moonffe

[moonffe]

my lips might've slipped

ethan landry pt3

pt1 pt2 warnings: same as previous part, mentions of daddy kink, smooching mwah mwah, ARGUING (that's literally what the book is about)

a/n: please ignore how the writing style changes like three times throughout the chapter. also my cat scratched me yesterday and i was in pain while proofreading this

Wayne called your name, your eyes immediately narrowing. The hospital lights were too bright— you couldn't see properly. You tried to sit up, but a twinge of pain in the middle of your forehead made you squeak and fall back onto the pillows supporting your back.

“Easy, don't hurt yourself.” Ethan's father reached out to support your elbow. You blinked until your eyes adapted to the lighting, giving Wayne a nod to signal it was okay to let go. “Are you feeling alright? You got stitches. Doctor said no organs were damaged.”

You wanted to say "thank God", or at least say that to yourself, but you wouldn't exactly be angry at life or God himself if you died. You deserved it. You deserved every thing that was going wrong in your life, and yet you were crying like a school girl and begging for mercy. You almost snuffled at his words, though the situation wasn't exactly amusing. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

“You just need to get high and patched up so the wound doesn't open.” His eyes briefly focused on your stomach, then back at your face. “You think you can do it, or should I call Quinn?”

Your eyes widened in disagreement. “She has stuff to take care of. I'll do it.” You surveyed the room, curious. Did anyone even come to visit you? You didn't notice when you passed out. You couldn't remember the exact moment. You felt weak, though. It could be because you had just woken up or because you lost a lot of blood. “How do I get out of here?” You asked, the man in front of you seemingly thoughtful for a moment.

“I'm sure I can make up an excuse.”

The door to your room opening made you flinch. Ethan's tall form walking through made your pulse quicken. He was holding a dead woman by the wrist. “Here's your excuse.” He breathed out.

“Fuck— ing Christ, Ethan.” You winced, but his face looked innocent when the two of you made eye contact. “How the fuck did you get that in here?”

“We're the only ones on this floor thanks to Dad.” He sighed, edging your bed to put the woman down.

“That doesn't really tell me why.” You raised your eyebrows, stretching your sore torso to get a better look at her face. You noticed the finger marks on her neck. He choked her. “Ew.” Your eyes met his. “Who is she?”

“Don't know. Some random nurse.”

“We'll just put her under the covers and make sure no one tries to come in. You're recovering, no doctor is coming to check on you.” Wayne told you, nudging her hand with his boot as he still sat on the edge of your bed.

You playfully rolled your eyes before responding. "Well, that's comforting.”

“It'll be fine. You have enough time to go to Gale’s and back here.” Ethan's dad got up, making a disgusted face when he had to avoid the corpse on the floor. “We'll think of something if it takes you longer than expected.”

“Okay…” You stared at the woman for a little too long, snapping out of it with twisted lips. “Do you guys have my—”

“Here.” Ethan knew what you wanted before you said it out loud, as usual. He approached to give you your phone. “Picked it up on my way out.”

You were just interested in answering your best friend’s text. Your fingers brushed when you took it, and you wished you could feel that warmth for a little longer. Maybe he thought the same, because his features soured further when he backed away. “Thanks, Ethan.”

“Any time.”

“She's calling you by your name now.” Wayne interrupted the moment. The two of you glared at him. “What happened to ‘asshole’?” He looked at you, eyebrows raising. “Or ‘fuckhead’?”

“Dad.” Ethan grumbled.

Well, that was mean. You felt a little bad for his dad. “We're not on bad terms anymore.” You tried to be a little nicer.

“Took a while.” He said, and you immediately regretted how compassionate you were. “Pitty, really. You're going to be around the group while he and Quinn do all the dirty job.”

You raised an eyebrow, but you didn't feel offended. This was usual Wayne Kirsh behavior. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“Would you be mad if it was?”

"Dad." Ethan seethed, his tone more intense than before.

You shot the brunet with a “I know” look, but he didn't give a shit. He was still pacing and clenching his jaw. “Will you calm down?” You asked, and he shook his head.

“No, I'm not letting him—”

“Is there a way to change that?” You blurted out. Ethan took offense in your words, stepping back and snuffling. God.

“You're supposed to be at the theater.” Wayne just sided-eyed his son, not caring. “We can't show three Ghostfaces, Y/N. You'll have to stick with the targets.”

“Fuck.”

“Good luck, alright? Don't get hurt.”

“Thank you, Wayne.” You faked a smile, and he returned it. He turned around to leave, stopping short before crossing the door.

“Are you coming with me?”

His son looked him up and down, shaking his head grimly. “I need to speak to her.”

You rubbed your temples as Wayne peeked his head in to analyze the room. He looked at you, then at Ethan, eyebrows raised. “I'll lock the door.”

Ethan's arms were crossed over his stomach as he waited for his dad to leave. You looked at his face, but he was focused on the floor. You finally heard the elevator, and you sighed.

“How are you feeling?” He started walking towards your bed, sitting where Wayne was sitting just a minute ago. His hand went to your thigh, squeezing it over the blanket affectionately. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not more than usual.” You said. You wished you didn't, but you always leaned into his touch. Ethan's eyes softened, his lower lip catching between his teeth.

You were helping Richie make a movie a few years ago, and let's say the main actress wasn't exactly weak. You took the damage.

“I still feel bad about that.” He focused on his hand on your thigh, leaning down to plant a kiss there. “Left a scar.”

He was going to kill you every time he did shit like that. You glanced at your heart monitor, but he didn't even notice your labored breathing with what you were about to say. “Told Sam my ex boyfriend was abusive.”

The look he gave you was feral, demanding. “Did you strip in front of her or something?”

“Jesus. I was wearing shorts, Ethan.”

He didn't look convinced at all when he stared at you that way, but he ended up blinking, looking down at his hand. “Had my right to ask.”

You hated when he was that way. You fucking hated it. “You didn't, actually. You don't need to know every person I hook up with.”

You knew he felt his blood burn at your words, and you enjoyed it. “Y/N.” He called you out, shoulders visibly tense. He hated what you were doing.

“What?”

“Don't say that.” He failed to keep the possessive growl out of his voice. “I want you so bad it might actually kill me. Please don't say that.”

“Funny words coming from a murderer. Am I supposed to be flattered or running away from you?” You rasped, glaring.

Ethan looked away to recompose himself, raising his eyebrows with fake surprise. “Whatever turns you on.”

You paused. This time, he noticed your heart monitor. He smiled, tongue between his teeth as he looked at you, waiting for your explanation.

“What? Am I wrong for getting scared at how unhinged you are?” You lied, Ethan's eyelashes fluttered as he held back a chuckle. You were trying hard not to, but you also let out a laugh. “That's actually disgusting. What you said.”

“You think so?” He flopped on his side, biting his lip as he fidgeted with the blanket covering your knee. “Because there's more from where that came from.” The realization that he was being playful but serious with his words made you swallow. Hard.

“What are we doing, Ethan?” You asked. He focused on the sight of your knee, still playing a little with the blanket, and shrugged.

He could be the antagonist of the story and whatever people wanted to call him, but he wasn't a psychopath. He could feel. He showed emotion. And you were beginning to think he was the most vulnerable when he was around you.

“We can't just get back together for the fuck of it. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I do.” He sounded like he was clenching his jaw when he raised his head. “But would it be so bad? I mean— my dad wouldn't give a shit, and neither would Quinn. So why worry?”

“Because we hurt people.” Your guts tightened at your own words. “We're even more dangerous when we're together.”

“Do you still think about it?” He questioned, his eyebrows furrowing. “About him?”

God. “Please don't bring that up right now. I don't care about him, I care about what we could do to the people we love.”

“You love me. Think about what you're doing to me.” He looked dire as his doe eyes pierced into yours, he clenched his jaw. “I can't keep it out of my head, Y/N.”

You let out a sigh. The conversation was starting to annoy you. “Keep what out of your head?”

“You.” He confessed. You were holding back so many words as his face slowly transitioned from crazed, to sad. “Did you think about it? About getting back together?”

“Do you really not give a shit about anything?”

“I give a shit about you. About us. And that's all I'm focusing on.”

You closed your eyes. God, was that man persistent. He pulled you into a hug without waiting for a response, his strong arms wrapping around you protectively. His lips pressed against the top of your head, whispering reassurances into your hair that fell short to everything you were feeling. You never got your happy ending. You wondered if you ever would. First, it was because of fear. And now, it was because you tried, and it didn't end well. But you never stopped loving him.

