side of my face make me open my eyes again, but I can’t bear to look at Mor and see the disappointment on her face, so I avert my eyes.

“Hey,” she says again, dipping her head to catch my eye and when I see concern etched into her face, not disappointment, I let out a shaky breath. “What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“N-No,” I stutter. “I don’t, but. . . The King, he— he used to— They used to—“ I shudder and bite the inside of my cheek, desperately hoping Mor will understand what I’m trying to say without me having to actually spell it out for her.

“The King. . .?” she whispers with furrow eyebrows, but then realization dawns on her and her face falls.

“Not just the King,” I whisper brokenly, leaning into her touch.

Mor’s eyes fill with disbelief and horror and before I know it she’s pulling me into a hug. “I’m sorry.” She runs her hands over the scars on my upper back and buries her face in my shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” I say. My arms circle around her waist and I sigh at the feeling of her skin on mine.

“I know,” she says quietly. “But still. . . I hate what they’ve done to you— what they put you through. If the King was still alive, I’d personally see to it that he dies a painful death. And after him, I’d kill anyone else who ever laid a hand on you.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just hold her closer, letting my fingers dance over her bare skin.

“Do you want to stop this? We can just put our clothes back on and curl up in front of the fire?” Mor whispers a moment later which makes me pull back and shake my head.

“No, I want this. I want you, but I don’t— I don’t like feeling out of control,” I admit quietly.

Mor’s face softens and her hands move back up the side of my neck to cup my jaw. “Okay then. Do whatever you want, I’m yours. We’re going to take this at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and sigh. “Thank you.”

Smiling softly, Mor stands on her tip toes and kisses me gently. “Anything for you, My Love.”

My Love. That sounds amazing.

I hum against her lips and kiss her back, slowly walking her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and I gently guide her back onto the bed until her head is on one of the pillows and I’m hovering above her with one of my hands next to her head on the pillow and the other on her hip.

“You okay?” she checks in between kisses and I nod, shivering at the feeling of her fingers tracing the inside of my wings.

“Never better,” I whisper. I place one last kiss to her lips before moving lowered. “You?”

She sighs softly at the feeling of my lips on her neck and collarbone, and it takes a second for her to gasp,“Yeah, same.”

I smile against her skin, all the tension from just a moment ago forgotten as I move lower with each kiss.

I stir and twitch awake at the feeling of Mor’s fingers once again running over the inside of my wings.

“That tickles,” I murmur, still half asleep, which makes her stop.

She laughs softly and nips at the underside of my jaw. “I had to wake you somehow,” she argues playfully which makes me open my eyes.

It’s no longer dark outside, but there’s a snowstorm raging on outside which darkens the room considerably. The fire in the fireplace is still going strong and when I glance around the room I see our clothes strewn all across the floor.

“There’s other ways to wake me up,” I complain lightheartedly, stretching my wings and arms before sinking back into bed with Mor’s head on my chest.

She’s looking up at me through her lashes and the way her brown eyes twinkle makes my heart flutter.

“True,” she says while running her thumb over my ribs. “But this way I got to watch you squirm. It’s adorable.”

I scoff and gently pinch her side which makes her giggle. “Adorable, huh?“

“Mhmm.” She nods and smiles cutely, and I just can’t stay mad at her when she looks at me like that—not that I was really mad at her in the first place. . .

I trace my fingers up her spine and bend my head down to brush my lips against hers in a slow and loving kiss.

Mor sighs contentedly when I pull back and lifts her hand to touch the corner of my lips. “I. . . I love you,” she whispers tentatively.

I press a kiss to the pads of her fingers and smile easily. “I love you, too.”

How could I not? After how understanding she was last night and how she made me feel?

When I’m with her, I feel safe. Since jumping after me off the roof of The House of Wind she’s proven time and time again that I’m safe with her.

She respects and understands my boundaries, and she doesn’t look at me any differently now that she knows the full extent of what I went through in Hybern.

“Really?” she asks hopefully and when I nod, her eyes fill with tears.

“Really. . . Don’t cry.” I use my thumb to wipe away a stray tear. “Angel’s don’t cry.”

That makes her smile tearily. “I’m hardly an angel.”

I peck her lips again and nudge her nose with my own. “You’re my angel. All those visions you sent me while I was held in Hybern? You saved my life. Without you, I don’t think I could have held on.”

Mor sighs and closes her eyes, taking in what I just said before kissing me again. It’s not a soft kiss like before though.

No, this one is passionate and full of longing, but I don’t complain when she sits up to straddle my stomach with both her hands on the side of my face, pulling me impossibly close.

I could definitely get used to this. I know we won’t be able to stay in this little bubble we created forever, but that’s okay. As long as we have each other, we’ll be fine.

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Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates! 🎄🎁❤️

[tortillamastersblog]

Wishing you a very happy holiday!! 🎁🎄 I hope you enjoy your break and have time to relax!

-🐨

Thank you! Right back at you ❤️ I hope you’re able to spend some time with your loved ones 🫶🏼

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 7 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

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

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

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

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sprout?” I say, looking up from my computer.

“What are we having for dinner?” Tara asks. She limps around the back of the couch with her crutches before leaning them against the coffee table and plopping down next to me.

“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “Thai food?”

She nods and rests her head on my shoulder, letting her eyes skim over the finance essay I’ve been working on. Because Christina Carpenter is still in London Tara’s staying with me until she comes back. At first she said it was to keep me company, but I know she’s just too scared to stay home alone since the last time she was alone she was attacked.

“Okay then, I’ll order something. Is there anything particular you want?” I ask, closing my laptop and pulling out my phone.

Tara shakes her head and grabs the remote next to me, turning on the TV.

“Alright.” I scroll through the options and choose two similar dishes and a side of spring rolls. I go to pay and order, but Tara stops me, turning down the volume of the TV and lifting her head off my shoulder.

“Wait.”

“What? Do you want something else after all? Pizza? Or sushi?”

“No, but you should order some Pad Thai,” she says, shifting nervously.

I chuckle softly, her sudden change in behavior going completely unnoticed. “You just said you didn’t care what I got you.”

I go to change her order, but she stops me by taking my phone away.

“It’s not for me,” she clarifies quietly which makes me raise my eyebrows and look at her expectantly. “It’s for Sam.”

I frown. “Sam? But she’s in Modesto?”

After giving our statements to the police and getting checked out at the hospital, Sam left immediately to pack up her life in Modesto. She promised Tara she’d return to Woodsboro for good as soon as she’d taken care of everything and I thought it would take her more than just three days to get everything in order since that’s how long she’s been gone for now, but apparently not.

“No, she called earlier while you were in the shower and said she was on her way back,” Tara clarifies, watching me nervously and waiting for my reaction.

