#she's bailey's little sister | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sharkenedfangs · 21 days

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— ☆ “IT’S ALL IN THE FAMILY.”

#. — synopsis : because you — you stupid little fuck, should have known better than to assume the worst out of this sick family you’ve been unwillingly forced into from your parents unfaithful divorce. well, guess what? you were fucking right, and now — you only have yourself to blame, baby brother.

#. — content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con at best, non-con at worst, brief mentions of bullying and violence, alcohol intoxication, big brother whitney being a creep, whiny little sister kylar, daddy bailey being bailey, virgin male reader, semi-forced blow job, cream pie, shit writing and shittier plot with two disconnected scenes.

#. — word count? wait, you guys count the fucking words and don’t raw dog it in the notes app? like, real long, I guess. checked, it’s 7.5k w, jesus fucking christ.

#. — asher’s unhelpful note. “I did it purely for the sister fucking. so I had to churn something out. something filthy — and I mean fucking disgusting shit, y’know? (keep in mind, this is a repost of my old writing from around may, so if it’s dog shit then my writing has progressed from dog shit to even shitter dog shit.)

Divorces papers hastily signed away, the ink dotted onto the lines promising that this was indeed reality along with leathered suitcases packed to the brim. Family problems never were easy, much less when it had all happened far too quickly. To your parents separating, the familiar grip of your mother’s hand stringing you far away from the house you had grew up in, it all seemed like one bad dream. Unfortunately it wasn’t, no. This was the harsh reality of things, hands clasped on your shoulders as you were forced to introduce yourself to the man she had vowed to marry and the children he bore.

Fuck, if only your mother hadn’t remarried.

“This is stupid.” You muttered beneath your breath to which your mother, sharp as ever had somehow heard.

“Oh please, this is necessary. Unless you wish for us to keep on living in that cramped apartment? I am only doing what is needed for us to survive.” She sharply retorted back, not leaving much room to argue with as it was the truth. Your lives had been much more difficult since the divorce, selfish father that took everything else with him and went away to god-knows-where, probably off to spend it all in one go at the sleazy brothel in town. Filthy bitch.

Yes, it had been hard, but if you had been given one more year, finished school for real, graduated and got a job — Perhaps then, you would’ve been able to provide for the two of you and—

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, dear?”

Breaking out of your reverie, you had faintly registered then that you had arrived into this overly large establishment your mom referred to as your new home. Standing before you was probably the man she had fussed about so much during the uneventful drive. Dark, slicked back hair and stern eyes that dragged over your lips down to the curve of your throat, almost as if to criticize. His outstretched arm and hand stuck out waiting, that was probably for yours to shake which you reluctantly did.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir..?” You uttered coolly, enduring the firm grasp he had on your fingers till he finally was the first to pull away.

“Bailey.”

“Bailey.” You repeated back the unfamiliar name as if to slowly get used to it, knowing you wouldn’t.

“Whitney, Kylar, come down here and properly greet your brother.”

One boy — you assumed to be Whitney, a little older than you, stood at the top of the oaky staircase, perched over the banister. Ruffled blonde hair and sharp blue eyes hidden behind his fringe, eyeing you with disinterest as he made his way down the creaking steps and over to you.

“Nice to meet you.” He grinned, taking ahold of your hand in his with what was evidently a faux smile, one that didn’t quite reach his mean eyes that matched his father, a lingering streak of maliciousness in them. Even his grip, barely restrained in its force, threatened to crush your hand before ultimately letting go.

“You too.” Forcing a smile back, both of you knew then, the stifling tension that brewed in the air — Neither of you were going to get along here.

“Hey freak, it’s your turn.”

Another, you had barely noticed, a smaller girl scuffling about in the background, anxiously fiddling with the ends of her oversized sleeves, skittish green eyes purposefully avoiding your gaze whenever you so much as glanced her way. That must be the only daughter, Kylar. Cute thing she was, though your mind couldn’t allow yourself to continue that stray thought any further considering the implications that’d involve after meeting your soon-to-be-step-sister. Fucking get your mind straight, will you?

“P-Pleasure to meet you..” In contrast to her brother’s confident strides, she shuffled towards you before clasping your soft palms together in a hold, weakly shaking it.

“..Pleasure is all mine.” You replied, matching her weirdly formal way of speaking.

Well, she didn’t seem so bad compared to the rest.

The introduction didn’t last very long, lacking any real warmth usually found between two shared families merging together as one. It felt more stiff than anything though you couldn’t spare the thought to think it any further, an ushered murmur said to make yourself at home.

As you made your way over to your new room, hauling your hefty luggage up the wooden stairs, something within the depths of your guts stirred from the shared eyes that bore into the shape of your back, intently observing your every move.

The walls here felt unbearably bare.

Like the people that lived in it.

Ironically enough, your new room was much bigger than your older one, leaving little room to complain as you did when your mother had announced you’d be moving into a new place. All the reasons, no matter how good had earned nothing but a gentle shake of her head, dead set on her decision to drag you along. And to say you hadn’t even told Robin you’d be moving away, best friends since childhood that shared everything between the two, except for this apparently. Imagining his freckled face, worry etched across his features had you wanting to go back to the town you knew, knowing you couldn’t.

Sighing lowly, you sat down onto your bed, hearing the slightest crinkle beneath your weight as you felt an uncomfortable, sharp lump underneath it. That.. Reaching for the covers, you threw aside the thick blankets that covered the suspicious looking lump, revealing fresh packets of condoms haphazardly scattered across the sheets and an old, raunchy magazine displaying a cute-looking school boy getting brutally fucked against the lockers by his own bully.

Heat burned your face at the lewd sight, quickly shoving your little “gift” under your pillow so you couldn’t spare another glance at it. Fucking bastards and their sick jokes, “gifting” you shit like that.

You weren’t like them. Fucking perverts.

Were you?

—

Whitney was the first to change that.

From the first time he laid his eyes on you, you knew then what he thought of you, distaste apparent over his features, the slight curve of his upper lip curled into a snarl. It was obvious, your step-brother didn’t like you. Shit, maybe hate would be a more appropriate word for the things he’d do. Whitney had made it clear from the get-go, the empty names you’d call each other were utterly meaningless, rarely slipping past his own lips. ‘Little brother’. Fuck, you were a pain in his side more than anything else, dropping by unannounced into his life just like that simply because your shitty mother happened to divorce, meeting his dead beat father who then strung up with yours.

The blonde didn’t attempt to hide his obvious disapproval of your presence in his house, blatantly knocking his shoulder into yours whenever he passed by, mouth cruelly drawn into a snide grin as you toppled down to the cold, hard, wooden floor with a dull thud. The bullying didn’t stop there either, often encountering the delinquent in the school hallways, surrounded by his usual cronies that stuck to his side like a bunch of desperate, panting puppies, eager for his approval. They simply wouldn’t leave you alone, went through your damn locker too, ransacking everything that sat in there before carelessly throwing aside the remnants into a nearby trash bin, left to fend for yourself.

Weak, useless. That’s what you were to him, and nothing else. Soon enough, he’d get rid of you, have you snap and run away, it was merely a matter of time.

Well, that was the initial plan he had made up in his mind — Too fucking bad for the poor bully that life didn’t go always as planned, not when he caught you fresh out of the shower, worn towel snugly tucked around yours hips, a bit lower and he’d catch a glimpse of your— Fucking snap out of it, Whitney! The fresh droplets of water that’d trickle down the curve of your back, cascading over the smooth surface before gently dripping onto the fuzzy carpet below. Fuck. Didn’t help that he was staring a tad bit too hard, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from your bare form shamelessly displayed before him. You were doing this on purpose, weren’t you? Tryna get him all distracted, fill his thoughts with nothing but your thighs sticky with his cum, your lips lightly parted to obediently suck on his fat cock, lapping away at the beads of pre-cum that trickled over the curved length.

Knew he had cracked the second his hand had reached for his cock, fisting his dick for all it was worth, hem of his shirt roughly held between his teeth as he jerked himself stupid to the thought of you. His annoying little brother, fucking bitch, oblivious to the effects you had on him whenever he came with a stifled curse, several strings of cum that’d messily splatter across the curve of his toned stomach and his cotton sheets, staining it.

You, of course, lay ignorant to his frequent glances trailing over your frame, mistaking it for the hostility he had shown you over the past few weeks. You were partially right, except this time it was out of frustrated lust, cock stirring beneath his ripped jeans at the mere sight of his younger sibling now. God, not even the dumb whores that’d sloppily suck him off in the grimy bathroom stalls between classes did it for him anymore, eyes shut in a haze to imagine it was your mouth instead wrapped around the tip of his cock.

Dumb slut. Dumb fucking slut you were, didn’t know what he had in store for you. Take it as payback from having infested his mind with thoughts of you that stray to other thoughts and to other.. that’d eventually end in the same scenario, fucking your slutty mouth wide open.

Yeah.. Actually having you choke down on his cock didn’t sound half-bad now that he thought about it.

So why not make it happen?

It had been a mistake then to accept his offer over drinks, get to know each other better, he had cheerfully claimed with a friendly arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bullshit. Think he gave a shit about that? The only ache in his mind had went straight down to his slowly hardening cock underneath his grey sweats as his plan was brought into motion, insistently pouring more and more of his friends stolen bottle into your cup until you had lost track of the exact number. Prideful as ever, you had gulped it all down, unrelenting despite the nausea that had crept in your guts and the dizzying blur of your vision.

A hint of a rosy flush had started to spread throughout your skin, lightly dusting your cheeks with half-lidded eyes intently gazing back at your older brother’s slouched form atop the cushioned couch. The dribbling liquid sloshed lazily in the glassy bottle that threatened to spill from your weakened grasp on it. TV faintly flickering in the background, playing some outdated show that had since long been forgotten by the two of you, leaving the remote abandoned on the coffee table.

“Cmon, don’t be such a baby.” Whitney would taunt whenever you hesitated in your sluggish movements, silently observing the rhythmic bobbing of your throat as you took quick shots from your half-full glass. Lightweight, he mused in his mind.

“I’m not a baby.” You retorted back with that fucking cute pouty expression he adored.

Fuck. That’s the look. That goddamn look of yours he was waiting for. Nothing better than some arrogant slut all fucked up, practically begging to be taken on his own fucking couch.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Whitney?” Shit, the way you’d call his name all whiny too, slipping past your own lips. Had his cock twitch like fucking hell, painfully aching between his spread legs.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Why are you so mean to me all the time?? What did I ever.. What did I ever do to you?? I—I just don’t get it.” You hiccuped pathetically, stumbling over your own words, already half-drunk from the fizzling alcohol in your system.

Ah, so you didn’t seem to get it at all yet, did you?

How cute.

“‘Cuz I wanna fuck your noisy mouth, that’s why.”

“..What?”

Blinking back at him, you didn’t even get the chance to register or mutter out another word before he was upon you. Knees firmly planted to each side, increasingly aware of his encompassing frame that towered overs yours as his clothed crotch faced your drunken expression. If it had been any other time, perhaps the blonde would’ve paused then to greedily drink in the sight before him, but this was Whitney after all and he never liked to waste time on silly notions like foreplay, preferring the rougher options that came along with it.

So, fuck it all, right?

With practiced ease, he hurriedly shucked down the elastic waistband of his grey sweats past his hips, hefty cock confidently springing free from the constricting confines of the cotton fabric as it lightly smacked against the curve of his bare stomach. Fuck, you haven’t had the slightest idea how long he had waited for this. Merely a matter of a few weeks for you, though for him, your older brother was dying to sink his dick in that whorish mouth of yours. Looked like you’ve never taken a real cock either, snugly shoved down to the hilt of your inexperienced throat that he’d train till it became a sixth sense to you, gratefully swallowing down his salty cum.

Calloused fingertips tenderly dragged along the swollen flesh of your bottom lip, bloodied cut reopening from the time the bully had split your face open on his fists for the whole school to see in the busied courtyard on a particularly rainy day. Licked his knuckles clean too after that rough beating you took, savouring the heady taste of the crimson mess you left behind, groaning all the while. Had him stupidly hard for the rest of the day, itching to relieve some tension once he got back home. Great times, really.

Now would’ve been the time then, probably— to sputter out your firm opposition over this, resist somewhat. Maybe kick the motherfucker in the balls, satisfyingly watch him writhe on the floor in agony before scrambling up the ancient staircase to hysterically yell about how you nearly got raped by your aforementioned step-brother, to your dozing mother. Christ, that would’ve been the sane decision to do then yet, the bubbling drinks coursing through your veins had thoroughly taken its effect on you, blood rushing down lower to the wrong region, the sinking realization nearly making you bolt upright.

Fucking fuck— you were hard.

And Whitney hadn’t failed to notice.

“Shit, are you getting hard from this?” The delinquent snickered hoarsely to himself, making a show to lightly tap at the growing bulge underneath your own jeans, all too visible despite the rough fabric that covered it. “Should’ve known you’d be into it. Your body speaks for itself, y’know. You want this, you cock whore craving slut.”

No, no. This was all wrong. Must’ve been. You liked girls, didn’t you? Squishy cunts and fat tits you could easily slip your cock into — god. Didn’t like guys and if you did, your step-brother who treated you like nothing but shit would’ve been last on the fucking list.

But you secretly do like being used this way, don’t you? Baby brother.

“I’m n-not fucking—“ Attempting to deny the harsh statement, you cut yourself off from the sudden intruding tip eagerly pressed against your lips, flushed cock head leaking thickly and smearing sticky pre-cum all over.

It wasn’t an order nor anything else that hung heavily in the air, a simple gesture, a subtle thrust of his hips that had his actions speak louder than any words would’ve been capable of. Either you do it or not, the delinquent couldn’t have cared less regardless, always used to getting what he wants and by god, if he wasn’t going to fucking get this. Because the signals alarmingly ringing through your head felt faint in the face of this, shakily inhaling the musky scent of your big brother’s throbbing cock subtly twitching in response to your feathered breaths against it, dribbling out more translucent pre-cum that melded with the scarlet stain of your bloodied lips.

Out of your damn mind — That’s what you were. To even properly consider the implication at hand here. Yet your lips won’t stop from parting, from sticking your pink tongue out, clumsily imitating the gestures those submissive girls in the cheap porns you’d watch underneath your thin covers late at night, shamefully enough. Always thought you’d be on the receiving end of that one day, dutifully patting at the soft hair slotted between your thighs however here you were, shyly pawing at Whitney’s naked hips instead to steady yourself.

All your fault, all your damn fault so shut up and take it, alright? Shouldn’t had led him on like that, now you’re only reaping what you sow, slut.

Felt more like he was plainly fucking your mouth than you were sucking him off, sharp, punishing thrusts meeting your open mouthed lips to drive himself deeper in that warm throat that reflexively tightened around his length whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot — drawing another string of adorable, strangled whimpers from you. “Shit, you sure this your first time? You’ve got the mouth of a — hah, fuckin’ filthy glory hole.” Heat prickling up the nape of your neck at the direct statement uttered, the brief realization of your inexperience being taken away like this, from a blowjob. On the giving end. A first, that will mostly likely not be the only first after this, not when you’re unconsciously getting off to the thought for more in store despite your haze filled brain begging you to reason. Ah, fuck. He’s gone and got you stupidly cock drunk now, didn’t he? The bastard. Slurred mutterings tumbling out above you, almost hasty in how he handles you, wanting to truly savor this never-ending moment when his body can’t stop on its own, too eager to be fulfilled of this yearning pleasure he sought out from you firstly. Thankful for your lack of gag reflex that somehow has you forcefully endure the ruthless slam of his hips, struggling grip straining onto his thighs for leisure, promising to leave a fresh set of bruising marks on the tanned flesh.

A delighted sigh softly escaped from the blonde as you finally gave his dick some much needed attention, experimentally running the flat of your tongue along his leaking slit, coaxing out more dribbling fat globs of pre-cum before slowly and carefully taking his full girth in the warm depths of your tight, wet mouth. “Ah— Fuck. Yeah, that’s good.” No way can he hide the barely restrained, high-pitched, almost needy whimper that threatens to slither past him as you so prettily suck him down to the base, slobbering all over his throbbing balls that has him huffing out a cursed moan of satisfaction, eyes rolling back. “F-Fuckin’— god.” Can’t help the sheer guttural groan that slips out from how tightly his baby brother’s virgin lips sweetly glide around him, the uncertainty in your movements making it all the more endearing as you struggle to take him all in, saliva dripping over your chin to land in varying wet dots on the cushioned pillows. Looking so damn pretty like this with a mouthful of cock, your big brother’s pulsing cock specifically. So don’t blame him then when his hips automatically snap back, slender fingers instinctively reaching for the back of your head to entangle themselves through the soft strands of your hair, ruffling it.

It’ll be more than that though, the sick realization dawning upon him of this opportunity handed to him on a silver plater, free of his taking, of course. Not some other replaceable slut he can find anywhere else by chance, but one forcefully bound to him whether they like it or not since what can you possibly do? Come running with tears in your eyes to your mommy about what your big, mean, older brother did to you? His father will certainly not be one to help you for that matter, that’s for damn sure. Who the hell will believe you then? No one. Fucking nobody. Inadvertently handing him free range to do whatever he so pleases with you, whenever, where the fuck ever. Oh, but it won’t only stop there, y’know. Ruining you fully for the sake of his own selfish pleasure, corrupt that naive view of yours that has you blush bashfully at a bunch of lewd illustrations plastered onto the printed pages. Soon enough, the majority of your days will be lazily spent in his room, leaking cock dribbling profusely from the kitten licks you’ll so cutely give him then while he absentmindedly scrolls on his phone, grinning proudly as you inevitably beg for more of him. And shit, Whitney isn’t one to disappoint either — he’ll have you rightfully rewarded for such behaviour, in public to be exact. Clip a nice, leathered collar around your neck along with a leash too, tug at it a bit to show off his newfound pet, his loyal little brother that sloppily sucks him off and happily sinks onto his hefty cock at a mere snap of his fingers. Drives him fuckin’ crazy merely thinking about it.

That’s right, suck on your big brother’s fat cock to selfishly earn his twisted love, his blind adoration and protection of your being. His pet. His slut. His beloved baby brother. His now blood, flesh and soul tainted throughly by him himself. Personally service him on your knees like the whore that he knows you are. Fucking get on your knees and earn it.

All too soon, despite wanting to stretch this further solely to ingrain the addictive noises of your stifled whimpers and drooling mouth inside his perverted mind, visibly struggling to take him all in as he shamelessly used your throat like some sort of flesh light stretched to the hilt — He can feel himself reach the brink of his limit, confident hips stuttering in their steady thrusts to greedily bury the tip of his quivering cock into the back of your throat one last time. “F-Fuck. Stay like that — just fucking stay like that.” He hissed sharply between strained curses, head thrown back like some cheap virgin whore who’s just received his first ever mind blowing blow job. The familiar overwhelming heat curling in the curve of his belly, like a coiling string on the verge of popping. Balls tightening in need, pulsing spurts of his fat load squirting out of the head of his cock to messily splatter across the surface of your pretty fucking face, ruining you for his own amusement.

Should’ve busted his load down your throat just to hungrily watch you swallow it down, though he supposes that the cum stained look adorning your pretty face is a sight to behold on its own, taking a good minute to appreciate the mess before him.

A blank, pristine canvas that he had helped ruin and stain with the filth of his very own actions.

It suits you, really.

“That’s a — hah, good boy.” Whitney heaved roughly between ragged breaths, the uncharacteristically gentle praise laced in his tone differing from his usually sadistic nature. If it weren’t for the sticky mess that obscured your vision along with the heat of his sweating palm placed flat across your forehead, you’d notice the strange fond, warmth that had settled into his softening gaze, a sort of reverence in of itself. “My good fucking boy.”

“So good for big brother, aren’t you?” He smirks knowingly at your hitched gasps of breaths, struggling so stupidly to form back a snarky insult as per usual.

Ah, he gets it now — really fucking gets it, glazed over eyes settling onto your evidently hard, twitching cock still tented pitifully against the front of your jeans, frantically humping at the air like some sort of rabid, horny, untrained puppy in heat, tongue lolling out. Aw, so fuckin’ cute when you’re cock drunk and needy for big brother. Makes him wanna do it all over again.

For that, he should be properly training you then.

“Whitney— fuckin’ cmon, please.” Whining so pathetically in a way that sends a jolt straight down through his spent cock, immediately standing up to attention once more. You’re really asking for it, fuck.

So damn cute, but so impatient too. Maybe he should fuck your virgin ass next, stuff it full of his cum and see what happens to that bratty mouth of yours then. Shut you up a bit.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just— keep still for me.”

Well, can’t be having his little new pet go frustratingly neglected like that, can he?

—

Kylar, your precious little sister, all too eager to be the first, but the second to sink her mark into you. Convince you a bit more.

Needy as she was, she wasn’t as bad as the rest that inhabited this sick place you reluctantly called home, a flicker of warmth among the distant coldness that resided in this house. Much unlike her brother, the dark haired girl didn’t seem to dislike you in the slightest, often shooting you the smallest of smiles whenever you two briefly locked eyes at the dinner table or in the shared hallways by mere coincidence.

‘Course, she did have her questionable moments whenever you caught her rifling through your drawers, namely the ones where your underwear lay neatly folded in the cubicle space. Promptly muttering out an unbelievable excuse as to why she needed your boxers before bolting past your stunned self, red in the face. Or that time she had decided to curl up onto your bed, lovingly burying her nose into the warm sheets that you slept in, relishing in that sweet scent of yours she’d catch a whiff of as you drew closer next to her at the table.

..Yeah, she certainly had unresolved issues, but it beat the constant poking fun at that Whitney would do. The rough shoving into the metallic lockers that’d clank heavily from your weight, the shared snickering that came along with it and the forced blow jobs that you had somehow eased into over time despite yourself. Fuck, why were you even thinking of that asshole?

Freak or not, she didn’t harbour any of the senseless cruelty this town had to selflessly offer and that was good enough. Enough so that you had found yourself increasingly spending more and more of your time with Kylar whenever you weren’t forcibly dragged along to some shoddy place your big brother roped you into, leaving the loner to her own whims for the day.

So it was no surprise then when the two of you grew closer, a little more than you had expected so to be the one sat onto her worn out bed, her hideaway — she’d call it, a moment of respite from the constant teasing she had to go through from her older brother. A means of escape, perhaps? And for you, it was no different either, all the same. Gladly listening to her overexcited rambling about this and that, about the fine mangas she had newly bought at the local, dusty library, the half priced anime figurines she had found on display beyond the glassy windows that separated them — matching pearly bracelets made of shiny gems and rocks carefully picked at the park she’d sow together to gleefully tuck around your wrist, whining sorrowfully at her own being too loose for her delicate wrists. Cute. Your little sister was real fucking cute, more so than you’d like to admit at times.

So much so you couldn’t ignore the growing knots in the pit of your stomach whenever your knees fortuitously bumped against each other, a sign — a silent, repetitive warning of your shared proximity that was crossing past the treacherous line of two mere siblings. Yeah. Okay. So you found her cute, so what? Big fucking deal. Plenty of guys found a girl cute, didn’t mean jack shit, didn’t mean they wanted to fuck her till she clenched pathetically around them, sniffling miserably at being fucked brutally by their kind, soft-spoken big brother they naively put their trust into. Right, that’s what you were. Nothing more. A responsible big brother she could certainly put her faith into since her other piece of shit brother couldn’t bother with that shitty role, something you’d curse him for on the daily. One she could seek out at a moment’s notice, spend time with to her heart’s content like a normal, unsuspecting relationship between siblings should be.

Not some perverted creep of a big brother who’d steal periodic glances her way, instinctively trailing down to the soft, plump and pink flesh of her parted lips, glistening sinfully from the wetness of her saliva — a habit she unconsciously did despite claiming not to. Gulping thickly, you hadn’t registered how her seamless chatter had ceased to a stop, deafening silence befalling upon the both of you as you stared at each other like some sort of stiff actors awaiting for the next act on stage. Wait, were you staring? Fuck, you were — and she hadn’t failed to notice by the looks of it, blooming flush adorning her pretty, pale cheeks you’d like to press gentle, reassuring kisses to, squeeze under the weight of your palm. Maybe have her spill a few stray droplets of tears across the rosy surface while you’re at it, make her cry the same way Whitney did.

Oh, you’re such a fucking bastard for this one.

“W-What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Her sudden squeak had you stilling in your tracks, twisting the spread sheets without meaning to from the timid pitch of her shrill voice. Look at her, trying to hide behind her torn sleeves in attempt to draw attention away from her bashful blush, becoming a fidgeting mess under your gaze.

Fuck, no. It was more than that, Kylar. It was the pout of your lips that you wore, the black strands of hair that framed your face so beautifully, the exposed sliver of skin of your thighs from that short skirt you slipped on. It was all you, but dammit all — fuck.

“Hm? No, it’s nothing — really.” Liar. Drawing back to create a manageable amount of space between you both, a reminder not to act upon those disgusting urges of yours, better not to. Bad idea to be thinking with your dick, no man’s ever made a reliable decision with that one. Even so, Whitney did it with you and — nothing particularly bad happened, did it? Would it be so wrong, if you were to do the same? Selfishly grasp for what you so dangerously desire, drop meaningless hints here and there to care for her wants, such a gentler option than any boy could ever treat your dearest little sister?

Would it?

Too lost in your endless train of thoughts, your eyes falling upon Kylar’s green own that bore with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, almost as if contemplating — no, waiting for something to happen. Though you couldn’t tell what it was, her actions were enough so to speak on their own with how she shifted considerably towards you, used mattress dipping from the creaking weight over the wooden floorboards. Ah, was she..?

“Ky—?”