His cologne went straight into your nostrils as you surrendered into the embrace, a muffled sound of pleasure escaping your lips when his fingers started running through your hair carefully. You were trying hard not to bawl your eyes out. “History won't repeat itself, sweetheart.” He whispered against your hair. “We're going through some messed up shit, and I don't want you to deal with all that on your own.” You pulled away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “Let me love you, Y/N.”

“And if I say no?” You asked, just out of pure curiosity. You had tried to imagine a life without him these past months, but nothing made sense in your mind. You genuinely considered suicide after getting revenge for Richie.

You couldn't like without him. You couldn't live without him always touching your thigh or holding your hand under the table when you were in public, without him constantly bringing you coffee and buying you dinner because your parents were never home, and never cared enough like he did.

Without him waiting for your classes to be over, and seeing that sweet smile of his when he spotted you between the crowd. You couldn't live seeing him waiting outside another girl's classroom and have her seeking his approval so much she dressed as Spider-Gwen for him. You couldn't.

He took a deep breath, sounding pained. He was avoiding your eyes as he kept stroking and playing with your hair. “I'll leave after we get the job done.”

“To a different city?”

He nodded, your left ear suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the world. “Maybe finish my major.”

“You don't have a major, Ethan.” You felt a knot forming in your stomach, but the brunet still looked nonchalant as if he wasn't telling you about how you weren't gonna see him anymore.

“I'll think of something.”

“I don't want you to.” You immediately retorted.

“Then take me back.” Ethan looked at you, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Yours drifted downwards, caught between his puppy eyes and pink lips before sighing. “Fuck it.” You muttered, pulling him on top of you. The slow kiss deepened as you held the back of his neck, his hands lightly resting on your waist, fingers tracing circles over the material of your hospital gown. Ethan's elbows framed your head, and he chuckled into your mouth, your heart monitor was going insane. “I'm gonna kill you.”

“Then get off me.” you teased, a smile playing on your lips. Ethan pressed one last kiss onto your mouth just as the door swung open. Wayne didn't seem surprised.

“Interrupting something?”

Ethan asked for your opinion with only a look, his forearm pressed above your head, shooting an angry look at his dad. "I thought you said you'd lock the door.”

“Forgot.” He shrugged. Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and began to sit up, making sure not to hurt you with his body weight. “You need to leave, Y/N. We don't have that much time.”

You never exactly hated Wayne, but you never got along with him either. Between his dad and his mom… you preferred his dad.

“I know.” You said, half-lidded eyes searching for Ethan. He slowly exhaled, walking over to your hospital bed and holding your hands as he helped you up.

"I'll walk you out.” Ethan offered in a low tone.

You got high on painkillers. Like— severely high. Fully conscious and with your 5 senses intact, but hyperactive. Like you owned a bag of fucking amphetamines. It helped you stab Gale In the stomach with a piece of broken glass after you landed on her coffee table and broke it, It also helped you run after Sam shot you on the arm.

You stumbled into the first apartment that caught your eye, knowing it was empty by the looks of it. Your hands were bloody, so were your legs. You were sliding and constantly tripping on the wooden floor before you finally reached the couch.

You pressed your back against the arm rest, face scrunched up in pain. You were seeing a lot of blood, you were scared to let go of your shoulder and bleed out. What kind of pathetic death would that be? You looked around, mostly to calm yourself down. Your pulse was over the sky, and you had the impression that was making you bleed even more.

Where was Ethan? He was hidden at Gale's apartment because he refused to let you do the job on your own. Well, you succeeded without his help, like you always did. And now he was nowhere to be seen just because he woke up feeling protective of you. What if he tried looking for you, and someone saw him? What if he got hurt? You cursed the boy you loved under your breath. You had to get up. Now.

You rolled onto your stomach, on your hands and knees, trying to stand up when the sound of the front door creaking open almost made you shit yourself. You immediately grasped the knife next to you. Ethan had a horrified look on his face that only worsened when he noticed the blood on the floor. You lowered your knife. Thank God it was him.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit. Y/N.” He exclaimed, rushing towards you. "Tell me where it hurts." His eyes scanned your bloody form, focusing on your bicep. "Here?” His erratic gaze met yours. At your nod, he wrapped an arm under your shoulders to help you up. The pain making you yelp. “We're gonna fix you up. Brand new, baby. Keep your eyes open for me.”

“How the fuck are we supposed to leave?” You hugged back, groaning. Maybe it wasn't just your shoulder. What if your stitches opened? “The police already got here, E, Sam's in the building—”

“Can you walk?” He asked, dismissing everything you just said. What the fuck? He gave you a once-over with wrinkles on his forehead. “Good. Lean on me.”

“Ethan.” You scowled. “Answer me.”

A groan erupted from his throat. He pressed you up against him and held the back of your head so you wouldn’t hit yourself against the wall. He was walking towards the door. “We're gonna make a run for it.”

“Anyone could see us if we walk through that door.” You growled. “And if Sam’s still looking for me after I ran off, we’re gonna bump into her. Who the fuck told you I could run?”

He looked down at you. “Do we have another option?”

No, you didn't. “If I die, it's your fault.” You warned.

“If you die, I'll kill myself.” He assured you.

Ethan opened the door and peeked his head out to look in both directions, he pulled you out with him. You ended up on the street, walking through crowds of nosey people like you couldn't feel your blood slowly stop pumping to your brain.

Ethan's hand was pressed on your arm, he ripped the sleeve of his polo shirt to wrap it around your bicep and stop the bleeding, but you weren't sure it was helping. Ethan kept whispering concerned sweet nothings into your ear, but you couldn't take it anymore. You were giving up.

You wearily pushed Ethan away, who just stared at you as you walked on your own and stumbled up the stoop. You sprawled out, fingers grazing the gateway to the lobby. Now you were just being dramatic.

“Need me to carry you?” Ethan knelt down, distress written all over his face. “I can't treat that here, Y/N. Someone might see us.” He glanced around, but the streets were dark except for the lights from some windows and light posts, and you didn't have that much time to get to the theater.

“What if they don't? If someone walks by, they'll probably think we're making out.” You fluttered your eyelashes, trying to convince him. He went silent and sighed in a fatherly way.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He placed a hand on your waist, the contact making you flinch. “Easy, easy… it's just me.” He unwrapped the cloth from your arm carefully, the chilly night air hitting your wound and making you shiver. Ethan tried to calm you down, moving his hand to your face to caress your cheek. He stared at your wound, and his eyebrows drew together in pondering. “The bullet just grazed you.” He said softly. “You need antibiotics and some stitches.”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded. You were losing strength, and with just a second of looking at your face, he became aware.

“You're gonna be okay.” He pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I'll do this fast. I don't want you to be in pain, it hurts me too.”

“Boyfriend of the year.” You joked, but he didn't seem amused.

“I try.” And he kissed you again.

Ethan had to do some research before moving to Manhattan. The four of you did, actually. Like how to treat a wound. Quinn was fast. Really fast. Wayne could get away with a lot of shit because he worked for the NYPD. You, a good actress, could be around the group all day and have some good alibis.

Ethan was the most skilled with his hands, so he was the one designated to deal with situations like this. But there was a flaw attached to them. They trembled. Frequently.

They said it could be some kind of PTSD, and it only started happening after Richie's death. But it always hurt your heart seeing this big, serious, aggressive guy show his soft side when his bony fingers started trembling. You grabbed his hand softly, Ethan looked at you, puzzled by your actions before you brought his wrist to your mouth and kissed it.

You gave his hand a last squeeze before letting go. You felt his eyes on you while you took enough painkillers to last through Act III. More like… sedate you, through Act III. “You alright?” He asked, and you nodded.

“High as fuck, but I feel better.” You glanced at the bloody cloths around you, knowing you had to get rid of them. Where the fuck did he leave his backpack? “Thank you, Eth.”

“C'mere.” He opened his arms wide in response, a sound of pleasure escaping his lips after you curled up into a ball in his arms. He kissed your cheek, chin moving to rest on top of your head. “You hadn't called me that in so long.”

“What? Eth?” He hummed, kissing your hair. “You didn't exactly give me reasons to, so…”

Ethan showed you a sweet smile, his eyes on your lips like he was fighting the urge to kiss you. “I don't wanna leave…” He mumbled, rubbing his nose against your hair.

You looked at your cloak next to you, grabbing it to get your phone. Ethan's hand held the back of your neck as you pressed your cheek hardly against his chest. 9:30 PM. “We could stay here a little longer.”

“Good.” Gently craning your head with the hold he had on you, your eyelashes made contact with your skin, his breath warm against your bare neck. He started kissing it, a popping sound ringing in your ears with every kiss. His grip around your waist tightened.

