#Sidney Prescott One Shot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

persevereforahappyending · 2 months ago

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A Legacies Secret |14|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Attempted Murder, Murder, Death, Blood, Gun shots

Word Count: 3.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You sat emotionless on the hospital bed as the doctor finished stitching up your shoulder. They had done the wound on your side first, the doctor said you got lucky, the knife had just barely missed your ribs. Luckily it only hurt when you breathed or moved. You let out a hiss as the doctor did his last stitch. He smiled at you and told you when to come back to get the stitches out, not that you really heard him, you couldn’t stop replaying what happened in your head, you couldn’t stop seeing Dewey’s face.

You looked down when you felt a squeeze on your hand, then lifted your gaze to see Tara watching you with a worried expression. You wanted to offer her a smile, something to comfort her, to show you were okay, but you couldn’t even manage that. She stood up as best as she could with her crutches and carefully wrapped her arm around you. You just let your head drop to her shoulder, you didn’t even have it in you to break down. The only good thing to come from the attack was that Ghostface didn’t touch Tara, he didn’t get her again, you kept him away long enough, that was the one thing you actually did right. You couldn’t protect Dewey, you couldn’t run to his aid, but you saved Tara, you were just trying to hold onto that, you weren’t a complete failure at least.

Tara leaned back, caressing your face as she stared into your eyes. “What’s going through your head?” she asked softly.

The death of the father you just learned about. That’s all that was going through your mind. The death of the man who gave you chance after chance, the guy who finally smacked sense into you and made you get your shit together.

“Can we just get the fuck out of here?” You asked.

Tara nodded and sat back down in her wheelchair, laying her crutches across her lap. You got behind the wheelchair and began to push her out the door despite her protests that you could rip open your stitches already. When the two of you got to the waiting room you saw Sam talking to Gale and some other woman. When Gale’s eyes landed on you, she pushed past Sam to make her way towards you and Tara.

“Are you okay?” Gale asked as soon as she was close enough. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Just stop,” you said harshly. You didn’t miss the way Gale flinched, you just didn’t care, just like you didn’t care that her eyes were red, she probably just stopped crying not too long ago. “Don’t pretend to care.”

“I do care,” she said softly.

“Well, I don’t, so if you don’t mind, we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

“What?” The woman who had been standing with Gale and Sam asked. “You can’t just leave. Look, you’ve been through a lot recently,” she flicked a glance at Gale. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but I do know what it’s like to be targeted by this asshole.” That’s when it clicked for you, this wasn’t some random woman, it was Sidney Prescott. “We could really use your help taking him down.”

“Fuck that,” you shook your head. “Sorry, but no. This,” you gestured around the room. “Isn’t about me. So, I’m taking Tara and we’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Okay,” Sidney nodded. “Be careful.”

“Thank you.” You looked at Sam who seemed conflicted. “You’re welcome to join us,” you directed at her. “Your Tara’s sister after all.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Sam said instantly. She texted Richie to pull the car up.

You were sure Sam had the same thought as you, now that Tara got attacked twice there was no way she’d stay in town. Sam might not have been your favorite person, but you weren’t about to keep Tara from her sister, especially if Sam was actually willing to stick around this time.

“Alright let’s get the fuck out of this town,” Richie said as he pulled up. You rolled your eyes as he quickly started apologizing to Gale and Sidney.

You glared at Richie when he tried to take over helping Tara, but he quickly let go of the wheelchair and backed up. “I’ll get the bags?” He said it more like a question as he took Tara’s crutches and backpack to sit in the back seat.

Tara gave you a disapproving look, but you caught the small smile on her face. She might not have been happy with you straining yourself already, but she appreciated it. As gently as you could you wrapped one arm around her and helped her slide into the back seat. You spared Gale and Sidney one last glance as they finished talking to Sam.

You were pressed against the door on the right side in the backseat to give Tara as much room as she needed to stretch out her injured leg. As much as you would have loved to be on the other side of her, with her leaning on you, that was her injured side.

