#Billy x you x stu

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking (let me know if there's more that needs to be added), Possessiveness

Word Count: 0.7k

Summary: You have been best friends with Billy Loomis since you both were in diapers, however, when high school hit, Billy's mom had filed for divorce and had left his father. His dad was miserable even in marriage, hence his continuous affairs with Maureen Prescott. Though, after the divorce and his mother leaving, Billy has been different since; He started dating Sidney Prescott, the late Mrs. Prescott's daughter. He never showed an interest in her until now… But why? 

You had a crush on him forever, but decided to make it dormant since he’s in a relationship…  but his head was elsewhere even after he got with Sidney. His heart wasn’t in it and you can tell. He was void with any empathy with her and lacked the emotion in his friend group, but when he is around you his true self would show, which sent you mixed signals, often making you question yourself. He was toying with you and he knows it, but he can't help himself, he has to have you one way or another, but not just yet...

On the other hand, there’s Stuart ‘Stu’ Macher, another taken guy. You met him during your first year of high school when Billy went through a stage of not talking to you. Stu was quick to befriend you during your time of strife and he never failed to miss an opportunity to flirt with you or grab at you, even in front of his girlfriend, Tatum. You took it as a sign he was playing around, but what if he wasn’t? What if he couldn’t have you just yet, either?

Both seem interested in you and both have been obsessing over you in their own ways, but they can’t let the thought of having you get in the way of their plan… Neither of them know about one another’s fixation with you… 

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 1

Your fingers flew across the keyboard, typing away at your English Assignment that was due the next day. 

You sighed, hearing a loud crackling sound outside.

…A storm…

Lightning flashed, filtering the already darkened-sky as you pushed away from your desk. Wandering across your room, you opened your window. Pellets of rain hit against the chipped-frame, splashing up your arm as you leaned outside. 

“God, what a sight.” You smiled, fluttering your eyes. 

Storms always make you happy, especially during times of stress.

You loved how the sky would light up in different shades of white, yellow, and even purple when the lightning strikes. How the rain sounded when it hit the pavement, windowsill, or cars. The way the wind caused the trees to dance and how it whistled and tousled your hair. It was pure bliss. 

You closed your eyes, the smile still on your lips, droplets of water began to run down your face, and your hair was beginning to damp. 

“Oh, how I wish I could be reading The Shining right now.” You chuckled, “Too bad the school has other plans..” You whispered, blinking your eyes open.

You turned around to head back to your computer to finish your assignment, though, something or somebody had grabbed your arm. 

You screamed, jumping back. Only to laugh at the realization of who it was.

“Billy! What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper-shouted, stifling a laugh, “You nearly gave me a heart attack…” You trailed, running a hand through your wet-(h/c) locks. 

A look of amusement fell on Billy’s face, “I’m sorry, (Y/n).. I couldn’t help but make my way over--” “Through the window?” You spoke, quirking a brow, folding your arms over one another, cutting your friend off. 

He rolled his eyes, “Of course.. What better way to scare my best friend?” 

You stuck out your tongue, letting your arms fall to the side. 

“Alright, loser, what do you want, really? Because I know it wasn’t just to scare me..” 

Billy was baffled, how could you possibly know he came here to talk to you about something? Was he that obvious?

“You’re obvious, Bil.. What is it?” You pouted, jumping onto your bed, patting the spot next to you for him to sit down.

Billy groaned, “How do you do that?” He muttered, sitting next to you. 

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“How do you know when something is wrong?” 

“Look, man, I’ve known you for how long?” 

“Since we were in diapers..” He rolled his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. 

“There’s your answer.” You giggled, “It’s Sidney, isn’t it?” You frowned, staring at him with big-doe eyes.

“Yeah..” He looked down, fiddling with his thumbs, “We used to be so hot and heavy, now it’s like I’m in a PG-13 movie, I can’t stand it.” 

Your heart ached, not because of how he was feeling, but because you’ve had the biggest crush on him since the first year of highschool. You never understood why he went for Sidney, she is the complete opposite of him and is such a prude. It hurt hearing about their relationship…

“Ah, I see… Relationship problems… Lucky me…” You scoffed, Billy only chuckled, playfully punching you in the arm. 

“Oh, C’mon.. You’re usually good at the whole… you know, advice stuff..” Billy spoke, getting up from the bed. 

You licked your lips, averting your gaze elsewhere, not wanting to continue the conversation, “Look, Billy.. I really don’t know what to say that will help you, you’re talking to the wrong person, have you asked Stu?” You mumbled, and he shook his head. 

“Oh..” Was all you could mutter, “I’m sorry, Bil, I wish I could help, but you should really get going. I have homework to finish.” You forced a smile, shoving him back towards the window, “And you really need to go..” 

“(Y/n)?” Billy asked, noticing the change of demeanor. “Everything okay?” 

You grinned, void of any emotion. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. My assignment is due tomorrow and it’s really kicking my ass…” You lied, well, not really. It truly was kicking your ass, but that wasn’t the reason your mood suddenly changed, it was the jealousy you felt. 

“Oh, okay.” Billy laughed, nervously. “I guess I should have called first, I didn’t know you were busy..” He looked at you, studying your posture; trying to see if it was really what you said that was bothering you, but you were stoic, stiff like a cardboard box. You were hard to read. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

You nodded as he climbed out your window.

“Goodbye, Loomis…” 

Next->

[sugudolle]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ CONTENT ⊹ 18+. ghostface x fem reader. any ghostface with a dick. stalking. knifeplay.

ghostface! mockingly tilting his masked head with his knife still in hand as he watches you in amusement, the pretty girl he’s been chasing, “unfortunately” get stuck under your plushie covered bed in a lewd position mid-chase wearing only your silky nightdress.

ghostface! studying the way your arched back and teasing wiggle of your ass gives him an almost too perfect view of the lacey panties that rest between your soft cheeks and cup your pussy—like you got caught on purpose just to show it off to him—already soaking the fabric with a cute wet spot all for him.

ghostface! easily cutting the sides of the pretty panties you put on just for him with two clean swipes. he roughly slides the fabric off, his whole gloved hand resting against your warm, sloppy cunt as presses his hard dick against the back of your thigh.

“silly girl. i know you watch scary movies because you wanna fuck the killers.”

ghostface! who makes your twisted fantasies come true and fucks you from behind while you’re still half stuck under your bed, his tone turning dark as he drawls on and on about how many times he’s watched you leave your bedroom curtains half closed at night on purpose, how he’s seen you hump your pillow until you’re a sweaty, filthy mess with your makeup running down your cheeks.

“you knew i was watching didn’t you? were you thinking about how much better it’d feel if it was my big cock in your tight little pussy? how nice and deep i’d fuck you?”

ghostface! who takes off his mask for the sole purpose of eating you out, grinning against your pussy knowing that you can’t see him and getting off on the fact that you don’t know who he is but his voice just sounds so familiar as he moans about how sweet you taste, how your pussy’s just so fucking good it’d be a shame to kill you—and how he’d literally kill for it.

ghostface! purring as he picks up the pace, completely drunk on your wet, perfect pussy, about how he’s the only one that gets to have you wrapped around his cock, how good you take it, how he’s the only one who has the privilege to taste you on his lips—how you’re now all his.

“think i’ll be keeping you around, pretty girl.”

[theoldkyokodied]

stuilly doodle dump (2/2)

[mh2o29]

tfw you have to call your girlfriend's house to talk to her girlfriend (who is also your boyfriends girlfriend) so you can get your boyfriend released from jail...

(click for better quality PLEASE I beg you)

under the tab are other versions of the drawing so click if you wanna see him with no shirt on .....wait what who said that.....

yall i don't even know how to explain this one i was possessed and controlled by the urge to draw stu macher all pretty and posed like this,,,, so i like when men are pretty SUE ME

credits to @atitanbitch for the idea to include Sid and Tatum in the little bubble and @powderedbleach for reminding me about THE ROBEEEE OH and ofc @harleykeenervarient for sending me the photo reference I used in the first place yall rock <3

included below are alternate versions of this drawing that I was having some fun with mwuahaha that includes no shirt, no shirt plus some ~shweed~ and also ofc trans version bc cmon

alright thats all for now.... thats my cue to slink back into the void until I return with another art drop BYEEEEEE

[loveandmurders]

Just imagine Billy flirting with you whenever you're at the same party and Stu always sitting next to you in class, even though you don't bother answering either of them.

The boys can't explain it but they feel you are special. They want to know more about you, to discover you and your secrets.

You, on the other hand, you are not interested in them - or in anyone - because you're a killer and you don't want people to find out what kind of monster you truly are.

Imagine you enjoy to lurke in the shadows when you hear that Ghostface strike again. You like their style and you enjoy how messy the crime scenes are. Sometimes, you even find your own prey near by.

But that one night you catch Billy removing his Ghostface mask. You think he was just a disturbed guy trying to scare off the neighborhood. The next day, you notice Stu is hurt like the news reported Ghostface to be.

So, of course, you decide to follow the two of them to make sure they actually are the killers wandering in town. You are good at hiding in the shadows, and soon enough you discover their secrets.

Imagine becoming interested in them after that because they might finally be people able to understand you. So you start to flirt back with Billy and you start to tease Stu and chat around with them both.

They enjoy the attention and soon enough you become a thing, even if it isn't anything official because it would draw too much attention on the three of you.

Imagine you decide to fuck with them and you start to dress as Ghostface to kill your own victims. The police doesn't understand what is going on as you are killing people who aren't related to Sidney in any way.

Billy and Stu are absolutely losing it as well. In a way, you are helping them but at the same time you are messing up with their plans. You are finding it very funny.

At some point, they decide to put the murders aside to discover who is toying with them like that. But, fuck you're good at hiding and how could they suspect their cute baby girl?

The night they catch you, the three of you in your Ghostface costumes, you're quick to remove your mask before they could hurt you.

"Oh come on, guys, no need to be mad. I was just playing around with the two of you" you pouted

Billy doesn't know if he wants to fuck you or to kill you. Stu perfectly knows he wants to eat you out.

[whateverloomis]

Kinktober week one: Hate sex (Billy Loomis x AFAB reader) 🎃

Here's the first drabble for the first week of kinktober. This was really fun to write and I'm definitely going to include some of this vibe in future fics. Hope you enjoy babes! 💋🎃

Warnings: Hate sex, jealousy, insults (use of slut,) oral (reader receiving,) rough sex, pinning, hair pulling, scratching, AFAB reader, unedited

Masterlist

It started with him having a jealousy fit over some guy talking to you. Then, you ended up having arguments the whole week.

You hated how controlling Billy could be especially because you guys weren't even dating. He didn't have the right to be that way with you, however it was also somewhat attractive and it low-key boosted your ego too. That's why tonight you decided to rile him up by telling him about Steve Orth and his grabby hands during science class. How he grabbed your thigh after you pushed his hand away several times. You were angry, turned on and agitated. Both of you were.

"You could've moved to another chair but instead decided to stay there and get touched by someone else like a slut." Billy said, losing his temper slowly.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed in disbelief; "I don't know why you're so mad, we're not even dating," you replied and he lifted an eyebrow.

Billy took a deep breath and let out a sarcastic laugh; "YN, you know we're much more than just friends. You know our relationship is the only one that matters to me and all I get is you letting that asshole grope you in class? Hm? How am I supposed to feel, YN?!"

He lost it.

"Shut the fuck up Billy, you don't own me! I can do whatever I want;" you replied and he walked towards you, grabbing your face with his large hand, his eyes darker than usual.

"I do own you," he answered and you laughed sarcastically. Disbelief evident on your face.

That's why you found yourself with your head pushed against the mattress on all fours as Billy pounded you from behind.

He had eaten you out before like it was the only meal he had that day. Billy bit and sucked on your thighs before practically making out with your pussy, alternating between both actions until you came and had 2 mini orgasms right after as he over stimulated you.

After that he forcefully turned you around and sunk his thick cock inside you, pinning you down.