Before your mind was even fully given the chance to process it, like the leap taken before the shuddering dip of a waterfall, her inexperienced, virgin lips clumsily smashed into yours, knocking the wind out of the both of you from the abrupt step taken by your little sister. Sweet. So sweet. Pink tongue tentatively swiping along the scarlet cut of your bottom lip, ushered gasps accompanied by startled squeaks as she timidly gave you what she thought was a simple kiss, but felt more like a pornographic make out session with how she so desperately shoved her tongue deeper. More. Wants more of this, more of that honeyed taste she yearned to savour, to finally enjoy while her other dumb brother so greedily took you away every time she wished to be the one at your side instead. It wasn’t fair, not fair at all! He’s so mean, so why does he get to string you along whenever he so pleases? Should be her, only be her to fill that solemn space. Only her, only her—

“W-Wait, wait— Kyl— fuck.”

As if struck by the weight of what she had just done, the loner recoiled back instantly in a fit of panic from the sheer brashness of her actions. Oh, how could she let herself so easily fall to such temptations? What if you hated her now? Or worse, were repulsed by the kiss? Wouldn’t be able to live it down then, quivering lips and bubbling tears threatening to spill freely down the length of her flushing cheeks from her overreactive imagination running rampant — because she’d rather die than to have you loathe her so.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to— umm.. I thought that maybe you.. wanted me to—“ The girl stuttered uselessly, trailing off in an aimless direction only to shrink back in her unbecoming position. Silence only answered her in return which she took as the harsh reality of rejection, mustering up all the courage she possibly had in her lithe frame to at the very least subtly peek at the current expression painted along your face. Would it be anger? Disgust? Disappointment even? Surely if you hated it that much, you’d have plainly kicked her right off the bed by now, right? Storm out in a fit of shock and never so much as glance her way again.

The sight to greet her instead wasn’t an unwelcome one though — no, far from it actually, her gaze deliberately falling upon the blazing flush of your face down to the evident bulge straining painfully between your legs, palm nervously placed over it in a half-assed attempt to keep your dignity at bay — shit. It’s one thing to be kissed by your younger sister but to get fucking hard from it is like shameful admission on its own, a visceral reaction that could not be denied no matter what reasonable excuses may tumble from your lips. “..It’s fine. I don’t mind, actually.” You’re really no better than Whitney in that aspect, but when an opportunity presents itself, it’s only fair to mindlessly grasp for it, is it not? More worrying is the debauched idea that forms in your mind in regard to the enamoured expression worn by her wobbly lips and wide-eyed look, not-so-subtly rubbing her plush thighs together in a hint of arousal. Oh, so that’s how it is. If the sloppy kiss itself didn’t confirm it then this surely did, a surge of confidence rushing momentarily through your body at your next actions.

“Like I said, it’s fine, Ky.” That fucking nickname again. Unable to stop yourself from dragging your cute little sister closer towards you till she consequently found herself comfortably placed onto your lap, blinking stupidly at the bold move done by her normally gloomy, big brother. Silly girl.

“Siblings do it all the time, it’s not weird. It’s natural.” Lying through your goddamn teeth with a certain ease that even surprises you internally, but oh, is it so worth it as her viridescent eyes glimmer brightly to the whispered reassurance in your casual tone, acceptance easily slipping through. “But Whitney and I don’t—“ She starts, only for you to immediately latch onto her endless questioning with the seed having already been planted, too late to fucking back out now. “You and I are different. I’m nice to you and you’re nice to me, so it’s normal if you want to. We can do that cuz’ everyone else does it, alright? You don’t have to be shy with me about it, Ky.” Every carefully measured word to make it seem as though this was the norm, knowing fully you’d be seen as freaks and degenerates by your peers attending the nearby school. Not that they didn’t already think so with Kylar, the rumors having grown out to such an unhealthy proportion that it pestered the poor girl at every corner in the narrow hallways. Poor thing.

So isn’t it your job as her big brother to make it all go away? Make her feel better.

“Shh, just let me..” Soothing circles rhythmically rubbed in a recognizable pattern along the edges of her skirt, repeated affirmations of want so to ease her chattering mind over the possible morality of this newfound situation. Could’ve said no if she didn’t secretly desire this, though her actions seem to say so otherwise with how she earnestly complies, willingly tucking her arms to her sides to let your hands do the rest. Good girl. So docile, like a porcelain doll, sharpening breaths noticeably deepening from the careful tugs of her short skirt, revealing the confirmation of her depraved wants as the wet patch of slick soaking through her plain, white panties is bared. Your adorable little sister isn’t so innocent as you thought, is she? Contrary to her modest choice of underwear. Getting fucking wet solely from being leered at so openly by her step brother, even going so far as to spread her soft legs for better viewing.

“See? Isn’t it frustrating to be left all worked up like this?” Agreeing nods promptly interrupted by the press of your thumb against her clothed slit, such a sweet, hitched gasp elicited from the lazy circles traced onto her swollen, twitching clit. A free view of your younger sister’s scrunched up expression morphing to one of pure, unadulterated pleasure, scarred fingertips tightly clutching at the fabric of your shirt, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment, really. “This good?” There’s no real need to ask when you can naturally rely on the shivering of her dainty figure, breathy moans of y-yes and feels good! along with the guiding of her needy fingers, flush against her slicked heat. A flick of your thumb is all it takes to have her turn into a babbling mess, bucking her hips up to meet your cupped palm, incidentally grinding onto your aching hard-on. “S-Shit, okay. Look at you, hah — so fucking wet already.” Barely able to discern the own pitch of your voice, but who the fuck is supposed to properly maintain their composure when your little sister is so prettily begging for your cock?

Effortlessly peeling away at the sticky fabric of her cotton panties, slipping it down the length of her legs to thoughtlessly throw away onto the wooden floor beneath. No time to fucking think, not with how cute her cunt looks, pink and dripping with slick coating the smooth surface of her inner thighs. Ah, and she’s already impatiently fumbling with your belt too, smiling so happily once it loosens to eventually tug your own underwear down too, leaking cock eagerly springing free from its restraints. “Want it that bad, lil sis?” Fuck, does it feel wrong to even be calling her so in your current predicament, yet so damn right too. The pleading nods, urgently clinging to your frame to press against as she grinds her sopping cunt along your flushed tip, whining whenever it knocks just right up against her puffy clit, squelching from the melding fluids. “W-Want it, want it inside, please.”

“B-Big brother—“

As much as you like the high-pitched mumblings of your dearest Kylar, there’s really only so much edging you can take before promptly snapping your hips up in tandem with her own, relishing in the slippery warmth that lovingly welcomes you, stretched folds accommodating to the sheer girth of your length. “Oh, fuck — Fuck, just relax for me. You feel so.. hah, so good.” Collectively sighing in relief at the intrusion of your pulsing cock squeezed so nicely by her constricting walls, having to steel yourself from the tight suck of her cunt snugly wrapped around your tip. “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well.” Softly hushing her breathy whines intertwined with a mix of pain and pleasure, fingertips digging harshly in the tender flesh of her hips to guide her quivering frame up and down the length of your cock. Isn’t this what she wanted after all? Such a quick learner too, steadily bouncing to match the pace you had set, your wandering hands slipping past the hem of her loose shirt to greedily palm at her perky breasts which prompts another moan to exit her parted lips. Uncaring for the increasingly noticeable squeaking of the worn mattress when your little sis is so cutely riding you, doing her very best to satisfy your immoral urges and have you mark her slicked insides with your seed.

“What a good sister.. So good, aren’t you?” Cute, pink tongue poking out, begging for another messy kiss pressed onto her swollen lips which you dutifully oblige with another muffled groan. Sloppily planting your own against hers, treasuring every shuddered gasp to swallow down and stifling her open mewls. It’s borderline disgusting how desperate you are, savouring every thick inch engulfed by the sloppy suck of her baby sister pussy, reappearing briefly only to bury yourself balls deep once more into her defiled cunt. Isn’t really your fault with how fucking tight she is, is it? Barely grasping the reality of the situation which is the very high possibility of being heard from outside her room right this moment, but fuck — you can’t slow down, not right now, not when you’re already on the verge of spilling your cum deep inside. Damn Whitney, the bastard. Damn to hell your parents, your indecisive mother and her new husband, this is heaven itself right here. “I’m close—“ You huff out in a sort of warning, though it’s more of an invitation to Kylar, an opportunity for you to shoot your thick seed in her wanting hole, practically locking her legs tight around your waist.

Anything for you after all, huh? Her beloved. Her darling. You just didn’t know it yet! And to say it came true on its own, openly enjoying the sensation of your fat cock instinctively fucking into her tight, little sister hole. So close.

“Cum inside me, please. Let’s finish together, big brother. I-I’m close too—“

And that’s all you really need, precise thrusts upwards hastily turning into erratic humps to lazily grind against her ass, wanting nothing more but to see the dumb, drooling, fucked out expression painted across her adorable face, the convulsing of her cunt stuffed full of your length when she does have her first ever orgasm. A few clumsy circles drawn over her used clit is all it takes to have her cumming, slick trickling out of her fluttering cunt to drip over the base of your cock and stain the pristine sheets beneath. “Ah— God, you’re so fucking tight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck — Shoving the hilt of your cock as deep as possible into your little sister’s stretched out hole to rightfully mark her pink insides with your seed, spurting out thick, white strings of cum while you fuck yourself deeper into her womb and downright have her experience her first ever accidental cream pie too. It’s only then when she pitifully whines for you to stop that you do eventually pause, hips drawing back to stare in awe at the dribbling globs of cum spilling out of her sore cunt. “S-Sorry.” You mutter out apologetically with a sigh, the tension easing out of your muscles once she giggles softly in response to your strained apology. “It’s okay. I-I liked it a lot too.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm, I did.” Kylar sleepily mumbles back with drowsy eyelids, the exhaustion washing both over you all at once from, well.. all the movement involved. Let’s leave it at that, actually. Plus you deserve the rest, don’t you? Wouldn’t be fair to leave your adorable sister all alone in her twin bed without her older brother’s body to warm it with too, yeah? It’s fine to lay yourself down next to her curled figure snuggling closely against yours, drape an arm over her waist to remind her of your presence close by, make her feel secure and at ease. A silent, ushered promise to clean her up later once you two awaken, affectionately pressing a single kiss atop her head one last time before sleep takes her first. It’s your role to as the big brother, after all, isn’t it?

“..Good.”

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shorthaltsjester · 2 months

Text

i truly am baffled by some of the cr fandom when it comes to the topic of the gods and c1 and death in general because. the raven queen didn’t kill vax. in fact she gave him more time. she Does get the blame from keyleth and some from vex but even those two by the end were more so just holding grudges wrapped up in their own issues that were exacerbated by vax’s choices. but it was always vax’s choice. which, y’know, i’m aware of a portion of the cr fandom’s propensity for dismantling every interesting choice a character makes into something forced upon them, but the role of fate in exandria has never been like bad faith you must adhere to the path chosen for you, it’s much more like what brennan has spoken about wrt specificity: as one makes more choices they become more particular to a given outcome. but that’s not some curse by the gods that dooms characters that’s literally just. what living is.

and of course death is a complicated thing that everyone approaches differently but. god the amount of people who view vax’s dynamic with the raven queen as an injustice or his death as some unforgivable thing the raven queen caused some how? in the words of laura bailey, Were We Watching The Same Orb? it isn’t an injustice that vax, completely willing to pay whatever it cost him to save his sister, was bound to the Deal He Agreed To. his role as the champion was one he found meaning and purpose in. further, it was the raven queen that allowed him to be resurrected later in the campaign. like, it isn’t fair that vax had so little time but it is time he chose and time he was given, but vox machina tends to fall on the reaping the benefits side of unfairness of power in exandria. if what makes the gods — particularly the matron of ravens — irredeemable is that they have the power to make choices that mortals can’t like denying someone’s resurrection, how irredeemable must the group of heroes called vox machina (whose members drop like flies to be revived moments later) be to the everyday person who just has to watch the people they love die and make peace with it?

of course it sucks that vax could not have a happy ending or epilogue like the rest of vm, except of course, vex has a family and is happy and loved, and keyleth is strong and alive and protected, and i think that looks a lot like what vax wanted most.

#critical role #cr1 #the matron of ravens #vax’ildan #the matron & vax #truly truly am gonna start requesting my job pay me extra for having to log in #to twitter and be met with Weird cr takes #algorithm i do not care how many times i watch trailers and stuff on the cr account. i promise that doesn’t mean i want to see random people #write stupid things in weird purple prose that have no attachment to the actual narrative it’s themes or the intentions of the creators #cr fandom tag

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marvelfilth · 4 months

Text

Off the deep end 5 (18+)

Pairing: Ghostface!Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, Sam going a little mad

Summary: Ethan is your close friend, and he might be the only one who still trusts you. You know it makes you even more suspicious in Sam's eyes, you know Mindy will take it as confirmation, but you simply don't care. You just want this to be over.

Masterlist

You sit in the trunk of Sam's car, furiously rubbing blood from your hands. Mindy cries in Chad's arms, Tara hovering over them both. Sam's beside you, a cigarette clutched between her fingertips. She hasn't said anything since she dragged you out, carefully sitting you down and wiping your face clean before you scooted away from her, accepting some wet wipes and dissociating at the sight of your blood stained hands.

Your head is a little clearer now and you don't flinch when she starts cleaning the wound on your shoulder, blowing gently when you wince from stinging pain.

Body bags are rolled on stretches one by one. You look down when you see detective Bailey break down in the middle of the street.

But you can't look away from Mindy stomping your way after she's been patched up by the medics, murder in her eyes. She halts to a stop before you, hand poised for a slap. Sam pushes her away before she can land it. "What the fuck, Mindy?"

"Yeah, what the fuck? You're defending her?!" She shouts, furiously wiping away her tears. "It's her, don't you see?"

Her raised voice attracts unwanted attention, people start looking at you with furrowed brows and you see a blonde woman take a few notes in her notepad.

"She made her go, Sam! If it wasn't for her Anika would be here," she breaks down in a sob, falling to her knees. Chad follows her, hugging her close to his chest, his eyes on you. You shudder at the rage shimmering in the dark pools.

"Mindy, she did her best," Tara whispers, clutching Sam's hand.

Your vision blurs with unshed tears, your fingers itching with need to do something, maybe go back to the elevator and keep trying to bring Anika back. Maybe you need to chase him and take his life.

You look away. "She's right, it's my fault."

"No, it's not." Sam reaches out to you, reassurances on her tongue, but Mindy pushes her back before she can voice them.

"She hid the knives," Mindy hisses with a cold look in her eyes.

"What?" Tara mumbles.

Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your neck as you try to understand what she is talking about. What knives?

"What a caring fucking girlfriend you are, huh? Let me get you a glass of water, Sam," she mocks. "You hid the knives right before we got attacked. And you got the call. You were at the fucking bodega. Did you kill that man in the alley too? Fuck, maybe you let that fucker in yourself, maybe you planned all of this. Maybe- Maybe you killed Anika in that elevator. You did, didn't you?!"

Her hands are on your shoulders, pushing hard enough to leave bruises. Your mouth falls open, but not a single word leaves your lips. You tremble violently, shaking your head, and see Tara takes a few careful steps back, her eyes glossed over. Mindy shakes you, screaming right in your face, and all you can do is crumble to the ground, choking on a sob.

Sam catches you before your knees hit the ground, pulling you into her chest and squeezing you tight.

"It's, okay," she whispers, "it's not your fault."

Sam's hands feel scalding hot on your body, but her words fall on deaf ears when the only thing your brain can register is Mindy's anguished cries.

It's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fau-

Loud shouts ring from the entrance, another stretcher rolled out. Mindy gasps, and in a flash she's gone, running after the group.

Anika.

You shoot up, ready to run after Mindy, but Chad stops you with a firm grip and a shake of his head, before turning around and following his sister.

You sag back into the truck, closing your eyes. When you open them, Tara is nowhere in sight, only Sam left standing by your side.

"Do you trust me?" You ask.

She freezes, her eyes widening a slightest bit at the abrupt question. "I do."

"Would you trust me with Tara?"

You can tell your question takes her by surprise. She's silent, tension taking root in her shoulders before it spreads over her whole body. She gulps, her eyes flickering around the street.

You nod, resigned. "I understand."

She turns to face you, her brows pulled tight, and takes her hand. "I trust you, I do. But Tara- Sometimes I don't even trust myself to protect her."

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. "That's not what I'm asking, Sam, and you know it. It's not about protection. Do you trust me not to hurt her? Not to kill her?"

She looks down, letting go of your hand, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. She takes a drag, blowing smoke away from you, her hands tremble.

This is it, you think. No matter what she said about Anika, no matter what she said about trusting you, you know she doesn't. Not completely.

"I don't know."

You look away in an attempt to hide your tears and nod, drawing a sharp breath. "It's okay. I'll just- I'll go, wait it out. And if you still want me when it's all over, I'll be there."

Sam straightens like a rod, her hand around your waist in an instant. "No. I'm not letting you out of sight." She clings to you, cigarette thrown to the ground. You let yourself enjoy the warmth of her embrace for a few fleeting moments before you start pulling away, but she doesn't let you, forcing your head up to meet her pleading eyes. "Please, don't go. I can't let you go."

You swallow dryly, and wipe away another set of tears. "You'll have to. N-none of you trust me," you choke on a sob, pushing against your girlfriend when she only hugs you tighter, pressing fleeting kisses into your hair. "You- you'll keep looking behind your back to make sure I haven't fucking stabbed anyone. I'd rather wait it out than go through that."

Sam shakes her head, "I need you close, so I can protect you."

You scoff, and forcefully push her away. "I don't need your protection. You should go to them," your head jerks in the twins direction, "make sure they're safe."

"Stop it," she hisses, following you as you try to walk away, "what the fuck do you think will happen once you're alone?"

"Nothing."

You need to get away. You need to go back home, curl on your bed and cry until you physically can't anymore. You still see Anika's empty eyes staring back at you, still feel the stillness of her chest under your palms. Everything around you is blurry as you stumble through the mass of people - paramedics, police officers, reporters and…

"Ethan?" You blurt as he steadies you.

He pants loudly, his eyes wide and questioning. "What- what happened?" He asks, pointedly looking at the blood all over your front.

He's thrown against a nearby car before you can answer, Sam's fist raised for a punch. "Where were you?" She growls, her hand closing around his throat. He's almost crying, his eyes glistening with tears.

You can see yourself in his place. You fight the urge to throw up.

"Sam," you speak up, but she doesn't hear you, pushing him hard enough to leave a dent.

"I- Econ," he wheezes, "I had econ."

"Sam, stop."

She listens this time, her eyes not straying from the gasping boy as she takes a few steps back.

You shudder as her hand returns to yours. "I'll take him with me."

She stills and doesn't utter a single word for a long moment. Ethan watches you, confused, but hesitant to voice his concern, as you both wait for Sam to speak.

"What?" She asks, her voice gravely quiet. "What did you just say?"

You swallow. "He'll stay with me, that way I won't be alone. He's a big guy, he's more than capable of protecting me."

She tilts her head to the side, her eyes growing a shade darker. "You're not going anywhere, especially with him."

“Wha- what is that supposed to mean?” he splutters, visibly offended.

You shush him with a look, shaking your head.

It's not ideal, you know, but it'll have to do. Ethan is your close friend, and he might be the only one who still trusts you. You know it makes you even more suspicious in Sam's eyes, you know Mindy will take it as confirmation, but you simply don't care. You want to barricade yourself in your room, open a bottle of tequila and fall asleep in your warm bed. You just want this to be over.

Sam shakes you out of your thoughts, a question in her eyes.

“What?” You ask, suddenly too tired to look her in the eye. You focus on the spot over her shoulder, still feeling the burning intensity of her eyes.

“I don't trust him.”

“You don't trust me either.”

"I can't afford to, but I can't- I can't afford to lose you either," she confesses, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

You close your eyes, feeling her arms envelope you, the smell of her cologne tickling your nose.

“Sam?” Tara calls.

Sam doesn't allow you to leave the sanctuary of her warmth, pulling you closer when you try to step away. “No,” she whispers, her grip so tight you struggle to breathe, “you're staying with me.”

“Sam, Gale found something.” There's an edge to Tara's tone, and when you open your eyes to look at her she doesn't meet your gaze, pointedly looking away.

Sam nods, tugging you along to follow Tara.

“Actually,” the blonde you saw earlier steps closer, her hand hovering over her gun on her thigh, “I don't think she should go with us.” She pointedly looks at you, her brows furrowed.

“What?” Sam hisses, shooting daggers at the shorter woman, but she appears unfazed.

“From what I've gathered, she seems to be our prime suspect. It wouldn't be wise to take her with us.”

“We should hurry,” Tara says, pleading Sam with her eyes.

“No,” Sam growls.

“Sam,” you plead, tugging your hand out of her grasp. “Just let me go, please.”

You're so tired.

“Sam,” Tara pleads. “We can't take her with us.”

“Then we don't go.” Sam's words are final.

Tara’s eyes narrow, you close your eyes, anticipating the verbal fight.

“What?”

“You heard me. For all we know Kirby is the killer.”

The blonde woman, Kirby, snorts, shaking her head. “This isn't your first rodeo, Sam. Love interests are always top suspects, and, with all of the evidence Mindy presented me with, you should be grateful I'm not putting your girlfriend in a cell.”

Tara looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since Mindy's outburst, her eyes swimming with questions. You look away, unable to hold her gaze any longer without crumbling apart.

“Sam, I'm going.” Tara says quietly. “She'll be-” she stutters, glancing at Ethan, “she can take care of herself.”

You nod, peeling yourself from Sam. She holds your hand tight, staring at Tara. “You're making me choose?” She asks, trembling.

Tara gulps, her eyes wide as she looks at your joined hands. “Whatever Gale found, we need to check it out,” she says, trying to convince herself as much as Sam, “I- I'm going, Sam,” she stutters, arms tight around her stomach.

All you can see is a girl forced to go through another massacre, a girl who still hasn't moved on from her best friend's betrayal. You understand.

Still, it hurts like hell.

“Go,” you whisper, managing a tired smile, “I'll be okay.”

With the last push, you leave Sam staring at her sister, and follow Ethan in the direction of his car.

×××

A movie theater.

That's what Gale found.

Sam walks in, Tara in her wake, timid and hesitant. She can't even look at her little sister right now, instead she focuses on what's right in front of her - her fathers hooded robe.

“You think she's still alive?”

She clenches her teeth tight and glances behind her shoulder. Another hallucination, just what she needs.

“Fucked up, isn't it?” Her father taunts, walking around her in circles.

She closes her eyes, clenching her fists tight. “Get lost.”

His mocking laugh grates at her ears. “I think one of them is already dead.”

She grinds her jaw, closing her eyes. “I said get lost.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the open space. She walks aimlessly, disappearing behind one of the many doors and sliding to the floor with her back against the wall. “Fuck,” she whispers, blinking back tears, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The door creaks open.

“Sam?”

It's Kirby.

Sam's fists clench.

“What?” She hisses.

The blonde looks at her for a moment, her eyes holding an understanding that hits Sam like a hammer. “We have some good news.”

Sam nods, not really caring.

“The next time that asshole calls we'll know where he is.”

Sam nods again.

“Sam.”

She looks down, playing with a loose thread in her shirt. “Good.”

“You made the right decision.”

Sam scoffs, standing up in one swift motion, now looming over the shorter blonde. “The right decision? She's alone. With that fucking-”

“He's alone with her.”

“Kirby,” Sam growls, a clear warning in her tone.

“I know. I went through this too, remember?” The shorter woman holds her ground, not budging an inch. “You know we can't trust her. You know it was the right thing to do.”

Sam swallows down the urge to scream. Instead she leaves, her steps echoing around the empty room, contemplating just going back and making you stay by her side, even if she has to force you.

×××

Ethan has to pack a bag. That's what he tells you anyway.

You sit in the passenger seat of his car - you didn't even know he had one - and wait for him to come out of his dormitory. You don't even jump every time a random car driving by honks. You tense, looking around, but you don't jump. You count that as a win.

You miss the feeling of safety Sam always brings.

“All good,” Ethan smiles, getting back behind the wheel. You startle, looking to your left.

“You sure?” You mumble, eyeing the small duffle bag he throws on the back seat.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I don't need much anyway. I know Sam's gonna get that fucker soon.”

You smile, relaxing for the first time since you left your girlfriend's side. “She will.”

His driving is a little messy - he hits at least three potholes on the way to your apartment and texts someone twice - but you don't complain, you're a far worse driver.

“That's me,” you sigh, welcoming him inside your apartment.

He looks around, his eyes widening as he takes in the mess that is your living room. You didn't really have enough time to clean up after Sam's visit.

“Sorry about that.” You blush, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

×××

“Sam,” Tara pleads, tugging at her sister's arm.

“Not now,” Sam hisses, looking around the park.

Kirby's plan to simply sit and wait for a call didn't sit right with Sam, so now they're here, in the middle of a park, with Kirby and Bailey as back up, baiting one of those fuckers in broad daylight.

She prays it works.

“Sam, you know-”

“Not now,” she hisses. Tara jumps away. Her sister never used that tone with her.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, blinking back tears. “Maybe we shouldn't have left her. Not like that.”

Sam's eyes narrow as she turns on her heel. “You say that now?”

Tara squares her shoulders, wiping her cheeks. “I thought-”

“It doesn't matter what you thought. You made me choose. I would've never done that to you.”

Her sister folds in on herself, hugging her stomach. Sam sighs, looking around. She knows she's being too hard on her sister, but she can't bring herself to care right now. Not when you're in danger.

Sam starts, “Look, I know you're scared-”

“Yes, for you!” Tara interrupts, shaking. “You remember Richie? Remember his plans for you? And this- Kirby was right about love interests. We both know it.” Sam opens her mouth to protest, but Tara doesn't let her speak. “Don't try to deny it! I care about you, Sam, and if it means I have to be the bad guy to keep you safe, I'll do it.”

Sam's mouth snaps shut. Tara's eyes glint with determination now, her face set. She nods, feeling some of her anger seep away. “Okay,” she sighs. “I'm sorry for snapping.”

“I'm sorry for making you leave her.”

The sisters share a look and, after Sam nods, Tara throws her hands around her older sisters shoulders.

