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grimoireofhayley · 10 months

Text

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk

Word Count: 1.7k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123

A/n: I had so much fun writing this part! Quick reminder, it’s based on the Scream 1996 movie so there will be a lot of the plot in it 🙂 Let me know what you think of this chapter down in the comments below 👇🏻 criticism is also appreciated, but don’t be too harsh lol. It just leaves room for more improvement, and if you want to be added to the taglist let me know below 🥰 Lastly, it’s also my first time writing a smut-like scene, so hopefully it isn’t too cringe… I haven’t proofread yet, but I’ll be doing that as it’s published and I’ll make changes as I go. Thank you for reading! I’m excited to see where this series will go!

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 5

The landline rang and rang, interrupting your peaceful slumber. You groaned, slowly sitting up on your couch, sinking into the black cushions, tossing the fuzzy-dark purple blanket to the side.

“What the?” You murmured, half awake. You groggily rubbed at your eyes, attempting to get rid of any sleep that lingered.

You glanced at the blinking red and bold numbers that flashed across the alarm clock that sat quietly on the couch-side table; indicating that it was now 10:30pm.

School had ended several hours ago, so who could possibly be calling?

‘Hmm, maybe it’s Sidney calling to apologize.’ You thought, jokingly, knowing that she’d never do that.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming!” You moaned, annoyed at the frequent ringing that seemed to get louder and louder.

Pushing yourself off of what was your comfortable ‘bed’, you trekked to the kitchen where your landline was blaring.

You picked up the black phone, placing it against your ear.

“Ugh, hello?” You asked.

No answer, but you heard heavy breathing on the other side. “I said, hello?” You narrowed your eyes, leaning up against your marbled-kitchen counter.

“Hello…” A man spoke, his voice was odd, but eerily beautiful sounding. “Who is this?” He asked, and you tapped your fingers against your cheek, somewhat pissed.

“I should be asking you that.” You retorted, “But I’ll bite, who are you trying to reach?” You were genuinely curious to know because it’s not often you get phone calls like this, you should probably help in some way or another, right?

“What number is this?” He asked yet another question, ignoring what you had already asked.

You scoffed, he’s playing games, that you can tell.

“Why don’t you look at your caller ID and see?” You snipped, not in the mood for any pranks.

“I could do that, but why don’t you tell me?”

“Ah, no thanks, I assume you have eyes. You can do it yourself.” You mumbled, “What I can tell you, is that you have the wrong number.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, no shit. It happens, though. Take it easy.” You huffed, hanging up.

You went to walk to the front door, but your telephone started to ring again, you turned on the soles of your feet, starting your journey back to your previous spot.

“He wants to play games, fine, I’ll play.” You gritted your teeth, picking up the bulky phone again.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I dialed the wrong number.”

It was the same guy.

“And you dialed it again, because?” Your attitude rises with each word you speak.

“To apologize.”

Smooth…

“Okay, you’re forgiven, bye..” You sighed about to hang up again.

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” He quickly spoke.

“What is it?”

“I want to talk to you.”

You smiled, your mood drifting from annoyed to intrigued. You are somewhat enjoying this now, but you didn’t know why. Maybe it had something to do with his voice; it was attractive and husky sounding, almost hoarse. Voices like that always had you in a chokehold, the gruffness could and would send you spiraling, maybe that is why Steve was able to charm you so easily.

“They’ve got over 500 numbers for that.” You chuckled, “But I’m honored you chose this house to annoy… but I really should be going now.” You fibbed, hanging up.

You walked to the front door to make sure it was locked, thankfully it was.

Your basic horror-movie instincts kicking in.

Peaking through the eyehole, you looked around to see if anyone was dawdling around.

Ring… ring, ring…

There’s that damn phone again.

You headed back to the landline, brushing your hair out of your face, and placed the object against your ear for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Hello.”

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” He sounded upset.

‘Does this guy ever let up?’ You asked yourself.

“Alright, who is this?” You nagged.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine.”

“I don’t think so.” You unraveled the phone’s cord, walking towards the fridge, opening it and grabbing a bag of chips, which made a crinkling sound.

“What’s that noise?”

“Oh, sorry, I was grabbing chips.” You giggled, not meaning to apologize to a complete stranger about grabbing chips, it was a dumb thing to apologize for.

“Chips? I only ever eat chips during a movie…” He prolonged the word movie, making it last longer than it should.

“Huh, maybe I should put one on…” You said out loud, insinuating that it was a good idea, it’s not like you will be sleeping tonight, anyways. You had a 6 hour nap today, hence why you woke up so late. You’d probably still be sleeping right now if this strange person hadn’t called you.

You debated whether you should or not watch a movie, but decided that you would in the long run.

“Really? What movie?”

“I’m thinking of a scary movie.”

“You like scary movies?”

“Uh-huh..” You smirked, biting the tail end of your thumb nail.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Halloween… easily. Something about a tall-masked man that stalks his prey, almost like a game of cat and mouse, turns me on..” You blubbered, the smirk never leaving your face.

…Silence…

“I’d watch that over a good porno any day.” You admitted, inadvertently getting yourself turned on, Michael Myers, was easily someone you’d try to escape just by fucking him; in your rules of Fight, Flight or Fuck, you’d go with fuck, even if it got you killed for trying.

It’s a peculiar thought and probably something you should get help with; especially if it involves wanting to fuck a slasher of all things, but no one needs to know, well, minus that this complete stranger now knows it.

The person on the other end was completely flustered and not expecting what you had said, usually his victims fall prey to these little games, and he finds out more about them during the process, making it easier to get into their home. However, with you, despite already knowing you, he didn’t know that…

You’re a slasher-fucker.

“Hello?” You spoke, bringing the unknown male back to reality.

“Really now?” He sounded flabbergasted, “Do you usually tell strangers this fact about yourself?” He teased.

You laughed, “No, I don’t actually. You’re the first, not even my best friend knows that dark fact about me.. Billy he’s—“ You stopped yourself, not meaning to blurt out his name, what if this was the killer?

You coughed awkwardly into your hand, changing the subject. “What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“Guess…” He taunted, but his head was elsewhere, ‘Huh, so I know something about (Y/n) that Billy doesn’t…’ He grinned behind his mask, feeling a bit of triumph.

“Umm, A Nightmare on Elm Street?” You uttered in his ear, bringing him back with the lull of your voice.

“Is that the one where the guy has knives for fingers?”

“Yeah, Freddy Krueger.” You gleamed, another Slasher you’d like to get your hands on as sick as you are, too bad he was also fiction.

“Freddy, that's right. I liked that movie, it was scary.”

“Really? I didn’t find it that scary.”

“So, you got a boyfriend?” He asked, changing topics. “Or is it just Michael Myers you’d love to have?” He rambled, a hint of lust hanging off a thread in his words. He was enjoying this too much, the fact that you’re probably just as twisted as him was enough to send his mind into the gutters, God, did he ever want to feel your cunt around his shaft; just knowing you’d probably let him fuck you because he’s a masked killer was giving him another hard one. He couldn’t help but reach under his cloak and start rubbing one out as he watched you from a distance.

You giggled again, completely enamored. “Why? You wanna ask me on a date?” You taunted, bending over the counter again, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. Your silk-black night gown, riding up your thigh, revealing more of your skin and your pink undergarments during your movement.

Unbeknownst to you, this caused the Watcher to struggle.

“Maybe. S-So, do you have a boyfriend?” He stuttered, not meaning to, as the pressure of his gloved hand shifted up and down faster and faster. It felt too good, and your voice was edging him on, getting him closer to his summit.

The cloaked figure rutted into his hand as his hot seed filled his palm. ‘F-fuck…’ he thought, jerking his hips as he finished his climax.

“Mm, no.”

“You never told me your name.” He grumbled, cleaning himself up, tucking his dick back into his pants.

“Why do you wanna know my name so bad?” You questioned,

“‘Cause I want to know who I’m looking at.”

You froze, becoming spooked. You gulped, “W-What did you say?”

You waited for him to speak, but all that was heard was silence, “Hello—“

You were cut off mid sentence by your doorbell ringing and you snapped your head up in that direction, you hung up immediately.

You placed the phone face down on the counter, walking over to your door. You looked out the peephole, seeing that no one was there.

Swiftly, you unlocked your door, hesitantly opening it, poking your head out, trying to get a better look outside, but all that was there was your car and a few stray animals scattering about.

You stepped out, but your foot had hit something. You jumped back, looking down.

There was a pink-coloured box with a red ribbon tied around it and a note.

You quirked a brow, picking it up. It was on the heavier side, but not completely.

You walked back to the kitchen gently placing it down on the counter next to your phone, carefully taking the note off and reading it out loud;

“You look so pretty when you’re spooked, especially in that little-black nightgown you’re wearing right now…” You gasped, your legs beginning to tremble in fear as your hands shook, but you roughed it out, wanting to finish the rest of the note, soon fearing the worst. “I brought you a little something from your ‘boyfriend’ Steve… Signed, G.F.”

“What… What the fuck?” You grimaced, putting the note beside you.

Gulping, you ripped the ribbon off and opened the box. Only for it to reveal another medium-sized box, you took that out, placing it outside of the other one.

You were quick to notice the red-splotches and felt the wetness of it. You shakily opened a drawer, and took out a kitchen knife, and cut the box open.

Your eyes widened as tears glossed over them, you dropped the knife to the ground and it cladded with the tiles as it seemed to have bounced in slow motion. You cupped your mouth, wanting to scream, but nothing came out, just silent whimpers as you looked at the human heart that laid in the box.

The phone rang again, causing you to twitch at the sudden sound.

You didn’t bring it to your ear this time, but you still heard that voice loud and clear.

“I hope you like your gift, (Y/n).”

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#fanfiction #billy loomis #billy loomis x female reader #billy x you x stu #scream franchise #scream 1996 #billy loomis x reader #billy x stu #stu macher x female reader #stu macher #ghostface x female reader #ghostface #stu x reader #billy loomis smut #stu macher smut

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sunkendreams · 4 months

Note

I haven’t seen any billy loomis content on your blog ,,, would love to see some smut of him! nothing specific, I know you’ll write something good!

devil in disguise.

➾ pairing ; billy loomis x fem!reader.

in which billy decides to visit you once your father leaves for his shift — but there’s an additional element.

FORMAT: one-shot — requested.

WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), loss of virginity, rough sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, sex during a storm, dirty talk, fingering (f!receiving), cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), heavy knifeplay, billy is a little deranged in this, begging, creampie, cumplay, bloodplay, tiddy sucking, mild body worship, biting, hickeys/marking, choking, hair-pulling, finger sucking

AUTHOR’S NOTE: not gonna lie, I was suffering from billy brainrot and this emerged from my brain. I love him so much !!! I do want to write some more mickey & ethan landry content too, but I do need to tell y’all about my new influx of blorbos lately LOL! love you all so much and thanks for your continued support! Means the world to me!

Whenever it rained in California, you considered it to be a once-in-a-lifetime occasion — wisps of black clouds fluttered overhead, accompanied by the haze of an overcast sky. Even for the evening, the skies were unnaturally dark, making it seem like nighttime altogether. The scent of encroaching dewdrops drifted through your bedroom.

“Honey?” Your father gently tapped his knuckles against the white pane of your door, dressed in his police uniform. “Mind if we talk?” He asked, clearing his throat. The badge of the Woodsboro Sheriff’s Department glistened on his ironed shirt.

With the recent killings of Casey Becker and Steven Orth plaguing your school, your father had reason to be concerned. He was the Chief, after all — he was cleaning up mess after mess, investigating these murders without any leads. Stress shimmered upon his features, showing up as heavy bags underneath his eyes.

You swiveled around within your seat, busying yourself with homework for the evening. Books were strewn across your desk, accompanied by a computer that barely ran nowadays anyway.

“Sure,” You cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling away from your chair to the edge of your bed. “What’s up?” The relationship with your father was somewhat tenuous — being the daughter of a police chief came with unwanted attention and his constant overprotective nature.

“You know about the murders,” He began, looming in the doorway of your bedroom. His countenance glistened with a thinly-veiled anxiousness, but also a bit of fear. You rarely saw your father show anything remotely close to terror, but here he was. “About your classmates.”

“Yeah,” Your brows furrowed together — where was he going with this? “You don’t want me to leave the house anymore, do you?” An exasperated sigh escaped you, but he immediately shook his head.

“No, no. I just think …” He clicked his tongue. “No visitors for a while, not until we clear everyone at the school as a suspect.” A sinking feeling pooled within the pit of your stomach, accompanied by disappointment. It meant that your boyfriend couldn’t come over — indefinitely.

Billy Loomis was a mysterious boy, cunning and charming with a silver tongue — he constantly wrapped you up in it, time and time again. He’d broken up with Sidney Prescott last year, not long after her mother had passed away. He was more than good to you, but your father wasn’t convinced.

