make you proud
pairing ↠ gf!ethan x (f) reader
genre .. warnings ↠ angst, smut, macher!reader, mc has a panic attack, violence/character death, logically mc would be around sam’s age but we’re gonna ignore logic for the sake of you being a fresh college student
summary ↠ after your boss is killed in a ghostface attack and your deepest, darkest secret gets out, your life is flipped upside-down. the whole world knows that you’re stu macher’s illegitimate daughter now and the worst part is that even your friends suspect you might be a killer.
wc ↠ 9.0k
for whatever reason, you were indescribably antsy today.
for all of three fleeting minutes, you convinced yourself that nothing was amiss and chalked it up to being excessively paranoid, which sounded like you. but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something just wasn’t right.
meandering down the pavement of blackmore’s perfectly trimmed courtyard, your worries were later rationalized when some random guy walking just shy of you with his friend randomly exclaimed for all the campus to hear, “yo, dude, look out - it’s that killer!”
you were baffled, but they didn’t give you much room for a reaction before a flock of students crowded you, several of them taking out their phones. one girl dangled her phone in your face and asked, “what’s it like being a psycho bitch?”
you barked, “what the fuck are you talking about?”
“uh, oh. better run before she fucks around and stabs one of us,” suggested her friend, just before the two of them laughed and darted away from you like you were dangerous.
“what the fuck?” you mumbled under your breath, more than a little perplexed.
the crowd around you was beginning to build up and that (much to your dismay), combined by the number of phones filming your every move, was making you incredibly anxious.
“thanks, i think we’ve got it from here,” announced a familiar voice from behind you, and before you knew it, someone was pulling you away from the crowd of people.
when you turned your head, you realized that it was no other than chad.
mindy was right beside him and immediately groaned, “god, we’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“looking for me for what?” you asked, having not a clue as to what was happening, but you did have a really bad feeling about whatever it was. “what’s going on?”
mindy gave you a look. “haven’t you seen the news?”
you hissed, “does it look like i watch the news?”
“well, maybe now would be a great time to start,” mindy retorted, grabbing your other arm as she escorted you away with her brother as if you were a wanted criminal.
“i still don’t know what the fuck is going on.”
“we’ll tell you when we get to sam and tara’s,” chad said, feigning some semblance of calm.
the ride to sam and tara’s was nothing short of suffocating and nerve-racking. when their tall, gaunt apartment finally came into view and chad and mindy briskly escorted you upstairs, everyone stood to flat feet, hairs raised, looking at you with total dread and consternation. sam and tara were obviously there, alongside their roommate, quinn, mindy’s girlfriend, anika, and your friend, ethan, who also happened to be chad’s roommate.
tara was the first to speak before you could demand an explanation and exclaimed, “when were you going to tell us that you’re stu’s daughter?”
your heart dropped, but you tried to play dumb, glancing around and laughing nervously. “what?”
chad pointed to the television while mindy grabbed the remote control and turned it up for you to hear. there was a photo of your and sam’s shared boss on the screen, the headlines reporting that he had been found murdered at your job in the late, dead hours of last night.
the newscaster reported, “a pair of ghostface costumes were found at the scene, a character popularized by the stab movie franchise. also found at the scene were the driver’s license of sam carpenter, who you may remember from the tragic ghostface incident last year in woodsboro, and the birth certificate of…,” she said your name. “which reveals her father to be no other than stu macher.”
the rest of her words went in one ear and out the other as you were filled with immediate dread and panic. your heart started to feel taut in your chest as everything else around you became white noise and your grip on the reins of reality began to slacken.
“is she okay?”
“no, fuckward, does she look okay?”
“she’s having a panic attack,” ethan said worriedly, having - unlike the others - been here before. he swiftly came to your side and held you, looking into your eyes as he reassured gently, “hey, look at me. remember to breathe. everything will be okay.”
you nodded your head, but you felt as if you were going to die any second now. you tried to listen to ethan, soothed by his presence.
“okay, good. i’m going to take you to the couch now so that you can sit down,” ethan said slowly. “is that okay?”
“yes,” you whispered, chest heaving.
ethan slowly walked you to the couch and asked tara to get you a glass of water. he tried to offer you a pillow to hold but you denied it, reaching for his hand instead.
he gave you a saccharine smile and squeezed your hand, “i’m right here with you, okay? we’re at sam and tara’s apartment and it’s just the eight of us. nothing is going to happen to you, i promise. just remember to breathe.”
just as you nodded your head, tara came back with a glass of water that you accepted with a quiet thanks and sipped from. ethan let go of your shaky hand, which made you panic for a moment, but he patted your back and assured you that he wasn’t going anywhere, encouraging you to drink with both hands while the others asked how they could help.
after a solid five more minutes, you’d essentially calmed down from your attack, but you felt completely drained. not to mention terrified beyond belief. everyone gave you some reassuring words out of the kindness of their hearts, but it wasn’t enough.
anika gave you a compassionate smile. “do you have panic attacks often?”
“no, not really. sporadically. the last time was maybe eight months ago, and ethan was there, so he, uh, knows what to do now,” you explained softly, somewhat awkward. having panic attacks in front of groups of people was never exactly fun.
sam crouched down in front of you. “you’re stu macher’s daughter.”
“and you’re the daughter of billy loomis,” you replied blankly.
for a second, you and sam just stared at each other, eyes filled mutual understanding. cursed recognized cursed.
chad asked, “did you know?”
