#ghostface!sam carpenter

You feel her shaky exhale before she drops her knife to the floor, turning you around in a split second and pinning you down with her weight. Your knife is still dangerously close to her neck, but you don't think she cares, with the way she grabs your waist possessively.

"Fuck," she breathes out, caressing your waist.

"Let me go," you hiss, pushing against her chest with your other hand.

She uses this moment to push your hand away from her throat, clutching it in her strong grip, your knife dangling uselessly between your fingertips.

"There's no way I'm letting you go, baby. No fucking way." She's breathless, her chest heaving heavily as she pushes you deeper into the cushions.

"I'm not your baby," you growl, trying to push her away. "You think you can just show up here after almost killing my friends? I don't care what kind of vigilante bullshit you've got going on, they're off limits." You buckle against her, growing red in the face when she doesn't move an inch.

She tilts her head, seemingly taking you in. She stays silent way too long for your liking, just breathing heavily and observing you, shifting her grip on your wrist. The action reminds you that your other hand is still around her shoulder, clutching it hard enough to leave half moons on her skin even through multiple layers of fabric.

"Go ahead," she whispers, "try."

You wonder how the fuck does she know what you're about to do.

Still, your hand moves slowly, and you don't dare look away from the black hollow eyes of the mask, swallowing when you finally come in contact with the heated skin of her neck. You don't waste another moment and grip, cutting off her airway. She expected it, clearly, but she still lets you send both of you tumbling to the floor. She lands with a huff, your thighs straddling her hips, and now that your roles are reversed you feel a sense of power over her, no matter how fleeting it might be.

Her pulse is erratic against your fingers, but she stays still, not moving an inch, and speaks up, "I came here to punish you, you know? I told you to stay home. Our home." You freeze, gaping at her. "I thought you learned your lesson that first time, but no, you decide to play hero and go off on your own in the middle of the fucking night," she growls, easily throwing you off her body. You sit on the floor, not daring to move as she removes her voice changer.

There's no need for that - you already know who's behind the mask.

"Take off my mask," Sam orders and you tremble at the commanding tone, hesitantly reaching up to remove the plastic.

There's no color in her eyes, only black of her pupils. She's panting, her expression pure lust. She looks you up and down slowly, gaze lingering on the knife between your fingers. You let it fall on the floor with a dull thump and she smiles dangerously, lifting her eyes. "Now take off your clothes."

You whimper, clumsily following the order as she drinks you up with her eyes, kneeled on the floor. When you're left naked she rummages in the pockets off her robe, pulling something out before carelessly shrugging it off and throwing it to the side.

"Come here," she pats her lap, leaning back against the foot of the couch. You do so quickly, stifling a whimper when your core brushes against her leg. She pulls you into a bruising kiss, all teeth and bite as your hips start rocking on her thigh, chasing pleasure. You grip the cushions behind her back, arching in her hold before you feel her push your hands away and lead them behind your back. She tries them up with something silky and smooth, probably a scarf, tugging to check if it's tight enough.

"So you don't jump me again," she chuckles and you grow embarrassingly wet, stifling a whimper at her degrading tone. "I only wanted to scare you that night when I visited you for the first time. Wanted to make sure you listen to me next time, but there you were, in a fucking towel. I wanted you for so long and you were right there, ready for me to take." She pushes on your hips, and you throw your head back, letting out a loud moan when you feel a bulge in her pants. "But this time… you pinned me down, put a knife to my throat. Remember what you said?" She husks, cupping the back of your head and forcing you to look at her. You nod dazedly, nails dig into your palms, trying to keep in your pathetic whimpers. She plants her hands on your cheeks. "Say it again."

You close your eyes and arch into her body, your breasts practically in her face. "I said I'd gut you- not you, I- I'd kill the person who tried to hurt you and Tara."

She lets out a deep breath that sounds like a moan and reaches behind you. "You'd kill for me?" She pants.

You nod against her lips. "Yes."

She growls, a sound so deep and primal it makes you shudder, and shows you the mask. "Then I think you should put this on, don't you?" You don't dare move an inch, watching as she puts the mask on your face with hunger in her eyes. Her thigh pushes between your legs, making you whimper. "Sam- please…"

"Perfect." She chuckles, trailing a hand trailing over your breasts, slowly, teasingly. "You love it, don't you? That's why you never said anything. I killed everyone who tried to hurt you and you fucking love it."

"Yes. Fuck, yes, Sam," you gasp grinding on her thigh. You can't take your eyes off her. Sweat drips down the valleys between her breasts, disappearing behind her thin tank top, pulling your attention to her perky nipples. You'd kill for a chance to taste them.

"My dirty girl, fucking perfect for me." She leans down and places long kisses down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin. Your breasts brush and you arch into her, chasing the feeling, but she merely chuckles before forcing your legs open and plunging two fingers inside with no warning. Your hands jerk and you hiss when the movement makes the scarf tighten, hurting your wrists. Sam chuckles into your neck before biting down, leaving a deep purple mark as you struggle to hold back a moan. "Don't," she hisses, "don't you dare hold back." She thrusts into you mercilessly, tugging your nipple between her teeth.

You want to throw your arms around her shoulders and hide your face in her hair, pulling her incredibly close, but your hands lay limp behind your back and the mask on your face makes it impossible to feel the softness of her hair. You look at her through the dark hollows, gasping for breath when she adds a third finger, almost falling back on the floor, trying to ride her, moving your hips up and down.

You feel pressure building in your lower belly and you tell Sam you're close, moaning her name as she fastens her pace before she abruptly pulls out, leaving you to whine uselessly.

She gets up from the floor with you in her arms and throws you over her shoulder, heading to your bedroom. Her palm settles on your ass, squeezing possessively as she shoulders your door before carelessly throwing you on the bed, making you bounce on the mattress. There's shuffling of fabric before she quickly unties your wrists. You sigh, flexing the strained muscles, and then you're rolled on your back, moaning when you see her fully naked. You let out a heavy breath, looking at Sam towering over you, her abs clenched as her fingers wrap around her strap. You unconsciously spread your legs, shuffling higher to settle on the pillows.

"Hands on the headboard," she orders, picking up the scarf from the floor. You put your hands over your head and she makes quick work of tying them up again, giving your nipple a painful squeeze as her hand slides down your torso to your dripping pussy.

"Please, Sam," you plead, grinding on her palm.

She hums and straddles your thigh, her sex flush against the muscle, smearing wetness. She grinds on you messily, losing herself in pleasure, and you're left to marvel at the sight. Her abs clench each time her pussy slides over your flesh, chest rising rapidly. She closes her eyes and throws her head back, moaning loudly. You whimper, trying to find friction against her thigh. She looks down at you in ecstasy, breathing through her open mouth as she messily humps your leg.

"Fuck, you look so good," you whimper, thinking you could come just from watching her. She chuckles lowly, coating you in her arousal and her strap bumps against your clit, making your hips jerk.

"You want it?" She taunts, halting her movements and positioning herself between your parted thighs. Your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against you before you answer. "I want you," you whimper, feeling the tip of her cock nudge against your entrance.

"You have me, baby," she says, before snapping her hips forward, burying the thick length in your wet heat. "How does that feel, hm?"

You moan, hips buckling in her hold. "So good, Sam, you feel so good."

She hums and starts thrusting slowly, placing fleeting kisses over your chest before she leans back, her fingers wrapping around your ankles to throw them over her shoulders. "Keep them open for me," she says and returns her hands to your hips, pressing you into the bed, picking up the pace.

She mercilessly pounds into your pussy, the wet slapping sound echoing through your room. You moan, throwing your head back, making the mask skew a little before it's ripped off your face. "Want to see your pretty face when you come," she breathes, pressing on the bulge on your lower belly. "You're taking my cock so well, princess. Such a good girl." Her praises reach your ears, but you barely make them out amidst mind-blowing pleasure.

"S-sam! Fuck, I'm close," you moan, helplessly tugging on the restraints. Sam starts rubbing your clit and you feel your orgasm build up, making you arch your back off the bed.

"You're gonna scream for me, baby," she pants, fastening her pace, her strap burying in your tight cunt to the hilt, her thumb playing with your swollen nub of nerves.

You come with a loud cry of her name, your walls clenching around the silicone cock as she continues pounding into you at an animalistic pace, drilling you into the bed. Your bed shakes, the headboard steadily smashing against the wall as she makes it her mission to lead you to another orgasm. Your tears roll down your cheeks, blurring the sight of her lust filled eyes, looking down at you like she's about to consume you whole.

"Such a good pussy, all mine to use," she purrs, throwing your legs off her shoulders and rolling you onto your side, the changing of the angle making her strap reach deeper into you. Her hand settles over your thigh, gripping possessively before she lets go to land a slap on your ass, her other hand pressing down on the side of your head.

"Yours, a-all yours ah-," you cry out, feeling your climax approach, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

She leans over your body to whisper in your ear. "You're mine. Say it."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she buries her strap in you again and again, hitting your sensitive spot. "Yours, I'm yours."

She bites down on the curve of your shoulder to hide her moan as she reaches her high, taking you over the edge with her. Your vision goes white, your cunt clenching around her cock, your wetness coating the sheets under you.

She slumps beside you, lazily untying the scarf and massaging your arms before slowly pulling out and pushing you to lay on top of her. "We're not done yet, baby," she whispers into your hair and pulls you into a deep kiss.

×××

A piercing ringing sound wakes you up, making you roll out of Sam's warm embrace and fall on the floor in a heap of sheets with a dull thump. You groan, sending her a finger when she snorts and finally picks up her phone. Your carpeted floor feels too fluffy to get up and move back to bed, your eyes falling shut as Sam speaks with her sister. You slowly drift off, teetering on the edge of consciousness when Sam picks you up and gently lowers you back on the bed, pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth before disappearing behind the bathroom door. You burrow into her pillow, the sound of running water lulling you back to sleep.

Next time you wake up to gentle caresses, smiling, not fully awake yet, but not asleep either. You feel her lips stretch in a smile when she starts kissing the side of your neck, her breath tickling, making you giggle.