“What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed Tara searching her backpack in a panic.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, glancing back from the passenger seat.

“I can’t find my inhaler,” Tara said. Her breathing was already getting shallow at simply the idea of not having her inhaler.

“Can we stop somewhere?” You couldn’t blame Sam, the last thing you wanted to do was turn around. You wanted to get out of town as quick as possible and stop somewhere outside of town if you could.

“I need a prescription,” Tara shook her head.

“There’s a spare at my place,” you offered. You always kept a spare inhaler at your place, you never wanted anything to happen when Tara was staying the night or if she was at your apartment alone while she waited for you to get off work or come back with dinner.

“That’s on the opposite side of town. Wait,” her eyes snapped up. “Amber, I have another spare at Ambers.” You wanted to roll your eyes but even you had to admit Amber's place was more convenient, it was actually on the way out of town.

“No, no way,” Richie said, shaking his head. As much as you didn’t want to stop you knew how much Tara needed her inhaler.

“It’s on the way.”

Richie started to shake his head until his eyes landed on Sam. “Please?” She pleaded. “She needs it.”

“Fuck it, where does Amber live?”

A few minutes after Tara gave Richie the address, he was pulling up outside Amber’s house. You helped Tara out of the car and handed her her crutches, making sure to stand close by as you made your way to the front door, which was wide open. Amber was having a party, typical, of course she’d have a party when a psycho was on the loose.

Tara entered the house instantly after Richie and Sam, you couldn’t help but hesitate at the door. You knew where Amber lived because you had picked up and dropped Tara off multiple times, but you had never been in her house. With Ghostface looming in the darkness you couldn’t help but be on edge as you slowly stepped into the house.

You lingered in the background watching as Tara talked to Amber. You furrowed your brow when Amber started yelling that the party was over, Amber wasn’t usually the type to end a party early, especially one she was throwing. You then watched as Tara followed Amber, as everyone else in the house slowly filed their way out the front door.

You waited in the entryway with Sam, having no desire to wander around Amber’s house. Richie wandered off towards the kitchen, saying he was going to find something to drink. You just leaned back against the door and waited for Tara to come back while watching Sam pace back and forth.

You pulled out your phone when you felt it start to vibrate, you furrowed your brow for a second when you saw it was Gale calling you. You ignored the initial confusion and tapped to decline the call with an eyeroll. Almost as soon as you hung up on Gale Sam pulled out her phone.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“Unknown,” she said, holding up her phone for you to see.

“If it’s Gale hang up.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at your request but swiped to answer the call. “How do you know where I am?” Sam asked whoever was on the phone making you furrow your brow.

“Who is it?” you whispered.

Sam’s eyes widened at whatever the person on the phone was saying. Then she took off, yelling up the stairs for Tara. “What’s going on?” you grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

“We’re in Stu Macher’s house,” Sam said. Your eyes went wide as soon as she said the name. Your eyes started darting around the house, you knew Tara lost her inhaler but there was no way all of you ended up at Stu Macher’s old house was a coincidence.

You stuck closely to Sam as she went around the house searching for Richie until the both of you ended up in the living room. “Holy shit,” you said when you saw Mindy bleeding out on the ground.

Sam instantly ran to Mindy’s side, pressing her hands against the wound. “Do something!” she yelled.

You nodded, your fingers stumbling as you grabbed your phone to call for help. You had just brought the phone to your ear when Tara and Amber came into the room. “What did you do?” Amber yelled, running over to Sam and Mindy, making Sam back away from Mindy.

“We found her like that,” Sam defended.

“Oh my god!” Richie said as he came into the room. You narrowed your eyes; you and Sam had gone through the entire bottom floor of the house and didn’t see him anywhere.

“Where were you?” you asked.

“The basement.”

“Alone?” Sam asked.

“Tara and I were together, but all of you are suspects!” Amber said, cutting off whatever Richie was going to say to defend himself.

“I was with Sam,” you said. “You’re the only one unaccounted for,” you looked at Richie.

“You and Sam together isn’t really a solid alibi,” Amber snapped. “Maybe you’re both the killer.”