“O-Okay,” I stammer. “So, you told her she could stop by for dinner?“

Sam and I haven’t talked about anything that happened yet. Not about Ghostface, her psychosis, or my feelings for her which Richie so graciously revealed to her, and not necessary just because we haven’t had the time to yet. No, I’m just not ready for it, but it seems like Tara thinks otherwise. Or she just doesn’t care, either way, Sam is on her way here now and a talk will be inevitable.

“Yes. . .” she says, hesitating slightly before going on. “And I may or may not have told her she could also stay with us until mom gets back.”

“What?!” I shriek, my eyes widening.

Tara shrinks in on herself, nodding, and to make matters even worse she adds, “And I also kind of told her it was your idea because she said she wouldn’t come if you didn’t want her to.“

My jaw drops and I blink in surprise, completely taken aback.

“So, just a heads up when she thanks you for inviting her, I guess,” she squeaks out, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh my God, Tara—“ I run my hand down my face and groan, “—I don’t even— Why would you—?”

“I didn’t want her to be alone,” she’s quick to defend herself. “She said she would just stay at a motel until she finds an apartment, or mom gets back and allows her to stay with us again, but I couldn’t just let her do that. After everything that’s happened she—“

“I get it.” I cut her off and drop my hand in my lap.

Of course I don’t want Sam to be alone. Not after everything that’s happened. She needs someone, she needs Tara, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m nervous to face her and that I’m upset Tara went behind my back.

“So, she can stay for a while?” she asks hesitantly which makes me sigh and nod.

“Yes, she can stay, but don’t ever pull something like that again. I mean, I love you, Sprout, but that’s just— No.”

Tara’s shoulders sag with relief and she nods adamantly. “I won’t, I promise. I wasn’t thinking when I did it. I just didn’t want her to be alone and since I’m staying with you, I figured it would be fine if she just stayed with us, too. I mean, you are best friends. . .“

“Were,” I correct, but it doesn’t faze her. She just hands me my phone back and I, now resigned to the idea, wordlessly add the Pad Thai to our order before finally paying for it and ordering it. “So, when is she going to be here?”

Tara checks her own phone for the time. “She said she’d be here in an hour fourty five minutes ago, so in about fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes. Wow, okay. This is really happening. First I don’t see her for five years, and now she’s going to be living with me.

Luckily I have a guest room she can use since Paige and Liam stay over all the time, but we’ll still be seeing a lot of each other and I don’t know how to act around her now that Ghostface is gone.

“Okay.” I take my laptop off my lap and put it on the coffee table. “I’ll get the guest room ready then.”

The first night Tara stayed with me, she slept in the guest room, but then she had a nightmare and crawled into my bed which is where she’s been sleeping with me ever since, so I’ll have to change the sheets before Sam gets here.

I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sleeping in a bed Tara’s already slept in, but Tara was sweating quite a lot when I found her screaming and shaking in her sleep, so I’ll just go ahead and change them real quick.

“I’ll help,” Tara is quick to offer, but in the end I do all the work since she can’t stay on her feet for long without her crutches.

It is a little difficult to get everything done with only one arm, but in the end, I manage just fine and not even a minute after I’m done the doorbell rings.

“That’s Sam,” Tara says, limping out of the room. I follow her nervously, but keep my distance when she greets Sam at the front door.

The two of them share a sweet hug and exchange some mumbled pleasantries before Tara invites Sam into the apartment.

The older Carpenter sister looks around curiously and sets her bag down to take off her shoes and jacket, her eyes landing on me as soon as Tara steps out of the way.

“Hey,” she says, straightening up and tucking her hair behind her ears.

I awkwardly lift my free hand in greeting. “Hi.”

“Thanks for letting me stay with you for a couple of days,” she says, smiling a thin-lipped smile.

Tara watches us curiously, waiting for my reaction.

I don’t want to make this any weirder than it already is, so I just nod and say, “You’re welcome. The guest room is all the way down the hall to the right.“

“Thank you.” She picks up her bag again and steps further into the apartment. Her movements are uncertain and I can tell she doesn’t really know how to act, so I say, “Why don’t you go put your stuff away and freshen up a little. We’ve got Thai food on the way and Tara’s already picked out a movie.”

“Yeah, okay.” She looks like she wants to hug me, she even steps a little closer, but then she thinks better of it and turns on her heels, heading to the guest room.

I let out a shaky breath as soon as she’s out of sight and head to the kitchen, Tara following me on her crutches.

“So, what was all that about?” she asks, leaning against the counter when I pull a bottle of water out of the fridge. “I mean, I know Sam was gone for five years, but the two of you weren’t acting this weird around each other three days ago. Did something happen?”

What didn’t happen? We almost died several times, I found out she was seeing visions of Billy, and after all this time, she now knows how I feel about her and she has yet to say something about it.

I have no clue how she feels about it. Does it bother her? Does it make her uncomfortable? Is that why she hasn’t talked about it yet? No, she can’t be, if she were she wouldn’t have agreed to come here, right?

“It’s. . . nothing,” I say, opening the bottle and taking a sip.

Tara raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but she doesn’t push it which I’m grateful for because Sam enters the kitchen a moment later.

That was fast. . .

She’s changed out of her jeans into some sweatpants and has tied her hair into a low ponytail.

“Did you get everything sorted out in Modesto?” Tara asks and Sam nods, accepting a new bottle of water when I hand it to her.

“Quitting my job was easy and it didn’t take long to convince my landlord to let me move out before my lease ended,” she explains, slowly but surely getting more comfortable in my space. Her brown eyes take in her surroundings and when she spots an old picture of Tara, herself, and me on the fridge her face softens and her eyes find me.

She once again has an unreadable expression on her face, but before I can dwell on it, the doorbell rings.

“That’ll be our food. I’ll be right back,” I say, excusing myself and making my way out of the kitchen to the front door.

The delivery guy is around my age and he smiles when he hands me our food in a plate bag, but then his face drops and his eyes widen in realization.

“Wait, aren’t you one of the people involved in the Ghost—“

“Nope.” I hand him a five dollar bill as a tip and slam the door in his face before he can finish his sentence.

This has happened several times now. Every time I order food or go out to the convenience store around the corner, I get recognized and asked about what happened.

It’s something I could really live without because it brings back the memories of what happened, but I guess people are just curious and it’s going to take some time for them to find something new to obsess over.

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head to get rid of the memory of Richie’s lifeless body and head into the living room where Sam and Tara have already made themselves comfortable on the couch.

They’re chatting about God knows what but stop when they see me come in with the food.

“Finally!” Tara eagerly accepts her food when I hand it to her and steals one of the spring rolls before I can set them on the coffee table for everyone to share.

I smile and take a seat next to her, taking my own food out of the plastic bag before handing Sam who’s sitting on Tara’s other side her Pad Thai.

