#<- counting knife kirby in this

[kirbyspotted]

kirby spotted! 💫

that one meme going around on twt

[random-autie-fangirl]

Daily silly doodles until undertale releases: Day 6 of 63- Don't listen to Asriel, two of the people here are literally his two favourite people in the world

*Disclaimer: the word "idiot" here is indicative of Asriel's opinion, not mine. That is not necessarily my opinion of these characters intelligence. I just think they're silly strong dorks with boisterous personalities, but what do I know?

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |6|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

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

Warnings: Talks of Killing and Death

Word Count: 4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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

Almost as soon as Sam stepped outside, she was bombarded with reporters. She was thankful that she didn’t see Tara around, that meant Kirby got her out of there without getting hounded by the media. Sam tried ignoring the cameras and microphones being shoved in her face as she pushed through the crowd. Everyone was screaming questions at her, asking if Ghostface was back, if she was a suspect, who this new Ghostface was, if the killings were connected to her, if this was all because of her father.

Sam kept her head down, focusing on the concrete and not on the dozens of people crowding her. She was about to crack when she felt a strong-arm wrap around her, the grip tightened as they pushed through the crowd. She turned to see you, staring straight ahead, your arm that wasn’t around her was stretched out, keeping the reporters at bay. Sam couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath when the two of you finally broke free of the crowd and she could see the road and a taxi already sitting there.

She nearly sprinted to the taxi and opened the door without bothering to look back at the reporters, she learned quickly it was best to ignore them. “Gale Weathers,” Sam heard a voice say. She didn’t bother holding in her groan as she gripped the door to the cab tighter. “Channel Four.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Sam asked, whipping around and glaring at Gale.

Gale just laughed at her making Sam frown and only glare at her harder. “Do you think Ghostface is going to go after others since he failed to get you?” Gale held the mic out to Sam.

Sam scoffed, shaking her head, Gale sure had a lot of nerve. Gale knew better than anyone that Ghostface didn’t go attacking random people, not unless they were in the way, every victim was intentional. “No comment,” Sam said harshly.

“What about you, hero,” Gale redirected her attention to you. “Do you think saving Samantha Carpenter’s life has made you a target now?”

You just stared at Gale, it didn’t look like you had been phased at all by her questioning or by anything that was going on at the moment. “She said no comment,” you said. You stared Gale down then flicked a glare at her camera man before turning back to Sam.

Sam didn’t realize she was still staring at you in awe until you pushed the car door open a little more and gave her a nod. Sam looked down, trying to cover the blush she was sure was on her face before quickly jumping in the cab. You were right behind her, slamming the door shut and giving one final glare to Gale and the rest of the reporters.

You gave the taxi driver your address and then the two of you sat in silence. There were a million things going through Sam’s head, she had so many things she wanted to say to you, and she didn’t know where to start. She needed to apologize, she needed to thank you, she needed to explain herself, then on top of all that, she had all these questions that she had no right to ask. You had seemed completely comfortable with jumping into fight Ghostface, you didn’t hesitate in any of your movements, and every time you slashed the knife it was with the intent to kill, even after getting stabbed you still swiped the knife at Ghostface. On top of all that, you didn’t seem too affected by being stabbed, you had other scarring all over your body, and Kirby had called you sergeant. Sam wasn’t sure if you were in the military or law enforcement or what, but it was clear you had training.

“Sorry about the cab,” you said, breaking the silence and Sam’s thoughts about what to say to you. “My Jeep is still at my house.”

“It’s-It’s fine,” Sam brushed it off, looking at you. “And if anything, you shouldn’t be apologizing, when I should be thanking you.” You turned your head, finally meeting Sam’s eyes for the first time since leaving the station. “So, thank you.”

You gave a little shrug. “It was nothing, really.”

“But it was, odds are you’re now a target all because you saved me.” Sam ignored the glance from the cab driver in his rearview mirror.

“And I would do it again.” There was no hesitation in your voice. Sam couldn’t decide if this really was nothing for you, if you truly weren’t concerned about any of it, or if you didn’t know anything. “I don’t run from danger.”

“So, you just run to it?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

You silently chuckled and Sam couldn’t help but give a little smile, she had never seen you smile, let alone laugh, even if it was a small one. “It’s kind of my job.”

“Which is? Kirby called you sergeant.”

You nodded. “Army, special forces.”

Sam let out a whistle. “Well, seems Ghostface is the one who doesn’t know what they’re getting into.”

“That’s for sure,” you smirked.

Sam’s head whipped back up to you. “Do you know something?” she watched you closely, there was still no visible reaction.

Kirby might not have trusted you, but she had enough doubts about you being Ghostface that she didn’t try and hold you longer at the police station and she didn’t put up much of a fight when Sam said she’d go with you to your house. It didn’t stop the thoughts of if Bailey was right from piercing her mind. She wanted to trust you, you were strong and clearly had skills, you saved her life, plus she liked you, but all of that could mean you were Ghostface. Every thought in her mind suddenly stopped, she was being paranoid, if you were Ghostface that meant you set up the whole gym attack, which just seemed crazy. Though crazy and seemingly illogical plans seemed to be Ghostface’s thing, maybe she made a mistake getting into the cab with you and inviting you back to the apartment where the others would be, where her sister would be.

“Having regrets about tagging along?” you asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. Yes, she was, it was like you were reading her mind. She wasn’t sure if that should put her at ease or make her more on edge.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” she blurted out. She tried not to pay any mind to the cab driver whose eyebrows rose, and how his eyes kept going from staring at the road in front of them to the rearview mirror.

You glanced at her out of the side of your eye, though you didn’t seem offended by the question. “You’re not supposed to ask that.” Sam frowned; it was a rather rude thing to ask. If you were special forces, it was a fair assumption that you probably had, but normal people didn’t tend to like to talk about that type of stuff. She opened her mouth to apologize when you continued, “But yes.” Sam could see the way the cab driver’s eyes widened slightly, and his eyes instantly dropped from the rearview mirror to stare straight ahead again.

Usually learning someone has killed before would make a person more nervous but it oddly eased Sam’s worries. The fact that you didn’t try and lie or didn’t brush her off, that you answered and didn’t elaborate or try and defend anything was what eased Sam’s worries about you. If you were Ghostface or the mastermind behind these knew attacks she figured you’d try and justify your actions, saying it was part of the job, they were the enemy, or something, anything to get Sam to understand and let her guard down, but you didn’t do any of that.

“You never answered my first question,” Sam said. She couldn’t let her guard down yet, you knew something, and until she knew what that was you were a potential threat. “Do you know something?”

“We’re here,” is all you said.

Sam rolled her eyes; you were being incredibly difficult with your short responses. She didn’t understand how she could have a conversation with you and learn more about you in a cab ride than she had in the last few months at the gym, but you still somehow came off as even more mysterious. You were somehow a lot simpler and easier to understand when you were just the cute stranger from her gym who liked to box.

You paid the cab driver and opened the door, stepping aside so Sam could slide out and close it behind her. Sam looked around; it definitely wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but it certainly didn’t seem like the worst. Sam followed you through the metal gate in front of a single level white house. It was tucked between two other houses, leaving hardly any room on the side of the house but you had a front yard with a small patch of grass that was fenced in.

You didn’t have much else though, the grass wasn’t dead, so it was clearly taken care of, but you didn’t have any plants or a garden of any kind. The only thing in the driveway was your Jeep, which she wouldn’t know for sure until she saw the inside of your house, but it seemed like the nicest thing you owned, it had large wheels clearly meant for off roading, if the dried mud splattered on the side was anything to go by and it was a four door, giving you ample room for stuff or people, but Sam had a feeling it was used more for stuff. Even your porch was bare, not even a chair to sit on. If Sam were just walking past the house the only thing that would indicate there was someone possibly living there was the fact that the grass wasn’t overgrown.

She followed you up the concrete steps and waited as you put the key in the door. Your house wasn’t run down by any means, it was taken care of, there was no paint peeling or siding falling off, it just seemed empty. You pushed open the door, giving it a good shove when it got stuck. Sam moved to follow you but froze when she heard a deep growl.

Her head snapped up and past you and deeper in the room was a snarling German shepherd. Sam clenched her fists that were shoved in her pockets, she didn’t dare move, the dog continued to growl and bare its teeth, making sure they were on full display.

“No,” you commanded. You held up your hand in a stop motion and the dog instantly snapped its mouth shut and sat down as if it hadn’t just been ready to attack.

You walked over to the dog and gave it a good pat, scratching behind its ears. It looked up at you and Sam could see the tail wagging, but the dog continued to sit. Sam also stayed where she was, she had no desire to step into your home and be mauled by your dog. As much as Sam wanted to back out and just stay outside, she was afraid to move, she was pretty sure she always heard you weren’t supposed to run from a dog because then they’d chase you.

You glanced back at Sam, and she could swear there was a slight smirk on your lips. “You can come in,” you said. Sam started to move her hands out of her pockets but when the dog’s head snapped to her, she froze again. You fully turned around but still kept a hand on the dog, never stopping running your finger through her coat and behind her ears. “She won’t hurt you.”

“I’m inclined to disagree,” Sam said, looking at the dog warily. She had never been afraid of dogs before, but she wasn’t stupid, if that dog charged at her it definitely wouldn’t be pretty.

You chuckled and crouched down to rub your hands up and down the dog’s neck and under her chin. She was a mostly black German shepherd with bits of brown on her legs, neck, and belly. “She’s harmless.” Sam raised an eyebrow, giving you a disbelieving look, there was no way you could convince her that dog was harmless. “Unless you attack me. So, just,” you nodded your head back and forth as you stood back up. “Don’t do that.”

Sam nodded unsurely but crossed the threshold, stepping into your home fully. She closed the door behind her without turning around, just because you said the dog was friendly didn’t mean she was taking her eyes off it. Sam opted to stay near the door, not wanting to do anything to trigger the dog. The dog also stayed put, it was just Sam and the dog, staying in place and staring each other down, though at least she wasn’t growling at Sam anymore.

You moved away from the dog and into the kitchen which was just past the living room. Sam heard you shuffling around and when you turned around, she saw you scooping some dog food into a bowl. After you set the food bowl down on the floor you came back up with another one, dumping the old water out before giving it a quick rinse and filling it with fresh water.

“How long should this whole thing take?” you asked. Sam finally took her eyes away from the dog to look up at you. “I just need to know if I need my buddy to take her,” you glanced at your dog. “Or he just needs to stop by and let her out.”

Sam shoved her hands in her pockets again and gave a little shrug. “Usually, these psycho’s only make this go over the course of a few days,” she answered. “But you might not want her to be here,” she nodded at the dog, who just tilted her head curiously at Sam. “Ghostface might come here looking for you.”

You chuckled as you put the fresh bowl of water down. “Then I feel sorry for him. Artemis there,” you pointed to the dog. “Is a military dog. She was trained for combat, to take down bad guys with guns, and people shooting all around her.”

“Artemis?” Sam couldn’t help but smile at the name. She looked down when she saw the dog’s ear twitch at hearing her name.

You shrugged as if it was an obvious choice. “Goddess of the hunt.”

“I didn’t think dogs usually came home with soldiers. Aren’t there rules for that?”

“Normally, but she isn’t active duty.” You walked back to the living room and leaned against the doorframe as you looked at your dog with nothing but love. “Got injured and had to retire.” Sam frowned at that, even though she’d never admit that she was slightly scared of the dog she couldn’t imagine what kind of injury she had to suffer to be retired. “That doesn’t mean she can’t still take someone down.”

Sam let out a hum. Based on the greeting she got she wasn’t surprised by that statement. “Let me change and we can go,” you said. Sam nodded and watched as you turned around, walking through the kitchen and into the bedroom in the back.

She bounced on her feet as she waited for you to return. She glanced around your place, the walls were bare, there was a couch, a coffee table, a TV, and a video game console plugged in. It really didn’t seem like someone actually lived in the house, she figured she should count herself lucky that it seemed like you had an actual bed and not just a mattress on the floor. Sam jumped back when she felt a wet nose brush against her. She looked down to see Artemis had moved and was now standing directly in front of her, sniffing her.

“Hello,” Sam said awkwardly. She slowly removed her hand from her pocket and hesitantly held it out for the dog to sniff. Artemis gave her hand a few sniffs before beginning to lick it. Sam couldn’t help but smile, when she wasn’t growling and showing her teeth Artemis was rather adorable.

“You still never answered my question,” Sam called out. “What do you know about Ghostface?” she knelt down to get on eye level with Artemis to pet her better.

You popped your head through the doorway of your bedroom just as you finished pulling your fresh shirt down. “I don’t know anything about Ghostface,” you said.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam looked up. There was no way you didn’t know who Ghostface was, it was too famous of a story, there were so many books and movies about the attacks. “You expect me to believe you don’t know the story?”

“Of course, I know the story,” you continued shuffling around your room. “I’ve never seen any of the movies, I’ve only seen a couple articles or whenever there’s a new attack, of course I’ve heard people talk about it.”

Sam sucked in a breath and nodded. She could believe that. Horror wasn’t really her thing, that was always Tara, she probably never would have seen the movies or known as much as she does if she hadn’t grown up in Woodsboro, and of course if Billy Loomis wasn’t her father. “So, do you know who I am?”

You crouched down at the nightstand beside your bed before looking back at Sam. “I’ve heard whispers,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t in the country last year so no offense, but I had other priorities when whatever was happening to you and your friends.”

“You didn’t look me up just from the rumors? Someone like you,” you raised an eyebrow as if daring her to finish that sentence. “You don’t want to know who’s coming into your gym?”

You let out a sigh and rested a hand on the edge of the nightstand. “Everyone is entitled to their privacy. I also know how the media can be spun; I prefer to form my own opinions.” Sam nodded, she never thought about what you might have seen or done and how the military and media might have spun things for the general public or covered things up.

You looked back to your nightstand, opening the drawer before doing something that looked like pressing buttons, though Sam couldn’t see inside the drawer from where she was. A second later you flipped open the door to whatever was in the drawer and reached down to grab something. When your hand came back it was holding a gun. Sam sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything or move from where she was still petting your dog. You glanced at her as you checked the gun before putting the magazine in and sticking the gun in a holster at your back. You fixed your shirt and if Sam hadn’t literally just seen you put the gun where you did, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you had one on you.

 Sam didn’t know you. You were a complete and total stranger to her; it didn’t matter if you had saved her life. There was no reason for Sam to trust you, to not say anything about the gun and still allow you to come back to the apartment with her. But she didn’t, she kept her mouth shut, she couldn’t explain it but a part of her felt like she could trust you, she wanted to trust you. She also knew all too well how handy a gun could be in these situations and if Ghostface didn’t know you had one then it would only be a plus.

“You asked what I know,” you said as you came back through the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe to the living room again. “I know whoever I fought in that gym is untrained. They had absolutely no experience handling a knife, if it wasn’t for the other one catching me off guard they didn’t stand a chance.”

Sam pulled herself back to her feet, smiling as she watched Artemis walk back over to you. “Most of them don’t have training,” Sam said, nodding along. “In every previous attack they’ve always been seemingly normal people, high school or college kids.”

“They were disorganized. The only reason the one caught up to you was because you tripped. The gym seemed like unknown territory to them.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be there,” Sam ran a hand through her hair. “It was an impulsive decision.”

“Meaning they’re watching you.”

Sam’s eyes snapped wide open. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “After all, my last relationship was all a lie to try and set me up.” You raised an eyebrow at that. “Long story.”

“Well, it’s hard to make a plan of action without all the information.” You crossed the room until you were standing only a few feet from Sam, Artemis falling alongside you. “If I’m going with you then I need to know what I’m getting into.”

Sam’s grip tightened around her jacket, but she nodded, it was only fair. It wouldn’t be right to literally drag you into her mess and basically expect you to help protect the others and not tell you why any of this was happening. “It will be easier when we get to my apartment, with the others.”

You nodded and grabbed your sweatshirt before leading Sam out the door. “Also,” she said, turning back to face you. “Expect a lot of questions from my sister and her friends, we’re not exactly a trusting bunch.”

You only lightly chuckled at that. “Great, another interrogation,” you said but there was a small smile on your lips. You scratched the top of Artemis’s head and behind her ears before telling her to go eat. Sam could hear the sound of claws clacking against the wood floor as you closed the door. “Are we allowed to take my Jeep?” you asked.

Sam opened her mouth, about to deny it, but ended up nodding. She had already ridden in a cab alone with you and came to your house, also alone, getting in your car hardly seemed like that big of a deal. She also couldn’t argue that not having to pay for a cab back to the apartment would be nice, she didn’t think you were too far from her place but with everything going on she didn’t need the cab fee on top of it all.

Sam slipped into the passenger seat and looked at you as you pulled out onto the street. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. You were a stranger and were literally getting involved in something you had nothing to do with. Anyone else would have told Sam to piss off and would have gone back to their life, never to think about her again.

You eased on the break as you came to the stop sign at the end of your street. “Because you need help,” you said like it was simple. “I can’t just walk away when I know someone is actively trying to hurt you.”

“But I’m no one, I’m hardly worth all this.” You turned out onto the main road.

“I told you, it’s not in my nature to just turn my back on someone who needs help. And it’s clear the authorities can’t be relied on.” Sam scrunched her brow at that. “I don’t know about agent Reed, but I don’t trust Bailey.” You spared her a quick glance. Sam had never questioned Bailey until this new Ghostface, specifically his clear distrust of you. “I might not know you very well, but no one deserves all this,” you gestured with one hand. “You don’t deserve to be hunted down by some psycho.”

“Thank you,” Sam whispered. She really didn’t know what else to say. She knew she was the one to ask you to join them, but you didn’t owe them anything. You were going above and beyond for some random girl at your gym. Sam couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her face as she looked at you, your eyes glued to the road. Maybe you were one of the good ones after all, maybe Sam wasn’t completely cursed to only attract darkness.

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

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Shelter - 9

Summary: You saved Soap's life. And everything comes to a head.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader (No Y/N)

Warnings For This Chapter: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, canon typical violence, death, guns, military inaccuracies, more attempts at accents

A/N: We're nearing the end, my darlings. Thank you for all the comments and likes on the previous chapter. They really mean the world to me.

Previous Chapter

Simon’s room was dark. The same, strange metal curtain had fallen over his window as it had in your room and a metal bar had crossed over his door, thick and imposing. You barely saw it in the low light from the cracked bathroom door. The gun shook in your hand as you kept it raised, trying to remember how Gaz told you to hold it. Trying to hear anything over the roaring of your blood in your ears. You barely heard several more bullets hit the curtain in front of your busted window in the other room. They were still trying.

Trying to kill you.

You held the gun a little higher as you inched toward the closet. It was right across from the bathroom and the doors were shut tight. But you knew there was some sort of kevlar in there. If you wanted a fighting chance, surely that could help. Right? But where the fuck was Simon? Or literally anyone else?

You reached out with shaking fingers to pry open the closet and held your breath despite remembering that Gaz told you not to do that when handling a gun, but you did keep your finger on the trigger. You opened the closet door, bracing for someone to be waiting for you in the dark and…nothing. Nothing but the weapons closet, just as you remembered it. There might have been a few things missing, but you hadn’t been able to count everything inside during your earlier quick peek inside. There was a vest that felt like it could be bulletproof but, again, you were guessing. Either way, you hefted it over your head and tightened the velcro straps at the side. It was heavy but solid—god, you really hoped that you were doing this right. You hadn’t been given lessons about this.

Where was Simon?

Simon was well aware of how quickly things could go to shit. And it seemed that this was squaring up to be the quickest way an op had gone to shit. Everything had been fine. Tense. But fine.

Price had sent the manager out to get to Kirby and Pauline and make sure they were safe. She had made record time, apparently, and had whisked them away to somewhere that she swore would keep them alive. Price had been right about her. She was good. And fast. And if they all got out of this, he’d actually ask what the hell happened between them. And Price might actually answer.

But before she’d left, the manager had given each of them a quick brief on what could happen if the hotel was attacked. There was also a mention about a red button that activated the lockdown protocols but those could be overridden, one door at a time, if the key card was still active.

But that hardly mattered now. Not when Simon had spotted three men in tactical gear trying to force their way in through one of the back doors on the ground level on the security camera feed they’d set up. Another group had started to push their way in through the dock.

The three had become eight which then became eighteen as the men went out in teams of two—Soap with Simon and Gaz with Price—down to the ground level to wait for the men to make their way in, hiding in the shadows of the empty offices and cold catering kitchens. Price gave them a curt nod before falling back into the shadows after Gaz.

They had been ready for a fight, but Soap and Simon had been, too. It had been a mess. Quiet. But a mess just the same. Both units had been banking on stealth and wanted to keep it that way. Silencers. Knives. It was a mess, but quiet.

Simon got two.

Soap one.

Simon another three.

Soap got two quickly after and then a knife to the thigh.

But as Simon struggled with another man, batting away his own knife, he watched the rest of the men dart around them and toward the service stairs.

They were going for her. He knew it. He knew it. And he wouldn’t allow it. He grabbed the man’s tac vest and wrenched him down. He barely felt the man’s nose collide with his knee before he reared back. And that was exactly what Simon knew he would do and was waiting for it. The gun was still quiet as it went off; the body hitting the tile floor actually made more noise.

Simon didn’t particularly care at that moment.

He turned and shot at the man charging at Johnny who was already throwing another body off of him. “Go get ‘er, LT!”

He would.

There were two thuds on the other side of the door. You could hear them even from where you stood in the weapons closet.

What the fuck were you going to do?

And there were no crowbars in here for you to take and the other guns were far too large for you to even pretend to handle correctly. You weren’t about to try. And, god, you should have at least asked what kind of ammo this gun needed because you couldn’t tell one package from the next. You tugged on the velcro straps of the vest again, trying to ignore how your stomach was twisting itself into knots.

Something beeped behind you and three consecutive clunks soon followed. The door. The door was opening. There was no time to hide further in the room and someone was coming. Now. You turned and felt your heart fall to your feet.

A large form loomed in front of you, massive and entirely made of shadows with the harsh red emergency light from the hallway glowing behind them. And you didn’t think. You brought the gun up and fired just as the door closed with a quick snap behind him. The shot went wide and then the gun was knocked right out of your hand with a simple slap from the man in front of you.

Fuck.

You dove toward it, scrambling across the carpet and your fingers brushed the warm handle just as the man above you said…something. You were definitely not paying attention to whatever it was and-

“‘s me, yeah? Don’t shoot at me again.”

Your limbs went limp at the sound of Simon’s voice. Simon. “Sorry.”

He bent and grabbed your gun, skeleton-printed gloves dwarfing it in an instant.

You rolled onto your back as a sigh hissed out of you, the adrenaline coursing through your veins unsure if you were still fighting for your life or not. But god, you had never been so happy to see someone who looked like they could and would kill you easily. The skull mask was back, covering all the scars you now knew, with black paint across his eyes. This was Ghost. Not Simon. Not the man who kissed you sweetly or bought chocolates for your sister. This was the man you thought was Death down in the tunnel. And this was the man you needed right now.

He slid your gun into the back of his trousers before thrusting out a hand toward you and easily hauled you to your feet as soon as your fingers tangled together. “Olright?” He asked, tipping your chin up. The fabric of his glove was a little rough on your skin but you hardly cared. He was here.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Obviously. Couldn’t be better.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Cheek.” The quiet, careful moment was gone in a blink as he stood straight and looked at you. “We’re getting out of ‘ere. Yeah? Me ‘nd you.”

The fact that he came to get you was comforting, despite it all. “Okay. Yeah, me and you.” But where were the others? Were they okay? Did whoever John wanted to send make it to your sister before all of this happened? But you could ask those questions later. When everyone was safe. Right?

And then, to your exhausted horror, you heard someone out in the hall. It was quiet, but you heard it just the same. Feet on the carpet. Murmured words you couldn’t quite make out but you didn’t recognize the voice. It wasn’t anyone you knew and someone was out in the hall looking for you.