Everyone continued arguing back and forth until Liv came into the room, hands raised and covered in blood as tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. “Liv,” you said slowly. “Why are you covered in blood?”

“I-I-” Liv sobbed. “I-I found Chad.” You could swear everyone held in their breath as you waited for what Liv was going to say next. “He-he was stabbed.”

“You’re the killer,” Richie said.

“I’m not the killer.”

“You’re the killer,” Amber repeated what Richie said.

“Amber, I’m not the fucking killer!” Liv snapped, tears still falling from her eyes.

“I know,” Amber said emotionlessly.

The next thing you knew Amber pulled out a gun and fired a bullet right between Liv’s eyes. She instantly pointed the gun at Sam, but Tara dropped one of her crutches and grabbed Amber’s hand, making the bullet go into the wall. While Amber was occupied Richie grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged her out of the room.

You ran towards Amber and Tara but as soon as you pulled Amber off Tara, she stabbed you in the gut, giving you a twisted smile. You heard Tara scream your name as you collapsed to the floor. You pushed yourself up and began to scoot back away from Amber, Tara was clinging onto her arm, making her unable to aim the gun still in her hand.

Amber whipped her hand back, knocking Tara into the wall. Amber raised her gun at you but as quickly as you could you crawled to the side of the couch, ducking as a few bullets entered the couch just above your heard. You pressed your hand to your new stab wound as you listened for more shots.

You weren’t sure how long you waited, it felt like seconds, but you were sure it had been longer than that when you realized you didn’t hear gunshots anymore, you didn’t hear anything. You risked peeking your head out to see Amber was gone, as well as Tara. You gripped the back of the couch, trying to use it to help pull yourself to your feet. As soon as you were standing someone appeared in the doorway, aiming a gun right at your head. You raised one blood hand, keeping the other on the wound as you stared down the barrel of a gun held by Sidney Prescott.

“It’s Amber,” you said, your eyes unable to leave the gun still pointed at you.

“I know,” Sidney said. “Stay here.” She gave you one last suspicious look before slowly making her way up the stairs.

You don’t know how long you stood there, leaning against the couch, you closed your eyes, meaning to just focus on your breathing but when you opened them again Amber was standing in front of you. You didn’t have time to process what was happening before Amber held her knife to your throat and shoved you in the direction of the kitchen.

When you stumbled into the kitchen you saw Gale, nursing a wound of her own, and Sidney already there. A couple seconds later Richie came in, shoving Sam to the ground. You grabbed Sam’s arm, quickly helping her to her feet and pulling her back towards the counter.

Richie and Amber looked at each other smiling, before pulling each other into a kiss. Richie kept his gun pointed at Sam while Amber dropped her knife to her side, the second Sidney tried to get around them though Amber broke the kiss and stabbed Sidney in the side.

You should have seen all this coming, you never liked Amber and Richie was suspicious from the moment you met him. You never imagined they would be in it together though, and definitely never could have imagined them dating. You always assumed Amber had a thing for Tara and was jealous of you.

“Why are you doing this?” Sidney asked.

“Because the latest sequel to Stab sucked!” Richie snapped.

You lifted your eyes to look at him, you were hoping you were bleeding out and a consequence was hard of hearing, there was no way these two assholes killed a bunch of people all because they were pissed about a movie.

“Richie and I met online,” Amber said, smiling up at him. “We quickly realized we shared similar ideas.”

“Didn’t take us long to come up with our own movie,” Richie said. “Wasn’t hard to find you in Modesto,” he shrugged, looking at Sam. “But you,” he pointed his knife at you. “You were a surprise.”

“But you can find out anything if you dig deep enough,” Amber said. “It’s a small town, secrets aren’t exactly secret,” she chuckled. “One whisper of someone saying Gale Weathers was in town,” she looked at Gale. “And didn’t take much after that. Going back,” she nodded to herself. “Your old interviews, your old episodes, it was clear something was off.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Sam asked. “Kill everyone? Make me your little hero?”