You finally open your eyes when she calls out your name, coaxing you to get up. You pout and try to tug her back to bed, but she narrowly escapes your grip, chuckling when you frown.

"It's past noon, time to get up. Tara's been worried out of her mind," she says and checks her phone when it dings, groaning as she reads the text. "They're all waiting back home. I hate these kids sometimes."

You snort, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "I bet Mindy made everyone come cause she has some theory to share."

She laughs quietly as she types a response, and looks back at you. "Breakfast is almost ready and you better be dressed when I come back. And don't even try covering these up." She gestures to your neck with her forefinger and you instinctively reach up to touch your sore skin.

She's out of the door before you could complain, leaving you to stew in now cold sheets. You don't test your luck though, and rush to take a shower and dress when you hear her in the kitchen.

You get ready in record time, walking into the kitchen right when she starts putting plates on the table. Your mouth waters when a delicious smell hits your nose, and when she pulls out a chair for you, you rush to her side to press a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you," you whisper.

She hums, pushing your hair to one side when you sit and presses a kiss to your neck. "My girlfriend deserves the best," she breathes, making you shudder.

You find the strength to object. "You didn't even ask if I want to be your girlfriend."

She pauses, frowning. "You don't?"

You bite back a smile at her confused expression, pulling her down for a proper kiss. "It doesn't hurt to ask."

She huffs, and walks around the table to take a seat, looking you right in the eye as she replies. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," you mumble, growing embarrassingly red, and dive in the food, biting back a moan at the taste. She hums in approval, swiping some sauce for the corner of your mouth. "Good girl."

×××

You ask the question that's been nagging at your mind for the past few days when you're getting ready to leave. "So… there are at least two, right?"

"Hm?"

"Ghostface. One called and the other one attacked you at the bodega."

She shrugs, "I guess."

You frown, noting her lack of reaction. "When I got the call they said they knew your secret."

She walks up to you and puts her hands around your waist. "It doesn't matter. They still haven't told anyone and that means they want to deal with me themselves."

You nod. It makes sense, but you're still worried. The possibility of her dying or going behind bars makes your skin crawl.

"Hey," she caresses your cheek, "it'll be okay, I promise, just… you're with me, right?"

Your lips press against her palm. "Always."

You enter the building an hour later, darting inside quickly, Sam checking every corner before she lets you pass. You walk quietly, heading for the elevators when a man stops in your way, smiling at Sam. You expect her to ignore him or maybe even push him out of the way, but she rolls her eyes good-naturally and greets him with a hug, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"Who's this?" You ask, eyes darting between Sam and the man, and you decide you don't like him at all.

He looks… adequate, tall and obviously muscular, his eyes bright blue. He also looks dangerous, like a guy you'd avoid at parties. But then again Sam looks dangerous too, so you probably shouldn't judge him too quickly.

"Danny. Our neighbor," she introduces you and he smiles, extending his hand.

You take it, his fingers wrapping around yours with gentle, but firm squeeze. You mutter your name, looking him up and down. You've never seen him before and you've spent weeks at Sam's place by now.

"I don't think I've ever seen you before."

He chuckles and rubs the back of his head. "I'm not surprised. I work at night, sleep through the day."

You nod, feeling Sam's eyes on you. "Yeah, that must be it," you mumble.

She nudges you to the elevators, bidding Danny goodbye. You follow her, chewing on your lip.

No, you decide, you definitely don't like him.

"What was that?" Sam asks with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Jealous?"

You scoff. "You wish."

She hums in agreement, but sports a smug smile all the way to her front door. Tara greets you both with a hug the second you step inside the apartment, eyeing you worriedly. Sam shrugs her off with a calming smile, urging her into the kitchen. You bite back a smile when Tara begrudgingly follows, muttering something about Sam and her stress cooking.

Mindy and Anika are cuddled up on the couch, too busy gossiping about their new professor to notice you. Chad gives you a small wave, scooting to give you space to sit. The hug he gives you is warm and reassuring and you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, noting the absence of Quinn and Ethan.

"Quinn's in her room and Ethan has Econ," he mumbles, noticing your questioning look. You nod, and relax against his shoulder, allowing yourself to bask in the moment.

Sam and Tara chatter as they cook something, judging by the smell it's Sam's famous grilled cheese. Your mouth waters even though you ate not that long ago, remembering the taste. You sneak a glance in their direction and see them laughing. The shorter girl shoves Sam hard, but your girlfriend doesn't budge, eyes rolling at the sisters' antics.

You wish you could stay like this forever.

Mindy finally looks away from her girlfriend, eyebrows jumping up when she sees you. "Where have you been?"

You groan, feeling the way Chad's shoulders shake with laughter. "She won't let it go, just roll with it," he whispers.

"She was with me, Mindy, don't even start," Sam shouts from the kitchen, twirling a knife between her fingers. The sight makes something inside of you catch on fire.

"Gross," Mindy grumbles and whines when Anika leaves her, choosing to sit on your other side.

You share a laugh, your friend molding against your side. They put on a movie, not a slasher, thank god, and you settle deeper into the cushions as you watch, putting your hand around Anika's shoulders and sending Mindy a smug look. She rolls her eyes, huffing, and crosses her arms, turning to look at the screen with her lips jutted out. Sam and Tara join you when they're finally done, your girlfriend sending Chad and Anika a glare before she settles on the floor with a pout, a mirror image of Mindy. You bite on your lower lip, suppressing a smile. Screen flashes brightly and you dive into the story unfolding, forgetting about the real world for a few hours.

You nod off when you're almost halfway through the sequel, now flat against Sam's front as you both sit on some cushions on the floor, Mindy having thrown you away from her girlfriend when she came back with more snacks. Sam's arms find home around your waist, keeping you trapped between her legs as she presses soft kisses all over the side of your face. She shushes everyone and lowers the volume once she finally notices you've fallen asleep, snatching Mindy's blanket to cover your feet.

When you open your eyes some time later, expecting to see credits rolling or another movie playing, you see a murder report, sirens in the background wailing loudly, a likely cause of your abrupt awakening. You frown, struggling to make out words with your mind still half asleep, but when you hear your girlfriend's name your focus becomes laser like. Everyone in the room listens with rapt attention to every word falling from the reporter's mouth, Sam nudging you away and stomping to the kitchen once murder acquisitions are made known.

You swallow, looking at Sam's hunched figure, your throat suddenly dry. Tara elbows you and throws her chin in Sam's direction, eyes widening in an attempt at silent communication. You nod and follow her, both of you taking a seat on either side of the dejected woman.

"Sam?" Tara hesitantly speaks up. "None of what they said matters. We'll get that motherfucker and people will know the truth. They'll see you how we see you." She places her hand on top of Sam's, squeezing.

You bite on your lower lip when Sam's face crumbles at her sister's words, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "And what if they're right?" She croaks, turning to look at her sister. "What if they see me for what I really am and you're the one who's wrong?"

Tara opens her mouth, fire in her eyes, but you beat her to it. "She's right," you state, Sam snapping back to look at you. "You did what you had to do before. They'll never understand it, but we do. You're good, Sam, everyone in this room knows it."

Mindy and Chad take a seat across the table, worriedly eyeing your girlfriend, but her eyes are on you, latching onto every word that leaves your lips.

"Do you really think so?" She whispers and you can see the hidden insecurity behind her irises. This feels like a conversation you should be having in private, away from Mindy's piercing eyes and Tara's attentiveness.

Your lips press against hers before you whisper quietly, only for her to hear. "I know so. You saved me, remember?"

Tension seeps away as she pulls you into another kiss, lips moving gently against your own, tongue sliding across your bottom lip before Mindy forces you apart by fake gagging.

Tara pulls her into a hug, somehow fitting her older sister in the slope of her neck. "Shut it, Mindy." She glares at the girl.

Mindy throws her arms up in mock surrender and Chad takes this moment to say, "That's right. We're the core four, we've been through worse."

Sam loudly snorts into Tara's shoulder, making the girl grimace. "The core what?" Mindy's side eye burns through him.

"The core four. You know, cause we've been through a lot. Plus, it sounds cool."

"It really doesn't," you chuckle.

"And there's five of us, dingus, six if we count Anika," the twin sister points out.

"Yeah, but Y/n isn't Woodsboro and neither is Anika..." he trails off, looking to the side. "Core four and a half? Core four and plus ones?"

Mindy rolls her eyes so hard you're afraid they might stick to the back of her head. "Just shut up."

You get up to get a glass of water for Sam after making sure she's fine, dropping your phone on the table and heading to the kitchen. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you hear Quinn and her latest boy toy going at it again, and open the fridge, scanning for a bottle of water.

Suddenly, the apartment grows quiet before chaos takes over.

"Y/n!" Sam shouts loudly, and you run back, her fingers immediately latching onto your wrist with a tight grip. She shows you a message on her phone, a photo of Ghostface holding Quinn by the throat in her room.

You freeze with a baited breath, eyes pinned to the door. Pained wails from behind the wall make you dart to the door, throwing Sam's hand away from yours. You open the door before she pushes you behind her back, obscuring the view, but you still catch a glimpse of Quinn's limp body being thrown at Anika.

Your friends scream and scutter around the apartment, Ghostface hot on your heels. Sam's hand finds yours again, pulling you behind Chad and Tara, Mindy and Anika following close by, but Ghostface is faster, rounding you up, Sam's hand slipping from your grasp as he shuts the front door right in your face, cutting you away from Sam, Tara and Chad. The door starts shaking from the force of Sam's efforts, but you know it's useless - she made sure nothing could get through that door when they moved in. You duck when the robed figure slashes at you, nipping your shoulder. Mindy shouts something about knives from the kitchen and runs up to clock Ghostface with a knife holder, throwing him off his feet. Anika tugs you back into Quinn's room and you stumble on her body, almost falling into a puddle of blood, but Mindy is right there on your other side, shoving you behind the door and quickly locking it.

