Fake Blood (Ethan Landry x Reader)
Word count: 5.6K
Summary: spoiler: the blood isn’t fake. alone in your apartment after your friends had been attacked, you ask ethan to stop by. he does in an unexpected way and you get more than you bargained for
Tags: (18+), friends to lovers, minor violence, knife tw, flirting, making out, virgin!ethan, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, the ghostface robe stays on during sex, denial ab ethan being a murderer :) (if bad why hot?)
A/N: just watched scream 6 for the first time only a few days ago and couldn’t get this psycho out of my brain (tiktok edits didn’t help lol). timeline might be a little wonky but tbh it’s not relevant. also this follows the theory that ethan did the big apartment attack. I really wasn’t expecting this to be this long but it’s worth it yall I promise
cross-posted to ao3 • scream masterlist • main masterlist
As much as you liked Mindy, if you knew becoming friends with her would lead to you being integrated into her friend group of past and present serial killer victims, you might’ve thought about asking someone else to partner up with you for a presentation in your film studies class.
When you’d asked her, it was mostly to avoid having to accept an offer from a guy named Jason, who had always stared at you during that class and brought up the ‘Stab’ movies whenever he could (this was before you knew your friends knew him, but you still got a weird vibe from the guy).
She’d been excited to hang out with you after you two gave your presentation, and that’s how you wound up spending most days with her and her tight knit group of friends.
You were probably closest with Mindy, but you liked her brother too. For a guy named Chad, he was actually pretty chill. You got along with Tara as well, who was in a bit of a rebellious phase after being attacked and nearly killed, which you only learned about once they trusted you enough. Her older sister Sam was mostly cool too, but a bit overprotective. There was a gloomy aspect to her, but you supposed it made sense given that she was betrayed by her murderous boyfriend and now the internet peddled theories that blamed her for a series of killings in their home town of Woodsboro.
They had a tight bond, and even though you grew close with each of them, you knew you’d be an outsider. Like Tara and Sam’s roommate Quinn, Mindy’s girlfriend Anika, and Chad’s roommate Ethan. You all had shared multiple conversations about their trust issues. It must’ve been hard to even start to trust people after all that.
Out of all of the other “newcomers” as Mindy once put it, you got along with Ethan the best. He was a little quiet and sorta dorky (which your friends would tease him about a little—all friendly, of course) but he was fun to talk to. You guys liked a lot of the same stuff, including horror movies, and it didn’t hurt that he was cute.
In your opinion, with his curly dark hair and eyes to compliment, the whole “shy guy” thing was part of the appeal.
You wondered if he’d ever make a move, or if he even knew you were curious about him in that way. You wouldn’t go so far to say it was a crush for your ego’s sake, but you wouldn’t send him running off with his tail between his legs like you did with most guys.
Like that guy Jason from film class, who, just before Halloween, was killed alongside his roommate by a masked killer.
“Didn’t he have a thing for you?” Mindy asked you as you were all gathered around the TV, finding out the news together.
You were sitting crammed in a chair next to Ethan since the others had all taken up the couch space. He didn’t seem to mind, but it did unfortunately make it easy for them all to look your way and stare. You didn’t like the attention.
You were in shock at the news, especially when the anchor revealed Jason had also killed your film professor. Ethan pointed that out, saying if the guy was crazy enough to do that he might’ve even gone after you.
“Maybe the killer who killed him did you a favor,” Quinn suggested in response to Ethan.
The thought terrified you. You looked around the group. “Do you guys think he really would’ve hurt me? He seemed weird, not psycho.”
“We talked not that long ago, nothing seemed off,” Tara revealed with a grim look. “He asked if you and Sam were gonna come to the party.”
You hadn’t planned on going—what the hell would’ve happened if you had?
You exchanged a look with Sam, who seemed to have the wheels in her head turning.
You zoned back into the news as the reporter explained the mask found was a ghostface mask—like from the Stab movies. And of course, the actual Woodsboro killings.
“Pack a bag,” Sam told her sister, springing up to move around the apartment building.
Sam and Tara argued, which was a little weird to witness. You tried to sink back into the chair, while Ethan looked at you like he wanted to say something.
Hopefully it wasn’t “get out of the chair” because you didn’t think you could move.
The night ended with you going back to your little apartment alone. Your roommate was out of town and so your anxiety was on high alert.
A lot had happened that night apparently, including Sam and Tara getting attacked in a convenience store and them being questioned by the cops.
As much as you cared about them, you feared what would happen if you were with them.
That’s why the next night when you were invited over, you had been hesitant. A government paper was the perfect excuse, but you had FaceTimed with them so you all could keep an eye on each other.
You sat at your little desk, your laptop opened to work on your paper, and your phone propped up on your cup so you could talk to them hands free.
Apparently everyone was together at the apartment except Ethan, who told you he was studying in the library when you texted to ask him. You responded that you were working on a paper and that if he wanted to come over to keep you company, he could.
You’d spent some time alone with him, but not a lot when you really thought about it. It was always in the group—who were all murder suspects, according to Mindy’s movie rules.
You knew you weren’t the killer, and you had absolutely no motive. The others were still suspicious of you so that hurt a little (maybe that was another reason why you were keeping to yourself), but you did your best to understand that they weren’t just suspicious of you.