His suspicion of Billy wasn’t subtle whatsoever, and it irked you at times. You’d gotten into several arguments about the morality and character of your paramour, and your father had inevitably relented, letting you date him — but there was always protest involved.

“I think you want to say Billy, Dad.” You uttered, lips curling into a sour frown as you stomped back to your chair with an indignant huff. “You’ve always disliked him. This isn’t about anyone else I hang out with — it’s about him.” Your tone became clipped and volatile, prompting you to return to studying.

Chief Burke let out a deep sigh, knowing he’d upset you with this news. “We’ll talk about that later,” He murmured, checking his watch with a thin-lipped expression. “I have to get going to the station.” Your father stepped forward, attempting to press a kiss against the top of your head — but you’d flinched away.

Gritting your teeth together, you attempted to maintain a shred of kindness towards your father. You wanted to explode, but it wasn’t a good time. He was under a lot of stress. “Love you.” You sighed, grabbing your pencil as you returned to writing something down in your notebook.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

From behind the curve of your shoulder, you watched as your father retreated from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him in the process. A twinge of guilt flickered through you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the villain. Your mother was out on work-related business, and your father was drowning away in work.

Oftentimes, you were left to your own devices, absorbed in school, hanging out with your friends, or spending time with Billy — but that was all on an eternal hiatus, it seemed. You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, stepping toward your door. The house was eerily silent, just you and the encroaching thunderstorm.

A clap of thunder rattled the skies, causing you to nearly jump out of your own skin. Goosebumps formed along the column of your spine as you crept down the stairs, traipsing towards your kitchen. Being home alone had a plethora of perks — the alcohol being one of them. If your father knew about all of the underage drinking, he’d likely have a heart attack.

There were so many things that he didn’t know about.

A brief flash of lightning illuminated your surroundings, casting the kitchen in a quick burst of white. You opened up the refrigerator, carefully removing one of your dad’s Abita’s from the side door. After rattling around in the cupboards, you found the bottle opener, popping open the amber lager as a stream of vapor emerged from the top.

You were swift to retreat back upstairs, latching your bedroom door in the process. You placed the beverage along the edge of your desk, listening to the atmospheric deluge of rain pattering outside, falling against the rooftops. You left your window open, lulled into a sense of comfort from the stormy evening.

A sharp thump reverberated against the side paneling of your house, prompting you to rock forward. Normally, you wouldn’t have given it much thought, but considering that someone was killing your classmates, it filled you with a pang of dread.

Hesitant, you crept toward the window, and through the haze of rain and darkness, you noticed a figure moving against the tall wall of lattice that climbed around the back of your home. You squinted, head canting to one side as you realized who was sneaking around.

Billy’s soaked frame appeared before you within an instant, still scaring you as a strangled gasp escaped your lips. “Billy!” You squeaked, lips parted as you noticed his hair, slick and plastered to his skull. The blue-and-white flannel he wore atop a white t-shirt remained stuck to him like a second skin.

“Hey,” He greeted cooly, flashing you one of those little smiles that made butterflies erupt within your stomach. Those warm, earthen-colored hues shamelessly flickered across your attire, finding some sort of attraction in the long-sleeved nightgown you wore. “Cold?”

“Not really,” You mused, nibbling along your lower lip as he ogled the still-icy beer sitting atop your desk. A bemused chuckle left him as he sauntered forward, head cocked to one side. “You’re soaked. Did you walk all the way here?”

“Thought I’d walk, but I wasn’t expecting the rain,” Billy murmured, taking a hold of your drink. “A little brazen, don’t you think? Aren’t you worried that your father might arrest you for underage drinking?” He teased, mouth curling into a playful grin as he took a swig of lager.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” You chimed, nose wrinkling in amusement as he passed the bottle to you. With a brief exhale, you took a drink of lager, feeling the bitter twang of alcohol swarm your mouth as you swallowed. “Do you need me to throw anything in the dryer?” For someone soaked to the bone, Billy remained unphased.

He shook his head in dismissal, clicking his tongue soon afterwards. “No,” Billy’s brows furrowed together for a moment, and then he peered toward the door. “Your old man not around tonight?” Normally, he was always quiet for your sake — and you were often a ball of nerves, but you seemed so carefree tonight.

“He’s gone until the morning.” It was a declaration and a not-so-subtle hint — you could stay. Your relationship with Billy was still somewhat new and flourishing, but you were hoping that it would only continue to intensify. You hadn’t really done much of anything outside of making out and touching. He was patient with you, too.

Billy hummed, gaze surveying your bedroom with a sheen of curiosity. He often searched for new details or anything he found intriguing. His fingertips grazed across your quilted bedspread, and then toward the open window. “Do you like thunderstorms?” He asked. “Or do you keep the window open for me?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said both?” A bubbly burst of laughter escaped you as you tidied up your desk, putting your studying aside for the time being. You enjoyed the lightheartedness of it all despite the dour weather and less-than-savory conversation you’d had with your father twenty minutes prior.

His footsteps were light across the carpeted floor until he approached you, palm cupping your jaw with a certain level of care. At the very beginning, he asked you for everything — for a touch, for a kiss. You didn’t want him to ask nowadays, careening into the warmth of his hand as he brought you in for a kiss.

This bout of shyness always rippled through you whenever he was near — his presence was so enigmatic and overwhelming in the best of ways. He smelled like a smoky cologne, accompanied by the scent of dewdrops. You shivered when his arm crept to your hips, lightly massaging at your waist over the cotton of your nightgown.

Billy was an incredible kisser — always walking a fine line of soft and voracious. You wondered what it would be like for him to really give in. It was a fantasy that had crossed your mind more than you could count. His head tilted slightly, thumb tracing over your chin before he withdrew, stare bleeding with a thinly-veiled desire.

“You’re beautiful,” He uttered reverently, idly dragging the pad of his thumb across your lower lip. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Billy’s voice was husky, an alluring drawl that was barely above a whisper. It sent a shudder of delight cascading down your spine, anticipation pooling within the pit of your stomach.

A brief sigh left you, trapped within your throat as you tilted inward, hands pressed against his chest. The material was damp underneath your palms, not that you cared. He had snuck through your bedroom window countless times — but it felt so much heavier this time around, given your father’s stark statement of not wanting you to see him.

You ducked your head, heat crawling across your body as you chewed at your lower lip. Billy knew that you were smitten, and he devoured every scrap that he could, but something felt off, as if you had something to tell him, dancing upon the tip of your tongue. “Hey,” He murmured, titling your chin up to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just …” You couldn’t lie to him. Billy had this radar for bullshit, able to see right through you, pierce your armor with ease. “It’s my dad, that’s all.” Admittedly, you were hesitant to reveal the truth, considering that Billy sometimes had a strong reaction to things.

Billy had a feeling that your father had it out for him — an intelligent man, to be certain. Of course, such suspicions were true, but he wasn’t about to make that known. A huff of laughter escaped him, followed by another debonair grin. “What, does he want to arrest me?” He mused, pressing a string of soft kisses along your jaw.

“Something like that,” You mumbled, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled incredible, like a dusky night, drawing you in with his magnetizing pull. “He doesn’t want me to see you right now because of all of the killings and stuff.” The confession felt like a weight within your chest, but oddly enough, Billy didn’t seem too angered by this.

“Does he think I’m a suspect?” Billy questioned, point-blank. His tone became rather blunt, but still held that little shred of amusement. In the grand scheme of things, he was on the right track — unbeknownst to you, of course. It would stay that way.

“I don’t think so. He’s just skeptical, I guess. It’s his job.” You hesitated, drawing away just enough to get a look at your boyfriend’s handsome visage. “I just don’t want you to feel threatened or feel like you can’t come around. I don’t care what he says — I want to be with you.” You murmured, brows furrowing together.

His jaw tensed, gaze incendiary and oozing with a lasciviousness as he pressed a lingering kiss to your mouth, fingers idly stroking aside some of your hair. Billy had grown very fond of you, but with that, there was always some twisted desire to corrupt — the obsession that blossomed with it all.

“You have me,” Billy exhaled, body pressed against yours, hands pinning you close. “This all feels a little defiant, doesn’t it?” His tone had dropped an octave, akin to a delicate purr as he brushed his mouth against yours. You leaned in this time, pressing your lips against his as you chased after that sensation with a fervor.

“Yeah,” You whispered, feeling a newfound thrill churn within your stomach, coupled with exhilaration. “Can you stay tonight?” You asked, fingers gently weaving themselves into his mousy tresses, tugging at the hair around the nape of his neck.

His head cocked to one side as he arched an eyebrow. “I thought I couldn’t,” Staying implied one thing — sex. You had never propositioned it until now, let alone entertained the thought. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” He didn’t want to rush anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t prepared for.

The constant feeling of doom hung over you — religion and saving yourself had always been a point of contention in your family. You were worried that Billy would leave you if he had you, but you knew that wouldn’t be the case. You were ready to have your first time and have it be with him.

Your head began to bob in a little nod, heat creeping across your body as it blossomed within your cheeks with a burning sensation. “I want you,” You whispered, breath hitching within your throat. “I — I need you, really. I don’t want you to go, Billy.” You mumbled, nearly gasping when his hand began to caress along the curve of your thigh.

“Are you sure?” Billy asked, brows knitting together in a moment of concern. “We don’t have to do anything intense,” He reassured, pressing another kiss against your jaw, and then to your neck. “I don’t want you to feel rushed.” Admittedly, he wanted nothing more than to touch you, to take your virginity, make you feel good, but it needed to be on your terms.

It felt good — the spark of retaliation and rebellion against your father, seeing Billy again in such a secretive fashion. You knew that if anyone found out, namely your parents, you’d be in a world of trouble. Fortunately, it was just the two of you and an empty house.

“You’ve been really patient with me,” You murmured, a soft sigh drifting from your lips as you sank forward into his embrace. “I want this.” Billy’s constant chase for consent and ensuring your comfort was beyond attractive, and you were thankful for it, but this was long overdue.

A soft laugh burst forth from his chest as Billy stroked at your cheek, calloused fingertips traveling across the delicate plane of your visage. “I would wait for as long as you wanted me to.” He uttered, gaze shifting from affectionate to incendiary, simmering with an unmistakable sensuality.

He was so good to you — your ex-boyfriend paled in comparison to Billy Loomis in more ways than one. “I know,” You sighed, lips twitching into a smitten smile as your digits plucked at the damp fabric of his shirt. You pressed another chaste kiss against his mouth. “Should I shut the window?”

Billy clicked his tongue, mouth twitching into a faint smirk. “No,” He swept strands of hair behind your ear, cradling your cheek within his warm palm. “You’ll have to be quiet. You think you can handle that?” The little evocation of a challenge was prevalent — your insides turned to metaphorical mush as you shivered.

“I can’t promise anything.” Your voice was wrought with excitement, barely above a whisper. The blood was rushing to your head and heart, hot and fervent as Billy gently guided you toward your bed. His smirk morphed into a wolfish grin, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

As he placed you down against the mattress, atop your quilted bedspread, he crawled in between your legs, lips hungrily returning to kiss you. He tasted like a lick of amber lager, intertwined with breath mints and the hint of cigarettes. Your heart began to beat faster as Billy’s hand rubbed along your thigh, digits flicking at the hem of your panties.

The ambiance of the thunderstorm outside provided a rather atmospheric setting, on top of the dim lighting throughout your bedroom. Rain noisily pounded against rooftops and the surrounding neighborhood, as if masking the salaciousness of your actions. Your hands pushed at his flannel, and he took it off, along with his white t-shirt.

“May I?” You whispered, eyes wide and mesmerized as Billy let out a brief chuckle. He was so painfully handsome, especially when he smiled — it only served to make you squirm, goosebumps erupting underneath his wandering touch.

“You’re sweet,” Billy murmured, voice deliciously husky as he pressed a kiss against your mouth, teeth playfully snagging your lower lip. The sheepish, stupefied reaction you had was well worth it, prompting him to grab one of your wrists, steering your hand to wherever you wanted it to go. “I want to see you.”

His composure was beginning to crumble, foundation being chipped away at. You were so infectious, like a fever, and Billy only wanted more. He had to restrain himself from being rough, watching with lustful eyes as you sat up a little bit.

You shivered when his hands slipped underneath your nightgown, curling into the hem as he helped you take off the lengthy, frilled garment. Billy licked at his lower lip, hooded stare eating you alive once you were stripped of that coverage. The pastel brassiere and panties you wore were just in the way.

“Lay down.” Billy husked, presence exuding a domineering edge without even trying. You silently obeyed, breath hitching within your throat as he covered your body with his, all sinewy muscle and tan skin. His mouth clashed with yours, voracious and all-consuming as he kept himself propped up with one arm.

Curious, needy digits found their way to your chest, groping and kneading at your chest over the material of your bra. “Billy.” You sighed, moaning into his mouth when he bit at your lip again. It was sharp and somewhat painful, but admittedly, you found that minuscule prick of discomfort to be exciting.