“Thank you. What do I owe you?” she asks, her eyes lighting up ever so slightly when she opens the takeout container and sees what we got her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I say, waiving her off, but she’s not having it.

She frowns and sets her food down in her lap. “No, please tell me. You’re already letting me stay with you for free, the least I can do is pay for my own food.”

“It’s really no problem,” I say before gesturing at Tara. “This one’s been mooching off of me for years now, so paying for one more extra meal really isn’t going to make a difference.”

It’s true. I’ve paid for a lot of Tara’s food and whatnot over the last couple of years, but it’s does matter because my parents left me quite a bit of money when they died. My mom was an investment banker and had quite a bit saved up before she passed, so that’s where most of it came from, but I also got a bunch of money when I sold our old house.

“Hey!” Tara protests around a mouth full of food and shoves me playfully, and I just shove her back and poke her cheek.

“What? You sayin’ it isn’t true?” I teased and when she doesn’t answer I just chuckle softly and turn my attention back to Sam who’s still looking a bit torn. “Really. It’s no problem. Just eat. I’m sure you’ll find some other way to make it up to me.”

Her face softens and she finally nods, her brown eyes shining with gratitude. “Okay. . . Thanks.”

I send her a tight lipped smile and focus back on my own food, giving Tara permission to finally start the movie she picked once we’ve all settled down properly.

It’s almost three in the morning and I still can’t sleep.

We went to bed a couple of hours ago, after finishing our dinner and watching another movie, but I just can’t sleep.

I kept tossing and turning in my bed—grateful that Tara decided to sleep in the guest room with Sam tonight—until I just couldn’t take it anymore.

Now I’m sitting at the kitchen island, in the dark, with a steaming cup of tea in front of me. I was hoping it would maybe help me feel a little sleepy, but so far no luck.

I’m as wide awake as ever because my mind keeps replaying what happened three days ago at Amber’s. I can still hear the gunshots, Sam’s pained whimpering, and Richie’s gurgling when he chocked on his own blood.

So many people are dead, and all because of Richie and Amber’s fucked up dream of making a new Stab movie.

Wes and his mom’s funeral is next week and I’m planning on attending it, but I don’t know how I’m going to handle it yet. It feels like it was only yesterday that I went to my parents funeral and I just know going to theirs will bring back a whole lot of memories.

After everything that’s happened I’m just glad nothing happened to Liam and Paige. The two of them are still in San Francisco, but they texted me earlier that they’d be returning some time next week.

“Can’t sleep?”

I flinch so hard, I spill some of my tea over the back of my hand, making me hiss in pain. I look over my shoulder and exhale shakily when I see Sam standing in the doorway with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Jesus, Sam,” I whisper, wiping my hand on my pajama pants. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry.” She approaches slowly and hesitantly takes a seat on the high chair next to me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. . .” I look at her and when our eyes meet in the darkness I drop my defenses and let my shoulders relax. “Do you—Uh— Want some tea?” I ask and when she nods I get up to make her a cup.

“So. . . Can’t sleep?” she asks again when I turn on the kettle and I sigh before answering, keeping my back turned her way.

She makes me nervous, looking all calm and cozy in my space, and the fact that she’s wearing my faded high school hockey sweater is making it even worse.

Where did she even get that?

The only explanation I can come up with is that Tara gave it to her since she’s always raiding my closet for oversized stuff.

“Yeah, you know—Nightmares. . .” I say, taking out a mug and putting a tea bag in it before filling it with hot water.

“I get it. I get them, too.” Sam smiles sadly and accepts the tea with a grateful nod when I hand it to her. Our fingers brush for a second which sends sparks up my arm and I’m quick to pull away and take a seat on my chair again.

“Right.” Of course she has nightmares, too. It’d be weird if she didn’t. After all she was the one who was being manipulated and used for this whole new-stab-movie bullshit. The rest of us just got hurt.

I can feel an awkward silence settling over us, and take a sip of tea to distract myself. Sam is playing with the string of her tea bag, glancing at me every so often as if she wants to say something.

For a couple of moments, she doesn’t, seemingly scared of how I might react, but then she seems to gather enough courage. She turns in her chair to face me and buries her hands in her lap, saying, “They’re mostly about you, you know?”

I set my tea back down and turn to face her as well, frowning. “Huh?”

“The nightmares,” she clarifies, her dark eyes searching my face for any kind of reaction. “Every time I try to sleep, I see you, covered in blood and dead. Tara, too, sometimes, but it’s mostly just you.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised, but don’t say anything because it seems like she isn’t done talking yet.

“I can’t stop thinking about the way you literally collapsed right in front of me at the hospital. There was so much blood and then at Amber’s—the blood on your face from your broken nose—I thought you’d been shot in the head for a second when I saw you lying in the living room.” Sam wipes at a stray tear without breaking eye contact. “And then you stood up to Richie for me, a-and I thought, this is it. He really is going to kill you now, but then he didn’t. He just kneed you in the stomach, but in my dreams h-he shoots you. Every. Single. Time. He shoots you right in front of me and I—“ She lets out a shaky breath, “—I just can’t bear the thought of losing you. . . Not after everything we’ve been through. Not before I can fix things between us.”

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and reach for one of her hands, taking it in mine and squeezing it gently. “You’re not going to lose me.”

She shakes her head and sniffles. “You don’t know that. Ghostface could come back, or-or you could get into another accident.”

I sigh and look away. She’s right, but the fear of what could happen shouldn’t stop us from living our lives. “I know, but the chances of either of those things happening again are slim to none, sooo you have all the time in the world to make things up to me,” I joke quietly, which makes her chuckle sadly.

I know I said I wasn’t mad anymore, but that was when I thought we were literally going to die. Now, I can’t say I’m still mad, but she does have to prove that she wants to be in my life again— that I can trust her and rely on her again.

She interlaces our fingers and lifts my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles which makes me freeze. “I will make it up to you,” she whispers, moving closer to tracing the index finger of her other hand over the bruised bridge of my broken nose and around the edges of my black eyes. Her touch is gentle and makes my skin tingle, and I instantly miss it when she lowers her hand again.

“I promise, I will make it up to you,” she says again, but this time her tone is different. There’s more conviction in her voice and she looks as serious as I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes are practically boring into mine and the intensity of it all makes me look away nervously. “Listen, about what Richie said. . .”

I tense. Oh no, here it comes. . .

Why did you never say anything? How long have you felt like this? I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel the same way about you.

I can already imagine all the things she’s going to say, but then she surprises me by going on.

“About my visions of Billy. . .” She cringes and looks away right as I look at her again. She keeps our fingers interlaced, but leans back a little as though she needs the space to think clearly.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” I reassure her, seeing that it’s making her uncomfortable, but she shakes her head and looks at me again.