“of course, i knew,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “i’ve always known. i was trying to make sure nobody else knew.”
“well, now the whole world knows, and someone is trying to pin our boss’ murder on us. people are saying that we’re working as a team to continue the legacy of our fathers,” sam told you, which made the ordeal in the courtyard make a whole lot more sense, but not any easier to cope with.
quinn’s brows furrowed. “but how did they get your driver’s license and her birth certificate?”
“probably because of somebody with close access to them,” mindy suggested, panning her view cynically over to quinn. “like you.”
quinn made a face. “okay, but she-” quinn gestured to you with her shoulder. “-lives alone. i steal that too?”
mindy shrugged. “i don’t know. maybe you have a partner. someone who’s always at her place, like, i don’t know, ethan.”
“i come over to help her study,” ethan explained, eyes widening at the accusation.
“right,” mindy drawled. “and where are you when she goes to the bathroom - or steps out the room?”
“mindy, i didn’t even know where my own birth certificate was before all of this,” you said, massaging your temple. “i’m sure i would know if he was rammaging the place if i stepped away for three minutes.”
sam interjected, running a hand through her raven-black hair, “you guys, this isn’t helping. i say go home, travel in groups, and we regroup later.”
sam’s word was more or less final, so the five of you obediently did as told. ethan told you that he’d see you tomorrow night for studying which made mindy roll her eyes and tug you along with her and anika. fortunately enough, you and anika lived in the same apartment complex, so mindy would walk with you two and spend the night with her girlfriend.
you made it back inside without any ghostface attacks. locking your door behind you, you heaved a breath and went to take a shower.
steaming, hot water beated down your body, covering your skin in little rivulets while the mist rose like shrouds above your head. all you could think about was how the secret you’d dedicated your whole life to protecting had finally slipped. what happens in the dark always comess to light, they said.
it was overwhelming. you had the blood of stu macher flowing through you, a man who took many lives before yours, and now you were being accused of continuing his wicked legacy. which meant that not only would nobody ever look at you the same again, but there was an actual killer out there that had gotten close enough to you to steal your birth certificate.
deep down inside, you knew that it was one of those seven.
the following night, ethan sent you a text informing you that he couldn’t make it and apologized, softening the message with a cute emoji.
you thought nothing of it and typed back, okay, all 296 of my highlighters will still be here whenever you’re ready. yes, i counted. i demand you return the other four you stole.
yes, ma’am, replied ethan a couple minutes later with a salute emoji that made you giggle.
seriously, though. be safe, you typed.
your phone buzzed in your hand just as you prepared to set it down. i will, but don’t worry about me. i’ll take care of both of us.
you hearted his text and told him goodnight, all while wearing the stupidest smile on your face.
which was erased the next morning when your tv was playing (given the circumstances, you took mindy’s advice and started watching the news) and something in you fractured when you saw something about a ghostface attack at sam and tara’s apartment. you swiped up your keys and scurried to your car, making a beeline for their apartment complex.
you slipped through yellow tape, spotting some of the gang and asking, “what the hell happened?”
“back. the fuck. up,” mindy snarled, looking at you like you were a deformed beast.
“what?” you whispered, confused. you glanced at chad and tara. “i just heard the news. i came right away. i wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”
“well, look at us. we’re fine. there, you can go,” mindy retorted with disdain.
just as you were about to speak, ethan came from behind the yellow tape, calling, “chad.”
that was when chad left his post at and paraded toward ethan with long, quick strides and slammed him into an emergency vehicle, shouting, “where the fuck were you?”
ethan’s eyes widened. “what - when?”
“don’t play dumb with me, man. you disappear and my sister almost gets killed!”
“he was with me!” you shouted, coming up to them and trying to pry chad off of ethan. “okay? we had to study, remember?”
chad’s grasp on ethan slackened as he glanced at you, but he didn’t let go. “and he was with you the whole night?”
“yes,” you lied through your teeth.
chad pressed, “then why didn’t you show up together? did he leave?”
“we did show up together. i told him to stay in the car,” you said, glaring at ethan to really sell your tale. “see what happens when you don’t follow instructions?”
ethan faltered, glancing towards the ground. “i’m sorry.”
chad released him, backing away. “fuck, man.”
ethan glanced into the alleyway, wincing. “oh my god - who?”
“anika,” chad exhaled, walking back towards the ambulance. “and quinn.”
something violent twisted in your chest.
you watched ethan go up to mindy and heard her say something about the both of you being at the top of her list, but it was all white noise to you. your heart was taut with guilt, given that you had lied for ethan in spite of having no clue of his whereabouts when you two were meant to be studying.
there was a reason you did it, though - logical or not. you just genuinely didn’t believe your best friend was a murderer. you’d known him for a year, six months before the core four came to manhattan. regardless of wherever he was, you doubted it was on a murder spree, and you covered for him solely because you didn’t want him to have to go through being interrogated.
merely minutes later, sam and tara came back with gale and kirby and all of you ended up in some place down an alley that apparently belonged to some kids in mindy’s film studies class.
“it’s a theater,” tara said when the lights flickered on after you all got through the intricate security.
“not just a theater,” gale said. “it’s a shrine.”
that was when you noticed the rest of the room and the screen lifted up, revealing nine different mannequins in ghostface costumes.
the eight of you ventured around the room, walking around in awe. everyone gravitated towards something different - kirby to charlie walker’s knife, gale to drawings of dewey, mindy and chad to randy meek’s shirt, and sam to billy loomis’ ghostface case.
likewise, you were beside a mannequin that sported your father’s infamous red robe.