The three of you lean on the door, feet planted firmly on the floor as Ghostface tries to knock it down. The hinges squeak from the force, dust falling on your shoulders as you pant heavily, thinking of a way out. You look around the room, trying to find some sort of weapon, but the only thing somewhat fitting your requirements is a bedside lamp, glowing mockingly with a pinkish hue. The rattling stops, and your panic increases tenfold. Your eyes land on Mindy's, her face growing pale as she looks at something over your shoulder before she forces you back and throws herself at the bathroom door with a scream.

The dark figure easily throws the door open, slicing her bicep to the bone. The girl falls to the floor, clutching the deep cut, unaware of the hand raised over her head, ready to land the final blow. Anika launches herself at the killer, kicking and screaming, as you dart for the fucking lamp, clutching it in your sweaty palm, ready to knock the hooded person unconscious. You turn around just in time to see your friend's stomach being sliced open, a guttural scream ripping from her throat.

She falls to the ground and you swing the lamp as hard as you can, sending Ghostface back to the bathroom and snapping the door shut right in his face. You sit, propped against the door, frantically looking around for something to block it with. Mindy presses down on Anika's stomach, there's so much blood it's going to make you sick.

You turn away, blinking back tears, your eyes landing on the dresser.

"Mindy," you croak, "Mindy we need to prop it against the door." She looks at you, then at the dresser and back to Anika, who nods, schooling her features.

You move in tandem, you still holding the door, with Ghostface now trying to knock it down, and her pushing the dresser firmly against the door. You sag once it's in place, picking up on distant shouts.

"Y/n!" Sam calls from the window across, a leader clutched between her and Danny. You let out a relieved laugh, securing the ladder on the windowsill. "That's it, baby, now come here," she urges, a desperate look in her eyes.

You shake your head, looking back at Mindy and Anika, and at the shaking door. "They're injured, Sam. They'll go first." She looks like she wants to protest, but relents once she sees the look in your eyes.

"Just one at a time," Danny speaks up.

You nod before turning back and taking a place on the floor, gently pressing down on Anika's wound, your hands turning red mere seconds later. You fight the urge to gag, looking at your friends through the tears. "You first, Mindy."

Mindy looks up, scandalized. "I'm not leaving her," she gritts.

"M-Mindy," Anika whimpers, clutching your wrists.

"No."

"You'll get there quick and I'll be right behind you, o-okay?" The girl stutters, pleading with her eyes.

"Then you go first," Mindy sniffles, "I'll hold it steady and wait till you get across."

You close your eyes, your whole body jostling from the force of Ghostfaces efforts. Your friend is losing more and more blood, coating the floor and your clothes, making you shudder. Sam starts shouting again, screaming for one of you to finally go. You look at Mindy, whispering, "You have to go."

"I'll just s-slow you down. Just go, please, just g-go." Anika begs, tears rolling down her face. Mindy nods resolutely and you look away, giving them some resemblance of privacy as they share a heartfelt kiss.

Mindy grabs your collar, forcing you to look at her when they're done. "You get her out, understand?"

You nod, watching as she looks at her girlfriend one last time and hurries to the ladder, hesitantly climbing on.

"You'll go next," Anika whispers, closing her eyes.

Your head whips back, eyes wide as you look at your friend's pale face. "I'm not fucking leaving you, An. We stick together, remember?"

She chuckles humorlessly, the sound turning into a wheeze. "I don't want you d-dying with me."

You swallow back a sob, knowing that the open wound is looking worse with each passing second, her fingers so weak she can barely hold onto your hand, let alone a ladder.

She looks like she knows what you're thinking about, smiling gently. "I'll h-hold him off. I still have some fight in me."

You shake your head, blinking back tears, and look out the window to see Mindy's almost halfway to the other side. You think and think and think, because there has to be something, there must be a way. There's probably some sort of weapon in Sam's room, but you're not sure if you'll make it back in time or if you'll be able to fight off Ghostface. You can feel the door almost give out, crossing out the options of just staying there and waiting for the police to arrive.

Anika pushes your hands away and you blink back at her. "Go," she whispers, fighting back tears. "We b-both know I won't make it across that ladder."

You shake your head, realization dawning on you. "The front door," you mutter, "An, it's locked from the inside! And that fucker won't even hear you through all that noise. You can make it to the elevators. You can!"

She freezes, eyes darting between the door and the window, you can see a glimpse of hope appear. "I can," she nods, "but what about you?"

You swallow. "I'll hold him off and go for the ladder when he breaks down the door. I promise, I'll get out."

She looks like she wants to argue, but Mindy's triumphant shout as she finally lands on the floor makes her nod quietly. You don't have time to argue, you both know it.

"Anika!" Mindy urges and you can hear Sam cursing loudly.

The wounded girl nods solemnly and pads to the door that leads to the hallway, unlocking it quietly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mindy yells.

Sam doesn't say anything and shoves Mindy out of the way, ready to climb the goddamn ladder, Danny holding her back by her shoulders.

"No!" You shout, looking back to see Anika already in the hallway. "Anika's going and I'm next. Trust me, please."

Sam looks at you, a silent question in her eyes, you shake your head, hoping she'll listen. She sags. "Okay."

You exhale in relief, turning to watch Anika as she trudges through the living room, back aching from continuing shoves.

Minutes tickle by, Mindy disappears from view to go to the living room, watching her girlfriend through the window. You hold on, heels of your feet firmly on the floor, but you can already feel your strength starting to slip.

Anika is nowhere to see, so you turn to Sam, a question on your tongue.

"You can go now," she nods. "C'mon, babe, hurry." She stretches one arm out, the other holding the ladder tightly. Danny is by her side, pushing all of his weight to their end of the ladder.

You get up and run for the window, the dresser now pushed against the wall, the door wide open. Your foot slips on the windowsill, but you manage to hold on, all of your body now on the ladder, looking down at the street below. You start trembling violently, now understanding why Mindy took so long to get across. Sam's eyes are on you the whole time and when you finally look up she offers an encouraging nod, jaw clenched in concentration as she watches your every move.

Her eyes land on something behind you and you freeze, hair on the back of your neck standing up. You don't have to look back to know Ghostface is standing there, but you still do, ignoring Sam's yelling and the tremble in your arms. He stands there, motionless, head tilted in silent curiosity. The ladder squeaks, and your sweaty palms make your grip slip, but you hold on, looking at the killer.

There's a dull sound just outside the apartment that makes him look back at the door and then at you again. His head tilts to the other side as he puts on a show of counting each of you, five fingers up, curling them one by one after he points at you, then Sam, Danny and finally Mindy. He looks at the only finger left, his pinky, and shakes his head in mock disappointment.

"No," you breath out, already climbing back.

He raises a hand, waving you goodbye playfully, gloved fingers wiggling around the sharp knife.

"Get here right now!" Sam shouts, halfway out of the window, but you're out of her grasp. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

You shake your head again, stumbling back inside Quinn's room as the ladder falls down to the street below, Sam's screams filling your ears as you run after Ghostface.

"Anika!" You shout when the elevator is finally in sight, Anika holding on to the railing and Ghostface slipping inside.

You run at full speed, but you still don't make it in time, doors sliding closed as he buries the knife deep into her chest, making you run flat into the metal, Anika's screams echoing through the apartment building. You wipe away your tears and turn for the stairs, jumping five at a time as you make it down to the first floor. You see the back door fall shut after a figure runs out, panic overtaking as you finally face the elevator.

You've never seen that much blood in your life. The walls are covered in splashes of red, the floor just a puddle of dark liquid. Anika wheezes, choking on her blood. You fall to your knees beside her, afraid to touch her fragile body, cuts and stabs littering her torso. Your vision blurs. You don't even know which wound to press on, all of them gushing with blood. In the end you press your palms to the deep cut on her chest, sobbing when more blood starts spilling from other gashes.

She gathers the last of her strength and grips the hem of your shirt. "T-thank you," she wheezes, more blood trailing down her chin.

"What?" You breathe out, choking. "It's my fault. I should've made you climb that fucking ladder."

"I- I would've f-fell." She takes a shallow breath. "Brains a-all over the s-street." She grimaces, gripping you tighter. "This way I get to be with my f-friend for the… for the last time." She smiles, eyes growing hazy and unfocused before they fall shut, her chest no longer rising with ragged breaths.

You wail, desperately shaking her body, begging her to open her eyes. You center your hands on her chest and start pressing to the beat of fucking Stayin' Alive. You follow the steps that have been drilled into your brain on one of the courses you took, pinching Anika's nose and breathing into her mouth, waiting to see the rise of her chest. You repeat it again and again and again, hitting her chest with full force in a hopeless attempt at bringing her back to life.

Arms circle around your shoulders, your body immobilized by a person behind you. You try to throw them off, pushing with your elbows, Anika's unmoving chest the only thing you see.

"Stop," Sam croaks, pulling you against her chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sure.”

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

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

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

“I’m not sure I’d be welcomed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not so sure,” she whispered.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fifty-eight times,” Tara said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Okay,” Tara nodded. “I won’t.”

“Thanks.”

━━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was almost too good to be true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam was innocent. They had nothing against her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope I slayed 🙇🏻‍♀️ the carpenter sisters for sure slayed though

Ghostface mutilated two men, boys, from your class. Greg, the guy you've helped with multiple assignments is now dead, his fucking head detached from his body. Your eyes are pinned to the reporter at the scene as he continues on the details of the murder.

You fight the urge to throw up.

Sam turns you away from the TV and holds your hands tight, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. "It's going to be okay," she whispers, "I won't let anything happen to you." She places a kiss on your open palm, and then leads it to her cheek, nuzzling.

But you're not listening. You're far too lost in your thoughts. Sam's here, with you. She was here the whole night and the day before.

Why would you ever think she'd take on the mantle of Ghostface, the very thing that almost ruined her life? It's so obvious now, no matter how hard she tries to hide it, you can see she's shaking ever so slightly. You see her jaw clench.

You see how hard she's trying to hide her emotions.

