#let dewey have his moment

[k4pp4-8]

Duck posting at 6 am

[screampied]

thinking about kuna's gf trying to convince him to let her paint his long nails 😃

✩ ‧ ˚. — tags ⋮ fem! reader, pure fluff, heian! era sukuna, panting his nails, meanie kuna but he’s a softie, petnames: little one, woman, girl.

“no.”

a downcasted frown drags against your glossed lips once you sigh. sitting on no one other than sukuna’s lap, you huff out a single vexed breath. “huhh. what do you mean no, i didn’t even ask my question yet.”

“exactly,” he replies in a low voice, leaning back against the ancient, comfortable throne. for a fleeting moment, dark, sinister eyes stare into yours before he cocks his head. “you’re gonna ask me another one of your imprudent questions.”

“kuna, just let me ask you the question,” you protest, straddling the king of curses— it was never a dull moment with him, regardless of how grumpy he turns out to be. knowing sukuna, he’s almost always grumpy. his eyes gaze into you a bit longer and he then brings his thickset upper arms to cross near his chest, a cute pout on his lips as he waits for you to finish speaking. “pretty please?”

“…….fine,” he gives in, aware that you were probably gonna persist on asking him for who knows how many more times. with a sigh, he tilts his head at you. “what is it you wish to ask me, little one?”

smug grin and all, you pick up his broad hand that was so much larger than yours, brushing a thumb against his wrist before cooing, “can i paint your nails, sukuna?”

“no.”

“sukuna!”

he’s leaning back against his throne, the well raised chair sitting up all high and mighty—one of his arms repose near the lower part of his torso and wraps around your hip, pulling you closer.

“you already know what my answer was gonna be, no?” and this time, you give him a pout.

dewey red-shot eyes peer into you for a lengthy amount of time before he groans. that cute little pout of yours, you never fail to make everything so hard for him. “hmph. why do you want to paint my nails? they’re clearly already painted, woman.”

he’s trying..

you hold back a giggle before bringing one of his hands up to your face.

glimmering eyes focus on his nails, how naturally long they were— he had a point though, they were pretty much already painted. full on richly black, the tips of them were oh-so sharp he’d be able to cut about just anything. still, you wanted to paint his nails yourself. you couldn’t really come up with a good enough answer, so you just shrug.

“i just want to,” you hum in a soft voice, intertwining your fingers with his.

he scoffs, showing little to no reaction. with a puny eyebrow raise, you feel his right thigh start to gradually bounce. “please, ryooo,” you mutter, tugging your eyebrows into a pleading, needy furrow. “this way, we can match.”

“goodness, you’re so annoying,” he grumbles, watching your grin stretch as you dangle your own hand up in front of his face.

dark cruel eyes stare at your nails, observing how well manicured and painted they were. he sighs again, uttering out a raspy, “very well,” and he sits manspread, reaching for a nearby tiny table that resides against his infamous throne. “you may paint my nails. just this once.”

with a precious giggle, you grab about two bottles nail polish from your pocket, gently placing his hand down against the porcelain glass table. he’s keeping a sharp eye on you, rolling his eyes at how ecstatic you were on this. the way you treated his hands with such care—that cute little smile never once departing from your sheeny lips,

the moment you twist off the black tight cap that sticks onto the bottle like glue, the strongly loud aroma of the polish hits against his flared nostrils.

it’s heavily strong, the familiar scent of acetone wafts against his domain entirely.

“stay still, ‘kuna.” you whisper, gathering a good amount of polish. for a moment, you swear you could have heard a low growl escape from him.

oh, you were testing his patience.

you were testing sukuna ryōmen’s patience and he was letting you.

“good, good.” you give him a closed-eye smile.

“do not praise me,” he snarls, and he’s already embarrassed. his tone made an attempt to come across as more stern and assertive, but it was just so cute.

with daunting, glaring eyes, he watches silently at the way you softly brush the tip against his nail.

each individual nail took a few seconds each— oddly enough, it was wholly soothing for a while.

“hmph,” he bleats, feeling the softness of your hand skin against his hand every so often. you were so thorough, so precise.

delicately, you lay the brush flat against the bed of his nail. the bristles coat against the layer of his nail and you feel a brief coldness of air fan against your skin. it was rather amusing to watch you pay so close attention to him, to his hands. “hm,” he raises a brow for probably the nth time today. still scowling, his face softens a bit— you had him all relaxed. “you’re quite good at that, i must admit.”

“aw. thank you,” you cheese. with a grin, you give him a cute exuberant glance, pulling up his ring finger to paint the entire part of his nail with a freshly new coat. “how’s it feel?”

sukuna groans, not liking how sentimental this moment was. the entire mood was so … soft.

you made him feel soft— he always thought things like that just wasn’t possible. especially with someone as such as him.

who would have thought that painting the almighty sukuna ryomen’s nail’s would have him falling for you ten times harder . . ?

“it’s … good,” he utters in a gruff tone, and you’re just about done.

his eyes linger toward your hands for a long time, you’re still placed on his lap before you feel the curse’s lower arms grip against your waist tightly. you felt a feeling of abrupt security and it was quite nice. within his touch, you always felt secure. moments with him like this, you’d never be anywhere else. “hurry up though, my thigh’s cramping.”

“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes with a snicker, bringing the brush towards his pinky now. he sticks it out for you, staying still as possible before you pause— dipping it back into the glass teensy bottle, swirling it, delving it around the inner crevices of the glass before finishing up his final finger.

the audacity,

the audacity of telling him to shut up, you must have been out of your mind.

but truth be told, sukuna has somewhat of a sweet spot for you. it made him kiss his teeth in sheer exasperation. he wasn’t used to such tender forms of affection. part of him wonders just why you’re always so warm to him. treating him with such care, he’s the king of curses after all, and yet here he is— acting like his long lost self, the king of love..

“alllll done,” you harmonize, he looks down to see the final results. with low hooded eyes, sukuna stares at his sharp nails— once black, now a light pinkish color. his mouth dangles opens and his face scrunches up, eyebrows curling together and it’s hilarious. for once, sukuna ryomen was speechless. “i know right? you’re gonna get so many compliments, ‘kuna.”

“you did not just paint my nails pink, woman,” he huffs out a grunt, you lean up close to him with a coy, impish look. “the nerve is beyond me..”

you giggle, flashing off your nails in his face, the two of you now having the same exact color. “oh, don’t be a baby. see, now we’re matching,” and his face is still all scrunched up. god, you had him feeling a feeling he didn’t even know he could feel. his stomach’s tight, churning ridiculously, his heart’s racing, and even his palms start to sweat. “with your long nails, you pull it off so well, heh.”

sukuna kept asking himself the same question the more he avoids eye contact.

why must you be so so cute..?

not a single reply comes from his mouth, instead he just crosses his arms into a mere fold. “mhm,” is all he replies with, tilting his head before resuming his words with an obstinate grouse. “whatever. but i’ll have you know that pink is not my color.”

you titter. “oh? what is your color then, my lord?”

you were being a brat, he sends you daggers before regretting he even said that— you always had the higher up on him, every single time.

“tch. nevermind that,” sukuna scorns, and his pout was so adorable.

pink stretched lips compressing together, stubborn as usual.

he brings his hand towards his face before exhaling lowly. “what in the— the nerve of you to put little sparkles on it too,” and he watches your smile beam at his live reaction. “i … don’t know what i’m gonna do with you.”

“you can start by thanking me,” you tease, planting your lips against his cheek.

he tenses up, the softness of your lips giving him whiplash for a moment. every time you present him either something as simple as a kiss, he was never prepared for it. “fine. thank you,” and as his bulky lower arms snake around your waist, he meets your brightly dilated irises. “are ya finished? i need a nap.”

“so old,” you stroke his cheek, and that earns a glare from him. “it’s not even the afternoon yet,” and you gift him with another mwah, the contact that your sweet lips provides has him growing more and more flustered. “but yes, i’m done ‘kuna. thank you.”

“…..good,” he responds after a long seven second pause. sukuna’s scowling before he finally returns your eye contact. his face was slowly getting more flustered from each kiss you give him before he tsks. “ah ah,” he creates a swift hand motion, “off my lap now, you’ve had your fun.”

you frown. “aw,” a sweet disappointed tone hiding underneath your voice. he’s then taken aback once he feels your humanly hands sneak their way into his hair. pink slightly curled up strands of his was a bit messy and tangled. the curse was still publicly pouting, studying your every move before you get an idea. “hm. one more thing though?”

he exhales. “what.”

“can i do your hair? i found some bows and—”

“count your days, girl.”

“stop flirting with me, ‘kuna.”

“….foolish woman,” and after a long dreadful pause, sukuna pouts yet again. so cute, his arms remain crossed before he speaks through annoyingly gritted teeth, an almost smile pokes through his lips that conceals his fangs. “fine. you may do my hair…. or whatever.”

[bluesidez]

A little nsfw Gym Rat Miguel drabble to make myself feel better. It can be placed somewhere in the future of Sophomore year.

content warning: breast play, fingering, cum eating, Miguel being in love with reader and her body per usual, 18+ so MNDI

If Miguel had the time to caress you every day, he would. He really felt that it was necessary as he watched you pull your shirt off your body.

The AC in his dorm room was broken, and his skinny fan and the Arctic freeze cooler he just bought were the only things bringing in some type of cool air.

You couldn’t take the heat too much, body warming up under his palms.

He promised you it was ok to leave, but you insisted on staying by his side.

Miguel watched you in awe as you sat on the edge of his bed, body leaning towards the cool air with your eyes closed.

You weren’t completely sweating, but your skin was dewey and inviting.

Miguel moved from his headboard towards you, lifting your hair to let your neck breathe.

“Thank you,” you sigh.

Miguel watched the curve of your neck to the pretty hills of your back all the way down to the shorts covering the part of you that sat on him before you moved for air.

He’s cold now because of your absence.

Miguel scooches closer, the bed protesting as he slides in behind you again. He felt that enough time had passed between cuddling and cooling down.

He lets your hair go and you lean back on his chest, your head lolling to the side on his shoulder.

Your chest moves with your slow breaths and Miguel’s hands grip around your middle like a lifeline.

He kneads your skin, breath hitting your temple, “Want me to take off your bra?”

A pause enters the room. A moment of nothing to hear the doors slam in the hall or the cars pass by.

“You want to take off my bra?”

Miguel hears the skepticism in your voice and drags his hands up your front. He pulls at the straps of your bra slowly and repeatedly, watching as your chest moves at his disposal.

“I'm so glad you’re having fun while I’m dying.”

“Don’t say that,” Miguel slots his hands under the straps and pulls them off your shoulders. “I’ll cool you off.”

Miguel kisses your neck and finds a path to your back. He unclasps your bra, the ease of it a bit annoying because of the worn hooks.

“How do you plan to do that?”

Miguel pulls the cups off with care, watching as your breasts drop on top of your stomach. He shifts the bra down your arms and tosses it next to his pillow.

“With my boyfriend magic.”

He cups his fingers around you, entranced by how you fall through his fingers. He pushes them towards you and out, circling and enjoying the view.

“You’re silly.”

A hitch in your breath comes when Miguel runs his palm past your areola, fingers parting to tighten around your nipple.

His thumb and finger find the other, pulling and stretching. Your nails dig into his thighs as you sigh at his ministrations.

Miguel continues to fondle your skin, your mouth parting and your body melting into his.

“I don’t know if this is helping,” Miguel hums. “Let me try something else.”

Before you can protest the loss of him on your skin, he wraps his arms around you and scoots back towards the wall dragging you along with him.

He tugs at your shorts, hips lifting to help you get them off. You make a noise as he flings them across the room. He hushes you with a kiss to the back of your neck, fingers ghosting dangerously close to your panties.

Your left thigh stretches out with the help of his forearm looping under your knee. You gasp as the rotating fan pans across your bare skin, shuddering in Miguel's hold.

"This should feel good," Miguel whispers in your ear as he slides his right hand to your clothed clit. "Wanna focus on the part that's the hottest."

You cling to his arm as he starts to rub against the nub, a moan escaping your lips before you cover your mouth.

"Amor, you gotta let me know if it's working," Miguel pouted into your skin, one kiss to your hair. "Let me hear you."

Miguel added more pressure, moving the hand under your knee to your chest. Your voice got louder as he doubled his touch.

You stuttered out your words, worried that the walls were far too thin to be yelling out please's and more's.

Miguel shifted your weight to the middle, wanting to give your left side some love.

"You're not facing the wall. Whoever's next door will live," Miguel mumbled as he felt his fingers getting wetter and wetter. "You're more important right now, anyway."

Miguel dipped his fingers lower, groaning at the sound of you that filled the room. He spread his pointer and his middle finger over your lips and reached down with his other hand to pull your soaked underwear to the side.

He mourned the loss of not being able to see how pretty you looked down there, but he enjoyed the dazed stare you gave him as he rubbed his other hand over your parted lips.

"You like it, bunny?"

You nod your head as Miguel slides against your entrance, teasing. "Need it."

Your hips moved up towards his fingertips, whining as Miguel kept his touches light. Your hand push against the wall behind Miguel, voice getting higher.

Gorgeous.

Miguel finally sinks his fingers into you, mouth pressing against you as you let out loud breaths. His middle fingers slide in and back out slowly, arms tense against you.

"Hold your legs in place, ok? Your body needs all the air it can get."

You pushed them out but scrunched them back in, Miguel's fingers working overtime in you and on your clit. Miguel worked quick to get your legs over his and out of the way.

A cry of his name reached the ceiling as he picked up his speed, thick liquid running over his hands.

It was so much, the feeling of his thick fingers folding into you and the tips of his fingers bringing you pleasure.

Your words slur together as you tell him to keep going, the intensity building up in your body. Miguel sings praises in your ear, feeling you closing in on his fingers.

Your hips jerk once, twice, three times over before your orgasm rushes through your body. Miguel keeps going with a descrescendo to his pace.

When you're finally pooled in his lap, muscles tired, Miguel pulls out with a final slide against you.

“You cool?” Miguel asks as he pulls his fingers to his lips, humming around them.

You twitch in his arms, legs, and stomach shaking like jelly, “Not at all.”

“Hm,” Miguel thinks aloud. “I think I have one more trick. Lay down."

"Oh god."

dividers by: @adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: The trick was oral btw. I know it's going to be a while before I get back to the actual story because it is genuinely a bit tough to write it right about now. But, I had this idea of Miguel being super in love with reader's chest that turned into this. So, I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[twinksrepository]

Who knew Librarians could be so mean? Or hot?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Satan X F!Reader

CW: NSFW, angst and smut, Penis in Vagina sex, making out, embarrassment, being yelled at, safe sex, condom use, semi public sex, listen you bang in a library, modern AU

Word count: Roughly 6K

A/N: It's your first year of University. So far your lifeline has been the library on campus. You might also have a thing for a certain blond haired librarian.

Well. I did say I was having thoughts because of the new Satan and Asmodeus cards. So here's the first fic. The Asmo one is also done but I need to edit it so it might be up soon.

Images belong to Solmare.

You knew university would be hard, difficult even. You just hadn’t expected it to be this hard. From the hours upon hours sitting in lecture halls and taking notes, to the lack of sleep as you never seemed to have enough time in the day to get everything you needed to done. 

In fact, at this point, you’re certain the only reason you’re still alive is because of the library on campus. 

Or. 

More specifically the blond haired librarian with verdant eyes who wore sweater vests. 

Your first interaction with the man had been late at night sometime during your first month of classes with minutes before the library was due to close. You were moments from tearing your hair out as you looked at the note you had as you hurried along the stacks looking for the reference books you needed. Out of your list of five that you needed for your first paper you had found zero. 

Sure you were from a small town. Sure this library was the largest collection of books you had ever seen. But you weren’t an idiot. You knew the dewey decimal system and understood it! Plus the catalogue showed there were several copies and not all of them were checked out. 

So why in the universe couldn’t you find a single one?

“Miss, we’re closing in less than five minutes.” Turning towards the voice you must have looked like such a mess with the way his stern expression softened. It might have been pity, it would have made sense for it to be pity since he did work at the library and was probably used to the first month of each semester to see new students looking like lambs being led to the slaughter. 

Either way, he approached you and looked at the wrinkled note in your hand. “Do you need some assistance finding these books?” 

“Yes.” You sounded pathetic even to your own ears. You had been ready to cry in that moment of defeat. There might have been water on your lashes as you looked at him.

“Ah.” With the paper in his hand he let out a chuckle as his eyes roamed over the page. “You must be taking one of Professor Willow’s classes.” At your nod, the smallest of smiles broke out across his face. “You’re in luck, follow me.” Feeling every bit like a lost little duckling you followed behind him towards one of the tables that another of the workers was cleaning up. “Your Professor gives the same first assignment every year, I noticed a group of what I assume are other students in his classes studying earlier. Ah, here we are.” 

It was like a gift from the academic gods as he handed you three of the books on your list with a smile that made you want to cry again but this time in relief. “Thank you!” You didn’t even need to head to the checkout counter, as he pulled you towards one of the terminals and checked out the books once he had your ID in hand. 

“I’ve made a note on your file to pull the other two you were looking for, is this the right number? We can send you a text when they’re ready for pick up.” This one man was a godsend as you nodded telling him it was the right number and you didn’t realize they offered that service.

“Maybe if you had a little more sleep you might have noticed.” Chuckling with a shake of his head. “I’m certain you feel overwhelmed, just know the staff are here to help. It’s important to find a rhythm that doesn’t burn you out and you look like you’re ready to fall over in a light breeze.” 

Nodding again and starting to feel like a bit of bobblehead. “Thank you Sir! Um I mean…” Trailing off and letting your eyes fall to his nameplate and the few still aware brain cells in your head were still enough to tell you not to blurt out what you wanted to ask. 

“Yes. My name’s Satan. Don’t ask.” And you didn’t. Not when he just saved your proverbial bacon. 

Suffice to say however that interaction had been enough to make you smarten up a little bit. He made a good point, if you kept burning the midnight oil you might not have the energy to finish your degree and that would have been a waste of the scholarship you were there on. Or being burnt out and letting the grades you needed to maintain slip could cost you the scholarship as well. 

You took his advice to heart and started asking the staff for help instead of wandering the stacks and assuming they’d think it a waste of their time. You couldn’t do it alone, at least not this part and the staff were always friendly. 

Yet after that first interaction, you noticed that whenever you ran into Satan he always seemed to have that little smirk on his face as he helped you find what you were looking for. Several weeks later he even shook his head a little as he handed you a tome that looked like it could double as a murder weapon. “At least you don’t have the bags under your eyes anymore, just remember you need to eat too.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” Throwing back at him as you walked away with a playful wink. Trying to ignore the tingling along your fingers that had brushed his green painted nails. 

The more you interacted with him the more you learned about him and he in turn you. It was easier for him to start the conversations based on the books you were looking for he had been able to piece together what you were studying for your degree. 

It wasn’t long before you found you both had a shared interest in reading and not just for school. “Knowledge is power. People respect someone who’s well informed.” He’d stated during one of your conversations with his hand on his chin. It made sense, and also made sense why he was a librarian. You also learned he was only a few years older than you, having finished his degrees in a time span that made your eyes widen in surprise. Knowledge is power indeed. 

The downside you saw as you got to know him better was a simple one. 

You had a crush on him. 

Something you very much kept to yourself and didn’t tell and of the few friends you had made, certain you’d be made fun of for finding the blond attractive. It might have been more being worried it was because he was a librarian because you believed with the way some of the female students fawned over him he was attractive to more than just you. It wasn’t just his looks though, he seemed so earnest in his statements, and in the brief time you’d known him it seemed like he always knew the outcome of events before they happened. He explained it away as being the logical outcome after shrugging his shoulders and going back to work. Add in his tall lean frame, blond hair that fell just over the rim on his glasses with the way he parted it. Those soft little smiles and that slightly arrogant chuckle when he was right. 

Well. 

You were smitten. At least you were also smart enough to know nothing could ever come of it. Besides you didn’t want to risk your friendship with one of the few people that loved books as much as you did. They had been your escape as a child in your small rural town and you’d never stop being grateful for the worlds they allowed you to see in those printed pages. 

At least. That was before the incident. 

You’d been walking along in a corner of the library under an overhang when you felt it. 

A single drop of water hitting the back of your neck as you perused the shelve. Lifting your fingers to the hair along the nap of your neck and feeling the wet spot. Tilting your head a little confused you looked up and felt your stomach drop. The tiles along the ceiling clearly had water stains and they looked new. 

Fearful your eyes fell to the wooden shelves that held so many of the precious printed works you swallowed. Tentatively reaching out to press a finger to one of the spines, wincing at the spongy resistance that should have been solid. “Shit.” Grabbing one of the smaller books that was drenched you hurried back towards the main area of the library to find one of the staff to let them know what you found. 

Grinning at a familiar sweater vest clad figure that had their back to you. 

“Satan!” Calling out to him and glad you’d run into him, he’d understand the problem right away. “There’s a problem under the non-fic-” The smile on his face fading at your appearance.

“Why.” Cutting you off as his eyes landed on the sodden mess in your hand, his voice frigid and his eyes seemed almost dark compared to the usual mirth they shone with. “Is that book wet?” 

You stopped for a moment looking at him in surprise. “Because there’s an entire stack that’s soake-” 

“You ruined an entire stack of books!” You flinch at the way his normally even voice seemed to boom out across the space. There’s a fury on his face that has your stomach dropping down to the floor. 

“What. No. I think there’s been a-” In a span of moments he’s right in front of you and you could have sworn it was the devil who’s name he shared instead of the sweet librarian you had a crush on.

“A mistake? There is. Letting someone like you into these hallowed halls.” His eyes seething as he stares at you while your heart hammers inside your chest and sweat starts to drip down your neck. 

“I didn’t.” You whimper the words before he cuts you off again. 

“Didn’t what?” You can’t take this sudden change in his demeanor, your vision blurry with the fluid forming along your lashes. Your stomach is nothing but knots as you shake your head, feeling your cheeks warm as you're mentally torn between being embarrassed and terrified. As well as something you refuse to name in that moment. 

“Hey, Satan!” Another worker comes to your rescue. “It looks like we’ve got a water pipe burst down in the non-fiction five hundred to six hundred. We need someone to call maintenance and shut it off before more of the books get wet.” 

It’s like watching the wraith that overtook his face wash away as he turned to you with a whisper of your name. His outburst has a crowd watching the two of you and the entire altercation. You can’t take that look on his face, not with the way you feel and the fact there’s been an audience to see and hear him treating you like dirt. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.” Slapping the ruined book against his chest as the tears finally start to fall. “Asshole.” Hissing the last word just loud enough for him to hear before you take off running out of the library. 

You’ve had enough drama today. And the worst part? When he was yelling at you your body had responded, feeling your muscles tighten and your core throb. You did not have it in you to face that you might have a kink for being yelled at. Or degraded like that. 

Back in your dorm, you curl in a ball and pass out. You just don’t have the energy to deal with what the hell just happened and the way your heart beats in your chest like it’s been broken. 

When you come to the next morning you find an email from the student board, apparently, someone, or a few someones based on the detailed account, reported the incident. 

Great. 

You just wanted to put yesterday behind you and avoid the library for the rest of the year. So much for that. With the wording of the email you have no choice but to answer as they want to know how you want to deal with the incident and wondering if you wanted to have the employee face any potential job repercussions. That leaves a weight in your gut that makes you want to throw up at the way it’s worded.

Are you upset because of it? Yes. 

Do you want Satan to lose his job because of it? No. 

Dragging a hand down your face as you draft a response of how while you are upset at the situation and thankful that other students and faculty members reported the issue, you don’t want to take any more action than an apology. 

In truth, you want more than that because his reaction made you wonder if Satan had some anger issues he needed to sort out. Something like that in the email could still end up with him facing job loss. 

Finally checking your phone you see a message from an unknown contact. Clicking it you want to bang your head against the table. 

I had no right to say that to you. 

I understand if you never wish to speak to me again but I owe you an apology. 

I won’t make excuses for my behavior. 

However I made you feel in that moment I am deeply apologetic it wasn’t right to treat you that way. 

The date timestamp show the messages were sent a few hours after the incident, and you have one more from this morning. 

I’ve been placed on suspension. You don’t have to worry about running into me at the library for a few weeks. 

 Sighing you roll your shoulders as you start to type out a response. 

Satan

Did you seriously take my number from the student system to text me after what happened yesterday? 

That’s a bit unprofessional 

Sighing again you look at the device in your hand. You’re still upset but you don’t want to leave things hanging with neither of you knowing where you stand and possibly losing what might be a friend. 

I’m not going to say I accept your apology

You didn’t even let me answer yesterday and made me feel so small like I didn’t matter. It felt so different compared to the person that helped me out so often and reminded me when I needed to take breaks. You did a lot for me without even realizing it. 

So this time let me say it. 

I think you need a break.

Maybe once you’re back I’ll have my thoughts more in order on how I want to proceed with our friendship. 

Rubbing your face as you dropped your phone beside you before flopping back in bed, glad you had a few hours before you needed to be in class anywhere. 

As the weeks went by you found a difference in the library when you were there. It wasn’t that anyone treated you differently compared to any other student. It was more that you realized Satan did a lot of things for you that the staff didn’t do for students. 

When you couldn’t find a book or a certain reference the staff just pointed you in the right direction or check in the system to see the status of it. Compared to Satan who wouldn’t just tell you, he’d lead you to the right stack and help you find it. All the while asking you about the reason you wanted the resource. Or more that he was making comments in that eerie way of his that he knew exactly what you were up to. It made you realize just how much Satan seemed to know about you and how much you missed his presence. 

Stupid crush. 

You really did miss him though, and the way your heart hurt inside your chest at his absence was a sign you were in a lot deeper than you should have been. 

It was almost like a repeat of the first time you met him, minus the mad scramble on your part to try and find books. Well. 

The time was anyway. 