Richie burst out laughing at Sam’s suggestion. “Oh, you’re serious?” he said, clearing his throat. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re the villain, he gave her a devilish smile.

“Think about it!” Amber screamed; her eyes wide with excitement like you had never seen before. “What better movie is there? The secret daughter of the original mastermind,” she pointed her knife at Sam.

“And the secret daughter of two of the original survivors,” Richie continued, his smile matching Amber’s.

“Lied to her entire life,” Richie said, taunting Sam. “Until she discovered the truth,” he gestured with his hand at Sam, a glimmer in his eye. “And decided to exact her revenge.”

“Thrown away like trash, abandoned, never to be thought of again,” Amber continued, looking you directly in the eye. “Then learns the truth,” she smiled, pointing her knife at you. “And decides to get revenge.”

“It’s a revenge story!” Amber squealed. She actually did a little jump, as if she were giddy about the idea of you and Sam teaming up to kill a bunch of people. “Agh! It’s so good!”

“You’re insane,” Gale said.

“No!” Amber whipped around, raising her knife as if she were going to stab Gale again. “We’re fans! We just want to save the movie that inspired us.”

“You’re crazy,” Gale shook her head.

“And you’re a bad mother.” The next thing you knew a knife was shoved in your side. You lifted your head, opening your mouth only to cough up blood. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Amber whispered, twisting the knife that was still in you. “After we rid ourselves of you and Sam,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Tara will be all mine.”

Despite your current situation you laughed, you couldn’t help it, Amber said the funniest thing in the world after all. “You really are crazy,” you rasped out, coughing up a bit more blood in the process. “Tara will never love you.” You made sure to stare Amber directly in the eye as the words left your mouth, the consequences be damned.

Amber let out what you could only describe as a snarl before pulling the knife out only to shove it back in again, and again, and again. You started gurgling on the blood in your mouth, you weren’t sure when you lost count of how many times Amber stabbed you. When she finally stepped away you just collapsed to the floor.

You were only partially aware of the others trying to come to your aid, only to be met with a knife or a gun to their head. You tried to pull yourself to your feet but as soon as you got up on wobbly legs a sharp pain ripped through your knee, sending your straight back to the floor. Your hand went to your knee, instantly being met with the wet stickiness of blood. You rolled over, holding your knee, your eyes pinched shut, you didn’t even have it in you to scream.

When you opened your eyes, you were instantly met with a gun in your face. Amber let out a scoff and walked away. You weren’t sure what happened after that, you decided maybe just bleeding out on the floor was the best-case scenario. You saw blurry figures going back and forth, you were in and out of consciousness, every time you blinked it took you longer to open your eyes again, you could barely hear the muffled sounds of what you assumed was the others fighting.

Everything was silent, you could barely keep your eyes open, you just wanted to close them and rest. You felt a weight hit your chest, forcing you to open your eyes again. You could just barely make out the blurry image of Tara, it almost looked like she was crying, you weren’t sure why, she was safe, she was alive, there was nothing to be sad about. You saw her lips moving but couldn’t hear the words she was saying. Tara’s face was the last thing you saw before everything finally went black.

Taglist: @r-3-becca

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream #scream v #scream 5 #a legacies secret

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famwhy · 1 year ago

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"You always were too smart..."

"...for your own good."

Scream 1996

Yandere! Billy Loomis X F!Reader

Synopsis: The Woodsboro massacre was a case that had been announced to be closed as soon as it was opened. The answer was obvious, right? There were two witnesses after all. Mr Prescott snapped, killed a bunch of kids, then shot himself in the head as a result of the nearing anniversary of his wife's death—two of your close friends confirmed it. Why, then, did you feel the need to meddle? Why couldn't you just mind your own goddamn business?!

Warnings: Mentions of death, Gore, Manipulation, Threat/Violence

"It just doesn't make any sense!"

None of it did. The witnesses, the evidence, the murders—it was just too big of a headache to deal with.