You pull her in a fierce hug, clinging for dear life, feeling her burrow her face into your neck with a heavy exhale. She's trembling with fear or rage - you're not sure.

You're forced to pull apart when Quinn bursts your bubble, phone in a hand. "My dad wants to talk to you." She glances at your joined hands, but doesn't comment.

Sam pulls away and steps away to a corner of the room, a crease forming between her brows as she listens to whatever detective Bailey has to say. You fight the urge to follow her to ease her worries.

"Are you okay?" The redhead asks.

You nod dazedly, not looking away from Sam.

"Do you want some water? You're kind of really pale," she mumbles.

You shake your head and finally look at her. "I'm fine. Do they know who did it?" You ask, gesturing to the TV.

She sighs. "No. There was only a mask."

You bite your lip, nodding.

Sam appears by your side a minute later, looking more pent up than before. "I need to go to the station," she says, giving the phone back to Quinn.

You knew to expect this, but still, your heart clenches painfully. This is really happening.

"What? Why?" Quinn asks, looking between the two of you.

Sam sighs, running a hand through her hair. You can tell she's conflicted, and the way her eyes keep flickering to the TV makes you reach out to her and grab her face, pinning her with your eyes. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No. You'll stay here. It's safer." She looks around, her eyes lingering on Chad and Ethan. "Don't leave the apartment, okay?"

She waits for your nod and leaves in a hurry, Tara hot on her heels, and you're left to worry in the company of your friends. Mindy spews out theory after theory, each one wilder than the previous

They get positively horrifying after the fourth one, and you decide to tune her out to keep yourself from spiraling.

Ethan keeps sending you worried looks to which you always smile. The boy is way too sensitive and kind to be caught in this mess. You just hope he'll make it out alive.

"Let's go to my room," Quinn whispers, nudging you subtly.

You mindlessly follow her, eager to get away from the overstuffed room. She pushes you to sit on her bed and pulls out a bottle of cheap gin from her nightstand.

"Don't ask," she mutters.

You keep quiet and take a swing, sinking against her pillows. She joins you on the other side, throwing a hand over your shoulders.

"So what's the deal between you and Sam? You guys finally got your shit together?" She asks out of blue, taking away the bottle so you couldn't stall.

You're thankful for the distraction.

"I don't really know."

"Come on." She clings to your arm. "Give me the deets."

You laugh, but shake your head. "No deets, sorry."

She groans, pushing you away. "Fine. Keep your secrets."

You take back the bottle and take a big gulp, wincing at the taste. Quinn's eyes linger on you, but you pay her no mind, worriedly fiddling with your phone, waiting for Sam's call.

"Who do you think it is?" She breaks the silence before taking a swing.

The hair at the back of your neck stands at the way she looks at you, her eyes dark and pupils blown. A side of her mouth quirks up in a subtle smirk, but you catch it even in your inebriated state.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. You must have a suspect," she presses.

You gulp, sitting up straight. "I don't know, Quinn. I don't think any of our friends are capable of that." You shudder, looking away.

"Well, it's someone who's close to the Carpenters, that's for sure," she mumbles, putting the bottle away.

You don't like where the conversation is heading. The thought of someone close to you slicing people for fun makes your heart drop to your stomach. You think about Chad and Mindy, the way friendship with them came so easily. You think about Anika and her unwavering belief in everything that's good. You think about Ethan and Quinn, two completely opposite people who manage to make you feel welcomed, with the same crooked smile on their lips.

You shake your head. "Maybe it's different this time. Maybe-"

Your phone starts ringing, effectively cutting you off. You glance at the screen.

Unknown number.

Gulping, you look at Quinn, who looks back at you with wide eyes. It's probably the first time you see her unnerved, her hands shaking as she gestures at you to pick it up.

"Hello?" You answer.

You hear a click of the voice changer before the person on the other side speaks.

"Hello, Y/n. What's your favorite scary movie?"

×××

Each of Tara's muffled sobs feels like a stab to Sam's stomach. She tugs her sister closer, looking between the shelves to check where Ghostface is. She still can't believe he attacked them like that, in the middle of the street, and followed them to the store, killing everyone in the way.

She looks at Tara to see her own expression mirrored in the brown eyes, determined and focused.

"Sam?" Her sister mouths, to which she shakes her head, nudging her forward.

They need to get out right now.

She picks up a can from the floor and throws it with all of her might to the other side of the bodega, moving the second Ghostface turns around.

She doesn't flinch when the shotgun fires at the shelves across the room, only tugs Tara harsher, almost dragging her along. They're so close to the door they only need to take a few steps, but that means being seen and she can't afford that, so she waits with a baited breath for a perfect opportunity.

Ghostface moves almost silently, inching closer with each step. Sam knows she's almost out of time, she can see the looming figure in the crack between the shelves. She acts without thinking, pushing as hard as she can against the shelf and burying the masked figure under it.

They waste no time running away, not looking back to see if Ghostface is following them and getting the hell out of that store.

Police sirens greet them at the entrance and Sam exhales with relief, only now allowing herself to look back.

The store is a mess. The mask is left on the floor.

Her ears ring and her hand goes numb from how hard Tara grips it. Her chest heaves with each breath and all she wants to do is go back home, put on the mask and find that motherfucker.

And then a figure rounds the corner and crushes straight into them.

"Oh god, Sam. You're okay," you gasp, clinging to her. "Fuck, I thought-" that's the moment you look back to the store, your mouth dropping open at the sight. You jump back then, looking them both up and down until you're certain they're fine.

"What are you doing here?" Tara asks, her voice wavers. "How did you know?"

You look back at Sam, your eyes wide and watery. The anger in her chest gives way to something warm and tender, and she doesn't resist the urge to scoop you into her arms and drown in your comforting scent.

"I got a call," you hesitantly speak up, voice muffled against her jacket.

"No, we got a call," her sister's voice hardens as she rises to her towering five feet and zero inches.

"Tara, there's no need for this," Sam butts in, pulling away a bit and putting an arm around your shoulders. She senses the change in her sister, the way her shoulder tense even more, the way her eyes stay rooted to yours. "She just got here."

Tara's eyes snap to look at her sister. "And how did she know where to go?"

"Ghostface told me. Tara, I swear." You don't dare to look away from her. You need her to believe.

She nods tersely, but suspicion lingers in her eyes. You sigh in relief. That's all you can ask for.

You turn in Sam's arms and burrow your face into the crook of her neck, adrenaline finally leaving your body as tears start to roll down your cheeks.

You were terrified.

"It's okay. We're okay." Sam reassures, enveloping you in her arms.

You nod, choking on a sob and cling to her even more. Her hands circle your waist, pushing you snug against her as she whispers sweet reassurances into your ear. Tara steps back, her eyes narrowed as she keeps glancing between you and the store.

"Sam." Detective Bailey comes from behind her, making you jump in surprise. "I need you to come to the station with me." His tone is apologetic, but firm. He waits for Sam to nod before walking away to speak to other police officers.

"Go home, okay? I'll get back as soon as I can," she whispers against your temple.

You grip her tighter, but eventually nod.

×××

You wake up to the sound of your alarm. You open your eyes slowly, blinking against the rays of sun that managed to sneak past the heavy curtains, and curse when you realize it's already morning.

So much for staying up and waiting for Sam.

Sighing, you check your notifications and groan when you see thirty texts from Mindy. You text her to let her know you're on your way, putting on some fresh clothes and hurrying out of the door, already late to your class.

You spend half of the day dozing off, empty space next to you signaling that Sam and Tara are still at the station.

"What the fuck, Y/n? First you run out the door like a maniac, and then Tara and Sam get attacked at a bodega. Where were you?" Mindy asks the second you get close enough to hear her, and pulls you along to push you down on one of the benches in the park, Chad glaring at you from behind her shoulder.

You take a moment to respond, gulping at the outright murderous look on Mindy's face. "When Sam left I got a call from Ghostface," you start, and Mindy already opens her mouth to give you a piece of mind, only stopping when Anika tugs her down on her lap. "You probably know the script by now, but they said… well, they said they know Sam's secret and she's going to pay for it, like, right now. So I ran to warn her because she wouldn't pick up her phone, and when I got there it was already late. Ghostface left, but Sam and Tara were fine, thank god." You shudder at the memory.

It's quiet for a moment as Mindy contemplates your answer. "What secret?"

You wince, knowing you're probably a suspect now. "No idea."

Mindy blinks and then nods to herself. "Congratulations, dear Y/n, you just dethroned Ethan as my top suspect."

"Why am I a suspect?" Ethan shrieks, looking up from his book.

"So she's your suspect just because she got a call? Solid evidence." Anika mumbles, earning a withering glare from Mindy. "Babe, I appreciate your input, but it's totally not needed, I'm the expert here."

You sigh, but decide to stay quiet for your own sake. Whatever you say will undoubtedly make you even more of a suspect in her eyes anyway.

You check your phone, biting your lip at the lack of messages from Sam. Quinn looks over your shoulder, a smirk pulling at her lip when she reads some of your texts. You elbow her harshly and she rolls her eyes, scooting away from you.

"Y/n."

You jump up, face heating up when Sam pecks your cheek. You face her slowly, raising a knee to your chest. "Morning, Sam. Tara." You try to smile, but all you can manage is a grimace.

She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes tell you off the night spent in the interrogation room and you wish you were there with her. She moves slowly, looking you up and down. "You-"

"No need," Mindy swiftly interrupts the older girl, jumping up to her feet and pushing Sam and Tara to take a seat. "The interrogation has been taken care of."

Sam rolls her eyes, but doesn't say anything else, nudging Ethan to switch places with him. She settles, sighing deeply and leans on your shoulder, closing her eyes. You bite back a smile, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Did you get home safe?" Tara asks, voice laced with suspicion.

She looks even worse than last night, her hair a mess, her eyes tinged red. You're ready for her to chew you out, no doubt she spent the night overthinking your every word.

You gulp, feeling Sam stiffen. "Yeah."