Simon didn’t say anything else, not that you expected him to do so, and turned. He pulled a large handgun from its holster and then reached back with his other hand, blindly grasping your hand and threading your fingers through his belt loop, just as he did back in the safehouse, weeks ago. And your heart gave an embarrassing and not at all helpful leap. Now was not the time. But…you still couldn’t keep your mouth shut. “Any advice on what we’re about to walk into?”

“Stay alive.”

“Comforting.”

He turned just enough to look down at you as you kept your grip on his belt loop. His finger tapped against your lips, twice, and achingly soft despite the situation. “I mean it.” He looked down at you for a moment, dark, heavy gaze anchored on your face.

It took you a moment to realize he was waiting for you to agree. That you would stay alive. “Okay. But you have to stay alive, too.”

He laughed again. That soft, sharp noise that had you smiling despite it all. But still, you tried to brace for whatever was waiting for you on the other side of the door.

The radio squawked with a quiet, “Ghost?” and Ghost grabbed at it as he herded you backward a few steps.

“Captain.”

“Exfil’s out front. Get your girl and meet us there.”

You knew enough from your weeks with the men to know that meant there was an extraction waiting for you all outside. You were getting out of here. You just needed to make it downstairs.

Sure. Totally doable.

“Rog. See you down there.” Ghost said into the radio before it went silent again. Before you could ask if his plan had changed in the slightest, Simon returned your gun, making sure you took it with your free hand and then nodded, just once, when he saw your fingers curl around it. “Don’t shoot me.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Wasn’t trying t’be.”

The door opened silent and Simon led you out into the hallway. Everything was bathed in the red glow of the emergency lights and dark crimson shadows blanketed the corners. You made it one, two, three steps before a bullet tore into the plaster right beside your head.

Simon shoved you down as he fired off two shots of his own and you heard the other man’s body slump to the ground as Simon tugged you up again, just as something moved out of the corner of your eye. And perhaps you should’ve paused, made sure you knew you were shooting at someone who meant you harm. But you didn’t. You pulled the trigger and the man rushing toward you jerked to an uneven stop and then collapsed backward.

You still hadn’t let go of Ghost’s belt loop. He hurried you further down the hall with a muttered, “good shot.”

“I think I was aiming for his shoulder,” you said in reply, your voice a little muted to your ringing ears. You’d shot the man in the neck—you had seen that. Done that. You stepped over another body as a breath stuttered out of you.

Ghost reached back once and curled his hand around yours as you held his belt loop in a deathgrip. It was a kindness. Probably something he didn’t have to do with anyone else. A reminder that he was there with you.

And the moment lasted all of a heartbeat before three more men emerged at your backs from behind the busted down doors of the rooms further up the hall. You turned and raised your gun again but Simon pulled you back as he fired his own weapon. One of the two men fell but the third dodged the next.

Your heart was thundering against your ribs as you heard another door open. More were coming.

Ghost knocked the man’s gun away before grabbing at his arm and driving his knee into the other man’s elbow. It bent in the wrong direction with a quick snap! The man bellowed as Simon turned his grip, grabbing at his vest. “Go!” Simon ordered as he wrestled with the other man. “Go!”

You didn’t need to be told twice: you sprinted down the hall just as two sharp bangs sounded behind you. You could do this. You could get out of here. Simon would get out, too. You knew it. He had no other option—he’d basically promised you.

You found the mangled stairwell entrance and nearly fell down the stairs the moment the door shut behind you. You only managed to stay upright by slapping your sweaty hands against the railing and yanking yourself to the side as the tenuous grip you had on your gun faltered. The railing dug into your side and punched the air from your lungs as the next three steps slipped beneath your feet. “Fuck!”

But luck, at least in this small instance, was on your side. The gun hadn’t fallen and-

You hadn’t spotted the man hiding in the dark shadows—not until he was already reaching for you and wrenching the gun from your hands. He tossed it over the railing before you could even think of grabbing for it and you uselessly listened to it bang all the way down.

He went to grab at your arm and you managed to wiggle out of his grip, just as Simon’d taught you, and then turned to sprint down the stairs. That had been your goal. To get down and then outside.

Pain lanced across your scalp as the man dragged you back by your hair. The cold bite of a gun’s muzzle against your jaw had you trying to recoil but he held you still. “Where do you think you are going?” he asked, thick accent dripping from almost each syllable. Russian accent. Well, at least you knew who had sent them.

You didn’t dignify his question with an answer but did try to lock your hands around his wrist, even if your arms immediately protested the strain and angle. You’d gotten out of his grip before, you could do it again. Your mind bounced from one maneuver Simon had taught you to the next to the next, trying to figure out a way to give yourself an opening. But as your heart continued its thundering, you knew you didn’t have the time to think anything through.

It was a bad idea. Stupid, even. But what choice did you have? You turned and shoved your shoulder into the man’s stomach, earning a quick “oof” before you both tumbled down the stairs. Your plan worked. His grip fell as your elbow, then your shoulder, your ribs, your knees cracked again and again against the cement stairs and rough traction tape. The back of your head slammed against the wall at the split in the stairs and yanked you to an unceremonious stop, your vision swimming. But you still shot to your feet, ignoring how something in your leg immediately protested, heat splintering across your thigh, and raced down the stairs. Twelve floors. Just twelve floors. You could do it.

The painted numbers on the walls steadily grew smaller, but you still tried to pump your legs faster, move quicker, as you heard the man get up and start to give chase. You could see the last door. It would lead out to somewhere on the ground floor and you would get out to the front and find the rest of the guys, tell them about Simon and the other gunmen upstairs and-

Just as you reached for the handle to the door, someone else reached out and grabbed you, fingers dragging you to a stop by the back of your vest. A string of expletives rushed past your lips and your feet tangled together as he continued to pull pull pull you backward until you were dragged through a different door behind you. Another dark hallway, bathed in red light stretched out in front of you as he turned you around to march in front of him.

“Where are they?” The man bit out. If you were able to look at him, you’d be willing to bet that his teeth were clenched.

“Who?” Playing dumb was really your only ploy, even though you knew it was an incredibly risky move. But you weren’t about to give them anything—not that you had anything to bargain with in the first place. You truly didn’t have anything aside from two of their first names and you were sure that meant shit to the man currently holding you still.

He cursed in Russian and his grip tightened. “I know they keep you close. You are their little pet, no?”

“Did you really think they tell me anything?” you sneered. But you knew that if they were asking you where the rest of the group was, that meant that they had made it out. Or they were still waiting on you and Simon. Something almost like hope crackled in your chest.

“You lie.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

That, it seemed, was a breaking point for him. He tore at the velcro straps of the pilfered kevlar vest, batting away your hands to keep it on, until he could rip it away. It slapped to the ground with a loud thud behind him. The small armor you’d given yourself was gone…but it gave you an opening.

You tried to remember Simon’s lessons, tried to remember all the ways you were supposed to approach this bullshit situation. And every fucking breath hurt. But still, you finally fucking remembered something and you twisted, jamming your hand up and swinging your elbow down into the crutch of his arm to break his grip. And it fucking worked. His grip loosened just enough for you to yank yourself free and then dart away. That was what Simon told you to do. Run. Get away and get safe.

A bullet whizzed by your head and you blindly ducked as you continued down the hall, zig and zagging as best you could in the small space. At least you knew enough to do that without too much of a reminder.

You heard another shot ring out and something burned across your side but you kept running.

Running.

Running.

And your legs gave out just as you threw yourself through the next door you saw and engaged the lock.

The next breath burned as pain snapped and fired over your side and burrowed into your marrow. The adrenaline was waning now and you felt every stair you’d fallen down and your scalp pulsed unpleasantly. The worst of it was your leg. Something shifted beneath your skin…you could feel it. But you couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when you were so close. You dragged yourself back up to your feet and looked around. It seemed to be an unused ballroom, had probably seen a few weddings if the grand ceiling had anything to say about it.

Over the intercom a soothing woman’s voice calmly repeated, “this is an emergency. Please vacate the hotel immediately. The concierge will help you to the exits. This is an emergency. Please vacate…”

Your knees knocked together as you hobbled toward the large double doors on the other side of the room. Surely Simon was already making his way down. There was no way that it only took three men to take him down. No. Simon was strong. And…he’d almost promised that he’d be okay.

Pain lanced up your side as you took your next step. It rolled your stomach but you needed to get out of here. You could worry about what the hell you’d broken later. But then you heard someone quickly gaining ground behind you. Arms banded around your waist and you yelped, heat whipping at your stomach from another point of pain you hadn’t really stopped to ponder. But that didn’t really matter as the heels of your shoes squeaked against the floor as you were dragged back a few yards, the door growing unfairly smaller.

“You’re a hard woman to find.” The man behind you then hummed your full government name. A Russian accent warbled the vowels a bit but there was no denying it. He knew exactly who you were. And you were completely fucked. He must have felt you stiffen in his hold because laughed. The asshole laughed at you. “Ah. Are you finally putting it together?” Then, his hold shifted and he turned you around in his grip, uncaring of how you yelped and struggled.

But your fight drained right out of you when you looked at the man holding you up. You could feel your heart plummet to your feet as you stared into the face of the man who had set your life down this absolute chaotic path. Vladimir Makarov smirked down at you.

“Y-you…”

He laughed again. “Good. You’re not as stupid as you look.”

“How? How are you here right now?” There was no possible way he was here. The guys said he was in hiding. He was…

Oh. You were so fucked.

“It seems your government is even more complacent than I had hoped.”

Well, that was a non-answer if you’d ever heard one. But you had heard whispers (grumbles) from the guys about thinking that there was a leak somewhere. You had to tell them. Had to tell them that someone had somehow managed to get Makarov here.

“But, I must say, I could not have done it all without you, you know. I knew you would eventually earn your keep.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You had done nothing to help him. Nothing. And you never would.

But he just smirked. “You did exactly what you were supposed to do. You led them right out into the open. A lamb leading the rest of the flock to slaughter.”

You thrashed against his grip but he held fast and you snarled at the chuckle he let out at your attempt to break free. But your limbs were leaden. Your vision starting to blur again. “Fuck you!”

“Oh, you Americans. You always say the same thing. I’m sure your sister would have said something similar, too.”

Kirby. Did that mean she wasn’t hurt? They didn’t get to her? You didn’t get an answer and you didn’t think it wise to ask what the fuck he meant. But Kirby had managed to get away. That was what mattered. Her and Pauline.

Simon and the rest of his team would probably get away, too. But not you. And it was awful for you to realize it now but you wanted to get away. You wanted more time. With Kirby and Pauline. To try and find a job you actually liked. To travel again. To…spend time with Simon. You wanted more time with him. For the first time in your life, you might know what it was like to be in love with someone and you were about to die.

Yeah. Not the best timing.

Makarov’s hold on you suddenly dropped and your legs gave out from beneath you. You sprawled across the ballroom floor in a heap of heavy limbs before he yanked you onto your back so he could stare down at you properly. And maybe it was pride, or your last shred of strength, but you shoved yourself up to sitting, bracing your shaking arms behind you.

“What do you want? They’re already gone.” Hopefully.

Makarov’s smirk widened as he pulled a large handgun from the holster at his hip. “What would be better than to make them watch?”

Your already thundering heart twisted and sank. “M-make them watch what?”

“The end of it all.”

If this had been a different situation, you probably would have laughed at how ridiculous that sentence was. Who talks like that?

The gun clicked. The safety was off. You knew that sound. Kyle had been really kind about teaching you how to do that so you didn’t struggle with it. And you had nowhere to go. There was nothing you could do. There was no Simon. No Soap. No bomb to hide behind. You were alone. Again.

He opened his mouth to say s-

Something warm sprayed across your face and you barely had time to register it before the man teetered forward and you had to shove yourself to the side to avoid him falling on you. He face-planted into the floor and didn’t move aside from his skull bouncing once. No movement.

Dead.

If the lack of movement didn’t give you enough of a clue, the gaping hole in the back of his head and quickly growing puddle of blood beneath him certainly spelled it out. Your stomach rolled as the heavy scent of pennies wafted toward you.

And as you sucked in a stuttering breath, your body screamed for reprieve and the last bit of your resolve slipped away. Every nerve ending was snapping and boiling heat was pulsing at your side, splintering out to the rest of your abdomen and then flittering down to your toes. Your stomach rolled again as you glanced down to see the side of your shirt absolutely soaked in blood. A small puddle had started to pool beneath you, staining the dark floor.

Another shadow loomed above you. But you knew better than to recoil. You knew this one.

Ghost knelt beside you, large rifle clacking as he set it aside. He paused, just for a moment, dark eyes roving over you before landing on your side. In the next breath, his hand clamped over your side, sure and solid.

“Hurts,” was all you could say.

Simon didn’t say anything but the hand on your side pressed a little harder, a little more insistent. That was all he could do, you knew. The red light had washed him in crimson shadows but you could still see the dark brown of his eyes. He pressed harder against the wound but that didn’t stop the tips of your fingers from tingling, growing cold.

“How bad is it?” He’d know better than you, wouldn’t he? Maybe the hole in your side could be walked off by someone like him.

In the distance, somewhere, over the repeating evacuation message, you heard a few sirens. Oh. Someone must’ve called for someone. And if Simon was here with you, surely that meant the others were safe. That was what you focused on. Not how the cold was slowly leaching up your arms.

“I ‘ad a brother,” he said, voice low. “Name was Tommy.”

And your poor heart gave a weak little flip. He was trusting you enough to tell you about his family. It was probably to distract you from everything else, but you still clung to every word as he told you what had happened to them. And your heart broke for him. For Tommy, Beth, Joseph, and his mother. You didn’t know how he carried that with him and still went through the day-to-day mundanity. And then you thought of his masks. His codename. His careful quiet. And maybe you understood him a little more then. And you hoped he understood you, too.

“Think they’d like you.”

“Yeah?” You asked, the single syllable slurring on your tongue. Vaguely, you heard the sound of the large door opening behind you. Hurried footsteps slapped against the herringbone floors. But you couldn’t take your eyes away from Simon, no matter how hard it was to keep them open.

Your next breath punched out of you when something warm, wet, and solid brushed against your cheek. It was his bloodsoaked glove, gently holding your face. “Yeah, sweet’eart.”

And then he was gone, the unfamiliar faces of the paramedics clouding your vision before everything went dark.

You did not like hospitals. You decidedly did not waking up in them even more. And waking up with Kate Laswell sitting in the corner was even further down on the list of things you enjoyed.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she noticed you staring at her.

“Fine.” You were actually fine. The morphine drip you recognized and was certainly doing its job. You’d have to task them to get rid of it soon.

She nodded and stood, stepping closer. She was quick to fill in the gaps you missed: the rest of the guys are fine, the hotel was fine, fair few people outside this tiny hospital room and the 141 knew what had actually happened—someone had spun quite the story about a drunken hotel guest pulling an alarm. The guests were comped for their stays and that seemed to be that. No one else saw any of the blood. The bullet holes that surely lined the entirety of your floor. Any of it. Just another secret for you to keep.

“Makarov said something about a leak-”

Laswell nodded. “We found him. It was dealt with.”

That was probably all you were ever going to know, too. After all, you were never supposed to be involved anyway.

“If it gives you any comfort, the rest of Makarov’s caches are in the process of being raided and shut down. It’s over.”

“Seems a little anticlimactic.” There was a small kernel of truth tucked in your poor attempt at a joke. A stretched gunfight seemed like it could have been worse. Much worse.

“I think you’re one of the few people in this world that would call that anticlimactic.” She almost smiled and then set another manilla folder on your bed. “Your doctors will be in soon. They’re on the payroll, know how to keep their mouths shut.” Her finger tapped against the folder. “Read that. It’ll help you get on your feet after you’re released in a couple days.”

“Oh.” Maybe the morphine was doing more than just keeping you from feeling any pain. Disjointed thoughts leapt and stumbled through your mind as you grabbed at it, the yellow paper crumpling under your grip. “The others are okay?”

It was only then that she laughed. “They’re fine. All of them.”

Something almost like relief or hope fizzled in your veins. You needed to see Simon. “Can I-”

“They’re probably landing right about now,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Happy to be home.”

And the hope snuffed out.

Manchester was home on all his official documents. He could walk his way through the city blindfolded to his overpriced flat, no matter where he’d been dropped. He knew its streets and corners. And Simon almost hated it. He did hate the mandatory month-long leave he’d been told to take after they’d all been debriefed. The file was redacted almost immediately.

And, just like that, it was over.

At least officially.

No one in that room spoke of how Shepherd was found dead in his office two days ago from an apparent self inflicted gunshot wound. Officially, it had nothing to do with them at all. None of the 141 spoke about Price’s “visit” to DC or his midnight return. No one would know.

There was no official note about the bottle of perfume he’d taken from her destroyed hotel room, the only thing he could take, knowing she had another waiting for her at her apartment. And he wanted something. Anything.

He was a selfish bastard, after all.

And there was also no note of the scrap of paper Johnny slid to him before they all went their separate ways again. It was her phone number—her new one. Just a handful of numbers and Johnny’s looped scrawl beneath it: Just in case, LT. And then he’d signed it with a small picture of a bar of soap. Simon hadn’t asked how he got the number, but the bit of paper had been carefully tucked into his pocket without blinking.

Yeah. Just in case.

A/N: One chapter left! Please let me know what you think!

Next Chapter

[court-jester-stuff]

Confessions, murder and lies

Charlie Walker x reader

tags/warning: fem!reader, blood, injury, murder, smut, fingering,

p in v, incorrect hospital stuff, , no beta we die like Robbie, let me know if I missed any

word count: 2.9k

notes: English is not my first language, inspired by "Softer Than Shadow" by 'slxsherr'

You used to not be sure what to make of Charlie Walker. In the past year that has changed. He’s dorky and funny and when you think about it he’s definitely cute. When you think about it you absolutely have a crush on him.

Only problem, he’s had a four year standing crush on your best friend Kirby. Who has been teasing you to death for having a crush on the boy ever since you confessed the crush to her during a drunken game of truth or truth.

Sitting on Kirby’s couch during the after-party of the annual stab-a-thon is absolute hell with the combination of Robbie stressed out of his mind, Kirby filling in Jill on what happened and Charlie walking around in the closest proximity since the school project that set off this ridiculous crush you have on him, all that along with the looming serial killer that’s been plaguing the town and has stabbed Gale no less than an hour ago.

Yeah, safe to say this evening has not been going the way you’ve wanted it to. To be fair the only reason you were even at the stab-a-thon was because Kirby convinced you. Something about having to live for Olivia and making Charlie happy.

As if he cared if you showed up. He only wants Kirby. You thought.

By the time you tuned back into the conversation Robbie had started drinking his way through Kirby’s dad’s liquor, Charlie had put on stab seven and had sat down next to you.

He sat down next to you… to flirt with Kirby who was flirting back?

You didn’t know at this point.

Not wanting to watch that going down you got up of the couch.

“Where are you going?” Kirby asked.

“To make sure that Robbie doesn’t do anything too stupid.” You said. “Maybe laugh at him being a stupid drunk a little. You have no proof!” You teased.

Kirby laughed and Charlie had turned to look at you.

You made eye contact with him gave him a tight smile.

“I’ll make sure your best friend doesn’t kill himself.” You told him before promptly walking out before he could say anything else.

Watching Robbie wasn’t boring, actually it was quite entertaining. Him having his live-stream on backwards, walking straight into a hanging plant, which you were pretty sure you had gifted Kirby, it was all pretty funny.

Up until you saw Ghostface standing in the doorway.

“Robbie, look out!” You yelled out, but it was too late. You watched in horror as Robbie fell to his knees and when you looked up and saw Ghostface looking, what you assumed was right at you, you bolted. Running around the side of the house you could hear him running after you.

He grabbed around your side and pulled you backwards into him. With the quickest thinking you could manage you pushed yourself backwards as hard as you could knocking you both to the ground.

He however did not let go. You twisted around and stopped the knife in his other hand right as it was coming for you. You tried as hard as you could to force his hand away from you up until he took his other arm from around you and started pushing with both hands.

With all the survival instinct you had in you you managed to force his arms away and get it to start running away, only for him to grab your leg and drive his knife through your calf.

Kicking him in the face you managed to get loose and back into the house where Sidney and Kirby were.

“Oh my god! Your leg!” Kirby exclaimed.

“Turns out I do have that unfiltered rage and survival instinct inside me.” You tried to joke. Cringing when you sat your leg down.

“Behind you!” Sidney yelled and before you could even look Kirby had grabbed your arm and started dragging you through her house to a room that has a lock.

When you were both inside and the door locked you each took a moment to catch your breath.

“Robbie’s dead.” Is what you managed to get out in between gasps. “He was running around outback and when we wanted to go back inside there he was. Fucker chased me all the way around the house.”

“Fucking hell.” She said before guiding you towards a wall that you easily slid down.

And then it was quiet for a bit, both processing what had just happened.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” She said. “I hadn’t meant to flirt with Charlie like that. It’s just so easy to tease him. Maybe you’ve rubbed of on me.” She added with a shrug after seeing your confused glance.

“It’s alright, I get it. I mean, he is cute.” You said with a knowing smirk. “I hope everyone is alright. I mean who knows who else has fallen victim.”

“Oh my god Sidney.” Kirby looked at you with wide eyes before walking towards the locked door.

“Uuh Kirby, I’m sure she’s fine. Or at the very least I want you to be fine. Which means staying in the room with the locked door.” You emphasised knowing what she was about to do.

“I can’t leave her out there, and… and Jill’s out there too.” She looked at you with exasperations.

“Fine, but first we try to reach 911 or anyone who can call for help.” You said.

“Deal.”

by the time Kirby got back with Sidney you must have tried calling 911 at least twenty times.

Sidney looked around the room before her eyes landed on you, still sitting on the floor.

“How’s your leg?” she asked while eyeing it worryingly.

“Hurts like a bitch. I’ve wrapped it with a piece of my shirt so at the very least the bleeding is somewhat contained.”

You wanted to say more but before you could Charlie appeared outside the glass door, smearing blood all over it. Begging to be let in.

All three of you looked in horror and shock not knowing what to do.

“If you aren’t sure if you can trust him, don’t let him in.” Is what Sidney said and so Kirby didn’t open the door.

Which we all quickly regretted when Ghostface appeared behind him. Slamming his head into the glass and the dragging him into a chair to tie him up into. That’s when Kirby’s phone started ringing.

It was Ghostface. Asking his sick questions in exchange for Charlies life.

Sidney tells the two of you that she’s going to go get Jill and leaves.

Kirby starts answering questions and when she gets one wrong she goes quiet for a moment before looking at you and saying he wants you to answer the next one and if you get it right Charlie lives.

You get up off the ground and limp over to her, taking the phone.

“Well, dear little Iris. Given that you’re the one with the crush how about you decide whether he lives or dies. What are the names of the two boys that help Sam save his bother from the lost boys?”

You’ve watched this movie countless times, several times with Olivia, Jill and Kirby and another several times alone so the answer comes easy to you even during a time like this.

“Edgar and Alan Frog. Their names are Edgar and Alan Frog.”

The line goes dead and you both rush to get to Charlie.

You staying slightly behind due to your leg.

Through Kirby’s apologies you manage to get Charlie inside and the door locked ones again.

Kirby looks embarrassed before she says she’s going to find Sidney and Jill. Before you can stop her she has  already left the room.

Limping over to the now closed door you lock it.

You slide down onto the ground beside the door and opposite of where Charlie has sat down.

You both sit like that for a while in silence before you break it.

“I’m sorry we didn’t let you in. I am truly so sorry.” Looking down at your feet you don’t see Charlies smile before he answers.

“It’s alright, I probably would have done the same if I was you two.” He takes a deep breath before adding. “Plus it was mostly Kirby and Sidney. I mean, you can barely stand.”

You scoff at that.

“Yeah that’s true.” There is a beat of silence before you once again break it.

“Listen, Charlie. I know that we aren’t exactly close so this might come out of no where to you but with a high chance of one if not both of us dying tonight I feel the need to tell you this.” There’s a pregnant pause before you continue. “I’ve had a crush on you for the past year now and I know that this is shit timing and honestly if it wasn’t for this psychopath trying to kill us I probably wouldn’t have said anything at all but you deserve to know.

