Scream X Reader - Tumblr Posts

may i request for fic with Tara x Fem!reader or GN!reader, where Tara taller than short reader and Tara is also Ghostface!, but she would never hurt reader. BUT accidentally somehow the reader dies in Tara's arms due to another ghostface guy lmao

In These Arms of Mine

☆〜 Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

☆〜Genre: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Slight Fluff

☆〜Word Counts: 3.6k

☆〜 Warnings: too much Shakespeare references, violence, blood, murder, some cute fluff

Tara stood ominously over the frail girl before her, Cassie Millis. They used to be close until Cassie's relentless harassment of (Y/n) pushed them apart. A twisted sense of justice grew within Tara, convincing her that what she was about to do was right. She believed she was protecting her girlfriend, shielding her from the harsh outside world.

"Please, don't kill me," Cassie pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. She curled into a fetal position, a feeble attempt to shield herself from the impending danger. Blood pooled beneath her, staining the floor in a morbid display. Tara's head tilted to the side, an unsettling aura emanating from her very being, casting a haunting presence over the room.

The atmosphere grew thick with tension as Tara stood over Cassie, her figure shrouded in darkness. Her eyes, filled with a mix of determination and conflicted emotions, fixated on her defenseless victim. The air seemed to grow colder, as if the room itself recoiled from the malevolence that hung in the air.

Tara's gaze pierced through Cassie, her silence unnerving. A chilling stillness settled over them, broken only by the sound of their labored breaths. The weight of their shared history, the fractured friendship, loomed heavy in the space between them.

Cassie's voice wavered, barely audible as she pleaded for mercy. Her words hung in the air, a desperate plea that seemed to echo through the room. But Tara remained unmoved, her expression betraying a sense of inexorable purpose.

“Tara, I’m so sorry,” She sobbed curling into herself more, chocking her tears when Tara angrily kicked the discarded mask towards her, hitting her feet before settling by her side.

Slowly, Tara raised the knife, its gleaming blade catching the faint light. Tara's gaze fixated on the bloodied blade in her hand, relishing the power it symbolized. Cassie's soft whimpers echoed in the air, fueling her twisted determination. The cold metal felt heavy in her hand, its presence a chilling reminder of the darkness that had consumed her. Every fiber of her being yearned for another way, for forgiveness and redemption, but she knew deep down that it was too late for such resolutions.

Their eyes locked, conveying volumes of unspoken words. Tara's torn mask lay discarded, a macabre symbol of their shattered friendship. She leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper, laced with a haunting sense of finality.

"This is what it’s fucking come to, Cassie," Tara seethed, her voice laced with anger and determination. "There's no turning back now."

Cassie's eyes widened in shock, a mixture of disbelief and betrayal washing over her face. She tried to find the words, to plea for mercy, but the weight of the situation paralysed her.

Tara leaned in close, her grip on Cassie's chin tightening with a vengeful force. Cassie winced in pain, her eyes squeezed shut as Tara's words seared into her ears. "You should have left us the fuck alone." With a swift, merciless motion, Tara plunged the knife into Cassie's stomach, their eyes locked in a chilling gaze. As life slowly ebbed away from Cassie's fading eyes, her face grew pale and lifeless, her lips stained with the vivid crimson of her own blood. Tara pushed her away with disdain, casting her aside like a discarded object. Cassie's head crashed to the ground, the thud echoing through the room like a final punctuation mark on her tragic demise.

Tara hastily gathered her blood-soaked belongings, cramming them into her backpack with a sense of urgency. She glanced at the clock, “Shit!” Time was ticking, and she needed to make her escape. With one last glance at the lifeless body of Cassie, a mix of adrenaline and unease coursed through her veins. She knew she had to leave the scene before the consequences caught up with her.

As she stepped out into the stormy night, rain pelted down heavily, drenching her to the core. The downpour seemed almost cathartic, washing away the physical remnants of her dark deed. Tara's gaze shifted to her hands, once stained with blood, now gradually clearing as the rainwater mingled with the crimson. It reminded her of Lady Macbeth's words, "A little water clears us of this deed." Though in her case, it was not a mere washing away of guilt, but rather an attempt to conceal the evidence and hide the truth.

Her hair clung to her face, a disheveled mask concealing the sweat and stickiness of her skin. The storm raged on, mirroring the turmoil within her. Tara knew that her actions would have lasting consequences, regardless of how well she tried to hide them. The rain offered a temporary respite, but the weight of her deeds would remain, forever etched upon her conscience.

Rounding the corner, Tara's eyes locked onto the familiar sight of her girlfriend's house, a place that held so many cherished memories. It stood as her sanctuary, a refuge from the darkness that consumed her. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, envisioning the warmth and comfort that awaited her inside those walls.

Her thoughts drifted to (Y/n), her petite frame and the way her laughter filled the room. Tara longed to hold her in her arms, to feel their bodies intertwined and find comfort in her embrace. (Y/n) was her sun, radiating love and light even in the darkest of times. Right now, Tara needed that warmth more than ever.

She quickened her pace, anticipation coursing through her veins. Each step brought her closer to the one person who could provide the solace she sought. As Tara approached the front of the house, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the illuminated living room. The warm glow spilled out onto the porch, signaling that her parents were still awake. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, knowing she had to find another way inside without arousing their suspicion.

She navigated the darkened path along the side of the house, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the pouring rain. Droplets cascaded from the leaves above, drenching her further as she made her way to the back. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth, mingling with the anticipation that hung in the atmosphere.

Standing beneath (Y/n)'s window, Tara glanced up at the illuminated silhouette behind the curtains. Her heart swelled with longing and a mischievous smile played upon her lips. With a flick of her wrist, she plucked a handful of small stones from the wet ground and let them soar through the air.

The stones sailed through the rain-soaked night, creating a gentle symphony of clinks as they struck the windowpane. Tara's eyes remained fixed on the window, hoping that the sounds of her impromptu serenade would pierce through the noise of the rain. Each stone was a small gesture, a tangible manifestation of her desire to be near (Y/n).

And then, like a scene from a romantic tale, the curtains fluttered and parted, revealing the face of her beloved. The sight of (Y/n)'s eyes widened in surprise and delight brought a surge of joy to Tara's heart. She watched as the window slowly opened, revealing a small figure framed against the warm glow of the room.

Tara couldn't help but chuckle softly, her laughter mixing with the pitter-patter of raindrops around her. She raised an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling with playfulness.

"Alright Romeo," (Y/n) teased, a smirk dancing on her lips. "What's with the whole romantic gesture in the pouring rain, did you watch the notebook again?"

Raindrops glistened on her hair and cascaded down her face, but her smile remained undeterred. Tara chuckled softly, a mix of excitement and relief filling her voice.

"Couldn't resist the allure of a classic romantic gesture, could I?" Tara quipped, her tone lighthearted despite the intensity of her emotions. "But I come bearing a rain-soaked kiss instead of roses."

(Y/n) laughed, her gaze filled with affection as she leaned closer to the window. "Well, I can't say no to that. Climb on up, Romeo."

With nimble movements, Tara scaled the trellis beneath the window, her wet clothes clinging to her like a second skin. As she reached the window sill, she pulled herself up and entered (Y/n)'s room, rainwater dripping from her onto the floor. The room was warm and cozy, a sanctuary from the storm outside.

They stood face to face, their height differences adding a playful charm to the interaction, Tara gazed down at (Y/n), her eyes full of love. She would do anything for her, their smiles reflecting the deep connection between them. Tara's fingers brushed against (Y/n)'s cheek, tracing the path of a raindrop as it made its way down. Their eyes locked, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"I needed to see you," Tara admitted softly, her voice filled with sincerity. "I was having a rough night."

(Y/n)'s hand reached out, intertwining their fingers. "I'm here for you, Tara. Always." (Y/n)’s manicured finger lightly pushed into her chest, “and if I’m not, I’ll always be in your heart.”

Tara's heart raced with anticipation as she gazed into (Y/n)'s eyes, feeling an irresistible pull towards her. In a surge of passion, she crushed her lips against (Y/n)'s, their mouths melding together in an intense kiss.

Their tongues danced in a sensual tango, exploring each other's mouths with fervor and desire. (Y/n)’s hands tangled in Tara's damp hair, pulling her closer, deepening the connection between them. Their bodies pressed against each other, the warmth and heat emanating between them intensifying with each passing second.

They broke away for a brief moment, their heavy breaths mingling in the night air. Their eyes locked, their pupils dilated with a mixture of love and lust. Without uttering a word, they knew they couldn't resist the magnetic pull any longer. Tara's lips descended upon (Y/n)'s once again, claiming them with a hunger that spoke of their insatiable longing.

Their kisses became a fervent symphony, a passionate exchange of lips and tongues that expressed their deepest desires. Moans and sighs escaped their mouths, lost in the intoxicating sensation of their bodies entwined.

The world around them disappeared as they succumbed to the intoxicating bliss of their connection. Time became irrelevant as they immersed themselves in the depths of their desire, the rain serving as a backdrop to their passionate embrace.

But as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the house, reality crashed back into their consciousness. (Y/n)'s eyes widened in panic, her hand clasping Tara's tightly. With urgency, she pushed Tara into her closet, the door closing just as her parents entered the room, oblivious to the passionate moments that had just transpired.

Tara watched from the darkness as (Y/n) greeted her mother, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and secrecy.

"(Y/n), your father and I are just heading out to see a movie," (Y/n)'s mother said with a gentle smile, her voice carrying a mix of warmth and concern. She wrapped her arms around her daughter, embracing her tightly before planting a tender kiss on her forehead. Tara watched with a mix of admiration and longing as the mother-daughter bond unfolded before her.

As (Y/n)'s mother pulled away from the hug, her heels clicked against the floor, adding a rhythmic beat to the room. She walked over to the open window, her tone filled with a blend of worry and light-heartedness. "How many times have I told you to close your windows, sweetheart? I don't want to come home to find you in any danger."

Tara's gaze shifted between (Y/n)'s mother and her girlfriend, hidden in the shadows of the closet. She marveled at the genuine concern in her voice, appreciating the depth of a mother's love and protection. Swiftly she made her way downstairs to meet her husband.

Suppressing a giggle, Tara couldn't help but find amusement in the irony of the situation. She, the one who dwelled in the darkness, now stood in the sanctum of (Y/n)'s room, concealed from the watchful eyes of her family.

Emerging from the closet, Tara's eyes met (Y/n)'s, an unspoken understanding passing between them. She reached out, her fingers intertwining with (Y/n)'s, their touch reverberating with an undeniable connection. The room seemed to fade into the background as they stood together, their love shining bright amidst the shadows.

"I promise, I’ll never let you get hurt," Tara whispered, her voice filled with determination and devotion. "Someone’s got to break the Romeo and Juliet curse." (Y/n) chuckled, burying her flushed cheeks into Tara’s shoulders, “You need to stop with all this Shakespearean shit Tar, we get it, you’re good at English!”

Both girls lay tangled together on the small bed, their bodies entwined in an intimate embrace. The laptop sat forgotten between them, the movie playing in the background serving as mere background noise to their shared moment. Loving gazes passed between them, each glance interrupted by an occasional scream from the movie that had lost their attention long ago.

As the credits began to roll, Tara let out a soft sigh, the weight of impending departure settling upon her. "I should probably get going," she murmured, her voice carrying a mix of longing and resignation. She felt (Y/n)'s fingers lightly tracing over her freckles, the gentle touch sending shivers down her spine.

(Y/n), still in a drowsy state, tightened her hold around Tara's waist, her touch comforting and possessive. She leaned in, her warm breath caressing the back of Tara's neck. "You could stay a little longer," she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of sleepiness. "I can tell my parents you're staying over."

Tara turned her head slightly, her lips curving into a tender smile. She understood the allure of staying, of being enveloped in (Y/n)'s love and warmth for a little while longer. But responsibilities tugged at her, reminding her of the impending essay awaiting her attention. "As much as I would love that," she replied softly, her voice filled with a mix of desire and duty, "I really need to start working on my essay. It's due on Monday."