"So you get a call, they tell you exactly where to go and then you appear right after Ghostface leaves, when it's safe. Convenient," she grumbles, shaking her head.

"Can you leave her alone?" Ethan exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "She's your suspect, we got it. Let's just move on."

Quinn nods, "You should've seen her face when she got the call. I thought someone died or something."

Tara sends you one last shrewd look before huffing and crossing her arms with a pout.

You curse yourself for being so stupid yesterday.

Sam's lips brush against the crook of your neck, muttering, "She'll come around, don't worry."

You nod stiffly, nose burrowed in her soft hair. Her lips leave a quick peck on your shoulder before straightening up and poking you in the ribs teasingly. You can't help but admire her strength - she was attacked mere hours ago and now she's back to her usual self.

Either her therapist is working overtime or she's found some way to let all that pent up anger out.

"You're protecting her, how sweet," Mindy coos before schooling her features into her best bad cop look. "What a coincidence that you two are my suspects too. Ethan. The shy and dorky guy who no one suspects because he's so shy and dorky. And, oh wait, you're awfully close to my main suspect." She rolls on the balls of her feet gesturing wildly, as she goes off on a rant.

It goes on for ages, making Ethan uncomfortable and squirmy.

"Mindy," you butt in, yearning a glare from Tara, but it gets her to stop and finally move on to the next suspect.

Quinn.

You stay quiet this time, listening to every word Mindy says. You've had this nagging feeling about the redhead ever since you saw that smirk on her face. It still sends shivers down your spine.

Sam notices the way you seem to shrink into her and sends you a questioning look, but your attention is on Quinn.

Mindy mentions something about cops and you perk up. "Why is your dad on the case?" You hurriedly ask.

Mindy's mouth snaps shut mid sentence, but she seems to appreciate the question, turning to face Quinn properly, hands on her hips.

Quinn rolls her eyes with a huff. "You think I know? It's literally his job, but he probably did it to keep an eye on me."

Mindy shakes her head, musing about the conveniences of having a cop dad. You tune her out, basking in the warmth of Sam's embrace. She smiles softly, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. In this moment, no matter how short, you feel blissfully content.

When Mindy is finally done with her rant, Anika reminds you of your last class, speaking softly so as not to ruin the moment. You groan and untangle from Sam, making the older girl pout. Your lips meet in a chaste kiss before Anika finally tugs you away, too afraid of your new professor to be late.

You look back one last time to see Sam angled to your friends, giving them a piece of her mind by the looks of it.

It's not until you're done with your last class that Tata finds you in one of the halls.

"Y/n! Wait," she calls out, jogging to you.

You fiddle with your fingers, not really prepared for the conversation that's about to take place.

"God, you're fast," she gasps, using your shoulder for support as she bends over.

She takes her time getting her breathing under control and her hand feels scalding hot on your shoulder, making you squirm uncomfortably.

Finally, after a long moment, she looks up, a guilty look on her face, "I'm sorry," she starts, worrying a strap of her backpack. "For earlier. For accusing you and being a bitch."

You want to protest - you don't think she was being a bitch - but she stops you with a pointed look.

"Let me apologize." She waits for your nod before continuing. "You didn't deserve us jumping you like that, it's unfair to you. I just… It still hurts, you know? My best friend made a pin cushion out of me, and this situation is just a big fucking reminder. Because… you're my best friend, okay? You're like a breath of fresh fucking air and I love you for it, but every time someone gets attacked my brain just immediately goes to the worst case scenario and I can't help it." The words rush out and there's a steady stream of tears running down her cheeks. You desperately want to pull her in a hug, but she has your hands in a vice grip, keeping you in place, needing you to listen. "But I don't want to lose you. Not to Ghostface, and not because I was too afraid to trust you. So please, please, don't hurt me, okay? And don't hurt Sam. Don't you dare hurt Sam."

You barely manage a shaky nod before you're pulled in a bone crushing hug. You hold her close, blinking away tears as she cries freely into your shirt, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

"I promise," you whisper, a plan already forming in your head.

×××

In your defense, you've sent Sam a text the second you stepped inside your apartment.

Bailey called later in the evening, apologizing profusely and claiming he needed her at the station again. She left only after you promised her you'd stay home this time, no matter what. As expected, Tara went with her, leaving you with Quinn who invited yet another fling to the apartment.

So you took your chance and rushed to your place. You did cross your fingers when you made that promise, after all.

You don't want to unnecessarily worry Sam and you're sure she won't be able to read the text until she's done at the station, so you hide a knife under one of your cushions and settle on your couch to wait.

You're sure Ghostface will show up.

You ignore the rising panic in your chest. You know you have to do this for your sake and for the sake of your friends, no matter how scary it is.

You've had an urge to do this for weeks, but you were never brave enough, preferring to stay in the safety of Sam's room. Now it's necessary. Now it feels like your only option. And your conversation with Tara only spurred you on.

You don't know how many of them there are, but you know that the one you need will show up sooner or later.

Minutes tickle by and you grow restless, shifting unnecessarily and looking at every visible corner, jumping up every time a car passes by your apartment.

Eventually, your exhaustion from the night before spent running around and panicking catches up to you and you nod off, falling into a deep sleep on your fluffy couch.

You wake up to continuous tapping against your coffee table.

You yawn and rub your eyes, before groaning and stretching your stiff neck. You blink, adjusting to the darkness in the room, your hand nudging against something sharp, and that's when you fully wake, jumping up in alert and grasping the knife in a tight grip. You slowly turn to face the source of the sound.

Ghostface sits on the loveseat, her legs crossed and her posture entirely relaxed as she playfully taps her knife against the glass of your coffee table.

You take a second to gather your courage and lunge.

_________________________

Literally Sam when R did that:

Ever since Tara first dragged you along to their apartment Sam's kept a close eye on you. It was disconcerting at first, when she always glared at you, nitpicking your every move and asking probing questions. You never hesitated to answer in fear of her throwing you out and never letting you anywhere near close to them again.

But then, as weeks went by, her hovering turned from suspicious to protective, almost overbearing at times. You took it in stride, welcomed it, even. You've never had anyone care about you the way she does.

"Can we finally talk about it now?" Mindy asks, warily eyeing Sam. "I know you said before that the murders have no connection to us, but now it's a little too close to home, don't you think?" She looks at you for backup.

You bite your lip. "I don't know, Mindy…"

"What about the guy that wouldn't leave you alone? Cole?" Chad butts in.

You blink, confused. "What about him?"

Tara looks at you, narrowing her eyes. "He was stabbed about a month ago."

You gulp, pushing back against the cushions. "I didn't know that."

Now that you think of it, you realize he stopped bothering you a long time ago, practically disappearing from campus.

Sam stays uncharacteristically silent, her eyes boring holes into the TV and her hand slithering lower to settle on your thigh, absentmindedly circling her thumb on your skin.

Quinn finally looks up from her phone, chewing on the stick of her lollipop. "Why are you so worked up about this? It's New York, people get stabbed every hour."

Silence falls over the room, everyone turns to look at the unbothered girl.

Anika is the first to break silence. "Quinn, use your brain."

"No, she's right." Sam speaks up for the first time. "It's a big city and we don't even know if it's Ghostface."

The older girl gets up, patting your thigh one last time and goes back to the kitchen.

You exchange worried looks with Mindy, who looks equally dumbfounded as you feel.

"What just happened?" Tara whispers, looking like her world flipped upside down.

You sink deeper into the cushions, frowning in thought.

"Can we finally get drunk now?" Quinn gets up to pour herself a shot of vodka, ruffling your hair as she passes by you. "Join me, cute girl?"

You think you hear something fall in the kitchen, but you are not too sure.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. You stick with Quinn, feeding on her laid back attitude and easy smiles, all worries thrown into the deepest part of your mind. Ethan gets embarrassingly drunk and tries to cuddle Mindy, throwing them both over the back of the couch. Chad and Tara disappeared in her room a long time ago and Sam's been brooding all night, sending you long looks over the rim of her glass and eyeing Quinn's hand on your shoulder.

You get up when the clock strikes midnight, ready to head home.

"What are you doing?" Sam asks.

You stagger. "It's late. Time to go home."

"You're staying here tonight." She says, and you don't have the time to object, before she's clapping her hands, startling everyone in the room. "Ethan." She looks at him, cocking her head towards the door. He hurriedly scurries away, blurting out goodbyes as he disappears out the door.

She turns to look at the cuddled pair. "Anika? Mindy?"

One of them grumbles, you think it's Mindy. "We'll go. Sleeping on this old thing leaves me sore for days. You'll have to go and get Chad though." She smirks, biting her lip in anticipation.

Sam just sighs and goes to Tara's room, making sure to be as loud as possible when she approaches the door.

"Looks like you'll get some after all," Quinn whispers with a suggestive smile.

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. "Yeah, I'll get my ass whopped."

"I mean, if you're into that…" she chuckles, and nudges you with her shoulder, before disappearing in her own room.

Mindy and Anika linger by the door, waiting for Chad. You bite your lip and look at the door, considering.

And then someone slaps the back of your head. "Don't even think about it," Mindy hisses, her eyes darting in the direction of Tara's room.

You roll your eyes and step away from her reach, leaning against the wall. Chad emerges a second later, looking reprimanded. Mindy snickers at the look on his face. You quickly say your goodbyes, promising to meet up tomorrow after classes. Sam drags you to her room as soon as the door closes behind them. You eye her warily and take a seat on her soft bed, waiting as she gathers herself.

You hoped she'd forget about the night before by now, but, evidently, the news and the time she spent glaring at the back of your head only egged her more.

"Sam?" You whisper, your fingers clenching around her soft blanket.

She looks at you, her eyes flash as she starts walking to you. "You'll stay here from now on. No more parties. No more walking alone at night. You won't leave this apartment without me," she bites out, taking a step closer with each word.

She's directly in front of you now and you have to strain your neck to look her in the eyes. "Sam this is rid-"

You swallow your words when her hand comes up to your neck, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, a tip of her finger dipping under the fabric to stroke your bruised skin. She leans dangerously close to your face, her breath fanning over your burning cheeks.