Everyone was a suspect, and no one was safe.
You felt even less safe when Mindy said she’d call you back. You didn’t know why she had to hang up so urgently, but you had a feeling it had to do with the emotional conversation Tara and Sam had been having in the background. You couldn’t make out most of it clear so you avoided mentioning it.
You sighed and checked your chat with Ethan. He hasn’t responded to your text. You were getting nervous now that you weren’t video chatting with your other friends anymore and the thought of being home alone didn’t bring you much ease.
You thought about just going over to the Carpenter’s (and Quinn’s) apartment, not wanting to bother Ethan further. Maybe he was ignoring you on purpose.
However, it was a far walk there. You didn’t feel safe making it alone at night—especially with a killer on the loose, likely targeting your friends. If you had a car, maybe, but you were a broke college student who could barely afford a place to live.
You sucked it up and double texted Ethan, this time asking if he could come over and that you were worried.
When he didn’t respond right away, you gave it a few minutes.
A little while longer passed and since you now couldn’t focus on your paper, you tried to call Mindy back. Then Tara. Then Chad. Then Sam. Then Quinn. Then Anika.
Not a single one of them answered.
You took a deep breath. Then, you went to double check that your door was locked.
You tried to call Ethan, but his phone went immediately to voicemail. It must’ve been dead or powered off.
That left no one else to call, and you felt more alone than ever.
You sat down at your desk and tried to focus.
You ended up going to your bedroom, putting on sleep clothes, and watching a comfort show under all your blankets instead, paper completely forgotten.
Your phone dinged from your bedside table and when you looked at it, you saw a message from Ethan. Only a few hours late, but he said he was on his way up.
That was sudden. You tried to not overthink being alone with Ethan too much.
A few moments later, there was a knock at your front door.
You climbed out of bed, not really caring that you were wearing sleep shorts and a baggy shirt. Your friends had seen you go to class in about the same when you had all night study sessions.
When you got to the door, you got a little nervous. But you knew it had to be Ethan, so you tried to push the anxiety aside and unlocked then opened the door.
You were met with shock and horror.
Towering over you in your doorway stood a figure in a black robe… and a ghostface mask.
You tried to slam the door, but the person caught it. You choked on a scream when they shoved their way in, holding a knife. There was a small stain of red on the metal blade and a darker, bigger mass on the robe.
Blood. Blood was red.
You scrambled back and tried to think of where to go. None of the doors in your apartment locked, not even the bathroom door.
Your heart and mind raced and suddenly you were spewing words.
“I don’t know what to say to make you not kill me, but I please don’t,” you rushed out.
The person—the killer—moved closer to you after shutting and locking your front door.
You ran, but there was really nowhere to go. The killer ran too. You tried to lure them to the bathroom and shove them in, but they dodged and had you almost within their grasp.
They didn’t slash the knife, though.
You ran for the front door, but the killer grabbed you by the arm. You were shoved back against your hallway wall and pinned. Your back slammed against the wall, but not hard. They held the knife to your throat—not too close, but it was still there and still kept you frozen.
“Are you gonna kill me?”
The words came out before you could stop them. You internally scolded yourself. That’s the kinda shit the girls who got murdered asked.
There was a laugh, and then a familiar voice.
“I’d never do that.”
By the time the killer reached for the mask and pulled it off, you still hadn’t processed your shock.
“Ethan?” you gawked up at him while he gave you a cheeky smile. He let the mask drop and the hand holding the knife fell to his side.
“You should’ve seen your face,” he said through a smile, excited eyes scanning your face for realization.
“Is this… is this a fucking prank?” you questioned, finally comprehending. “Ethan, what the fuck!?” You shoved him back by his shoulder, admittedly a little pissed. “You’re covered in blood!”
He stayed standing in front of you.
“It’s fake, I promise. It was just a joke,” he reasoned, looking a little guilty. “Y’know, cause Halloween and… alright, maybe my timing isn’t great.”
You scoffed out a laugh at that. “It’s terrible timing. There really is someone after us.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Ethan apologized with a small, apologetic smile. You stared at him, still surprised. He looked so innocent for someone that could pull off, let alone come up with, such a messed up prank.
“Is this where you’ve been? Dressing up to mess with me while there really is a killer after us?” You questioned, raising your brows and crossing your arms.
“Y’know, if there really is a killer after us, we probably shouldn’t let each other die virgins,” Ethan stated in a flirtatious way he easily could’ve played off as a joke. Maybe it was entirely a joke, but you played along in a different direction.
You scoffed. “And you’re just assuming I’m a virgin?”
He shrugged, the long fabric of his costume rustling. “I see how you are with guys. They want you, you never want them.”
“So what, I’m a tease?” you guessed, used to hearing that but a little disappointed to think it would come from him.
“No,” he clarified quickly. “But they’re just never good enough for you and you know that. Like that jerk Jason.”
You cringed a little at the mention of him, and then felt bad about that. The guy had been murdered, after all.
“Don’t say that, he’s dead.”
“So what?” Ethan asked plainly, surprising you a little. “He was a killer too. He could’ve gone after you, you should be grateful to whoever did it.”
You furrowed your brows. He was starting to sound like someone else. “Grateful?”
