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bingwriterxo · 10 months

Text

a clingy drunk

pairing: amber freeman x reader

summary: in which you get a little too drunk at one of amber's parties

warnings: implications of sex, mentions of alcohol poisoning

word count: 1900+

author's note: this was a request (find here!) hope yall enjoy :D

“So, is tonight just the group or is it the whole school?” you asked, your eyes trained on your own reflection as you tried to do your hair in the style that always drove Amber wild. You glanced behind you in the mirror, catching sight of your girlfriend as she looked through her closet for something to wear.

“The whole school,” Amber answered, pulling a cropped shirt from its hanger and holding it up for you to see. “Thoughts?”

You gulped, nodding quickly. “Definitely. Wear it with those low-waisted jeans you got the other day.”

She hummed as she crossed the room, shirt in hand, and leaned down, her chin resting on your shoulder. Her eyes locked with yours in the mirror, and she asked, “Making yourself all pretty for me?”

You shivered at her words, her warm breath fanning against your cheek. “Yeah, Ambs,” you agreed, turning your head to peck her on the cheek. “All pretty for you.”

Amber grinned, leaning in to kiss you. “My pretty girl,” she mumbled against your lips, and butterflies circled your stomach, making you beam with joy. She stood and left your side, going to dig through her dresser for the pants that you had mentioned earlier.

You carried on with styling your hair, humming along to the quiet music that was playing in the room. You loved when things were like this--both of you existing in the same space yet doing your own things; it was pure domesticity.

Amber’s voice cut through your concentration, drawing your eyes back to her through the mirror. “Baby?” she began, her voice soft and lulling. You swore up and down that you could fall asleep to it.

“Yeah?”

“Try not to drink too much tonight, alright? I don’t want to have to call the ambulance again.”

You shuddered at the memory of what had happened at Amber’s last party nearly a month prior. Chad and Mindy had egged you into trying your first keg stand, and, upon successfully completing it, they decided to celebrate by feeding you shot after shot of tequila. Needless to say, the night had ended with you being rolled out on a stretcher, Amber following behind with wide, worried eyes, and having your stomach pumped.

“I definitely won’t be drinking that much tonight,” you promised. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

She smiled, and your heart fluttered at the sight. “Good.” She pulled the jeans from her drawer, a mischievous smirk on her lips and a familiar spark in her eyes. “Wanna help me get changed?”

You leapt from your seat and rushed toward her, giggling the whole time.

* * *

For a good hour, you kept your promise to Amber. While people were still filing into her house, you simply wandered around, offering half-assed greetings to your peers and sipping at your beer; every so often, you’d pester your girlfriend for her phone so that you could change the song, or you’d just walk right up to her and plant a kiss on her lips--she never complained about either.

However, when your friends arrived, your night was quickly turned around.

“Y/N! My favorite girl!” Chad cheered as he walked through the front door, a six-pack of beer dangling from his fingertips. He pulled you into a tight hug, ignoring as you deftly swiped a drink from the case. “How you doing tonight? You ready to get fucked up?!”

“Not too fucked up, Chad,” Mindy interjected as she sidled up beside him, grinning at you. “Can’t have you in the hospital again, can we? Took me days to get that smoothie out of my hair.”

Unfortunately for the twins, at school the day after your little…incident, Amber had taken it upon herself to avenge you, resulting in both Meeks-Martin kids going home early with smoothie dripping from the tops of their heads.

“Definitely ready to get mildly fucked up,” you said, laughing.

Chad frowned. “We can do better than mildly.”

You looked around, making sure Amber wasn’t within earshot, and said, “As long as Ambs isn’t watching, then I’m all in.”

It didn’t take much time for the twins to get you more than mildly drunk. Within half an hour, you were slurring your words and swaying where you stood, your cheeks flushed a bright red and your eyelids drooping.

“Oh, we’re fucked,” Mindy stated when she realized just how intoxicated you were, her eyes flitting from person to person to see if your girlfriend was anywhere in sight.

Chad shook his head, taking a sip from his beer. “We’re only fucked if Amber notices,” he said.

“Amber!” you gasped suddenly, your eyes going wide at the mention of your girlfriend. You whipped your head around, stumbling backward and into Mindy’s arms at the force, searching for the raven-haired girl. “Where is she?”

“Uh, I’m not too sure,” Mindy said, glancing at her brother. “Do you need her?”

You twisted around and nodded furiously at Mindy, your face taking on the most serious expression she had ever seen. “Yes. Need her now.”

Chad furrowed his eyebrows, placing his drink down on the nearest surface he could reach. He put his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to face him. “And why do you need Amber?” he asked.

You sighed dreamily, pulse speeding up at the thought of the girl. “‘Cause I love her,” you slurred. “Love her so much. Just want to squeeze her little cheeks.” You mimicked the action with your hands, scrunching your face up as you did.

Mindy chuckled. “As if Amber would let you squeeze her cheeks.”

“Oh, she does,” you said, your voice convincing. “All the time. She likes it.”

“Are we talking about the same Amber?”

“Why would I want to squeeze a different Amber’s cheeks?” you asked, dead serious, and Chad barked out a laugh. You looked at him, confusion painted on your face. “I only love my Amber. I promise.”