With a gentle stretch, Tara began to disentangle herself from their embrace, her movements accompanied by a pang of reluctance. However, (Y/n), not ready to let her go just yet, reached out and wrapped a hand around Tara's waist, pulling her back towards her. Tara's heart skipped a beat as she felt (Y/n)'s lips press against the crook of her neck, a tender kiss that ignited a spark within her.

"Just use the front door," (Y/n) whispered, her voice filled with affection and a hint of mischief. "I need to lock it anyway." The words were accompanied by a yawn, a testament to their shared contentment and the peacefulness of the moment. Tara couldn't resist the magnetic pull of (Y/n)'s touch, and with a final glance, she decided to embrace the stolen moment a little while longer.

Slowly making their way down the stairs, Tara and (Y/n) clung to each other, cherishing the precious moments they had before their separation until Monday. As they descended, (Y/n) couldn't help but shiver, the sudden chill in the air catching her off guard. Confused, she made her way towards the thermostat, only to find it set at the usual temperature. Perplexed, she glanced back at Tara, who trailed behind her with a curious expression.

Cautiously stepping towards the entrance, (Y/n)'s eyes widened as she noticed the door had been left slightly ajar. A mix of irritation and amusement flickered across her face as she realized the irony of the situation. "And they complained about me leaving my window open?" she muttered under her breath. She sighed, turning up the heat on the thermostat. "I can't wait to use this against them the next time!"

Tara couldn't help but giggle at her girlfriend's sleepy rambling, finding solace in their playful banter. She leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to (Y/n)'s lips, their love and affection exchanged in that gentle touch.

"Goodnight," Tara whispered softly, her voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "I love you."

(Y/n)'s arms wrapped around Tara's neck, pulling her in for another lingering kiss. Their lips met, a fusion of love and longing, as they savored the taste of each other's presence. (Y/n) smiled, her voice filled with affection as she whispered, "Love you more, my Romeo."

Tara couldn't help but smile at the endearing nickname, a testament to the deep connection they shared. With a final exchange of loving glances, Tara opened the door, preparing to face the outside world once again. "Call me when you get home," she reminded Tara, her voice filled with a hint of concern and a touch of longing.

Tara began making her way down the street, her steps guided by the rhythm of the rain. Before she could fully disappear from sight, she glanced back, her gaze meeting (Y/n)'s figure still standing in the doorway. With a playful yet concerned tone, she called out, "Get inside and close the door before your house turns into a refrigerator!"

(Y/n) laughed, the sound of her joy echoing through the rain-soaked air. She shouted back with a mix of concern and affection, "Just keeping an eye on you until you reach the end of the street. The second I can't see you anymore, I'll close the door." Her words carried a sense of protection, a testament to her unwavering love and care.

Tara blushed at (Y/n)'s thoughtfulness, touched by her partner's determination to ensure her safety. She knew deep down that (Y/n) didn't need to worry about her, that she was more than capable of handling herself. Yet, in that moment, she appreciated the gesture, the reassurance of their bond.

As Tara neared the end of the street, ready to round the corner, she turned for one final glance back at (Y/n). A smile adorned her face as she waved, a burst of warmth and affection radiating from her being. But in an instant, the world shifted, and her smile faded into shock.

The image that met her eyes shattered her heart and stole her breath away. A knife, mercilessly plunged into (Y/n)'s stomach, transformed the scene of love and laughter into one of terror and despair.

(Y/n)'s hands gripped the hilt of the knife embedded in her stomach as she crumpled to the floor, her body falling limply onto the porch. From behind the partially open door, a tall figure emerged, donned in the same ghost face costume that Tara had hidden away in her backpack. The chilling presence exuded an air of malevolence, their intentions masked beneath the haunting visage.

Tara's heart pounded in her chest, her mind struggling to comprehend the horror that unfolded before her. Every instinct propelled her forward, her feet sliding on the rain-soaked ground as she stumbled towards (Y/n). Panic surged through her veins, her breaths coming in frantic gasps as she desperately tried to reach her beloved's side.

Who was this ghost face, and how had they discovered Tara's identity? Her mind raced with questions, her thoughts entangled in a web of confusion and disbelief. The realization struck her like a lightning bolt—someone had not only uncovered her secret, but they had deliberately targeted the person she loved most in the world.

As Tara fought against her own stumbling steps, her vision obscured by the rain and tears that blurred her sight, the figure disappeared into the house, their dark presence melding seamlessly into the shadows.

Kneeling beside (Y/n), Tara's hands trembled as she applied pressure to the leaking wound, her palms now coated in crimson that was spilt by her, not by her own volition. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the rain and blood as they fell onto (Y/n)'s stark features. Her words poured out in a desperate mantra, a desperate attempt to convince herself of the impossible.

"You're okay, (Y/n). You'll be okay, I promise," Tara's voice wavered, the weight of her broken promise heavy upon her. She knew deep down that the wound was fatal, that (Y/n)'s life was slipping away with each passing moment. The figure had inflicted a mortal blow, twisting the knife upon its extraction, leaving (Y/n) to bleed out on the cold, unforgiving floor.

(Y/n)'s grip on her side tightened in agony, yet her eyes, clouded by pain, held a gentle reassurance. She shook her head, her voice weakened by the loss of blood. "It's okay, Tara. I'll be okay," she whispered, her blood-stained hand reaching up to caress Tara's tear-streaked cheek. With a trembling finger, she pressed against Tara's heart, a gesture of eternal love and connection. "I'll always be right here."

Tara's attempts to staunch the flow of blood proved futile. The inevitability of the situation settled upon her like a heavy weight, crushing her spirit. She cradled (Y/n)'s fragile form against her chest, her sobs echoing through the empty night. "I promised," she choked out, her grip on (Y/n) tightening. "I was going to keep you safe."

As (Y/n)'s eyelids drooped, the light fading from her gaze, a bittersweet smile lingered on her face. Her voice, barely above a whisper, carried a love that would transcend death itself. "I love you, my Romeo."

Tara's heart shattered in that moment, the world around her crumbling into darkness. She held onto (Y/n) with all her might, as if by sheer willpower she could defy the cruel hand of fate. But as (Y/n) slipped away, Tara's cries of anguish mingled with the rain, a symphony of grief and loss that echoed through the night.

Authors Note

Why tf did tumblr delete my entire edited draft AH? Literally spent an hour on it and poof it was just gone, anyway I’m not feeling this story as much I think the endings a bit rushed but I’m also very sleep deprived so I think I have an excuse

I’ve finally finished writing the sequel to Solace, which is so aptly named Redemption, I realised I had a lot of anxiety when it came to my test results and a bunch of worries if I’d get into my dream university (which I did) that were stopping me from writing, it’s a lot longer than intended so I’m going to start editing it now so I’ll hopefully have it out for tonight, here’s to hoping :)

Also thanks all so much for you patience if you all like redemption I might make a third part for the final act :)

Redemption

Sequel to Solace

Pairings: Tara Carpenter x Fem! Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Hurt again, angst, some fluff

Warnings: violence, stabbing, character death

Word Count: 7.4k

Authors Note: thanks so much for all the patience you’ve shown me, I’m been very stressed these past few days with uni quickly approaching I’ve had no time to write, if you like this, I might make a third part about the final act. Hope you all enjoy

As (Y/n) lay quietly by Tara's side, her heart weighed heavy with guilt and love, as she gently caressed Tara's hair, trying to be a source of comfort in the dimly lit hospital room. Her fingers moved with tender care, tracing soothing patterns as she whispered words of reassurance. The events of the night replayed in her mind like a haunting melody, the fight they had before the attack now etched in her memory, making her ache with regret. She knew there was no way she could have predicted what would happen, but the guilt gnawed at her nonetheless.

Tara's eyes struggled to stay open, the exhaustion from the ordeal pulling her into a dreamless slumber. Her body was weak, but the warmth of (Y/n)'s touch gave her a sense of solace amid the chaos. The room remained enveloped in a profound silence, broken only by the faint hum of hospital equipment, and the gentle symphony of Tara's quiet breaths. (Y/n)'s heart swelled with love, vowing never to leave Tara's side again. She had come so close to losing the person she cherished most, and the fear of that loss had shaken her to her core.

The tranquility of the hospital room was shattered by the sound of frantic footsteps racing toward the door. Tara's heart pounded, her body tensing in anticipation. Despite the pain that shot through her as she attempted to sit up, she refused to remain vulnerable and defenseless. Beside her, (Y/n) held her hand tightly, her expression a mix of worry and determination.

The door swung open, and their friends burst into the room, a rush of relief and concern on their faces. (Y/n) stayed by Tara's side, never letting go of her hand, a steady anchor in the whirlwind of emotions. Wes stood at the foot of the bed, trying to sound confident in an attempt to reassure Tara that everything was under control.

"Don't worry, Tara. My mom's got everything under control," Wes said, his voice trying to sound reassuring, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "She's conducting interviews, and there's a curfew in place to keep everyone safe."

Chad chimed in with his own contribution, his tone tinged with sarcasm, "Yeah, Sheriff Hicks even interviewed me. Amber here thought I was the killer because of some football bruises!"

Amber raised her arms defensively, "I was just stating the facts. It's always someone you know, right?"

(Y/n) sighed loudly, interrupting the argument, her frustration evident. "Guys, seriously! This is the last thing Tara needs right now. If you're going to argue about petty things, just leave!"

The group fell into an uncomfortable silence, but it didn't last long. Mindy spoke up, her words laced with suspicion, "If we're going by Stab rules, how do we know it's not the love interest? I mean, isn't that what always happens?"

(Y/n)'s glare could have cut through steel, feeling hurt and betrayed that one of her closest friends could suggest such a thing. Tara squeezed her hand gently, offering her comfort and assurance. "It couldn't have been her," Tara said, her voice soft but firm. "(Y/n) was texting me the entire time. She scared off the killer before they..." Her voice trailed off as the memories of the terrifying ordeal washed over her, the pain and fear still fresh in her mind.

(Y/n) swallowed hard, her guilt gnawing at her. She knew she couldn't have arrived any earlier, but she still blamed herself for not being there to protect Tara. "I feel guilty enough for not being there in the first place," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "Please, can we talk about something else?"

As Chad tried to change the topic, the door to the room burst open once again, revealing a familiar face. Everyone stood on defence only to see Tara's sister Sam, she had changed a lot since (Y/n) had seen her last, her eyes were more sunken in, she had lost all the baby fat on her cheeks, but she had looked much healthier. (Y/n) could see the look of longing and relief that had rushed over Sams face seeing her sister, all beat up in the hospital bed.

"Sam?"

As the door swung open, the occupants of the room stood up abruptly, shock and surprise etched across their faces. Amber's expression seemed to hold a mixture of disdain and disbelief. It was no secret that Amber harbored resentment toward Sam for leaving her family abruptly, and (Y/n) couldn't shake the feeling that there was a hidden reason behind it all, something she couldn't quite fathom.

"You came?" Tara's voice was almost a whisper, carrying a mix of astonishment and emotion. Tara's eyes raked over Sam's features, as if trying to take in every detail she had missed during their time apart. In that moment, the absence of their mother, who had yet to visit, seemed insignificant. Sam was here, (Y/n) was here, and Tara was not alone anymore. "Of course I came. This is my boyfriend, Richie."

Richie offered a polite smile and extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you, and I'm sorry if I'm intruding." Tara managed a small grin, finding Sam's newfound openness endearing. She replied, "It's nice to meet you too." Richie seemed a bit awkward, almost hovering by the door, a stance that (Y/n) understood – he was an outsider in a situation fraught with tension. Sam went around the room, exchanging hugs with the friends who had become like family to Tara. She turned back to Richie, who appeared even more nervous now. A soft smile played on her lips. "These are Chad and Mindy, the twins, and Wes. I used to babysit them all."

(Y/n)'s gaze shifted to Richie, who seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting with the string on his backpack. An odd intuition nudged her, suggesting something was off about him, but she dismissed it as her own apprehension. Sam's call to her name brought her back to reality. "And (Y/n)'s been friends with Tara for as long as I can remember!" (Y/n) offered a smile, her grip on Tara's hand tightening briefly. "Girlfriend now, actually," she said, emphasizing the change in their relationship status. Tara's smile echoed the sentiment.