“It’s okay, you’re allowed to be.” Ethan’s expression as he spoke was one of reassurance. “You could’ve been next, you never know. He was one of those guys who couldn’t take a hint that he was beneath you.”
You had no idea he thought that way about you—that there were men he deemed unworthy. It was enough to distract you from the shift in his demeanor.
“And what? You’re saying you’re one of the guys who’s good enough for me?” you couldn’t help but wonder. You never thought about your dating history (or lack of) like that.
“Hell no,” he said, surprising you yet again. You were expecting a ‘yes’ with the way he was coming onto you all of the sudden, but what he said carried even more of a self-depreciating brand of charm. “But I’m hoping maybe you’ll pity the loser who’s had a hopeless crush on you for a while now and give him a chance.”
“You’re not a loser,” you said before you registered the rest of his words. When you did, you were taken aback at the confession. “But you’re not usually this… bold, Ethan.”
You wanted to ask him if something was wrong, but there was a lot wrong these past few hours.
“What can I say? I’ve been feeling more confident recently.”
You hummed, understanding that in a way.
“Maybe it’s the whole ‘we could die any second’ thing,” you ventured a guess.
He smiled to himself, like you’d just referenced an inside joke you weren’t a part of.
“Could be,” he agreed. He laughed a little and looked down at himself, then met your eyes again. “Sorry about scaring you. It was in poor taste. We both like horror movies… I don’t know, it was stupid.”
You scoffed, but you weren’t really mad anymore.
“I like horror movies, I don’t want to be in one,” you told him, eyeing the knife he held loosely in his right hand. “Is the knife real?”
“What?” Ethan asked, feigning confusion. He lifted the knife and examined it. “This knife?”
“Yeah, that knife,” you parroted back his playful tone. “You said the blood is fake, but is the knife real?”
A devious look crossed Ethan’s face. He held it to your throat slowly, holding it horizontally. You didn’t flinch, much to his pleasure. He seemed almost impressed.
“Gotta be authentic, right?” he mused, eyes flicking to your parted lips as you breathed steadily. “Can I kiss you?”
When his curious eyes looked back at yours, you couldn’t help but notice he still held the knife. The rush of excitement you felt scared you more than the fear of him letting it slip forward.
“What’s the knife for?” you asked with a surge of confidence, taunting him a little. “If I say no?”
Ethan laughed at that. He pulled it back and let it drop to the floor. It clattered against the wood, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. But it wasn’t from fear—it was from anticipation. Maybe your curiosity was a little more than that after all.
“You’re safe with me,” he assured. “Promise.”
His words felt layered, but in a way you couldn’t define.
Perhaps it was his way of saying he’d protect you. Maybe it was strange, especially given his entrance, but you found yourself feeling exactly that with Ethan. Safe.
Nothing was going to hurt you, certainly not him.
“About that kiss…” you started, giving him the indication that he was looking for.
Ethan took the hint and ran with it, lips crashing into yours in the blink of an eye.
His lips were soft, but the kiss was needy and hungry. You tried to move your lips in sync with his, but he was much more dominant.
A joke that you’d never say flashed by about him practicing.
It was easy not to laugh when Ethan’s hand threaded into your hair and his tongue began to explore your mouth.
The leather glove felt strange. It made you pull back a little, which you almost couldn’t do with the way Ethan eagerly chased your swollen lips with his own.
You glanced over his costume again. It looked really legit—when did he have time to get it? Was he actually gonna wear this for Halloween? You swore you remembered him and Chad talking about some other costume he made out of cardboard for the frat party.
Before you could spiral down that path, Ethan pulled the leather gloves off quickly and cast them aside. It was like he could read your mind. Both hands went to your face, pulling you to meet him halfway in another searing kiss.
You didn’t know what was coming over you, but whatever it was was causing arousal to stir in your belly.
You figured out the answer to that pretty quickly.
It was want. You wanted Ethan.
“Is the other offer still on the table?” you uttered softly when you and Ethan had to part for air.
He grinned, unable to contain it.
“Thought there was no way in hell that would work,” Ethan admitted a little breathlessly. “Thought I never stood a chance with you, but I liked you anyway.”
Ethan had a boyish charm about him usually, but now that was combined with a streak of deviance that you finally now noticed.
You weren’t expecting to be as intrigued by it as you were.
“Give yourself a little more credit,” you told Ethan, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch a little. One hand rested on your shoulder and the other fell to hold your hip, tucking under your baggy shirt and rubbing your skin beneath. “You are pretty cute.”
Ethan’s smile only grew, but when you leaned in to kiss him again his lips met yours.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and guided the two of you to the ground with your back leaning against the wall. He was in front of you, on his knees, with you in his lap.
You ran a hand through his curly hair and you guided his lips back to yours. From what he’d revealed, Ethan hadn’t had a lot of experience with girls. It was a damn shame, because the boy was a great kisser.
His hand caressed your thigh as he trailed upward. You gave him a soft sound of encouragement when his fingers found their way to the waistband of your shorts.
“Is this okay?” Ethan asked, which made you want to grab him and kiss him again.
“Yeah.”
His hand slid into your shorts and your underwear.
One finger—you guessed middle—pushed inside of you. A small gasp escaped you at the intrusion and he watched your face.