“No, I really do. You invited me to stay with you, so the least I can do is tell you what you’re dealing with,” she says and it almost sounds like she’s afraid of herself.

I want to tell her that I’m not dealing with anything while she’s here, but she looks like she really wants to say her part, so I stay quiet.

“I started seeing visions of Billy after I found out he was my real father,” she whispers, her grip on my hand tightening. “And it scared me so much, but I didn’t go see a therapist until years later, after I left. . . I was prescribed some antipsychotics, and for a while they worked, and I stopped seeing him, but lately they haven’t been working anymore.”

I can’t imagine how scary that must be. My aunt— my father’s sister—was bipolar before she died of cancer a couple of years ago, so I kind of know what a struggle it can be to have mental health issues, but I can’t fathom seeing visions of my dead serial killer father.

“I don’t know how to make them stop because I’m already taking some pretty hardcore pills. It’s like— I see him in the mirror, or any other reflective surface, a-and he talks to me, like an embodiment of all my intrusive thought but I- I promise you I’d never hurt you or Tara because of him. It’s just draining and— I’m sorry. . .” Her breath hitches and she disconnects her hand from mine to press the heels of her palms against her watering eyes.

She��s shaking and crying quietly, and the sight of it breaks my heart, so I get to my feet and pull her into a hug.

“Don’t apologize,” I say softly, feeling a little of my worry fade when Sam wraps her arms around my waist to hug me back. She slides off her chair to stand as well and buries her face against the side of my neck.

“I just feel so awful, you’ve got enough to deal with, the last thing you need is me dropping all this shit on you. I have no right to just come back into your life and—“

“Nu uh,” I cut her off. “What role you play in my life is up to me to decide. We’re far from being okay, but I still care about you and I want you to know that I’m here for you, got it?”

“I can’t just—“

“Got it?” I cut her off quietly, squeezing her in my arms, or well, just arm since my right one is still in the sling.

Sam sighs, but finally caves, nodding again my neck and tightening her hold on me. “I don’t deserve you. . .”

“Maybe not yet, no, because what you did really hurt me, but I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere,” I say honestly, allowing her to pull back and look up into my eyes.

My heart flips in my chest at her intense gaze, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth slightly parted as if she’s about to say something.

Nothing comes out however and we just stand like that for a couple of moments, staring at each other and relishing in the other’s warmth.

That is until a scream makes us pull apart. My eyes widen and for a second my heart drops, but then I relax again when I realize what’s happening.

Tara.

Sam, however, looks alarmed, her eyes wide and she goes to grab a knife from the knife block on the kitchen island.

“No, wait.” I grab her wrist mid reach and pull her with me. She looks flabbergasted, probably thinking why I’m so calm, but when we get to the guest bedroom, realization seems to dawn on her and her face softens at the sight of Tara thrashing on the bed with her eyes closed.

I let go of her wrist and quickly move to Tara’s side. “Hey, Sprout, wake up, it’s me.” I grab one of her flailing arms and shake her a little. “Wake up.”

Tara whimpers in her sleep and furrows her eyebrows, so I shake her again.

“Tara!”

That snaps her out of her dream and she shoots up, clutching at her chest with wide eyes.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.” I let go of her arm and rub my hand up and down her back as Sam cautiously approaches the bed.

She takes a seat on Tara’s other side and gently takes her bandaged hand into her own.

Tara looks between us with teary eyes and closes her eyes for a moment, catching her breath.

“It all felt so real,” she whispers.

“I know,” I say quietly, sharing a sympathetic look with Sam over her head. “But it wasn’t. You’re here and you’re okay.“

Tara sniffles and opens her eyes again. She looks at me first, then at Sam before letting out a shaky breath while nodding.

“A-Are you going to be okay?” Sam asks gently, shuffling a little closer until she’s sitting next to Tara with her back resting against the headboard.

“I—“ Tara swallows thickly,”— Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just a little shaken, that’s all.”

Sam doesn’t look convinced, but accepts her answer and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want to watch something, or do you want some tea?”

“Can you just stay?” Tara asks with pleading eyes, glancing at me before adding, “Both of you?”

I glance at Sam and when she nods faintly, I agree. “Of course. Move over.”

Tara shuffles to the middle of the bed and lifts the comforter so I can lie down next to her while Sam slips under the comforter on her other side.

Tara grabs Sam’s arm and wraps it around her stomach so she’s being held from behind before placing her head on my shoulder.

“Good?” I ask as soon as she’s settled and she nods with a content sigh.

Sam and I share another look over her head and when I see the care and gratitude in her eyes I send her a soft smile.

We’re going to be okay.

“What’s all this?” I ask the next morning, walking into the kitchen where Tara’s sitting at the kitchen island and Sam is standing over the stove.

Soft music is playing from a speaker and it smells delicious and when my eyes land on the stack of pancakes in front of Tara I know why.

“Sam is making pancakes!” Tara grins and plucks a blueberry from her plate into her mouth.

“I can see that.” I chuckle and take a seat next to Tara, smiling when Sam shyly slides a cup of coffee in front of me. “Thank you.”

“They’re chocolate chip,” Tara muses around a mouthful of food.

I raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“The pancakes,” she clarifies which makes my eyes snap to the stack of pancakes in front of her.

No. That can’t be. Surely Sam doesn’t remember such a trivial little—

“Your favorites.”

My eyes snap back up and I find Sam smiling hesitantly.

“At least, I hope they still are,” she adds, scratching her neck awkwardly.

Amazed, I nod dumbly which makes her perk up and finish plating the rest of the pancakes. She joins Tara and me at the kitchen island and hands me my own plate.

“Thanks,” I whisper, taking a careful bite of the pancakes and feeling my heart warm at the nostalgic feeling that washes over me. We used to make these pancakes all the time when she’d sleep over, and right now it’s the first time I’m having them since she left. I just couldn’t bring myself to make them without her.

Sam steals a couple glances every now and then while we eat and smiles when I finish my entire stack of pancakes in less than five minutes.

“Oh, by the way,” Tara says after a while, grabbing a stack of envelopes from the chair next to hers. “I got your mail out of the mailbox for you.”

I take a sip of coffee and take them from her with a hum, skimming my eyes over them, only mildly interested.

Most of them are ads or bills, but one catches my attention and I’m quick to open it and read it.

No way. . .

My eyes widen at what it says, and I re-read it a couple of times before Tara notices my stunned silence and asks what’s going on.

“A scout from a hockey team in Boston was at one of our recent games and now they want to sign with me,” I answer quietly, still in shock.

I never expected this. I want to play professionally one day, yes, but I was actually planning on finishing my degree first.

“What?” Tara grabs the letter from me and reads it as well with wide eyes before looking back up. “This is— This is great!”