You’d stayed late to finish a paper, listening to your headphones while you typed away tucked in a cubical along a wall that wasn’t used very often with several books spread out across the space. Working on your closing statement to recap your thoughts when you jumped feeling a hand land on your shoulder. 

Flailing and making the worker flinch just as much, pulling one of your earbuds out to hear what the person had to say. “Sorry! It’s almost clos-ing” A hitch in a familiar voice as you turn. 

“Satan.” It tumbles from your lips and before you know it your arms are around his middle. Burying your face in one of his sweater vests. “I missed you.” 

“I um.” Feeling his hand pat your shoulder awkwardly. “I think you might be the one being unprofessional at the moment.” Realizing what you did you jumped back, missing the slightest flush on his face. 

“Sorry!” The tips of your ears feel like they’re on fire as you start to grab your things. At least until you pause remembering the series of texts after the incident. “Satan?” 

“Yes?” He’d been standing there like he was still in shock at the sudden contact. 

“I’m still not ready to forgive you for what happened.” Watching him you see him swallow and his face pale a little. Holding up your hand as his lips spread as if to interrupt you. “That doesn’t mean I’m mad, and well. I guess it’s my turn to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you an asshole.” Sending him a sheepish smile as you go back to gathering your things. 

“You should have done worse, I was an asshole.” There’s a hint of dejection in his voice, but instead of still standing there he helps you grab your things since the library is closing. 

“I guess as long as we’re clear on that.” Laughing as you slip your laptop into your bag. Except when you straighten and find the two of you essentially sharing the space, this close you see the flecks of yellow in his eyes. “I um.” Stammering as you notice the slight split in his bottom lip. 

There’s a waiver in those pretty emerald eyes before he seems to make up his mind. “In for a penny.” Feeling confused by his words and your confusion only grows as his lips connect with yours for a brief kiss that has you feeling weak in the knees. It doesn’t last long before he steps back, creating distance between the two of you. “I guess I’m being unprofessional again.” Slowly blinking you notice the pink hue across his cheeks as he tries to look down at the floor.

“Maybe a little bit.” It’s hushed like you don’t want the words to carry any farther. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t like it though.” There’s a strange little flutter in your chest when his head snaps upwards. The way his eyes widen in what you can only hope is surprise is adorable. Squeezing the strap of your bag a little tighter in your hand as you swallow, hoping the material can wick away the sweat forming on your palms.  “You are a pretty nice guy, well, when you aren’t yelling at me.” Giving a small chuckle as you step closer, certain he has to be able to hear your heart pounding inside your chest like a drum. Lifting your hand and placing it in the center of his chest with a soft caress, parting your lips about to say something more when a voice calls out. 

“Satan!” Whatever courage you had mustered up after he kissed you shrivels up and fades in an instant. 

“Yea?” With reflexes you hadn’t expected he tugs you towards the edge of the wall and places a finger to his lips before turning and taking a few steps before dissappering from your sight into the short hallway that leads to the area you’re in.

“Almost done over here? We’ve got all the tables cleaned up and the books back on their shelves.” What? Glancing at your watch you realize the two of you must have spent a lot longer than you thought just staring at one another. It’s almost half an hour after the library was supposed to close. 

“Yea, just a few more books left to put away.” Satan’s voice is back to that steady tone you’re more used to hearing from him. 

“Oh need a hand then?” 

“No.” You can just picture him shaking his head at the offer of assistance. “I can finish up here myself.” 

“Alright. Why do I get the feeling you plan on sticking around to read after we’re all gone again?” The new voice laughs as if it’s something the blond does on a regular basis.

“Books are more interesting than people.” You can just picture him shrugging in that nonchalant way of his that has his shoulders rising just enough to show that he’s a little bit broader than his figure would let you to believe. 

“Well, have a good night then, and see ya in the morning.” Listening as the other person’s footsteps start to fade away until all you can hear is your breathing and the steady thump of your heart. Only to feel it miss a beat when Satan’s head pops back around. 

“Good. I thought you might have darted down the hallway to make sure you weren’t seen.” Leaning against the wall you’re still tucked against he raises a hand to reach out towards you, only to stop with his fingertips no more than a hairs breath away from the skin of your arm. “Um… I guess maybe the moments over?” That adorable hint of blush is back on his cheeks again. 

Feeling your face warm you shake your head. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be. Just… maybe this isn’t the best place?” Rubbing your thighs together nervously, while looking away from his face and biting your lip as your nerves come back. The idea of being caught making out with Satan in his place work where a few weeks ago he’d yelled at you for something that wasn’t your fault has you thinking this isn’t the right place. Another part of you, finds the thought of it tantalizing. 

“There’s only a few other workers left.” He says it so bluntly you jolt a little as you turn back towards him, finding his face inches from yours. The longer you gaze into his eyes the faster your heart starts to pound inside your chest, banging against your ribs as if wanting to escape from the confines of your bones. Your palms grow damp again as your stomach starts to clench. 

This close you can see the pulse in his neck, the shifting of his pale skin as he swallows and his adams apple moves. As steady as his voice might be, his body is reacting as if he’s as nervous as you are. The glasses on the bridge of his nose sliding down just enough that you make out the slight perspiration on his skin. 

You snap at the same time he does, your mouths connecting in a clash of teeth. Leaning into him with your hand tangling into his hair along the side of his head while he turns. His arms frame your sides as his chest presses you more against the wall, wedged between the bland painted surface and his body. The kiss is hurried and messy, but you don’t care, all you do care about is the way your heart pounds in your eardrums as you move your lips against his. Letting your bag slip from your fingers so you can run your hand along his chest, dragging the thick material of his sweater upwards as your fingers seek out the skin of his neck. 

Panting as you part your lips, wanting to deepen the kiss. It’s almost funny that he makes a similar move as your tongues slide across each other and you can taste what you think is coffee with milk. A bitter blend that's tempered by the tiniest hint of sweetness. Moaning as his body moves impossibly closer, as if trying to occupy the same space as you forcing you more against the wall. 

This close, your core throbs with need. He’s a bit taller than you, and there’s more than just his belt buckle pressing against your stomach. The thought of it has your head swimming with the idea of him being inside your body. 

Eventually, the two of you need to break for air. He’s flushed and his pupils are blown wide, almost hiding those striking irises of his as his shoulders shake in time to his deep breathing. You doubt you look much better. Neither of you moves too far away, sweeping your nose along the underside of his chin as you try to get your heart to slow down. 

“You have” His voice is strained as he speaks, laced with desperation you don’t understand. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Surprised at his admission you let out the smallest laugh that sounds more like a wheeze from your still screaming lungs. 

“Maybe. But I doubt it was before the start of the semester.” Teasing him has him letting out a chuckle as he ghosts his lips along the ridge of your cheekbone, following it to your ear before whispering lowly. 

“I’ll give you that, but it doesn’t change just how much I want you. Or how much I’ve had to control myself when talking to you instead of shoving you against the stacks and leaving you breathless.” Well, shit. If that low rasp in your ear doesn’t have your underwear starting to stick to your folds from the amount of fluid dripping from you his next words do. “Kissing you until your lungs burn while I pound my cock into you so when you cum my name is nothing but a mumbled moan that no one but me can hear. Then.” Dragging out the word with a strained breath. “I’d take you again. And Again. Until you’re a boneless incoherent mess.” 

“Damn. And here I just thought you were cute.” Trying to take away the building tension between the two of you out before your body screams to let him just do that. “Do you think that about a lot of new students?” A bad joke that doesn’t do anything to stop the thundering in your ears and the clenching of your core.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just think those thoughts about you.” Watching his cheeks take on that cute little shade of pink that you’re starting to suspect is also partly his embarrassment makes your stomach do a strange little flip flop. 

“This is not a conversation I thought I’d be having right now.” Tilting your neck so your lips can brush along the point of his chin. “But I like it.” If how wet you feel is an indication it’s a lot more than just liking it. 

“Shit.” Hissing through his teeth you find yourself blinking in confusion. “I didn’t think you’d want me, that it was just fantasies in my head. I want you right now but I don’t have anything on me.” Letting his hands fall to his slide as he steps back, looking like he’s annoyed with himself. 

“Oh, Satan.” Chuckling you reach down to grab your bag and fish around inside one of the inner pockets. “You mean something like this?” Holding up the foil packet with a shit eating grin. 

“Do you always carry one of those around?” He has a look on his face like he isn't sure what you’re doing with a condom in your bag. 

“They say luck favors the prepared.” Teasing him a little as you lean back against the wall. “Plus, I’d rather have a condom on me and not need it, than need it and not have it. Seems like a good idea right now.” Watching that smile return to his face as he steps back into your space, kissing you again with a moan of his own as his fingers pluck the packet from your grasp. 

“Does that mean you feel like getting lucky?” Amusement in his tone as he skims his hand along your side, nipping at your lips while he waits for your answer. 

“You mean right here?” You definitely want this man, but the idea of it being against a wall doesn’t exactly keep you in the mood. 

“No. At one of those little desks, you were at earlier. No one would be able to see the middle one.” Nodding you place your weight against his body and away from the wall, trailing your hand down to the bulge in his pants and rubbing him through the material. Groaning he lets you keep palming at his cock as his hands land on your shoulders to guide you to the space, sitting down on one of the chairs and patting his lap for you to crawl on top of him. “Next time I’ll do you in the stacks, but for now I’d rather we both enjoy it sitting.” If it’s possible he seems nervous, not that you aren’t as you lick your lips before letting your weight settle. 

An experimental roll of your hips has both of you making some choked noises. The fire in your core is starting to make you sweat, and you just wanna feel him inside of you. “Satan?” Whispering against the shell of his ear with your hands resting on his shoulders, liking the feel of his lean form under your palms. 

“Yes?” A catch in his voice as he says your name with a longing you hadn’t expected. 

“I don’t want a build up, I just wanna feel you inside me. Please.” Whining low in your throat as you admit exactly what you want. 

“Asking like that just makes me wanna give into you.” Agreeing as he uses his hands to lift your hips upwards. “We’ll save that for next time.” Next time. It makes your core clench tighter as you step back and work the button on your jeans open and slide the zipper down before shimming the material of your bottoms and underwear down to your ankles. 

Glancing back to Satan and swallowing. His belt is undone along with his pants, pushed down to his knees with his cock in his hand as he strokes himself slowly from base to tip. It’s not the first dick you’ve seen, you’re not a virgin but you’ve only been with two other people as you tried things. Curious about how sex felt. But looking at him and the curve of his shaft already wrapped in the condom and how long he is you feel your walls clench and a dribble of liquid along the skin of your pussy. 

“We can stop if you want.” He must have taken you not moving as hesitation. Shaking your head before you shuffle closer and sit on his lap with your legs straddling his. 

“No. I want this.” Licking your lips as you place your hand over his chest and above his heart. “I want you.” Leaning in with a gentle kiss that’s more feeling than movement. Sliding your hands upwards to his shoulders you lift your hips up just enough so he can guide the head of his cock to your slick core. “Do you wanna stop?” 

“No.” That edge of certainly is back and once you feel the tip breach your sex you start to lower your body down, letting more of his length disappear inside your walls. 

“Sa-tan” Gasping as you tilt your head back, the burn from the slight stretch adding to your pleasure as his shaft reaches into the deepest part of you. Your butt cheeks clenching as you try to tighten even more around him, like your pussy wants to drag out that sensation of your walls being pushed to the point of pain as long as possible. 

“Fuck you feel good.” Hissing through his teeth as his hands settle on your hips to help you ease more of your weight down on him. A single drop of sweat trails down the side of his face as he watches you, savoring your expressions and storing them away in his memory for when he needs release and he only has his hand to work with. “Such a tight cunt.” Clenching around him like a vice while lightning races along your spine. Making a small noise of discomfort when his tip hits what you think is your cervix. “Easy, don’t hurt yourself.” His voice is soft through his clenched teeth as one of his hands sweeps across the skin of your hip before climbing a little higher under your shirt.

Nodding as you try to breathe through your nose, shit, you’re almost ready to cum just from having his cock in your pussy. Throbbing inside of you to the time of his heartbeat, the stretch making you pant as sweat has your shirt clinging to your back. “Kiss me.” It’s more like a command than a request, but Satan complies none the less. Lifting the hand that had been tracing patterns into the skin of your stomach to the back of your head to pull you closer. Letting him have control of your mouth and distracting you so your body relaxes, because you want to ride him instead of just coming undone from him being in your cunt. 

It’s like he can sense it, sliding his tongue around the inside of your mouth as is mapping it for memory. Keeping his fingers tangled in your hair and doing his best not to cum himself. As much as Satan might have fantasized about this moment, he never thought it would happen, having you here right now stuff to the brim with him was making him want to throw you on top of the desk and buck into you like a wild animal trying to breed. No. He needs you to feel safe around him again before snapping his hips into you like he wants to break you, so make it so your body craves his the way he craves you. Humming when he feels that tight channel wrapped around his shaft loosen. 

As the burning in your core starts to subside you lean back to break the kiss, placing your hands more firmly on his shoulders to steady yourself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to cuming just from being penetrated.” Whispering the words as if sharing a secret before you start to gently ride him, focusing on the way his cock slides in and out of your walls. The way some of the veins along the underside brush against bundles of nerves that has you breathing deeper and freezing from the sensation. 

“If it helps” his voice is strained and the blush on his cheeks has spread to his neck and ears. “The last time I was this close so quickly was my first time.” Its so earnest you can’t help but slide your fingers along the nap of his neck as you close the distance for another kiss, starting to ride him a little faster now. 

Sliding your tongues together and breathing through your nose as you keep increasing the pace, moaning as his both of his hands are back on your hips. Helping guide you and keep you in place as you slide up and down his shaft from tip to base, feeling that coil in your belly growing tighter and tighter. All you can hear is the sound of wet slapping, moaning more into his mouth as he starts to buck up into you from the chair. 

Mewling against his face when you break the kiss, barely any space between your lips as you pant and whine hovering at that edge. “Satan.” It’s a breathless call of his name as you let out another whine, you’re so close. 

“I’ve got you.” Whispered against your face you feel his rapid exhales wash against your sweat slicked skin before you let out a strangled cry as you cum. All thanks to his fingers pinching your clit when his cock was balls deep inside you, moments later a grunt that might have been your name before Satan slams his mouth against yours. 

Slumping into his body as your core keeps spasms around him, his balls pumping more and more of his seed into the thin barrier of the condom that serves as a divider between your sexes. 

When you come down from your high you let out a soft little laugh as you lean your forehead against his. “That was fun.” 

“It was. I’d like to do it again.” Licking his lips as he gives one of your asscheeks a squeeze, liking the way it feels in his hand. “But I’d rather us both fully naked and on a bed.” 

“I live in the dorms.” Lifting your head with a smirk. “And didn’t you say next time would be in the stacks?” 

“I don’t consider this time over yet.” Catching your mouth in another quick kiss. “My place it is then.” Helping you off him before his cock softens too much as you swallow at the amount of cum inside the condom. Shit. You can already feel your body warming at the thought of another round. “Oh, and I’ve got condoms at my apartment.” 

“Then lead the way, Mr. Librarian.” Pulling your pants on and discreetly licking your lips. You like the idea of sucking him off and swallowing a massive load like that down your throat. “Does that mean I’m better than your books?” 

The answer is a laugh that makes you grin from ear to ear. It’s the start of an interesting relationship with the man that’s for sure. 

Obey me Masterlist

[tokuvivor]

Let’s talk about Huey.

He’s the responsible triplet. He tries to keep his brothers in order. That’s the weight that comes with being the oldest brother.

But let’s face it. Even he needs someone to look up to. Not necessarily as a parent or guardian, like he would Donald, Della, or Scrooge, but as more of an older sibling.

Which brings me to the main point of this post: Today, I will be discussing three characters that have acted like an older sibling towards Huey at one point or another in the show (and in the case of one, has signs pointing to that happening more consistently post-canon).

Let’s start with Lena.

In the first two seasons, we didn’t really see Huey and Lena interact one-on-one much. Then we get to The Split Sword of Swanstantine! (which we saw yesterday for Movie Night, and inspired me to make this post at all), and these two paired off together to find the blade of the Sword of Swanstantine.

I cannot say enough good things about who the writers chose for each pair in the episode (them, Dewey and Webby, and Louie and Violet), and just how well they all played off each other.

Back to Huey and Lena, though. Their main adversary in this episode is Steelbeak, who resolves to take the blade with brute force, which Lena wants to match him with, but Huey would rather take a logical approach to it. So they enter Huey’s mindscape, and after repeated attempts to outsmart Steelbeak fail, Lena discovers a mysterious door to…The Duke of Making a Mess.

It’s this wild, feral creature that lives inside Huey’s mind, and Lena sees it as a way for Huey to get an edge on Steelbeak. But Huey doesn’t want to use it, as he’s uncomfortable with that side of him. But Lena gives him some advice as the former shadow of Magica De Spell: that he can’t ignore parts of himself he doesn’t like. He’s gotta own them.

So, after embracing both the madness of the Duke and his usual, logical self to thoroughly hand Steelbeak’s ass to him to get the blade, Lena called it the most beautiful butt-kicking she had ever seen.

Just look at how proud she is of him! She really didn’t think much of anyone besides Webby in Season 1, but now, she’s not only owning her past trauma, she’s using it to help Huey with his own demons (well, demon).

Sure, she took pictures of his various disguise fails versus Steelbeak, but that doesn’t change or diminish how much she helped him out in the episode. With all of that encompassed, Lena definitely gives off big sister vibes towards Huey in this episode (and I definitely feel like moments like the Duke one between the two of them would carry on down the road). Also, they have the connection of both being oldest siblings in general.

Next up: Fenton.

Of the three dynamics I’m covering here, Huey and Fenton’s gets the most coverage over the course of the series. After their first encounter in Who is Gizmoduck?!, Huey became enthralled with Gizmoduck after he saved his life, then disillusioned by him after he essentially sold out and became WaddleDuck, but in the end, it was Huey who realized that the perfect core processor for the suit was Fenton’s own mind, because Fenton is Gizmoduck.

In The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!, Huey (along with Webby) helped Fenton with his date with Gandra at the lab (“It’s a Date!” intensifies). Even though this episode more establishes the beginning of the relationship between Fenton and Gandra, Huey’s support for his friend throughout is rather admirable.

In Astro B.O.Y.D.!, even though they didn’t really share a main storyline here, Fenton was willing to help Huey out regarding Boyd, and he was also the one that suggested that Boyd be used to fight crime in Tokyolk. This really shows that Fenton and Huey’s dynamic goes both ways in regard to one having a problem, and the other finding a way to help them out.

In The Trickening!, even though Fenton himself does not appear in the episode, Huey dressed up as Gizmoduck for Halloween, and he really went the extra mile with his costume. He even imitated Fenton’s Gizmoduck voice really well (“Halt, citizen!”).

In Beaks in the Shell!, after finding out that Fenton and Gandra are indeed together, Huey helps the two keep their relationship a secret, even going so far as having Louie dress up as him so as to not crack under the pressure of M’ma Cabrera’s interrogation. And, of course, Huey, along with M’ma and Gyro, help Fenton and Gandra take down Mark Beaks in the Gizmocloud. Even though Fenton kept their relationship secret from even Huey for so long, the fact that Huey was still willing to help cover it up just a little longer shows just how much trust the two have in each other.

Huey and Fenton are really two peas in a pod. With Fenton as an only child, and Huey as the oldest triplet, the brotherly dynamic is perfect for the two of them. It makes sense to me that as life goes on for the both of them, they’ll still show up for each other, no matter what.

And finally, Gandra.

This is a tougher one to go strictly by canon on, because Huey didn’t share any scenes with just Gandra in the show.

In The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!, Gandra was probably confused by the whole romantic setup in the lab, and thought that Huey and Webby were mostly just in the way in regards to her getting close enough to Fenton to swipe the Gizmotech for Beaks (even though the partnership was temporary). Nothing direct between the two of them in this episode, so hard to say here.

Regarding their dynamic in Beaks in the Shell!, besides the above GIF where Gandra put a weighted blanket on Huey because he was freaking out, you can also piggyback the whole “keeping-the-relationship-a-secret” thing with Fenton onto Gandra, too, since it’s also her relationship. Plus the “taking-down-Beaks” thing.

They also had a couple brief interactions in The Last Adventure!, but beyond that, it’s up to interpretation. I think that with Gandra free from F.O.W.L., whether she sticks to her own projects, works with Team Science in some way, or both (again, up to interpretation), with Fenton’s existing friendship with Huey, it’s completely reasonable to suggest that Gandra ends up forging a friendship with him, too. And Huey would definitely like finally getting to work with her.

For as much as I love fanon’s takes on Fenton and Gandra’s relationship, in the past, Gandra didn’t usually get much else in the way of stories where she connects with other characters. Huey is absolutely a missed opportunity on that front; they’d definitely have a cool dynamic. Huey just has a way of worming into people’s hearts, and I think after some time, Gandra realizes how much she genuinely cares about him. This is not meant to be a buildup to shamelessly plugging my Gandra and Huey story, Bridging the Gap, but then again, it kinda is. If you want to read it, click here.

So there you have it. Huey’s a great big brother, but if you really, really think about it, he’s also a great little brother.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light in |One-shot [1]|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader | Dewey Riley and Fem!Reader

One-shot: A Classic Whodunit

Summary: Moving to Woodsborro was certainly not your willing decision. Change has always been hard for you, so what better way to cope than to make everyone else's life almost as miserable as yours?

Warning(s): Swearing, & mentioned family issues (?)

Notes: Finally got around to re-writing this and I definitely prefer this version. There's more Tara x Reader stuff and a little more details regarding R's past. Still based off this scene from Gilmore Girls and takes place when R just moved to town. This'll still be the last thing I'm able to post for one my stories for a bit, but I'm glad it's still something

Masterlist

The fall breeze hits you as you walk out of the school building. You continued reading from your book as you walked with your head hung low paying no mind to your surroundings, too engrossed with the words you read. That was until you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the corner of your eye, your brief suspicions immediately being confirmed when the person spoke. 

Dewey—who was previously leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed—began to follow you, uncrossing his arms. “Hey,” he nodded at you and you didn’t reciprocate, only turning your head to look at him briefly before turning your attention ahead of you while putting your book in your back pocket. “How was school?” Dewey immediately followed with. 

“Great,” you couldn’t help the blatant disinterest in your tone. 

“Learn anything good?” You could already tell he was amping up to something. There was a certain eagerness in his voice. An eagerness to segway into what he truly wanted to talk about. 

“Oh yeah, tons of things. I got gold stars plastered all of my forehead,” you remarked with as much sarcasm you could muster at the moment. 

“I got an interesting call today. Wanna know who it was from?” He asked and you couldn’t care less. 

“Not really,” you answered honestly, your tone still showing anything but amusement.

“So Mr. Collier—you know he owns the local market?”

“If you say so.” 

“Said you came in today.”

“He did?” You rhetorically asked; you looked both ways before you and Dewey now walked alongside a road. 

“And he said you took some money out of a little donation cup to help repair the roads. I told him he was crazy, you wouldn’t do that, you weren’t a thief, that he was just trying to start trouble and then I hung up on him.” Most of what Dewey was saying was going in one ear and out the other. You’ve grown good at tuning people out, intentional or not. Still Dewey continued. “Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy hanging up on Mr. Collier. The guy’s nothing but a jerk—and he is crazy. But I was just wondering, if maybe, any of the other things were true.”

“What do you think?” You questioned with annoyance at the edge of your voice. You were starting to grow more and more impatient as he continued to yammer on. 

“I think if you tell me that what he’s saying is not true then I’m going to believe it’s not true,” he elaborated.

“Okay. It’s not true.” 

“That doesn’t sound very convincing—”

The two of you were now on a dirt path as you stopped in your tracks and finally turned to face Dewey. While one hand moved as you spoke, the other one was clenched into a fist to your side. “—Look, what exactly do you want from me? First I get forced to move here, now I’m stuck with you most of the time. I’m put in this place—now in a school that has us doing the pledge of allegiance in six-different-languages! I’m supposed to be this happy-go-lucky person after being taken away from my home, my friends—and now you want what from me?!” 

You didn’t need this. You were fine living in a crappy apartment. You were fine knowing the city you lived in like the back of your hand. You were fine having your best friend within walking distance. 

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Your father had no right to ship you off just because he couldn’t take his precious image being ruined. He was on the verge of sending you to military school before your mom stepped in. Their marriage had been falling apart for some time but this was definitely the nail in the coffin. 

“I’m just trying to help you,” Dewey sighed as his own patience was beginning to grow thin. Dewey knew about your complicated relationship with your father. He knew what led to you ending up in Woodsborro. He knew things about you before you even knew them. He just wanted to protect you, shield you from harm. Even if he knows where that has gotten him in the past.

“Well stop trying. Stop talking to me, stop following me, and stop asking me questions! Just stop!” You waved your hands in aggravation as you spoke, your temper and annoyance taking over you with each second. You were pissed and upset with every aspect of your life. Unfortunately, Dewey found himself being on the receiving end of your frustration. 

“That’s what you want?”

“Yes!”

“That’s what you really want?” He wasn’t yelling but his voice grew louder with his second question to match your own tone.

“Yes,” you spoke with more conviction. 

“Fine. You got it, kid!” Dewey said as he threw his hands up.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome!”

You both continued walking, both of you walking tensely as you stepped onto the bridge that went over the lake that was not far from where you two were previously standing. You each refused to look at the other as you walked along the bridge. When you were halfway on the bridge, you suddenly felt yourself being shoved. In a blink of an eye, you go from standing on the bridge to standing in the lake soaking wet. You pushed your hair back to look at Dewey who was still walking with his back facing you. He didn’t pay the person he just shoved into a lake any mind. 

Great.

By the time you successfully lifted yourself up and got back on to the bridge, Dewey was gone. Nobody liked soggy socks but maybe you deserved it. Maybe. Even if you were far too stubborn to admit it. 

—

The next day people were crowded around Mr. Collier’s store. He was ranting about something with his hands going up and down as he spoke angrily. When Tara walked closer she finally saw what all the ruckus was about. 

