#melissa barrera imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

denwritesandcries · 2 months

Text

Hug me Tighter – Sam Carpenter

Pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You’re only trying to make your girlfriend take a nap with you, the fact that it’s in a hospital bed after one of the worst nights of your lives doesn't really matter.

Word count: 1,8k.

Content: post-scream VI, cursing, tooth-pudding fluff, mentions of violence, cuddling, pet names, long dialogues, REALLY soft gfs.

Note: Damn, this might be the sweetest and cheesy thing I’ve ever written. Could also be an AU, since Anika is alive, or just Scream, if they could actually be happy.

English is not my first language.

You realized that you were waking up at a terribly slow pace, as if everything was suddenly in slow motion and even the smallest movement took hours to run and every second was longer than the previous one. Your body feels heavy and comfortably warm, resting on perhaps the best bed in which you've ever slept. You blinked slowly, failing to keep your eyes open, every movement of your eyelids almost making you fall into unconsciousness again.

Your body shudders with the feeling of a long yawn crossing you and you turn your head to bury your face back in the location and go to sleep again, only to be surprised when you come across hot skin instead of what your brain thought was a really soft pillow. It is only then that you register a movement against your back, light and constant, almost as smooth as your own sleepy state, climbing and descending your spine and enveloping you even more in this security bubble almost supernaturally.

Another weight lies between your neck and your head, right at the point of your wrist and there's another heavier resting on the top of your head, although you're sure of the mess your hair should be right now. Your hands grope and instinctively grab a handful of familiar fabric beneath you, feeling the texture of a sweater you knew very well.

“Sam,” your hoarse voice breaks the silence.

You were tempted to let the darkness and the inviting fog of sleep consume you again as you relaxed and held another yawn, but your resting place vibrated with a low laugh.

“‘M sorry, baby. Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” you denied with a satisfied sigh, sinking against her body.

The chin on your head pulled away and the hand on your back stopped and you immediately missed the contact, finally opening your eyes and lifting your head to protest.

“You're feeling better?”

Sam's question catches you off guard and you pause, staring into your girlfriend's soft brown eyes and raised eyebrow with confusion. Frowning, you finally decide to take a look at the place you are in and come across a messy white room with machines nearby. A hospital room.

The events of the last few hours come back to you in a quick, jumbled flash. The confrontation with the Ghostfaces, the deaths, the police, the ambulance... and the surgery, because of course in addition to all the terror and threats of the last few days you also ended up being stabbed.

Well, that explains why you feel so sluggish then. You're high on drugs. That is, if the IV prick in your arm is any indication.

The hand on the back of your neck moves up towards your face, fingers tracing the contour of your chin and jaw, thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek, your body relaxes and you lean into her touch, sighing all too contentedly at the affection. The memory of waking up a lot more groggy before and convincing Sam to lay down too when you found her sitting next to the hospital bed holding your hand tightly slowly returning to your hazy mind. She was a little hesitant at first, but it wasn't that difficult to convince her to hold you with the excuse that it would only be for a few minutes. You bet it must have been a few hours already.

“Hm,” you murmured absently, stretching against her, “I’m definitely feeling much better now.”

“That's good,” your girlfriend huffed softly, “I can't feel my legs in this position anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“Am I too heavy?” You ask, lifting your head to examine her for any bruises from the previous fight, “I can move if it’s hurting you.”

“No,” She squeezes you tighter quickly, “I’m good here.”

Sam's own eyes were half-lidded, almost closing over the last few minutes you were asleep, but she refused to give in to the urge to doze off too. It would have been such a waste when she could just hug you and breathe properly for the first time since the last few hellish weeks you've all had.

The TV on the wall had long since been muted, with the image of some random animal documentary flickering in the background. Sam's head rested against the pillows and your body lay happily spread over hers – and she looked perfectly satisfied for someone who had complained and complained about your puppy dog eyes before.

Somewhere between convincing Sam to lie down and pretending to pay attention to the screen, you ended up falling asleep, one of your arms hanging lazily over the side of the bed. Sam realized this instantly, feeling your weight finally relax on her. It made her relax too. Not completely. Sam was never completely relaxed, no matter how tired she was, not anymore, especially not after a night like that. But she managed to feel good enough to enjoy the moment.

The environment was as welcoming as any hospital could be, but her embrace brought a sense of security that lulled you perfectly to sleep and the knowledge that everyone was okay and in the next room allowed Sam to let her guard down. Yet falling asleep and losing that, the feeling that nothing could happen as long as she held you tight and ran her fingers over your warm skin, seeing and hearing every sleepy sound and movement you made – from a tired sigh as you fit, to one of your hands founding the collar of her sweater and grabbing it, holding her close – it would be a waste.

“You sure?” You hesitate, searching her eyes for any hint of hidden discomfort.

Sam sighs, nodding: “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable I am right now.”

“Okay then,” you rest your ear on her chest, feeling her head nod and her heart bumping, still a little high. A yawn crosses your lips, “But let me know if you need me to move.”

She hums in response and you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the sound of machines running and your soft breaths in the same rhythm left you trying your hardest not to fall asleep again until you felt your girlfriend's chest vibrate beneath you again in a barely contained laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re tired.”

“Huh?” you muttered, lifting your drooping head and finally refocusing your vision on her.

“I should probably get up now, let you get some rest.” Sam said, reluctantly removing her arms from you so she could move away.

You shook your head, grabbing one of her hands and letting them fall to the side of the bed, swinging freely in the air.

“No, I’m good here.” You echoed, denying nonchalantly. You let your head find a place on her neck, making her lie back against the pillows.

Sam sighed against you slowly, much more out of satisfaction – and relief – than annoyance at your insistence, returning to the task of running her fingers down your back until you spoke again.

“Where’s Tara?” You ask, voice muffled by the face buried in her neck, “And the twins?”

“They're watching Anika.” She responds and you get alarmed, before Sam reassures you, “She's gonna be alright, she just needs to stay in the hospital for a while longer. And also a lot of rest. Like you, by the way.”

“I am resting.”

If Sam hadn't been fighting sleep for over an hour now, she would have a wide, stupid grin plastered on her face at the sound of your indignant mumble. Since that wasn't the case, she contented herself with a small smile.

“Whatever you say, amor.”

She surrenders, completely this time, without any more false attempts to leave. Sam felt as if you were the one rocking her and not the other way around, as if nothing else could touch her, even for a little while. There were no worries about horrible jobs, breakdowns in therapy, pressure with college exams and much less paranoia about the existence of cinematic serial killers. Nothing else could exist in your – literal – white room. Just the two of you in that small bed.

Each synchronized breath of your chest next to hers pressed her own ribs, the delicate breath sending delicious shivers down her spine and making her completely aware of how close your bodies were and shocking her at how it still didn't feel close enough.

“I love you,” she says. Rasped, you barely hear it. “I love you so freaking much that sometimes I just want to drown into your chest and curl up between your ribs, with your heart.” She takes a breath, then pauses, hesitantly: “...Is that too weird?”

“...Well,” you gasp, heart completely racing against your ears, “No weirder than what we already go through on a daily basis, I guess.”

Sam groaned at your response, feeling like a lovesick teenager in one of the movies Tara and Mindy love to make fun of. Rambling poetically about her passion.

But, screw it, that's exactly what she is, right? Sam thought. Let her have it. She deserves it.

(Her therapist would definitely pat her on the back for that thought.)

Unlike what Sam thought she should feel with the realization of that thought, her heart didn't skip a beat uncomfortably, her hands didn't get sweaty and cold with the doubt of how to deal with this. It kept pounding in that same slow, steady, familiar rhythm, with one of the most precious and loved people of her life completely aware of how she felt.

“I feel like drowning into your chest all the time too.”

Her favorite place in the world was anywhere you were together and it was physically impossible to be closer than that at the moment, although she wouldn't give up trying.

It was pure and simple happiness. Warmth and security that captured her stomach and left it churning with what felt like a million bubbles popping simultaneously.

When you first came to her life and Sam realized being falling for you, she thought her love would swallow her. That it would be something she would keep to herself until it exploded. You seemed to have made it your mission to prove her otherwise.

“I didn’t say ‘all the time’ tho.”

Here you were, together and fine.

“Oh, shut up.”

Your grip on Sam's hand tightened in very bad feigned irritation and when you rose quickly to give her a kiss, your girlfriend burst into laughter and your lips hit her strong jaw instead.

“That tickles, baby.”

“I was shooting for your lips, but you moved.” You simply shrugged, leaning into her again and this time she met you on the way, a stupid smile growing between you and breaking the kiss too soon. You lay back down and Sam took a long breath, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

This time, when her head feels heavy and droops from sleep, Sam does nothing to stop it, letting the feeling finally consume her.

Nothing, not even in her most vivid fantasies, had ever been so perfect.

And if by chance Tara ends up sending Sam a photo of the two of you napping the next day when everyone is getting ready to go home and it becomes the new wallpaper on her phone, well… that's nobody's business.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter imagine #scream x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #scream 6 #scream vi #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x you #wlw #denwrites

400 notes · View notes

fanfics-and-love · 1 year

Text

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.

#Sam carpenter #scream franchise #scream #sam carpenter x reader #scream 5 #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #tara carpenter #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #jenna ortega #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter fluff #We Get Along Like Snow in New York

1K notes · View notes

spiderfunkz · 27 days

Text

─── 𐙚 love ridden

pairings. sam carpenter x fem!reader

warnings. fluff, pet names, established relationship.

word count. 0,5k

a/n ; based on a request from @p0rkbun !! we don't talk about the draft i accidentally posted ok.. my bad... you still get a smooch though mwaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh 💋💋

the night felt alive.

it felt cold too. the thin fabric of sam's jacket wasn't really helping, but it smelled like her. and the mere thought of that made your cheeks grow red. it made you blush, causing your face to feel hot. so, in a way, you were warm.

the colorful carnival lights flashed under the soft sparkles of the starry night. summer was slowly approaching, but spring stood strong.

meaning the carnival wasn't as packed. only a few laughs were heard from children & their parents, with a pinch of angry groans coming from adults losing at the rigged games.

that's probably how the carnival gets their money anyway. stupid games that are made to make people lose. however, the games are strategic enough to make people give even more money in hopes of winning that one big prize.

but sam is never about losing. she came here determined with a straight mission set. to win you a plush of your choice.

you walk around the park for a while. trying all kinds of foods, desserts, and fun drinks. sam's hand didn't let go of your waist throughout the walk. she was waiting for the moment you'd lay your eyes on a prize. luckily for her, while walking you spotted a huge bunny plushie with blue sparkles and immediately knew that you needed it.

sam's eyes followed yours, turning around, "you want that one cariño?" sam asked. you nodded, "you think you can get it for me?"

"anything for my angel,"

sam immediately rushes towards the stand. a balloon dart game, a rather unfortunate-looking one. the balloons seemed like they weren't inflated well, the darts looked dull, but the points seemed fair. though the guy working kept looking at you weirdly.

sam glares at him before giving him a few bucks, in return he gives her six darts and continues to explain the rules.

she wasn't listening though. her eyes were set on that sparkly plush.

"and.. that's it. go on and shoot." the guy gestures towards the wall full of colorful balloons.

sam aims for the red ones since it was the one with the most points, she thinks. there were a lot of them too. so, it should be an easy win, right?

"damn it!"

sam huffed. the last dart was shot and missed. out of six darts she managed to miss four. awful, she knows. but at least they were all red, meaning she got a total of six points, four points away from getting you the prize you wanted.

the guy shrugs, "sorry, man. you win this though." he hands sam a small dinosaur plush.

"the game's rigged anyways," you stated, pulling sam away from the stand. "it seems like it's impossible to win," you added. sam felt defeated, and it didn't help that a kid with the same plush was running past her.

she feels taunted.

"give me another six." she holds out the payment.

the guy smiles, another customer willing to waste money on a useless, impossible, rigged game-

sam shot, shot, shot, shot, shot, and shot.

without missing a single balloon.

she points, "can i get that prize over there?"

hours passed and you went home happily with the plush you wanted, and like five others. all thanks to sam and her intimidating wonderful determination!

and don't worry, you gave her lots of kisses after.

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter fluff #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter imagine #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #scream vi #scream v #melissa barrera

185 notes · View notes

gothicknightz · 1 year

Text

family ties | ethan landry

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

part 2 out now!

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

That was it.

Why couldn’t it have been that simple?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Somebody she had trusted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it does fucking run in the family.”