He pulled away from your mouth after a few minutes of making out, panting softly, and he asked. “Why did you do it?” His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed, damp lips parted. “If you don't mind me asking. It was so sudden, I just—”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.” He told you with a raspy voice. You could try to explain, but you didn't have the mind for it at the moment. He probably didn't, either. The last ounce of energy the two of you had wasted it on all the kisses you missed in a year.

Ethan whimpered as you hid a sweaty curl behind his ear. “Would we be on bad terms if I said I don't want to talk about it?”

He looked into your eyes silently, but shook his head right after. “I can't afford losing you.” He kissed your forehead, and then pushed you onto his chest again. “Not for the second time.”

“I regret it,” You gave his exposed, glistening neck a light kiss. He was kinda sweaty, but you didn't mind. You wiped some of the sweat with your wrist, biting your lip. “Killing them.”

“You did it for a good cause.” He reminded you, but he didn't get it.

“I can't stop thinking about it.”

“You don't need them, baby.” He purred, his fingers tracing figures on your waist. “You have me.”

His comforting eyes haltered at the almost mocking look you held. “You're not my dad.”

“I could be. From now on.”

“Ew.” You laughed, but kissed his chin to not make him feel like you were making fun of him. “I'm older than you.”

He hated when you brought up his age, looking like an angry toddler. "It's only two years.”

“Remember how much the girls from your grade would bully you because you liked someone older?” Ethan's eyebrows rose in disbelief.

“Older and my sister's best friend.” He held your wrists, rubbing his thumb over the weak veins. “It was a hard year.”

“Every year is hard.”

He shook his head, raising his eyes to yours. “They weren't when you were in them.”

You had to pause at his angel eyes. You didn't deserve him. “I'm sorry it ended like that.”

“I'm grateful it started like this.” He nodded, cupping your jaw with a hand as he leaned in and kissed your lips again. You moaned into his mouth, his fingers tangling between locks of your messy hair and tugging at it to kiss you deeper. His tongue felt almost apologetic as his eyebrows furrowed.

You and Ethan had gone through hell, and maybe the way to get over everything is if you were together. Really together. Not stealing glances from each corner of crowded rooms and walking away as if the other wasn't on your mind before falling asleep or while kissing someone else.

“Jeez.” Your best friend's voice made you pull away instantly and wipe the wetness of your lips. Ethan's eyes were wide, and there was that sparkle in them that only appeared when you kissed him. “You're supposed to buy her dinner before you shove your tongue down her throat, pig.” She slapped Ethan's shoulder.

“Quinn—” He was about to speak, but you cut him off, shaking your head.

“She knows.”

“That's not what I was going to ask.” He glanced at you, then back at his sister. “Do we have to leave?”

Quinn nodded. “Dad’s on his way.” He wasn't surprised? At all? Quinn narrowed her eyes at the two of you. “Go on, talk.”

“About what?” You frowned.

“Are you back together?”

“We were never together.”

She crossed her arms, acting like the good cop in questioning. “I saw the van moving that night in the woods—” Oh my God.

“Jesus, Quinn!”

She looked genuinely confused. “I'm being honest here.”

“So you just decided to keep quiet until one of us told you?” Ethan raised an eyebrow as he stared at his sister, placing a comforting hand on the small of your back and pinching your skin to remind you everything was alright.

You tried to push his hand away, but he didn't care and just kept rubbing your back. You sighed and surrendered. Ethan pinched you again when you rested your head on his shoulder.

“It would've been disrespectful. I didn't want to make you guys uncomfortable.” Your best friend admitted. “I wasn't spying on you, but it was kinda obvious. Paul got scared.”

You winced at the name of one of her boyfriends. “I don't wanna know about that fucker.”

“He was a good kisser.”

“What did I just say?”

“Sorry.” She pursed her lips. “You're never kissing me again, though. You have E’s saliva now.” Quinn nudged her brother's shoulder with her phone. Your boyfriend glared at her.

“You've been with I don't know how many abusive guys and I'm the man that disgusts you?” He asked, his features softening shortly after when you placed your hand over his on the cold concrete, kissing his cheek.

“What makes you think I didn't have it before?” Quinn paused, putting her hands up.

“I'm not sleeping tonight.” The way she shook her head made you laugh.

“He's your brother. It's like sharing a glass of water.” Your eyes asked the brunet for his opinion, but he had no idea what you were talking about as his got smaller. “You've never done that before?” You scowled.

“I only did that with mom.” Quinn confessed, earning a dirty look from her brother.

“What kind of incestuous shit is that? I've never done that.”

You slapped his arm. Hard. And he chuckled. “Don't look at me like I'm the freak here. The two of you have killed more people than I have.”

Chad's scream echoed through the lobby. Your eyes widened as Quinn thrust the knife into him right before you, Tara, and Sam.

Tara attempted to run towards Chad, but you held her back, Sam following suit, gripping her arm. The three of you were practically wheezing for all the running, but the only thing you were concerned about was if Ethan got hurt after Chad threw that camera at him. Well, the fuck was getting what he deserved.

They continued stabbing Chad, back and forth. You and Sam exchanged a look as you held Tara. Bad thing was, you didn't know what, but there was something wrong with that look. Something that prepared you for the moment she released her sister to grab you instead.

She caught you off guard. You went face first into her neck, hollering when she drove Billy's knife into your stomach. The siblings immediately halted their assault on Chad. You tried to move, but she had a tight hold on you.

“What are you doing!?” Tara cried, and Sam twisted the knife inside you, prompting another scream. She pulled it out, shoving you towards the two Ghostfaces. You landed on Ethan's body, and he instantly hugged you, his chest against your back as you clutched your stomach.

“She's one of them,” Sam stated, tucking away the knife in her belt. “And that one?” She pointed at the arms around you, smiling. “That's Ethan.”

Tara's eyes betrayed her as she looked at you for longer than needed, but you weren't showing any emotion that wasn't rage. “How do you—”

Wayne burst through the door behind the two sisters. You all looked up, and Ethan's father just huffed. “Fuck, so soon?”

You glanced up as Ethan removed his mask, revealing his teeth as he panted. He hugged you tighter, pressing his body against yours protectively. “She knows." You nodded your head at Wayne, and he shrugged.

“In that case…” He drew his gun, making all of you jump when he shot Chad. Wasn't he already dead? He stumbled to the floor, and Tara started crying even harder. Quinn took off her mask as well.

“How did you find out?” Ethan's father asked, the affable tone in his voice immediately ruining as he pointed his gun at the sisters. “Don't move.” He commanded, Sam pulled Tara behind her in response.

“Tate.” She croaked, her eyes shifting to you in a mocking way. “Your boyfriend should be more careful, Y/N.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You hissed, Ethan giving you a small squeeze to apologize. You looked up at him. “I told you…” You murmured, low enough for just the two of you to hear. His eyebrows twitched.

The Kirshes did all the explaining. Ethan held you close to him, stepping back whenever Sam shot a glare your way. How did Sam find out? She found it odd how much Ethan was talking about you with Chad when he barely knew you, so she went after Tate.

She refused to tell her anything about Ethan at first, but she eventually agreed. It wasn't just her betraying him, since Sam made it a deal after paying her to talk. No wonder she wasn't worried about her fucking wallet.

Tate followed Ethan. She somehow snatched his phone when he was distracted and shared his live location with herself. She saw him leaving with you from an emergency exit at the hospital— then she texted Sam. Telling her that he didn't go all the way up to “talk to you and make things right” like he told Chad.

Something about hating someone until, well— they ended up like Mindy and there was no turning back.

Wayne explained the rules. Exactly what would happen before the police arrived, then it all happened too fast. Wayne tried to grab Tara from Sam to continue with the plan and kill her, but Sam managed to get his gun and shoot him. In the forehead. The three of you froze before Quinn screamed and lunged at Sam, the two began wrestling on the floor while you ran after Tara.

You took her down and wrapped your hands around her neck, but she started scratching you and trying to choke you as well. You were unaware that she was reaching for a knife next to her on the floor until Ethan grabbed and tossed you aside before she could stab you. He took the knife from her hand, Sam's screech hurting your ears. You couldn't blame her; your boyfriend just slit her sister's throat.

Sam desperately stabbed Quinn in the stomach, pushing her away and crawling towards Tara. Quinn grabbed her ankle, pressing her dad's gun against her temple. Sam didn't even put up a fight anymore, she was crying. Your eyes widened as Tara grabbed you by the wrist and started tugging at you. How…? You heard the gunshot at the same time Ethan's curls swayed in the corner of your eye. He whisked Tara away from you again.

You and Quinn exchanged a glance, but there was no time for words or processing. Your priority was to get up and leave everything ready. The police were on their way. Quinn supported you, her grip firm on your shoulder to help you stand straight.

