#ghostface bailey

[fandomnerd9602]

a SCREAM VI alt. ending...

Y/N: wait! did you or Ethan actually commit any murders?

Ethan: uhh...nope. I did light chasing.

Quinn: it was really all our dad.

Bailey: shut up! why are you even letting Y/N talk?

Quinn: because they're a horror fan and they've been helping me!

Ethan: with what? technique?

Quinn: no! processing my grief! and you know what? Y/N's right

Tara: really? Y/N was right? for once?

Y/N: ignoring that. look your father's the real villain, he's using you for his own vendetta. it's okay to realize that Richie was not a good guy and live your own lives, Quinn, Ethan.

Everyone turns on Detective Bailey... Quinn turns to Tara & Sam.

Quinn: Truce?

Sam: hand me a mask and knife.

[lovesjill]

live, love, ghostface!

pairing: billy loomis, stu macher, mickey altieri, roman bridger, charlie walker, jill roberts, ethan landry, quinn bailey x fem!reader

summary: only nsfw and nsfw headcanons! it's just my thoughts about ghostfaces and who is who

billy loomis

dom

billy was very gentle with you at first, always asking about your comfort and safety. never hurt you, but you didn't know that he was actually just preparing you for his own cruel games.

when you had another session, you expected tenderness and kindness.. but, it was not there. your boyfriend was so rude and cruel to you. but, you liked it in the end.

billy doesn't like to use toys, he's against them.

your boyfriend always gives you so much pleasure. when he kisses your neck and bites it lightly, you feel like you're in heaven. you feel so good just feeling him next to you..

you can hardly hear anything from this guy, only rare sighs. try paying attention to his neck or giving him a good and long blowjob, you can hear very quiet moans from him that he holds back.

you don't have sex that often, mostly only at night when billy comes to you after the murders that you, of course, don't know about. billy needs to calm his ardor and then rest in the arms of his beloved girlfriend.

his favorite positions are missionary, doggy style and he will never admit it but he also likes cowgirl. it was only once and after that you never dominated

- «just look at yourself, how you always take my dick so well. you're just a real slut, my love» - said billy with a dark smile and he also pulled your hair.

stu macher

dom

he just wants to please you and protect you because you are his first love he wants you to feel comfortable with him.

with stu you can talk about any topic during classes, he will still joke a lot and, as always, be a playful guy.

stu always asks you and always keeps you informed of his various ideas about your sex life. his ideas are quite.. unique.

he will naturally allow you to dominate him, he will even ask you about it. he also needs rest and besides, he has a great view of your whole body. this shameless guy will naturally touch you and your curves, especially your thighs. in general, he also loves your domination over him!

he is ready to have sex at any time, you can literally do it twice a day or almost absolutely ALL night.

stu, like billy, does not like toys, he likes to use only his strengths and, in rare cases, a knife.

his favorite positions are missionary and cowgirl. the second one is simply his favorite, the very favorite. very very very

«hey baby let's change» - said stu in a quiet and gentle voice, and began to kiss your entire face and pay attention to your lips

mickey altieri

dom

mickey is just a huge experimenter, a sadist and a pervert

the first time you were all quite gentle, he took care of you properly and paid attention to you. it was the first and last time, he became literally very cruel and sadistic. constantly chooses those positions that are uncomfortable for you and also very perverted like this guy

doggy style lover, he just loves this position. he will beat, knead, bite and kiss your poor ass.

ready to have sex at any time, he has very good stamina and just a huge sexual desire. you often did this in the toilet of the college

mickey has definitely had many girls, but they were all just regular sluts. you are his favorite, and with you he finally found real pleasure and happiness

he is also ready to use a knife, but this time he will definitely ask you about it. If you agree, he can leave very small cuts.

mickey also uses toys on you, but very rarely. he will constantly tease you and call you a slut. he loves vibrators, and always uses the biggest ones.

«what a good girl, you take absolutely everything that I give you..» - mickey muttered, sliding his fingers deeper into your pussy.

roman bridger

switch (mostly dom)

roman, to be honest, is not such a fan of sex, you have sex with him quite rarely. because of roman's work and also his dark work as a ghostface, which you don't know about, so the director simply doesn't have time for it, unfortunately

basically it's quite gentle and fast, you have a lot of fast rounds and basically always in the same position.

you both can do this in the on the set's bathroom, but it's pretty rare.

I honestly don't know what to write about this wonderful man

charlie walker

sub

God, this guy will beg to be controlled and dominated. he just needs it, he will be your obedient kitten.

you constantly dominate him and do whatever you want with him. and he, like an obedient boy, accepts everything and simply enjoys you. do you want to tie him up? yes. do you want to mock him? of course, he will not resist your will.

charlie just loves cowgirl, he will stare at you and get more and more excited. he especially loves it when you leave marks on him, marking him as yours. he is just in heaven, being next to his favorite girl

he is ready to make a sex video with you, naturally only with your consent. charlie will not show the video to anyone, because it is especially for him

it was you who took his virginity, he was so inept and worried all the time. all his knowledge from porn was forgotten, because a wave of embarrassment overwhelmed him like your breasts

charlie just loves it when you pull his hair or give him a head massage while he eats your pussy

you can fuck him whenever you want, everything is at your discretion and he has no right to vote, he will be for any idea

«oh please..! is too much..» - charlie is already losing his mind from your mouth, he has lost count of how many times he has cum

jill roberts

dom

this girl was also a virgin, she didn't have sex with charlie or even more so with trevor. she didn't give it to any of them, but she gave it to you. but after the first time she almost immediately became more skilled and professional

she practically humiliates and breaks you, she deliberately fucks you in uncomfortable positions and you have no right to arise

jill will control you all the time and not let you cum. If you cum before the appointed time, she will torture your poor pussy and ass with vibrators. she is a fan of toys.

you have sex VERY rarely, because jill roberts's entire sex life is a huge secret. she is an innocent and kind girl who wouldn't hurt a fly, and no one should know what you both do. she is very afraid that you both might get caught, so you have sex very rarely.

she will never have sex during these days, sex is completely prohibited during these days.

jill can tie you up and rape your pussy with her graceful little fingers and bring you to multiple orgasms, she can add her mouth or any toys

oh she loves to touch you and your body by accident when you are in public, she will accidentally touch your chest for a second, or she will deliberately squeeze your ass and pretend like she did nothing

this queen loves doggy style, just like mickey. she finds this position kinky, and it satisfies her.

«take it all like dirty slut you are, you want this? you're getting it» - jill says roughly and with a smirk, pushing the vibrator deeper into your pussy.

ethan landry

switch (mostly sub)

first things first, this man is 100% a complete and total sub

moans, groans, whines, pleas and begs; he does it all, and does it very well

ethan is literally made to eat pussy, in every session he will definitely eat your pussy. sit on his face, he will be just happy. he always listens to you and your instructions. add a finger, slow down, speed up, whatever. he always listens to you

If you want to be fucked like a whore, he will do it, if you want to humiliate him, he will do it too. whatever you ask, he will agree to it.

ethan loves the cowgirl, it's his favorite position. he'll accept everything like an obedient kitten, and only with your consent will he touch you. he loves it when your breasts bounce.

by the way about breasts, he loves your breasts. he is so gentle. almost every day he touches your breasts and feels them. often after your sex, your nipple is in his mouth

he can literally cum if you praise him, and his favorite thing is to call him: "good boy"

like any guy, ethan needs a good blowjob. he loves it when you take his cock in your mouth and jerk him off with your hand at the same time, he is just in heaven from it. ethan closes his eyes and these beautiful moans are heard from his beautiful mouth

you both don't have sex that often, you have quite a few quick rounds. he needs sex after kills.

«oh my good boy makes me feel so good..» - you moan sweetly and smile while he eats your pussy and you sit on his face

quinn bailey

dom

of course quinn dominates. this beautiful woman has a huge sex drive, she is literally insatiable and wants sex all the time. she naturally had many sexual partners, as we know from the movie

you both have sex literally every day. It lasts for about 3-4 rounds, 15-20 minutes each.

quinn is more gentle with you than jill and she often praises you and reassures you. but, she can also be more rude.. she is such a big teaser!

this woman is number one in care after your sessions, she will calm you down and ask how you are. afterwards she can hug you for a few minutes, and then you take a shower with her where she carefully takes care of you.

she loves to seduce you with her short outfits and lift up her dress to tease you.

God she will rub your poor pussy and lick it all the time quinn often overstimulates you and you cum too much because of her

she, like jill, has toys that are safely hidden in her room. she always sticks the vibrator in so deep that it even hurts, but at these moments... caring quinn disappears and she becomes a real sadist.

queen of sex positive!

I think she had sex with a girl before.. but she probably didn't like it and promised herself she wouldn't do it with girls anymore. but you changed everything.

«come on baby, I know you can take more. It's only your third orgasm, slut.» - redhead has been rubbing your pussy for several minutes without stopping. you know that soon she will add fingers..

and by the way, don't ask me about a couple of freaks. I don't write anything with them.

[woodsboromassacre]

ghostface always doing something

[baileyartblog]

Did these a few years ago and just never posted them. Happy halloween to strong normal women!

[rollingsins]

Quinn Bailey Must Die

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey is yours and Tara's man-eating, sexed up, horn-dog roommate. She's cool at first, you think. Until she sets her sights on Tara. 

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, language.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, just a lil (big) one shot. love u guys, as always let me know your thoughts, always makes my day :))

Quinn Bailey is - to put it lightly - an absolute pain in your ass. 

New York City is expensive. 

College is expensive. 

And despite your parents' assistance and you and Tara both working part time jobs, it just isn’t feasible for you to get your own place in the city. 

So you’d put an ad in the paper. Found Quinn. She’d seemed fun at first - lively. The type of girl you’d want to be friends with in a new city like this. A tried and true party girl, glimmering like a jewel in a sea of dreary faces. 

But her sparkle had lasted all of three weeks. 

First it was the dishes. 

She left them piled up in the sink, unattended. For days, sometimes weeks. 

A little pet peeve of yours, but it wasn’t anything major. 

It had nothing on the men. 

They were like a revolving door. An entire roster of bodies to keep her warm. 

Short men. Tall men. Thin men, muscular men. Men with beards. Men without. Pretty men, sometimes, even ugly men. 

If he lived in the tri-state area and had a penis - likely he’d seen the inside of your apartment (and your roommate). 

But really, you’re not in the position to complain. 

You and Tara weren’t exactly known for having quiet sex, and of all the people you’d lived with, Quinn seemed to mind it the least. 

Maybe, looking back, that should have been the first warning sign. 

“I don’t know,” Quinn sighs one night over a glass of wine. Tara’s curled up in your arms, nursing her own glass as you play with her hair, “Sometimes I think I should just give them all up.” 

“Men?” You ask, furrowing your brow. You laugh a little at the thought, “I don’t know Quinn, outside of partying, men are your biggest hobby.” 

It’s not intended as a slight, and Quinn doesn’t take it as one. She throws a coy smile your way. 

“I don’t know, you two have just got me thinking lately,” She says, “I’ve never considered girls before. I mean, I like dick. A lot. But maybe dick isn’t everything.” 

“Poetic,” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

Men or women, it didn’t really matter who Quinn bought home. You’d have to wear your noise canceling headphones regardless. 

But Tara’s shifting in your arms, sitting up. Then, she narrows her eyes at Quinn.  

Like she’s scanning her for a potential threat. 

Although therapy had quietened some of Tara’s more jealous tendencies, it hadn’t gotten rid of them completely. Now, instead of stabbing - she chooses staring. 

You rub her arm, your quiet signal there are no threats here. 

“Besides,” Quinn says, throwing her hair back, “A chick can just strap one on, right? And it never goes soft. Maybe that’s an upgrade.” 

Tara’s tense against you. 

Quinn looks over at her, and suddenly notices the death glare she’s receiving. She pinches her eyebrows, a little confused. 

“What’s got you all worked up?” Quinn asks, with another flick of her hair. Her eyes widen, “Oh? You think I’m trying to make a play for your girl?” 

She leans back and lets out a loud laugh. 

“Chill Tara, if I was going to go for either of you, it wouldn’t be her.” 

And then it’s your turn to stare. 

Your hand freezes over Tara’s arm. A hot, familiar feeling of jealousy seeps through you, settles deep within your bones. 

Quinn catches your gaze and rolls her eyes. 

“Girls,” She says, exasperated, “You’re not the only pussy-lickers in town. Relax, okay?”

Tara leans back into you, seemingly placated. 

Quinn tilts her head, and downs the rest of her wine. She picks up her phone to call some other nameless man, no doubt to terrorize the two of you within the next half an hour. 

The conversation is over. 