1K notes · View notes

samcarpentersgirlfriend · 9 months

Note

Angst and Fluff with Sam, Where it’s just sam getting angry at fem!r for going to the frat party, and some guy hitting on fem!r and trying to make r go upstairs with him, and r is too drunk to know what’s going on, but sam saves her at the last minute. and it could have a fluffy ending!

thank you for requesting! finally living up to my username with this one

SO I WANDER THROUGH THESE NIGHTS || SAM CARPENTER X READER 𖤐₊˚.

summary: above <3

word count: 3.8k

warnings: fem!reader, mentions of drinking + eating, mentions/allusions of SA (it doesn’t happen in the story though), violence (probably canon typical)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

As soon as she walks into the room, the smell of weed, sweat and above all, alcohol, hits Sam all at once. It’s enough to make her want to gag, but she’s not leaving. Not yet.

She pushes through the sea of inebriated students, not even dignifying the way some of them huff or curse in displeasure with an angry response. The only thing she cares about is bringing you and Tara home. And honestly, she’s begrudgingly grown to expect this sort of stupid behaviour from her kid sister, but you? You were better than this. At least, that’s what Sam had hoped, anyway.

She’d asked you to do one thing. To stay away from one place, for one night. And the funny thing is, you’d promised. Sam could count the people she trusted completely on one hand, and you were one of them. So she - what was now proved to be stupidly - believed you when you��d assured her that you and Tara were going to stay in and watch the latest season of whatever show it was that the two of you had bonded over all those months ago. She really should’ve expected this.

Sighing, Sam continues to make her way through the crowd, stopping once a familiar sound reaches her ears.

She’d recognise that laugh anywhere.

Her head whips around, following her line of sight until she sees you with your head thrown back as you down a glass of God- knows what, spurred on by Chad’s cheers and Ethan’s silent smile. There’s an unmistakable glint of triumph in your eyes, and it hits Sam that you don’t even look sorry for lying to her face and going behind her back, and the realisation unmistakably stings. More than she thought it would. But seeing you here, blissfully unaware whilst she was going out of her mind worrying about you, serves only to frustrate her.

“Hey!” Your head snaps up at that, and Sam doesn’t miss the “oh shit” on Chad’s lips. “Having fun here, are we?

“Sam?” You reply, and the woman doesn’t know whether to be insulted or satisfied with your tone of surprise. Like you really didn’t expect her to come after you. Like she would leave you here. “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” Sam snarks back angrily. “What happened to a cosy night in watching TV with Tara, huh?”

You have the courtesy to look guilty at that. “That was the plan, I swear. But then Tara made a whole deal about needing to be a normal teenager for once and then she gave me those damn eyes and-“

“And you got all dolled up and came with her? You couldn’t say no to a damn teenager?” Sam recognises her steadily raising voice, and she knows that people are starting to stare. But she can’t bring herself to care. “Where even is Tara? You came here with here and you don’t even know where she is? How fucking reckless-“

“She’s with Mindy, Sam!” You cry out, evidently exasperated. I’ve been checking up on her and she’s fine! She’s having fun! She’s allowed to live her own life - she’s allowed to be by herself! We don’t need to watch her every damn second of the day!”

“What, so know you’re telling me how to look after my sister? Is that what this is?”

You run a hand through your hair. “You know that it’s not. And that’s not even why you’re mad at me! You’re mad because I’m doing something you don’t approve of - like I’m not a grown woman who can do as she pleases!”

“Oh, and what you want is to get drunk at frat parties, is that right? Your idea of fun is hanging out with all of these lowlife sleazebags? Yeah, sounds like a real fucking blast! I can’t believe you-“

“Then leave, Sam! If you’re just here to insult me, just leave me alone and go home!” Your outburst stuns Sam into silence, and has her taking a step back once she realises how the close the two of you have become. Leave me alone. Sam doesn’t think you’ve ever said those words to her during your relationship, not seriously. Not like this. It was always the opposite, you ushering her closer like you were starved without her touch.

Neither of you speak for a minute, your pride getting the both of best of you. Sam feels the racing of her heart in her chest, the sound almost deafening even with the blaring music of the party.

“Fine,” she finally bites out, voice not as steady as she’d like it to be. “You stay here. Get fucking wasted. See if I care.” She can’t read the look on your face, and she doesn’t try to discern it now. “I’m getting Tara and then I’ll be out of your hair. Enjoy the rest of your fucking night.”

She doesn’t look back as she storms away.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

Sam was wrong.

You weren’t drunk - not properly, not yet - but you damn well would be by the end of the night.

“Don’t you think that maybe you’ve had enough?” Ethan suggest sheepishly. “I mean-“

The withering glare you send his way is enough to shut him up whilst you drain the cup’s content. You know that he’s only trying to look out for you, but you’re not in the mood for his niceties right now. Sam going off at you that had completely ruined your mood. You could deal with her accusing you of lying to her. You did promise her that you would stay at home tonight. You can understand how she might feel betrayed - feel hurt - by you doing the utter opposite.

What you couldn’t stand by was her acting like you didn’t have any agency of your own. Like getting dressed up and letting loose at a party was the worst sin imaginable. Granted, it was a shitty party full of people who you didn’t even know, but the drinks were free and the atmosphere was decent enough. And you’re not about to let your lover’s spat with Sam ruin your whole night.

So you dance. You laugh. And most importantly, you drink. And suddenly, it becomes a lot easier to forget about the look on Sam’s face when you practically screamed at her to leave you be. It becomes a hell of lot easier to forget about everything, the sway of your hips becoming almost automatic as you feel the music deep in your veins.

You can’t even remember the amount of shots you’d taken by now. All you know is that a very drunken Chad had swore that he could do more than you, and ha - in his face, he was so wrong. And a lightweight, apparently. A lightweight throwing up in the bathroom, from what Ethan had worriedly told you before promising he’d be right back and to stay right there and please don’t drink anymore whilst I’m gone.

Ha. Jokes on Chad. You could handle your drinks. Mostly, anyways. And double ha, jokes on Ethan too, because you weren’t drunk enough that you couldn’t handle one more. And really, the drink was already in your hand, so it’d be a waste not to. It’s a solid idea.

It’s a horrible idea.

It’s like that final drink sends you over the edge, because barely ten minutes after your last sip, your vision starts to blur and you’re

suddenly staggering backwards until you’re up against the wall. Your hand flies out to the side to look for something - anything - to grab onto, and your squeeze your eyes firmly shut as you try to focus. If your head was hazy before, it was spinning now. God, if Sam could see you now. Disappointed would be an understatement.

You can’t think about Sam. About how horrible it was going to be going home with her mad at you. You find yourself sliding down the wall, sitting down being the safer option for your suddenly vertically challenged self. You need to think, think anything other than oh my God I am so fucking wasted right now. But you can’t. Even the music becomes too loud, too difficult to comprehend, its words passing you by in a blur. You’re not sure how long you sit there like that, head hung low as you sit on the bare floor, but with each passing minute you seem to grow more and more out of it.

You barely register the hand on your shoulder. You don’t look up - can’t look up- your gaze only raising when you feel yourself being hoisted up. And the face you’re greeted with isn’t someone you know. You would recognise Chad or Mindy or Ethan or Anika. Even in this sort of state, you would.. But this guy is different. Tall, bearded, dressed as God knows who from God knows what. You open your mouth to object, but even the action seems too tiring. Still, a faint noise of objection escapes your mouth, and the man simply shakes his head.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he purrs, his breath hot against your ear. “I got you. We’re just gonna have some fun, okay?”

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

Sam shouldn’t have left.

She knows it when she’s storming out the front door with an angry Tara in tow, and she knows it when she’s practically halfway home. But you were both angry, and there was no point in even trying to reason with you when all she could think about was how you’d lied to her.

But she didn’t want to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. She hated herself for making you feel like that, so cornered that you’d completely snapped at her. And she’d deserved it. She doesn’t regret worrying about you and your safety, and she’d always be there to protect you. But you were right. You were an adult, and as much as Sam disliked it, that meant you could go to as many sleazy parties as you liked. You weren’t as fragile as Tara, someone who she could mostly justify watching like a hawk - even though she probably did need to work on that too. You were you. Too perfect, too beautiful you. And Sam had gone and shouted at you like that.

Sam was no stranger to self loathing, but knowing she had potentially fucked it all up with you because she couldn’t let go of the past, couldn’t move past the idea that the world was out to get her, that she pushed away one of the most important people in her life. One of the only people in her life. At this point, loosing you would be like loosing a limb, and probably a hell of a lot more painful. You knew her better than anybody, knew here secrets, knew her story. And you’d accepted and loved her in spite of it. Made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world and help her believe that maybe, just maybe, Sam Carpenter was allowed nice things. And she couldn’t leave things like that.

So she stops in her tracks, grabs Tara by the hand, and practically sprints back to the party, desperate to hold you close and tell you that she’s sorry. For everything. She ignores Tara’s confused yells all the way back to the building, barely even able to focus on them.

It’s getting late now, and people are starting to leave when she enters the room. She briefly wonders if you’re one of them, but even if you didn’t want to talk to her, one of your friends would’ve messaged to say that you were crashing at their place for the night. She glances over to where you were situated before, but doesn’t see you. Or Chad or Ethan, for that matter. Maybe that was a good thing, and that it meant that you were all together. Or maybe they had left and you were all alone, a voice in the back of her head warns. Sam knows that you’re allowed to be independent, but she still doesn’t like the sound of that.

She takes to to calling your name instead, and her cries become ever more frantic when there’s no response. She doubts you’d hear her over the music anyway. With a sigh, she pulls out her phone and fires you a message.

Sam: I came back, and I just want to talk to you.

Sam: I’m so sorry baby. I get if you’re mad, but we need to talk. Please.

She stares at the screen like it holds all of the answers. The answer to where you are. The answers to if you’re okay. If the two of you are going to be okay.

“Oh my God.” Tara breathes out, and Sam feels her pull on her arm. “Sam. Look.”

Her gaze snaps up, and sure enough, in front of her is you. Being practically dragged across the room because you can’t even walk straight, some guy’s arm draped around you like- like he owns you. And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s planning do with you - to you.

It makes her feel sick. And angrier than she’s ever been before, her ire burning so deep in her chest to where she feels like it’s more a fuel at this point. And she knows, without a doubt, that she’s going to kill this pathetic excuse for a man.

“Hey!” She bellows, causing the sleaze and just about everyone in the room to look up. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with her?”

The thing has the audacity to bark out an ugly laugh at that. “Relax. Just helping her upstairs, aren’t I baby?”

Baby. Like you’re his. Like you’d willingly be anywhere near his filthy touch.

You don’t even answer him. Sam doesn’t think you physically can.

“Tara, grab her.” She says so lowly that her sister probably has to strain to hear her. Tara complies, and Sam steps forward, close enough that she’s practically touching the guy.

“Step the fuck away from her. I’m only gonna warn you once.” The danger in her voice is unmistakable.

“Or what?” What the hell are you-“

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He doesn’t deserve the privilege.

“You piece of shit!” Sam yells as he cries out in pain, her punch connecting swiftly with his jaw with a satisfying crack. “Does it make you feel good?” Kick. You think you can touch my fucking girlfriend like that?” Another punch.

Sam doesn’t stop. Not even when he’s balled up on the floor, his body bloody and bruised. She honestly doesn’t think she ever would stop, not if it wasn’t for Tara crying out.

“Sam!” She yells, her eyes wide. She shakes her head. “You can’t. She needs you.”

She looks over to you, still clinging on to Tara. She’s right. You can’t stay here. She needs to take you home.

Her breathing still heavy, she spares one last look to the sick fuck still on the floor, writhing in pain pathetically.

“You’re fucking lucky.” Sam spits out, standing tall over him. “You deserve to be fucking dead.”

She doesn’t get an answer to that. Doesn’t expect one. Doesn’t care.

The only thing she cares about is you. She drove you to this, she thinks, with all of her shouting and general over-protectiveness. And she doesn’t - can’t - think about what would’ve happened if she hadn’t found you. It makes her feels sick.

Sam makes her way over to your side, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She can’t break. Not now. She needs to be strong - strong for you. You meet her gaze, your eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Sammy?” You slur.

“Yeah baby.” Sam whispers, slinging an arm around your free shoulder. “I’m here. Come on, we’re going home.”

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

The first thing you realise when you open your eyes is that your head feels as if it about to split open. Groaning, you sit up in bed, and try to remember how the hell you even got here and into your pyjamas. It’s all such a blur, especially after your-

Your argument with Sam. Even just the memory leaves a distinct sinking in your stomach, especially paired with the fact that she’s not in bed with you. God, she’s probably still mad. The two of you didn’t argue much, but God, you hated it when you did. It hurt, not being able to tell her how much you loved her or wrap her up in your arms. It was like loosing a part of yourself.

You can hear the TV on in the living room, and you take that as a sign that either Quinn or Tara is awake. Either that or Sam’s in there, evidently too hung up on yesterday to stand the sight of you. Sighing, you rub your eyes, stupidly hoping that when you open them again, everything will have turned out to be some bad dream.