“Oh, I know, champ.” He patted you on the top of your head. “Everyone knows. But, right now, you can’t have Amber because--”

“Because what?” Amber asked, and you squealed at the sight of her standing behind Mindy. You pushed yourself out of Chad’s grip and hurried toward her, immediately wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face into her neck. She was left a little disoriented but no less loving as she quickly hugged you back.

“Baby!” you exclaimed, and she flinched back at your voice so loud in her ear.

“Hi, pretty girl,” she cooed quietly, running her fingers through your hair before settling her sight on the twins. “Why is she so…excited?”

“She’s a little drunk,” Mindy said.

Amber’s eyes narrowed. “How much is ‘a little,’ Mindy?”

“Four beers and three shots,” Chad offered, cringing when Amber’s jaw clenched.

“I thought I told you guys not to let her drink that much tonight!” Amber chided, her hold on you tightening. You nuzzled further into her. “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?” There was a threat in her voice as she spoke, her tone sharp and demanding, and both twins squirmed beneath her glare.

“She’s fine, Freeman. She’s just…really set on being with you right now, that’s all,” Mindy told the other girl.

Chad nodded. “Yeah. She’s at about that point in the night where if you leave her alone, she might cry.”

Amber sighed and glanced down at you. “Guess I just won’t leave her alone, then.” She looked back at the twins. “At least, not with you two. Don’t you dare give her another drink tonight. Or else.”

Both twins raised their arms in surrender, taking a few steps back as Amber nodded, satisfied with their reaction.

“Come on, baby,” Amber said to you. “Let’s go find Tara because I need to get more drinks from the basement.”

Almost immediately, you hugged her tighter, shaking your head. “No,” you whined, and Amber couldn’t help but think it was cute how determined you were to stay with her. She grinned as you emphasized the thought. “Only wanna be with you.”

You looked up, smiling at your girlfriend. You kissed her before raising an arm to squeeze her cheek. She blushed at the action, shooting a deathly glare toward her friends as you cooed like she was a puppy.

“You’re the cutest person ever,” you said. “I just wanna be with you forever and ever and ever.”

She blushed even harder. “I love you, too, baby,” she said in response, because she’d have rather died than say something so cheesy where Mindy could hear her. “Now, can we please go find Tara so she can watch you while I run to the basement?”

Your face soured. “Depends. How long will you be?”

“Not even a minute.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, stuck in deep thought, and finally decided, “Okay. Fine. But can we cuddle after?”

Mindy tilted her head behind you, mouthing ‘Yeah, Amber. Can we cuddle?’ with a sly smirk. Amber had never been so tempted to tackle her to the ground.

Through gritted teeth, she said, “Of course,” even though, in reality, she would have loved nothing more, but, again, she couldn’t let Mindy know that.

“Yay!” you cheered, unraveling yourself from Amber. You intertwined your fingers with hers and let her pull you through the crowds in search for her brunette best friend, her thumb rubbing along the skin of your hand comfortingly as she did.

It took a few minutes before you finally found Tara. She was sitting on the couch, a drink in her hand as she talked to Wes. Her head tilted when her eyes landed on you and Amber, lips quirking into a smile at your clearly drunk state.

“Did Chad and Mindy get to her?” she asked Amber, who nodded with a huff.

“Unfortunately,” Amber drawled. “Could you keep an eye on her? We’re out of beer. I need to grab more from the fridge downstairs.”

You frowned, like you had forgotten all about the fact that Amber needed to get more drinks. “Can’t I come with you?” you asked hopefully.

“I don’t think you could make it down the stairs like this, baby. Just stay here with Tara and Wes, okay?” She kissed you quickly before pulling away. When your frown deepened, she added "I'll be two seconds."

“Okay,” you grumbled, throwing yourself onto the couch between your friends and watching as your girlfriend disappeared in the direction of the basement.

“So, having a good night so far, Y/N?” Tara asked.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Guess so.”

“You don’t sound too happy,” Wes pointed out.

“I miss Amber,” you huffed.

Tara chuckled. “She’ll be back soon. You’re a clingy drunk, huh?”

“No,” you denied, even though it was obviously the truth. “Just like being around Ambs. She’s so pretty, and cute, and she always makes me laugh, and she’s a really good kis--”

Amber appeared in front of you, a grin on her face, and you cut yourself off, hopping off the couch and right back into her arms.

“You’re back!” you exclaimed.

She laughed. “I told you I wouldn’t be long.”

You pressed a kiss to the side of her jaw. “Can we go upstairs and cuddle?” you murmured, and Amber nearly melted.

“Sure, baby. C’mon.” She started to walk away, you close behind, before she stopped and looked back at Tara. “Just…kick people out when it gets late, okay? I probably won’t be back down.”

Tara grinned at her. “Have fun, kids.”

Amber rolled her eyes and started leading you toward the stairs, trying to calm the fluttering of her heart as you chanted, “Cuddles! Cuddles! Cuddles!”

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman #amber x reader #mikey madison x reader #mikey madison #scream 5

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fanfics-and-love · 1 year

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We Get Along Like Snow in New York

Sam Carpenter x reader

Not my gif

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

Word count: 4k words

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

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Having nothing better to do, you accepted.

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

“You’re the one embarrassing her now—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Sam asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saw the news, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

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

It was perfect, until it wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gross.”

“You are gross,” Sam said.

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

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

“Ah, so you don’t deny it.”

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

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

“Ghostface is back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

“Fuck you.”

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

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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