Apparently someone had drawn the outline of a body right outside of his store and put up caution tape. It was obviously just a prank.  If there was actually a murder, the police wouldn’t let it hit daylight. Let alone bring attention to it by drawing an outline of the body with white chalk. They weren’t living in the interwar period. But Mr. Collier refused to see this as he argued with Sheriff Hicks, eyes flickering back and forth from the sheriff and the outline as he yelled. 

“What am I supposed to do?! I have a dead body right in front of my store!” 

“No. You have a chalk outline of a dead body in front of your store,” she said as a matter of fact. “One of my guys is doing a headcount to see if anyone is missing. Until then just sit tight? This is probably just some prank done by one of the highschoolers.” She sighed before walking away from the dramatic man. 

Tara couldn’t help but laugh as she looked over at the outline again. Nothing good ever happened in Woodsborro. Other than the fact that a few murders from the 90’s are practically a part of their school curricula, it was a boring ass town. So one should never take entertainment like this for granted. 

Sheriff Hicks came back just a few minutes later and informed everyone—mainly Mr. Collier—that everyone had been accounted for and it really was just a prank. 

“But it looks so real! Where’d they get the police tape?” The man was still in disbelief if his tone was anything to go by.

“Kids have their ways,” Hicks shrugged, resting a hand on her hips. She had gone through ghostface before and even her ptsd wasn't flaring up from what was in front of her. The man needed to relax.

“Who would be depraved enough to pull a stupid prank like this?!” 

As if on cue, Tara’s eyes found you leaning against a light pole across the street as you wore a devilish smirk. It shifted into a small smile when you met her eyes. You looked away for a moment then back at her before you walked away. 

Of course it was you. This had your name plastered all over it. You might as well have been posing at the scene of the crime. She should have known better. You have been wreaking havoc from the moment you stepped into town. Nothing good ever came from that stupid smirk she’s become all too familiar with. Everything about you annoyed her to no end. There was just something she couldn't put her finger on. It was driving her insane. You were going to drive her insane. 

—

The next day, Tara returned to the market so she could fulfill her duties as the snacks retriever for tonight’s movie marathon with the others. After seeing that everything—your mess—was cleaned up and Mr. Collier was less frantic, she made her way inside the market. While inside, she bumped into Wes. They talked for a few minutes as she continued shopping. Wes was nice, but romance wise? Tara didn’t know how to feel. Wes is kind, good looking, a gentleman—what was stopping Tara from going out with him?

“I’m going to ring these up but I’ll meet you outside?” Tara said to Wes and he nodded with a smile. Tara returned it before checking out the things she bought and waited outside the store for Wes with her plastic bags full of snacks in hand. She suddenly felt a light tap on back before she turned around and saw you.

“Should you be standing around here all alone? I heard this is a pretty dangerous corner,” you teased while emphasizing the word ‘pretty’ by motioning with your hands. Tara looked at you then immediately looked away as she crossed her arms.

“I’m fine,” she said—trying in a nonchalant tone.

“Feeling succinct today?” You looked her up and down, noticing her tense demeanor.

“Pretty much.” She refused to give you anymore than that. She was not going to buckle. She was not going to fall for your witty remarks or snide comments.

“Hm,” you said while lightly nodding. “Did I do something to offend you?”

“Me? No.” Now she was finally looking at you, meeting your eyes.

“Good.” 

“You might wanna ask that same question to Dewey though.”

“Meaning?” You raised your eyebrows as if you didn’t have a single clue.

From your facial expressions to your tone—how were you so unbothered? How could you be so clueless? So dense? Fuck it. Maybe she was going to buckle and fall but you were just too irritating to resist the temptation. “You’ve got this whole town coming down on him,” Tara’s voice became more defensive.

“Reeeally? How’d I do that?” You feigned a look of surprise and concern, matching your conceited tone

She was going to punch you.

“You know how you did that,” she replied because you couldn’t be that dull. You just couldn’t. 

“I’m quite familiar with the bluebook laws in this town so you’re talking about a lot of things. Dropping a gum wrapper, strolling arm and arm with a member of the opposite sex on a Sunday,” you satirized with that vexing voice of yours.

Maybe you were that dull. Tara pointed down with both her arms at the chalk you both stood on. They were able to clean up the police tape no problem, but the chalk was going to take more elbow grease. 

You looked to where she was pointing before saying, “Ah.” You moved your feet off of the outline before continuing, “What about it?”

“You did it,” Tara said. “Everyone knows you did it. They had a meeting about it.”

“You actually go to those bizzaro town meetings?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. You shook your head, “God those things are so To Kill A Mockingbird.” 

“My friend’s mom is a sheriff, so she’s the one who went. And Dewey went. When he got there everyone ganged up on him. They all want you gone,” Tara told you with no remorse.

“Wow. Bummer.”

“And he’s standing there, yelling at everyone, and defending you—now he’s a pariah for the shit you’ve caused in just a month of being here.” You looked down to the side, processing what you were just told. You wore a look Tara wasn’t able to read. “Of course you don’t care about any of this,” she rolled eyes.

“I didn’t say that,” you said. 

“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” she waved you away with her hands, shooing you, before looking away.

“Fine…” You started to walk away but Tara’s frustration got the best of her and you stopped and turned back around when you heard her speak again. 

“You’re an asshole!” 

“Got a second wind, huh?” You tried to hide the displeasure you suddenly felt.

“You’re making his life hard. And for what? For your own amusement? You’re sadistic.” You could tell she had been holding that in. You also wouldn’t comment on how you found the pout she was wearing a little cute. “Second wind over.”

“I didn’t realize they were coming down so hard on him…”

“Funny, I never pegged you as clueless,” Tara remarked, annoyance still evident in her voice.

“I get it…” She gave you a look. “No no no, I do, I get it,” you lightly nodded at her. Contrary to your previous tone, your voice now held interest and understanding—and so did the look you gave her. Your eyes flickered between her and the chalk outline before asking the question that’s been in the back of your mind, “Did you at least think it was funny?”

Tara tried to fight the smile on her face as she rolled her eyes, but this time rolling them in a more playful manner. “That is so not the point!” She hoped you didn’t hear the laugh that threatened to come out. 

“Yeah… you thought it was funny,” you said proudly. 

“Shut up.” She could no longer meet your eyes, now looking back at the ground.

Before either of you could say anything else, the door to the market opened and Wes walked out with a few bags of his own. “I got the—oh hey,” Wes cut himself off to greet you.

He didn’t know you personally, just that you already had a few run-ins with his mom in just a month of being here. Did that make him weary of you? Sure. But you weren’t the first kid at his school to have run-ins with his mom. Your reasons were just more… creative. 

“This is Wes,” Tara introduced the two of you. Looking between you both as you two made eye contact.

“Boyfriend?” You asked without looking away from Wes.

“No! I mean,” she cleared her throat. “No. Not boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Right,” was all you said as a reply while you continued to stare him down. “How you doin’?” 

“Good. Yeah I’m good,” Wes responded with a tightlipped smile. 

“Okay see you around,” Tara quickly cut in before this awkward interaction could go any further. 

You finally turned your attention back on Tara, looking at her. “Seems to turn out that way. Doesn’t it?” Your tone was underlined with something Tara couldn’t place. Before she could respond, you turned around and walked away to who knows where.

You were truly something. 

—

You let Tara’s words sink in as you made a detour to Dewey’s trailer. Deep down you knew Dewey didn’t deserve the way you were coming down on him. Especially when you could probably say he’s done more shit for you than your father has. 

Moving to Woodsborro was definitely not at all ideal. You hated change and everything that came with it. All it did was bring more anxiety into your life. So when your mother informed you you would be leaving Brooklyn to move to some town in California, you didn’t handle the news well. You still weren’t handling it well. There were a few reasons as to why you moved, your father being the root of each one. But although you understood part of it, what you didn’t understand is why you had to move so far away. Maybe that’s part of why you’re so hard on Dewey. If your mom was moving and starting fresh, it makes sense she would want to start it surrounded by close friends. But did she have to pick one that lived so far away?

You didn’t know a bunch about her dynamic with Dewey other than the fact that they met in 1998 during the ghostface attacks. They eventually got close and became friends. They must have been great friends considering she made him your Godfather. 

You also knew Dewey was a former Sheriff. A former Sheriff that’s aware of your trip of a track record. He always made sure to keep an eye on you and it was extremely annoying. A nunsense really. It’s like you couldn’t breathe for five seconds without him hovering over you.

Your mom was a nurse, you didn’t get to see much of her. She always took as many shifts as she could, more shifts meant more money. More money is definitely something your family could use. Since your mom was always working, you often found yourself stuck with Dewey. You quickly grew sick and tired of him. But now here you were, making your way to Dewey’s trailer as you went over everything in your head. You knew you were the asshole in all this. Dewey was just trying to help you. He didn’t need you making it harder for him than it already was.

You knew what you had to do, even if it meant forcing out the words. Apologizing was not one of your specialties. You went over the exact words you wanted to say, sighing, before knocking on the door to Dewey’s trailer. 

Dewey answered the door, already knowing who it was. “Hey, kid,” he greeted just a second after he opened the door for you.

“Hey. Mind if I…?” You pointed to the inside of his trailer with raised eyebrows and he nodded before letting you inside. “So uh…” You shoved your hands in your pockets as you looked around as if you have never been in his trailer before. As if you hadn’t already spent most of your nights sleeping on the beat up mattress that was now leaned up against the wall. Dewey looked at you with his arms crossed and expression warm. You felt like he always wore a warm expression no matter what. “Hey,” you finally said once you realized you lost your train of thought.

He chuckled a bit before saying, “You already said that.”

“Right, well I wanted to…. Apologize,” you said while looking at the ground, playing with the fabric of your pockets.

“Okay. I’m listening,” Dewey replied as he took a seat on his futon.

“Oh, that was actually the apology.”

He hummed before inquiring, “For…?” You didn’t need to look at him to know he was enjoying this. 

You exhale, tilting your head back as you look at the ceiling. You finally looked back at him before saying, “I’m sorry for making things harder than it needs to be.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate that,” he looked at you with a soft expression. You didn’t get a lot of those.

“No problem,” you give a brief smile before you begin to turn around. But before you’re able to leave Dewey’s trailer, you hear his voice again. 

“Why don’t you stay for dinner? I know your mom’s working tonight and Stephen’s off at a friend’s house. What do you say?” His offer caught you off guard. You certainly weren’t expecting that after all that you’ve put him through. But you also didn’t feel prone to declining it like you usually would be. 

“Uh, yeah. That sounds nice, actually,” there was still a bit of reluctance in your voice but it still held honesty. You were feeling something indescribable. You don't think you have ever felt it before, or maybe you just never felt it often. Dewey cared about you. He wanted to be there for you. It was a strange feeling, but not a dreadful one. 

You spent the remainder of your night in Dewey’s trailer; you talked and joked with one another as you ate leftover pizza with the television playing in the background. You always ate dinner alone. No one was ever around to eat with you and it didn’t take long for you to get used to it. It was different eating dinner with Dewey. To have someone to share a meal with. It was just a matter of whether it was a good or bad difference. 

Maybe for once you shouldn’t dread on your spiraling thoughts and enjoy the moment.

The next morning, you woke up to Dewey cursing at his toaster. You lazily pushed yourself up by your elbows, leaning forward and rubbing your eyes with one of your hands. “Damn toaster!” You heard Dewey curse before you heard something clattering. You pushed your blanket off of you before rolling off of the mattress and onto the floor then got up to see what was going on. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He asked once he saw you before continuing to whack his toaster. 

“No. You’re good,” you yawned. “But—uh, why are you assaulting your toaster?” You looked between him and the toaster with raised eyebrows.

“I’ve had this hunk of junk for ten years and suddenly it just stops working,” he answered with a huff as he continued to hit the toaster's side. 

“I don’t know if ten years is suddenly.”

He waved his hands up in the air, purposely dropping the screwdriver he had on to the counter in the process. He let out a defeated sigh as he said, “Forget it,” pushing the toaster away from him. “I have to grab a few things. Are you going to be fine here or do you want me to drop you off?” 

You looked at the toaster as you thought to yourself. “I”ll be fine,” you said and he patted your shoulder as he made his way towards his keys. 

“Breakfast is on the table—I shouldn’t be out long!” He called out before leaving through the trailer door.  As soon as he left, you went for his tool box. You remembered seeing it the first time you came over. After grabbing the tool box, you grabbed the toaster and got to work. It actually wasn’t that bad. There was just some tightening and cleaning that had to be done. By the time you finished, you had a little over ten minutes to spare before Dewey was home. It wasn’t until later that night he noticed something was different about his toaster.

“My toaster works,” he said with shock. This toaster was complete garbage just a few hours ago. What happened? He looked over to see you with your nose in your book, not paying him any mind. Then it dawned on him and he couldn't help the smile that grazed his face as he looked at you. “Thanks, kid.” 

“Didn’t do anything,” you simply replied before getting up from your mattress and grabbing your light jacket. “I’m going for a walk,” you reached for the handle before pausing. “I'll be back in a few,” you then added before leaving.

Dewey was still admiring his toaster when you returned.

-----------

A/N: tara and r are both sarcastic little shits in different fonts

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax@andsoigotabutterfly @ajortga @rroyale-109 @alliecavell

[fanfics-and-love]

We Get Along Like Snow in New York

Sam Carpenter x reader

Not my gif

Warning(s): canon typical violence, mentions of death, mentions of blood, mostly fluff surprisingly

Word count: 4k words

Request: Sam and reader have gotten extremely close since moving to NYC and living in the same apartment, but when news of Ghostface attacks happening in New York. Sam pushes Reader away, thinking if she pushes her away, she'll be safe and alive. But, when reader is at Gale's apartment, (Dewey was her uncle) She's attacked by Ghostface instead of Gale, Sam and Tara show up to see reader bleeding out in Gale's arms. (She doesn't die) ask

A/N: I changed Dewey being Y/N’s uncle to father basically because it adds more drama to the story

masterlist

You had been living in New York with your mother ever since your parents’ divorce, having left behind the small town you had grown up in, and were ready to forget all about your father’s untimely death at the hands of a psychopath.

That was how you met Tara Carpenter, or more accurately, how you reunited with her.

Before your parents started arguing over the smallest thing, before your father quit his job, before you left town one day crying, you had been friends with Tara. You liked her because, unlike the rest of your classmates, she didn’t stare at you because you were Dewey and Gale’s daughter. She simply liked spending time with you, and you with her, which blossomed into a fast friendship that was sure enough cut short.

You were the best of friends, always hanging out. Sometimes, when your father came to pick you up from school, he would let you and Tara sit in the back of his police car and turn on the sirens, pretending you were dangerous criminals. You would cling onto Tara, giggling as your father joked around; you cherished those moments more than anything now that Dewey was simply a memory— a tombstone you couldn’t look at without crying.

That was exactly the reason why you reached out to Tara when your mother told you she had moved in with her sister, just like her wanting to leave behind that nightmare. She had happily agreed to meet with you, and you soon found yourself at a bar, drinking and talking, catching up with everything. She had pointedly left behind all that happened in Woodsboro, and you silently agreed, not wanting to remember your father, dead on the ground thanks to her friend. You had spent hours like that, phones on the table face-down so no one could interrupt you, and that was how you met Sam.

Sam was a blurry image to you. You could remember Tara mentioning her probably a little too much when you were young, always talking about how great her sister was at a certain sport, or how she had helped her defeat that big mean guy on a videogame because she couldn’t do it. You had never met her, however, because you barely went over to Tara’s, your mother prefering to keep a watchful eye on you just in case. You didn’t get much of a chance, however, because she left one day and suddenly all the loud praise was occupied by awkward silence.

Needless to say, you weren’t sure what to think of Sam, but she made up your mind for you pretty easily. She walked into the bar like she owned it, a tall figure clad in just a jacket that almost ran towards your table when her brown eyes landed on Tara.

“Sam?” Tara asked, leaving her glass of coke on the table to get up. “Did something happen?”

“Who are you?” Sam asked, not even looking at Tara to give her answer. You felt small under her intense stare.

“She’s Y/N,” Tara said, harsher than you expected. “An old friend.” Sam gave you another look, as if her eyes were enough to determine if you were a danger to her sister. You stayed still, as if you were being approached by a lion.

“We’re leaving,” Sam said. Tara gave you an apologetic look, and you simply nodded, watching as she got up and followed her sister. Outside, you saw them arguing, their screams almost sneaking in through the thick walls of the bars. You asked for the tab, thankful that your mother was rich.

What a bitch, you thought, shaking your head as you left the place, walking back towards your mother’s apartment.

A few hours later, Tara texted you to apologize, and once you replied she sent you her address, asking you to come over.

Having nothing better to do, you accepted.

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

“I’m so sorry,” Tara said, as soon as she closed the door. You took off your jacket, looking around before you sat down on the sofa Tara had pointed at.

“It’s okay,” you said, accepting the glass of water she handed you.

“God, I can’t stand her,” she said, throwing herself onto the sofa beside you. “She’s been like that ever since—” she gave you a small look before shaking her head. “You know. She’s so overbearing.”

“I get it,” you said, resting the glass on the coffee table. “I mean, you should’ve seen my mom when I was young. She barely let me go out when we moved here.”

Something like recognition crossed her eyes. “Right,” she said, sitting up. “Your mom’s Gale.”

“Yep,” you nodded, intertwining your hands together. “You guys killed the new ghostface together.” Something dark crossed over Tara’s face at the name, and you knew you had said the wrong thing.

“Yeah,” Tara said, voice sounding distant even though she was beside you. “Yeah, we did.”

“You know what?” You said, trying to cheer her up. “Forget about that. Tell me what’s your favorite artist.” Tara smiled, nodding as she turned to look at you. She opened her mouth at the same time the front door was opened.

“Oh.”

You turned to look at the woman, awkwardly standing by the door. For the looks of it, she was about to bolt from the apartment.

“You,” Tara said accusingly, rising from the sofa. She poked her sister in the chest with her index finger, and it was your time to wish you could leave this place. You couldn’t deal with family drama; you had had enough of it in your childhood.

“Me,” Sam said, allowing Tara to push her further into the apartment and close the door, leaving her no chance but to take the reprimand.

“Yes, you,” Tara said. You opened your eyes in surprise when she pointed at you. “You are going to apologize immediately to my friend for embarrassing her.”

“You’re the one embarrassing her now—”

“Samantha,” Tara said. It was funny to see the tall woman being bossed around by her sister, who was almost a head shorter. “You apologize right now.”

Sam looked into her sister’s eyes, and nodded. She turned to look at you, and you swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said, offhandedly. “Don’t worry. I get it. My mom is even worse with people she doesn’t know.”

Sam nodded, and made a noise of complaint when Tara slapped her arm. “Her mom’s Gale.”

She opened her eyes, understanding crossing her face. “Shit,” she said, looking defeated. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. “Really. My mom doesn’t mention me too much to strangers just in case. You couldn’t have known.”

“I’m going to my room,” Tara said. You gave her an indignant look. “Sam, apologize.”

“I already apologized!” Sam called. Tara didn’t look her way, instead turning and leaving, presumably towards her bedroom.

“Well, do it again!” She screamed as she slammed the door shut.

“As cheerful as I remember her,” you said, not sure how to fill the awkward silence.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Tara,” you clarified. “She used to be like that when she was young too. Good to know some things never change.”

“You— oh,” Sam said. You smiled at the look of recognition.

“Y/N Riley-Weathers,” you said, getting up. “I know, it’s a mouthful. My mom insisted I should have both last names.”

Sam smiled, nodding. “Right,” she said. “You mom is— interesting.”

“She’s a bit of a bitch,” you said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but when it comes to her job… I’m surprised she hasn’t interviewed you for her new book yet.”

“She’s writing another book?” Sam asked, sitting down on one of the chairs of the dining table.

“She’s always writing another book,” you said, reaching towards your jacket, which Tara had left on the table. “Well, apology accepted. I’ll leave now.”

“Wait,” Sam called, getting up. “I really don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

“Well, you sure have made quite the impression,” you said.

“I know,” Sam said. “It’s just… Tara wasn’t answering the phone, for hours, and I saw an ambulance on my way out from work and I just… I thought she was gone.”

You smiled softly, understanding washing over you. The image of Dewey crossed your mind, always watching over you, keeping you safe no matter what. You had hated it back then, but now he wasn’t here anymore, you missed him and his protective nature more than anything. “I get it,” you said. “Really. But you should approach it differently. Tara is kinda headstrong on being her own person.”

“I know,” Sam said, sighing. “I just can’t help it.”

“It’s something you have to work on,” you said. “You ought to be a little bit messed up after what happened.”

“You saw the news, then?”

“Please. I live with the news,” you chuckled. “And if I’m not home in half an hour she’s going to call the police and have them patrol every corner of New York until they find me.”

“You should leave, then,” Sam said as she got up, running a hand through her face. She looked stressed, and tired. You felt sorry she had to go through all that just because of who her father was. “I— I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I get it,” you said, putting on your jacket. “You’ve been through a lot. You just want to protect your sister.”

Sam looked at you, thankful that even though Tara seemed so focused on not understanding her, at least someone else did. “It’s still not an excuse.”

“No, it’s not,” you agreed, walking to stand in front of her. “How about this?” You moved closer to her, grabbing her jacket to stop her from pulling away. Her eyes were open in surprise at your boldness. “You take me out one day to compensate for your vile actions.”

Sam’s lips revealed a playful smirk as her hands grabbed your waist. The touch was soft, almost unsure since she didn’t know how much you would allow her. “I guess it’s my penitence.”

You hummed, eyes momentarily on her lips before looking up again at her eyes. “Pick me up tomorrow, six o’clock.”

Sam nodded, her hands dropping as soon as you moved away. “Wait!” She called when you began to open the front door. You turned around, giving her a questioning look. “I don’t have your number.”

You smiled, walking towards her. Sam pulled her phone out of her pocket, but you simply kissed her cheek and pulled away. “Ask your sister.”

You left her there, eyes on you as you disappeared through the door. 

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

Shortly after that, you two began dating. Tara was a little taken aback at first, the thought of her childhood friend and her sister together disgusting her to the point she made a face whenever she saw the two of you kissing. Thankfully, she got over it quickly, her discomfort shortly turning into excitement. Her sister was happy with someone she approved of, and given that you two were dating, all of Sam’s overprotective tendencies had changed direction and were now aimed at you.

It was perfect, until it wasn’t.

You were staying over, having decided to sleep in Sam’s bedroom after she asked you to; something about it being too late and some news she had read about cabs in New York not being trustworthy (you had rolled your eyes at that because, really, what was trustworthy in New York?) You had barely needed convincing, the thought of her warm bed and her arms, firmly and protectively wrapped around you enough to convince you.

You woke up alone in bed, and went over to check your phone. 06:32. Sam would probably be getting ready for work, judging by the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, so you decided to get up and make breakfast for her and Tara, who would be leaving for college.

You had taken a year off after your father’s funeral, knowing that studying wasn’t exactly what you needed, especially because you were aware you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything. You needed to heal, and thankfully your mother was okay with your decision.

You made toast with eggs and bacon for Sam, and got out a bowl and cereal for when Tara woke up, since she had declared one day she was vegan and didn’t want to “eat murder anymore”, whatever that meant. You got it all ready and smiled when you heard Sam open the bathroom door, going to the kitchen when she smelled the food.

“God, you’re amazing,” Sam said, hugging you from behind. You turned off the stove, moving the food onto a plate. She smelled amazing, the shampoo she used fresh and still clinging to her skin. Though she had dried her hair, it was still a little wet where it connected with your neck, making you giggle.

“I know, right?” You said, leaning into her. You loved how warm she always was, in comparison to your cold skin. “I’m the best girlfriend ever.”

“Indeed,” Sam said against your head, biting your earlobe before kissing your neck. “The bestest of them all.” You giggled again, her breath tickling your skin pleasantly.

“God, it’s not even seven in the morning.”

Sam and you turned around to see Tara, standing in the kitchen with an angry look on her face. She was not a morning person.

“My apologies, Tara dear,” you said, pushing Sam into a chair and putting the plate in front of her. You handed her the cutlery with a kiss on the forehead, smirking when Tara groaned. “You want something with your cereal?”

“I want you to stop making out with my sister everywhere.”

“Hard pass,” you said, moving Sam’s hair to help it get dry faster. “Your sister is obsessed with me.”

“Ugh,” Tara said, pouring in the cereal before drowning it with soy milk. “I should’ve never introduced you two.”

“Our souls would’ve found a way back to each other without your intervention,” you said, resting your chin on top of Sam’s head. The girl smiled, abandoning her knife in favor of holding your hand.

“Gross.”

“You are gross,” Sam said.

“Look who’s talking,” Tara said, giving her sister a mocking look of disgust. “I know what you two get up to in that room of yours.”

“Jesus, Tara,” you said, pulling away to walk towards the living room. “Eat your breakfast and stop talking, will you?”

“Ah, so you don’t deny it.”

“Idiot,” you whispered. You sat down on the sofa, searching for the remote controller. Once you did, you turned the TV on, and sighed when you saw your mother on the screen. “She really doesn’t know what it means to take a break.”

You turned on the volume when you saw she was standing in front of an alley, police tape behind her. Your heart sunk into your stomach when you saw the headline.

“Ghostface is back.”

“Sam,” you called, urgently. You went to check your phone as Sam got up, probably alarmed by the tone of your voice. You finally saw all the notifications from your mother, calling you and asking where you were.

“Honey?” She asked, looking at you with concern. She lowered herself in front of you, eyes examining you to know what was wrong. You pointed at the TV, and once she read the headline she tensed, the hand on your thigh gripping you hard. “No,” she said, breathlessly.

“What is it?” Tara asked, picking up on the mood shift. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the TV, still going over the news.

“I—” Sam said. She looked out of it, face stoic as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. “I have to go to work.”