"You'll stay here, with me," she whispers, her lips brushing against yours. "Say it."

You lose yourself in her eyes. She's looking down at you, unblinking, her brows furrowing more and more with each passing second.

You decide not to test your luck.

"I'll stay here, with you." Your eyes fall shut.

"And?" She tucks your hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering below your jaw, cradling your face.

"I'll-" you take a deep breath, "I won't go anywhere. Not without you."

She relaxes instantly, tension seeping away from her body, and pulls away, leaving you to tremble on her bed. You open your eyes to see her rummaging through her closet, pulling out various t-shirts and looking them over before settling for an oversized dark green one.

You pull the blanket over your lap, hunching in on yourself as you try to slow your heartbeat, rubbing your chest. You sit in silence as she changes into her sleeping clothes, your eyes trained on the few pictures pinned to the wall over her dresser. There's two with her and Tara, one with Chad and Mindy, presumably at her birthday party, and one with you, sneakily taken by Anika during one of your picnics. You smile at the picture, noting the content look on Sam's face and the curl of her lips as she gazes down at you sleeping soundly on her lap.

"Here," she says, giving you only a shirt, and elaborates at your questioning look, "my pants will be too big on you."

You nod, and ask her to turn around. She does so with a shake of her head, settling on the right side of the bed while you shuffle out of your clothes, folding them neatly over the back of a chair. You freeze when you catch a glimpse of the bite marks littering your neck and shoulders in the mirror, quickly pulling her shirt over your head.

When you turn around Sam is already looking at you, her eyes sliding up and down your body, lingering on the bruise on your throat.

Your face burns and you quickly jump under the covers, facing the wall. She doesn't say anything, just reaches over you to turn off the light, her hand settling over your waist before she pulls you into her chest and nuzzles her nose on the back of your neck, wishing you a good night.

×××

"So… you and Sam?" Tara asks two weeks later, walking by your side in the cafeteria, fidgeting with a bottle of water.

You sigh at Tara's not so subtle prying. "It's just Sam being Sam."

When you woke up that morning, nestled in the crook of Sam's neck while she gently nudged you awake, you could've sworn you were in heaven.

But as it turned out, when she said she wouldn't let you leave anywhere without her, she meant just that. You don't think there was a moment you've spent without her by your side, she is always lingering somewhere around you even if it was just the two of you in the room, and whenever you're in a crowded area she never lets you out of sight, making sure to have at least one point of contact between you two.

And then there's her touches. It's almost like she needs her hand around you to properly function. It doesn't matter who's around, she'll pull you against her without a care, holding you possessively when a stranger stares at you for too long, or going as far as to leave soft pecks down your neck when she helps you reach for something on the top shelf.

It's been bearable before, when you could find reprieve in your apartment after a day spent in Sam's presence, but now she's around you 24/7 and you're not sure you'll be able to endure this sweet torture much longer.

The fact that she shuts you down every time you try to talk about it doesn't help either.

Tara stops and pulls you to the side, pinning you down with an unimpressed look.

"She doesn't spend that much time hovering over me and I'm her sister. And besides, I've seen the way you look at each other. Kinda makes me want to throw up," she says, rolling her eyes.

You take a moment to respond, carefully choosing your words.

"Well… Get a bucket, I guess," you smirk at her offended look, shielding your head when she throws her water bottle square in your face. "Ow! Bitch. I was joking."

"Jokes are meant to be funny," she grumbles, pulling you to the farthest table.

Anika and Ethan are already there, engaged in a heated discussion about the newest installment of his favorite game, the curly boy getting so passionate he accidentally sends his coke flying over your shirt just as you approach them.

"What is it with me getting targeted all day today?" You groan, prying the wet shirt away from your body, and grimace at the stickiness on your stomach and between your fingers.

Tara snorts, sending Ethan a look of approval. "Good job, new guy."

Ethan, for his part, looks like he's ready to die from embarrassment. His chair squeaks against the floor as he stands up, grabbing some wet wipes from his backpack, and starts hurriedly wiping at your shirt. "I'm so sorry! I don't know how that happened…"

You awkwardly inch away. "It's okay," you mumble, taking his wipes and trying to clean the shirt yourself.

It's not okay. You feel gross and the smell is already starting to make you feel nauseous, so you double your efforts, sitting down with a huff.

"Here, take this," Ethan mumbles, taking off his hoodie, "it's a bit big, but it's better than nothing, right?"

You chew on your bottom lip, considering your options.

Sticky shirt or Ethan's hoodie.

You decide on the lesser evil.

He hands it to you with a small smile, and apologizes again, muttering something about clumsiness and genes.

Anika grabs it from him before you could reach out, and stands up. "I'll help you clean up, come on."

You follow her down the hall to a secluded restroom. She checks the stalls before locking the door behind you and tugs you to a sink. You put away your bag and start tugging at the hem of your shirt, trying to keep it away from your hair. You feel another pair of hands help you when you almost get stuck. Breathing out in relief when you're finally free from the confines of your coke scented shirt, you turn to look at Anika.

"Thanks," you smile at her and reach for the paper towels.

You quietly work on wiping away the stickiness, wetting the towels in the sink and rubbing your stomach clean, shifting uncomfortably under Anika's scrutinizing gaze.

You throw your ruined shirt in the garbage bin in the corner, reaching for Ethan's sweatshirt when you come back to stand in front of the mirrors.

"Are you really not worried?" Anika whispers, fixing your hair when you pull the garment over your head. You can't help but notice the scent of Ethan's cologne, it prickles your nose, and you keep in a grimace, already too used to the smell of Sam's detergent surrounding you at all times.

"About what?" You ask absentmindedly, picking up your beg.

She crosses her arms in front of her chest. "The killings."

Your heart skips a beat at the quiet question. You look up to meet her worried eyes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she fiddles with a loose thread of her blouse. You can't help but pull her into a hug.

"Nothing will happen to any of us, I'm sure," you say with as much conviction you can muster.

In reality, you've spent the last few weeks in a constant state of uncertainty, looking over your shoulder at every corner and holding onto Sam whenever someone suspicious approaches you. You haven't told anyone about what happened that night, and you don't think you ever will. You can't even begin to imagine what they'd think of you if they ever found out. You're sure you'd lose your friends. You're sure you'd lose Sam.

So you stayed quiet, only allowing yourself to look back on the memory when you were alone, locked in the bathroom. Constant reminders about previous victims from Mindy made you realize that the woman behind the mask saved you and your friends more times than you can count. That night she saved you.

You don't know what to make of it, other than you'll never allow it to happen again.

Sam is the only one you want.

Anika grips your shoulders, nodding. "You're right. I don't know why I'm freaked out. It's just… it's never been like that before, you know..?" She trails off and you nod.

You do know. New York is not the safest place in the world, but it was never that dangerous before a certain group of people moved to the city. You know it's not a coincidence, no matter how much you wish to be proven wrong. You've been keeping up an unbothered facade, borrowing some of Tara's nonchalant attitude, but in the darkest corner of your mind you know that everyone around you is doing the same thing. Pretending.

Expect, maybe, Sam.

She's solid and self assured, her words never waver the way Tara's sometimes do, she never jumps at loud noises like Mindy does, and she never spends a moment too long staring into the dark corners of the street like Chad does. It gives you strength.

"Everything will be fine." You pull away to look her in the eye. "And if anything happens we stick together, okay?" You take her hand in yours and interlock your pinkies in a silent promise.

×××

"Is that… Ethan's hoodie?" Chad asks, squinting at you from the couch.

You sigh and trudge to Sam's room, leaving Tara and Anika to explain the situation for you. The day dragged on for way too long leaving you positively exhausted, you can't be bothered to retell the highlight of Tara's day to her not-boyfriend. Ethan's great and all, but his choice of cologne could've been much better, the smell so strong it gave you a headache.

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

You jump up at the confused voice, your hand flying up to rest on your chest, right over your hammering heart.

"Jesus, Sam. I thought you were still at work," you mumble, avoiding her eyes.

You continue your way to the closet, tensing when the bed squeaks as she gets up, and then you feel her tug at the hem of the hoodie, turning you around.

"It's not yours. And it's not mine either." She's starting intently, her eyes darken. "You definitely didn't put this on in the morning. Where were you?"

Your lips purse at the scowl that took place on her face, her eyebrows furrowed and her head tilted to the side. You hate the way it makes you even more attracted to her.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," you say.

For a second she looks like she wants to argue. Her jaw clenches, but she takes a step back.

"No, you don't." She says it like she regrets the fact.

Sometimes you feel like she can't control herself at times, letting her darker side take hold, acting like she owns you, and she tries very hard to make up for it in the moments of clarity, paying extra attention to your expressions, making sure you are comfortable with her constant hovering.

In truth, all you really want is for her to actually make you hers.

You sigh, reaching into the closet for a change of clothing. "It's Ethan's." You decide to explain. You don't see the way her fists clench. "He spilled his coke all over my shirt, so we had to improvise."

The answer seems to settle her. She sits on the bed, leaning back on her hands, watching you rummage through your clothes.

"It doesn't suit you," she mutters at last.

You chuckle and stop yourself from reaching for your shirt and take Sam's one instead. She doesn't comment on the choice, but her smile tells you everything you need to know.

"Come here," she says, patting her thighs.

You stop in your tracks, your mouth falling open at the sight of her waiting for you on the bed. "I really need to shower, Sam."

"Please."

You hesitate only for a second before sitting down sideways over her lap, your arms circling her shoulders, her hands settle on your hips, toying with the hem of the shirt.

You want to burrow into her and never let go.

"Can I take it off?" she asks, her eyes flickering down to your lips.

The question makes your breath hitch. You'll never get used to the way she makes you feel. You hide your face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her perfume, your fingers threading through her soft hair.

Her fingers sneak past the fabric, resting on the soft skin of your lower back. "Please," she whispers against your temple. "Let me take it off." She presses a gentle kiss to your hairline.