“they’ve got the whole goddamn franchise,” mindy marveled.
“how’d they get this stuff?” asked tara. “i mean, isn’t this evidence?”
“well, cops like money, and evidence can get lost pretty easily,” gale explained. “present company excluded, of course.”
ethan asked, “uh, why am i here exactly? my alibi checks out.”
“so i can keep an eye on you, roomie,” chad said, shooting ethan a smile.
mindy made a V with her fingers and darted them between her eyes and ethan.
“the TV that killed stu macher,” kirby said to mindy, sitting beside her.
your eyes locked on the infamous television. you’d obviously heard of it - there were many stories about your father’s death - but seeing it up-close was an entirely different experience and you didn’t know how to feel.
“hey,” ethan said.
you jolted out of your reverie, glancing to your side to spot ethan standing beside you.
“sorry,” he whispered. “i wasn’t trying to scare you.”
“it’s fine,” you said, stepping away from your father’s robe. you were curious, but you didn’t want anyone getting the wrong vibe.
ethan whispered, “you didn’t have to lie for me earlier.”
“you really wanna talk about this now?”
“chad can watch me all he wants. they can’t hear us,” ethan said under his breath.
“listen,” you said softly, glancing at the glass case rather than making direct eye contact with him to avoid raising suspicion. “i only did what i did because you’re not a killer and i didn’t want you to go through an avoidable min-terogation.”
ethan’s lips twitched into a grin. “thank you.”
“we’re best friends,” you told him, in spite of the wrenching feeling of your heart at your own words. “you’d do the same thing for me, right?”
“i’d do anything for you. die for you.” kill for you, was what he really wanted to say, but he was playing it safe. “anything.”
it was ridiculous how much you wanted him and how much deeper you fell for him at those words.
but the lies didn’t stop there. and with more lies came more deluding yourself. ethan would make plans with you then sometimes drop them at the last minute, coincidentally all on the exact same nights your friends would get attacked. mindy, who’d you been getting closer with prior to the new ghostface killing spree, didn’t even want to talk to you anymore unless it was to accuse you of being a murderer.
which you couldn’t hold against her, but it made you sad. you were many things, but a killer wasn’t one of them. sam was practically the only one interested in having one-on-one conversations with you anymore.
“listen,” sam said, holding a cigarette. “i trust you. if nobody else understands you, i do.”
that meant something to you. “thanks.”
“but,” sam started, making you frown as your eyes locked on the buzzing city around you. there were cars speeding every which way, whipping by in a colorful blur. “i think you should keep your distance from ethan.”
your lips curled into a scowl. “you don’t trust him.”
sam said nothing, just letting out a sigh.
“he’s been with me,” you lied, giving her a stern look.
“i’m not saying that he hasn’t,” sam told you calmly, meeting your eyes. “i’m just saying it’s weird that every time the group has a near-death encounter with ghostface you two are coincidentally always together. that’s all.”
that was the same conclusion you’d reached a long time ago, but you didn’t want to believe that your best friend was a serial killer. much less that he would dare hurt your friends.
“i was in love before i met danny, you know. with richie,” sam spoke up after a lull of silence.
“yeah, the ghostface that was working with amber freeman, i know. you told me,” you reminded her, raising a brow. “why are you bringing that up?”
“because it’s no secret that you have feelings for ethan.”
your eyes flickered. “i’m not-”
“you are,” sam finished. “in love with him. but love is blind. if i didn’t have feelings for richie, i might’ve realized what was going on sooner, but i did. and i don’t want you to make that same mistake that almost cost me my sister.”
you sucked in a breath. hot tears pricked your eyes, threatening to cascade. you’d considered that you might have had feelings for ethan, but hearing it aloud really solidified things. you were out of your mind in love with your best friend who may or may not have been a killer, and that was why you covered his tracks without a second thought.
“please,” sam whispered, looking at you with desperation in your eyes. “if there’s anything you’re not telling us that could help, tell me. i understand.”
“ethan’s not a killer.”
“are you convincing me or yourself?”
“ethan’s not a killer,” you said with a little more vigor, but a lot less confidence. “i’ve known him since last year and i think i would know if my best friend had murderous tendencies.”
sam said your name, but with one glance at the clock you were already throwing on your coat and heading towards the front door. “i’ve got to go meet him,” you announced, turning on your heels for a second. “i’ll send you a pic or something to prove that he was there if that’s what you want.”
then you left.
ethan was already inside your apartment when you got there, which wasn’t alarming because you’d given him a spare key a couple of months prior to this fiasco. likewise, you knew where he hid the spare to his and chad’s apartment.
“hey,” ethan said when he saw you enter the living room, glancing up from his phone. “i didn’t start the movie.”
“i see that,” you said, taking out your phone from your pocket. “do me a favor and look cute while i take a quick picture of you.”
ethan covered his face when he saw you pointing your phone at him. “what? you can’t do that - i’m camera shy!”
“oh, please,” you droned. “basically everyone thinks that you’re fucking ghostface and i wanted to have a picture of you ready to go just in case someone gets attacked. again.”
“to prove that i’m not ghostface?”
you mocked, “now you’re getting it!”
ethan rolled his eyes. then, he sobered, staring at you emptily. “what if i am ghostface?”
“what?”