I’m not expecting you to suddenly get over your crush on Kirby and walk off into the sunset with me but you should know. Just so that it’s out there. Sorry for springing this on you but yeah… I wanted you to know.”

And then it’s quiet again. For quite a while but you don’t regret saying anything. That is until Charlie gets up from the floor and moves over to sit next to you.

“I kinda like you too.” He says.

“It’s alright Charlie you don’t have to do this. I get it, you like Kirby and I know I’m not competing with her.”

He raises his hand slightly and hesitates before placing it on top of yours.

“I do, really. I won’t lie and say that I’ve had a crush on Kirby for years but this year that sorta shifted. I started thinking about you and that scared me so I kept up the whole ‘I’m in love with Kirby’ act. I never thought you’d also like me.”

You raised your head to look at him and found him already looking at you. He put your hair behind your ear and smiled. You smiled back.

“I’m not all that convinced yet but I’ll take your word for it.” Your eyes shifted from his to his lips and you hoped he didn’t notice. He did. His eyes also darted between your lips and your eyes.

“This would be a great time to convince me you do like me.” You said leaning in a bit.

“And how do I do that?” He asked following your lead.

“By kissing me maybe. I feel like that might convince me.”

And then he did, he leaned in all the way and placed his lips against yours.

And when he did you could feel him sigh against your lips, like this was something he had always wanted and had finally gotten.

Your lips moved against each other for a while before pulling away.

“Did that convince you?” He asked with a breathy smile on his face.

“Maybe. Although not entirely yet. Maybe you should do it again.” You said in the same breathy tone.

He smiled wider and leaned in to kiss you again but the moment his lips touched yours Jill’s voice could be heard outside the locked door.

“Is someone in here? Please help.”

Charlie looked at you before you nodded and he got up to open the door. Jill stepped into the room and when you had finally made your way onto your feet you felt something hit the back of you head.

The next time you woke up you were in a hospital bed.

Your head throbbed slightly but for the rest you felt no pain. Painkillers probably.

It was night. The barely lit room and the dark sky outside the window gave that away.

You tried to sit up and groaned in the process of doing so.

The curtain on your left shifted and out from behind in came Charlie, attached to his own IVF that you just noticed was also attached to your hand.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” He said with a slight smile.

You returned it before asking what had happened. The last thing you remembered was what you presumed getting hit on the back of you head before passing out.

“Mind if I sit with you while I explain?” He asked with a slight sigh but a small smile nonetheless.

“Not at all.” You said already moving over to make space for him.

Once he was seated he turned to you and began to explain.

“It was Jill and Trevor. They pulled a real Bonny and Clyde on us. Decided they were going to kill us all and blame one of us. They were going to play themselves off as the only surviving victims but that didn’t work out the way they wanted.” He turned to look you in the eyes and when he noticed you playing with the bedsheet anxiously he placed his hands atop of yours. Intwining your fingers.

You looked him in the eye and nodded, letting him know you were listening. And so he continued.

“After she hit you on the back of the head I acted fast and slammed her head into the wall. I uuhh…. I might have slightly ran… towards the kitchen and she followed me. Trevor was there and he tried to shoot me but I ducked and he shot Jill instead. When he saw what he had done he shot himself. I walked back to you and the cops arrived shortly after.”

You processed what he said before turning to him again.

“So… it’s over. They’re dead and we’re not?” You asked.

He nodded at you and squeezed your hand. You also nodded before asking him if he wanted to lay with you. He did. You both laid there for a bit before he pulled you closer and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you Charlie.”

“What for?” He asked.

“For staying with me. You could have easily waited in the kitchen or ran for it but you didn’t. Actually, you kind of saved us all by thinking quick and ducking. Who knows what would have happened had you not done that.”

He chuckled slightly and kissed your head again. You lean your head upwards and kissed him softly. The kiss didn’t stay soft however and you both had to break apart for air soon enough.

“Can I touch you?” He asked oh so sweetly and when you whispered out a soft yes his hands started wandering down your waist.

The kissing, or rather making out, resumed as his hands kept wandering.

Slipping under the hospital gown he grasped the waistband of your underwear before breaking the kiss.

“Can I take this off?” You nodded heavily and he slipped your panties off.

He fingers started toying with you as he swallowed every gasp and moan with his lips.

He dips a finger into you as his thumb starts drawing circles on your clit. You squirm farther into him as he adds another finger. Once he has two of them he starts pumping them at a steady rhythm.

Whispering sweets things in your ear about how well your doing and about how your such a good girl for him.

It doesn’t take long before you feel that familiar feeling of bliss approaching.

“Charlie- fuck I’m gonna cum.” He smiles against your lips before stopping his hand. Earning a bunch of whimpers from you.

“Charlie, please.”  You whisper against him.

“It’s alright love, I’ll make you feel real good.” He moves his hands and pulls off his boxer before lifting your leg over his hip.

You feel him tease his cock through your folds and then slowly entering you. You both whimper as he slides in and he gives a sigh of relief when he bottoms out. He places his hands on your hips.

Staying like that for a moment before you push yourself down on him. He picks up a steady rhythm and it doesn’t take long before you both start moaning louder.

“You’re doing so well, taking me so well. Fuck, you feel so good.” He starts rambling in your ear praising you the entire time.

“I’m so close Charlie.” You whine into him.

“Me too, love. Me too.” He says before kissing you, his hips start moving erratically before you both reach your peak.

You both lay there for a moment coming down from the high. His dick growing soft inside you.

“You did so well, making me feel so good.” You paise him. He chuckles softly before pulling out and pressing kisses all over you face. His hands kneed your sides.

“Let me get you cleaned up, hm.” With that he gets out of the bed and you see a light start shinning against the wall.

He returns a moment later with a washcloth and cleans you off before getting both our clothes fixed. Afterwards he gets back into bed with you and hugs you close to him.

He smirked into the darkness. You didn’t need to know that he was actually the one that shot Jill and Trevor and staged the whole thing. Dewey was way too caught up with everything to question his story so as far as anyone knows he was completely innocent and he got the girl. He could not be happier.

authors note: I hope you enjoyed!

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM [FINAL]

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, violence, swearing, death, stabbing, mention of blood, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +8k

A/n: this part will follow the events of Scream 6 but it will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake. Thank you to everyone that read this story, I hope you all liked it as much as I did ❣️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20.

"Tara!" Iris screamed, her heart racing as panic surged through her. She bolted toward her, but Ghostface was quicker. With a swift motion, he swung a knife toward Iris, the blade glinting ominously in the dim light of the room.

Iris barely managed to dodge, her instincts kicking in as adrenaline flooded her veins. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, drowning out everything else. Tara lay stunned on the ground, fear etched across her face, and the other girl knew she had to act fast to protect them both.

Iris slammed him against one of the walls with all her strength, the force of the impact causing the glass that covered it to shatter into a thousand glinting pieces. As he staggered back, disoriented by the blow, he recovered quickly and lunged toward her once more, his movements blazing with fury as he tried to stab her once again. But Iris was quicker this time. With a swift, calculated move, she sidestepped his attack and managed to shove him again, forcing Ghostface to the ground as she kicked him in the stomach.

"Tara! We have to move!" Iris urged, glancing over her shoulder. She reached down and pulled Tara up by the arm, her heart racing as the urgency and fear pressed heavily on her. With Tara stumbling to her feet, Iris turned and dashed to the door, flinging it open. She was relieved to see Sam and Chad waiting, their expressions laced with desperation.

"Let's go!" Chad shouted. Without a second thought, the group sprang into action, their feet pounding against the floor as they began to run.

"It's Kirby! She's the killer!" Sam exclaimed as they hurried down the dimly lit corridor toward the main hall of the theater.

"No shit!" Chad replied sarcastically. He cast a frantic glance toward the exit, his mind racing with ideas, but his hopes were dashed when Sam shook her head.

"It's locked," she said, her voice filled with frustation.

"Are we trapped?" Chad gasped, panic creeping into his tone.

"Yeah, she made this whole theater into a kill box," Sam continued, her breath coming in quick bursts. "For us."

"Hey, what about that?" Tara interrupted, her eyes darting upwards as she pointed at a small exit door in the second floor. She was still leaning on Iris for support. "Maybe it leads to the roof or something?"

Iris squinted at the opening, weighing their options. "There's only one way to find out," she said, already starting to move. "Let's go!"

"Bailey's on the way, but—" Sam started, her voice laced with anxiety, knowing they didn't have much time.

Sam barely had a moment to finish her thoughts when, without warning, Ghostface lunged out from behind the stage. The masked figure charged at them with a menacing intensity, and in an instant, he shoved Tara roughly to the ground, slicing her shoulder painfully. Tara gasped, the shock of the fall knocking the breath out of her.

"Get down!" Sam shouted, but before she could react further, Ghostface turned his attention to her. He pushed Sam hard, and she tumbled to the floor, her knife slipping from her grasp and skidding across the wooden surface.

In a blur, Ghostface swung his knife toward Iris, the blade tore through her clothing, narrowly missing her skin. Adrenaline surged through Iris as she instinctively lunged forward, her fist connecting with Ghostface's head in a desperate attempt to defend herself.

Just then, Chad spotted a video camera sitting on one of the nearby tables. Without thinking, he grabbed it. He rushed toward Ghostface and, with all his strength, brought the camera crashing down onto the masked figure's head.

"Smile for the camera, motherfucker!" Chad muttered angrily. Ghostface collapsed to the ground, motionless for a moment.

They all bolted down the hallway, urgency propelling them forward. Chad clutched the camera tightly in his grip, as he ran behind them. They could feel Ghostface's footsteps behind them as he charged after them.

The hallway was so narrow that they barely fit side by side, their shoulders brushing against the walls as they pushed forward. In a moment of desperation, Chad turned around and hurled the camera at Ghostface, hoping to hit him with it. But the masked figure was quick; he ducked just in time, the camera whizzing past him and crashing against the wall with a dull thud.

"Keep moving!" Iris shouted, urging the group onward as they could hear Ghostface's footsteps growing louder behind them, his knife poised menacingly in front of him.

Thinking quickly, Iris spotted the popcorn machine and, without hesitation, shoved it over. The machine toppled to the ground with a loud crash, glass scattering everywhere and popcorn spilling out. The mess created a momentary barrier, but it did little to slow down Ghostface.

Fueled by anger, he charged directly at Chad. With a forceful shove, he pushed Chad against the wall, the impact sending a shiver down his spine. Just as he was about to deliver a blow, both Tara and Sam sprang into action, each grabbing one of his arms and pulling him backward with all their strength. Their quick thinking gave Iris the opening she needed.

She stepped forward, summoning all her strength, and landed a solid punch to Ghostface's stomach. He doubled over, but Iris wasn't finished. In a swift motion, she delivered another blow, this time targeting his private parts. The killer groaned in agony, crumpling to the floor.

Without missing a beat, Tara rushed in and kicked him squarely in the head, her fury propelling her forward.

"Tara, come on!" Sam exclaimed, grabbing her arm firmly to pull her away. The urgency in her voice was clear as she glanced back at the unmoving figure. Tara, still fueled by fury , reached out and grabbed Iris's hand as well, drawing them both toward the door.

"Go, go!" Chad shouted, clutching a mini popcorn machine, ready to slam it in Ghostface's head. Just as he swung it, another Ghostface suddenly appeared and stabbed him in the side, making him scream in agony.

Iris spun around at the sound of Chad's shout, panic rising as she screamed his name. She tried to rush toward him, but Sam gripped her shoulder tightly, forcing her back.

Both Ghostfaces were stabbing Chad making the man fall to his knees as blood started pouring out of his mouth.

"Run," He said weakly. "Go."

Chad's body fell to the ground as the two of them turned to face Sam, Tara, and Iris wiping the blood off of their blades at the same time.

They turned and sprinted towards the main hall, but their escape was cut short. The two Ghostfaces loomed ominously on either side of the room, blocking any chance of escaping. Panic surged through them as they realized they were cornered.

"We have to fight!" Sam muttered to them, scanning the ground for anything they could use. Spotting a pile of bricks, she quickly snatched up two and handed one to them before grabbing one for herself. The three women formed a tight circle, their backs pressed together, a united front against the threat.

"Sam!" Tara cried, fear evident in her voice.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked, her tone fierce but steady. "I need you guys to be ready"

Iris clenched her jaw, her expression hardening. "This is for Chad" she growled, glaring at the masked figures.

"Look at me," Iris said, turning to Tara. "Are you ready?"

Tara nodded, her eyes darting toward the nearest Ghostface. "Come on Motherfucker!" she shouted.

But before any of them could make a move to attack, a loud gunshot echoed through the room. They all dropped to the floor, hearts racing as they scanned the place trying to find out where it came from.

"It's okay!" Kirby shouted, emerging from the shadows with her gun raised. Blood trickled down the side of her face, staining part of her shirt too.

"Stay the fuck back!" Sam snapped, positioning herself protectively in front of Iris and Tara.

"We know it's you, Kirby!" Tara yelled, distrust evident in her voice.

"How could you do this? I trusted you!" Iris shouted, her voice trembling with betrayal. This was the same woman with who she bonded over her sister.

"Listen, one of them knocked me out," Kirby pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation.

"And you expect us to believe that?" Iris shot back, her anger boiling.

"Iris, you have to trust me! I would never hurt you. I just want to help!" Kirby insisted, her voice cracking.

"Kirby, stop!" Wayne shouted, rushing onto the scene, his presence adding to the tension. "Get away from the girls!"

The blonde woman aimed her gun at him, her hands shaking. "What are you doing?!"

"Did you kill Quinn?" Wayne's voice was a mix of accusation and fear, his hand trembling as he held a gun. "Did you kill my daughter?"

"You're crazy!" Kirby exclaimed, horror etched on her face. "Whatever he's been telling you, don't listen! He's probably the killer!"

Wayne's gaze was fixed on her, his eyes showing a weird emptiness. Just then, one of the Ghostfaces slipped silently behind him.

"Behind you!" Kirby shouted, her voice piercing through the fear.

The man didn't even flinch at Kirby's word, almost like he knew exactly what was going to happen. Before any of them had a chance to react, he placed his finger on the trigger and fired the gun, sending two gunshots in Kirby's direction.

"Kirby!" Iris shouted in horror, her voice trembling as she lunged forward to chase after the woman. But just as she took a step, a shadow loomed over her; one of the Ghostface figures raised a knife threateningly, forcing her to stumble back, heart racing with fear.

Tara, sensing Iris's panic, quickly wrapped her arm around her shoulder, yanking her backwards towards their group for safety. "Dont move!" she urged.

A tiny smirk crept onto Wayne's face, his eyes glinting with cruelty as the other Ghostface emerged from the shadows behind him, brandishing his weapon like a trophy.

"Great job," Bailey praised, nodding with approval as he lowered his gun, only to have everyone gasp in surprise when another Ghostface appeared right beside him, a grin plastered across his face. "Both of you,".

"You?" Tara exclaimed, her voice a mixture of disbelief and fury as she stared at Wayne, struggling to process the betrayal.

"Yeah, of course me," Wayne replied with a feigned seriousness, shrugging his shoulders as he met her gaze with a simmering intensity. "Honestly, I expected more from the three of you after what you did to us." His tone was laced with a bitterness that hung in the air.

"We didn't do shit to you," Iris answered angrily. "We don't even know you, you piece of shit"

One of the Ghostfaces standing beside Bailey reached up for the top of his mask, fingers trembling slightly with anticipation as he slowly peeled it away from his face. When the mask finally came off, it was Ethan, his expression bright and triumphant, looking like it was the best day of his life.

"I fucking knew it. Of course it was you," Iris muttered, her voice barely audible, disbelief washing over her like a cold wave.

"You almost ruined it for me, Iris," Ethan snarled, his grip tightening around the weapon he held, the knife appearing more threatening than ever. "But it turns out it was so easy to lie to all of you. I lied so many times and none of you discovered me." His tone was dripping with mockery, a smirk dancing on his lips as he reveled in his own actions.

"Well, you certainly didn't lie about being a virgin, did you?"

Ethan's eyes flashed with fury, and he turned to her, ready to lash out at the woman. But just as he tried to walk towards her, Bailey stepped in, grabbing him by the cloak and yanking him back with surprising force. "Calm down" Bailey urged.

Ethan let out a deep, exasperated sigh, visibly frustrated, but he chose to ignore Iris. With a bright smile creeping back onto his face, he resumed speaking, clearly enjoying the spotlight. "You know, Mindy was right; it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean, all I had to do to meet you guys was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad. Fuck, it felt good to kill him."

"I'm going to fucking kill you" Iris started walking towards him before both Sam and Tara harshly grabbed her by the arms pulling her towards them while Sam pinched her in the arm.

"You need to hold it, we will have time to end them" Sam whispered to her as they let the young boy talk.

Ethan held up the Ghostface mask he had been wearing, the fabric slightly tattered but still scary. "This was your grandmother's Sam, Nancy Loomis," he declared, his voice dripping with disdain as he scowled at her. "Really runs in the fucking family, doesn't it?"

"Speaking of family," he continued without missing a beat, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he pointed to himself. "My name's not Ethan Landry, is it, Dad?" His gaze flicked toward Bailey, a triumphant glint in his eyes. Bailey erupted into maniacal laughter, ruffling Ethan's hair affectionately as if they were sharing an inside joke.

"Dad?" Tara asked, confusion etched on her features as she tried to make sense of this twisted family reunion.

"Wait, if it's you two, that just leaves..." Sam finally found her voice again, dread creeping into her mind as she realized not a lot of options stood for the third Ghostaface. She really hoped it wasn't the name she was about to say. "Mindy?"

At that moment, the next Ghostface stepped forward, pulling down her hood with excitement. She removed her mask and shook her head a few times. "Hey, roomies!" Quinn greeted proudly, a mocking smile spreading across her lips. "Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Yeah, because you died!" Tara exclaimed, disbelief and anger swirling in her narrowed eyes. The shock of Quinn's reappearance struck her like a punch to the gut.

"I kind of didn't," Quinn replied dryly, tucking the mask under her arm with a casual nonchalance that felt jarringly out of place. She glanced over at the others, her expression unrecognizable to the girls that shared an apartment with her "Though it was a pretty good way to get off the suspect list. Stabbed Gale Weathers, stabbed Mindy on the train, it was a pity I wasn't the one to stab Anika but hey you can't have everything"

Iris's jaw clenched, her fingers dug down into the brick she was holding and she was about a few seconds away from launching it over at the girl's head. "We mourned you, fuck I even cried for your death".

"Truly a pity Iris" Quinn whispered, tilting her head to the side as she looked over at the girl. "You and I could've had a lot of fun if you weren't so keen on being Tara's bitch". Quinn gave the brunette a teasing smile, twirling the knife around her index finger.

"Don't fucking talk to her" Tara growled.

"Uhh feisty, I like it" Quinn said mockingly.

"I just had to make sure I was the first one on the scene," Wayne explained after a few tense seconds of silence. "That way, I could switch her body out with a fresh one. A little fake blood, a prosthetic here and there. You'd be amazed at what a grieving father can get away with." His voice dripped with a mix of pride and arrogance, as if he were sharing a clever trick rather than a heinous act.

Quinn's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I got Stu Macher's mask," she chimed in, a grin spreading across her face. "He was my favorite."

Ethan carefully placed the mask he had been wearing onto a nearby mannequin dressed in white clothing. "That's number three," Bailey said, holding up three fingers as he moved slowly down the narrow aisle towards the girls, his demeanor both casual and predatory. He glanced over at his daughter, who placed her mask on the mannequin across from Ethan's. "That's two," he added, a sense of satisfaction in his voice.

"Which leaves..." Bailey reached inside his jacket, pulling out another mask "Your father's," Wayne extended the mask towards Sam, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling expectation. "This is what we've been counting down to, Sam," he said, his voice low and insistent. "I'm going to need you to put it on."

"Fuck you!" Sam shouted, her voice echoing through the room as she smacked the mask away with the brick in her hand, sending it clattering to the floor.

Ethan, unable to resist the chaos, lunged forward with an excited grin, slashing Sam's arm with the knife he held, his laughter ringing out. Sam hissed in pain as she took a look to the wound that started bleeding down her arm.

"Stay the fuck away from her!" Tara hissed, stepping protectively in front of Sam.

"What is this?" Sam asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as she scanned the faces of the family, each one a mask of anger and betrayal. "You did this as a family?"

"Oh yeah bitch, you should know better than anyone," Quinn shot back, her voice laced with bitterness as she took a few hurried steps closer, her brother Ethan right beside her, smirking in a way that sent shivers down Sam's spine.

"They're still not getting it," Ethan chuckled.

"Well then start explaining," Iris growled, her voice low and threatening, the urgency palpable in her tone.

"I don't know what you believe, but I didn't commit those murders in Woodsboro!" Sam pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice. "It wasn't me!"

"We know that. Of course you didn't," Wayne interjected, speaking as if that were obvious. "You think this is based on some bullshit conspiracy theory? Come on. Who do you think started the rumors about you in the first place?"

Quinn raised her hand, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Do you know how easy it was to turn Sam from the hero of Woodsboro into the villain? How easy it is to convince the world to believe the worst in people rather than the best?"

"Because it's not enough to just kill someone these days," Ethan said. "You have to assassinate their character first. So when Dad here discovers your horribly mutilated bodies.. posed with Sam wearing her father's mask, he'll say some poor dumb bastard read on the internet that you're the real Ghostface and took matters into their own deluded hands."

"Exactly, that's why it's the perfect alibi," Bailey said with a smirk, his laughter low and taunting as he locked eyes with Sam. "And all the best lies are based on the truth."

Sam spun around, her heart racing as Bailey leveled a finger at her. "You're a killer," he accused, his expression hardening into a grim line. "Just like your father."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are! You motherfucker! You killed our brother!" Quinn shouted, her voice cracking with rage and pain.

"What are you talking about?" Sam stammered, confusion etched across her face, her breath coming in shallow gasps as horror began to dawn on her.

"You said your brother died in a car accident," Tara pressed, her eyes flashing with confusion.

"No, no, no, you sweet dumb thing," Ethan interrupted, his voice laced with mockery as he pointed his knife toward them. "He died in Woodsboro, at the hands of your bitch sister".

A cold wave of realization washed over Sam. "You're Richie's family," she gasped, her heart sinking as she turned back to Bailey.

"Yeah," Bailey replied, a twisted smile creeping onto his lips as he thought of his oldest son.

Just as Sam was about to talk, Ethan lunged forward, thrusting his knife into her collarbone with a swift, brutal motion. "Ding, ding, ding!" he shouted with unsettling enthusiasm as he pulled the knife away, leaving behind a raw bloody mark on her skin. The pain shot through her, but before she could react, Iris yanked her backward, pulling her out of Ethan's reach.

"Now! It wasn't until I saw that photograph of what you'd actually done to him that I knew!" Wayne suddenly shouted, his voice ringing with fury, "That I knew you had to fucking die! You had to be punished! Along with anyone else who stands in our way."

Quinn stepped forward, gripping the knife tightly and pressing it menacingly against Sam's throat.

"There's the killer," Quinn whispered, her voice a chilling rasp as she studied Sam's expression. The girl remained still, her dark chocolate eyes showing no fear, only a growing coldness that seemed to mirror Quinn's own rage.

"Great parenting job, by the way" Tara interjected, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she cast a disdainful glance at Wayne.

"Shut your whore fucking mouth!" Quinn shrieked, her rage boiling over as she shoved Tara violently, sending her towards the floor. Iris reacted instantly, grabbing onto her shoulder to prevent her from crashing to the ground. With a firm grip, Iris pulled Tara close, turning her body to face Bailey, who stood watching the chaos unfold.

"Have I been a perfect dad? No," Wayne admitted, shaking his head as if acknowledging a painful truth. "Have I maybe overindulged Richie's love of these little movies? Yeah, maybe. For me, they're just a little dark. But, Richie really loved them. He loved them and even made a few of his own."