Sam's attention shifted to Amber, who stood opposite (Y/n) near Tara's bedside. She greeted her, only to receive a reluctant response. (Y/n) couldn't help but notice that Richie had only introduced himself back to Amber. Odd, she thought. The conversation turned to their absent mother, and Sam's inquiry highlighted her noticeable absence. Tara began to explain, "She's stuck at a conference in London, she called me earlier-"

Amber, ever the blunt one, cut her off, a clear note of resentment in her voice. "For all of ten minutes." Tara's gaze dropped to her lap, struggling to hold back her tears. The impact of Amber's words resonated through the room, prompting Amber to change the subject hastily. "Look, guys, Tara's really tired. Maybe we should just give her some space?"

The room seemed to agree in unison, with everyone beginning to leave. Tara's words, however, halted Sam. "Not you, Sam. I want you to stay." Sam's surprise was evident, but she nodded, her eyes welling up with gratitude. (Y/n) remained rooted by Tara's side, determined not to leave her.

"If it's okay with you, I can sleep here tonight?" Sam's voice was gentle, filled with the understanding that she was walking on fragile ground. Tara offered a smile, her heart warmed by her sister's presence. "I'd really like that."

(Y/n) reached out and took Sam's hand, offering her a genuine smile. "I'm glad you're here, Sam."

A soft shuffle drew their attention to Amber, who was still in the room. Leaning down to Tara's side, she whispered, "Do you have your extra inhaler?" Tara reassured her, and Amber left, with Richie following suit, his unease palpable.

As the door closed behind them, (Y/n) turned her attention back to Tara, her grip on Sam's hand not loosening.

Looking back to the sisters, (Y/n) noticed the intense exchange of looks between them, a telltale sign that a very private moment was about to unfold. As Tara's body trembled, (Y/n) instinctively moved closer, her presence offering a silent promise of comfort and support.

Tara's emotions began to well up, and (Y/n) could tell she was on the brink of tears. With a gentle shift, she positioned herself closer to Tara, her arm finding a reassuring place atop Tara's intertwined hands. The sisters seemed to exist in their own world, yet (Y/n)'s presence was a steady anchor, a reminder that they were not alone in this moment of vulnerability.

"Sam, I was so scared," Tara's voice quivered, the vulnerability in her tone exposing the depth of her feelings. Sam immediately slipped into her role as the older sister, tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from Tara's face and holding her close. (Y/n)'s touch provided an additional layer of comfort, a subtle gesture of solidarity that only she and Sam could offer.

"I know," Sam's voice was a soothing balm, a simple affirmation that carried the weight of understanding.

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open as the door to the hospital room closed with a soft click, momentarily rousing her from a light slumber. Her gaze scanned the room, searching for any signs of movement or activity. The absence of Sam's presence in the chair next to Tara's bedside was noticeable, but (Y/n) assumed she had stepped out briefly, perhaps for a bathroom break. She allowed her eyes to drift shut again, intent on drifting back into a peaceful doze.

However, her tranquility was shattered like fragile glass when a quiet scream sliced through the air, instantly jolting her into a state of wide-eyed alertness. Her heart raced, and her body tensed as she sat up in bed, the remnants of sleep clinging to her senses. Her gaze honed in on the corner of the room, where Richie was seated, his head bowed, eyes glued to the screen of his iPad. The chilling atmosphere was heightened by the unmistakable sounds of a horror movie playing – sounds she recognized all too well.

Confusion and alarm etched across her features as she tried to make sense of the situation. The eerie background noises were unmistakably from one of the "Stab" movies – a franchise born from the real-life horrors the town of Woodboro had endured, which has resulted in Tara's unfortunate circumstances. Her voice trembled slightly as she found the words to break the silence that had descended like a heavy fog.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she demanded urgently, her eyes locked onto Richie's figure, searching for any signs of explanation or rationality. His sudden shift in attention, his fingers hovering over the iPad's screen, was a testament to her abrupt intrusion into whatever he was engrossed in.

Richie's gaze lifted from the screen, his eyes wide with surprise at being caught. He seemed momentarily flustered by her presence and her questions, his attempt at playing it off failing to mask his unease.

(Y/n)'s frown deepened as the unsettling sounds of the movie reached her ears once again. She couldn't deny the familiar disquiet that they stirred within her, the haunting echoes of the past becoming tangible in the present. "Are you watching... Stab?" Her voice held a mix of incredulity and incredulousness. It was as if her mind couldn't quite grasp the reality of the situation – the fact that Richie, someone on the outskirts of their ordeal, would be voluntarily subjecting himself to this eerie re of  trauma.

A shy, almost apologetic smile tugged at the corners of Richie's lips. It was a blend of embarrassment and hesitation, like a person caught red-handed in the act of something they knew wouldn't be well-received. "It's on Netflix," he explained, as if the familiarity of the streaming platform justified his choice of entertainment.

(Y/n)'s puzzled look lingered, her brow furrowing as she tried to understand the reasoning behind his actions. His next words only added to her confusion. "I want to be prepared in case—"

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips before she could even stop herself. Her frustration at the bizarre scenario was palpable, and she found herself standing up from her seat with an urgency that demanded an explanation. She was careful not to disturb Tara, who continued to sleep soundly nearby. "If you wanted to be prepared, you'd be on Wikihow," she retorted, her tone a mix of sarcasm and annoyance. With a quiet but determined resolve, she left the room, needing a breather from the disconcerting situation that had unraveled before her.

The tension in the air seemed to cling to her as she stepped into the corridor, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and bewilderment. The strange confluence of events left her grappling with a sense of unease, a nagging feeling that there was more to Richie's actions than met the eye. She couldn't shake the distrust that had taken root, like a seed of doubt that had been planted deep within her mind.

Navigating the hospital's corridors, (Y/n)'s steps were measured and her thoughts a mixture of concern and confusion. She couldn't shake off the unsettling encounter with Richie, his bizarre fixation on watching horror movies as some twisted form of preparation. She needed a moment to herself, a sip of water perhaps, to distance herself from the eerie undercurrents that seemed to be flowing through the hospital.

Approaching the break room, the quiet hum of the hallway was disrupted by an alarming cacophony emanating from within. Banging, clattering, and muffled grunts created an eerie symphony that sent shivers down her spine. Perplexed, she slowed her steps, her curiosity warring with her instinct to flee the chaos.

Just as she was about to reach for the door handle, the scene before her shifted in a blur of motion. Sam burst out of the room, her features a mask of shock and desperation. (Y/n) barely had time to react as Sam collided with her, the impact sending her sprawling to the floor. Sam's startled face met hers, their eyes locking in a brief moment of shared astonishment.

(Y/n) felt Sam's arms gripping her own, attempting to pull her up in the midst of their collision. The urgency of Sam's movements hinted at a deeper turmoil, a frantic need to escape whatever had transpired within the break room. But their awkward positioning and the chaos of the situation only added to the confusion.

In the midst of the chaos, the attempt to stand turned into a clumsy shuffle, a precarious dance of limbs and urgency. Sam's grip faltered, and (Y/n) found herself slipping from her grasp. As if guided by a malevolent force, Sam's foot landed in an unfortunate spot, her heel connecting with (Y/n)'s temple in a jarring impact.

Pain exploded through (Y/n)'s head, and her vision blurred as a high-pitched ringing echoed in her ears. The world around her swirled in a disorienting haze, and she struggled to make sense of what was happening. A blurry figure moved in the periphery of her vision – Ghostface.

As abruptly as the chaos had begun, it ended. Ghostface retreated, leaving behind an unsettling void. (Y/n) remained on the floor, dazed and immobilized by the shock of the encounter. The echoes of Sam's pleas and the ominous sounds of struggle gradually faded, replaced by the hospital's familiar, muted hum.

Amid the disorientation, a nurse arrived on the scenel. (Y/n) blinked, her vision gradually clearing as the nurse's calm voice and gentle touch reassured her. With the nurse's support, (Y/n) managed to rise from the floor, the ache in her temple a persistent reminder of the chaotic collision.

Guided by the nurse, (Y/n) walked, her steps unsteady, back to Tara's hospital room. Tara's attack, the encounter with Richie, the tumult in the break room, it all felt like an eerie dream that she couldn't quite shake off.

(Y/n)'s head throbbed mercilessly, each step feeling like a hammer strike against her temples. The hospital's harsh lights pierced through her skull, sending shockwaves of pain radiating in all directions. She squinted, her hand instinctively shielding her eyes from the blinding assault. As the door to the hospital room drew near, her gaze shifted to Richie, who stood outside with an eerie intensity. His arms were crossed, his ear pressed against the door – a disturbing sight that set her on edge.

Intent on addressing Richie's unsettling behavior, (Y/n) was about to confront him when a sudden, shrill voice rent the air, tearing through the tense silence.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Tara's raw, strained voice reverberated, piercing through the room like a knife. The scene froze, every person in the vicinity arrested by the unexpected outburst. Even the deputy stationed by the door widened his eyes in surprise. Richie, his demeanor shifting from curiosity to apprehension, swiftly moved out of the doorframe. (Y/n)'s light steps closed the gap between her and the unfolding situation, her heart pounding in anticipation.

With a strange sense of déjà vu, the door opened before her hand could even touch the handle. Sam stood before her, her face marred by blotchy redness and tear tracks. Clearly shaken by whatever had transpired inside the room, her eyes traced a path from the floor to (Y/n)'s face, finally settling on the bandaged temple. A quiet sniffle escaped Sam, her voice trembling as she spoke through her emotions.

"I'm sorry," (Y/n)'s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile, her gesture aimed at offering comfort amidst the chaos. She gently reassured Sam of her well-being before guiding her aside, her focus shifting to the heart of the storm – Tara.

Tara sat on the bed, her demeanor distant and lost in thought. Her gaze seemed to penetrate through everything, fixated on some invisible point in the distance. (Y/n) recognized that look – it was the expression of someone grappling with a truth too painful to fully comprehend. It was a mix of disbelief and realization, a storm of emotions brewing beneath a seemingly calm surface.

Whatever Sam had divulged in that room had clearly struck a deep chord within Tara. The weight of that revelation hung heavily in the air, casting a pall over the room and enveloping everyone in its shadow. (Y/n)'s heart went out to Tara, her desire to be a source of solace stronger than ever. As she approached the bed, she sent Tara a gentle, supportive look, silently offering her presence.

(Y/n) held Tara tightly, feeling the tremors coursing through her body as tears soaked her shoulder. Tara's voice wavered as she struggled to find words in the midst of her emotional turmoil.

"Why, (Y/n)? Why did Sam lie? Why did my mom keep this from me?"

(Y/n)'s own voice was laden with confusion as she held Tara closer, her heart aching for her girlfriend. "I don't know what you're talking about, Tara."

Tara's grip on (Y/n) tightened, as if she was seeking an anchor in the midst of the storm. "He was a killer, a psychopath. How could she be Billy Loomis' daughter?"

(Y/n)'s brows furrowed, her mind grappling to make sense of the pieces Tara was unveiling. Her mind was racing, trying to piece together the puzzle of their shattered reality. "Wait, are you saying Sam is... Billy Loomis' daughter?"

Tara's voice cracked, a mixture of anger and sorrow. "And my mom... how could she let me believe Sam was my sister all this time?"

(Y/n)'s fingers rubbed soothing circles on Tara's back, her own heart heavy with the weight of Tara's pain. "I can't even begin to understand, Tara."

Tara's breath hitched, her voice hollow as she questioned her own identity. "Who am I, (Y/n)? If Sam's not my sister, then... who is she?"

(Y/n)'s grip on Tara tightened as if trying to hold her pieces together. "We'll figure it out, Tara. We'll find the truth together."

Tara's voice wavered as she fought back a fresh wave of tears. Her eyes bore into her girlfriend's, seeking comfort from the sudden betrayal of her family. "I thought I knew my family, (Y/n). But now... everything feels shattered."