“i mean, what if mindy’s right - what if i’m… dangerous,” he said, rising to his feet. you were rooted in place when he crept towards you. “i’m always coincidentally missing during the attacks, and everyone thinks i’m with you, but we both know that that isn’t true.”
you could hear your heart thumping in your ears, getting louder with every step he took forward until he’d backed you into a wall, effectively caging you like an animal. “don’t you ever wonder where i am?”
you shook your head.
“you’re such a liar. a very pretty liar,” ethan whispered, lips curling into a wicked grin. warmth spread through your chest. ethan thinks i’m pretty. “speaking of which - why do you lie for me? i mean, i don’t even have to ask.”
“because you’re not a killer and i want to save everyone time,” you told him, though your voice had completely lost all thunder and confidence.
ethan groaned, throwing his head back. “okay, this excuse was cute the first couple of times, but i’m bored now. i need you to come up with something else.”
“it’s the truth,” you whispered.
“no, it’s not. and you wanna know what i think?” asked ethan, curling your hair around his finger. “i think it’s because you like me.”
your throat went dry and you shook your head.
“no?” ethan asked, cocking his head to the side. “well, i have to admit that i like you. i know we’re just best friends and all, but… would it be so bad if we were more?”
there was a record scratch in your head. ethan liked you?
something switched in you. all rational thinking was officially off the table. you were now consumed by months-worth of pining that was rotting you from the inside out like a spoiled apple, and something made you raise on the tips of your toes, meeting your lips to ethan’s.
ethan was surprised for a split second at your boldness, then chuckled, trapping you in his arms. it was a reckless kiss, full of mutual longing and hair-pulling, and groaning. you tangled your fingers through his long, curly tresses while his found purchase at your hips, holding you tight as ever.
“i want you,” you rasped when your mouths finally parted, as if you were coming up for air at the pits of an ocean, swimming in each other’s love. “more than anything.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” you repeated, staring into his beautifully brown eyes.
“fuck,” ethan said, locking lips with you again. almost like he couldn’t get enough.
frankly, you couldn’t, either.
that was how you ended up with your back to the couch, ethan’s fingertips on your bare thighs as he held them apart, head buried between your legs. all you could feel was pleasure and the lingering drumming of your heartbeat, numb to the grief and despair that’d mantled over your friends for the past few weeks.
there was something about the view of your legs thrown over ethan, caught over his broad, naked shoulders, while he was on his knees sucking the soul out of you. you remembered how he gathered your thighs in his big hands and pulled you towards the edge, draping your legs over him.
“fuck, ethan,” you whimpered, slipping your fingers through his hair. “you sure you’ve never done this before?”
ethan silently nodded, making a humming sound that shook you. his tongue was giving its undivided attention to your clit, a pair of his fingers stuffed inside your cunt. he wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, but from the way your features tensed with pleasure, it had to be something right.
you were driving him mad with lust and you were hardly even doing anything. the way you cried out his name with that sweet tongue of yours when his thumb rubbed your clit should have been a crime, to say nothing of how utterly tight you were around his fingers, squeezing around him with the wettest of sounds.
shit, he got you this wet? ethan - much like everybody else - knew you had a thing for him with how you defended him with your life, though this was desire of the next level. in a way, it was more than lust. it was burning. from the head down, judgment clouded by mantles of smoke, so to speak.
which explained everything on your end. the lying, the deception. you knew in your heart that there was almost nothing that you wouldn’t do for him, because you loved him.
“oh my fucking god,” you cried, sensitive. “ethan, baby, i’m so close.”
ethan was painfully hard right now, rutting his hips against the side of the couch at your pretty sounds. “you’re close?” he repeated, in spite of the signs glaring him in the face. your legs trembled like you were quaking, a pulse between them.
you answered him in a moan, hands slipping out of his hair as you instead squeezed one of the couch pillows for dear life, afraid of hurting him.
“cum for me,” ethan said, lifting from your glistening pussy while substituting his mouth with his hands. “i wanna see you cum.”
looking at his eyes was all it took to shatter you. it was too quick for him to be finishing you, but he was. nice and hard.
it was like nothing you’d ever felt before, a kind of intensity you quickly understood only lived between each other. his name parted your open mouth in a scream-adjacent sound sure to do a number on the neighbors and your fingers found purchase in the pillow pressed to your bosom as your vision blurred white. ethan could feel you tightening around his long, thick fingers, and he so badly wished that it was his dick you were cumming on right now.
then, you went slack, not even realizing your back had arched off the sofa until it met the cushion again.
ethan, in awe at the sight of you orgasming, withdrew his fingers from your pussy with a squelch and said, “open.”
you opened your mouth without a second thought.
it took you by surprise when he shoved his fingers down your throat, but you sucked your own arousal off of them without a second thought - without having to be told. it was like you always just knew what he wanted. pleased, ethan hummed, “that’s it.”
you were back to earth for a second, slowly re-entering the real world as the lingering euphoric high of your orgasm gently faded. you took his fingers out of your mouth when you were done, smiling at the sight of him with your arousal giving his lips a wet glimmer. like you wanted to make him proud.
“you, woman,” ethan started, sucking in a breath. “are going to drive me crazy.”
you giggled, watching him come to a stand, though not without accidentally bumping your (thankfully empty) coffee table and sending it flat to its side. the two of you devolved into more giggles and ethan leaned over you to catch your lips in another kiss.
but as his lips started to travel lower, your giggles turned into soft sighs. you fumbled with his pants, somehow managing to take them off.
when his underwear came off too, you gaped at the sheer size of him. he was so big. matter of fact, that word didn’t do him justice.
ethan pushed your jaw up and teased, “you’ll catch flies.”