Ethan was making sure the sound wasn’t of pain, which it wasn’t, and you appreciated that.
He withdrew the digit, then pushed in again. He repeated the motion a few more times before adding his index finger.
Ethan’s breathing grew heavy as he felt you squeeze around his fingers. He thrust and curled them inside you with rhythm. He managed to find one pretty quickly. That plus his thumb rubbing at your clit, you were falling apart in mere minutes.
Your brief orgasm rocked your whole body, leaving you clenching his fingers and quivering.
Ethan muttered things to you, but you could hardly hear over the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.
Your head rested back against the wall as you caught your breath, still trembling from the aftershocks. Ethan withdrew his hand from between your legs and out of your shorts.
Your eyelids felt heavy, but in between slow blinks you saw him lift his fingers to his lips. You watched breathlessly as he placed them into his mouth and moaned at the taste of you.
No words would come out of your mouth, but he took rendering you speechless as a compliment.
“I’ve thought about that,” Ethan started, voice a little ragged. He was watching you, but his hand had moved off to the side. “What you’d look like… what you’d sound like… what you’d taste like.” The awe in his eyes as he spoke left you swooning.
“And?” you managed, sitting up a little straighter.
With the change in your angle, you could feel the bulge in his pants, even though the added layer of the costume he had yet to remove.
“You’re better than I ever imagined,” Ethan finished.
A scrape against the floor alarmed you. You looked to the sound and saw Ethan grabbing the knife off of the floor.
You watched as he brought it between your bodies. He first tucked it through the leg of your shorts, the cold metal sliding against your skin as it caught under your underwear as well. Then, he pointed the sharp side facing out. Finally, he sliced up through the fabric. You gasped a little as the cold air of the room hit your newly exposed skin. He did the same with the other leg, then pulled the tattered material away from your body.
You did the honors of pulling off your shirt. You didn’t have a bra underneath and you almost laughed at the way Ethan gawked at your fully naked body when you cast it aside.
“Your turn,” you told him. You were completely undressed, while he still wore the long, black disguise.
“Actually,” Ethan said a little eerily. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I was thinking I could leave it on?”
It was a question, there was room for you to say no. Maybe you should’ve, it was a little weird. But you weren’t really thinking about that. You were more focused on how badly you wanted Ethan to fuck you, and that clouded your brain.
“As long as you don’t put the mask back on,” you relented in a joking tone.
“You’re so fucking cool,” Ethan rushed out before slamming his lips into yours. The knife was cast aside again—you didn’t see it happen, but both of his hands were on your face.
You laughed a little against his lips, dazed and drunk on arousal. You didn’t really care about the logistics of it.
His hands moved down, but you were distracted by his lips dominating yours.
You heard the sound of his zipper being undone and he moved a little—you guessed shoving his pants down his thighs.
There was no time to look down because in a rush, Ethan was pinning you back against the wall with his body. One hand gripped your waist, holding you in place for him. The other was presumably guiding his cock to your entrance.
You gasped a little against his lips when he started to press forward while simultaneously pulling you down into his lap. The fabric of the costume draped over your thighs, blocking your view.
The stretch of his cock pushing into you was more intense than you could’ve predicted, but your whole body trembled with pleasure at the feel.
Finally, he either got too excited or lost his patience, and guided you down the rest of the way until he was fully sheathed inside of you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ethan cursed to himself, body straining to keep from moving. His head dropped to your shoulder, heavy breaths hitting your neck. He leaned against you, forcing you against the wall.
His cock twitched inside of you and his body tensed, trying to hold back.
You panted slightly, trying to get your breath back. You ran a hand up his back and you felt him shiver. Your hand moved up the back of his neck and into his mess of curls.
You always liked Ethan’s hair.
You gave a small, barely qualifiable tug, but it had an effect. His body jerked, causing him to move inside of you. You gasped a little, but the motion felt good.
He lifted his head to look at you. His face was a little flushed and the lust blown look in his eyes made you quiver.
“You can move,” you whispered out, not trusting your voice.
Ethan didn’t need to be told twice. He secured the arm around your waist a little tighter and he put the other hand on the wall, giving himself leverage.
The slow drag of him moving out of you made you gasp for breath. The thrust back in knocked the air out of your lungs.
He set a quick pace after that, hips slamming eagerly into yours as the pleasure and excitement overwhelmed him.
It felt good, really fucking good.
Neither of you knew exactly what you were doing, but you were sure you’d figured it out because your whole body tingled with pleasure.
You cried out his name, which only spurred him on.
In a jarring movement you could hardly track, Ethan dragged you from the wall to the floor. He put himself on top of you, never once withdrawing from inside of you.
He watched your face as he pounded into you. Ethan had more leverage this way, able to grip your hip in one hand while the other held the top half of him off of you by being planted on the floor near your head.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, which you couldn’t see because the bottom half of your body was covered by the black costume. You hardly paid any attention to that aspect. You didn’t care that he wore it, not when you were this caught up in pleasure.
(In hindsight, you should’ve).
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Ethan breathed out, hips starting the stutter with every thrust.
The knot in your belly started to tighten as he buried himself into you over and over.
You couldn’t speak, your breathing was so labored as you reached to cling to him.
His head dropped down to your shoulder as he allowed more of his body weight to fall onto you. You found yourself enjoying the feel of him truly being on top of you.