But the jealousy bubbling under your skin doesn’t simmer down. And suddenly,  it’s the only thing you can think about. 

-

“What did she mean by that?” You agonize to Liv and Chad, a little later. 

You’re in the NYU quad, picking at your salad with a plastic fork. Tara’s in class, giving you more than enough time to stew on the conversation with Quinn. 

Chad slurps on his milkshake, seemingly unbothered. 

“She was just being friendly, YN, I wouldn’t read into it.” Says Chad, mouth open and full of food. 

Liv turns to him. Smacks his arm, a little too hard. 

“Friendly?” She says, voice shrill, “Friendly?” 

Chad blinks back at her, but she’s turning to you.  

“YN, she was not being friendly, don’t listen to him. Boys are so stupid.” 

“Hey-“ Interjects Chad, but Liv ignores him. She takes your arm. 

“She’s making a play for Tara, YN,” She says, a little urgently, “Girls do this. We like to play with our food before we eat it. She was scoping out Tara’s reaction before she put the moves on her for real.” 

You furrow your brow. 

“You think?” 

“I know,” Says Liv, “How do you think I got Chad?” 

Chad looks over to her, a little owlish. 

“Huh?” He says, creasing his forehead, “I asked you out, babe.” 

Liv shoots him a look. 

“You asked me out after I spent two weekends at your house asking for Mario Kart lessons.” 

Chad’s eyes widen. 

“You said that was so you could beat your brother!” 

Liv gives you a look. 

“Women are masterminds, YN. Watch the fuck out.” 

-

Liv’s comments ring in the back of your mind for the rest of the day. 

Now that you think about it, Quinn had been lounging about the house lately in scantily clad outfits. 

Sleep shorts that rose almost up to her hips. Tiny tank tops that were almost see through. She giggled a little too hard at Tara’s jokes, gushed over Tara’s cooking as if Tara was Gordon Ramsey himself. 

You’re starting to see it. 

Quinn liked her conquests. 

Men were easy, women a little harder - but for a girl who liked to conquer, who better than Tara? 

Your sweet, loving, loyal and devoted girlfriend. 

Prying Tara away from you wouldn’t be child’s play. 

Truly the Mount Everest of conquests. 

“What’s wrong baby?” Tara asks you a little later, after you’d spent half the night glaring at Quinn. 

She’d been traipsing around all afternoon in a pair of black panties and an old t-shirt, an outfit that wouldn’t have made you think twice about it a few days ago. 

But it’s different now. 

Liv’s words ring loud in your head, “Women are masterminds, YN.” 

You don’t respond, instead dropping a soapy pot to the countertop and watching as Quinn disappears into her bedroom, her phone pressed to her ear. 

Tara snakes her arms around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. 

“Babe?” Tara prompts. 

“Nothing,” You mumble. You’re in your own head now, half afraid if you say it out loud it will become true. 

You feel Tara’s pout against your shoulder. 

“Something’s wrong, you barely said anything when I tried to get you to watch Saw III,” She says, turning you in her arms. 

She raises an eyebrow to punctuate her point. 

“And you hate gore movies.” 

“I like movies that make you happy,” You lie. 

Tara furrows her brow. 

“Okay, something is definitely wrong,” She says. She stands on her tip toes and presses the softest kiss to your cheeks, “Tell me babe, what is it?” 

You bite your lip. 

Tara is your girlfriend, you reason after a moment of hesitation, and if anyone were to understand jealousy - it would be her. 

You sigh and loop your arms around Tara’s waist. 

“Is Quinn… do you think she’s acting weird?” 

Tara frowns. 

“No weirder than usual.” 

“It’s just…” you chew your lip, “I think she might.. be into you, babe.” 

Tara shoots you a look. 

“I don’t think so,” She says. She leans up and presses a kiss to your lips, “She has a pretty solid roster of dudes to keep her entertained.” 

She brushes a stand of hair out of your face, “Is that what’s bothering you, baby? You know you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.” 

It placates you for only a moment. 

Of course you don’t have anything to worry about. Tara adores you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara loves you with every fiber of her being. 

It’s just… 

Quinn is pretty. So pretty. 

Tara had fallen hard and fast for you, who’s to say she couldn’t fall the same way for someone else? 

And then the dread is back. 

“It’s just… Liv said-“ 

Tara groans. 

“Babe, don’t worry about what Liv has said. She barely knows the days of the week.” 

“But she knows how to get guys,” You say, a little pointed. 

Tara tilts her head. Her eyes are warm, the softest smile on her lips. 

“I’m not a guy,” Tara promises. She nuzzles her nose against yours, “Quinn could parade around here naked doing backflips and I wouldn’t look twice at her. You know that, babe.” 

You do know that. 

And so you let Tara press warm kisses into your neck and drag you back to the bedroom. 

Make sure to moan a little louder than usual just to remind Quinn exactly who Tara belongs to. 

-

It doesn’t work. 

Because of course, why would it work? 

The barrage of men flitting in and out of Quinn’s room comes to a screeching halt. She’s celibate for almost a week, focusing all her sexual energy on your girlfriend. 

It’s subtle, in the masterful kind of way Liv described. 

“Man,” She sighs loudly, one morning from her spot at the kitchen counter, “Tara, do you think you could help me on this paper for film class? I have to write a paper on iconic women in horror.” 

Tara springs to action, charging away from you like this is her sole purpose in life: to share her catalog of benign horror knowledge to any pretty girl who looks her way. 

You fold your arms, unhappily. 

“Start with Ellen Ripley,” Tara commands, before she even sits down. Quinn begins typing, madly. Tara pulls up a chair next to Quinn’s, leaning in a respectful distance to peer down at Quinn’s screen.  

“Signorney Weaver’s impact on horror is maybe one of the things that made me interested in horror to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quinn coos. She touches Tara’s arm, only slightly, leaning in until their shoulders brush, “That’s so cute, Tara.” 

Tara draws back, clearing her throat. 

“When you’re done with Sigourney, maybe touch on Jamie-Lee-Curtis.” 

Quinn blinks over at her, eyes round, like an innocent doe. 

You know better. 

Your eyes narrow as you stand, reaching for your purse. 

“Baby,” You remind Tara, leaning over to touch her back, “We need to get groceries today. Before Sam comes to visit.”

Quinn’s schoolgirl act drops immediately. Her eyes frost over slightly as she looks over at you, only the tiniest twinge of irritation apparent. 

“Maybe you could do that later, YN?” She asks, voice tilted, “I have to get this paper done before tonight.” 

“Sorry,” You flash her the mildest smile, not sorry at all, “Tara’s sister is coming all the way from California. We need to get the place ready, right babe?”

Tara nods, turning to Quinn to shrug.  

“Google should be able to help,” She says, scooting off her chair and grabbing her coat, “Carrie’s a great film too, if you’re in a pinch.”

“Well, maybe you can help me when you get back?” Quinn asks, a slight pout on her lip as she looks at Tara. 

Your eyes narrow, but Tara nods, helpfully. 

“Sure.” 

-

Naively, you’d hoped Quinn would get bored with this little game she’d started. 

Her attention span is short, you’d reasoned, as soon as she’d figured out Tara isn’t returning any of her flirty looks or comments, she’d get bored. 

You’d been wrong. 

If anything, Tara’s lack of interest only seems to spur Quinn on more. 

Most of your classes are in the mornings, Tara’s in the afternoon. Tara walks you to class, leaves you with a soft kiss and an “I love you”, but you know Quinn doesn’t work until the evenings, and it’s just her and Tara alone in that tiny little apartment for hours on end. 

So you toil in your classes. Imagine the worst. 

Tara and Quinn, sitting side by side, watching horror movies. Quinn touches her arm, then her thigh, leaning in to kiss her. 

Tara bats her away, most times you think about it. But sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets herself be kissed. Sometimes she lets Quinn touch her, undress her. Fuck her. 

And those sometimes become all you can think about. 

This is a new challenge, one that has rarely surfaced in your relationship. 

Tara is so enamored with you, most people don’t even bother attempting to seduce her. But Quinn isn’t most people, she’s persistent and pretty and maybe Tara isn’t a guy, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall for the same traps a lot of them do. 

A sticky hot, honey-trap by the name of Quinn Bailey. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little stern when you walk into the apartment that afternoon. Tara’s curled up onto the couch, blanket wrapped around her. Quinn’s hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against Tara’s forehead. 

A prickle settles down the back of your spine. Your jaw clenches. 

But Tara doesn’t even look over, just nuzzles herself deeper into her blanket. 

“Tara isn’t feeling well, poor baby.” Quinn coos. 

You drop your bag, ignore the rageful little demon in you that wants to bat Quinn’s hand away and fall to your girlfriend's side. The tip of Tara’s nose is red, and her lips are chapped. As she blinks up at you, you notice her eyes are hazy. 

“Honey,” You say, all thought of Quinn gone as you press your lips to Tara’s cheek, “Why didn’t you call?” 

“It’s nothing, just a cold,” Says Tara, but she curls into your side anyway. You press a gentle kiss to her clammy forehead and rub her arm. Quinn disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small bowl. 

“I made her some tea,” Says Quinn, “And some soup from scratch.” 

You blink up at her. You’ve never seen Quinn cook anything in her life. She’s all Deliveroo and fruit roll ups and toast. But the kitchen sink is awash with stray noodles and dirty pots. The smell of soup lingers. 

“Thanks Quinn,” Tara murmurs, reaching out to take the bowl from her hands, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

The angry, jealous demon is back. Quinn’s smile is unsettling, almost triumphant. 

As if she’s out-girlfriend-ed you. 

You swallow the urge to punch her in the throat. 

“No, you didn’t.” You say, warily, “Tara’s allergic to MSG, you didn’t put any of that in it, did you?” 

Quinn shakes her head, her smile coy. 

“All natural, only the best for our girl.” Quinn says, and then squeezes Tara’s shoulder. 

You glare as she cleans up the dirty plates and contemplate homicide for the rest of the evening. 

-

When Tara’s feeling better, you’ll bring it up, you reason with yourself the next morning. 

Quinn Bailey is becoming a pest, a horned up sex-pest determined to get her claws in your girlfriend. 

It has to stop. 

The solution? 

This is where you’re a little stuck. You don’t know the solution. Strangling Quinn sounds great on paper, but not so much in practice. 

Dead people don’t pay rent, that’s the only thing you know for sure.

You contemplate this over the next couple of days, between wrestling a hot water bottle for Tara out of Quinn’s hands, and almost jogging down to the corner store at the end of your block to beat Quinn for the tylenol. 

Tara’s such a baby when she’s sick, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s starting to enjoy this. Two women fawning over her, competing for who can nurse her the best. 

And the worst part is, Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing and she wants you to know it. 

She doesn’t say it, not outright, too smart to play her hand too quickly. 

She grins as she spoonfeds Tara some leftover soup, flashes you a look as she dabs Tara’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth. 

She raises an eyebrow at you as Tara croaks out to her, asking for more tissues. 

It makes you stew. 

It makes you want to grab the kitchen knife out of the top draw and slam it through her stupid neck.

It makes you want to grab her by the hair and throw her out of the window of your seventh story apartment. 

But you resist. 

Let her think she’s winning. 

It’ll make the victory you claw from her hands all the more sweet. 

Tara’s feeling better a few days later, and with her recovery comes the first taste of victory. 

Quinn’s making dinner in the kitchen - her newfound passion being culinary for your girlfriend. She hums a little, flitting between batting her eyelashes at Tara and shooting knowing glances in your direction. 

“Tara,” She says, just as she’s about to pour the tomato paste into the pasta “I can’t get this jar open. Can you help me?” 

Tara’s busy with her laptop, but she moves over regardless. She touches your shoulder lightly as she passes, and reaches out to take the jar from Quinn’s hand. 

It pops open immediately. You roll your eyes. 

Quinn beams, and as you look up, she’s running her hand over your girlfriend’s bicep. 

“You’re so strong,” She flirts, brazenly, “Thanks Tara.” 

Tara moves back to her laptop, unperturbed. 

When it comes to attention towards her she has always been oblivious. You let out a growl so low, no-one but you hears it. 

“Dinner’s up, Tara,” Quinn says, a few moments later, pulling out a couple of plates. 

You peer down at your book, suddenly very interested in the words. When Quinn had asked you your plans for the evening - grocery bags in hand - you’d neglected to tell her Tara had asked you out to dinner. 

Tara blinks over at her, a little confused. 

“Dinner?” She asks, closing the lid of her laptop. 

“Yeah,” Says Quinn with a sickly smile, “I made your favorite.” 

Tara tilts her head, “Oh. Sorry, Quinn, we’re going out tonight. I didn’t realize you were cooking for us.” 