With a brusque tug, Billy’s palm circled around your bare breast, massaging at the sensitive flesh as he tugged at your nipple. Your hands flew to the nape of his neck, dragging through his hair as his mouth tore away from yours, only to find their purchase against the slender column of your throat.

Your flesh was velveteen underneath him, warm to the touch as he began to suckle against the sensitive flesh of your jugular. Teeth and lips created a series of marks — some were more obvious than others. A clap of thunder caused you to jump, a soft gasp escaping you as your body clashed with Billy’s.

His grin was tangible, like an imprint seared into your collarbone as he peered at you with those shimmering brown hues. “Scared?” He murmured, flashing those pearlescent teeth in a brief grin. Billy felt your skin erupt with goosebumps, creeping like a wildfire across your body.

“No,” You protested, tongue absentmindedly swiping across your lower lip. You gently tugged on his hair, hands wandering about until you were cupping his narrow face within your palms. “You’re so perfect.” A soft, enthralled sigh escaped you as he stared down at you.

That calculating, searing gaze would have burned right through you if it were possible — you could feel the desire that oozed from eyes alone. Billy turned his head, planting a kiss against your palm as he grabbed your wrist, fingers tangling with yours.

“You’re beautiful,” His voice dipped into a low, lascivious purr, a delicious octave that made you shudder. “You’re mine.” Billy uttered, and for a moment, there was something dark and innately possessive within his voice, something that you hadn’t heard before. While some might’ve found it strange and obsessive, you were hooked.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips press against yours again with a vigor and urgency. Silence drifted between the two of you, but the intensity and desire only seemed to amplify. His kisses were ravenous and passionate, accompanied by teeth and tongue.

“Take this off,” Billy murmured in between kisses, tugging on your brassiere for emphasis. His digits deftly felt along your body, ending up between your legs as he began to touch you. You were barely able to unclasp your bra without squirming and wriggling, hips jolting forward. “Hold still for me, baby.”

Inclined to obey, you ceased your movements, breath hitching within the back of your throat as his hand dipped beneath the waistband of your panties. You felt absolutely pathetic, already wet from just the tension and kissing alone. With this discovery, Billy grinned, letting out a soft laugh as his digits ghosted along your cunt.

“You’re wet for me and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Billy crooned, pressing a heated, sloppy kiss against your collarbone. His other hand torturously tugged and caressed at your breast. “So sweet.” He uttered, nipping at the soft flesh of your chest.

You moaned, body set ablaze as he dragged two digits along your cunt, allowing them to sink inward as he briefly touched your clit with his thumb. “Billy,” You whimpered, legs parting for him as he settled between them, reveling in your pleasured expression. “Please, please don’t stop.” You wanted to cry.

A low hum emerged from his chest, mouth pressing gentle, lasting kisses around your breast. “You’re so pretty.” He mumbled, taking your hardened peak into his maw as he sucked at your nipple. Those experienced, quick fingers developed a rhythm as he stroked along your slit, thumb lazily circling your clit.

Billy could only imagine what you’d be like if he were rough with you — if he had a knife in his hand, licking the blood from your swollen mouth. The thought alone made his cock throb within his jeans, but he would save it for another time.

As he bent you to his will, making you submit with his fingers alone, your body viscerally reacted to his ministrations, back beginning to arch. “B—Billy,” You sighed with passion, goosebumps beginning to coalesce along your spine. “God, feels so good.”

Innocent — that’s what you were. Vulnerable and pious, something to covet. Billy wanted to possess you, breathe you in, control you.

Akin to a canary trapped within the talons of a predator, you squirmed with delight, desperate for his embrace. His digits dipped toward your warm entrance, teasing you with gentle prod. “I’ll try to be gentle,” He crooned. “You make it so hard for me. Just relax.” Billy mumbled, teeth grazing your nipple as he licked at your sternum.

You nodded, stomach churning with molten heat as you felt some pressure. Your fingers dug into the nape of his neck, leaving behind crimson crescents as he kissed along your stomach. His digits sunk into you with some resistance, pushing into your tight cunt. A wanton moan escaped you, mouth agape.

It was a foreign sensation, but you savored every second, cunt clenching pathetically around his fingers as he began to find a sluggish rhythm. Billy kissed his way toward the heat between your thighs, tongue raking liquid heat over your aching core.

A spasm ran through you as a choked whine escaped your mouth, countenance rippling with surprise. “O—Oh,” You croaked, awash with delight as his mouth carefully roamed over your slick cunt. He began to lick and lap at your core — slower, at first — more exploratory. “Billy!” You squeaked.

The myriad of sensations you were experiencing were excruciatingly pleasant. It was pure bliss, feeling his lips caress your slit, digits steadily pumping their way in and out of you as he toyed with your clit. Every mewl and moan only spurred him on.

Something dark and alluring danced within his eyes, and when you lazily rolled your head to look down, his stare could’ve burned right through you. A flash of lightning only contributed to his sinister countenance, lips twitching into a smirk as he lapped at your cunt.

Billy ate you out like a man starved, touching you in places that you’d only dreamed of. His tongue was hot, raking hot embers over your slit as he showered you in endless attention. A strangled gasp escaped you as his fingers stilled, nose bumping against your clit.

His palm splayed out along the meat of your thigh, nails digging in, fingers pressing down hard enough to leave behind bruises. You clawed at his hair, hips lurching forward, but he pinned you down without hesitation, shivering at the sound of your sweet, innocuous moans.

Part of you wanted him to be rough, to really show you how much he desired you. Every fiber of your being ached for him in a way that made you itch, heat crawling across your supple flesh. “You can be rough,” You whispered, feeling the subtle hitch in his throat, tongue stilling atop your clit. “Billy.”

Billy’s jaw tensed, gaze dancing with a subtle malevolence, intermingled with obsession. His darker side often festered under the skin, but when you asked him to be rough, he knew he needed to be careful. He didn’t want to hurt you or scare you away with his potential antics.

“You want me to be rough?” His tone emerged as a low purr, murmured into the pliant meat of your inner thigh. Billy’s teeth suddenly nicked flesh before he licked at your cunt again, grazing your clit in an effort to tease you. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” It was more of a warning than anything else.

Maybe he was right — you hadn’t the slightest clue of where this could lead.

Whatever darkness you saw, part of you viewed it as an act, as a facade for the sake of intimacy. Nonetheless, you still wanted him to be a little more forceful with you. As much as you savored his gentle streak, you wanted the intensity and the heat of the moment.

He wanted to let you stew on it for a little while, lips greedily pursing around your clit as he began to suck a the sensitive clutch of nerves. Billy’s fingers pushed themselves inside of you again, evoking a barrage of pleasured whines and moans from you. It very nearly derailed your train of thought.

With quivering digits, you reached for his hair again, raking through his tresses with a fervor. Billy felt you tug and pull, which only served to spur him on as he finger-fucked you into a blissful oblivion. It was intermingled with delicate licks to your clit, causing you to writhe in-place.

“I’m close,” You whined, hoping that he would keep going or be rough. Part of you wondered why he was so hesitant, but you didn’t want to push the matter. “Billy, please don’t stop!” With a shrill cry, his ministrations only intensified, fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt.

Billy gazed at you with eyes that almost appeared black, simmering with an unrestrained desire. “Yeah?” He purred, lips dutifully returning to suck and lap at your clit. The sensations were mind-numbing, nearly overwhelming as your stomach surged with a churning heat.

He curled his digits inside of you, letting you simmer on that sensation alone before he stopped. Billy finger-fucked you, accompanied by the tantalizing movements of his mouth. He couldn’t get enough of you, delighted to lap at your sweet cunt.

You nodded several times over, bucking toward his mouth as he continued to kiss and suck at your clit. Billy led you into the white-hot abyss of your orgasm, digits drenched in your slick as he withdrew, licking at his lower lip.

The pleasure was almost blinding, body hot and borderline feverish as you attempted to regain your composure. Your chest rose and fell with quick pants, mouth dry as Billy crawled up, covering your body with his as he placed two fingers against your lower lip.

“Open,” It wasn’t a question — it was a demand. Billy’s countenance had become shadowed, jaw tense as he watched you sheepishly open your mouth. You felt filthy for doing something like this, visibly flustered as his digits landed upon your tongue. “Only right if you have a taste.”

You shivered, a noise stirring within your throat as you began to suck, able to taste yourself in the process. He seemed delighted, lips twitching into a subtle smirk as he made you continue to his satisfaction.

“You sure you want this?”

His question was sharp and succinct, annunciated with something penetrating. Billy knew that if he went to his roots, to become something close to who he really was, he ran the risk of scaring you away. Brown eyes bored into you, hawkish and calculating as you withdrew his fingers from your mouth.

“Yes,” You replied, wondering what exactly he had in-mind in terms of being rough. “I trust you.”

A big mistake — your naïveté was laid bare, stretched out along your sleeve. Billy was untrustworthy, a sinister force with the means for destruction, but you were none the wiser. He liked your innocuous nature, the sweetness that oozed from every pore.

“Stay here.” Billy murmured, slipping off of your bed as he made for your bedroom door. You very nearly questioned him, wanting to know where he was going, but a rancorous clap of thunder effectively silenced you as you sank down into your mattress.

You counted — Billy was only gone for three minutes.

When he emerged through your bedroom door, it almost didn’t feel like the same person — not your charming, debonair brown-eyed boyfriend. He seemed possessed, as if something else had grabbed ahold of him. The glint of silver sparkled within his right hand, and that’s when you saw the large kitchen knife.

Something heavy swirled within the pit of your stomach — exhilaration intermingled with fear and uncertainty. You knew that he wouldn’t hurt you, but being rough was a different matter entirely. You gulped, throat thick as Billy moved toward the edge of your bed, available hand grabbing your thigh.

He dragged you close, looming over you with a shimmer in his eyes that told you he was still mostly himself. Even then, that pang of terror gripped you as he prodded the tip of the knife into your thigh.

“Billy,” You exhaled, goosebumps forming underneath the knife’s sharp blade. He continued to trace it across your supple flesh, moving it along your hip bone until he let it ghost above your stomach. “Want you t—to fuck me.” You stammered.

“You want me to fuck you?” Billy murmured, leaning inward, knife in-hand. You felt the blade jut into the swell of your breast, causing you to shudder from the icy chill of the steel. “Maybe I’ll gut you with this, instead.” He stated, though his voice held some modicum of playfulness to it, just enough to ease your nerves.

The doe-eyed look you wore made him frenzied — he wanted nothing more than to see you like this all the time. Billy hastily reached down, unbuckling his jeans with a sudden haste as he crawled on top of you, sticking the tip of the knife into your ribcage.

You gasped, and when you attempted to lean away from the knife, he simply pinned you there. The tip of his cock was oozing with precum, erection desperately grinding along your slit. “Billy!” You whimpered, afraid that he would accidentally dig the knife a little too far.

“Gotta stay still, pretty girl. You don’t want my hand to slip.” He warned, pressing a hot, incendiary kiss to your lips. You reciprocated, cunt throbbing from the added thrill of the blade as he began to ease himself inside of you.

The sudden intrusion made you cry out — you hadn’t done this before or gone this far, and Billy knew that. A myriad of breathy moans escaped you as you attempted to adjust, feeling his leg nudge you apart, spreading you open for him.

He pressed a series of kisses against your face in an effort to soothe you, teeth nicking the soft flesh of your jawline. Billy hesitated, waiting for you to have some time to adjust, heart pounding erratically, akin to the beating of a drum. You reached for his neck, hands tangling together at the nape.

“Still want it rough?” Billy murmured into your ear, hot breath fanning out across the side of your cheek. The blade of the knife prodded into your abdomen, as if it were issuing a stark warning — to turn back, or to proceed. You wanted him more than anything else — rough or not.

You couldn’t deny the excitement and sick thrill you gained from this, as if it had suddenly unlocked unfamiliar territory for you. Billy’s gaze danced with a lustful fire, tongue swiping across his lower lip.

After enough deliberation, you nodded, nearly shying away underneath his shadowed stare. “Yeah, I do.” You whispered, throat becoming thick as he thrust his hips forward, cock burying itself deep into your tight cunt. The feeling was intense, but his eyes were worse.

Billy grinned, throat erupting with a sardonic chuckle as he clicked his tongue. “That’s my girl.” He kept the knife against your stomach, threatening to dig into skin as he began to fuck you. The friction was delicious, breathing heavy, chest to chest, silvery blade prodding at your belly.

“Billy,” You moaned, back arching into the brutality of his thrusts, legs rattling like leaves. His hand grabbed at your leg, hitching it around his waist for better leverage, hips rutting forward in a series of sharp thrusts. “A—Ah! Please don’t stop!”