Billy pulled your hair occasionally and made you look forward before pushing your head against the pillow once again.

"This is what you get after being a slut this week," he exaggerated, his tone aggressive and assertive. It drove you crazy and you hated that you loved it.

All you could do was grab the pillow and whimper pathetically.

That's until you turned you guys around and rode him. You pulled Billy's hair and scratched his chest which made him groan in pleasure.

He occasionally spanked you and other times grabbed your face harshly, making you look right into his dark eyes which were filled with rage. Jealousy.

Billy thrust up into you and hit the most sensitive spot inside you which made you scream and moan pathetically.

"Shut the fuck up," he said harshly before pushing 2 fingers inside your mouth, reaching your throat which made you gag just a little.

You were in pure bliss as Billy fucked the soul out of you.

After a few more thrusts and humiliating words you came all over his cock followed by him filling you up with his seed.

Billy pulled out and moved you to the side, standing up and locking himself in the bathroom, slamming the door loudly. He was still angry and you were left on the bed, leaking between your legs and panting. You knew damn well he wasn't done with you.

[2kiran]

❛ 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦, 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢ó𝐧 ❜ ➖ drb.

pairing: ghostface x reader content: bottom ghostf, top male reader, unspecified m!character, held at knifepoint genre: smut | series masterlist

“Fucking—!” Ghostface sucks in a gasp, the metallic blade gleaming under the narrowed light over your forms. “With something as big as this,” On quivering knees and one gloved hand planted on your abdomen, he lifts. “y’sure know how t–to, oh fuck me—” He drops himself down, his walls clinging to the base of your dick. “—hide it. Bet you like how a killer feels, don’t you? Yeah, you do.”

You huff, your skin adorned with a thick sheen of sweat. Pleasure rolls down the length of your spine, the muscles of your thighs trembling with the effort to not buck up into his warming heat. He leans down, grinding his hips forward as he holds up the pointed end of the knife to the center of your throat. “You like your victim.” You deflect, and he clenches around you to punch out a sharp intake of breath from you. He isn’t doing greatly himself, the bursts of a peeking orgasm building in the pit of his belly setting his mind to a blur.

There’s an itch he’s unable to scratch—one that the head of your cock can only graze and prod. But it isn’t enough. You’re not touching him, disregarding the fact that he was the one who commanded you not to. He needed your hands on him, on his leaky, aching dick, and on his neck, even. “Haah, fuuuuuck, shut it.” He pants, his tip throbbing with slickness. The weapon is dangerously close to your sensitive skin, ready to delve into your sickly blood and drown within it.

And you knew he’d take horrifying amusement in seeing you wounded. Wounded with a brand-like marking, giving you a reminder that you’re his. Ghostface’s man, whether you want the title or not. You’ll be haunted with the glimpse of his dark, tainted robe and that long-lasting expression of screaming.

“That’s right...” he mumbles under his breath, burying his obscured face to the crook of your neck and shoulder. He doesn’t realize he’s already speaking his fantasies, his need for you. He rides you harder, his walls spasming as he’s hit by a familiar warning of a climax approaching. “You’re mine, oohhh shit, this s’all mine.”

Your mind is swimming, your hands balled into fists. Your cock pulses inside of him, a numbing tightness coiling in your gut. His speech is hushed, meant to keep it to himself, but your ears manage to pick up on the soft syllables. You can’t deny it, not with your mouth running dry, and certainly not with your cock nestled to the hilt. He feels you jab at his sweet spot, sending the bundle of nerves aflame. Ghostface whines, eyes squeezing shut while his pace stutters.

His brain runs static. His body shudders, legs quaking almost violently. It lasts relatively long, his subconscious setting the knife beside your head to avoid accidentally cutting your jaw. Ghostface wanted you. He needed you; and when you paint his hole white, he begins to think about how badly he needs you to feel the same way.

[cherubfae]

𝔠𝔲𝔡𝔡𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 || {𝔳𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰}

With Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Billy and Stu, Art the Clown, Vincent, Bo, Lester, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman, Thomas Sawyer

tags: AFAB reader (not specified), cuddling, affection, rz!Mikey, art is his own warning lmao, terrifier 2 spoilers, little spoon!slashers, nightmares (Sal), comfort, poly!Ghostface, I low-key rant about art in Vin's lmao

Michael

Exhaustion isn't something he's used to feeling so heavily in his bones. He feels the heavy weight rippling across his broad shoulders and spiraling down his spine in white hot pain. He's not a tame being, but he is a bit more docile in the months before and after Halloween. His knife doesn't thirst for blood quite as much as on the 31st.

Seeing you in your bed is a welcomed sight. Michael doesn't say much more than the soft grunt of acknowledgement as he sheds his coveralls from his dirt-caked skin. He has a lovely warm bath that loosens all the tight muscles of his lower back. You'll have his head later for leaving a ring of grime in the tub; Mikey doesn't care about that right now.

The fresh sheets are so comfortable, accepting them fully as Michael tucks his face into your side. His recently cut hair is still long enough to form a fringe curtain over his grey eyes.

Jason

Softly leans his chin to your shoulder. Depending on how far along you two are into your relationship, Jason might feel comfortable enough to have his mask removed. He's aware the material probably doesn't feel too pleasant being pressed to the side of your face or lightly digging into your skin.

His arms wind around your waist, happily sighing as he leans himself against you. Jason also doesn't mind if you switch things up and hold him in return, stroking the top of his head softly.

Brahms

If there's a way where he can wind his body around yours, Brahms will find it. He definitely likes keeping you away from all of the noise of the world, and while he's not mega happy about it, he knows you need trips into town sometimes. He likes seeing what kind of food items you bring back because the meals you make are simply delicious!

After dinner and bathing, Brahms snuggles beside you, clinging to you like you've been gone for ages. The chill of his porcelain biting into your skin as he happily huffs behind it. He's so glad to have you. <3

Billy and Stu

The pair are constantly together, if not with you, then they're almost always flanking each other's sides. The other is often not far from the first. Adding you into their duo to form a trio didn't change much of their dynamic. Instead of the two boys slinking around, they've got you as their third and final confidant.

Billy isn't the most touchy-feely person-- that's what he likes to claim. He doesn't really know how to ask for the things that he wants. He's different to Stu in the way that he's silent when you press your hand to the brunette's cheek, smiling as his eyelids flutter closed. Subconsciously leaning into your touch, chasing the feeling when you pull away.

Stu likes to be what he calls the mega spoon. It's him behind you, snuggled at your back, and with Billy pressed close to your chest still too proud to say that he enjoys being taken care of as the little spoon. You three make a nice, lovely three-person sandwich. Even when lying down, you're in the center with the boys wrapped around you like snakes. There is no them without you; you are their missing piece.

Art

This man is mostly, if not always, within your personal space. 'It's not yours, it's ours'. Art is rarely a being ever to break character or change out of his damned costume, and his hygiene is quite questionable sometimes; though he does in fact bathe and wash his suit. Just not often.

He's a man of very few words, especially when he's deep into his clown character and doing what he does best. Being immortal has its advantages, but his fight with Sienna really put him through the ringer. Art was decapitated! What a riot.

With his strength slowly returning to him, Art is always almost underfoot. In your bubble, seeing what you're doing. Snuggling up to you in a rare moment where his costume is off, leaning his head into your chest with an exhausted expression. It seemed that Pale Girl was allowing him some respite with you for a bit.

Vincent

He is a busy man, constantly sculpting and creating. His sketchbooks are filled to the absolute brim of beautiful works of art in all sorts of mediums: charcoal, graphite, watercolor, and ink. You're his muse, his favorite subject of which his art circulates. There's something so breathtaking about you, minute details that only an artist can see within people. An eternal, everlasting beauty.

Vincent is quick to jot down the rough outline of your sleeping form resting against Jonesy. He's smiling behind the wax mask, skilled fingers shading the crease of your eyelids then moving to sketch the curve of your Cupid's bow. When he felt it was finished enough for now, Vincent sets his book aside in favor of crawling into bed beside you.

His broad frame dwarfs yours as he curls his body around yours, his large hands slide beneath your sweater pressing across your tummy. Vincent really adores you, you know?

Bo

Not much of a cuddler, but if you get especially pouty about it Bo will roll his eyes and tug you to him. He can be a major asshole but he doesn't like seeing his baby upset.

He tucks you beneath his strong arm, his mechanic's hat resting on top of the back of the sofa. Waiting for you to settle down doesn't take long as you're soon drifting off with your head on his chest, focusing on his hand placed on your knee; gently stroking the skin there. His eyes begin to droop, feeling heavy. Cradling the back of your neck, Bo allows himself to drift off, too.

Lester

Long days certainly do get to him sometimes. Tiring him out something awful. He's prepared enough roadkill and deer for his brothers and you, enough to satiate any hunger for the time being until he finds time to run into the nearby town again.

Lester finds you lounging in his bed with Jonesy, Vincent must be working hard and the pup sought out attention where she could. He had no idea where Bo was or whatever the hell he was up to.

Collapsing onto the bed, Lester sighs deeply when you immediately comb your fingers through his messy short hair. He's out like a light soon after.

Sal Fisher

Poor guy has so much going on that sometimes he just wants to crash and sleep for one-thousand years. He doesn't sleep well on the best of days, plagued by frequent nightmares that not even the warmth and comfort of your sleeping form beside him can quell.

Another nightmare yanks Sal out of a fitful sleep. One that has him patting the sheets, searching for you. The heat of your skin against his hands sends a calming peace over him. He's scooping your sleeping form in his arms, his face hidden in your neck. Sal gives a weak smile as you snuggle into him. He focuses on your even breathing, allowing himself to fall asleep soon after.

Thomas

It's incredibly hot on the best of days in Duller County, the Sawyer family set up several oscillating fans that constantly work overtime without a proper functioning air conditioning unit.

Even the lackluster cool breeze and the sweltering Texan heat aren't enough to have Tommy pulling you into his lap and nuzzling his masked face into your hair.

You're much smaller than him. It gives Tommy a sense of pride knowing that he's your big, strong protector. :)

Patrick

He is such an enigma, a contradiction. Patrick isn't much of a cuddler or snuggler but he wants to play the role of being a dutiful partner. He is quick to become a jealous lover if you were to find someone else to give you attention while he's fretting over what sort of shade of cream or white Paul Allen's next business card will have.

A prideful, vain being such as himself would never admit how much he truly does enjoy having your curl up next to him. The warmth your body exudes is a comfort, one he finds him seeking out more and more even though your relationship is still within its earlier stages. Patrick hates that he finds himself being so undone by you, but he can't find it within himself to stop either. There's something inside of you that his fervent bloodlust can't be satisfied by.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[not-neverland06]

wicked influence

Poly!Ghostface x fem!reader

a/n: I’ve wanted to write for Scream for forever and have never gotten around to it. Well, it’s slasher season baby! I finally have my reason. (When I tell you that this movie was my sexual awakening as a child, I mean it. That’s not necessarily good, but it’s true. )

Summary: Visiting a Halloween carnival with your two best friends doesn’t seem that bad until you reach the haunted house. You’ve never been able to explain your fear of demons to anyone before, you have no idea where it comes from. But you do know, going into a hell themed house with teenagers screaming shitty Latin at you is one of your worst nightmares. You think everything’s okay until, suddenly, your nights are filled with visits from a strange shadowy entity and you don’t recognize the look in Stu’s eyes anymore. (Part of my Halloween Palooza)

“Hey! Demons are a perfectly rational thing to be afraid of.”

Billy scoffs and rolls his eyes, nudging you further toward the haunted house. “Alright, alright, would you calm down and just move it.” You stare into the gaping jaw of the devil that serves as the entrance to the house. You know this is all just a way for people to make a quick buck. 

There’s not going to be anything in there except teenage actors and shitty SFX makeup. But that doesn’t make the looming doorway any less menacing. It doesn’t make your heart stop racing or your breathing any easier. 