And then her phone rings.

“You're gonna die, you know?” She answers, looking around.

“No, you're gonna die, Sam, but not before watching your little sister bleed out.”

Sam swallows. Tara squeezes her hand, grounding her sister.

“But don't worry,” the voice starts, taunting, “it’s not her time. Yet.”

Sam stares ahead, unseeing, as the phone clicks.

“Kirby, did you get it?” Tara says into her ear peace. “What?” she pales, looking at Sam with wide eyes. “Yes, I know the address…” she trails off, trembling “...it's Y/n’s”

"What?" Sam breathes out and freezes.

Tara, not wasting any time, grabs her sister and runs to Bailey's car, pushing her in before taking a seat behind the wheel. The sirens blare, gnawing on Sam's mind.

Ethan, she thinks, that motherfucker. She's going to kill him. She'll make sure he suffers.

"Sam." Tara glances at her sister, expertly waving through the traffic. "I know you care about her, but..."

"What?"

Sam nods, her palms bleeding from how hard she's dug her nails into them.

"It might be... not what we expect. At Y/n's place, I mean." Tara mutters, glancing at her sister warily. Sam closes her eyes, taking deep, even breaths as her sister speaks. "Be ready for anything, okay?"

She is more than ready to gut the boy.

“Faster,” her father hisses from the backseat and she doesn't spare the hallucination a glance. “Or you'll lose your precious girlfriend.”

She grits her teeth, nails digging into her palms, and focuses on the road ahead, willing him to go away. She can't afford a distraction, not now, not when you are in danger. Tara glances at her warily, before hesitantly placing her palm on her shoulder, squeezing.

The breaks screech and she's out before the car comes to a full stop. She forgoes the elevators, running up the stairs to your apartment and bursting through the unlocked door.

The first thing she sees is blood.

The first thing she hears is Ethan's sobs.

"S-sam," he whimpers, clutching his stabbed stomach. "Please…"

Tara bumps into her back, panting and coughing. Sam's hand shoots out, stopping her sister from getting closer to the boy.

"Where is she?" Sam asks, her voice gravely quiet. She scans the apartment with her eyes, seeing no signs of struggle.

Her father appears by her side, nodding at the knife lying by the boy's side. “She did him good,” he grins in appreciation.

"I'm sorry," he wails, tears streaming down his face, "I'm so sorry, Sam."

She hums and takes a step closer, her fists clenched tight. "Where. Is. She."

Ethan blanches, pressing himself flat against the wall. "We were talking and she- she told me how sorry she was about Anika, told me how hard it was seeing her die, and then… then I hugged her, because she was crying and shaking, and I couldn't just stand there." Sam nods, crouching, and urges him to go on, her fingers squeezing around his wrist. "And then I felt the pain. I- I pushed her away and she- she did it again, she stabbed me again. It hurts so bad, Sam… Please," he sobs, wheezing.

Sam hums, pulling his hand away from the wound and presses her palm against it, hard. "That's not what I asked you," she hisses, enjoying the way he starts to writhe, screaming in pain, and pushes harder. She leans down to whisper in his ear, "Where is she?"

Ethan looks at her with wide eyes, terrified.

"Sam," Tara warns, "stop."

Her father chuckles.

When Ethan doesn't answer, she pulls her hand away, only to punch him straight in the gut, earning a pathetic wheeze. "I won't ask again."

"You're m- mad," he chokes, looking at Tara for help.

"We all go a little mad sometimes," Sam hisses before punching him again and again.

In the corner, her father smiles proudly.

She needs to know where you are. She needs to know you didn't do this. She needs to know you're not one of them.

"Sam, that's enough." Her sister pulls her by the shoulders, forcing her to stop the assault on the poor boy. "You heard him.. You see him. It's her," she whispers, blinking back tears. Sam shakes her head, ready to resume the interrogation, but Tara stops her. "Sam. This is not you. Stop."

Sam blinks rapidly, only now seeing a twinge of fear in her sister's eyes. Fear of her. She stumbles back, choking on her breath and falls to her knees, numb.

She sees her father shaking his head, disappointed in his daughter for stopping so early, for trusting you. She feels her sister's warm embrace, and hears her soothing words. She clings to her, burying her face in the smaller girl's frame, only one thought on her mind.

It's you.

#sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x reader #ghostface!sam #melissa barrera x you #melissa barrera x reader #scream #otde

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girlgenius1111 · 6 months

Text

someone who loves you wouldn't do this

the fourth and final chapter of family line solstråle faces some more challenges and makes some important decisions. angst. like angst... but then fluff :) cw: more of the same... poor mental health on sol's part.

it must be said that this chapter would be absolutely NOTHING compared to what it is now without @wileys-russo. for every comment you leave on this, YOU BEST leave bailey something telling her thank you, too :)

------

“Solstråle… that is just… wood. Your bed would just be on some wooden slats on the ground.”

You beamed at your sister. “I KNOW. It’s so cool. It’s like camping. But with a comfy mattress, and it’s oversized, so I don't need a nightstand, it’s like a built-in shelf! It'll go so well with my new map because the wood is the same as the frame and…”

Ingrid didn’t need to hear your reasoning; the excitement on your face was more than enough for her. She would have bought you anything, no matter how hideous, just to keep seeing this joy on your face. This alleged bed frame wasn’t even that bad; it was woodsy and earthy and the precise thing you loved.

The bed frame was the final thing you’d needed. Ingrid had come in with a gameplan, because of course she had, and you had systematically made your way through the store.

You’d seemed unsure at first, and very hesitant to really pick anything out. Mapi, meanwhile, was too excited to see that she was overwhelming you. After the 8th time you’d said the words, “I don’t know, do you like it?” your sister knew she had to step in.

Mapi was busy talking your ear off. “OOO what about this dresser? With the matching mirror? Or we could get the other mirror with this dresser and paint the wood framing so it would match. Or we could get-”

Ingrid cut her off. “María, darling, I love you, but take a breath.” You watched amused as Mapi literally took a deep breath at Ingrid’s instruction. “Okay, now go pick out a couple new mugs over there and then come back.”

Mapi nodded enthusiastically, bounding off towards the mugs. “Do not run, María Pilar!” Ingrid shouted after her, smiling to herself when Mapi slowed down to an awkward shuffle.

Your sister turned to you then, a sympathetic look on her face as you regarded her cautiously.

“Which dresser do you want?”

“I don’t-”

“No. Which dresser do you want?” Ingrid insisted.

You shrugged, looking away from your sister, and inexplicably starting to tear up. You didn't want to pick the wrong thing, and you didn’t want to make anyone buy anything for you.

The brunette put her hands on your shoulders, looking down at you insistently. “Listen, Solstråle. I want you to have a space that is yours, with things you pick, and things you like. Let me do this for you? Please?”

You sighed, nodding slowly. “I like that one.” You said softly, pointing at one of the dressers Mapi hadn’t even glanced at.

“Good.” Ingrid said. “MARÍA, come here.”

Mapi returned like a puppy being called back to its owner, with a single mug in her hands. Ingrid had been about to scold her, and tell her to stop hijacking your shopping trip, when Mapi handed out the mug towards you. You took it into your hands, turning it around until the design was facing you.

It was a ceramic mug, painted with a minimalist map of Spain. There was only one marking on the map, signifying Barcelona. It was a little sun, right on the coast, marking your new home.

“Get it? It’s a map. Like the one I got you. And it has a sun. Mapi and Solstråle. Un mapa y el sol.” She joked, clearly thinking you’d laugh, and put the mug back, as it wasn’t normally the sort of thing you’d like.

You grinned at her, though, looking between the Spaniard and your sister, who also had a big smile on her face. “Can I get it?” You asked.

Mapi looked surprised, but Ingrid just kept smiling, knowing instantly that the silly mug meant something because Mapi had seen it, and thought of you. “Of course. María, she picked out a dresser.”

“Which one?” Mapi asked, looking around excitedly.

You’d laughed, shaking your head, and pointing at the one you wanted. Ingrid was a little worried Mapi would jokingly complain that you hadn’t picked one of the ones’ she’d pointed out, and inadvertently make you feel guilty, but Mapi just nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh I didn’t see that one! Good call pequeña!”

You’d looked relieved, Ingrid felt relieved, and Mapi was just happy to be there.

-------

You couldn’t sleep. It felt dumb, laying in your new bed, in your redecorated room, but your mind just wouldn’t turn off. You’d spent the day with Ingrid and Mapi, and they’d done everything right. Everything. Your room felt like your room, now, not just the guest room. Their home felt like your home.

And yet. You were still empty. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t convinced. It didn’t make any fucking sense, because they’d gone out of their way, over and over, to show you that they loved you. That seemed like something that couldn’t be reality, though. You weren’t… loveable. How could you be? You were just you. And that had never been enough, no matter how badly you wanted it to be.

You couldn’t stand laying in bed any longer. It was too soft, too comfortable. It felt too safe, like everything was about to be ripped away from you. The living room was safer. It was so viscerally Ingrid and Mapi’s space. You didn’t have anything to lose down here.

You turned the TV on, appreciating the array of Norwegian options Ingrid was subscribed to, and put on a mindless one. You sat and watched, and tried not to think. You weren’t very successful if the way you jumped when the couch moved next to you was any indication.

“Can’t sleep?” Mapi asked, tucking herself under the blanket you were using.

“Nope.”

“Thinking about how much better you’d sleep in that race car bed we saw? That’s why I'm up.” Mapi replied wistfully, causing you to crack a smile.

“Something like that.” You replied softly. The defender studied you for a moment, before throwing an arm around your shoulder, contact you leaned into, almost on instinct.

A scene came on in the drama that was playing, one which took place in a tattoo shop. Mapi perked up, and you saw an opening to change the subject before your mood could be questioned.

“How old were you when you got your first tattoo?” You questioned.

“18. It was this one.” Mapi said excitedly, holding out her arm to point at the partially covered up tattoo. “I covered it kind of a couple years later. Would you ever get a tattoo?”

You weren’t a bad liar, but for some reason, you didn’t feel like lying to Mapi. She felt like a judgment free zone, in a way your sister didn’t. “I have one.”

Mapi looked at you in surprise. “You do? Where? What is it? When did you get it? How did you get it?” The law in Barcelona was that you could get one at 16 without parental consent, but Mapi hadn’t known when you would have done it.

You laughed at her rapid fire questions. “I got it in Norway. It was a stick and poke, I don’t even remember getting it, I was blacked out.”

Mapi tried to school her features, but you could sense her disapproval anyway. It wasn’t for the reason you expected, though. “Someone gave you a stick and poke while you were blacked out?” She asked evenly.

You just shrugged. “I asked for it, apparently.”

It was quiet for a moment while the defender tried to act like that didn’t upset her.

“What is it?” You blushed, then, and Mapi cracked a smile. “Tell me, tell me. I won’t tell your sister.”

Instead of telling, you showed her, pulling your shirt up so your rib was exposed.

So the 23 clearly inked into your skin was visible.

Mapi’s touch was delicate when she traced over it, a small smile on her lips.

“23, huh?”

You shrugged. “It was the only thing I asked for, apparently. I couldn’t remember the number, I was so drunk, but I made someone google what it was, and then… got it.”

“That’s really sweet.” Mapi said quietly.

“Hope she doesn’t change her number.” You said quickly, trying not to linger on the sentimentality of it all.

“Eh. You can always turn it into something else. Tattoo cover ups aren’t that expensive.” Mapi said casually, knowing exactly who was just a few steps from the family room. Sue her if she wanted to see Ingrid’s reaction to your tattoo.

“Tattoo? TATTOO? You have a tattoo, solstråle?” Ingrid asked, practically falling into the room. You tensed, suddenly terrified that this would be it. She’d make you leave after this. But while ingrid looked a little stern, she didn't seem angry. Still, you were a bit frozen still, and Mapi took her opportunity.

“Stick and poke. Got it while blackout drunk.” She said, holding up a hand for you to high five, despite clearly disapproving minutes earlier. Apparently, Mapi only needed to be a protective adult in Ingrid’s absence. You high fived her, allowing yourself to smile a bit, though you shot your sister a nervous glance.

Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, sighing heavily and sitting on the couch.

“Alright. Let me see it.” You sat up to lift the side of your shirt again, stopping when she threw a hand over her eyes. “Wait, no. Is it bad? Is it a bad word? Is it a vagina?” You and Mapi collapsed into giggles, and Ingrid rolled her eyes, removing her hand from her face. “Oh grow up, both of you. Let me see, solstråle.”

A bit smugly, now, you showed her the tattoo, watching carefully as her face morphed from apprehension, to surprise, to… emotion. Ingrid was tearing up.

“Oh my god, don’t cry, please, Ingrid,” you begged, sitting up and looking at your sister anxiously. Mapi was shaking with silent laughter next to you, and Ingrid was waving her hands in front of her face frantically.

“I’m not crying, I’m not. I’m just- tattoos are bad. Really bad. You shouldn’t have that. Tattoo. Of my number. On your body forever. My baby sister,” She trailed off, biting her lip when it began to tremble.

“Ingrid,” you complained, looking away uncomfortably.

“Ven aqui, princesa,” Mapi said quietly, pulling Ingrid into her side, though she was still smiling. Ingrid took a few calming breaths resting against her girlfriend, staying silent even though she had a million things to say. Her girlfriend took the opportunity to break the ice, seeing as though you looked to be on the verge of bolting out of the room. “ You know what would look good, solstråle? A 4, on the other side.” She suggested with a grin.

Ingrid sat bolt upright. “NO! No more tattoos. María, I swear to god.”

Mapi laughed, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m just kidding, princesa, relax! God you sound like Alexia when I joked that I was going to tattoo Fresa when she was 12. I thought Ale was going to hit me.”

“I might hit you.” Ingrid mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at her girlfriend.

“Nah. I’m too hot for that.” Mapi said confidently, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek. Ingrid fought a smile and you turned away with a grimace on your face.

“Well. I’m going to bed. Please, keep the volume down, I don’t wish to be scarred this evening.” You said, walking briskly out of the room, ignoring Mapi’s cackle, and Ingrid’s gasp.

“We don’t have sex! We don’t! Abstinence is key!” Ingrid shouted after you, sighing heavily when she heard you laugh from the stairs. She turned to Mapi with a defeated look on her face.

“Nicely done, princesa.” Mapi teased.

Ingrid groaned, collapsing against her girlfriend. “She laughed a lot today. Like really laughed.” Ingrid commented after a minute.

Mapi ran her fingers through Ingrid’s loose hair. “I know. It was nice. She’s making progress, mi amor. You’re doing really well.”

Ingrid smiled shyly into the Spaniard, privately thinking that she’d do a lot worse without Mapi around to help. It takes a village, she supposed.

-------

You hadn’t quite drifted off when you heard your bedroom door open quietly. You were half asleep, too sleepy to open your eyes, assuming that either Ingrid or Mapi were putting something in your room you’d forgotten downstairs. You cracked an eye open after a second when you heard a noise closer to your bed, and saw your sister picking up Snø, who had fallen off your bed. She turned towards you, and for some reason, you shut your eyes before she could see they were open.

You pretended to be asleep. You weren’t sure why.

You were glad you had, though, when you felt Snø placed just next to your face, felt the covers pulled up a little until they were just under your chin, and felt Ingrid press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“God natt solstråle, jeg elsker deg,” she whispered, before quietly creeping back out of the room.

You were wide awake now, opening your eyes as soon as you heard the door shut. You weren’t quite sure what you were so upset about. Ingrid tucking you in had felt safe and loving and warm. Those were all good feelings… so why did it feel like a part of your chest was caving in on itself?

It was just… where had Ingrid learned to do that? You couldn’t, for the life of you, remember your parents doing anything similar with you. Even when you were young, putting you to bed consisted of them standing in the doorway while you got under the covers, and them bidding you a goodnight. Had it not been like that for Ingrid?

The more you thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. Of course it hadn’t been like that for Ingrid. She had been intentional, wanted. She was their favorite. They loved Ingrid in a way they never loved you. Of course they tucked her in, and kissed her forehead, and told her they loved her. Words you hadn’t heard from either of them in a long time. Ingrid got everything you always craved, and you couldn’t even really be that mad about it. Because if anyone deserved the absolute best the world had to offer, it was your sister.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, quietly muffling your sobs in your pillow. It was a sadness that plagued you, mixed with hope. Your parents didn’t love you, you were pretty sure of that. But it seemed like, maybe, Ingrid did.

-------

The following day was a match day. Well, not for Mapi, obviously, but it was an important league match for the team, and for Ingrid, and you were actually looking forward to going.

You woke up well rested in your bedroom, warm sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. You looked around when you woke up, a bit confused at the transformation it had undergone. It was cozy, and you relished laying in bed for a bit, not in any rush to leave this newly comforting space. It felt like home, and thought that still scared you, it wasn’t as terrifying in the daylight. Everything was always better in the morning.

And though the morning was good, the afternoon only went downhill.

You’d disappeared up to your room to get some homework done before you were set to leave for the game, and Mapi and Ingrid were lounging downstairs, watching a WSL match. Ingrid was ignoring the repetitive texts from her mother. After another one buzzed her phone, quickly followed by a sharp ring as her mom resorted to calling her, Ingrid flipped her phone over with a heavy sigh, turning to hide her face in the crook of Mapi’s neck. The Spaniard frowned sadly, wrapping her arms tight around the Norwegian, softly rubbing her back.

“I love you.” Mapi whispered, not really sure what to say, but figuring that those words couldn’t hurt. Ingrid whispered them back, feeling a bit braver now, before pulling away and reaching for her phone again.

“I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t want to talk to her right now, but she can tell something is wrong. I never ignore her like this.”

“You’re not ready to talk. Just say that.” Mapi suggested. Ingrid thought for a few moments, before slowly nodding and beginning to type a response.

Please stop calling. I am focused on Solstråle right now. You’ve really hurt her, and neither of us are ready to talk to you yet. Please respect that.

Ingrid showed Mapi before hitting send, an apprehensive look on her face.

“Perfect, amor.” Mapi assured her, watching as Ingrid hit send and snuggled back up against her girlfriend. She felt the words more than she heard them when Mapi spoke into her ear. “I am proud of you. You’re doing the right thing for your sister, and I know it’s hard, but you’re doing so well, mi princesa. I’m so proud of you.”

Ingrid blushed heavily, but smiled to herself. She wasn't sure why, but it suddenly felt like things might be okay from here on out. She would be wrong.

-------

You shouldn’t have answered the phone. You should have known better. You couldn't help the hope that bloomed inside of you when you saw your mom’s name on the caller ID as your phone rang, though. You answered the phone.

“You’re ruining our family.” She ruined it first.

“You’ve made my daughter hate me.” You’re her daughter too.

“Ingrid doesn’t want you there. She’s not your parent, I am.” Ingrid says she wants you here. And Ingrid acts more like a parent than she ever has.

“If I'd known how much trouble you’d be, I wouldn’t have bothered with having you.” Sometimes you wish she hadn’t bothered with it.

“You cause more trouble than you’re worth, and one day Ingrid will see that. And I won’t be here to take you back.” You were a lot of trouble, weren’t you? Your mom was right. One day, Ingrid and Mapi would reach the point she had. And you’d have nowhere else to go.

Your thoughts only spiraled from there. You hung up the phone without saying a word, letting it fall to the ground. You curled into yourself and thought. Thought hard. Until your mind felt like a prison you were locked in, and you weren’t sure how to get out. Until the room disappeared around you, and all you felt was hatred. Not towards your mother. But towards yourself.

-------

You wouldn’t look at Mapi. You wouldn’t move. You didn’t even really seem to know she was there. You sat with your knees pulled to your chest on the floor by your bed, a vacant look in your eyes.

“Come on, pequeña, come back. I’m right here, you’re safe.” Mapi said softly, careful not to touch you. She’d come to ask you if you’d be ready to go in an hour, wanting to leave at the same time as Ingrid and spend time with the team as they got ready in the locker room. She’d found you like this, making yourself as small as possible against your bed. You looked tiny, and Mapi spoke quietly, delicately, trying to coax you back to her.

Still, even her soothing words didn’t bring you out. And she knew she needed to get Ingrid, even as she knew that Ingrid would freak out.

She stepped away from you, leaning into the hall and calling quietly towards her room, where your sister was.

“Ingrid, come here please.” She said, as calmly as she could. Ingrid appeared in the hall, walking towards your room as she fiddled with the braid in her hair.

“What’s up?” She asked, following Mapi into your room. “Solstråle?” She looked between you and her girlfriend in confusion.

“I think she’s a little out of it right now. I’m not sure what happened, I found her like this.” Mapi explained, trying her best to not make Ingrid panic.

Ingrid sat down next to you, grabbing your hand. When you didn’t even flinch, she looked at Mapi in horror.

“María, what do we do?”

“She’s all right, amor. She just needs a bit.” Mapi reassured, sitting down on your other side.

“I… I don’t understand, what happened?”

“I don’t know, mi amor. Something probably upset her. She’s very vulnerable right now.” Mapi replied, before pausing briefly. “Do you remember when I withdrew from camp for the first time? I got like this. I was okay, I just needed some time, and my brain was trying to protect itself. Solstråle is okay, she just needs the same.”

Ingrid nodded slowly, because she did remember. That was different, though, that was… a traumatic experience for her girlfriend. And whatever was happening with you right now, this couldn’t be a reaction to a traumatic experience. Yes, you were struggling, and yes, the last couple years had been hard, but you weren’t… traumatized?

As Ingrid sat and waited for you to come back to her, though, she realized that you were. If she put herself in your position, she couldn’t see how you could have come out of everything not traumatized. The marks your parents had left on you ran deeper than Ingrid had realized. And there wasn’t anything she could do to fix them unless you let her.

“María,” Ingrid said quietly, a desperate plea for some reassurance as minutes passed and nothing changed, as she stared into your eyes and you didn't react.

“I know, cariño, but she’s okay. She’s okay, I promise. Just try to stay calm.”

Ingrid wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay calm. Especially when she glanced at her phone and saw it was several minutes past the time she was supposed to leave for the match. “Can you call Ale? And tell her I can’t come?”

Mapi was nodding before Ingrid finished her sentence, standing and stepping out of the room. The phone only rang once before Alexia picked up, her reassuring voice calming Mapi, who was pretending to be a lot less panicked than she felt.

“Hola.”

“Ingrid and I can’t come.” Mapi said simply.

“What’s going on? Are you both okay?” Alexia asked with concern. Ingrid wouldn’t just miss a match she was supposed to be starting. Not unless something was wrong.

“It’s her sister, she’s not… well right now. We have to stay here with her. Ale, I’m really sorry,” Mapi said, cutting herself off before she got choked up. She wasn’t an emotional person but seeing you like this, seeing Ingrid so upset, and hearing her best friend’s voice over the phone… she couldn’t help it.

“No, don’t be sorry. Family first, always. I’ll talk to Jona. Do you need anything? Can I help?” Alexia asked. Hearing Mapi cry was always unsettling, because it happened so rarely.

“No, we’ve got it. Thank you, Ale, really.” Mapi said back, clearing her throat.

They said goodbye, and Mapi walked back into the room, raising her eyebrows when she saw Ingrid on your phone.

“She talked to Mom. Like 20 minutes ago, she answered a call from Mom.” Ingrid stated. “Could that…”

Mapi took her spot back next to you, absentmindedly taking your hand in hers. You gave it the faintest of squeezes, but the Spaniard didn’t want to put any pressure on you, so she said nothing. “It could be that. It makes sense. A lot of this seems to have to do with your mom. I don’t know what she said on the phone, but… it probably wasn’t good.”

Ingrid sat with that information for a bit, startling slightly when you slumped into her. Carefully, she lowered you so your head was in her lap. You seemed a little more aware, now, but still nowhere near normal. Softly, she began to pull your hair out of the braid it was in, combing it back away from your face.

“Our Mom did this to her.” She said evenly. Mapi rested her chin on Ingrid’s shoulder, nodding slightly. “I am never letting that woman near Solstråle again. I don’t care what I have to do. She’s been hurt enough. I won’t let her be hurt anymore.”

It didn’t matter that Mapi had come to this conclusion a couple days ago. It mattered that Ingrid was there now, and Ingrid was going to keep you safe.

You heard what Ingrid said. Your ears still worked, you were just a bit… out of it. You heard what she had told her girlfriend. And as she sat above you, relaxing you with every touch of her fingers to your scalp, you knew that you were failing at the rules you’d set yourself years ago.

Don’t get attached. Don’t expect anything from anyone. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t listen when people tell you they love you; they almost never mean it.

You were trusting, again. Just a little bit, piece by piece, and you knew that it would take time before you healed fully, before you trusted fully. Very quickly, though, you were losing the will to be independent, losing the will to be strong. You didn’t want to have to be strong anymore. And you were beginning to think you didn’t need to be.

Of course, healing isn’t linear. Nothing is that easy. So even as you slowly sat up off your sister, and inquired as to why she wasn’t at her game, some part of you knew something else would go wrong. It had happened too many times for you not to know any better. There was still a hesitation when you leaned into the hug your sister offered, as she explained that you were more important than football. There was still hesitation when she asked what had happened. You told her the fewest details possible, which she clearly wasn’t happy with. You were still holding yourself back, somewhere in the middle of healed and broken. It was almost a race to see who could get to you first. It would either be Mapi and Ingrid to reach you, to put you back together. Or it would be the trauma and pain that pulled you backwards, back to the version of yourself you hated. Breaking you for good.

------

The answer would come in the form of a knock on the front door, later that day. After you’d gotten up off the floor of your bedroom, and returned to pretending to be okay. You were in the garage with Mapi, working on the bike, while Ingrid cooked dinner. You were loosening up a bit, and Mapi could tell you were getting closer to telling her what your mom had said on the phone.

Your sister answered the door, thinking maybe it would be one of their teammates, coming to check on them after her rather abrupt withdrawal from the match.

When Ingrid opened the door, though, it wasn’t her teammate on the front porch. It was your father.