“College,” said Tara in the same tone. You watched with concern as the two moved around the house, almost on autopilot, gathering their things and getting ready to leave.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” You said to Sam when you saw her in her work clothes. She nodded, eyes not fully looking at you as she opened the front door Tara had just left through. She shook her head as if to get rid of a haze, and gave you a long kiss.

“I love you,” she said against your lips.

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

But you didn’t see her later, or the next day. When you went over to the apartment, Quinn told you they had gone over to meet with Chad and Mindy, so you went back over to your mother’s house.

She was pushing you away. You knew it, and you hated it. You hated how she was letting this new ghostface get in between you, but you mostly hated how she felt like being with you would put you in danger.

You almost laughed out loud at the thought, there in the middle of the street. As if. Your mother was Gale Weathers, your father Dewey Riley— this shit had been following you way before you met her. But of course, it was Sam. Sweet, caring Sam, who constantly put others first, who always did anything to protect those she loved, even if it meant putting her own life on the line.

Once you were inside the apartment, you sat down in your bed, looking at all the unanswered messages you had sent her the past few days.

Samantha, you wrote, and then deleted. It felt too formal. You typed in a final message before locking your phone, throwing yourself onto the bed.

You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep, but you were awakened by the sound of the phone line ringing. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you got up, cursing your mother for still owning one of those. It wasn’t the 90s anymore.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Y/N,” the sound of that voice made your skin run cold. “Wanna play a game?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m inside your house,” they said in a singsong voice. “Wanna play hot and cold?”

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

When Sam saw she had gotten a call from Gale, she knew something was wrong.

She had known early that morning when she woke up, something in the pit of her stomach telling her to go to you, to hold you and never let you go. But she couldn’t, not until she figured out who was behind those new attacks. She wouldn’t risk you— she wouldn’t lead that killer right to your doorstep and have you killed because of her. No, she would rather die than put you in that type of danger.

“It’s Y/N,” Gale said urgently, when she answered the phone. “I— I called an ambulance. They’re on their way, but— god.”

Sam had started running towards your apartment the moment your name fell out of your mother’s lips. She pushed people out of the way, barely noticing she was gasping for air, or that Gale was still talking.

“—so much blood,” she said. Sam ran into the gateway, pressing onto the elevator bottom a few times before cursing, deciding to take the stairs instead.

“Is she breathing?” Sam asked. One more floor, one more and she’d be there with you.

“I—” Gale was gasping for air. “I don’t know.”

Sam pushed the door open, thankful it had been left ajar. She didn’t see the blood on the floor, or your mother crying beside you— all she could see was your body, bloody and deadly still.

“Y/N,” she called in a whisper. Gale jumped at the sound of Sam’s phone falling to the ground, knife in hand ready to kill anyone who had dared hurt her daughter. She lowered it at the same time Sam lowered herself on the floor, hands shaking as she grabbed you and held you in her arms. Her fingers clumsily set on your neck, trying to find a pulse like a thirsty man searches for water in the desert. She gasped in relief when she felt it. Slow, a little too slow, but it didn’t matter; your heart was still beating.

“I can’t lose her,” Gale sobbed. “I already lost Dewey, I can’t… not her,” she looked at Sam with pleading eyes; she had never seen your mother so paralyzed with fear. It was an eerie sight.

“You won’t,” Sam said, voice firm. She took off her outer shirt, using it to press onto your biggest wound, which was located on the stomach. “She’s not dying. She’s not.”

Determination washed over, taking with it the leftovers of panic and distress. There would be time for lament and regret later, once you were safely in a hospital bed.

“God,” Gale said when Sam began to raise you. Blood splashed over the carpet, and she almost threw up at the sight.

“You called an ambulance?” Sam asked. She was holding you in her lap, your head falling limply into her shoulder.

“Yes.”

“I’m taking her downstairs,” Sam said. The pressure she was applying on the wound was helping, because it had stopped most of the bleeding. “I’m not fucking waiting until they get their fucking asses up the stairs.”

And so she got up, holding you in her arms. She carefully cradled your head in her neck, making sure it stayed secure so you wouldn’t accidentally hit something and got a concussion. It was the last thing you needed at that moment. She made sure your hands were on your stomach, pressing lightly onto the wound —it was better than nothing.

“You’re not dying on me,” Sam whispered. She was climbing down the stairs, Gale right behind her. “You’re not, okay, baby?” She felt herself getting choked up at the thought. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Shortly after, the ambulance showed up, and Sam ran towards them. She set you down onto the stretcher gently, and pressed onto the wound until one of the paramedics reached over, grabbing her hand and telling her she needed to leave.

She stood where she had been forced to stay, ignoring all the looks she received. It wasn’t until Gale grabbed her by the arm and moved her out of the way that she noticed she had been standing in the middle of the road.

“She’s being taken to the hospital,” she spoke softly. Sam looked at her arms, covered in blood— covered in your blood, and she almost broke down. Instead, she swallowed, putting her hands on her pockets. “I’ll take you there. I picked up your phone,” she pushed it into Sam’s chest, and she grabbed it. Great, the screen was completely broken. “Call your sister and tell her what’s happened. Tell her you’ll meet at the hospital.”

“Okay,” Sam said. Her dull tone almost scared her. She felt drained. “Okay,” she repeated, watching as Gale went to her car and got inside. It took her a few seconds to open the passenger door, and a few too many trying to unlock her phone to call her sister.

All she could think about was you, and getting revenge on what they had done to you.

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part V

Part V is finally out!! I enjoyed writing this one a lot! I still have some more chapters in mind, especially for the big reveal. Not sure how many I can write out, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon.  Sorry it’s a bit short this time! The next part is going to be longer. As usual, heed the tags

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

word count: 1836

“Don’t you know the trope of never having sex in horror films?” The other line asked you, making you laugh, “you didn’t kill me the first time, why would it be any different now?” You asked as you sat out on your front porch, taking a seat on the bench outside. “What if someone else made you star in their movie, huh? Wouldn’t you be part of their film instead,” they said as you laughed, “yeah, but then it could be some big cross over. Like alien versus predator or king kong and Godzilla, I would kinda like to see that, my two boys fighting for protecting me.” You teased as they chuckled. 

“I heard you wanted both of us there tonight,” they hummed, making you smile, “so you’re the one who makes the calls?” you asked before continuing, “I want you both here…alongside a new lingerie outfit too, you boys are really racking up a total. You two should take me shopping sometime.” You suggested playfully, wishing that you could go out in public with the two. “Maybe someday,” they said, sounding a little more somber now. “Will you two ever let me know who you are?” You asked, it had been on your mind lately, but the silence gave you your answer. “I guess you still can’t trust me, huh? It’s fine, I’ll find a way to prove it to you two.” You said, hearing another phone call coming in. “I have to let you go now, one of my friends is calling, I’ll see you two tonight, right?” You questioned, “we’ll be a little later tonight but don’t worry, we’ll be there.” They promised you before hanging up. Y

ou smiled, answering the new call coming in. “Hey! Me and Stu were gonna head out for lunch soon, did you wanna join? Sid’s gonna call Billy to see if he wanted to go,” Tatum’s voice said, you debated for a moment before agreeing. “Great! Me and Stu will pick you up, we can pick up Randy too afterwards,” she said as you hummed. “Sounds good, I’ll get ready now,” You said, hanging up after saying goodbye. Your eyes lingered out into the street, you couldn’t help but feel as if there was someone watching you, wondering if your secret stalker was watching over you right now. Part of you wished they’d just come out and reveal themselves to you, pull off their mask and show you their faces. You let out a sigh, getting up from the bench and heading back inside the house to get ready.By the time Stu’s car pulled up to your driveway you were ready, hair and outfit finished along with just the right amount of makeup for you. 

You could hear the music playing from outside, wondering at which point in time Stu would finally lose his hearing, you gave him another 10 good years. You texted your parents that you were going out with your group again, promising them to be home before curfew. Curfew had bummed you out recently, you made a mental note to tell your masked killers that you were mad at them for making Woodsboro go under a curfew, everything sucked now that nothing was open past 6. “Hey Macher, calm it with the stereo,” you said as Stu chuckled, “can’t help it, I like making my presence known,” he said as he turned up the music louder. You rolled your eyes, chatting with Tatum as you all headed to pick up the others. 

Sid and Billy met you at the restaurant, already sitting down at a booth when you all arrived. It was about an hour later, everyone finished with their food and just spending time chatting about whatever came up. “Did you guys hear about Oliver?” Randy asked as Tatum nodded, “Dewey said it was even worse than Casey and Steve, said you couldn’t recognize him at all,” she added in as your eyebrows furrowed. “Sid said the neighbors tried getting the killer, did Dewey say anything about that?” You questioned as Tatum shook her head, “no, he said the neighbor tried to shoot at them but they missed. Said they took off into the woods,” she said, you growing worried if they had been hurt. They didn’t mention anything on the phone so you assumed they weren’t, making you relax a bit. “Maybe it was your mystery date,” Randy teased, making you glare at him, “I mean we were talking about him yesterday, maybe your boyfriend got mad about him and decided to off him as some romantic present,” he added as you laughed. “Right, cause I totally want to be an accomplice,” you joked as you rolled your eyes, but you did wonder if that was true.

 Oliver had bullied others as well, so you didn’t put it past them to have also been one of his victims. Though, the thought that they did it for you made your heart beat faster. “I think you cracked the code Meeks,” Billy teased, noticing your reddening cheeks, “are you all forgetting she was almost killed by them?” Sidney brought up as Stu hummed, “well she is still alive, maybe Randy was right with them doing it to cover up their tracks,” he said as you scoffed. “Can you jackasses back off before I take my turn at you?” You said jokingly, waving the butterknife on your plate around playfully. 

Later that night you sat in bed, rewatching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre on your laptop with Irena purring and fast asleep on your lap. You snacked on some popcorn as you watched the movie, looking to your side as you saw Tatum calling you. You hit pause on the movie and answered as you ate another piece of popcorn, “whats up, Tate?” You asked as she quickly spoke, “holy shit! They almost got the killer!” she yelled into the phone, making you sit up. “What?” You questioned as she laughed. “The killer! They were going after some of Oliver’s friends. They were having a celebration for him and one of the guys actually fucking stabbed them! Dewey said they were chasing them down but lost them a few moments ago, they said the police are gonna be waiting at the hospital incase anyone comes in with a stab wound,” she said, you carefully moved Irena off your lap and set your laptop on your vanity as you looked out your window. You could see the black outfit moving and struggling to climb up, “shit, that’s awesome Tate, let me know if Dewey calls you again, I’m gonna go tell my parents,” You spoke, hanging up the phone and putting it down as you pushed your window open. 

“Seriously? Going after the whole fucking football team?” You asked angrily, putting your hand out to help them inside. You shut the window after they got in, seeing them collapse onto the floor. “Shit, hold on,” You said as you rushed to your bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit and rushing back to their side. You were about to lift up the robe before they grabbed your wrist, pushing your hand away. You felt a little hurt that they still didn’t trust you, but pointed in the direction of the restroom. “You can patch yourself up in there, my friend said the police are going to be at the hospital, you can’t go,” you said, seeing the flashing of police lights pass by outside. “Is the other one okay?” You questioned them, getting a nod as they hubbled to the bathroom. After half an hour they emerged from the bathroom, taking a seat on your desk chair. “Are you okay? Did the bleeding stop?” You fretted over them, getting a nod as they motioned you over. They grabbed your wrist, holding your hand up to their chest so you could feel their steady heartbeat. You relaxed before pushing on their chest, huffing at them. “The whole fucking football team, you’re actually fucking crazy,” you huffed out before gently rubbing where you had pushed them. “The other one, he got away okay?” You asked, smiling when you got another nod. “You can stay as long as you need tonight, the police are probably out searching for you,” you said, sighing softly as you looked to them. “Don’t think I forgot about that lingerie set either, it was pretty expensive,” you said jokingly, earning a laugh from behind their mask. “I’m gonna head to bed, I have an exam tomorrow,” you said, giving a little kiss to their mask. “If you wanna join at least take off your clothes, I won’t look, I promise. You can even blindfold me if you don’t trust me,” you offered, heading to bed. They followed after you, you laid down and closed your eyes, facing them so they could see that you weren’t looking. They began to shuffle out of the costume, going to your door and locking it before heading back to your bed. They laid down behind you, wrapping their arms around you and holding you close.

You fell asleep easily in their hold, relaxing in their arms throughout the night. A few hours later you woke up to muffled voices in the bathroom, you sat up and rubbed your eyes as you looked to see the morning sunlight lighting up your room. “I’m fine, just spent the night at her place,” you heard coming from the bathroom, your groggy mind a bit too slow to recognize they weren’t using the voice changer. You did your best to not pay attention, not wanting to betray their trust by finding out who they were too soon. You laid down again, closing your eyes when you heard the door open. You felt their hand tracing your face before they planted little kisses on your cheeks before planting a soft and loving one to your lips. They pulled away and pulled the mask on before tapping you, you pretended to stir awake, blinking up at them. “You’re leaving?” You asked as they nodded, “be safe, okay? I would rather prefer finding out who you are when you trust me and not through some Gale Weathers interview,” you said as you leaned up, planting a little kiss on their mask just like last night. “Be safe, both of you,” you said as they nodded and began to climb out your window. 

An hour later Tatum came to pick you up in her little red beetle, driving both of you to class. You met up with Sid and Stu, who had his arm wrapped around Tatum. “Where’s Billy at today?” Tatum asked as Sid sighed, “said he came down with a major stomach bug. He said he was sick all night and didn’t even sleep, his dad told him to head to the doctor instead of class,” she said as you turned towards Sidney. Stu became aware of your glance at her, his eyes widening in surprise when you made eye contact with him. 

[coffeeghoulie]

date night

a gift for @askingforthesun <3

The first time Aether has Swiss and Dew over to his apartment is the first time Swiss meets Lady. Both of them are nervous messes.

Takes place in the hockey au, but you don't have to have read that to read this; Swiss, Aether, and Dew are teammates on the Ghouls, and have just fallen into a relationship with each other. Takes place not long after Five Minutes for Fighting. 2.6k of fluff.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

Aether's nervous. He doesn't know why. It's them.

He steps up to Swiss and Dew as they're changing out of their practice jerseys and stripping out of their gear, the locker room filled with chatter from their other teammates.

Swiss sees him first, flashing him with that bright, warm grin. "Hey, Cap. What's up?"

Dew turns, unweaving the braid Aether had put in his hair a few hours ago. Aether feels his heart swell, swallowing back his nerves. His palms sweat like a fifteen year old boy asking his crush to prom. He's never felt like this in his life.

"Would the two of you like to have dinner tonight?" Aether keeps his voice as level as he can. "There's a Vietnamese place near mine that I think you'd like, get some carry out and watch a movie or something?"

They've been dating for a while, but they've never actually been to his apartment before. Even Dew, who used to live with him before they were called up to the major leagues, hasn't been. They've been going out to eat, sneaking into each other's hotel rooms while they're out on away games, but nothing as domestic as coming over yet.

Swiss seems to read past the facade, something warm in his brown eyes. He reaches for Aether's forearm, fingers just barely brushing over the sleeve of his button up. "I can't speak for Dewey, but I'd love to."

Aether's posture relaxes the moment Swiss touches him. He nods, his lips crooking up in a smile as he turns to Dew.

“Aether,” Dew grins, toothy and something bright in his eyes. "I will never say no to an opportunity to see my little girl."

Aether laughs, any last remnants of nerves crumbling to dust. Swiss's brow furrows, looking from Aether to Dew and back again.

"Oh, he means my cat," Aether laughs, rolling his eyes fondly at Dew. "Oh, you've never met Lady, that's right."

Swiss's expression relaxes, and he turns to throw a wad of tape into the trash can. "I've never really been a cat guy," he says, voice a little cautious. "But I'm sure she's nice. I mean, the two of you like her."

"Oh, she's the best," Dew says, zipping up his bag and standing from the bench. He turns to Aether. "She still play fetch with hair ties?"

Aether huffs a soft laugh. "Don't have any hair ties in the apartment anymore unless my sister's visiting. She loves that cat, but she's a little less fond of fetch."

"Little buzzkill," Dew says, knocking his shoulder against Aether's. "Anyways. I'm pretty certain you told me where you were when you moved out here. Let us run our bags home and we can meet you there?"

Dew glances to Swiss and back to Aether, the locker room emptying rapidly around them. Swiss nods, putting his helmet back in its bag. "That sounds great to me. Aeth?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Aether meets them there, the nerves returning. He hides the tremble in his hands by shoving them into his pockets. Swiss grins easy as he steps up to him, glancing around before kissing his cheek. Dew's changed into a leather jacket over a worn out band tee and tight black skinny jeans, Swiss into a cream button up and dark slacks, hands in his pockets.

Swiss waves, and the two of them follow Aether into the apartment building. They don't need words, Aether thinks. This is a normal thing that partners do. He takes them up the elevator and down the hall to his door.

The keys rattle as Aether turns them in the knob. He knows they're right behind him, almost hovering. He doesn't know why he's nervous. He loves both of them, trusts both of them, for fuck's sake, he's lived with Dew before.

He takes a sharp breath in as he opens the door and steps in. The first thing Aether hears is a quiet "mrrp" and a thud, and he smiles as Lady skids around the corner, having woken up from her nap on the couch. Her claws tap on the vinyl, tail curled forward in a relaxed arc.

Dew gasps in delight at the sight of her, but Aether doesn't turn. "Hi, sweetheart," Aether coos, and she meows brightly as she weaves through his legs, rubbing herself against his pant legs with her amber eyes squeezed shut. He'll lament cleaning red cat hair from his pants later, but he's used to the woes of cat ownership after so long. Lady purrs happily, blinking.

It's then she seems to notice the two men Aether's brought home with him. Her ears and whiskers flick forward, tail flicking at the tip.

Aether turns, eyes flicking from Lady to his partners, watching all three of them carefully. Dew grins, almost as toothy as Swiss's, and he drops to a crouch.

Lady chirps and rubs her cheek against Dew's outstretched hand. "Aw, she remembers me," he says, scooping up all nine pounds of cat into his arms easily. Lady purrs loudly, rubbing her chin against Dew's jaw as he stands back up.

Swiss watches, and Aether can almost see the slight apprehension past the facade of his smile. It's the one he uses for the press circuits after bad games, where he's exhausted and just wants it to be over with. "You good?" Aether asks softly, hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, yeah," Swiss says, leaning his head towards him. "Grew up with two Dobermans. Blitz and Bubbles. Was never really around any cats. Nothing against Lady, she's such a pretty girl."

Aether beams. "Yeah, she's a gorgeous little thing. You should have seen her when she was little. She really grew into those ears."

Swiss snorts, glancing over as Dew coos over Lady. "She warms up real quick to strangers, huh?"

Aether makes a face, and Swiss isn't quite sure what to make of it. "Not normally. She, uh, Lady knows Dew already. I got her two months before Dew got called up to play for the Ghouls."

Swiss snaps his fingers before pointing at him. "That's right, he did say something about the two of you living together."

"I did," Dew looks up from where he's buried his face in fur. "We should probably get out of the entranceway," he says, sputtering as Lady shoves the top of her head against his chin and he gets a mouthful of cat hair for it. The three of them laugh, and Aether rubs the back of his neck.

"Yeah, living room's this way," he says, leading them around the corner Lady appeared from into his living room.

There's a black L-shaped couch tucked into the corner, a large window looking out over the city, an ottoman that doesn't quite match on a rug. The opposite wall has a decent sized tv mounted over the mantle, various knick knacks and trinkets set underneath. A framed family picture sits on an end table by the couch, and Swiss sees faces that look vaguely familiar behind the glare of the glass, but he's too busy watching Dew coo over Lady to really worry about that.

He's in someone else's home. Even though Aether was the last to join the three of them, Aether and Dew have known each other longer. He stands at the threshold of the living room, watching.

Aether sees him floundering and reaches for him. "You want to say hello to her?" He asks, voice as gentle as it ever is, and it feels good as it brushes over Swiss's fraying nerves.

"Yeah," he breathes, meeting Dew's eye as he steps towards him and his armful of purring cat. He puts her down onto the armrest of the couch, and she meows up at him in betrayal.

Dew laughs softly at her. He leans in to Swiss conspiratorially, a mischievous look in his eye. "She likes scratches under her chin," he says, like he's disclosing state secrets. Swiss smiles, easy and genuine, knocking his shoulder against his.

"Let her sniff," Aether says, holding out his hand in example, fingers curled gently into a fist. "Just like a dog."

Swiss nods, mimicking the way Aether holds his hand. He offers Lady his fist, feeling hot little puffs of breath as she smells him, her whiskers held forward curiously. Swiss realizes he's holding his breath.

After a moment, she must deem him acceptable, shoving her head forward to rub against his knuckles. "Aww," Dew coos, stepping around them to find the Vietnamese place's takeout menu on the end table. "Little princess likes you."

Swiss watches enraptured as Lady starts to purr while she rubs against him. He flips his hand slowly, scratching blunt nails into the soft white fur under her chin. Her purring grows exponentially louder.

Aether grins as Dew leans into his side, a play pout on his face. "Aeth," he whines, batting lashes up at him. "Could we please get an order of bánh cam with dinner?"

He rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, and Swiss feels how warm it is even from the slight distance. "Fine, we can get bánh cam. Also, you don't need that, you've been eating there for long enough I know your order."

Dew sighs dramatically, offering the menu to Swiss, but he's too busy petting Lady. She's purring far loudly than he'd imagined a little cat could. He turns, a boyish smile on his face. "I, uh, I trust your judgment, I'm happy to try anything, really."

"Alright, so how does splitting an order pho and spring rolls sound?" Aether offers, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. "Dew's getting an extra spicy salmon bánh mì, as he does every time he eats here. So adventurous."

"So what?" Dew teases, knocking his shoulder into Aether's. "I know what I like. Nothing wrong with that."

Swiss laughs, moving to sit down on the couch. He runs his fingers through the long russet fur, darker along the line of Lady's spine. He's only half paying attention. "Yeah, Aeth, that sounds great."

He doesn't see it, so entranced with Lady, but Aether and Dew share a look over his head. "Alright," Aether says, setting his hand on Swiss's shoulder for just a moment. "Dew, I think I'll need two pairs of hands to bring everything back, you want to come with?"

"Oh, I'd love to." Dew perks up, and Swiss looks up with a glint of worry in his eyes.

Aether, perceptive as he always is, catches it, his grip on Swiss's shoulder tightening for just a moment. "I was going to ask if you wanted to pick a movie while went and picked up dinner. Remote's on the end table, bathroom's right down the hall."

"Oh," Swiss says, feeling something odd in his chest at the implications. Of being trusted with this place, with Lady, someone that's so dearly important to the two of them. "I- I will. Thank you."

Aether's brow furrows, and Dew pauses from where he's zipping up his jacket. He feels pinned to the couch by their gazes. "For what?" Aether asks softly.

Swiss swallows. His hand stills on Lady's back, and she meows, upset he's stopped petting her. "For, uh, man this is stupid, for letting me into all of this. After everything," he says, taking a second to remember all of the scrapes him and Dew had gotten into, the one where Aether had thrown him to the ice to protect his teammate.

He's been part of the Ghouls now for months. Been seeing Dew outside of the hookups for just as long. But this is still new, wobbly legged and fresh. One wrong move and-

There's a hand in his hair, just as tender as the one he'd been petting Lady with. Swiss looks up, shoulders slumping as he sees Aether looking down at him fondly. "We both love you, Swiss," Aether says. "And that besides, you are a dear and trusted teammate."

"And," Dew cuts in. "You and I both knew what we were getting into back then. Except for that one little misunderstanding, but we got that all cleared up. Aeth said it, we love you."

Swiss smiles, leaning into Aether's hand. Takes a deep breath. Continues to pet Lady, who arcs up into his touch. "Love you too. Thank you. I'll- uh, I'll find something to watch while we eat."

"It should be around twenty minutes. Miss princess will keep you company," Aether leans down and kisses his cheek. He beams up at him as Aether and Dew step towards the front door. Lady chirps, hopping down to try and follow them. "No, Lady-baby, you can't come with. Hang out with Swiss."

"See you in a bit," Swiss says, settling into the couch cushion.

"See you in a bit," Dew echoes, and they're both off to get dinner. Swiss swallows as the door latches, suddenly alone.

Lady waits at the door, meowing forlornly for several moments before padding back into the living room. Her tail, fluffy and soft, flicks back and forth as she trots back to the couch.

"Hey, pretty lady," Swiss coos. She meows, rubbing against his legs. He leans down to pet her, and she runs her tail through his fingers, before doubling back to rub her face against his hand.

"Oh, you're such a sweet girl," he hums, only startling a little bit when she hops up onto the couch next to him. "Oh, hi."

She's purring up a storm, much louder than he'd imagined a cat could. Lady stares up at him, pupils wide, leaving her irises a thin ring of amber. "They'll be back," he says, looking back at her. "They're getting dinner."

She meows, sharp and loud, before stepping up onto Swiss's thigh. He lets out a little 'oof' as she climbs up into his lap. For such a little cat, all of her weight on four concentrated little points is still a little more than he was expecting. She meows again, stretching up to butt the top of her head against his chin.

"Hi," he laughs, scratching under her chin. She purrs happily before turning in a circle and laying down right in Swiss's lap.

His eyes go wide, a soft little gasp escaping him. "Oh, Lady," he whispers, staring down in his lap in disbelief as she makes herself comfortable. She purrs even louder.

Swiss can't move. Can't lean over to grab the remote, because what if she moves? What if he jostles her and she darts off and hides and he never sees her again? He knows he said that he'd pick something to watch, but they can't blame him, can they?

He stares down at her, hand under her chest as she purrs, eyes shut and tail tucked around her body, a tiny red ball of cat. He stares and stares and stares until he hears keys turn in the apartment door.

The smell of savory and spicy food fills the air as Aether and Dew step back into the apartment, each carrying a big brown paper bag. "You pick something ou-" Aether starts to ask, cutting himself off as he takes in the position Swiss is in. He sets down his bag of food on the counter and walks over to the couch. "Oh, we're never getting rid of you."