I frown and take the letter back. “Yeah. . . I guess.”

It is great that they want me on their team, but I can’t just drop everything here and move all the way across the country to Boston. Not only because of my degree but also because of Tara, and now, Sam.

“You guess?” Tara pokes my arm, excited. “What do you mean? This is everything you ever wanted!”

I glance at Sam to find her already looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and wistfulness.

“Yeah, but—“

“But what?” Tara butts in, waving the letter for emphasis. “This is your chance to get out of here and finally do what you’ve always dreamed of. How can you have second thoughts about it?”

Again, I look at Sam, but she’s no longer looking at me. She’s pushing a piece of pancake around on her plate, seemingly lost in thought.

We both know that if I go to Boston it will be incredibly difficult to fix our friendship.

I just got her back. I can’t just leave now, but then again, Tara is right. I’ve always wanted to get out of here after my parents died.

“I can’t— I mean— The semester just started— A-And you. . . I can’t leave you alone,” I splutter. I’m so overwhelmed with feelings, I don’t know what to say.

On one hand, this really is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I really want to go, but on the other hand, I don’t want to leave Tara, or Sam. They need me, especially Tara, and I don’t want to leave Liam and Paige behind either.

“But I’m not alone,” Tara counters with a gentle smile and nudges Sam. “I’ve got this one back now and I’m sure you can move your classes online or something.”

“Tara—“

“She’s right.” Sam cuts in, looking up from her plate. There’s a sad smile playing on her lips, but she seems just as resolved as Tara. “You should go. This is your life we’re talking about, and it seems like it’s high time you start living it.”

My mouth snaps shut and I stare at both of them with furrowed eyebrows for a couple of moments before giving in. “Okay.”

Looks like I’ll be moving to Boston.

_______________________________________________

Hi everyone!

I know this is a bit of a filler chapter, but it had to be written to bridge the gap between the fifth and the sixth movie.

Anyway, happy holidays! ❤️

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

P.S. If you like this story I highly recommend you check out @persevereforahappyending ‘s No Man’s Land. It’s a great read.

[tortillamastersblog]

Hi guys,

for everyone who’s waiting for the next update of Not My Commander, I’m sorry to tell you that I’ve decided to discontinue it for now.

I just don’t feel inspired enough to write it anymore and if I’m honest I’m also not feeling the franchise at the moment.

Maybe in the future inspiration will strike once again, but for now I’m going to focus on other stories.

Love,

Soph 💜

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 6 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

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

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

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

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I swallow thickly. “He saved us.”

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

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

“You’re Billy’s daughter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do! But something seems off and—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

“What?!” I fire back.

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

This isn’t the time to argue, Y/N!

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

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

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

Honestly, how can Sam like this guy?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who knew? Tara and Amber. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How does she still have this hold over me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is a trap. . .

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

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

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

Mindy. Just get to Mindy! Ghostface is here.

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

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

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

We have to do something!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. He’s going to come for us now.

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

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

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

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

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

What the—?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wasn’t her!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re the killer.”

No she’s not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No!”

Not Tara. Not after everything.

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

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

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

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

Why am I not dead?

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

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

Shit.

Where’s Tara? Where’s Sam?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tara’s inhaler.

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

Richie took it!

He’s in on everything.

He planned this.

He wanted us to come here.

He and Amber are working together!

There are two Ghostfaces. . .

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

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

But why?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I promised I’d protect her. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the fuck did that happen?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sidney groans and Sam slumps against me, resigned.

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

“Nailed it, baby.”

Urgh. There it is again. Disgusting.

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

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

Tara. She’s alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amber!” Richie shouts, momentarily distracted.

This is my chance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m introducing a new rule.”

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________________________________

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

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

[tortillamastersblog]

Yay thank you! No rush with writing it, take your time. And in the meantime I’ll be reading your other series.

Have a great start to your week!

- 🐨

You’re welcome! Enjoy the other stories and have a great week! 🫶🏼

[tortillamastersblog]

Sweet, I’ll be 🐨

No Matter What has taken a place in my heart, definitely a series I’ll reread! Would you be open to writing one shots of that universe? Like how reader surprised Lena by being back in National City and asking her out on a date, or maybe the proposal scene. It would be awesome to read, only if you’re down to write it

It’s my pleasure! You’ll have me in your corner complimenting and hyping you up, no matter what 😉

Alright then! Love it, 🐨!

Sure, I can definitely see myself writing some one-shots. I’ve already added your two suggestions to my list of things I’m planning on writing. It might take some time for me to get to it because I want to wrap up the Angels Don’t Cry and Not My Commander series first, but I will write it eventually.

Hahahah I see what you did there! No matter what. . . Love it! Thank you 🫶🏼

[tortillamastersblog]

It's me again! (same anon who enjoyed Home and Angels Don't Cry series, maybe I should pick an emoji to identify myself...). Just popping to say I love No Matter What, so much that I stayed up late reading it. You got me hooked with all the tension, drama and fluff. It had everything! Reader really went through it in that series, a rollercoaster of emotions but I'm glad for the happy ending. I appreciate your writing and you sharing your gift with us 🫶

Hello again! (Sure, pick any emoji you want!)

I love that you liked No Matter What and I’m honored that you liked it so much you stayed up late just to read it <3 It was the second series I ever wrote after Home, and it’s a story that’s very dear to me. Reader really went through every emotion possible hahaha.

Thank you for your kind words! Comments like yours are what keeps writers like me going. ❤️

[tortillamastersblog]

➶The Bet - Part 4 | Kate Bishop➴

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader

Warnings: angst with happy ending

Summary: Being known as the quiet and reserved student, you mind your own business and stay out of people’s way.

Kate Bishop is the exact opposite. Outgoing, bubbly, and loud, she’s the definition of a popular girl, so it comes as a surprise when she asks you out on a random Thursday afternoon.

(A/N: I couldn’t find out what college Kate goes to, so I’ve decided to just put everyone in NYU. . .)

Previous Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

The fundraiser is as boring as I thought it would be, but at least it has an open bar which is where I’m sitting currently, waiting for the bartender to pour me another glass of wine.

Riley is talking to Professor Lopez close by, asking some questions about our newest assignment. There are other students, faculty members and sponsors are all around us, mingling and enjoying their evening.

I’m honestly not that bored, but the evening has gone on long enough for my liking, and I’m just waiting for Riley to wrap things up so we can go home.

“Y/N?” A hand on my shoulder makes me spin around and when my eyes land on Grace, of all people, I can’t help but gape at her.

“H-Hi, Grace.” Stunned, I don’t object when she pulls me into a quick hug before taking a seat on the bar stool next to mine. “What are you doing here? Last time I checked, you weren’t a student at NYU.”