Ethan was straddling Tara, stabbing her back and forth, grunting with each thrust. You were breathing heavily, too focused on Wayne's form to form any proper thought. There was no humanly way that he was alive. No, no, no, no, no, Quinn— You saw the ginger quail in pain at the sight of her dad. You grabbed her wrist to offer comfort, but she didn't even glance at you.

“Ethan, stop.” She entreated, her hands shaking. Ethan remained undeterred, Quinn started panicking further. “Ethan, stop!” She begged.

Her brother raised his head to look at the two of you, exhaling with exhaustion. He got up. “She tried,” he said, taking a deep breath as he redirected his knife from Tara to you. “To hurt her.”

“And she got what she deserved.” You gulped, yanking the knife away from his grasp. “But it was enough.”

“Was it, now?” Ethan rasped, his pallid face smeared by blood contorting to show fake confusion. He took his knife back from your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Don't do this.” You called him out, memories flooding back into your head and making you shiver. “I'm here. Nothing happened to me.”

“You're still bleeding, Y/N.” He harshly reminded you, getting on his knees to look at your wound. Ethan blenched. “Shit, it's deep.” He traced a finger next to the wound. “We need to do this fast. Billy's mask is somewhere near the stage.”

Quinn sniffed, causing you and Ethan to turn and look at her. She was beside Wayne's body, crying. “I'll get it.” She offered, letting go of her father's hand and rushing to the door before you could say anything.

She was struck in the head the moment she left the room. Ethan instinctively pulled you behind him as the sight of your best friend falling to the floor made your heart skip a beat. Danny. Holding the same fucking camera that hit Ethan on the head.

Ethan glanced back at you as you yanked Wayne's gun from the floor and shot Sam's boyfriend. You saw him fall to the floor next to Quinn, and you immediately ran. “Quinn!” You dropped to your knees, desperate to ensure she was still breathing. You pressed two fingers against her throat, sighing. “You okay?”

She nodded, eyes closing with tiredness as her head laid on your lap. Ethan walked behind you and knelt down. He placed his chin on your shoulder as you stroked Quinn's hair affectionately. You gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Get Billy's mask.”

Ethan rose from his chair at the dining table the moment he saw you crossing the door. His watery, wide eyes stirred a pang of sadness in your heart that made you run towards him and almost knock him over. “Ethan, I'm so sorry…”

He gripped your sweatshirt, holding you close to him. Quinn joined, wrapping her arms around both of you from behind. Their scents mixed together as the three of you stayed there for a moment.

You could feel both of their chests move, and you didn't want to let go. Seeing the siblings with puffy eyes and colored cheeks was making your throat tighten—you couldn't take it. You pulled away slowly, Quinn's head moving to rest on your shoulder while Ethan stood beside you in silence. Their parents looked at you, and it was obvious they had been crying too.

“What happened?” You choked out. Fucking Richie—what went wrong? You didn't say goodbye to him, and it was killing you. It was killing all of you. “Do they know who did it?”

“Not yet,” Wayne cleared his throat. “There's not much information—They found him lying next to his girlfriend.”

“Amber?” You frowned, and he nodded. Shit. “I'm so sorry.”

He quietly thanked you, but Nicole, Ethan's mother, rudely looked away from you the second you tried to give your condolences. You didn't take offense at the gesture. She hated seeing you and Ethan together—That was one of the main reasons you couldn't allow yourself to be with him. One of your major concerns. A concern you felt slip from your fingers when his son held your hand, giving it a soft squeeze that meant the world to you.

You looked up at his eyes, and he gave you a small nod, sniffing. “We'll find out what happened.” you promised, hoping to comfort him.

“I don't think that'll make anything better.” he admitted. You tried not to let out a strangled cry and hugged his waist again. You didn't even care about his mom right now, and neither did he as he rubbed your back.

You started distancing yourself from Ethan. But not because you didn't love him anymore—it was exactly the contrary. He wasn't okay. He couldn't sleep at night. He had night terrors— he didn't even attend his prom. Nothing was okay.

You tried to be as helpful as you could, always kissing all over his face and letting him lay on your chest while you played with his fluffy hair. You played your role as the girlfriend anyone wanted. You watched all the Star Wars movies with him, literally everything related to Marvel and DC.

You pretended not to notice the side eyes he gave you to make sure you were paying attention to the movie. Just when everything seemed right, you would find him crying, to the point he was choking on his own tears. You couldn't save him. Couldn't fix him.

Nothing was helping.

You thought maybe he needed some time. Some time to recollect his thoughts. Realize Richie was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. You got the impression you became a burden—interfering with his life path.

It was one rainy afternoon when the two of you were running back home that you planted an apologetic kiss on his quivering lips. Ethan asked for your motive, smart enough to know something was off. Why did it feel like you were apologizing about something that hadn't happened yet, but you didn't say a word.

You stopped seeing Ethan so oftenly. You would say no when he asked you out, look away when your eyes met and make up an excuse of why you had to stop every time he kissed you for too long.

You believed it was four months before he asked you to meet up with him at the porch of your house, giving you a red rose before confessing he was dumping you. He looked aggrieved, but you could literally see the redness of his eyes and hear his trembling voice before he walked away.

So you moved on. Tried to. Visiting Quinn at home became uncomfortable. The piercing stares Ethan would give you every time he came downstairs to get something from the kitchen or pick up the mail.

He confronted you. Out of nowhere. When no one was home and your best friend asked you to get her laptop from her room. He was raising his voice, and you were too. But it was agonizing to yell at the person you loved and pretend like you weren't suppressing the urge to kiss him right there and tell him everything would be okay, as long as he let you protect him.

It shouldn't have surprised you. You didn't know why your heart was aching so badly. Your hands shook, the blood on your palms slowly leaking down to the dead body in front of you. It was taking every fiber in your being to not cry and maintain your strong appearance. But maybe it was too late for that. Your knees had already faltered and made you fall next to Johnny, your now deceased ex-boyfriend.

'What the fuck were you thinking!?” You turned to look at an angry looking Ethan standing behind you. He wheezed as you hit his chest with the sides of your fists over and over again. You started sobbing, staining his white hoodie with blood. “He didn't have anything to do with us! Why did you do that to him!?'”

You were dragging him backwards, but he wasn't saying a word. He was letting you vent—you weren't even hitting him that hard. You wish you weren't such a fucking softie to actually beat the shit out of him. "I'm sorry I have feelings, Y/N." He grumbled. "I'm sorry I had to look for a way to feel better."

"By killing him!?" You cried out, pushing him onto the wall behind him with all your strength. Ethan placed his arm over his stomach, choking out a breath. That did hurt him.

"He was getting in my way." He muttered.

"And!? You're the one who broke up with me! You! It was you!"

"And you're the one who stopped having feelings for me!" He raised his wavering voice, looking down at you with hatred. "So I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I felt like ripping my fucking heart out when I saw you with him. You weren't supposed to find out, okay? I wouldn't do that to you. I had no idea you were going to show up right now."

You stared at him in disbelief, feeling your heart break. You had an extra pair of keys to Johnny's house. You were looking for him for the party he was taking you to when you found… this. A gasping Ethan gripping one of Richie's knives. You took a step back, leaving him against the wall. He didn't move from that spot, breathing in and out almost violently. "We weren't dating, you know? He became my friend after we broke up two years ago, and I only started coming to his house because I wasn't feeling alright and needed someone to talk to. I can't even talk to Quinn anymore because you're up my ass all day."

Ethan snuffled, throwing his hoodie aside after he took it off. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Realize you were fucking wrong.” You spat. "And this?" You pointed at Johnny, swallowing the knot in your throat. "This little fucking stunt you tried to pull? Just gives me a reason to leave our relationship the way it is right now."

"And that's it?" He inquired, a sarcastic smile dancing across his mouth. "You're never giving me a second chance because I killed your little friend?”

"Friend, Ethan. Friend. That's the key word of that sentence." A frown formed as you scrutinized him, eventually shaking your head in disdain. "Go fuck yourself, will you?”

Seconds. Seconds before he regretted it and you heard him call your name in a softer voice. You kept walking.

this might be a stupid thing to clarify, BUT— in case someone's curious about the timeline....

they mention in the movie that scream 5 took place one year ago, but they moved to new york six months ago. everything that happens after the kitchen scene is those six months BEFORE new york. ill give more details in the next chapter though.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ghostface #jack champion #scream vi #ethan landry angst

[moonffe]

i lovedddd my lips might've slipped!! please please please make a part 2

ofc. <3

my lips might've slipped

ethan landry pt2

pt1. pt3 warnings: making out, suggestive stuff, arguing, blood. word count: 7k

A/N: the writers block i got while writing this was almost the end of me... came up with a lot of one shot ideas though so I'll be posting those really soon.