"Hmm?" Swiss says, soft, still trying not to disturb the cat in his lap.

"She really likes you," Dew says, pulling a small baguette wrapped in wax paper out of the paper bag he'd carried. "Lady's real skittish with new people. She's known you for what, an hour at best? You can't leave now. Ever."

Swiss looks up at Aether, glancing over to Dew. He beams. "You'd have to make me."

[secret-tester]

I dont know what to draw.

[l1tw1ck]

Fucking a Killer

Masc Reader (Top/Bottom Specified individually, All have Top Reader some have Bottom Reader)

Michael Myers, Ghostface, Dewey Riley, I got very lazy

this has been in my drafts for toooo long

General CW: Canon Typical Content

Michael Myers

sub reader, choking

🔪 You were his last victim of the night, he had you held you up against the wall and choked you. The only reason you survived was because you accidentally moaned. And it wasn't a moan of pain nor agony, it was a moan of pleasure. You wanted more. And he gave you just that

Sub Top: Michael bounced on your cock viciously, low and breathy moans leaving the mouth gap of his mask as he choked you. You're already on your third round, the both of you are beyond horny for each other. The knowledge that you could die at any moment if he forgets to let go exhilarated the both of you. Michael squeezes your neck tighter as he comes, in turn causing you to come deep inside him again

Sub Bottom: Michael gripped your neck as he rammed into you over and over, groaning lowly as he indulges in a pleasure he'd never thought he'd receive. He thanks everything good that he chose you as his victim. The sounds you let out only served to spur him on, even when you started slapping his arms for air, he kept on fucking you until he came. You survived, thankfully

Ghostface

(imagine whoever you want)

NTR/Cucking/Cheating, Dub-Con

🔪 You were looking forward to a call from your friend, so you didn't even think to check the number when you answered the phone. You soon found out he'd kidnapped your partner, had them tied to a chair in your backyard, and rather than asking questions, he showed up behind you in just the ghost mask and boxers. The rest of the costume likely tossed somewhere nearby.

He promised you your partner'll live if you fucked him, and you believed him. He encouraged you to play with his nipples, letting out whorish moans that could be heard from outside the glass. At some point, you started to really get into it, occasionally spanking him and nibbling on the exposed flesh of his neck. Your partner watched dreadfully as you fucked the killer to his completion, multiple times. The three of you doubted you'd ever want to go back to your partner after this. The sight of your cock bulging through his stomach made them wish they were dead. They got their wish eventually

Dewey

top ghostface reader, dubcon, choking

🍩 As one of the new serial killers, it's a given you'd end up face to face with a cop. Normally, you'd just kill whoever gets in your way, especially a law enforcer, but this guy's just too cute to kill.

You stand behind him, your hand wrapped around his throat with your cock buried deep inside him. He looks down and moans at the sight of your cock pushing in and out of him, a bulge showing through his tattered uniform. He starts to feel lightheaded, moaning impurely as he gets pounded by the person he's been hunting down for ages. Dewey never thought he was into having sex with a murderer until now, until he came hard on your thick length and begged for more.

[cobaltperun]

Lost (6) - Snap out of it

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: 6.8k

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Under a spell you're hypnotized (ooh) Darlin', how could you be so blind?-

Furious didn't even come close to how she was feeling now that she was standing in the empty apartment in Modesto. No one she asked had seen Samantha, the apartment she shared with Richie was exactly the way they left it before they came to Woodsboro, the two plates that neither Samantha or Richie got the chance to wash, as they came to Woodsboro in a rush, the hastily made bed, all the other tiny signs of Samantha being in a rush to get to Tara and only grabbing the bare necessities before leaving. The signs of their shared life were there too, and she wondered for a brief moment how did their relationship look like, and she felt jealous, much more jealous than when she saw you and Tara sleeping together. Tara was hers in a different way, Richie was her lover. "You let them get out of town?!"

"I let them?! I did?!" Richie snapped with anger Amber had never seen before. "If you didn't say we needed to fight Y/N together I could have stayed by Sam's side and prevented this!" and what good did that do? You still survived, all things considered Amber was almost willing to say you came out on top. Hell, fighting you two on one saved their lives, if she was fighting you alone, well, the damage you did was enough of a proof that you would have either killed or severely wounded her.

"Don't you dare put that on me! If I didn't shoot her you'd be beaten to a pulp like some pussy. You had a knife and Tara's fucking guard dog still had the upper hand!" everything was going wrong. She didn't get to kill you, you broke two of her teeth and cracked her mask and everything hurt. Her wrist her, every breath she took hurt, her jaw hurt, her pride and ego hurt and now Richie was whining when he should have stopped Samantha from leaving.

Richie threw his arms up in the air and groaned, as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. "And you fucked up by not killing her. No, instead you had to mindfuck your," he made air quotes, "girlfriend, and now my movie is going to be ruined because all we did is kill Dewey, a couple of characters no one is going to care about, and some sidenote character related to Stu!"

Killing Dewey felt so, so good, it was a much-needed relief after failing to kill you. "Our movie, you hear me? OUR movie!"

He huffed at that. "Well, none of that matters now, does it? We got Sidney and Gale, but Sam got away and as you can see, she is nowhere to be found! They didn't come here!" Richie was waving his hands around the empty apartment.

That got Amber to think. Samantha took Tara with her, but not to Modesto. You were with them. You took them somewhere. You were ruining her plans, her fun, yet again, but none of those realizations mattered. She had no idea where to look. If anyone would be able to find you right now, Amber figured it would be Tara, but Tara was with you. Were there other people that could take a guess? Maybe the couple that employed you? Your parents? Your coach? All of those would take too long and none of those were certain to be true.

"We need to get Sam to come back," Richie sounded desperate. "You'll have to forget about keeping Tara for yourself. Guess you already did, since you tried to shoot her."

Amber scoffed at that. She'd get Tara in the end. By the time all of this was over she'd permanently take Samantha out of Tara's life, and she'd make sure you were dead as well. Pointing the gun at Tara was an impulsive decision born from righteous fury. Tara pleaded for your life despite having an asthma attack. The old envy reawakened at that moment and the good old 'If I can't have her no one can.' kicked in. Since Tara survived Amber could now convince her that Amber was all Tara would ever have and they'd be together. It would be easy to do it, to convince Tara of that once you were gone, because what else could Tara do in that situation? Give up on her life entirely? As if that would happen. "I'll handle that part. Let's just figure out the way to get Samantha back to Woodsboro."

This would have been so much easier if you were never there in the first place. If you never got close to Tara, if Tara never fell in love with you, if she didn’t love you more than she could ever love anyone else. But Amber would break that, she’d have the upper hand the next time, after all, you were stabbed and shot multiple times, you’d be easy to take out. And then the image Tara had of you, that image of an invincible fighter that could protect her from anything, you being the source of stability and safety in her life would be shattered. After that, Tara would be easy to mold into what she should have been in the first place. Completely devoted and obedient, regardless of Amber did, after all, if Amber could get Tara to get over your death, there truly wouldn’t be any limit.

~X~

If anyone asked you three days ago you'd say you would never be able to go back to Sacramento. You loved the city, you really did, but ever since Zack died you kinda didn't feel like going there. Funny how things turn out sometimes.

Susan lived in a suburban part of the city, in a two-story home that, while not as big as the other houses in the area, still had plenty of space. Memories threatened to consume you as you stepped out of the car and saw the woman. She looked much older than she did ten years ago. And It wasn’t just the passage of time that caused it. You guessed losing her only son like that would have such effects. She looked frailer than ever. The image of a tall, proud woman that just turned forty-three years old was replaced by this decade-older woman with gray hair broken down by time. There was no bounce to her steps, and now that she approached you just as Sam was stepping out of the car you could see that she barely had any spark of life in her eyes.

"You didn't mention you were hurt as well," she touched the bandage on the right side of your face, where Ghostface sliced your jawline.

Somehow you didn't find yourself leaning away from her touch. You accepted it, actually felt comforted by it, and just nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that. It didn't seem important," you brushed it off, doing your best to ignore the disapproval in Susan's eyes. Instead, you took in the surrounding area and your eyes fell on a tall cherry tree in the middle of the empty front yard. "The tree's grown," you mumbled awkwardly, finally getting the woman to smile.

"Of course, I'm making sure of that," the spark of life seemed a bit stronger now.

"I'm glad. This is Sam, by the way," you suddenly realized you failed to introduce them to one another. Sam already took the wheelchair, crutches, and bags out.

"Thank you for letting us stay," Sam expressed her gratitude as she and Susan exchanged a handshake.

"Of course, dear. I'm sorry you went through so much," Susan was still the same person you remembered as a kid, that much you could see, the same kind woman that accepted you despite what you father did. Sure, at first it was because that was what Zack wanted, but over time the bond between you turned into something more personal as well. Before Zack died you almost saw Susan as a mother, she certainly cared more than your own parents.

"Sam, I'll get Tara," you said and went to the other side of the car where Tara was already opening the doors. "I got you," you assured the sleepy girl. She was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that she adorably fell asleep in your arms while you were on the road.

"Mhm," she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and stretched a bit. "Maybe I could use the crutches?" she suggested but then realized the tiled path to the house wasn't exactly even and that she'd have to deal with more than a couple of stairs. "On second thought," she sheepishly reached out for you.

You smiled, she really was adorable. "I swear you'll get used to this and demand to be carried even after you recover," you teased lightly as you picked her up.

Tara hummed at that and then just leaned up to give you the lightest kiss on the cheek possible. Payback for earlier or not, you couldn't stop the heat warming your cheeks.

A fake cough from the side interrupted whatever Tara was about to say.

"Right. Tara, this is Susan," you awkwardly introduced them to one another.

"I'm sorry I'm meeting you like this, and thank you," Tara twisted her body as well as she could so she could shake Susan's hand.

"Considering how Y/N is, I doubt we could have met in better circumstances," Susan laughed lightly.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that. "Awesome introductions ladies, how about we get inside now?" just a suggestion, since you were still injured and as much as you hated to admit it, carrying Tara wasn't the easiest at the moment.

~X~

The entire house felt as if it was stuck in the past. As if Susan was trying to preserve the memories of Zack as much as she possibly could. Everything was the same, to the minute details such as the MMA gloves hanging on the wall. Your eyes landed on the only photo you and Zack had together.

Zack was thirteen years older than you and there were remarkably few similarities between the two of you. The opposite hair color, a somewhat shorter build, and the only trait you physically shared was the color of your eyes. That was probably why Susan was so adamant about looking into your eyes since you sat down in the living room.

Susan and Sam took armchairs and you and Tara were on the large sofa. All of you opted for just a glass of water, not exactly feeling like drinking anything else. The tea cakes were on the table, but they remained forgotten as Sam seemed a bit on edge, which in turn put Tara on edge as well. Not to mention Tara was trying not to sit too close to you, she was just near enough to feel your presence.

You felt how tense Tara was, how much she wanted to lean on you, at least a bit, at least to press her side against you. “Say, do you still have the tea Zack used to drink? Was it nettle tea?”

Susan smiled at that. “Of course, and you know, you could use one right now, I’ll go an make you one,” well she either understood what you were trying to do or she just wanted to make it for you. You didn’t pay much attention back when Zack was telling you about it, maybe it was for muscle ache, or something.

“Cool! Thanks!” you’d take the opportunity though. It was what you were trying to do anyway.

“You want some honey?” she asked as she opened the door to her kitchen.

“Sure,” there was no way you’d drink a tea you never tried before without some honey, just to make sure it wasn’t too bitter.

With Susan in the kitchen, you closed the distance between you and Tara and hugged her from the side. “What’s wrong?”

Tara visibly relaxed, leaning into your touch. “Sorry, I’m just thinking,” she looked away, refusing to meet your eyes.

You followed her line of sight and saw that Tara was looking at the photo of you and Zack. You were nine and leaning your weight on Zack as you held a shovel. The freshly planted cherry tree was to your left. You were sure you hadn't grinned that widely ever since he died. She must have noticed Zack’s gloves, and was now piecing it all together. Your reason for fighting, why you kept choosing MMA no matter how much she disliked it.

Susan came back with the cup of tea, she didn’t make the comment about you hugging Tara, or the way Tara leaned against you. She just smiled, handing you the cup and sitting back down.

“Careful, it’s still hot,” she warned.

You chuckled at that and set the cup down. “Yeah, let’s skip burns.”

Susan nodded and then got serious. "Okay, I know you went through a lot and that this might not be comfortable for you all, but I'd like to know what exactly happened to the three of you," Susan's demand was fair as far as you were concerned. While you were sure no one would be able to find you, you probably were putting her in some danger with this.

So, the three of you went and recounted what happened, you didn't go into detail, but Susan got the gist of it. You thought she might be able to provide the three of you with an outside perspective.

"I don't like the timing," Susan seemed lost in her thoughts as she leaned her chin on her hands. "It had to be the 23rd and not a day later, so someone very close to at least one of you two," Susan motioned toward you and Tara. "had to be involved."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, so far you thought the main target was Sam, and while that was still likely the true neither of you thought of at least one Ghostface’s relationship with you or Tara, aside from, well, knowing you.

Susan motioned toward you. "Think of her lifestyle several weeks before fights and roughly a week after the fight," and then it made sense to you.

"I'm at my weakest the first couple of days after the fight," you groaned, removing your arm from Tara and leaning the back of your head against the sofa. There was no way you could have seen this coming, but it was clear whoever attacked Tara chose 23rd for a reason. "I have to lose between ten and twenty pounds before each fight, training is longer and more intense than usual, I get beaten up, then my body cools down and I can't just go back to eating like I normally do right away. I have no energy and I'm in pain. Why not 22nd though? I'd be even weaker than I was today," it was almost surreal to think that it was still the 25th, even if there were only two hours left.

It looked like Tara had an answer to that. "I think I would have invited you in if you took me to my place," ah, there it was. There was a chance she wouldn't be alone. "I didn't plan to do it, but I hadn't seen you in some time and I missed you, so there's a chance I would have done that," she clarified, blushing slightly at the implications of her inviting you that late at night.

"And if you weren't alone," Sam began and then turned to look at you.

You abruptly got up. "I need a moment," you stepped outside the living room before anyone could say anything to you. It was irrational. There was no way you could know. Even if you acted on that bad feeling, maybe that would just delay the killers until your next match and maybe Tara wouldn't be lucky enough to survive and all the what-ifs and maybes swarmed your head as you got out of the house and just took several deep breaths.

But you did have one thing that could have stopped all of this altogether. You could have taken Tara away from that damn house. The moment she turned eighteen you could have tried to convince her to come live with you. A tiny rational voice in your head told you there would still be times when she would be alone in your apartment, like several days you spent away from Woodsboro before each fight. Then there was the fact that you did, in the end choose fighting over Tara, you knew Tara didn’t like that you were an MMA fighter, that it was a big part of the reason as to why you weren’t together, but as you watched the cherry tree you remembered exactly why you couldn’t choose Tara back then.

Now it was different. Now you nearly lost Tara and, suddenly, that bond with Zack felt less important. Still, even if you weren’t an MMA fighter, you couldn’t be home or with Tara all the time. Maybe with it being a building with apartments, someone else would have been capable of getting between her and her attacker.

Who were you kidding? Like that could have ever happened. The security didn’t come after they heard gunshots and someone must have heard them, yet it took Sam and Dewey coming to the hospital for someone to come and help you. So, if someone whose job it was to keep the hospital secure didn’t budge, a random neighbor definitely wouldn’t. Even if you knew, even if you had some vision of the future, you'd never be able to keep Tara completely safe. There would always be some window of time during which she'd have to protect herself.

You can't control everything.

There's only so much you can do.

There's only so far you can push with overprotectiveness before Tara herself gets sick of it.

~X~

Watching you leave like that, while understandable, still stung. Sam didn't mean to make you feel guilty, Tara was sure of that. Tara was also certain you felt guilty on some level regardless of how ridiculously unreasonable that guilt was.

If someone wanted to hurt her, they would have gotten her sooner or later. Instead of considering how you kept her alive, how you made her feel safe and cared for, and how you wouldn't leave her side unless you were forced to, you laser-focused on one moment you weren't with her.

Coming to this place also indirectly revealed something important to her. Guilt gnawed at her when she caught herself thinking that maybe, now that she nearly got killed, you would consider leaving MMA. She pushed that selfish part of her as far away as she could, but looking at the gloves hanging from the wall she felt that guilt come back tenfold.

"Could I ask a question about Zack?" she tried to phrase it as politely as she could and be as clear as possible that she would take no for an answer.

There was a hint of sorrow in Susan's eyes as she nodded. "You can."

"Was he an MMA fighter?" she figured he was, she just wanted to see how far it went.

Susan looked at the gloves somberly. "He was. He managed to fight three times, lost his first fight, won the second, and lost the third, but then his sickness got worse, and he had to quit."

That was the last piece of the puzzle she needed. Tara always had more influence over you than anyone else she knew, but not even she could get you to stop with MMA. Now she understood why you couldn't let it go. She nodded her thanks to the still-grieving mother.

Would her mother be like this if she died? Somehow, she doubted that. "I should probably go to bed," she looked to the side.

"Of course," Susan was more accepting and understanding than her own mother, despite meeting Tara tonight, and that hurt. She couldn't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling. Not only because of your own bad relationship with your parents but also... Well... She noticed how your brother had the same eyes as you, she noticed how Susan looked at your eyes. How did that make you feel? Did you notice? She was sure you did.

At times Tara thought the woman wasn't seeing you, but her dead son, and that hurt Tara. You lost your brother, and you grieved too.

Not wanting to interrupt you or force you to come back to her side pretty much the moment you stepped away she took her crutches and with Sam's help went to the bedroom Susan prepared for the three of you. It was a guest bedroom with two beds, but seeing as she was sleeping with you it worked out just fine.

“Whatever you need, don’t hesitate to ask,” Susan assured Tara as she stood at the doors, they would change bandages in the morning.

Tara nodded her thanks, frankly thankful the woman didn’t mind one bit that you and Tara were this close. She’s seen your father’s reaction. Fuck, that should have made her see something was wrong as well! Ever since she found out about what you went through she’s been remembering bits and pieces that should have clued her in and she felt like shit because of that.

As she thought that Sam helped her get ready for bed. She missed that. She missed having Sam in her life. She missed Sam being caring and gentle with her. She missed Sam always being there.

"I didn't think I'd come back to find you this attached to Y/N, or maybe I should have seen it coming," Sam teased as she helped Tara out of her pants. The cast was making everything difficult. "Not that it’s bad! I fully support you Tara, I just thought, with how physically intimate the two of you are that you'd be together. How come you chose Amber?" Tara figured Sam was trying to catch up on the five years she missed.

"Promise you won't laugh," honestly, Tara regretted that moment, her accepting Amber’s feelings, every time she wanted to kiss you. And she wanted that almost every peaceful moment you two shared since you called her Love. But, she was still in relationship with Amber.

"I'd never laugh at you Tara," Sam reassured her softly.

"I wanted to get Y/N jealous," she mumbled.

"Huh?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I lied and said I was dating Amber almost a month before I actually started dating Amber. I thought she'd get jealous and confess," Tara explained, but she lightly bit her lip, knowing full well that she wasn’t telling the whole story. Although, looking at it now, she probably should have told you Amber asked her out instead of, you know, that she was already dating Amber.

Sam sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I’m guessing that’s not the entire reason."

Tara looked away at that and, with Sam’s help, moved to lie down. “Y/N chose fighting, I guess. Back then I thought she didn’t love me back,” she paused, annoyed at the incredulous look on Sam’s face. “Sorry, there wasn’t a life or death situation before this,” she grumbled, blushing and unintentionally guilting Sam into dropping the ‘are you serious?’ expression. “I just… I was immature, I didn’t have the whole picture, I just thought Y/N chose fighting instead of me, despite how often I made it clear I didn’t like seeing her get hurt.”

Sam nodded. “You thought it was just about fighting and didn’t understand why she’d keep doing it if she loved you back,” Sam understood and Tara felt relief at that.

“God, I feel so bad now,” she whispered, angry at herself for making you choose. She had no idea she was making you choose between her and your memory of your brother, but now that she knew… that must have been so painful to you. “I know Y/N wouldn’t say a word, but I still wish I asked more, tried to understand more.”

Sam placed a hand on Tara’s shoulder, and it brought her so much comfort, it eased her worries because Sam was finally back in her life. “You said it yourself, Y/N wouldn’t say a word. Tara, you were a child, you are still just a teenager, you will be immature at times. Trust me, I know all about it,” Sam smiled gently, her eyes were filled with love and understanding and Tara had to reach up and place her hand on top of Sam’s in gratitude.

“Then there was Amber. She… kept saying Y/N would abandon me, that it was only a matter of time, and she just kept repeating that. I don’t know how, but I started believing her when Y/N just let me get together with Amber,” that was her greatest shame, and she was being stupid, she knew that, but Amber was so convincing, so adamant that she was right, that Tara accepted it, allowed Amber to exploit her fears. So, she told Sam everything.

It was a slow process. Before her and Amber got together Amber would complain about you, and Tara would argue back. So, Amber would keep her mouth shut, but that was when they were kids. After you turned eighteen Amber would complain again, and this time, when Tara argued back, Amber would go for silent treatment.

It hurt Tara, because Amber was her close friend back then, only second to you. Add in that you let your parents back then, and that Tara had no idea why, and her insecurities were almost unbearable. So, afraid she’d lose both of you, Tara began arguing less and less, just to avoid Amber’s silence. It was fine, right? She wanted to be loved, and Tara quickly learned that the price of Amber’s love back then was letting her complain about you.

Tara felt awful, she felt awful every time she hugged you, she felt so awful she ended up telling you about it. And you, in a way only you could, told her it was fine. You didn’t care what Amber thought, and you knew Tara needed someone other than you in her life, you didn’t want Tara to get hurt, so, you gave Tara permission to stay silent. To let Amber vent. And it became easier after that.

She should have known it would escalate, but by the time she realized that, she was with Amber and she was going along with Amber’s demands. She agreed to distance herself from you, she agreed to pay the price for Amber’s love yet again.

All the while Sam clenched her fists, shaking in barely controlled anger. “Tara, she manipulated you, she took advantage of your trauma, she conditioned you,” Sam seethed, and Tara was surprised she wasn’t yelling at this point. “This is all my fault. If dad never left then I likely wouldn’t either, and you’d never fear being abandoned so much. I’m so sorry Tara, it’s all my fault,” angry, frustrated tears fell from Sam’s eyes.

Tara sat up, though it was a bit difficult to do so, and hugged Sam. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t make Amber act like that,” she tried to comfort her sister.

“No, but I gave her something she could use,” Sam argued back, pulling away slightly to look Tara in the eyes, and then her eyes widened in something Tara could only describe as horror. "Never trust the love interest, that's what Dewey said."

Tara felt panic setting in. Amber's anger and jealousy toward you. Her insistence on keeping Tara away from you. No, there was no way it was Amber. And then it came back to her. The numerous times Ghostface called her baby, just like Amber did. The conversation with Susan came back, with the way Amber insisted on Tara coming to her place the night of your fight suddenly making even more sense.

The realization hurt more than all the physical pain she went through over the past few days. "It's Amber," her voice cracked as she said that. Everything just faded into the background until Sam reached her and pulled her in.

Sam was a frantic cuddler, as Tara liked to describe people's ways to cuddle. Sam's hands were moving up and down her arms, then she moved so that one hand rubbed circles across Tara's back while the other smoothed her hair. It did little to soothe her this time, but it was nice. It felt nice. It felt warm as opposed to the chilling cold gripping her heart.

Amber did this to her. Amber turned her life upside down. Amber made her distance herself from you, so you wouldn’t be there to protect her. Amber loved her, so she could try to remove you from Tara’s life, so that Tara would be more vulnerable, so that Tara would be easy to target and kill.

Amber made her shoot you.

So, Tara cried, she sobbed and wailed as she clung to Sam as hard as she could. She cried herself to sleep with Sam doing everything she could to comfort her.

For how long did Amber plan to do this? Was she ever jealous in the first place? Tara’s feeling for Amber weren’t as strong as her feelings for you, she’d never love anyone the way she loved you. But Tara still liked Amber, she tried her best to love Amber back, and she was betrayed and forced to hurt you.

~X~

When you came back inside you heard Tara and Sam were upstairs and figured you could stick around for a bit longer. Just to give the sisters a bit of time together until fatigue caught up with you and you'd have no choice but to go upstairs and sleep. So, you sat down, picked up the cup of tea you left behind and took a sip.

It was okay, a bit different than what you were used to, but you could drink it.

"Y/N, how is college going?" Susan's question made you freeze for a moment.

"Uh, I'm not going to college," you looked away, subconsciously glancing upstairs to where Tara and Sam were.

Susan seemed taken aback by that. "How come. You were a smart kid, I doubt that changed."

"I haven't saved up enough money to give it a try yet, and I'm not eager to get into debt unless I absolutely have no other choice," you explained. “Besides, I didn’t want to leave Tara in Woodsboro,” that was another reason, you weren’t in a rush to get a degree so, you could and would just wait until Tara graduated.

Susan frowned and you felt your palms sweat a bit at the way she was studying you. "Money? What about your parents?"

It would make her angry, but you'd still be honest with her. "I cut contact with them when I turned eighteen. It was a mutual agreement, even if it wasn't, it's my life. I'll figure it out on my own."

As you expected there was fury in her eyes. "And Zack's request?"

It was your turn to frown. "Come on. Surely you didn't expect them to honor it," how naive did she have to be to think your parents would listen to Zack, regardless of the nature of his request.

"I'll pay," there was a definitiveness in her tone.

"No, you won't," yet you didn't leave any space for arguments.

"Y/N," there was a warning in her tone, but you were almost conditioned by your parents to never back away from such tones.

"I'm not Zack, Susan," that went too far, it was a low blow, but it sent a clear message. "I get it, you miss him, but giving me what you didn't have a chance to give to him won't happen. I can't let you."