She smiles shyly and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, you’re right, but my parents are alumni and they were invited to the fundraiser, so I came with them and—“ she looks at her hands in her lap—“Riley might have mentioned you’d be here tonight, too, and I wanted to see you, you know, since it’s been a while since we last spoke. I’m sorry if that’s too forward, I just, I like you and if you’re up for it maybe we could get to know each other a little better?”

Of course Riley told her I’d be here, and I bet Grace is the reason she invited me to come along in the first place.

Little shit.

I want to be mad because I told her not to play matchmaker, but the way Grace smiles nervously when she looks back up makes me drop all my defenses. It’s honestly very endearing that she was so eager to see me again and even though I’m not looking for a relationship, getting to know her won’t hurt anybody and it will help take my mind off of Kate.

So, I smile and signal for the bartender to come over. “Alright then, but I must warn you, I’m not looking for anything romantic at the moment, so this is strictly platonic, okay?”

Grace’s eyes widen and she nods eagerly. “Oh, yes, of course, that’s fine. I just want to get to know you a little better.”

My smile brightens. “Great then. What would you like to drink?”

Time with Grace goes by in a blur, and before we know it, it’s nearing midnight and the fundraiser is coming to an end.

We’re both a little tipsy, and I can honestly admit that the night took a turn for the better when Grace decided to sit with me. She’s funny and quick witted, and I see myself being friends with her in the future.

Riley already went home a while ago because she was feeling a little under the weather, and I just know I’m going to have to take care of her tomorrow, making her soups and bringing her cold medicine.

It’s fine though because she’s been there for me every day for the last couple of weeks, so the least I can do is deal with her runny nose and disgusting coughs.

“Do you guys want anything else to drink?” the bartender asks when he approaches Grace and me with a polite smile, interrupting our giggles. “Because if not, I’ll go ahead and start closing the bar.”

I glance at Grace. Her eyes are glassy and her face is slightly flushed because of the almost two bottles of wine we shared. “No, I think we’re done, right?”

She eyes our empty glasses before nodding. “Yes, thank you.”

The bartender smiles again and gets to work on cleaning the bar.

“So,” Grace says, turning her attention back to me. “Where were we. I know it’s getting late, but I kind of don’t want this night to end yet.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, and I’m about to agree, but then someone bumps into me from behind, spilling their cold and sticky drink down my neck.

“Ah!” I squirm and spin around, my eyes widening when they land on who bumped into me.

Kate.

I didn’t think she’d be here, but her mom helped organize and fund tonight, so I’m not surprised.

“S-Sorry,” she slurs, slumping against the bar. She reeks of alcohol and her blue eyes dart around, unfocused, until they land on me. That’s when realization hits and she straightens up immediately, swaying on her feet. “Y/N. . .Shit! I-I’m so sorry!”

I would scowl and snap at her for spilling her drink all over me, but she seems to be really out of it, so I don’t. “It’s—uh— it’s okay,” I say awkwardly.

Grace hands me a napkin from the bar and I take it with a thankful smile, getting as much of the champagne off my neck.

“I’m really s-sorry,” Kate slurs again. She steps forward and reaches up as if to help me clean up, but then she trips over her own feet and bumps into me again.

“Woah, careful,” I warn, catching her just in time before she hits her head on the edge of the bar.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, holding onto my arm around her waist. “I’m so sorry.”

She sounds close to tears and I hate how it makes sympathy tug on my insides. She’s obviously not just talking about spilling her drink, and under any other circumstances I would’ve shut her down immediately. Not now though. She’s vulnerable and hurting, and even after everything she’s done, I just can’t bring myself to push her away.

“It’s okay, Kate. It’s fine.” I glance at Grace who’s watching us with an understanding look.

She’s not dumb. She knows something’s up and instead of getting jealous or asking questions she just sobers up and asks, “Do you want me to call a cab so you can take her home?”

I want to say no because Kate getting home safe is not my responsibility, but then again, if this was anyone else, I’d help them. Also, neither her friends nor her mom are around, so I agree. “Yes, please. That would be very kind,” I say lowly, adding, “I’m really sorry. This is not how I thought the night would end.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Grace smiles sympathetically and excuses herself to go make a call.

“She”—Kate hiccups and leans against me— “seems nice.”

“She is. Now come on, let’s get you home.” I get off the barstool and tighten my arm around her to make sure she doesn’t stumble again. She reeks of alcohol, but her perfume still makes my head spin, and the feeling of her hands on my arm makes my skin tingle.

I hate feeling like this. I wish I could just tell my body to stop reacting like this. She has this unexplainable grip on my heart even though we only went out like four times, and I don’t know how to stop it.

I should hate her, but I can’t. After seeing her in class yesterday, I’ve come to realize she’s hurting too. She’s no longer hanging out with Greer and Franny, she’s getting horrible grades lately and from what I’ve heard she’s no longer going to her fencing classes.

Now, I know most people wouldn’t bat an eye at that. They’d say she deserves it and move on, but that’s not how my parents raised me. Especially not my dad. He taught me that people make mistakes and even though some things are unforgivable, life is too short to spend your time holding a grudge. I know he’d also chastise me right now if I just walked away and left Kate alone, drunk and confused, so I push what she did to the back of my mind and focus on making sure she gets home safe.

“Where’s your mom?” I ask, taking my jacket from the back of the barstool.

Kate shifts slightly in my hold to look at me with her glassy blue eyes. “Left earlier,” she mumbles with furrowed eyebrows. “Why are you being so nice? Why are you helping me? You should— You should hate me.”

I sigh and put my jacket around her shoulders before guiding her to the exit of the venue. It’s cold outside and I don’t want to risk her getting sick in just a dress. “I don’t hate you, Kate.“

“But you should. It’s like you said, I’m selfish and cruel,” she says, trying to get away from me, but I pull her back by wrapping my arm around her waist again.

“That’s. . . not true,” I admit. I’ve come to realize that what I said to her before I stormed was a little too over the top. I was just so hurt and fired up by what I found out that that was the first thing that came to mind. “You’re neither of those things, and I’m sorry I made you believe that. You made a mistake, and you hurt me, really badly, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Kate stops abruptly, making me stop as well, and looks at me with wide eyes. Her bottom lip is quivering and it looks like she’s about to break down in tears. “I don’t— I don’t know what to say, Y/N. I just know that if I could go back in time and undo what I did, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I—“

“Stop,” I interrupt softly when I see Grace approaching us with her phone and jacket in hand. “Let’s not talk about this right now. You’re drunk and I want you to be sober if we’re going to have this conversation.”

“You want to hear me out?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing. There’s a spark of hope in her eyes, but it looks like she’s trying not to get too excited about it.

A week ago, I would have never even entertained the thought, but it’s all getting kind of old and I hate to see Kate so down in the dumps. After all, I still have some feelings for her, and even if we never get to be friends again (much less more than that), I want to clear the air between us.