You’re not so lucky.

Laying back down in defeat, you pull up the blanket and go back to feeling sorry for yourself. You really should get something to deal with the headache, but you simply can’t bring yourself to.

You stay like that for a while, buried under sheets and contemplating your life choices until you hear a thunk on your bedside table. Wearily opening your eyes, you see a plate with a sandwich atop of it, and you move up your line of sight until you see who your personal chef is.

“You’re awake.” Sam says simply, placing a glass of water and a tub of painkillers besides the food. “Hope you’re hungry.”

You sit up once more, wincing when you move too quickly, and take the plate from the table. You murmur your thanks before taking a bite, and the two of you sit there in silence for a while. You know you need to say something, but you just can’t think what.

Luckily, Sam speaks first.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she sighs. “I know I acted out of line yesterday, and I shouldn’t have started that argument like that. I don’t ever want to fight with you, I promise. It’s just-“ Sam pauses as she scrubs a hand down her face. “I’m sorry. Are we okay?”

“Course we’re okay.” You smile. “Always. Besides, it wasn’t just you. I said I wasn’t going to go, and then I went and did it anyway. That wasn’t cool.”

“Hey.” Sam says softly. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to do what you like. It’s one thing letting what happened to me define myself, but I can’t let it ruin this. Ruin us. I don’t want to loose you.”

“You’re not going to,” you assure her. “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not. You got it?”

Sam laughs softly, and you wish you could bottle it and listen to the beautiful sound forever. “Loud and clear.” She stops for a second, and something darker clouds her features.

“Sam?” You question, instinctively reaching for her hand. She’s quiet for a minute, before she meets your worried gaze and speaks.

“Baby, do you remember what happened last night?” She asks softly, as if you’ll break at the mention of the topic. Frowning, you try to cast your mind back to the previous night’s event, but you only draw a blank.

“Not really. We fought, I had some more drinks. After that, it’s kind of a blur.” That’s the extent of your memories for the night, but judging by Sam’s expression, that’s not where it ends. It makes you uneasy. “Sam, “what did I do?” When you speak, your voice is barely above a whisper.

Sam’s expression softens, although she suddenly looks like she’s about to burst into tears. “You didn’t do anything, baby, I promise,” she says, nearly far too quickly. “It’s just… there was this guy.” She spits out that last part as if it were venom on her tongue. “He got a too close, tried to take advantage. And I’m not telling you this to upset you, because that’s the last thing I want. I just think you deserve to know.”

You can’t respond to that. Not yet. Because you have no idea what to with that information.

“I took care of him.” Sam says suddenly, like it’s imperative that you know. “I wouldn’t have let him hurt you. I swear to you, on my life, I-“

“Sam. I know. I know.” You say, reaching to turn her head so that she can look you in the eyes. You may not remember much, but you don’t doubt Sam when she says she took care of it - hell, if you know your girlfriend, then the asshole is probably just lucky to even resemble a human anymore. That thought should be frightening, but it’s oddly comforting, and leaves a welcome warmth in your stomach. “I believe you. Fuck, you know that I trust you. More than I trust anyone. And the fact you even came back- well, that says a hell of a lot.”

“I was always gonna come back.” Sam admits. “Doesn’t matter how mad I was, I didn’t want to leave things like that between us.”

“I know, baby. Thank y-“

“No. Don’t you dare.” Sam warns. “Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum. If you finish that sentence, I’m gonna-“

She seems taken aback by your sudden movement, her hand moving to your face instinctively. You hope that the kiss portrays everything you need it to, says everything that you need your girlfriend to know. How much she means to you, and how grateful you are to simply have her in your life. Now you have her, it’s damn near impossible to imagine a life without Sam - your Sam. It sure as hell wouldn’t as feel as good as this, you muse to yourself.

“Love you too.” Sam says when she reluctantly pulls away. She doesn’t try to hide the smile on her face. “More than anything.” And for a moment, Sam just stares at you, a look of pure awe and a stupidly adorable grin on her face. It’s one that has you smiling right back despite yourself. “Now, you gonna eat your damn food or what? It was made with intense care, you know.”

You look over towards your forgotten sandwich, and you can’t deny that you’re hungry. Still, that doesn’t stop you from pouting and looking up at your girlfriend with what you hope are pleading doe eyes. “Fine. But if I eat, can we do the whole kissing thing again?”

“After.” She promises, climbing over you and crawling under the blankets beside you. Her body is warm, and you can feel her pressed against your side, practically radiating pure heat. “Now eat. It’s getting cold.”

“It’s a sandwich, Sam.” you remind her with a grin. “It’s supposed to be cold.”

Sam lightly kicks your foot. “Just shut up and eat it. Do you want that kiss or not?”

You shut up and eat the damn sandwich.

#scream x reader #scream imagine #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x y/n #scream vi #scream 6 #scream x you #fanfic #fanfiction #scream headcanons

434 notes · View notes

samsscream · 5 months

Text

My faves at the end credits for SCREAM VI. If you guys have any suggestions let me know.

290 notes · View notes

fandomnerd9602 · 1 year

Text

Sam: so I’ve been seeing a therapist

Tara: I thought you were dating Y/N

Sam: they’re a therapist right?

Tara: do you actually talking through your problems together?

Sam: oh we don’t do much talking we-

Tara gives her sister the side eye

Sam: play checkers, yeah, that’s what we do

#scream #scream Sam #scream ghostface #scream imagine #melissa barrera #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #sam x you #ghostface killer #ghostface

640 notes · View notes

melissabiceps · 6 months

Text

—sam carpenter as your wife headcanons.

• the sweetest and most compassionate lover a woman could ask for.

• every morning, she’ll pull you back in bed and hold onto you if you try to get up for work.

- “i need a few more minutes with you before you go to work, my love.”

- “sam… both of us have work today.”

- “shit.”

• while getting ready, she enjoys watching you do the same. she admires your birthmarks and curves, it’s like you were sculpted by the gods. you always catch her staring and she turns away at lightning speed.

• on your way out, she’ll hand you your lunch and give you a goodbye kiss.

• expect there to be flowers at your desk every month with a card that reads, “beautiful flowers for my beautiful wife. S.C.”

• a needy wife, she’ll text you while she’s at work.

- “i miss you, how are you?”

- “i want to kiss you so badly right now.”

- “i love you, i wish we were at home together.”

• as soon as she gets home, she slams the door shut and tosses all her belongings on the floor to find you. she’ll wrap her arms around you and lift you off the ground before littering your face with kisses.

• she’ll set the table and make dinner for the two of you. she likes to impress you with new recipes she’s learned. sometimes you help her and when you do, she often gets distracted. (because of you *wink*)

• on nights that she doesn’t cook dinner, she’ll take you to a restaurant or a food truck along the street. as long as you’re with her, you don’t mind either of those options.

• when she’s wandering the streets with you and hears music, she’ll dance a with you. she’ll grab your hand and watch you do a little twirl for her, it makes her smile.

• movie nights are a must. she loves to hold you while watching a cheesy romantic comedy.

• she’s big on pet names. (babe, baby, sweetheart, mi amor, princesa, etc.)

• she’s very affectionate. she loves to hold your hand and play with your fingers, wrap an arm around you and caress your hip, and kiss you whenever she gets the chance.

• she doesn’t get jealous easily. she’s not threatened by your guy friends or anyone who flirts with you without knowing you’re taken because she knows that at the end of the day, you’re hers and she’s yours.

• she’s very protective though, and doesn’t allow any disrespect towards you. if someone tries to make a move on you while knowing of your marriage status or lets their hands wander a little too close to certain parts of you, she’ll step in.

• when you’re sad, she does everything she can to make you happy again. she’ll cook for you, put on your favorite tv show, hold you, and whisper comforting words in your ear.

• unfortunately, every couple has their arguments, even you and sam. they’re incredibly rare but they do occur.

• sometimes sam can be overbearing with her protective nature and it’s frustrating. you understand that she cares about you but you don’t need her being in your shadow all the time, you need time alone just like any other human.

• she tries to listen, to understand, and at first, she doesn’t get it, which leads to an argument. many tears are shed and feelings get hurt, resulting in you sleeping in the guest bedroom.

• she’ll feel terrible about everything that happened and beat herself up over it. you’re someone she truly cares about and it pains her that she hurt you.

• after she gathers herself, she’ll knock on the door to the guest bedroom and patiently wait for you to open it. when you do, she apologizes profoundly and tells you that she’ll do better.

• once all is forgiven, she kisses you on the lips so many times to the point you lose count.

#melissa barrera #sam carpenter #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter imagines #sam carpenter headcanons #scream #scream headcanons #scream imagines #scream imagine #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter headcanon #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you

670 notes · View notes

talesofesther · 1 year

Text

souls tied, bound to burn | ch 1

Samantha Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Your move to New York came suddenly, in the hopes of getting closer to what was left of your family. What you weren't expecting was to fall for your sister's roommate, Sam; and little did you know, she'd be your doom, in the prettiest of ways.

A/N: I feel like this story is told in moments, but I do like how it turned out; it is, after all, a story that I poured my heart and soul into. This is one which took many of my sleepless nights, but it was so worth it bringing this idea to life. Cannot thank @iamnicodemus enough for basically being my beta reader and helping me with everything. There will be two more parts to this storyline, but I can't say when they will be posted, as I'm still writing them.

Word count: 10k (limit? never heard of her)

Masterlist

One thing that Sam was still trying to get used to after moving to New York was the lack of calmness.

She had just finished her session with yet another therapist, it was past 10 PM, and the streets were still as busy as ever. There was no shortage of cars or people passing by her as she walked back to her apartment. Sometimes it could be overwhelming and she couldn't get home fast enough. Sometimes it helped to keep her mind a little quieter.

Sam was still unsure of what it felt like today, maybe a mix of both.

Things haven't been easy after everything that happened in Woodsboro, every day the weight on her shoulders worsens and she has no idea how to even start dealing with it. It only became worse after the rumors started.

The steps up the stairs to her apartment felt like a whole workout, after working the entire day Sam was absolutely drained. The hunch on her posture and faint dark bags under her eyes said as much.

Nearing the door, she could hear faint voices coming from inside, one of them she didn't recognize. The tensing of her muscles was inevitable.

Sam turned the doorknob and slowly made her way inside, she closed the door behind her without turning around. There wasn't anything different about the place — TV turned on, cheap yellow lights in the kitchen illuminating the dirty dishes on the sink, low music coming from Tara's room — except Quinn was talking with someone on the couch.

Though Sam didn't know who it was, she already relaxed at the fact that there was no trouble in sight.

She ran a hand through her hair whilst walking to the kitchen, there were leftovers of dinner on two pans over the stove; but despite only having lunch on her stomach, she wasn't hungry. Picking up a clean cup, she filled it with water on the sink and gulped it down.

"Hey, Sam's home," Quinn announced with a chipper voice.

Sam closed her eyes with a sigh before managing a smile, she really didn't feel like socializing right now. But she turned to Quinn anyway.

The girl was perched over the back of the couch, waving Sam over, "come here, I want you to meet someone."

Involuntarily, Sam's eyes drifted to the one who sat beside Quinn; it was a girl she had never seen before, but the gentle smile on her lips made Sam hesitate in her steps. She did walk up to them though, making herself comfortable on the loveseat beside Quinn.

"Sam, this is Y/n, she's my sister," Quinn motioned to you with a grin.

"Sister?" Sam's eyes were huge as she looked between you and Quinn.

"Well, half-sister," Quinn concluded, "it's a long story."

You then gave them a tight-lipped smile, raising your hand in an awkward wave whilst looking at Sam, "it's uh- a pleasure to meet you."

There were several question marks twirling around in Sam's head, but the biggest one seemed to be why she found herself quite trapped in the way the images on the TV highlighted the lines of your jaw, cheeks, and lips. "I'm Samantha- Sam," she stumbled out quickly.

Quinn raised her eyebrows in amusement, a beat of silence passed before she tilted her head towards Sam, "yep, that's Samantha Sam."

The older Carpenter kicked herself internally about ten thousand times. That was awful.

A weird weight filled the air after that. Sam didn't know what to do with herself, she didn't know if she should stay or just go and lock herself in her room. She ended up settling for pretending to watch the TV while you spoke with Quinn. From what Sam heard, you had just arrived in town and were staying in a hotel until you could find an apartment, because apparently, your mother had left a significant amount of money in your name; she also overheard that you were yet to go visit your father.

When it was nearing midnight, you decided to leave, saying something about it already being too late.

Sam watched as Quinn walked you to the door and bid you goodbye with a brief hug. And before the door clicked close, your gaze caught Sam's and you gave her that same gentle smile she'd seen earlier; all the same, it froze her, and Sam saw herself just staring back at you with an emotion even she couldn't place.