“You left him… there.” Quinn repeated after you, looking bored out of her mind like this happened everyday.

“He was being an asshole, Q.”

“You always think he's being an asshole.“ She shook her head with distaste.

You weren't exactly known for being uncomfortable around people. Actually, it was the other way around. But you couldn't look at her as she ambled towards her closet. You felt embarrassed, tracing the rim of your coffee mug with your finger. “That's just how he acts, Y/N. You out of all people should know this.”

“He used to be different.”

This seemed to pique her interest. “In general or towards you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Both.”

“A lot of stuff has changed since we were kids.” She told you, leaving a bag with vials filled with fake blood next to you on the bed. You understood there was privacy in this apartment, but it was risky to leave this kind of stuff just laying there in her closet. How did she do it? “Richie's gone, dad's more distant than usual…”

Quinn bit her lower lip. You hated drawing all the attention to you when she was going through stuff, too.

“You don't need to—”

“It's fine.” She cut you off, her tone slightly aggressive. She cupped your face in her hands and leaned over you before you could stop her. You weren't self-conscious while being this close to her, Quinn was definitely the person you trusted the most. That's exactly why she noticed your lack of eye contact and was now forcing you to look at her. You didn't want to. You had so much shit bottled up you were scared you would start crying. You winced at the idea, stretching your arm to leave your mug on her night table.

“You're amazing, Y/N. I'm not just saying this because I'm your best friend. You really deserve the best out there, and If my asshole brother can't give you that, then move on.” You tried to retort, but her hand quickly slapped over your mouth. Jesus. “If you say you're not into him one more time, I'll jump out that damn window right now.” Her head nodded towards her bedroom's single window. You lured at her, but you could feel your heart hammering inside your ribcage. “You want him, and he wants you back. I'm not stupid and I know my brother— But if he keeps up with all the bullshit, then stop. I love him, but that doesn't make him a better person.”

Your eyes were starting to water, and hers were still fixated on yours. You licked her palm for the fuck of it. Quinn winced, retracting her hand from your face. “Did you have to do that?”

You wiped your damp eyelashes with the side of your wrist, a knot in your throat. “You weren't letting me go.” She snorted, your body barely swaying from her cleaning her palm on your shirt sleeve.

“Still. That ruined my entire speech.” Quinn had to press her lips together to not laugh. You were aware the situation was probably funny, but you couldn't muster a smile.

Her hand covered your mouth again, expression serious. “Understood?” She waited for you to say the words. You surrendered. The fuck else could you do? “Good.”

“I don't want him.” It's the first thing you said when you were able to speak again.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? I'll jump out the window, Y/N.”

You sighed, lifting your gaze from the floor to meet her eyes. “Thanks for telling me all that. I'm not sure it helped, but— I appreciate you caring about me and my… complicated relationships with individuals who do not own a uterus. You're a good friend.”

“Best friend.” She ruffled your hair before reclining on the bed, propping herself on her elbows. “Well, are you gonna tell me what happened between the two of you?”

She'd hate you. She'd beat the absolute shit out of you. Your eyes almost widened at the mere thought of telling her— Yeah, you weren't going through that. “Nice try. No.”

“Did you…” Her eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “Get drunk and kiss him?”

“No.”

She elevated her eyebrows. “Did you fuck him?”

“Fuck, Quinn!” Your face scrunched up, she laughed when you threw a pillow straight to her face. “No!”

“Okay, okay!” She glanced away before looking back at you. “Did you maintain sexual intercourse with my brother?”

You had to rub your temples to alleviate your embarrassment. “That made me want to kill myself.”

“So it's a yes.”

“It's a ‘I'm not talking to you for the rest of the night’.”

“You can't talk to the dead.” She reminded you, sighing as she sprawled out on the bed. You mirrored her, lying on your back and staring at the ceiling, fidgeting with the ring around your finger. You missed wearing some of your favorite jewelry, but times were different, and now you had to keep them hidden in your closet. They were gifts from a certain person…

“Go fuck yourself, respectfully.” You shut your eyes closed, a small smile playing on your lips as Quinn's hand slapped over your forehead. She felt up your face until reaching your cheek, your head tilting after she gave it a fake bitch slap.

“I did not take any offense in that.” You couldn't see her face, but the laziness in her voice was obvious.

You stared at the filled bathtub, feeling the weight of your eyelids. Time flew by while you and Quinn were asleep. You usually avoided naps, afraid you'd have that dream again. But this time you were so tired you didn't even think of him. Ethan's presence brought you back to the present. He sprayed fake blood into the water, then turned to you. "You ready?” You hated being this close to him.

“I guess.” You motioned for him to turn around while you took your clothes off and got in the bathtub. You kept your shirt in hand, using it to cover yourself. If you fucking catched him looking at you… “Ready.”

Ethan faced you, eyes briefly lingering downwards before he sighed. “Okay.” He hummed, a small wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as he knelt in front of you, focused on inspecting your torso. “This is gonna hurt.”

“We practiced this.” He nodded, still not looking into your eyes. You had to die. Well, not exactly. The plan was to get injured and just make it look like you almost died.

It would be too convenient if you escaped the apartment clean, and too hard to fake your death like Quinn was. So, since you were such a fucking masochist, you agreed to do this.

Your best friend wasn't as good with a knife like her brother was. He knew what he was doing well enough to not damage anything vital, and you were sure he wasn't evil enough to actually hurt you. "Bring it.”

Was he?

You squeezed his shoulder with all your strength as the blade of his knife found its place beneath your ribs. He pulled you closer, letting you bury your face in his neck. You weren't supposed to scream.

“I know. I know it hurts.” He whispered, fingers sliding through locks of your hair. He was trying to comfort you, anyone would in this situation, but the glare you showed him made the look on his face change. He let go of you. “Have it your way, sweetheart.”

You frowned at the pet name. “I'm bleeding. Do you mind?”

“I stayed on the side and didn't go too deep, Y/N. You're not gonna bleed out.” He spat, applying fake blood to your leg. His hand ran over your skin to disperse it over your shin. He had an attitude, you could see it on his face, but he was still being careful.

“And? It still hurts.” You said, trying to hide how damn flustered you were actually getting.

Your hand remained hardly grasping your shirt, trying to keep it in place. Ethan's eyes met yours after you flinched at the cold blood. He looked away, but his gaze returned to your hands after a while. You didn't like it. “What?”

“You’re shaking.” He mentioned. Discreetly, you checked. Your fingers trembled around your shirt, but he shook his head before you could retaliate. “I'm not looking.” His voice was soft, but your personality wasn't.

“You are, though.” And he probably was. Why the hell would he mention it, then?

He gave you a look, but continued with his work. You were trying to relax, you really were, but his touch was making you feel things. The fabric of his gloves touching you with so much gentleness like you were made of porcelain. It was actions that mattered, not words. His thumb traced up your arm, softly pressing on your shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get that mole removed?”

“Ethan.” You grumbled.

He sat back, looking distraught for a second before he made up his mind and met your gaze. “Was it for that guy?” He asked. You could only close your eyes, trying not to snap. “I'm dead serious, Y/N. I want to know.”

You weren't supposed to talk about anything that could or couldn't have happened in the past. And specifically, of how he could know about that mole. “What guy?”

“Johnny.” He choked out. “Your asshole ex.”

You opened your eyes and realized he was, in fact, being serious. His demeanor solemn as he stared, waiting for you to answer him like you didn't have a fucking agreement. “Surprised you remember him.”

“I remember when it comes to you.” His words made your cheeks heat up, though you weren't sure if it was out of surprise or embarrassment.

“What does he have to do with any of this?”

“Did you get it removed for him?” He looked at your shoulder, a vein throbbing on his jaw. “I liked that mole.”

“I don't know, was Tate dressing up for you at the Halloween party?”

He almost looked like he wanted to deny it, but couldn't bring himself up to the task. “Do you care?”

“It's the second time you ask me that.” You paused, and decided to shoot him back. “When it comes to you, I care.”

“Is it bad that I like the sound of that?” He asked, his voice husky. It made your breath hitch.

“Just answer the question.”

“I don't know— Maybe? I didn't ask her to.”

“That's kinda obvious.” It was. But you still wanted to know if it was fucking intentional. “It would be weird.”

“What? Ask my girlfriend to dress up for me?” He chuckled, his amusement tinged with sarcasm. “It would be plain abusive.”

Girlfriend. Your jaw clenched, you couldn't keep living like this. Why did it hurt so much? Why did it hurt so much to know he did exactly what you asked him to? He got over you, and you were still the same idiot that drooled over him every time he was nice to you. You hated him.