-------

Your father, who was significantly less at fault than your mom, but still complicit in how you’d been treated. Your father, who always worked too much to really have a say in anything regarding your life. Your father, who you’d always felt closer to, always trusted more.

Your father, who loved you more than he’d ever admit.

Ingrid knew what he was there for the minute she saw his face. She was proven right when she got you and Mapi from the garage and brought you into the family room. When he began to talk and explain what he wanted, began to try to convince you to come home.

“I know Mom messed up. We both have, really. Our home isn’t the same without you though, Solstråle. I officially retired yesterday, which is why I wasn’t here sooner. I want to make things right. We weren’t good parents, but I’m here now, my darling. I want you to come back home. We can fix things with your mom. We can fix things at your school, get you back with your friends. We can be a family again.”

We can be a family again. A few months ago, maybe that would have gotten you home. Maybe the temptation of your friends and Norway and the promise of being loved would have worked. Things were different now, though. You felt like you had a family here, or that you could.

You’d always had a better relationship with your Dad. He loved all the outdoorsy activities you did, and though he’d been busy with work practically your whole life, the little time you spent together was always nice. Him retiring would ensure one sane person was home with you, that it wouldn’t just be you and your mom. And maybe you would have said yes, if you hadn’t seen the fear in Ingrid’s eyes, and decided it was because she wanted you to stay. She wanted you here, you told yourself. You wanted to be where you were wanted. And that wasn’t Norway, not with your mom.

“No.” you said simply.

“Solstråle,” your father began, with an exasperated sigh.

“No. I appreciate you coming here, and I appreciate you caring but it’s too late. It’s not enough, and it’s too late. Mom doesn’t want me home. She made that clear on the phone today. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted. I don’t want to go back to Norway.”

Next to you, Mapi, who had been silent this whole time, squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

Your Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You got the idea he thought this would be easier, which made sense. You hadn’t put up any fight when they’d sent you to Spain, and your Dad hadn’t expected any fight now.

“Take a day or two. Think about it. For me?”

Ingrid and Mapi wanted to snap that you didn’t owe him anything and he was in no place to ask you for anything, but they didn’t want to cause any more conflict than was necessary. Besides, you could handle yourself.

“I’ve made my decision but if you want to hear me repeat myself in two days, that’s fine.” You said calmly. Ingrid bit back a laugh, but Mapi smiled openly.

Your Dad didn’t seem phased, to his credit. “I’d like to talk to you both. Alone.” He directed that at the older girls, and you took the opportunity to flee upstairs, far away from the man that was… doing nothing but confusing you about your feelings towards your parents.

Your Dad didn’t stay for much longer, giving your sister a little speech about encouraging you to “make the right decision,” and why the right thing would be sending you home with him.

It left your sister with a bit to think about, her parents often making her rethink her decisions. Mapi could sense this turmoil, but she didn’t say anything, knowing Ingrid would come to her. Ingrid was completely silent as her and Mapi went to clean up the kitchen from dinner, allowing you space and time upstairs to process.

After a few minutes, though, Ingrid spoke up.

“Are you sure we’re making the right decision?” Ingrid asked, turning to Mapi as she finished putting away the dishes.

“We aren’t making a decision. Your sister is.” Mapi reasoned. “Besides, Ingrid, you said it yourself. Solstråle shouldn’t be around your mom. There are no real, tangible reasons why she shouldn’t stay here.”

“My dad had a couple.” Ingrid said skeptically.

“Okay. Why should Solstråle go back to Norway?” Mapi asked, taking a seat at the counter across from her girlfriend. Ingrid sighed, and began to list off the reasons her father had given her.

It was, of course, at this moment that you came down the stairs to fill up your water. This moment, the worst possible moment, as Ingrid tried to convince herself that you should stay, while inadvertently convincing you that she didn’t want you to stay. You froze in the hall, just out of sight, after hearing your name when Mapi asked her question. It was a miracle you stayed silent and on your feet, as every fear you still harbored about being a burden to Ingrid and Mapi was, apparently, proved to be true.

“She doesn’t have friends here. She doesn’t speak Spanish very well. We’re both busy athletes, and she is… not easy. We’d have our hands full. We are young, and we aren’t her parents. I’m her sister, not her mom. She needs help, and I’m not sure how to convince her to get it. My mom and dad can get her back on track better than I can.”

Ingrid was simply restating what her father had said. None of it she agreed with, none of it felt true. You didn’t hear her tell Mapi that, though. No, you quietly crept back upstairs, and sat on your bed numbly. Your stupid bed that she’d bought for you. In the stupid room she’d redecorated. With the absurd presents she’d gotten you. All of it wasn’t true. All of it was a lie. She didn’t want you here, how could you have ever let yourself be convinced that she did? Just like that, with only a few sentences overheard, every ounce of trust you’d begun to place in your sister had evaporated. They were downstairs, talking about how they didn’t want you, after spending so long lying and saying they did.

It should have been confusing, this contradiction. But it wasn’t, because you’d spent your whole life feeling unwanted. And what is a few days of being told something against 18 years of being told something the complete opposite? Your mom had been right. Ingrid had come to her senses. You weren’t wanted here. Your Dad said he wanted to fix things, and though that was hardly believable to you, you’d go back. Maybe you weren’t wanted anywhere, but you’d go back to Norway, where no one cared what you did as long as you didn’t get in trouble. You supposed they didn’t really care here, either, they’d just been pretending to. It had all been an act, probably to spare your feelings, but an act nonetheless. You ignored that it didn’t make sense. You pretended that the complete contradictions in what they’d been telling you and how they’d been acting didn’t exist. Because you’d rather convince yourself then be convinced by them. You’d rather hurt yourself than let them hurt you first. You’d take the first step. You’d make it easy, and you’d go.

Very suddenly, you couldn’t stand to be in this house, this room for a second longer. You pulled out your phone, and told your dad you’d reconsidered. You took a few calming breaths, preparing yourself to rid your sister of the burden that was taking care of you, apparently. You shouldn’t be surprised by this. You'd been right, the whole time, to not trust her when she said she wanted you here. She didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

Doubt swirlied around in your head. Nothing made sense, nothing made any sense. There had always been one constant in your life, though. And that was being unwanted. Ingrid didn’t want you. Ingrid couldn’t want you. It was too good to be true.

You stomped down the stairs, hearing Ingrid and Mapi’s voices grow quiet upon your approach. You assumed they’d been talking about you, and they had. About finding you a therapist. Not about wanting you to go.

You entered the kitchen, startling both girls with the hard look on your face. “I’m going back to Norway.” You asked, voice monotone, but shaking dangerously as you regarded your sister and her girlfriend.

“What?” Ingrid asked, thinking she must have misheard you.

“I am going back to Norway. I texted Dad.” You turned to leave, but Mapi grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asked. You could only glare at her.

“You said you wanted to stay, solstråle, I don’t understand…” Ingrid said, trailing off.

“You don’t want me here, Ingrid, and I don’t want to be here.”

“Of course we want you here,” Ingrid began, growing more and more confused with each venomous word that you spewed at her.

You wrenched your arm out of Mapi’s grasp and stepped towards your sister, your outstretched hand connected with her chest as you shoved her backwards.

“Oye!” Mapi shouted, getting in between the two of you. You were beside yourself with rage, suddenly. Why had she lied? Why had she gotten your hopes up?

“No. You. Don’t. Stop lying, both of you.” You pushed Mapi away from you then, ignoring the angry tears that had begun to well in your eyes. “You don’t want me here, you think I’d do better in Norway. I don’t speak Spanish, I don’t have any friends, I’m too much work, you are young and you don’t need a teenager to take care of. I’m mean and quiet and stubborn and my own fucking mother doesn’t love me. I heard you earlier Ingrid, you don’t need to lie. I’m used to it. You don’t want me. Stop pretending you do.”

At some point during your speech, Mapi and Ingrid understood what had happened. You’d overheard something out of context, clearly. And it was evident that you’d reverted back to your original belief that they didn’t want you. It hurt them, how easily you’d been convinced. And suddenly, they weren’t confused and they weren’t angry that you’d pushed them. Their faces softened, and they inched closer to you and you hated it. Because everything inside of you was screaming to believe what you knew what they were about to say, to let yourself fall into their arms, for good this time. To trust them.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t be hurt again. It would kill you.

You stepped backwards, and both girls stopped moving. It was Ingrid that spoke first, her voice low and soothing.

“Solstråle, I don’t believe any of that. Dad said all that, to try to convince us to let you go back to Norway. We want you here. I know it’s hard for you to believe us, honey, but we do. More than anything, we want you to stay.”

You shook your head frantically, teardrops hitting the floor under you. “No. No.”

Mapi nodded, stepping a bit closer. “Yes, mi sol. We want you here. We love you, and we want you to stay.”

“No, stop!” You shouted. Ingrid was crying now, and you tried not to care. “You don’t mean that, you can’t mean that. Please, stop lying, this is too confusing, and it hurts too much, please. Just let me go.”

You didn’t mean you wanted them to let you go back to Norway. You wanted them to let you go. The tension in the air thickened at this, as both of them realized what you meant.

“No. I won’t do that. You’re staying here, with me. Here, where you are loved, and wanted. You’re not going anywhere, you aren’t allowed to.” Ingrid said, carelessly wiping a tear off her cheek as she stepped closer to you.

Mapi stepped closer, too. “Nena, I promise you. On everything I love. On my parents, on football, on Ingrid. I want you to stay. Please.” The emotion in the defender’s voice startled you, and very suddenly, all of the fight had gone out of you, all of the anger.

You wiped your eyes like a child. Because really, that was the part of you crying. “Why?” You cried. “Why do you want me? No one wants me.”

Mapi shook her head, for once at a loss for what to say, as Ingrid let out a rough sob at your words. “How could we not? You’re my baby sister, Solstråle. You are kind, funny, and caring. You’re a good person, honey. You are good, and we love you.”

It was quiet as you heaved in a few breaths, looking between both girls as you tried to decide what was true and what was false. And, ultimately, when you made your decision, it was because you were too tired to do anything else. Too exhausted of hating yourself to continue punishing yourself. Too exhausted of not letting yourself believe that you were worthy of love. Because you craved it, so deeply inside of you. And as much as you didn’t want to, and as much as you wished you didn’t care, you did.

You are good, Ingrid had said. And if you were good, you could let yourself be loved.

“Do you promise?” You asked, your voice cracking at the same time Ingrid and Mapi felt their hearts break for the 10th time today, at how completely disbelieving you sounded.

“I promise.” Ingrid said. You looked between her and Mapi silently, and Ingrid took a hesitant step towards you, before Mapi pulled her back, shaking her head slightly. You needed to go to them. You needed to decide, all by yourself.

It was the desperation in your sister’s voice that really got you, the tears in her eyes. And maybe it was also the desperation inside yourself, too, and the ache in your heart that you knew you didn’t need to carry anymore. You wrapped your arms tight around your abdomen, and prepared yourself to say the most vulnerable, most terrifying words you had ever said, and might ever say.

“I want to stay with you guys.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before you were being squished into Ingrid’s arms, Mapi’s quickly following. Both of them hugged you tight, giving you the comfort you had been trying to give yourself. You didn’t need to do that, anymore. They would do it for you.

You wouldn’t have to do any of the things you’d spent a long time doing alone, alone anymore.

It had been years and years of wishing you had a family that loved you, thinking you’d give anything for a family that cared about you again. It turned out you didn’t need to give anything. You could just… have it. You just deserved it.

-------

def not the end of my girl sol ☀️ we'll see more of her... soon ish :)

hope everyone enjoyed this little series <3 I love and appreciate you all very much

also... i was 🤏 this close to leaving part 4 on a cliffhanger where mr. engen shows up but the second part wouldn't have been long enough and i am much too nice

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #🍓☀️

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domripley · 27 days

Text

Our Own Summer

pairing: sam carpenter x reader; past quinn bailey x reader

warnings: camp counselor au, mean dom sam, daddy kink, rough sex, rough face fucking, rimming, finger sucking, face slapping, reader is a bit of a little shit, tara & reader friendship, strapon use, begging, verbal degradation, sam's been waiting to do this for awhile-, jealous!sam, she’s a bit toxic but she takes accountability.

summary: sam always found you annoying, but now that you were working as a counselor at the same camp as Sam, she finds you to be even worse.

edited by my lovely girlfriend @specialinterestshows 🥰🩵

word count: 10.3k

“Welcome! I’m Sam, and I’m the head counselor here at Camp Crystal Lake. We’re going to have a few days before the campers get here, so that will give you some time to learn the layout and ask for help with whatever you need. Does anyone have any questions for me right now?” Sam asked, looking around at the new and some returning counselors. You smirked as her eyes locked on yours, holding eye contact with you for a few seconds before shaking her head.

You could tell she was annoyed by your presence, having been at her house enough times to know how she acted when she was trying to pretend you weren’t getting on her nerves. Now that you were working at the camp she was in charge of for the whole summer, you were only going to make things worse.

“Dude, stop eye-fucking my sister,” Tara whispered as Sam started to answer your new coworkers’ questions.

“What? I- I wasn’t eye-fucking nobody, but especially not your sister,” you said, biting your lip as you realized that wasn’t believable.

Tara rolled her eyes, “Yeah sure.”

“Honest!” you try to argue, but Tara wasn’t having it.

You both knew you had a crush on her older sister since the moment you and Tara became friends. There were many sleepovers the two of you had had while Sam watched you, while her family was gone. Tara and you had been friends since the seventh grade and now that the two of you were adults, you wished Sam felt the same way towards you.

Since you didn’t think she would ever feel that way, annoying the fuck out of her was good enough. Sam didn’t own the camp, so she couldn’t fire you - in your mind that meant you were able to push her buttons more than usual. Of course, you never did it in front of Tara, considering she knew about your crush on her older sister for the longest time.

“(Your Name),” Sam called out, causing you to jump, “Come here.”

You did as you were told, getting closer to her as the counselors moved to get their stuff. You had zoned out, thinking about Sam so much that you didn’t realize she was handing things out to everyone.

As soon as you walked up to her, she smirked. “Good girl. Here’s your supplies for your campers when they get here. You’ll be in cabin two.”

You looked down at the ground, eyes widening as you noticed the black boots Sam was wearing. Between being called a good girl and seeing her boots, all you could think about was grinding against them while she praised you.

Shaking the thoughts of your head, you sighed, crossing your arms, “Samantha.”

Sam glared at you, “Stop calling me that.”

Bringing your hand up to your chin, you tapped it with one finger playfully, “Mm, no.”

You grabbed your stuff and walked away before she could say anything. Without looking at Sam, you knew she was still focused on you.

“Are you done doing that for today? It’s bad enough we’re going to be here all summer,” Tara complained as she sat her stuff down to get a drink of water from her bottle. “Instead of annoying her and poking the bear, why don’t you just make a move?”

You gave Tara a surprised look, “Make a move? What, so she can laugh at me and say no? I’d rather keep annoying her.”

Tara shook her head, “How do you know she would laugh at you?”

“She just would,” you sighed, “Would you like some help carrying your stuff to your cabin?”

“I’ve got it,” Tara said, picking her stuff back up. “Plus, Sam put me in cabin thirteen which makes no sense. What cabin are you in? I didn’t hear her when she said it.”

“Cabin two.”

Tara nodded, “You do realize Sam is in cabin one, yeah?”

“I figured, what about it?” you asked, unsure as to why Tara would bring it up. It didn’t matter to you if Sam was in cabin one or cabin twelve, you were going to annoy her just as much.

“You do realize that cabin one and cabin two are connected?” Tara informed you.

“Oh? I- well, I mean that’s fine, I’m confused as to why you’re pointing it out, to be honest.”

Tara sighed. “I just… I know you like to annoy her and we’re best friends, but she’s my sister.”

You gave her an odd look, unsure of what she was getting at. Yeah, you annoyed Sam a lot, but you genuinely did like her. “What are you trying to say?”

Tara got a bit closer to you. “I just don’t want to see her, or you, hurt.”

“Tara,” you started, “Me hurting her? I would never.”

Tara’s facial expression was unreadable when she spoke up again, “Then try not to annoy her more than what you already do. I don’t think you would intentionally hurt her, but after Richie… she puts up a big front.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” you questioned.

Tara tried her best to hide the smirk that was threatening to show, and if it was anyone else, she would be able to get away with it. Not you though, you knew the moment you asked her that she was fighting the urge to smirk.

“Got to go get set up, talk to you later,” Tara said, chuckling as she walked away.

You stood there for a few more minutes, trying to decipher what Tara was trying to get at, but you soon let it go - for now - as you headed towards cabin number two. You decided you were going to take a nap once you had your clothes and such all put away. You had a few days before your busy summer started and getting familiar with the camp could wait. Sleep could not, especially when all you could think about Sam – as well as what Tara was saying. Did Sam feel the same? Or did she know that Sam did not feel the same? You loved Tara like the sister you never had, but sometimes you wished she wasn’t so secretive when it came to important things.

“Hey, (Your Name), wait up!” a voice called out to you, causing you to stop in your tracks. You turned around, a smile spread across your face as both Chad and Mindy rushed towards you. You dropped your bags as soon as they got close enough to hug you. Chad went first, hugging you tightly and then as soon as he let go of you, Mindy gave you an even tighter hug.

“How have you been, babe?” Mindy asked as she let go of you.

“Pretty good, I’ve just been busy working and writing the book I started a bit ago,” you smiled. “How about you?”

“You still at that one place?” Chad asked.

“I’ve been good, movie theater has been doing good, I was surprised that they let me have the whole month off to do this,” Mindy said.

“I’m glad! And yeah, I’m still at that one job,” you groaned, “But honestly, I might quit when I go back home.”

“I don’t blame you, really,” Mindy said. “Well, if there’s a killer out in the woods with us and you die, then you wouldn’t have to quit!”

Both you and Chad glared at her.

“You know Sam wouldn’t let anything happen to (Your Name), the killer would be dead so fast,” Chad laughed.

Mindy hit his arm hard, glaring at him while you looked at both with confusion written all over your face. You now wondered if everyone knew something that you had no clue about. Tara was one thing – she’s Sam’s sister after all – but the twins? You were missing something and as much as you had your suspicions on what it was, you didn’t want to guess and end up wrong; you wouldn’t be able to look Sam or any of your friends in the eyes after that.

“Ow! What did you do that for?!” he whimpered, rubbing his arm.

“Ignore what he’s saying, he knows nothing,” Mindy rolled her eyes.

You sighed, wanting this conversation to end. You loved them, but all you really needed was to lay down and try and forget about the day. Looking at your watch and then back at the twins, you spoke up again, “Hey, I’ll talk to you guys in a bit, I have a bit of a headache and I’m going to be laying down for a few hours.”

Mindy and Chad said their goodbyes before they turned around. You had assumed they had already gone to the cabins they were staying in, since they didn’t have any of their stuff with them when they came up to you.

As soon as you got to the cabin, you dropped your bag on the floor before sitting on the nearest bottom bunk. You felt bad for lying to Chad and Mindy, but you were so overstimulated from everything going on so far. You got up once more to grab your pillow from your bag before laying down.

You awoke when a door was slammed shut. “What?! What's going on?” you shouted, sitting up quickly.

“You do realize there’s a room in between the cabins for the counselors to sleep and live in right?” Sam asked.

Her arms were crossed and you could tell she was annoyed. Unfortunately this time you weren’t even trying to annoy her, so it wasn’t fun for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

You cursed yourself for getting so shy when you were overstimulated. You looked down at the ground, refusing to even look at her.

“Oh,” Sam sighed. “You weren’t doing this to annoy me, were you?”

You shook your head, eyes still glued to the floor. The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence, but before you could say anything, Sam came up to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she rubbed it gently before sitting next to you.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you about it. Let me help you carry your bags to the room I was talking about, okay?” Sam spoke softly.

You nodded. “Okay.”

You stood up at the same time Sam did. You grabbed your backpack and your pillow while Sam grabbed your duffle bag.

“How did you carry this all the way here? You should have asked me for some help,” Sam sighed, grabbing the bag.

You followed her into the counselor’s room, setting your stuff down and she spoke up and pointed to the bed that was empty. “This is your bed, and over there is where you can put your clothes.”

“Thank you, S- Sam,” you said, finally making eye contact with her, “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, really. We’re going to be here the entire summer, so I’d rather help you out now so I’m not worried about you the rest of the summer,” Sam explained herself, which made your heart drop.

A part of you wanted her to worry about you - attention from her was something you’d always craved. Now was no different from back then, other than the fact that you were an adult now.

“You have a point,” you sighed. “Is Quinn working here this summer?”

Sam gave you a dirty look. “Why? I mean, yes, but why?”

“Because I haven’t seen her in a while? We’re friends?” you said, unsure as to why she was asking that.

Quinn and you had dated for a short time, and although things didn’t work out well between the two of you, you were still really good friends. You figured she was just worried that you’d run back to Quinn after spending countless nights at Tara and her house after she had left you randomly. You were over the redhead, finally realizing that your crush on Sam was still present once you got over your first real heartbreak.

“Mhm,” Sam hummed, seeming to accept your response. “Anyway, I’m going to make sure everyone is settled in and that they don’t need my help. You can take a nap because I can tell you’re tired, and I won’t come in here as loud as I just did.”

“Thank you so much.”

Sam walked out with her clipboard and sunglasses and as soon as you knew she was gone, you put your things away in the drawers. Grabbing your stuffed animal, you put it at the head of your bed before you laid down.

You couldn’t help but think about how good Sam looked in her tank top. With her muscles on display, all you could think about was her pinning you down on the bed and fucking you over and over while you begged her to keep going.

You sat up and grabbed your MP3 player from your backpack before putting your headphones in. Once you were all situated, you laid back down with music blaring in your ears. You took a deep breath, slipping your hand into your shorts. You closed your eyes, moaning when you felt how wet you were through your underwear.

You ran your fingertips lightly against yourself, enjoying how good it felt. “Fuck, Sam, please don’t tease me,” you whimpered, unaware that Sam had already ducked back in to get her water bottle. She wasn’t trying to look, especially since you weren’t aware that she was there - that is, until she heard you moan out her name.

Finally, after a few minutes of teasing yourself through your underwear, you pushed your hand into them. Rubbing your clit lightly, you imagined Sam touching you whenever she wanted to.

“Please, Sam,” you moaned, “I’m yours.”

You sped up your movements, finally bringing a finger down to your entrance. You took a deep breath, trying to spread your legs, but your shorts weren’t allowing you to. Pulling your hand out of your pants, you quickly pulled them down, followed by your underwear. Kicking them off just as Mascara by Deftones started to play.

You spread your legs, bringing your hand back down to your pussy. You kept your eyes closed as you slid a finger inside yourself. You would normally work yourself up a bit more, but you were already so wet, all you wanted was to make yourself come a few times before Sam got back. The last thing you wanted was for her to see you like this, moaning her name when you weren’t even sure if she liked you. The last thing you needed was to make things awkward for the both of you the whole summer.

You added a second finger, curling them as you began to fuck yourself. “Faster, please, Daddy. Please, wan’ to come for you,” you cried out. You opened your eyes as you heard someone come up the stairs, pulling your hand out and pulling your pants and underwear up as quickly as you could.

Sam opened cabin one’s door and you used that time to make it look like you weren’t doing anything. When she opened the door to the counselor’s room, you opened the book you had brought, wanting her to not question what you had been doing while she was away. You turned your MP3 player off and set it on the nightstand.

“We’re going to be having dinner around seven-thirty, so you’ve got a few hours of free time to explore,” Sam informed you, smiling softly.

“I mean, if we have a few days before the campers even show up, I can explore tomorrow,” you sighed. “I’m so exhausted.”

Sam smirked, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I bet.”

You gave her a confused look, but deep down your heart had just dropped. “Wh- What’s that supposed to mean, Samantha?”

You knew she hated it when you called her that, so you did, trying to get her to think that everything was okay. Sam’s smirk turned into a frown as she stood there – her eyes burning into you. You turned your head, realizing she was still staring at you and it made you nervous.

“Are you going to be a brat this whole summer, (Your Name)?” Sam asked, getting closer to you.

“What? I’m not being a brat?” You weren’t sure where this was coming from – for years when you annoyed Sam and pushed her buttons, she would just ignore you or make a petty comment back to you. But here she was, snapping at you.

“Stand up,” was all Sam said, but she gave you no room to not listen. She grabbed you by the arm, forcing you to stand up. “We’re going to get something straight here. You will behave this summer or you will not get anything from me, do you understand me?”

You nodded, getting the feeling as if Sam didn’t want you to talk at the moment.

“That means if I ask you to do something or anything, you will not call me Samantha, you will not talk back and for the record, between the two of us – you will not touch that pretty little pussy without my permission again. Got it?” Sam snapped.

You nodded in understanding, but that wasn’t good enough for Sam. Grabbing you by the throat, she squeezed lightly, before saying, “You can speak now, puppy.”

“Y-Yes, Sam, I got it,” you swallowed, licking your lips.

“Now, for years you’ve been annoying me with little things, poking the bear and then backing away, and for years I’ve been allowing you to do so. At first, I thought maybe you didn’t like me, but that wasn’t true because Tara would have dropped you the moment you said something to her… Then I got to thinking that maybe it was a crush you had and I had to make myself not believe that, because why would you have a crush on me? A few people told me you had feelings for me, but I couldn’t get myself to believe it… until today when you thought I wasn’t here, and you were masturbating. Granted, I had come back for my water bottle, and I was going to leave to give you some space and the privacy you needed,” Sam paused, getting closer to your face. You felt your cheeks heat up, hating how shy she was making you feel. “But then you started to moan my name, and I knew that this wasn’t just a one-sided thing, because if I didn’t have feelings for someone, I sure as hell wouldn’t be moaning their name. Am I wrong?”

“N- No, you’re not wrong,” you whispered, not wanting to keep her waiting for an answer from you.

“Good girl. See? It’s so much better when you behave, don’t you agree?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Sam,” you licked your lips.