Billy frowns as some people shove past you all, tired of waiting for you to move inside. They cut the line and you can’t help but be grateful. Your nails dig into your palms until you feel the warmth of blood and have to swallow down bile. 

Stu and Billy both lean towards you, varying looks of confusion on their faces. “Holy shit,” a grin breaks out on Stu’s face and he smiles widely at you. “You’re terrified, aren’t you?” He pokes you like you might be a statue, unmoving and solemn. 

You stumble back and are effectively broken out of your terrified stupor. You swat at Stu’s wandering hands and glare at him. “Shut the fuck up,” you snap. But in your anxious state, it all comes out as one jumbled mess. 

Billy lets out a disappointed sigh and gives you a funny look. “Alright, let’s just go. You’re not going in and it’s stupid to just stand out here all night.” Stu opens his mouth to argue but Billy shoots him a sharp look. You hate how sensitive they think you are. You can handle one stupid fucking haunted house. You’re not completely useless. 

Still, you practically gulp as the Devil’s eyes bore into yours. You feel like your soul is being sucked out through your feet, leaving you startlingly cold. “I,” you clear your throat, waiting until it feels strong enough to speak. “I can do this,” you grit out, sounding like you’re trying to convince yourself more than them. 

Stuf lets out a brief chuckle and Billy throws his elbow into his gut. Stu doubles over dramatically and you can’t help but laugh a little. Billy gives you a raised brow and you nod your head. “I just need a little nudge,” you mutter, glancing back at the house. 

Stu grins and creeps behind you. “I got you babes,” he tells you in a ridiculous voice. You barely have a second to process what’s happening before he’s lifting you up and practically tossing you inside. Immediately, there’s a fake chainsaw in your face and a screaming Bubba Sawyer. You stumble back with a gasp, falling into Stu’s open arms. 

“How’s that for a nudge?” Billy mutters as he brushes past you. You grab onto the back of his shirt and follow behind him. He glances over his shoulder at you with a knowing smirk and continues forward. None of the scares get him, but they get you. 

The actors catch onto that. They also catch onto how fake and dramatic Stu is. Half of them target you for a good scream and the other half avoid you because of how obnoxious he’s being. You can already tell how bored BIlly is. There’s not enough gore in here for him. 

He needs more blood splatter and fresh corpses, while you’re pleasantly surprised by the contents of the house. You’d really been dreading the demonic themes, but it seems like that’s not a huge factor. So far it’s just a few overzealous teens and some spiders on a string. 

Sure, it’s still scaring the bejeezus out of you. But there’s a difference between a quick scream and a deeply rooted phobia. 

You don’t know when this supernatural fear of yours began. Maybe your parents let you traumatize yourself with the crucifix scene in The Exorcist too young. But you know it’s been with you nearly your entire life. 

You think you’re safe, that you can just relax and let yourself have fun, then you reach the final door. The lights are flickering so hard you think you might have a seizure, but you can see enough to know what’s before you. A red, rotted door, with three upside-down nines barely hanging onto it. 

“Oh god,” you whisper and you think the boys can’t hear you. But then you feel Stu’s hands suddenly clamping around your neck and you leap into Billy with a shrill scream. Billy flinches away from the noise, turning to glare at you. 

Stu doubles over, laughing his ass off at your expense and grinning wildly at you. “Jesus, we’re not even in there yet. What is wrong with you?” He says it like a joke but you can hear the truth of it lingering. It stings, the slight cruelty in his tone. 

There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of something. Fear is healthy. The absence of fear is idiocy. You shove past Billy and turn to Stu with a mean glare. “I’m going to go in here and when I get out, I’m fucking leaving you.”

You shove the door open and take a step inside. You put on a brave face for about five seconds before you turn to see if they’ll follow you. You see just a glimpse of them before the door creaks closed. Billy is leaning against the wall, watching you with a half-amused expression. But Stu looks odd. 

That doesn’t even seem like the right word. His face is completely devoid of any emotion. He looks expressionless and you’ve never seen Stu like that before. Whether it’s for good reason or not, he’s always making a face. Right now, you don’t even recognize him. Were it not for the outfit he was wearing you would think someone else had snuck up behind Billy. 

The door is closed before you can call out to him and you find yourself plunged in complete darkness. There’s no noise for a long few moments. You can’t tell which way is the door and which is the exit. 

At first, you worry you went in the wrong direction and entered an empty part of the house. A sudden cackle breaks through the air, and you leap forward, stumbling into the wall. You can already feel your heart beginning to race. Even though you can hear the static of a speaker and you know, deep down, that it's fake, you’re frozen in fear. 

There’s a brief flash of light, just enough for you to see torn wallpaper and upside-down crosses. And something standing in the corner. “All alone?” A voice rasps and you whimper, pressing yourself up against the wall. You can’t tell if your eyes are open or closed, it’s too dark to know. You hope they’re closed. Whatever’s about to happen is going to traumatize you, you just know it. 

A door creaks behind you just as the lights begin flickering on and off. Through brief flashes of illumination, you see something running towards you. They’re screaming Latin at you, water hits your face and you begin screaming uncontrollably. Footsteps pound towards you, egging on the racing beat of your heart. 

A jarring grip lands on your shoulder and you swing out wildly. Your fist connects with something hard and you hiss in pain. There’s a brief pause where the only thing you can hear is your panting. 

“Ow!” Someone snaps, an irritated raspy voice. The lights flick on and you squint against the sudden glare, blinking rapidly to try and lessen the burn on your eyes. 

Billy and Stu stand on either side of you, astonished looks on both of their faces. A teenage boy in a shitty priest costume and red face paint stands before you. He’s rubbing his eye and cussing at you. “You fucking punched me!”

“You ran at me!” You yell back immediately, glaring at the little asshole. “I don’t think you’re supposed to touch me.”

He glares at you through one eye and points to Stu and Billy. “I didn’t!” He shouts and you flinch back, grimacing. “Your fucking friend did.” You clench your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. Both you and Billy turn slowly towards Stu. His face is as red as the kid’s as he struggles to contain his laughter. 

“Unbelievable!” You snap at him, slapping his shoulder roughly. He jolts, narrowing his eyes down at you. 

“Hey!” He protests, “I was joking around. You’re the one that punched him.” He points the blame to you and you can’t argue. You did, technically, punch him. But it’s Stu’s fault. If he hadn’t snuck up on you, you would have just kept on screaming. You never would have touched the kid. 

In awkward silence, you walk the boy out of the haunted house and buy him a cold drink to press against his steadily swelling eye. You can see purple shining through the fading paint and grimace. He throws himself down on a wooden picnic table and sighs forlornly. 

“Thanks a lot, lady,” he mutters bitterly. Stu’s lips twitch as he watches the kid tug at his costume. You glare up at him and shove him away. He stumbles behind the table shooting you a sharp glare. You’re taken aback by the look. 

It’s not like you’ve never gotten a little pushy with him before. His love language was manhandling. But the look on his face is unrecognizable. You’d thought you’d imagined it earlier, how off he had seemed. But it’s not fake now. You’re looking it clearly in the eye and you can’t deny the truth of it. 

“I’m gonna sue,” the kid grumbles and you’re snapped out of your stare-off. You try and shake off the chilling feeling of unfamiliarity but it’s nearly impossible. You’re still wound up from the haunted house, you’re sure you’re just imagining things.

Billy shoves his shoulder and the kid falls back onto the table. “You’re not suing.”

He puffs his chest up and glares at Billy, “I could.”

Billy places his hand on the table, leaning in on the kid’s space until he’s flinching back. You avert your eyes, uncomfortable with the sudden display of dominance. Yet, you don’t stop him from bullying the kid out of a lawsuit. “You won’t,” Billy tells him, a clear threat. 

The kid gives a shaky nod of his head, but Billy still doesn’t let up. There’s a slight curl of malice to his lips, you glance over to Stu for support. His attention is rapt upon Billy, something like hunger in his eyes. You feel like you’re watching two lions corner a gazelle, you can practically see the boy’s hands trembling from fear.  

“Alright,” you clear your throat and tug Billy back by the shirt. He resists you at first and you know he only backs off because he wants to. It’s not for you. You look at the boy and give him a weak smile, “I really am sorry,” you can hear Stu laughing behind him and roll your eyes. The kid takes the drink off his eye and glares at you. 

“Yeah, whatever lady. Why don’t you take a valium or something and chill the hell out?” He gets off the bench and brushes past you, shaking his head. You glance down at your fist and hiss at the pain shooting along your fingers. The skin of your knuckles is split and aching from hitting him. 

Billy huffs out a laugh and takes your hand in his. “Really got him, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you argue petulantly. 

Stu finally collects himself and rejoins you both, throwing his gangly body on the wooden picnic table. “Why don’t you tell his face that?” He practically snorts, looking down at your hand and then laughing all over again. It’s really not that funny. Even Billy looks confused by his boisterous nature. 

He’s a dick, but this is a lot. You and Billy exchange a confused glance before looking back at Stu. But he’s silent now, already staring back at you both. Again, chills go up and down your arms at the empty look in his eyes. His lips are smiling, but his eyes are devoid of anything. 

“Maybe we should just go home.” You suggest, trying to keep the suspicion out of your tone. “Carnival’s a bust,” Billy exchanges one last look with you before nodding. 

“We still doing movies at Stu’s?” You desperately want to say no. Right now, all you want is to get as far away from him as possible. Earlier, with them and the kid, that’s normal. They’ve always had a bit of a mean streak when it comes to people weaker than them. 

The way his eyes are boring into you right now is anything but normal. You’ve never felt quite so uncomfortable near him, but you can’t ignore the feeling. Every primal instinct of survival is screaming at you to run, but you can’t. You can’t say no. All you do is nod, tongue glued to the roof of your mouth. Stu’s eyes brighten slightly at your words, but it’s still nothing compared to how it should be. 

You get ahead of Billy, not wanting to walk next to Stu. All you need is a good night’s sleep and you’ll be over this whole thing. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of too many eyes lingering on you as you make the trek to the car. The wet straw beneath your feet swallows the sounds of your steps and you try not to be discomforted by the quiet. It’s a carnival, where did all the people go?

The black-and-white static of the TV is the only thing to illuminate the room. It shines upon your face, makes it so you can only see in that square of light. You assume Billy is on the ground, passed out. And Stu is probably curled up in the overstuffed armchair. 

Yet, you can’t look. As much as you try to crane your neck, try and find some comfort in their presence, you can’t move. Your body is pinned down by a weight you can’t see, only feel. This isn’t sleep paralysis. It’s like being held down by someone stronger and bigger than you. 

You have no control over your body. You have no control over anything. Your breathing kicks up, coming in short panicked bursts. Your eyes roll around wildly, trying to find something, anything, to focus on. 

You find yourself depressingly devoid of any distractions. Until a shadow creeps along the ceiling. At first, you think it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you. Like when you stare at one spot in the dark for too long and start to see impossible shapes. 

But this is different. No matter how many times you blink or look away, it keeps moving. You whimper as it crawls over you. It dangles from the ceiling. You see nothing, only feel its eyes on you. There is no clear shape lurking within it, just malevolent malice. 

It drops down behind the arm of the couch and you open your mouth to scream, hoping to wake one of the boys. Nothing comes out but a strangled gasp of air. You struggle for noise but the more you try, the harder you find it to bring air in. 

Your eyes swim as you go lightheaded. You almost miss the tendrils creeping over the fabric of the couch. You almost don’t see it covering your feet. You wish you had missed it. You wish you just closed your eyes and never opened them again. But it’s like something is keeping those pried open too. 

You can’t feel your legs. That’s the weight. It’s not someone holding you down. Your body is completely limp. It’s as though your bones were replaced with metal, you’re sinking so far into the cushions they’re rising around you. Even your fingers are too heavy to twitch. 

You begin to feel it in your head, a sudden sinking feeling as it tips further and further back. Soon, you can only watch the shadow through your peripheral. Cold terror washes over you and fills your veins with something ill. 