You didn't know why you were still doing it; still looking into this case even in the depths of midnight. It was closed, the chief said so himself—your two best friends were there, they saw what happened and recalled the events as such, their stories had even been perfectly aligned...

...almost too perfectly.

It was dumb—and you were probably being paranoid but—nothing felt right. If this was all Sidney's dad's doing then... why kill Casey Becker and Steve Orth? What did they have to do with him? You would've understood if they had attended Stu's party and were just caught in the crossfire but that wasn't the case, they were killed before the massacre—days before, in fact. Why? Why target them?

And—why would a murderer, who made sure all of his victims were dead, stab both Billy and Stu just perfectly so that he missed their vitals and didn't dig deep enough for them to actually be able to die of blood loss?—or, at least, not for a long while. Wouldn't he want to also make sure they were dead before offing himself?

The weapon too—why the hell did you only find a gun at the scene of the crime when there was evidence of a knife being used as well? If he didn't care enough to dispose of the gun he used to kill himself and others, why dispose of the knife?

None of it added up. None of it was making any sense.

"Fuck!"

Frustration coursed through you, crawling through your skin to visibly cause the bulging of your veins and urge your brows down further than ever before. The deep bags under your eyes weren't doing you any wonders either.

You were struggling and it showed.

Papers sat haphazardly strewn across the desk in front of you, each one depicting different inked up versions of the crime scene—from the body of Tatum Riley hanging by the driveway door, to the very gun that brought about the end of the accused 'murderer' himself. To the normal civilian, it would be hard to stomach—to you, it was just another Tuesday.

Except, this Tuesday seemed to really want to bash your head in.

With another aggravated huff through your lips, your hand shot out to the messy pile before sifting through it, trying to find something—anything—that would satisfy this god-awful itch in the back of your mind.

Then—a creak.

Your eyes shot up, muscles tensing as you scanned the shadows leaking through the corners of the room for the cause of the noise. One hand kept hovering above the sheets and the other slowly inched towards the drawer beneath you, fingers steadily winding around the knob before—

"Kid, what are you doing here?"

The flick of a switch came with the familiar voice that asked you that question; a voice that instantly caused your optics to widen and your back to suddenly go from lax to rigid as you clumsily fumbled around in your seat. "Sheriff!"

He grunted, voice gruff as he continued, "It's almost one, you have school tomorrow, why the hell are you still here?"

You parted your lips—ready to respond—when he squinted and scanned the desk, opening his own mouth to speak again before you could.

"Are those all from the casefile of the Woodsboro Massacre? Kid, that case is solved. It's done. The hell are you doing still in the station this late with those files?"

Your lips tugged down as your gaze trailed his own. "It just... it doesn't feel right, chief."

When he didn't respond, you chose to keep going.

"I mean, why would he kill his own daughter? I was close with Sid, I knew her and I knew how much her dad adored her—"

"That's the thing with psychos, Y/N, they—"

"He isn't just a psycho though!" That came out unnecessarily loud, and the chief seemed to think so too with the way his brow rose pointedly as soon as the words fell out, "Sorry, I... this case has been killing me all night. It just... it doesn't line up. If he really did snap, why target Casey Becker and Steve Orth days before the anniversary of his wife's death? Why specifically them? And why leave Billy and Stu with non-lethal wounds before killing himself?

"I know I should be grateful that they're still alive considering they're my best friends and all..." you continued, tone solemn, "and I am! I really am! I just... I can't help but find this all too strange."

And as you hung your head down, your ears soon perked up to the sound of several more creaks slowly growing louder as they made their way over to your seated form.

Then, a warmth blanketed your shoulder, causing your head to tilt up and your eyes to meet with a pair that seemed to slowly soften the longer you spent looking at them.

"Look, kid, you're a genius. That's why you work at this station. That's what you worked hard to prove to everyone here. Every cop in this town respects you—including me. If you say you think something's up with this case, then I believe you."

Your eyes lit up.

"Just... promise me you won't stay up this late investigating it. You can come down to the station as soon as school is over tomorrow but let me give you a ride home today."