(Y/n)'s voice was a quiet reassurance, even though uncertainty gnawed at her. "You're not alone in this, Tara. I'll be here for you every step of the way."

Tara's voice was barely above a whisper, her pain palpable. "I don't even know who my mother is anymore."

(Y/n)'s own confusion mirrored Tara's, her voice filled with empathy. "I can't imagine what you're going through, Tara. But we'll face this together."

Tara's tear-streaked face turned up to (Y/n)'s, eyes searching for something she couldn't quite name. "(Y/n), promise me you won't leave. Promise you'll stay, no matter how messy things get."

(Y/n)'s voice was a fervent vow, her heartache mingling with her commitment. "I promise, Tara. I'm not going anywhere."

The familiar chatter of Dawson Creek filled the hospital room, Tara had turned it on as background noise, to drown out the violent flashes that seemed to submerge her mind. Frustration etched lines on her face as her gaze darted repeatedly towards the door, her impatience festering like an open wound.

A sideways glance at the television in her heightened state snagged her attention, the unfolding scene appearing almost like a twisted mirror to her reality.

"Are the doors locked?"

"Yeah we should check the doors. Joey and Pacey, get the front door. Jen and Cliff, get flashlights-"

A guttural sound reverberated from the corridor, followed by a heavy thud as something crashed to the floor. Goosebumps prickled on Tara's arms, though she tried to dismiss the noise as inconsequential, perhaps a clumsy officer dropping an item or the sound of (Y/n)'s return with her food.

"Hello?"

Her voice carried down the corridor, swallowed by the eerie silence that remained.

"Hello?"

Tara's desperation seeped through her words now, a desperate plea for any sound to shatter the oppressive quietness. Dawson's Creek, once a comforting companion, now seemed to taunt her vulnerability.

"Please. Quit tripping out. This is just Dawson up to his old tired tricks. There's no psychopath in this house."

"Fuck this."

Tara's patience wore thin, her nerves on edge as she disconnected herself from the monitors, their shrill alarms underscoring her own helplessness. With deft movements, she unhooked the uncomfortable nasal cannula from her nose and braced herself, the sharp pain from her cast colliding with the wheelchair's leg serving as a painful reminder of her limitations. Suppressing a cry of pain, she hoisted herself into the seat, the effort eliciting a whimper as her injured body strained. Clinging to the wheels, she propelled herself towards the door, the wounds on her palms reopening and drenching her bandages in fresh blood. Soft whimpers of agony accompanied her every move as she struggled to reach (Y/n), to alert her of the ominous sounds that could threaten them both.

She couldn't bear the thought of (Y/n) enduring the same horrors she had faced.

Reaching the end of the bed, a deafening ringing of her cellphone pierced the air, rendering Tara motionless. Her gaze dropped to her bloodied hands, the pain radiating up her arms like a symphony of agony, the shrill sound clamouring for her retreat. But the possibility of Saffron's danger galvanized her resolve, overriding her own suffering.

The corridor stretched before her, devoid of life, its emptiness heightening the chilling atmosphere. Ignoring her aching body, Tara maneuvered herself towards the reception area, a mixture of tears and sobs punctuating her progress. Desperation hung in the air as she hoped for a lifeline. The creaking of the wheels subsided, replaced by a wet, gurgling sound that sent shivers down her spine. Slowing to a halt, she observed the gruesome scene before her. An officer lay sprawled behind the reception desk, his uniform soaked in blood that spewed from a savage gash on his neck. Tara's face contorted in a mask of anguish, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the horrified gasp that escaped her lips. Dreadful realization gripped her – her fears were not unfounded; Ghostface had returned, and (Y/n)'s absence was far too long for Tara's comfort.

A sudden noise, the echo of a door closing, shattered Tara's stupor. Hastily, she wheeled herself into a nearby storage closet, a groan slipping from her lips as the blood-soaked bandages abraded her skin with every movement. Swinging the door shut, she left a slender crack through which she observed the corridor, her grip tightening on a landline she'd found, her trembling fingers desperate for a lifeline. Another door opened, and Tara's breath caught,

"Holy shit," she muttered under her breath. The footsteps grew closer, the thud of boots resonating like a heartbeat. Her fingers clenched around the phone, her only defense in this macabre dance.

As the heavy footsteps made their way towards the door, a blanket of black covered the small room, sending Tara into darkness. Her breath hitched as she attempted to stay quiet, gripping the phone tightly into her hand, knuckles turning white. A figure quickly popped their head in through the door, as Tara swung the phone in her hand with as much power as she could physically muster.

"Ow! Ow," Richie's pained cry echoed as he crumbled to his knees, his grip loosening on his throbbing head., "Goddamn it!"

"Richie?" Tara's gaze bore into him, suspicion lacing her voice. She inched her wheelchair back, her movements cautious and deliberate, as if he were a wounded animal on the verge of attack. Slowly, he pulled himself upright, using the door handle for support. "What are you doing here?"

"Sam called. She said that... you were in trouble." Still touching the spot on his head where he was hit he trailed off, thinking for a moment before his eyes glanced at the phone hanging from its cord.

"Did you hit me with a phone?"

Before Tara could answer, a familiar figure popped up behind Richie. Raising its knife to strike him, "Look out!" Richie swung around being face to face with the killer and their knife.

Richie's reflexes saved him, his arm instinctively raised to defend himself, but the blade still found purchase, carving a deep gash. The sickening sound of metal slicing through flesh reverberated through the room. Richie fought back, grappling with Ghostface in a desperate bid for survival. He clung to the wrist holding the knife, muscles straining as he wrestled for control. The room bore witness to their struggle, the tension suffocating.

Ghostface overpowered Richie, slamming him into the doorframe with a brutal force that left him limp and unresponsive. The scene hung in the air, frozen in time, as Tara absorbed the sight of Richie's motionless body and the shadowy figure that stood ominously before it. Ghostface turned towards her, tilting their head almost mockingly. The only chance of being saved she had was now lying in a heap before her, she was trapped.

With a surge of adrenaline, Tara shoved a monitor off a nearby table, sending it crashing onto Ghostface. As they grappled with the equipment, she seized her chance, propelling herself out of the room. Each movement was an agony, the searing pain from her injuries an unrelenting torment. Her eyes darted around the hallway, seeking an escape route. The elevator stood at the far end, a glimmer of hope beckoning in the darkness.

But it was a sight just outside the elevator that froze her in her tracks. (Y/n)'s bloodied form slumped against the doors, her pallor unnaturally ashen, eyes barely open, her body drenched in a grotesque tapestry of red. Their eyes met, the depth of their shared anguish unfurling between them in an instant, as Tara let out a scream of anguish.

Ghostface's chilling presence reappeared, the masked figure stalking towards Tara, savoring every moment of her terror. This was a twisted game to them, a sadistic symphony of agony orchestrated for their amusement. Tara could feel the walls closing in, every avenue of escape closing off one by one, the air thick with desperation.

They only wanted one thing, their sick and twisted game was going to end with both girls suffering the same fate.

Death

(Y/n)'s rhythmic foot-tapping on the cool pavement outside the bustling hospital entrance seemed like a minor rebellion against the day's clinical monotony. Overhead lights hummed with a steady cadence, while the cacophony of voices and footsteps surged like a river each time the door swung open. Sympathy and guilt had compelled her to venture out, bringing a taste of the outside world back to Tara – a meal that bore no resemblance to the sorry hospital fare.

The crispness of the air was a stark contrast to the confined, stuffy room she had been sharing with Tara. She had needed this brief reprieve, a moment to clear her mind and shake off the heavy emotional burden that had been pressing on her chest. As she let herself drift in the serenity of the moment, the world around her dissipated into a blur.

But then, a sudden thud shattered the tranquility. Her body tensed, a wave of unease crashing over her. It was as if a switch had been flipped, yanking her out of her peaceful reverie and back into the harsh reality. A chill raced down her spine as her senses sharpened, her heart pounding a staccato rhythm in her chest. The tranquility had been a facade – a fragile mirage that now lay shattered around her.

Her movements were slow, deliberate, as she turned to face the source of the noise. Dread knotted her stomach, and a cold sweat formed on her brow despite the gentle breeze that tousled her hair. The alley stretched before her, a corridor of shadow cast by the hospital's imposing structure. Trash cans lined the walls in uneven intervals, creating pockets of darkness that whispered with hidden potential.

Her gaze flitted from one corner to another, her pupils dilating as they fought to make sense of the murky gloom. Time seemed to slow as her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, the sound of her own breath growing louder in her ears. It was the alleyway that was her blind spot all along, a trap that she had unknowingly set for herself.

The feeling of being watched crawled under her skin, a persistent sensation that refused to relent. Her muscles tensed, her senses on high alert as she scanned every inch of the alley, seeking out the slightest sign of movement. Her fear was no longer an abstract emotion; it was a tangible force that gripped her like a vise.

The uncertainty gnawed at her, her mind racing through scenarios and possibilities. Was it just her imagination, or was there a real threat lurking in the shadows? Her every instinct screamed at her to flee, to retreat back into the safety of the hospital's embrace. But her body remained rooted, a strange mix of curiosity and terror keeping her in place.

In the shifting dance between light and shadow, her imagination began to conjure shapes – figures that could have been lurking, waiting. Every whisper of wind seemed to echo with menace, every rustle of garbage sent a shiver down her spine. It was as if the very fabric of the alley had come alive, a living embodiment of her fear.

In this chilling tableau, (Y/n) stood at the precipice of action. The alleyway, once an inconspicuous backdrop, had morphed into a stage for a silent, sinister drama. The weight of her decisions pressed heavily upon her, each moment stretching into an eternity as she grappled with her next move.

Amidst the tense backdrop of the alley, a sharp and jarring ring erupted from (Y/n)'s pocket, the sound piercing through the heavy air like a sudden warning. Her phone's vibrations reverberated against her leg, a stark reminder of the urgent reality that was beginning to unravel around her. With a swift and practiced motion, she fished her cellphone from her pocket, her fingers trembling slightly with a mix of apprehension and adrenaline.

The screen illuminated, revealing the caller's name – Sam. Her heart raced as she registered the significance of the incoming call. In a world where danger lurked in every shadow, a call from someone close could carry critical information or a vital warning. Her mind raced as she weighed the importance of answering this call against the potential threat that lingered in the alleyway.

Before she could even consider her next move, the abrupt sound of a door slamming echoed through the confined space, a stark reminder of the lurking peril that demanded her attention. The killer – the very embodiment of the threat that had been gnawing at her senses – was out there, somewhere, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The reality of the situation surged back, and her instincts kicked into overdrive.

Frozen in shock, her hand still clutching the phone, she could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, each heartbeat a reminder of the perilous situation she was in. Her heart waged a battle with her rationality – answer the call and possibly get much-needed information or stay hyperaware of her surroundings to avoid a potentially deadly encounter.

With her senses on high alert, she managed to answer the call, her voice edged with tension. She held the phone to her ear, her eyes sharply focused on the alleyway, her breath held as she strained to hear any sound – any hint of the danger that might be lurking in the darkness. The voice on the other end became a distant murmur as her attention remained riveted on the shadows, her mind racing to analyze every movement, every flicker of movement, ready to react at a moment's notice.

"(Y/n)?" Her urgent voice cracked through the phone's speakers, each syllable carrying a weight of concern that matched the gravity of the situation. "Are you still with Tara?"

(Y/n)'s eyes remained locked onto the oppressive darkness before her, her senses on high alert. The words poured from the phone, a lifeline to the outside world in a moment that felt far from safe. "I'm just standing outside the hospital, waiting on food," she replied, her voice carrying a tremor of unease. But Sam's call wasn't just a casual check-in, it held an undercurrent of urgency that (Y/n) couldn't ignore. "Why?"

A pause hung in the air, heavy and fraught with tension, as Sam's next words crashed into (Y/n)'s consciousness like an oncoming storm. "Wes and Officer Hicks were murdered and the deputy is here—" The news hit (Y/n) like a physical blow, a gut-punch of shock and horror that reverberated through her entire being. Wes, one of her best friends since childhood, was gone. Along with his mother who was the head of the entire investigation on Ghostface.