It covers your legs like a veil, slithering on them. Your thighs shoot apart and the blanket goes flying across the room. You can only let out a choked whimper as it dives between your parted limbs. 

You shoot up with a gasp, sunlight peers through Stu’s living room windows, filling the room with much-needed warmth. You glance down, fisting the blanket and tugging it up to your chest in relief. Your heart is still racing and there’s sweat caked along your neck. But you can move your body freely again. It must have just been an awful nightmare. 

You glance to the side and nearly scream. Stu lounges in the armchair, Billy’s still asleep on the ground. Stu stares right at you, empty eyes, wide smile. “Good dream?” he inquires, but the tone of his voice tells you he already knows the answer. 

You swallow, fighting the sandpaper feeling of your throat and shaking your head. “No,” you croak, afraid to speak much louder than a whisper. 

His smile widens and you feel your head feeling heavy again. “I love a good nightmare,” he admits, like it’s an awful secret. He leans back in the chair and turns towards the TV, mindlessly flicking through the channels. 

With his gaze off you, you glance down and pull the waistband of your shorts down. You swallow down your tears and bile. Your underwear, like you feared, is gone. You glance towards Stu and narrow your eyes at the back of his head. You have an idea who took them.

Your parents are out of town for the week. Normally that means Billy and Stu infesting your home like pests. They’re being oddly evasive when you call, though. Not that you’re complaining. You haven’t been interested in being around Stu since the carnival. 

He makes you feel unsafe. As much of a dick as he could be, never, have you ever feared him before. But you do now. You’re terrified of him. Even thinking about him makes you want to get up and check your closets for unwanted intruders. 

However, as much as his absence is a relief, it brings with it its own problems. Nothing with Stu can ever be easy, can it? 

You keep having the same nightmare. Except each night it gets closer and closer. You feel more of it than you ever want to. They’re turning into uncomfortably sexual dreams. You wake up wet and without any underwear. You can’t blame Stu for that when he’s not even in your house, though. Which leaves you fucking petrified when you wake up. 

Because you know, deep down, you know someone wasn’t in your house. Something was, though. A heavy presence lingers over you during the day and makes you terrified to walk around the open spaces of your home. You’d lock yourself in your room all week if you could, but even that doesn’t feel safe. 

The door slams behind you and you jolt forward with a scream. You stare at your backdoor with a horrified expression, glaring at it like it might start talking and reveal its secrets. Your house is old, there’s nothing odd about doors occasionally closing on your own. 

Except, that hadn’t been open. You’ve kept it firmly locked all week, terrified of a possible home invasion. You need to stop watching scary movies on your own. 

You pull your knees into your chest, staring at your door until you’re satisfied it’s not going to slam shut again. Slowly, you turn back towards your TV and keep watching the only good sitcom you could find at this time of night. 

The second you let yourself get comfortable, however, you hear your bedroom door upstairs slam shut, followed quickly by rushing footsteps. Your eyes widen in terror and you mute your TV, glaring up at the ceiling and hoping you just imagined it. 

Footsteps behind you, running across the linoleum. You whip around, nearly shrieking when you spot something black darting into your pantry closet. You scramble for the phone beside you. You slam 911 into the keypad and press it against your ear, keeping your eyes riveted on the pantry closet. 

There’s a steady beep on the other end. The line’s dead. Someone cut your phone line. That’s okay. You can work with that. You can beat something real, but you’ve got no hope against something otherworldly. 

You stand slowly, unmuting the TV so the laugh track will cover your movements better. You creep towards your linen closet, reaching for the bat your dad keeps in there for this very reason. He’s got different weapons placed all over the house and you blame him for some of your paranoia. But right now, you’re eternally grateful for the protection it’s providing you. 

You slip into the kitchen, sliding quietly across the tiles on your socks. You position yourself behind the pantry door, your hand shaking as you reach for the handle. Just as you rip it open, the lights go out. 

You scream wildly, waving the bat around with as much force as you can, hoping to just hit something solid. Glass crashes against the floor and you feel the bat connecting with something. The lights flip back on and your mother’s vase is shattered along the ground. There’s no sign of the intruder and you think you might throw up when you hear more footsteps upstairs, two sets this time. 

But then someone darts through the living room, another flash of black before they’re gone. Three? How are you supposed to handle three?

Something titters behind you, bordering on a giggle, and you whip around, bat waving through the air recklessly. No one was there, no sign anyone was. And there’s no possible way for you to have missed them running past you. There’s nowhere to go or hide. 

You think of the shadow you’ve seen in the closet and the lights flicker like they’re agreeing with you. The thing that’s been haunting your nightmares, it’s in the house with you. The lights flicker again and your stomach drops to the floor. Your heart is in your throat as you hear your voice chanted from upstairs.  

It’s like staring at the Devil’s eyes at the circus again. You feel like there’s something being taken from you. You feel cold, empty, like you’re missing something you need. Something’s toying with you. Making you it’s twisted little plaything. 

You can feel the tears clawing their way up your throat. The call of your voice gets louder and louder until it feels like it's being screamed straight into your ears. You want to run, want to fight, want to do anything but stand here and you can’t. 

You can’t move. It’s just like your dreams. Your bones are metal and you are stuck. There’s a rough shove to your back, though you don’t feel physical hands on you. And then someone’s moving you, your legs are puppeteered as you’re directed up the stairs. 

You stub your toes on every step, crawling up them like a child learning to use them for the first time. Every time you slow down or try and stop, you’re dragged forward again. Your bedroom door creaks open and warmth carves its way down your cheeks. 

You stumble inside, the bat thudding to the floor as your hand goes limp around the handle. You want to call out to the entity, but your jaw is wired shut. You stand in the middle of your room, sobbing and terrified and completely alone. 

Your closet door slowly creaks open and you brace yourself for the worst. Billy comes flying out, shouting nonsense at you as you scream until your throat feels bloody. Stu follows behind him, ripping off his stupid mask and giving you a wide-eyed look. 

You crumple to the floor, covering your head and crying as you come down from the fear that you are being haunted. Stu kneels before you, hands gentle as they take your arms away from your head. 

He looks like Stu now. He looks like the boy you grew up with. His eyes are full of worry as he pushes wet strands of hair off your cheeks. “Hey, hey, alright,” he tugs you into his chest and you throw your arms around him wildly. You cling tightly to him, taking in heaving breaths and trying to find some comfort from his touch. 

“You fucking dicks,” you sob into his sweater. “I thought I was going to die.”

Billy scoffs as he stares awkwardly behind him. “Yeah,” he mutters bluntly, “I can tell.” He watches you cry for a little while longer before he gets irritated. “Hey, this was supposed to be fun. Would you lighten up?”

You suck in a deep breath, astonishment at what he just said temporarily stopping the tears of terror. You rip yourself away from Stu, ignoring the way his hands linger. “Excuse me?” You demand, glaring up at Billy.

He shrugs, “It was just a prank, chill out.”

You scoff, taking in a sharp breath and nodding your head. “Right, no, you’re right. It’s not like my friends used my biggest fucking fear against me!” You shout, shoving him backward. He stumbles into the corner of your desk and you glare at him and Stu. 

“You’re horrible fucking friends, you know that.” You storm out of your room and pause at the top of the stairs. They linger in your doorway. Stu looks like a kicked dog and Billy looks like he’s about to blow the hell up. 

“I don’t even know how you guys pulled all that shit off, but fuck you.” You give them both an astonished glare before shaking your head and going back down the stairs. “I hate you,” you scream, your voice shrill and full of uncontrollable rage. 

Billy almost follows after you, probably to give you a shit apology and then let everything smooth over naturally. But he stops, foot hovering over the top of the stairs. He glances back at Stu and frowns, “What the hell did you do?” Stu gives him a confused look and Billy glares. “She wasn’t supposed to be terrified for her life, fuckwad. What the hell did you do to her?”

Stu shrugs and gives him a too-wide grin and for the first time, Billy finds himself disturbed by his friend. “Magician’s secret man, cannot, will not tell.” He zips his mouth shut and tosses the key, winking at Billy. Billy gives him a disgusted scoff and follows after you. They can hear you ranting in the kitchen, slamming your drawers shut, and shouting vile insults at them. 

Stu watches Billy go down the stairs, his smile slowly fading from his face. Something dark passes over Stu’s face, something wicked, something unnatural. Perhaps it was all just a trick. 

Or maybe that kid’s Latin wasn’t so fake after all. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Scream, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[a-great-tragedy]

Listen, you can’t be partners in crime and also be just “Best Friends”cause there is nothing more gay than planning murder

[choerypetal]

Their Princess / Billy Loomis x Stu Macher

Summary: Billy and Stu have one motivation for their killing spree: to make you theirs, regardless of whether you realize they are Ghostface. They will stop at nothing to achieve this.

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors xoxo

Being close to Sidney meant enduring her gossip, endless talk about boyfriends, and tantrums over the next party at Tatum's house. Now, with a serial killer on the loose and a mandatory curfew in place, you had to deal with Stu constantly trailing you. Clutching your books to your chest, you tried to focus elsewhere, only to bump into the talk of the town—Billy himself.

"Y/N..." His voice sang in your ear, just enough for Stu to rush to your side, his silhouette eclipsing your own. He leaned in close, nestling into the crook of your neck. You were fortunate that neither Tatum nor Sidney was there to witness it—unless their initial motive was evident from the first glance they shared. A glance of deceit, perhaps, when Stu’s pouty lips appeared as Billy spelled out your name, letter by letter. "Coming to this weekend’s party?" Billy asked, raising his brows while barely breaking his gaze. Stu’s sly fingers brushed your shoulder, tempting you not to react, especially under Billy’s intense stare.

You were taken aback by the question. Yes, Tatum had invited you—practically begged you to come because one of Randy’s friends would be there, and she wanted to set you up with him. Naturally, this information made its way back to Billy, thanks to Stu, who had overheard the entire conversation. His clingy hands were all over Tatum’s, trying to resist thinking about you the whole time.

"That would be great for Y/N, don't you think?" Her innocent question nearly made Stu choke on his drink that night. It was clear, the plan was to make you the grand finale. Not you with someone else. Someone who couldn’t satisfy their girl. Tatum smacked Stu’s chest, startled by his reaction, and nodded innocently with a chuckle. "Right, right," he said, obviously annoyed. "It sure would be great for Y/N." 

“Yes,” you said, your voice as soft as he expected. His lips curved into a smirk, and he bit his bottom lip, resisting the urge to devour you on sight, especially with the new skirt you had bought– thanks to Tatum. “Loving the new skirt,” he whispered, making you blush. Stu eagerly agreed. “Maybe our girl should wear that skirt this weekend,” he purred from behind you, his breath almost touching your skin. Billy quickly snapped Stu out of it with a sharp tap on the back of his neck. “What did we say about public intimacy?” Billy’s voice was almost a threat. 

Stu gulped silently. "Right," he said, smirking in perfect sync with Billy. Billy nodded, his gaze fixed on you, the main topic of this weekend's party conversation. "So," he paused, his eyes scrutinizing you in a way that made you shift uncomfortably—it was the same intense look he gave Sidney. Which you weren’t. "You'll be there?" You had almost forgotten the main question and quickly nodded, feeling vulnerable. Your swift response made him chuckle, clearly enjoying how small you felt between them. “Yes..”

Billy huffed in silence, ready to leave. Stu slid his fingers around your waist. "See you this weekend, princess," he said. Billy, anxious to avoid suspicion, muttered something under his breath, careful not to make any devious stares around the school. Despite hating the idea, he couldn't help but steal glances over his shoulder as he walked away, thoughts of you on top of him driving him nearly crazy. Unlike Stu, though, he had some boundaries when it came to sharing. 

The week flew by faster than you had expected. With the curfew in place, days ended earlier than usual, with bedtime set at 10 p.m. School was canceled until the suspect was caught, leaving you eager for some fresh air and the chance to join the Tatum’s party. The boys, especially Billy, were particularly impatient for your arrival. Particularly him, struggling to keep himself sane through the night, especially with Sidney wrapped around his finger. And you with another guy. 