You could do nothing but nod vigorously, too elated to form words as of that current moment. The nodding was enough though, and soon, you found yourself situated in the chief's car, buildings passing by in a flurry of colours as he drove over the bumps of the rocky road beneath you, gaze focused ahead.

With the incessant chatter of the radio echoing in the background, you almost couldn't hear your own thoughts. But, they were there. And they were just as unyielding in their fight for your attention.

Your skin crawled at the thought of Billy's expression if he ever found out about your doubt in his eye-witness account. Stu could brush it off easily but Billy... he was troubled, to say the least. He had a lot going on and you were one of the only people he trusted enough to share it all with; so to hear that you found him suspicious in any way would... well, it would crush him.

But, justice was justice. You pursued being a detective because it needed someone to deliver it with an iron fist. If that meant having to doubt the words of someone close to you then so be it. You worked so hard to get to where you were, you would be sure to honour it wholeheartedly.

"Here we are, kid." You blinked, turning to the officer beside you. "Get some rest, alright? See you tomorrow."

With a nod, you stepped out of the vehicle, and it didn't move an inch until you made it inside the house—staying there for a couple more seconds after the door closed before the wheels turned again as he started off once more.

And you didn't know if it was just because he was gone—his presence always being able to make you feel so much more safe than you did on a daily basis—but... a sudden chill ran down your spine, pricking your skin with a feeling you couldn't quite place your finger on but an unsettling one nonetheless.

You didn't quite get enough sleep that night.

But then again, when did you ever? Perhaps your paranoia was at an all time high because of insomnia—but, you digressed.

Besides, it was a new day and you had just arrived at school. You should focus—

—that was a lot easier said than done, though. Almost mindlessly staring into your open locker, you let your thoughts drift to the nefarious case for the umpteenth time.

Stop it, Y/N. Save it for the station.

With a sigh, you slammed the door shut and almost jumped when you caught view of what seemed to suddenly appear by your side.

There, stood one of the very boys your mind couldn't seem to hold off on thinking about recently—leaning against the locker with his defined arms crossed over his chest and his parted bangs falling over his face to frame it perfectly, basically forcing you to notice the way his lips were slightly twitched up as he gazed back at you.

"Billy," you whispered.

"Y/N," he responded, lips twitching up just a bit more, "I was wondering if you wanted to come over later? Watch a movie with me? I was gonna watch with Stu but then his family had that last minute trip thing."

Instantly, you were brought back to your conversation with the chief yesterday and your gaze drifted off to the side as you spoke—albeit a bit hesitantly—"I don't know... I should really get down to the station..."

He frowned at that, one arm unfolding to reach for your own, landing on your bicep before his fingertips slowly trailed down, ghosting over the exposed skin to send tingles down your spine as his palm finally found yours, fingers interweaving not too long after.

"C'mon, you spend so much time at the station now—it's like you're more hung up on this case than me. I barely ever get to see you. I miss my favourite girl."

That was true. Not the part about him barely seeing you (well, that was true too but—), the part about you being more hung up on the case than him—and he was actually there in person. It had only been a few days but Billy and Stu had seemed to move on just fine—which was strange considering the fact that, y'know, both of their girlfriends were dead.

Maybe, if you said yes, you'd be able to ask some specific questions to Billy; see if he was hiding any details from you.

"Okay," slowly, you nodded, "Yeah, sure, I'll come over."

At that, his lids fell halfway down his eyes before he purred out—voice borderline seductive—"Perfect."

To any girl who was none the wiser, that would send pleasant shivers down their spine—the shivers running down your spine, though, were anything but pleasant.

The rest of the school day breezed by and all you could find yourself thinking about was the case and Billy—he was practically living rent-free in your head. Even as he showed up at your last class—leaning against the wall in that way that just screamed Billy Loomis—you found yourself too stuck in your thoughts about him to be able to pay attention to the real him.

And he noticed.

"Y/N? You good?"

You blinked, tilting your head to his form as he walked beside you, the light breeze blowing slightly against his beautiful brown locks. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He frowned, reaching the hand that had been brushing against your own this whole time further towards you before asking, "You sure?"