She looked away and you could see she was holding back tears. You could see her shoulders slumping even more. "I know, but it was his final request," she tried.

"He didn't ask you to do it, though. He asked my parents to take good care of me," you argued back as softly as you could. This was why you didn't let Susan know about the extent of your injuries or the heart attack. She'd worry, she'd try to take care of you and, as much as it hurt to admit it, you didn't have it in you to let someone other than Tara get that close to you. It just became a habit you couldn't get rid of, and Tara remained the exception.

“I’m sorry, this wasn’t the time to talk about that,” she apologized, wiping her eyes. “How long have you and Tara been together?” she asked making you chuckle a bit.

Did it really look like that? Who were you kidding, it absolutely looked like that. “We aren’t together, actually,” you saw the surprise on her face. “It’s a bit complicated,” that was an understatement. Despite the feelings there were obstacles at the moment. Tara being in a relationship with Amber being one of them.

Susan stood up and placed a hand on your right shoulder. “She loves you, it’ll work out in the end, you’ll see,” she assured you softly.

“Thanks,” you smiled at her and got up to hug her. It felt good to have her back in your life.

~X~

When you went upstairs you found Tara wide awake, even though Sam was sleeping. “Hey, how come this happened?” you teased her a bit, sitting on her left side and poking her shoulder lightly. The look in Tara’s eyes made your smile drop. “Tara?”

“It’s nothing, just lie down,” she pleaded, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Now that your eyes adjusted to the dim light you saw her eyes were red, she was crying.

You slipped beneath the covers, carefully avoiding her leg and other injuries, and hugged her. “You’ll get through this,” you felt her closing the distance between your bodies as much as your injuries allowed, you felt the desperate grip she had on the back of your shirt, her right fist clenching around it.

“Call me Love again, please, Y/N,” she whispered as you reached up, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

You hesitated a bit, not sure what that meant for her right now, but if she needed to hear you say it, you would. “I’ll call you however you want me to, Love.”

“Say it again,” the request was timid, and you could see the tips of her ears going red.

“Love,” you repeated, you wanted to ask her why she was crying before you came back, you wanted to be sure she was fine, but it didn’t look like you’d get anything out of her right now, so you just tried to relax her, to make her feel safe.

“Again,” her breath mixed with yours, but neither of you moved to close the distance.

“Love,” you brushed your fingers through her hair, her eyes, her soft eyes filled with so much love for you. “My Love,” you whispered, so quietly you worried she might not hear you, but she did and she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

“Yours,” she whispered back, slowly relaxing.

Eventually, she did fall asleep, her head resting on your chest, the soft, even sound of her breathing lulled you to sleep as well. You were safe here, you could relax.

~X~

Later that night, sometime after midnight, Sam struggled to fall asleep, even if she pretended to be asleep before you came in. Tara managed to doze off for a bit before you came in, but she woke up abruptly, and as much as Sam wanted to help her she knew Tara needed you to comfort her, and she feared staying awake might make Tara hold back. Still, anger was burning through her veins. Amber hurt Tara. Amber nearly killed her little sister. Amber downright psychologically tortured Tara. Amber forced Tara to shoot you. Amber betrayed Tara's love.

Amber was going to pay.

With that thought in mind Sam sat up, careful not to wake you or Tara up.

"That's it, Sam, let's go make the bitch pay! Cut her throat and carve her up!" she saw him in the mirror, she knew she should fight it, she knew she shouldn't give in. That she shouldn't be bloodthirsty.

This time was different.

The enemy was no longer a masked, faceless killer who tried to kill her sister. It was an actual person. She had one of the targets. She wouldn't let anyone else hurt Tara.

"That's it! That's my daughter," the monster she was trying to get out of her head cheered as she grabbed your car keys.

~X~

The annoying sound of your phone ringing pulled you out of your peaceful slumber. Tara groaned, pulling the blanket above her head in an attempt to get back to sleep. By some miracle, you managed to reach your phone without making Tara move from her spot in your arms and rejected the call.

Almost immediately it began ringing again. "Who dares call at this hour?! What time is it anyway?" you hissed and finally answered your phone. "What?" you couldn't care who it was.

"Why are you coming back to Woodsboro?" that didn't make any sense.

"Huh? What are you talking about? Who even are you?" you were beyond confused.

"Listen, kid, your car is on the way back to Woodsboro, I put a tracker on it when you left, so don't try to fool me," the woman spoke and you were wide awake. You sat up, pulling Tara with you. You felt your heart sinking when you looked to the side and saw an empty bed. Sam was gone.

"Sam took it," those three words accomplished plenty of things, they woke Tara up, they made the woman talking to you curse loudly, and made you hope Susan's car was good to go. "How much of a head start does Sam have?" it was only at that moment that you truly realized what the tracker meant. What if Ghostface placed a tracker on your car as well?

"Considering where she is, I'd say an hour."

Shit, even if you rushed there was a high possibility she'd still get to wherever she was going way before you. "Thanks for calling. I'm going after her," you'd think about who was on the phone with you later.

You hung up and began getting dressed.

"Sam left?" Tara was sitting up, looking almost catatonic for a moment.

"She’s going back to Woodsboro," you wanted to help her, but the best thing you could do for Tara right now was make sure Sam was safe.

Tara grabbed your wrist and you saw the fear in her eyes. Was she afraid Sam was leaving her again?

"She went after Amber, Amber is one of the Ghostfaces," Tara revealed, her voice filled with anguish, and you saw red at the new information.

'God damn it, Sam, you better not kill Amber before I get there,' you thought.

~X~

Just for a moment Amber thought that maybe there really was something wrong with her. She watched her friends, Chad, Mindy, and Liv, drugged, unconscious, ready to be cut up to lure Sam back to Woodsboro. She’s known them for years, ever since she was a child. She knew Wes as well, she knew Tara. She loved Tara. She loved having Tara, making Tara unconditionally hers was the thrill only second to this.

But she didn’t feel any regret, just a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction at the power she had. Maybe there really was something wrong with her, but she felt good, she felt like she had a purpose, something bigger than her, something grander than just one person. She was a fan that was turned into a star of her favorite fandom. Stu to Richie’s Billy.

So, what if she was a bit unhinged, if she lost it a bit as she stabbed Liv. Liv wasn’t screaming, she wasn’t fighting back, so maybe she really did go too far with her. Maybe she hit a vital organ in her excitement. It was so easy, much easier than when she went after Tara, much less painful than trying to kill you. It wasn’t as thrilling though.

She should wait until Chad and Mindy regained consciousness.

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[madameaug]

3D || JJK x Black OC

Pairing: Celebrity Jungkook x Non-Celebrity Jennette

Feature: Jack Harlow

WC: 900 ish

Context: Things are going smoothly on the second day of filming for Jungkook's solo '3D' with Kentucky rapper Jack Harlow. But tempers rise when Jack takes a flirtatious approach to Jungkook's girl.

Jungkook naturally had a positive attitude. He got a full nights rest and he had a tasty American breakfast. He was on set for the second and final day of filming for his single '3D'. It would be his second solo song with the new direction and image he was launching.

Seven was just a tiny drop in the pond for the full extent he wanted. He was tired of the 'baby' and 'maknae' cape he wore for the many years he was a part of BTS. Of course, he couldn't deny the fact that he was the youngest member of the group, but he was twenty-six. He was a grown man and he was entitled to his sexuality. He wanted to express how raunchy and nasty he could be is. I mean he was in a long term relationship with his girlfriend, fans couldnt' have thought that he was just holding hands with her. They would be delusional.

Currently, Jungkook was sitting in his trailer rubbing the soft fabric of the neon pink romper Jennette was wearing. She laid down on her stomach, scrolling through her phone. Her legs were across his lap, giving unrestricted access to her plump behind. What she it lacked in size, it overcompensated in weight. Any time she walked there was a jiggle that caught Jungkook's attention.

"Bug look at this." Jennette turned showing Jungkook a video of Jack Harlow's story. "He's here." The Kentucky rapper had tagged the singer in a Instagram story showing that he had arrived on set. The diamond crusted shape of Kentucky reflecting off the sunlight.

A sequential knock on the trailer could be heard. A slight groan Jennette moved off of Jungkook allowing him to stand up fully. Opening the door Jack Harlow had a big smile on his face. He dapped Jungkook.

"What's poppin."

Jungkook returned the same enthusiasm. Using the English that he knew. He was now at a conversational level thanks to Jennette and could better articulate himself. Jennette just look at the two men conversing with each other. Unaware at the secret glances to she was receiving from Jack.

Jack immediately noticed the feminine fragrance in the trailer. The scent couldn't belong to no one other than the beauty sitting on Jungkook's leather couch. Her legs were crossed over one another, and he could see the pure white color she sported on her toes. Two gold hoop piercings hanging on each nostril, elevated her look. Baby hairs were laid, with lips dewey and glossy. Her hair was shaped like a cloud, and not in its usual protective style.

Jungkook wasn't an idiot and watched the glances Jack made behind him. He was probably just curious about who Jennette was. Thinking nothing of it, Jungkook formally introduced the pair.

"Jeanie come meet Jack. Jack this is 'Jennette', Jeanie this is Jack."

Jennette smiled with simple wave.

"Had I known there were going to be gorgeous models like her I would have gotten here earlier so I could get to know her." Jack lifted Jennette's hand bringing it to his lips.

"Oh that's not necessary." Jennette dryly laughed, pulling her hand away. Once it was behind her back, she discreetly wiped any trace of his lips on her back.

"Jeanie was it?"

"ACTUALLY it's Jennette." Jungkook stepped in the middle of the two.

Thinking fast, Jennette bawled up her face appearing to sneeze. She turned behind her before letting out the fake sneeze.

"My allergies must be acting up. Let me go blow my nose." Jennette excused herself, before leaving the trailer. Before closing the door behind her. In another moment of disrespect Jack turned his head to watch Jennette leave the trailer. He bit his lip, before tucking his hands in his pocket. He rocked on his toes, before whispering a 'damn' to himself.

Jungkook found himself outside of his body. He saw himself wrapping his hands around Jack's neck. Shaking common sense into his thick skull. How dare he make a clear pass at his girlfriend, in front of his presence. His eye twitched at the lingering thought.

It took alot for Jungkook to get out of character. Having fame at such a young age taught him how to grow thick skin and how to let some things roll of his back. He was good at picking which battles were worth fighting over. And his relationship with Jennette was always one worth fighting for.

Jennette was one of the best things to ever happen to him. He trusted her and developed a deep love for her. One day when he will be courageous enough to get down on one knee and ask her to spend the rest of her life with him. He could see the day happening any time soon. A future with Jennette was his endgame.

And collaboration be damned, Jungkook wasn't going to let Jack get away with that.

"Don't disrespect me or my girl like that." Jungkook's tone was sharp and cold. His eyes narrowing in on Jack's face. He was watching every thought cross his mind. His eyebrows furrowed, at the drastic demeanor change.

"Your girl? I was just being polite-"

"Polite? Yeah right, you were clearly flirting with her in front of me."

"I didn't know she was your girl, my bad bro."

"Damn right. Don't try that again."

Jack noted putting both of his hands up backing away slowly. Sheesh

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |2|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Two: Alamort

Summary: You've been struggling to sleep the past few weeks, a late friend of yours not leaving your mind, and on top of that you get stuck with Tara for a group project

Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of death, grief, and underage drinking

Notes: Was able to put some Sam appreciation in this chapter cause I love her sm, also I would like to clarify that in this au ghostface will not be making a return so dw worry about our girl Anika

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next part

After a long day of work and school, you were absolutely exhausted. You needed to change before you passed out on the floor. Once you were clad in your pajamas, you collapsed onto your bed, practically melting at the feeling of your pillow against your face. You fell asleep moments later, but it was nothing to enjoy.

Your right leg bounced as you impatiently stared at your phone. You were biting your nails to the bone when your younger brother let out an aggravated huff. “Staring at your phone isn’t doing anything. You’re just making the wait feel longer,” he told you as he took the seat beside you.

You anxiously rubbed your hand up and down your thigh. “He said he’d call as soon as he took care of everything. That was fuckin' forever ago!” you snapped, getting up from where you sat. You knew what this possibly meant, but couldn’t bear to say it. 

“Fighting a serial killer isn’t a five minute type of thing. I’m sure he’s fine,” you brother tried to reassure you, but you were already pacing back and forth as terrible things flooded your mind. 

Just earlier, Dewey called you and explained he was headed to the hospital to handle a Ghostface issue. He also said that if he got back, the first thing he would do is call you. If? Surely he knew you were smart enough to detect that ‘if’ he snuck in. The whole way over to the hospital, he talked to you and your little brother over the phone. The whole conversation gave a gnawing feeling in your stomach. It sounded like he was saying his last goodbyes. You didn’t even have a chance to reply when he told you, “I love you, kid,” before he hung up the phone.

You were planning on going to the hospital yourself. No way was that going to be the last words Dewey would tell you, not if you could do anything about it. Especially not after the way you left things. But your brother refused, blocking the door off when you got up to leave. He didn’t want you going down the same path family have gone down in the past. 

You found out an hour later. You froze for a good minute when you heard the first responder speak. A part of you knew what was in store when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. After snapping out of it, you looked at your brother—there was no time for wallowing. You grabbed him and rushed down to the hospital. You thought you were numb before, but you had no idea what numbness was until you saw Dewey’s lifeless, blood stained, body being covered by a black tarp. 

I should’ve been there… I should’ve been there…

From the corner of your eye, you saw how your brother's eyes never pulled from the tarp that covered Dewey before he broke out into sobs. You immediately wrapped an arm around him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

As numbness enveloped you, you thought back to just an hour ago; Dewey was being gutted in cold blood while you were safe and sound in his trailer. 

You should have been there.

You jolted awake, your head was throbbing, and you were drenched in sweat. You quickly sat up, your breathing rapid, while you rubbed your eyes. Your eyes then frantically looked around your dark surroundings; you were no longer in Woodsboro. You were in New York, inside your apartment, sitting on your bed. 

Damnit. 

You have been having the same dream—well, nightmare, for the last few weeks. It was the same one you had even months after Dewey passed, but they weren’t as consistent come June. At least, that’s what you thought. Your mind was refusing to let you forget that wretched day, the day you just sat around as the man you looked up to as a father was taken from you.

—

You were drained. As a result of being met with the same horrible memory each night for the past couple weeks, you were getting at most two hours of sleep a night. As the anniversary of Dewey’s death inched closer, your nightmares worsened. 

Now it was 5 a.m, and there was still much time to pass before class began. You showered to wash off all the sweat from tossing and turning, and by the time you finished getting ready, it was only 6 a.m. You spent the rest of your morning watching sitcoms while enjoying a bowl of cereal at the front of the television.

You eventually left, off to your first class of the day. You loved history class, but unfortunately, your desk mate didn’t take the class as seriously. 

No matter how many seats were vacant that day, Tara always chose to sit beside you. You knew she was doing it solely to piss you off. The other day you fell asleep during class and woke up with your shoelaces tied together. If you weren’t so tired, you would have countered with something like you would have in high school. You nearly smiled while thinking back to the pranks you pulled on each other.

Once you arrived at class, you sat down and immediately put your head down. You would have fallen asleep right then and there if it wasn’t for the loud thud by your head. You looked and saw that Tara slammed down one of her books before sitting down. 

The action made you lift your head while you rubbed your eyes. “And a good morning to you, Carpenter,” you said in a tired, yet sarcastic, voice. You were still rubbing your eyes, maybe you could rub away the exhaustion.

“You look like shit,” she remarked while putting down her bag.

“Hm? I zoned out—the stripes on that shirt are blinding.”

The rest of the class went on like that; Tara making comments and you returning them. It really wasn’t so different from Woodsboro, always picking fights and at each other’s throats. But if you had to be honest with yourself, you didn’t mind the distraction. It was nice. Tara Carpenter was good for something, not that you would ever tell her that. At least not without making her work for it. 

As you were writing something down, a crumpled up piece of paper hit the side of your face. You glanced over to scowl at Tara before opening up the paper.  

I need to copy your notes, read the note. This made you roll your eyes before looking at Tara again. She was looking up ahead, seemingly ignoring you. You looked back down at the paper, writing your reply. You threw it back to her before returning to your notebook.

Why can’t you just write them yourself? 

Tara exhaled with annoyance as she aggressively wrote again on the paper and chucked it at you. It hit your forehead, causing you to grumble as you read over the paper.

he talks way too fast I can barely understand what he’s saying!!!

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Your sleep deprivation was beginning to catch up. 

“After class,” you mumbled in defeat.

Tara smiled as she looked back ahead, but her victory was short lived as she started drowning in her own thoughts. 

Giving up so easily wasn’t like you at all, you usually gave up more of a fight. She had noticed your drained expression when she walked in… but she decided not to dwell on it. This was you after all. She has already established countless times how hard you are to read. 

Just enjoy the win, she told herself.

—

After you got through all your classes, you made it back to your apartment in one piece. You felt your eyelids grow heavier as you fumbled for your keys. You eventually inserted your key and unlocked the door to your apartment, barely feeling your legs as you walked inside with a foggy brain. You nearly knocked over a lamp on your way in. Anika was quick to notice this and rushed over to you.

“When was the last time you slept?”

You mumbled something she didn’t pick up before landing on the couch. You let out a long sigh, putting your hand over your eyes to block out the light directly above you. 

“This micro-sleeping crap you’ve been doing is clearly shit,” she said as she put a couple pillows behind you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured the blatant lie. 

She ignored this. “I’m gonna heat up some chicken soup,” she told you before going off to the kitchen. Anika has noticed how you have been growing more and more tired the last couple weeks. She was worried about her roommate but also knew you were too stubborn to ask or accept help. 

A few minutes later, Anika returned with a steaming bowl and some toast. Instead of sitting up and accepting the food she made you, you only whined. Anika narrowed her eyes at you before tossing a piece of toast at you. The glare you sent her didn’t faze her as she pushed the coffee table closer to you.

“You’re eating. No complaints. You can’t just live off of cereal and ramen.”

You reluctantly picked up the toast that hit your face, taking a tiny bite. “Whatever,” you mumbled between chewing. 

Anika just rolled her eyes and brought you a water bottle from the fridge, choosing not to argue any further. At least you were eating now.  Once you switched over to the soup, Anika sat down on the seat across from you. “What’s been going on with you? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because it’s obviously something.”

You stared at your soup, swirling the spoon around. “I don’t feel like talking about it,” you answered honestly.

Anika nodded in understanding. “That’s okay—just know that I’m here if you do feel like talking at some point,” she reassured. You subtly nod, still unable to look up from your soup. Anika accepted your response, getting up and walking to her room.

You stayed there for another hour or so, alone with your thoughts. Each one gnawed at you, screaming the same thing over and over again.

You should have been there.

—

It was another day in history class with Tara. She made a face at you for a comment you made, and just as she was about to say something back, the words ‘group project’ left the mouth of your professor. ‘Pair up in twos’ quickly followed. You gave each other a look before looking around and seeing everyone else already pairing away with someone. 

That was the story of how you ended up at the Carpenter-Bailey residence. You tried to approach your professor about working alone but he only shook his head and told you it was not an option. 

You sat down on their couch, your eyes curiously wandering, as you waited for Tara to return from whatever it was she was doing. She finally came back into view and you anxiously scrambled for your backpack. “Finally,” you said.

“Still as patient as ever.” She sat down a couple cushions over.

“Whatever. I just wanna get this over with.”

“Did you just slip the title of your sex tape?” she teased.

You gave her an unimpressed look, about to respond, but the front door to the apartment opening stopped you. You looked over to see Tara’s sister walking in with at least four bags that were full of what you assumed were groceries. 

Sam adjusted the bags in her arms, finally looking up to address her sister. She wasn’t expecting to also see you sitting on the couch; she opened her mouth to say something but the words escaped her when two of the bags slipped from her arms. Without thinking, you get up from your seat to help the other Carpenter. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Tara as she stares at the sight. 

Sam mumbled a ‘thank you’ after you both placed all the bags down on the coffee table.

“No problem,” you quietly said back. Your hands slipped themselves into your pockets. 

Sam cleared her throat as you made the short distance to your previous seat. “Tara, you didn’t tell me you were having someone over,” she said after turning to look at her little sister.

“It was last minute,” she replied. “We have a group project, and unfortunately, I somehow got stuck with her.”

Your head was down as you scribbled in your notebook, but you didn’t let your reserved demeanor stop you from commenting. “Bet you say that about every girl,” you sarcastically murmured. 

“I’d officially introduce you, but I heard you’ve already had the displeasure,” she continued.

“Yeah, we’ve briefly talked before. You can continue your project, but make sure your door stays open if you two move to your room—”

Tara’s eyes widened. “—Okay! Thank you, Sam! It’s—you don’t need to worry about that,” she exclaimed as she blushed.

You were now looking up from your notebook, blinking; your eyes shifted back and forth between the sisters. 

“I still want it open,” Sam insisted through Tara’s flustered demeanor; the older Carpenter had skepticism written on her face. 

“Okay, okay—I got it,” Tara quickly answered.

After finally dropping the topic, Sam left to store away the groceries she brought in. Just seconds later, you found yourself trying to fight an amused expression, leaving you with a downward smile.

“Shut up,” you heard Tara say beside you. 

“Didn’t say anything,” you replied before a chuckle escapes you. 

She elbowed you. “Let’s just start—unless you plan on flirting with my sister anymore,” she added with a bitter tone.

Her comment caught you off guard, etching a lost expression on your face. “What?”

Your clueless attitude only further annoyed her. “I wasn’t born yesterday; obviously you like her. She’s my sister, asshole, that’s so gross.” 

She thought you liked Sam. But why? Sure, you noticed how she was tall, beautiful, had a strong jawline, and her arms—wait, where was this going? Right, you were not romantically attracted to her.

“I don’t like your sister like that,” you told her but she refused to look at you. It seemed she found the pages of her textbook far more interesting.

“Can we just start? You were the one who wanted to get this over with.”

“Whatever.”

You two argued the entire time over ridiculous things while chucking notes at each other as you both would do during class. Tara grew bored after two hours, deciding to make it your problem. You were jotting something down when you heard the dramatic huff she let out. 

“Yes, princess?” you asked, still writing.

“How are you not the least bit tired or bored?” she whined whilst leaning back on the couch. 

You sighed before answering, “I’m always tired, but bored? It’s history. I’m not bored.”

“You always were such a history geek. What was that thing you always said? Learn by making history or something?”

You finally stopped writing, putting down your pencil, exhaling. “‘Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it,’” you quoted with a matter-of-fact tone. You finally looked back at Tara to see the smirk she wore. 

She got just what she wanted.

Tara has always liked seeing you worked up, but specifically when it came to things you were passionate about. There were times she would even purposely miss quote a line from your favorite show or write with horrible grammar just to get a reaction from you.

You would scrunch your eyebrows and get all grumpy, you even wore a subtle frown she always made sure to look out for; you mainly reacted this way because you knew she solely did these things to tick you off. You wore the same expression now as you did then, this thought made Tara smile. 

“I can tell you’re enjoying this,” you state as you turn back to your writing.

“Oh, very much.” As you were turned away from the girl, focusing on whatever is you were writing, Tara stared at your side profile. She looked at the way your eyebrows were still slightly scrunched as you clenched your jaw in concentration.

“You’re not gonna get much done if all you do is stare at me,” you said without looking to meet her gaze.

This caught Tara off guard, causing her to falter a bit as she blinked at you. “Well—well, your face is dumb, and—and I’m going to the kitchen,” she stammered while lifting herself from her seat, nearly tripping over her foot as she did so. “Oh! And I’m not getting you anything,” she made sure to add before you could say anything. 

As she walked away, you called out to her. “That’ll show me!” 

—

It was now 10:30 p.m, you and Tara were almost done with the project. For once, you two agreed on something, and decided to finish it up another time and call it a night. 

You let out a tired sight, closing up your books before putting them in your bag. Sam walked into the living room, noticing you packing, when a thought occurred.

“I just ordered a pizza, and I was wondering if you would like to stay for dinner, Y/N,” she said, catching both you and Tara by surprise.

The unopened bottle of water that has been sitting near you for hours was quickly noted by Sam.

“She’s goo—” Tara began, but you cut her off.

“—Sure. If it’s not a bother to you.”

Oh, this was going to piss Tara off so much.

“Not at all,” Sam answered, ignoring Tara mumbling from her seat.

“Thank you,” you said with a small, but polite, smile.

As soon as Sam walked away, you were hit with a pillow. “Um, ouch?” you complained with sass.

“Cry my a fucking river—you’re just staying to piss me off!” she accused whilst glaring at you.

“Self-absorbed much?” you patronized, feigning an incredulous look.

You two stared at each other, narrowing your eyes at one another. She leaned in before saying, “You are insufferable.”

You let a couple seconds pass before leaning in yourself. Your faces were now just a few inches away as you said, “And you’re infuriating.”  

Then the doorbell rings, Tara shoves you back before running to answer it. Sam came out of her room just as Tara came back in with the box of pizza along with a plastic bag. You timidly followed behind them, arms at your side as you walked, before you sat down.

After five minutes of silence, Sam attempts to make conversation. “So, Y/N,” she began. 

You softly hummed, looking up from your hardly touched slice. 

“How’s college going?” she inquired.

“It’s… going,” you said before awkwardly clearing your throat. “Yeah.” You continued to pick at your slice’s crust.

She nodded, accepting your answer, before continuing. “You and Tara have history together, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Tara said before you could. 

“She’s a peach,” you snarked while giving the younger Carpenter a wry smile. 

Things quickly grew silent again. It was awkward… at least it was for Sam. You and Tara sending each other glares from across the table certainly wasn’t easing the tension. To be honest, Sam didn’t know how to cope. She knew you and Tara hated each other for reasons she still didn’t know, but she also knew you weren’t a terrible person who has been through… a lot. If you truly did something inhumanly horrible to Tara, her little sister wouldn’t keep you in her life. So, Sam knew she had to be the bigger person by being at least decent to you.