"Jeez, man, if you keep pacing like this, our plan won't work. You look way too obvious right now," Stu's voice echoed in Billy's mind as he moved to the living room, leaving Sidney waiting in the bedroom. Mistake number one was to be as inconspicuous as possible around everyone. Kill, then execute plans A and B, and finally claim you as theirs. Easy, right? Billy thought to himself. But then your name was called out, and Randy’s arm was a little too close for his liking. He reconsidered. "Randy won't always have her around. Soon enough, she'll come begging for her hero’s to save her," Stu had said, and Billy appreciated the comment. After all, why would you be with a complete nerd?

He nods silently, feeling his friend’s hand squeezing his shoulder. “Deal with Sid. I’ll deal with her. Treat her like the princess she is.” And he wasn’t entirely wrong, focusing all his attention on you. While he noticed Randy welcoming you with open arms and the others happily handing you a bottle of beer. Tatum back at the garage to grab some extra beers. Billy couldn’t help but steal glances in your direction before finally trying to distract himself. He immediately needed a distraction, one with Tatum, then moved on to Sidney. “Just don’t scare her yet, okay?” Even though he was the mastermind of his own plan, he didn’t want Stu—or you—to mess things up. And he definitely didn’t want you to know they were the Ghostface. 

In a way, you kind of messed up their whole plan. Stu was doing everything he could to keep Tatum distracted and maintain Sidney’s obliviousness, as planned. Until you were completely out of his sight. Right after Randy had told you to go check up on Tatum. ‘The beers won’t be coming on their own’, he had said to you with a cocky grin. It wasn’t until you arrived at the garage yourself, hearing some muffled sounds, that you couldn’t help but smirk. With a party full of alcohol, girls, and boys, you didn’t think much of it. That is, until you heard the door swing open and came face to face with Mr. Ghostface, himself.

Billy's knife almost slipped from his hands as he saw you this close to him. Stu had just enough time to catch you, blinking twice to make sure he wasn't imagining things—Billy, and you. You, on the other hand, had a look on your face they both expected to see. "Y/N—" Stu’s voice was cut off by Billy’s stare from beneath his mask. You stood still, but the second you heard Stu’s voice, you wanted to run to him, hoping he would save you from this killer everyone was talking about. But then Billy’s grip tightened, catching you right into his trap.

“No, no, no…” Stu purrs, his sickening chuckle filling the air as he approaches you. Now in the middle, Billy had no pleasure of covering for himself. Because he knew you’d be on their side, meaning you’d do anything possible to avoid getting caught. Starting off with a proposition. “The game, only just started love,” Billy’s voice, unmistakably familiar, came from beneath his mask as he spoke and gently removed it. His face was covered in sweat, his eyes darkening as he glanced down at you. With a slight chuckle, he said, “Love the skirt,” as the knife gently touched the fabric. You could feel Stu’s breath on the crook of your neck. Just like at school, but now away from prying eyes.

You managed to exhale a few whimpers as Stu’s tongue traveled down your neck. Billy watched for a moment, sensing you had something on your mind. “Go on, spill it,” he demanded, his voice hoarse and threatening. Your muscles tensed as he gently pinned you against the wall. “Tatum—” you began, but Billy’s fingers traced down your waist and then touched your bottom lip. The tension between Stu’s pants and your skirt was unmistakable, the obvious bulge appearing beneath his pants. The friction among the three of you was undeniable. Your cheeks flushed with a shade of pink, which only made Billy enjoy it more. “I think she’s enjoying it,” Billy remarked, clearly trying to change the subject. Stu agreed, purring, “Oh, she does.” 

"Boys, boys..." Your voice sounded so vulnerable to their ears that it took them by surprise. Initially, they thought you were afraid of discovering their true identities as Ghostface. However, as you spoke, it became clear that you didn't mind at all. In fact, you might have found Billy in the costume, with a slight droplet of blood on his cheek, somewhat attractive. Stu couldn't help but comment, "Princess doesn't seem to mind?" His remark, tinged with a mix of offense and confession, revealed his surprise at your attraction. Billy's eyes widened slightly, reflecting both shock and amusement as he watched you eyeing him up and down. "Oh, I bet she doesn't, does she?" 

You hummed quietly, drawing chuckles from both men. Billy's knife glided gently down your body, stopping at your skirt to reveal a hint of your red underwear. "Loving the red on you," he remarked with his trademark smirk. Stu, unable to resist, let his fingers travel under your skirt to grip your rear. "How about we treat our princess the way she deserves?" he suggested, his tongue now exploring the crook of your neck, nuzzling and licking every inch until your soft whimpers filled the room. The sounds of your pleasure spurred them on, making them crave more. "Stu..." you murmured his name, and Billy, watching with slight hesitation, hushed you with a gentle touch to your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you hungrily. 

"What?" Stu's obvious teasing wasn't enough. Billy soon caught your lips in a kiss, one he didn't want to end. He wanted more, more than just your lips, resisting was difficult, especially after seeing you with another boy at the party. "More..." you whispered through the kiss, and Billy, catching only a fragment of your plea, paused midway, leaving you breathless and wanting. Your face was flushed with lust, your eyes begging for more. Before you could voice your protest, Billy scooped you into his arms, gripping your arse, his fingers digging into your flesh. Stu's chuckle echoed as he followed you both to the nearest bedroom.

"What?" Stu's obvious teasing wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Billy soon caught your lips in a kiss, one he didn’t want to end. He wanted more—more than just your lips. Resisting was difficult, especially after seeing you with another boy at the party. "More..." you whispered through the kiss. Billy, catching only a fragment of your plea, paused midway, leaving you breathless and wanting. Your face was flushed with lust, your eyes begging for more. Before you could voice your protest, Billy scooped you into his arms, gripping your rear with his fingers digging into your flesh. Stu's chuckle echoed as he followed you both to the nearest bedroom.

Billy’s fingers then traveled around your inner thighs, his thumb gently brushing on your clit. Which he couldn’t stop admire. “Look how tiny it is,” he pouts with a mockery, licking his bottom lip with the resisting urge not to devour you on the spot, which he does completely the contrary. Leaning in to eat you out, his fingers now gripping on your arse, as you moans his name out. His lips curving into a smirk the you felt his tongue gently brushing your clit. “I think she likes it, Billy…” 

Stu's voice echoed in your mind as he settled beside you, his large fingers trailing down your body. He leaned in, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, his tongue tracing your skin, coaxing more moans from you. "Come on, doll. Don't be afraid... Tell me. Tell me how you like it."

"I like it..." you paused momentarily, caught up by another whimper, your back arching as Billy's tongue thrust inside your vagina. "I like it a lot!" you then exclaimed in a high-pitched voice just before Stu leaned in, cupped your chin, and kissed you hungrily.

Billy growled with a pout, “Randy will have to find someone else,” he said, his eyes filled with hunger. His thumb brushed your clit while his tongue devoured you completely. Your eyes watered, pleading for more.

"You belong to us, princess," Stu said, savoring the sight of your now-exposed breasts. He couldn't resist caressing them, pinching your nipples to hear your cute moans. Billy nodded in agreement, both of them murmuring, 

"Our princess."

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror Chapter Masterlist (OF&H)

👻 I figured I’d make a chapter masterlist for my Of Friends and Horror Fan Fiction to make it easier for everyone to find chapters in case you forgot where you left off 🤍🤍🤍

☠️ I’ll be adding more to the list as the story progresses. I have NO IDEA how long it’ll be, so you are all in for a treat!

💜 Reblogging, hearting and commenting definitely helps me out! If you have a second to spare any of these, it will be greatly appreciated!!!

💜 Thank you so much for reading and I’m definitely sending you all virtual hugs. You are my Rock and I love each and every one of you, thank you all for the support 💕

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

[froggibus]

Give The People What They Want - Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

Pairing: Stu Macher x f! camgirl! reader (fem pronouns + has a pussy) x Billy Loomis

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: you enlist the help of Billy and Stu to give your followers what they want--you losing your virginity

CW: camgirl! reader, slight modern! AU, live porn, exhibitionism, slight dubcon, threesome, double penetration (in the pussy), fingering, cum play, lots of cum, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, riding, backshots, praise/degradation, rough sex

hi sorry this is late i procrastinated writing it all day. also i have no idea what onlyfans/other porn streaming sites look like so im so sorry this whole post looks like a twitch chat lmfao

Kinktober Masterlist

PapaSugar471 has gifted $25: ride something for us baby

Camfan97: yeah stretch out that little pussy

You look at the chat and pretend to act shocked. “I don’t know if I can take something other than my fingers…”

You dip a finger teasingly into your dripping hole, leaning back on your bed to show them just how tight you are. You arch your back and whine, slowly pumping it in and out. 

“See how tight I am?” You whine and push another finger into your pussy, “anything else is too big.”

WesC1996 has gifted $100: i would give anything to watch that pussy get ruined 

PapaSugar471: our girl needs a good fuck 

“You guys really wanna see me get fucked, hm?” You roll over onto your hands and knees, arching your back to give the webcam an even better view of your entrance. “You wanna see my poor, virgin pussy get ruined?”

You start to work yourself open on your fingers, lewd wet sounds starting to fill the air. You can hear notifications coming from your chat room, but you’re so lost in the pleasure you don’t turn around to look. 

“F-fuck,” you whine and slip another finger inside, your gummy walls stretching around your knuckles. “I need cock so bad!”

The pleasure builds inside of you, threatening to explode out. There’s a sound behind you, a sound not from your stream. It almost sounds like your door opening, but you ignore it and focus on the way your fingertips dig into your walls.

Camfan97: who is that

Y/nluvr: ummm what

PapaSugar471: turn around

Blaviusx89: mods who is this guy

You’re so close to cumming when hands suddenly grab your hips, shoving you face first into the bed. You squeal, turning around to come face to face with a tall man in a white mask. 

You feign surprise, letting out a blood curdling scream at the knife brandishing man in front of you. You almost applaud yourself for how realistic your scream sounds. 

Stu looms over you, his back to the camera but out of the way just enough that you can still be seen. He grabs your knees and folds them into your chest, holding your legs up. He presses a hand down over your mouth, clamping down so you can’t be heard.

Since your followers have been hounding you lately to get fucked on stream, you thought you’d at least make it fun. That’s how you ended up asking Stu and Billy for a little favour. 

He dips a gloved finger into your aching pussy, that pressure returning. You were so close to cumming before he showed up and now all you want is more. He fingers you slowly, refusing to give you what you want so quickly. You try to thrust your hips into him and drive his finger deeper, but he moves away every time you do.

Finally, he slips a second finger inside of you and starts to thrust faster. The width of two of his fingers is more than the three you just had inside of you, and your pussy strains to take all of him. He pumps them in and out of you at a devastating pace, your juices starting to splash upwards. Loud splashing noises fill the room, Stu’s assault on your pussy not letting up.

The pressure in your stomach is almost painful. Your walls tremble around his hand and threaten to let loose the waves of pleasure building inside of you. You drown out the rush of notifications from your laptop, all of your focus on your impending orgasm.

Stu’s hand on your mouth slips down to your neck, squeezing as you cum. Your whole body convulses, juices running down your pussy, into your ass and onto your bed.

He leans in and releases the pressure from your neck. “Look at your chat,” he runs a finger across your puffy clit, “I think they like this.”

PapaSugar471: so hot. now fuck her

Pepega69: this has to be scripted LOL

CamFan97: show that pussy whos boss

Y/nluvr: lucky guy….wish that was me

Stu gets up from your bed, pulling out his cock through an opening in the black robe. His cock is much bigger than you expected—fairly long and not bad in girth, either. The pink tip looks almost swollen, precum rolling off of it. 

He pushes the tip against your cheek, rubbing his length across your mouth. You stick out your tongue, looking up at him through your lashes as he smacks his tip onto your mouth. 

