One shots || fem reader

You have to let me go || Tara Carpenter

It had been a year since that night at Woodsboro, at Amber's house, where she and Richie tried to kill everyone. One year since Tara saw you get shot.

She was so scared she had lost you that day.

"Amber, put the gun down" you said, walking slowly towards her as she was aiming at Tara

"Oh, you think you scare me Y/n? I'll kill you both!"

"It's not too late to stop, you can still make the right choice"

"I know."

With that, her index finger went to the trigger, ready to shoot the brunette. Tara couldn't move, paralyzed in fear. She didn't want to die. She couldn't die now.

That was when you rushed to Amber, redirecting her arm so she shot the wall. She pushed you to the ground, tried to shoot Tara again, but you kicked her legs, making her fall next to you.

You straddled her, pinned her left hand above her head, and were struggling to do the same with the other one. She still had the gun.

Tara looked away for a second, looking for the other gun Richie dropped earlier. She bent down and took it from under a cupboard.

When she heard the gunshot, Tara's head jolted up in your direction. You were still on top of Amber, pinning both her hands to the ground. In the silence that followed, she could hear a faint noise.

Plop.

Plop.

Plop.

Red droplets were dripping from your chest onto the wooden floor. A red stain started to appear on your back, growing quickly at the liquid was absorbed by your shirt.

Tara felt her heart stop when she saw you falling on top of Amber, who pushed you to the side so she could get up. The sight of you lying on the floor in a puddle of your own blood made her go crazy.

She didn't even realized what she did until she heard Amber's body hit the ground. Didn't pay too much attention to it either.

She ran to you, pressing her hands on your wound to stop the bleeding.

Your eyes were closed, you were pale. For a second she thought you were dead.

But you opened your eyes slowly, hissing in pain.

"Fortunately, she doesn't know how to aim..." you said weakly, making her smile

That was very typical of you, joking in this kind of situation. She would've been disappointed if you didn't - or worried.

She didn't remember well the next days, it was all blurry, but she blamed the painkillers and the aftershock of the attack for it. All that mattered was that you were alive, and by her side.

When the time had come to move to New York, she was relieved. She felt like she could finally breathe and that she finally had a chance to live happy with you.

You went to Central Park together, watching sunsets and eating ice cream while sitting on a bench. You went to karaoke, ice rinks, roller parks, everything that you never tried before.

You even tried axe throwing once, but quickly abandoned the idea when the weapon brushed your head. Maybe it was a little too dangerous for a date.

It was so refreshing to do all these things without being worried of being attacked by Ghostface. To the brunettes, everything seemed lighter here, people seemed nicer too.