Suddenly, a video began to play on the screen, and a younger Richie appeared, his innocent face juxtaposed with the madness that lay ahead. Iris felt a surge of disgust; even as a child, Richie was already showing signs of being a psychopath.

Wayne turned away from the screen, his gaze drifting upward as tears filled his eyes. "There's a very special bond between a father and his first son," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Which is why I helped him build this collection."

"This was all his?" Sam muttered in disbelief, her mind racing to comprehend the situation.

"Yes, he is a very passionate collector, and he inspired others. We had to kill those two wannabe film students because, well, we had to kill you first, Sam. I put the theater in their name, then good old Detective Bailey would've just stumbled on it, but I didn't have to because, by golly, that Gale Weathers is one hell of a journalist. I built a tribute to my son. Which is why this is where you have to die, surrounded by all of the things he loved the most."

"What happens next?" Sam demanded. "After you're done with us, you just disappear?"

"No!" Wayne started stepping down from the stairs. "We got to hurry over to the hospital and make sure Mindy and Gale don't pull through. Because everybody dies, Sam! Everyone who had anything to do with the death of my son suffers and dies."

Ethan moved towards Tara eager to use his knife as the girl tightened her grip on her brick but Iris moved in front of her.

"Don't touch her" Iris shouted, her jaw tensing as she pulled Tara behind her.

Ethan moved even closer, now pressing just the tip of his blade against her chest as he rolled his eyes at Iris's comment "You have no idea how much I want to put this knife on you Iris, and once I'm finished with you, I'm going to do to Tara the same thing I did to Anika but this time I'll finish the job" Iris growled in fury but before she could lunge at him, he jumped forward and slashed Iris on her side, making her hiss in pain as blood started pouring out. "always the hero, aren't you?"

"Iris" Tara yelled moving towards her but stopped once she saw Iris making a stop sign to her.

"I've got a plan, they are angry" Iris whispered to Sam.

Suddenly, Iris burst into maniacal laughter, clutching her side as if the absurdity of the situation overwhelmed her. The three Ghostfaces exchanged bewildered glances, momentarily thrown off by her unpredictable reaction.

"So you're telling me you did all of this for Richie?" she taunted, her laughter escalating. "He was such a pussy; it was honestly embarrassing just to look at him!"

Tara watched in horror, her heart pounding as she observed the killer's anger growing with each passing moment. But that was the plan, to infuriate them enough that they'd slip up, making it easier for them to fight back. Sam seemed to grasp this strategy quickly.

"He was... so pathetic," Sam declared, her tone utterly flat, as if she were discussing something mundane and boring.

"That's not true!" Wayne protested, his voice rising in indignation, unable to accept her words.

"Yeah, your son, he was a man-baby who made his accomplice do all of the killing,"

"Isn't it embarrasing? He couldn't even do it himself, the one time he had to do the killing, he died like a fucking loser"

"He was a strong, virile young man!" Bailey's body shook with rage.

"He was a limp dick little fuck who cried before I slit his throat," Sam said coldy, as a tiny smirk spread across her face.

"Shut the fuck up!" Quinn charged forward without warning. Tara spun around, slamming the brick into the redhead's face. She collapsed into the floor, choking out a few bloody teeth from her mouth. Detective Bailey, clearly irritated, raised his gun, preparing to shot at the girls. But just then, gunshots rang out from the other end of the room.

Kirby, surprisingly still alive, fired at the three Ghostfaces. Tara and Sam quickly stepped back as Bailey fell to the ground, hit, while Ethan ducked to the side and charged at Kirby, tackling her down.

"Recognize this?" he grinned maniacally, showing the woman the same knife she had been stabbed with in 2011 by Charlie Walker as he stabbed her once again.

"Fuck you!" she spat through clenched teeth

Iris rushed forward, bringing her brick up and slammed it into Ethan's head, knocking the boy to the side. "Leave her alone you fucker" The boy stumbled to the wall, groaning in pain.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Iris told Kirby, dropping to the woman's side. "But I'm gonna need to borrow this." She took the knife from her body, and Kirby let out a pained gasp. But her eyes showed nothing but understanding.

"Fuck him up." She told the girl, her voice ringing with determination. Iris nodded.

"What are you going to do with that bitch?" Ethan growled, leaning against a pillar as he clutched his head.

Iris shouted in anger and lunged at the boy, stabbing him right in the chest. She twisted the knife, digging even further into his skin. His eyes widened in shock as he let out a cry of pain. "You wanted to be like your big brother? Well now you get to die just like him too".

"Fuck you!" He shouted at her. "I'm going to fucking kill you, Iris!"

"You don't have what it takes". She pulled it out, only to stab him once again. "This is what happens when you threaten my girl, you fucking die."

"IRIS" Tara shouted at her to get her to move away from him. She made her move to leave but not before dragging the knife upwards, causing the boy to scream in agony.

"I'll come back for you, I promise!" She said to Kirby in apology as she passed the woman. Sam and Tara were climbing up the ladder, and Iris quickly followed them.

Iris spotted Tara climbing up the pipes. As the girl reached the top, she pushed aside the plastic sheeting that covered the first floor entrance and stepped onto the balcony, her heart racing. Tara turned around just in time to see Iris and Sam climbing up behind her, a wave of relief washing over her as she took in their presence.

Shortly after, Sam got into the first floor too and she lead the way across a row of empty seats that creaked underfoot. The dim light cast shadows around them as they navigated the abandoned floor. However, they soon encountered a section of the balcony they couldn't reach as it was blocked by a jumble of old furniture stacked high, creating an impassable barrier.

With no clear path ahead, they were forced to edge near the balcony's precipice. One misstep could send them plummeting down. Sam took the lead, her focus intense as she approached the edge. She carefully placed one foot on the inner railing and another on the outer one, her body tense with concentration as she maneuvered across the narrow ledge.

"Careful," Sam warned, her voice steady despite the danger, as she steadied her breathing before hopping off the railing.

Iris held onto the railing tightly, her heart pounding in her chest as she inched along the ledge. When she was close enough, Sam reached out, her grip firm and reassuring, helping Iris down with deliberate care. The adrenaline coursed through them as they exchanged glances, knowing they had to keep moving to stay safe. Now they turned around to help Tara.

A gunshot echoed through the building, and Tara let out a scream as she lost her balance and stumbled toward the edge. In a desperate move, she managed to grasp the railing for a brief moment, giving Iris just enough time to reach over and grasp Tara's hand tightly, preventing her from falling.

"I've got you," Iris panted, straining as she fought to pull Tara back to safety. She bit down on her bottom lip to stifle a groan, the pain from her open wound flaring sharply as blood trickled down her side.

Sam leaned over the edge, desperately placing her hands above Iris's to lend support, she refused to let her sister fall.

Blood smeared Sam's hands from the wound on her arm, making it increasingly difficult for Tara to maintain her grip as the slickness threatened to make her slip away.

"I can't. I can't hold on!" Tara cried, tears streaming down her face as she raised her left hand to grasp her sister's arms more firmly. But just as she did, her hand slipped, eliciting another desperate cry.

"We won't let you fall," Iris reassured her, panic tightening in her chest as she felt Tara's hand slip lower.

Bailey and Ethan's maniacal laughter could be heard from everywhere as they drew closer to Tara. Ethan clutched his chest in pain, Iris couldn't understand how he was still alive. He started swinging his knife mockingly as he taunted the shorter girl.

"I always wanted to stick something in you, Tara." Ethan screamed as he tried to stab her.

"Fuck you." Tara hissed.

"Fuck you." Ethan retorted as he jumped in an attempt to grab the girl.

Out of the corner of their eyes, Quinn showed up to their floor, her face covered in blood. Sam, Iris, and Tara all glanced at her silently.

"You guys are so fucked now!" Ethan screamed excitedly.

"Sam!" Tara shouted, her voice filled with desperation.

The two women looked down at her in horror as Quinn approached. "Let me go," Tara insisted.

"No!" Sam gasped, her eyes wide with fear.

"Are you crazy, Tara?" Iris shook her head, gripping Tara's hand tightly as her heart raced in her chest.

"Yeah, let her go, guys," Ethan urged, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come on!"

"Trust me," Tara pleaded, her gaze flickering to the knife tucked into Sam's pants, trying to convey her urgency. "You have to let me go."

Iris glanced at the knife tucked into Sam's pants and quickly understood Tara's plan, though she hesitated to let her go. Sensing her uncertainty, Tara locked eyes with the brunette, her expression pleading as she whispered, "Let me go baby."

Quinn advanced toward them, looking more unhinged than ever.

Sam passed her sister the knife and both of them let go of her at the same time, watching how Tara got stabbed by Ethan the minute she touched the ground. Iris let out a desperate shout as she turned around just in time to see Quinn running towards them.

She spotted a gun laying on the floor, she quickly grabbed it and aimed it at Quinn. Both Sam and Iris turned towards Tara to make sure she was okay.

Tara took the knife Sam gave to her and quickly plunged it into Ethan's mouth. She moved it down his throat as he choked on his own blood. Quinn looked down at her brother in horror, her hand trembling as she gripped the knife.

"Now die a fucking virgin." Tara said to Ethan darkly as she smirked.

"Looks like you're down another brother," Sam said innocently once Ethan stopped moving.

Quinn let out another scream and charged at her, but Iris was faster. She pulled the trigger, the bullet landing in her chest. Quinn hit the ground, shouting in pain. Sam and Iris moved towards her and stared the woman down.

Iris passed the gun to Sam "Wanna do the honors?"

"Please no no no... I don't wanna die" Quinn pleaded with desperate tears.

"Gladly" Sam grabbed the gun.

"Say hi to your brother" Iris muttered with a sick smile on her face as Sam pulled the trigger that ended with Quinn's life.

Detective Bailey stood shocked, his face a mixture of grief and rage as he stared down at the dead body of his daughter.

"I guess you're the last Ghostface left," Iris told him.

"Always gotta shoot them in the head," Sam added.

Pure rage crossed the detective's face, but he stood there waiting for their next move. Sam aimed the gun at him and pulled the trigger, but it clicked, they had no more bullets.

"You've got to be kidding me," Iris muttered as they watched Bailey running toward them as he also aimed his gun at them.

Sam effortlessly knocked the weapon aside while Iris punched the man in the face, causing him to stumble backward. Sam then pulled him close and, with a swift motion, threw him over the railing, sending them both crashing to the floor below.

Iris rushed down from the balcony to the theater floor. She saw Tara, with Ethan's blood all over her clothes, shaking Sam to wake her up, with Bailey unconscious on the ground next to her.

"Sam thank god" Tara muttered when she saw her sister starting to wake up.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, glancing down at her.

"No," Tara replied, her mascara smudged beneath her eyes. "Is he dead?"

"Not yet, always go for the head" Iris raised her knife ready to plunge it into Bailey's head before Sam stopped her.

"I have a better idea," Sam said as she pulled her cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans. She turned to her younger sister and offered her the phone.

"You want us to call him?" Tara asked, confusion in her voice as Iris took the phone.

Iris examined the device, gradually understanding Sam's plan. "A little bit of payback, it's time we are the ones to fuck them up"

"Sam, make sure he suffers," was the last thing her sister said before Sam grabbed her father's cloak and mask and dashed down the stairs.

"Are you sure about this?" Tara turned to Iris as they both stared at the phone once they were left alone and they finally had a small moment of quietness.

"Absolutely, I mean the worst thing that could happen is that we die".

"You're such a fucking idiot, I can't believe I'm in love with you" Tara shook her head in amusement, even at the worst moment, Iris still found ways to be annoying.

"I love you too darling, now ready to slice one more motherfucker?"

"Fuck yeah"

When Detective Bailey finally regained consciousness, he found himself sprawled on the splintered remains of a shattered wooden table. He struggled to sit up, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him as his ears rang with a dull, persistent thrum.

As he blinked away the haze, the faint sounds of a movie played in the background, the projection flickering against the walls. It was the film Richie had made, its dialogue a distant murmur that barely registered in his mind. He glanced around the room, disoriented, and tried to make sense of his surroundings.

Wincing at the pain that shot through him, he pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled forward, limping slightly, with his gun still secured in his hand. Just then, the sudden sound of his phone ringing jolted him back to reality, the beeping and buzzing coming from his pocket.

With a heavy huff, he reached into his pocket, wincing at the effort, and finally pulled out his phone. He pressed it to his ear, uncertainty creeping into his mind as he answered the call.

"Hello, Detective Bailey," the familiar voice of Ghostface sneered from the other end. "I have a question for you."

"Oh, really?" the detective scoffed, walking toward the stage. "And what's that?"

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

Bailey let out a chuckle, incredulous at the audacity of the call. "Favorite scary movie...?"

"I'm asking because you're in one right now. You're in our movie."

The detective fired his gun, but his shots struck nothing but the mannequins scattered around the room. As he scanned the area, his eyes landed on one particular mannequin, Billy Loomis's, stripped of its cloak and mask.

He let out a laugh. "Ah, I see you've put on your true face, huh? Your birthright. Poetic, that you're gonna die in it."

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

The detective fired again, thinking that he finally got to Sam but instead he only shot at another mannequin. "Now you know the truth, huh? Murder's in your blood." He scanned the room, growing increasingly furious. "Now stop fucking around and show yourself!"

"Be careful what you wish for,".

"I'm a fucking police officer." He shouted. "How do you think this is gonna go? Who do you think they're gonna believe, huh?"

He could hear a sick laughter. "Probably the one who's still alive."

The detective screamed in anger, as now he was the one being taunted. He turned around as the new Ghostface appeared and his eyes widened in fear.

"No, no!" The detective screamed, as he was attacked. Sam relentlessly stabbed him in every inch of skin she could have access to. Not even his cries of mercy were enough to stop her.

Finally, the man drop to the floor, where he choked on his own blood, hands pressed against the wound on his neck.

Ghostface pulled off the mask, revealing Sam, who glared down at the detective, her head tilted as she raised her hand ready to kill him off. But before she could act, the curtains behind her rustled open, and Tara and Iris stepped onto the theater floor.

Tara looked at her sister in disbelief, while Iris stood with her phone in hand, whistling in awe at what Sam had just done.

"Damn girl"

"My father was a murderer. No matter what you think, I'm better then that." Sam stated.

The detective gasped, desperation in his voice as he could feel the blood pouring from his body. "Thank you," he choked in relief. "Thank you."

Tara stared at Sam in disbelief, while Iris tilted her head, as if questioning, *Does this bitch really think?* The three shared a knowing glance.

A smirk danced across Sam's lips as she redirected her attention to the detective.

"But you did fuck with our family, so..." She grabbed the detective by the back of his neck, and she stab him right in the eye. Not soon after he fell into the floor unmoving forever.

Tara glanced at his body and nodded impressed at her sister's work "...Nice."

Sam returned the nod, her breath coming in heavy puffs. "Thanks."

Iris patted Sam's shoulder as she softly chuckled. "Can you believe this bitch truly thought you would let him live? Man that's hilarious"

Sam glanced at the two girls. "You guys okay?"

"No"

"Fuck no"

"Fair enough"

Tara and Iris made their way down the creaky staircase, then settled onto the steps to rest as they waited for Sam to join them.

"I can't believe we dodged death twice by now" Iris exhaled "we are like cockroaches"

Tara laughed silently "Finally it's over"

"If you look at it, it wasn't that bad"

Tara looked at her like she was insane "I mean yeah they tried to kill us but because of that now I have a girlfriend, and also they are dead so if you ask me it's a win win"

"Girlfriend?" Tara asked, a smirk on her face. "I assume you're not talking about me."

"What...?" Iris stammered.

"Because for me to be your girlfriend, you'd actually have to ask me."

"Well then..."

Tara cut her off. "And you definitely can't ask me now. It has to be romantic."

"Why? Don't you think being in a murder theater is romantic enough?" Iris teased.

"Keep joking like that, and you'll be single for the rest of your life."

"Geez, so bossy," Iris shot back with a grin. "I wonder where else—"

Just then, Sam appeared and slapped Iris on the head. "That's my sister you perv!"

"Ow! I can't believe you just punched me!"

"I feel like you don't get punched enough," Sam replied as she settled down beside them. "So, you two are finally a thing?"

The two girls exchanged soft smiles, intertwining their fingers. "Yes."

"So I take it it was Tara who confessed first?"

"Wh... I mean, yeah, but why would you assume that?" Iris feigned offense.

"No offense, Iris, but you're a pussy when it comes to this stuff."

"Hey!"

"She's kind of right, though."

"Well, now you're just being a traitor, love."

"Honestly, I'm really happy for both of you," Sam said warmly.

"Does this mean I have your approval?" Iris joked, knowing Sam couldn't imagine anyone better for Tara.

"Of course," Sam replied with a smile, looking at her sister and at the girl she was sure she would call her sister too one day. "But it also means I want the door open at all times."

"We're not twelve!"

"Absolutely not," they both protested in unison, leading to a shared laugh among the three of them.

After some moment of silence Tara spoke again. "Thank you guys for letting me go."

"I knew you could take care of yourself," Sam said fairly and then in a more softer tone added. "I want to be in your life, but only as much as you want me to be.

The youngest Carpenter let out a tiny grin. "I want you to be. I promise you both I'm gonna get so much therapy after this,"

They laughed as Iris wrapped an arm around her girl. "Finally"

Tara nudged her playfully as she intertwined their fingers, staring at both Iris and Sam. "We're gonna get through this, together".

Out of nowhere, Ethan came out from the darkness, charging at them with a fierce scream. Their eyes widened in shock and fear as he closed in with his knife raised ready to attack.

An old television crashed down on top of him, ensuring he would never rise again. Ethan let out choked sounds from beneath the weight before finally going limp.

Sam, Tara, and Iris stared in horror before their eyes shifted to Kirby, who was limping towards them, wearing a smirk. "I saw that in a scary movie once."

Suddenly, the theater doors burst open as police flooded in. Danny led the way, his expression softening with immense relief when he spotted Sam. He stumbled forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as he caught his breath.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face as he scanned her features.

Sam smiled gently at him. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"I thought you might need some reinforcements. I called the hospital and Mindy and Gale are gonna be okay. Mindy's on her way here right now; they couldn't stop her."

Tara gave the man a soft smile. "Not bad, cute boy."

He smiled back. "Thanks."

"I approve" Iris mouthed to Sam as she smiled at them.

Iris approached Kirby slowly, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her as they made their way outside for help.

"I'm sorry," Iris said, feeling ashamed for not trusting the blonde woman.

Kirby smiled at her. "It's okay, Iris. You did the right thing."

"Still, I'm sorry. I promise I won't accuse you of murder again."

Kirby laughed, wincing in pain. "God, you're just like your sister, you owe me a coffee." They exchanged warm smiles before they carefully helped Kirby onto a stretcher.

Outside, a crowd had gathered around the police's bright yellow caution tape. Various doctors tended to the injured girls, and thankfully, none had severe wounds that required extensive treatment; they only needed stitches and bandages.

As Kirby was wheeled toward the ambulance, the paramedics paused in front of the vehicle, allowing her a moment to say goodbye to the three girls.

"If you ever need me, call. We're all part of the same fucked up family now. And legacy doesn't always have to be a bad thing. Okay?"

They all smiled weakly at her but Iris looked down for a moment and sniffled lightly. Kirby turned to her with a soft look.

"Hey."

"It's just-" her voice broke, "Chad. We couldn't save him".

"Hey, we've got another one here!"

The girls turned to see medics carrying a familiar figure out of the theater on a stretcher as they wheeled him toward an ambulance.

"Chad!"

The girls rushed to his side. "You're alive!" Tara exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears as she gently touched his shoulder.

"How the fuck are you not dead?" Iris said, her voice laced with happiness as she grabbed tightly his hand.

The boy put up his hand weakly, five fingers splayed out.

"Core fucking five". Iris laughed before she took the boy's mask off, it seemed like he wanted to talk.

"Don't tell me you guys were crying for me" Chad spoke really quietly as he had trouble doing so.

"Absolutely not," he laughed at the comment, though the sound quickly shifted to a faint groan of pain.

Iris quickly put his mask on with a sheepish smile. "Sorry dude you probably need that".

"Oh my god! Oh my god, are you guys okay?" They turned as a familiar voice approached them, and Mindy skidded to a stop in front of the girls. She clutched her side, where a series of white bandages wrapped around her waist. "I know who the killer is. It's Ethan and Bailey."

Sam smiled fondly at the girl's worried expression. "And Quinn."

"Quinn too? Fuck!" Mindy exclaimed. "Did I miss the monologue again?"

Her eyes fell to her brother's injured figure. "Are you okay?" She asked her brother, before her eyes turned to the other three girls. "Are you okay? You guys don't look okay." She rambled as she followed the workers who wheeled Chad up to the ambulance. "Omg, we all survived. It's a twist and a twist; they gave me a lot of drugs, by the way."

Before she could leave with her brother, she turned to Iris. "I saw Anika" she smiled softly at them. "She's asking for you, you better go visit her"

"I will, I promise," Iris said with a fond smile as she watched her best friend get into the ambulance on their way to the hospital. Meanwhile, Sam headed over to Danny, who was waiting for her at the corner. As she turned around, she noticed Tara already watching her.

"What"

"Nothing, I just... I can't believe we're okay," Tara said, stepping closer as she wrapped her uninjured arm around Iris's neck. "We can finally live our lives in peace again."

"A peaceful life with you sounds like a dream come true," Iris replied, pressing her lips to Tara's forehead while wrapping her arms around her waist, pulling her even closer.

"You're my dream come true," Tara said, but immediately made a face after realizing how sappy it sounded. "Disgusting that was way too cheesy".

"Says the girl who wrote me a letter confessing how much she loves me,"

"Shut up! I take it back," Tara shot back, her cheeks flushing.

"You can't! I'm sorry, I don't make the rules," Iris laughed, enjoying Tara's mock annoyance.

Before Tara could respond, Iris leaned in, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss that silenced all the teasing and wrapped them both in a moment of warmth and relief.

"How do you think Mindy and Chad are going to react when they find out we're together?" Iris asked, a playful grin spreading across her face.

"Oh, they're going to go absolutely insane," Tara replied, bursting into laughter at the thought.

"Did you know they have a bet going on with Sam?"

"Jesus even Sam?"

"Yeah"

"I fucking hate them"

The two shared a moment of laughter, imagining their friends' over-the-top reactions.

"I love you, Tara," Iris said softly, her tone sincere as she looked into Tara's eyes.

"I love you too, Iris," Tara replied, her heart swelling with affection. She pulled Iris closer, savoring the moment.

They walked side by side toward a group of police officers ready to take their statements when Iris's phone suddenly began to ring. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she pulled it from her pocket. Upon seeing the caller ID, her eyes widened in horror.

"What happened?" Tara asked, glancing at her with concern.

"My mother," Iris whispered, a note of panic creeping into her voice.

"Oh," Tara squeezed her hand for support. "Good luck, you're fucked".

Iris took a deep breath and answered the call. "Hey, Mom!" she said, forcing a cheerfulness she didn't feel.

"Iris, baby, I saw the news!" her mother exclaimed, her voice filled with concern.

"What news?" Iris feigned ignorance, stealing a glance at Tara, who raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"They caught two Ghostfaces in some abandoned theater in New York!" her mother continued, clearly distressed.

"Well, actually, there were three," Iris replied, trying to inject some humor into the situation. "They're innovating, you know."

A heavy silence hung on the line as it sank in that she had just made things worse.

“Iris, please tell me you weren’t there,”

“Well, Mom, let me hold your hand when I tell you this…”

“IRIS!

[euphoricdr3ams]

Untitled (4/?)