“Gonna fuck your face,” he groans. He looks at the camera, speaking through the voice changer, “should I fuck her face?”

Another rush of notifications fills the chat, the sound making you dizzy. Stu takes that as a yes, slowly pushing his cock into your mouth. Even with his tip tickling the back of your throat, you’ve just barely got half of his length into your mouth. Stu tangles a hand in your hair, using it like a rein to pull you closer.

You open your throat to him, wrapping your lips around his cock and sucking. His precum leaks into your mouth and runs down your throat. Stu tugs hard on your hair, pushing his cock beyond your throat and making you gag. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose as his cock fills your mouth completely. Your jaw aches from the stretch, but you force yourself to take it. You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs as black spots start to crowd your vision.

When he pulls out, you look up at the camera with teary eyes, pouting with your swollen lips. The chat looks blurry and foreign to you, your head spinning from the lack of oxygen. 

Stu climbs on the bed behind you, grabbing your hips and shoving you forwards. Your face is only a foot or so away from the camera, everyone able to see the drool and precum around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. 

Stu rubs his cock across your ass and through your folds, whining quietly so that only you can hear him. Your pussy leaks with every touch, running down your thighs and making them stick together. He lines his cock up at your entrance, slowly pushing the tip in.

You’ve never been fucked before, and the stretch is almost painful. It knocks the air out of your lungs, but Stu tightens his grip on your hips and keeps going until he bottoms out. You whimper. He’s so deep that you can feel him in your stomach, the tip of his cock brushing up against your insides.

“He’s too deep,” you whine into the camera. 

Stu takes that as a sign to keep going, pulling out his cock until only the tip remains, and then thrusting back into you hard. You gasp involuntarily, losing your balance on your elbows and face planting into the bed. It takes a few more thrusts before the pain goes away completely, replaced with the delicious feeling of his cock spreading your walls apart.

You moan so loud you’re sure the whole neighborhood can hear it, your pussy squelching everytime he pulls his cock out. Stu’s thrusts are merciless, his hips colliding with your ass every single time. His fingertips dig into your sides, desperate for a grip to keep up his stamina. 

That familiar pressure builds inside of you, tying your stomach into knots, but it’s stronger than you’ve ever felt before. You look up at the camera through your lashes, your flushed and feverish skin making you look almost animated. There’s a loud burst of notifications, drowned out by your combined moans and the sound of skin on skin.

It only takes a few more thrusts before your muscles are giving out, legs shaking as you collapse. Stu manages to keep you up just long enough for him to cum inside of you, hot bursts of cum mixing with your juices as they pour out of you. He gives a few more sloppy thrusts, milking his cock with your tight cunt, before pulling out and letting you go.

Stu pulls you against his chest, laying you on your back. He hooks his knees around yours, spreading your legs wide for the camera. “Look at that,” he groans, his cum leaking out of your pussy. “Such a whore.”

Stu rubs up your chest, squeezing your tits together. He spreads your pussy for the camera, using another finger to push his cum back inside of you. “You’re not done yet, though.”

As if on cue, the door opens and a shorter man dressed in an identical costume enters. Billy. You stare at him as he stalks towards you, black robes looking like smoke in the dim red light of your room.

As soon as Billy enters the frame, your chat goes wild once again. He sits in front of the bed, mask only inches away from your aching, puffy pussy. He inhales your scent, almost moaning at the smell of sex.

“Thanks for warming her up for me,” his voice changer sounds almost identical to Stu’s. “Look at that stretched out cunt.”

Billy dips two fingers into your pussy, sliding them in and out easily. He thrusts them in only a few times before pulling them out and sucking on them, savouring the mixture of Stu’s cum and your juices.

He climbs over top of the two of you, “ready for me to fuck you?”

You bite your lip and nod. He swipes his thumb across your lips, prodding at you until you open up. He slips his thumb into your mouth and you suck, the taste of leather and sex heavy on your tongue. He trades his thumb for his index and middle finger, pushing them back so that they graze your throat.

His other hand reaches in for his cock, stroking it to life against your thigh. You can feel his hard length and the precum dripping off of it, your pussy starting to tingle in anticipation.

“How do you wanna fuck her?” Stu’s voice startles you, you’d almost forgotten he was there.

Billy slaps your pussy. “I think she’s had it too easy tonight,” he looks at the camera, “I think she should ride me.”

You shiver at the thought. Your pussy is already aching, all of your muscles weak just from fucking Stu. You look up at Billy pleadingly, but he just chuckles. 

He lays down flat on his back, stroking his cock in one hand. Stu pushes you off of his chest. Grabbing your hips to help guide you into Billy’s lap. You straddle his legs, your pussy dripping all over his robes and waiting cock. 

You lean forwards, pressing your tits against his chest, and reach back to grab his cock. Stu helps you guide it inside of you, both you and Billy moaning when his tip pops inside of you. You sit up more straight, rolling your hips back and taking him inch by inch. Billy keeps a vice grip on your hips while you ride him, helping you bounce up and down his cock.

He’s not as long as Stu, but he’s thicker, stretching you out even more. Your walls open up around him, pussy straining to take his girth. You rock your hips forwards until just his tip is inside before slamming them back down, almost screaming from the pleasure of his cock digging into your g-spot.

Billy starts guiding you up and down his length, thrusting his hips up desperately to get as deep inside of you as possible. Your orgasm builds much quicker this time, with the overstimulation and all. Your legs shake pathetically, your arms threatening to give out, but you still fuck yourself on him.

Billy slaps your ass hard, digging his fingers into the flesh. You whine and let yourself collapse onto his chest, barely moving on his cock as that pressure bursts and floods your body. Billy can feel your pussy contracting around him and the juices staining his costume, and decides to take mercy on you.

He wraps his arms around your back to keep you still and thrusts into you hard, his cock pistoning in and out of you faster than you can keep track. You lay on his chest, moaning weakly as he pummels your aching hole. It’s not long before his thrusts go sloppy and you feel his cock twitching inside of you, his hot cum coating your walls in white.

You moan from the feeling, eyes practically rolling back at how good he feels. Billy doesn’t pull out, his still hard cock resting inside of you. 

“You want another round?” He asks.

For a second, you think he’s asking you but as you raise your head, you see he’s asking Stu, who’s stroking his cock. You swallow hard at the idea of another orgasm, already sweaty and feverish from the last few.

“Are you?”

Both boys laugh. Billy grabs your hips and spins you around, your back pressed against his chest. He buries his cock as far as he can inside you, wrapping his arms behind your knees to pull them up. Stu admires your swollen and aching pussy, glistening from all the fluids its seen tonight before crawling on top of you.

“W-wait—” You cry out as Stu rubs the head of his cock on your clit, “both of you?”

“So cute,” Billy mumbles into your ear, “that you think you have a choice.”

Just as he says that, Stu starts forcing his cock inside of you. It’s a tight fit with Billy already in there, but he manages. You almost cry from the pressure, an insane mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming you. 

As soon as Stu bottoms out, you’re making a mess on their cocks again. Your pussy gushes around them, only acting as more lube for the two cocks inside of you. 

“Look at that,” Stu groans, “already cumming and we haven’t started fucking you yet.”

“I always knew you were a whore, y/n.”

Their degradation has no effect on you, your brain turning into mush from another consecutive orgasm. You’re so full that you worry you may burst, both cocks feeling impossibly big inside of you.

Stu starts to thrust at a steady pace, forced to take it slow with how tight it is inside of you. The three of you moan in tandem with every movement, their cocks rubbing your walls with every breath. Billy tightens his grip on your knees, drawing them up even more to give Stu better access.

Stu laughs, pressing a hand against your tummy. “I can see my cock inside of you.”

You look up through hooded lids and can just barely see the outline of his cock under his hand. He presses a little harder, thrusting faster as your pussy starts to loosen up. You’re barely aware of your own moans or the praise the men sing at you as they ruin your pussy.

They take turns thrusting, your juices drenching the three of you and your bedsheets. It feels like hours that they fuck you, cocks alternating pumping inside of you. Your stomach fills with knots, that familiar pressure coming back.

Stu cums first, cock twitching and shooting another massive load of cum inside of you. It sets off a chain reaction, with your orgasm coming next. You clench so tight around their cocks that it’s almost painful, all of your senses going numb. Black spots dance at your vision, threatening to send you spiraling into unconsciousness. Billy cums last, another load of cum packing your pussy impossibly tight. You’re so full it’s overwhelming.

Stu and Billy pull out, releasing you onto your soaked mattress. They move the laptop closer to you, Billy folding your legs up again so that the viewers can get a good look at your ruined pussy.

“She’s gushing cum,” Billy says into the voice changer. “So much for being a virgin….this one’s an absolute whore.”

They each hook a finger into your pussy, stretching it enough that the mixture of cum runs out of you. You weakly sit up, looking at yourself in the camera. Your pussy is open, filled with cum and swollen from the overstimulation. You hardly even recognize it.

Billy and Stu disappear off camera, probably headed off to get you water and a cold cloth, leaving you staring into the flashing red light of the camera.

[theoldkyokodied]

Stuilly doodle dump (1/2)

(decided to split up this art dump after all, if you saw the first post i made... no you didn't)

[magicalbunbun]

Y/n puts the red ribbon on stu and Billy!

Stu:

Very happy!

Billy:

Not so happy

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Keep Your Eyes on Me - pt.ii

tara carpenter x female reader

part i | part ii

summary: Tara begins to question her own emotions, especially when the thought of losing Y/n's attention unexpectedly stirs something deeper.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: slight violence

————

"Is Y/n dying?" Mindy asks with genuine curiosity looking back at you and Tara. "What the fuck is wrong with her face?"

The five of you had just gotten off the subway and exited the station, but your mind was still stuck a few moments behind. Tara had wrapped her arm around yours and spoken the five words that made your heart skip a beat: Keep your eyes on me.

Since then, you hadn’t been able to function. Stiff as a board, your brain was in a daze, replaying those words over and over. Now, you were walking aimlessly, arm-in-arm with Tara, trailing behind Mindy, Chad, and Sam, who were a good distance ahead.

"I think it might have something to do with Tara," Chad chimes in, glancing back at you both.

That comment got Sam's attention and she finally turned to see what was happening. "Yikes she does look—hold on why would Tara be responsible for whatever is going on with Y/n's face?" She asks with a raised brow, looking at the twins genuinely confused.

"Look at her arm," Chad says, pointing at Tara. "It’s wrapped around Y/n’s."

"She's looking up at her like Y/n put the stars in the sky," Mindy laughs.

Sam squints her eyes still confused. "So? Tara's finally warming up to Y/n. I spoke to her a few weeks ago about how Y/n is good for her."

"Her arm is around Y/n's," Chad states again with more emphasis.

"I hold my friends by their arm all the time," Sam shrugs like it's no big deal.

"Oh honey... did you say friends?" Mindy says gently wrapping her arm around Sam's shoulders like she was trying to soften the blow. "You know Y/n has the hots for your sister right?"

Sam wasn't stupid. There was instances in the last six months where the thought had crossed her mind. The way you always glanced at Tara after one of Mindy’s outrageous jokes, just to see her reaction. The way you went silent every time Tara got too close. The way your cheeks flushed crimson whenever Tara did something particularly sweet or kind.

Sam sighs. Deep down, she knew. The way you were attentive to Tara wasn’t just friendly—it was something more.

When she’d encouraged Tara to give you a chance, it wasn’t about dating—it was about letting someone in, letting someone care for her. But now, watching you and Tara in this new light, the possibility of her little sister entering her first relationship suddenly felt real.

That’s what unnerved her. Not you, specifically. She liked you. And if anyone was going to date Tara, she was glad it would be you.

"Don’t worry, Sam," Chad says, trying to reassure her. "Y/n’s a total dork. She can’t even admit to herself that she likes Tara. She just genuinely cares about her, even if she only gets to do that as a friend."