“oh, shut up,” you groaned lightheartedly. “jesus, you really walk around with that pussy-destroyer attached to you?”
ethan snorted at your choice of words. “can i destroy yours?”
you chortled, amused. “never say that again,” you whispered, grabbing the back of his head and drawing him into you.
ethan smiled into your lips. i’ll take that as a yes.
so that was exactly what he did.
you thought about what happened that night a dozen times, deciding it was simultaneously the best and worst mistake of your life. on the one hand, you’d had amazing, mind-blowing orgasms thanks to ethan and he reciprocated your feelings. you thought he did, at least. you couldn’t really tell if it was genuine or just some kind of unnecessary bait to get you to sleep with him, as if you wouldn’t have offered your body to him on a silver platter regardless.
whatever he wanted, his wish was your command. but on the other hand, that was your problem, guilt gnawing at you from the inside out. fear, too. you were a macher, you had the blood of a serial killer keeping you alive. you’d always felt guilty for that, but then you remembered ethan’s weird behavior prior to that first kiss.
a part of you wanted to believe he was joking around, just like you always believed him when he told you he was doing this or that while your friends fought for their lives. but contrary to what you told him, you did think about where he was all those times when he stood you up. you just tried to drown the thoughts out.
but you couldn’t drown them out now. what if he was the killer? no, that doesn’t make sense. ethan wouldn’t hurt anybody, would he?
it made sense, but you didn’t want to accept that all the signs pointed to him. sam was wrong. love wasn’t blind - not for you. you noticed all the little things, all the big ones, too, and never said a word to anyone.
that was why you felt guilty.
you are such a fucking dumbass, you chided yourself. you’d slept with a potential killer, which ironically made things make even more sense. if ethan did like you like he said he did, that would explain why you were the only ones who’d yet to get hurt at all, much less be in the same room during the attacks.
shouldn’t ghostface have at least called you? you were in the friend group too, and close to sam. matter of fact, you were a target. they’d tried to frame you for the crimes. you still remembered sitting in detective bailey’s office with sam and tara, baffled.
that was when your phone started to ring.
you jolted, startled. maybe it was ethan, who’d been trying to reach you for the past few days following the hookup, but you were too conflicted to speak to him right now. or maybe it was ghostface, but all your friends were pretty sure that was a synonym for ethan at this point.
when you looked at the caller id, much to your surprise, it was mindy. you pressed your phone to your ear and said, “hello?”
“hey, ghostface,” greeted mindy. you heard chad and sam groan in the background, saying something about her needing to stop being so mean to you. “the gang are at chad’s job and you’re invited to the hangout.”
“you’re hanging out,” you started, trying to wrap your head around her words. “at chad’s job?”
“we’re hanging out,” chad said, having snatched the phone from mindy. you also figured that you were on speaker. “come on, it’ll be fun. it’s a wednesday night, nobody ever comes here on wednesday nights. plus, you can get discounted surfboards.”
you grumbled, “what the fuck am i going to do with a surfboard?”
“i don’t know. surf, maybe?” chad retorted.
“give me my phone back,” mindy snarled, taking her phone from her twin. “listen, sam said you should come and i don’t think her wrath is something you wanna deal with right now.”
“okay, i’m coming. i’m coming,” you said, swiping your keys on the counter and slipping on your shoes.
“see’ya.”
the call disconnected. “jesus,” you mumbled under your breath, heading out the front door.
chad worked part-time at a surf shop that happened to not be too much of a distance from your apartment. you walked inside, chad behind the bar flirting with tara, mindy and sam arguing over a surfboard design that mindy thought that was hideous and sam found cute, but your eyes locked on ethan.
you didn’t know why you thought that he wouldn’t be here.
you shifted your gaze. this was about to be the most awkward hangout of your life.
“look who’s here in the flesh,” chad announced, almost looking surprised to see you there.
mindy clasped her hands together and said, “yes, instead of cutting other people’s flesh.”
chad groaned, “god, mindy, could you stop with the accusations for five goddamn seconds?”
“it’s fine, chad,” you said, ignoring her. “so, remind me why we’re hanging out at a surf shop of all places again?”
“because what better place to hang out than at a shop with terrible surfboard designs,” replied mindy.
sam exclaimed, “the design was cute!”
“to you,” mindy and tara retorted in unison.
ethan had been watching you, and his fixed gaze was not lost on you, but you had no intention of reconciling with him right now. he shifted his attention and asked, “what if we get, like, attacked?”
mindy brushed him off. “you’re here, ghostface. why would we get attacked?”
“i mean, there is usually more than one,” you added, not sparing ethan a glance in spite of the fact that you could feel his weighty stare on your shoulder.
mindy pointed at you. “that’s why you’re here, too.”
is that what this was about - they were trying to see if you were ghostface?
“we were together,” you insisted, as if that were the problem.
mindy rolled her eyes, mocking, “‘i was with ethan’ this, ‘ethan was with me’ that. yeah, chopping up people’s bodies like bonnie and clyde!”
you glanced at sam who immediately raised her hands, as if to say she was innocent. you thought she trusted you.
that was when you saw a cloaked figure closing in on her and you screamed, “behind you!”
sam skirted out of the way just in time to slip shy of the ghostface’s knife, alarming the six of you. you all immediately started to run, screaming in terror.
chad darted from behind the cash register with tara’s hand in his, dashing over to the entrance, but the door was locked from the inside. he grumbled, “what the fuck?”
you glared, shouting, “are you sure he’s not the killer?”