Quinn stares a moment. 

“That’s fine,” She says, voice a little clipped, “Only, I asked YN and she said you guys were around.” 

You close your book and stand, grabbing your coat. 

“Oh yeah,” You say, smacking your hand to your head, as if you’d suddenly forgotten, “Dinner. I am so sorry, Quinn. Gosh, I am so forgetful sometimes.” 

Tara peers over at you, a little confused. 

Oblivious idiot when it comes to girls, yes, but not with you. You see the question in her eyes and neglect to answer it. 

Quinn’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t dare give up the jig. Not in front of Tara.

“It’s fine,” She says, “Maybe you can have it for lunch.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Tara says, a little absent minded as you wrap her jacket around her shoulders. 

You can tell she feels bad by the way she lingers. 

“We haven’t had a date night in a while, that’s all,” Tara explains. She wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip, “Besides, I owe this one a dinner for taking such good care of me these last couple of days.” 

She presses a soft kiss to your lips, her brown eyes warm and shimmering. 

You can’t help the smile that snakes across your lips. 

Quinn crosses her arms, looking unhappy. 

“I seem to remember taking pretty good care of you,” She says, drawing Tara’s gaze, “Maybe you should be taking me out to dinner, too.” 

Tara’s eyebrows knit in confusion. She looks at you, a little helpless, like she’s suddenly aware she’s caught in a chess match she wasn’t aware she was playing. 

Bless her. 

Your poor, sweet, unsuspecting girlfriend. 

You squeeze her hand, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

“

“Did you get the feeling Quinn’s mad at me?” She asks, “Maybe we should have invited her to dinner. She did make me a lot of soup.” 

You tilt your wine glass to your lips, needing the rush of the alcohol to get you through this conversation. 

When you set it down, Tara’s blinking back at you, with wide, brown eyes. 

“Remember what we talked about a couple of weeks ago, babe?” You say, “About my conversation with Liv.” 

Tara nods. 

“And have you noticed it, this past couple of weeks?” You prompt, “Quinn flirting with you?” 

Tara tilts her head. 

“No.” 

“Tara, she touched your arm and called you strong,” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose. Quinn had gone to work earlier that day, blown a kiss goodbye to Tara as she’d left. 

Made sure you’d seen it. 

Tara shrugs, “I’ve been in the gym, babe, I’m getting stronger.”

She flexes her bicep. 

“Look, babe, that’s all muscle.” She says, proudly. 

“That’s not the point, Tara,” You say, “She’s flirting with you. She’s been flirting with you all week.” 

Tara frowns. 

“She has?” She asks, looking a little perplexed. 

Then, she pouts. 

“So she was just complimenting my lasagne because she wanted to sleep with me?” She says, looking put out, “I thought she really liked my new recipe.” 

“Forget about the lasagne, Tara, this is not okay.” You say, “How would you feel if she were hitting on me?”

Tara frowns. 

“Not good,” She admits, “Bad. Really, really bad.” 

You sigh, dropping your fork onto your plate. 

“She’s going to have to go,” You tell Tara, “If she can’t respect our relationship, she can get the fuck out.” 

Tara bites her lip. 

“Okay, babe,” She says, a little wary, “It’s just… rent is due next month and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to replace her.”

She squeezes your hand, a little hasty as she sees the look on your face. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Tara says, leaning up to kiss you, “I’ll remind her I’m taken and not interested. And if she still tries it after that, she goes. How’s that, babe?” 

-

Tara’s talk with Quinn happens a little later. 

You climb into bed, head tilted as you hear the quiet murmur of their voices down the hall. It doesn’t sound heated, and you hear Quinn giggling as she tells Tara goodnight. 

You frown as Tara enters the room. 

“It’s just a misunderstanding, baby,” She says as she climbs into bed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “She doesn’t like me. She told me she’s just been a little clingier than usual because we’re her only friends.” 

“Babe-“ You start with a huff, ready to climb out of bed but Tara’s hands grip around your waist. 

“I know, I know, babe.” She assures, pressing another quick kiss to your neck, “I know you think it’s all bullshit so I told her straight up. I told her I’m in love with you and if she tries anything we’ll kick her straight out.” 

You frown, turning in her arms, “Really?” 

“Really.” Tara says, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “And I promise to keep my distance, okay babe? She can flirt until the cows come home, it’s going to fall on deaf ears.” 

She snuggles into your chest, soothing your hammering heartbeat with a kiss. 

“I love you. Only you.” 

-

True to her word, Tara goes out of her way to avoid Quinn. 

Gone are their cozy little sessions on the couch watching horror movies. Tara refuses Quinn’s cooking, turns down each of Quinn’s requests to hang out, or help her with homework, or whatever other brainless task Quinn can think of to get them to spend time together. 

The rental market is fucked, you discover in the interim. 

No way can you and Tara afford to move out, and even if Quinn did leave, it could take months to replace her. 

“No,” Mindy says, point blank when you ask her, “Not unless you and Tara swear to a vow of celibacy.” 

You sigh, unhappily. 

“Great,” You say, slumping back into your seat, “We’re going to be stuck with her forever.” 

Mindy looks over at you, taking a little pity on you. 

“Why don’t you ask Chad and Liv?” She suggests, “They won’t be able to hear you fuck over Liv’s soap operas anyway.” 

“I already asked,” You say, voice gloomy, “They’re in a two year contract.” 

Mindy shoots you a sympathetic smile. 

“You’ll find someone,” She says, “You just need to put some feelers out there.” 

And so you do. 

You spend the morning in class writing up the ad. You’ll put in the paper tomorrow, you figure. 

When you get home, ready to avoid Quinn and spend a night snuggling in bed with Tara, Tara’s already at the door. 

“Hey babe,” Tara says, bouncing up to greet you with a kiss. She smiles, lowering her voice, “Missed you. Wanna shower with me?” 

You smile and kiss her. 

“You know we can’t,” You say, regretfully, “Last time we used up all the hot water.” 

“So let’s have a cold shower,” She suggests, her smile turning into a leer, “I’ve got other ways to warm you up.” 

“Izzie, how are you? It’s been ages!” Quinn sounds from the living room. Your smile drops - you didn’t realize she was home. Tara notices your face shift, and rubs your hip, comfortingly. 

“She’s been good, babe, I promise,” Tara says, “Are you sure you don’t want to shower with me?” 

“I’ll start dinner,” You say, leaning in to kiss her quickly, “You go, baby.” 

Quinn’s in the living room, lounging across the couch when you enter. 

“Yeah, I’ve never done it before,” Says Quinn. If she’s noticed you in the kitchen, she doesn’t acknowledge you. She kicks her shoes off and lays back into the couch, twirling her hair between her fingers. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about it. You know? I really want to try it.” 

You pull a few potatoes from the bag and pull out a knife. 

Just a little while longer, you think, trying to stop yourself from glancing over. Just a few more weeks of her and then you’d never have to see her again. 

Quinn looks over, catching your eye. 

As if she can tell you’re thinking about her. 

And then, she smiles. 

“I met a guy last night, took him home because he looked a little bit like her. Dark hair, dark eyes, short.” She says, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur, “Fucked his brains out imaging it was her on top of me. Inside me. And she will be. Soon.” 

She’s looking right at you. Her voice is a low taunt, daring you to take the bait. 

And you fall for it. 

Hook, line and sinker. 

You slam the knife to the kitchen counter, cheeks flushing red. 

“That’s it,” You growl as you launch at her, “You’re fucking dead, do you hear me?” 

Quinn stares a moment, her jaw slacking. 

As if she hadn’t realized her taunting would finally come to fruition. 

In the form of you launching to grab at the end of her hair. 

You tug at it, hard, determined to make the end of your fist meet the slant of her chin. She squeals, dropping her phone as you tug her towards you. 

“YN,” She cries, “Stop it, you’re fucking crazy-” 

“You think this is funny?” You growl, letting go of her hair to shove her back against the couch. You swing at her - and miss - and you know you must look crazed. All wild eyes, red-faced, three weeks of taunting finally setting you over the edge, “ You think trying to sleep with my girlfriend is a game?” 

“Tara!” Quin screams as you launch at her once more, “Tara, help!” 

Tara’s name on Quinn’s lips - if possible, just makes you angrier. You lunge over the couch, but she stands, squealing as she ducks your advances. 

You hear the bathroom door slam, and a flash of dark hair before you turn to see Tara, soaking wet, towel pressed around her torso. Her hair is soapy with shampoo and she looks dismayed as she looks at the sight in front of her. 

Quinn screaming like a child and you feral. Grabbing for her with all your might. 

“Baby?” She says, sounding scandalized, “What are you doing?” 

Quinn lets out a sob. Teary-eyed, she barrels over to Tara and stands behind her, grabbing at Tara’s arms as if she’s her knight in shining armor. 

“She’s attacking me, Tara,” Quinn blubbers out through her crocodile tears, “Make her stop, please.” 

“Oh, give it a rest, would you?” You say, voice harsh, “Tears? Really? Why don’t you tell Tara what you were saying about her on the phone, huh? Why don’t you be honest for once in your fucking life and tell her what you’ve been trying to do this entire time.” 

“I was talking about a girl from my Chemistry class,” Quinn says, as if you’re crazy, “Her name is Charlotte, I wasn’t talking about Tara.” 

“Oh, bullshit,” You scoff, “Just admit it. You’ve been all over Tara from day one.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch,” Quinn says, “Look, just because you’re insecure, doesn’t mean I’m trying to sleep with your girlfriend.” 

“Enough,” Growls Tara. She wrenches her hand away from Quinn, turning to round on her. The anger within you dissipates slightly. You swallow as you’ve realized Quinn has inadvertently awoken The Rage. 

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Tara says, her voice hot, “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

Quinn blinks at her. 

“Tara, it’s fine,” You say, hurriedly, “Babe, leave it.” 

And as much as you want to see Quinn get punched in the face, you don’t want The Rage to be the one to do it. 

You’d paid for too much therapy to see that fucker unleashed again. 

“Apologize,” Tara demands, her eyes flashing, “Apologize to her now.” 

You reach for Tara’s hand, tug her back towards you, out of Quinn’s reach. Her heart is racing,  her shoulders tight. You press your lips to her shoulder in an effort to soothe her. 

Quinn’s face contorts. You half think she’s about to spit right in your face. Maybe take a swing at you of her own. But then her face softens. 

“I’m sorry, YN,” She says, voice silky sweet, “It really was a misunderstanding. I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was trying to take your girlfriend from you. I’m not, I promise.” 

She sounds sincere, but you see right through her. 

“Alright,” Tara says, though her shoulders are still tight, “Good. Now I’m going to finish my shower, and the two of you are not going to kill each other. Right?” 

Quinn nods, solemnly. 

“Bedroom,” You tell Tara, “Now.” 

-

“She’s going,” Is the first thing you say as Tara shuts the door. You’re pacing back and forth, your skin burning hot and red, “She’s fucking gone, Tara. I mean it this time. I don’t care if we have to sleep on Mindy’s couch for the next three years, I am not spending another second with her-” 

Tara rubs her eyes. They’re a little red, stained with unwashed shampoo. 

“Baby, why don’t you sit down for a bit?” She suggests, “Look at you, you’re all worked up.” 

You turn to stare her down, anger flashing through your features. 

“She was talking about fucking you, Tara,” You hiss, “Right in front of me. She was talking about how she wanted you inside her.” 

Tara moves a little closer, trying to touch your arm. You shake her off to continue your pacing. 

“You’re mine,” You seethe, “I don’t know what part of that is so hard for her to understand.” 

“Baby-” Tara starts. 

“You’re not talking me out of this, Tara,” You snap, “I want her gone. Tonight.” 

Tara catches your arm. She draws you in for a long kiss. 

She’s trying to settle you down. 

It works.  

“I’m yours,” She says, softly, “Like I already told you, you don’t have to worry about her.” 

“You promised, Tara,” You say, voice agonized, “You promised if she tried anything else she’d be gone. And I swear to god, Tara - if you try to take her side-“  

Tara shushes you with another kiss. 

Then she draws back, her voice soft. 

“Of course I’m not going to take her side, sweetheart,” Tara says, “I’m your girlfriend. I’m always on your side. She’s going. You don’t have to ask twice.” 

This relaxes you a little. Tara presses another lingering kiss to your lips. 

“Like hell we’re sleeping on Mindy’s couch, though,” Tara says, crinkling her brow, “Sam can lend us the money. She won’t mind.” 

Sam might mind. 

But it’s really the least of your worries. 

“Thank you,” You say, sighing as you lean into Tara’s chest. 

Tara squeezes your shoulders. 

“Let me finish my shower,” She says, “And then I’ll talk to her.” 