"Dude," Mindy cuts in, laughing so hard she’s clutching her stomach, "you literally helped Y/n get into your sister’s pants!"

“You gave Y/n first class tickets to take your sister to Pound town!” she adds in between laughs.

Chad groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are you like this?"

Sam felt her blood run cold. She changed her mind—maybe she did have a problem with you.

————

Meanwhile, about twenty steps behind the group, the younger Carpenter sister was freaking out for a completely different reason.

Sure, she hadn’t expected to enjoy the feeling of her hand resting on your bicep this much. That was its own problem. But what was really throwing her off was the deafening silence. Why weren’t you saying anything?

She’d called your name a few times now, but you hadn’t so much as blinked in response. She considered taking her arm away. Maybe she’d overstepped. It had been a bold move—not just saying what she did but closing the space between you two like this.

It was a stark contrast from what's the usual between you two—her throwing violent insults your way, half the time just to see how you’d react.

Okay maybe it makes sense why you weren't responding. Still, was it too much to ask for a little reaction?

Fearing she’d made you uncomfortable, Tara began to pull her arm away.

"No! Wait—" you blurt out, snapping out of your daze at the loss of contact. The words hang in the air, and the realization of what you just said slaps you in the face. Your face flushes red. "I mean—wait, not no! You can keep your hands to yourself if you want!" you stammer, awkwardly backpedaling as you take a step closer to the road to create a distance between you two.

She just told you that you can keep your eyes on her and you told her she can keep her hands to herself.

In that moment, you’d honestly prefer to be hit by a car than embarrass yourself any further in front of Tara.

You brace yourself, expecting her to roll her eyes, to call you an imbecile, to tell you to get over yourself. Maybe she’d point out that she doesn’t need you to give her permission to keep her hands to herself—that she has full autonomy. Or worse, she’d say something cutting, like how she’d never touch you in a million years, even though she was the one who had grabbed your arm in the first place.

But instead, she laughs.

And it’s not a mean laugh. It’s soft, warm, and unexpectedly genuine, catching you completely off guard.

Not that you were complaining, but

What the fuck is she doing?

————

"What the fuck am I doing?" Tara mumbles to herself.

“That’s what I want to know,” Mindy fires back with a teasing smirk, leaning closer to Tara who was seated across her on the table.

Fortunately for you, soon after you heard the melodic sound of Tara’s laugh that made your brain short-circuit, the bar you were all heading to came into view giving you the perfect excuse not to dwell on it—or, more accurately, to avoid melting into a puddle of feelings. For the first time ever, Tara had laughed because of something you did, and the thought alone made your heart do a happy little somersault.

Upon entering the dive bar, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom while the rest of the group found a table to be seated at. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, so you were able to think out loud.

“What even is my life right now?” you muttered to yourself as you leaned over the sink with a goofy smile. Catching your reflection in the mirror, your face was beet fucking red. Oh no. Did Tara notice how red you were? You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

How did things change so fast? How had it gone from her hating your guts, calling you Ghostface at every opportunity, and throwing insults your way—barely even sparing you a glance—to this?

Mindy had told you to stop chasing Tara, to ignore her, to let her come to you. You’d managed to stick to that advice for maybe an hour, and somehow, this was where it got you.

Not that you were complaining—oh, you definitely weren’t—but wow, this was a lot to handle. Your heart felt like it might burst from how warm and fluttery it was. Tara was kind of adorable… and terrifying. Mostly adorable. Okay, maybe all adorable.

"Fuck, this girl is going to be the death of me."

————

Outside, Mindy, Chad, and Tara stayed at the table while Sam headed to the bar to scope out the scene.

"Sooo… did I just see you holding Y/n’s arm?" Mindy asked, probing Tara for more answers.

Tara groaned dramatically before dropping her head onto the table with a quiet thud. "Yes," she mumbled, her voice muffled against the surface.

"What the hell happened in the two weeks we didn't hang?" Chad questions. "You couldn't stand her last time we hung out. And you're pulling the Carpenter rizz?"

"I don’t know!" Tara whined, her words still muffled by the table." Sam talked to me okay? And I guess I was being harsh to Y/n."

"Uh-huh, sure," Mindy replied, her grin widening. "But that still doesn’t explain why you were holding her arm. That’s a huge leap from ‘I hate Y/n, she’s totally Ghostface,’ to... this." Mindy explained, clearly enjoying the situation.

"Unless," Chad cut in, his grin matching Mindy’s as he wiggled his eyebrows, "there was always some hidden feelings under your 'supposed' hatred for her..."

Tara’s face shot up from the table, bright red as she glared at them. "There are no hidden feelings!"

Mindy gasped, clutching her chest like she’d uncovered a scandal. "Oh my God, there totally is! Admit it, Tara—you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time!"

"Absolutely not!" Tara protested, her voice climbing an octave.

"You have," Chad teased, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. "And you loved it."

Tara groaned again, hiding her face in her hands, as Mindy and Chad erupted into laughter.

"Shut up!" Tara muttered, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips betrayed her completely. She sighed, trying to compose herself. "I don't like her like that, okay? She was just ignoring me today, and... I guess it sucked not having her care about me like she usually does," she mumbled, hoping the explanation would get the twins off her back.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Mindy replied casually to Tara’s surprise. Well, that was easy.

But then Mindy smirked, leaning back in her chair. "So, it shouldn’t bother you that Y/n’s getting hit on at the bar right now, huh?"

Tara froze. "What?" she snapped, whipping her head around so fast it was a miracle she didn’t pull something. Her eyes darted frantically toward the bar. "Where is she?"

The brunette turned back around so Mindy could answer her, and that’s when she realized—she’d walked right into her trap.

Mindy burst into laughter, slapping the table. "Oh my God, you’re so obvious!"

Tara frowned and crossed her arms as Chad joined in on the laughter, both of them clearly enjoying how flustered she’d become.

————

You finally leave the bathroom once you feel like you can function like a normal human being again. It doesn’t take long to spot your friends at their table—sometimes, you swear you have a built-in Tara radar, always able to sense exactly where she is.

As you make your way over, your eyes are drawn to her, bathed in the soft red glow of the bar lights. She looks stunning, her features highlighted by the warm hue. She’s speaking animatedly to the twins, her hands flying up to cover her face in between bursts of conversation, a mix of shyness and excitement that makes her even more captivating.

Sometimes you wish you weren't the awkward human you were, and met Tara in better circumstances. A world where Ghostface didn't exist as well. Maybe then—maybe then you two could be something?

Your heart leapt at the thought. And you felt almost guilty for thinking the way you do. You never wanted it to seem like you only treated Tara with kindness because you had some sort of ulterior motive. It made you feel guilty. But it was getting difficult denying it any further. Maybe it was seeing her in this setting, so relaxed, so beautiful—maybe it was her touch and words earlier that sealed your fate.

But all you wanted right now was to slide into that booth beside her, feel her hand on your arm again, and be the person she could lean on.

You really liked Tara.

And you also really needed a drink.

————

"Okay, hold on—help me out here," Mindy says, holding her hands up. "If you do have some kind of interest in her, then why, and I say this with love, were you such a massive dick to her?"

Tara groans, letting her head drop back dramatically against the booth. "I wasn’t trying to be! It just... happened," she mumbles, rubbing her hands over her face, as if she could wipe away the embarrassment. "I don’t know, okay? She just gets under my skin. She’s so infuriatingly... nice. And smug. And—"

"Hot?" Chad offers with a teasing grin, earning a glare from Tara.

"I wasn’t going to say that!" Tara snaps defensively, though the red creeping up her neck betrays her.

Mindy snorts. "Oh, sure. That’s why you grabbed her arm like she was the last person on Earth. Real subtle Carpenter."

Tara exhales hard, crossing her arms and slouching down in her seat. "I didn’t plan that, okay? She was ignoring me. I didn’t like it. And I panicked."

Chad raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that smug big-brother energy. "Sooo, you panicked and held her arm? You panic-flirted?"

"I did not panic-flirt!" Tara protests, sitting up straighter, her voice pitching higher with frustration.

"You so panic-flirted," Mindy grins, leaning closer. "Face it, T. You’ve got it bad. I mean, you did just admit you didn’t like her ignoring you. That’s classic 'please-pay-attention-to-me' behavior."

Tara opens her mouth to argue, but freezes. She can’t deny that part—because it’s true. Too true. She didn’t like the way you’d suddenly stopped caring, stopped looking her way like you always did. It left her feeling... off-balance.

"Fine," she mutters, looking away as her fingers trace patterns on the table. "Maybe I didn’t hate it when she cared."

Chad and Mindy exchange a glance before turning back to her with matching smirks.

"Uh-huh," Mindy drawls. "And maybe you didn’t hate holding her arm."

Tara groans again, sinking lower into the booth like she could disappear into the cushions. "I really need you both to shut up right now."

"Why am I getting interrogated? And more importantly, where are the drinks? Sam? Y/n?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

————

You weave your way through the crowd, finally making it to the bar, where you flag down the bartender and order a drink—something strong to calm the storm brewing inside of you. Taking a seat, you take a deep breath, letting the hum of the bar settle around you.

"Another round," a familiar voice says beside you, and you turn your head to find Sam, casually gesturing for the bartender to line up several drinks. You blink, surprised.

"Sam?" you ask, brow furrowing. "What are you doing?"

Sam doesn’t look at you as she responds, eyes focused ahead, her tone completely serious. “Mourning.”

You stare at her, processing. “Mourning?” you repeat, confused. “Who… who died?”

Sam finally turns to you, expression deadpan. “My baby sister.”

You freeze, mouth opening slightly as your brain short-circuits. “Tara? Tara died?” you ask, voice rising in disbelief as you whip your head toward the booth where Tara is very clearly alive and animated, still talking to the twins.

Sam sighs dramatically, shaking her head. “Not literally. Spiritually. She’s about to get into her first relationship.”

Your face contorts into the human equivalent of the surprised Pikachu meme. “Her what now?”

Sam gives you a look, like you should already know. “Oh, don’t play dumb. You’re the relationship.”

You nearly choke on your drink, sputtering. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” Sam replies matter-of-factly, grabbing one of the drinks the bartender sets down but not leaving just yet. She leans against the bar, eyeing you like she’s assessing your soul. “And don’t make that face. You’re the one she’s been all smiley and weird about lately.”

You blink at her, utterly lost. “Smile-y? Weird? What—Tara doesn’t even like me like that.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” you insist, though your voice wavers slightly.

Sam just smirks, sipping one of the drinks slowly. “You’re even worse at lying than you are at hiding how red your face is right now.”

Your hand flies to your cheek like you can stop the blush burning there. “It’s the bar lights!” you blurt defensively. “They’re red. They make everything red.”

"But I'm not lying I swear! She hates me remember? I'm supposedly Ghostface?" You ramble, trying to jog Sam's memory, because what in the world is she talking about. Tara likes you?

Sam chuckles under her breath, shaking her head. “You’re a mess.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, sinking further into yourself before glancing up at her. “But seriously… what do you mean me? I thought you were mourning because of some jerk she’s into—”

“Oh, I still think you’re a jerk,” Sam interrupts, though there’s a teasing glint in her eye now. “But you’re a tolerable one.”

You blink again, confused. “I’m… tolerable?”

“For now,” Sam confirms, narrowing her eyes at you in a way that makes you feel like you’re back in high school, being questioned by a teacher. “But listen to me, Y/n—I don’t care how flustered you get or how much you like her, I’m watching you. If you so much as make her frown, I’ll know. You’ll regret it.”

The seriousness of her tone makes you sit up a little straighter, but there’s still something soft in the way she says it—like, beneath the overprotective big-sister act, Sam really does care.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you say quietly, surprising even yourself with how genuine you sound. “I’d never hurt her. Ever.”

Sam studies you for a long moment, like she’s trying to read the truth straight from your eyes. Finally, she gives a small nod, satisfied. “Good. Because she deserves someone who looks at her like she’s the best thing to ever happen to them.”