“don’t ever fucking say that again,” tara exclaimed in lieu of mindy, and frankly you weren’t inclined to get on the bad side of multiple people, so you kept your mouth shut.
then, the unimaginable happened, and the ghostface started charging after you. you ran as fast as you could, almost tripping over your own feet, zipping past racks of clothes. the ghostface caught you at a surfboard stand. you slid to the left, but it followed you, and the pattern repeated when you slid to the right. you made an instinct-driven decision to snatch one of the (agreeably ugly) surfboards off the stand that mindy and sam had been debating over, smacking the masked figure with it.
then, you ran for your life.
chad pointed at the surfboards and exclaimed, “see, they come in handy!”
you couldn’t be annoyed right now of all moments. what the fuck am i going to do with a surfboard? it looked like you had your answer.
the ghostface gave up on pursuing you for the meantime, chasing sam upstairs. mindy went behind her, and before following suit, chad said to tara, “there’s an exit at the back of that room. go see if it’s open.”
tara nodded, running away at the speed of light.
ethan tugged your hand and pulled you behind a shelf of flip-flops, pulling you towards the ground. you crept down, glancing around the corner, watching ghostface slash sam in the arm with a wince while you were hidden.
“why the hell have you been avoiding me?” ethan asked, whispering yet yelling at the same time.
you narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “do you really wanna talk about this while there’s a maniac chasing us with a knife?”
“yes, i do really wanna talk about this while there’s a maniac chasing us with a knife,” ethan retorted, briefly spying from the end of the shelf. “did you have some kind of post-nut clarity?”
you exhaled a breath. something like that, yeah. “i just need time to think.”
“you just need time to think?”
you bobbed your head.
ethan was obviously not pleased, asking, “what is there to think about? i like you and you like me.”
“and all our friends that we’re fucking bonnie and clyde,” you retorted.
“is that so bad?” ethan asked, nudging your side. “you don’t wanna be my ride-or-die?”
you didn’t get the chance to respond before you saw mindy topple over the railing and you rushed over to shove a clothing rack out of her way. it was a less than graceful fall and it still hurt like a bitch, but a lot less than metal. she rolled off your back, murmuring a faint, “thank you.”
you gave her a weak thumbs up.
you flitted your gaze upstairs just quick enough to see chad push the ghostface down to the ground floor. you pushed mindy out of the course of the fallen, broken railing, rolling over, and watched the ghostface crash into a glass display.
that was when tara ran from the back room, exclaiming, “the door was locked, but i got it open. come on - let’s motherfucking go!”
the five of you ran behind her, you and tara running upstairs to help sam - she had been stabbed in the arm - and tugging her out without looking back.
apparently you and sam were the only ones who drove your way to chad’s job, so tara took her keys and the six of you split up into two groups of three, agreeing to meet at the hospital.
but it didn’t stop there.
after getting bandaged up, sam said that she wanted to end things now - there was no point in drawing it out and waiting for more bodies to drop. you gave the killer an advantage that way. it was fortunate enough that none of you were killed during the attack, though mindy was still recovering from when she was stabbed and that, on top of today’s injuries, landed her a stay at the hospital.
the doctors said that had you not broken her fall, it would have been more serious.
there was a consensus that you’d call kirby and detective bailey, who both told you to gather at the shrine. ethan stayed behind to have some injuries looked at, but the other four of you went straight to the theater.
wrong move.
it was you that got the call from detective bailey with the newfound information on agent kirby. you’d been trying to clear the theater with sam when your phone rang, startling the both of you. you put the phone on speaker so that he could speak with both you and sam, your heart racing when he informed you both that she was no longer with the fbi and you guys needed to get out of there expeditiously. which you tried to do, but the doors were locked.
it all happened so fast.
one second, you were looking for an escape, and the next, you’d come face-to-face with ghostface. you and sam burst through the door to the concession stand room, startling chad and tara, the latter who had a slash going down her back.
you helped chad deter the ghostface while sam grabbed tara, and the four of you ran for lives. it felt like you were running in circles (probably because you were), as if you were in some sort of labyrinth. all the doors were locked. when you circled back to the concession stand, chad got stabbed just as you were running out of the door.
“no, chad!” screamed tara.
your heart wreched at the sight of chad dropping to his knees, blood gathering in his mouth and tears pricking his eyes, but you said to tara, “tara, we’ve gotta go, there’s nothing we can do for him right now.”
“run,” was the last thing chad whispered before he fell to the floor.
you, sam, and tara begrudgingly ran into the theater, abandoning chad. kirby ran into view, obviously a little roughed up, and said, “i’m here!”
“stay back,” you warned.
tara hissed, “we know it’s you, kirby.”
kirby was baffled. “what? no - one of them knocked me out!”
“get away from the girls,” shouted detective bailey, practically materializing out of thin air.
“what? whatever he’s been telling you, he’s lying!” kirby shouted, eyes widening in horror when she saw one of the ghostface coming up behind detective bailey. “behind you!”
just as detective bailey was about to get stabbed, he shot kirby to the floor and the ghostface retracted the knife. all you, sam, and tara could do was watch as everything unfolded before your eyes - all of the secrets and lies. “great job,” bailey said, lowering his gun as the second ghostface came to stand beside him. “both of you.”