You hardly noticed the fake blood smearing onto your bare skin. When you did, you were too gone to care.
You bucked your hips, meeting his stuttering thrusts. He was getting close to his edge and so were you. You moaned beneath him as his forceful thrusts sparked pleasure through your entire body.
“I’m close,” you managed to moan out against his ear.
“Oh, fuck,” Ethan groaned out, cock pulsing inside of you at the thought. He lifted his head enough to be able to watch your face. “Come again for me, please,” he panted out, nearly falling over the edge at the mere anticipation.
The begging was hot, and your body was already ready to give him what he wanted.
You noticed his eyes flicking down your body, seeing the red stains on your skin. That was quickly forgotten by you when your whole body began to tense and quiver. You held onto him tight as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.
You didn’t see his eyes linger.
Ethan couldn’t hold it together, not with the way your body tightened around him as your orgasm rocked you.
He collapsed on top of you, holding you against him as his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes were clenched shut as he frantically shoved his hips against yours, burying himself deep. His cock twitched, his whole body shivering as he spilled himself inside of you with a moan.
The sound of him alone was enough to prolong your pleasure as you rode it out, but the extra movement and the feeling of him filling you was an added bonus.
He kissed you hard on the lips, effectively pulling the air from your lungs.
After a moment, he found the strength to roll off of you, only to then drag you to his side.
“I can die a happy man, now,” he joked morbidly.
You shoved him a little by the shoulder like you had before, but not enough to actually make him go anywhere.
“Don’t say shit like that,” you argued weakly.
He flashed you a brief grin. “I meant it as a compliment.”
You rolled your eyes and did you best to laugh it off.
You lost track of how long it took you to move from the floor to your couch. The same thing happened between the time it took for you to get from the couch to your shower.
It was a tiny shower that couldn’t fit two people, so you rinsed off as quick as you could. You were tired, and your legs felt weak, and you knew you’d be sore in a way that would make it hard to keep calm tomorrow.
Whatever he had used for the blood, at least it washed off fast. You were able to finish up in a matter of minutes.
You threw on new pajamas and crawled into your bed, managing to tell Ethan to take however long he wanted and that he could stay over if he wanted.
You found yourself hoping he would.
You were nearly asleep when the shower shut off and Ethan finally joined you in bed. He was only in his boxers and a black t-shirt, which he must’ve been wearing under the costume robe.
A thought nagged at the back of your mind about the costume, wondering why he’d gone through all of that just to mess with you for a minute—albeit a terrifying minute. It didn’t seem like him, but then you remembered you’d only met him a few months ago.
You were so exhausted you fell asleep in his arms, not awake enough to care about all of the weird details. In fact, the only thing you could think about was how much you liked falling asleep with Ethan’s arms around you.
In the morning, you found out your friends had all been attacked.
You showed up with Ethan after the feed on your college’s chat app blew up with images of cops swarming and ambulances outside of Sam, Tara, and Quinn’s apartment.
Mindy seemed relieved to see you, but not so much when she realized Ethan was with you. Maybe she’d cleared you as a suspect in her head.
She yelled at him to stay back, accusing him of being the killer. Nobody was taking Quinn’s death well, but Mindy was especially heartbroken over Anika.
“Stay back!” Mindy yelled at Ethan, who did as she commanded.
Everyone turned on him then, even Chad. Everyone except you. They demanded his alibi.
“How do I know you’re not the killer, roomie,” Chad spit at him, amped up.
“I was with Y/N last night,” Ethan defended, holding his hands up in a small show of innocence, before you could say a word. “We were… preoccupied, alright?”
You wanted to elbow him for how he worded it, he couldn’t have been more obvious if he tried. It might’ve been on purpose, you weren’t sure.
He wasn’t close enough to do that, though, and now all eyes were on you.
“Yeah, he was with me,” you backed Ethan up.
You weren’t going to leave him hanging because it was the truth, but you knew what that implied, and so did your friends. They all shared subtle—but not unnoticeable—looks. Your face felt warm, while Ethan bit back a prideful smile.
“So you guys, um…”
“Chad, stop,” Tara scolded him before he could point out the obvious.
“Point is, we had nothing to do with this,” Ethan stated.
We?
They were suspicious of him, and now he was lumping the two of you together. There were always two killers in the movies—you began to doubt if the alibi would ease their anxiety or only spike it.
You thought back to when he had showed up to your apartment in that costume. He’d scared you, but you accepted it when he told you it was a joke that he mistakenly took too far.
It made you wonder. What if it was him?
If he wanted to hurt you, he easily could’ve. That didn’t seem to be his intention. What was? Seeing how much he could scare you? Get your heart rate up? Seeing if you wouldn’t believe him?
Or was it seeing if he could put the evidence right in front of you and have you ignore it because of a crush?
Fuck. Maybe it was some weird combination of all. Were you that gullible? Or were you overthinking it now?
Your brain struggled to come up with a conclusion.
You wanted to believe Ethan was innocent. You really, really did.
It was easier than believing you had slept with a killer. Or potentially worse, that you had feelings for one.
Ethan gave you a slight, assuring smile.
Your head told you one thing, but your heart told you another.
Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you kept your mouth shut and gave him one back.