A simple game night turns into something deeper when Y/N loses more than just rounds of Smash Bros. With each defeat, the pressure of perfection, family wounds, and fear of being left behind start to unravel her. But Felix sees through it all — past the jokes, past the anger — and refuses to let her spiral alone.

genres: written, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst,unrequited love, senior year (highschool), felix and Y/N are aged up to 17, pre-debut,

Trigger Warning: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Protected Sex, Cursing, Underaged Drinking

Word count: 5,615

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

You set up Smash Bros next. Same old rules — loser takes a shot. Several rounds in, and it's loss after loss. Each one stings more than the last, a sick kind of symbolism that’s hitting a little too close right now. You take a deep breath, aware of Felix watching you quietly, sensing the way your sanity is starting to fray at the edges. But your frustration is peaking — not just with the game, but everything. Your mom. Your future. Your dad. The growing fear that Nana, Gramps, Hana, Faith, your friends — even Felix — might all leave you behind. Just like Kirby flying off-screen in sudden death. Gone. No warning.

It’s all too much. You want to be great, but your fingers aren’t syncing with your mind. You’re here, but you’re not.

And you snap.

You throw your controller and hits the wall with a loud, sharp crack.

“I can’t get anything right. Fuck—of course. The permanent disappointment.”

Felix freezes, wide-eyed. You’ve rage quit before — but this? This was different.

“We should take a break,” he says softly, putting down his controller and turning off the TV.

“No, it’s fine,” you say quickly. You footsteps are heavy as you go to pick up the Gamecube controller on the other side of the room. “It has to be fine. Let’s go again—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts, voice firmer this time. He grabs the controller out of your hands and puts it on the table. “Is that really what you want? Is that really how you feel about yourself?”

You freeze. Your jaw tightens as you struggle to come up with an answer. Truthfully, you don’t think much of yourself at all. Some days, you feel invisible. Other days, you’re convinced you’re too much — too loud, too lost, too messy to be loved the way you need. Today? You just feel like a failure. Ugly, unmotivated, disgusting. A mistake your father never really wanted.

Felix shifts closer.

“Be real with me,” he says, scooting closer. “I know you like to be perfect for everyone. But it’s me. I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to be you.”

His hand finds yours, thumb tracing soft, steady circles. You don’t even realize how hard you’ve been gripping him until the ache in your fingers sets in. Slowly, the tension in your body begins to release. Your shoulders drop. Your breath evens out.

The shame spiral fades — but in its place comes something quieter. Heavier.

Emptiness.

And something inside you finally breaks.

Maybe it’s the dim lighting. Maybe it’s the drinks. Or maybe it’s just him — the quiet steadiness of him.

Your eyes burn. Tears swell.

“We don’t have time for this,” you whisper, voice cracking. “We won’t have many nights like this anymore. I don’t want all our memories to be about whatever’s falling apart in my life again. So yeah — let’s just have fun.”

But Felix doesn’t move away.

“We won’t have many nights like this anymore,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “where we can be completely open... and trust that the other person actually sees us. Cares without some ulterior motive.”

He squeezes your hand gently.

“I’m leaning into this. Because this? This is precious to me.”

You let the single tear fall.

“I… I’m okay. I promise. Just—today was rough,” you say, trying to hold your breath steady. “You’d think I’d stop expecting something different, but it’s always the same. Every time.”

Felix’s voice cuts through the room like a knife. “What did he say?”

There’s a disgust in his tone that makes your head lift slightly, startled—but not surprised. He already knew.

Of course he did.

Felix had never liked your dad. Not since he bailed on your art show right after your mom passed. Not since he remarried and acted like you were just an awkward footnote in his shiny new family.

Felix never understood why you still cared. Why did you keep trying? Why did you hold out hope that one day, maybe, he'd look at you and see someone worth rooting for.

But he never said much. He held his tongue. For you.

Because he knew that, no matter how broken the man left you feeling, his approval still meant something. Still hurt to go without.

Still mattered.

Felix exhaled, his jaw tense, like he was chewing on the rage behind his teeth. “You know,” he said, quieter now, “you remind me of Jasmine sometimes. From Aladdin.”

You blink at him, confused.

“Because one day,” he continues, “I know you’re gonna look that man in the eye and tell him exactly what he deserves to hear. And when you do? It’s gonna be legendary.”

“I actually have a picture of me and Mom meeting her,” you say softly, your voice thick with the weight of memory. “I wish I could go back. I miss her so much.”

Felix doesn’t respond with words — just inches closer and pulls you into his arms.

His hug is quiet but solid. Grounding. You don’t try to fight it. You just let yourself fall into the stillness. Curled up with him on the couch, the world finally goes quiet. So does your mind.

He plays with your curls — the ones he’s always loved. He wished your wore them out more often — and traces soft lines up and down your arms.

For a moment, nothing exists except the sound of your quiet crying and the unspoken truth sitting heavy in the room.

“I know,” he says gently. “It must’ve been awful. Him being so dismissive of something that was literally made for her. I’m sorry. You deserved better than that. You always will. And no matter what happens—” he hesitates, “I’m not going to leave you.”

“I know,” you whisper. Then, with a watery laugh: “That’s why I didn’t wanna cry, but you did this to me.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, lips twitching at your joke. “Yeah, well. You needed to cry. You can’t keep carrying all this on your own.”

The warmth in his gaze, the closeness of his hand still resting on your back, the soft lighting — everything about this moment feels fragile and fleeting. Like something borrowed from a dream.

So you take the leap.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his, unsure if it’s the comfort, the pain, the alcohol, or just you — finally wanting something for yourself.

Felix doesn’t hesitate. He kisses you back like it’s the only thing that makes sense in the chaos of the moment. Like he’s been waiting.

And for a second, it’s easy to forget everything else.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, brushing your fingers under your eyes. “That was random.”

Felix lets out a soft laugh, but there's something tender in his eyes — something a little sad. He wishes you hadn’t pulled away from the weight of the moment, but he gets it. You’ve always had a habit of diversion. 

“I actually got you something today,” you say quickly, standing up and fumbling with your phone to put some music on the speakers — something easy, something nostalgic.

He tilts his head. “What? You got me something?”

You disappear for a moment and come back with a small box  in your hand. You sit beside him again and carefully place the compass in his palm.

“It’s a compass,” you explain. “And on the back… it has our names, and the coordinates of the game club where we first met.”

Felix’s fingers run over the engraving, his jaw tight. You watch his face shift — the quiet recognition in his eyes, the weight of everything left unsaid crashing into the present.

He doesn’t say anything at first.

You almost speak again, try to fill the silence, but he finally breathes out, voice a little shaky, “This is… this is probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me.”

He pulls you into a hug — tight, warm, a little desperate — like he wants to press pause on time.

When he pulls back, he holds your hands in his, thumbs brushing lightly over your knuckles. “I’m serious,” he says, looking straight at you. “I’ll hold onto this forever. And I want you to know… I know a lot’s going to change soon, but I’m not going to leave you behind. I care about you, Y/N. So much.”

Your smile softens, and without even thinking, you lift your pinky and tap his hand twice — the little hand sign you both made back on the playground, years ago, when you promised you’d never stop being friends no matter what.

Felix swallows hard, a flicker of something else in his eyes — like he wants to say more. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he whispers, “You always know how to make me feel like I’m home.”

And silently, he’s screaming at himself for not being brave enough to tell you the truth.

You both switch into your PJs, laughing and joking as you finish your third bottle of soju. Somewhere between the laughter and the warmth of the room, you start to reflect — on Hana’s words, on Felix’s presence, on how he’s always been there. Safe. Supportive. A quiet constant in your life. You’re only just beginning to realize how much that means to you.

Felix slips the compass into his bag while you keep the energy light. Something about getting those feelings out earlier seems to have shifted something. Now you’re giggling over UNO, working through your fourth bottle of soju, and everything feels easy again. Comforting.

Felix can feel the change too. He notices how your once-frozen demeanor has melted into soft laughter, lit up by the spark in his own eyes. It’s all so simple, and the words you said earlier — “we don’t have many more nights like this” — echo in his head. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure, knowing the next move will end the game. He doesn’t want any of this to end.

You see the draw four card staring back at you. You stick your tongue out and laugh wickedly.

“What?” Felix furrows his brow.

“You see the cards. Pick up the four.” You smirk, already feeling your win coming.

Felix sticks his tongue back out at you, getting ready for his fake victory lap — only for his face to drop as you slam your own draw four on top of his.

“Pick up eight,” you cackle, full-on belly laughing until tears roll down your face.

“I don’t wanna play anymore,” Felix groans, but he’s laughing too. Your chest hurts from how hard you’re laughing. You stumble up and walk toward the room, only to see a text from Faith:

Bestiiiieeee: Hey are y’all coming rrrrrrrrr nahhhhh?

You call out, “Did you still wanna go to that party Faith is hosting?” Secretly hoping he says no.

While Felix usually lives for a good party — any chance to show off his social butterfly charm — he looks up and sees how at ease you are, curls perfectly resting, cheeks flushed from laughter, and the room so warm and familiar. He tosses logic aside and leans into the moment.

“Nah, I’m good. Unless you wanna go… but considering you’re, like, two steps from your room, I don’t think you’re heading in there to change into a backyard party outfit.”

“I mean, I could. We’re young, wild, and free.” You sway a little, tipsy. “Let’s not be boring!”

“It’s 45 degrees outside. And raining.”

“Oh, no. F*** that. I’m putting on my PJs.”

Felix laughs — full, easy laughter. He thought he’d have to convince you to stay in, but of course not. That’s why this works. That’s why you’re close. You know each other.

You grab your phone and reply to Faith:

Y/N: Heyyyy I'm gonna passss, Felix and I are hanging at Nana's for the night. I think he's gonna stayyyy???

Bestiiiieeee: o.000 ohhhhhhh ok. He’s been around a lot more. You sure there’s nothing going on?

Y/N: ewwwwww it’s Lix, don’t play like that

Bestiiiieeee: lmaooooo sureeee. Y’all be safe please 😉 I’ll call you sometime this weekend for the recap.

As you're changing, you can’t help but feel the rush creeping in—first from Faith’s not-so-subtle text, then from your own spiraling thoughts. It’s the same flutter you felt when Hana brought it up weeks ago. Felix is your friend. There's no reason to escalate things… but lately, things with him have felt so much more intense.

You wonder, Is there really ever a right moment? Or a right person? Maybe it’s just about the feeling. And right now, Felix feels like the right guy.

You slip on your nightshirt and shorts and walk back out to hand him the set of clothes he keeps over. Then you duck back into the hallway to give him a little privacy.

While he changes, Felix glances around your room—your real room—and takes in all the things that scream you. Your creativity is on display across every wall: photos, sketches, concert tickets, quotes you scribbled in the corner of a mirror. His eyes land on a picture of the two of you from two summers ago, laughing in the middle of some inside joke. It all feels warmer now. Different.

He tries to keep it together, but it’s getting harder. His feelings for you have been complicated for a while now—something about the way you trust him, how you move through the world together like it’s the most natural thing. Somewhere along the line, he realized he probably has a crush on you. And now, it’s a war in his head: should he say something, or keep pretending it’s nothing?

His thoughts are interrupted when you come back in, slightly tipsy, flopping dramatically onto the bed with a giggle. It’s all so cute. So fucking cute to him.

He slides under the sheets beside you, the air between you growing heavier.

Maybe it’s the drinks. Maybe it’s the silence. But instead of grabbing a pillow, you reach for Felix.

And he lets you.

Your body fits perfectly against his, like a puzzle you’ve both been quietly avoiding. He strokes your curls gently, carefully, like you might shatter if he touched too hard. His gaze lingers—on the crescent shape your eyes make when you laugh, the way your skin glows in the low light, how your lips look soft and impossibly kissable.

He tries to keep his eyes respectful, he really does—but then they drift lower.

The swell of your chest rises and falls, steady and slow. Not too much. Not too little. Just enough to fill his hand.

Or his mouth, a reckless voice whispers in his head.

Felix blinks, trying to shake the thought, but it lingers. Sticky. Dangerous.

The room feels too warm. The R&B music playing through the speaker pulls him back to the present, grounding him just enough to remember: You’re his friend. Not his girlfriend. No matter how blurry things have gotten. No matter how many stolen kisses you’ve shared when the alcohol makes everything feel softer, easier.

He inhales slowly. Tries to focus on the beat. The rhythm of your breath.

But it doesn’t help.

Because in the quiet, everything he’s trying to push down gets louder.

His fingers drift across your arm, careful and slow. And suddenly, something in you clicks. 

“Hey,” you say softly, “do you remember that convo we had the other day?”

He shifts gaze now fully on yours. “What convo?”

“The one about sex.”

Felix sits up slightly, more alert. “Yeah. Not exactly our usual topic, so… yeah, I remember.”

You study his face, the comfort of his presence, the familiar tension that’s grown too obvious to ignore. “Are you still down?”

He blinks. “When?”

You roll your eyes. He knows what you mean. He knows.

“Now.”

Felix swallows, hard. “Seriously?”

You nod, not breaking eye contact. “Yeah. I trust you more than I trust anyone else. And with everything you’ve been for me lately i am, I just… I want it to be with someone I care about deeply, you know?”

He stays quiet for a beat. Then—“Yeah,” he says softly. “I care about you so much. And if you’re okay with it… I want to show you that.”

“I am.”

You lean in, and your lips meet.

The kiss starts soft—sweet, careful, like a question. But this time, you don’t pull away. And this time, Felix doesn’t hold back.

You pause only for breath, eyes fluttering open just long enough to catch the flicker of something in his expression. Like wonder. Like hunger. And then he kisses you again, deeper this time, cupping your face like you might disappear if he lets go.

It builds slowly, deliberately, with every stroke of his thumb and graze of his lips. He’s studying you, adjusting, learning. The room feels warmer—your skin, flushed. His touch, reverent.

You think you open your mouth to take in air, but instead, a soft, involuntary moan slips out—so full, so unfiltered it surprises even you.

And that? That’s when Felix completely loses it. The last shred of self-control he was holding onto vanishes.

“Sorry—” you start, embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” he cuts in, voice low and wrecked. “That was so hot. Let me make you do it again.”

He kisses you again, and your hands find their way under his shirt. His skin is soft, warm, and firm beneath your fingertips—his “idol” body slowly coming in, carved and perfect. Your hands are everywhere at once, chasing sensation, craving closeness.

Your moans get louder, less controlled. Felix has one hand on your cheek, the other somehow slipping under your shirt. You don’t even know when it happened, but you don’t care. Not when he’s making you feel this good.

“Fuck,” you whimper as he begins to kiss your neck, lifting your shirt just enough to see your hardened nipples.

He takes one into his mouth, and your body arches. It’s heaven. He teases one side with his tongue, then circles to the other with slow, calculated movements. Gentle. No biting. Just pressure. Pleasure. He’s clearly done his research—and tonight, he’s praying it works.

Because all he wants to hear is you. Your sweet, broken moans.

He pauses just long enough to flash you a smug little smirk.

You roll your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs playfully, grinning. “Just nice to know,I know how to make you feel good.”

There’s something about the way he says it. Something about this moment. It feels natural. Meant to be.

“You wanna keep going?” he asks, fingers now tugging lightly at the tie on your shorts. He leans close, whispering the words into your ear—and you can feel just how hard he is under his sweatpants.

A soft kiss lands on your neck, and you let out a breathy, “Yes.”

Felix doesn’t waste time. He undoes the drawstring of your shorts and slips his hand inside. His fingers slide through your slick warmth, and he groans.

“Fuck… you’re so wet.”

“Well,” you whisper, teasing, “whose fault is that?”

You want to keep playing the game—hold onto your cool—but he starts rubbing slow, purposeful circles on your clit, and it’s getting harder to keep up the boss-girl facade he’s already dismantling.

“Mine,” he mutters. “Keep going. I wanna drown in you right now.”

He increases the pressure just slightly, just enough to make your hips buck. You bite your lip, grasping for any sort of release from the overwhelming tension building inside you.

Every inch of you is buzzing, unraveling.

“Fuck. Oh my god.”

You pull his shirt down, needing him closer, needing him to kiss you again. He obliges, lips warm against yours, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“Can I push in now?”

“Please.”

Felix starts with just his index finger, watching your reaction closely. He's tipsy, but his focus is all on you. He doesn't want to mess this up. He knows how important this moment is.

He waits for any sign of discomfort, but instead, you let out a frustrated little moan. “More,” you whine. It's too gentle—it’s not enough.

He chuckles, amused. “No problem.”

At some point, your shorts have disappeared. You didn’t even feel him take them off. Now, he slips two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly. Your wetness is spilling over, coating his fingers, and he’s mesmerized. Your pussy is pulsing in front of him and he just stares, captivated.

It’s one thing to see it in porn. This? This is different. It’s real, and it’s beautiful.

“You sound so sexy,” he murmurs, eyes still fixed on you. “I just wanna see how you taste once. I know it’s gonna be so good.”

“Then don’t have me waiting, Yongbok. Fuck. Oh my god—”

He gives your clit one single, teasing kiss.

“MMMHMMM, God,” you cry out.

You taste like heaven, like sugar and sin, and now it’s all over. Felix goes in with his tongue, licking and sucking like he hasn’t eaten in days. You grab at his hair, pulling it back so you can see him. He’s worshipping you—your pussy, your moans, your body—and it’s so fucking hot you can barely breathe.

He pauses for just a moment, lifting his head for air.

“You okay down there?” you manage between your ragged breaths.

“I’m amazing. How are you?” he says smugly, using his fingers to spread you open again, going right back in like he’s got a mission to finish. And he does: making you cum on his tongue.

You thank the universe that no one else is home. The sounds you're making are downright obscene. But he doesn’t care. It’s perfect.

“Hmm? I didn’t get an answer,” he teases.

“Mhh… Memreurwurbw—”

“What was that?” He grins, still teasing.

“Miehreiheanfemfan—” you mumble again, before he slips his fingers back inside you, cutting your words off completely.

You're grinding down onto his hand, and the noises between your bodies are wet, sticky, loud. His tongue swirls just right, sucking your clit into his mouth at the exact angle that makes your toes curl. You feel your climax coming, fast and overwhelming. Your thighs start to shake.

He doesn’t stop. Not even for a second. And then—you break. Your back arches. Your moans are loud, unfiltered. You come undone completely, pulsing on his tongue, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a cry.

When you look down at him, he’s got that same smug look again, eyes twinkling with pride.

He chuckles. “I don’t know what that sound was. Is that code for thank you?”

You shoot him a look, still breathless. “Lix… fuck you.”

You try to sound annoyed, but you’re laughing. You don’t want to admit it, but he did exactly what he set out to do.

You sit up slightly, reaching into the drawer beside you and pulling out the condoms Hana left behind. You shake your head with a tiny smile. Of course she knew.

He catches you grinning. “What?”

“Nothing. Just… she’s gonna be so smug.”

Your eyes drift to his sweatpants—and yeah, that’s definitely a tent. Your breath catches when you realize just how big he is. You let out a small, nervous laugh.

He raises an eyebrow. “What? Does my dick look weird?”

“No. I’m just shocked you’re that big.”

He laughs, pulling you closer. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

You hand him the condom, but your fingers linger. Instead of giving it to him right away, you shift, leaning down slightly. You start to play with it in your hands, teasing, before gently wrapping your hand around him. He props himself up on his elbows, eyes fluttering shut as you start to stroke him.

And then—you take him into your mouth.

You gather some extra spit, let it drip, and go even deeper, humming around him.

“Ufrhugjmgri—fuck, babe—aihfiefm—”

Felix’s words are broken, scrambled. He knows he probably shouldn’t be calling you babe… but fuck it. This moment? It’s unreal. You, with that sharp mouth of yours, now using it for the exact opposite of arguing—giving him the kind of pleasure he’s only dreamed about.

His dick is throbbing, hard and alive, pulsing against your tongue. You can feel his heartbeat in it.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him. “Am I doing this right?”You’re nervous. His moans were softer than expected, more fragile than filthy, and you weren’t sure what that meant.

But he reaches out and cups your cheek, his cock still warm in your mouth. “Yes,” he breathes. “You’re doing so good.”

He gathers your curls in his hands, gently pulling them out of the way so he can see your face. “Keep going, babe.”

Something about the praise—his voice, his eyes, his touch—it sends a jolt of confidence through you. You suck him deeper, bobbing your head, working him with your tongue and lips. His moans are getting louder, more desperate. He’s not holding back anymore. They’re raw, animalistic—like he'd give you anything you asked for in this moment.

He grips the sheets with one hand, your hair with the other. His abs tense. His hips jerk slightly forward.

But then, just as he’s getting close, he pulls you off him, breathless. “I’m gonna cum if you keep that up any longer.”

You watch as he tears open the condom wrapper, sliding it down over his length with practiced hands. He climbs over you and gently adjusts your position, making sure you’re comfortable on the bed. A pillow under your head. A kiss on your lips. And then—his fingers again. Just to make sure you’re ready. He stretches you gently, watching you.

When he pulls his fingers out, he looks you dead in the eyes.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Your body, your mind, your soul—everything wants him right now. And nothing's going to stop that.

He slips inside your wet folds, slowly. Your eyes widen. He’s… bigger than the dildo you tried once during a moment of curiosity. But thicker too. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but his fingers are on your clit, rubbing slowly, easing you into it.

“Fuck—oh my god,” you gasp, clutching the bedsheets. Your moans break up your breath, and before you even realize it, he’s fully inside you.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Move.”

Felix starts with slow thrusts, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. But all he sees is how your body’s reacting—how wet you are, how your moans grow messier, louder, more desperate with every stroke. Your pussy tightens around him, clenching so sweetly he swears he might black out.

You’re sending him. Every little sound you make is burning into his brain. And you look unreal—so beautiful like this, taking him, wanting him.

“F-fuck yes,” he pants. He finds a rhythm that syncs with the beat of the song playing in the background, and it drives him insane.

“Please… more.” He smirks.

You’re slipping around him so easily, soaking the sheets beneath you. The headboard is knocking against the wall. You’re perfect. The way you take him is perfect.

“Shit,” he groans. “You’re so perfect. Tell me—how am I doing? Tell me how you want me. I’ll do anything for this body. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Deeper.”

He pushes in further, slowing his thrusts so you feel everything—every inch, every vein dragging against your walls.

“Like that?”

You try to respond, but it’s just a string of sounds, breathless and broken.

“Huh?” he teases, thrusting deeper. “Use your words. How do you want me to make you cum?”

“it’s so good. Shit.”

“Flip over. I’ll make it even better.”

Before you can process, he’s bent you over the mattress. Your ass in the air, hair gently adjusted by him using the mirror nearby. He slides back in and grabs your waist, thrusting so deep that all you can say is:

“Yes, please. Oh my god. More.”

He lifts your head so you’re looking at your reflection. “Look at yourself. It’s beautiful.” He kisses you again. “My perfect view.”

You can feel it building—your orgasm, rising fast. The music, the bed, the heat, all of it blurring together. That spot he keeps hitting? It’s going to push you over the edge any second now.

“Shit, I’m—” Your words crash into a moan.

Your ass is clapping against him, the bed creaking under the pressure. He could fuck you through the mattress and neither of you would care. The moment’s too hot. Too real.

He pulls out again, flips you onto your back, and stares into your eyes as he sinks back in. This time, his thrusts are fast, erratic—hungry.

“Lix” you gasp. “I think I’m gonna.”

Felix kisses you, shifts his angle just slightly—and that’s it. Your moan rips out of your throat, full of need, full of surrender.

“Fuck yeah, babe,” he groans. “Cum on my dick. I know you can.”

His fingers rub your clit while his lips kiss your neck, dragging you closer and closer.

“Shit—oh my god—”

You come harder than you ever have. Your body trembles, your voice catches, and for a second, nothing else exists.

He’s still moving, still inside you, whispering praises.

“Perfect. You’re so perfect. So wet. So cute. So fucking nasty.”

His thrusts get sloppy, his moans lower, drawn out. You’re touching him everywhere—his hair, his back, his chest—pulling him closer.

Then he grunts, his cock throbbing, and you feel the heat of his release pumping into the condom. He collapses gently against you, both of you breathless.

He pulls out slowly, and you glance at the condom, giggling. It's full.

“Wow.”