Quinn dragged herself back to the living room then, laying down on the empty couch to wait for the inevitable interrogation.

"I didn't know you had a sister," Sam started eventually, mindlessly switching through channels. The room was dimly lit, with the only other lights coming from the kitchen, the brightness of the TV hurt her tired eyes.

"Neither did I."

At that, Sam's attention was fully on Quinn, her brows furrowed.

Quinn shook her head, dismissing the worry, "I mean, I knew, sort of," she explained, "she's from a fling my dad had before he met my mom, I think they broke up when she was born and her mom took her to Boston. Never met her until like, yesterday."

Now, the pieces from what Sam had heard were starting to come together. She wondered just how detached you were from this side of your family until now. "And your father never told you had a sister?"

"He did, in passing, sometimes I heard the calls he'd give her to check in. But she's always been distant," Quinn shrugged.

Sam mulled over the words in her mind, part of her couldn't help but feel wary, "why is she here?"

"Her mother died, she has no other family left."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It didn't take long for Sam to bump into you again. It happened actually only two days after your visit to Quinn at their apartment.

It was a mildly calm afternoon at the coffee shop Sam worked at. At least for a Thursday, it felt calm. Just a few booths had people sitting on them, and every few minutes someone would stop by to grab a cup of coffee to go.

What the place lacked in fanciness it made up for in coziness — between her shifts here during the week and at the bowling alley on the weekends, it was easy for Sam to pick a favorite, nothing beats the vibe of a coffee shop — the place held warm tones to its decor, brick walls here and there with a few black boards hung up that had order choices written on them with white chalk; there was also a vintage radio on the corner that Sam always sneakily changed the songs of.

Against her own beliefs, she became rather good at preparing lattes and cappuccinos. She mentioned it to Tara once, and the girl said she'd believe it once she drinks it; Sam has been waiting for her to stop by.

Though as with everything, it wasn't perfect. Even before the rumors blaming her for the murders started, Sam was already an outsider, not quite allowed to fit in. She had no friends amongst the staff, only colleagues; and after the rumors, she even considered that to be a stretch.

Sam doesn't mind. She tells herself as much every day before walking in for work. But feeling judgemental eyes burning into your back at least once a day tends to take its toll on someone.

So she keeps to herself, she does her job, and she tries not to give them more reasons to bother her.

The small bell above the door dinged as someone came in, pulling Sam back to the present when she realized she would be the one taking the order.

She straightened her posture and smoothed down her uniform, looking around on the counter for her notepad and pen. Upon finding them, Sam finally glanced up and felt her breathing get momentarily stuck, the usual 'what can I get for you' dying on her tongue.

Part of Sam thinks she'd ironically recognize you anywhere. She realized you had that about you, something that felt unmistakable.

Same thing that happened to her apparently happened to you as well, as your lips hovered yet no words came out. It was that weird moment of I know you but I don't actually know you yet.

You were the first to talk, and Sam wanted to thank you for it. "Hey," you chuckled, somewhat awkwardly, "it's uh- Sam, right? It's nice to see you again."

Try as she might, Sam wasn't able to hold your gaze, she glanced down at her hands before looking at you again, "that's me," she gave you a small smile, "can I get you anything?"

"Yeah…" You dragged on, stuffing your hands on the pockets of your jeans as your gaze skimmed over the order options, "just a simple cappuccino to go, please." You eventually decided.

Sam felt your eyes on her as she scribbled your order down, even if it was just a cappuccino, she had the habit to write them all down. "Coming right up," she said, before turning around to make your order.

Ever since she started working here, she has probably made more than a hundred cappuccinos; yet she found herself checking things twice over. Espresso, steamed milk, foam. Everything carefully poured down on the cup.

You were standing right where she left you once she brought the order to you. That same gentle smile she saw two nights ago was present on your lips when you paid her and bid her goodbye.

Secretly, Sam wondered if you'd be back some other day.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It was never your plan to come to New York, let alone on your own. But tragedy strikes when you least expect it.

When, on one of his monthly calls to check in on you, you broke the news to your father that your mother had passed, he told you you should come live closer to him if you wanted to. And honestly, not feeling so alone in the world felt appealing.

So you packed everything you had of value, and took the leap. You had your mother to thank for being able to simply do that out of nowhere, she'd left everything of hers in your name, including her company's income.

But money hardly solves all problems, because you never actually met your father's side of the family. All you had were his phone calls, where he would sometimes briefly mention a sister you'd get along with if you were to meet, and not much else.

Upon knowing you'd be coming to the city, he gave you Quinn's contact, promising she would help you find a place to stay. You weren't exactly keen on meeting your sister for the first time all by yourself, but Quinn had been surprisingly easygoing; telling you all about how cool it was to have a sister instead of another brother. And the question 'I have a brother too?' lingered on your tongue, but you thought it would be a weird thing to ask. That was a few days ago, and you settled in a hotel for the time being.

In any way, you had a lot of catching up to do.

And now, anxiety was bubbling relentlessly in your stomach and you clutched tightly at the straps of your backpack. The police station was kinda busy at this time of day, but it was exactly the time he asked you to come in, so you did.

You didn't know exactly what to feel other than anxiety. How is one supposed to feel when they're about to see their father for the first time in their life?

It's a weird situation, though you couldn't really blame your mother for it; yes she took you away shortly after you were born, but from what she told you, she and your father didn't end on the best of terms. From the moment you were born, she'd been protective.

You reached the front desk, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. "Hello," you greeted the woman there.

She glanced up from the pile of papers she'd been sorting out, "hi there, what can I do for you?"

"Um- Detective Bailey asked me to stop by," you explained, and the woman in front of you raised an unamused eyebrow. Even before saying it, the words already felt somewhat strange in your mouth, "he's my father."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Your first two weeks in New York were hectic. Meeting a whole new side of your family was a strange experience, but you'd say it went well. Quinn was the easiest of all, she treated you as if you were one of her friends from university and you appreciated it. Ethan was distant, he was kind and polite, but you could tell he didn't want much to do with you. Your father was, essentially, what you expected him to be; he was kind and attentive, obviously a little awkward just as you were, but he seemed to genuinely care about you; as much as one can care about a daughter they'd never met.

Quinn had been quite insistent on having a sister bonding time with you, so you'd find yourself at her apartment more often than not. This led to you being acquainted with Mindy, Anika, and Chad, who were around just as much as you; plus Sam and Tara, of course.

The youngest of Quinn's roommates took an instant liking to you. Your personality matched Tara's quite well, you were happy to hear every gossip she liked the share about her colleagues at the university and the usual rant about her sister.

Sam, she was not an easy one to read; at first, you thought she might not even like you, but Tara explained that 'that's just how she is, she'll warm up to you eventually'.

Maybe that was part of the reason why you found yourself creating a habit of stopping by a certain coffee shop — after all, they served delicious food and drinks and the place was really cozy; the doe-eyed brunette who worked there was a bonus.

You'd usually stop by later on in the afternoon, when the sunlight had that deep golden glow just an hour or so before disappearing behind the horizon. It was a time of day the coffee shop was a little more crowded, but not as much as it was in the mornings.

Every time you walked in, you found yourself involuntarily looking for Sam; deep down feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush because of the butterflies that invaded your stomach whenever she remembered your order.

You quickly realized the importance of details with Sam. The more you came to eat at the coffee shop, the slightly more comfortable she became with you. It started with her serious expression changing to a small smile whenever she saw you, then she started greeting you by your name, and recently, she has been drawing little smiley faces on your cup.

The usual booth you'd sit at was tucked in a more reserved corner, just beside one of the windows; you liked the privacy. Each time that Sam brought your cappuccino and apple pie, you held yourself back from asking if she could sit down and have a coffee with you.

Maybe tomorrow, you'd think to yourself.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The smell of freshly made lasagna filled the whole apartment. If you had a good enough sense of smell, you'd be able to tell it was just the slightest bit burned, but no one seemed to care.

Mindy and Chad could be heard bickering about how to properly take said lasagna out of the oven without causing a disaster, Tara was opening up a cheap wine bottle while Anika set the dining table, and Quinn was switching through channels on the TV.

It was a pleasant sight for someone who wasn't used to many of those.

Sam had just gotten out of the shower, towel in her hands as she finished drying off her hair. She had managed to get out of work earlier today and ditched therapy so she could have dinner with her found family — which honestly felt more like therapy than actual therapy.

A chuckle escaped Sam's lips when Mindy called her brother a moron with a halfhearted slap on the back of his head.

And then, three soft knocks came from the front door.

"I got it," Sam told them, hanging her towel over her shoulder as she got over to the door and steadily undid all the locks in it. She knew who it was, Quinn warned you'd be coming for dinner today too. Sam felt a little childish when anticipation started twirling in her stomach.

Selfishly, Sam wanted to think that this specific smile of yours belonged to her.

"Hi," she greeted you with the same softness you stared back at her with; for the second time today, the first being at the coffee shop. Sam figured she wouldn't mind seeing you more often, "come in, dinner is almost ready."

"Hey Sam," you smiled timidly as you walked past her and inside the apartment.

Sam has known you for a little over two weeks, and there should be alarms blaring inside her head for the way she felt so naturally drawn to you. But there wasn't, there was only the softness of your presence and the way she wanted to drown in it.

"Hey new girl," Mindy called, her voice ringing loudly through the room as she peeked over from the kitchen with a grin, "you like lasagna?"

"Of course," you grinned, taking off your jacket and failing to see the way Sam's gaze lingered a little too long on you, "who doesn't like lasagna?"

Mindy pointed a finger at you, "right answer," she quipped before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Sam awkwardly cleared her throat next to you, "let me take this for you."

You glanced beside you to see the girl subtly gesturing for your jacket, unsure if the redness of her cheeks was a trick of the light or not. "Oh, thanks, Sam."

"Alright y'all, dinner's on the table," Mindy announced, getting everyone to flock to the dining room.

It was maybe after the second or third time you'd stopped by that you had unconsciously assigned a seat for yourself at their table. Ironically, it was the one beside Sam.

If you were being honest with yourself, you had a lot to thank this peculiar group of friends; if it wasn't for all the laughs they managed to pull out of you at each dinner, maybe settling in on the new city wouldn't have gone so smoothly. They sure took away the feeling of loneliness that had been steadily collecting in your chest ever since your mother passed.

And you had found a reason to like every single one of them; Mindy was naturally funny and made you feel as welcome as if you'd known her your whole life, and so did Anika; Chad was the exact opposite of what you'd picture him to be, sharing his sister's tendency for kindness; Sam was… you couldn't find a word to describe her quite yet, maybe entrancing could work; and Tara, well, you'd just found out tonight she shared your penchant for horror movies.

That's how, after dinner, you found yourself laying with Tara on her bed as you watched a movie of her choosing.

"You know, I'm glad you decided to come to New York," Tara told you out of the blue, the sound coming from her TV almost covering her voice.

Her room was dimly lit, the only source of light being the TV itself and a small lamp on her desk, you could barely make out her features. "I am too, I'm sure glad I met you guys."

Tara chuckled fondly at that, "Sam seems to like you," she told you quietly, her voice sounding as if she was letting you in on a pretty secret, "she could use a friend, you know."

You caught the hidden words in her soft tone. You weren't blind to how lonely Sam tended to be sometimes. Isolating herself even in a room full of people who cared about her.

Though it stunned you for a brief moment that Tara was asking that of you, you wondered if she saw something you didn't. At this point, you already knew of their story, at least partially; from articles online about the Woodsboro killings, and consequently, from the rumors circling around about Sam. Needless to say, your heart broke for them.

"I'd be happy to be her friend, if she'd have me," you meant it.

The movie extended longer than you predicted and Tara was already dozing off on your shoulder by the time the credits rolled. So you carefully turned off her TV and sneaked yourself out of her bed, your steps as light as a feather touching the floor.

You closed the door to her room with extreme delicacy and only as you turned around, did you notice the absolute darkness of the rest of the apartment.

It looked like everyone had already called it a night.

The only thing illuminating your steps was the soft orange glow coming in through the windows from the street lamps outside. The apartment held an eery silence to it, the clean plates and cutlery you all had used earlier rested on top of the table, there was an occasional sound of water droplets falling from the kitchen sink, and the red numbers of the clock on the coffee table read 12:37 AM.

The darkness and silence were a striking contrast to the commotion from earlier.

You opted for turning on the lights in the kitchen so you could look for your jacket and go home for the night; though after a good five minutes of unsuccessful searching you were almost considering leaving without it. That's when a soft, barely there whimper caught your ears.

It got a cold shiver running up and down your back, momentarily making you imagine yourself in a horror movie.

Until your eyes landed on the bigger couch of the living room and you saw Sam; she was curled up there, fast asleep with her hands under her head and knees tucked up to her chest, looking much smaller than she actually was, just barely being highlighted by the kitchen light.