“Now that we've discussed that part, tell me what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself,” Sam said, letting go of your neck to sit on her bed. She looked at you, waiting for your answer. “Well? Don’t keep me waiting. Tell me. Now.”

“You using me however you want while we’re here. Also obviously after the summer. I wanna be yours,” you admitted, keeping your eyes down onto the ground.

“Eyes on me, you look away and you’ll be going to bed with nothing but a sore ass and frustration,” Sam threatened, smirking as you shot your head up instantly without any hesitation.

“Good girl! Such a good girl,” Sam praised.

On instinct, you squeezed your legs shut, the ache between them was growing stronger. You weren’t sure how much of it you could take. Sam was actually into you, and although you were completely clueless, the more you thought about it, the more you knew you should have seen it. Between all the times Tara would smirk at Sam when she’d refuse to give you eye contact. Or how Sam would put up with you for the longest time when she could have easily told Tara to cut you off. Their relationship was extremely close, and you knew for a fact Tara would end your friendship if Sam didn’t like you.

“Aw, do you like being praised, baby?” Sam hummed, mocking you a bit to see how you’d reacted.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the moan that was fighting to come out. Her tone of voice and facial expression was not helping the ache between your legs and you needed her now.

“Please,” you whimpered, watching as Sam grabbed her backpack that had been on the floor. “I don’t think I can take any more. M’need you now, Daddy.”

Sam stopped her movements, taking a deep breath and you knew the effect you had on her. You tried your best to contain the smirk that was forming - not wanting to risk not getting anything from Sam. One thing you always knew about her: she always kept her word.

“You need me now, yeah?” Sam teased, bringing her hands to her belt buckle. “How do you need me?”

“Want you inside of me, want you to fuck me as hard as you can for all the times I’ve annoyed you. Please, Daddy. I can’t wait anymore, I’ll do anything,” you begged, hoping Sam would give in and give you what you needed.

Sam sighed, standing up from her seat to show you that her belt was unbuckled. She sat down next to you and you turned to face her.

“Yeah? You’ll do anything?” Sam questioned.

You nodded, watching Sam’s hand come up to you. “Suck” was all Sam said, bringing two fingers up to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the digits, closing your eyes as you focused on getting them wet.

“Mm,” Sam hummed. “I bet you’d be so good at sucking cock huh?”

You smiled with her fingers still in your mouth, flinching a little as Sam wrapped her free hand around your throat. You continued to suck on her fingers, running your tongue through them.

“God I want you on my cock so bad,” Sam sighed, squeezing your throat lightly. “I brought one with me just in case, didn’t know you’d be this easy, but I kind of love that about you. You’re a whore, just a set of holes waiting to be filled by anyone.”

You shook your head as best as you could, trying to say “no,” but with her fingers in your mouth it was too hard to do so.

Sam pulled them out of your mouth before asking, “What was that?”

You took a deep breath, “N-Not anyone, just you. Want you to be the only one to fill my holes. Please, please just… please fuck me. I want you.”

“Aw, but I thought you needed me, baby?” Sam teased, smiling as you whined.

“I do need you!” you cried out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“But you’re so pretty when you’re all desperate for me, I think I’m going to keep you like this for a while. Now stand up and get your shoes on, we’re going to explore the camp so you know it by heart before the campers get here.” Sam stood up, a smile on her face as she made her way to the bathroom to wash her hands.

You sat there, trying your best to catch your breath and calm down before you could get up. You were stunned - unsure as to why Sam wanted to keep you waiting, but you knew you couldn’t argue with her.

You stood up slowly, grabbing your shoes as you tried not to think about Sam’s fingers inside of you. They felt good in your mouth and you knew they were going to feel so good when they were in your pussy. But for now, you kept quiet, slipping on your shoes while Sam grabbed her clipboard and water bottle.

“I’m ready,” you said, grabbing your own water bottle. The last thing you needed was to be dehydrated, especially in this heat.

“Good girl,” Sam praised, causing you to bite your lip. You wish she had just fucked you - until she would, you were going to try and be on your best behavior. “If you’re good for the rest of the day, after dinner I’ll fuck you.”

“You promise?” you asked, eyes wide as the two of you made your way through the cabin.

“I promise,” Sam said, “And I will keep my promise, as long as you keep yours to be a good girl and behave.”

When the two of you left the cabin, you ran into Quinn for the first time in a full year. She stopped the two of you, smiling at Sam before pulling you into a hug.

“Hey, (Your Name), how’s it going? I haven’t seen you in a bit, you look so good!” Quinn said, finally letting you go. You were too busy focusing on Quinn to notice the glare Sam was giving you.

“We should hang out soon, after the summer is over. Maybe catch up with dinner and a movie?” you suggest.

“I’d love that! Alright, I’m gonna go take a walk around the whole camp before dinner, I’ll see you two then!” Quinn said as she walked in the opposite direction that Sam and you were going.

“You realize you just asked her on a date, (Your Name)?” Sam asked as the two of you continued to walk.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you said, realizing that you had fucked up. Quinn was your ex-girlfriend, but she was still your friend. So in your mind, you thought you were just asking her to hanging out like friends do.

“I’m not upset with you,” Sam reassured you. “I know how you are sometimes, so I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

You looked at her. “But?”

“But it also means that I get to remind you that you belong to me,” Sam hummed.

”Oh,” you gasped, her words going straight to your pussy. You knew it wouldn’t have affected you that much if she hadn’t just worked you up before denying you even a single touch. At this point, you thought if Sam just touched you once you would come.

Sam ignored you as the two of you made your way around the corner. You sighed, putting your hands in your pocket, slightly jumping when Sam spoke up.

“So, what are you into?” she asked. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment - you weren’t expecting her to ask you right there and then. You stayed quiet for a few minutes as the two of you continued to walk.

“Well,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I haven’t done too much, but I know I like being choked, slapped, and spanked. I also like being face fucked and… well… I like anal, as well as being degraded.”

Sam smirked, looking down at the ground. “That’s very good to know. I’m into those things as a domme, and a lot more that I would love to try with you, if you want to. Doesn’t have to be now or during the summer; you’re more than welcome to come over. Even if Tara isn’t home, okay? I know this is a lot to take in and I do really like you, so I would love to spend time with you outside of sexual things too.”

You nodded, “Thank you for letting me know.”

Sam took your hand in hers, “I’ve liked you for a long time and I know we can’t do anything here, but I want you to know that I really do care about you…”

“I know you do, so why are you saying all of this?” you asked.

Sam pulled her hand away, bringing it up to her forehead to wipe the sweat. She turned to look at you once more and said, with a straight face, “Oh, because I plan on fucking you as if I fucking hate you, and I want to make sure that you know that I really do like you.”

Your eyes widened, quickly turning your head so Sam couldn’t see the look on your face. You knew you shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet, here you were.

“What?” Sam asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“I- nothing, just-“ you began, but she cut you off.

“Oh I know what it is,” Sam hummed. Her confidence was making things worse for the ache between your legs. “You love the idea of me using you roughly, making you feel as if all you’re good for is being a set of holes for me. But after, you can’t wait for me to hold and cuddle you and praise you for being such a good girl for me. Am I wrong?”

You shook your head, whispering, “No, you’re not wrong at all.”

You stopped walking, trying to catch your breath as you took a drink from your own water bottle. Dinner needed to get here sooner; you were hoping that after that, she would give you what you wanted.

“Do you need to sit down? We can rest for a bit if you need to,” Sam said, watching as you nodded.

She helped you sit down on the ground and then sat down next to you. Sam took a drink from her water bottle and when she sat it down, she turned to you.

“Pull your shorts down,” Sam said, watching as you nervously looked around. The two of you were tucked into a corner and even though no one could see you, you were terrified that someone might walk by. Especially Tara.

Although Tara seemed to want the two of you to be together, you were worried that she would be angry if she caught the two of you fucking. It was a silly thought, really, but as Sam tugged at the waistband of your shorts, you focused back on her instead of your anxieties.

“What… what if someone catches us?” you asked, still nervous.

”No one is going to catch us. And even if they did, I would make sure they didn’t say anything to anyone else. Do you trust me, (Your Name)?” Sam asked.

You nodded, “Of course, Sam.”

“Then pull your shorts and underwear down and I’ll give you a little something to keep you going until after dinner,” Sam said.

You did as you were told, pulling both down as you refused to look at Sam. When they were around your ankles, she pushed your legs apart, giving you a look to silently tell you to keep them open. You bit your lip as she wasted no time, bringing her hand between your legs.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. And it’s all for me, yeah?” Sam asked, even though she knew the answer to it.

“Y- Yes, only for you, Sam,” you whimpered as she rubbed at your clit as softly as she could. She was still teasing you, but you were just glad she was touching you.

“When I’m fucking you, you’re to call me ‘Daddy,’ understood?” she asked, pulling her hand away from you.

“Please-“ you began just before Sam spat on her fingers, bringing her hand back to your pussy.

Sam rubbed faster this time, not giving you a chance to ask for more when she slipped a single finger into you. She curled it, fucking it in and out of you. You bit your lip, trying to focus on not coming so soon - having been worked up for a while, you expected it, but you were still embarrassed by how close you already were. Sam noticed, still her finger inside of you mid-thrust.

“You’re so pathetic,” Sam laughed, slipping in a second finger, “You’re already so close and I’ve barely touched you… makes me want to keep you waiting even more.”

“No!” you cried out, “Please, Daddy, please don’t stop. I can’t take anymore teasing. Please.”

Sam shook her head, pulling her fingers out of you. You watched as she brought them to her face, taking both into her mouth. You let out a whimper as she sucked on her own fingers, humming at how good you tasted.

When she pulled them out of her mouth, Sam licked her lips. “You’ll take what I give you because I’m giving it to you. You’ll be a good girl and take it all, because that’ll make me happy. And you want to make me happy, don’t you?”

You nodded, “Yes, Daddy, I do… but-“

“No buts,” Sam cut you off rather quickly.

You sighed, pulling your pants back up. Before you could stand up, Sam stopped you.

“Sam,” you whined, your eyes widened when she grabbed your forearm, “Please stop teasing me.”

Sam’s smile grew wide, “No, I don’t think I will, baby. It’s too much fun.”

You rolled your eyes, frustrated with how close you were. You were desperate and you knew you weren’t going to be able to make it through dinner, let alone wait until tonight. Sam let go of your arm so she could stand. She stuck her hand out to help you up and you took it with no hesitation, despite how desperate you were. A part of you thought she was just doing all of this to fuck with you, and that at the end of the night, she was going to tell you that she had no feelings for you at all.

“Thank you,” you said, picking your water bottle up off the ground. You took a few sips before the two of you continued to walk.

”That building with the red roof is the arts and crafts room. It’s a single room that they used to use for storage, but decided it would be a better fit for something else with how big it is,” Sam pointed out. When you nodded, she continued. “The other building next to it is empty and is never used. We’re also not allowed to use it, but I go in there sometimes at night when I want some alone time to think.”

”It seems like a good spot to clear your head after a stressful day,” you agreed.

Sam seemed ready to say something else when Chad and Tara caught up with the two of you.

“Hey Sam!” Chad smiled, pulling her into a hug, “I see you two are getting along.”

You looked down at the ground in embarrassment, knowing that if Tara could see your face then and there, she would know something was up. The last thing you needed was for Tara to ask you a bunch of questions, because at the end of the day, you were horrible at hiding things from her. She was good at getting information out of you and you were sure she was going to want to know what was going on between you and Sam.

”Yeah, we had a bit of a talk and we’re now on the same page,” Sam said.

You could hear the smirk in her voice without even having to look at Sam, and you knew she was teasing you. You looked up at Tara, instantly regretting it when she gave you a knowing look. I’m so fucked, you thought to yourself as Chad nodded and went on to talk with Sam some more as the four of you began to walk together. You knew that the moment Tara got you alone, she was going to ask you what Sam meant by “being on the same page.”

Did Sam do it on purpose, to make it so you had to wait even longer? Or did she not mean for it to happen? You couldn’t really believe that she didn’t mean to do it, because she knew how her sister was.

”I didn’t realize how hot this summer was going to be,” you complained.

You were relieved that the building you had assumed to be the dining hall was approaching. You wanted to sit down in some air conditioning, and this was your chance to get it before dinner.

”Well, I’m gonna go and get changed for dinner, Tara, you coming?” Chad asked.

Tara smiled at him, “No, I think I’m going to stay with Sam and (Your Name), but I’ll see you when it’s dinner time.”

Chad walked away from the three of you. You felt the awkwardness when you all made it to the dining hall, unsure of what to say or if you even wanted to say something in fear that Tara would ask you questions in front of Sam.

“We can hang out here until it’s time for dinner,” Sam said as she opened the door, letting both you and Tara in first before she followed behind.

“The air conditioning feels so nice,” you groaned, sitting down at one of the tables.

“I agree,” Tara nodded.

“You two get comfortable, I’m going to see how the cooks are doing,” Sam said, patting your back before walking away from both Tara and you.

You started to play with your nails, wanting Sam to come back fast. Tara cleared her throat, causing you to jump.

“So I noticed that you and Sam are getting along better, and this is the longest you have gone without annoying the fuck out of her,” Tara commented, taking the seat next to you.

Suddenly you felt as if the walls were closing in on you, the anxiety making it harder to breathe. “Yeah, w- we, uh-“ you began, but she cut you off.

“I know you’re hiding something and that’s okay, I’ll figure it out, don’t worry,” Tara smirked. “I love you, (Your Name), but whatever the two of you have going on, please don’t fuck it up.”

You have her a puzzling look, “Why would I fuck anything up? If, you know, there’s something there… which there isn’t.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Tara rolled her eyes. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but you are my best friend. Sam… ever since Richie… she’s been different when it comes to dating. Maybe me saying ‘don’t fuck anything up’ is the wrong word choice, so I apologize for that. She… I don’t know how to explain it.”

You looked down at the table, unsure of how to respond to that. You bit your lip, wanting Sam to get back to the two of you faster than she was.

“Please don’t let that be your reason for not trying,” Tara said, and you thought it was because she sensed your anxiety. “Also don’t tell Sam I said anything, she’d kill me.”

You looked up at Tara with a small smile. “You’re right about that.”

You weren’t entirely sure what she meant, but for the time being, you decided not to question anything. You were stuck at Camp Crystal Lake for the whole summer and the last thing you needed was to fuck everything up and have to deal with things being awkward for three months.

Of course, after the first camp week was over with, you could ask to change cabins. Tara would be the most up to doing it, you were sure of it. But you didn’t want that - you had been wanting Sam for years and you weren’t going to ruin your chance just because you wanted to ask questions. You and Tara sat in silence, waiting for Sam to get back. Finally after what felt like a full hour (but was really only about fifteen minutes), Sam appeared again.

“Sorry about that, Quinn and I were talking about a few things,” Sam said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice. You and Tara knew her too well; she was doing such a terrible job.

“Are you okay?” you asked without thinking.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Sam snapped, taking a seat next to Tara instead of you. You knew you shouldn’t have been surprised - she was her sister - but you were a little hurt.

You frowned at Tara before looking back down at your hands. You hated feeling as if you had done something wrong, but you also knew Sam wasn't trying to make you feel that way.

You wished you had your phone so you could distract yourself from the thought of Sam being irritated with you.

“Hey Sam?” Tara asked, causing you to flinch a little.

You refused to look up, not wanting to see Sam glaring at you.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, her voice calmer than it had been.

“You need to lower your tone. (Your Name) was just asking if you’re okay because she cares about you,” Tara snapped, making your eyes widen. You had never heard Tara stand up to Sam like that - especially not on your behalf.

Sam took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, (Your Name), Tara is right. You were just asking out of concern and that’s on me.”

“It’s okay,” you said, finally looking up at her.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

For the first time, you saw real concern on her face and it melted your heart. You couldn’t believe that all of this was happening.

“I’m sure,” you nodded, “But please, try not to snap at me again. We just started talking and I want this to continue.”

“I’ll try my best, but I promise you did nothing wrong. Quinn just made a comment and it irritated me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you when you were just worried,” Sam admitted.

“Thank you.”

Finally, the other counselors flooded in; it was time for dinner. You were relieved, realizing that you were starting to get hungry. You took your place in line and as soon as you got your food, you sat back down at the spot you were in before. You breathed a sigh of relief when Sam sat down next to you.

“Make sure you eat as much as you can,” Sam leaned in and whispered, “You’re going to need all the energy you can get. If you still want me to fuck you, that is.”

You nodded frantically, “I- I still want you to fuck me. More than anything.”

Sam smirked, “More than anything?”

You nodded again, “Yes, Daddy.”

You went straight to eating your food, not wanting to say anything more to Sam, fearing that someone might overhear. When Tara and Chad sat down across from you and Sam, you began talking to Chad about your favorite TV show. Sam stayed quiet, occasionally looking at you while you talked, in awe. You only noticed once Tara started to smirk at you.

When you were done, you excused yourself. Throwing your trash away and returning the tray, you made your way out the door and toward the cabin. You needed to change into something more comfortable, having walked around in the heat for most of the day.

You changed into pajamas and laid down in bed, deciding that you were going to try to take a quick nap before Sam got back to the cabin. Closing your eyes, you pictured how Sam was going to fuck - if she was going to fuck you, at least. You were still worried that she was only playing with your feelings as payback for how much you had annoyed her purposefully over the years. Although, if Tara and Chad both knew something positive, you don’t think they would let you think she was being honest if she wasn’t.

You couldn’t sleep, too excited to see what would happen. Just as you sat up, Sam came into the room. You watched as she sat her water bottle down on the nightstand next to her bed. She pulled her shirt off, revealing the black tank top she had underneath. You licked your lips, the sight of her muscles making you ache to see more.

”I can feel you staring, and if you want something, you need to ask,” Sam said firmly. “I’m not going to hand you anything, baby. You’re going to have to earn it.”

”Sam,” you whined, causing Sam to turn to you.

”Yes?” she responded, a mocking tone in her voice that made goosebumps form on your skin, “What would you like?”

”I…” you trailed off, the words refusing to come out right away.

“Use your words. Or did you forget how to use them? Hm?” Sam teased, getting closer to you. When you looked down at the floor, Sam grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at her. “Oh I see what’s happening. When that pretty little pussy of yours gets all wet, you get fucking stupid. Is that what it is, pretty baby?”

You closed your eyes, “Yes, Daddy. Can’t think when I’m horny.”

Sam smiled, letting go of your chin. “Good girl. Don’t you worry about having to think anymore - I can do that for you. Now tell Daddy what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

”I want you to fuck me, I’ve been wanting it for so long,” you admitted, “Please, can’t wait any longer.”

Sam moved back to her bed, sitting on the edge while she raked her eyes over your body. “Strip for me.”

You did as you were told, pulling your shirt off and throwing it onto the ground. You then pulled your shorts down, kicking them off you as quickly as you could.

“Stand up and c’mere,” Sam ordered. You did as you were told, getting up quickly and moving towards her.

Sam placed her hands on your hips, turning around so your back was facing her. “You’re so fucking sexy,” Sam hummed, unclasping your bra. “I can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

Sam hooked her fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear, slowly pulling them down. You bit your lip as you tried to be patient. Sam was taking her time and you hated it. As soon as your underwear was around your ankles, you kicked them off. Without a word, you turned around to face her.

“Did I say you could turn back around?” Sam asked, slapping your thigh hard.

“No, but-“ you began, but Sam cut you off with another slap in the same spot. You whimpered, watching as Sam licked her lips.

“So if I didn’t tell you to turn around, what should you do?” Sam questioned, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for you to do what you were supposed to do.

You turned back around, your back facing her once more. Sam guided you to move a little bit before she stood up. You turned your head as best as you could, but Sam slapped your ass. “Did I say you could look at me?” she asked.

You turned your head back to look straight ahead, not wanting Sam to drag it out any longer than she had already. You closed your eyes as Sam began to grab your ass - whining when she removed her hands.

“Stay still,” she warned, standing up behind you. She pulled her tanked top off, then her shorts and underwear. “Bend over your bed for me.”

You were a little confused. Was she going to fuck you now? You’d think she would at least take a little time getting you ready. Despite your confusion, you did as you were told, bending over your bed right in front of her.

“Fuck,” Sam breathed, coming up behind you, “I want to fuck your ass so badly, but that can wait for different day.”

“D- Daddy,” you whined as Sam brought her hand down to your pussy.

“What is it?” Sam asked, slipping a single finger inside of you. When you didn’t respond, she spoke again, “Come on, answer me. Just because I’ve got one finger in you, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be stupid.”

“M’need more,” you whispered.

Sam sighed in faux irritation. “You need more? Because it seems to me that you could come with me just fucking you with one finger, considering how much you’re squeezing.”

You cried out, “Please, Sam!”

“Fine,” Sam said, pulling her finger out of you. She brought it to her mouth, cleaning it off with her tongue. Pulling out from between her lips, she spat on her fingers before bringing them back to your pussy.

Sam slowly rubbed at your clit as she moved to sit on her knees behind you. She leaned in as she slipped two fingers into you, biting your ass before trailing her tongue all the way to your asshole. She tested the waters, circling her tongue around your entrance before pushing it in just a little.

“Oh- that’s,” you moaned, gripping the sheets. Sam’s tongue on your ass felt strange in the best way and you wanted her to keep going.

As Sam continued to fuck her tongue in and out of you, she kept the same pace with her fingers. You were usually shy the first couple of times you had sex with someone new, but everything felt too good for you to really care.

“D- Daddy,” you moaned. Hearing Sam chuckle against your skin brought you closer to the orgasm you were trying to fight off. “Please- Please, I’m so, so close. Please let me come.”

Sam pulled her mouth away and hummed, “Go ahead and come for your Daddy.”

You bit down on the sheets on your bed as you came, not wanting to be heard by anyone passing by. Sam pulled out her fingers, smacking your ass with the hand that was just inside of you. “Get on your knees,” she demanded.

You quickly obeyed, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. “Open,” she said, and you did as you were told. Opening your mouth as wide as you could without hesitation, you had no time to react as Sam shoved two fingers into your mouth. You gagged around them, trying your best to suck when she was pushing them deeper down your throat.

“God, you look so fucking pretty with tears in your eyes,” Sam praised, leaning down over you. “Close your eyes.”

You weren’t sure why she was telling you to do that, but you closed your eyes - doing as she had ordered. You flinched, pulling your mouth off her fingers when Sam spat on you.

“You want something else in your mouth?” Sam asked, smearing her spit across your face.

You took a deep breath, opening your eyes once you felt comfortable enough. You nodded and without a word, Sam gripped the base of the toy and brought the tip to your lips. You welcomed the toy into your mouth, pushing inch by inch until your nose touched her stomach. When you pulled off the toy, a string of drool was left connecting your mouth to it.

Sam jerked the toy off, spreading your drool all over it. “God you’re so fucking pretty. Come on, get back on my cock.”

You leaned back in, taking the toy in your mouth before Sam grabbed your head with both of her hands. She kept you in place while she began to fuck your face at a slow pace. You looked up at Sam, trying your best to suppress the gag reflex that was threatening to act up. Sam sped up her movements as she kept a firm grip on your head.

You gagged, causing your eyes to water - which made Sam pick up her pace. You breathed through your nose, trying to relax as she pushed you down further on it, making you gag again.

“You’re such a filthy fucking whore for me, letting me choke you with my cock when anyone can just walk in. I bet you’d like that, huh?” Sam teased.

Sam fucked your face harder, letting one of her hands come down to pinch at your nose. You pushed at her thighs as you tried your best to stay relaxed. Finally, Sam let go of your nose to slap your face as she continued to fuck your mouth.

Sam pinched your nose closed once more, this time she stopped thrusting to hold you down on the strapon. You gagged again, not once, but twice before Sam pushed you off her. You gasped for breath, as you wiped the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand.

“On my bed, on your back,” Sam said, grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip. As you went to lay down, Sam handed it to you. “Take a few sips - you’re going to need it.”

You did before handing the bottle back to her. Sam smiled, “Good girl.” She sat it down on the nightstand before climbing into the bed and between your legs.

“Spread your legs. Wider,” she said, reaching over to open the nightstand drawer to grab a bottle of lube.

You watched as she squeezed some onto her hand. Bringing her now-lubricated hand to your pussy, she rubbed it into you, causing you to whimper. “Now this is your first and final warning: I’m going to fuck you like you’re nothing to me and I want you to know that’s not the case. Okay?”

You nodded, “I understand. I want it, want you to put me in my place, Daddy.”

Sam rubbed the tip of the toy against your clit and through your folds. “You stop me at any time if you need me to, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good girl,” Sam said as she pushed the strapon all the way inside you.

You let out a pained cry as Sam fucked you at a bruising pace. You brought your hand down to rub at your clit, but Sam smacked it away.

“You don’t get to touch yourself, fuckin’ greedy whore,” Sam spat, bringing her hand up to wrap around your throat. She squeezed hard, causing you to choke as she continued to fuck you.

“Nothing but a set of holes for me to fuck,” Sam grunted, letting go of your throat. “If I knew how easy you’d be, I would have done this so much sooner.”

“Fuck, S- Sam,” you gasped.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sam growled, glaring at you.

Sam slapped you across the face, using her free hand to keep herself balanced. You whimpered, feeling yourself getting closer to your orgasm. You figured Sam sensed it as well, pulling out of you.

“What the-“ you began, but Sam slapped your pussy as hard as she could.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you that toys don’t fucking talk?” Sam asked, shoving the strapon back into you. “You really do like to be treated like you’re nothing, huh? It’s really fucking pathetic.”

Sam picked up her pace once more, not saying a word as she focused on fucking you.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you begged. You were once again on the verge of an orgasm, but Sam ignored you. ”Daddy.”

”Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy,” Sam mocked.

Sam brought her hands up to your nipples, pinching them as hard as she could. It sent you over the edge and - to your surprise - she fucked you through your orgasm, not stopping. Sam didn’t let up, she continued at the same pace.