She eyes you, warily. 

“Maybe you should take a walk or something, babe,” She says, after a moment of hesitation. She brushes your cheek, “You’re all red in the face.” 

You frown. 

“If you think I’m leaving you here with that sexed-up-piranha-” You start with a growl, and Tara draws her arms back around your shoulders. 

“Alright, alright,” She concedes, “It’s okay, babe, we’ll do it together.” 

But by the time Tara’s out of the shower, Quinn is long gone. 

You spend the night seething, not even Tara’s gentle kisses enough to coax you out of your mood.

In the morning, you hunt through the apartment like a lion hungry for its prey but she’s nowhere in sight. 

She’s stupid enough to try you, but not so stupid enough to hang around for the fallout. 

When you head off to class, Tara reassures you with a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“She’ll be back here at some point,” Tara says, “As soon as I see her I’ll tell her to pack her bags.”

Economics flashes by in a rage-filled trance. You don’t even bother with your marketing paper. You’re worked up. 

You just want her gone. 

And so you skip the rest of your morning classes and head home.

You don’t bother smiling at the doorman, fish your keys out of your pocket in a grump. 

When you get to the door, you tilt your key in the lock, fiddling around to pry the door open. 

And then you hear it. 

A cry - it’s Tara, and then you hear Quinn. She’s squealing again. You blink. Your mind runs rampant with the possibilities. 

Tara with her knife, plowing through Quinn with the kind of ire only The Rage can bring. 

Tara grunts, and it’s familiar. Your stomach lurches. You might be sick. 

You know that grunt. 

The indicator Tara might be plowing Quinn in a much different fashion. 

Betrayal sinks deep within your veins. You fumble with the door, almost pry it off its hinges in your effort to barge through it. 

It swings open, and the lump in your throat grows with the thought of what you might find on the other side of the door. 

But what you see isn’t what you expect. 

You blink. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you. 

“Tara,” You hiss as your jaw drops, “What are you doing?” 

Tara has Quinn in a firm grip. Her legs are wrapped tight around Quinn’s waist, she has Quinn’s head between her arms in a chokehold. Quinn’s eyes are wide. She struggles desperately against Tara’s grip, eyes bulging as she tries to wrangle her way out. 

The scene in front of you would be comical, if it weren’t real. 

But it’s very real. 

Quinn looks over to you the moment Tara does. 

The sound of your voice is her escape. 

Tara turns to you, grip lessening only slightly as she realizes your presence. Her brown eyes widen, the way they do when she knows she’s in trouble. 

Quinn pulls herself out of Tara’s grip with a heavy gasp, almost shoving Tara to the floor. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn says, voice high as she stands, “Are you actually serious right now?” 

“Explain, Tara,” You say, voice flat, “Now.” 

Tara looks over to you, eyes wide. She splutters as she speaks. 

“She tried to kiss me, babe,” Tara says, voice aghast, “She tried to kiss me and I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Quinn’s breathing heavily. 

She’s scary like this. Thundering over Tara’s tiny frame like she might snap her in two. 

“I throw myself at you and your first reaction is karate?” Quinn says to Tara. Her eyes are wild. She’s pissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara fires back, “I have a girlfriend.” 

You throw your bag to the ground. The heavy, unsettled feeling that’s stayed with you for the last three weeks is boiling. If Quinn doesn’t leave now, there’s no telling what you’ll do next. 

“Get out,” You tell Quinn, “You don’t live here anymore. Get your shit and go.” 

Quinn doesn’t move. 

“Get out,” You insist, “Before I kill you myself.” 

Quinn shoots an angry look at Tara, before redirecting it at you. 

“Fine,” She says, “You two deserve each other. Fucking Jackie Chan and Princess Prissy-”

“Out.” You snap as she grabs her purse. 

She shoots you an angry glare. 

“You can forget about rent,” She sneers, “And good luck finding someone else to live in this shitty apartment.” 

Your palms are sweating as she slams the front door shut. 

Tara looks up at you, eyes still wide, a little sheepish as you close in on her. 

“I didn’t kiss her babe, I swear,” Tara promises, leaning up to grab your hands, “She leaned in and I grabbed her before she could get close.” 

“I know you didn’t, babe,” You say after a long moment. Your voice softens. You brush her dark hair out of her eyes, “I know.” 

She’s quiet a moment. 

“I’m sorry that we didn’t kick her out sooner,” She says, “I really did just think she was trying to be my friend.” 

You sigh. Tilt your face to hers. 

“I know, babe,” You say, then you snort, “I can’t believe you put her in a headlock. Sam’s going to love that.” 

Tara pouts.

“She deserved it,” She says, “And speaking of Sam…” 

She looks up at her, eyes shimmering. 

“I talked to her about the rent,” Tara murmurs after a moment, “She agreed to help us out.” 

“Oh?” You say. A spark of hope sears deep within your chest. 

Tara bites her lip, “There’s a catch, though. She’s going to come live with us until we find a new roommate.” 

“Oh.” You say with a frown. 

“You’re not mad, are you?” Tara asks, a little hesitant, “I’d tell her no, but we’re really in a pinch, babe.” 

“It’s fine,” You say, after a moment, “I don’t mind living with Sam.” 

Tara hums. She leans in close against you. 

“And hey,” You nudge her, trying to keep the mood light, “At least I don’t have to worry about Sam trying to get into your pants.” 

Tara wrinkles her nose. 

You laugh. 

Lean down to kiss her, deep. 

Fuck you Quinn Bailey, you can’t help but think. 

You hope she enjoyed her little game.

Because when it comes to Tara, you never lose.

[now-whos-doing-that]

GUYS I FINISHED THE SLIDESHOW.

[gothicknightz]

family ties | ethan landry

notes: oh boy you guys are gonna like this one. VERY MAJOR SCREAM SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!!!!! I cannot get any more specific than that.

part 2 out now!

When she moved to New York with her best friend, they both had planned on getting an average college education, having fun, and graduating. 

That was it.

Why couldn’t it have been that simple?

The four of them were stranded in the abandoned lobby of the theatre when Sam had gotten a call from the Detective, claiming that he had done some digging into Kirby and that she was let go from the FBI a couple of months ago for being mentally unstable, and he believes she is the killer.

She quickly turned her attention towards Sam, “What?” She snapped, her arm still wrapped up from her paired attack alongside Mindy on the subway. 

Putting a foot down, she crossed her arms, “There’s no way we can stay here.” Attempted to try the entrance in which they came in, to find out it was locked, “Shit.” She turned around quickly to face the, “It’s locked.”

The group frantically looked for a way out of the theatre, as they weren’t going to be trapped with the possible killers. Tara had noticed some sort of fire escape, but that wasn’t until Ghostface appeared and attacked the group, which they fought back. 

Chad decided it was a good time to be a hero, as he fought against Ghostface so that the girls could run. This proved to be a bad decision for him, as a second Ghostface came up and started stabbing alongside the other before ushering the trio back into the theatre.

As the five of them make their way back into the theatre, Kirby suddenly reappears out of nowhere and claims that she was knocked out by two Ghostfaces, but the trio can’t trust her after the Detective’s claims, who arrives subsequently after Kirby.

After what seemed to be a battle for trust, the Detective shoots Kirby, revealing himself as the third killer.

(y/n) screams as she was the closest, her heart racing in anticipation, afraid of what was going to happen next when the other two Ghostfaces de-mask themselves. Subsequently, after the Detective reveals himself to be the third killer, the Ghostface wearing Nancy Loomis’ mask revealed himself.

It was Ethan, (y/n)’s best friend. The friend she had planned on getting a college education and graduating with. The friend she had known for years, the friend who was responsible for their firsts.

Somebody she had trusted.

It was then revealed that Quinn was the final Ghostface, much to everyone’s shock, as they had seen and heard of the brutal murder Quinn had endowed.

The trio was cornered at each end by the three killers, with Sam slowly connecting the pieces that all three of the killers were related to none other than Richie Kirsch, one of the killers of the Woodboro Massacre in 2022.

As the trio was attacked and coerced back to the center of the theatre by the killers, the Detective sighed, “It wasn’t until I saw that photograph of what you had actually done to him, that I knew.”

“That I knew you had to fucking die- that you had to be punished, along with anyone else who stands in our way.”

Pushed and insulted by Quinn, Sam, and Tara were forced to stand in front of the Detective, with Ethan taking hold of (y/n), and holding a knife to her throat.

As the Detective went on about how he indulged in his son’s love for the Stab movies, and how they were a bit dark for him, he explained that there was no deeper bond than of a father and his firstborn.

“Despite the loss of Richie, I couldn’t have been happier after learning of a new addition to our family.”

The look on both the sisters’ faces was beyond puzzled as they watched the detective make grandiose gestures as he waved the gun in (y/n)’s direction.

“I knew it was a bit young for those two to get hitched, but,” the Detective paused, taking a breath for a brief smile, “She made it a lot easier to get us in here, and I’ve never been more proud of a future daughter in law, right (y/n)?”

The Carpenter sisters had another round of fear and shock as they turned their heads to one of the closest friends the gang had had, with even Mindy trusting them.

(y/n) was breaking away from a kiss with Ethan as Tara and Sam watched them in awe, the girl breaking into a fit of giggles and a content sigh.

“You know, Sam,” She said, turning towards the illegitimate daughter of the original Ghostface with her boyfriend slash fiance’s knife in hand, “You should really save the date.” She took a swing at the eldest Carpenter sister and laughed.

“Because it does fucking run in the family.”

[eldritch-nightmare]

slashers with hanahaki.

a/n: icb this took me like 2 months to finish omg anyways hanahaki is not a trope i personally enjoy but i like writing angst and i think it's an interesting concept and this is. honestly just an excuse to write amanda angst, actually. uhm. first post about slashers :thumbs up: might take time for me to get used to writing them tbh, so this might be short but!! i hope you enjoy it all nonetheless. ignore how long ethan's is. amanda comes with her own special bot so <3 enjoy tht if u use it.

includes: amanda young, quinn bailey, tiffany valentine, billy loomis, bo sinclair, and ethan landry.

warnings: gn!reader, angst, many mentions of vomit and coughing, blood, implied unrequited love (esp in bo's), randomly assigned flowers plucked out of my flower book.

AMANDA YOUNG

If there's one thing about Amanda that isn't hard to miss, it's the fact that she gets very jealous, very easily. It was obvious in the way she almost constantly glared at Lynn whenever the woman was in her line of sight, the way she held no kindness in her voice whenever the two were forced to speak to each other.

Well... it was obvious to John, at least. Even in the state that he was in, the man was nothing if not observant, and he certainly didn't miss the way Amanda's gaze would linger on you and Lynn. He didn't miss the way she would come up with random things for you to do, things that involved you keeping a distance from Lynn.

What John isn't aware of, however, is the fact that each time Amanda goes off alone, it's to cough and vomit up the flowers blooming inside of her. She loves you so much that she can't even be angry when she stares down at the bloodied petals of lavender in her hand as she gasps for breath.

This is her punishment, she thinks. It's her curse, one she'll keep to herself. She loves you, but she doesn't deserve you. If you get too close to her, if she shows that she cares for you, you'll die. They always do, and you're the one person she can't stand to lose.

So she'll keep this to herself. She'll diligently wash the blood off the petals in her hand and she'll put them with the rest, tucked away safely for no one but her to see. She'll let her love be a secret, even if her jealousy boils over.

QUINN BAILEY

Romance isn't something Quinn cares for. She's not interested in falling in love since it doesn't align with her goals of wanting to get revenge for her brother's murder. And you, the best friend of Samantha Carpenter, were meant to be another victim. The plan was to kill you in front of Sam, just to inflict a little extra trauma on her.

But that's not how things were turning out. The more time she spent with you, pretending to be friends with people she planned on killing, the more attached she was starting to become. It was small at first, something she could push aside at any given moment. But you just had to be nice to her.

With everything going on, everyone was always worrying over Sam or Tara, but during it all, you had pulled her to the side to ask how she was handling everything, asking if she was okay. And suddenly, it became harder to push those feelings aside, and camellia petals started forcing their way out of her throat whenever she coughed.

This didn't go unnoticed either, by her family or her 'friends', but she always brushed their concerns off. It's just a little cough, no big deal. But it wasn't. Your time to die was coming up, and Quinn was the one who was supposed to kill you. But now she's hesitating, her mind working a mile a minute to come up with a way for you to get out of this alive without risking everything else.

She loves you, as much as she loathes to admit it. She doesn't want to be in love, especially knowing you'll never love her back once you find out who she truly is.