Lightly, and as subtly as you could, you pulled your hand away. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He tilted his head down towards where your hands would've met and you watched as his lips pulled taut, expression almost appearing... blank as he stared at the empty space before his gaze flitted back up and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, muttering out a gruff 'okay' as he did so.

The rest of the walk to his house was silent—the wind and mindless chatter of other teenagers being the only thing your ears could pick up on.

And as you made it to his door, your heart constricted a little—thoughts wandering back to the look on his face after you rejected his seek for touch. Billy wasn't usually a physical person, at least, not with anyone but you and his now-dead girlfriend.

Though, even with Sid, his touch seemed a little more tense and uncertain than with you. You noticed the way he barely hesitated to hold you; the way he almost seemed relieved when he did finally get to feel you—be it against him or just your presence in the room.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he had a crush on you. But he had a girlfriend already—one he asked out, no less—so that couldn't be the case. The only explanation was that he really valued you as a friend. And that thought pricked you so much more than it should've.

Perhaps... perhaps you were being too paranoid with your thinking. The case was done. Over. You should just lay it to rest before you ended up really hurting one of your best friends.

Yeah... yeah. You'd do just that. You were going to enjoy this day with Billy. No more getting caught up in cases that were already solved. Nope. It was time to be there for your best friend.

With that thought in mind, you reached out your hand, slowly intertwining your fingers with the tall boy's own as he opened the doors of his home—pausing for a moment to glance back at you with wide eyes before his lips stretched up more than you had ever seen before and he tugged on your arm.

It was the littlest of force but it was sudden enough to send you tumbling into his chest as his arms engulfed you wholy; entirely. You could practically feel that familiar sense of relief radiating off his form and you couldn't help the laugh that echoed off yours.

"God, I missed you," he mumbled into your hair and a small, gentle smile graced your lips.

"I missed you too."

You stood there for a few more moments, basking in each others presence for just a little longer before you decided to pull away—albeit being met with a little resistance from Billy's end but, you were eventually successful.

"Alright, c'mon, you big sap, let's go in and watch your favourite scary movie."

He grinned at that, instantly moving to grab your hand again as he led you to his room—rushing through the clear, monotone halls before he arrived at his wooden door and opened it with a wide swing of his arm.

Soon, you found yourself seated on his bed, feet kicking back and forth as you awaited his presence. He had gone to go retrieve the VHS containing his movie from the ground floor so it was just you sat in the confines of the room riddled to the brim with horror posters from all sorts of media.

For a jock, he sure was a nerd.

One particular thing stood out to you, though—a small, rectangular bit of paper clipped to a string. It illustrated a smaller version of both yourself and Billy, stood beside each other with large grins on your faces—carefree and bright in their nature; loving and tender.

He still had that?

Unable to stop yourself, you moved to get a closer look—

—only to almost stumble when your foot caught the edge of something that certainly wasn't the ground.

A box—dull and beaten up. It was made up purely of cardboard which definitely wasn't doing it any wonders when it came to durability, that was for sure. The brown colour was quite unsightly to look at and the way some parts seemed almost... maroon was strange, to say the least.

Ever the investigator, you almost couldn't help the way your fingers naturally curved around the lid, slowly lifting the rough material up before shifting it to the side just in time to catch a familiar mask staring right back at you.

Mouth opened wide in an endless scream as soulless black eyes glared into your form—the sharp silver of a cutting blade coated in crimson laying beside it. It was almost too much to process at once.

And as you picked up the leather notepad sat beneath the dark robe under the mask, the gears slowly started turning in your head.

Flicking through the pages only further solidified your conclusion.

That mask belonged to Ghostface. That knife laying next to it was coated in blood. Unless there was some other murder that happened between now and the massacre, this was definitely the missing evidence from the crime scene.

And it was all in Billy Loomis' room.

You had an inkling, but this... this was on a whole other level.

The notebook detailed different ways to rid yourself of evidence when committing a murder, each one being linked back to a particular horror movie—even going as far as to have quotes obsessively scribbled near them with timestamps and everything. It was insane.