“I- I’m coming aga-!“ you cried out, but Sam covered your mouth.

“I’m going to have to teach you to shut up, don’t I?” Sam moaned, feeling her own orgasm approaching. “Go on, come for me, my pretty little fleshlight.”

You came, this time unable to cry out as she continued to cover your mouth. Sam stopped for a moment, leaning over you and taking one of your nipples into her mouth after moving her hand away from yours. She bit down, pulling it between her teeth.

“Fuck, ow,” you whimpered.

You kept grinding against Sam while her strapon was still inside of you. Letting go of your nipple, Sam asked, “You want to come again?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

Sam licked your nipple before sitting up straight again. “Do you think you’ve earned it? You already came twice. I’ve got a greedy set of holes here.”

Sam slowly pulled out halfway, looking down and letting spit fall from her mouth and onto the toy. She pushed the strapon back inside of you, beginning at a slow pace this time.

“All you’re good for is being my fucktoy, yeah?” Sam questioned, holding your thighs in place. She didn’t trust you, knowing you would try to close your legs when she wasn’t paying attention. “Repeat it back to me, you stupid slut.”

“I- I’m only good for be- being your fucktoy, Daddy,” you repeated, earning a satisfied smile from Sam.

“Yeah you are,” Sam laughed, picking up the pace, “Is that why Quinn fucked you last week? Hm? Are you a set of holes for her? Are you?”

“I-“ you began, unsure of how Sam would know that or why she would bring it up.

It was true, Quinn had called you over to hang out like the two of you normally did, but as the night went on, with the way Quinn was looking at you, you caved and ended up letting Quinn fuck you. You just weren’t expecting Sam to know about it. Then it clicked - that’s why she was annoyed when she came back in from talking to Quinn.

“I- it just happened, fuck-“ you cut yourself as Sam brought her hand down to rub at your clit, “It won’t happen again, D-Daddy.”

“No, it won’t, because you’re mine,” Sam snapped, pulling the toy out of you.

You cried out, unsure why she did that. Sam crawled up the bed so the strapon was right in front of your face.

“Clean up your mess, whore,” Sam said, watching as you strained your neck to get the toy into your mouth.

Sam grew impatient, fucking your face at a rough pace. You gagged as the tip of the toy hit the back of your throat, making you cry. Instead of stopping for a moment, Sam continued to fuck your mouth at a rough pace.

“God, I can’t wait to use you anytime I want. And you’re going to let me, right?” Sam asked.

When you didn’t answer, Sam stopped mid-thrust. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Or should I go tell Quinn that you want her back?”

“Mm hm mm!” you tried to say, but it was difficult to speak with your mouth full.

Sam knew what you were trying to say, smiling down at you before she continued her thrusts again. You looked up at her again, your vision blurry from crying.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cry,” Sam moaned, coming as she fucked your face with the strapon.

She took a deep breath before pulling out of your mouth. Sam wiped your spit from your mouth, rubbing it all over your face as you whimpered.

“Get on all fours,” Sam ordered.

You did as you were told, getting on your hands and knees as Sam got off the bed to grab something.

“Has Quinn ever fucked your ass?” Sam asked, grabbing a condom from her backpack.

“N- No, Daddy,” you whimpered, stopping yourself from turning to look at her.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt the dip in the bed. Sam was behind you, running her hand against the small of your back.

“Are you lying to me?” Sam asked.

You looked back at her, “I- I would never lie to you! She’s never fucked my ass because… well…”

“Because?” Sam pushed.

“I wanted you to be the one to fuck my ass, if there was a chance that you liked me,” you admitted, looking back down at the sheets. You were embarrassed, unsure of what Sam was going to say.

“You were waiting for me to be the one to fuck your ass, yeah? Am I hearing you right?”

You took a deep breath. “Yes, you heard me right.”

“Has anyone fucked your ass?” Sam asked, her voice much softer than has been all night.

“No.”

Sam took a deep breath before getting off the bed. “Then we won’t be doing anal at all this summer. I’m not going to be rough the first time with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said, getting out of the position to sit at the edge of the bed, “Are you upset with me?”

“Oh no,” Sam said softly. “Why would I ever be mad at you?”

“Quinn… A week ago I didn’t know this was going to happen between us, but I promise, I only want you,” you reassured her.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed with you, wrapping her arm around you. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Sam asked with a concerned look on her face.

You shook your head, “Not at all, I had a lot of fun.”

“I’m so glad,” Sam smiled. “You were such a good girl for me, y’know that?”

You bit your lip as you felt your cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now let’s get you all cleaned up.” Sam stood up, grabbing a washcloth from her drawer. She walked into the bathroom and came back out.

She helped wash your face off, then your thighs, occasionally leaving soft kisses on your arm and shoulder.

Sam threw the washcloth on the floor and you assumed she was going to get it later. “Would you like to wear something or would you rather sleep naked?”

“I’ll sleep naked,” you said. “Can we cuddle?”

Sam laid down on the bed, patting the space next to her. “Of course we can.”

You laid down next to her on your side, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You weren’t sure how you got this lucky, but you were glad that you finally got what you had wanted for years.

“I’m sorry if that killed the mood,” you said.

Sam wrapped her arms around you. “Nothing you did killed the mood, I could just tell you needed a break. Plus, I’m in no rush considering we have all summer and after. I would tell you if you did something to kill my mood.”

“Okay.”

You quickly fell asleep, feeling safe in Sam’s arms.

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter x reader #x reader #scream #scream 6 #my writing #mine #smut

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egcdeath · 9 months

Text

how the cookie crumbles

summary: when you come back home to austin to help your sister with her bakery, you end up in an arrangement with your high school crush that ends up being far more than you bargained for.

word count: 11.5k

warnings: FAKE DATING, au: no outbreak, pining. so much pining and a touch of yearning, idiots to lovers, high school crushes to lovers, very hallmark-romcom esque, fluff, a touch of angst, more fluff, the reader has a sister but the sister doesn’t have a name, joel’s ex is kinda rude, alcohol consumption, cuddling, miscommunication kinda, unrequited love that’s actually requited love, no use of y/n, not beta read.

author’s note: this is my first fic back after taking my several month long break!! i want to give a big shoutout to my texas consultant and biggest cheerleader @cowgurrrl, who encouraged me to write, gave me helpful ideas, and let me dump my brain and my silly little ideas on her whenever <3

For as long as you could remember, you and your sister had been total opposites. As girls, your sister spent her time playing with dolls, experimenting with whatever new hairstyle on your scalp, and eagerly shadowing your mother in the kitchen, while you preferred to spend your time exploring the city on your bike, reading books in your hammock, and doodling whatever had caught your interest in your hourly. As you entered young adulthood, you were unsurprised as your sister married her high school sweetheart just months after graduating college before setting off to start her own business in Austin, while you moved as far as you could out of Texas and began a prosperous career in New York City.

Regardless of the different paths your lives had taken, the minute your sister had even suggested that she might’ve needed help at her bakery, you were booking a flight back home. The holidays were a notoriously busy time for her business, with people wanting cakes and pies to display as their own labors of love at their family gatherings, or to have their children wake up to a dozen expertly decorated cookies under the guise that that was what their Elf on the Shelf had been up to that night.

Given that you had no holiday plans other than drinking Bailey’s-spiked hot chocolate and watching reruns of your favorite season of The Bachelor, it seemed like a no-brainer to come back to Austin. Part of you was excited for your homecoming, to return to the vibrant personality of the city that was a far cry from the east coast city you’d grown to know and love over the years. The other part of you dreaded your return, not feeling particularly excited to have to run into peers from your adolescence while you were trying to peruse the shelves of your local Costco.

You were welcomed with warm arms the moment that you walked through the door of your sister’s home—metaphorically and literally. She practically hugged you the entire way as you dropped your items off in her guest bedroom, then even more so as she directed you to her car, giving you all sorts of updates about your parents and her husband, but not allowing you to forget the whole reason that you’d come home in the first place.

“You’re not hungry or anything, right?” she asked as she hopped into the driver's seat next to you.

“I think I’m good. I ate at the airport,” you replied, slightly amused by your sister’s eagerness to get you to work immediately. Then again, you couldn’t exactly blame her when you thought about how busy she must’ve been.

“Good! I’m gonna put you right to work then. How does frosting cupcakes sound?”

It sounded fine, and it was fine for the first few hours, until the angle of the piping bag started to make the newfound cramping in your hands unbearable, and your sister had to give you an impromptu tutorial on how not to make your rosettes look so… depressing.

“Look, the Girl Scouts need this order in like, an hour, and my cashier is going home in a bit. Give yourself a little break to shake your hand out, or pee, or do whatever it is you have to do, then you can ring customers up. How does that sound?” she finally huffed, clearly just as frustrated with you for your inability to do a task that was practically second nature to her.

“Anything’s better than frosting these damn cupcakes,” you commented as you tossed your gloves into the trash. “If I never have to frost a cupcake again, it’ll be too soon.”

“I love you, which is why I have to tell you that you will be frosting so many more cupcakes in the next few days,” she laughed aloud, looking down at the army of baked goods in front of her that she was still working on meticulously frosting. “But you’ll get used to it. I’ll have Ben give you better instructions. He’s really good at this, for some reason. I’m convinced it’s because he went to art school.”

You groaned dramatically as you exited the kitchen, only to bother your sister if nothing else. After all, wasn’t it your job as a younger sibling to annoy your older sibling?

As much as you enjoyed doing random tasks that your sister needed done in the back, working in the front was definitely one of the better aspects of working at the bakery. There was far less technique involved in doing anything, and when there was downtime in the storefront, you got to passively scroll on social media, turning your brightness down so you could secretly cyberstalk people from your high school in peace.

Being that you were distracted by the phone in your hand, you paid no mind to the shrill sound of the door’s bell as it opened. As you finished up looking at someone’s engagement pictures, you glanced up once before doing a complete double take.

“Hey, I’m just here to pick up the Girl Scout order-”

There was no way.

You hadn’t seen that face in years. Hell, you hadn’t thought about that face in years, despite your mild obsession with him as a teenager.

Joel had been the definition of so close, yet so far. You seemed to always be in his orbit, butterflies in your stomach every time he leaned over his desk to ask you a question about the material or to poke fun at one of the weirder quirks your teacher had. Yet, just as you’d finally worked up the nerve to confess your feelings to him, word got around the school that he was becoming a father. After many pints of ice cream and late nights of your older sister comforting an inconsolable teenage you, you’d finally gotten over the man, letting his memory become a funny anecdote you shared to friends to display your terrible luck in love.

As much as you hated to admit it, he looked good. Obviously, he was much older now, but much to your dismay, he’d aged more like wine than like milk. Donning a new beard that somehow managed to make him even more handsome and biceps that strained against the sleeves of his shirt, he looked far more attractive than you could ever even remember him, his mature look a good one. You were sure his wife loved looking at that striking face in the morning, before she set off to take care of their adorable young daughter. Their perfect little family, still holding up despite the test of time.

You had gotten so caught up in your thoughts, you’d barely registered the fact that Joel had said your name in a tone that held a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

“I haven’t seen you in years! Since high school?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. The surprise of seeing him, let alone seeing him looking so good led you to smile dumbly and shrug. “Wow!” he remarked.

“It has been a really long time,” you grinned involuntarily, practically feeling yourself revert back to your younger, immature self simply at the sight of the man standing across from you. “How are you? How’s the family?”

“We’re good. Sarah’s turning 13 soon, which is really exciting,” Joel explained, setting a hand on his hip as he did so. You swore you could see the fondness for his daughter as he spoke. “It feels like just yesterday I was feeding her bottles and carrying her around in a sling.”

“I know, they just grow up so fast,” you agreed, as if you’d had any sort of experience in the field. The fact that Joel still had this effect on you, one that made you want to follow him around like a lost puppy and agree with every word that came out of his mouth was mildly concerning to you—particularly because he clearly had a wife and a child.

“They really do. You have any of your own?” Joel asked, looking deep into your eyes and making you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Me? No,” you dismissed before following it up with,. “I’ve been pretty focused on my career, so it’s not exactly the best time for a family. To be quite honest, I think my cats do the trick plenty well.”

“You’re still so responsible,” Joel complimented, stirring something up deep inside of you that you promptly wanted to push right back down. “Clearly, I didn’t do any family planning. I’d say it worked out pretty well, if you don’t count having to get divorced just a few years after getting married.”

This piqued your interest. You could almost feel the teenage version of yourself cheering internally at the news that Joel and the mother of his child had split. She’d always been a bit of a bitch to you, so to hear that the two of them had split had sounded like music to your ears.

“Man, that’s too bad. I always thought you two would be the one couple from our school to make it,” you lied through your teeth, hoping that your entertainment wasn’t too obvious.

Joel chuckled and shook his head, smile lines appearing seemingly out of thin air, and unfortunately making you melt on the inside, just the slightest bit.

“That’s really too bad. I mean, what happened with you guys? If you don’t mind me asking,” you were definitely taking a risk with this question, but you were hoping that the reward of the answer would be worth every bit of boldness you put together to ask.

“We just had… different ideas for our futures,” Joel explained what you could only assume was a very condensed version of what had actually occurred. “You know, she’s actually in town right now.”

“I hadn’t realized she’d left town. Should we keep our voices down then?” you asked jokingly, although it would be quite awkward if his ex wife walked in while the two of you were talking about her.

“No, we’re good,” Joel chuckled. “Sarah really wanted to see her for the holidays, and it wasn’t like I could say no to that request. Although, getting Naomi to actually come was a bit like pulling teeth. I’m sorry, this is way too much information. What about you? Any special people in your life?”

“No, Joel, you’re all good. You know how much of a gossip I was,” you offered him a genuine smile. “Unfortunately, no. Funnily enough, the thing I was dreading most about coming home is having my mom constantly on my ass about bringing home a good man.”

“I get it. It’s exhausting seeing all the PDA whenever Naomi and Henry come back. It’s like they’re rubbing in that we’re so happy together and you’re still all alone.”

“Assholes,” you remarked, rolling your eyes to show Joel just how on his side you were. “I’m sure you’ll find someone someday. I mean, both of us will. Then maybe my mom will stop bothering me and your ex will finally stop acting all high and mighty for being in a relationship.”

“I can only hope,” Joel sighed. “Well, I apologize for dumping all of my holiday woes on you when I really should just be picking up some cupcakes.”

“Oh no, I apologize for holding you up. I’ll go grab that order for you,” you said before walking off to the back, where your sister had just finished putting the final touches on the order.

“Perfect timing,” she remarked, stepping back and running her arm against her slightly damp forehead. “Who were you talking to back there?”

“Oh, no one,” you dismissed, not ready to hear her reaction. “Just giving good customer service.”

The look she gave you told you loud and clear that she didn’t believe you, but it would be a conversation for another time. Since she didn’t seem interested in pressing, you took it as your opportunity to grab the large, pink box, and bring it out to Joel.

“Here’s that order for you,” you said politely. “It was good seeing you today.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, happily taking the slightly heavy box when you offered it to him. “How long will you be in town?”

“Into the New Year, I think? Maybe earlier, maybe later,” you shrugged.

“We should get together sometime. Maybe get a coffee or something and properly catch up? I would love for you to meet Sarah, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, begging yourself not to revert back to your younger, naive self, but not exactly being able to fight it at the same time. “Well, if you ever need me, I’ll probably be here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he headed to the door. “See ya!”

As soon as the door jingled, announcing Joel’s departure, you let out a deep breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding.

Fuck. You could not be feeling this way about a man you had a crush on in high school.

Your sister always seemed to have a sixth sense for when you were getting antsy, so one evening as the two of you worked on closing the storefront, she pulled you from the monotony of sweeping the floors while listening to the sound of her new favorite pop artist to send you to the grocery store and retrieve a few items that she needed more of.

With her company card safely secured in your wallet, a short list scribbled out on a pink post-it note, and your hands closely grasping the handlebars of the cart, you amaturely navigated the grocery store, unfamiliar with the locations of the items that lined the shelves after years of not visiting Austin.

The evening in the grocery store brought you a sense of serenity, with the rush of urgent people looking to pick up the one ingredient they forgot for dinner mostly gone. After packing your cart full of sticks of butter and bags of sugar, you headed off to the get your final item, relieved to have had a mostly successful trip without running into anyone you knew in your youth.

But just as you had this thought, you caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of your eye. Dark hair and beard imprinted in your mind after your brief interaction with him just one day ago. You did your absolute best to pretend you didn’t see him as you inspected a bag of flour, keeping your head lowered, and gaze averted. Yet, your efforts were futile, as just moments later, you heard your name called aloud as the man approached you.

“Hey!” he said cheerily, blissfully unaware that you were attempting to use the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ method on him just moments ago. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been like forever,” you added on, looking into his eyes and almost immediately regretting your decision as your gut was immediately consumed with a swarm of rabid butterflies. “What’re you doing here?”

“Grabbing some groceries,” he answered sweetly, despite that being the obvious answer to your not-so-great question.

Duh. What else did people come to the grocery store for? What a stupid question. See? Joel just made you so… stupid! Even after all of the years you’d spent apart.

“Sarah wanted to try making some Christmas cookies to bring to her mom, so…” he trailed off, gesturing down at the flour that was now in his hand. “Got any tips on the best flour to get?”

“That’s definitely more of my sister’s wheelhouse. I just do whatever she needs me to do, like go and get,” you glanced down at your list before continuing for comedic effect, “White miso paste.”

Joel smiled fondly at your joke, only making your insides melt further.

“Remind me to stop by and try whatever has that white miso paste in it. Sounds interesting,” Joel grabbed a package of all-purpose flour and tossed it into his cart, before leaning on his cart.

Fuck. Why did he have to be so endearing, with his smile lines and his kind eyes, and his insistence on treating you like you were the only other woman in the world, despite the other woman customer just standing feet away from you two.

“I definitely will. Has your number changed in the past thirteen years?” you asked, not sure what had gotten into you with the slightly flirty move.

He shook his head, his eye briefly catching on something and causing him to pause in his movements before he returned to the conversation, now looking slightly off in a way that he hadn’t looked just a moment ago. You were so stupid. Of course you trying to flirt back would’ve backfired. You needed to excuse yourself before you managed to embarrass yourself any more than you already had.

“It has not,” he confirmed, smiling at you once more, but not looking like his heart was completely into it. “Any chance you’re checking out?”

“I am!” you said a little too enthusiastically, which Joel responded to by somewhat urgently beginning to walk to the check-out lane. Given that he hadn’t told you goodbye, you followed him like the lost puppy that you were around him.

Just as the two of you stopped in line and had mostly finished checking out, Joel finally seemed to unclench from whatever he’d seen (or whatever you’d said) that had bothered him before. Yet, as soon as it was over, you noticed that same tension washed over him once more.

“Oh, Naomi. Henry,” Joel said, his tone taking a complete 180 from what he had just had with you moments ago, and his change in demeanor suddenly made sense to you. “Didn’t realize you two were in town yet.”

You glanced over to the woman who had seemingly appeared out of thin air to ruin your moment with Joel, just like she had done in high school a million times over. Who you hadn’t recognized was the man next to her, looking a little too put together for someone who had likely just gotten off a flight and was headed to the grocery store.

“Joel,” she said artificially sweetly, the one singular word drenched in annoyance. “We just got in. We’re grabbing groceries for the hotel.”

“I didn’t realize chocolate chips were groceries,” Joel muttered to himself as he evaluated their basket. You were slightly surprised by the sass he had seemed to equip out of nowhere, a far cry from the southern charm he had displayed with you in your past interactions. You desperately wanted to leave the situation, which was clearly none of your business.

“Surely, you remember your ex-wife having a sweet tooth,” the man on her side replied defensively, wrapping an arm around her protectively.

“Something like that,” he replied, glancing over at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite read.

With tensions boiling over with just a few words stated, you finally decided to step in, impulse and instinct guiding you.

“Hey honey, I think we need to get going,” you said, internally cringing as the words left your mouth. Joel’s now wide eyes made contact with your unsure ones and your furrowed brows as you attempted to tell him to just go with it without a single word.

The good thing for you was that Joel was a quick learner, and his hand quickly found the small of your back. Something in Naomi’s expression changed, just for a moment, before she went back to her stone cold facade. You hoped that Joel caught it, the same way that you did.

“Yeah, we don’t want to keep you too long, since we’ll be seeing you plenty this holiday season,” Naomi replied, flashing you a fake smile. “I didn’t realize you two were together. I’ve never heard Joel say anything about you.”

You were sure the sentiment was supposed to hurt your feelings, but you were more unsurprised by the sentiment than anything else.

“Some of us like to leave our personal lives personal,” he shot back, glancing at you before bringing his glare back to his ex-wife.

“Well, that’s cute. I remember, you had the biggest crush on Joel back in the day. Glad you two ended up together,” she laughed and your stomach dropped. Were you that obvious in the past? “Anyway, we’re gonna go to a less busy lane. See you at dinner, Joel. And maybe you, too?” She looked you up and down, and for a second you felt like you were in the hallways of your high school once again, trying your best to avoid the passive aggression of a particularly mean girl.

“Right. Bye,” he said simply, watching the pair walk away as if he were scared that they would turn back around at some point and bother Joel some more.

“Fuck,” he muttered aloud as soon as they were out of earshot, his hand falling away from your back and back to his side.

You immediately launched yourself into a rambling apology, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything, they just looked like they wanted to eat you alive and-“

“No, no, don’t apologize. I appreciate what you did back here. I mean, you saw the look on her face when she thought we were together?”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed out, which also acted as a cover for the deep sigh of relief you needed to let out. “Is she always so shocked when she thinks you’re dating someone new?”

“Well, I haven’t dated much since the divorce,” he explained as the two of you began exiting the building. “So I guess I didn’t really know what to expect. But it totally delivered.”

You couldn’t help but smile as the two of you walked out to your cars together and Joel confessed that not only was he single, but that he hadn’t really seen anyone. Not that it really mattered to you, considering that the two of you had absolutely no shot together.

You weren’t exactly sure where Joel had parked, but he’d offered to help unload your groceries into your car, and you weren’t exactly going to decline that offer.

“Thank you, again for helping me out tonight,” Joel said as he helped place bags in the trunk of the car. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Actually, there is one thing.”

—

Every year, you absolutely dreaded your family’s holiday celebrations. Specifically, the celebrations where you showed up without a date, and had to spend the night downing eggnog to drown out the sound of your family asking you when you were going to settle down and bring a grandchild, or niece, or nephew into the family.

But this year, you didn’t have to worry about that issue. After running into Joel at the grocery store and briefly pretending to be his partner, he’d agreed to do the same for you at a family holiday party, and to be completely honest, you couldn’t be more excited.

“Again, thank you,” you said to Joel as he opened the passenger door to his truck for you, politely standing at the side of it as you got in.

“It was really the least I could do after you saved my ass back there in the store,” he dismissed, closing the door behind you before getting back into the car.

“I mean, I couldn’t just stand there and let you suffer,” you explained, glancing over at the man as he settled into the seat and started the car. He’d certainly dressed up more than usual for the event, a nice red sweater nicely complimenting your green sweater, and his hair styled nicely. For a second, you thought about your younger self, and how she probably would’ve given anything for a night like this—to just play pretend with Joel just for a moment, since he clearly didn’t see you the way you saw him.

“Well, I appreciate it,” he dismissed, sending you a quick, charming smile before beginning to pull out of the driveway. “Anything I need to know about your family?”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “Where do I start?”

You more or less talked Joel’s ear off on the drive over, filling him in on family members to avoid; overbearing aunts who would attempt to examine him like a lab specimen, uncles who would try to quiz him on his knowledge of local sports teams, and the occasional family friend, who seemed to be just as crazy as your actual kin. Joel listened politely, taking in all of the information, and throwing in some commentary every now and then, but surely making mental notes on who to try to avoid.

Once you finally arrived at the car-lined street, Joel once again opened the door for you like the gentleman he was, before allowing you to lead the way to the christmas-light adorned house that was clearly bustling on the inside. As the two of you walked up to the porch, Joel looked at you rather earnestly.

“Did I scare you in the car? I promise they’re not all that bad,” you began to attempt to explain, nerves bubbling in your stomach as you thought about how Joel surely wanted to go home.

“No, no, you didn’t scare me,” he assured you, reaching over to brush a stray hair out of your face. “I just… I never got the chance to tell you how good you look. I wanted to say something when you first got in my car, but I guess I got scared. You always look good, but you kinda took my breath away.”

Fuck, you internally groaned. Why did he have to tell you that? Was he just trying to get into character or something? You couldn’t even gather the words for how it made you feel before the front door was swinging open with one of your favorite aunts at the door greeting you.

“Hello, my love!” she practically squealed as she pulled you into a hug. “And who is this?”

“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you introduced, only slightly alarmed at how easily the word rolled off your tongue.

“Hello, ma’am,” Joel said warmly, setting out a hand for her to shake, which was rejected in favor of a hug. He was clearly a bit caught off guard by it, but also clearly a little into it.

“Sorry,” you whispered to him once she let go and the two of you were ushered inside. “We’re a hug family. I probably should’ve warned you about that on the ride over.”

“I don’t mind, I promise,” he assured you, gently grabbing your hand and looking to you for some sort of assurance. You smiled at him then subtly nodded, lacing your fingers in between his in an act that you hoped would be as practical as it was performative.

As the two of you navigated through the house, you made pleasant small talk with all who you encountered, with you proudly introducing Joel as your boyfriend, and him taking the lead in introducing himself from time to time. After an exhausting hello tour, you had finally made it to the kitchen for drinks, something you’d surely need if you were going to keep up at this rate of socialization.

As you grabbed Joel the beer he’d requested and began to spoon out ladles of the bowl that was tape-labeled ‘ADULT Punch’ into your own cup, you were slightly surprised that you’d finally ran into your mother.

“Hi honey,” she squealed, pulling you into a hug. “How long have you been here? You avoiding me?”