His teeth brazenly snagged across your lower lip, biting down hard enough to draw blood. He kissed you then — vitriolic copper intermingling between mouths, breath hot and labored as he fucked you in some frenzied state. Your poor cunt clenched around him, drawing him right in.

With a brief adjustment, he moved onto his knees, cock still pounding away at you as he used the grip on your leg as a crutch. Billy dragged the knife along your body, digging the tip into your sternum, letting it ghost above your breasts. He wanted to lick the fear in your eyes — drink it right from the source.

“Look so pretty like this,” He purred, using the cold flat of the knife to press into your chest. It caused you to moan, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as he continued to fuck you at a rather brutal pace. “You like this, don’t you?” Billy huffed, noticing the way your flesh prickled with a barrage of goosebumps.

You nodded, somewhat reluctant to admit to enjoying the roughness of it all. You felt the tip of the knife press just underneath your jaw, causing you to shudder, hips pushing forward as he met you halfway.

Every fiber of your being felt feverishly hot, like a live wire, coursing with raw electricity. The fire that burned bright within your belly demanded to be extinguished, cunt clenching around his cock as Billy continued to fuck you. He very nearly pulled out before ramming himself right back into your tight heat.

Billy momentarily abandoned the knife, grabbing at your hips as he turned you over, manhandling you onto your stomach. You gasped, letting out a series of moans and whimpers as his fingers roamed through your hair, tugging fistfuls of it as he rutted into you.

It was hot and quick, as if he didn’t have any time left at all. “Billy!” You cried out, feeling somewhat abashed as his cock slapped into your cunt, body pressed to yours. Once he’d gotten himself going, you felt the intrusive chill of the knife again, scraping back and forth along your spine.

“I—I’m close,” You panted, hands clawing at the quilt beneath you, nails threatening to pluck the strings and fabric away. Billy didn’t stop for anything, fucking you at a very erratic, feral speed, yanking on your hair. The knife added an element of danger, liquid heat coalescing between your thighs. “Don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” He purred, gritting his teeth together as his cock throbbed with an urgency. Billy groaned — a deep, unrestrained noise, and you yelped when the blade had cut too deep. He didn’t intend to cut you — it was a shallow, superficial wound, but it only drove him crazy. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The cut on your back oozed with rivulets of blood, not nearly enough to warrant any concern. You moaned, huffing and writhing atop the quilt as Billy pushed into you once more, cumming inside of you without a second thought.

He pulled out midway through, leaving behind a sticky mess of his seed along your cunt and inner thighs, intermingled with your arousal. Your body twitched and spasmed, awash with a sense of relief.

“Shit,” Billy murmured, clamoring away to find you a towel. He pressed it against your back, hoping to wash away some of the blood, even if it wasn’t very much at all. “I’m sorry, baby. I got carried away — I didn’t even think.” He sighed, watching as you attempted to clean yourself up.

“It’s fine, Billy. I know you didn’t mean to,” A soft exhale escaped you as you attempted to regain your composure, hoping to seize another towel as you sheepishly wiped his cum off of your body. You were sensitive and hot to the touch in the aftermath of it all. “I did enjoy it.”

Billy appeared perplexed, neglecting to comment for now. He wanted to take care of you as any dutiful boyfriend would do, retrieving your panties and nightgown as he helped you get dressed again. Outside, the thunderstorm continued to rage on.

“You did?” You shouldn’t have said anything — Billy’s thoughts went somewhere dark and salacious. Now, he wanted to fuck you with the knife all the time. If he were lucky, you’d bear more than one scar. It was a possessive mark, a reminder that you belonged to him.

“Yeah,” You confessed, laying down on your bed. Billy hastily zipped his jeans up, declining to put his shirt back on, given that it was still soaking-wet from the rain. “That was amazing. I’m glad I got to do it with you.”

As he laid down beside you, his gaze became dark and shadowed once again. His finger idly traced across the newly-formed cut on your back, lips pressing themselves all over your neck. “Maybe we could try something different next time.” He proposed.

“Like what?” You asked, admittedly curious as you snuggled against him. His digits idly roamed throughout your hair, mouth briefly pressing against yours before he withdrew altogether.

There was a sly, indiscernible look within his eyes — you didn’t know if you should’ve been worried or not.

“Maybe a costume next time.” Billy murmured, and despite the bemused grin on your face and his subtle smirk, you were entirely oblivious to the multifaceted meaning of his words.

Fortunately for you, you were safe — for now.

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marnerparty · 11 months

Text

he’s a punk

Sidney Crosby x Zegras!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap, mentions of drinking, couple fighting

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The sun shined through the windows of the hotel room as Y/N Zegras turned over to see her boyfriend, Sidney Crosby, already awake and looking at her.

“Good morning baby.” He said in his deep morning voice that made Y/N swoon. She leaned over to give him a kiss as he grabbed her hips and pulled her on top of him. Y/N let out a giggle before Sidney pulled her in for another kiss, that quickly started to turn into something more.

“Sid,” Y/N said, pulling away as his lips found the sweet spot in her neck. “As much as I would love to do this, right now, I have to get going or Trevor-”

“Baby,” he started to whine. “You cannot say your brother’s name when I’m trying to be sexy.” This made Y/N let out a loud laugh as she hid her face in Sidney’s neck.

“I’m sorry.” She said after her fit of giggles. “I just had to let you know I really have to go. Trevor thinks I’m staying at a friends so I need to get back to the house.” She explained further. Sidney nodded. Y/N could tell something was up, but she let it go as she got up to change. She could feel Sidney’s eyes watching her the whole time, so she turned around an winked at him. He smiled widely as he too then got up and started to change.

“Are we ever going to tell him?”

“Yes, Sid. We are. I promise. But I have to think about how he’s going to react. I mean, you’re a hockey legend and we’re 14 years apart, and-”

“So it’s about the age gap?” He interrupted, suddenly getting defensive.

“Sid, no. It’s about how Trevor is going to react, and that’s just one think to keep in mind.” Y/N explained. Sidney rolled his eyes but nodded as he went into the bathroom.

“Sid don’t do this before I leave. Talk to me.” She said as she followed him to the bathroom. He sighed as his eyes met Y/N’s in the mirror. He turned around and picked his girlfriend up setting her on the sink. He leaned in and kissed her lips which she gladly returned.

“I’m sorry.” Sidney started. “You know I get-”

“Insecure about the age gap. Yeah, I know.” Y/N said with a smile. “I don’t care about it. I just don’t want other people to.” Sidney nodded and let the girl down so she could collect the rest of her things.

“You’ll be at the game, eh?” Sidney asks before she walks out the hotel door. Y/N rolls her eyes and pecks his lips.

“No, I’m gonna skip the game my brother and boyfriend are playing against each other.” She said sarcastically. “I’ll see you later babe.” She said as she made her way out of the hotel.

Y/N hopped into her car and made the quick drive back to Trevor and Jamie’s. It was still only 10 in the morning, so she figured neither of the boys were up yet. When she unlocked the door, she was surprised to see Jamie already awake on the couch.

“Hey Jame.” Y/N called out and she slipped off her shoes.

“Good morning.” He called back, turning to look at the girl. “You’re back early. Expected you to be gone longer.” She shrugged, not really having a response.

“Nah, I just wanted to get ready at my own place and not in a tiny hotel-” she stopped her words and she realized her slip up. The boys thought she was staying the night at a friends house. Jamie raised an eyebrow as he got up to interrogate the girl.

“What were you doing at a hotel miss?” Jamie asked with his hands in his hips. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to think of a response.

“Jamie, if I tell you this, you have to promise on your life you won’t tell Trevor.” Jamie nodded, suddenly very curious. Y/N took a deep breath before she started.

“I’m dating Sidney Crosby.” She said at once. Jamie looked at her for a minute before bursting out laughing. He laughed for minutes before eventually wiping his eyes from laughing so hard.

“Gosh, Y/N/N, you really got me. Okay now what’s the real reason?” Y/N looked at him with a deadpan expression. She pulled out her phone and opened her camera, showing Jamie endless photos of the couple. His eyes widened as he realized his best friend’s sister wasn’t joking.

“Y/N you’re fucking joking.” She shook her head.

“Nope.”

“I-I can’t comprehend this. How long?” Jamie exclaimed, almost a little too loud.

“Keep your voice down!” She hushed. “It’s been like 6 months.” Jamie really couldn’t comprehend what she was saying now.

“Y/N, that’s insane. How did this happen?” She went into detail about how she met Sid one night at a bar after a game, and it blossomed from there. Then she explained the reasons behind keeping it a secret, which Jamie understood, but he couldn’t understand why she’d keep it from Trevor.

“It’s hard having a brother in the league. And then you take into account what people might say if you start dating someone in the league. And I don’t want Trevor to think the same. Sid wants to tell him, but I’m just not ready.” Jamie nodded along to the words Y/N was saying. He pulled the girl into a hug as her emotions started to get the best of her.

“I think you’re making the right decision from keeping it from the media, but I think Trevor deserves to know.” Y/N sighed knowing Jamie was right.

“He does. And I’ll tell him. But maybe after the game so he doesn’t try anything.” Jamie agreed, knowing she had a point. As the pair shared a moment they heard Trevor’s door open and they scrambled apart.

“Morning.” Trevor mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. They both replied with a good morning before making their way to their respective rooms.

———

Hours later Y/N and Jamie were walking into the stadium for the game. Jamie was feeling a lot better with his shoulder, so he was going to join Y/N in the stands tonight.

She wore her Zegras jersey, but had a Crosby jersey shirt underneath, secretly supporting both of her boys. They made their way to their seats on the glass next to the Ducks bench. Y/N was nervous not only for the guys to play against each other, but she feared Trevor may be able to see something between her and Sid.

Jamie put his hand on her thigh as the puck dropped, sensing her nerves. She gave him a small smile, thankful for the gesture, as the game was underway.

The game was relatively chill for the most part. Trevor and Sidney seems to be sharing the ice civilly, and Y/N finally got her nerves out. It wasn’t until the after the first intermission she noticed a slight chirp from Sidney to Trevor. It seemed like nothing, so Y/N shook it off.

Then, all of a sudden, the demeanor changed. After the whistle Trevor took a shot, which Sidney didn’t like. He came up from behind Trevor and bumped into his shoulder hard enough to knock him to his knees.

It seemed to be over until Trevor came up behind Sidney and crossed checked him, laying him out. This caused Penguins players to swarm around Trevor and soon enough there was a 5 on 5 fight on the ice. And just as you thought things were settling down, Trevor and Sidney came face to face with each other again and dropped their gloves.

Y/N grabbed Jamie’s hand as she hid her face into his shirt. She hasn’t realized she was crying until she felt Jamie rub his hand down her back to soothe her.

“God, what happened Jame? Why are they doing that?” She looked back up to see the men finally pulled apart and yelling at each other. The chirps could barely be heard, but from where she was sitting, Y/N heard one perfectly from one of Sidney’s teammates.

“First Y/N is Sid’s bitch and now you!” Y/N froze and her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe someone would say that about a woman, let alone the girlfriend of a friend and teammate. Trevor looked like he was fuming as he tried to go after the player.

Sidney at this point was halfway down the tunnel when he heard her name. He raced back to see what was going on.

“Keep my fucking sister’s name out of your mouth!” Trevor screamed back as he was held back by refs. Y/N was more than anything pissed off as she left Jamie in his seat and stormed to the locker room.

She first went to see Trevor who was sitting all along by his locker.

“Trevor.” She called out. He looked up and saw his sister was upset. He got up and pulled her into a hug as she began to cry some more. Trevor just stood there with her and tried to get her comfortable enough to speak.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.” Y/N sniffled. “I was afraid of how you’d react, but Sidney really wanted to. I was afraid of how you’d look at me and we never keep secrets like this and-”

“Hey, hey.” Trevor interrupted. “Y/N, I’m not even close to being mad. I would never look at you any different because of the person you’re dating. While it’s shocking, if he’s who you love he’s who you love. I can’t stop that.” Y/N nodded, happy her brother was okay with her relationship.

“I love you Trevor. And thanks for hitting that guy that called me a bitch.” She joked and pulled Trevor in for another hug. He rolled his eyes.

“He better watch his back. That’s never okay to say.” Y/N smiled at the fact her brother would always have her back. They stayed and talked a little longer before the period was ending and guys were starting to come into the locker room. When they started to enter, Y/N noticed Jamie, who made a bee line for her.

“You need to go see Sidney in the trainer’s office. He’s destroying shit in the locker room and they have him in there alone.” Y/N sighed but nodded as she made her way to where Sidney would be. She was afraid of what she’d walk into, and it definitely wasn’t what she’d expected. Sidney had never been this mad.

There were things thrown everywhere, from water bottles to chairs that were overturned. Sid had his back to Y/N so he hadn’t noticed her presence until she spoke.

“Sid?” Y/N called out. He whipped his head around and faced the girl in the doorway. Sidney was breathing heavily and had nothing but the bottom half of his uniform on. The features on his face softened as he saw Y/N standing there with a concerned look on her face.