You couldn't help the swelling of your heart. She was undeniably endearing.

There was the sound of a siren passing by in the distance. You looked out the window by instinct, but you couldn't see where exactly it came from.

When your eyes settled back on Sam, you found her clutching at the cushions under her head, a frown etched unpleasantly on her eyebrows. Her hair was messy, you realized; maybe from tossing and turning too much.

You were genuinely not sure what got into you, it's not like you have enough intimacy to even be seeing her like this. But you crouched down in front of her, one hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder.

Before you could even fully touch her, Sam was already stirring awake. Her body was visibly tense and her eyes a tad too wide and alert for someone who just woke up.

"I'm… sorry," you said quietly, feeling embarrassment crawling up your neck and to your cheeks, "sorry I woke you up."

Sam held herself up with her elbow, her free hand running through her messy hair. She wasn't looking at you, attempting to regulate her unsteady breathing.

You could see it from the way her chest moved up and down quickly. And there you followed a single drop of sweat running down from her neck to her collarbone. The night was far too cold for her to be sweating.

You wanted to reach out, but didn't. "I was just wondering where you put my jacket," you continued when she remained quiet.

Sam felt bare in front of you, somewhat timid. There were goosebumps rising on her skin. She nearly didn't find her voice, "I'll go get it for you."

You waited for her by the front door, shifting on your feet. She came back with your jacket in her hands, clutching tightly onto it so you wouldn't catch the shaking of her fingers. But you did, you also caught onto the hollowness of her eyes and the hair clinging to her damp forehead. You knew it wasn't your place to ask, but Sam looked so alone in the darkness of the apartment, that you feared she might let herself be swallowed by it the moment you leave.

"Are you okay?"

Sam's expression did something complicated, unsure of how to feel. Several beats passed in silence, as if she was considering how to answer you. Eventually, she nodded softly, "I'm alright, just tired from work."

It was a half-truth. You had been there today when a group of teenagers came into the coffee shop, one of them casting accusatory glances at Sam as he whispered — quite loudly — the word 'murderer' to his friends. You weren't able to wave her goodbye after that. She stayed hidden in the back.

Maybe your heart felt something it wasn't telling you yet, because it was hurting, for her. "For what it's worth," the words rolled off your tongue in a soft whisper, "I don't believe them."

Sam's lips parted, her mouth going dry and her doe eyes glinting with a sudden vulnerability. The grip she had around your jacket tightened.

Your smile was bittersweet this time, "the rumors, I don't believe them."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

"I don't think I see you," you spoke on the phone, squinting at the evening sun shining on your eyes as you walked the busy streets of New York.

Last night your father had called you just before he left the police station, asking if maybe you would like to have an afternoon snack with him today; stop by at a popular bakery to catch up on lost time.

You felt an unfamiliar warmth on your chest at the request, agreeing promptly. He was trying to form a connection with you, and honestly, it was something you wanted too. You already lost one parent, you didn't fancy losing the other.

"I see you."

He spoke over the phone.

"Look to your right."

You followed his instructions and sure enough, he was on the other side of the street, his arms up and obnoxiously waving you over so you'd see him.

A chuckle escaped you as you hurriedly crossed the street, tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. You smiled tentatively then, slowly closing the distance between you and him without knowing if you should lean in for a hug or extend your hand for a shake.

Bailey decided for you, he was opening his arms before you even reached him.

The hug was brief but welcomed. He kept one hand on your shoulder when he pulled away, seemingly taking a good look at you as a sincere smile appeared on his expression; "thank you for coming, I know we've never been too close, but I would like us to be."

You reached up to the hand he still had on your shoulder and squeezed his wrist in reassurance, "I would like it too."

That was enough to cut through the awkward bits of tension still lingering between you. Part of you felt like you were fifteen again, giddy for having your father dedicate a whole afternoon for you and you only.

It didn't make the pain of losing your mother go away, but it engulfed it into something more bearable. Something you could get used to.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It was about an hour after lunch that Sam received a rather urgent call from Tara. The only words she managed to focus on were "asthma attack" and "inhaler at the apartment."

The problem? Sam was basically on the other side of town.

Her first option was Mindy, but the girl wasn't picking up her phone. And then neither was Chad. Her last resort was calling her own apartment in the hopes that Quinn was home and could drive to the university with Tara's inhaler.

The line ringed, and ringed, and ringed. Until…

"Hello?"

The thought about why she recognized your voice so easily flew by. "Y/n?" Sam stopped in her tracks, forcing the other people on the sidewalk to walk around her.

"Sam?"

"What are you-"

"No, I didn't break into your apartment."

Sam heard your chuckle from the other end of the line.

"I stopped by to bring something to Quinn."

"Y/n, I need you to-" Sam took in a deep breath, running a hand through her hair and gripping at the roots of it. She closed her eyes tightly, "Tara is having an asthma attack and she left her inhaler at the apartment, could you ask Quinn to-"

"Sam, calm down."

Your soft voice made Sam realize she was having trouble breathing.

"Breathe, okay? I'll take it to her, I'm less than five minutes away by bike, I'll let you know when I get there."

Sam bit at the inside of her cheek, nodding even though you couldn't see it, "thank you."

Only mere minutes passed by — though they felt much longer than usual — until Sam received a text from you, it read 'hey' and she could see you were still typing.

Sam held onto her breath and only released it once you sent her the next text, which read 'all is good'. Instant relief washed over her and she leaned back on the wall of the random store she was standing in front of.

Her cellphone vibrated again, and this time it was a picture of you and Tara making silly faces while you held her close.

The smile that came to Sam's lips was as big as ever, her heart beating painfully against her ribs as if it was trying to leap from her chest and into the screen of her phone; all so it could reach you.

Sam typed back; 'I owe you one.'

She held back on sending a heart emoji.

It was becoming increasingly harder to deny the way she started feeling about you; how you seemingly occupied a place in her heart no one else could have; or how she hoped to see you walk into the coffee shop every day, because, on the off chance you didn't, something felt out of place, missing.

Maybe it was time for her to do something about it.

And the opportunity presented itself on the very next day.

It was a cloudy Tuesday afternoon, the coffee shop lacking its usual golden rays that came through the window at this time of day. There was a slightly colder breeze in the air, it came through each time a new customer opened the door and it forced Sam to wear her jacket on top of her uniform.

Sam had been anticipating your arrival ever since the clock hit 4 PM, which was the time you usually stopped by. She couldn't help looking up at the door each time she heard the bell above it.

It scared her, to take a chance like this. Trusting people with your heart only opens room for them to break it. She knows it.

But oh you made her want to turn a blind eye to every single risk, and fear, and doubt.

Sam wondered, for a moment, if destiny was playing with her. Because when the clock hit 4:47 PM you walked through the coffee shop's doors and the sky just so happened to have a crack in its clouds, casting a faded glow that bathed you aureate for a moment.

Sam's eyes were unfocused, caught in a daze that was only broken when you were already standing in front of her.

"Good afternoon, Sam," you smiled, your cheeks flushed from the cold wind outside.

"Hi," Sam stumbled out, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she cleared her throat, "the usual?"

"Please," you confirmed, already reaching inside your backpack for your wallet, but Sam's hand on your forearm stopped you.

The touch of her skin on yours felt electric. Sam pulled her hand back quickly, timidly curling her fingers to try and keep the feeling of you a little longer. "This one is on me," her voice wasn't nearly as confident as it needed to be for that line.

You were about to open your mouth to protest, but she beat you to it; "please, let me do this. As a thank you for you helping Tara yesterday."

A sly smile crept into your lips, your eyes roaming over Sam up and down before you spoke; "only if you drink something with me."

Your boldness surprised Sam, in the best of ways. She was burning up inside, her heart working overtime to keep up with her feelings. Despite the cold, she felt suddenly warm.

"I have a break in ten."

When Sam brought your order to your table — the usual table in the far right corner near the biggest window — she sat down in front of you. She carefully placed down your cappuccino and apple pie before closing both her hands around the simple cup of coffee she had for herself.

You took your time with taking a sip from your drink, closing your eyes when the slightly sweet, warm beverage hit your tongue.

Sam followed each movement, from the way your fingers closed around the mug to the way the corner of your lips lifted just the smallest bit after tasting the coffee she made — for a moment you were all she could see. Though she shook herself off of it pretty quickly, realizing how it might be creepy. Sam took a generous drink of her coffee as well.

"Do you like it?" Came the sudden sweetness of your voice, "working at a coffee shop?"

A faint smell of burnt bread reached Sam's nose, it was probably Enrique forgetting about the oven again. She could hear loud chatter happening at the entrance of the coffee shop, it was probably the five students who usually stopped by at this time of day. Sam was hesitating. Between apartment visits because of Quinn and everyday meet-ups for her to make you coffee, Sam didn't plan for herself coming this far with you.

"Could be worse," were the words that eventually escaped her mouth, "beats the bowling alley."

You chuckled, a lovely sound as you sheepishly glanced down, your thumb tracing the edge of your mug. Sam wanted to pull her cell phone out and trap this moment in time; it felt precious enough to do so.

"I definitely prefer coming to coffee shops instead of bowling alleys," you smirked.

Sam somewhat mimicked your smile, "are you liking New York?"

You hummed, choosing to take a bite of your pie before answering, "all things considered, I am. It's a lot of getting used to," you had a faraway gaze out the window then, leaning your chin on your hand, "meeting a whole new side of my family is… strange. But we're getting along surprisingly well, I've been going out with my father at least once a week, Ethan is more distant but still nice whenever we meet, and, well, I've been visiting Quinn quite regularly, as you know."

Sam took in each of your words, softly nodding along, "it's good one of us is feeling at home, sort of." She gulped, mulling over her next words, "you know you're welcome at the apartment whenever. Tara adores you… everyone does."

If you caught Sam's 'I adore you' you didn't comment on it. Instead, you asked; "how are you settling in? Tara mentioned you guys moved in only a few weeks before I did."

That had Sam holding back a sigh. She leaned back on her side of the booth, "feels like all the shit that happened in Woodsboro followed us all the way here."

Some days were better than others. Some days the weight on her shoulders felt more bearable and the people around her weren't as menacing with their baseless accusations. Some days were worse.

"I'm sorry about everything that's been going on the internet about you," you said.

Sam met your eyes and found there a gentleness no one had ever looked at her with.

"You don't deserve it, Sam."

Being with you was as easy as breathing. For a fleeting moment inside the walls of the coffee shop, there were no rumors crucifying Sam for something she didn't do; there were no bad memories taking her sleep at night; there were no permanent scars marking her skin — there was only Samantha, the girl who had almost forgotten what it felt like to just worry about which words to say next to impress the girl she developed feelings for.

And if she went to bed that night with the ghost of a smile on her lips because you kissed her cheek goodbye earlier, that was nobody's business but hers.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

"Guys, what do you say we order pizza for tonight?" Sam threw the idea into the night.

It was nearing 7 PM and it was a Saturday, meaning it was the unofficial girl's night of the week. Sam, Mindy, Anika, Tara, and Quinn sat together in the living room of Sam's apartment watching a random action movie. Dinner time was nearing and none of them really fancied cooking tonight.

"I think it's a good idea," Mindy agreed, leaning back on the couch and pulling Anika with her, "do you think one is enough for the five of us?"

"Six," Sam spoke without looking up from her phone, already searching for the pizza place's number, "I invited Y/n over."

Save for the movie playing in the background, there was a sudden silence in the living room. It stretched on until Sam found the number and looked up to see everyone staring at her.

A frown slowly came to her eyebrows and she chuckled awkwardly, fidgeting with her phone, "what?"

"You invited her?" Quinn started.

"You two have been growing quite close," Mindy added, an all-too-knowing grin on her lips.

Tara had her lips hung open, being the last one to catch up on her sister's painfully obvious crush.

"We're… friends, she's nice," Sam shrugged, feeling herself grow self-conscious with the attention and involuntarily curling in on herself a little. She got up from the couch then, deciding to go make the call to order the pizza outside in the hallway as she figured she wouldn't have much peace inside right now.

She put on her house slippers and walked to the front door, hearing Mindy shout; "I've heard that before," right as she closed the door behind her.

Sam found herself slowly roaming to the lobby as she spoke on the phone, a cold air came from the entrance doors of her apartment building as she spoke on the phone, making her hug herself to preserve the warmth.

The pizza would be arriving in about thirty minutes, and just before Sam turned around to walk back inside to the coziness of her apartment, her cell phone dinged with a message from you letting her know you were here.

Sam saw herself smiling at the screen of her phone, at the small heart emoji you added beside the text.