(Y/n)'s body went rigid, her grip on the phone tightening as her mind raced through the implications of Sam's words. Panic surged within her, the realization striking like a bolt of lightning – if the deputy was gone from his post at the hospital, who was guarding Tara? Her thoughts spiraled into a frenzy, every worst-case scenario playing out in her mind's eye, a cruel montage of potential threats.

Before Sam could continue, before her mind could fully grapple with the sheer vulnerability of the situation, (Y/n)'s voice cut through the connection, her urgency and fear spilling forth. "Sam, get here as fast as you possibly can—"

It was a decision born out of desperation, a gamble made in the haze of fear. The door, positioned halfway down the ominous alley, loomed before her like a lifeline – a portal that could potentially lead her back to the safety of Tara's side. (Y/n)'s heart raced, each thud a reminder of the seconds ticking away, the precious moments that separated her from danger and sanctuary.

Without hesitation, fueled by adrenaline and a singular purpose, (Y/n)'s legs churned as she sprinted down the alley. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her shoes barely touching the ground as if propelled by sheer willpower. The thought of Tara, vulnerable and alone, provided a pulse of urgency that propelled her forward despite the terror gnawing at her heels.

The door, unassuming yet laden with potential, drew closer with each stride. Her trembling hand gripped the handle, the cold metal a stark contrast to her heated skin. In her frantic rush, even the simplest action felt like a monumental task. The door resisted, a stubborn barrier between her and the haven she sought. With a surge of determination, she managed to wrench it open, her body propelled into the relative safety of the hospital's stairwell.

The rush of relief was fleeting, quickly replaced by the stark realization that safety was a fragile illusion. She glanced around, her eyes scanning for any means to secure the entrance, to lock out the danger lurking in the shadows. Her gaze settled on a latch positioned overhead, a glimmer of hope in the dimly lit corridor.

Her fingers, slick with sweat and trembling with urgency, reached for the latch. Stretching on her tiptoes, her heart hammering against her ribs, she managed to engage the lock. A sigh of relief brushed her lips, a fleeting moment of victory as she turned to ascend the stairs that would take her to Tara.

But destiny is a cruel mistress, and the instant she turned around, a cold wall of black fabric met her, halting her progress. Panic surged like a tidal wave, her heart leaping to her throat as she gazed into the abyss of a familiar and malevolent presence.

They hadn't remained trapped in the alley, they hadn't faltered in their pursuit. They had anticipated her move, outmaneuvered her once again. And now, in this suffocating confrontation, the balance between life and death seemed as fragile as a spider's thread.

(Y/n)'s weary gaze remained fixated on Tara’s figure as she battled through the torment in her body to reach her. The moist, sickening sound of her bloodied hands against the wheels echoed in her ears as she desperately moved away from the looming presence of Ghostface, who lingered ominously behind her.

Numbness had spread through (Y/n)'s body, the pain becoming a distant sensation amidst the overwhelming chaos. Each movement sent shocks of agony, a relentless reminder of her recent ordeal. Her hands, coated in her own life fluid, struggled to propel her fragile form across the sterile hospital floor, leaving a macabre trail in her wake. The weight of exhaustion threatened to collapse her, her weakened form almost crumpling as she ventured away from the reassuring support of the wall.

The taste of desperation mingled with the metallic tang of blood in her mouth, as if her very life force was seeping away with every agonizing inch she managed to cover.

Richie’s cell phone erupted into a shrill ring, and Ghostface spun around, reaching toward Richie's slumped body to extract the phone from his pocket. Their gloved fingers cautiously pressed a button near the bottom of their mask, causing it to start flashing red. (Y/n) strained to make out the concerned tone of Sam’s voice through the phone's speaker, though the words remained elusive.

“Hello, Samantha!” Ghostface's distorted voice sliced through the air, stalking closer to a terror-stricken Tara, who had managed to put some distance between them, but the gap could be closed quickly.

“Richie can’t come to the phone right now. He’s finding out what happens to people who stick their noses in business that doesn’t concern them.”

“I’ll tell you what you can choose; I’ll only kill one,” the distorted voice continued, chilling (Y/n) to her core.

Sam's voice, desperate and pleading, cut through the phone's crackling. (Y/n) shifted her gaze briefly to Tara, who was putting more space between herself and the advancing Ghostface, her sobs growing louder.

“Who do you want to hear die?”

Amidst the fear and tension, Sam's desperate cries carried through the line, and Ghostface reveled in the torment, his taunts aimed at the terrified girls. (Y/n) knew that Ghostface's intention was to kill both of them, but she clung to a flicker of hope that Sam's plan might ensure Tara's survival.

“Really? You can’t save your own sister? All you have to do is say 'Kill Richie,' because I don’t think (Y/n)’s making it out either way!”

With an adrenaline-fueled surge, (Y/n)'s resolve solidified. If she couldn't escape this nightmare, she was willing to give her life to protect the person she loved most.

“Fuck you!” Tara's scream echoed through the hallway as Ghostface charged toward her. The wheelchair crashed to the floor, and Tara began crawling toward (Y/n), her fingers desperately gripping the cold linoleum.

“Or say 'Kill Tara!' And I’ll make sure to hit all the organs I missed last time!”

Tara's fingers found (Y/n)'s side, gripping her as she attempted to shield her from Ghostface’s impending attack.

“Last chance to save one, choose!” Ghostface's taunting voice pierced the air, echoing the desperate plea from Sam through the phone.

(Y/n) heard Sam's voice, laced with grief and pain, clearer than ever, “Why are you doing this?”

“You want to know why, Sam? Maybe it's because you’re a selfish bitch, who can’t even make a decision to save the life of someone you love.”

“Maybe you’re too weak for this franchise!”

Ghostface's legs closed in around both girls, (Y/n) straining to shield Tara from the imminent danger. She was prepared to bear the brunt of the attack, if it meant giving Tara a chance to escape. Tara's grip tightened, and her voice rose in defiance.

“Maybe you’re right?” Sam's voice sounded broken, defeated. (Y/n)'s heart sank; had Sam truly given up?

“Or maybe I’m just stalling for time, fuckhead!”

A sudden ping signaled the opening of the elevator doors, interrupting Ghostface's impending strike. Startled, Ghostface looked away for a fleeting moment. In that instant, (Y/n)'s heart raced, her hope rekindling. Through the elevator doors stood Sam and Dewey. Dewey fired off several shots down the hallway, sending Ghostface retreating and disappearing into a different corridor.

Dewey sprinted to Richie's side, who was sprawled a few meters behind, while Sam rushed to (Y/n) and Tara. (Y/n)'s vision wavered, the agony in her body muddling her perception of the chaos around her. She strained to hear Tara's soft whimpers amidst the commotion as Sam worked to move her sister.

Guiding Tara toward the elevator doors, Sam reassured (Y/n) that she would be back for her as soon as Tara was safely inside. Dewey, with his arm under Richie, led him back, but their progress was abruptly halted as Ghostface reappeared. In the ensuing struggle, Richie was thrown to the ground, and Dewey and Ghostface locked in a fierce grapple, colliding into walls and grappling each other.

The fight escalated, both men grappling and wrestling for control, until they crashed onto the floor. Dewey's gun skidded across the tiles, out of reach. Ghostface lunged, attempting to strike Dewey, but the seasoned officer managed to use his strength to headbutt Ghostface, buying him a moment to seize his gun. When Dewey turned, Ghostface charged once more, knife poised for a lethal strike. Dewey acted swiftly, firing several shots into Ghostface's chest, propelling him into a glass shelf with a shattering crash.

With Richie in his arms, Dewey retreated, heading back to (Y/n), who lay motionless on the floor. Gently lifting her, he heard her faint whimpering—a sign that she was alive. He swiftly pressed the elevator's call button, ushering them inside as the doors slid open.

The events inside the elevator remained a blur to (Y/n), her consciousness slipping. Richie's arms provided a faint anchor, and Dewey's voice seemed distant as he vanished from view. The resonating ring in her ears drowned out the ensuing conversations, though she surmised that Dewey was likely heading back to deal with Ghostface for good.

“Dewey, who cares?” Sam's voice echoed, her urgency palpable as she sought to ensure no further lives were lost.

The elevator doors began to close on Dewey's retreating figure, his final words reaching (Y/n)'s ears like a distant echo, “I do.”

In the mood to write fanfic but I don’t know what about??? Maybe Ethan 🫣💕

Currently holed up in Starbucks, because of the rain from my walk back from Uni (and I don’t want to take a second shower today) So I’m gonna start on my Ethan smut, :0

Rewatching the scream movie and just seeing Billy and Stu being such boyfriends makes me want to write a fic

Working on Shattered Unity right now and you all are going to be gobsmacked 💅💅💅

Also it’s a MULTIPLE PART SERIES, so going from Scream 4 to Scream 6 —and if another one gets released while I’m still writing I’ll probably incorporate it too— so buckle up SCREAM fans

Shattered Unity

[Fragment One: I] [Fragment One: II]

Synopsis: Jill Roberts had everything, a perfect house, with a perfect family and a perfect little sister, who she cared for far more than she realised.

Pairings: Jill Roberts x Sister! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: nothing so far :) some sibling fluff

34 Elm Street epitomized the pinnacle of luxury in Woodsboro, an affluent community coveted by all. The neighborhood itself exuded an aura of safety, lined with sycamores and white picket fences. In the middle of it all stood the Roberts household, bustling with the loud sounds of a typical Monday morning.

Jill rolled over in her plush bed, pulling her pillow over her ears to block out the loud noise of her alarm. Letting out a deep groan, her arms fumbled around until they found the snooze button. Her eyelids fluttered shut again, aiming to steal a few more precious moments of sleep until a sudden crash echoed from downstairs.

"Sweetheart!" Her mother's voice reverberated through the house. "Are you okay?"

Jill could hear her little sister mumbling something in response, probably attempting to make herself breakfast. She always had this habit of striving for independence. Jill stretched, her long black hair cascading as she released it from the loose bun of the night before. Running her fingers through the tangles, she slipped into a pair of jeans and rummaged through her wardrobe in search of a shirt. As Jill swung her door open, the sound of small feet scampering up the stairs reached her ears. It seemed her sister had an uncanny sixth sense for detecting when Jill was awake.

"Jill!" Her little form came barreling around the corner, running toward Jill's feet. Her face lit up when she saw her sister. "I made you pancakes," she announced proudly. Jill laughed and asked if that was what the crash was. The little one hid her face in Jill's shirt, her speech muffled by the fabric. "I might have dropped the pan." Jill ruffled her hair before manoeuvring around her  to start going downstairs.

The kitchen bore the aftermath of a culinary hurricane—flour dusted every available surface, eggshells added a crunch underfoot, and a symphony of pots and bowls occupied the sink. Amidst this chaos sat a plate of hastily assembled pancakes, syrup awaiting its inevitable deployment. As Jill cautiously surveyed the scene, her foot met an unexpected puddle of milk, sending a shiver up her spine as the sock soaked up the liquid.

Suppressing a sigh, Jill turned her attention to her sister, ready to issue a gentle reprimand. However, before she could speak, (Y/n) beat her to it with a spirited declaration. "Don't worry, Jill! I'm cleaning it all up after I eat. I just wanted to make sure you had something to eat before Kirby picks you up." Her bright smile melted any lingering frustration, reminding Jill why (Y/n) was her undeniable soft spot.

"You're such a little troublemaker, (Y/n)," Jill joked, pulling off her damp sock. She walked to the kitchen table, grabbing a few pancakes to smother in syrup. (Y/n) climbed onto the stool beside her big sister, looking at her intently. "Speaking of Kirby, do you think I can say hi when she comes to pick you up? I want to show her the picture I drew of us three!" Jill looked over, shocked at her sister, talking with a mouthful of pancake. "You drew a picture of me?" (Y/n) corrected her, saying it was all three of them together, but Jill's mind was elsewhere. All (Y/n) ever drew was puppies and rainbows—childish things. Never had Jill seen her draw a person, never mind her.