TIFFANY VALENTINE

Pretty much everyone who knows Tiffany knows about her feelings for you. It's not something she bothers to hide, and even she's surprised that you aren't aware of the love that she has for you. Or maybe you're just pretending like you're oblivious? She certainly hopes not.

Either way, the first time she coughs a flower up, she feels... well... she wasn't upset. In her eyes, it was further proof of how much she truly adored you. The petals of pansies that she coughed up were always tucked away in a jar. She probably has like... 4-5 jars full of petals by this point.

She doesn't blame you for any of this either. It's not your fault that she fell in love with you! How could she not? You're you. Anyone could love you. She'd kill them if they did, of course, but her point still stands.

Of course, she's not an idiot. She knows what this means. The constant pain in her throat and the feeling of vomiting up blood and flowers is nothing compared to the pain of knowing you more than likely don't love her back. But it's a pain she's willing to bear if it means having you in her life.

And Tiffany is just... fairly confident that given enough time and patience, you'll love her back, one day. She could (and probably should) give up on you, she knows that, but she doesn't want to. Not yet.

BILLY LOOMIS

Love is not something that comes easily for Billy. He's damn good at faking it, but he tends to disappear the moment he starts feeling like he actually might be growing to love someone. But loving you? It was as easy as breathing, he didn't even notice he had fallen until the roses started falling from his lips. How cliché.

He's really... torn, to be honest, for many reasons. This little illness of flowers could potentially get in the way of his plans, first and foremost. It makes it a lot harder pretending to love Sydney when he starts hacking up stupid fucking rose petals whenever he thinks about you. And god forbid if he has a coughing fit when he's doing Ghostface business.

It's a pain to hide, but Billy is nothing if not determined. Not even Stu knows, that's how badly he wants to keep this a secret. It's not something he plans on hiding forever, of course. Once he's killed Sydney, he'll... probably get around to doing something about the roses piling up in a random shoebox in his room.

The thought of killing you certainly crossed his mind, don't get him wrong. It would probably be much easier having you dead than leaving you alive and dealing with this, but the moment he even processed the thought, he was falling out of bed from the sheer force of the coughing fit that hit him. It's the most roses he's ever thrown up at once, so. He threw that thought out almost immediately.

But he'll definitely play it off and act as if he isn't painfully pining for you if you ever find out about this little predicament. He's too prideful, too hesitant to ever fully commit to a person. The roses bloodied roses in the beat-up box are the closest he'll ever get to confessing his love to you.

BO SINCLAIR

Bo knew letting you live would bite him in the ass one of these days, he just wasn't expecting it to be like this. He knew he had a bit of a soft spot for you, though he loathed to admit it, even when his brothers give him knowing looks.

You just looked so damn perfect, all scared with tears streaming down your face. How could he not want to keep you around a little longer? He just didn't actually expect himself to grow attached. It was supposed to be a sadistic game, a way for him to torture you. Instead, he was the one being tortured.

Tortured by these damn flowers he keeps coughing up. He had to ask Lester what they were, though he obviously didn't mention why. Nobody was going to know about this, not Lester, not Vincent, and certainly not you. This was going to stay between him, and the bloodied petals of honeysuckle that he keeps hidden in the gas station.

He knew well enough that this little problem wasn't just going to go away so easily. Don't get him wrong, if he could kill you, he would. The thought alone is enough to keep him locked in a room, throwing up flowers until he sees dots in his vision. So clearly, he can't. He's undeniably stuck with you now, whether he likes it or not.

What's worse is he'll never have your love. Why would he? You'd be a fool to ever fall in love with him after everything he has put you through. He'll only ever have your fear.

ETHAN LANDRY

He wholeheartedly did not expect to fall in love, especially with someone inside Tara and Sam's friend group. What's worse is that it wasn't a 'normal' way of falling in love either. No, you stole his heart the moment you stabbed him while he was under the mask, growling out a threat so cruel, so gruesome, he was definitely going to steal it in the future.

The wild look in your eyes was a stark contrast to how you usually behaved, and that excited him. Honestly, how could he not fall in love with you after that? With Ghostface, you were aggressive, almost animalistic in the way you would fight for your life. With Ethan, you were concerned for his safety, even if you did eye him with suspicion like everyone else.

The flowers were annoying though, he can't lie. It's not fun coughing up tulips, especially when he's under the mask. It also makes it harder to hide his identity. Ethan honestly doesn't seem like he'd hide his coughing fits from you because he'd probably thrive under your concern. That means that if he slips up and has one when assuming the Ghostface persona, his identity is basically revealed and it ruins everything he and his family have been working for.

He'll make up excuses as to why you can't be killed. You're not even that close to Tara or Sam. Honestly, he wouldn't consider you to be part of the friend group, so your death wouldn't have any impact on them. You've unintentionally helped them with their plans by being Ethan's alibi whenever it wasn't him under the mask, so killing you just wouldn't make sense. He's not exactly the best at hiding his feelings for you.

And Ethan is well aware that given his second identity, he'll never have a chance with you. The moment the inevitable unmasking happens, he'll lose any kindness you may hold for him. That thought alone is enough to make the tulips force their way out of his throat, but he won't lie... it's exciting to think about how you might react once it's revealed that he's Ghostface.

[chrissv4mp]

how could anybody do the things you did so easily?

ethan landry x reader

continuation of: 'just me and you and you and me alone'

warnings: weapons, strong language, blood. (lmk if i missed any.)

do not repost for any reason at all.

-

"y/n, come on. you know i'd never do anything to hurt you, baby." you wanted to scream. how could he get you to believe that?

ethan breathed heavily, his chest heaving with every step he took. he checked in the closet, the bathroom, everything but underneath the bed.

a smile appeared on his face, "oh, you're such a smart girl, aren't you? my smart girl." ethan said as he kneeled down.

you held your breath, quietly shuffling down to the wall the bed was up against. your vision was blurred from the tears, but you could still see the brunette boys hands and feet on the ground.

one hand was empty, but the other one held his pocket knife.

he snickered, tilting his head as he looked underneath the bed.

"found ya." he said, excitement in his tone, "now, we can either do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way."

you sighed shakily, muttering a: "fuck you."

ethan raised an eyebrow, his smile gone, "what'd you say? i couldn't quite hear you, baby--"

"fuck you! you're insane, you god damn psychopath!" you couldn't even believe the words that came out of your mouth, and still, you were proud of them.

ethan grunted, getting on his stomach before scooting under the bed and grabbing you by the arm. you punched at his face, but since he was much stronger than you, he easily got you out.

as soon as you were out from under the bed, he pulled you to your feet, holding you by your hair tightly.

"i did this for you. you are the reason for all of this. don't act like i'm the one to blame." ethan said sternly, his gaze almost animalistic.

you scoffed, wincing as he pulled you closer to him, "how? you are fucking insane, ethan. you are the only one to blame. i didn't ask you kill him. i didn't ask you to do any of this."

your eyes narrowed, "i should've listened to tara when she said your family was crazy."

you inhaled, then quickly regretted your words when ethan threw to the ground with force.

tears swelled in his eyes as he stood over you, getting on his knees as he put a leg on either side of your upper body.

"tara said that, yeah? tara said my family was crazy? well, baby, she's not one to talk. remind me who her step-father was, remind me how many people her sister has KILLED,"

he sniffled, "i haven't killed half as many people as her family has, and you still hesitated to be with me."

he grabbed your hair, pulling your head up before leaning close to your ear, "so, who's the insane one, honey?"

your mouth was shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the answer he wanted. you weren't gonna give it to him because it wasn't true. he was insane. and it wasn't tara or sam's fault.

ethan gripped your hair tighter, getting impatient, "i swear to god, y/n, i will not hesitate to slit tara's throat. WHO'S THE INSANE ONE?!"

you winced, but didn't break.

ethan laughed dryly, getting up off of you before going toward the door.

your gaze returned to him, sitting up on your knees.

"you'll stay here until you come up with an answer. don't even bother screaming, either, you're smart enough to know that we're out in the middle of nowhere."

eyes widening, you quickly got to your feet and ran for the door, "wait, no, ethan!"

...

[euphoricwritez]

★ Virgin ★

ethan landry

cw: FEM READER!!! major nsfw, blowjobs, protected p in v, slight bondage ig u could say, hair pulling, loud ethan, make outs, he really likes ur boobs, name calling (slut), overstimulation, riding, shit writing

you and ethan were laying down on his bed watching a movie. everything was normal and quiet, but you decided to finally shoot your shot. "hey ethan," you started, "can i ask you something?" he looked at you, " yeah of course," "it's a bit weird," "just ask me" "have you ever had sex?" you don't know where you got so bold from, maybe it was the fact it was 3 am, no one acts sane at this time. he choked on his own spit, sending him into a coughing fit. "why- why do you ask?" "because i want to have sex with you," you both roughly started kissing, the feeling of relief, and need. you grabbing at his hair and him at your waist. you pulled at his hair, something you both fantasized about for months. he let out the cutest whimpers that made you feel so wet. the way he was desperately feeling up your sides made you feel so horny. you pulled back from the kiss and took his hands and placed them on the hem of your shirt. "go on baby, take it off for me will ya?" he suddenly felt any bit of boldness go away. it was one thing to run his hands down your sides and what not, but he has never done anything like this before, especially not with the person he's loved forever. "don't be shy" whispering in his ear. he slowly lifted his hands, with your shirt riding up until it was discarded somewhere else. "give me your hands, love," you took his hands into yours once again and placed them onto your chest, slowly moving them down onto your tits. he looked at you like he wanted to say something but he couldn't find the right words to say. his hands slowly reaching to the back of your bra, unclipping it and letting it fall. you pulled him back into the kiss, his hands messing with your boobs. his body was on fire, he didn't think this would happen, ever, especially not with you. your tongue reached into his mouth, his beautiful whines keeping you going. you pulled back once again causing him to whimper. you suddenly went to kiss his neck, gentle and rough at the same time. in between kisses you said, "you know-" one kiss, "you never answered my question," you bit down on his neck, specifically on his adams apple, sure to leave a mark. he quietly moaned and you reached down to his bulge, slowly palming him. "are you a virgin or not?" you whispered. through moans and gasps he was able to respond with a quiet "yes." you kept on giving him marks all over his neck, not caring for the next day. "p-please, it- it hurts." "don't worry baby, i'll take care of you." you motioned for him to sit at the edge of the bed, although the was confused he obeyed. when you dropped to your knees, you unzipped his jeans and teased him through his underwear. "i know baby," you rubbed his thigh softly, your other hand slowly creeping up to the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling them off. you looked up at him and saw him already staring, he felt as if he had fever. you admired his beautiful cock, the pretty red tip that leaked out precum. you slowly snaked your hand around the base, lazily pumping it. he covered his mouth to try to fight back his loud moans. "no, let me hear you. i want to hear how good i make you feel," you sped up your ministrations as you held the hand he was using to cover his mouth. after working him for a bit, you finally put him in your mouth. as soon as you did, he let out a choked mixture of a moan and a whine. he was spouting out gibberish at this point, but you were no where near done. you sucked on his tip, letting your tongue lick the slit. he tasted so good it was unbelievably. you hungrily took in the rest of his cock, causing his whole body to shake. his hands were clutching the bed sheets. "ohmygodohmygod please!" he moaned out. you took him out of your mouth to ask "please what?" his embarrassed face could only whisper out "fuck me, please..." that was so fucking hot you couldn't hold yourself back anymore. you pushed him back on the bed and you got up from your knees, quickly getting rid of the rest of your clothes. "you don't know how long i've been thinking about this, ethan," you whispered and

he covered his face in embarrassment. you sat on his thighs, starting to tell him about all the times you got off to the thought of him. you slowly lifted yourself up and hovered over his cock. he was staring daggers into you, his face contorted into a face with need. you looked at him as if asking him if he was ready. "please..." he said again, his voice exasperated. you reached for the condom you kept in your bag just in case this ever happened and put it on him. as soon as it was on, he watched as his cock slowly disappeared into your pussy. he moaned not only at the feeling of you, but the view of you. you slowly started bouncing and he couldn't hold back his moaning, his hands reaching for your tits again. you grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his hand and he whined. "i know you're desperate but you don't have to be such a slut ethan..." increasing your pace. he felt his stomach do flips at the name. you felt his cock twitch inside you. "aw did you like that name? are you a slut for me?" "yes! p- please i'm gonna cum!" with one last bounce, he came with a loud moan of your name. once you got off of him, he pulled you down next to him. you gave him a small kiss. he seemed exhausted but before he fell asleep he said, "thanks for taking my virginity..."