The main doors of the entrance hall hinged as you walked in, and the first thing Sam noticed was that you were quite underdressed for the weather outside; only a thin jacket kept your body warm, your hair was all tousled from the wind and you had your hands buried in the pockets of your sweatpants. Still, you smiled brightly when you spotted Sam coming towards you.

"Aren't you cold?" Sam chuckled as she met you in the middle, coming to a stop a little closer to you than she should. Her eyes involuntarily roamed up and down your body, always engraving the image of you in her mind as if it was the first and last time she'd be seeing you; even if she has known you for nearly two months now.

"You bet I'm cold," without much of a warning, you brought one hand up and cupped Sam's cheek; the coldness of your skin contrasted with the warmth of hers.

Sam shivered from head to toe, and it wasn't because of the coldness of your fingers, for she could feel her cheeks warming up even more.

Unable to hold your gaze as she did so, Sam took hold of your freezing hand, "come on, let's get you warmed up. I ordered pizza."

You followed her willingly, nuzzling against her shoulder as you walked.

You're both not sure when this newfound intimacy happened. But you weren't complaining. Your heart was so full of Sam that you could hardly call it your own anymore. And Sam doesn't know what happiness means if it isn't written with the letters of your name.

Though it wasn't until a whole week later, that you did something about it.

This Friday was a rainy one, the skies had grey clouds looming over everyone on the streets as heavy raindrops fell steadily. Water splashed around people's shoes as they walked, holding their coats close to their bodies and their umbrellas above their heads.

Sam didn't have an umbrella. She'd given hers to Tara this morning because technically she wouldn't need it, she'd catch a ride with one of the nicer coworkers at the coffee shop when it was time to leave.

Sam was walking in the rain.

She never made it to 7 PM, which was usually the time she'd get off work. Her boss had dismissed her much earlier today; 'it doesn't look good to have a barista covered in coffee' was what he'd said.

Now, the huge coffee stain on her shirt was barely there, being replaced by the water falling from the sky. The pouring rain had already soaked through Sam's clothing; it trickled down her chin and made her hair stuck to her forehead. It was cold, she was shaking, and her fingers were becoming numb.

Today had been one of those unfortunate days. It was a group of teenagers, Sam can't exactly remember what they looked like; she had been the one to bring their orders to the table, and when their eyes met hers she could instantly see the hatred there. Various false accusations left their lips as one of them 'accidentally' spilled their coffee all over Sam. Today wasn't a good day.

Sam didn't know where she was going to, she was almost sure she was walking in the complete opposite direction of her apartment. She didn't stop, keeping her head low in hopes the rain would completely engulf her being.

"Sam?" The call of her name sounded like a hallucination at first. Too sweet, and too far away to be real.

"Sam!" Now it was closer, clearer between the heavy raindrops hitting the pavement.

It made Sam look up, one hand brushing over her eyes to clean the rain stuck to her lashes. Instantly, she forgot how to breathe.

You were coming towards her, one hand holding your coat and the other holding a faded pink umbrella above your head. You looked distressed, there was a frown on your eyebrows that Sam wanted to smooth away with her fingers.

Between the smell of coffee on her shirt and the rain on her skin, Sam had forgotten this was the time you usually came to the coffee shop.

Sam was suddenly shielded from the falling rain. You had to stay close so your umbrella would cover both of you. "Sam…" Your tone was sorrowful as your evident worry escaped you, "what are you doing out here like this? What happened?" You looked her up and down, taking in her purplish fingertips, her soaked clothes and hair, and the barely there coffee stain of her shirt.

The image of you in front of Sam started to blur over; she opened her lips to speak, tasting the raindrops there, yet the words were clogged up on the lump in her throat. A feeling of shame was crawling inside her guts, piercing through her heart for having you see her like this. Sam avoided your eyes, focusing on her boots instead.

Your sneakers inched closer and Sam felt your gentle fingers pushing away strands of her wet hair; the softness of your touch amidst all the harshness she was used to nearly made her crumble.

"Did someone do this to you?" You asked even softer.

Another beat of silence, and then; "I don't know why they hate me so much." Was all Sam told you, her voice nothing but a whisper that broke in the middle.

In the same heartbeat, with the hand that wasn't holding your umbrella, you took hold of Sam's waist, pulling her body close to yours in a warm embrace.

Sam clung to you as if you'd vanish into thin air any minute. Both her arms instantly came around your shoulders in a close-knit grip as she bunched the fabric of your coat between her fingers.

You adjusted your hold around her waist, mimicking the same strength she held you with. Part of you knew she needed to feel that kind of reassuring pressure, shielding her away from reality.

Her body was worryingly cold, the wetness of her clothes was seeping into your own but you couldn't find it in yourself to mind. Because Sam buried her head into the crook of your neck and you could feel steady wet drops falling into your skin, and you knew they weren't from the rain.

Sam's sobs were muffled against you. And as her body trembled in your hold, your heart shattered.

"Let me take you home," you whispered, your lips brushing the skin of her shoulder until you placed a kiss there.

Sam's grip on you tightened, bringing your bodies closer together if that was even possible. "Okay."

And you did take her home. Sam only didn't imagine that when you said home, you meant your apartment, not hers.

To say your place was better than Sam's would be an understatement. Your apartment wasn't overly luxurious, but it was evident that it was expensive.

Admittedly, Sam felt out of place. Not necessarily in a bad way; only in the way that you were clearly much better off in life than she was, and it made her feel a little self-conscious to think she'd been fantasizing about a chance with you, when, admittedly, you could do better.

You let go of your umbrella but kept holding onto Sam's hand, leading her to your bedroom, "come on, let's get you some dry clothes."

Your bedroom was the most 'you' room in the house. There was a double bed in the middle, a dresser, a desk with a computer and a whole lot of other things on top — books, a collection of pens, a couple of sketchbooks, small fantasy figures such as soldiers on horses and dragons — a mirror just beside the dresser, a bookshelf, and several pictures and fairy lights stuck to the walls. Everywhere Sam looked, there was a bit of you.

She hovered in the middle of it all, shaking from head to toe because of how cold her body was, and hyper-aware of the water still dripping from her soaked clothes and into the wooden floor.

You rummaged through your dresser until you found a comfy pair of purple sweatpants and a hoodie of the same color. You handed them to Sam, "the bathroom is just down the hall, feel free to take a shower and warm yourself up okay? I'll be in the kitchen."

Sam gulped down the lump still stuck in her throat, nodding along with your words, "thank you, you didn't have to do all this," her voice still held that same rawness to it, though the corner of her lips quirked up.

You let out a breathy chuckle, tilting your head to the side as if she just spoke a foreign language. "Yeah I did, that's what people do when they care about each other."

Under the warm orange glow of the fairy lights of your bedroom, Sam could count the specks of color in your eyes. She could drown in the ocean that was you and everything you made her feel.

Sometimes, you look at each other as if you're about to kiss.

Sam wondered if it was the same for you when she caught your eyes drifting to her lips. Before she could figure it out, you were sheepishly avoiding her eyes and walking off to the kitchen.

When Sam walked out of the bathroom, her skin now warm and her hair with the smell of your shampoo, you had just finished making two mugs of hot chocolate.

You heard her bare feet approaching you, felt her lingering gaze on your back. You could tell Sam wasn't allowing herself to be completely comfortable here yet. You hoped to change that.

Turning around, you were met with the endearing sight of Sam in your clothes, her hair still damp and cheeks now flushed from the hot water of the shower. She looked like your favorite dream.

You walked up to her, handing her one of the mugs, "now it's my turn to serve you," you winked.

Sam closed both hands around the mug, an inevitable chuckle escaping her.

You leaned back on the counter of your kitchen, hearing the rain that still poured outside hitting the windows. "Feeling better?"

Before answering, Sam took a sip of her hot chocolate, humming at the sweetness and warmth of it. "Much better."

"You can stay as long as you'd like," you told her, because you knew she needed to hear it.

Sam's thumb traced the rim of her mug. You could see her lips pulling thin, feel her uneasiness.

"I would like you to stay, Sam."

Thunder started rumbling in the distance as the rain picked up even more. Sam would be stuck with you for a while; maybe you should make the most of having her all to yourself.

You put down your mug and pushed yourself away from the kitchen counter. Sam could be fragile sometimes, you realized; there was a part of her that always remained guarded, waiting for the next blow to come. Yet you could almost feel the desperate calls of her lonely heart.

When you took a step closer to her, Sam didn't take one away from you, and it was all the confirmation you needed. She had a white-knuckled grip on her mug, though it relaxed immediately when your hand enveloped hers and you took the mug, putting it aside on the counter.

Sam was holding herself as stiff as a corpse; if you were anyone else, she would have taken her chance already, but you were you, and the fear that she might fuck it up spoke louder. Her eyes followed each of your movements though, her pupils blown wide and reflecting the vulnerability of a heart that started beating for you, for you, for you.

Both your hands eventually reached up to her cheeks, your fingers tracing her jaw and your thumbs brushing the skin beneath her eyes.

Inevitably, Sam melted in your hold, a breath leaving her lips as she closed her eyes for a beat. No one ever held her as if she was something precious. You always did.

First, your lips met her forehead in a kiss that felt like a promise. Then, your nose brushed hers when you leaned in; your breaths mingling as your hands found the back of her neck to pull her in.

You were gentle, so much so that Sam hardly felt your lips. You guided her into a chaste kiss, just a touch of your soft lips that fitted perfectly with hers. So perfectly, she'd dare say you were made just for her.

Small as it was, the gesture of affection got Sam grasping at your waist; her hands holding onto you with the same desperation as before. As if happiness, for her, was limited.

Sam didn't dare open her eyes when you pulled back. It was foolish, but she wanted to utter those three words just for the fact that you didn't go far, choosing to keep your forehead leaning against hers.

"Are you sure?" The words stumbled out of Sam's lips in an unsteady whisper as she took to memory what it felt like to have you this close.

You pulled away and she felt like crying.

It was only enough so you could look into her eyes, and there you saw everything she didn't want you to see. In those dark doe eyes that shone with the dim lights of your kitchen; you saw her fear, her loneliness; you saw the way she thought of herself as a person who doesn't deserve to be taken out of the rain, but who longs for someone to do so anyway.

"More than I've ever been in my life," you whispered back, pulling her in before you even finished speaking. You clashed your lips together, not holding back this time, because if she didn't believe your words, she would believe your touch; she would believe the way your hands tangled in her hair and how your tongue brushed over her bottom lip, tasting the lingering sweetness of hot chocolate there.

Yet, between each breathless kiss, you'd mumble, "I promise."

And Sam would hold you more firmly, her arms encircling your waist as she traced a path down your neck with her lips, confessions rolling off her tongue.

You had her at your mercy; she was yours. But you were hers too.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It's been fifteen minutes already. Fifteen minutes of Sam glaring at her phone as if it would relent and type the message for her.

"Sammy, this is getting sad," Mindy popped a popcorn in her mouth, side-eyeing Sam's figure; who was huddled in a blanket on the couch beside hers, "just ask her already."

"Yeah, I will," Sam groaned, hugging her blanket closer to her chest, "just… finding the right words."

"The words are: 'do you want to go on a date with me? Yes or no?' Simple." A popcorn flew in Sam's direction as Mindy explained, "stop making a big deal of it, it's not like you guys never went out together anyway."

Sam pursed her lips, staring at the little picture of you in her contacts. It's true, you've met for outings multiple times already; but there was something more now, an incessant swarm of butterflies in her stomach whenever Sam thought of you.

"It's different," she said quietly, "I don't wanna mess it up." Her vulnerability dripped from each syllable.

Mindy softened at that, forgetting about the movie playing on the TV and properly turning to look at her friend; "you won't mess it up, Sam. She likes you, everyone can see it."

It felt nice to hear the words out loud, it made them all the more real — as if your make-out session from a few days ago wasn't enough. Sam could feel her cheeks growing warmer by the minute as she finally typed her message and hit send before the small bit of courage went away.

Mindy had been right, after all.

That night, Sam took you out for dinner and a movie; classic, but she learned that you loved the classics. Especially when you pressed your lips to hers again before saying goodbye, in a kiss that Sam would be happy to live in forever.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The stairs that led up to her apartment weren't the most comfortable seat, but the empty hallways provided much-needed peace.

Sam buried her head in her hands, clawing at the roots of her hair. Her shirt was still damp, the smell becoming annoying. She could feel the back of her eyes stinging but she gulped back the feeling.

"You know you don't always have to wait for me down here."

It was almost magical, how your voice sent a wave of easiness through Sam's body. It was almost as if you carefully reached inside her chest and took away the burden there.

You were walking up to her, a smirk on your lips and a backpack hanging from your shoulder, "I know the way to your apartment."