Jill's fork hovered mid-air, laden with syrup-soaked pancake, as she stared at (Y/n) with wide eyes. The surprise etched across her face deepened, a mix of disbelief and genuine awe. For a moment, she was caught in the realization that her little sister had moved beyond the realm of fluffy animals and sunny scenes, venturing into something far more personal.

"You drew a picture of me?" Jill repeated, as if the words needed confirmation. The syrup dripped slowly back onto the plate, forgotten in her slackened grip. (Y/n)'s innocent nod was met with an almost incredulous smile from Jill, as if the simple act of portraying her in a drawing was a revelation.

"(Y/n), that's... incredible," Jill finally managed, her tone carrying a mix of surprise and warmth. The thought that her sister had chosen to illustrate her, amid all the subjects she could have picked, lingered in the air like a sweet revelation.

"I'll show it to you!" (Y/n)'s syrup-sticky hands seized Jill's, leading her in an eager ascent up the stairs, their footsteps an echo of shared laughter. The little haven at the top, (Y/n)'s room, painted in every shade of pink. It was a sanctuary of innocence, adorned with unicorns, magical creatures, and the captured moments of their life.

The walls told stories in crayon and glitter drawings, tales of a childhood untainted by the complexities of the world beyond. Pictures of Jill and (Y/n), frozen in time, grinned back at them. Jill couldn't help but notice the subtle nostalgia woven into the room, a familiar echo of her own youth. The glow-in-the-dark stars overhead seemed to promise dreams as pure and boundless as the universe itself.

Most of the toys strewn across the floor were remnants of Jill's childhood, a nostalgic scatter of innocence now usurped by time. Yet, what tugged at Jill's heartstrings most was the teddy bear lying on the bed, a mirror image of the one resting in her own room. (Y/n) never ventured anywhere without that bear. It was a shared relic, a testament to a bond forged in the simplicity of happier times.

As Jill sank into memories, the room became a vessel of echoes. Most vivid was the recollection of a day long past, a shopping trip with her father to find the perfect gift for baby (Y/n). The brown bear, soft and fluffy, had captured Jill's heart. She pleaded with her father to let her have one too. That day marked the last fragment of happiness she could recall with him.

A small shake brought Jill back to the present. She found herself gently pushed to sit on the edge of the bed. (Y/n) darted to the desk by the door, the chaotic rustle of pages scattering in her wake. Amidst the flurry, a small sound of excitement at her discovery. (Y/n) rushed back, concealing a page behind her back, anticipation dancing in her eyes.

Jill was presented with a page, a kaleidoscope of waxy stripes in every imaginable color. Amidst the vibrant chaos, three figures took center stage. Two of them stood at a similar height, towering protectively over a smaller figure nestled between them. A soft smile graced Jill's lips as she looked at her younger sister, who returned the gaze with anticipation sparkling in her eyes.

Gently, Jill pulled (Y/n) into her arms, the paper the only barrier between then. She whispered softly in her sister's ear, "Kirby's going to love this."

Kirby's car rushed into the driveway of the Roberts household, letting out a loud beep that echoed in the quiet neighborhood. As Jill stepped onto the front porch, the car's blaring music masked the sounds around them.

"Before you get in the car, you need to promise not to kill me!" Kirby shouted over the music, quickly turning it off as Jill approached.

"Why?" Jill asked, walking closer to the passenger door, while her sister eagerly ran toward the car. "What did you do?"

"Trevor called me last night," Kirby explained, and Jill's face twisted in disgust. "Why is he calling you?" She leaned down, poking her head through the car window, while (Y/n) stood on her tiptoes to get Kirby's attention.

"Because you won't take his calls, he knows I have you here and he wants to know," Kirby said. Jill opened the door with a roll of her eyes, and Kirby shifted her focus to (Y/n), greeting her with a warm, "Hi pumpkin!"

Ignoring Kirby's attempt to divert the conversation, Jill pressed, "Know what?" Kirby's eyes darted away from (Y/n), who stood eagerly waiting to share something. "How upset you are." She finished.

Olivia hopped into the backseat of the car, engaging Jill in conversation about Trevor. While they chatted, Kirby shifted her attention to the younger Roberts sister, who stood patiently at the door. With an exuberant greeting, she handed Kirby a piece of paper, saying, "I drew this for you!" Kirby smiled at the young girl, touched by the fact that her best friend's younger sister cared enough to create a drawing. "It’s me, you, and Jill," she explained, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

"It’s amazing, (Y/n)!" Kirby examined the drawing carefully before placing it on the dashboard. "When I get home from school, it’s going straight up on my refrigerator," she promised with a smile. (Y/n) beamed at this news. Kirby glanced at the time; if they didn’t leave now, they’d be late. “We have to go, pumpkin. Have a good day at school!” she called out as she watched (Y/n) run back into the house, waving back to the girls as she did and Jill shut the car door.

Olivia rolled her eyes from the back seat, letting out a scoff. She had something against Jill’s sister ever since she accidentally broke her cell two years ago. Olivia opened her mouth to state something when Jill quickly turned to face her, her stare cold and harsh, quickly shutting Olivia up. She huffed, “I wasn’t going to say anything about your sister!” Her arms raised in the air in defense.

Jill let a small smirk grace her lips; she could see Olivia was lying. “Really!” She turned back to the front, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. Jill wanted to see what kind of stupid story Olivia would attempt to create to dig herself out of the hole she made. “What was it you were going to say?”

Olivia stumbled over her words, desperately trying to come up with a story that would fit, but she couldn’t. “Fine!” She bowed her head in defeat. “But it’s not a crime to dislike your sister; she's just so...” She trailed off, seeing Jill's glare. “Clingy.”

The pulsating beat of a song jolted all three girls from their conversation. Jill's cellphone buzzed near her feet, prompting her to fish it out of her bag. As Olivia grumbled about the ringtone, Jill examined the caller ID.

"Why is Jenny Randall calling me?"

Both Kirby and Olivia shrugged, as Jenny wasn't someone they interacted with frequently.

"I don't know. I don't like Jenny Randall. She threw up on me at Tony Marshall's luau," Olivia interjected. Kirby rolled her eyes, and as Jill answered the phone, "That luau was freshman year!" Kirby turned to Olivia, who threw up her hands, “I didn't say my anger was rational!"

Both girls redirected their attention to Jill upon hearing her asking about the caller. Kirby returned her focus to the road, stealing glances at Jill's now irritated expression. "What does she want?" Jill ignored her friend's question, continuing to reprimand the mysterious caller. "Where’s Jenny?" Confusion deepened on the faces of Kirby and Olivia. Was Jenny Randall attempting to prank call Jill? Jill lowered the volume of the car's music. "Who is this?"

Kirby listened intently to the voice on the other end. It resonated deep and rough, like gravel on the highway. Certainly not Jenny Randall. Panic crept over Jill's face as she abruptly declared, “I’m hanging up.”

After a brief pause, Jill turned to her friends. "That was so weird. I just got a prank call from Jenny Randall." Olivia promptly interrupted with her own story, but Jill remained silent, appearing uninterested. "Jenny Randall is weird. Her and her little Marnie the Carny friend are freaks!" Glancing at Jill, who sat somewhat diminished in her seat and gazing out the window, Kirby sensed Jill might be anxious about her sister after such a peculiar call. Olivia continued to ramble on, it was very clearly not helping Jill. Kirby sighed before trying to reassure Jill.

"It's massacre week. People go looney, remember?"

If my college essays were fanfic, I’d have them all done by now

Do you think you'll do a part 2 of the Jill Roberts x sister reader?

I definitely will, (eventually) I’ve just had so much on my plate recently, I’ve just started my own business and I’m still in college and i have musical rehearsals and ugh I’m stressed but the series is something I’ve been thinking about for years so I definitely will :)

morning sex with ethan

you’re already all huddled up together in his twin-sized bed, and when you wake up, you sigh in relief as you remember that chad did not get back to the dorm room. you have the room to yourselves. you have ethan to yourself this morning.

sweet ethan is snoring into the crook of your neck, his fluffy curls tickling you as his chest rises and falls against your body. you raise a hand to run it through his hair, and he rewards you with a sleepy, yet content groan.

“g’mornin,” he murmurs into your neck before planting a sleepy kiss on the base of it, his arms wrapping themselves around you to hug you even tighter.

“morning, baby,” you greet back, one hand raising his chin to give him a soft kiss on his lips. he pouts but doesn’t move, letting you peck as many kisses on his lips as you want. and then, ethan opens his mouth, catching your lips in surprise and instantly runs his tongue on yours.

when he breaks away, he settles back to your neck, eyes still closed, “m’hard,” he tells you, “need some pussy, please.”

“this early in the morning?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“please,” he begs, mouthing at your neck. “i’ll do the work, y’can just lay there and take it.”

you pretend to think about it, even though you both know you’re always ready to go once ethan starts tonguing your mouth. so when you nod and say yes, ethan turns you over, slowly, still sleepy and relaxed. you laugh when you see that he’s dragging his boxers down and your panties down too, yet his eyes are still closed. “you’re not even opening your eyes for me?”

“m’still a bit sleepy,” he mumbles, flushing a shade of pink. he removes your shirt (his shirt) and positions his lips on your breasts, almost panting as he cups your right breast. then, he finally opens his eyes, looking at you with puppy eyes as he sticks his tongue out, almost catching your nipple.

you arch your back, wanting to feel his wet mouth on you, on your tits, almost gushing because how can you not when ethan looks at you like he’s begging you to let him suck your tits?

when he finally wraps his lips on your nipple, you moan, arching into him. his other hand strokes his cock, wet with his precum, and guides himself into your cunt. he grunts as he slides in, popping his mouth off your nipple as he moves his head to face you. “your pussy feels so warm…ha….fuck…”

“shit, ethan,” you feel stretched out, so early in the morning and his cock filling you all the way in until his balls press against your ass.

when he pulls back and thrusts back in, you both shudder at the feel. ethan makes sure he’s balls deep in your pussy and stops, his cheek resting against your as he whispers into your ear, “this is gonna be quick, m’sorry baby.” he whines as he tries not to move, tries to calm himself so that he doesn’t nut inside you after two pumps.

“it’s okay,” you tell him, “it’s okay, ethan, just cum inside…”

“shit…don’t talk like that…”

“i just need your cum in my pussy, please.”

ethan almost sobs into your ear, slowly pulling back and thrusting back in until he establishes a rhythm. not fast, but deep, and you feel like he’s hitting you so deep, almost like the fat head of his cock is bumping against your cervix.

“m’cummin, oh sorry, m’cummin already…aah! fuck…ha…” he pulls back to look you in the eyes, “i’m cummin’ in your pussy.”

“fuck, ethan, cum inside me, please,” you beg, one hand coming up to wrap behind his neck, “but look at me. i want you to look at me when you empty your balls in my pussy.”

“ahh! fuuuuuck, it’s all there,” he whines, trying not to close his eyes in bliss as he looks at you as he cums, “it’s”, thrust, “all,” thrust, “here,” thrust, a particularly strong one that makes you squeal, “deep in your pussy.”

he collapses on top of you, kissing you as he grinds his hips, making sure all his cum doesn’t flow out of your cunt. but it’s the first load of the day, and he almost always cums a lot during the mornings.

“i’m sorry i came so early,” ethan says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “in exchange you can do whatever you want with me tonight.”

“whatever i want?” you raise your eyebrows.

ethan nods, “i promise.”

“good,” you pat his cheeks, opening up your arms in an embrace and ethan rests his head in between your breasts, “maybe i can finally use that fleshlight on you, that you’ve been hiding from me.”

silence, then…

“how did you know about that?”