As mad as Y/N wanted to be, she couldn’t help but want to help Sidney as she saw his cut lip and bruised cheek. But she stayed strong as she began to speak.

“What the fuck was that, Sidney?” She spit out. Sidney rolled his eyes as he got closer to the girl.

“What the fuck was what, Y/N? Your brother? He’s a punk!”

“I don’t care what you think he’s still my brother Sid!”

“Oh so now you don’t care what I think?” Sidney scoffed as he was face to face with Y/N now.

“You know what I mean! Stop twisting my words! Go be mad at someone else! Maybe like the guy who called me your bitch?” Y/N’s words stopped Sidney as he finally took a breath from the yelling. Y/N’s features softened as the couple just stood there staring at each other.

“I’ve never, ever said that about you Y/N. I don’t know why he would say that.”

“No, Sid.” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think you would ever. I know you would never. It was just a chirp.”

“It was more than that.” He explained. “It went too far. It was unfair to you.”

“And you, Sid. A teammate disrespected you.” Sidney nodded but stayed silent. They both knew the situation went way too far.

“Can I hug you?” Sidney asked in a soft voice. Y/N smiled and nodded her head as Sidney engulfed her in a tight hug. His body was sweaty, but Y/N didn’t care in the moment.

“I love you Sid. No matter what.” He smiled and pulled Y/N up to his mouth for a kiss.

“I love you more, Y/N. I think I should go find Trevor and apologize to him.” Y/N nodded as Sidney made his way to the opposing locker room. She followed a few minutes later, just in time to see Sidney and Trevor laughing together. She smiled to herself as she saw the men.

As she made her way closer to them, Trevor saw Y/N and waved at her. She waved back and threw him a smile before he headed back on the ice. Sidney walked back towards Y/N and grabbed her hand.

“Ready to go?” He asked. Y/N nodded. As they walked away from the Ducks locker room they heard footsteps running from behind them, and all of a sudden a voice was yelling.

“Crosby! Take her back to your hotel and you’ll be sorry!” They turned to see Trevor with a playful glare before Y/N and Sidney broke out laughing.

“What’s a dork that boy is.” Y/N joked. Sidney have her a side look.

“Like he isn’t your twin.” He responded. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I’m nothing like him.” She said, noticing Sidney Stayed quiet. “Right Sid?” Again, no response.

“Sidney Crosby are you telling me Trevor and I are alike?”

“Personality wise, oh yeah.” He said with a laugh.

“It’s not funny.” She joked. “I’m not going back to your hotel.” She threatened. Sidney knew she was bluffing, but just because, he grabbed her hand and dipped her, giving her a passionate kiss.

“How about now?” Sidney asked with a smirked. Y/N glared at him.

“Let’s go.”

#nhl #hockey #hockey imagine #sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby x reader #pittsburgh penguins #trevor Zegras

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laurenairay · 6 months

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I'm still haunted by the memories - S. Crosby

Summary: Maeva thought five years was long enough to get over Sidney breaking her heart. Apparently not.

Words: 5.5k

This is my fic for @senditcolton’s birthday bingo! I chose the bingo squares ‘wedding season’, ‘It was always you’, ‘free space – argument scene’, ‘second chance romance’, and ‘interrupted kiss’. I haven’t written a full fic for Sid in ages, so I really hope you like this!

Warnings: angst, past break up scene, exes to (potential) lovers

Title: Little do you know, by Alex & Sierra

“What am I to you?”

“What?” Sidney asked, confused.

“What am I to you? What do I mean to you?”

“What’s going on, Maeva?” he asked, frowning.

“Can you just answer my question please?”

Sidney frowned even more at the sharpness of her voice. “You’re my girlfriend. I love you. What’s going on?”

“You love me?”

“Yes! Mae, seriously…”

She could tell he was getting frustrated now, but that didn’t settle the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

“We’ve been together five years now. I love you more than I thought could’ve ever loved anyone. Five years of cheering you on no matter what. Five years of supporting you and the team and all the better halves as they’ve come and gone. Five years of always coming second but putting on a smile because I know hockey is your whole world. But I thought I would’ve at least had a part of it?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Of course you’re part of my world,” Sidney said, confused.

Was he really going to be that cruel, to pretend he didn’t know what she meant?

“At the team get together this weekend, when we celebrated the latest Pens rookie getting engaged, someone joked to you about when you were going to put a ring on my finger too. But you just snorted and changed the subject…”

She trailed off, watching Sidney’s face pale a little bit, his reaction sinking like a stone in her stomach.

“I don’t…where did you hear that?”

“I was right behind you, Sid. I was right there and Kris & Cath saw me but you didn’t. They sent me pitying smiles and I hated it, Sid. Why don’t you want a life with me?” Maeva asked, her voice finally cracking as tears threatened to spill.

“We already have a life together. Why do we need to complicate it?”

“Complicate it? You think marriage is just a complication?” she shot back.

“I just don’t see why we need to put a label on things. We’ve got a good thing going,” Sidney huffed.

“Labels? Are you kidding me? I’m nearly 30, Sid, and all I have to show for the thing I’ve poured my heart into for five years is a couple of photos on your cup days? You won’t take me out in public, you don’t talk about me to anyone outside of your team and your immediate family, you can clearly drop me at any moment…are you ashamed of our relationship? Have I been wasting my time?”

“Damn it Mae, I’m not ashamed! I thought you understood that I like my privacy!”

That’s all he took out of it?

“I know you value it, Sid, but I didn’t think it would get to this point. I didn’t think you would go this far. I’m tired of being an afterthought to you!”

“And I’m tired of you being so insecure!”

Her breath hitched in her throat as a pang of hurt rang through her chest, and she could see a flash of regret immediately pass over Sidney’s face.

“Maeva…”

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Sid. There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel appreciated and there is nothing wrong with wanting to know that I have a future to look forward to. Because apparently I don’t. Who knew that Sidney Crosby was such a commitment-phobe?”

Maeva glanced out of the airplane window, hazy memories passing through her mind as the plane started its decent into Halifax airport. It didn’t seem like it had been five years since her life with Sidney had fallen apart, almost as long as their just-over-five-years relationship. But the memories of that awful night still burned her heart like a hot poker. She may have left him that night, may have returned to Canada, but she hadn’t been able to move back to Nova Scotia. She’d tried, sure, but she’d only lasted a few months before the memories of their time there together was too much to bear too. It had felt right to flee to the other side of Canada, all the way to Vancouver where she was able to secure an apartment and a job where no-one knew who she was. Maeva had only visited her parents a few times in the five years since – and only when she knew he absolutely wouldn’t be there.

Everything had just hurt too much. It still did.

But now, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was heading back to Cole Harbour in the summer. Her cousin Natasha was getting married, and her aunt had begged Maeva to come home to join her parents in attending. If it wasn’t for the fact that she and Natasha had grown up as close as sisters, Maeva would’ve found an excuse somehow – but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. All she had to do was survive the long weekend. It was late Thursday evening that she’d flown over, leaving Friday for wedding errands, Saturday for the pre-wedding celebrations, and Sunday for the wedding day itself - both ceremony and reception. She’d managed to book a flight home at midday on Monday, but she knew that this weekend was going to be a test of her strength.

Maeva had done so well to protect her heart for so long, and she didn’t want a few days back in Cole Harbour to ruin it.

It didn’t take long for her to pick up her suitcase and head to the arrivals area, a small smile crossing her lips at the sight of her dad waiting for her. Maeva could happily admit that she was a daddy’s girl, through and through, the two of them having the only blonde hair in the family, his quiet calm aura always making her feel happy and secure. That was one of the only things she regretted about not toughing it out in Cole Harbour – she didn’t get to spend the time with her dad that he deserved.

She made a mental note not to take that for granted this weekend.

“My little Maeva,” he said gruffly, warmth seeping into every word as he hugged her tightly.

“It’s good to see you. I’m…I’m sorry it’s been so long,” she murmured when they eventually separated.

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad you’re home for the wedding. Lord knows I need a little more sanity in the house.”

Maeva just snickered, looping her arm through her dad’s as they started to walk out to the parking lot. “Mom’s succumbed to wedding fever then?”

“Happily skipped into crazy town, more like it,” he grinned, “I don’t think I can survive another day of folding bits of paper into little birds to decorate the tables.”

Maeva just grimaced, making her dad laugh. That sounded like her idea of nightmare chaos. “Any chance we can avoid most of the wedding prep tomorrow?”

Her dad just smiled indulgently. “Oh I’m sure I can figure something out.”

She really had missed him.

Just as her dad had promised, he managed to get the two of them out of the intense wedding preparations that the family were taking part in on Friday. The two of them went out for a long breakfast in the morning, before her mom could bundle her into the car and over to her aunt’s, and after a slow walk by the waterside, telling him all about her life in Vancouver and her small circle of friends and her low-key retail managerial career, they eventually made their way back to the house. Her mom was annoyed with them both, Maeva knew that much, but she couldn’t stay mad at Maeva for long, not really when she knew exactly why her only daughter never came home – and Maeva made up for it by ironing her dad’s shirt for the wedding and steaming his suit, her mom’s dress, and her own dress, while her father shined his shoes to her mom’s satisfaction.

There would be enough time to apologise to her cousin on Saturday during the welcome lunch up at Hatfield Farm, where 30 close family and friends would be staying overnight ahead of the wedding on Sunday (with the same 30 staying on the Sunday night). Thankfully the venue was only a 40 minute drive from her family home in Cole Harbour, so she would have plenty of time to make her flight back to Vancouver on the Monday.

She just had to get through the weekend first. One step at a time.

Saturday morning was as chaotic as Maeva thought it would be. Her mom had the three of them loading up her dad’s car like a military operation, checklist on clipboard included, to make sure that nothing was left behind, especially as their part of the family was in charge of the table centrepieces and fairy lights for decorating the reception hall. Once all of that, and their wedding outfits (and shoes and accessories) were ready, along with their overnight bags, it was coming close to midday, and with a picnic basket full of snacks and drinks for the little cabin that the three of them would be staying in, they hit the road.

Despite everything, it made Maeva smile as she recognised the other cars on their journey, all of them making their way to Hatfield Farm like a miniature invasion. The curse of a small town.

It didn’t take long to sort out the accommodation keys, and once Maeva had hung up her dress for the wedding (at her mom’s request to reduce wrinkles), she sprayed a little perfume and fluffed up her blonde hair before rejoining her parents.

“Ready to face the circus?” her dad grinned.

“Honestly,” her mom tutted, elbowing him.

But even she gave Maeva a worried glance.

“I’ll be fine. Cole Harbour may be a small town, but it’s not like Sidney can pop up everywhere,” Maeva said, trying to convince herself as much as them. “It’ll be good to celebrate Natasha’s happy day.”

“Atta girl,” her dad said gruffly.

Her mom just nodded, threading her fingers through her dad’s to silently lead them across the grounds to the main reception hall, where the welcome lunch was being held. They weren’t the last people there, not by any means, but they definitely weren’t the first. Maeva could see her cousin walking towards them with a big smile on her face, dressed in a gorgeous peach dress and looking radiant with happiness, and that joy was infectious.

Until Maeva glanced across the other side of the room, that is.

The sound of her breath catching in her throat was enough to make her parents look in the same direction, and her unflappable dad scowled in a way she’d never seen before.

“What is he doing here?” her dad asked lowly, lips pursing as he turned back to look at her cousin.

Natasha glanced over and cursed under her breath. “Sid wasn’t meant to be arriving until later. I was meant to have enough time to give you a warning, Maeva. Carl invited him but wasn’t sure if he could make it – they’ve been friends since they were kids.”

“Curse of a small town,” she murmured, her smile shaky.

She glanced back at him, thankful that he hadn’t noticed her looking yet, her heart racing in a way that made her feel sick as she took him in. Sidney looked good, of course he did. Broad shoulders, giant ass, and thick thighs filling out his suit so perfectly, hair dusted with grey in a way that only made him look distinguished. He was standing sideways, talking with Nate (of course Nate was here too) and a couple of other guys from their hometown, and as he laughed, head thrown back, the sound of his ridiculous honking giggle made her want to cry.

She wasn’t ready. How could she think she was ready?

Her mom subtly took her hand in hers, squeezing gently to reassure her, only making her dad curse under his breath again.

“Hey, you’re my cousin. If him being here is going to ruin your weekend, I can kick him out. I don’t care if his name is on the town sign – you are family,” Natasha said firmly, voice still quiet.

Tears stung at her eyes slightly at her cousin’s care, but she shook her head. No, no she had to face being in Cole Harbour at the same time as him at some point. She wasn’t going to let him ruin things, not this time. “It’s been five years. I’ll survive.”

Natasha just frowned, taking Maeva’s free hand in her own.