“Yeah… You okay?” he asks, eyes soft now.

You nod, still catching your breath. “Yeah. I’m amazing. That was… amazing. Thank you, Felix.”

He grins, brushing your hair from your face. “It was everything I’ve ever wanted. Thank you, Y/N.”

Felix kisses you and walks off to the bathroom. You follow not long after, taking your turn to clean up, still buzzing from the afterglow. When you step back into the room, he’s already back in his sweats, shirtless, hair a little messy from your hands. He’s looking at the starry light display on the ceiling, face soft and unreadable in the dim glow.

You glance around for your clothes.

“It’s here,” he says, quietly, holding up your shirt and shorts.

You chuckle, padding over to him. “Thanks.”

You dress in silence, but it’s not awkward. Just... full. Heavy with something neither of you are quite ready to name. You crawl into bed beside him, both of you lying on your backs now, watching the stars dance across the ceiling. The silence feels sacred. Safe.

“It’s two a.m.,” you murmur. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah,” he says. But he doesn’t close his eyes.

A few beats pass, and then, “Y/N, I won’t ever leave you. Thank you. You mean everything to me.”

You turn toward him, your heart expanding all at once. You smile, a sleepy, emotional sort of grin.

“I know... and thanks. It was perfect. I’m so glad it was you.”

Felix leans over to kiss you — slow, gentle, a promise he can’t put into words. And as he pulls back, his eyes linger on yours like he’s trying to memorize this version of you: soft and safe, curled into his side like it’s where you belong.

At the edge of his tongue is the confession he’s been holding in for weeks. The truth that could shift everything between you.

But it stays there, stuck, buried behind fear and the countdown he can’t ignore. He glances at the clock again. The date. Only two months left until he has to leave. 

His chest tightens.

What if this is the best it ever gets?

What if saying it makes it real—and makes it end?

So instead, he kisses the top of your head. Pretends the ache in his throat is just from being tired. He tells himself this is enough. That even if this doesn't turn into something more, he’ll always have this night. This feeling. You.

You, tangled in his sheets with the galaxy reflecting off your skin.

You, whispering “I’m so glad it was you” like he’s more than just a person in your story—you’re glad it was him.

And you — you’re lying there with the happiest ache in your chest, tracing little shapes on his stomach with your fingers. Your heart feels too full to hold. You don’t even know what you’re holding onto so tightly, but you’ve never felt more wanted. More safe. More understood.

For once, you don’t need to overthink anything.

You just let yourself exist in it. In him.

You don’t know what will happen tomorrow. But right now, the boy beside you is everything, and your last thought before sleep is simple.

______________________________________________________

Author's Note: Lol i hope y'all like <3, Please let me know what u think

[cobaltperun]

Lost (27) - Cold Shoulder

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 5k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-So while the knife is twisting, I take the blame, I've been building a wall and I can't tear it down, get a chill when you call me, I'm freezing you out-

The place was a damn maze, stairs, halls, small rooms, large rooms, some meant for storage, some looking more like offices, little to no windows, and walls and doors that looked the same, Tara was inside for less than fifteen minutes, and she already felt disoriented. The dust made it more difficult to breathe, but at least the place was well-lit, the lighting was probably fixed by the cult.

Tara glanced back at Kirby, she didn’t look too confident now that the three of you were inside. She gave the two of you detailed instructions and directions, you were all supposed to reach an old archive where Kirby’s mole would meet up with you and then you could proceed with the second step of the plan. And despite Kirby being the one most familiar with the layout of the place you were the one leading, because you were the one most capable of fighting, and handling potential danger in case you ran into a Ghostface.

So, Tara turned to look at your back. For a moment she wondered how many times did she look at your back and felt safe. Frankly, she lost count, from actual danger, or during harmless situations, you standing in front of her as the unbreakable shield between her and anything else, keeping her safe. She’s looked at your back so many times, yet you’ve never looked as strong as you were now. And if you being stronger than ever wasn’t enough to reassure her this would all end well, the bulletproof vest you were wearing under your jacket certainly did. All three of you had bulletproof vests, because this Ghostface didn’t hesitate to shoot, and you weren’t taking chances. 

You stopped abruptly and raised your hand, prompting her and Kirby to stand by the wall as well. Footsteps echoed the halls, yet none of you were moving and despite having absolute faith in you Tara still swallowed the lump in her throat, she still felt her heart skipping a beat when she saw the black robe rounding the corner. You moved faster than Kirby, trapping the surprised Ghostface in a clinch and landing an uppercut on his guts. Ghostface grunted, stumbling slightly as you yanked the mask off and punched him in the chin. He fell back, hitting the wall as you pulled the gun out and shot him in the head. The blood painted the wall as the body slumped down to the floor.

“Good job,” Kirby commented as you took a few steps back, your hands trembling under the weight of the gun. You were looking at the fish painted on the mask and then at the gun in your hand.

Tara stepped closer to you and hugged you from behind, even with the vest on she still felt you flinching at her touch. “Breathe, please, just breathe,” she whispered, slipping her hand into yours. You took a couple of deep breaths and squeezed her hand before turning back to smile at her.

The smile wasn’t quite reaching your eyes, and it was a tiny smile at best, filled with remorse over having to do this. And Tara wished she could take it away, she wished neither of you got involved in this Ghostface hell, where you had to kill to stay alive and keep your family safe. “Thank you,” you whispered back and though reluctantly, the two of you separated and continued walking, leaving the dead Ghostface behind. At least it was one of the three responsible for Danny’s death.

Would that bring you or her comfort? No. It wouldn’t. It was a sick, twisted situation to be in, to again and again take life, yet here she was, pregnant, roughly half a year away from bringing two new lives into the world. It was in self-defense, these people, every Ghostface Sam, you and she killed was trying or planning to kill you, but the lines blurred, especially since Sam… she didn’t dare to think about what Sam did while in the cult.

Did Sam kill someone innocent to keep her cover? Tara didn’t want to know, she probably would end up finding out, but she definitely didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” you suddenly spoke up and Tara’s eyes widened. You weren’t even looking at her, but you knew, you understood exactly how she felt, and you calmed her down before her emotions could get the better of her.

And you said tomorrow, making an unspoken promise that there wouldn’t be serious injuries, that no one would be comatose after this, that all of this would be over by tomorrow. That your lives could finally start going back to normal starting from tomorrow morning.

You stopped again, though this time it was in the middle of the hall. “Kirby is this the right way?” you asked and Tara looked ahead, at the roll-up garage doors that looked like it was stuck.

Kirby approached you, clearly puzzled. “We followed the directions. Do you think you can lift this up?” she asked.

You crouched down and grabbed the handle. Carefully you tried to lift it up and it moved, though slowly. “I can, but it’ll make a lot of noise, it’s a bit rusty,” you leaned your ear against the doors and narrowed your eyes. “I think I hear water?”

Tara glanced at Kirby. “What do you make of this? Can we trust this mole?”

Kirby nodded. “Yes, she’s an experienced cop, we’ve worked together before, I trust her. We’re supposed to meet up in the archive though,” she looked conflicted, uncertain if the three of you should keep going.

“Let’s see where this takes us then,” you grunted a bit, but the rusty doors moved up. “Damn! It’s really rusty,” you complained, lifting it up to your chest. “Go, go!”

Tara and Kirby slipped beneath the doors to the other side, and just in time, as the mechanism broke and the doors closed before you could even react.

“Y/N!” Tara cried out, fearing you got hurt.

“I’m okay, I’m okay! I’ll just have to find another way to you!” you reassured her and Tara felt her heart hammering against her chest as she placed her hand on the doors. You were alone, and she still remembered what happened the last time you faced Ghostface alone.

“Please be careful,” she told you as Kirby placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

“I will, and you better be careful as well,” she could hear your voice wavering, you were worried for her, afraid that maybe you wouldn’t get to her in time. “Kirby, if anything happens,” the warning in your voice was clear and despite everything Tara couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

“I know, Ghostface will be the least of my worries,” she sighed. “We need to move, that was loud, someone must have heard it,” Kirby ushered both of you to move.

“Go, I’ll find you,” you promised Tara one more time and though you couldn’t see her, Tara still nodded. She heard your footsteps and turned around when she heard Kirby’s gasp. “What the fuck?” Tara couldn’t help but ask as she looked at a yacht a bit less than 40 feet long from what she could see, and it looked like it was loaded with military equipment.

“Tara, we need to move,” Kirby breathed out, pulling Tara toward some stairs on the side, from the looks of it her and Kirby were still on the right track, but Tara could tell Kirby was getting increasingly more tense as they climbed up the stairs. She pulled out her phone and tried to call her mole, or someone else, Tara didn’t know, but her movements were frantic and hasty.

~X~

You needed to meet up with Tara once again, but first you needed to stop the bleeding. The mechanism breaking caused the doors to cut into your left palm, it wasn’t too deep, and you could still move everything properly, but it would be a pain in the ass if you kept bleeding all over the building. So, you used a torn piece of your shirt to wrap the wound.

You took refuge in a small room near the roll-up doors, aiming to hopefully catch a Ghostface or two by surprise. And soon enough you heard two sets of footsteps. You left the doors slightly open, so you could look at two figures as they walked over to the roll-up doors and one of them knelt to check the blood stain. You couldn’t hear them, but you saw the one still standing pulling a knife out and abruptly slitting the other Ghostface’s throat.

Your eyes widened as the Ghostface that remained pushed the body away and turned around, the dog on the mask was now stained by blood. Sam. It had to be Sam. So, as risky as it could have been, you stepped outside.

“Hey, Sam, long time no see,” you greeted her, the anger forgotten for a moment, right now you needed to bring her back to sanity, to bring her back to Tara’s side, and you couldn’t do that with rage fueling you.

“Y/N,” she took the mask off, dropping it and looking at you, her eyes hollow, haunted by what she had to do. What she’s been doing for months now.

“Why did you do this Sam?” you couldn’t believe your eyes, you couldn’t recognize the woman in front of you. All you knew was that something horrible must have happened to push her into acting like this.

“I need to protect all of you, Y/N,” she whispered somberly.

“By looking like the monster that caused all of this in the first place? It’s not too late, please, please stop this,” you tried, hoping against all odds that she would listen to you. “This isn’t protecting anyone. Especially not-”

“Y/N!” she yelled your name, abruptly cutting you off. “I can’t protect Tara unless I do this. I don’t care what the price is,” somehow she sounded like her conviction couldn’t be broken and yet on the verge of tears at the same time. Her body language showed all the signs of exhaustion, her shoulders slumped, she looked just about ready to crumble.

You gritted your teeth, anger getting the better of you. All the sleepless nights Tara spent worrying about Sam these past few months, the times Sam chose to smoke near Tara, how many times Tara cried in your arms, worrying that Sam would leave her again and that she couldn’t do anything to stop it. And then the past month. Luring you so you could get framed, Danny dying, Tara being captured! “This is protection in your eyes? Locking me up? Tara getting captured?! Do you even know your cult had her, you stupid asshole?!” you yelled, not caring who could come.

Sam at least had the decency to be shocked, either because she didn’t know Tara was captured or because she didn’t expect you to just call her out like that. But it just proved your point! How could she not see this wasn’t protecting Tara, that this, in fact, put Tara in more danger. “I need to kill them all,” she looked down, her hands shaking as she lifted the knife up, her eyes focusing on the blade, glaring at it. “Shut up, just leave me be!” she cried, raising her hands and gripping her head.

Was she hallucinating Billy again? You couldn’t be sure, but if she was it would only make this more difficult. You took a few steps closer to her. “Sam, get it together, we can still fix this,” you tried offering her your hand.

“We’ll never be left alone, Y/N, he’ll just keep coming back!” tears began streaming down her cheeks as she looked up, broken, defeated, the robes hid it, but judging by her face, the sunken cheeks, the gaunt eyes, she lost a lot of weight, and she clearly wasn’t sleeping well.

“Sam, let me help you,” at this point you didn’t even feel angry, you just felt sorry.

“No, go find Tara, I’ll kill them myself!” she demanded, pointing her knife at you.

How did she not understand that she was hanging on by a thread, that as she was she wouldn’t be able to make it out of this alive if you just left her alone. “Tara is with Kirby, I need to make sure you survive first,” because Sam was important to you, and to Tara, and you’d make sure Tara didn’t have to grieve anymore than she already was.

And then Sam gritted her teeth. “Move, or I’ll get you to move!” she lunged at you, knife raised.

You sighed grabbing her forearm and pushing her back. Sam stumbled back, but didn’t fall, and judging by her eyes she wasn’t about to give up. “Guess I have to actually knock some sense into you,” you relaxed your posture, bouncing from one foot to another and raising your fists up.

~X~

Tara thought she’d be used to feeling dread by now, especially since she felt it constantly while you were gone, but this was different. She couldn’t shake off the bad feeling clutching at her heart, and she reached for her inhaler as Kirby led her up the stairs. How were you? Were you okay? Did you come across Ghostface?

Yet, despite worrying about you, what she dreaded the most was what would happen to Sam. How involved in this cult was she? How much did she know? Could she still go back to living a normal life after this?

She’d have to think about that later, as Kirby opened the doors at the top of the stairs and froze.

“Shit!” Kirby cursed, rushing toward a Ghostface with a wolf on the mask.

Tara’s eyes widened as she pieced it together, this had to be her mole, and as Kirby knelt by the Ghostface’s side, taking the mask off and revealing a woman in her early thirties, with short black hair and blood dripping down her chin, but she was still breathing.

“I need to stop the bleeding!” Kirby exclaimed, moving the robes aside and finding the stab wound in the woman’s stomach. It looked deep, but it seemed like she was knocked out due to hitting her head, and not the actual stab wound.

“I’ll keep watch,” Tara assured her as she looked around. There were two ways to come inside, the doors that led down the stairs that they just came through that were behind her now, and another door to Tara’s right. The room looked like some kind of control center, with levers and controls, as well as security cameras, but they seemed to be disabled, since she couldn’t see you anywhere, and the camera that showed this room showed just Kirby’s mole at the computer. Meaning it was set to loop. If she could get the cameras to stop looping the footage she might be able to locate you, as well as see if anyone else was coming, but she’d need Kirby to stand watch to do that.

She heard coughing and looked over to Kirby. The woman was waking up, and despite the situation Tara was relieved to see her sitting up.

“Agent Reed, sorry, they caught me,” the woman apologized.

“It happens, you did enough,” Kirby assured her. “We had some issues as well. Y/N got separated, so it’s just Tara and I for now,” she pointed toward Tara.

“Hey there,” Tara greeted quickly.

“Agent Woolf, nice to meet you, miss L/N,” well, that was an ironic name. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you while you were held captive. Golubeva did as much as she could, but still.”

“You apologize a lot,” Tara smiled, from what she heard the wounded agent helped a lot from the shadows, gathering any information she could while still maintaining her cover. And she was the one who saved Sidney.

The agent chuckled a bit at that. “I get that,” she tried to stand up, but stumbled back to the floor.

“Take it easy, you might have a concussion,” Kirby helped her sit up.

The doors suddenly opened, and Tara lifted her gun up, but the bird on the mask made her stop. It was Anya and then… behind her, the one that killed Danny, the one with a bear on the mask.

“Ghost-Monkey did say we have a mole, I just didn’t think I’d see you again, Tara L/N,” the one with the bear spoke, his accent showing despite the voice changer. Tara couldn’t shoot him, not unless he moved away from Anya, as it was she was between him and Tara, and Tara honestly doubted he didn’t have a bulletproof vest or something, since he knew about Woolf being a mole. Not to mention he was pointing his gun at Kirby.

Anya sighed, ripping the voice changer off along with the mask. Tara couldn’t read the woman, but she saw her looking at Woolf, and then at Tara, specifically at her stomach, and Tara for a moment remembered how the woman reacted when she realized Tara was pregnant. “Lower the gun, Igor,” she told him, no ordered him.

He tilted his head as she turned to look at him. “After all this? I’m fixing injustice, these people took so many lives and got to walk free,” he argued.

Tara’s eyes narrowed. They didn’t get to walk free, sure, they never went to jail, but they could never go back to their previous lives, Sam especially. She somehow managed to deal with what happened, with what she had to do, because she had you, and together, you and her managed to build a relatively normal life, aside from nightmares, mistrust, and all the small and big ways what happened influenced your decisions. But Sam? Sam didn’t have that, even when Danny was alive, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder, she couldn’t stop being worried that every person she met was a potential Ghostface, and it made every part of her life difficult. She used to work at a coffee shop when the three of you first moved to New York, but then Bailey and his family, as well as Thomas, attacked, and ever since then… Since then Ghostface was no longer a part of the friend group, someone she had to let in, ever since then Ghostface could be anyone, and this cult just proved her fears right.

Tara was so deep in her thoughts she nearly missed Anya sighing and closing her eyes. When she opened them again Tara saw so much sorrow in the woman’s eyes it almost made Tara cry.

“What’s with that look cousin?” Ghostface asked as the MMA fighter looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” Anya said and moved so fast Tara for a moment thought she was watching you move.

~X~

Sam wasn’t weak, not in the slightest, but she was too emotional, too desperate. She telegraphed her attacks so much in advance you didn’t even need to try. You grabbed her wrist before she could stab you in the shoulder, that was another thing, she wasn’t aiming to kill you, she just wanted to get you out of her way. “Come on, Sam, this is pointless,” you moved to the side, pulling her forward and slipping behind her.

She yelped as you pulled her arm behind her back and twisted it slightly until she dropped the knife. “Stop! You know you can’t fight me,” you were still trying to simply restrain her, without hurting her, or using unnecessary force.

“You think I can go back?” Sam bit out, trashing in your hold. She hit you with the back of her head and you took a step back, letting her go in the process. “I killed your father, my mother, I can never go back after that,” she ripped the robes off and you saw just how much weight she lost. You wondered when was the last time she had a proper meal. She lost muscle mass; she really was a ghost of who she was before. “I ruin everything I touch, I’m like a plague, causing deaths and suffering everywhere I go!” she lashed out, trying to punch you and gradually getting more frustrated every time you dodged out of the way.

As it was Sam was just exhausting herself, and you thought of her words, of how she saw herself, and despite your anger you felt sorry.

“Tara needs you, Sam, stop being their daughter and be her sister!” you were wasting time, dodging and redirecting her attempts to hit you, so, when she came close to you one more time you swept her legs from under her and pinned her to the floor. “Think of Tara, please,” you could only hope thinking about Tara would bring her back to her senses. “She needs you back, you’re not a plague to her, she loves you, Sam. Tara wants you in her life. Please, don’t leave her again.”

But before Sam could answer you felt a heard gun firing and saw bullets flying right past you, luckily missing your head. The two that hit your chest were stopped by the vest, but it still knocked some air from your lungs. “Y/N!” you heard Sam yelling as you jumped to your feet, and she dragged you back into the room you were in before. Ghostface with rhino on the mask shot at you while another, this one with a monkey on the mask showed off a bloody knife, and you, worried about Tara, felt rage pulsing in your veins.

~X~

Tara gasped when Anya tackled Ghostface and pinned him to the ground. She put him in a hold, much like she used to when she was fought professionally, her arms around his neck and arm, her legs locking his own in place and her body weight stopping his movement.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” he gasped, the voice changer falling off and his mask cracking due to the pressure she was putting on it.

“You’ve gone too far, turn yourself in and maybe you can still stay alive,” Anya pleaded, and Tara felt like she understood, this man was Anya’s family, and Tara would have done the same for Sam if she was in this situation. “I don’t want to hurt my family, but I can’t let you kill anyone else,” she sounded devastated, like she was the one being hurt by what she was doing, and not him.

Ghostface struggled against her hold, trying his best to reach the gun he dropped. “It was you, wasn’t it?! You freed Y/N, didn’t you?” he yelled, the mask slipping off the lower half of his face and showing her bared teeth.

“I just wanted to keep you out of trouble at first, to trade information for your freedom, but you put a pregnant woman in danger Igor,” Anya’s hold on him weakened when he began gasping for air, and that was enough for him. He twisted, grabbing the gun, and pointing it at Tara. “Wait, don’t!” Anya cried out, letting him go as he pulled the safety off.

~X~

You blindly fired your gun through the crack in the doors in retaliation, and well, you were hoping that maybe you’d be lucky enough to hit one of the Ghostfaces. Judging by the sudden grunt you heard maybe you did get lucky, and a bullet did hit, or at least graze one of the Ghostfaces.

“Talk about luck,” you stopped firing, you had to be careful, you’d run out of bullets sooner rather than later if you weren’t careful. Kirby may have given you a gun this time, but she was kinda stingy with the ammo. You had three bullets left, so you had to make them count.

“Go through that door, you’ll be able to get behind them if you go left,” Sam told you, motioning toward the door in the back of the room. This place really was a damn maze.

“What about you?” you asked, looking her up and down, at least she looked like she was thinking rationally.

“I’ll stay and kill them if they come in,” Sam told you as she hid behind a shelf. You didn’t notice while you were running into the room, but she managed to grab her knife.

Well, that should somewhat work. “Right, don’t get too excited,” you moved, carefully opening the door, and looking outside. You couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t exactly mean you were safe. You slipped into the hall, following Sam’s directions and soon enough, when you looked around the corner, you saw Ghostface slowly approaching the door of the room you were just in. He had a gun, so you raised your gun and fired, shooting him in the shoulder from behind. “Guess my aim is shit,” you muttered to yourself, firing again as he stumbled, the bullet missed though. “Fuck!” you cursed as he twisted his body around, aiming his gun toward you, you fired at the same time as he did, but seeing as you hit his right shoulder his aim was off and a bullet flew right by you, while you, by another stroke of luck, managed to shoot him in the head.

Years of fighting made you more aware of your surrounding as you spun around, catching the wrist of the other Ghostface before he could stab you. You were almost certain you were out of bullets, but just to be sure you pulled the trigger, only to hear the click. At least it was worth a try, as you flipped the gun around and hit the side of Ghostface’s head with it.

As the doors opened and you saw Sam coming out you kneed the man in the stomach and pushed him toward Sam so she could stab him in the throat with her knife.

~X~

Tara’s eyes widened as Anya dropped to the floor. She jumped in front of the gun, she took the bullet for Tara, a small caliber bullet, ravaging her insides, and much like Danny, there was nothing anyone could do to save her.

“Why- why would you?” Ghostface didn’t get to hear the answer as Tara fired her gun, the first bullet shattered the mask, the second ended his life without a doubt.

Tara ran toward the fallen woman and tried to put pressure on the wound, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop, she couldn’t do anything. “Why would you do something so reckless?” she felt tears falling from her eyes, blurring her vision as Anya groaned in pain and still managed to smile.

“I wasn’t thinking… but I guess,” she took a deep breath. “You’re pregnant. I don’t need another reason,” she sighed, pushing Tara’s hand away. “I should have worn a vest,” she joked, knowing this was her end. “You need to stop this, the cult leader can’t escape,” she warned and placed an USB stick in Tara’s hand.

“She’s right. I couldn’t tell you over the phone, but he’s been playing the long game,” Woolf revealed. “Richie and Amber were the first step, his equals, they were meant to reboot the franchise and get more people to join the cult. This group was hand-picked, though poorly, but there are other small groups, if he escapes, he’ll just rebuild the cult,” she explained as Tara’s blood ran cold.

“As long as he lives your nightmare will never end. There’s data on that, his connections, all the victims of the cult, and the members and supporters,” Anya coughed, her voice growing weaker. She still placed her hand over Tara’s, closing Tara’s fingers around the stick. “That’s your sister’s evidence, everything she gathered, given to me and Woolf, and you need to stop her as well. As it is she doesn’t intent to walk… out of this alive,” she said, her grip on Tara’s hand weakening until her hand fell, and Tara, shocked by the information she received couldn’t do anything but watch the hand collide with the floor and bounce slightly.

She could only watch as Anya took her last breath. Her heart began beating rapidly and she couldn’t breath properly. Sam was planning to die? Sam was… her Sam… her sister would… Tara began shaking, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t let that happen! But she couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t even react as Kirby rushed over to her and grabbed her inhaler. She could only just barely open her mouth to prevent an asthma attack.