“You know who'd do that?”

Ethan noticed the change of tone in your voice, so he just hummed in response, wanting to avoid an argument. But by that moment, it was your only way of protecting yourself. Of trying to take your heart away from his reach. “Your dad.”

“You always say that.” You noticed how much you got to him by how forcefully he put the vial down. He leaned in, fingers threading through your hair to make it look like you fought back.

“Am I wrong?”

“No.” He paused, his voice wavering. He was struggling to maintain his composure, and you were enjoying it. “But he's my father, and I'm nothing like that man. It's offensive.”

“Nothing like him?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. He met your gaze with conviction, looking like he was about to snap at you.

“Nothing like him.”

“I thought you helped him kill your mom.”

“It's different.” He assured you, a flicker of pain crossing his features. You weren't falling for that shit.

“But you have a relationship with him.”

“Not the relationship I'd like.”

Your teeth caught your lower lip as he got busy again. He applied blood on his gloves for realism, rubbing his palms together to spread it over the black fabric. It wasn't hard for you to notice the missing item, since you were pretty much devouring him with your eyes.

You were unaware that you voiced your thoughts out loud until his eyes focused on you. You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

“What?” He inquired, confused.

“Tate's hair tie.”

He just stared at you for a while, lowering his head ever so slightly. “Right.” You frowned.

“Did you guys get into an argument or something?” You were sure the answer was no, but him exhaling took you by surprise.

“It's stupid.”

“What did you do?”

“We were kissing and… I don't know, I was drunk. Mixed things up and called her by your name.”

His confession made your face fall. “Is that supposed to be romantic? Because it doesn't fucking feel like it.”

“She said no strings attached.” He glowered at you.

“Then why did you take it off?”

“Because she was mad.” He bit his lower lip, playing with the lace of his left boot to avoid looking at you. “I never— I never felt something for her, Y/N. But I think she started falling in love with me.”

No, no, no, no— You weren't sitting through that shit. Your best friend was one wall away, if you could just… “Quinn!” You shouted, but his bloody glove clamped over your mouth. When the fuck did he get that close to you?

“No, listen.” He groaned. ”You can't just always push me away.”

You moved your head to the side to push his hand away. His nose only inches away from touching yours. He was breathing heavily, and you were ashamed to admit it was making you nervous, he was making you nervous. “I don't wanna hear it, Ethan.”

“Can you give me one chance?” He begged, his hands moved to the wall, pinning you against it. “Just one fucking chance to talk?”

You started feeling dizzy while his eyes were on yours, and you realized you forgot to breathe. How to breathe. Fuck, you were weak. “Go on.” You wheezed.

“Thank you, I—” He swallowed. “I never felt something for her. I never felt… anything since we broke up. That's why I was using Tate. Because I was trying to feel something, I was trying to feel alive again—”

“So you just used her?” You cut him off, you were gripping your shirt against your bare body for dear life. “Like she was disposable.”

“I never thought you out of all people would care about that.” You rolled your eyes. He grabbed your chin to stop you from looking away from him. “We said no strings attached, Y/N. It couldn't even be called a relationship— It wasn't one. We would just make out and I would go as her date at parties.”

“You still looked pretty damn close.” You huffed, jealousy clouding your senses. “I don't wanna know about how you switched saliva with that bitch—”

“You just asked me to tell you!” He protested, your hand slapping over his mouth. You stayed silent, trying to get a clue on what was going on outside. It was very faint, but you could hear the group still yapping and laughing.

“If they hear you, it's over.” You grimaced.

“I'm sorry.” He coed.

“It's fine…” A low sigh escaped your lips, the soft fabric of his cloak between your fingers as you absentmindedly adjusted the hood.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you asked me.”

“But you never told me anything before.” You paused, locking eyes with him. His big, earnest brown eyes that held rare vulnerability. You wanted to kiss him. “Why is it different this time?”

His fingers traveled up your arms, cradling your wrists tenderly as they were still pressed against his neck. “You know why.” He murmured, a tinge of pain underlying his words, causing your guts to twist and turn inside of you. Then you realized maybe they actually were. You still had a cut on your side.

“We're not good for each other.”

Ethan grimaced, shaking his head. “You keep saying that, but you're the only person I've felt something for—”

“Do you want me or need me, Ethan?” You interrupted him, he looked confused for a second. “Because they're two different things. And if you need me, it's not love.”

“I need you because I want you.” His face held a sense of urgency. What did he want you to say?

“What do you think is going to happen? If the same thing from last time repeats itself—”

“We'll get through it.” He nodded his head, his features shifting to show a crazed, desperate glimmer in his eyes that made him look out of his mind. “I want a future with you. I want you. Just you. Please, just— just think about it, alright? Please, let me… just let me…”

His plea hung in the air when you pressed your mouth on his. He groaned, his soft lips easily returning the kiss. The two of you grinned when he lost balance and you had to hold his shoulders, keeping him in place. He was still on his knees, after all.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, gliding and rubbing over yours. Your fingers tangled between his messy curls, fingertips fondling his scalp and making him kiss you even more eagerly. It was slow, but you could tell he had been wanting to do that for a long time. Ethan let out a sound, and you questioned if it was a sob or he was just really enjoying himself. Did he really miss you that much? To cry the second you kissed him? His muscular arms snaked around your body, the softness of his cloak against your bare, cold skin feeling like heaven on earth to you.

He was holding you like you would disappear if he let go, and maybe he was right. Ethan was addictive. He was like a drug you couldn't get enough of, and you were just wondering what would happen when he walked out that door and you found yourself alone, feeling guilty for falling into temptation.

“You're ready.” His lips were wet and he was breathing hard when he pressed his forehead against your own. You gave a small hum to acknowledge his words. “Remember the plan?”

You hummed again. “I need to leave you now.”

“Alright.” You finally opened your eyes, a little too bewitched by the boy in front of you for your brain to have any logical structure. His minty breath hit your lips as he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips you gladly reciprocated.

He stood up straight and grabbed the empty vials from the floor while you recollected your thoughts, a nauseous sensation sweeping over your stomach at the thoughts your brain was, for some reason, forming.

What if something happened to him? “If they hurt you, I'll slit their fucking throat.”

Ethan bit his lip to hold back a smile, his knee bumping against your calf. “Didn't consider you a romantic.” He stared down at you, his grin was contagious.

“I prefer the term psychotic, but thanks anyway.”

His gloved hand affectionately ruffled your hair, sliding down to your cheek as his lips pressed a kiss on it. “Try not to move too much, alright? I promise I'll make you dinner after this is over.”

You snorted, your hands finding place in his lightly muscular chest as you pulled him down to your height. He finally gave in, revealing a set of white, straight teeth as he smiled. “You're gonna burn the house down.”

You had a lot of memories of sixteen year old Ethan trying to cook, he was a fire hazard near a stove.

“We'll order takeout, then." He said in a low tone, giving your forehead one last kiss. Then your temple, then your lips. “It's a promise.” You watched him rise from the floor and leave, chewing on your lip as you heard the faint voices of him and his sister arguing about something.

Quinn was bloody and ready, they just had to start making noise to catch the group’s attention. Your breathing slowly increased in pace as the realization of what just happened started hitting you. You shouldn't have kissed him, you shouldn't have let him kiss you, you practically just told him yes—

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. You threw your shirt aside and groaned in pain. You definitely couldn't move much with a wound that big. Successfully grabbing your phone from the floor, you saw Quinn's text.

Took him a while to leave. Everything alright?

Not really.

Your finger tapped on the side of your phone impatiently. Come on. Come on, come on, come on— you sighed when she started typing.

Did he try something?

We kissed.

Was it consensual?

Yes. That's why i feel so fucking shitty. I shouldn't have.

We'll talk about this later alright? I need to get out there.

Okay.

You laid back on the bathtub and your face scrunched up. Fuck, it was hurting you. Was it pathetic that you couldn't even feel the pain before because you were busy worrying about Ethan? It probably was. He was still in your mind, he had been since you were seventeen.

There was a reason why you broke up, a reason why you tried to avoid him all these months. Guess you can't fall out of love with someone this fast, you had no idea why you thought you could achieve that. It was Ethan Kirsch we were talking about. That made it even harder.

Your eyes couldn't stare at the white ceiling for much longer, you were starting to blink a lot and you somehow feeling yourself losing blood. You didn't know if that was possible, or you were starting to hallucinate. Only thing you knew for sure, is you were dizzy as fuck. There were screams and thuds resonating through the thin walls of the apartment, the sounds of footsteps and running.