“Yes, but not now,” I say just as Grace steps up to us. Kate blinks back a few tears and lets out a shaky breath, gripping my jacket around her shoulders.

“Cab’s waiting outside,” Grace informs us, smiling softly before addressing me. “I guess I’ll see you around then?“

I nod. “Of course. Tell Riley to give you my number so we can stay in contact.”

Grace smiles and even though it’s less bright than it was all night, it’s still genuine. “Alright. Good night.”

“Good night, Grace.” I smile as well, and squeeze her forearm when Kate and I move past her to go outside.

The cab Grace mentioned is idling right by the door, and after confirming the ride with the driver, I help Kate into the back seat.

She thanks me quietly and leans her head against the window, staying quiet the entire ride until we make it to her apartment building.

I pay the driver and get out, helping her out as well before taking her inside.

“Okay, here we go,” I say, letting her fall onto her bed. “Is it okay if I take your shoes off?”

Kate mumbles a ‘Yes’ into the pillow and I crouch down to take off her heels, placing them on the floor next to the bed before getting back up. Then I pull the comforter out from underneath her and drape it over her, making sure she’s covered properly.

“Do you need anything else?” I ask when she closes her eyes and lets out a deep breath.

“No,” she whispers. “Thank you for taking me home.”

I pat her leg over the covers and step back. “You’re welcome. Now get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She hums and not even a second later, she’s fast asleep.

“Y/NNNN,” Riley whines which makes me smile and roll my eyes.

“I’m coming, you big baby.” I push open her door with my elbow and enter her room. The cup of tea and bowl of soup on the tray I’m carrying sway a little, but I manage not to spill anything as I carry it over to the bed and set it down on Riley’s lap.

Like I predicted, I’ve been roped into taking care of her because she’s sick, but I’m really not complaining.

I did give her a bit of a talking to earlier though because of the whole fundraiser-Garce-meddling thing, but that was short lived since she apologized profusely before breaking out in a fit of coughs.

“Thank you,” she says, picking up the tea and taking a careful sip with her eyes closed. “You’re a lifesaver.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed and smirk. “I know.”

Riley scoffs which makes her cough slightly before taking another sip of tea.

She doesn’t have a fever, but she’s sluggish as hell and coughs and sneezes every few minutes. She’s also a little pale, but that’s to be expected.

I’m honestly a little surprised I’m not sick because unlike her, I haven’t been talking care of myself properly lately. I went for runs when it was cold and raining, I barely ate, and my sleep schedule has been basically nonexistent.

If anyone should be sick, it should be me, but no. Riley caught it and I can’t help but think it’s some kind of karma because she meddled in my life even though I told her not to.

Speaking of meddling. . .

“So, how did it go with Grace?” she asks, hiding a sly smile behind her mug.

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“What?” She tries to sound innocent, but her voice is unnaturally high. “I’m just asking.“

“Sure you are.” I deadpan and smack her thigh. “You set us up, you little shit.”

Riley shrugs and busies herself with the soup I made. “Well, did it work?”

“No. She’s nice and I want to be her friend, but that’s all we’ll ever be,” I explain, watching as Riley blows on a spoonful of soup.

“Hmm. Alright then. Did anything else happen after I left?” she asks and even though she sounds nonchalant, I know she knows something because otherwise she wouldn’t ask. I honestly don’t know why she always thinks she so slick with it.

I level her with a bored look. Not answering isn’t an option because she’ll just keep pestering me about it, so I just go ahead and tell her what happened with Kate.

“She spilled her drink on you?!” Riley shrieks once I’m done. “Do you think she did it on purpose so you’d talk to her?”

I shake my head and run my hand through my hair. “No. Definitely not. She was really out of it. I doubt she coulf have done it on purpose even if she tried.”

“Okay, but what does that mean now? You’re going to talk?” she asks, slurping some soup off her spoon.

“Mhmm.” I get back to my feet when I hear my phone ringing in the kitchen. “We’ll see what happens after.”

Riley nods in approval and says, “Good,” before shooing me out of her room.

I hurry into the kitchen and sigh inwardly when I see that it’s Kate who’s calling. I mean, I told her we’d talk today, but it’s barely noon and I wasn’t expecting her to call this early.

Let’s just get this over with.

I pick up my phone and answer the call. “Hey, Kate.”

“Alright, you wanted to talk, so. . . talk,” I say the moment Kate opens her front door.

When she called me half an hour ago, she thanked me once again for taking her home before timidly asking me to come over so we could talk.

Now, she looks taken aback by my directness and swallows nervously. She nods though and gestures for me to come in first.

There are dark bags under her eyes and she looks a little hungover, but I can tell she’s made an effort to look nice.

She’s not wearing anything fancy, but she smells freshly showered and has her hair in a high ponytail. The purple sweater she’s wearing fits her perfectly and her washed out jeans look comfy and stylish at the same time.

“Uh, do you want anything to drink? Maybe some coffee? Or tea?” she asks politely as I take off my shoes and jacket.

I can tell she’s scared of me just turning on the spot and leaving again, so I agree to a cup of tea and follow her into the kitchen. The tension between us is so thick, you can almost cut it with a knife since neither one of us is saying anything and I just want to get this over with as soon as possible.

“So, first,” Kate starts once we’re sat at her table, “I want to start this by saying I’m sorry again. What I did— I mean—What happened it-it was never my intention to hurt you, but I did, and for that I’m truly sorry.”

I stare at my steaming mug and run my finger along the handle. She’s obviously not done talking, so I stay quiet, listening to her take a shaky breath before continuing.

“The bet— It wasn’t my idea. . .“

I want to scowl and tell her that she still took part in it, but I promised myself I’d let her speak, so I stay quiet.

“Greer and Franny made it because, well”— I look up and see a faint blush creep into her cheeks—“I’ve had my eyes on you since orientation a year ago. You were kind to everyone, but so shy and reserved it bordered on unapproachable. I wanted to talk to you and get to know you, but I never knew how. I took several classes just because you were in them, but I still couldn’t get myself to talk to you unless we were in a group for a project together.”

My stomach flips involuntarily at the revelation that she took up some classes just for me. I had no idea she liked me all this time. She never said anything, but I guess I can’t fault her for assuming I don’t want to be approached since I know I’m reserved and introverted.

I leave campus as soon as class ends and never stick around for small talk whether it’s with a professor or some other students. Not because I don’t want to though, but because I get really awkward sometimes and that makes me anxious which is why I tend to avoid interacting with strangers.

“I constantly talked about you with Greer and Franny and they tried to get me to just approach you, but I was scared. That lead to relentless teasing for months on end until a couple of weeks ago. We’d just gotten out of class and Greed and Franny saw how I watched you make your way to the library. They teased me until I couldn’t take it anymore and I just snapped.”