“You just say the word and he’s gone, okay? I haven’t had a chance to be bridezilla yet,” she said, grinning sharply.

Maeva laughed a little wetly, shaking her head again, squeezing Natasha’s hand and her mom’s to say thank you silently.

“Everything will be fine. There will be enough people here that you can just avoid him!” her mom said, smiling.

Maeva didn’t need to look at her dad as he huffed to know that just wouldn’t happen. But still, she had to believe it was possible or she wasn’t even going to make it through today. She could avoid him as much as possible – there was only so much her heart could handle.

“Drinks?” Natasha suggested.

“Hell yes,” Maeva sighed.

Drinks, then setting up the reception hall with the fairy lights, and bringing in all of the table centrepieces ready for the venue staff to set up in the morning. Then maybe some more drinks. She could handle that.

When she eventually went to sleep close to midnight, her heart was aching in the worst way – Maeva hadn’t expected to actually be able to avoid Sidney, but she also hadn’t expected to feel his eyes trailing her around the room for the entire day.

And she was dreading tomorrow even more, now that she knew he would be there.

Breakfast in the morning was a communal affair. The wedding ceremony wasn’t until 2pm, and the staff at Hatfield Farm were putting on a breakfast spread for all the guests from 7-9am, so Maeva was making good use of it, knowing she wouldn’t eat for hours after this. Her dress was a flowy one thankfully, so she didn’t have to worry about carb bloating – it was one of the reasons she’d chosen it, along with the fact at it was light and airy enough for the warm weather and a gorgeous shimmery gold colour that complimented her wonderfully. And it didn’t conflict with the beautiful lilac and cream wedding colours either, which was a bonus.

Her parents had already eaten and headed back to the accommodation, leaving Maeva to finish her orange juice in peace. Still, being back in Cole Harbour after all this time, surrounded by people that she’d left behind in her efforts to leave him behind…it was almost too much, and she found herself stepping outside for some air to clear her head.

One more day.

She could make it one more day.

But the moment that she heard footsteps walking over to her, she knew her luck had run out.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get you alone.”

Hello to you too, Sidney.

“Why would you even want to?” Maeva said, voice cold and polite as she turned to face him.

Sidney just winced. “Mae, come on, you know why.”

Oh screw him. Shortening her name like he used to, playing with her emotions like that? No.

“No, Sidney, I don’t know why,” she said shortly, “We broke up five years ago, almost as long ago as the whole length of our relationship was – so what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Please don’t be like this. I’m trying to apologise,” he said, frowning.

“Apologise for what, exactly?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Sidney just huffed out a frustrated breath, putting his coffee mug down on a nearby table.

“Maeva, I’m serious. I’m trying to be the bigger person here and-”

“Are you kidding me? The bigger person? Our relationship ended because you couldn’t commit, Sidney, and you’re talking about being the bigger person like I’ve done something wrong?” she said angrily,

The nerve. What the hell.

“If you would just listen to me…”

“Listen to what? What could you possibly have to say to me?” she spat, cutting him off again.

“If you’d stop interrupting me then I could actually say it!” he shot back, shades away from shouting.

“Uh, guys?”

Maeva looked sharply to the left, seeing Nate standing there awkwardly looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What, Nate?” Sidney said shortly, cheeks flushed.

“Uh, your mom is looking for you, Maeva,” he explained, grimacing.

“Thanks. We were done here anyway,” Maeva said coldly.

“No we…”

But she just stormed away, not letting Sidney finish, ignoring the hissed conversation between the two men, trying desperately to keep her composure until she was alone. Just as Nate said, her mom was glancing around, and the moment that she spotted her, her face fell.

“Let’s get back to the rooms to get ready, yes?” her mom said, pasting a smile on her face.

It was all Maeva could do to nod, letting her mom usher her along, the fire in her chest from their building argument fizzling away into an all-consuming black hole of sadness. Why would he confront her like that? Why would he want to unsettle her like that after all these years? She would never have thought of him as cruel, but this…this was the last thing she needed. Those few minutes were everything she’d been trying to avoid, and the wedding hadn’t even officially start yet – how was she going to make it through the rest of the day?

The moment that their cabin door was shut behind them, her mom whirled around to face her.

“Maeva, sweetie, what happened?”

She opened her mouth to explain, but all that she managed to do was start crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mom let out an uncharacteristic curse, cradling her in her arms, only making Maeva sob harder. This is why she never came home. This is exactly why.

She didn’t know how long it took for her to calm down, for her sobbing and tears to fade to sniffles, and she was just glad that her mom hadn’t changed into her wedding outfit yet.

“Give me the word and I will get laxatives put in his drinks. I know people,” her mom said seriously.

Maeva choked out a laugh, smiling shakily at her mom’s attempt to cheer her up, but shook her head.

“It was stupid. Just stupid. I wish he wasn’t here but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of leaving,” Maeva said sadly.

“You’re a braver woman than I am,” her mom said, huffing out a laugh.

“Nah, I get it from you, eh?”

Her mom just smiled shakily, giving her another quick hug before pulling back to rest her hands on her shoulders.

“Let’s get ready for this wedding. Have a shower and then I’ll help you with your hair,” her mom said firmly.

Maeva just smiled, nodding her head, heading towards her room as she heard the shower stopping. By the time she’d gathered her towels and underwear, her dad was back in the room he shared with her mom, leaving her to shower quickly. Leaving her with her swirling thoughts.

Even though minutes ago her blood was boiling with his audacity, her heart still ached for him. Up close the grey in his hair looked even better than she’d thought, the slight laughter lines around his eyes only adding to his appeal. His voice was a smooth as she remembered, his figure just as broad and overwhelming compared to her slight frame as it always had been. Even his intensity, his emotion, was exactly as she remembered, sending shivers down her spine.

She missed him.

And she hated it as much as she loved it.

She loved him. Even as much as she wished she didn’t.

It didn’t take her long to do her make up and put on her dress, and she blow-dried her hair to the point where it was manageable by the time her mom knocked on her bedroom door.

“Oh sweetie, you look beautiful,” her mom said, voice earnest and sweet.

Maeva just grinned back at her, twirling on the spot to watch her golden dress flare in the mirror.

Her mom laughed, rolling her eyes fondly as she guided Maeva to sit down on the end of the bed. She expertly twisted half of her hair up into an elegant bun, fixing it in place with a couple of bobby pins and a ribbon that matched the gold of her dress, leaving the rest of her hair to flow down her back in blonde waves. It was simple but refined, and she felt pretty the moment she looked in the mirror.

“Thanks mom. Let’s do this thing.”

“That’s my girl.”

The wedding was beautiful. Maeva didn’t know what else she expected though, if she was being honest. Natasha looked ethereal as she glided down the aisle, her fiancé crying a little when he saw her, and the two of them didn’t stop smiling at each other the whole ceremony. Maeva kept her eyes on them the whole time, even though she could feel eyes on her throughout the hour – she knew exactly who they belonged to, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t, not at a wedding she knew she would never have.

All the guests moved into the reception hall, sitting at their assigned tables, Maeva sitting between her parents with each of them holding one of her hands like they didn’t want her to disappear. She could only imagine what her mom her told her dad about her breakdown this morning, but that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. All through the wedding speeches Maeva sipped on her champagne, laughing at the appropriate moments, tearing up at her uncle’s heartfelt words, cheering the toasts to the new bride and groom. She could barely remember what she ate when the food came and went, but she dutifully ate under the watchful eye of her mom, making small talk with the other members of their table, answering politely to questions about her life in Vancouver, 6000km feeling even further away than ever before.

By the time the additional guests joined them all for the evening reception, Maeva was well on her way to being overwhelmed, but she joined the circle of people on the dancefloor to watch Natasha and her new husband in their first dance.

Just as the music started, a familiar figure stepped up next to her. Maeva froze, desperately trying to think of how to make a subtle exit, but Sidney gently pressed a flute of champagne into her hand.

“This is an apology drink,” he murmured. “I should never have lost my temper with you this morning.”

Not here. Not now.

She didn’t know what her face was showing as she glanced up at him but Sidney’s face just looked sad.

“Can we talk after their first dance finishes? Please?” he begged softly.

There was something in his voice that made her façade crack.

“Fine.”

She didn’t dare take her eyes off of Natasha and her husband for the rest of the dance, sipping the champagne flute, waiting until people started joining them on the dancefloor to slip away, Sidney subtly following her. Just off the side of the venue was a small courtyard, separated from the rest of the outside space by a trellis of flowers, just enough to give them a semblance of privacy.

Maeva put down the glass as Sidney joined her, wrapping her arms around herself partly as a guard, partly as comfort, her ex-boyfriend standing in front of her looking just as overwhelming as he always had.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” he started, smiling a little.

“What did you want to talk about, Sid?” she sighed.

“I messed up all those years ago,” he murmured.

No, no she couldn’t do this.

“Sidney I can’t,” she interrupted, shaking her head.

“Please, please just let me finish,” he begged.

She just bit her bottom lip, glancing away from him briefly to steel herself, before nodding.

“I have spent five years trying to think about what I would say if I ever got the chance to see you again. Five years playing the conversation over and over again in my head, going through every scenario, and right now in this moment, none of it is coming to my head,” he said softly.

That was so typically Sid.

“Forget what’s in your head. What’s in your heart?” she found herself saying.

He huffed out a laugh, nodding his head.

“I love you, Maeva,” he said, tears glistening in his eyes.

Oh.

Oh god this was the last thing she’d been expecting.

He still loved her?

“Do you love me too? Is there any chance that you still love me?” he asked desperately.

He still loved her?

Running on pure instinct, Maeva choked out a sob as she leaned up and kissed him, hands clutching at his shirt.

Of course she still loved him.

Sidney didn’t hesitate as he kissed her slowly back, cradling her face with both hands, pouring everything into the embrace. Maeva’s head swirled as her blood surged and her heart raced…and then a couple of wedding guests stumbled outside too, clearly drunk. They were mostly giggling and falling into themselves, so they didn’t notice Sidney and Maeva springing apart, and as they stumbled around the corner Sidney quickly took one of Maeva’s hands in his, breaking her out of her frozen state of shock.

“You still love me?” Sidney asked hopefully.

“That was so stupid. I shouldn’t have…we shouldn’t have…”

His face fell.

“Please don’t run away. Please don’t leave me, not again,” Sidney begged, interrupting her rambling words.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.

“We can’t just go back to how things were, Sid,” Maeva said sadly, “We’re different people now, we’ve both changed.”

“Then let me get to know you again. And you can get to know me,” Sidney said desperately, “We still love each other – isn’t that enough?”

Maeva’s face must’ve looked as incredulous as she felt, because he squeezed her hand a little tighter, eyes burning with intensity. She remembered that look. It still had the same effect on her, knowing that Sidney was leading up to something heart achingly earnest.

“You are right, I’ve changed – I’m not the same man I was before. I made the biggest mistake of my life taking you for granted, letting you go when I should’ve fought for us, and I regretted it the moment I realised you’d truly left. My stupid pride kept me from reaching out to you in the first few weeks, and when I got over myself, it was too late.”

“Sidney…” she murmured.

“No-one would tell me where you went. Your parents wouldn’t talk to me, or to my mom. Your friends blocked my number. All Taylor could find out was that you were in Cole Harbor for a few months before you left for good and that you’ve barely been back since. I searched for you, for any sign of you, wherever I went and it still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

“Sidney,” she repeated, tears stinging her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Mae. I love you. I always have – it was always you. It was always going to be you, and I’ve spent five years regretting every single moment of that stupid fight and everything I did leading up to it. As selfish as it is, I can only hope that no-one else has your heart. Can you ever forgive me?”

Maeva swallowed heavily, letting go of his hand to run shaky fingers through her hair in an effort to compose herself. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of hearing from him and it was also everything she’d dreaded. She’d spent so long in therapy building up her walls, repairing her heart, learning how to heal herself and protect herself from falling into this kind of heartbreak again.

But she loved him.

She loved him so deeply that she didn’t know how she could ever stop. Sidney Crosby was so intrinsically part of her that she knew that, being honest with herself, she didn’t know what a life without him looked like. It was one of the main things she still talked about with her therapist, her inability to accept anyone new into her heart, and she knew deep down that no-one would ever replace him, not truly.

But was she ready to just fall back into his arms.

“I don’t know if I can,” she said softly, and wow wasn’t the devastated look on his face heartbreaking? “I want to, Sid, but I have spent years trying to move on from you and I don’t think I can handle going through what we did again.”

Sidney let out a shaky breath, smiling sadly as his eyes shined with tears. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. I just…I want to show you that I’ve changed. I want to show you all of the love that I should’ve shown you five years ago. You deserve that much. You should have someone love you in every single way that you absolutely deserve.”

“Sidney…” was all she could murmur again.

Maybe it was her lack of refusal, or the softness in her voice, but Sidney took one of her hands again, squeezing it gently.