“you?” tara asked.
detective bailey drawled, “yeah, of course me. frankly, i expected more from you and your sister after what you did to us.”
tara furrowed her brows. “what do you mean us?”
the ghostface to his left started to remove their mask, and when ethan unmasked himself, you stood there empty. there was no emotion stirring inside you - no pain, no fear, no anger, no shock. it was like you’d been milked dry to numb you for this moment where you’d run out of places to hide from the truth. where you’d have to confront it head-on.
sam glanced at you, your dull, expressionless face compared to hers and tara’s. “did you know?”
tara shook her head, looking at you with betrayal. “were you in on it?”
you said nothing. you felt nothing.
“this was your grandmother’s, sam,” ethan said, holding up his mask. “i guess it really does run in the fucking family. speaking of family, my name’s not ethan landry!”
detective bailey chuckled while the three of you were left in the dark.
“is it, dad?” ethan asked, grinning.
both of them started to laugh borderline hysterically, as if something was funny.
tara repeated, “dad?”
sam took a deep breath. “wait, if it’s you two, that just leaves… mindy?”
the moment of silence before the other ghostface unmasked themself was the most dreadful of all, and you felt a weird combination of relief and shock when you saw quinn’s ginger hair as she sang to sam and tara, “hey, roomies. didn’t see that one coming, did you?”
tara exclaimed, “yeah, because you died!”
“kind of didn’t, though,” quinn said. “it was a good way to get off the suspect list. stab gale weathers, stab mindy on the train. that sort of thing.”
detective bailey nodded along, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “yup, and i just made sure i was first on scene so i could switch her body out with a fresh one. a little fake blood, a prosthetic. you’d be amazed at what a grieving father can get away with.”
“i got your father’s mask,” quinn said to you, walking around with stu macher’s mask. “he was my favorite.”
you frowned.
detective bailey went on some rant that you didn’t entirely grasp because your head was spinning, though it wasn’t necessarily directed to you as much as it was the carpenter’s, which made you second-guess your involvement in this. why frame you for your own boss’ death if they didn’t want you dead, too?
“you’re a killer,” detective bailey said, pointing to sam. “just like your father!”
sam screamed, “no, i’m not!”
quinn screamed even louder, face tensing with anger, “yes, you are, motherfucker - you killed our brother!”
“you said your brother died in a car accident,” tara reminded.
“no, no, no, you sweet, dumb thing,” ethan said. “he died in woodsboro at the hands of your sister.”
sam glanced from ethan to quinn until her eyes finally landed on detective bailey again and the realization settled in within the three of you. she said after a moment, “you’re richie’s family.”
“yeah,” detective bailey said somberly. “now, it wasn’t until i saw those photos of what you did, i knew that you had to fucking die - you had to be punished! along with anyone else who stands in our way.”
you felt all the air whoosh out of your lungs when detective bailey finally seemed to perceive you, glancing towards you. he said your name. “you’re probably wondering what the hell this has to do with you. stu macher was richie’s favorite too, you know. and when i found out that his illegitimate daughter was friends with my son, well, i knew you could be useful.”
“what the fuck are you talking about?” you exclaimed.
bailey waved you off. “you proved yourself to be very useful indeed, without having to be asked. being ethan’s alibi every time without fail in spite of being the only one to know he’s never where he says he is? come on, you’re a smart girl. i’m sure you knew who he was long before this.”
you looked to your feet, cowering. you could feel sam and tara’s eyes on you and it made you queasy.
tara made a jab at detective bailey which led him to go on another tangent about not being the perfect father and the bond between a father and his first-born son, but your eyes were locked on ethan. you could feel his stare on you, too, his pair of eyes as weighty as the carpenter’s. you could see something in him falter the more bailey went on about richie, but something hadn’t been right with him since the reveal. he seemed so… out of it.
bailey shifted his attention back to you, having had enough of being distracted by the sisters, and said your name again. “i dragged you into this to make you a deal. you’ve already proved that you would make a great partner. and i want you to be on our team.”
tara shouted, “what?”
“nobody’s talking to you, bitch,” roared quinn.
“you have to pick a side. them,” detective bailey said, waving his knife towards sam and tara. “or us.”
the spotlight was on you. your heart was racing, thumping in your ears. it felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. you stood in the middle. to your left, you saw sam and tara, shaking their heads in an attempt to discourage you. but to your right, you saw ethan and his family, ethan giving you the blankest, stare.
it almost felt apologetic, but this was do-or-die now. you couldn’t let your affairs of the heart take your life.
the detective tried to win you over, starting, “this is what your father would have wanted. don’t you want to make your daddy proud?”
you’d been walking over to them, much to sam and tara’s dismay, but those words made you grind to a halt as everything became clear to you. and you fucking chuckled. “you don’t care about ethan.”
detective bailey’s brows furrowed. “what are you talking about?”
ethan shouted, “you watch your mouth!”
you shook your head, raising your hand at ethan from afar as you put the pieces together. “no, i bet it’s always richie this, richie that. ethan, did you want to do this from the jump?”
“of course, he did,” bailey lied, sneering at you. “this is for his brother!”
“god, do i know,” you groaned. your eyes locked on ethan. “i’m sure the idea sounded brilliant in your head. juke the roommate lottery, meet chad, kill all your friends and maybe, just maybe dad will love you the way that he loved richie. is it working? did you make daddy proud? are you proud of him, detective bailey?”
quinn screamed at the top of her lungs, “shut the fuck up!”
but you didn’t. you kept talking. you kept pushing. “i know who my father was. and i know who i am. maybe i was scared that because his blood is running through me right now, that i’d end up just like him. but i’m more than stu macher’s daughter.”
detective bailey looked unimpressed and ready to get this over with. “what exactly are you, then?”