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⋆。‧₊°♱༺ CHERRY FLAVOURED ༻♱༉‧₊˚.
ellie williams x fem!reader
summary: when you and ellie started your situationship, you had one single request; a bag of cherries every time she showed up at your doorstep. unfortunately, you want more than that.
warnings: 18+, smut, angst at the end if you squint, mentions of weed, weed consumption, cunnilingus, kinda sorta dealer!ellie ( not all that relevent to the plot ), ellie's kind of a dick, womanzier!ellie, not proof-read
a/n: a repost because i deleted my old account on a whim ;)
The tips of your fingers were coated in crimson.
Red and sticky.
Warm wetness trickling down your palms' creases, spreading sugary stained streaks onto the heat of your velvet skin; something you grew indifferent to. It was always so messy — the plump fruit surrounded by the shelter of your mouth, sweet and addicting every single time. Even with a bad full, they were something you’d savor with every inch of your being, as they were too small to enjoy fully. There would be at least five seconds of flavor before you were left with a bitter taste on the surface of your tongue, a wine-red tint coating the lingual papillae to give you something to remember them by.
Your constant craving was satiated, alongside the need to see the person that brought them for you every Wednesday without fail. Three sharp knocks on the scuffed steel of your front door were the beginning of five months entwined in your sheets, sinking into the comfort of your mattress. The scent of cherry blossom and freshly washed linen stuck to you as if to taunt you whenever she’d leave in the middle of the night, love bites littered across the expanse of your chest, reaching the insides of your soul.
Just like those fucking cherries you were addicted to — you were addicted to her.
Ellie.
The girl stood at a measly five foot three. Kissed from head to toe with freckles that dotted her gentle skin in a multitude of clusters, eyes as green as the moss that’d grow in the crevices of your roof, and a seemingly unbearable attitude to those she rendered unworthy of her time and presence. You, unlike other people, got to experience two of those things from her simultaneously in the form of discarded clothes and rushed greedy touches.
The unwavering connection between you two was there from the moment she laid her irises on you in that hazy, smoke-filled basement last October at Ollie’s. A fat joint laced with bad intentions between the pink, plump flesh of her lips as she weighed the two options that arose. Either she could approach you, ask you for your name, and smooth talk her way into your heart till the pads of her fingers made it past the waistband of your underwear — or — she could keep still on that withering couch she sat on and smoke her head off.
And it was such an easy choice for her, that she mentally hit herself for even thinking of the latter.
That one, singular encounter changed the trajectory of her life, as dramatic as it sounded. The reason for that one was fairly simple.
You tasted too fucking good.
That was the only reason she found herself here. Her head between the fat of your thighs, warm breath hitting your cunt just like the many times before this one, hands squeezing the outside of your skin so hard you were sure they’d be marked for the next few hours.
“Ellie, c’mon.” You hissed through clenched teeth, jaw grinding in annoyance at the lack of attention you were receiving. She was right there. So fucking close to your core that all she had to do was dart her tongue out and the arousal that coated your slick would pour onto her tastebuds.
“You keep talking and I swear I’ll fucking leave.” She spat, narrowing her eyes at you, watching as you clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth.
Curling your lips into a frown, your elbows dug into the springs as you propped yourself up. “You wouldn’t.”
She rose an eyebrow, the skin of her forehead creasing slightly before she tightened her grip on your thighs, a twinge of interest sparkling in those dark eyes. “But I would.”
As she lazily drawled out those three words, her right hand snaked its way to your core. Her index finger slid through your folds with ease, a slight buck of your hips stopping them from moving any further.
You were soaked. It was as obvious as her favoritism toward you. Not just as one of her clients, but as the girl she occasionally fucked with no strings attached from time to time.
From the low lighting of the lamp on the corner of your nightstand, your slick glistened in the sliver of light that shone behind her head when she lowered it even further.
“You’re so fucking wet f’me, princess.”
The guttural whine that left your throat was animalistic. Something that sneakily blended in with the blood in your veins and tainted every healthy cell in your body, starting from the very back of your brain to the tips of your curling toes.
With your hands grasping the light green and pink polka dot sheets that decorated your bed, you took a sudden interest in drawing invisible patterns on the ceiling in your head, shuddering when the muscle of her tongue finally made contact with your clit.
“Oh — fuck!”
Giving you no chance to recover, she continued, flicking her tongue so harshly, that you were positive she’d have lockjaw by the end of the session.
“Always letting me fuck you so good.” She murmured against you, hollowing out her cheeks as she sucked, taking every last drop of your wetness into her mouth as if she was being deprived of water.
Wednesday’s were your favorite day of the week thanks to her. It was as if she were an excessive amount of caffeine you desperately wanted as soon as your heavy lids opened. Except, she wasn’t black coffee, albeit the bitterness rooted deep within her. She was the bag of cherries that sat in your refrigerator, rationed throughout the week as a means to keep them longer.
At first, you thought of it as foolish to share yourself so intimately with someone you barely knew. To poke a finger into your chest and claw the flesh apart with your bare hands, bearing your entire soul.
She still didn’t know your favorite color. She still didn’t know your favorite book. Hell, she still didn’t even know if you preferred smoking joints or blunts.
But, what she did know was how to touch you. And that — that was just fine.