While past experiences of being single during the holiday season and having to interact with your mother often ended up with you suffering for the entirety of the night–or an entire week, like the time she tried to set you up with a coworker’s son–you felt a newfound confidence with the knowledge that Joel was just a few feet away from you, diligently playing the perfect boyfriend.

“We just got here,” you giggled at her typical overbearing self. For once, your guard was down, knowing that she would not be attempting to set you up with anyone, or hounding you about coming home and settling down with a nice local.

“We?” she asked dramatically, brows raised in surprise. “Is your sister somewhere around here, or something?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” you feigned offense as she stepped back to look at the two drinks in your hands. “I brought my boyfriend,” you glanced back at Joel, who was right where you left him, making enthusiastic smalltalk with one of your cousins about the Cowboys game. Like a good little fake boyfriend, upon catching your eye he excused himself from his conversation and walked over to you and your mother.

“Mom, this is Joel, my partner,” you explained, as your gentlemanly fake boyfriend grabbed your mother’s hand and gave it a polite kiss. You certainly hadn’t forgotten about his charm back in the day, but to watch it up close and personal after so much time had passed was undoubtedly having a bit of an effect on you.

“I’ve heard all about you. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he gushed. You had to give credit where credit was due, Joel was a great actor. You’d given him a bit of backstory on your mom on the ride over to the house, and you’d certainly discussed her while the two of you were students, but definitely not to the extent that he was playing up.

“So nice to meet you,” she replied, her cheeks warming at her interactions with the man. Joel was laying it on thick, but it seemed to be working for her. “Miller, right?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed, flashing a pearly white smile at your mother. As you watched the interaction, you were doing your best to keep it together, partially wanting to laugh out loud at Joel’s overdramatic chivalrous act, and partially wanting to melt into a puddle over just how alluring he was.

“Then I’ve also heard a lot about you. My daughter had the biggest crush on you in high school! It’s so funny that you’ve ended up together now. I suppose God’s timing is always right?”

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth gaped open for a second as your mother reinforced your little secret that Joel had heard from someone else just a few days ago. Suddenly, you were feeling a lot less like a liquidy puddle, and more like the bark of a firm tree–if that tree could experience mortification. If you didn’t need it before, now you really needed that drink. He glanced at you and smiled cheekily before looking back at your mother.

“So I’ve heard,” he said with a smirk, clearly biting back a laugh. You were going to kill your mother. And maybe Naomi too, while you were at it. In fact, you might just add yourself into the mix. It certainly couldn’t hurt. Or at least, it would hurt less than the discomfiture of your fake boyfriend hearing from everyone about the huge crush you had on him.

“Mom! I think your other daughter just got here. Why don’t you go say hi to her and Ben?” you suggested, knowing that the best way to prevent her from embarrassing you any further was to distract her with the idea of embarrassing her other child in front of her significant other.

You clearly knew your mother well, because the strategy worked well enough to get her off your tail. You passed Joel his beer as he watched you closely, the same mischievous smirk lingering on his face long after your mother had left.

“Crush, huh?” he teased you, causing you to shake your head as you took a healthy sip from a deceptively strong punch.

“Shut up,” you groaned. “Please.”

As the night went on, you realized that you couldn’t have picked a better candidate to pretend to be your boyfriend at a family gathering. Joel was quite sociable and polite, even more so with a beer in his system. He didn’t even mind entertaining your family members on his own as you went off and caught up with the few members of your family that you could tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time.

Following a rather chaotic series of discussions including when you and Joel were getting engaged (never, I mean, in the next few years. Probably.), the most romantic thing you’d done (backpacking through Europe, according to Joel), and what it was like reconnecting with your high school crush (fucking fantastic), you’d finally lost track of Joel. You did a quick lap around the house before bumping into your sister and cousin, the latter of which desperately described her need for air.

The three of you huddled together outside on the deck, the spot where you seemed to find yourselves at almost every family function regardless of how fun or stressful it ended up being. While you were enjoying the mayhem of the party and enjoying your time with Joel even more, it was nice to have a little break from it all.

“I can’t believe you’ve been home for just a few days and you’ve already gotten your childhood crush wrapped around your finger,” your sister laughed, comfortably leaning against the railing of the deck.

“That’s the power of working for a Fortune 500. All of the men in your hometown just want a sugar mommy for a little bit. Get some presents for the kids and wife for free,” you joked.

“You’re kidding?” your cousin asked, her brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“I’m kidding,” you confirmed. “You know, we aren’t even actually dating,” you confessed, lips and tongue loose from your second glass of punch.

“What?” your cousin and sister exclaimed at the same time, the two of them suddenly very alert.

Even in your not-completely-there state of mind, you could tell that you had made a mistake telling your secret. It was now very likely that the entire house would know the truth within the next hour, or that you would not be hearing the end of how terrible an idea the whole ordeal was for months on end.

“I figured you two just hit it off, or had some long distance thing going on?” your sister questioned, peering at you curiously as if your face would reveal some sort of information about your arrangement.

“Nope. It’s kinda a long story, but I guess the short of it all is that we’re pretending to be together for the holidays so certain people get off our asses,” you said casually, finishing off your drink and looking out into the backyard rather than making eye contact with either of your kin.

“Fair enough,” your cousin sighed, finally relaxing once more. “If I wasn’t already seeing Will, I’d probably do the same.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? He really broke your heart,” your sister asked, grabbing your arm to attempt to force you to look at her, and staring at you with concern.

You were sure you could imagine what was going through her head in the moment, the vision of your heartbroken teenage self and the sound of your prolonged sobs as you questioned what your crush saw in her that he couldn’t see in you. You really couldn’t blame her for being worried. She was your older sister, after all, the task of protecting you instilled in her from the day you left the womb, and clearly not gone now. But things were different now. You were all adults, you had more life experience and perspective, and most importantly, whatever was going on between you and Joel wasn’t real, regardless of how much you might have wanted it to be.

“Yeah, when we were eighteen. I think it’ll be fine,” you dismissed, as if anything was ever that simple.

“And he seems like a sweetie now. I think my own parents were wishing I brought him home for the holidays,” your cousin, ever the peacekeeper, added as she attempted to diffuse the quickly escalating tension between you and your sibling.

“He was also a sweetie thirteen years ago when he led you on, then got someone pregnant,” your sister snapped back with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her back to you.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you declared, watching your breath float away in a cold puff of air. “Can we go inside now? I think my toes are gonna fall off.”

After a side eye from your sister and a nod of agreement from your cousin, the three of you headed back inside, where you made quick work of grabbing yet another drink and finding the fireplace.

A few couches were arranged by the fireplace, some filled from edge to edge with sleeping, snuggling children who were exhausted by the excitement of a holiday party, others with some of the older members of your family who simply needed a break from it all. Among them all, you were surprised to find Joel, enthusiastically talking to none other than your father.

Your father was probably one of the most difficult people in your life to impress. He’d maybe told you that he was proud of you a total of five times in your life. Yet, he looked content, hell, happy as he spoke to your fake boyfriend.

Part of you felt bad as you found your way to the empty spot on the couch next to Joel, but you were cold, and you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity to warm up by the fire and the man that you had found was a bit of a human furnace.

When Joel caught sight of you, he smiled and beckoned you over, and you made quick work of maneuvering yourself past the coffee table between the couch. Once you sat down, Joel surprised you by greeting you with a gentle peck on the lips. The action temporarily shocked you, and you desperately hoped that the feeling was not reflected on your face. The naturalness of it all almost felt as if you’d done it a thousand times, and you tried your best to suppress the part of you that wanted to do it a thousand more.

“Hi honey,” Joel greeted you sweetly, his hand almost immediately finding yours. It all felt so right, and if you weren’t so endeared by him in the moment, you certainly would’ve been mildly panicking.

“It was nice meeting you, Joel, but I’m old and I’m tired, so I’m gonna head out,” your father explained, giving you a half nod as he began to stand up.

“Bye, dad. I’ll see you on Christmas?” you asked him, ignoring the panicked look that Joel was certainly sending your way.

“Sounds like a plan. Love you. Get home safe,” he bid the two of you farewell before leaving without much other fanfare.

“Why didn’t you tell me that was your dad?” Joel asked you, looking at you with wide eyes. You laughed a little bit at his panic, finding the dumbfounded look on his face more adorable than you’d like to admit.

“Thought it might’ve come up in conversation, or something,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day, mixed with the criminally strong punch set in. “Why do you care so much? Trying to make a good impression, Miller?” you teased.

“You’re the worst,” he groaned, then laughed as you snuggled up to his side. You weren’t exactly sure whether the laugh was coming from discomfort or relief, but with the bone-deep cold you were feeling and alcohol in your system, you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to care. “You’re also really cold. Are you okay?”

“Mmm, you’re really warm,” you replied, settling against his warm body unconsciously.

“Someone’s feeling the punch,” he replied, wrapping an arm around you as you closed your eyes.

“It was way stronger than it needed to be,” you agreed in a murmur against his sweater. “Thank you for being such a good fake boyfriend tonight.”

“It was actually pretty fun. I like your family a lot,” he confessed, trying his best to maintain eye contact with you despite the fact that you were in the express lane to dreamland and your blinks were beginning to turn into miniature naps.

“Everyone liked you too. I owe you,” you yawned, dropping your head from the soft fabric of his sweater to the denim of his jeans.

“Mhm. Wanna head home?” he asked.

“How’d you know?” you responded as Joel chuckled above you.

The ride back home was a mostly quiet one, with Christmas music playing softly on the radio and you dozing off in the passenger seat. Every now and then Joel glanced over at you, and the few times that your eyes were actually open, you wondered what it was that he was thinking. Was he checking up on you to make sure you were still alive? Probably. But you just swore there was something else in his eyes, something you’d seen when Ben looked at your sister, or when your parents looked at each other.

But that was probably just the exhaustion speaking.

Once you arrived at your sister’s place, Joel made quick work of helping you get inside safely, even helping you get to bed at your own insistence. Even in your not sober and exhausted state, you knew that you didn’t want the night to end. Even in your less than ideal state of mind, you knew that the way you were feeling about Joel was unsustainable.

—

The soft, dim lighting of a restaurant that felt fancy even for you seemed to beam down on you, encouraging little beads of sweat to collect at your forehead and the creases of your arms. As much as you were desperately trying to maintain the appearance of being cool and collected, your staccato breaths, wobbly smile, and the rapidly appearing perspiration were quite clearly selling you out. You couldn’t help but to stare down at your menu like it was the most interesting thing in the world, the intimidation of sitting across from your fake partner’s ex-wife’s heated glare far more intense than what you’d expected. Far worse than sharing a brief, yet artificial moment of PDA in a grocery store, and far more than you expected to be able to handle. Yet, Joel had done the same for you, and really, it was only fair that you would do the same.

After the Christmas party, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from your date. As far as you knew, Joel had only agreed to play pretend with you for one night, and as fun as that night was, it was all fake.

As much as you hated to admit it, your sister was maybe, just a little bit right about the whole ordeal not being your best idea. You couldn’t help but think about the two of you at the party—how he’d held your hand like your hands were two pieces of a puzzle that were made for each other, how he cuddled with you on the couch and looked at you with such genuine concern when he thought you might not be well, but above all, you were stuck on his confession to you, about how beautiful you looked and how scared he was to tell you.

You couldn’t believe that you were still making these kinds of stupid decisions, the type of decisions that made you want to lay in bed all day with a pint of ice cream and a soap opera playing on the revision, and not do work—the very work that you came back to Austin to do.

But despite your urge to shut down, you tried your absolute best to do what you set out to do. You spent hours tossing ingredients in mixers, whipping egg whites into stiff peaks, and narrowly avoiding burning yourself as you took trays out of the oven. Only at the end of the day, as you wiped your forehead with a flour-covered arm and checked your phone did you realize that you’d missed a call from Joel.

After a quick call-back and an explanation to your sister that you would no longer be third wheeling the night’s tree-lighting ceremony with her, you had somehow managed to renew your little agreement with Joel. Your task being a performance of being the perfect, dream girlfriend to Joel Miller, a task that you hoped you would be up for.

But as you sat at the table next to Joel, nearly sweating your mascara off, you began to question the extent of your capabilities within this particular role.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Naomi began, the sharp wing of her eyeliner and the depths of her eyes feeling like they were poking and prodding into you, searching for any weakness or insecurity to be exploited. “What are you up to these days?”

“Well, apart from making the most of my time with Joel,” you looked over at him with what you hoped appeared to be adoration, but probably came across more accurately as the fear you were experiencing, and grabbed his bicep–what you hoped to appear like a fond move, but was something more like you bracing onto him for dear life. “I’m a consultant in New York City. It definitely takes up a lot of my time, but it also feels like every second of free time I have, I’m spending it on the phone with this one.”

You and Joel chuckled, your choked out laugh feeling far more artificial than his. You hoped to whatever powers above that you would somehow manage to convince the couple across from you to believe a story that you could barely even believe yourself, although, with the way that Naomi was still glaring at you, you doubted that being the case.

“That sounds fun,” she replied, leaning forward slightly as if she was ready to sink her teeth into you two and absolutely tear you apart. “So how’d you two reconnect?”

Joel, clearly sensing your discomfort, came to your rescue with a quick, preplanned answer. “Remember when I took Sarah to Manhattan earlier this year?” Joel began, averting his gaze from you and onto his ex, who now shot Joel a pleasant, yet, rehearsed smile.

“Mhm,” she replied, seemingly already entertained by where the story might end up going.

“Well, we ran into each other at a coffee shop a few blocks away from her workplace and really just hit it off. The rest is history,” he said, turning his attention back towards you.

“You two were hitting it off in front of our daughter?” Naomi asked, the slight tilt to her head and hint of smirk on her face revealing that her question was less out of concern for their child, and more out of taking an opportunity to antagonize the two of you.

“It was more like reconnecting. I swear, Joel is the only person in the world to think that recommending my favorite bagel shop in the city is flirting,” you attempted to save, not wanting to be labeled as a threat to their child just a few minutes into dinner.

“To my credit, you were selling it pretty hard. You were practically saying, ‘come with me to get bagels tomorrow,’” Joel added on, seemingly lighting up as the two of you added more and more to your fake meet-cute.

“Next time you visit we’ll get all the bagels you want, my love. We can even split them Lady and The Tramp style,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks warm as you imagined you and Joel at the opposite ends of one cream cheese filled bagel.

“Okay, yeah, I get it. I was just joking, anyway,” she replied, clearly fed up with the two of you.

“Sorry,” you apologized, actually feeling a little bad about how long your little bit had gone on. “What about you two? How’d you and Henry meet?”

“It’s actually a pretty cute story,” Henry spoke up after being a passive spectator for an uncomfortable period of time. “Noms had just moved out west a little bit after the divorce, and the two of us met in a yoga class. I accidentally took her yoga mat, and it was… what did you say earlier? The rest was history?”

The two of them shared an intimate laugh, one that indicated that they were referencing some sort of inside joke, just as you and Joel had earlier after you’d shared what you’d been doing with your life since high school. You glanced over at Joel, his pressed smile and slightly furrowed brows a clear indicator that he was not impressed by the two of them. Thankfully, before the tension could go any further, a kind waitress interrupted the conversation with the simple question of whether or not your table was ready to order.

Shortly after ordering, the conversation picked up once again. While you occasionally were able to ask a question or two about the couple sitting across from you, it above all felt like you and Joel were being interrogated about the nature of your relationship. Lies easily flowed from both of your tongues, sandwiched between fond looks shared between the two of you as if there was no one else in the room, and stolen moments of physical affection that seemed to warm you from the inside-out.

As the two of you added more and more onto your story, the more you began to yearn for the more intricate details of it all to be true.

You wanted to receive a bouquet of flowers on your doorstep from someone almost two-thousand miles from you, just because he’d been thinking about you. You wanted to have a reason to come back and visit the city you grew up in, and to learn about every new hole-in-the-wall shop that had come to mean a lot to him. You wanted to take on his hobbies, and have him take on some of yours despite you both being terrible at them, solely because you knew that the other cared about it. The longer the night went on, the clearer everything became: you wanted all of this and more with Joel, but you’d clearly never be able to have him.

It was no longer a question to you of if your arrangement should end, and had clearly become a matter of when it was going to end. No matter how much fun you were having holding Joel’s hand under the table and feeding the man next to you bites of scallop, you knew it wasn’t sustainable to be feeling so strongly about a situation that had been doomed from the start.

You were undoubtedly treading a very thin line between getting your hopes up for what wasn’t, but could be, and savoring every last second you had with Joel, pretending to be something that the two of you were very obviously not. With the arrival and passing of dessert, and the final spoonfuls of a split chocolate cake, you’d realized that your time with Joel had ended; a conclusion as bitter as the dark chocolate garnish on your shared plate.

The two of you held hands once more as you walked out to his car, fingers lingering together even after the couple you’d been putting a show on were safely tucked away in their own vehicle. You didn’t talk much on your ride back home, the air thick with a tension that made you wonder if Joel had come to a similar conclusion of his own during dinner. The radio filled in the silence where words lacked, covers of Christmas songs filling in for the conversation that surely should’ve been occurring.

After a ride that felt like it had lasted forever and no time at all, you had finally arrived at your sister’s place, the final resting ground for whatever your relationship had been.

“Thanks,” you said as you unclipped your seatbelt, wanting to rip the bandaid off and leave as quickly as humanly possible, while also lingering in his car forever. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” he looked at you for a moment as if he had something more to say, but was holding his tongue. Taking one long look at your face, then offering you a weak half smile, he spoke once more. “You too.”

Though you were mildly disappointed when you didn’t hear back from Joel, you couldn’t say that you were particularly surprised. Everything about your final encounter in his truck indicated that the very brief chapter in both of your lives of pretending to be what you both were not was over. Still, you couldn’t deny the remnant ache in your chest when your father asked where your boyfriend was over Christmas dinner, or the pathetic way that you secretly hoped every ring of the bakery door would deliver you Joel Miller, much like your first day back in Austin did.

Once again, you attempted to drown yourself in your work, working from open to close at your sister’s bakery and ending the day with sore legs, flour in your hair, and an intense desire to never consume anything sweet ever again. You somehow even managed to convince your boss to let you clock a few virtual hours at your actual job, spending all of the time that you were not at the bakery in your temporary bedroom, doing whatever tasks would set you ahead by the time you returned to work.

You realized you weren’t being particularly subtle with the fact that you were trying to distract yourself from something, and while your sister did her best to be whatever it was that you needed during such a bizarre time, she didn’t exactly press, though you were sure she had a bit of an idea of what was making you feel so down.

“Hey, I have a catering job for us,” she informed you one morning as the two of you worked side-by-side.

“When? You remember I’m leaving tomorrow, right?” you sighed, hoping your sister recognized your mild annoyance as less with her, and more with your time in Austin as a whole. You desperately wanted to leave, but you’d promised to stay until the new year began, when orders typically began to slow down. (“Resolutions,” she told you over the phone as you prepared to come back home.)

“Of course I remember,” she shook her head playfully as she spoke to you. “It’s tonight. At the Spoke. They’re doing some New Year’s Eve thing, and I think it’ll be fun.”

“I think maybe we have two different definitions of fun,” you commented, continuing to roll out the piece of dough in front of you.

“Oh, come on. What were you going to be doing anyway?” she pressed you, her attempt to get you to get out of the house clear as day now. “Working in your bedroom during your break? Sulking for reasons you refuse to share with me? Watching episodes of The Bachelor that you’ve seen a hundred times already?”

“Ugh, okay, okay. I’ll do it. We’ll do it,” you finally conceded.

“Good! Now, do you want a coffee? We’re gonna have a lot of trays to finish today.”

You couldn’t deny that it made you feel a little bit better knowing that you had somewhere fun to go that night. Despite living in Texas for the first portion of your life, you’d never had the opportunity to go to any sort of dance hall, and though you’d probably be spending the majority of your time distributing cupcakes to people, you were excited to be doing something fun regardless.

After your longest and final shift at the bakery, your sister hugged you as tight as she could manage and thanked you for everything you’d helped her accomplish this holiday season, before sending you back home to get dressed up for the dance hall. After deciding to go full cowgirl with your attire, you peered in your sibling’s closet for any article of clothing that you could borrow for the night, and ultimately left her closet with a completely different wardrobe.

Even as you and your sister arrived at the dance hall early to set up, patrons were already beginning to flood into the venue. Their excited energy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but feel invigorated, your downtrodden feelings being replaced with much more positive ones.

As the night went on, you found yourself having more and more fun, whether it was from distributing pastries to rosy-cheeked dancers who paused to take a break from the floor, or flirty gentlemen who took the brief moment of your fingers touching over a distributed cupcake to ask to buy you a drink. While you were sure that you would’ve had a decent time doing nothing at home, then popping a bottle of champagne at midnight, the night was certainly shaping up to be a memorable one.

Time seemed to be flying by as you stood by the table, offering cupcakes to whoever passed you by. It wasn’t long before Ben arrived, and your sister was excusing herself from the table to share a dance with her partner. You watched the two of them with adoration, thinking of how you would love to have someone to come sweep you off your feet and offer to dance with you–well, someone other than a sweaty patron. As much as you’d tried to convince yourself over the years that you weren’t cut out for relationships, your trip and weird fake dating arrangement with Joel had made you realize something of the opposite. Maybe you’d be ringing in the New Year with a Hinge download.

After passing out the final cupcake you had, you began to break down boxes and put away some of the other items you’d brought to help the distribution process go more smoothly. With your back turned to the dance floor as you dropped leftover napkins into a plastic bag, you were surprised as you heard a familiar voice greet you from behind.

“Joel?” you said as you looked up at the patiently waiting person, surprised to see his face after such an abrupt ending and a period of radio silence between the two of you.

“Hi,” he said, almost shyly.

“Hi. Sorry, we just ran out of cupcakes” you stated, trying to pretend that things were business as usual between the two of you–whatever business as usual meant now.

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off before ditching the idea altogether, surely figuring that whatever he had to say was more important than an explanation of how he was uninterested in the treats you were serving. “Can we talk?”

“I mean,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be better to avoid everything altogether and simply move on with your life. You could simply tell him no, hop on a plane the following afternoon, then never think about Joel again. It would all be so simple and easy–the exact opposite of what your relationship had spiraled into during your time back in Austin. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s talk.”

The truth was, as easy as you would’ve liked it to be, you were intrigued by Joel’s nervous body language. As he shifted from foot to foot and subtly picked at his hand, you imagined him walking into the hall with his friends, or whoever it was that he came with, seeing you, and immediately going to leave the venue, only staying from the coercion and peer pressure of his peers. You imagined him spending the night working up the nerve to come say to you what was left unspoken the last time the two of you talked, hoping that the beers in his system and all of the dancing would finally get enough jitters out of him to finally address you.

“I’m all ears,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest in a subconscious protective measure. Even though he could do no physical harm to you, your brain was all too aware of the damage he’d done to your heart in the past.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not reaching out to you after our dinner, and for being an oblivious idiot in high school. And I guess, for being an oblivious idiot now,” he began to blather, glancing down nervously at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

You were surprised by his words and slightly unsure of what to say, or even think in response. Now that you had heard his apology, you were beginning to have an idea of the direction that this confession was likely going to take, and you couldn’t tell if you should be leaping for joy or finding the nearest exit. Maybe you could figure out a way to do both, jumping and skipping as you left through the fire exit.

Joel began to search for his next words and you tried to ignore the racing heartbeat in your chest as you attempted to search for your own. Just when you were thinking that it would be impossible for your situation to get any more uncomfortable, a man slightly shorter than Joel and who oddly resembled him sauntered up to the table where the two of you were attempting to speak.

“It’s gonna be twelve soon! Come dance!” the man shouted at Joel, his accent heavy and his words slurred as he grabbed onto Joel’s flannel sleeve. Joel shot him a dirty look, one that clearly communicated his annoyance, but didn’t exactly scream surprised.

“Not now, Tommy,” Joel reprimanded, his gritted teeth and tense demeanor making you want to laugh–if not for his reaction, then over the surrealistic nature of the scene. Mere moments into some sort of apology or confession, the two of you had been interrupted by his intoxicated acquaintance asking him to dance.

“Yes now, Joel. C’mon, lighten up!” the man practically whined, eliciting an exasperated eye roll from Joel. He looked back at you with tense shoulders and worry in his eyes, and you couldn’t exactly tell if he was looking for backup or sympathy. Instead of responding to him with either, you gave him a shy shrug of approval.

“We can talk while we dance?” you suggested, part of you hoping that maybe the distraction of doing something else while you spoke would make your conversation a little less difficult.

Taking Joel’s hand, you followed the men out to the dance floor, where Tommy had disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared to interrupt Joel’s confession. Part of you wondered if this had been premeditated, or if Joel’s drunk friend was simply not able to read the room.

“Before we start, I have a confession of my own,” you began, hoping that what you were about to say would at least lighten up the mood of your conversation. Clearly, the two of you struggled with communicating your feelings, and you hoped sharing what you were prepared to share would at least be helpful in opening up a line of communication.

“Yeah?” he said hopefully. You tried your best to fight the smile that was threatening to appear on your face at the sound of his tone, but ultimately failed.

“I don’t have a damn clue how to do this,” you confessed, glancing over at the pairings around you moving together as if they had done these steps a million times–and knowing your town, they probably had.

“It’s fine,” he said without an ounce of judgment in his voice. “I’ll teach you how.”

And he did, his mouth pressed closely to your ear as he counted off numbers in time with the live band just a few feet away from you, and directed your body left, right, back, and forward until you finally seemed to get the hang of the dance. Though there was still an elephant remaining in the room, dancing seemed to be successful in alleviating some of the tension that lingered.

“Is it okay if we continue our conversation?” Joel asked as the two of you took a synchronized step back. Your eyes were trained on your nearly matching boots, and the thought of having to face your feelings–or the lack thereof–made your stomach churn. Once again, you began to consider the most efficient exit routes.

“Of course,” you replied, doing your best to mask the nerves that had bubbled right back up as you finally met his eye.