Your eyes fell to your watch before you spoke. “I should get going, it’s late,” you said while getting up from your chair, putting down your napkin as you did so. “Thank you so much for dinner, Sam.”

“Of course,” she replied and gave you a courtesy smile 

Tara turned to scold Sam the moment you left their apartment. “What the hell, Sam?!” she whined.

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, as she sighed. “Tara—”

“—You seriously just welcomed the most insufferable person ever to dinner!” she huffed with a pout on her face

Sam rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “You’re such a baby sometimes, Tar,” Sam said before getting up to wrap up the leftovers. 

As she made her trip to the kitchen, this left Tara alone, pouting to herself. “I’m not a baby…” she mumbled to herself, both arms and legs crossed as she slumped in her chair. 

“She’s just an ass.”

—

“Where are you going?” your roommate asked as she watched you search for your keys.

“Out.”

Anika rolled her eyes at your curt response. “Obviously. But where? It’s a Saturday; you should be taking advantage of that, and try to get some sleep,” she told you.

“I’m fine. I had some coffee,” you found your keys on the kitchen counter and grabbed them, “Henry and I are just gonna hang out. You can come, if you want. You know Henry doesn’t mind.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m good. I have plans tonight,” she said. She knew there was no making you budge, no matter what she said. “But if anything happens, call, okay?”

“Mhm, ‘course,” you dismissively answered as you walked out the door.

It was meant to be a chill night with Henry, one that consisted of video games, food and drinks, at least according to Henry. When you walked in, his apartment was packed with bodies. The music was booming, you would be shocked if an eardrum didn’t burst, and everyone was either knocking into someone or something.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Nope! 

With one last shake of your head, you turned around, more than ready to leave, but a pair of hands gently turned you around. You now faced Henry, who could tell you were not at all pleased right now.

“Just hear me out!” he shouted over the booming music.

“How can I with this music blasting?!” You couldn’t even hear yourself think. Ugh, you just wanted to rip your ears off and curl up in a corner. “What happened to it just being us?!”

“Jason’s apartment flooded, I had to take over!” he defended. He saw you were still wearing a pissed off expression. “I’m sorry! This was a last minute thing—but I’ll make it up to you! Promise!”

Henry managed to convince you to stay by bribing you with Super Smash Bros and a quiet room for you to play it in. That’s how you ended up in his room, away from everyone else, as you played on his Nintendo.

You were in the middle of handing Link his ass when the door abruptly opened. You glanced up from your screen and saw Tara flipping someone off before turning to you. “Don’t,” was all she said as she shut the door; she then collapsed on the bed, not far away from your feet.

“Wasn’t gonna,” you said while looking back at the Nintendo.

“Just did,” she said in a muffled tone; she was laying face down.

“Long night already, princess?” you continued, ignoring her request.

She sat and held herself up by her arms. “Why do you care enough to ask?” She narrowed her eyes at you but you just gave her a small shrug before speaking again.

“I don’t… Curious is all.”

She crawled over to sit beside you, her back now leaned against the bed’s headboard. When she started to toy with her fingers, your eyes fell to her hands for a moment; the scar on her left hand didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“What?” she asked with agitation.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, fiddling with the buttons on the Nintendo in a lame attempt to hide your suddenly bashful demeanor.

Tara looked to the side, her face scrunching slightly, as if scolding her herself. “Um… Sam told me about what day’s coming up,” she cautiously began.

Her words made you freeze, your fingers stilling. If there was anyone who wouldn’t bring it up, you thought it would at least be her, that maybe your feud with the Carpenter would come in handy just this once. 

“If you, like, need anything or whatever, you can talk to me about it. I know not a lot of people have experienced what we have,” she said in an uncharacteristically sympathetic voice.

You couldn’t look at her, staring down at the device in your lap. You hated it when people tried to comfort you, when people pitied you in any way, shape or form. You despised feeling like a victim. 

“Can you stop?”

Your question made Tara confused as she furrowed her eyebrows. “Stop what?”

“Stop being so—nice to me. It’s weird, and unnatural. I don’t know how to feel,” you confessed.

“Would you prefer me to verbally harass you? ‘Cause I’ll gladly do so,” she said with seriousness in her voice. Here she was, trying to be remotely nice to you, and you of course had to be you.

“There’s my girl,” you teasingly said. You reached up and pinched her cheek, but she swatted your hand away with a chuckle.

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

“Seriously though, stop with all the cheesiness,” you continued; Tara scoffed at your insistence.

“It’s not my fault emotions make you uncomfortable,” she responded without hesitation. 

Now it was your turn to scoff. “That’s… not entirely true,” you said while slightly shaking your head.

Tara realized this was the most she was going to get out of you when it came to addressing anything she said before. She wasn’t going to get anything direct from you, not even a simple ‘okay,’ and that was fine. Sam told her she should try to talk to you about it, and she did try. 

A pillow flew to your face. “Oh, real mature. Second time in a row,” you remarked before throwing the pillow back to her. “Every time your guard is down while we’re near a pillow? I’ll remember this, Carpenter. I’ll remember this.” 

“I’m shaking in boots,” she joked while shaking her hands.

“You’ll see,” you said as you rose from the bed.

Tara raised her eyebrows. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Miss me already?” you teased while smirking.

She rolled eyes, pretending to gag. “You couldn’t leave this room soon enough.” 

You now stood at the door. “What would you do without me?” 

“Celebrate.”

“Would that be before or after the mourning period?”

She threw another pillow at you. “Get out!” she yelled; she tried to fight back her laughter. Geez, I’m… tipsy, Tara thought to herself.

“As you wish,” you chuckled before leaving the room.

Tara was now alone with her thoughts; she let out a deep sigh as she laid on the bed. “Idiot…” she murmured to herself. But something just felt… different this time, about her idiot. You were still an asshole, that she had to remind herself. Even if you were undeniably cute.

Oh.

She didn’t know where the last thought came from, but she’ll keep it to herself. It wouldn’t be the first time she had a thought like that about you, but each time she reminded herself of all the things you both have done and said to one another. She still found you insufferable, that was the plain truth. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t noticed you were rather objectively attractive—objectively of course.

There was just too much she hated about you; from your conceited attitude to how much of a control freak you could be, and she hated how you could charm your way out of most situations. It may have been unbearable, but it brought her satisfaction that you couldn’t do that with her. 

You were nothing but an intolerable asshole who has always gotten on her nerves. At least, that’s what she kept repeating to herself as the last few minutes replayed in her head.

—

Monday quickly rolled by—annoyingly quick. When you arrived at class, you sat in your usual spot. You were surprised Tara made it before you but not at all surprised when you saw she was hungover. “Two nights in a row? You rebel,” you teased her; she groaned and rubbed her temples.

“You’re not helping,” she complained, putting her head down with shut eyes.

“Wasn’t trying to,” you said before taking out your notes.

Your professor walked in just a moment later, a booming voice followed him. “Let’s begin!” he exclaimed while letting out a loud clap with his hands.

The sudden loudness caused Tara to jolt with her hands flying to her ears. You laughed a little, earning you a kick to your ankle.

As class went on, you and Tara did your typical routine of shoving each other, making petty comments towards one another, and note passing. When class was over, you got up, closing your books, before making your way to meet Anika for lunch. You only made it a few feet from the classroom when you felt a light tug on the back of your shirt; you turned around and saw Tara looking up at you.

“Yes, princess?” you asked as you looked back at her. She looked pretty cute looking up at you with those big brown eyes of hers. Something you noticed over the years is that she had these puppy dog eyes without even trying. Even when she’s trying to be serious, they can’t help but stay.

“I’m free tomorrow; we can finish the project then,” she told you; she was still looking up at you with those damn eyes of hers.

You nodded. “See you then.”

“No flirting with my sister,” she sternly said with an appointed look.

“No promises,” you joked with a shrug. 

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you’re so gross,” she said before shoving past you and walking away.

Note to self, add ‘flirting with Sam’ on the list of things that piss off Tara.

-----------

A/N: If you'd like to get tagged in future chapters, lemme know in the comments!

(EDIT) A/N: truly a trip down memory lane

[shadesslut]

hiiii! could i suggest a fic thats kinda been on the top of my head recently?? soft ethan landry originally tried to get close to the group by getting with amber freemans ex whos the adopted daughter of dewey and gale. originally she died alongside her dad, but the doctors brought her back. so now, she lives in constant ptsd from it and has a bad episode after having a nightmare of deweys death, though even though she tries to not bother ethan about her past, hes there then and helps her thru it

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE THIS. I HOPE YOU ENJOY🫶

haunted

Pairing: (Ex-Amber Freeman x Ex-Fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x Ethan Landry)

Content Includes: (Angst, fluff)

Main Masterlist

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Her mouth was stained with a taste of metallic. Her vision was blurred, everything tinted by a bright white light, but she knew what was happening. Her father was dead, staring coldly at her as he laid on the white tiles of the hospital. Was all of this for nothing? All those years of fighting not only for himself, but for his daughter. All those years of winning those battles against Ghostface. All of the sacrifices he gave, it was taken away by a simple kitchen knife. Taken away by her. 

Amber Freeman. The one who finally got Dewey. The one who haunted Y/N’s dreams, and the one who haunted her nightmares. Tonight was a nightmare. 

She knew she was dreaming, she knew it. But the way Amber pulled off her mask as she laid there bloody, it hurt just as much as it did that day. 

“Please, Amber,” she pleaded in pain. Blood spewed out of the freshly cut wound on her chest. “I love you.”

Amber looked coldly down at her, and at that moment, Y/N realized. Realized all of it was fake. All of the words and kisses Amber gave her; none of it was real. She wished she could apologize to her dad, she wished she could tell him how much she loved and appreciated him. She never did that. And now she never could. 

She prepared herself for the knife to sink into her side. She knew the routine by now, it was like clockwork. It would hurt, it would feel real, but every time, Amber would kiss her. And maybe, just maybe, that made up for the pain. 

The knife sunk into her stomach, and she arched up as she screamed in pain. Amber kissed her, just as she anticipated. Her vision started to grow black, like spilled ink staining a painting. Amber was a painting to her. Her beautiful work of art she loved looking at, even if Amber wanted to hurt her. 

Then, she awoke. 

First she shot up, then she breathed heavily. Her breaths were sharp and quick, and her hand went to her chest as she felt it tighten. Ethan stirred as she started to cry. 

His eyes fluttered open as he looked to the source of noise. His eyes widened, and he immediately sat up to wrap his arms around her. 

“Shhh it’s okay, I’m here,” He whispered. 

She turned her head to look at him, and all she focused on were his eyes. Dark, brown like hers. She hated how sometimes she would get so lost in his eyes, she would think of Amber’s eyes. How they darkened as she looked down at her in excitement. 

“It’s just me,” he said. It was just him. There wasn’t any evil in his eyes

She only let out a choked sob, and Ethan moved her head to rest on his chest. He pulled her to curl in his lap, her legs pulled up to her chest as he cradled her. 

“You're okay, I've got you.” 

She steadied her breaths. Don’t think of her, think of him. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. This was the fourth time this week. He shook his head and shushed her. He kissed the crown of her head and started humming her favorite song. The same song Dewey sang to her when she was little. 

“I miss him.” She whispered under her breath. 

“I know.” He whispered back. 

She didn’t know how many more nights of these she could take. She knew Ethan would leave her soon, that he would grow tired of this. 

“I’m sorry for waking you, again.” 

“It’s okay,” He cooed, playing with her hair. “It’s not a bother. I just want you to be okay. I love you.” 

She looked up at him, eyes glossy. She opened her mouth to respond. To tell him she loved him too. 

“You don’t have to say it. I know it’s hard for you.” 

She let her head move against his chest as he breathed. They sat in a blissful silence in each other’s arms. Her nose whistled as she breathed softly, and Ethan smiled down at her. He was the only thing that made her feel happy. He protected her, just like Dewey did. 

“You know,” Ethan started as he wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “The moment Chad pointed you out at that party, I knew I was done for. I knew that you were the one for me, and I didn’t need to look for that perfect girl anymore.”

“Ethan,” she choked out. 

“Let me finish,” he gently interrupted her. “I knew what happened to you last year. Chad told me that he’d kill me if I hurt you, but I knew you could do that yourself. You’re so strong, Y/N. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. You are so much more than what happened to you that night, so much more than her. She wasn’t good enough for you, and even if she was she didn’t deserve you. No one does, because you are perfect. I love you. I love you with everything I have.”

She grabbed his hand, and she placed it over her heart. I love you too. 

He kissed her. He kissed her so many times that she forgot about her dream. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel bad about her father’s death. 

That night, Amber wasn’t in her dreams. Only Ethan.

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 16

wordcount: 8,613

(Yeah, don't listen to me when I say I'll update soon; I'm a giant fuckin liar. Srry oops ♡)

   It was the next evening in Woodsboro. Barely a day after the tragedy that hit this town once again for the first time since the 90's. Dewey had to make a press statement as Sheriff and or the one in charge of the case. In a 24 hour period, on top of the killings that already took place, he had to state the victim's of this senseless brutality. 6 victims dead in the last 24 hours, 1 suspect dead and multiple injured…And 3 suspects missing.

After stating the victims names outside the hospital…He warily looked up a few times in case of…Well. In case of freaking falling corpses like what happened with YN's publicists a few short days ago. He then gave the conclusion of his speech to wrap up this chaos that seemed to never end. Anxiety biting at him. Feeling like a young boy displaying a D minus grade card in front of the whole class…

He subtly licked his lips a bit and swallowed hard as he tried to think. His mouth was incredibly dry all the sudden as he tried to force out what needed to be said to make his town feel reassured.

 “...Citizen's of Woodsboro...This was a senseless and awful tragedy. The threat is under control-”

The press yelled out mid sentence, “Sheriff Riley! But it took how many lives to get it under control? Why didn't the police act sooner?” 

Dewey fumbled, a tight expression on his face as he spoke into the mic, “Our deputies tried tirelessly and it took us longer than we expected. It's not easy trying to find someone in a mask-” 

“Why was a party allowed last night where one person was found dead?” Someone else demanded.

“He was…The victim was killed after and we…We didn't know of the party or we'd shut it down! Obviously just-” He stammered and tried to calm himself. 

Dewey was still reeling. Anytime he thought of that party; he'd forever see the dead lifeless eyes of Randy's corpse. He spaced out a moment with all the questions, all the accusations. Judy and a few others looked at him to give an answer to the overbearing crowd. 

He rolled his teeth over his bottom lip and decided to just cut the crap and say what he needed. Because this was too much. It was all too damn much. He didn't even get the courtesy of mourning Randy's death and YN's betrayal without being strong for the entire World.

He spoke up again. Ignoring the questions to cut to the chase.

“Young kids with their entire lives ahead of them died this week. Good hardworking men just trying to provide for their families. Just trying to make a life for themselves and their loved ones. All 3 very good friends of mine.” A hushed whisper sounded in the microphone as Dewey's face scrunched thinking of his two detectives and Randy. “A woman that…” He faltered, gazing at the hospital behind him and gestured with his hand. “...Whose body was thrown onto a news van right here.” 

His voice caught a bit of tense anger as he pointed his finger at the podium while speaking. “Even my own wife, Gale Riley formerly Gale Weathers, was stabbed in the shoulder last night. All of this…It…” He got tongue tied once more before taking a deep breath. A fine line between showing strength and being pitiful he had a hard time treading right now. 

All eyes on him as he could feel the heat from the lights and see his reflection in cameras. 

He looked at the crowd to let it sink in with a pause to catch his bearings. Only the mic ringing from being too close to it, sounded along with cameras clicking.

 “...As your Sheriff, I took this job under oath to make sure that 1996 never happened in this town again. It may have happened at Windsor College in Ohio or in Hollywood but not here in our quiet and peacefully small California town.” He paused, gazing at the crowd. Tired. Dark downset eyes cast heavily at all the microphones and lights. At the cameras recording his every move. His every failure. All he ever wanted was to protect the innocent and in his eyes he failed miserably.

He took a breath and took off his hat. “Which is why… I'm resigning as Sheriff. I take full responsibility for my department's failure in stopping this before it became too late. That's not on my deputies but on me. Their lives are on my hands and I can't express enough remorse.” 

Chatter erupted as so many reporters badgered to ask questions. Judy's jaw dropped. Her standing by having recovered from her vest protecting her this morning. She looked flabbergasted at his resignation as well as a few other deputies.  

He descended off the small makeshift stage near the podium. 

So many voices. A man yelling, “Sheriff Riley! Why are you resigning? Do you think your actions killed those kids?” 

“Because it's time for someone else to take over. Someone new.” Was all Dewey gave as he tried to make his way to the hospital doors. 

“Sheriff Riley! Sheriff! Can you give out the name's of the suspects and give a final statement on their identities? Are they apprehended or deceased?” A female reporter pressed as he got

“Not at this time we can't make a statement. But they are under control.” He tried shoving past as Judy and a few others forced the vulture media back. 

He heard a woman ask, “Where's YN!? Sheriff Riley, is YN alive?” 

He froze at the door…

Of course they'd ask. YN was an American icon. You couldn't see the mask without the survivor who seemed to be attacked every time. Her name is always gracing the headlines. Her book on survival was a New York Times Best Seller last year. Of course, with everyone else accounted for, they were dying to know where the IT girl was? Where was the final girl? Where was YN? 

And Dewey couldn't answer. Not right now, as he shoved through the hospital doors while Judy and a few other deputies held the media back. All before Judy ran after the man she worshiped once fully inside.

“Sheriff!” She called out, her feet thudding in the quiet hospital hallway. “Sheriff, wait-” 

Dewey stopped and turned to give her a sad smile, holding his hat in his hands. “It's just Dewey now, Deputy.”

He felt like a kicked puppy. A small child. A weak man. Standing there forcing a smile while his chest ached and he rang his hat in his hands. 

Judy spiraled. Big eyes buggier in appearance and mouth open trying to find excuses.

 “This wasn't your fault! If Gal- Mrs. Riley, had followed police protocol an-and Mr. Meeks and Miss YN would have had more faith in you and-” She rushed out in a stammer. Trying to reason with him. But his mind was made up.

“Listen…” He softly gave. His dark eyes softened as well matching his tone. “It is. Randy and…They were right. Gale was right. There were so many mistakes I made that could've saved a lot more people had I not been so darn eager to follow the books.” 

“The books are in place for a reason. They save lives.” She furiously shook her head, thin blonde brows scrunched in distress. “You can't resign! You can't; Woodsboro needs you. We need you…I need you.” 

“No.” Dewey sighed and kept that smile of resignation. “No. You don't Judy. You're one of the best officers I've had the pleasure of working with. In fact, it won't shock me if you become Sheriff one day.” 

“Sheriff…” She looked touched. “But Sheriff Riley-” 

“Ah, it's Dewey please.” He corrected her with a warm oblivious smile.

“Dewey…” She said his name with sincere fondness. Inching closer as her small stature looked up at him. “I…You were, are, the best Sheriff. The best boss. A good friend and…I can't help feeling…Well more…” 

“...More?” Dewey raised a brow. “Like family?”

“No like…Like you deserve better.” She got even closer. “Like, if you and I are apart I'd feel like the world isn't right. I care about you…I just wish Gale and others treated you the way you deserve.” She whispered just getting closer standing on her toes.

“Well, I care about you too, Judy. You're a very good friend.” He gave in a much more casual tone than she did. 

He just thought she was a bright eyed young woman looking for a big brother figure. He always thought Gale was overreacting when she got jealous. 

"Wes is…Wes admires you. He loves when you drive him around in the police car sometimes.” 

Dewey smirked, “Yeah, he's a good boy. Gonna be just like his Mom one day.” 

“But what if he could have someone more…Masculine to look up to? A man around the house. A father figure.” 

Dewey looked confused where she was going but mumbled, “Well, that would be a good idea. A boy needs his Dad and all... Well, or a Dad.” 

“Exactly…” She gazed at him in a way that it seemed his brain was finally clicking wasn't appropriate. “And what if…” She softened her voice. “That father figure could be someone he already knows?” 

She leaned up, her lips going in as Dewey looked down with a confused look.

 For the first time he was taken aback at her display. “Deputy Judy?” He gasped out and stepped away out of reflex.

“Dewey!” 

Gale's voice rang out down the hall. Judy stepped back with a blush and Dewey instinctively took 2 more steps away just to be safe. 

“Gale! What are you doing?” Dewey cleared his throat and quickly asked. “You should be in bed.” He commented seeing his injured wife in fashionable attire and heels instead of a hospital gown with her injured shoulder. 

“I'm free to go. Even if I'm not, I'm not staying in a hospital just laying in bed for a shoulder wound. I can do that at home.” She waved him off.

Gale gave an annoyed look at Judy as Judy's flushed face soured at the other female. Gale raised a brow and demanded, “You mind giving me space with my husband, Deputy.” More rhetorical than an actual question.

Judy scowled before looking at Dewey, “Take care, Dewey. I'll make sure everything is in order.” 

Judy marched off and Gale raised a brow, “The hell was that?” 

“N-Nothing.” Dewey mumbled with his eyes downcast; unsure how to tell his wife he was no longer Sheriff.  Judy's odd attempt was the least of his concerns. 

“Whatever.” Gale mumbled and urgently tried to tell her husband, “Look, I just got off the phone with Karla. She said she talked to YN, so if you just track-” 

“...Gale.” Dewey tried saying but as she kept talking he sighed and subtly rolled his tense shoulders.

She continued, “- And if we get to actually talk to YN, we can find out just how involved she was and get to ‘you know who’. Both of them. I can also prove to you that-” 

“Gale.” He interrupted his wife. “I'm not Sheriff. This isn't my problem anymore.” 

…

At first Gale took it as a joke. Her head reeling back with that bewildered smirk before it slowly fell. “What?...Dewey, what? Whaddya mean you're not Sheriff!?” 

“Shh!” Dewey gently took her arm to go towards her room that she technically was not discharged from yet for some much needed privacy. Just a few doors away down the hall.

“Answer me, Dewey! You resigned? What the hell for?” She demanded not even all the way in the room yet.

“Because I failed, Gale.” He firmly replied. “I failed. I failed you, I failed Randy, I failed YN-” 

Gale rolled her eyes, “YN failed us.” 

Dewey didn't even argue with that. Eyes downcast with a deep frown. 

And for a hot minute. Dewey tried not to be too emotional near her today but he knew that his wife knew how much your betrayal killed him. In fact, this morning he went and sobbed violently in his police cruiser after staring numbly at the parking lot. Crying as much as he did when Tatum died. In a way, losing you was like losing another sister. He wasn't as close to you as Tatum, God no. Of course not. He didn't help raise you like he did her but damn…Did it still hurt.

She sighed, trying to find patience.

“...Dewey. I just think you're jumping the gun.” She looked about and gave a hissed whisper, “For fucksake. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are alive and free. YN knew they were and is with them somewhere. Even if she isn't helping them, then she's in danger. This is not the time to hang up the badge!” 

“Well it is for me.” He walked away from her to stand near the bed. “...I can't do it, Gale. It's gonna be hard to face anyone. To face Karla and Mindy and Chad and my Detective and Deputies family's…Jill.” 

“Pfft.” Gale blew air past her lips with an eye roll. 

Dewey raised his head, confused and offended. “What?” 

“...Doesn't make sense.” 

 “I know but we'll catch them. I shouldn't have let them go. I failed-” 

“No, damn it!... Jill.” Gale lowered her voice.

Dewey looked bewildered, “What about Jill?” 

Gale looked about, then whispered. “Let's just say, I don't think YN is telling the full story and neither is Jill Roberts.”

“Excuse me??” Dewey looked at his wife like she was crazy! Sweet Jill? What could she possibly be hiding? 

“She's lying, Dewey.” She reaffirmed. “They're both lying about different things…But just because YN was lying her ass off does not mean she was lying about Jill. Broken clock is right twice a day and all that.”

“Oh Gale! Are you seriously after another scoop? What? Like YN all over again. Going after a girl so much younger-” 

“And I was right about YN, wasn't I?!” Gale sauntered towards him angrily, “I have been in this line of work longer than you've been on the force, I was doing this when you were hitting puberty, and I can smell bullshit a mile away…Jill is a fucking liar.”

Dewey stuttered with an outraged glare, “That's!-... It's...Prove it, then. What makes you think Jill who was never even on Randy's suspect list could do something so awful.” He folded his arms raising a brow to try and look smug and sure of himself but it wasn't working very well.

She pointed to her phone in her notes app. “Times are not adding up, Dewey. How convenient Jill went to Kirby's when her Mom was murdered.” 

 “I can't believe you right now, that-” 

She glared at him with those icy blue eyes a foot from him. “Listen to me, damn it.” She practically growled through gritted teeth. “Jill called Kirby less than an hour before Kirby left her house; right? Kirby goes to the party for roughly 2 hours before Randy gets killed and the party is over. Jill is supposed to be grounded. She goes to Kirby's while Mrs. Roberts is murdered in front of Judy AFTER Perkins and Hoss are killed.” 

Dewey's expression soured at the thought. “Yeah, after Judy drops off YN, confiscates her gun and YN drove off during Mrs. Roberts murder…Guilt and evading probably. Especially if her buddies did it and…Randy.” He couldn't say their names without raging. Just couldn't.

Gale snapped her fingers. “Hey, you're not focusing on the right thing.” She pointed to her screen, “Look at the time frame…Where the fuck was Jill?” 

“She went to Kirby's.” 

“... When? Because if the timeline matches up; Kirby was still at the party when Perkins and Hoss were murdered. According to Jill; Kirby opened the door for her…Now, how the fuck is that possible unless Jill was at the house way sooner than she claims?” 

“A key?” 

Gale gave her husband a look, “Then that mean she's lyyyiinnggg.” She mocked with a ‘duh' expression. She urgently continued, “Kirby could not have opened the door for her AND her avoid the murders unless she was there for a long time. Mrs. Robert's acted like Jill was in her room…So how do we know she wasn't still at home? Now, if she was hiding from the killer, Judy and back up would've found her. She would've ran to them for help. She wouldn't have casually went to her fucking friends house near midnight after cops were killed and there was no way she could've drove by and not seen Perkins body…Unless…She was hiding from cops and fleeing the scene after she slit her own Mother's throat.” 