“I know that we have separate lives now. I know that you have created something wonderful for yourself without me. But all I’m asking for is a chance to start over,” he said softly.

“But how would that work with you in Pittsburgh and me in Vancouver?”

“You’re a Canucks fan now?” he grimaced.

Of course that was his priority. Still, she found herself choking out a laugh, shaking her head as Sidney flushed a little with shame. “I haven’t watched hockey since I left Pittsburgh. Vancouver was just the furthest I could get away and still be in Canada.”

The look that passed over his face was a curious mix of sadness, regret, and frustration, before it settled into the determination she’d known for years.

“Can I call you?”

“What?” she asked, frowning.

“Can I call you?” he repeated. “I’m still not on social media, other than whatever the team makes us do. I’m getting better at texting. Emails are so-so. But I would love to talk to you, to hear your voice. I miss you, so much.”

How did he know exactly what to say to make her heart cry out?

“Sidney, come on,” she pleaded, trying to ignore the lump rising in her throat.

But he didn’t back down.

“Tell me no, Maeva. Tell me no, and I will walk away. You know I’m not that guy – no means no, and if you mean it then I will never bother you again,” he said seriously.

“You know I can’t,” she murmured.

Sidney just let out a shaky breath, squeezing her hand again as a smile hopeful smile crept across his lips.

“So let me call you. We can start with baby steps. I know you have a life in Vancouver now…but I just want to be part of it. I wasted five years of my life without you because I was an idiot who didn’t appreciate the incredible woman I had – all I want is another chance. Do you love me?”

He really was devastating, wasn’t he?

“Do you love me?” he repeated, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“I do love you. I don’t think I know how to stop,” she said, feeling like an idiot but smiling anyway.

Sidney just smiled like he couldn’t believe his luck, and slowly lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

“I love you, Maeva,” he murmured.

He kissed her hand again before gently lowering it back down to their sides, so much emotion in his face that Maeva didn’t know what else she could possibly do.

“You can call me. I’m making no promises, but you can call me,” she said softly.

The smile that spread across his face made her heart soar for the first time in years.

Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep? Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories? Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece? Little do you know I need a little more time?

Oh wait, just wait, I love you like I've never felt the pain, Just wait, I love you like I've never been afraid, Just wait, our love is here, is here to stay, So lay your head on me.

#my writing #nicole's b-day bingo #sidney crosby fic #exes to lovers #sidney crosby fanfic #sidney crosby imagine #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfic

180 notes · View notes

rollingsins · 1 year

Text

all hers, part xiii

summary: You deserve everything Ghostface is giving you, you know it deep down. Why should you live while the others died?

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder. Ghost face spoilers for Scream 1-4.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: 👀 smashed through my writers block, let me know your 🔪🔪 theories.

You haven’t left the car - or Tara’s lap - by the time the police arrive.

Sam greets them, watches as they make their way through the house, casing for strewn pieces of clothing, discarded weapons, footprints, handprints, anything.

But there’s nothing to find. Ghostface is long gone.

By the time they’re done, your anxiety is at an all time high, not even Tara’s arms around you enough to quell the fear inside you. Your chest thumps uncomfortably. Your palms are shaky, sweaty. Flashes of the mask, the knife raised against you.

Is this how Tara’s victims felt in the end? Is this how Wes felt?

The only difference between you and Wes is you’d survived. And he’d died innocent while you survived, guilty. It isn’t fair. You deserve everything Ghostface is giving you, you know it deep down. Your will to live is selfish, almost.

Why should you live while the others died?

The answer is pressed to your side. She’s beautiful, as ever, squeezing your hand so tight the tips of your fingers turn white. Her knee bounces steadily, an indication of her nerves. Her dark eyes are wild, flitting from you to the house to the officers on the lawn. Scanning, as if Ghostface will jump out at any moment. God help him if he does, when she’s like this. White-faced, quietly stewing in her own anger and anxiety. You can almost hear the cogs turning in her brain as she runs wild with the possibilities of who it could be.

The police have questions, what feels like millions of them. The most pressing is why. Why would Ghostface target you specifically? Of course, you know why.

You don’t mention the other victims. You don’t mention Tara’s Ghostface mask hidden in a lockbox in her closet. You don’t mention the motive Ghostface had all but spit into your face.

Someone who thinks you should pay.

Tara, a little on edge, tires very quickly of their incessant questions.

“There’s never a why, do you even live in this town?” Tara barks, voice hot with annoyance, “They’re random. They’ve always been random.”

“That’s not exactly true.” It’s Sheriff Hicks. She climbs out of her squad car, slips her gun into her holster as she stands.

Your chest tightens. She makes you so nervous. You’re so scared one of these days you’ll slip, blurt out the truth before it’s too late.

“Billy Loomis blamed Sidney for his mother abandoning him. Nancy Loomis blamed her for killing her son. Roman Bridger and Jill Roberts wanted infamy.” She surveys you, hand resting gently on her holstered pistol, “The question is: what does this Ghostface want?”

The back of your neck prickles uncomfortably under her gaze. You sink deeper into Tara, wear her almost like a shield.

“Forget his motive, what are you going to do about catching him?” Tara says, arm tight around your waist, “I want a squad car here 24/7. I want officers escorting YN to school. I want a walkie talkie and a phone number so we can have direct contact with them whenever we need-”

The thought of stepping foot into that house sends shockwaves of panic through your body. You grip her waist, tight, trying to draw her attention.

“I can’t go back in there.” You say, voice tight, “Tara, I can’t stay here tonight. I can’t sleep here.”

If Tara’s surprised by this, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she wraps her arms tight around your shoulder and presses a long kiss to your forehead.

“Okay baby.” She says, “We’ll stay with your parents, how about that?”

“I can post a squad car.” Sheriff Hicks interjects, “Two officers. I’ll give you their cell numbers. I’m afraid we’re all out of walkie-talkies.”

She looks at you, for the first time in a long time there’s sympathy in her eyes, “You’re going to be okay.” She promises, “My officers are the very best. But you call me if you remember anything. Anything at all that could help.”

The moment is interrupted by the sheen of blinding headlights. You avert your gaze, blink away the stars in your eyes at the sudden intrusion.

It’s a familiar truck, the heavy slam of the door signals the driver has exited the vehicle. You squint, make out Richie’s figure as he rushes towards you.

“Hey. I came here as fast as I could. Where’s Sam, is she okay?” He’s out of breath, a little panicked as he scans the driveway for his girlfriend.

“Sam’s fine.” Tara says, her shoulders tight, “YN was attacked.”

Richie blinks.

“By Ghostface? Are you alright?”

“Of course she’s not alright.” Snaps Tara, “Some psycho just attacked her at knifepoint.”

She pauses, as if something has just occurred to her. Suspicion brews in her eyes.

“Where have you been?”

Richie draws his attention back to her. The lights of the police sirens flash across his face.

“I was meeting some friends at a bar,” Richie says, “Is Sam in the house?”

“What friends? You got an alibi?” Tara asks, her eyebrows drawn tight.

“You’re not serious?” Richie stares back at her.

The Sheriff tilts her head, suddenly interested.

“Do you?” She reiterates, “Tara and Sam are accounted for. We’ll need to corroborate with any potential witnesses who can place you at the bar.”

Richie opens his mouth in disbelief. He looks between the three of you, waiting for the punchline.

“I didn’t make it there. Sam called-”

The Sheriff hums, scribbles something down on her notepad.

“So no alibi.” Tara scoffs, “You’ve been here two weeks and the one night you go out, YN gets attacked.”

“This is ridiculous.” Richie splutters, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, “Tara. Why would I attack YN? I have no motive.”

But Tara’s mind is made up, she crosses her arms, glares at the Sheriff.

“Are you going to arrest him or what?”

“Tara. I can’t just arrest people.” The Sheriff says, closing her notebook. She looks at Richie, “I suggest you outline to one of my officers the exact route you took to and from the bar. If we can place you on CCTV we can rule you out as a suspect.”

“You can’t arrest people?” Tara challenges. There’s that fire, the one that’s been brewing for the last hour, finally emerging, “What kind of a Sheriff are you?”

“Tara.” You hiss. You turn back to the Sheriff, eyes wide, “I am so sorry, Sheriff, she’s just scared-”

“Scared?” Tara says, sounding outraged. Her dark eyes burn, “I’m furious. I have a prime suspect for you and you won’t arrest him-”

“Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I put on a Ghostface mask and tried to kill your girlfriend.” Richie argues, loudly.

“What’s going on?” It’s Sam, finally emerging from the house. Richie and Tara both turn to face her, matching expressions of outrage on their faces.

“What’s going on? Your creep of a boyfriend just tried to murder my girlfriend.” Tara snarls.

Richie throws his hands up.

“Why? Why would I want to kill her?”

“I don’t know.” Tara says, “You tell me. Because you’re twisted?”

“You know what,” Richie says, his nostrils flaring. He points his finger at her, “It definitely wasn’t me, because if I was going to murder anyone, it would be you-”

“Stop it!” Sam yells, “Both of you. God. You’re like fucking children.”

They both fall silent. Glare at each other. Sam storms off, presumably back into the house. With a final dirty look at Tara, Richie turns and follows her inside.

You take Tara’s hand, rub your fingers over the back of her hand reassuringly. Richie is a little strange, granted, but you seriously doubt he’d try and kill you. You’ll talk her down later tonight, you figure. Right now; you want out of here.

“Do you have any more questions, Sheriff?” You ask, quietly hoping the answer is no, “I need to call my Dad.”

She surveys you for a moment.

“I think we’re all good here.” She says, finally, “Call me if you remember anything.”

Your Dad is freaked, rightfully so.

In a panic, he demands you come home. He seems to be so frightened he doesn’t even protest when you tell him Tara’s coming too.

She’s still glaring at Richie as she pulls out of the driveway, leaving the slew of officers and sirens behind as she makes her way to your parents home. One hand on the wheel, the other gripping your thigh, tight.

“It’s him, I know it’s him.” She stews, hands tightening on the wheel, “How fucking suspicious can he be. Meeting with some friends, my ass.”

“We don’t know that, babe.” You say, squeezing her hand, “He’s kind of right - what’s his motive? As far as I know we haven’t done anything to offend him.”

“I’ve been on his ass since he got here.” Tara says, “Maybe he’s sick of me. Of us.”

“Or maybe it’s someone else.” You say, staring out the window, “Someone related to the others. Sadie has a brother, I think. One of Aaron’s friends? One of Chase’s?”

There’s a long list of people who would want vengeance on the two of you. It hurts your head to think about.

“Cool it on Richie, please babe. If he is Ghostface, the last thing we need is him getting spooked.”

“I need to get him away from Sam,” She says, chewing her bottom lip, “If he hurts her-”

“We don’t know it’s him, babe.” You say, pressing your hand over Tara’s, rub the back of her knuckles, “Besides, if he is Ghostface, he’s not going to kill her. His beef is with us.”

It doesn’t calm her down. Her knee is still bouncing when she pulls into your parents driveway, grip around thigh so tight it’s starting to hurt. She shuts off the car and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry baby.” She says, voice heavy. Despite the comfort she’s trying to give you, her eyes betray her. Brown, wide, swimming with worry, “No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I’m not taking my eyes off you. You’re not going anywhere alone, I mean it. You’ll have to get used to me watching you pee.”

You half think she’s kidding, until she follows you upstairs and into the bathroom.

“Absolutely not.” You say, pressing your hand to her chest and pressing a kiss to her lips, “Wait here.”

“But-”

“Ghostface isn’t hiding in the bathtub, babe.” You tell her, and close the door behind you.

You pause. Check the bathtub just in case.

Your parents make a fuss, like you knew they would. Your mom rushes off to comfort cook, something she does best, and your Dad gets his power tools out, triple checks all the windows and doors for any shaky locks.

If he minds Tara staying the night, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he hovers at the bedroom door, eyeing her up as he reiterates his safety mechanisms.

“Keep the door locked,” He says, voice gruff as you climb onto the bed, next to Tara, “At all times. Front and back. I have a security specialist coming in tomorrow to install some cameras and alarms.”

“Thanks Dad.” You say. It takes the weight of your chest, just a little.

“I’ve got my shotgun loaded and ready to go,” He continues, “If you hear anything- anything at all - just call out and I’ll be here in a moment.”

“Do you have a spare?” Tara asks suddenly, “Gun, that is? I’ll be a little closer, is all.”

He watches her for a moment. That expression is on his face - the one he always wears when he sees Tara. Mild distaste, like he’s just taken a bite of something that’s gone bad. Briefly, you worry he’s going to try to kick her out.

“I can’t give a gun to a kid.” He says, voice curt. Her brows furrow.

“This kid might be the only person who’s able to protect her in time.” Tara challenges, “You’re all the way across the hall. What if he covers her mouth so she can’t cry out?”

“Babe.” You warn, “It’s fine. We’ll be fine.”