You weren't sure of how much time passed since Ethan left, but the voices and slams on the door became closer, a lot louder. Your eyes were starting to open again at the closeness of the noises. Someone called your name. Screamed your name, actually. It wasn't hard for you to recognize Mindy's voice. You blinked, trying to adjust to the lighting of the bathroom as Chad's sister noticed the crimson water in the bathtub, panting.

“Fuck, you gotta come with us!” Her eyes drifted somewhere else and yours followed. Sam was holding the door to the living room, with your ex-boyfriend relentlessly pounding on it. She looked horrified.

“Help her put something on. Fast!” She commanded, Mindy nodded and attempted to help you out of the water, but you kept shaking your head and pushing her arms away.

“I can't walk, I can't walk, I can't walk…”

“You're gonna die if you stay here!” Sam yelled.

Mindy choked out a breath, grabbing your pile of clothes from the floor. “I'm sorry about Quinn, but you need to come with us!”

“I can't— I won't. He thinks I'm dead.”

“With all the screaming, no, he doesn't anymore!” Sam ran towards you, hugging your shoulders to pull you out of the water. Mindy's eyes were wide and her hand was clutching at the wound on her arm after leaving you to put your underwear and shirt back on. Ethan was banging on the door harder every time, and Sam was starting to get impatient.

You rushed into Quinn's room and your jaw flew open at the sight of Anika bleeding that much. What did Ethan do to her?

The door creaked as it broke. Sam dashed into Quinn's room, and she and Mindy barricaded it with a closet. Your gaze shifted to Sam's boyfriend, staring at you and Anika bleeding out from the other window. Billy's daughter was looking for a way out, and you weren't exactly sure of what was happening while you stared at the door, wondering how much it would take Ethan to break it like the past one. Anika was whimpering, your arm wrapping around her absentmindedly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam panted, catching your attention. Ethan was taking too long… And Danny was using a… ladder. To help you cross. What the fuck? “You three go first!” Sam turned to you. You glanced at Mindy, who looked offended.

“Someone needs to hold the door, Sam! Anika and Y/N are losing blood!” She shouted. “Go!”

“Shit…” Sam gave you a look before going first. Mindy was still holding the door, and Anika clutched her stomach, trying to contain as much blood as possible. You started blinking, feeling cold sweat run down your temples. You laid back on the bed, knowing you had to stay conscious for this to work. Mindy wasn't getting away from the door…

“I'll hold it.” You offered, stumbling with your own feet as you got up.

“You're practically dying, I'm not leaving you to do this!” She scowled, but you ignored her words and still stood next to her, pushing the closet onto the door.

“So now you're being nice to me?” You bit the inside of your cheek, because you knew this was probably the last time you'd see her.

“I was wrong.” She choked out, giving you a nod. No, she wasn't. Sam yelled for someone to go next. You and Mindy looked at Anika. She was the closest to passing out.

You started falling asleep before waking up again, you had to wait for Anika to get a little closer to Danny's window… when your eyes opened, you realized you fell asleep for another second. Shit. You glanced back, seeing Ethan's arm fully in the room and swinging his knife through the small opening of the door. You glared at Mindy. If she pushed back one more time, she was going to fucking hurt him.

You faked passing out, collapsing sideways to push her down onto the floor. Ethan kicked the door open after you landed on top of Mindy. She struggled to push you from on top of her, but she managed to... without enough time to get to the window. Sam and Anika's screams echoed as Ethan's hands closed around Mindy's neck, choking her right beside you.

You opened your eyes, seeing hers widen. Mindy's lips parted as if to yell something, but Ethan slammed her down on the floor, pressing harder on her neck until she gradually stopped fighting back. Her arms fell limp, and you glanced up at him. Anika was next.

You were faking being passed out, so you didn't really know what was going on until a loud thud reached your ears. Holy shit. Did she fall?

You stayed still, listening to Ethan's footsteps with your eyes closed. He knelt down beside you, you caught your lower lip between your teeth.

"Good girl." He praised, caressing your cheek with two of his gloved fingers. He forgot to turn off his voice changer.

“Do you think they're going at it?” Ethan's head turned to look at you, arms folded across his stomach. His chest rose and fell softly with each breath, the Christmas lights that took you half an hour to untangle and install in Quinn's car hitting his face directly.

You knew he was cold— you could tell. But he wasn't saying it out loud. You felt guilty. He told you to bring thicker blankets, but you completely forgot with how much your best friend kept rambling about her new boyfriend while you packed for your road trip.

Your forehead wrinkled as you munched on a Skittle, nodding emphatically “Is that even a question? Definitely.”

Ethan reached for a handful of candy from the bowl in your hands, propping himself on an elbow. “You think? I thought they only came here because he wanted to know the woods.”

You rolled your eyes, his expression curious as he chewed. “You know Quinn.”

“But I don't know the guy.”

“He's probably a jock who just wants sex, Eth. They all are. and Quinn is…” You squinted, searching for words. “Quinn.”

“Don't call her that.” He protested, pausing mid-movement to glare at you.

“Don't look at me like that.” You retorted, bringing the bowl to your chest to protect it from him. Ethan stared at you through his long eyelashes, apathetic. You let out a groan when he reached out to grab something behind you, his chest inadvertently ending up above your legs. “Personal space, mister.”

“I just want my water…” He grumbled under his breath, the two of you sharing a menacing look after he sat up straight again.

“She's my best friend. I know her more than you do.”

“Is that so?” He twisted the cap open, challenging you. “How?”

“You're like… okay, let's put it this way. You're family.” The way he rolled his eyes made you crack a smile. He looked adorable with his tousled, curly hair imprinted by the pillow. The two of you had woken up from a two-hour nap just about ten minutes ago, and you were a sucker for freshly awake, moody Ethan. “Would she tell your dad what she did last night with a guy she found at a party? No. You're the younger sibling, it's the same principle.”

“She tells me things.” He sounded almost offended, suddenly forgetting he was about to take a sip of his water.

“Yeah, PG-rated things.”

“I'm eighteen.”

“And? Wait til you're 21 to brag about your age.”

He shook his head slightly, wiping his mouth with his wrist. “You're not even 21 yet.”

“Do you see me flexing about my age? No.”

Ethan let out a sigh, probably tired of your shit already and grabbed his pillow, laying his head down on it again. You felt your face fall as your features softened. Maybe you were a little too harsh on him. You stared, because he was probably the most beautiful guy you'd met. The dark circles under his eyes were noticeable, pale skin almost translucent.

He was worried, and him being worried made you worried, so… that was inconvenient. Richie left Modesto with Sam the day before, and while you trusted him to man the fuck up and make things go as planned, Ethan didn't.

“He's gonna be alright, Eth.” You reassured him.

“Why did we come here?” He mumbled, your heart twinging at his small sniff of him. You should've brought the extra blankets…

You delicately caressed his cheek, his eyes surrendering to your apologetic touch. You felt more confident in fondling his skin and feeling the warmth beneath your fingertips. If you could just… Your thumb brushed over his lower lip before you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his soft forehead.

“Quinn's supposed to be with me, so I can't be home or your dad will suspect she lied. And as for you…” You paused, and Ethan's lips began to twitch into a wide smile, eliciting a chuckle from you. “Consider it a favor, you never go out.”

“Oh, yeah?” He teased, his eyes lazily opening. “That's sweet.”

“Never sweeter than you, baby girl.” You caressed his lower lip, his eyes rolling as he pushed your hand away. “You're mean to me.” You showed him a pout, and he just shook his head.

“Deal with it.”

You tugged at his blanket to discover part of his chest, getting a frown you completely ignored when you turned around, showing him your back. Quinn was a few cars away from you, but far enough so you couldn't hear or know what was going in there.

You almost winced. Not like you wanted to know. Apparently this was a popular place for people to come and hook up. You were just closing your eyes and hoping you wouldn't hear anything. Even finding a racoon would probably be better than that shit.

"It would probably be uncomfortable." Ethan mused after a while, and you got on your side to frown at him.

"Are we still discussing this?" Your smile immediately faded at his raised eyebrows. "Uhm— It's cold, they'd freeze."

"Not big enough to move."

"What if a fox saw the lights and started scratching the door in the middle of it?" Ethan frowned before the two of you chuckled. At least you were making him laugh now. You were a bad friend.

"If there's not a blanket under them, it'll hurt their backs." You didn't give it much thought before nodding in agreement, eyes slowly drifting downwards to look at the blanket beneath the two of you. The idea that popped up in your head scared you. He was telling you this because… Lifting your chin again, Ethan's gaze met yours, and next thing you knew, he leaned in, kissing you.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands finding his hair and playing with it while he stretched his arm to grab his pillow. His arms wrapped around your waist to have support of your body and lay your head on the pillow, your back pressing against the fuzzy blanket. His thighs straddled your legs. “Is this okay?” He breathed out, looking down at you, but he didn't seem to have any intention of stopping.