Your body goes limp in her hold and you nod, untangling yourself from her.

She exhales through her mouth and swiftly pulls it off, leaving you in your bra, and carelessly throws it to the floor. She takes you in, her hands hovering over your sides.

You don't think you're able to endure her tiptoeing around you any longer, so you take them and lead them to your breasts. She cups you eagerly, squeezing you over the lace of your bra.

You barely manage to keep in a moan when her finger brushes against your nipple. She inhales sharply, and places her thumbs over your hardened buds, swiping. Your thighs squeeze involuntarily, and you adjust on her lap, desperate to find relief.

"Sam," you whimper.

One of her hands reaches up to wrap around your neck, the feeling so familiar it makes you freeze. Your eyes fall shut when she squeezes your neck, her breath falling hot against your ear as she whispers, "Look at me."

Suddenly, the weight of her hand feels suffocating. Suddenly, you're no longer in her room, but on the floor of your living room, pinned down by a stranger.

Your eyes blink open just in time to see Sam tilt her head, the glint in her eyes almost predatory.

You shake your head and jump away from her touch. She tries to stop you, but you're already in the bathroom, closing the door in her face. You fall to the floor right then, your knees hitting the hard tiles. The door rattles once, then twice. You can't move, shaking on the cold floor, rubbing your chest to calm your rapid heart.

It all felt too familiar. The feeling of strong muscle under your thighs, nimble fingers teasing your heated skin, her hand on your throat, squeezing.

Her fucking voice, asking you to open your eyes and look.

Could it be..?

Your vision blurs.

"Open the door, Y/n." Sam's voice is awfully quiet and unsure, like she's afraid of what she's about to face.

"Was it you?" You ask, afraid to hear the answer, your voice so quiet you're not even sure she heard you.

"Just open the door, please," she begs. You can hear the strain in her voice.

You shake your head again.

You don't know what to think. Maybe it's some fucked up coping mechanism your brain came up with to make it easier for you to accept the fact that you willingly let a murderer fuck you.

For a fleeting moment you think that if she was the one wearing the mask that night you'd be okay with it. You'd welcome it.

You take a deep breath and get up to open the door, hesitating only for a second before turning the knob.

Sam stays on the other side, watching as tears trail down your face. The shakiness of your hands when you wipe them away wakes her up from her stupor, and she throws herself at you, holding you tight.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, "I don't know what's gotten into me."

She inhales sharply, tightening her grip on you. "It's okay. You're okay."

She holds you like you might break or run away, clinging to you desperately. You stay like this for a long time, basking in her warmth. Eventually, she takes a step back and opens the faucet, letting the tub fill with the hot water, before she takes off her clothes, throwing them in a pile on the floor. You watch her undress, falling back and gripping the sink behind you when she's left in her underwear, leaving her defined muscles on full display. You audibly gulp at the sight, your thighs clenching, reminded of wetness pooled between your legs. Next thing you know, she's unbuttoning your jeans, tugging them down after your nod of consent.

You let her take off your underwear, watching her take labored breaths, her chest heaving. There's no color in her eyes, only black of her pupils. She wastes no time in throwing away her underwear, and stepping in the tub, pulling you along.

You sit between her legs, your back pressed against her chest as she litters the back of your neck with kisses, her hands gliding up and down your sides, not daring to dip lower. Your head falls on her shoulder and she finally places a kiss on the corner of your mouth, eliciting a quiet whimper from you.

She reaches to the side, and lathers her hand, pushing you away to grant more space. She gently rubs your skin, washing away the exhaustion of the day, her hands slide up and down your back, then to your stomach, before they finally find home over your breasts.

"Feels good?" She breathes against your ear, and bites down gently. You moan audibly, your nails digging into the skin of her thighs.

You fall back against her when she tugs your nipple, making your hips jerk. She places a kiss under your ear and continues her ministrations on the rest of your body, leaving one area unattended.

You catch her hand when she tries to settle it on the rim of the tub, leading it to the dip between your thighs, where you desperately need her. Her other hand grips your hip hard enough to leave a bruise.

You settle your fingers over hers and lead her down. She cups you gently, spreading your lips before teasing your entrance, her thumb ghosting over your clit. You tug her head down, whining into her mouth. She crashes into your lips, not wasting any time to dart her tongue inside.

She circles your slit with two of her fingers, but before she can dip inside, the door shakes with forceful knocks.

In reality, recent news of Ghostface attacks should've kept you locked at home, preferably with sharp objects by your side, but Tara practically begged you to join her at the party, claiming she needed someone to keep her company since she didn't want to third wheel Mindy and Anika, and follow Chad around while he's trying to find Ethan a girlfriend, so you quickly agreed, feeling the need to let loose after months spent panicking about the killings.

The killings that somehow always revolved around Blackmore ever since they transferred there.

You tried not to think too much into that, but soon enough Mindy deemed you trustworthy and gave you a quick, but intense dive into their story. You understood it all a bit better after that.

And installed a security system.

So yeah, you needed that drink, a couple of them, actually.

"Hey." You get her attention and pull at her hand, but she resists. "It's time to go." You say, watching the way she's blinking slowly, heavily leaning on the arm of the asshole.

"I'm fine. You can go, don't wait for me." She giggles and tugs him up the stairs.

You stop for a second to take a deep breath before following them. Her palm is sweaty in your hand when you tug her back, catching her as stumbles down the stairs.

"Y/n, what the fuck?" She groans, trying to pry away.

"Yeah, what the fuck?" The asshole pushes you against the wall, leering over you before he's sent flying down with a precise punch to his jaw.

"Sam, are you insane?" Tara shouts over the loud music and marches away with a huff when her sister sends her a seething look. You make a move to follow her, but sag back against the wall when you see Chad hot on her heels.

Your attention is pulled to the older woman when you feel gentle fingers cup your jaw. "Are you okay?" Sam asks, her eyes flickering all over your face. Your chest tightens and you fight the urge to lean into her soft palm and press kisses all over her fingertips.

You sigh, nodding. "You got here just in time."

There's a groan coming from the floor and Sam snaps her eyes back to the man, her expression darkening as she makes a move to him.

You get in her way, catching hold of her wrists before she could move any further. "Let's just go, okay? He's not worth it."

Her jaw clenches and you can clearly see the debate that's happening in her head.

"He was going to hurt Tara. He hurt you." She snarls, her eyes trained on the whimpering man.

"And you stopped him. Let's go check on Tara, okay?"

She relents, begrudgingly, and dutifully follows you outside.

The fight between the sisters is anything, but pretty.

You really don't want to stay to see the rest of it, so you wave Mindy over and tell her your uber is waiting around the corner. She looks skeptical for a second, but then there's mentions of therapy and her attention is pulled back to the fight as she mutters something about calling her when you get home safe.

You nod and quickly disappear around the corner, happy to delay the inevitable confrontation. Sam might've been worried at the party, but it doesn't mean she won't chew you out as soon as she's done with Tara. You just hope she won't be as angry tomorrow.

Luckily you live not far away, so you're not even worried, whistling some tune as you make your way home, your eyes dropping slightly from alcohol and exhaustion. Sober you would've thought it to be way too fucking dark and creepy to be walking alone down the alley to your apartment complex, but you're tipsy on tequila and tequila always makes you a little too reckless, so you throw caution to the wind and continue your way.

And then you see something out of the corner of your eye and freeze, when you realize that a man just turned to follow you down the alley. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see him pull out something shiny from his pocket.

You start moving faster, almost jogging the rest of the way and turn around before rounding the corner.

The man is gone.

You make it up the stairs in record time considering your wobbly knees, and sag against the door once you're finally safely inside.

It's nearing midnight, you note, sending Mindy a quick text before making your way to the bathroom. You are tired, but not tired enough to wake up feeling gross after a night out, so you take your time under the hot stream, washing away the smell of alcohol and weed.

And then you hear something fall in the kitchen.

You frown and step out of the shower, drying yourself in the process. You open the door and peek outside, barely breathing to make sure you don't miss anything strange.

When nothing happens again you sigh, wrapping the towel around your still wet body and go to the kitchen to investigate. If your pan fell from its hook again you'll have to ask Chad to come over and fix it for you.

You freeze when you see it swinging from side to side on the hook, clutching at your towel as you turn around to grab your phone, only to run into a solid, cloaked form.

"Hello, Y/n."

You barely register the distorted voice before you're being yanked by your hair and pushed against the counter, a knife flashing in your line of vision.

"Your parents didn't tell you not to walk alone at night? Especially when there's a serial killer on the loose." They continue, pressing the edge of the knife to your neck.

You look up at the Ghostface mask. Dread fills your chest and you shake in their hold, eyes filling with tears while you think of a possible escape, but your body goes numb and your mouth won't open, so you just stand there, gaping at the imposing figure.

"Pathetic little thing." They growl, before placing the knife against your chest and slicing your towel away.

You blink when it falls at your feet, and the sight suddenly spurs you into action.

You grab the pan from behind you and swing it hard against the intruder, but they easily avoid it, catching your arm in an ironclad grip and turning you around to press you against the cold countertop. You hiss through gritted teeth and throw your heel as hard as you can against their kneecap, sending them tumbling to the floor in a heap of black fabric.

You don't get a chance to run too far when they catch your ankle, making you fall face first on the floor. You're turned on your back before weight settles on your hips.

"Maybe not so pathetic," the voice sounds almost pleased before they pin your hands above your head.

You're suddenly all too aware of your state of undress when you feel their eyes on you. You try to squirm, but they don't budge, the Ghostface mask tilting as they look you up and down.

You grow embarrassingly red in the chest, trying to think of something, anything to distract the murderer from you, but you're not sure there's anything good enough to get their eyes off you at the moment.

"Who's blood is that?" You blurt, eyeing the knife on the floor.

They tilt their head to the other side. "Not yours."

You suck in a sharp breath, wincing at your stupidity.

"Okay…" you whimper, closing your eyes, "are you going to kill me?"