“I was so excited to see you, when I found out you were back in town. I guess there was still part of me that wondered what things might have been like if things were different. Then I saw you in the store, and we started doing… whatever we were doing, and I just kept wanting more. It just felt so real, too real, and I started wanting more than what I could have. I mean, you live so far away, and even if you didn’t, I’m sure you have romantic prospects all over the place. Why would you settle for me?”

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joel still thought about you? He had begun to want more in the same way that you did the more your fake relationship progressed? He thought he wasn’t good enough for you?

“Joel-” you began, his name slipping off your tongue involuntarily. You desperately wanted to dispute his claims, but he didn't let you finish.

“I guess I just wanted to apologize for how I acted. I didn’t want you to assume that things ended how they ended for any other reason other than me making terrible decisions as usual.” Once again, it was Joel’s turn to look uncomfortable, and you couldn’t exactly blame him after what he shared with you.

“I accept your apology, but it wasn’t all your fault. And you’re not an idiot,” you clarified in between a spin, finishing your sentence as Joel pulled you back to him. “I was disappointed, but I understood. Honestly, I was starting to feel the same way with you. Our fake dating was starting to feel a little too much like real dating, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up when you were clearly uninterested.”

“But I’m not uninterested,” Joel looked at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, which only seemed to be highlighted by the fact that his arm was draped across your torso, a welcome result of the spinning move. “I want to try, if you want to try. The distance is a hurdle, but we can give it a shot, at the very least. We can visit each other when we get the chance. We can watch the same episodes of The Bachelor, then discuss it afterward.”

“Oh my god, who told you about that?” you remarked, interrupting his big speech.

“Your sister. At the Christmas party,” Joel replied, his cheeks flush with the adrenaline of sharing his feelings with you and the excitement of dreaming of a future with you.

“She’s unbelievable,” you murmured, shaking your head the slightest bit before Joel continued.

“But that’s besides the point. We can send each other delivered gifts, and can talk to each other every day, like what you told Naomi.”

“What I told her when I was lying?” you asked with a laugh, reminiscing on your dinner.

“Well, yeah… But it doesn’t have to be a lie. I can come visit you, and you can come visit me. We can get bagels at your favorite shop when I come to the city. I can teach you how to dance when you come to Austin. Maybe it’s crazy, but I think we can try. Should try.”

“I would like nothing more than that,” you confessed, an honest truth that seemed to light you up from the inside. Hearing Joel’s almost crazed rant about how passionate he was about trying made you a little less afraid of your possible future together, and a whole lot more sure about your feelings for the man.

“Then let’s do it. Let’s do it right this time,” he said as the music finally came to a conclusion, being swapped out for none other than the chant of a countdown.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

As cheers of ‘Happy New Years’ rang out, Joel gently directed your face towards his, your noses and foreheads pleasantly bumping into each other. As your lips finally touched, it felt as if two puzzle pieces designed for each other and meant to be together had finally fallen into place, the rumble of fireworks outside celebrating the long-awaited union between the two of your bodies.

In the past, the affection the two of you had shared had felt real, but deep down you were aware that it was nothing more than a farce. A façade to trick judgmental exes and prying family members. But this time, the affection was different.

The growing warm feeling in your chest, the electric sparks on your skin where Joel was touching you, and the look of admiration in his eyes once you’d finally pulled away told you everything you needed to know.

This was real.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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baby-alien11 · 1 year

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hii anon, accidentally posted it first without finish it (just had two lines) so here it goes again, I hope you like it

being pregnant with Ethan's baby

just like the last one, there's no ghostface in this

You and Ethan knew each other due to you being best friend with his sister Quinn

Thanks to that you use to spend a lot of time on the Bailey household

Even if you were there for Quinn, Ethan and you often shared some glances that ended up in the boy with his face red

Soon the glances between each other started to be more flirtatious

Quinn found that gross

When it was time to move to university, the three of you ended up in Balckmore University in New York

Wanting to be roomies, you and Quinn ended up sharing an appartment with the Carpenter sisters, while Ethan went to the dorms ended up being Chad's roomie, which was friend with the sisters

Things continued to be the usual between you and Ethan with the flirtatious glances and some casual touches

Certainly, everyone in the group noticed the sparks between Ethan and you, but Chad was the most annoyed by that

"Dude, you have to move real quick before she finds someone", Chad exclaimed while walking around campus

"She is my sister's best friend", Ethan responded, "Quinn will kill me if she find out I'm hitting on her best friend"

"You're overreacting"

"One time when we were eight years old I accidentally eat her popsicle, and you know what she did? She decapitaded almost all my action figures"

"That's scary, but you still have to try"

Still a little scared, Ethan decided to listen to Chad's advice

So he started to talk to you a little more, which made you happy because you kinda like him

Things continued like that, until the night of a themed frat party came

Of course the theme had to be only underwear

(A/N: the idea came from The Sex Lives of the College Girls, i love that series)

That night you decided to wear a baby blue lace lingerie set with a black robe on top

During the whole night, Ethan and you spend it together talking and sharing drinks, even kissing at some point

Due to being a little drunk, both of you decided to look for a little more intimate space, so without saying anything to the others, the two of you went upstairs finding an empty room

Of course, the inevitable happened, Ethan was no longer a virgin

The next weeks, everything went their normal way, but you and Ethan continue to see each other without Quinn's knowledge

Until you started to feel sick

At first, you thought it was for something you ate during a dinner with the whole friend group

But Quinn had another theory

"Quinn, what is this?", you asked after she threw a pharmacy bag in your bed

"I know for a fact that you aren't sick for the food of the past week", Quinn started, "And that you've been fucking with some mysterious guy for the last weeks, and that your period is late, this bag is full of pregnancy tests"

"Oh my God!", you exclaimed hiding your face on your hands, "Are you serious?"

"Totally", Quinn nodded, "And I won't leave you until you take all of the five test"

Sighing in defeat you took the paper bag to start walking to the shared bathroom, feeling a little nervous because the only person you had sex in the last weeks was Ethan

With Quinn following you, both of you entered the bathroom where after fifteen minutes, the results came

It was positive

"I'm pregnant", you murmured in disbelief

"You're pregnant", Quinn nodded, "Who is the father?"

"You are going to kill me"

"I won't, just tell me"

"Fine, is someone from our group"

"Well, Chad isn't because he's head over heels with Tara, and the other boy is...motherfucker"

In a second, Quinn bursted out of the bathroom in the direction of the living room where the group was, with you following close

"You are the worst brother ever!", Quinn exclaimed scaring everyone, mostly Ethan, "Not only you have been fucking my best friend for weeks, you've got her pregnant! I'm going to fucking kill you!"

After finishing that sentence, everything went silent in the appartment due to the shock of the sudden news, still shocked, Ethan turned to look at you with questioning in his eyes asking if it was real, at what you responded nodding with your head

After half an hour of Quinn chasing Ethan around the appartment with Sam and Chad trying to stop her, and you being consoled by Mindy, Anika and Tara, things calmed down

While the others tried to calm Quinn, you and Ethan locked in your room to talk about the situation, and after an hour of talking both of you decided to keep the baby

Telling the decision to the others was easy because of what happened earlier, Quinn, who was a little upset for all the revelations simply went to lock herself in her room, which made you a little sad because she was your best friend

That same weekend, you and Ethan went to tell his dad the news, arriving at the police station where he worked, both of you waited for a while until Wayne let you go to his office

"So, what do you bring two you here?", Wayne asked organizing some papers, "It's weird not seeing Quinn with you"

"She's kinda mad at us right now", you responded a little nervous

"Don't tell me you are dating?", Wayne asked with enthusiasm, "She shouldn't be mad at that, this is good"

"There's actually more than that", Ethan spoke slightly trembling, "Y/N is pregnant"

Hearing that sentence, Wayne sighed sitting in his chair and covering his face with his hands

"What are you going to do with the baby?", Wayne asked after a few seconds

"We decided to keep it", you answered

"In that case, Ethan you'll start working here with me on the weekends to have money when the baby comes, I'll talk to Quinn later about her attitude, have you told your parents about this?"

"Not yet", you sighed

"You have to do it soon", Wayne said

Because of your parents spend time traveling now that you were in college, the only way to contact them was by a videocall, telling them the news about the pregancy weren't good for them, their response to that, was telling you that they were dissapointed with you and that they didn't wanted to see you again, leaving you with a week to take your things out of their house

After finishing that call, you cried all the afternoon while being held by Ethan in your room

That same weekend, you along with Ethan, Tara, Chad and Mindy went to your house were you packed almost all of your things (and slightly influenced by Tara, you took some of the money your parents kept in their safe box)

One thing that happened during the next week, was that Quinn appeared in your room

"Hi", Quinn greeted standing in your doorway

"Hey", you responded folding some clothes while sitting in your bed

"I heard about your parents, I'm sorry"

"Yeah, they were shitty sometimes, but at least I took some of their money when I went to take my things"

"That was badass", Quinn smiled entering to your room taking a sit in your desk chair, "And I want to say sorry about my reaction when I knew about the pregnancy and your relationship with my brother, it was wrong for me to ignore you for days, like we are best friends and this is such an important moment in your life, and I acted like a bitch, I'm really fucking sorry and I hope you can forgive me for that"

"I agree, you acted like a total bitch, but your reaction was understandable, we should've tell you the moment we started", you said

"So, now that we make things up, can I ask when this whole thing started?"

"Remember that only underwear party, the one you didn't attend because you had a date with the guy from political sciences?"

"He was from law, but yes, I suggested you to wear that cute blue set", Quinn nodded but then she closed her in eyes, "Did you two fuck in that party?"

"Yes", you answered fearing for her reaction

"If you excuse me, I'm going to puck", Quinn said standing up to walk to the door

Now that things were good with your best friend, you were more calmed

While Ethan started to work at the police station with his dad on the weekends, you decided to work from home using some of your graphic design knowledge for some small bussiness

When the second thrimester started, everyone slowly started to bring small things for the baby

Ethan also started to live in the appartment with you so that way he could be with you and the baby

Chad was sad for his roomie leaving

Morning sickness and the vomit were the worst symptomes of all, which leave you sleepy during part of the day

And since you couldn't drink coffee, you started to drink iced chai tea with caramel

So, everyday before college, you and Ethan would go to the college cafeteria for drinks and snacks

And if he couldn't, someone from the group would go with you, even sometimes all the group would go

When the time to know the gender of the baby came, you and Ethan entered the consultory, while Wayne and Quinn waited outside

It was a boy

From the moment everyone knew the gender of the baby, things were started to be bought for the moment the baby came

Quinn was the most excited of all for having a nephew to spoil, and soon that excitement was extended to everyone

Soon, the room that was only yours at first, then shared with Ethan, it was now filled with baby stuff

Also, some parts of the apartment were filled, like the kitchen with the formula and the baby bottles, the living room with some baby entertainment stuff, etc

While sleeping you used a special pregnancy pillow for your comfort, Ethan liked to sleep with his head next to your growing belly and circle your waist while one of your hands were tangled in his curly hair

Entering the third thrimester, things started to be a little chaotic because of the stress of the soon arriving

Most of all, making the apartment baby proof, even if it was to be a new born

Little by little the rest of the group started to move to the apartment, first was Chad with the excuse that he missed his roomie, and then it was Mindy and Anika saying that they wanted to be there in case of a sudden birth

Towards the last two months, Wayne started to spend part of his time in the apartment because he knew the baby will be born soon

At first the friend group was a little scared to have a police detective in their apartment, but after he started to tell embarrasing stories about Quinn and Ethan childhood, everyone was more relaxed

Except them

Honestly, you were relaxed, even if the due date was arriving soon, that's why during the spring break, instead of going to a travel like most of the students would do, the whole group organized a small lunch in the apartment like a late baby shower

"I miss eating sushi", you commented sitting at the table

"Just three more weeks", Mindy said, "After the baby is here you can eat all the sushi you want"

"That sounds beautiful", you exclaimed

"We'll have a sushi marathon", Quinn spoke

"So, my grandchild is arriving soon", Wayne said, "Have you chosen a name?"

"Not yet", Ethan mumbled

That answer left everyone shocked because the baby was arriving in less than a month

"You're kidding", Tara stated

"Actually not", you laughed nervously, "I mean, we've thought of some names, but we haven't decided"

"Dude, the baby is about to come out of you any time now, and you don't have a name yet?", Mindy exclaimed

That small chat sparkled a small discussion between everyone about the lack of the baby's name that lasted for a few minutes until you felt some pain in your belly, causing everyone to stop arguing to look at you

"What's wrong? Are you alright?", Ethan asked with urgency

"I think this are the contractions that the doctor mentioned in the last appointment", you responded taking strongly his arm

Hearing that sentence, caused a comotion in the appartment in which everyone started to panic for a little bit, until Wayne decided to go down and prepare the police car to go to the hospital, while you were coming down to the first floor with Ethan and Chad help, with Quinn behind carring the bag for you and for the baby

Once that you, Ethan and Quinn were in the car, Wayne started the road to the hospital

Thanks to be in a police car with the light and sound on, you were on the hospital in a record time, so they quickly put you in a hospital room to prepare you

During the next hours, you spend it having contractions, sleeping, eating and distracting yourself thanks to the rest of the group who arrived an hour after you

The next day, early in the morning, you started with the labour with Ethan and Quinn by your side while the others stayed outside waiting

For the next two hours, the only things that could be heard were your screams and the instructions from the nurses

"I can see the head", your main doctor exclaimed, "Keep pushing, Y/N, you're doing amazing"

Feeling a little curious, Ethan aproached the space between your legs to see what the doctor said, passing out the moment he saw the scene

"Did he just pass out?", Quinn asked in shock

"Fucking idiot", you murmured watching how some nurses dragged him to a corner

Fortunately, he was awake in a few minutes, but he didn't dare to look at that again

By eleven o'clock, your baby boy was born, and hearing his small cries made you and Ethan cry in happiness, while Quinn just hugged you and messed up with her brothers hair

After they cleaned him, they put him in your chest, noticing some curls in his head

Seeing your baby boy finally in your arms, Ethan and you looked at each other deciding what of the many names that both of you discussed will be, Anthony Bailey

#scream #baby alien creations #baby alien requests #ethan landry fic #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #scream 6 au #scream franchise #jack champion scream

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tacorei · 1 year

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#halle bailey #shes so sister 🫶🏽👑#[jo march voice] WOMEN 👑🧎🏾#the little mermaid #so proud of her

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corpsebasil · 1 year

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Karma Part 4 aka the FINALE

with his life in your hands, it’s up to you to be with the masked killer you’ve grown to love

He held onto you, glaring with a ferocity you’d never seen before at Detective Bailey and Quinn.

Quinn, who was back from the dead, and Bailey, who was�� You glanced up at Ethan’s face, examining his features for any resemblance. Ethan’s father. Ethan stood between you and the others, Sam and Tara both armed with bricks. They’d been stunned to realize Ethan was a Ghostface—more so when they realized you knew. But in your hurried explanations, that he’d defended you, hadn’t killed anyone else, their hate turned into uncomfortable apprehension.

“That bitch,” Quinn was saying, pointing her knife at you. “should’ve been my kill. I had her, E. Where the hell do you get off attacking me?”

“I told you to leave her alone.” He argued, still keeping one arm around you as he glared at his sister. He hadn’t worn the costume; he’d burned it, actually, right after the two of you had… “She’s mine. You can’t take her away from me. Not this one, one thing in my life that’s worth a damn.”

“She’s a girl, Ethan.” Quinn growled, still glaring at you. “What did that little slut do to change your mind? Did she spread her—”

“Shut up, Quinn.” Ethan’s tone was lethal. “You want her, you can go through me.”

Tara was backing away, passing a brick into your hand as you stood stock still, watching the two siblings trade verbal blows. You had goosebumps across your skin; Quinn, the girl you’d done makeup with before school, the girl with whom you’d had a Dunkin tradition on Sunday mornings, had tried to kill you? You two weren’t extremely close, but you thought that she’d liked you, at a minimum.

“Why Quinn?” You asked, voice raw as you stared at the ginger. “What did I ever do to you?”

“You were never supposed to be involved.” Detective Bailey cut his daughter off, casting his steely gaze to your own. You shrank underneath the weight of his stare. “Here’s the deal, young lady. Get out now, leave Ethan to us, and you can live. Doesn’t that sound fair?”

Your eyes cut to Ethan’s. His gaze was pained as he looked at you; when he slowly nodded his head, you balked.

“They can do whatever they want to me.” He murmured, brown eyes scanning your face. “As long as you’re safe.”

“No,” you shook your head, eyes widening. “no, E, I’m not gonna—”

“Let them have him.” Sam ordered you, and you glanced over, horror filling your expression. “He deserves it. Get out of here, Y/N.”

“I won’t.” You snapped, staring at your friend. “How could you ask me that? What if I asked you to leave Danny?” You spun to Tara, her own expression twisted. “Or Chad?”

“Chad is dead.” She said, voice tight.

“We don’t both have to lose people today.” You pleaded, looping your arms tighter around Ethan. “You can fuck yourself.” You told Quinn, and her expression promised violence. “And you.” You looked to Bailey, glaring harder. “You’re the most pathetic excuse for a father I’ve ever met.”

“You had your chance.” Bailey said, and nodded to Quinn, who lunged.

Sam and Tara swung with their bricks as Ethan hauled you away, your breath hitching as he tugged you back, back, back, your heart rate spiking to a dangerous level. And then Quinn, god knows how, was there, having had escaped Sam and Tara, and shouted a curse at the two of you.

“Join your bitch in hell.” Quinn snarled and slashed out.

Your world shrank to pinpoint.

You screamed, screamed, as the blade tore through Ethan’s abdomen. He staggered backwards, choking on a gasp, and dropped to the floor. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe as the boy you were in love with clutched as his middle, blood seeping rapidly out of the wound.

“Fuck you.” Quinn said, pointing her knife at you.

“Fuck you.” You spat back, and swung your brick.

You barely felt the impact.

She fell to the ground, teeth knocked out, but you didn’t stop. You felt insane—utterly insane as you slammed the makeshift weapon home over and over and over. You didn’t realize you were keening, tears running hot down your face, until someone grabbed your collar and yanked you away.

“No!” You gasped, the brick falling from your bloodied fingers, and Sam smacked you across the face so fast and violent your teeth cut into your cheek.

“Calm down.” She ordered, shaking you by the shoulders when she faced you. “Calm the fuck down. She’s dead. Christ.”

“Ethan—” You choked out, pointing, and Sam’s concerned stare turned hateful as she looked at him. “Sam please.” You begged, fighting her grasp so you could move towards him. He was laying flat on his back now, face screwed up with pain, his hand trembling against his wound. “Please please. I won’t ask you for anything else. Just help me.” She followed your eyes to the closest exit. If you could just get him to the hallway, maybe you could somehow break out. “Please I cant live without—”

“God, fine.” She snapped, letting go of you to help lift him. You had no idea where Bailey or Tara was but, based on the fact that you’d just bashed his daughter’s skull in with a brick and his son had betrayed him, you weren’t sure if he was going to stick around.

The two of you moved to Ethan, lifting him by the shoulders and tugging him towards the hall. A moan of pain left his lips and you choked back a sob, tears filling your eyes as you looked down at him. You were muttering reassurances, trying to convince the both of you it was okay, when Sam left to find her sister.

You kept him tucked in the corner of the hall, as far away from the fight as you could manage, as you slowly peeled up his shirt. You almost gagged. Short of his guts hanging out the wound was devastating, and you saw the tears in his eyes as he trembled.

“Baby,” you touched his face, his sleepy eyes moving to your own. “baby what do I do? I don’t know how to—”

“Duct tape.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “My backpack. Use the—the duct tape.”

You dove for his backpack, rummaging through it until you found the desired material. You yanked off a strip and began taping his abdomen shut, trying not to retch when his cries of pain met your ears. You were crying steadily now, your hands shaking, when there was finally nothing left to tape up.

“Can you—” Ethan swallowed, his speech slurring as he panted. “Just, stay with me? I just…want to be with you when..”

“No.” You shook your head, sliding onto the ground beside him and looping an arm over his chest. You pressed your face against his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m not leaving you. I cant.”

“You know I love you, Y/N.” He murmured, and you choked back a sob, your lips pressing kisses against his neck and shoulder. And then you tensed, hearing the click of a gun, and turned.

“Isn’t this a pretty picture.” Detective Bailey mused, gun at his side. “A real Romeo and Juliet story.” He pointed the gun at Ethan and you practically snarled at the man, shielding his body the best you could with your own. “You threw it all away on some girl.” He sneered, glaring at his son, who gripped your arm as hard as he could.

“Y/N, go.” Ethan breathed, wincing as he fought to prop himself up.

“You wanna kill him?” You asked, glaring at his father. How such an amazing boy came out of him, you had no idea. “Shoot me first.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” He replied, aiming for your head, and you stared with defiance as Ethan gasped, your ears vaguely picking up his begging protests.

The gunshot went off.

Bailey lurched to the side, dropping to the ground, as Sam stood before you, a gun of her own pointed at the bastard’s head. You were panting, heart racing, sure you were seconds away from following your boyfriend into death.

“He talks too much.” Sam muttered, and looked to you, concern filling her eyes. “Y/N, get up.”

“No.”

“Y/N, he’s not going to make it we need to—”

You felt feral. Absolutely wild as you glared at her, your grip on his hand, the hand that had reached out to hold yours during your execution, tightening.

“Help him. Help him and I’ll come with you.” You felt miserable as you laid your head back on his shoulder, your mouth quivering as you held him as tight as you dared with his injuries. “Ethan, come on. Stay awake for me.”

He grunted in response, turning his head to kiss your own, and Sam made a sound of both annoyance and defeat.

“Seriously? We need to—”

Doors burst open somewhere and you tensed, watching as officers entered the room led by Danny. You could’ve sobbed in relief as you saw medics entering, Sam immediately directing them your way. You murmured the updates to Ethan, whose eyes were closed, before you stilled. He was completely cold.

“E?” You whispered, sitting up. Without your presence his head lolled to the side; Ethan’s skin had gone pale and, when you picked up his hand, it felt limp in your own. “Ethan?” Your vision went white.

You were vaguely aware of the medics moving around you as you stared, ears ringing, at the boy that you loved. The boy that was dead.

“Sweetheart?” Fingers snapped in front of your face and you blinked slowly. “Sweetheart, come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

You pointed at Ethan—no, tried to point, because your body refused to move. You just stared. Stared and stared, as hands gripped you under the arms and lifted you. And then Danny was scooping you up, your eyes never leaving Ethan as the medic closest to him pressed her fingers to his neck, another examining the duct tape.

You turned away.

It had been four months since the theater attack.

Four months since you’d had to fight for anything—since you’d needed to fight. But now you stood in your apartment, breathing deeply, the weapon at your side clenched tight in your hand.

Your enemy stood hardly ten feet away, glaring back at you with just as much ferocity. His dark eyes never left your own as you spoke, forcing as much bravado as you could into your tone.

“I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire.”

The boy snorted, his eyes lighting up with wry amusement.

“Your new empire?”

“Don’t make me kill you.”

“Y/N, my allegiance is to the Republic. To Democracy!

You clicked the button on your battery-operated lightsaber at the same time as Ethan, and tried not to laugh.

“If you’re not with me, then you’re my enemy.”

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes.” He snapped back, taking a step forward. “I will do what I must—”

“AHHH!” You shrieked, charging, before Ethan had hardly gotten the last word out. He yelped as you tossed away your lightsaber and jumped on him, toppling the both of you to the ground.

“Hey, hey!” He protested, rolling you onto the living-room floor. He pinned your arms with his hands and shook his head, staring at you with disbelief. “You had another line. One more line. You always do that.”

“Next time I’ll be Obi-Wan.” You giggled, squirming around in his grasp.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” He asked, rolling his eyes, and moved off. “Can we watch the trilogy next? I wanna see Kylo Ren.”

“Ugh.” You groaned, reluctantly moving to your feet as he went to make popcorn in your kitchen. “Can we watch something else? What about a Barbie movie?”

“Absolutely not.” Ethan scoffed, turning to give you a comically disturbed look. “You tortured me last week with that marathon.”

“It was only, like, the best ones.”

“It was seven hours. Seven hours of singing and dresses and—”

“Ethaaan.” You whined, dashing over to wrap your arms around his waist. “Don’t you love me?”

“Obviously.”

“Then what’s one more Barbie movie?”

“Dear God.” He rubbed his eyes as you hugged him tighter, turning your head to press kisses to his chest. “Fine. Fine. But I’m picking it out.”

“You always give in.”

“I cant resist you.”

You smiled as he ran his hand over your cheek and kissed you, his other hand slipping into your hair to tug your head back. You let out a sigh as you sank into him, your fingers moving to run along his waist, then under his shirt and— You stiffened and he moved back.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked a few times. Then you lifted the material of his shirt up, eyes running across the long, slightly raised scar on his abdomen. You ran a hand over your mouth and dropped his shirt, avoiding his eyes when he tugged you straight back into his arms.

“I’m fine, now. Remember?” He jostled you a tiny bit, a calm smile still on his face. “I’m fine, Y/N.”

It had taken weeks of therapy. Many, many times where you forced yourself to hang out with your friends. And way too many nights sleeping in a hospital chair, waiting for Ethan to recover.

The doctors said that it was a miracle he’d survived. That he must’ve been holding on to something—that he was a fighter. And now that he was healed physically, the both of you were doing your best to heal mentally, as well.

“Y/N?” Ethan cupped your face and looked at you, eyes scanning your own. “Together, remember? We get through this together?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed, ignoring the tightness in your chest. “Always.”

“Then let’s go watch a damn princess movie.” He smirked at you as you let out a trembling laugh, then you squeaked as he planted aggressive kisses all over your face, not freeing you until you were wiggling away from him. “Love you.” Ethan said, pulling you close, and kissed you again.

HELLOOO THE END AND THANKS TO EVERYONE THAT STUCK AROUND

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