Sam mimicked your smile, getting up with more haste than usual and meeting you halfway in the empty hallway. She didn't give you much of a warning before bringing you into a searing kiss, her hands cupped your cheeks and she had your bottom lip trapped between hers; chasing the feeling only you could give her.

A gasp escaped you when she collided with you. Your giggles got muffled by her lips and you took hold of her waist to steady yourself.

It's been four months since Sam started calling you hers. Four months since she's been able to gloat because you're her girlfriend. Four months in which she's been the happiest she's ever been in her life.

"I missed you," she spoke against your lips.

You kissed the words, frowning playfully, "you saw me this afternoon."

"Exactly," Sam's smile stretched further, "too long," and then she was leaning in again, and again, and again.

Sam could be intense sometimes, but you knew how to recognize when she was doing it for fun, or to forget about something else.

You took hold of one of her hands then, breaking the kiss she had you trapped in so you could place one to her knuckles, "is that cherry coke I smell on you?"

"Maybe," she dragged the word, her fingers intertwining with yours.

"Are you making a habit of having people throw drinks at you?" You raised an eyebrow at her before squeezing her hand reassuringly, "what happened?"

Sam let out a halfhearted groan, shrugging her shoulders as she avoided your eyes, "just some conspiracy psychos… and Tara is pissed at me."

"Did you guys have another fight?" You asked sympathetically.

"She was at this party and I tased a guy who was trying to take advantage of her, and now she's mad at me," Sam distracted herself by playing with your fingers as she spoke, "keeps telling me I should let her go."

In your four months with Sam, you learned how protective she could be of those she cares about, especially after what happened in Woodsboro. You learned that because you were now on that list too. You'd lost count of how many guys she threatened because of you already, each time you went out for drinks together and a strange dude decided to try his luck with you Sam would pull out her taser and aim it right where it hurts most.

In truth, you understood both sides. Yes, Sam could be overprotective sometimes; but she had her reasons.

"Family can be complicated, I would know," you pushed back strands of Sam's dark hair, never having enough of how she leaned into your touch, "but Tara will come around soon."

You felt the shape of Sam's smile on your palm right before she placed a kiss there. Part of you lived only for these sweet, precious moments.

"Hey guys," Chad's voice suddenly broke your peaceful bubble. You and Sam looked up to see him on the stairs, "come up here, quick."

Sam walked into her apartment holding onto your hand, and her grip only tightened when she saw what everyone was watching on the TV.

A student from Blackmore University had just been murdered, Mindy recognized him from their film studies class.

Tension lay heavy in the room, but especially, it radiated off Sam; you could feel it in the tremble of her hold on your hand when the reporter spoke about the several Ghostface costumes left at the scene of the crime.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sam’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @alexkolax

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #samcarpenteredit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #sam carpenter fanfic #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #my story

1K notes · View notes

xiihyunn · 11 months

Text

⚢ Navigation ⚢

hi! i'm xiihyun, hyun for short.

— i am a filo 18+ writer/author, who just writes for fun in her spare time.

! BYF ! : make sure you're NOT a minor and a man. my writings are strictly for the women only, and plus why is a man reading my lesbian smuts??

→ requests are closed ! i still have a bunch of pending requests that i need to write :)

— extra info :

> discord: cutieval#6881

> wattpad: @/xiihyun

i only write for:

jenna ortega

melissa barrera

mikey madison

and ofc their characters too.

i only write:

smuts

smutty drabbles

smutty headcanons

and smut smut smut.

⚢ Masterlist (NSFW) ⚢

ⓘ Warning: This is a 18+ blog. Read at your own risks, and if the following topics and suggestive themes make you uncomfortable, you know what to do.

open to any smut requests. just be a good girl about it, darling.

Jenna Ortega

My Confession — nun!r x exorcist!jenna

Vampire — human!r x gpvampire!jenna

Knife Play — r x murderer!jenna

First — virgin!r x gpvirgin!vada

other:

nsfw headcanons — tara carpenter

nsfw alphabet headcanons (a-g) — tara carpenter

nsfw alphabet headcanons (h-p) — tara carpenter

nsfw alphabet headcanons (q-v) — tara carpenter

nsfw alphabet headcanons (w-z) — tara carpenter

how sorry you are — vada cavell drabble

nsfw headcanons — g!p vada cavell

hand job — jenna ortega drabble

Melissa Barrera

horny — sam carpenter drabble

frat party — sam carpenter drabble

more soon.

ghostface costume — samantha loomis drabble

nsfw headcanons — sam carpenter / samantha loomis

Mikey Madison

you're mine — amber freeman drabble

masturbating — amber freeman drabble

7 minutes in heaven — amber freeman drabble

bikini — amber freeman drabble

ass — max fox drabble

more soon.

#jenna ortega #melissa barrera #mikey madison #wednesday addams #tara carpenter #vada cavell #sam carpenter #amber freeman #scream #scream v #scream vi #imagines #jenna ortega smuts #sam carpenter smuts #amber freeman smut #xiihyunn #idk how to tag lol

292 notes · View notes

screamsortega · 1 year

Text

i won’t let anyone hurt you;

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

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

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

*lowercase intended*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“we’re getting out of the city.”

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

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

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

“are you serious?” sam asked.

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

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

“barely.”

“chad, mindy, y/n? back me up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you shrug his hand off, “go away, e.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“just let it all out, y/n”

639 notes · View notes

fanfics-and-love · 1 year

Text

Losing Sense of My Morality

Ghostface!Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Not my gif

Warning(s): canon typical violence, ghostface!Sam, mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of drugs, sexy Sam with a knife

Word count: 4.5K words

Summary: Sam had always known something was wrong with her. When she met you, she knew there's was nothing she wouldn't do to keep you safe, even if it meant truly becoming her father's daughter

masterlist | series masterlist

Sam wasn’t sure when the darkness began to take over, or if it had just been always present and she had never fully noticed, terrified of what acknowledging it would mean.

When she had first read her mother’s diary and had learned about Billy Loomis, she had almost sighed in relief, because it finally explained her erratic thoughts that would sometimes choke her. But it petrified her as well, because she wasn’t sure what was really stopping her from becoming his legacy, if there was really something holding her back or she was just a ticking bomb waiting to explode and take everyone she cared for with her.

She started reading articles about him, and his mother as well— her own grandmother. Every letter, word and phrase would sink her further into her fear.

At first she tried to drown it all with alcohol, petrified of snapping at her little sister or scaring her mother even more. However, it seemed to have the opposite reaction; she began to hallucinate him, in the clothes he wore when he betrayed his friends and made Woodsboro a place of nightmares in years to come. She would see him when she was blinded by anxiety or taken by fear. She sometimes wondered if he was really there, or if she had truly gone crazy.

And one day she couldn’t take it anymore, and packed her bags and left her house and family behind. She moved to a different town, found a job and thought she had finally everything back in control. She almost felt like a little kid who had tricked her way out of being grounded after breaking a vase.

Sam stopped drinking, and doing drugs, and found a nice balanced life that she told herself she enjoyed, even if she went to sleep every night looking at the photo of her sister smiling at the camera, showing off her missing front tooth.

Everything was okay, until she met you and she realized nothing had been okay.

You were a senior in high school, who had gone to the bowling alley to celebrate one of your friend’s eighteenth birthday, and she had taken a look at you and her heart had stopped beating for a moment. Her mouth had opened and closed a few times when you had approached her, asking for bowling shoes your size.

You were beautiful, to put simply. Sam had to lower her head a little to look into your eyes, but she found it adorable. She found everything about you adorable, and after a few weeks of talking on the phone, she asked you out on a date, and you said yes.

You began dating, and you couldn’t be happier. Sam was the perfect girlfriend; attentive, sweet, and loyal. She would sometimes pick you up from school and spend the entire day doing your favorite things when she knew you were feeling stressed out. She would also help you with your homework, and was exceptional in Math, which you were thankful for since you sucked at it.

You didn’t care that she was older than you, or that she was very reluctant to tell you much about her past; you loved her, and she loved you, and that was all that mattered.

Until she got a text message and began to freak out.

“What is it?” You asked when you saw her run off from the bowling alley. You had decided to spend the afternoon with her as she worked, since your parents were out of town and your friends didn’t have any plans for the day, choosing to stay in and study for finals. When you caught up to her, her face was completely white.

“My sister,” she whispered. “She— she’s hurt. In the hospital.”

“Shit,” you said, kneeling down beside her. She gave you a soft smile when you grabbed her face in your hands to look into her eyes. “Is it, like, serious? Is she okay?”

“I’m not sure,” she murmured, grabbing your waist and putting you into her lap. You allowed, knowing she was seeking out comfort.

“Are you going to check on her?” you asked after a moment. Sam put her face out of your neck and sighed.

“I’m not sure.”

“I think you should,” you said, moving a piece of hair out of her face. Her eyes were red.

“She kinda hates me,” Sam said. She wasn’t sure, of course; she hadn’t seen or talked with Tara in years, but if she was anything as she remembered her, she would probably scream at her and give her the cold shoulder. Especially if she told her the reason why she ran away.

“Better not give her a reason to hate you more,” you murmured, trying to make her feel better. She chuckled, but didn’t say anything for a while.

“I’m not sure I’d be welcomed.”

“You won’t know ‘til you try,” you said, smiling softly. “How about this— tomorrow is Friday, and I don’t have classes on Monday; I can go with you this weekend, and we can have a small vacation before I start with finals.”

“You can’t just leave, sweetheart,” Sam said, though she was wishing you would say otherwise. If she was going to face her sister, it would be better with you by her side. Everything was better when she had you close to her.

“I can,” you said. “Listen. I understand if you don’t wanna go, or if you want to do it alone, but if you want me to accompany you, all you have to do is ask.”

“Don’t you think it’d be weird?” Sam asked. “You leaving town with your much older girlfriend right before graduation?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re like, three years older,” you said, hating how often she used that argument. You sometimes suspected she used it to push you away from her, as if she was trying to punish herself for something. “And I’m turning twenty in a few months. Stop acting like it’s weird.”

You had been held back a year back in middle school after you spent the entire first and second semester sick. Your parents had thought it was the best idea, but you hated that decision since you were basically older than everyone else in your class, which made it hard to really connect with anyone.

“It kinda is,” she said, moving her head to the side.

“Shut up,” you said, punching her shoulder. She laughed, kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I want you to come with me. But I think I should tell you about why I even ran away in the first place.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you said. Sam smiled; she loved how you never pushed her into doing anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

“I kinda do,” she admitted. “Do you know Woodsboro?”

You thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Should I?”

Sam looked a little taken aback. “The town with all those serial killers?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah,” you nodded. “Those wanky ass movies. Yeah. It’s close, right? Because I remember my mom freaked out about it when I was young. Almost had us moving out and everything. You lived there?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “Born and raised. I ran away when I was eighteen, and moved around towns until I found a job here.”

“Well, no wonder you left,” you said. “They say that town is cursed.”

“I might be as well,” she said. You looked at her questioningly. “When I was young, I… I discovered something about my father, and… I fucked things up at home, and I started to drink and do other things…” you caressed her arm, where needle scars could be slightly seen. “It was too much, and I just decided to leave one day.”

“Damn,” you said. “That’s a lot. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said, and it was true. Ever since she met you, her mind was too busy thinking about you to allow passage to those thoughts that used to make her wish for a glass of her mother’s best whiskey. “My father, he…” she swallowed. “He was Billy Loomis.”

You stayed quiet for a moment. “I’m guessing with your dramatic pause that name should ring a bell, but I’m not into murder mysteries or scary movies.”

Sam nodded. When she had first discovered you weren’t into horror movies, she had sighed in relief. Of course you wouldn’t know about him; you were too pure to be tainted by his presence. “He was one of the original killers.”

“Shit,” you whispered. “Jesus, Sam… of course you’d want to escape that place. I’m sure your sister will understand.”

“I’m not so sure,” she whispered.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

It shouldn’t have happened this way. It was the only thing in Sam’s mind as she sat in the waiting room, killing time as you were getting surgery.

“A punctured lung,” one of the doctors had said. “She’s lucky to be alive. We’ll do everything we can.”

It shouldn’t be you in that cold bed, with sheets as white as your face. It should’ve been me instead.

When you had gotten into town, things had been good. You had met her sister and her friends, and you had stayed with her as she told Tara the truth, and even when she was attacked by ghostface at the hospital (god, you hated that name so much). You defended her when everyone had started to point fingers in her direction, and had held her at night when she finally broke down and had told you about her father, whom she was starting to see in every corner, just like she used to before she met you.

Richie had attacked you. Amber’s weird old nerdy boyfriend, who everyone suspected of. He had thrown you into the ground and stabbed you, laughing as he did so, screaming about how he was going to kill Sam’s little whore.