~X~

You sighed, tossing the gun aside, you were out of bullets and so was the Ghostface that had a gun. Well, so much for an easy way out. You guessed you would have to deal with anyone else the harder way. “Do you know where to go from here?” you asked as Sam cleaned the blood off her knife.

Sam paused for a moment and then looked at you. “Go back the way you came, take the second left turn, then up the stairs, keep going, fourth door to the left will take you to the control room. Tara and Kirby must have passed it, or maybe they are inside it,” she told you and now it was your turn to stop.

“You sound like you’re not coming with me?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I have something else I need to do, you need to protect Tara,” Sam told you.

A/N: Well, three chapters to go, this one took a while, but we are approaching the end of the action part of the story. In case you lost count of Ghostfaces, which I wouldn't blame you for, all that is left is the leader and Ghost-Lion.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Taglist: @alexkolax

[jxckchxmpi0n]

hi :) i love you and your writing sm

could you do one with ethan (gf) where him and female reader are in a relationship and when he unmasks himself she’s like heartbroken and stuff with the prompts “you hurt me and i still trusted you” and like in the end where she kills him instead of tara in his death scene with the prompt “i guess we weren’t meant to be”

i’m sorry that’s like so much😭😭

Dying Wish

Ethan Landry GF x Reader |m.list

Summary : it's all in the request <3

Warnings: cursing, angst, character death, blood, gore,

word count: 1.7k

did not proofread

(also, omg! we reached 400 followers) Thank you so much! I literally love you all <3 I hope you enjoy this!

Your feet were glued to the floor, as if you stepped into a mouse trap. The glue pulling you down to the ground weakened your knees as you watched your boyfriend stand before you. He was in all black, holding that stupid mask in one hand and a bloody knife in the other.

He looked at all of you, Tara, Sam, and you. the boy standing in front of you wasn't the boy you fell in love with. No. The boy standing in front of you was a killer, he killed your childhood best friend, he was the one you ran to when you saw Anika's body lying there lifeless. he was the one telling you he'd protect you from all the bad in the world.

And yet there he was, standing just five feet away from you with an evil smile, and eyes darker than the black he wore. You didn't know who he was, he was a stranger, and you trusted him with everything.

"-Really runs in the fucking family doesn't it" his voice was ringing through your ears. The ringing getting louder and louder, "awe y/n don't look too sad" he raised his hands to his face making a crying motion with them.

"Fuck you!" Your voice shattered as you spoke. Baily laughed a your words. you hated them all they ruined your life all because they thought Richie deserved the ending he wanted.

Ethan and Quinn started to circle around you three. Baily walked around talking about how passionate Richie was about these killings, Sam was talking back yelling at Bailey, saying he's the reason Richie is a killer.

Quinn wasn't a fan of how she spoke of her brother, so she jumped forward, slicing the side of Sam's arm. As she tried to move away, she tripped, which pushed you towards Ethan. Pulling his arm back, he followed his sister's actions and swiped at your arms.

The feeling of your skin being ripped ran through your entire body. "fuck" you grabbed your arm putting pressure on the wound, Ethan smiled waving his hand in a no motion.

"If that hurt just wait for what I'm going to do to you later" your eyes were flooding with tears. You wanted to scream and yell at him, you wanted to yell at yourself for even thinking about the future with him.

Things had started to pick up, Bailey was after Sam, while Quinn went to Tara, which left Ethan after you.

You ran behind one of the cases that held the past victim's belongings, "You have no idea how long I've dreamt of killing you, feeling the knife pierce your skin, if you think you have it easy, you're about to be proven wrong." Pushing one of the mannequins into him you made a run for it. "Bitch" he grabbed the mannequin throwing it to the side as he chased you.

You saw Sam running to the stairs, going after her you saw Tara right behind you. Quinn was lying on the floor holding her side, "she got what she deserved" Tara's voice was shallow and airy from all the running. You couldn't help but laugh just a little as he ran up the stairs.

Kirby had showed up once again, stopping in front of Ethan she was about to shoot, but Bailey's voice distracted her allowing Ethan to jump at her and stab her. "Do you remember this?" in one switch motion he pulled the knife out again and stabbed her.

"Ethan, enough get the others!" Bailey yelled at his son from the stage Ethan looked over and noticed everyone was on the second floor. A wicked grin showed on his face as he noticed Quinn cornering the three of you. "Give it up sweetheart" You looked down and saw Ethan standing below you, he was covered in blood your, Tara's, and Chad's.

The anger toward him kept building over time, and as you looked at him it made it worse. "Asshole!" you saw a tool that was abandoned on the top floor. Picking it up you threw it at him, "You hurt me, and yet I still fucking trusted you" he moved just in time before the tool could hit him.

"Boo get over it!" his voice was strained from him looking up at you. "it's time sweetheart" he then pointed to Quinn; she was slowly moving toward you. Tara tried to hold her back as much as she could, Sam had a gun from Kirby, but it was jammed. you tried to help Tara as much as you could. taking a piece of wood that was lying around you swung it. Hitting Quinn in the back she yelled out, "Fucking bitch" but right as you hit her your foot got caught on a broken chair.

As your foot got stuck, that allowed Quinn to stab you in the leg. The feeling of the knife digging into your leg caused you to scream. Quinn was satisfied at hearing you scream, so she pulled the knife down, creating a bigger wound. Your entire thigh had been ripped open. "Get the fuck off me!" You tried to push her off but with your foot stuck any movement would throw you over the edge.

Tara heard your scream and came running, another piece of wood slammed on the back of Quinn's head. She let go of the knife, the warmth of your blood running down your leg, your mind becoming foggy. You were losing too much blood.

Before you could even realize what happened, your body fell backward. You stumbled over the chairs and fell over the edge, your hands grabbing the frame before it was too late. Sam finally got the got the gun to work, just as Quinn got up. "Give it up," her forehead and mouth covered in blood, half of it probably being yours.

Just as Quinn started running to Sam, she pulled the trigger. Your ears echoed from the bang; a long thud followed after. "Holy shit," Tara stood there for a second, looking at Quinn's dead body.

"Oh baby, come on, let go! Let me have you, " your ears focused on Ethan's voice. He was right below you holding his knife up. "Come on.... I'll make it quick... Maybe, " he laughed as he saw you slowly losing your grip.

Sam and Tara ran to you to help, but right as they reached you, Bailey ran up the stairs. "You monsters!" He got down on his knees as he saw his daughter lying there dead. "You killed her!" His voice shook the room as he yelled. "You will pay for this!"

Tara told Sam to go and deal with Bailey as she tried to help you. "No, Tara, you have to help your sister. Let me go" her eyes watered as she looked at you.

"Yeah, come on, Tara, let her go! I dare you!" Ethans voice screamed at her.

"No y/n I can't do that!" Tara's hands were slipping as they held yours. The mixture of blood and sweat, making it hard.

"Tara, let me go!" Your voice was shaking, the fear now kicking in. But you were ready, Ethan was after you, and there was no way out of it. You had to face him. "I'll be fine, just please, you have to let me go." As you spoke, your eyes followed the knife in Tara belt loop. Her eyes following yours, finally understanding.

"Come on Tara don't be such a bitch let her go. Let me kill her!" Ethan, tired once again to jump up and get you, but you moved too fast for him.

"Okay," Tara agreed she reached down, grabbed the knife, and slipped it in your hand. "Good luck. I'm sorry. " A small tear slipped from her eyes as she realized you and Sam were all she had left.

She let go of your hands. Dropping down, you could hear Ethan laugh with excitement, the feeling of your body free falling, and Ethan right below scared you, but you were ready.

In one swift motion, you managed to turn your body, landing on Ethan. "Fuck" pain shot from your leg as you tried to get up.

"Mmm, I have you all to myself!" Ethan's voice haunted you as you closed your eyes from the pain. The knife Tara had given you was just a foot away from you. Crawling to it, you rushed before Ethan realized. Slowly standing up, your fingers grazed it as Ethan sliced the back of your thigh from lying on the ground.

Following you, he got up. "There's nowhere to run. You're mine. " As he reached for you, you turned with the knife in your hand. Catching him off guard, you stabbed the knife into his mouth. As he fell to his knees, he looked at you with stupid puppy brown eyes.

"You're a killer, and I loved you. What a piece of shit," you twisted the knife, which caused Ethan to whine and cry out. Tears streamed down his face. "I guess we weren't meant to be." Once more for luck, you twisted the knife again, pulling it out, and his blood splattered all over your face. Your hands dropped the knife, shaking, as you struggled to keep yourself up you stared at his lifeless body.

Your heart shattered as you looked at him. He was everything to you, and you killed him. Was your head spinning with the memories or was it because you were dizzy. You couldn't figure it out. As you tried to reach Tara and Sam, your vision went black.

Your body became too heavy to take another step, collapsing on the floor as everything slowly became numb.

[auras-moonstone]

mad woman — ethan landry (part six)

word count: 804

pairing: ethan landry x gf!fem!reader

summary: the moment y/n and the kirsch family had been waiting for finally arrived. will they succeed?

previous part ; epilogue

THE PLAN WAS THAT Y/N SHOULD NOT REVEAL SHE WAS THE KILLER THE SAME TIME AS THE THREE KIRSCHES. They needed the Carpenter sisters to trust her, just in case something went wrong and they managed to escape. So, Y/N had to pull an Oscar award worthy performance throughout the whole revealing and chasing scene.

But the time she had been waiting for finally came. Tara, Sam and her had climbed the stairs to the second floor and Tara almost fell from the railing if Y/N hadn’t caught her.

“Fuck, Tara. I can’t… my hands” Y/N said, looking at her hands, covered a crimson red—Kirby’s blood.

“It’s okay… let me go” the black-haired girl said.

“Are you crazy?” Sam said, from next to them. She had her knife extended towards Quinn, who was slowly cornering them.

“Trust me, Sam” her sister said in a confident tone.

“Take this” Y/N said, giving Tara her knife. The latter nodded, and Y/N finally let go.

Tara fell, and Ethan stabbed her in the stomach “Gotcha!”.

The girl grabbed the knife her friend gave her and went to stab the brunette boy in the throat. It was a surprise to her when Ethan just smiled jokingly, and no blood came out. She took the knife out, and frowned when she saw it was fake. It was a retractable knife—she had been played.

“My girlfriend’s quite the actress, isn’t she?” Ethan smirked.

Unbeknownst to the revelation that happened downstairs, Sam looked at Y/N and subtlety signalled her head to the gun that was lying a few feet away from her. Y/N nodded in understanding.

“Do you really think you’re going to get away with this, Quinn?” Sam asked, hoping to distract the red-head while her friend took the gun.

“Actually, yeah. I’m very optimistic about this” Quinn replied with a cynic smile.

“We are two against one right now” Sam continued.

Quinn let out a laugh “Are you sure about that?” Y/N quickly grabbed the gun, stood behind Sam and pointed it to her head. “What a fucking plot-twist, right?”.

“Now, let’s join your sister, Sam. I’m letting you see her once more before they kill you, just because I’m feeling generous right now” Y/N said. “Hi, Tara! Did my knife come in handy?”.

“That was amazing thinking, love” Ethan told her, proud smile painted on his handsome face.

“Thanks, Eth” she blew him a kiss.

“You two are really perfect for each other” Tara said, clutching her stomach in pain.

“Thanks! We actually owe that to you two, wanting you dead has brought us together” Y/N said with a smile.

“You are mad!” Tara told her.

“You made me like that!” Y/N yelled in anger “And you know what I should do? I should gut your sister right in front of you, just like you did with Amber. But lucky for you, she’s not mine to kill. That’s their job” she said, pushing Sam towards Bailey and Quinn. “You on the other hand…” she said walking towards her, pressing the wound with her shoe, making her scream in pain “I’m going to take my time with you… cause you took everything from me”.

Ethan took a knife from under his cloak and gave it to Y/N “This is your sister’s”.

Y/N smiled gratefully before placing a kiss on his cheek, while adding more pressure to Tara’s wound “Thank you, babe”.

“Do you have to act all lovey dovey all the time?” Quinn groaned in frustration.

“Sorry, back to business” Y/N said, kneeling next to Tara, who let out a cry while Sam screamed “Don’t be sad, girls. You’ll be seeing each other again in a couple of minutes”.

Y/N didn’t waste any more time, and dig her knife on Tara’s stomach, just where Ethan had previously stabbed her. “This is not even half the pain you all caused to my sister”.

“She deserved it” Tara managed to say in between sobs.

“You think you’re badass, don’t you? Don’t you know that if you poke the bear, the claws will come out?” Y/N gritted her teeth as she spoke, dragging the knife upwards. Tara’s scream resonated on the room. “Oh, look what you made me do, Tara. It could have all been a little less… gory if you had kept your mouth shut”.

“Get over with it, kid” Y/N heard Bailey said. She took a look at the three people in front of her. Sam was laying a few feet away, lifeless.

“I’ll let you join your sister now. Bye, Tara” and with one stab in the heart, the only Carpenter sister left stopped breathing.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked her, helping her up.

Y/N wrapped her arms around her boyfriend “Perfectly fine, Eth” He smiled and kissed her temple—they had done it, they had survived and succeed.

author’s note: that was the last part of the mad woman series🥺 i know it was short compared to other parts, i just think that it was useless to keep the original revealing scene because we all already know the motive.

i also wrote the epilogue, which will be out tomorrow! expect a very romantic chapter because i’m a hopeless romantic even when i’m writing about two psychos!

tags: @marauders3 @multi-simp-page

[cross-word]

Reckless

Ethan Landry x male reader

I’m running out of ideas 😭

Word count: 760

You had just gotten home, everyone was at the hospital comforting Kirby and chad for surviving ghostface. You laid in your bed hours going by and watched as the sun from your window slowly disappeared.

He was a ghostface. Ethan was a ghostface, nights you spend laughing playing video games next to him we’re all of them fake?. Who was Ethan? Was he Ethan Landry or Ethan Kirsch who was your best friend? Who was the boy you’ve been dating for 2 years?

Two years he spent two years gaining your trust just to destroy everything by trying to kill you. You were lucky you left this nightmare with major bruises and a busted lip.

“Y/N you good?” Tara asked through the door “yeah I’m fine” you responded laying back down on your bed. For the rest of the night you hear Sam and Tara talking about moving back to California after Tara graduates.

Mindy and Chad would obviously follow which leaves you in New York by yourself. You think to yourself you hear rattling your window rattling you look at your only window to see him.

Fucking Ethan. He was alive.

You sat in shock about seeing your dead best friend alive. Oh god was he here to finish the job.

He looked at you with crazed eyes. You tried to scream but Ethan’s gloved hand covered it, putting a knife against your throat. “Scream and I kill you and everyone who walks in this room” tears ran through your face.

“I need your help,” he says, spitting blood onto my chest. “What do you want me to do?” you whispered, trying not to get Tara’s attention. “That friend you have that works at that clinic” he says groaning from the pain in his throat.

“You don’t need a clinic you need a hospital dumbass” you snarled at him he pressed the knife into your throat “you need to shut up” he says “ok, ok, ok just get the knife away from my throat” you tell him.

“You’ll have to wait until at night before leaving” you tell him, he slowly lets go of the hold on you “you can’t leave me” he says, you felt like your heart was going to jump out. Why? He’s psychotic. Insane. Why does he still make you feel like this “you’ll tell the others and I can’t have that” he told you blocking the door with his body.

Even if you screamed he was here, you knew he’ll kill you before Tara or Sam gets in.

Picking up your phone and dialing a number “who are you calling” he says walking towards you “the friend that works at the clinic, I’m telling her she needs to stay for a while” Ethan watched as you called your friend.

Suspicion in his eyes he listened to every word you say to your friend.

You left your room with Ethan behind you, his knife pressing against your back. Before you two could leave you hear Tara call out for you. Ethan spun you around closing the door slightly making sure Tara didn’t see him.

Ethan stood crouched behind you as you conversed with Tara. He got impatient pressing the knife onto your back “hurry it up” he whispered.

He watched as you slowly closed the door. You two walked to your car Ethan watched as the street lights hit your face. “Would you end up staying with me if I didn't..” he asked “probably, I really liked you” you told him turning towards the clinic.

You saw your friend wave through the clear doors “go walk in there” you tell him. You watched as your friend checked out Ethan's throat, cleaning all the blood and prescribing him medication for his throat.

You watched your friend lead him to lay down. She asked you to talk with her outside of the room “what happened to him, how’d he get like that” you debated telling her he was a ghostface killer.

“He got into a fight and the dude had a knife and tried to stab his eye” you lied to her.

After that day you never saw Ethan ever again.

It’s been 4 years since the attacks, your friend group knew he was alive because of the report they only found two bodies.

You walked down the aisle of the grocery store picking the things you needed.

When you bump into someone you both look into each other's eyes, those damn eyes his brown eyes, those eyes that comforted you when you cried about your problems.

“Hi, Y/N” Ethan said, with his beautifully dumb smile.

[infin1ty-garden]

can you do a jill roberts x gn! reader? Reader and jill were childhood bestfriends but then reader moved.And now reader is back and she and jill reunite during the killings and jill is revealed and she prolly gives reader an option to join her or die? You could choose the ending.

UNTIL THE END

.ೃ࿐ summary: [ in request ] .ೃ࿐ pairing: jill roberts x gn! reader .ೃ࿐ warnings: weapons, injuries being inflicted, murder, stabbings & threats .ೃ࿐ word count: 747 .ೃ࿐ author note: sorry this request took a bit longer. some personal stuff came up. i'm working on other request but it's taking longer than expected.

masterlist. & part 2

Woodsboro barely changed since you'd last been there, at least that's what everyone tells you. To be honest you don't remember it well. Something or someone you will never forget is Jill Roberts. You used to be bestfriends. Living next door to each other. Inseparable, where one goes the other will follow.

When you moved the two of you tried to stay in touch but one thing led to another and you haven't spoken in a long time. You hoped she remembered you at the very least. Your parents picked a horrible time to move back as the ghostface murder's have started again. But there was nothing you could do about it.

You did reunite with Jill and she did in fact remember you as did her aunt. It felt as if almost nothing had changed. Jill fills you in on what you'd missed as well as introducing you to Kirby and Oliva. They seemed nice enough. Everyone was on edge since the murders started and Jill was glued to your side.

She was the one to invite you to the after party at Kirby's house. Once you arrived it seemed as if there was no one in the house. Suddenly Jill came running down stairs. "Where's everyone?"

"I don't know Sindy is on the roof chasing away the killer," Jill said, clearly panicking and assuring you somewhere safer. "The killer's here?" She didn't answer you, instead leading you to a hiding place. "I'm gonna call the cops. You stay here," the next few minutes you heard a lot of commotion but decided to stay put.

The door was ripped open by Charlie. He grabs you. Pointing the knife at your neck. "What are they doing here?" Jill was now dressed in a ghostface costume. "Are you trying to double cross me?"

"I would never do that, baby." In a blink of an eye she held the gun up. Shooting Charlie in the head. He dropped to the floor. You froze. Jill just killed somebody. She slowly moved closer to you. Cupping your cheeks and moving your head away from Charlie's body.

You only now noticed Sidney and Travis were also in the room. Sidney being the only one alive. "Look at me! You don't have to be afraid," she pulled you closer. "It's just you and me until the end. What do you say?" Sidney begged her not to do this. Not to harm anymore people.

"Until the end," you replied. Jill kissed you with ferocity, you had never experienced as if wanting to convey years of longing in one kiss. Everything after that was a blur. You ended up in the hospital. Sidney was pronounced dead. Leaving the only survivors being you, Jill and Gale.

Jill basked in the fame that came with being one of the survivors. You refused any attempt to get you in front of a camera. Every single thought in Jill's head was consumed by her new found fame or at least that's how you felt. She constantly cancelled on dates or didn't bother showing up.

You felt even more isolated. Your peers avoided you like the plague. Afraid that being in your presence would lead to them being the next victim. Even if the killers were caught. Your parents didn't know how to act around you. Resulting in them pretending as if nothing happened.

You decided to break up with Jill as she has barely shown a smidge of care since the relationship started. You thought a text was the best option since that's the only way the two of you interact. She didn't reply to your text. You went on with your day feeling a lot better. You thought Jill wouldn't care.

You thought wrong as she was holding a knife against your neck. "What did I do?"

"Why would you leave me?"

"Over text! What kind of person does that?"

"Why would YOU do that?" Tears were falling down her face. "You promised! You promised until the end," her voice got quieter by the end. Her grip on the knife loosened. You slowly took it from her. Putting it out of her reach. "You are the one who gave up on us. Not me."

"Please don't leave me. I'll change," her hands gripped your shirt. "I've heard that enough time to know that's not gonna happen."  The knife was in her hand again. "YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME! You can't leave me. I won't let you." She stabbed you.

Thanks for reading and requesting!

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |12|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

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

Warnings: Talks of Killing, Talks of Murder

Word Count: 2.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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

Tara ran off almost instantly after Mindy said the shrine would be the killers lair, then pointed out this wasn’t a normal Stab movie. Sam moved to go after her sister, despite trying to play everything as normal and as if the attack last year changed nothing, she knew Tara was struggling. Kirby waved her off though and said she’d check on Tara herself. Sam frowned but she knew it was probably better if Kirby went, she had been through this before and every time Sam tried to talk to Tara it almost always ended in an argument.

Sam turned back to the display case that contained the cloak of Billy Loomis. Her eyes trailed from the white mask down to the blood knife at the bottom. So, many lives were ruined just by Billy putting on a stupid costume. She wasn’t sure who could possibly be after them this time, though she didn’t expect her boyfriend to be the bad guy last time either. Whoever was coming after them did their research though, they had everything from each of the Ghostface attacks, going back all the way to the very beginning. She noticed there was even a small display about Sidney’s mom, the murder that started it all.

Sam didn’t know how to protect everyone. Two random kids were killed, which Sam couldn’t care too much about because they were apparently planning to kill her and her sister, but then she was attacked at the gym, she only survived because of you. Since then, the attack at the bodega and then the attack at the apartment, everyone had only survived because of you. She didn’t know where they’d be without you, who else would be dead. She knew she still had to be cautious around you, but you were proving more and more that you were trustworthy and nothing like Richie.

The floor creaked behind her, and she froze. She slowly lifted her head to see you through the glass, standing behind her. You hadn’t said a word, you hadn’t pressed her for answers too hard, answers you rightly deserved. She owed you an explanation about everything, who she was and why this was all happening. You knew who she was, but Sam owed it to you to tell you everything from her own mouth.

“Are you okay?” You asked, finally breaking the silence.

Sam turned around and saw you looking at her with nothing but concern. She wasn’t sure how you could see all of this, see this mess that went all the way back to her birth father and not flinch. There was still no judgement in your eyes, you were looking at Sam with the same kindness you always had. Your first question since seeing all this wasn’t to demand an explanation or ask who any of these people were, you just asked if she was okay, you truly were too good for her.

“Why are you still here?” Sam asked as she spun around. “You’ve been cut and stabbed,” she gestured at you. “Shot at, almost died three times all for some stranger who goes to your gym.” She shrugged, you might have been too good for her, but you also seemed to be crazy.

You only smiled at her words, making her furrow her brow. Maybe you really were her type, you were definitely crazy. “I assure you; this is nothing compared to what I’ve been through,” you said. “And you’re not just some girl from my gym anymore, I think I know you well enough to not want you to get murdered.”

Sam shook her head. You were military, special forces at that, you had definitely seen some things. With the way you handled yourself, first with the knife, then the gun, and then even in the apartment you used your surroundings to your advantage, nearly choking Ghostface out with a curtain. You could more than handle yourself, Sam could only imagine what you would do with the right equipment and an actual plan instead of getting caught off guard. But this wasn’t some war zone, you were at home, you shouldn’t be fighting for your life like this.