You answered by firmly pressing your lips onto his again. Ethan grunted into the kiss, returning it like his life depended on it. His body was so soft and comfortable against yours, you barely felt any pain when he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, but it was still uncomfortable. “Eth, my hair…” He stopped, noticing his arms pressing down on your hair.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” He quickly apologized, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I'll be if you keep going.” He nodded, obeying. Your thoughts weren't the clearest thing at the moment. You wanted this so much and you had been wanting it for a long time, the feeling was similar to being high. Even better. This was it. You had him. He had you. You lost yourself in all the caressing, mind clouding with the feeling of him, the touch of his fingertips on your neck and his big hand wrapping around your susceptible throat as he kissed you.

His body weight on yours was taking the air out of your lungs, but the feeling of being helpless only helped increase the violent hammering of your heart inside your ribcage. You adored him. Every single inch of him. You were panting, the heat all the pillows and blankets around the two of you were providing making you sweat badly.

You helped him pull his black hoodie over his head, his bare arms squeezing you against him immediately after. "I'll take care of you, okay? Just relax." He kissed the corner of your mouth, lips trailing down to press gentle kisses onto your neck. You threw your head back, Quinn's pink knit sweater just lying there in the driver's seat, making your mouth go dry.

Why did she leave it there? As a reminder? A reminder that the two of you shouldn't be doing anything weird because you were just friends? Because the person who was kissing your neck right now was your best friend's younger brother? No, you were just being paranoid. That was straight up fucking schizophrenic.

"You're not letting me lay you down." He uttered in a low, guttural tone. You glared at his words.

"Because I'm comfortable like this."

"With your elbows flexing like that?" He withdrew his mouth from your neck, staring up at you, out of breath. "Really?"

"Are you mad at me right now?" You inquired. Ethan looked away before starting to get up. "Can you please not—"

"No."

"What did I do!?"

"Nothing," he snarled. You sighed as he offered his hands to help you up. Taking them, you brought your legs to your chest awkwardly. It was clear he wanted answers with how he stared at you, and he knew you too well to lie to him. "What's wrong?"

"It doesn't... feel right." You choked out, glaring up at his face, and wishing he would understand. Ethan looked taken aback but quickly recovered.

"This doesn't feel right?"

"Yeah."

"Is it because of me?" He asked, and the look you gave him was offended.

"No, of course not. But you're Quinn's—"

"Brother, yeah. She doesn't care." His eyes narrowed. Was he fucking mocking you right now?

"How do you know?"

"It's Quinn."

"Don't be saying that about my best friend.”

Ethan's jaw clenched, it took him a moment to collect himself before he looked away from your face, exhaling the breath he was holding. “Alright.”

“Alright.” You agreed.

The two of you fell silent, focusing anywhere else that wasn't each other. Ethan fidgeted with the blanket, eyes on your phone laying next to the candy bowl. You stared at the rings wrapped around your fingers, chewing on your lip. You had to get up— you knew that. One of the two of you would eventually have to.

This was the smartest decision, and yet you felt empty. Like you had just closed the door that led to the single thing you had dreamt about for years but weren't able to get. It was alright, you tried to tell yourself. You had a friendship to keep. A great one.

Ethan knew the good and bad parts of you. He had seen you at your lowest, and he still stayed. Why? Because he was your friend. Your best friend. The one boy you had shared everything with. But if that was true, then why was there a difference in what you felt toward Richie and Ethan? Richie was your friend, and Ethan was... something more.

Your chest caved and squeezed your heart as you sighed. The little sound caught the brunet’s attention, prompting you to look up at his zealous face too. It took two seconds of eye contact for the two of you to start making out. Again. You rolled on the blanket a few times, almost dislodging the Christmas lights with how much the two of you were moving. You were on top when Ethan pushed your shoulders, his face scrunched up.

“This is wrong.”

You breathed heavily, confused. “What? Why?”

“I should be taking you to a hotel.” His grip on your shirt tightened, but he looked more mad at himself than at you as he tried to catch his breath. “For starters.”

“Oh my god, Ethan! Why would you—”

“Listen to me.” He demanded. His hands slid from your waist to your cheek, cupping your face in his hands. “We don't even have—”

“I'm on the pill.” You spoke over him. He paused, but he didn't look phased at all.

“That's only 87% effective.” Ethan's lips twitched, displeased, confusing you.

“How do you know that?”

He shook his head, delicately tucking away strands of your hair. “I wanted to be informed when this happened.”

“You were waiting for this to happen!?” The red creeping up to his face made you know you probably came off more panicked than you intended to. Shit.

“Weren't you?” He tried to play it off miserably. You moved away from on top of him, looking around for your missing shirt desperately.

“No. I was just praying every day it wouldn't.”

“Does that mean you—” He hesitated as he swallowed, sitting up. His eyes never left your face, looking vulnerable. Those angel eyes looked so fucking vulnerable you just wanted to hug him. But wasn't this an argument? You had to make up your mind. You found your shirt, but you didn't even care anymore. “Is this a one night stand? I mean— Are we doing this just because we feel like It, or is this your way to say you love me back?”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Fuck, no… “Put your hoodie on.” You groaned, and Ethan looked away from you frustratedly

The only reason you weren't answering him was because you were scared. This wasn't supposed to happen, at least not that soon…

“I do love you, Ethan.” The words just slipped out of your lips, surprising both of you. He raised his head, making sure you weren't joking. “And I don't want to break your heart.”

“You will if we keep living like this.” He admitted. “What's stopping you?”

You tried to not look down, you really did, but you were too much of a coward to not start playing with your rings. “Honestly? It's too messy. I don't want things to get weird with Quinn—”

“She doesn't care, Y/N.” He interjected, and you closed your eyes in frustration. That's what he always said, but you couldn't know for sure. You didn't want to find out. “If anything, I think she would be happy you chose someone she approves of.”

“I'm gonna fuck up my relationship with Quinn if this goes wrong…” You rubbed your temples, but looked up at the silence coming from him. He looked tense, like he was about to burst out the car and murder the first person he saw. You moved away slightly, contemplating.

You'd go to hell if you admitted out loud you found that attitude of his… enticing. He let out a breath when he saw you crawling towards him. His arms snaked around you, holding you close and lifting you slightly to move you onto his lap. “Don't be mad.”

“I'm not.” He crooned, you winced slightly as his nose pressed into the curve of your bare neck, next to your bra strap. He took in a deep breath.

“Sure.” You gripped the back of his black tank top, trying to relax. “You'll be wrinkled all over by the time you're 40 if you keep frowning.”

“I'm not mad at you, Y/N.” He repeated, he looked honest as his watery eyes met yours. Why did he look like he wanted to cry?

“And that's it?” You questioned. “I'm supposed to calm down because you told me it'd be okay?”

“Am I lying? Quinn's gonna be happy for us, I know that. But if you don't feel ready… then we can hide it.” He nodded solemnly, you raised an eyebrow.

“So, what? Am I like your lover now?”

“No.” He cringed, you let out a chuckle as he stopped caressing you. “That's not what I meant— We can just stay low for now. Not tell anyone about us.”

He waited, and after a moment of pondering, you sighed. You just had to look for the right moment to tell Quinn. You'd be more prepared by then. “Okay.”

Ethan's lips parted, curls wiggling as he nodded. You didn't know why he was like this, but you had to calm him down. You always had to. Ethan was aggressive, that was obvious. But he also used to be so sensitive.

“It's alright, Eth. It's alright…” You grabbed his face, staring at his big expressive eyes before pressing your mouth on his tenderly. Ethan muttered a "thank you" before slowly burying his face into your neck again. You felt his soft eyelashes against your skin as he closed his eyes, arms squeezing your waist.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ghostface #jack champion #scream vi #ethan landry angst

[moonffe]

about me specifications about my blog

masterlist request me anything.

[moonffe]

GUYS 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I'm proofreading my new fic, planning to post it tomorrow in case someone's wondering— but jesus fucking chirst i was scrolling through Instagram and did this MOTIVATE ME. i had to post it.

credits to ansillypants on instagram.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ghostface

[moonffe]

Ethan Landry

Salvatore; part two, part three

My lips might've slipped; part two, part three

#masterlist

[moonffe]

i appreciate and take any kind of requests, i'll try to write them as soon as i can.

some things to consider, though. i am not a smut writer, and only write female Y/N's. i am a female and that's what i feel comfortable and confident in writing. tysm.

#specifications #writing #writers community

[moonffe]

bro im going through the most atrocious writers block i've ever faced in 3 years of writing fics. WHAT IS HAPPENING.