Sam hadn’t been able to stop nor control herself. When she had seen the blood coming out of your mouth, she had thrown herself against Richie and grabbed his knife, stabbing him over and over in every inch of body she could get. She didn’t even stop when Tara called out her name, petrified at the sight of her sister’s crazened stare, nor when Sidney had tried to take the knife from her hands. The only thing that had made her break out of her thirst for vengeance was your gasps for air, watery from all the blood gathering in your throat and drowning you.

“Baby,” Sam had whispered, moving towards you. She had held you in her arms, hands shaking when she saw all the blood. Richie’s and yours, mixed up in her skin. She hated it. It was all her fault.

Something had snapped inside of her afterwards. She had carried you towards the ambulance that Gale had called, not even bothering to wait until they fully stopped driving before screaming that you were hurt and needed help. Afterwards she had been driven to the hospital by Sidney, with Tara in the backseat staring at her.

Sam didn't care. She couldn’t think of anything but the warmth of your blood as it escaped your body. The mere thought brought tears to her eyes.

That had been a day ago, and Sam couldn’t move from the chair she had sat on when the doctor had told her the news. She had only done so to awkwardly wash herself in the hospital bathroom sink, rubbing at her skin until it was red and raw; she had changed into the clothes Tara had brought with her, and had simply moved back into the chair.

“Sam,” Tara called out, watching as her sister rejected the food she was offering her. “Sam. We need to talk.”

“I’m not in the mood,” Sam whispered, resting her head in her hands. She knew once she opened her eyes again, she would see Billy sitting in front of her, smiling.

You did good, kid. He would say. You protected your girl. Don’t let them tell you it was wrong.

But it was wrong, and Sam knew. Even if she didn’t feel like it, she knew— it was one thing to attack in self defense, another to stab a man’s body until he was unrecognizable. She knew it, because she was not stupid, but still her hand shook with the need to grab a knife and stab that man again, until Billy finally left and you woke up.

“I don’t fucking care,” Tara said. “Sam, what you did—”

“I did what I had to do to protect her,” she said. She wasn’t sure if her tone was too harsh, but given Tara’s flinch she guessed it was. “Just as I’d have done with you.”

“Fifty-eight times,” Tara said.

“I know,” Sam said. There was shame and regret in her voice, and it was not faked. She really felt bad, but not for what she did; she simply regretted making her sister see her in such a state. “I know. I know. God, I fucking know, Tara,” she looked into her sister’s eyes. After she had discovered her mother’s secret, Sam had spent hours looking at Tara’s face to find some similarities between herself and her. She loved that their eyes were the same. “I don’t know what happened.”

“I get it,” Tara said, softly. She was trying to help her, Sam knew, but she was doomed; no one but you could understand her. “But you need to know that’s not normal.”

“Gosh, Tara,” Sam said, looking away from her. “Of course I fucking know. But don’t tell me he didn’t have it coming.”

“He did,” Tara whispered. It almost looked like she was scared of Sam. “But… Sam, it looked like you weren’t there. Like… like you’ve disappeared for a moment. Your eyes…”

“My girlfriend was bleeding out on the floor and the man who harmed her was going to hurt her again. Was going to kiII her,” Sam said. She needed Tara to understand. “I would’ve done anything to make sure she was safe.”

“I know,” Tara said. “But… promise me when she’s okay, you’d consider therapy? Please?”

Sam looked into her eyes again, pleading and desperate. She nodded. “Of course,” She said, and then laughed. “I’m gonna need so much fucking therapy I might need another job.”

“Fuck. Me too,” Tara laughed with her, resting her head on Sam’s shoulder. The older woman had sighed in relief.

“One thing, though,” Sam said after a moment of comforting silence.

“What?”

“Don’t tell Y/N about this,” Sam whispered. “Please. I… I know what I did was wrong, but… It was the adrenaline. And I’m going to get help, alright? I— I just don’t want her to leave me over this.”

“Okay,” Tara nodded. “I won’t.”

“Thanks.”

━━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━━

And so you woke up, and Tara kept her promise.

You managed to finish your exams while you were still in the hospital, and decided to spend your summer vacation with Sam and her sister in Woodsboro, where you planned on moving into New York with them after the universities acceptance letters began to arrive.

Your parents weren’t too happy about it, but they were glad you were at least going to a good college and that moving in with people you knew instead of strangers, especially after what happened (your mother was honestly just glad you weren’t going to stay in Woodsboro, so when you told her you had gotten into Colombia, she clapped her hands and told you how happy she was through the phone)

And so New York it was. Sam found a nice apartment for the two of you and Tara; it had three bedrooms, so with time, Tara proposed a roommate.

That was when it all began again— that burning feeling in Sam’s chest that screamed at her to keep you safe, to take you away from everyone and ensure you were okay. Every time Tara interviewed someone for the room, Sam stayed in the shadows, looking at the person and imagining them in Richie’s place, stabbing you until you stopped breathing.

She couldn’t stand it. She wanted to— she wanted to kill them.

And then Quinn moved in. Tara liked her, and you as well. She was funny, kinda crazy, easy to talk to and an extrovert. The perfect roommate, Tara had said, since she was barely at home.

Yet Sam hated her. She hated when she would walk into the kitchen and see you laughing with her, close enough for your elbows to touch. Sam hated it, especially because she was being irrational— you loved her, and you would never cheat on her. If she were to talk with her therapist about it, he would tell her that she was feeling intrusive thoughts, and would prescribe her more pills to keep her mind at ease.

But she wasn’t crazy. She knew Quinn liked you. She could feel it in the way her eyes traveled down your body when you were going to the kitchen after dinner to grab a bottle of water, her intense stare on the skin your pyjama shorts didn’t cover.

“She’s trying to take your girl,” Billy would whisper in her ear once you two were in bed. “Are you gonna let her?”

No. No, she wouldn’t. She would die if she saw someone stealing you. She needed you like air, dependent on you like a fish relied on water.

And so in October, when the streets began to fill with Halloween decorations, she saw it. Ghostface’s mask.

With shaky hands, she pulled her wallet and bought it. She hid it in her backpack, and only took it out the next day, when you and Tara were in class. The silence of the house soon filled with Billy’s voice.

“That’s right,” he said, standing over the doorway. “Put it on, kid. Own who you are.”

Sam looked at the mask. It was cheat, made of thin plastic, nothing like the ones the other killers had worn, but once she put it on and looked at herself in the mirror, a thrill went down her back.

Excitement, a rush of adrenaline so addictive Sam almost felt lightheaded. She hadn’t felt like this since she had killed Richie.

“Now go kill that bitch,” Billy said, standing behind her. For the first time since he had irrumpted her sanity, his presence made her feel glad, happy, even.

She couldn’t just kill Quinn, of course. She wasn’t stupid. She had to wait for the perfect time, and once she had it, she would take it and make that woman rue the day she laid eyes on you.

She wasn’t going to be like her father, she was going to be so much worse.

━━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━━

The time came a few days later. Quinn was going to a party with Tara, and you were going to stay in with Sam, as a small date.

She enjoyed the quiet night together. You made her dinner, and despite the lasagna being a little burnt because you two had been too busy making out on the couch to take it out, she loved it. You watched a movie together, cuddled on the sofa, and then, feeling adventurous, she carried you towards the bedroom as if you were a bride on your wedding day. She made love to you, and pretended to fall asleep beside you, but once she had made sure you were sleeping, she had gotten up and grabbed her backpack.

Sam had left the house then, as quietly as she could, and once she was outside in a place without cameras, she had gotten the mask out, alongside the black robe. She had put on the mask, and the robe, with the backpack underneath out of fear someone might find it and track the crime down to her. She had to be careful— she couldn’t be put into prison. She had to be with you to ensure you were safe.

“Do it, kid,” Billy said when she had grabbed a hunting knife she had stolen in a store. “Go kill her.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she said, turning around. “Leave me alone.”

Her breath was heavy as she blinked and the man left her. Sam shook her head; she couldn’t waste time on this. She needed to be quick; you usually woke up at midnight to go to the bathroom.

Gripping the knife, she made the small walk towards the house. Halloween was still a week away, but college students were already throwing Halloween parties. No one looked twice at the woman in disguise, thinking it was just another party-goer.

She waited on the front door of the apartment, and bid her time until Quinn appeared. The redhead smoke, so it wasn’t too long until she appeared, cigarette in her mouth, probably kicked out by the owner of the apartment. She was wearing a red dress and small wings, in what she had called a slutty demon. Sam hated the way she had particularly asked you if you liked it, even though you were too distracted with preparing dinner to really look at her.

With that memory alone, she was once again taken by anger. Not letting the woman time to light up her cigarette, she walked towards her and stabbed her in the back.

Quinn screamed in pain, her lighter falling to the ground as she tried to run. But Sam was fast, tripping her over and making her fall to the ground face first. Quinn screamed for help, but the few people around were too drunk to understand the girl was in actual danger.

It was almost too good to be true.

Feeling enlightened by her screams, Sam turned her over, slamming the knife into her abdomen over and over. Her arm seemed to have life on its own, swinging back and forth. Sam breathed hard against the mask, laughing when splashes of blood flew out of Quinn’s mouth and into the piece of plastic covering the brunette’s face.

“Please, please,” Quinn was begging. Her entire face was covered in the blood she was choking on, and Sam stopped the stabbing to admire the sight beneath her. It was beautiful, the red mixing in with the dress. Two shades of red coming together so perfectly it almost looked like nothing had happened to her.

But it had. Oh, it had. Sam cleaned the bloody knife in the robe and raised up from Quinn’s body. The girl sighed, thinking the stabbing was over. She was already reaching out for her phone, which she was keeping in the pocket of her dress. When Sam saw it, she slammed her boot against the hand. Quinn screamed again, and Sam stepped on the hand until she heard the bones cracking. Only then did she kneeled beside her.

“This is what happens when you try to take my girl,” she whispered, as close to her ear as the mask allowed it. Sam saw recognition flash over her face, and with a smile, she raised the knife and stabbed her in the face until the girl stopped moving.

The walk back home felt almost like a dream. Sam had to look at her bloody gloves a few times to make sure if she really had done it, or if it was all a fantasy. But the red against the black answered her question every time.

I did it, she thought. I killed that bitch.

She was chuckling when she took off the mask and stared at it, the white tainted with splashes of blood. She liked the sight of it.

Sam could barely remember going back home, or hiding the backpack with the mask, boots and knife underneath one of the loose floorboards of the living room. She wasn’t even aware of her erratic breathing until she got back into bed. She wrapped her arms around you and you turned around, cuddling into her neck. Only then did she finally take a deep breath, smelling the scent of your vanilla shampoo.

Safe, she thought with a sight, pressing you closer into her body. Safe and mine.

Tara woke the two of you up a few minutes later, running into the room and talking about ghostface. Sam rubbed her eyes and complained about being awake even though it wasn’t true, and allowed Bailey to take her into the police station to interrogate her. It was a perfect alibi, just as she had planned; you had told them everything that had happened the night before, recalling how Sam had fallen asleep before you. Tara had also told the blonde how she had been the one who had woken the two of you up after she had talked to the police.

Sam was innocent. They had nothing against her.

The routinary questioning stopped pretty soon, and you waited for her outside the police station as Tara called Mindy and Chad. She caught up with them, and they agreed to meet up in your apartment.

Sam walked away a few minutes later, hugging you tight. She pretended to freak out with Tara as they talked, aware detective Bailey was still watching. She even feigned getting scared when a police officer ran towards her, handing you your phone which you had forgotten in the station. She kept Tara and you close on the way home, pretending to be scared of getting attacked. She held you close to her on the sofa, putting you on her lap when Tara began to tell the others about the night before.

She almost wanted to tell you not to be afraid when you two went up to your room after Mindy and Chad left. She hated seeing you scared. She had done all of this to make sure you were safe.

“Hey,” she said, when you started to really freak out. “Hey, baby,” she grabbed your face, kissing your forehead. “Don’t worry, baby,” she whispered. When she saw tears forming in your eyes, her thumbs whipped them. “I’ll keep you safe, okay? I’ll always protect you.”

Sam hugged you, allowing you to cry into her shoulder. She whispered sweet nothings into your ear, promising nothing would happen to you.

You told her she couldn’t promise something like that when Ghostface had come back, but she just shook her head, kissing you. She knew, but she couldn’t tell you.

So she just held you close, basking in the warmth of your body close to hers. The warmth was sweeter and more innocent than the blood that had splashed from Quinn’s dying body, and she closed her eyes.

Sam didn’t regret it one bit. She would do it again if someone tried to take you away from her. She would do it over and over until it was only the two of you, alone in the world.

#sam carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x reader #scream v #scream 5 #tara carpenter #scream 2022 #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x you #ghostface!sam carpenter #ghostface!sam carpenter x reader #scream imagine #melissa barrera #Losing Sense of My Morality

934 notes · View notes