They pick up the knife and raise it over your chest before lowering to trail the blade over the skin of your breasts.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"I would've killed you by now if I wanted to," they say and release your wrists to take hold of your neck, not squeezing, just resting fingers on the tender skin of your neck.

The gesture sends shivers down your spine.

"Aren't you pretty like this?" The knife point barely grazes your nipple and you bite your lip, stifling a whimper. You push against their shoulders, digging your nails into the robe as you try to keep them away, squirming in their hold.

"Let me go, please." Your whispers turn desperate when their fingers squeeze around your throat, making it hard to breathe. "Please, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

You nod feverishly, not trusting your voice.

They pull away, the weight on your hips completely disappears when they shift to sit to your side, trailing the blade down to your belly button.

"Then we'll play a little game." They chuckle and you open your eyes, waiting for them to continue. "You're going to spread your legs for me. If you're wet, I'll do whatever I want to you. If you're not, I'll leave."

You stop breathing altogether, suddenly hyper aware of the wetness pooling between your thighs. You shift unconsciously, edging away from the Ghostface in hopes of escaping before they inevitably notice your arousal. You're shaking, your sole focus on the person that made you tremble with a few simple touches.

You don't know what you feel more, repulsion or arousal, but then their fingers wrap around your jaw and you know you don't have time to debate your feelings.

You have to do something, and you have to do it fast.

"Don't even think about it," they growl, getting dangerously close to your face.

In a flash, they have you on their lap, legs spread on either side of their hips as they push you down hard against their thigh. You moan loudly, rocking your hips against their dark pants, leaving a trail of wetness.

"Fuck," you whimper, clawing at their shoulders, "please…"

They slap your thigh, stopping your movements with a heavy grip of your hip bone. "Please what? Please stop?"

Your head falls in the crook of their neck as you whine, desperately trying to move.

Fuck this. You'll think about the consequences tomorrow.

"Don't stop." You breath against the mask, tugging their gloved hand up to your neck.

Their fingers wrap around the back of your neck and then you're pushed down on your stomach, your legs bent at the knees and forced apart before they deliver a hard spank on your ass, making you cry out against the hardwood floor.

"Such a slut."

Another spank.

"Whoring yourself out to a stranger, a murderer."

You try to rub your thighs together, your pussy clenching when they land another slap to your reddening ass, the sound echoing through the room. Suddenly, they pull away and there's shuffling of the fabric before a pair of leather gloves lands in front of your face.

Your hips buckle in anticipation.

"Don't get too excited," they chuckle, before landing a palm against your wet center, making your whole body twitch.

You pant, reveling in the feeling of their soft fingers gently soozing the pain, gliding through your folds to settle against your slit. You hold your breath, waiting for them to finally push inside and fuck your brains out when another loud spank echoes through the room, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"You look beautiful like this, fuck," they breath out, spreading your lower lips and teasing your entrance, pulling quiet moans out of you.

Your whole body is on fire and you can feel your arousal leaking down your thigh before it's caught by a hot, wet tongue.

"Mhm," the person, a woman, hums and you realize she just threw away the mask with the voice changer in favor of tasting you.

You don't have a chance to say anything when her tongue slides up your slit, lapping at the wetness and dipping down to tease your throbbing clit with the tip of her tongue. Your knees buckle, your body shaking from pleasure. She tugs your head by your hair, pulling you up against her front when you nearly fall, her fingers gliding down your stomach to disappear inside you in one deep thrust. Your eyes squeeze shut and your head falls back against her shoulder as she sets up a fast rhythm, her other hand reaching across to play with your breasts.

"Faster-" you whine, burrowing your nose in her soft hair, clawing at her forearm.

She pulls her fingers out and lands another slap on your inner thigh in warning, and turns her head to bite down at the juncture of your neck, making sure to leave a mark.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me," she whispers and you think you recognise the voice, but her fingers on your aching nub feel too heavenly to place it and your eyes are too heavy to listen to the command, so you whine and tug her face back to your neck, moaning when she litters it with wet kisses.

She circles your clit with her thumb so slowly and softly, barely applying pressure before diving back in and curling her fingers inside of you, making you come in two hard thrusts.

×××

"Did you get home safe yesterday?" Mindy asks, nudging you with her knee.

You look up from your book, squinting against the sun, your hand flying up to fiddle with the soft fabric of your turtleneck. "Yeah. I sent you a text, right?"

Mindy groans, falling back on the soft grass and nods, throwing her arm over her eyes. "I called you, though, but you didn't pick up. Got me worried for a second."

You wince, hiding your face behind the book. "Sorry. Fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow."

You don't mention the fact that you don't remember ever going to your bedroom, let alone falling asleep. The last thing you remember from yesterday is Ghostface wrapped around you, taking you apart. You stifle the urge to run your fingers along the fabric that covers your bruised skin. It's really not the time to think about it.

She rolls her eyes before looking over at you. "Lucky you. I really hate you right now."

"What did I do?" You ask, affronted.

She pushes your shoulder, sending you a dirty look. "You should've seen the look on Sam's face when she realized you already left. If she was angry with Tara before, she turned positively livid when she realized you went alone. She wanted to follow you, but Tara intervened, calling her overbearing and overprotective and it got even worse. We had to call an uber because Tara refused to get in Sam's car, and Sam didn't even look at her when she drove off to God knows where."

You put down your book. "She didn't go home?" You asked, tugging at your bottom lip.

"She did, a few hours later and drunk out of her mind," Mindy rolls her eyes, exasperated. "They really should talk one of these days or I'll stab them myself."

You chuckle, but your mind is still stuck on the revealed information. You decide to think about it later when you notice Tara stomping in your direction with Chad by her side. "Hey." She mumbles, still clearly in a bad mood.

You send them a small wave and tune out their conversation, butting in only when necessary and mostly keeping to yourself, trying your hardest to focus on the words in your book and not on the way your whole body aches.

"By the way, I'm kinda grounded so we're hanging at my place tonight." Tara's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you groan, burrowing your face in the book.

Fucking great. You can already feel the headache coming. Sam is going to have a field day and you won't even be able to retaliate while your body is still hyper sensitive from being fucked out of your mind.

Someone pinches your side. "Don't be too sad, Sam promised booze," Chad says, sending you a wink.

You let out a soft laugh, your head falling on his shoulder in the process. He grins, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you in a bone crushing hug. You sag against his chest, content to bask in the warmth of your friends' company, until you feel someone boring holes into your forehead.

You look up and see Tara's questioning look, her eyes flickering between you and Chad, and you roll your eyes and shake your head at the smaller girl, jokingly pushing him away and standing up to go to your last class of the day.

"You coming?" You ask and she nods, following a step behind you, hesitating to start a conversation.

You sigh. "Tara, you know I have zero interest in Chad."

She runs into you when you suddenly stop, and scrunches up her nose, hiding her eyes behind her hand. "It's not that," she grumbles and snakes her hand around your elbow, tugging you through the crowd. "I wanted to say thank you. You know, for yesterday. I was really stupid."

You look at your friend, your heart squeezing in your chest at the vulnerable look she sends you. "Anytime," you whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and she finally relaxes.

×××

"My favorite person!" Quinn beams from the couch when you step inside the apartment, holding a bag full of snacks. "Hey there, girlfriend." She presses a kiss to your cheek and takes away the bag, leading you to the kitchen.

Everyone is already here since you were the one to go to the store. Your last class passed without a hitch, and even though Tara kept sending you weird looks every now and then, you figured she was just jealous. That was the main reason why you pushed her in Chad's direction when she tried to join you.

You're more than happy to see them sitting side by side on the small couch, hunched and giggling over something on his phone.

You blush when you notice Sam standing in the corner, leaned over the stove, slowly stirring something in a boiling pot. Even you can admit she looks like shit from the night spent drinking, her hair a disheveled mess and her eyes bloodshot.

"All these snacks and you're still the best one," Quinn smirks, throwing away the paper bag and taking the food to the living room.

You snort and give her the finger.

Sam whirls around with a spatula in her hand and sends a dark glare to the back of Quinn's before looking you up and down with an unreadable expression on her face, taking in your attire, her eyes lingering on your neck.

You stifle the urge to fiddle with your shirt again and curl your hand into fists, nails digging into your palms.

"Y/n." She eventually mumbles in greeting and turns back around to rummage through the fridge.

"Sam." You look around and decide to settle on the counter. "What are you cooking?"

She tenses, the muscles of her shoulders straining under her tank top as she holds her hands in the air, mid way to the fridge. She sends you a look over her shoulder and takes out a bottle of orange juice.

"Pasta. Want some?" She asks like she's just trying to be polite and not actually offering you a meal.

You look down at your feet, your mood dampened by a single sentence. You feel like you deserve the cold shoulder. "I'm good, thanks." You hop off the counter and turn around to leave.

She catches your wrist. "Not so fast."

You try to not pay attention to the way your skin gets hot all over at the simplest touch, fixing your eyes on hers. You think you can drown in their depth.

"I'm sorry about yesterday." You whisper, placing your palm over hers, and gently squeeze her fingers.

Her eyes darken and she looks down at the motion, her lips parting slightly.

You pray she'll let you off easy.

"Y/n, you need to see this." Mindy calls out, gaining your attention.

Sam blinks, her brows furrow. "We'll talk later," she promises and leads you to the living room and tugs you to sit next to her on the soft cushions, her fingers still wrapped around your wrist. You sag against the pillow and focus on the TV.

"Another fatal stabbing happened yesterday just before midnight. A man in his early thirties was stabbed seventeen times…"

"That's your neighborhood, right?" Tara asks, her face a picture of concern. "You always go down this alley."

"Yeah," you gulp, staring at the photo of the man who followed you yesterday.

The grip on your wrist turns almost possessive, and you turn to look at Sam, choking on your breath when you see a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Your chest is starting to feel too heavy, and your breathing becomes labored. Suddenly, you're back at the apartment, with Ghostface pinning your wrists and the blood on the knife now makes perfect sense.

Ghostface wasn't there to hurt you.

She saved you.

___________________________

Do we want a part two?