“You don’t know me,” Sam mumbled. “Not really, but if you insist on sticking around you should probably know what you’re getting into.” Sam walked across the stage and took a seat, letting her legs hang off the edge. You slightly followed after her, taking a seat right next to her but leaving enough space so the two of you weren’t touching.

Sam stared across the theater, Ethan was walking around, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked around, Bailey stared at a few of the displays, furrowing his brow at the sight of some things. She looked to the side to see Gale staring longingly at one of the displays, Sam could only assume it had something to do with Dewey. Then there was Mindy, crouched down as she tried to comfort Anika off to the far end, with Chad standing a couple feet away, his arms crossed as his own eyes scanned over the group.

Sam clenched her hands into fists. She had heard a bunch of crap about her life and her family ever since that world learned the truth. She had known the truth since she was a teenager, she had spoken the words more than once. For some reason just opening her mouth to tell you seemed impossible. You could go online right now and find several articles talking about what she was about to tell you, saying the words out loud shouldn’t be a big deal.

“Whatever you say,” you said, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. “I promise you; it won’t change anything.”

Sam glanced at you and saw nothing but patience and understanding in your eyes. No one could really say nothing would change until they knew whatever it was, but you truly believed what you were saying. Sam knew she shouldn’t doubt you, you knew the rumors, you knew the basics, and you still stuck around. Everyone who learned the truth though ran and when they didn’t run it was usually because they had an ulterior motive, or they betrayed her.

“When I was younger, I learned my father wasn’t who I thought he was,” Sam let out a shaky breath as she got started. “My real father is Billy Loomis.” She could hear you suck in a breath at the name. “He’s the one who inspired all this,” she gestured around the room. “A year ago, my sister was attacked, by her best friend.” Sam shook her head, there were times she still couldn’t believe last year happened. Amber had never liked her growing up, but she always just figured Amber was an angry kid, she never imagined the girl would be a serial killer.

“Turns out it was all a ploy to lure me back home,” Sam let out humorless chuckle. “My now ex,” she wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t believe she had fallen for Richie, he had been so sweet and charming, that should have been the first indicator that something was wrong with him. “Set it up. He manipulated me, pretended to love me, then he tried to kill me,” she shook her head. “Oh, and he was apparently cheating on me the whole time with Amber.”

“Your ex, that was-”

“Richie,” Sam cut you off. “He tracked me down, became my co-worker, then friend, and then…”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“And it was all to make a stupid movie,” she scoffed. “He’s dead. I made sure of that. So, is Amber.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam looked at you with a furrowed brow, after everything she just said she wasn’t expecting another, I’m sorry’. “He might have been an asshole and a psychopath.” Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at your bluntness. “But whatever you felt for him was real, that doesn’t just automatically end because of what he did. It’s okay to be hurt or even feel bad about it.”

Sam nodded, no one had ever told her that before, well her therapist did but she dismissed it at the time. “But I don’t feel bad,” Sam whispered. “I don’t feel bad one bit,” Sam let out a humorless chuckle. “It felt good to kill him after what he did to me.”

Sam rested her head in her hand as she looked at you. You were looking down at the ground with your eyebrow scrunched up in concentration. “Someone started rumors about me online,” Sam said, making you look up, your brow still scrunched together. “Saying I set the whole thing up last year, that I killed my boyfriend, and he was actually the hero.” Sam shook her head, despite Sidney being there, despite all the police statements, the world seemed to believe some random reddit user over the facts.

“The world sees me as just another killer,” Sam shrugged. “Just like my father.” Sam ran a hand through her hair. “Now you know what a mess my life is,” she scoffed. “Why it would be a terrible idea to get involved with me.”

She thought back to the kiss the two of you shared just the other day. She had stopped it; she said she couldn’t. She told herself it was because she couldn’t fully trust you, she didn’t want to risk getting involved with someone else. The truth was she didn’t want to bring someone into her life, it was such a mess, she didn’t want someone else having to deal with the looks and the comments. You certainly didn’t deserve to be with someone like that, you were too good for all that, you deserved to have someone normal, someone who wouldn’t potentially get you stabbed every other day.

You had been silent most of the time and when Sam looked at you, she saw you nodding along. “Your life is a mess,” you finally said. Sam couldn’t help but smile, you were still as blunt as ever, she found she kind of liked that about you.

“About a year ago I was shot,” you said, your voice becoming distant as if you were going back to the memory. Sam furrowed her brow, she had seen the scars all over your body, she knew you had been shot before, she never imagined one of those injuries was so recent though. “Centimeters from my heart.” You kept touching a spot over your heart, Sam could only assume it was where you were shot. “It’s why I’m in town.”

“But you seem fine,” Sam said. Kirby said it was odd you were in town for longer than usual, that you were stationed in North Carolina. Kirby also said you were still active duty, if you had been injured enough to be discharged then that would be one thing but if you were healed and still active duty it didn’t make sense for you to be home for so long.

“Physically I am,” you rasped out. You were looking across the theater, but it was clear your mind was somewhere else. “But up here,” you tapped your head. “Haven’t been cleared,” you clenched your jaw.

“You seem pretty sane to me,” Sam offered. You were the most stable person she had met, which maybe she wasn’t the best judge in that department knowing her track record.

You huffed out a laugh at that. “Well, not according to my therapist. She won’t clear me until I talk about what happened.” Sam thought back to when you had told her you had a therapy appointment, you had said it was mandatory, that meant you were ordered to see your therapist, it wasn’t something you willingly went to like she did.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” If you had been seeing your therapist this long and it still didn’t seem like you were any closer to getting clear that meant you probably hadn’t talked about whatever it was yet. Sam might have been comfortable seeing a therapist and wanted to talk about her issues, but she knew that wasn’t the case for everyone, her sister in particular refused to see a therapist or talk about what happened in any meaningful way.

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s been long enough.” Sam remained silent as she nodded, she would give you as much time as you needed. “We had been deployed for a few months, it was supposed to just be a peacekeeping mission,” you shook your head. “Had done plenty of them before, meant to help build relations, and make connections. But then…”

You blinked away tears that had begun to fill your eyes, but you never let them fall. “A local militia attacked, we were caught off guard, we’re meant to always be prepared but it had been months without incident,” you continued. You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice as unwavering as possible. “My whole team was killed, my brothers,” you buried your head in your hands.

Sam sucked in a breath; out of everything she was expecting you to say it certainly wasn’t that. She couldn’t imagine the guilt you must be living with being the only survivor of something like that. The only reason she was as okay as she was was because of her sister and Chad and Mindy, without them she couldn’t imagine what she’d be like. They might not have liked to talk about what happened, but they relied on each other, they leaned on each other when one was struggling, and they celebrated together when something good happened.

“I was meant to die that day,” you whispered. “I should have,” you shook your head. You pressed your palm against your eyes before finally lifting your head again. “Somehow the bullet missed my heart, and the rescue team got to me just before I bled out.”

Sam opened and closed her mouth a few times. She wasn’t even sure where to begin with something like this, she was pretty sure there was nothing she could say to comfort you.

“See?” you said, giving her a tired smile. “I got just as much baggage as you.” Sam gave you a sad smile. “But I promise you, I’m much more screwed up, you don’t want any of this,” you gestured at yourself. “Coming into your life. Trust me,” you whispered. “It’s you who’s better off not getting involved with me.”

Sam opened and closed her hand. She wanted nothing more than to reach for you, to try and comfort you. She didn’t believe you; she was definitely not better off without you. You didn’t deserve anything that had happened to you, you weren’t to blame for your team dying. Ever since Sam had met you, all you had done was prove how good you were, you protected her, you joined the group to help protect everyone when you didn’t even know them. You told her your story as if you were warning her to stay away but it only proved to her that you truly were one of the good ones.

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

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler @marsyay78

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Seeing as Scream 7 is going to end up being cancelled because who even wants to watch it anymore, what would you personally have done with the plot and storyline?

Also Happy New Year!!!!!

This ask. Oh my GOD! This ask yes! Okay, okay, let's get into it.

I want some serious stakes, some real blood, hear me out. I want shit to be serious. So.

We start off with someone getting ready. We are unable to tell who they are, like gloved handles lacing books, sheathing a knife, all that, like it is not clear who it is. We then see them leave, we keep on their boots as they walk, some cuts, they make it to wherever they are meant to be. We hear rustling in their backpack, and then you see the robe drop, they are in the Ghostface fit. It pans up slowly, phone is out and they are calling someone.

Who do they call for the opening cold call?

Gale Weathers.

We have the opening scene, the back and forth, all that, they've broken in, they get the drop on Gale, I am talking a dirty, nasty thing, like she is tryna come around the corner and just gets a knife in the side of the throat, blade is dragged through and just full throat slit. She is bleeding and choking everywhere. Ghostface doesn't leave until she is dead. Multiple stab wounds. Stays until she is no longer breathing.

It is an uncomfortable shot, long. Ghostface with the mask a little bloody just staring down at her.

Then, they leave. No big dramatic slash to the title. Not this time.

We get into the main people, Tara, and Sam and Chad and Mindy finding out that Gale is fucking dead. Obvi there is concern about what this means.

I think the four of them have been cautious about getting close to other people, but the small relationships that they have allowed are not targeted like they all expect. It's the opposite. Anyone who is causing the core four issues is ending up dead.

Suspicion is thrown on the core four hard. Kirby is involved, she is of course trying to help, when she gets a bit too close she is hurt but not killed, just seriously maimed, to the point of medically incuded coma lets say. Sidney is mentioned briefly, she is staying farrrr away from all of this mess, everyone is glad about that, because man she still deserves that break.

The cops feel very unhelpful and so it's on the four to try and solve this, but it's hard, long, twisting, shit is confusing and not making sense and they are TIRED. The average Scream movie takes place over a few days, this will be longer. Suspicion is weighing heavily on all of them, the murders are piling up, it isn't totally making sense, it's messy, there seems to be no real reason to who is dying. At first.

It comes out over time that these people who are being killed sucked, did morally shady and awful things.

I want this body count high and us caring about the people in my opinion is not important. I want them amount of gore and the uncertainty to be bringing the scares and the heat, I want it oppressive.

And then. Kirby gets out of her medically induced coma.

And guess what she has to share?

She knows who did it. She is on the phone with like Tara and Kirby reveals the killer is Sam.

Not sure the place of the final set piece, but somewhere outdoors is appealing to me, don't ask me why, (also btw we should just set this in winter, blood on snow man, we need it, we need a winter set Scream to finish this series cuz this would be the finale' in my opinion)

Mindy is there for the reveal monologue cuz she deserves that. Sam goes off about how frustrated she is. It's been years since the last Ghostface event. She talks about how good it felt to kill and having some asshole pop up and terrorize them, she got to kill in self-defence, get some of the urges out, there has been no such opportunity in too long. She tried to ignore it, the pressure is building, she is attempting to be good, but then she gets an email from Gale who reaches out, she is trying to be better and do right by her, telling Sam and giving her a heads-up she is going to be writing a new book about the events of EVERYTHING, a full covering of all the Ghostface murders with her years of perspective after everything and Sam is just done.

She decides she is going to get her fix. She is gonna take out Gale and be done. She does it and oh my fucking God she missed this. She cannot stop herself, it becomes a compulsion. So, whenever the opportunity arises, when someone fucks with her family, with the core four, she takes the opportunity. It escalates further, she is seeking out people who she deems deserve this because that makes it okay, right? She is better than those other murders, those previous Ghostface's. She has been through so much, she's earned the right, she is doing it to protect her family. She has just fully snapped under everything.

They, the core four, assume she is gonna take them out. They know too much, she is going to end them.

She doesn't hurt or go after them because she wants them all to be together always. Tries to convince them that this is what is right, this is what should happen, just keep quiet and she will keep everyone safe. Girl is manic and unhinged.

They can't let that happen.

Three against one. They don't kill her but manage to hurt her bad enough to restrain her. The cops are called, she is hauled off, screaming and crying and heartbroken. The core four is no more, but hey, the triangle is the strongest shape in nature, so maybe they can find a way to be okay. Sam is naturally locked up and ngl at this point we also get some serious confirmation Stu IS alive and is ALSO in prison because Sam gets a letter from him. Sam and Stu are prison pen pals, no, you cannot change my mind.

[ghostfaceaddams]

Tara Argh Carpenter - a scream drabble

summary: Tara is having trouble juggling her scars and finding a Halloween costume. Sam, as always, is there for her.

warnings: cussing, scars, mentions of violence. I think that's all?

word count: 1,567

a/n: This lil idea just popped in my head the other day and I shared it with @psychofreakforc who loved it. So this is for her and any other lovers of the Carpenter sisters! Hope you all enjoy.

The doctors told Tara that regaining full sensations in her left hand was slim. 

The doctors also told Tara that she’d always have a limp and metal stuck in her leg because the break was so severe. 

But the doctors had also advised her not to play sports due to her asthma, and she had been the reigning star player on her soccer team for five years straight. 

Surviving seven stabs and a broken leg was impressive enough. Surely these docs were just quacks. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know Tara. No one knew exactly who the Tara Carpenter was except for one single person. 

And that person was her older sister: Samantha Carpenter. 

Sure, Sam had abandoned her five years. But Sam had come back when Tara needed her most and she apologized for her absence. “I’m never going to leave your side again. I promise.” That’s what the older, taller Carpenter had said to the younger, smaller Carpenter. 

Sam had her reasons and her apologies, and the sisters had shared trauma from their boyfriend and girlfriend trying to murder them and their friends. They both had Christina Carpenter as their mother. 

With all of that being said, Tara knew - she knew that there was one person who always believed in her no matter what and that was Sam. Besides, Tara was constantly proving people wrong. She proved Christina wrong when she said she wouldn’t last a week after her birth, she proved all those taller kids wrong at soccer, and she proved Amber wrong. 

Tara knew she wasn’t going to magically heal over night and that some parts would take longer than others. She’d waited five years for Sam to come back to her, she was a patient person. 

But it’s October now, and Halloween is only a week away, and she can’t find a costume for the big party one of the frat houses were going to throw. Every outfit either looked weird on her or clashed too much with her scars. And she still needed that damn cane to walk on, which didn’t match any costume. 

She guessed she could go as an old lady. Old ladies use canes to get around. But Tara’s cane was also special. 

With a cane, you use the hand opposite of the injury. Which is fine and dandy if your ex didn’t snap your right leg in half then shove a knife through your left hand. So, her grip wasn’t the best suffice to say. Google Kerry Weaver from ER and you’ll know exactly the type of cane Tara had. 

She growled as she tossed the cowgirl hat Anika had given her to the floor. Anika and Quinn had suggested a Cowgirl Barbie (Margot Robbie representation!) and Tara figured it was worth a shot. It almost worked. Almost. 

“Hey, sweet girl.” 

Tara glared at the visitor as she eased herself down to her bed. 

Kirby tossed her hands up with her eyebrows in surrender. “Woah. What’s the fuck-the-world glare for?” 

“Maybe this is just my resting face, Kirby.” 

The blonde shaped her lips into an o. She just got called her first name, that meant Tara was in a mood. Kirby said nothing as she left. 

Tara figured that was it - hoped it was, she didn’t have the energy to deal with any bullshit at the moment - but of course it wasn’t.  Barely two seconds later and there Sam was, standing in the doorway with her head innocently cocked to the side. 

“Hey, babygirl. What’s wrong?” 

That was a hilarious remark. Tara almost told Sam she should be a stand up comedian. 

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that my body is fucked up and I can’t find a fucking decent Halloween costume to wear! What nineteen-year-old shows up to a party with a legit limp and cane?” She went with that instead. 

Sam didn’t say anything. She just sat down next to her trembling baby sister and cupped the shell of Tara’s tense shoulder blade. 

Tara’s entire body twitched as if she’d been stung. She moved away from her sister with a whiny, “Sammy” but it was no use. Sam saw the way Tara was trembling with rage and knew that soon enough it was going to fester into sobs. 

Sam just rubbed Tara’s back soothingly, easing the younger girl into the crying stage. And when Tara ended the next phase, Sam was there to pull the small girl against her. As Tara curled into Sam’s side to hide away from the world, Sam wrapped her arms around Tara and solidified the wall between Tara and the darkness of the world. 

It wasn’t until Tara’s sobs had receded to shaky breaths that Sam spoke. She made sure to give Tara her spare inhaler so that she could have a clear mind and not a clenched chest to listen to Sam. 

“Tar, your scars-“ 

“Sam, I swear, if you say that my scars are beautiful and I should embrace them, I will throw myself down the stairs.” Tara threatened with a wobbly voice. 

The both of them shared a terse, watery chuckle before silence settled over them. Sam took the moment to admire her baby sister’s side profile. Her eyes picked up on the barely noticeable scar on Tara’s chin. It was just a speck, barely noticeable, but Sam remembered it as the plate Christina had thrown and a shard had nicked Tara. 

It wasn’t bad at all, but Tara had sobbed and sobbed after it happened. Sam cleaned the little girl up and took Tara to her bedroom to read a story to the younger girl until she was calm. 

Sam was always taking care of Tara. Tara wanted to be able to take care of Sam too. 

Tara took another puff from her inhaler, blowing Sam from the past to the present. 

“Your scars don’t have to be a bad thing, Tara. They don’t need to be the focus of you.” 

Tara screwed her face up in bewilderment. She didn’t want any sort of motivational speech about her scars to love them. 

“Sam-“ 

“Come on, what was your favorite episode of Scooby-Doo as a kid?” 

Okay, now Tara was lost. “I don’t know, that was forever ago.” 

“It was the one with the pirate! Remember? What was his name? It had something to do with a beard…” 

Tara shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was actually playing into this. 

“The Ghost of Redbeard.” 

Sam clapped excitedly and gave a slight nudge to Tara. “Pirate Redbeard! Yes!” 

Tara nodded her head, a grin slicing across her lips despite not wanting to. “Yeah, but it was the movie I was obsessed with. Pirates Ahoy!” 

Now it was Sam’s turn to be lost. “They did pirates more than once?” 

Tara laughed at her older sister. 

“Okay, even better then. There’s numerous representation of pirates in Scooby-Doo, and there’s a whole movie series based on pirates.” 

Tara raised her eyebrows. “You mean Pirates of the Caribbean?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

Tara snorted at her sister. 

“Pirates are very common. And what do you think of when you first hear the word pirate?” 

Tara wrinkled her nose up as she shrugged. “I don’t know. Arrrrg matey! Give me yer money!” 

Sam couldn’t contain the laughter from bubbling over at Tara’s (awful) interpretation of a pirate. At first, the younger girl could only blush and shake her head, pouting at her older sister. But then Tara started to grin, and she ended up laughing along with Sam. 

It felt like Sam needed an inhaler this time, she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed that hard. Or when was the last time Tara laughed that hard. She wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffed before continuing. 

“No, but good guess.” 

“A plank?” Tara guessed next. 

Sam shook her head again. The other girl sighed, clearly exasperated. 

“Come on, Sammy. I’m tired of guessing.” 

“A wooden foot and a hook for a hand!” 

Oh. 

Tara stared at her sister, not really knowing what to say to that. 

“It’s your leg you’re most worried about, right? And there’s no way to hide the scar on your hand. So, use it to your advantage! Be a pirate!” 

It was true that boats, jewels slash money, and those replacements were the first thing to come to mind when associating pirates with things. And it was true that, in a way, Tara did have a wooden foot and a hooked hand. 

The third truth was that Tara used to love pirates, only because she’d play it with her friends and Amber would get to save her at the end. She missed having Amber as her hero instead of her villain. 

“Okay. A pirate it is then.” Tara confirmed. 

The squeal that came out next wasn’t from Sam but from Quinn. The Carpenter sisters scoffed with a smile on their faces as the redhead went into a long spiel about helping Tara be the sexiest pirate anyone had ever seen. “Maybe someone has a pirate kink.” Had been said. 

In the end, Tara was still limping and she couldn’t feel everything in her left hand. But she did go to the party and have a good time. That was proving the people who thought her injuries would ruin her life, wrong. 

And Sam was there with a beaming smile on her face. 

[krikeymate]

As requested, a continuation of Fictober 2023 Day 28 - “I may not get another chance to say this.”

Previous.

Sam.

I might not get another chance to say this.

Tara’s voice echoes through Sam’s head as she stares out the car window, scenery passing by in a blur, meaningless and grey. Her ears ring, dial tone on repeat, over and over and over. The noises of the radio, the frantic conversation happening around her, the wind whipping against the car as it speeds down the road – all muffled, unrecognisable, lost as she is in her head. In the memory of that last conversation.

What could be their last conversation.

I forgive you.

How dare she. How dare she.

Sam.

So Tara forgives Sam, but how could Sam ever forgive Tara? For giving up, for thinking that Sam would ever let her go, that she wouldn’t come for her?

Sam.

For thinking that she’d have to die alone, that Sam would let–

“SAM!”

Her head snaps to the side.

“For the love of god, pull it together!”

Kirby sits in the driver’s seat, shoulders tense, jaw clenched, hands white where she’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

“We CANNOT afford for you to lose it right now Sam. We need you. Tara needs you.”

The woman chances a look to the side, eyes imploring. Begging. Asking her to stay with us. She’s risking so much, Sam knows. Her job, her future, her freedom. All to help them, to help her. To find revenge in a world where justice has abandoned them.

Sam nods, closing her eyes for a moment. Stay with us Tara.

When she opens them again, she’s ready.

She looks down to her lap, where cold metal rests and runs a finger over the barrel of the gun.

It’s not her choice of weapon. They’re quick… impersonal… easy. Anyone can handle a gun, can kill with a gun. It’s too much, it’s not her. But for Tara, she’d be anyone at all.

“Samantha,” the dolled up little fucker croons, as if he’s not surprised to see her. He is, Sam knows. Oh she knows, from the way he jumped when she kicked the door in, the way he rushed to his feet, knife left unattended on the desk.

The sick little freak had been watching cameras, watching Tara.

Her only regret is she won’t be able to make this last.

“You’re too–”

BANG.

“Late? Yeah, I would have been here sooner, but you forgot to invite me,” Sam sneers to his bleeding corpse, kicking it as she steps over it towards the screen.

She scans it with urgency, watching the figure behind the black and white fuzzy output, trying to find– there, movement. A sign of life.

Sam almost collapses forward from the weight of the sigh of relief she lets out. But she doesn’t have time for that, doesn’t know what state her sister is in. Every second counts now.

By the time Kirby reaches the scene, Sam’s already shot off into the facility, leaving behind only a body and the echo of slamming doors.

She moves to take the freshly vacated place in front of the cameras, eyes darting between the feeds. She spots Tara, then barely a second later, Sam’s there, embracing her.

Kirby lets out a deep breath, lungs replacing fear with relief. She doesn’t know what she’d do – what Sam would do – if anything happened to the kid.

Stepping back, she stares down at the corpse for a moment, before kneeling beside it. Sam has her sister covered, now it’s up to Kirby to cover the rest.

“I’m so fucking mad at you,” Sam snarls through gritted teeth, tears slipping from her eyes as she bundles Tara into her arms.

“You’re not allowed to say that to me, I’m dying,” the girl chokes out, strangled laughter slipping from her lips.

Sam growls – actually growls – at her, frustrated when it only makes her sister laugh harder. “Stop it or you’ll bleed to death!” she demands, rising to her feet holding Tara like she weighs nothing. Like she’s not cradling the entire world to her chest.

“I- I c-can’t,” the girl giggles, a bloody hand with crooked fingers resting against Sam’s chest. The sensation of the heartbeat beneath her skin seems to calm her.

The fall to silence is so sudden that Sam fears the worst, head snapping down, only to find her sister staring up at her with hazy eyes, as if she’s in a trance.

“Is this real?” Tara whispers, hand trying and failing to reach up, to touch skin.

Sam’s throat feels tight, like there’s a hand wrapped around it, squeezing and squeezing until there’s no air left, only pain. She aches to stop, to sit down and comfort Tara in the way she needs right now. But she can’t. There’s no time.

“It’s real love, I’m here, and you’re going to be okay, okay?”

Only silence responds.

“You’re going to be okay.”