I know where she’s going with this and I hate how the hurt she’s caused slowly makes way for sympathy and understanding.

“They teased and teased, until I snapped and told them to just drop it. . . They didn’t though and started betting on whether I would ever ask you out.” She takes a deep breath and clutches the mug between her hands until her knuckles turn white. “It made me so mad because this was you we were talking about. . . I just— I wanted to make them stop and prove them wrong—That I would ask you out eventually! But that just spurred them on further and before I knew it, I was roped into the bet.”

She dares to look up and the regret shining in her blue eyes makes me feel bad for her. It doesn’t change the fact that she did what she did, but it’s a start and I want her to keep talking.

“I know that I should’ve never agreed to it, but I did and I can’t go back now and change it, no matter how much I want to. I should have asked you out just for the sake of it, and not because of some bet, but I know that without it, I never would have had the courage to actually do it.”

I find myself smiling sadly. I understand where she’s coming from because I’m no stranger when it comes to troubles talking to people. Yes, it’s messed up that she asked me out the way she did, but now I know that even without the bet, she wanted to get to know me. As fucked up as it sounds, it gave her the courage to talk to me and I know that if it weren’t for the bet, we’d still be strangers right now and Kate would still be pining after me in silence.

“When you said yes,” she continues, her voice cracking, “I couldn’t believe it. Talking to you was so. . . easy. You were so sweet and it made me sick knowing that I could have just asked you out without the bet. I felt— I felt so incredibly guilty, I almost blew the whole thing off right then and there because you deserved so much better, but at that point I’d wanted to ask you out for so long, that I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth.” She wipes away a tear and sniffles slightly. “After all, I did want to get to know you, and I though I could just forget about the bet and go out with you for real, but Greer and Franny just kept adding to it and I didn’t know how to stop it without telling you the truth.”

I let out a shuddering breath and place my hands flat on the table. “And then I found out,” I say.

“And then you found out.” Kate nods and sniffles again. “The look on your face that night— It broke my heart and I realized I’d made a huge mistake. I knew all along what I was doing was wrong, but when you found out, I just— I wished I’d never agreed to the bet. I wished I’d just left you alone. That way you would’ve never looked at me the way you did. You would’ve never been hurt. I— I never meant to hurt you. I swear I—“

“I know.” I wipe at my own tears and push my untouched tea to the center of the table. “I believe you, but I” — my voice cracks and I clear my throat—“I need some time to process all of this.”

Kate’s chin quivers, but she doesn’t cry. “I understand,” she whispers, standing up as well when I get to my feet.

I thought I was ready to talk, and I definitely appreciate the insight into why Kate acted the way she did, but it’s reopened some wounds and I need some time to process it.

I go to the door and put my shoes and jacket back on, feeling Kate watching my every move. Until I’m done though, I don’t look at her, but when I finally do, I can tell she’s trying her best not to break down crying.

“I’ll call you, okay?” I say quietly. I don’t want her to think I’m just turning my back on her again because I’m not. It’s like I said, I have a lot of thinking to do, and I can’t do it while she’s around.

“Okay,” she whispers and the way her voice wavers makes me want to pull her into a hug.

I don’t though, obviously, and open the door with a thin lipped smile. “Bye.”

Kate can’t bring herself to return the smile, so she simply raises a hand in goodbye with her head hung low. “Bye, Y/N.”

4 months later. . .

As soon as Kate exits the locker room and her eyes land on me, she drops her bag and runs to me.

“You won!” I exclaim when she jumps into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist. Riley, Greer and Franny take a step back to give us some space while everyone else either watches us fondly or just passes by without a second glance.

“I did!” she giggles and beams before leaning down and pecking my lips a couple of times.

Smiling into the kisses, I tighten my grip on her legs. “I’m so proud of you,” I whisper against her lips.

Kate leans back a little and brushes her thumbs over my cheeks. A bashful smile is pulling at her lips and she leans down to kiss me once more. “Thank you.”

She just won the national fencing championship and I couldn’t be prouder.

After our talk four months ago, we slowly started to reconnect. It started with her bringing me coffee and handing me paper roses with little notes attached to them until I eventually couldn’t take it anymore and just asked her out.

She still apologizes for what happened sometimes, but I’ve moved on and I keep reassuring her that I’m no longer hung up on it.

It took a little longer for Riley to forgive her too because she’s very protective over me, but she eventually came around too and the two of them get along great now.

Kate also made up with Greer and Franny since she cut them off out of guilt after I found out about the bet, and they even, for good measure also apologize to me for what happened.

Grace has also become a good friend of mine and we hang out from time to time. She admitted recently that she used to be interested in dating me, but then quickly dropped it when she realized I’d never fully be hers after she saw the way I looked at Kate at the fundraiser. I didn’t know I looked at Kate a certain way that night, but apparently I did which just goes to show I was smitten with her all along even though she made a mistake and hurt me.

Kate kisses me one more time before unwrapping her legs from around my waist and sliding down my body until she’s standing on her own two feet. She’s grinning like a kid in a candy store and when she grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers I feel the same giddiness wash over me.

“Great, now that you’re done sucking faces, how about we go out and celebrate?” Riley asks, returning to our side with Kate’s bag in her hand.

My cheeks turn red at her choice of words, but Kate owns it and stands up straighter, taking the bag from Riley with a thankful nod. “Absolutely. What did you have in mind?”

Greer and Franny also join us with smiles. “Pizza?” They say in unison and everyone agrees.

Kate’s medal glints in the sun outside of the venue on our way to the car and I can’t help but press a kiss to her temple as we walk to my car.

I’m so proud of her and no matter what happens in the future, I know nothing as trivial as a stupid bet will ever come between us again.

“You okay?” she asks with a slightly confused smile, her eyes sparkling with adoration as she looks at me.

I squeeze her hand in mine and nod, feeling my heart flutter at the way she looks at me. “Never been better, Darling.”

_______________________________________________

Phew! The last part is finally done. I’m so sorry for the long wait. For some reason it was incredibly difficult to write this last part. I also didn’t want to post just anything after the story got so much love.

I hope you guys are happy with how things turned out.

Love you all!

- Soph

(Not proofread yet)

Tag list: @vyvvycg

[tortillamastersblog]

Woo I'm excited for what you have in store for that universe. Also take your time, real life has priority. I shall be here waiting patiently 😊

I'm definitely enjoying your other fics! I binged read the Home series and what a rollercoaster of emotions. Gotta love angst with happy endings. Can't praise for your writing enough, keep up the awesome work!!

Thank youuu!! I promise the wait will be worth it. I already have a bunch of ideas 💜

Happy to hear you like the Home series. It’s the first fic I ever wrote on here.