”I had econ!”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

ethan landry x reader

warnings: smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering, p in v, 18+ but yk i cant control what you read cuz i aint your ma 🤷🏻‍♀️

———

“where were you?! you disappear and my sister almost gets killed!” chad pulled ethan by the jacket and slammed him against a nearby vehicle

“i had econ!” ethan shouted as chad battered him with accusations of hurting his sister mindy.

ethans mind floods with flashbacks from earlier-

y/n tugged at ethans shirt as she deepened their kiss, desperate to get him to shed the item of clothing. he separated himself from her to pull his t-shirt off. he reconnected the kiss and picked her up. he toyed with the hem of her shorts while walking them towards his bedroom

he sat her on the bed and sat on his knees, not breaking the kiss. their tongues fought, sliding against the others lips to find entry. he pulled away to speak, “can i take these off?” he asked looking up at you through his eyebrows, waiting for approval while searching your face for any sign of unwanting. “fuck, please, yes.” you breathed out while nodding your head. 

he pulled them off along with your underwear. he kissed the insides of your thighs, slowly inching closer to the wetness pooling between your legs. he reached your clit and attached his lips as he began to suck. he slid his fingers up and down in between your folds before slipping a finger in and began pumping. this action drew a moan from your throat. he took this as a sign to add another and speed up. he pumped faster and just as he felt you getting closer and squeezing his fingers, he pulled them out. you let out a sad whimper and cocked your head to the side. “why’d you stop?” you asked. “want you to cum on my cock, pretty girl.” he said as he began to unbutton his jeans. he pulled his boxers down to his knees and ran his pink tip that was leaking precum through your wet folds. he slowly inserted his dick into you, planting a hand onto your thigh to steady himself. he groaned loudly as he bottomed out. he began thrusting into you at a fast pace, not giving you time to adjust. you moaned out in pain and pleasure as he sped up. he was now pumping into you at an unimaginable speed. he ran his big hands over your breasts, playing with your nipples with his thumbs as he did so. you were letting out loud moans and you were sure the neighboring dorms could hear you, but right now you didnt care. he guided his hands down to your hips and began slamming his hips into yours as he felt himself inch closer to release. this made you to tip over the egde and release, the knot snapping in your stomach. your cum dripped down ethans cock as he continued to pound into you. the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so good and the sounds of your moans in his ear made him release inside of you, the hot liquid pooling and dripping out as he pulled himself out. he leaned down to kiss you— 

“ethan!” chad shouted, pulling him out of his trance. “yeah, yeah sorry, uh zoned out there. you can ask y/n, she was sitting with me and helping me take lecture notes.” he said. fuck, he couldn’t wait for your class to end and see you at his dorm later.

jealous slashers~!✧

With Michael, Brahms, Jason, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Sawyer, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman

tags: gn!reader, jealousy, creepy men, unwanted attention/touching, uggestive and mature themes, gore/blood, violence, canon typical behavior, billy x reader x stu poly, rob zombie!mikey, I know Sal isn't exactly a slasher but he's my baby and needs to be included

Alexa, play Love to Die by the Slashstreet Boys

Michael

Rest in Peace to the poor, stupid man who thought it'd be a good idea to mess with the Shape's partner, and Michael had witnessed it all. How this man shoves you into an empty alleyway, the clatter of your groceries falling. The guy doesn't get much more than a few bruises and claw marks when Michael's knife slices through the back of the man's throat, protruding from the other end in a splash of blood. The Shape watches you wipe your bloody face off, not doing much but picking up three of your four fallen bags and tugging you into his side.

Brahms

Absolutely not. Brahms is fuckin' seething from his safe space sheltered behind the walls. Heavy breathing muffled by the porcelain mask, he watches with wild eyes as some idiot decides to break into the mansion whilst you were sleeping, and proceeds to hold you at knifepoint, effectively pinning you to the bed in what little nightclothes you wore. The unwanted guest and you are certainly going to know when Brahms is upset. There's banging on the walls coming from every direction that leaves the would-be burglar panicked and you slightly more comfortable.

"You're not allowed to be here," comes the eerily childlike voice Brahms has perfected. He crawls his way out from behind the large antique mirror. "I'll make sure you never come near them again." With a sudden slam, Brahms downs the intruder with a lead pipe repeatedly bashing the object until all that remains was brain matter and gooey blood. He drops the pipe with a huff and collects you into his arms, the cool porcelain biting onto the heat of your chest.

Jason

As the protector of the surrounding forest, Jason is always watching. He's omnipotent, he sees all. He seems to know where people are at all times and he can sense when you're in distress. Your shared cabin door left ajar sends his blood boiling and his heavy footfall increasing as he approaches your home. Barging in, Jason's pale eyes lock onto you and your assailant holding you by the throat. His thunderous steps are quick, slicing through the man with his machete and proceeds to lift him up while still pierced with the blade. The man gurgles, arms weakly reaching behind him in attempts to claw at Jason. All attempts were futile. He tossed the body to the side before he gently frets over you, his large hands soothing the fingerprints tarnishing your throat.

Billy & Stu

Rather snake-like the two will wrap themselves around you (they adore your personal space) and stare down whoever else demands your attention. Billy's arm hooks around your waist and Stu wraps himself around your shoulder, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "Is this guy bothering you, baby?" Looking like a shark that's tasted blood in the water, Billy's eyes grow more wild. He's already making a mental note of who and where this guy lives. The guy raised his hands in defense backing down the more the two stared at him, walking off completely.

"We're gonna take care of him, doll," Billy promises, kissing your cheek. Stu cackles lightly, tongue sticking out. They would strike tonight.

Vincent

There's no one Vincent trusts more to watch over you when he can't than his own two brothers. He had his hands full, turning Dalton and Wade into wax people. Nick and Carly were proving to be hard to get a hold of and there was still another tourist that needed to be taken care of.

But then Bo is telling him that the person escaped and he doesn't know where you were. His two worst fears confirmed. Vincent is soon on a wild hunt, trying to find you anywhere with Bo hot on his heels. He soon locates you, passed out with a bit of blood on your head. Your eyes slowly open as he touches your cheek, catching you as you wobble into his warm embrace. He shares a look with Bo who nods.

"I've got you, brother. Keep them here with ya. Wait til I'm back, ya hear?"

Bo

Out in public, he's all cordial and kind smiles. Especially if this is an intended victim. Some random person putting the moves on his partner is a huge no-no and one Bo doesn't take lightly. That person just warranted themselves a for sure death sentence and Bo isn't feeling too kind, so perhaps he'll drag things out, yeah? Touch what's his and you got what's comin' to ya.

"Can I see, baby? That bastard leave any marks on ya?" Bo strokes your shoulders, blue eyes drifting over your frame like water. He has every intention of marking every place that person touched, no matter if you tell Bo the guy only grabbed your arm. Once he has his mind set on something, he's gonna do it.

Lester

Unlike his older twin brothers, Lester is actually pretty chill. Especially in comparison to Bo. He doesn't think much of the people he's helping get into Ambrose knowing full well it's their final destination and Vincent and Bo will take care of things as they always have. What he doesn't like is some dude making a pass at you right in front of him. Can't he see the engagement ring on your finger? It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, watching with narrowed eyes as the small group heads towards the mechanic shop in search of a fan belt.

A familiar hand on his arm calms him down instantly. He turns to you and musters a weak smile as your hands slide around his torso from behind, leaning your cheek on his shoulder. "Y'alright?" Lester nods too quickly and unconvincingly, giving you a quick kiss. "Yeah, darl', always."

Thomas

Your partner is not unlike a bear, watching with wild eyes as one of Hoyt's new catches clasps onto you, their nails digging into your arms, and pinning you to the barbed fence. The cry of pain you let out has Tommy barreling towards you, chainsaw revving to life. A deep snarl echoes behind his mask and he wastes no time cutting down the poor soul with a single swipe of his motorized saw. Tommy turns it off and picks you up in his large arms as gently as he can. With his masked cheek leaning against yours, he carries you back towards the house. Mama Luda Mae will take a good look at you.

Sal Fisher

Honestly Sal isn't one to get jealous. He's pretty level-headed and understanding in most situations. He respects your choices and he's not gonna step on any toes or do anything drastic; Sal isn't a monster. However, if he sees some guy make a creepy pass at you and clearly overstep your boundaries, he won't hesitate to swoop in, looping his arm around your shoulders. His sharp blue eyes staring at the man from behind his prosthetic mask.

"Do we have a problem here?" His voice is cold, lacking any interest in what excuse the man finds. Sal's main focus will be on you, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. His main priority is to get you away from this sicko and would totally call in reinforcements from his brother Larry if need be.

Patrick

A jealous Patrick Bateman isn't a good scenario for anyone. Especially not with his deteriorating mental state. He trusts you explicitly, with his thoughts, ideas, and recreational hobbies that most would find distasteful. So when a colleague of his gets too big for his britches and unabashedly begins to flirt with you in his presence, Patrick finds it difficult to keep his boiling bloodlust at bay. The heat of his anger is getting to his head, the fierce emotions only swelling well it's clear how uncomfortable you look in that man's company. He must see to put an end to him quickly.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"Are you alright, my darling? That man surely didn't know his place, did he?" Patrick places a hand at your back, guiding you out of the office party. "Let's get you home and into a nice hot bath, hmm? I'd rather not taste that swine on your lovely skin."

Masterlist

Hiii Welcome to my blog! I will mostly write anything that you want, just please don't be weird with the requests. I don't have that many stories out yet but please send me your requests! Alsooo, if you guys want me to make a tag list, I can, just let me know!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{~Charmed (1998)~}

{~House of the Dragon~}

{~Narnia~}

{~Supernatural~}

{~Twilight~}

hello, i’m brooke!!. this is now a fanfic blog. <33 it used to be a shifting but is now dedicated to writing fan fiction, although i do still talk about shifting on here.

here is all there is to know about me

i write for, criminal minds, station 19, greys anatomy, scream, stranger things, and marvel. and many other fandoms but these are the main ones!!

i am 17

i don’t write smut!! (sorry) but am willing to write almost anything else

i do not write minor x adult, yandre or any kind of dark ‘romance’ or r4pe. but if you are not sure if i’m willing to write something, please don’t be afraid to ask, chances are, i am.

masterlist

☄️ . * . *

Can you pretty please do poly!ghostface (billy and stu) friends to lovers fluff? Tysm ♡

Omg, yesss!!

Poly!ghostface x gender neutral!reader

Summery: Stu and Billy had done it, pulled off their master plan. No one knew that they were the woodsburrow killer, including you. Now that Sidney is out of the way their was nothing stopping them from having you.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Dull, warm air blew in from the open classroom window. The teacher continued to drone on about physics or math or whatever class you were in. School seemed so ridiculous now, after what you had survived. Just as your brain started to fill with random thoughts, a loud bell rung.

Everyone got up from their seats as quickly as they could, clambering out the door. You walked through the crowded hall, bumping into different students and staff. You finally made it outside, already feeling relieved to get out of the school.

You continued your steady footsteps down the sidewalk when two arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you into the air. The shocked feeling quickly faded when you recognized the soft giggle coming from the person behind you.

"Stu, you scared me!" You gasped

"Oh, whatever, you're fine." He mused on

Billy walked next to you both, rolling his eyes almost comicly. "So, y/n, do you wanna come over and watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre with us tonight?" Billy questioned

"No, I don't want to watch my favorite movie with my favorite people." you said sarcastically. The compliment sent waves of flattery and joy down the boys' spines.

"Well, I will see you then, y/n." You gave them a slight nod before heading a different way than them.

~☆~

You had been home for less than an hour when you decided to head over to Stu's house. You were already halfway there, walking alone, even though the boys pressed you to let them walk you there. Of course you said no, that just doesn't make sense, walking here than back. But you told them they could make it up by walking you home tonight.

You stood at the end of the driveway, looking at the dim-lit house. Your stomach started to churn because you were so excited to spend time with Billy and Stu. You would never admit it but you really liked them both, although you are pretty sure that they are into eachothers.

You weren't hurt or anything, just slightly disappointed. You walked up the three stairs before before knocking on the tall door. You looked from side to side as you waited, and your stomach felt like a washing machine. The door opened widely, Stu on the other side greeting you with a smile.

"Welcome to my humble abode." Stu said with posh mockery, using his arm to show you in.