Your heart stutters at her words, and you look down at your drink, trying not to smile too obviously. “I already do,” you admit softly, almost to yourself.

Sam pauses, her expression softening ever so slightly. “Yeah. That’s what worries me,” she mutters, more to herself than to you, but before you can ask what she means, she straightens up. “Now come on. I’m not carrying all these drinks by myself.”

You blink up at her, still a little dazed by the conversation, but you quickly grab a couple of glasses and stand up to follow Sam back toward the table.

But as you rose, the sudden sound of shattering glass and the murmur of rising voices pull your attention toward the commotion. A crowd begins to form in the center of the bar, the tension thickening with every heated word exchanged. It’s only when the circle shifts slightly that you spot her—Tara, her small frame squared off against a guy who looks a little too angry for the situation, and a girl glaring daggers at her.

You and Sam exchange a glance before rushing over, the protective instinct in both of you kicking in instantly.

“Look, I said I’d buy you another drink,” Tara says, her tone calm but laced with frustration.

“Yeah, well, maybe watch where you’re going next time dumbass,” the guy snaps, his voice dripping with condescension.

“Okay then maybe don’t stand in the middle of the fucking bar like a human traffic cone,” Tara bites back, her words sharper than you’ve ever heard from her.

The guy’s girlfriend steps in, practically seething. “Who do you think you are? Bumping into him like a slut and then acting like it’s his fault? God, you’re so full of yourself!”

Tara rolls her eyes. “Trust me, I do not want your man. This isn’t that deep.”

The guy snickers, leaning closer to Tara. “Yeah, right. With that attitude? You’d be lucky if anyone wanted you.”

You feel your chest tighten with anger, but you force yourself to take a deep breath. You step forward, hands up in a gesture of peace, trying your best not to escalate things.

“Hey, let’s all just calm down,” you say, your voice cracking slightly under the pressure. “I’ll get you a drink, okay? On me. No big deal.”

The guy turns to you, sizing you up before sneering. “Who the hell are you? Her little lapdog?”

That stings more than you’d care to admit, but before you can respond, he takes a step closer to Tara, clearly trying to intimidate her. Tara doesn’t back down, her glare unwavering, but his shoulder roughly “brushes” against hers in what’s definitely not an accident.

The nudge sends Tara stumbling backward, but thankfully, she lands against Sam, who steadies her instantly.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

Something snaps inside you, and before you can think it through, your fist is already flying. It connects with the guy’s jaw, sending him reeling back a step. The bar erupts in gasps and shouts as the guy recovers, glaring at you with fire in his eyes.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he growls, lunging at you.

Chaos ensues. Tables scrape against the floor as people back away, forming a wide circle. You’re barely aware of Sam pulling Tara further back, her voice sharp as she tells her to stay put.

The guy swings at you, but you dodge, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I was trying to be nice!” you shout, your voice somehow still awkward despite the situation. “But nooo, you had to go and—”

His next punch grazes your shoulder, and you retaliate, landing another hit square in his side.

“Y/n!” Tara’s voice cuts through the noise, and for a split second, you falter, glancing in her direction.

That’s all the guy needs to get a cheap shot in, his fist connecting with your stomach. You stumble back, the wind knocked out of you, but you manage to stay on your feet steadying yourself by having your palm planted on a nearby table.

Unfortunately luck wasn't on your side, and the table had a broken bottle on it, the jagged glass slices into your palm. You wince, but thankfully, the chaos around you masks the pain, and no one notices it.

Suddenly, Chad steps in between you and the guy, his broad frame blocking any further blows. “Alright, enough,” he says, his voice firm, but not without a hint of warning. “You don’t want to take this any further bro. Trust me.”

Before the guy can respond, Sam steps in too, her hand flashing a taser from her waistband, her expression icy cold. “I suggest you walk away,” she says, her voice steady and threatening. “Unless you want to leave here with more than just a bruised ego.”

The guy hesitates, clearly debating whether to push his luck. But the bartender steps in then, a burly man who looks like he’s seen his fair share of bar fights. “Alright, that’s enough!” he barks. “You—out. Now.”

The guy glares at you one last time before grabbing his girlfriend’s arm and storming out, muttering curses under his breath.

As the crowd disperses and the bar settles back into its usual hum of activity, you turn to Tara, who’s staring at you with wide eyes.

“You okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse.

She nods, her gaze softening as she takes a step closer to you. “Are you?”

You wince, clutching your stomach. “I’ll live. But, uh, maybe next time, don’t antagonize the guy holding the drink?”

Tara scoffs but smiles faintly. “Maybe next time, don’t throw punches for me.”

Sam snorts, crossing her arms. “No, by all means, keep throwing punches. Just learn to dodge better.”

You laugh weakly, glancing between the two Carpenter sisters. “Noted. So… anyone else need a drink, or is it just me?”

Tara shakes her head, her smile growing, her face red. “It’s just you. But… thanks. For standing up for me.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, and despite the ache in your hand, you can’t help but smile back. “Anytime.”

You catch Tara glancing at you, her expression softer then ever, and for a moment, she seems to be looking at you like she’s seeing something more than the awkward dork you think you are.

And in that instant, she can’t help but think you're even more amazing than she already knew. But before she can fully process it, Chad suddenly approaches, glancing at your hand, his face faltering in concern.

“Hey, are you good?” he asks, his eyes scanning your hand. “You look like you're in pain.”

You wince, still trying to play it off as no big deal. But Chad catches sight of the blood trickling from the glass cut on your palm, and his eyes widen. "Holy shit, dude, we need to take you to a hospital."

You shake your head quickly, your voice still a little shaky. “It’s just a scratch, really. I’ll be fine.”

But Tara, her brows furrowing in concern, steps forward, and glances at your hand and gasps. “That’s not just a scratch,” she insists, her voice filled with worry. “You’re bleeding bad. Get up—Mindy call an Uber.”

You open your mouth to protest again, "No hospital, I'm fine I just need a first aid kit." Sam steps in with a calm, no-nonsense tone. “On it, I'll ask the bartender.”

Tara, who’s been silently observing the whole time, takes charge. Her voice is soft but firm as she grabs the first-aid kit from Sam’s hands once she rejoins the group. “I’ll do it,” she says, her gaze never leaving yours. “You’ve done enough tonight. Let me take care of you.”

Mindy, who’s been watching the exchange with a smirk, suddenly chimes in, a teasing edge to her voice. “Look at you, Y/n. Who knew you had this much of a protective streak? Tara’s got you all worried, huh?”

You feel your face flush, but before you can respond, Tara shakes her head at Mindy’s comment, her worry deepening. “She’s hurt, Mindy. It’s not funny.” Her voice softens as she turns back to you, “You’re really gonna be okay, right? I— I don’t want you to be hurt.”

You can see how much she cares, and it makes your chest tighten with emotions. Tara’s usually so tough, so guarded, but right now she’s nothing but concerned.

You try to reassure her, even though the tenderness in her gaze makes it hard to keep your cool. “I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry so much.”

But Tara doesn’t seem convinced, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I can’t help it,” she admits softly, her voice almost a whisper. "I care."

The weight of her words lingers in the air, and for a moment, everything feels a little clearer between you two. Tara doesn’t just care for your safety—she cares about you.

She gently guides you to an empty booth, pulling you away from the noise and chaos of the bar. It’s just the two of you now, in your own little corner of the world. You slide into one side of the booth while she settles on the other, a table separating you, but it somehow feels closer than ever.

The silence stretches between you both, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. You hold your hand out toward her, palm facing up, your fingers trembling slightly from the sting. Tara’s gaze softens when she sees the injury, and with a quiet sigh, she reaches for the first-aid kit.

Her movements are slow, deliberate, as she opens the kit, pulling out antiseptic and gauze. You watch her, your heart pounding for reasons you can’t quite explain. She carefully dabs the cotton swab in the antiseptic, then presses it gently to the cut. You wince, a sharp sting jolting through your palm.

“Sorry,” Tara murmurs, her voice low and soothing. She frowns, her brows knitting together in concentration as she takes more care, dabbing at the wound more carefully this time. “I’m trying to be gentle. You’re not a fan of this whole ‘injured’ thing, huh?”

You chuckle softly, still feeling the burn of the antiseptic. “Nope. Not my favorite thing," your voice coming out a little more awkward than you intended.

"I can't believe a dork like you got in a fight."

You let out a small laugh, trying to hide the fact that her words have made your heart race. “I’m not a dork,” you protest weakly.

Tara raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. “Really? Because I could’ve sworn you were about to pass out the second I touched your hand.”

You blush even harder. Tara’s smile is warm, genuine, and it makes the sting of the antiseptic a little easier to bear.

“It’s not the touch,” you mumble, “it’s just... you’re too close.”

She laughs softly, a sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah? Guess I’ll just have to keep getting closer, then.”

Her words, teasing as they are, send a warmth rushing through you. You try to play it cool, but inside, you’re an absolute mess. The way she cares for you, even in such a simple moment, makes everything feel... different. It’s like a tiny shift in the air, making you want to stay in this little bubble of quiet with her forever.

Tara looks up at you, the gears turning in her head. Was she being unfair right now? Giving you mixed signals.

She continues cleaning the wound, but now with even more care. She choses her next words carefully not wanting to sour the mood, “I'm really sorry for how I treated you. I think with everything that happened last year, I was scared to let new people in, and so I was wary of you even though you’ve been nothing but amazing to me. I guess I just had my guard up and it was unfair and—"

"I know Tara, I forgive you don't worry," you smile at her. And its pure and genuine, and Tara knows that you mean that whole heartedly.

As Tara finishes bandaging the cut on your palm, she gently flips your hand over to check for any other injuries. Her fingers graze across the back of your hand, and she notices the bruised knuckles. For a split second, she pauses, her breath catching in her throat.

Her eyes linger on your hand—on the faded bruise, evidence of the fight you’d just gotten into—and for some reason, she can’t help but think it’s... hot. The way your hand looks, bruised but still strong, it makes something in her chest tighten. You got into a fight for her.

She quickly shakes her head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingers. What the hell is wrong with me? she thinks, her face flushing slightly. Tara quickly looks up at you, trying to mask her sudden embarrassment with a forced nonchalance. But you're just sat there beaming at her, telling her its okay for how she treated you in the past, that you forgive her.

Suddenly, Tara couldn’t just take it anymore. The way you were looking at her, so soft, so genuine, made her heart flutter in a way she couldn’t ignore. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and then, without warning, she leaned forward, her eyes locking with yours.

“You know,” she started, her voice low and teasing, “Mindy said you were incapable of acting first.”

You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. “What?” you asked, not sure where she was going with this.

Tara smirked, clearly amused. “And that if I wanted something to happen, I’d have to be the initiator.”

You furrowed your brow, still not understanding. “What are you talking about?”

Tara’s smile widened, and she leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping even lower. “I find that hard to believe, given how you just got in a fight for me. I know there’s a little boldness in you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and before you could even process what she was saying, she added, “But I guess so do I.”

Without warning, Tara reached across the table, her hand grabbing the front of your shirt. You froze, your breath catching as she pulled you closer, her face just inches from yours. Your heart raced as she leaned in, and then—before you could even think—her lips were on yours.

It was soft, tentative at first, like she was testing the waters. But then it deepened, and everything around you seemed to fade away. The kiss was warm, gentle, but there was an undeniable intensity to it, as if she was pouring everything she felt into that moment. Your uninjured hand instinctively reached for hers, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat against your fingertips.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you pulled away, breathless. Tara’s eyes were wide, a soft blush coloring her cheeks as she looked at you, her lips still tingling from the kiss.

You blinked, your mind racing, and then you couldn’t help but grin, a nervous laugh escaping you. “Damn... I should’ve gotten into a fight a lot sooner.”

Tara rolled her eyes, but her smile was all warmth, and you could see in her eyes that there was something deeper. Something unspoken, but undeniable.

Something that was always there.

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