EW THIS SUCKS ASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[reidlover101]

My one true love

[fae-of-prey]

the size difference… i’m fucking sick (toss me around n rearrange my guts forever mr. ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel!!!) 😵‍💫

[rollingsins]

Quinn Bailey Must Die, p2

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey continues her quest to conquer the Carpenter sisters. Well, one of them, at least. all hers universe.

warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Implied sexual content.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey

word count: 6.1k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, sequel to the first. wanted to try something a lil different - this is mostly from Sam's POV. There will be at least one other part after this one. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Sam’s bed is shaking when she wakes. 

She has a fan plugged into the wall. Military grade earplugs. A white noise machine. 

And yet, every morning, she wakes to the sound of a squeaking mattress and you moaning like you’re on a casting couch for a bad 60s porno. 

Aggravated, she sits up. Launches a pillow at the wall in the hope it will quell your happy groans. 

It doesn’t. 

“Tara, YN!” She yells, more than fed up, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up.”

You hear Tara groan through the walls. A quiet shush. The bed stops shaking. Sam slumps back into her pillows, content. 

Tara has never cared, but at least you can be shamed into silence. 

She closes her eyes, snuggles back into her pillows for a couple more hours of precious sleep. 

A few minutes go by, and just as Sam is on the cusp of unconsciousness, she hears you let out another, loud moan. 

“Oh, Tara-” 

Sam sits up. 

Fuck this, she thinks as she grouchily shimmies back into an old hoodie, I’ll sleep outside. 

-

When Sam returns to the kitchen - after seventy minutes of tossing and turning with a pillow and a blanket in the apartment hallway - Tara has the audacity to look pleased with herself. 

She’s wearing one of your old t-shirts, absent-mindedly stroking your hair as she sips on a cup of coffee. As if her bedroom activities hadn’t driven Sam out of hers. 

Sam is fuming. Her cheeks are red as she slams her bedding onto the couch. 

You turn at the same time Tara does. 

“What’s up, Sam?” Asks Tara, like she doesn’t know the answer, “You look like you’ve just been dragged through a bush backwards.” 

“You know what’s up,” Sam growls. She snatches a mug from the kitchen counter and pours herself a healthy helping of coffee, “How many times do I have to tell you-“ 

“Relax, Sam,” Tara says with a roll of her eyes, “We didn’t realize you were awake. We’re sorry-“

“I wasn’t awake until you woke me,” Sam says, jabbing a finger towards her nonplussed sister, “This is ridiculous. It’s the third time this week. If you two can’t respect my boundaries-” 

Your face is a little hot. You shoot an apologetic look towards Sam, “We’re sorry, Sam,” You say, “We get… carried away sometimes.” 

But Tara looks annoyed. 

“This is our home,” Says Tara, “If we want to fuck, we will. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to-”

Sam slams her hand to the counter, making you jump. 

“You asked me to come here,” She growls. She looks a little wild; red cheek, hair messy and ruffled, dark, tired eyes, “You asked me to pitch in. If you want me to go, I’m taking my share of the rent with me.” 

Tara crosses her arms, unhappily. 

“I’m doing the two of you a favor by being here. You think I can afford to pay New York City rent and California rent? The least you can do is not have loud sex at six AM-” Continues Sam, voice strained. 

“You’re right, we’re sorry, Sam,” You interject, eyebrows pinched, “Right, babe? We’ll be quieter.” 

Tara’s quiet for a moment, but Sam knows her sister. She knows the things Tara’s thinking in her head, and none of them are favorable. 

“I have a life back in California,” Sam warns, “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But I’m taking my money with me.” 

Tara’s brows knit. 

“We don’t want that,” You say, quickly, “We’re very grateful you decided to help us out. Right, Tara?”

“Very grateful,” Tara says, voice tight, “Sorry, Sam.” 

She pauses a moment. 

“Babe, you’ve got the ad up, right?” 

Sam ignores the spark of annoyance that floods through her and grabs her lunch.

She sighs right before she heads out. Decides she doesn't want to start her day swimming in negativity. 

“Bye, YN. Love you, Tara.” 

“Bye Sam,” You say, with a small smile, “Have a good day.”

Sam waits a moment.

“Bye, Tara.” She says, once more. 

Tara rolls her eyes, “Bye Sam. What, you need me to walk you out or something?” 

Sam just sighs and leaves. 

-

Sam has a new job at NYU. 

A job she loves. 

Her life so far? Deadbeat father, emotionally absent mother. A murderous psychopath as a biological father. A murderous psychopath as an ex-boyfriend. 

It hasn’t panned out the way she was hoping. 

Nowadays, there’s only two bright sparks in her life. 

Her baby sister, and her job. 

What more could a girl need? 

She’s working in the history department, a subject she’s always been good at. Tutoring students who apparently don’t share her prowess for the past. 

Her first assignment is a nineteen year old boy with straight D grades. Her second is a girl who point blank asks if “the Nazis won the Korean War?” 

Her third strolls into the library now. 

Doesn’t bother to introduce herself. She walks in like she owns the place. Settles herself next to Sam with a coy look in her eye and flutter of her eyelashes. 

“Hi,” Says the girl, with a coy smile. A smile that is far too friendly for discussing the Yom Kippur war. 

Sam blinks.

“Hi,” She says, a little taken aback. She gets ahold of herself, “I’m Sam. I’ll be your tutor for the next semester.” 

This girl has long, flowing strawberry-blonde hair. Piercing blue eyes. She’s wearing a shirt that rides up over her belly button and a pair of pants that are so tight they look as if they were painted on. 

The girl watches for a moment. Surveys Sam - like a hungry wolf might appraise a rabbit. 

And then she grins. 

“We actually know each other,” Says the girl, “At least - we know of each other.”

Sam tilts her head. 

“Oh?” 

“I know your sister,” Says the girl, and her smile turns sheepish, “I used to live with her. Before she kicked me out.” 

Sam blinks. 

“You’re Quinn Bailey,” Sam realizes with a start. 

Quinn’s cheeks pinch in a tight smile. 

“Guilty,” She says with a nervous laugh, “Sorry. This is awkward. I didn’t know the school was going to pair me with you. I mean - I didn’t even know you worked here.” 

Sam leans back a little, suddenly on guard. 

“It’s fine,” She says, “I’ll ask you to be assigned to another tutor.” 

Quinn squints. 

“Actually, you can’t,” Says Quinn, sounding apologetic, “There’s only two history tutors - I checked. The other guy’s out for the next two weeks.” She leans in close, eyebrows in her hairline, “Mono.” 

She pauses. 

“Sorry, this must be awkward for you. But I really do need help. My first paper is due next Thursday.” 

Sam sighs.

“Look, Quinn,” She says, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea after you-“ 

“Threw myself at your sister?” Quinn finishes. Her face is tight - she looks a little embarrassed, “I get it. I do. But you’re the only one who can help me.” 

Sam tilts her head.

Quinn reaches over, takes Sam’s hand. 

“Please.” 

Clearly, it’s been too long since Sam felt the warmth of human touch. Because Quinn’s hand on hers ignites a spark that sends shockwaves through her body. 

You need a boyfriend, she thinks momentarily, badly. 

Sam retracts her hand, squinting slightly. 

And remembers the horror stories Tara had bellowed down the phone line. 

“Those girls are very special to me,” She says, “What you tried to do? It’s despicable.” 

Quinn looks dismayed as Sam stands. 

“Sorry,” Sam says as she straps her back over her shoulder, “You’ll have to find someone else.” 

-

Tara’s in a mood when Sam gets home that night. 

She orders takeout, instead of eating Sam’s meticulously planned, healthy vegan curry. She ignores Sam’s attempts at conversation, and turns the TV a little louder when Sam tries to offer her dessert. 

Sam gives up, not long after. 

She eats dinner by herself, trying not to let her mind drift to Quinn. 

“Please,” She’d murmured, “I really need your help.” 

Weird, she thinks. Quinn’s touch had imprinted on her mind all night. For such a devilish, evil, homewrecker - she’d seemed kind of sweet. Hopeless, almost. 

Like a lost little child, adorned in red lipstick and Michael Kors. 

But then she remembers her sister. 

You arrive home, not long after Sam’s finishing her plate, batting Quinn’s easy smile out of her brain. 

You press a kiss to Tara’s forehead, offer Sam a small smile. 

And then you throw your bag down to the floor and disappear into your bedroom. 

“Good day, Sam?” You ask when you emerge, towel over your shoulders. 

Sam hums. 

“Weird day,” She admits. She shakes her head as she catches your questioning stare, “Nevermind.” 

You watch her a moment, and then reach down to squeeze Tara’s shoulders. 

“I’m taking a shower. Pick a movie for us?” You say with a quick kiss to her cheek. 

“Sure, babe,” Tara says. 

And then she sits up long enough to shoot a glare over at Sam. 

“Just be careful not to shower too loudly,” Tara says, “We wouldn’t want to interrupt Sam’s precious relaxation time. Who knows? She might threaten to not pay the water bill next time.” 

Irritation flashes through Sam, hot and fast.  

She’d been up at six AM again. Her sister is the culprit. And somehow she’s the bad guy? 

“Stop being a brat, Tara,” Sam says, voice tight, “You’ll be twenty next year, you better start acting like it.” 

“And is that when I’ll be as demanding and bitchy and sexless as you?” Tara deadpans. 

Sam lets her cutlery clatter over her plate. Rage simmers in the pit of her stomach that begs to be unleashed. Primarily on her ungrateful shit-head of a sister. 

I move across the country to bail you out, she wants to scream, and you can’t even be hospitable? 

But you get there first. 

“Stop it.” You say, pulling the remote from her hand, and tugging her up, “You are being a brat. Apologize to Sam and go to bed.” 

Tara glares up at you. 

“But babe-“ 

“Now,” You warn, “Or it’ll be your turn to sleep in the hall.” 

Tara’s face clouds over. 

It’s a familiar look to Sam. 

It’s the one she used to give to their Father. Right after she’d choked Sam, or punched her, or pulled her hair.

Her fake apology face.

“Sorry Sam,” She mumbles, as she stands, looking anything but, “Try earplugs next time, maybe.”

“Bed.” You say, “Now.” 

Tara storms off to bed, shooting a withering glare over to Sam as she leaves. 

Sam’s lips twitch. 

She’s used to this - Tara taking her anger out on her. She’s done their whole lives. 

It doesn’t mean it hurts any less. 

You sigh, throwing your towel over one of the dining chairs. 

“Sorry,” You say, “You know what she’s like sometimes.” 

“That therapy is really working wonders, huh?” Asks Sam, a little sarcastic. Her hands are shaking, a little. 

You bite your lip, sinking into the seat opposite her.

“Good days and bad days,” You say, “Dr Colmann says miracles aren’t going to happen overnight.” 

“That girl needs a miracle.” Sam says, a little frosty. Then, she softens, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m not trying to put you in the middle.” 

“It’s fine, Sam,” You say, “I know she can be a handful. We’re talking about all the stuff she used to do as a kid in therapy.” 

Sam snorts. 

“You mean like when she cut off all the heads of my teddy bears because I wouldn’t let her blow out the candles on my birthday cake?” 

You blink, a little taken aback. 

“No,” You say, slowly, “She kept that one quiet.”

“You better not be talking about me.” Tara’s voice sounds down the hall, hot and angry. 

You look from Sam long enough to shoot a glare down the hall, “And you better be in bed. I mean it, Tara. I’ll be there in five.” 

Tara huffs, but retreats, nonetheless.

You look back over to Sam, who has a contemplative look on her face. 

“I met Quinn Bailey today,” She says. 

You stare. 

“Why?” Is what you ask, and then you frown, “She’s not trying to worm her way back in here, is she? Because that’s not happening.” 

“The only thing she’s trying to worm her way into is an A+ on her history paper,” Sam says, “I told her to forget it.” 

You’re quiet a moment, and then you nod. 

“Thanks Sam,” You say, “Can you do that? Send her away? Isn’t it your job?” 

Sam shrugs. 

“I don’t know,” She admits, honestly, “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.” 

-

“You can’t turn her away Sam, it’s your job.” Says Sam’s supervisor, sternly, in the morning, “The poor girl was in here in tears last night. There’s no one else.” 

Sam pauses. 

“It’s just-“ She tries, “She has a complicated relationship with my sister and her girlfriend. They used to be roommates. She made some unwanted advances and they kicked her out. I can’t tutor her. It’s a conflict of interest.”

Her supervisor smiles, a little passive aggressive. 

“Spend less time worrying about conflicts of interest Sam,” He tells her, “And more time teaching them”. 

He punctuates his point by tapping down on a book about Palestine. 

And Sam sighs. 

-

“I could just quit,” Sam says later, over a sad looking salad in the cafeteria with Mindy, “I mean, I only took this job because Tara asked me to help out with rent for a bit.” 

Mindy looks over, eyebrows raised.