"Well, why thank you." You said matching his energy

You and Stu walked into the living room, sitting on the couch next to Billy. You were sat between them,your thighs touching theirs. Your stomach felt like it was turning inside out, but in the best way possible.

As you were watching the movie, you noticed them turning and looking at you. You never wanted this movie to end, but sadly, it did. The end credits rolled on the screen, and suddenly, the magic was over. Disappointment washed over you.

You all got up from the couch and moved to the front of the house and then out the door. The night air hit your skin, bumps rising on your skin. You all stepped outside and started your walk.

"Hey y/n, would you ever date me or Billy?" The question caught you off guard, to say the least.

"I mean- yea- yea I would." You said looking up at the bright sliver of a moon.

Stu did a little skip, dance thing out of excitement, and Billy had a happy grin on his face.

"How about both of us?" Billy inquired

A blush rose to your face, you didn't even know that was an opinion. The new price of information caused a happiness to grow in the pit of your stomach.

"Yea, I'd like that." You said smiling and looking at each of them.

Just as you said that sentence, you arrived at your house. Stu was basically buzzing with glee, and Billy seemed extremely excited too, just better at hiding it.

You walked to your door and turned on your heel, looking at the boys.

"See you tomorrow, boys." You said as a farewell, and giving them both a kiss on the cheek. Walking into your house, you started to let out your real reactions, from quiet screaming to jumping around happily.

From outside, you could hear Billy and Stu talking with anticipation and joy. You watched them disappear down your street from your bedroom window.

You would never forget this night, everything was perfect, and you would definitely sleep peacefully tonight

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This was rly fun to write, I loveee requests. Anyway hope you enjoyed.

(Also, my requests are always open, so please leave one)

XOXO

Oh ask and you shall certainly receive!!

I would love it if you’re able to write a stu macher x fem!reader where the reader is Randy’s sister and randy (a protective older brother) introduced her and stu when her and randy are both working at the video store and stu falls head over heels and cherishes the ground she walks on! Then eventually she blurts out her feelings for him when they get to be better friends where he obviously admits to her that he’s head over heels and it ends in them becoming official and ending smut? (If you write smut that it!)

Ooooo yes, this is so fun!!

tags: friends to lovers, smut, mutual pining, soft sex, switch!reader, switch!stu, riding, hickeys, oral sex r!receiving

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You loved working at the video store. You loved working there for two different reasons. You got to talk about movies all day, giving out recommendations, the other reason is you got to spend time with Stu.

You and Stu were a grade apart, so you didn't spend much time together at school. Which makes the video store perfect.

Your brother introduced you to him last school year. He was so nice, and he treated you with the utmost kindness. He fell head over heels immediately, going to the video store more than he ever has.

Randy caught on pretty quick, and when he asked if you liked Stu and you said yes, he panicked. You just told him that it was fine and Stu didn't even like you, to which he agreed, trying to split a wedge between you too.

Now, here you are two months later working and pining after Stu.

°•☆•°

You were listening to your brother groan on about Stu being too old and not good enough for you.

"He's a weirdo, you can find someone better." You just kept pushing your cart and putting movies back.

"If he's that weird, why did you introduce us, Randy?" You bickered

Clearly stumping your brother, he turned and started working on a disorganized shelf. Just as you began to push your cart further down the aisle, the bell on the front door rung.

"Speak of the devil." Randy announced, rolling his eyes.

Stu immediately hurried over to you. "Hey, Stu." You said, gazing into his eyes. A small smile graced your lips, being around him made you so happy.

Stu stared down at you, eyes full of admiration. You stared at each other for a little too long for it to be normal.

Next to you was your brother, standing impatiently. An audible groan left his mouth as he walked away. You looked back at Stu and shared a look of annoyance.

"So you and me, tonight, Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" Stu said, leaning on the shelf stacked with different movies.

"Yess, that sounds amazing." You said smiling at him.

"all right ill meet you there." Stu said with a wink before walking out the front door.

°•☆•°

you walked up the driveway to Stus house already feeling your stomach doing summersaults. you walked up the pair of steps and knocked on the painted door. it took no time before Stu opened the door greeting you with a rib crushing hug.

you guys went and sat down on the couch, the movie was already queued up just waiting to play. he pressed play and the film started playing. you both had already watched this, so you weren't paying as much attention. you were talking more than anything.

"so, what was your first impression of me?" Stu questioned.

"well, probably, wow this guy is so hot and tall!" you said half joking. when you looked back at him his eyes were looking into yours. he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, you let him. after all you were borderline in love with him so why wouldn't you? then you remembered.

"Stu, Stu stop." you said a slight look of sadness on your face. "what's wrong?" "Stu i like you, like a lot and i wont kiss you if you don't actually want me." you said staring into his eyes before you could dwell in the sadness he spoke up. "i do like you, i've liked you since we first met." a shocked look spread across your face, you couldn't believe it.

"really!?" you asked "yes!" he said matching your tone. you dove forward, smashing your lips into his. you pushed him back, now straddling his waist. you continued to kiss him pushing your tounge into his mouth.

you began to slide your tounge around his mouth. you let out soft, quiet whimper. you could tell he liked the noise by the way he bucked his hips into you. you stopped kissing him, trying to catch your breath, after you kissed down his cheek to his neck. you covered his neck in lipstick marks. he was groaning in your ear and squirming.

you then sat up taking in deep breath as a way to calm yourself. he grabbed the hem of your top and began pulling it over your head. after he discarded your shirt he reached behind you and unhooked your bra. the cold night air caused your nipples to harden. he leaned up and put his lips around your right breast, sucking and teasing.

he left hickeys up and down your chest, the marks slowly turning purple. you let out multiple high-pitched moans. you pleasure going through your body was like no other, just because it was Stu doing it. he then sat up and started to take off his clothes, you soon followed until you were both completely naked.

"you're so beautiful." he whispered to you. he quickly flipped you both over, him now on top of you. he began to slide down the couch until he was face to face with your pussy.

"you're dripping baby, all for me?" just him saying that made you gush even more. he sunk his head down between your thighs, kissing up to your sopping cunt. he licked a stripe up you, the feeling sending shocks straight to your core. he began to suck on your clit, moaning softly as he did so.

you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly. he let out a perfect noise, in between a moan and a whimper. you felt a knot grow in your stomach, your legs stared to quiver. you squeezed Stus head between your thighs, almost suffocating him.

suddenly waves upon waves of pleasure washed over you. you let out a series of moans and whimpers. after a few minutes you calmed down. you pulled Stu up, grabbing his shoulders and flipping him over onto his back. he looked up at you and smiled, you smiled back.

you reached down and aligned his cock with your entrance. you slowly sunk down, you both simultaneously let out a groan of pleasure. you took a few seconds before bouncing your hips. the feeling of him inside you was amazing, he was hitting all the right spots.

he grabbed your hips, assisting you as your bounces became sloppy due to your impending orgasm. you kept slamming your hips against his, letting out moans that the neighbors probably heard. you felt a familiar feeling pool in your stomach.

you came before he did, and he continued to chase his high, slamming his cock into your sensitive cunt. he came shortly after, letting out the most vulgar noises and you enjoyed every second of it. you collapsed onto his chest, his member exiting you.

you layed next to him just enjoying the afterglow, before you heard Stu speak. "will you be my girlfriend?" you looked at him, knowing the answer was already obvious. "yes!" you said before connecting your lips to his in a loving kiss.

----

I hope you liked it!!!

can you do billy loomis x gn!reader angst like literally anything i just need billy angst in some form

omg yes!! so this is kind of short bc you weren't super specific but i hope you enjoy!!

tags: angst no comfort, toxic relationship

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

you knew about Billy's plan; you knew about the whole thing. you didn't care about it. except, he has to date Sydney for the plan. you pretended that you didn't care, but you did. every time that you brought it up, he ridiculed you, saying that this is so important to him, and you need to get over it. you didn't say anything, but it did affect you.

right now, you are sitting on a bench next to your best friend/coworker, Randy. they were going on about what happened at Casey's house over the weekend. you saw Billy running his hand down Syd's arm, a feeling began to invade your mind. you were livid.

you quickly stood up, leaving without saying anything. everyone turned to you asking where you were going. Billy stood up following you, but playing off as if he was just being a nice guy.

you entered the abandoned bathroom, tears started to seep from your eyes. you heard footsteps coming in through the door. you turned and saw the person you expected.

"What are you doing, are you trying to blow our cover?" he asked anger prominent in his voice. "Our cover?! are you kidding me, i have nothing to do with your plan."

"Oh, so its "us" until it gets too tough?" he asks, implying that you weren't on his side. "that's the thing Billy, it's never us. it's always you and Sydney, or- or you and Stu. and i know you don't mind it." you said as more tears fell from your eyes. your voice was horse and cracking. "If that's really how you feel then i think we should end this." the words that came out of his mouth tore a hole in your chest. what you said next surprised the both of you.

"But i love you" when those words fell from your lips, along with your tears, he pointed his eyes to the ground. he turned and left the room. the second he left you sunk to the ground, back against the wall. you sat there until there was no tears left to cry. you felt numb but also angry. you didn't know how but you were going to get him back for this.

----

hope you enjoyed! also let me know if you want a part 2 :)

also sorry this is really short

absolutely love this

scream - incorrect quotes pt.i

a/n: currently sitting exams right now so have not had the time to write! here’s something small in the mean time :)

anika, on the first week of being roommates: i feel like you’re prioritising school over our friendship

y/n: i barely know you?

anika: fine, message received.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

chad, mindy, & y/n are locked in a room

y/n, hysterical and on the verge of tears: what if nobody looks down here?! you know, how are we going to survive? i had- i had a protein bar in my car, i don’t know why i didn’t bring it in oh my god-

chad: guys, if it comes to it, and i mean this… i want you guys to eat me

mindy, exasperated: as i’ve told you before, chad, in those elevators and traffic jams, i will NOT eat you.

y/n: okay, you’re saying that now, but we might not get out of here and we might need to start making tough decisions!

mindy: *sighs*

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

chad: without you, sam, we’re just four idiots who moved to new york together

tara: you make us family, sam

sam: well, i’m like the cool rebel sibling of course

mindy: no, you’re the mom

y/n: yeah, definitely the mom

tara: look, sam, if you come back to us i’ll let you clean my room

sam: deal.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

y/n, in tears: i’m sorry

mindy: oh, y/n, crying… i don’t know what to do

mindy: pat pat. this feels wrong

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

chad: i don’t know if y/n’s dreams can predict the future like mine can, but i do know that if something happened to anika… i couldn’t live with myself

chad: of course, i wouldn’t have to, because y/n and mindy would kill me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

anika, getting out of the car: i’m leaving!

y/n: can’t you at least call an uber?

anika: you know they banned me for talking too much to the drivers!

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y/n: yeah, the band doesn’t go on till midnight

sidney: midnight?

y/n: okay, if you guys can’t hear me now, we’re gonna have some real problems at the club.

sidney: no problem

gale: no, we’re good. we’re good

y/n: i hope i can be as cool as you guys in thirty years.

gale: does y/n really think that we’re fifty?

sidney: no, y/n is just really bad at maths

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

gale: here’s the thing i realised, you can’t get older if you never celebrate birthdays

y/n, dewey, and sidney coming out with a cake: happy bir-

gale, spraying them with water: no

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

y/n: ethan, i was wondering if we could have a little chat

ethan: you want me to go home.

y/n: no, no, the opposite of that

ethan: i want you to go home?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

anika, confused but knowing that she’s in trouble: you want to tell me what i did?

y/n, mad: do you want to tell me what you did?

anika: i don’t know what i did

y/n: then i don’t know what you did.

anika: fine! i’m bored, i’m going

y/n: don’t forget your phone!

TW; Knife play,

You felt a hand, covered in a leather glove, covering your mouth as you cried out. Your back had arched, sending your chest right into the one that belongs to the masked killer above you. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you should, but you are.

A cold feeling had brought you out of your haze, than a small pinch of pain as you look down from where it was. The knife the killer had to your throat only minutes before was now drawing small cuts on your hips as he abused your cunt.