Your Dad shifts his weight, staring Tara down. You know he doesn’t like her, it’s written all over his face. But if she goes, so do you. And he understands that, you know he does.

“I have a handgun.” He says, finally. He looks at you, “I’ll give it to YN. Remember those lessons down at the cabin? You’re confident you know how to use it?”

You nod.

When you were younger, your Dad had taken you shooting, taught you how to fire a gun, how to load it - and most importantly, how not to hurt yourself doing it. The thought of drawing out a gun to protect Tara from Ghostface’s knife makes you feel only the slightest bit better.

He looks back to Tara. The distaste is back in his expression.

“It’s for her. You’re not to touch it. Understand?”

You can feel Tara fizzling next to you. Her fingers curl, and before she can give your Dad the dressing down you know she so desperately wants to give, you jump in.

“She understands.” You say quickly, “Thanks Dad.”

“I don’t know what his problem is,” Tara complains, stormy-eyed, when he finally leaves, “I’m just trying to protect you.”

“He’s just being a Dad,” You say, pulling her into your arms and quelling her mood with a kiss, “Don’t take it personally.”

Dinner’s awkward.

Your head is a mess, heart pounding out of your chest every time you think of the looming threat. Tara grips your thigh under the table protectively, as if she’s afraid Ghostface might launch in any second and send the roast laid out on the table flying.

Your Dad glares at Tara. Tara glares back at him. Your mom stares at you, worry in her eyes.

You stare down at your plate, your appetite somewhat dissipated.

“I just don’t understand.” Your mom says for what seems like the hundredth time this evening, “What does he want with you?”

“What does he want with any of them?” You mumble, “He’s a psycho, that’s all.”

You push a rogue potato around your plate, starting to regret the choice to come home. At least Sam’s questions were easily combatted by one of Tara’s swiftly timed jabs. You could hardly expect Tara to snap at your Mom.

“Let’s not talk about it.” Your Dad says, to your relief, “You’re freaking her out.”

“I’m just saying,” Says your Mom, chewing her lip, “Are we sure he was there… for you?”

She lets it hang. The scrape of cutlery against plates stops momentarily, as the entire table takes in the implication. You frown, look up at your Mom.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She says, hurriedly. You don’t miss the glance she sneaks at Tara.

“Seriously?” You say, “You’re blaming Tara?”

“I’m not blaming anyone.” She says quickly, “I’m just saying-”

“Well, don’t.” You snap, standing up, “God. Tell me now if you don’t want us here and we’ll go.”

“Of course we want you here.” Your Mom says, “YN, sit down, please sweetheart-”

“I’m not hungry.” You say, scooting yourself away from the table, “Thanks anyway. Come on, babe, let’s go to bed.”

They don’t protest as you lead Tara upstairs and into your bedroom. You slip your pants off, curl up into bed, take Tara in your arms.

“Your Mom’s right, you know.” She says, after a quiet moment, “None of this would be happening if it weren’t for me.”

“Don’t say that.” You murmur. You press a kiss to her head, wrap your arms a little tighter around her.

“It’s true.”

It is true. But she doesn’t need to think that, not right now. You curl your fingers through her dark hair, scratch her scalp affectionately.

“You-” You hesitate, picking your words carefully, “You’ve made some mistakes. But that’s in the past now. You turned over a new leaf, remember?”

You remember it vividly. The night after Amber’s death, making her swear black and blue she’d never kill again. Promising her she’d never have a reason. She shifts in your arms and looks up at you. There’s something in her eyes. Fear. Hesitance.

“Baby,” She says, biting her lip, “Whoever this person is. I have to kill him. You know that, right?”

Your stomach flips.

“No.” You say immediately, “No, Tara.”

“If he’s alive, he’ll hurt you. You know I can’t let that happen. We can’t turn him in, he knows too much. It’s the only way.”

That sinking feeling is back. The one that had been there when Chase died. The one after Amber and the one after Wes. Like everything is crumbling around you. You squeeze her a little tighter.

“I’ll do it.” You say. The thought makes you sick. The thought of her doing it makes you sicker.

“No, baby.” Tara says. She presses a kiss to your shoulder, “Not after last time. Look at what Wes did to you.”

“I don’t care.” You say, shaking your head, “I don't want you doing it. You can’t-”

Be trusted, is what you want to say. The Rage is terrifying, violent, and you don’t want to reawaken it. You hold it back, pull her closer to you.

“I don’t want that part of you back. I don’t like that part of you.”

Tara’s quiet a moment.

“It’s already back, babe.” She says, pulls your hand to her chest. Her heartbeat is wild, out of control, “Don’t you see? It isn’t killing that prompts it. It’s anybody trying to get to you.”

You’re too tired to fight. Too tired to admit she might be right. At the end of the day if it’s her or him, you know what you’d rather her do.

You lean down, press your lips to hers, try to redirect the conversation.

“You will sleep tonight, right?”

“Not likely.” She admits, her grip on your hips tightening.

“Let’s take it in shifts.” You suggest, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, “Half and half so we both get some sleep.”

She nuzzles her nose into the side of your neck.

“Okay. I’ll take first watch.”

She looks towards the handgun your Dad left for you on the bedside table, tugs it carefully over to her side of the bed.

“You know how to use that?” You ask, a little skeptical, “You know to turn the safety off?”

“Yes babe, I know how to use a gun.” She assures, a little irritated you asked.

“Alright, alright. Just checking. The last thing I need is you shooting yourself in the foot.”

“Give me some credit,” She grumbles, “That’s something Chad would do.”

You kiss her, softly, then snuggle down into her chest. Listen to the rise and fall of her breathing, her rampant, crazed heartbeat as it pumps in her chest.

“Remember to wake me.”

She doesn’t wake you, as you should have predicated. When you open your eyes it’s the next morning, and she’s pressing a warm kiss to your lips.

You scrunch your eyes, blink her into view.

“Babe? Did you stay up the whole night?” She kisses your forehead, nudges a warm cup of coffee into your hands.

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. There was no point in me waking you.”

“Baby.” You groan. Her eyes are red, tired. You press your hands to her cheeks, lean up to kiss her.

“You’re exhausted.”

“I’ll nap in science.” She promises, “Mrs. Fletcher is enough to put anyone to sleep. Besides. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

She kisses you again.

“Speaking of: I asked Chad and Liv to stop by with a few supplies.”

She reaches for a paper bag, empties out the contents onto your mattress. You sit up, interest piqued.

It’s nothing less of an armory. You blink, hold up a small metal device.

“A rape whistle and a taser?” You say, “Babe, how am I supposed to take this into school?”

“Keep them in your purse.” Tara says, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request, “It’s not like they check our bags. It’s for emergencies.”

She presses a long kiss to your forehead, “But you won’t need them. I’m not leaving your side. Not for a minute.”

“I have Chem today,” You say, heavily, “And you have English. We can’t be together all the time, Tara.”

“We’re skipping.” Tara says, “I’m taking you home early.”

“Tara, if the school calls my Dad and he finds out I’m skipping classes-”

“He’ll do nothing.” Tara says, fire behind her eyes, “You’re eighteen, he can’t force you home with him. And if he tries then I’ll-”

“You’re not killing my Dad.” You say, firmly. She pouts a little.

“That isn’t what I was going to say,” She says, a little put out, “I’d give him a piece of my mind, is all.”

You sit up, pull her into you.

“Sorry, babe.” You apologize, soothe her with a kiss, “I’m just a little on edge.”

“It’s fine,” She reassures, “Just please keep these on you. Please.”

You agree for her sake.

Word gets out quick.

People stare in the hallways, everyone trying to get a glimpse of Ghostface’s latest victim. It’s unsettling, this much attention. You grip Tara’s hand tight in yours and try to ignore the leering of the other students as she walks you to your locker.

When you reach it, Mindy, Chad and Liv are waiting for you.

“Is it true you saw him?” Chad asks, wide-eyed.

“Is it true he stabbed you?” Liv asks.

You shoot her a look, open your locker and grab your books for first period.

“Does it look like he stabbed me, Liv?” You ask, witheringly.

“Give her some space guys,” Tara says, pushing Liv back slightly, “She’s not a zoo animal.”

“Still.” Mindy says, “You survived a brush with Ghostface. Not many people can say that.”

You ignore the hot flash of dread that zaps through you at the mention of him. He could be anyone. Maybe he’s even here now, watching you. Waiting to get you alone. It must flash through your face because suddenly Tara’s hands are on your waist, rubbing your back reassuringly.

“She doesn’t want to talk about it.” Tara says, a little protectively, “Why don’t we meet you guys in Math.”

“Come on.” Mindy says, “Not talking about him gives him power. You don’t know who it is, right? Maybe we can help you figure it out.”

“Maybe it’s you, Mindy.” Liv says, voice sweet, “After all, you’re obsessed with horror movies.”

Mindy looks over, sharply.

“What kind of motive is that?” She says, annoyed, “Besides, I’m not the only one who likes horror movies. Tara does too. Maybe even more than me.”

“So Tara attacked her own girlfriend, that’s your theory?” Chad says, incredulous.

Mindy shrugs, “It’s happened before.”

She turns to you.

“YN, ever get the feeling like Tara wants to kill you?”

“I’m going to kill you in a minute,” Tara growls.

“Yeah.” Mindy nods, like her theory is confirmed, “Major Ghostface vibes.”

“Stop it,” You say, reaching for your Math textbook, “Tara didn’t attack me, she was with Sam. And I’d really rather not talk about it.”

Mindy’s shoulders deflate a little.

“Wes likes horror movies too.” Liv pipes up, “Maybe that’s why he ran away. He wanted us all to think he was dead so he could live his true life as Ghostface.”

You roll your eyes. Let them bicker. As you grab your final textbook your finger catches on something soft. Something you didn’t put there.

It’s a t-shirt, worn, gray, ACDC logo on the front. Your fingers curl around it, brows furrowing. Something hard is within the fabric. You fish it out, turn the cool plastic in your hand. It’s a DVD. Stab 2. Your stomach flips.

You slam your locker shut, white as a sheet. It draws the attention of the entire group. You feel a little dizzy, like you might pass out. Someone had been in your locker. It feels more of a violation than it should. Tara straightens, grips your hand.

“What’s wrong, babe?” She asks immediately.

“Bathroom.” You mumble.

You don’t say goodbye to Tara’s friends. You tug her behind you hard and fast, not sure how much longer you’ll be able to stand upright.

When you reach the bathroom, you slam the door closed, fish out the t-shirt and thrust it towards Tara.

“What’s this?” She looks confused. Flips the t-shirt in her hands.

“It’s Wes’,” You say. You take a heavy breath, try to quell the blood rushing to your ears.

Tara swallows. Her fingers brush the DVD.

“Stab 2.” She says, furrowing her brows, “What is this supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.’ You say, biting your lip, “Nothing good. How did he get into my locker?”

“The school has cameras.” Tara says, thinking fast, “If I can get into the security feed I might be able to see who it was.”

“How are you going to do that?” You ask,

She bites her lip.

“I don’t know.”

“Please don’t get yourself in trouble,” You say, reaching for her hand. You entwine your fingers, “The last thing I need is you getting kicked out of school.”

“I’ll be careful.” She promises. Dips down to kiss you.

Then, she retracts, tosses the t-shirt and DVD in the trash.

“Tara. What are you doing? What if we need that?”

“We don’t need it, babe.” Tara assures, “Ghostface is trying to fuck with us, that’s all. Besides, the last thing we need is for the Sheriff to catch us with Wes’ old t-shirt and one of his movies.”

She pulls you in again, holds you tight.

“Are you going to be okay in class?”

You nod, drop your forehead to her neck. Wrap your arms around her waist. Your hand catches on something in the back pocket of her jeans. You furrow your brow, then tug it out.

“Tara!” You hiss, mouth dropping, “You brought a knife to school?”

Tara blinks back at you.

“Of course I did.” She says, “There’s some lunatic running around. You really thought I wouldn’t come prepared?”

“Baby, if one of the teachers catches you with this-”

“I have it hidden.” She assures, “They’ll never see it. How am I supposed to protect you if I don’t have a weapon?”

You're more concerned with protecting her. There’s a horrible niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like Ghostface has been a little too easy on her so far. The knife in her hand gives you only the slightest reprieve.

“Let’s go to class.” She says, with a kiss to your cheek, “Do you have your rape whistle?”

You shoot her a look, tug at the string around your neck. She’d insisted you wear it at all times.

“Right here, babe.”

“Good girl.” She kisses you once more.

Your fingers curl around the taser in your back pocket. Slip your phone into your backpack and head to class, Tara’s fingers entwined with your own.

You take a deep breath. You're in school. In the middle of the day. Hundreds of students around.

Whoever Ghostface is, he wouldn't be so stupid to attack you in broad daylight.

Right?

next part

#ghostface!tara #all hers #mine #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader

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