“Doesn’t quitting your job defeat the purpose of helping Tara with rent?” She asks.

Sam bites her lip. 

“I suppose…” She admits, “Though it wouldn’t be too hard to get a new one. It’s not like the pay is that great, anyway.” 

“I thought you loved your new job,” Says Mindy, “You were saying only last week how good it feels to finally have something fulfilling in your life.” 

“It’s just a job, at the end of the day, Mindy,” Says Sam. She ponders this over a mouthful of lettuce, “Besides, Tara is my sister. She comes first.” 

Mindy purses her lips. 

“And you think she would do the same for you?” Asks Mindy, after a moment, “Quit her job for you? Fly across the country and move into your apartment to bail her out?” 

Sam straightens her shoulders. 

“I’d like to think so,” She says, somewhat defensively.

Even if she doesn’t believe it. 

Mindy shakes her head with a sigh. 

“She won’t even stop banging her girl at six AM for you,” Mindy says, “She won’t even let you get a decent night’s sleep.”

“They’ve said they’ll be quieter.” Sam says, softly. 

Mindy shoots her a look. 

“And how many times have they told you that?” She asks. 

Sam averts her gaze. 

Too many times to count. 

“Don’t do her any favors, Sam.” 

Sam stares. 

“And I thought she was supposed to be your friend?” Sam asks, somewhat pointedly. 

“She is,” Says Mindy, “She’s my friend. And I love her. But she’s selfish as fuck, Sam. You know that. You’re related to that. You’re already being a good big sister. But you don’t have to give up everything for her, Sam. Do something for yourself for once.” 

“And Quinn Bailey is me doing something for myself?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised. 

“If she lets you keep the job you love, sure.” Says Mindy, “Tara will get over it. Besides, you’re only tutoring the girl. What’s the worst that can happen?” 

Sam chews her lip. 

And considers it. 

-

“I’ll help you,” She tells Quinn, a little later over the phone, “Despite my better judgment, I’ll help you.” 

Quinn lets out a breathy sigh, “Oh, Sam - thank you so much-“ 

“I’m not doing it for you,” Sam says, voice stern, “And we’re not friends. I don’t want you coming to the apartment and upsetting my sister and her girlfriend. We’ll meet at the library, every evening around eight. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Quinn agrees, before she hesitates, “It’s not about Tara, Sam, I really just need the help.” 

Sam hums. 

“See you tonight.” 

-

“You’re meeting who at the library?” Tara explodes over the dinner table. 

Sam sighs. Helps herself to more potatoes. 

“I don’t have a choice, Tara,” She says, “It’s my job.” 

But Tara’s eyes are wide as if Sam has betrayed her. 

This is how Tara works. Black and white, no shades of gray. 

Mindy’s words echo through Sam’s head.

Don’t do her any favors, Sam. 

You touch Tara’s arm. 

“It’s alright, Sam, we know,” You say, voice gentle. 

“Are you doing this to punish me?” Tara asks, eyebrows knit, “You don’t like us fucking loudly and so for revenge you’re going to tutor the girl who tried to destroy our relationship?” 

“I need the money, Tara,” Sam says, voice tired, “If I lose this job I won’t be able to chip in for rent.” 

“So get a new job,” Tara says, immediately, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request. 

“I like my job.” Says Sam, “I’m not getting a new one.” 

Tara splutters. She looks over to you, wide-eyed, “And you’re okay with this?” She asks, in disbelief. 

“Tara,” You say, knitting your brows, “It’s not our decision-” 

“Like hell, it’s not,” Says Tara, “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to be on my side.” 

“There are no sides, Tara.” Sam says, “This isn’t world war three - as much as you’d like it to be. I’m helping her out because I’ll get fired if I don’t. I’ve already told her she’s not coming to the apartment. You won’t have to see her. If she tries anything, I’ll shut it down. Alright?”

You touch Tara’s back. 

“It’s fine, Sam,” You say, quietly, “Baby, it’s okay. We’re not seeing her again.” 

“Yeah, right.” Tara scoffs, “Please. This is just another one of her ploys.” 

She looks over at Sam. 

“She tried to steal me, Sam, we told you that, right?” She says, sounding scandalized. 

Sam rolls her eyes. 

“Yes, you told me that,” Says Sam, “And it didn’t count for shit because you’re a loyal girlfriend and your head couldn’t be turned. Right?” 

Tara thinks. She blinks as if her brain is short-circuiting. 

“Right.” She says, voice slow. 

“Perfect,” Sam says, voice dry, as she stands, “Look, Tara, please don’t be mad at me. You know I wouldn’t see her if I had the choice.” 

Tara folds her arms. 

Sam sighs. 

She leans down to press a kiss to the top of Tara’s head. 

But Tara jerks away. 

“Go, Sam, you’re going to do what you want anyway." She says, sounding surly. 

Sam slips her bag over her shoulder. 

“Bye, girls.” She says, a little dejected, “Love you.” 

But it falls on deaf ears.  

-

You and Tara are arguing when Sam leaves. 

“Why do you care so much, Tara?” You ask, voice hot, “You’re scared she’ll try to kiss you again and you won’t be able to resist?” 

“Baby, that’s ridiculous.” Tara says, outraged, “I don’t want to see her again because she upsets you.” 

Sam sighs, and clicks the door closed. 

The sound of both your voices echoing down the hall. 

Your neighbors must hate you. 

When Sam arrives in the library, Quinn’s already there.

“Hey,” She says, voice bright, and then pauses, “Thanks for coming.” 

“It’s my job,” Sam reminds her, voice a little tight. 

“Well, regardless, thanks.” Says Quinn. 

She sets her books down, slips into the seat next to Sam, wide-eyed and eager. Sam appraises her. 

She’s dressed a little inappropriately for a library study session. 

Short skirt, crop top. Her hair in pigtails, face flush with eyeliner and blush. 

Sam ignores the flutter that settles in her belly and pulls up a chair. 

“Was YN mad you decided to tutor me?” Is her first question. 

Sam opens her book, and points to the first sentence. 

“We’re not talking about them,” She says. 

Quinn chews her lips. 

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Quinn says, “You seem really nice, Sam, you don’t deserve that.” 

“Quinn.” Sam says, a little on edge. 

Like she’s starting to think this is a mistake. 

“Sorry,” Says Quinn, settling onto her elbows, “You’re right. Let’s not talk about them. Tell me all about the Yom Kippur War.” 

And Sam does. 

It’s a little difficult. 

Much more difficult than teaching her other students. Quinn doesn’t take her eyes off her. She plays with her hair, bats her eyelids, licks her lips. 

Sam clears her throat, starting to feel like prey. 

But then Quinn changes the topic. 

“I hope you’re ready to be the most consistent person in my life, Sam,” She says, blowing her hair out of her eyes, “Every night. I think if you were to define my dating life, comedy would be the word that springs to mind.” 

Sam raises her eyebrows. 

“Mine too,” She mumbles. 

Quinn rolls her eyes and sighs. 

“Tell me about it. I always pick the wrong guy,” Says Quinn, sounding a little frustrated, “Or girl most recently. Always the emotionally unavailable ones - or the physically unavailable ones. I think there's something wrong with me. Like a romance disease.” 

Sam cracks a smile. 

“I think we’ve got the same illness,” She teases, “I have a similar track record.” 

Quinn sits a little straighter. 

“Oh, yeah?” She asks, “Like who?”

Flashes of Richie blindsight Sam. His smile. His laugh. They way he’d kissed her.

The way he’d lied to her. 

Tried to literally murder her sister. 

Sam swallows, bad taste suddenly filling her mouth. 

“No-one,” She says, hurriedly, “Just a bad ex-boyfriend.” 

Quinn nods. 

“I have a few of those,” She says, and then she bites her lip. 

Sam reverts to feeling like prey. Something weird simmers in the depths of her belly as she meets Quinn’s piercing gaze. 

“Have you only had boyfriends?” Quinn enquiries suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere.  

Sam’s eyes flicker up. 

“Enough about boyfriends,” She says, clearing her throat, “Back to the Yom Kippur War.” 

Quinn’s smile is sly. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” 

“I’ve only had boyfriends, and I only ever will.” Sam says, voice flat, “Now, the war.” 

“How come?” Quinn blinks, wide-eyed, “You never wondered? You never tried it?” 

“No,” Sam says, “Quinn, please.”

Quinn bites her lip. 

“Fine,” She says, with a stretch, “I’ll stop busting your balls.” 

Her eyes flicker up to Sam’s. 

“As long as you remember - balls aren’t the only option.” 

-

Mindy howls over lunch. 

“It’s not that funny, Mindy,” Sam says, looking around. Well aware people are starting to stare, “Hey, shut up. I’m in a crisis here.” 

Mindy draws her shoulders. Takes a deep breath. But her face breaks out immediately. 

Her laugh turns into a snort. 

“I’m sorry, Sam, it’s just too good-“ She says, between breaths, “She really said that?” 

Sam nods. It sets Mindy off once more. 

“Damn this girl has an agenda,” Mindy says, still laughing, “She wants into those Carpenter panties, she really doesn’t care who’s wearing them.” 

“Stop being gross and help me,” Sam hisses. 

“Just tell her you like dick,” Mindy says, with a shrug, finally calming down. 

“I think we’ve established I tried that already,” Says Sam, cheeks flushed, “I get the impression no means yes to her. You know what - I know it for a fact.” 

She chews her lip. 

“Maybe I should just quit.” 

“Relax, Sam,” Says Mindy, with a groan, “This Quinn girl - she’s persistent, sure. But I doubt she’s dangerous or anything. Worst she’ll do is try to kiss you. Hey, then maybe you can put her in a headlock too. Give you and Tara something to bond about.” 

Sam glares. 

Mindy holds back another laugh. 

“Look - say you quit - then what? You get another job, waiting tables or working at a movie theater and hate your life. More than you already hate it.” 

Sam scowls. 

“I don’t hate my life,” She says. 

Mindy nods. 

“Sure, but you don’t love it. Let’s see,” She lists them off on her fingers, “No college degree, no boyfriend, no parents, your friends are a bunch of kids you used to babysit, and your alarm is having to listen to your sister take her girlfriend to pound town every morning.” 

Sam’s ears flame red. 

“You’re disgusting,” She says, voice flat, “And my life is just fine, thank you.” 

Mindy shrugs. 

“If you say so,” She says, slurping at her milkshake. She pauses, “God, that just made me sad. Maybe you should bang Quinn.” 

“Very helpful,” Sam grumbles, as she stands, “Thanks Mindy.” 

-

Sam gets home late - on purpose. 

The last thing she wants to do is deal with the changing winds of Tara’s mood swings. Or even worse - the “I told you so”, which she’s sure is to come. 

She hits the gym. 

Tries to decompress her own thoughts. 

Quinn is only trying to get close to Tara, she reasons, Quinn wants you because she can’t have your sister. 

Her treadmill jog turns into a sprint. 

And you’re straight.  

It’s dark by the time Sam gets home. 

But when she enters the apartment, expecting an empty living room - Tara’s sprawled across the couch. 

The lights are out, and Sam squints as she makes out her sister's figure. 

Tara sits up, like she’s been waiting for her. 

Storm in her eyes. 

“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” Says Tara, arms crossed. The couch has been transformed into a makeshift bed, in which she is clearly sleeping in. 

Alone. 

“Your new best buddy Quinn has caused disarray in my relationship.” 

Sam sighs, setting down her bag. 

“What happened?” She asks, reaching into the fridge for a beer. Alcohol is always necessary when Tara is like this. 

Tara crosses her arms. 

“You know what happened,” She says, “We got rid of Quinn and you brought her back into our lives.” 

“Quinn’s not in your life, Tara,” Sam reminds her, “She’s barely in mine. You really think she’s worth picking arguments over?” 

Tara frowns. 

“I didn’t pick an argument,” Tara says, “You’re the one who brought it up.” 

“And so you’re sleeping on the couch?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised, “What did you say?” 

Tara huffs. 

“Why do you always assume it was me who said something?” She asks.

“Because it usually is.” Sam retorts. She lifts the beer to her lips and takes a long swig. 

Tara’s quiet. 

“I just suggested we should… maybe help you look for a new job or something.” 

Sam stares. 

“Make you quit your job, is what I said, I think.” Tara says, a little sheepish, “YN’s mad because she doesn’t think I treat you well, or whatever. But I told her you don’t care about that. We’re sisters, we treat each other badly. That’s just how it goes.” 

She looks over to Sam, expectantly. Like she’s waiting for her to agree. 

Sam blinks. A sharp wave of hurt flushes through her chest that she can’t quite swallow. 