“Oh my god, right there.” You chanted in a hushed whisper, over and over until her hot hands had traveled from your thighs to your hipbones. Thumbs gently tracing circles over the skin there as she devoured you as if she were starved, nose nudging the top of your pussy.
It was only then that your phone vibrated atop the wood of your nightstand, shaking so violently, that it had shuffled a couple of inches.
“Ignore it.”
Ellie's gruff voice came from under you, lips detaching from your cunt to speak, the flesh there glistening with your juices before she dove in once more.
The buzz that sounded in your ears had dissipated. A small beat of silence took over before it began again.
With a sigh, you shuffled onto your elbows again, outstretching an arm to grab the device with straight fingers, unsuccessful in your attempt.
“What if I — shit,” The ridges of her teeth skimmed over your clit, causing your hips to buck into her face involuntarily. Your throat was dry from the deep inhales and exhales during this sexual encounter and she had only just started.
“What if it’s important?” The question came out of your lips in a breathy sigh, head growing hazy at her touch.
She hummed, “It can wait.”
It couldn’t because the moment those words were out in the air, it buzzed again.
“The fuck…”
Lifting herself from her position clad in nothing but boy shorts and a thin wife beater, Ellie crawled over you, her weight emitting a groan from the creaks in the springs within the mattress as she pressed her clothed chest flush against yours.
Without warning, her fingers flexed, snatching your phone from its spot before you the lids of your eyes could open back up again. You watched curiously as her mossy green eyes scanned the text on the screen, rolling them after as she pursed her lips into a thin line.
“Why’s Ollie calling you?” The question held a small hint of suspicion, and that was something you heard clearly despite her effort to hide it.
You were just fuck buddies. Nothing more than that. So why did your heart jump within your chest as if it were going to escape your body at any second?
Shaking your head from side to side, you tilted your chin at her, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “I dunno…”
“I’m gonna call back.” She stated, making her way to your contacts and scrolling through the alphabetical format, pressing on his name with a thumb.
Outstretching your arms, you huffed, exhaling dramatically as you gently shoved her off of you. Sitting up, you leaned against the bedframe, knees tucked close to your bare chest, goosebumps forming at the sudden cold rush of air that weaved its way around your frame.
The low hum became louder as Ellie held out your phone between the both of you, tight grip never faltering as she narrowed her eyes at the screen. She was staring at it harshly, her gaze practically burning holes into the device as it rang once, then twice before a ‘finally’ sounded in your ears.
“Fucking finally, where the fuck is Ellie?”
Snorting, you rolled your eyes. “Well hello to you too Ollie.”
“Yeah, yeah, hey. Where’s Ellie?”
“What makes you think I'm with her?”
“Because her location is pinpointed to your house. Am I on speaker?”
Licking your lips as a means to moisturize them, you cocked your neck to the side, raising a brow at Ellie who sighed. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”
Crackling static could be heard on the other end of the line, followed by shuffling and a female voice that sounded all too familiar to you.
“Uh, I kinda need to buy off of you again.”
Ellie looked around your room for a while, taking in the different array of patterns that decorated each article of furniture that gave away a whole lot more than your personality. For a second, Ollie’s talking seemed to grow muffled, as she marked every place in that small space that she fucked you on.
It was something that had etched itself in the inner corners of her mind as she struggled to come to terms with what exactly she felt every time she got down on her knees. For you.
Every. Single. Time.
Sometimes, she’d lay awake at night, curled up under the sheets, wearing exactly what she is right now — sitting here with you. Being intimate — with you. Sure, she sold her weed and made her money, accompanied by a stone-faced facade, but handing drugs to girls who’d let their hands linger a little too long on her skin, always sent her back to you at the end of the night with a plastic Tupperware container filled halfway with those cherries only sold downtown.
Clearing the rising lump in her throat, the auburn-haired girl tugged her bottom lip between her teeth soon after. “Sure. Do you need me right now?”
Ollie laughed humorously as if Ellie had said one of the funniest things in the world, and you had assumed it directly wasn’t aimed toward her due to the high-pitched yell. “If that’s cool with you.”
Observing as Ellie lifted herself from her position next to you, your eyes followed as she leaned down at the end of the bed to tug on the jeans she had previously discarded in the heated haze of your earlier makeout session.
Tossing the phone on the bed, Ellie focused her attention on buttoning her jeans, the worn band tee she showed up in following immediately after.
“C’mon.”
A puzzled look painted your features, the corners of your eyes creasing as you narrowed your eyes at her figure near the door.
“I’m not going to Ollie’s alone. His girlfriend’s weird.”
You grimaced.
“Are you seriously dragging me with you?”
━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━
Ollie’s girlfriend, Penelope, wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows as he made her seem. It was something that should’ve been obvious to you from the beginning due to how highly he talked about her, albeit being dramatic at the same time. But since he was sort of a friend, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. The first time you met her, the brunette immediately started talking your ear off about how the color of your shirt wasn’t really appealing to the eyes, index finger twirling a strand of her hair as she tried to make up for the comment with back-handed compliments.
She was something… and that was to put it in the nicest way you could, cementing it into your brain that she just didn’t like you.
Internally, you were cursing Ollie out. Externally, you held it together better than you thought you would as she ranted to you about one of her many friends with a lit joint in hand, waving it back and forth.