“Jesus Christ, Gale!” Dewey scoffed and paced the room, “That's insane! Do you even hear yourself? Are you…Are you suggesting Jill did this? Not Billy and Stu or Charlie but Jill?? That she killed her own mother!?” 

“Be quieter, would you?...Why not?” Gale demanded. She lowered her voice, almost pleading with him. “Dewey, you know as well as I do we both don't trust YN after last night. Okay? No shit. We don't. But YN's times add up against the killer unless she really was working with those guys…Okay, give you that. Or they did recruit Charlie. Fine, got it…But eyewitnesses saw Jill and Charlie getting hot and heavy near a park while she was supposed to be on again and off again with Trevor.” 

“How do you even know that?? And that's a breach of privacy on a teen girl's romantic life!” 

Gale shrugged the best she could with one shoulder, “I have my sources. It's teens; they talk. Besides, there is no privacy when you could be making out with a murderer…Charlie seemed to have a giant crush on Kirby but how convenient Trevor, Jill's ex, got by far the worst end of the shitty stick.” 

He grimaced, “...Like James in 1996.” 

“Uh huh.” Gale agreed. “We get it. They were recreating kills. But…Why James? Jealousy? From who? Charlie?...Jill? Why was Trevor assigned James' role? All roles add up so why him?” 

Dewey raised a brow. “To…Well…He was Jill's boyfriend? But…” 

“Yeah. Jill was the survivor…How would they know that?” 

Dewey stared. 

“Not only did Jill hold animosity towards him for cheating according to everyone but one of the girls first killed was supposedly his fling…And most of all…The implication."

"Implication?"

Gale grinned in excitement at him, "Jill was always meant to be YN! Not Kirby or YN herself. Jill. Jill survived because she was planning to fucking survive! Why the flying fucking Hell would she be spared by Billy and Stu?” 

“But she was barely conscious when we arrived on scene!” Dewey's head was spinning but he just couldn't quite believe what his wife was suggesting. It was diabolical! “S-she wasn't. They tried to kill her here in the hospital…” He quietly mumbled. His brain went in a direction he didn't like.

Gale ranted, “All their friend group, and somehow, in a house with two known murderers Jill got the least amount of damage other than YN and Kirby. We can't even count that because they got life threatening injuries while Jill and I got stabbed in the shoulder and roughed up…Why? To keep me alive to write a story and her too. Jill got banged up but nothing serious. Nothing that would kill her.” 

“But!...I-” He went to talk but faltered.

“Charlie got stabbed only one time directly in the chest. In a relaxed position to stab his heart. People fighting don't get stabbed like that! Dewey, you're an officer, you know that in order for Charlie to get that stab wound he had to be relaxed. Like…It was planned and either he let them stab him or he was betrayed and relaxed.”

Dewey opened and closed his mouth. Damn, he knew his wife got to the pit of a story but lord this was…

”Gale, then…Then that just means Billy and Stu betrayed their protégé! Right?...Right!?” He desperately pleaded, not wanting to go where Gale's mind was heading because it felt so far fetched to him.

Gale gnawed at her lip. She walked about the room a moment before lowering her voice and mumbling out. “I know it sounds insane but think about it. YN and those two assholes got just about hacked up yet they were the murderers? No fucking way knowing what we know; how did Jill fight off 3 people as a victim? 2 grown men and a grown woman with self defense training. If Jill was unarmed; How? How does a 5'2 teen girl with no weapon fight 2 grown men that were trying to kill her and they supposedly had knives and a gun?…There's no goddamn way, Dewey!” Gale smacked her phone on the bed getting riled up just talking about this.

Dewey swallowed and couldn't exactly come up with an argument.

Gale just paced the room, her heels clacking as she continued. “YN was miraculous enough to keep surviving these attacks over the years UNLESS…” Her face lit up in realization. “Son of a bitch…Unless she had help all these years. Oh my fucking God. I knew it! James and Tim. They don't fucking exist, they're just aliases for Billy and Stu. Windsor I saw them and fucking knew it, god damn it, I did! I bet they were in Hollywood too. It's how she survived two huge men attacking her.” Gale ranted in harsh whispers; almost elated as her brain was piecing things together perfectly to her.

Dewey had the picture of YN and them. Men that were strangers but now he realized was evidence of Billy and Stu. A lie he kept from his wife he didn't dare share now. He ran a hand over his face…It was too much. It was all speculation. It was…It was crazy! YN and Billy and Stu were what?? The victims? And Jill killed her own mother?! 

He replayed it…Billy and Stu not being the murderers this time. You lying is a misunderstanding for hiding them. Charlie and Jill being the real killers…Jill. Killing all her friends. Her own mother. Trying to kill YN alone it just-

“...No.” 

Gale scoffed with a sneer, “No??” 

“No. There's no way! No way Jill is in any way involved.” 

 “Are you joking?” Gale put her hand of her good arm on her hip, wincing when she moved. “Okay, but why would Jill know where I was stabbed when we hadn't seen each other or talked?...How Dewey? Explain that.” 

Dewey shook his head at the idea that the sweet teen girl he already felt protective over could do this instead of two known murderers. And YN, who he couldn't trust now. Gale just looked more irritated at his dismissal as she continued.

“Why the fuck was she visiting YN at 4:32 in the morning in fucking ICU, Dewey!? Seriously. They aren't that close and Jill was supposed to be just so weak and heavily injured. Get a goddamn grip!” 

“So what?” He threw his hands out. “You're defending YN now after all these years of damning her? All these years of being so-so…So…Hateful to her and now you're changing your tune?!” He spoke a bit louder than necessary and stammered his accusations.

Gale argued with a haughty look. “No…Maybe!” She released a frustrated groan. “I damned her for lying, which I was right, but I am a facts and getting the truth out sort of journalist before anything else and Jill's story has so many holes it's like a screen door! YN was yelling at us, begging us this morning to listen to her side-” 

“And why should we!?” Dewey uncharacteristically lost his temper as Gale blinked in surprise. “She lied to us, Gale! She lied for over a decade! Made you look like a bad journalist, knew my sister's murderers were alive, defended them last night!” He was overstimulated, heartbroken, stressed, bombarded with too much information.

Gale rubbed her temple as a tense silence fell over the couple in the empty hospital room. She sucked air through her nose and told him. “Look…I am not team YN right now either. She lied, I was right. As usual…But that's even more of a reason to listen to me when I say Jill is not normal and we need to wrangle YN in for questioning and capture Billy and Stu in the process. Something is beyond off about her and her phony sweet American pie bullshit act.” 

“You're being so…You!” He exclaimed.

“And what the hell does that mean?” 

Dewey paced and the tension just gave way. “You! You always do this. You care more about your career and the next big revolutionary story to put your name in lights than you do people's privacy and feelings. YN, no matter what, made her damn choice and frankly I don't want to arrest her. I don't because I still care about her even though I never want to see her again! That's my weakness, my EMPATHY, something you don't have!” 

Gale reeled back a moment. Blinking in shock at her husband's harsh words. 

Dewey gripped his hair, his mental state just about having had enough the last few days as he didn't care about his volume. “I can't do this anymore! It's why I'm resigning this coming week. I want those two in prison but I am not hunting them down for the rest of my life. Whatever happens to YN? She dug her own grave with them and it HURTS! I can't make these decisions anymore! I can't. It's why I'm done chasing after masked killers and trying to do the right thing because it's tiring trying to be good but apparently not for you because you're eager to hound a 17 year old girl that lost everything and question if she killed her own mother and friends like a heartless person!” 

…

After his fit…A tense silence fell over them. Gale eyed him with mistrustful eyes. Dewey didn't mean to lash out. In fact, his heart ached just seeing the hurt look in Gale's eyes before her usual iron wall came up as a disguise to protect herself.

“Gale, honey I-” 

“Don't.” She gave in a firm gravely tone. She grabbed her phone and purse he had brought her from her car last night before surgery. He wanted to take her bag, to chastise her for possibly hurting herself with her shoulder but one icy glare from her and he shrank into himself.

She stopped short of the hospital room door to tell him. “I may have my habits but so do you. You did it 15 years ago with YN and now that YN is gone; you're doing it again with this girl because you have to have someone to shelter from the guilt of not saving your sister…You are a good man, Dewey! An amazing man. Too good of one that you can't see when someone is clearly lying. All because of this fucked up misplaced guilt for Tatum and trusting people.” 

Dewey stiffened. Not sure if he should be taken aback, angry or hurt at that statement. Gale was like this. She went for the jugular when hurt but that didn't make it okay in his eyes to bring up Tatum.

She was almost out the door but turned back to add one more thing. “And by the way!…The killer recorded everything; so check the harddrive on the new final girls fucking phone and see how innocent she is!” 

Gale released an annoyed growl in her throat like a frustrated groan as she slammed the door and walked out. 

Dewey stood there a moment…A tense moment that he sighed, then paced, then quickly wiped tears away with his sleeve and a sniff as they threatened to spring up. He hadn't even slept the last 24 hours and he was overwhelmed. Of all the times he needed his wife, it was now, and…He didn't know if he just scared her away or she was just that honed in on this case. He should be too. But he felt so damn…Weak. Powerless. Helpless.

“...The Barney Fife of Woodsboro.” He bitterly mumbled to himself. Gale's old words hurt him deeper than she knew. And she never truly apologized or truly ever told him he was good at his job. She praised his character but rarely his job as a cop only when she had to to make amends. Maybe…Because he wasn't?

He sighed heavily, a pang of heartache in his chest at having no one really. His parents were too old to put this on them, Tatum was gone, Sidney was gone, Randy was gone…Now you were gone with the people that did this. He refused to believe they didn't after 1996. And now his wife might as well be gone right now too and Judy was…Not the person to turn to after what she just tried in the hallway.

Dewey decided to visit the one person left even if they were now lingering in his mind as a falsehood.

Jill had to go into surgery again to examine and to stitch up the stab wound in her abdomen and back. To think…Billy Loomis did that. Billy Loomis. 

Dewey should be happy. His wife lived and was healing even if they just argued; at least he could argue with her. Jill lived to tell her tale. Instead, he hadn't felt this low in 15 long years. Not since Fall of 1996…

He headed to Jill's room. Hanging his head as he slowly entered the room. Making sure he looked presentable. He gazed at her and it made a pang of hurt form in his chest and disbelief in his mind…YN…YN, the girl he protected. YN, the woman he saw like a sister. YN the girl who lived…Tried to kill the innocent teenage girl with the help of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher…

He didn't care what Gale said. All this time, you lied. You lied and hid them. The guys that murdered his younger sister and her best friend and all those years Dewey and Randy both said ‘No! No no no, YN would never do that!’. Him and Gale even broke up over her and you twice, once in 1997 then again when Gale went Court back in the 2000's and how hateful she had been towards you. A girl barely a woman with the whole world out to get her. 

To think Gale was right all along. YN was a snake. All Dewey did was cry or go numb over this…And the idea you might have killed Randy or helped? You helped Billy and Stu kill Randy? It made him sick. Sick to his stomach; sick with himself for letting you and those two monsters get away. 

Gale's rant kept replaying in his head…What if…What if YN and those two were innocent this time? But that was insane. 

“Hey Dewey.” Jill gave in her usual sweet disposition. It made him feel guilt. “So…Any news of catching them?” She pleasantly asked so innocently.

He shook his head, “Sorry Jill. Not yet.” He sat in a chair next to her hospital bed and took off his hat with a heavy sigh. “I am…So so sorry. I failed, I-” 

Jill gave a forced sad smile. Shaking her head she softly said, “Don't. You didn't know. I mean, who would ever think of my cousin's best friend. I mean, Billy and Stu and recruiting a guy like Charlie. Do you think YN was forced? Like, I don't know, Blackmailed? Like, if she didn't do this; they'd kill her or more people she cared about?” 

Dewey looked up at the 17 year old. A glimmer of hope in his brown eyes as he tried and failed to hide how vulnerable he was right now. “I…I don't know.” He stared and thought. “Do you think so?” 

It wouldn't excuse anything but it was better than you willfully killing Randy and those kids. 

Jill smiled real big then quickly covered her mouth to hide it. 

“Maybe?” Jill shrugged. “I know she attacked me when I went to visit her but Billy REALLY attacked me. Maybe she thought I was them?” She pouted and showed her stitches under her gown. “I just want to find her and talk to her and know why? Why would she do this? If she was forced; we can help her.” 

Dewey looked hopeful and for the first time in 24 hours had a small smile. He stood and patted Jill's knee. “You're a good kid. Just get some rest okay? Leave all these questions to us. Need anything?” 

She smiled and shook her head. “No, not at all. I'm just sorry I tried to grab your gun-” She fidgeted with her blanket and grimaced in that sweet voice. “I just, wasn't feeling myself and was so upset my friends' murderers might get away.” Her eyebrows went up and she looked gutted but no tears in her eyes. Such a strong kid.

“Oh Jill.” He shook his head. “It's alright. I even thought…Well…Who can prepare for something like that? And I have almost 20 years of police training under my belt.” He went to shut her door. “You're forgiven, just get some rest.” 

She smiled as he shut her door and it just left a whirlwind of emotions in him. A part of him wanted to find you if you did in fact do all this against your will. If you were brainwashed or they had something on you that if they died someone you cared for got hurt…But if you actually did this on your own; he didn't want to find you. It hurts entirely too much even if justice should prevail.

He saw a huge grin on Jill's face in a reflection on the door…She must just be happy he stopped by.

——————————————

Later that night, Somewhere in California away from Woodsboro. You stood on a murderers porch in the dark hanging your head over the railing.

Fuck. Everything.

You were sore, physically drained, mentally drained. And you talking to Billy made everything worse.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your face. It had been such a long day, why the hell did you get on this subject? Yeah, it felt major. Billy Loomis told you you were his and comforted you while holding your hand after being stabbed. All while he came back to rescue you AND the letter that has been eating a hole in your pocket for days now. Pretty unavoidable unsaid context here…But this felt like the worst timing by his reaction alone.

You sighed again and tried to untense your shoulders before heading back inside. Still had a dried-blood, icky hospital gown on and a jacket. You were cold, tired, thinking maybe the pill was wearing off with how sore you felt. Your joints were so stiff and skin so bruised you felt like every step was an 80 year old woman not one at 32. You just wanted to go back to sleep on Billy's frumpy couch in some comfy clothes. Maybe the recliner with tape on the arm would be better? You were tempted to nap with Stu but he was acting…Odd. And if he touched you, you were in no position to fight him off right now.

With a heavy heart and head; you dragged yourself back inside. Not eager to be near either of these men at this point. Billy pretty much tore what teeny tiny sliver of hope you had in your heart for him even if it felt stupid to begin with and Stu was not acting right in the head. But what choice did you have? Can't go to Woodsboro, and in case the cops were hunting you, you couldn't go to a family member's house or your cabin either.

You walked in. Shut and lock the door. Shrugged off your jacket with a grunt to lay it with Billy's other jackets on an old rickety chair. Billy was nowhere to be found and Stu was sleeping last you heard.

You went to sit in the recliner for just a moment.  Every movement made you fatigued. Easing in with a grimace as you white knuckled the arm of the chair in your grip. God, everything hurts! It probably would for a while. You were still leery of the fact Jill could've punctured an organ or opened a stitch in your fight especially since you had only eaten a tiny bit and didn't have a bowel movement yet…You were fearful of the pain of that potentially or what to do if you did need to go to the hospital.

You eased back and tried to relax in the armchair. Closing your eyes for just a second before feeling someone near you…

…Your brow twitched at that uncanny feeling of eyes on you…

You opened them and in a flash Stu smacked his hands on either side of the arms of the chair. Essentially trapping you there as you gasped loudly. Nearly jolting in fear at the surprise.

“Stu, what the hell are you doing-”

“I know.” Was all he gave with a dark look in his blue eyes. A predatory look that reminded you way too much of that raining night at your house or him at that party at Windsor or even him holding your own gun at that motel.

“Know…What?” You whispered as you started feeling anxiety grip you. Easing back into the chair as he got closer, inches from your face.

“Don't play dumb, Sweetcheeks.” He smiled a humorless grin. “I heard everything you had to say to him on that porch just now…You two holding hands and you calling out to him, you and him bonding over your little book which I'm sure his character had a bigger role than my character if my character was even in it. The letter…Where's the letter, babe? I wanna read it.” 

“Stu, just…Let me up” You swallowed.

He gave with that dangerous smile, a dark expression as his voice dropped an octave and he got closer to you. “I really wanna read it.” 

“B-” Your voice caught in your throat out of fear and you yelled for the only other hope you had. “Billy!!” 

“That's right, call for Billy. Billy to the fucking rescue. Billy the guy always picked first! Billy the man!” Stu lost his temper and shoved a bunch of shit off an end table and you couldn't help the wince and gasp before you tried to get up and get away and he stopped you. “Uh uh! You aren't going anywhere!” 

You stared up at him with big eyes, “Stu…Just calm down. Let me go.” 

“Oh yeah, tell me to calm down. Tell me, baby. That always works.” He giggled out with a lopsided evil little grin.

“Stu, please-” 

He smacked the chairs arms, “HOW LONG!?” His emotions are absolutely random and chaotic. The jealous rage in Stu was nothing to be trifled with. You didn't owe him anything but you knew in his mind you did. 

“Stu, I don't know what you think but me and Billy are not in some secret relationship or hiding anything-” 

“BULLSHIT!” 

“WE AREN'T!” You frantically yelled back pinned against that chair before. “Stu, you're scaring me. Please.” 

He smirked but no mirth was in his eyes.

Billy came out of the bathroom and you heard him going towards Stu but to your shock, Stu was that pissed. That enraged at you both. That much past turmoil bubbling to the surface. That it seemed letting Billy man handle him all those years finally exploded. You hated it but the sound felt like it didn't come from you as a shrill gasp ripped past your lips as Stu punched Billy across the face before he could lay a hand on him to get him away from you. 

Stu went to swing on him again while Billy was down, going to straddle him to beat him god knows how many times. You yelled at him, “Stop it! Damn it, stop it right now!” as it fell on deaf ears and both him and Billy were trying to hit each other even in their injured states. You went to grab Stu by the shoulder and he shoved you back before a pained yelp came from you at your stitches and you collided against the chair. Damn…It hurts. You held back, not wanting them to do this but also not wanting to be injured for two nutjobs either. 

 You went to the kitchen moving faster than you should while injured. Trying to figure out what to do as you heard both men arguing and fighting. Stu, even injured, was a beast as he shoved Billy into a wall, actually cracking the drywall there, “You piece of shit! You knew how I felt and you did this behind my back!?” Stu yelled going to punch him and Billy dodged. “Don't love her? Isn't that what you told me a decade ago!?” 

“I didn't do anything you fucking lunatic!” Billy yelled back with a red cheek where his scar you gave him was as their grappling ended up in the kitchen near you. Stuff knocked off the walls.

“Stop lying!! You wrote her a fucking letter-” 

“Yeah! I did! 15 years ago! I was a fucking kid!” Billy emphasized angrily as he punched Stu but Stu tried choking him in a headlock.

“Yeah, I bet. Just like Roman, huh? And me being a scapegoat!” Stu had his arms around Billy's neck and Billy had no choice but to shove backwards in Stu's hold as you flinched when the small round table broke as they collided on top of it.

You did the only damn thing you could think of at the moment other than hitting them upside the head, let them kill each other or kill them with a knife.

They both grunted in annoyance, especially Stu, when you used the ice cold water from the sink hose and sprayed jets of water on them like 2 dogs fighting. “Enough! We don't need you both hurt, okay!? Fucking stop!” 

Stu got off Billy and marched towards you. Hair wet and pissed off. Fear dropped in your stomach at the predatory way he came towards you and as soon as you went to get a knife as defense, not expecting him to come at you like that... He grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you towards him. Dropping the hose in the sink and making you helpless against him in your injured state. You were too injured to even use any self defense moves and in this position it was hard. Shoved against a counter by someone so much bigger and both wrist in his hand and the distance closed between you two. You couldn't even kick him with your stitches so sore right now.

Billy tried getting up from the broken table on the ground, bleeding from where his stitches were but not as badly as Stu was. “Sttuuu!” He warned huffing breath and getting up.

Stu was sweating. Eyes crazed and bleeding through his shirt from reopening stitches in their short but intense fight. He glared down at you so hatefully. He glared as time judt froze.

“...You're lucky some tiny part of me gives a shit about you. If not? I'd rip you apart and bleed you out like I have so many other whores.” 

You stared. Not breathing as a chill ran down your spine. Because with his tone and the look in his gaze; you knew he meant it.

He jerked away to lean on the counter. In pain and panting as he hunched over and Billy leaned against the fridge near you. 

Stu shook his head in a dry smile. “...All those years, man. All those years I was there for you. I protected you, I left my number, I gave you the benefit of the doubt over and over, risked my damn identity and freedom not killing your friends…Well…Someone killed them, just not me.” He chuckled wryly, hanging his head.

Billy now with a red spot on his face slowly bruising glared tiredly at Stu. You just stared before telling him, “Stu, I swear I don't know what you think-” 

“I THINK?! No, I know. I know that you two apparently held hands and had a moment.” 

“Because you passed out and I was scared!” You exclaimed. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Billy and you share a book and he's a fan of it and a moment together and you go to him to talk and him to patch you up and him to take care of you when I've been pining for you for 15 years!” He gazed at you and his anger faded to desperation. “Fif-Teen-Fucking-Years.” He sounded out in a mumble as he stood up fully, gripping his stomach. 

“Stu.” 

“Don't bother. As soon as I can walk and drive and shit properly without pain; I'm out of here, man. And neither one of you will see me ever again.” He grumbled as he slowly made his way to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Billy and you were alone as he glared at you, “You just had to bring up that letter on the porch?” 

You were flabbergasted, “Hey, don't do that. I didn't know he was listening, neither did you!” You felt that shrunken guilt ridden feeling even if you shouldn't.

“Yeah well, he did. Now we both gotta sleep with one eye open. Thanks for that…Fucking idiot.” He mumbled getting an ice pack from the freezer for his face that was slowly getting red and inflamed from those punches. He glared at his broken table and shook his head and went to the recliner.

You just stood in the kitchen, your mind reeling like it had so many times before with these two. You never felt more weak and alone in your life…Well, top 3 at least on the awful moments list in your head. 

You walked out and noticed your jacket wasn't where you had it. You sighed to yourself knowing exactly who had it. “...I need to go talk to him. Or something. ” 

Billy scoffed, “Are you stupid or nuts? He'll kill you right now and these fucking injuries I got will be for nothing.” 

You rolled your eyes and laid gingerly onto the couch. Accepting maybe you needed to leave him be. Seeing the bathroom door open and Stu go to the bedroom.

That slammed door and hearing something break in HIS bedroom just sent Billy into a rage of his own. 

Billy and him argued one more time over the damage to the house and Stu stealing Billy's room that ended in Billy slamming the door screaming, “FUCKER!!” In outrage at his bed being taken in his own home by a guy he was letting stay here. You had talked him down from killing Stu which earned a ‘shut your fucking mouth and mind your business’ from him and yet you both complied. 

He tossed you some clothes and you finally got out of that damn hospital gown into an oversized flannel and comfy bottoms

Hours passed of awkward silence and the tv was on Rosemary's Baby. Billy had fallen asleep after 3 hours of ‘eh’ sort of grunts and shrugs as he had to redo his wrappings and had a bruise on his face. You tried to subtly clean up the mess him and Stu made but bending over wasn't a good thing for you right now. 

It was…Depressing. This house trailer with outdated everything and not a homey thing in sight. Especially compared to the Meeks house you stayed in tidy but cluttered with family things like kids toys and memorabilia and the fridge had pictures and drawings and cute magnets and the house smelled good but lived in in a cozy way and the blanket was fuzzy and clean but had a hint of the scent of Mindy's hair product where she had her hair braided that morning and had slept on it before you arrived. The pictures on the walls. The scooby doo and pikachu bowls and spoons for ice cream in the cabinets…Randy's movie collection.

A tight frown in place as you sighed. Thinking all of this was just dragging you down. You didn't need that anymore than you already had.

You had no one now. The cozy homely vibe people complain of as boring is a distant memory now. 

You saw Billy's room light was still on. Billy himself was asleep breathing deeply as you studied him for the longest time. His face matured so much in this decade. The shorter hair made him even more grown up looking as opposed to his longer hair he used to have. The lack of facial hair looked better on him too. Facial hair, at least that 90's goatee thin mustache combo he had, shockingly made him look like a kid that penciled it in or something. It looked out of place on his almost feminine features he had when younger. Now, with a much more chiseled jawline and bigger built frame he…Well, it was harder to remember he was that lean pretty boy with gel in his hair to sweep it back that was trying to kill you.

But Stu? He still looked so much like he always had just a bit more filled out. It was easy to remember Stu no matter how many style changes he went through.

You kept watching that light and you swore you heard a hiccuping noise that whether you liked it or not made you…Feel bad. It could've been him scoffing or anything but…The mere idea it was hurt from you hurt you in a way it shouldn't but it did. 

You cursed yourself glaring at the ceiling. ‘See? This is how you get into these situations!’ Was all you could think. 

You sighed softly and looked at Billy as you made a choice. Besides…You couldn't sleep and you knew damn well Billy wasn't as asleep as he acted. You were now in an oversized blue flannel Billy gave you to wear and a pair of gym style mens shorts. Nothing else to wear.

You quietly got up and crept past Billy's chair to the back part of the trailer. You almost wanted to use the restroom across from the bedroom and go back to the couch but you heard Stu still awake…And a tight frown formed as you raised your fist. You faltered before tapping on the wood with your knuckles. Stu was a loose canon and the longer this issue sat the more crazy he'd become.