“i’m the girl that’s going to walk out of here and live to tell the story,” you hissed, much to bailey’s amusement.
you shifted back to your would-be boyfriend.
“so, ethan. you choose. do you want to be the hero in my story,” you pointed to sam and tara. “or the villain?”
it wasn’t unnoticed how you looked detective bailey plain in the eye.
everybody’s eyes were on ethan. the silence was the most terrifying of it all, the prolonged agony of the unpredictable. you liked to think that you knew ethan, but this was the only way you could be sure.
the anticipation blindsided everyone in the room when ethan made the shocking decision to walk over to you and spoke, “i just want to be whatever you need.”
you stayed on-guard as he approached you, seeing as he was armed and it could have been a trick, but you were pleasantly surprised when he handed you his knife.
“well, i need a hero,” you told him.
“then i’ll be that.”
shit hit the fan and everybody immediately went to war.
ethan grabbed your hand, somehow managing to pull you away undetected as his family dealt with the brutal sting of betrayal by unleashing it onto the carpenter’s.
you whispered, “eth, i can’t stay here. they’re my friends. do you think my father would have just hid?”
ethan shot back, “i thought you didn’t want to be like your father?”
“well, maybe he had some admirable characteristics,” you hissed, beginning to run to protect your friends.
“wait,” ethan called out, grabbing your wrist. “you’re forgetting something.”
you gave him a confused look, but it all melted away when he smashed his lips against yours, kissing you with all the emotions a man could bear. you kissed him back just as passionately, almost as if it would be the last time.
“i love you,” ethan exhaled when he pulled away, because you two were running out of time. “i never would have hurt you, i need you to know that. that’s why i made plans with you and then i bailed. i wanted to make sure you weren’t there, so you’d be safe.”
“ethan,” you started.
ethan ignored you, emotionally continuing, “i didn’t want to do this. i just wanted to feel like i meant something to him. and i know sorry isn’t going to bring your friends back, but...”
you cried out, “e, behind you!”
ethan turned around just in time to see quinn trailing him with a knife. “you chose the wrong side, brother. a loose fucking whore over your family?”
“you watch your fucking mouth, quinn,” ethan growled, charging towards his sister.
you watched in terror, considering he was unarmed.
“go,” ethan shouted to you, looking back for a second. “baby, go!”
you begrudgingly did as told, running out of the room and locating sam and tara who were currently fighting detective bailey. you hid behind him, undetected, and lunged at him. he heard you approaching and turned at the last second, but his arm still got caught on your blade and you managed to slice him up a little.
“you’re going to regret that,” detective bailey seethed, coming towards you.
out of nowhere, quinn charged back into the room, slightly injured but a beast nonetheless - almost as if the pain didn’t bother her. but you didn’t see ethan, which filled your heart with worry.
you didn’t have time to ask questions, because when quinn saw the knife in your hand and the wound on her father, she immediately beared what was left of her teeth (you had seen sam and tara holding bricks) and came for you.
tara moved at the speed of light and toppled the tv over, the one that had killed your father all those years ago, and sent it crashing down with quinn’s body. you heard something break that obviously wasn’t the tv and saw her go limp.
sam mocked to bailey, “looks like you’re down another child.”
“you,” hissed detective bailey, charging at sam, until you heard a gunshot and he sank down to his knees, wounded.
you turned around and spotted ethan holding the trigger. he was limping towards you, blood dripping through the fabric of his costume, and he’d obviously been stabbed.
“ethan,” you called out, almost coming over to get him.
“i’m fine,” he said, holding up his hand to stop you in your tracks. “i’m okay.”
detective bailey glanced at his only remaining child, speaking faintly, “you’re making a fatal mistake, son.”
ethan shook his head, face tensing with rage. “it stops right here, dad. it stops with you. no more of this bullshit.”
sam glanced at you. “you want to do the honors?”
you bobbed your head. “hell, yeah,” you said, walking up to detective bailey’s body.
“you’re just like your father too,” he hissed. “you always will be!”
“maybe,” you whispered, crouching down. “but you’re forgetting one thing.”
bailey barked, “what?”
“i’d have to actually kill somebody to be just like him, and there’s no one better to start with than you,” you crooned, smiling like the devil. “for richie.”
“for richie,” sam repeated when you raises your knife.
you jabbed the knife right between his eyes, stabbing as deep as you possibly could as you watched the detective’s face pale, before all the life was drained from it altogether.
when he stilled, it was like a breath of fresh air. sam and tara went to sit at the steps while you came over to ethan, lowering him to the ground and applying pleasure to his wound. he hissed in pain, and you whispered, “sorry. i’m sorry. i know it hurts, but we have to stop the bleeding.”
“it’s okay,” ethan whispered, looking into your eyes. “if i die right now, at least you’ll be the last thing i see.”
“don’t fucking say that,” you whispered, tears burning your eyes. “you’re gonna be okay. we’ll get an ambulance here and they’ll help you, and you’re gonna need a really good fucking lawyer.”
ethan snickered, brushing your hair out of your face. “isn’t the macher family rich?”
you rolled your eyes, bringing your lips to his as you kissed him with all the love in the world.
he would pull through, you knew he would. everything was going to be okay.
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