You were sat directly across from her, muscles tense and spine rigid on an ottoman, one leg crossed over the other, lips pulled back into a small snarl that she hadn’t noticed. The cool outside air did little to relax your body as the unease that overtook you moments ago, seemed to spread quicker than you thought it would.
“ — I told her that she shorted me like twelve dollars. I mean I was valid in that, right? The tag was missing off the skirt.” Extending her arm out to you, she wiggled the blunt between two fingers for you to take, which you did a little too enthusiastically.
Putting it between your lips, you inhaled, closing your eyes for a second as the smoke wafted into your line of vision. Nodding, you decided to play along with her, not in the mood to piss her off just yet. “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t wanna pay the full price either.”
Peeling your gaze away from Penelope, you watched as the smoke you exhaled swirled in different directions, lifting into the multi-colored sky. You needed this.
“I knew I liked you. But, you don’t have to lie to me y’know, I was just fucking with you about the skirt thing. I would never buy a skirt without a tag.”
Feeling warmth rise under the flesh that covered the apples of your cheeks, you shook your leg, scanning the patio deck for any sign of Ellie who had disappeared inside the house with Ollie for what seemed like too long.
Penelope leaned back in her seat, cautiously letting her brown eyes roam down your stiff body, narrowing them after. “So, like are you and Ellie a thing?”
Taking another drag, you held it out for her to take, eying her from your peripheral inconspicuously the moment she took her eyes off of you. “No.”
The answer that was processed in her mind was short, and in response, she clicked her tongue on the roof of her smoke-filled mouth. She was unsatisfied with your answer. “You gotta give me more than that.”
Her voice went an octave lower as she leaned toward you, ready for you to spill all of your darkest secrets to her. “There’s nothing else to give.” You spat, eliciting a hum from her.
“I don’t think that’s it. Ollie tells me that you two just fuck.”
Furrowing your brows, you let genuine confusion write itself on your features as you crossed your arms, curling into yourself the more she spoke.
It was then that she sighed, taking another hit before extending it out to you. “Listen, I didn’t mean to say it like that… it’s just the way she talks about you is just…”
A twinge of curiosity sparked within you as she searched the jumbling words in her brain, sorting them in a way to soften the upcoming blow. “... it rubs me the wrong way like you’re just there to convenience her or some shit.”
“What?”
The air was knocked out of your lungs, and hairs on your arms raised, creating an itch all over that you wanted to scratch more than anything.
“Listen, I know you don’t think I don’t like you.”
“I-”
“You deserve something better than just sneaking around with someone like her. Her history with other women is fucked up, girl. Be careful.”
With that, she directed her attention toward the patio door, watching as it slid open.
Someone like her. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
Those words were all that hit you when Ellie rubbed your left shoulder, telling you that it was time to go. They consumed you when you had buckled yourself up in the passenger seat of her car. They ate you when the tears in your eyes started to burn as you leaned your forehead against the window.
The drive was a little too quiet, and Ellie had been slyly giving you little looks throughout the trip, internally arguing with herself to ask about your sudden change of mood.
“What’s w —”
“Am I just someone you like to fuck every week?”
The question had caught her so off guard that her foot had nearly lifted off the gas and slammed on the break as she swerved slightly. Twisting her neck in your direction, she let her eyebrows furrow together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Closing your eyes, you swiped at a fallen tear swiftly with the back of your hand, wiping it on the denim of your jeans after. “Now that I actually fucking think about it, we don’t do anything other than screw each other.”
It was something you had meant to say to yourself, rather than aloud, but on the quietness of the car — even under the low hum of the music playing from the car radio, she heard every single word.
“Where’s this coming from?”
Shrugging your shoulders, you kept your head forward, noting the street you were on when she had turned into a familiar neighborhood about three minutes away from your destination.
“I’m just saying.”
Ellie scoffed, not believing a single word that bitterly came out of your mouth. “Yeah, okay.” You didn’t even have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes as far back as they could go as she pulled into your driveway. “What’d she say to you.”
Fuck.
“She didn’t say anything.” You insisted, moving to tug the door handle open. Right before you could, she pressed down on the lock button, trapping you inside the car with her.
“I know she said something to you. You were all smiley when we got there, now you’re crying.” Pressing the matter even further, she twisted her body as much as the driver's side allowed, giving you all her undivided attention.
Still refusing to look at her, you breathed in through your nose. “Ellie, I want you to be serious with me for a minute, please. All we do is hook up with each other. That’s not something that I find myself needing anymore now that I'm actually putting my brain to use.”
Your eyes darted across her face, watching when her hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose — something she did while irritated. You wanted her to be truthful, and it was something she had a slight problem with as she sat there, a knot of unease developing within her empty stomach so tightly, that her body grew numb. “You’re making it more complicated than it has to be. I thought we made shit clear from the beginning that this was all it ever was gonna be.”
You scoffed, grinding your teeth together as the pressure behind your eyes burned once more. You shouldn’t have said anything. You shouldn’t have said a fucking word.
From the minute she approached you with that fucking toothy grin on her lips — you shouldn’t have said a word because look at you now.
Crying for someone who clearly doesn’t want you back.
“I just took it too far.”
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