“I don’t treat you badly, Tara, I love you.” Says Sam after a long moment. There’s pain in her chest, making her words hard to get out, “I flew across the country for you. I’m living in a shoebox apartment infested with cockroaches for you. I fought Ghostface for you.” 

Tara blinks. 

“I tell you I love you everyday, before I leave, do you know that?” Sam asks, eyebrows crinkled, “But you never say it back. Why do you never say it back?” 

Tara just stares, eyes owlish. 

Sam might cry. 

Mindy’s half-cocked summary of her life had also made Sam a little sad. Because what does she have, truly? 

No boyfriend, no friends, a sister who treats her less than human. Like Sam’s a piece of dog-shit on the bottom of her shoe that she can’t quite shake. 

She won’t cry in front of Tara. 

Sam drops the empty beer bottle to the counter and rubs her eyes. Her sadness momentarily turns to anger. 

“I do everything for you,” Sam tells her, after a long moment, “But I love this job. This time you can do something for me. You can accept it.” 

-

When Sam leaves in the morning, the apartment is strangely somber. 

Tara’s avoiding Sam. You’re not talking to Tara. Sam’s not talking to anyone.

You don’t really talk to anyone, nowadays, anyway, she thinks, and then bats away the dreary thought. 

She spends the day on auto-pilot. Tries to will away the self-deprecating hatred brewing in the pit of her stomach. 

Quinn’s smiling when she finally makes her way into the library. 

Maybe the only person in her life happy to see her. 

It’s a sad thought, even for Sam. 

“Joe’s in the best pizza,” Quinn gushes, touching her arm, a little bit into their study session, “Now you live in New York you’ve got to get serious about this kind of thing.” 

Sam bites her lip. 

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in town anyway,” Says Sam, “I’m thinking about going home.”

Quinn tilts her head. 

“How come?” 

Sam shakes her head. 

“I’m just- I’m in Tara’s space. It’s not good for our relationship.” 

Quinn hums. 

Sam blinks. 

“Sorry,” She says, catching herself, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Let’s start on the next chapter.” 

“Tara won’t have any space if you leave her here,” Quinn says, tilting her chin, “Believe me. I lived in that apartment. I know how expensive it is.” 

“It’s an expensive shit-hole,” Sam mumbles, “You know every shower I’ve had this week has been cold?” 

Quinn nods, sympathetically. 

“I remember.” 

Sam surveys her for a moment. 

Her brows crease. And her curiosity gets the better of her. 

“Why’d you do it, anyway?” She asks, “Go for my sister? I mean, five minutes alone with the two of them and anyone could see how in love they are.” 

Quinn shifts. 

Averts her gaze, suddenly shy. 

It makes Sam frown. 

“I don’t know,” Quinn says, after a long moment, “Your sister- she seems like a really good girlfriend. I’ve only had bad boyfriends. Maybe I just wanted a change. Someone to treat me right, for once.” 

“And you really thought you could do it?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised, “Seduce her?” 

“No,” Quinn admits, “But it was fun to try. I like that. People I can’t have.”

Sam quirks an eyebrow. 

“You’re lucky YN didn’t beat your ass,” Sam says, the ghost of a smile on her lips, “I’ve seen her do much worse.” 

Quinn licks her lips. 

“Your sister is really beautiful,” She says, after a moment, “But you’re much prettier. Supermodel pretty.” 

The back of Sam’s neck prickles. 

Quinn scoots in a little closer.  

Their thighs touch. A spark flushes through Sam’s body, embering into wildfire before Sam can get a grip on it. 

Quinn’s lips are red. Her blue eyes are dilated. In the glow of the library-light, Sam could almost lean in…

Instead, she stands. Snapping up like she might die if she doesn’t. 

“Quinn,” She says, voice flustered, “I’m not stupid, I know what you’re trying to do.”

Quinn blinks. She cocks her head, dark eyes flashing with innocence. 

“And what am I trying to do?” 

“You couldn’t have Tara, so you’re throwing yourself at me,” Sam says, voice firm, “You think you’re slick, Quinn, but I see right through you.” 

Quinn tilts her head. 

“I just said you were prettier than her.” She says, “Your sister - she’s nice. She’s cute in a pedestrian sort of way. But you - you’re beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Sam can’t help the blush that stems from the bloom in her stomach and sprouts beet red in her cheeks. 

Quinn Bailey can talk. 

But Sam isn’t falling for it. 

“I’ve got to go,” She says, slinging her back over her arm, “I have- plans.” 

There are no plans. Sam hopes it isn’t obvious. 

Quinn purses her lips. 

“Anywhere fun?” She asks, easy smile on her lips, “Maybe I could come?” 

“Bye, Quinn,” Sam says, voice firm. 

And all but stumbles out of the library with Quinn watching. 

-

“Mindy,” Sam groans, down the phone line on her walk home, “You have to help me. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.” 

“Let me guess,” Mindy says. She sounds like she’s out somewhere - at a bar, or a particularly echoey house party, “You have a big fat hickey on your neck courtesy of one Quinn Bailey?” 

Sam’s cheeks flame. 

“I’m straight, Mindy,” She says, though her voice hovers, “You know that. Quinn - she won’t stop. She threw herself at me again tonight.” 

“Well, maybe you should just let her fuck you,” Mindy suggests, unhelpfully. She sounds a little drunk, “The girl likes what she can’t have so let her have you. Then she’ll leave you alone.” 

“That is some particularly unhelpful logic,” Snaps Sam, “Where are you, anyway? It sounds like there’s three of you.” 

“We’re at one of Chad’s lame house parties,” Says Mindy, “God, your sister’s in a mood, you know that? She’s scaring off all the cute girls. Not even YN can calm her down.”

“Oh,” Says Sam, stopping in her tracks, “You’re throwing a party? Who’s there?” 

“Me, Tara, YN, Chad, Liv,” Says Mindy, without a beat, “Plus every other freshman on campus. Chad tried to get some seniors to come, but he’s a little far off becoming the campus hotshot again.” 

Something pangs deep within Sam’s chest. 

Loneliness coils like a snake around her heart, tugging, tugging, tugging. 

The line is quiet, and Mindy seems to realize her mistake. 

“You don’t want to be here though Sam, it’s super lame. Just freshmen.” She says, hurriedly. 

“Of course not.” Sam says, trying to keep her voice light.

Why would she want to be there? At some lame party with kids four years younger than her, drinking like it’s the first - and last - drop of alcohol they’ve ever had in their lives. 

Because, sings that little voice in the back of her head, every friend you have in this city is there. And not one thought to invite you. Not even your own sister.

“You can come if you want,” Mindy suggests, a moment later, “I’m really sorry, Sam, I didn’t even think-” 

Sam bites her lip. Hard. 

“The last thing I want to do is watch a bunch of kids get wasted off keg-stands,” Sam says. She takes in a breath, and she doesn’t know why - but she’s desperate for Mindy to believe her, “Enjoy the party, Mindy, I’ll talk to you in the morning.” 

“Sure,” Mindy echoes, “Night, Sam.” 

-

It really is pathetic, Sam thinks as she pours herself a large glass of wine, your life. It’s pathetic. 

It’s Friday night. 

She should be out. She should be drinking and partying with friends her own age. She should be dancing in a club, dragging a stranger home and regretting it in the morning. 

What she shouldn’t be doing - is lounging around in her sister’s apartment, drinking by herself. She shouldn’t be moping about an invitation to a party with a friend group that isn’t even hers.

She’s made Tara her world. 

But in Tara’s world, she’s not even a thought. 

Not a sun, not a star, not even a moon. 

Maybe, if she’s lucky, a bit of space-junk Tara can’t quite shake from her orbit.

Pathetic. 

Space-junk, she thinks briefly, that’s a good name for you. A waste of space, more like. 

Sam sinks another glass of wine. 

The buzz feels nice. But the apartment is too quiet. 

Just Sam and her thoughts - a dangerous mix. 

And then - her phone buzzes. Sam has five glasses of wine in her. She answers, without checking who’s calling. 

And her voice catches in her throat when she hears the voice on the other end of the line. 

“Hey stranger,” Says Quinn, “I just wanted to call. I didn’t want to leave our conversation the way it was.” 

Sam pauses. 

She blinks - the room spins. 

“If you’re not interested, I understand,” Continues Quinn, and her voice lowers, “But I think you’ve misunderstood me.” 

Sam’s heartbeat jumps out of her chest. The hairs on the back of her arm raise, something she can’t quite name surges through her veins. 

She swallows, but her mouth is dry. Despite the constant flow of alcoholic lubrication. 

Quinn pauses a moment, and then sighs. 

“I don’t want you because of your sister,” Quinn says, voice graveled, “I want you because you’re beautiful.”

Sam hums. 

She closes her eyes, but she’s still spinning. 

High off alcohol, high off arousal, high off something. 

It feels nice to be wanted, no matter who is doing the wanting. 

She closes her lips, once. Tries to hang up. But she can’t.  

Then, she bites her lip. 

“Come over.”

[darkfemininenergy]

I CAN’T IGNORE YOU ━━ ethan landry

pairing: stalker!ethan x fem!reader

warning: stalker behavior, mention of killing/hurt, kind of creepy (if any signs of that kind of behavior make you uncomfortable don’t read it), gf!ethan

author’s note: this is my first time writing on tumblr so it probably won’t be that good sorry, still hope that you will like it !

stalker!ethan who follows you home to make sure you're safe

stalker!ethan who goes to all the parties you go to to look after you

stalker!ethan who befriends your friends to get closer to you, even force himself to get closer to his roommate chad since you two are good friends

stalker!ethan who knows your coffee order by heart and sometimes even order it for you in the morning, letting it in your kitchen with a note before you woke up

stalker!ethan who's always trying to bump into you in the college corridors

stalker!ethan who watches you through your window and takes pictures of you just for himself

stalker!ethan who, after getting your number off chad's phone, sends you messages. « you looked really pretty today », « you’re coming home from classes this late ? all alone ? my my, y/n, that's pretty irresponsible of you, don't you think ? », « but don't worry sweetheart, it's a good thing that i’m there to take care of you »

stalker!ethan who one day, when you weren't in your apartment, infiltrated it and installed a camera, stealing one of your underwear in the process

stalker!ethan who hurts everyone who touches you, one day when you were coming home from a late class, a creepy man followed you and he dragged him into an alley to kill him. what would you do without him ?

[underrtheskinn]

Scream VI (2023)

[getmeoutofhell]

Road trip to Airport with the GF group headcanons

A/n: I just feel like they deserve more stories all together so why not???

Warning: cussing

edit: i’m so embarrassed because hawaii is an island. pretend this is to the airport omfg 😭

THIS HAS BEEN EDITED

On the road:

-CHAOS

-like actual chaos no joke

-romans the driver (obviously)

-you’re sitting in the passenger seat since Roman thinks you’re the best to sit by in the car

-he also DEMANDS Mickey to be put in the back for obvious reasons.

-you can probably expect some arguments and other unnecessary drama on the road

-stu and billy sit next to each other (so un expected) and billy is not happy about it

-you can probably guess why

(1)-“Stu move your damn leg.”

(2)-“My legs not even touching you.”

(3)- “yes it is!”

(4)- “no it’s not!”

-then roman buts in

-“can y’all stfu? I can’t concentrate on the road with all that shit going on in the back.”

-do NOT I repeat do NOT give ethan, amber, quinn, stu, charlie or richie the aux or let them any where near the damn radio.

-unless you wanna hear weird/shitty music

-roman said that they’re banned from going near it ever again

-if you can drive roman may let you and him take turns driving (depends if you drive good to him or not)

-I feel like if any of the older GF comes (Debbie, Bailey.) they probably would drive separately because they know how the group gets when they’re all together…

-mickey saying shitty jokes when he gets bored

-amber and stu encouraging the shitty jokes

-stus ass eating up all the snacks

(1)-“who the hell ate up all the hot cheetos??”

(2)-“it wasn’t me!”

-has evidence all over his hands

-charlie showing weird ass videos he found on his phone to mickey

-has the damn volume all the way up

-roman buts in again

-“turn that shit down!”

-ethan may be one of the quietest in the car

-like he just sits there on his phone listening to music, starting out the window

-richie may bug him a bit

-you but in and tell him to stop bothering him

-stu thinks you’re sus

-quinn and amber arguing like every 30 minutes

-roman getting aggravated at them

-if you guys stop for a bathroom break be prepared for romans bickering

-“listen guys, no fucking around in the store we’re losing time here! Get in and get out.”

-stu buys all kind of weird snacks

-hopefully no one notices that they’re literally murderers

Hope you enjoyed this little drabble! I will make headcanons about us staying in a hotel plus when we’re actually in Hawaii!! ❣️