But, by far, the craziest thing was that Billy—your Billy—committed all of this. And if Billy was in on it, then so was Stu.

They both had murdered your whole friendship group that night.

Your fingers shook as you slowly stood up, legs barely able to hold your weight with how weak that realisation rendered you. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed onto you, drenching you from head to toe with the cruelty of the world.

Then—a click.

Slowly, you turned, book slipping from between your fingers as your eyes landed on the figure at the doorway.

Instantly, your hands shot up.

Billy stood there—expression blank as his eyes seemed almost... lifeless—with one hand raised and fingers wrapped around a black L-shaped object.

Your muscles grew tense. "Billy..."

"Stu's a fucking idiot," scoffed he, "I told him to burn all that stuff but he insisted we keep it as some sort of memento mori—something to remember our success with."

He took a step forward. You took a step back.

"But let's be honest, Y/N, you would've found out eventually, right?" As he spoke, your gaze stayed trained onto the gun, watching as he flailed it around—pupils shaking and hysteria slowly but surely clouding his eyes. "You always were too smart for your own good."

Your heart was beating ten miles a minute, practically playing drums in your ears with how loud it was as you continued to back away. "Billy, put the gun down."

"Y'know, Stu wanted to kill you... but I said no. Wanna know why?" He was now grinning from ear-to-ear. "'Cause I love you. I always have. Even as I was fucking that stupid whore Sidney that night, all I could think of was you."

You were running out of room to move back to. "Billy..."

"There! I confessed!" He suddenly rose his volume, and you winced a little. "Isn't that what you want?! A confession?! There's your fucking confession, Y/N!"

Getting kind of sick of all the ignoring, you spat back, "You know damn well that isn't the type of confession I want!"

"Well, maybe if your hadn't been such a snooping whore I wouldn't have to give you it!"

Here. There. Everywhere. He kept pointing that thing around so carelessly while his finger stayed hovering over the trigger, just one jerk away from a misfire; one jerk away from your possible end.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I promise."

"Billy! Be careful with that damn thing!"

A slam.

"You know, Y/N, I wouldn't even have to use this if you minded your own goddamn business!"

Your back hit the wall, and the barrel was now pointing directly. at. you.

"So pretty for me," he whispered, voice having mellowed out so suddenly—so dementedly—you almost couldn't believe your ears as he closed in on you, practically pressing his body right up against yours, "My pretty girl."

The barrel of the gun was directly under your chin now, being used to tilt your head and lock your gaze with his own, crazed one.

"Such a clever girl, aren't you, dollface?" His praises came out steadily, voice low and husky as he continued to coo, "My clever little detective."

And as the world went black around you, you caught one more voice enter the room.

"Took ya long enough."

#x reader #female reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male x female reader #yandere male #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis x y/n #yandere billy loomis #yandere billy loomis x reader #scream x you #scream x reader #scream 1996 x reader #ghostface x reader

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atlasthegreatest · 1 month ago

Text

A Nigth to Remember / Sam Carpenter x Precott! Male Reader

Sam Carpenter finally stops being the caretaker and starts being taken care of by Y/n Prescott— the man who makes her feel more carefree and happy. Meanwhile, Tara feels a surge of jealousy for not being the center of her sister’s attention.

Word count:

A/n: Jealous Tara. Slight make-out scene. Fluff and more fluff. And a slight participation of “A Night Out” reader.

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

Sam Carpenter sat in front of her mirror, smoothing down her hair and nervously checking her reflection for the hundredth time. Tonight was special. She hadn’t been on a real date in a while—especially not one planned by Y/n—Sidney Prescott’s oldest son— who had stolen her breath the moment they met. Tonight, she was stepping into something new, something exciting, and she couldn’t help but feel both giddy and anxious.

Just as she stood up to leave her room, Tara appeared at the door, arms crossed, an exaggerated frown on her face.

“Going somewhere, Miss Carpenter?” Tara teased, though there was an undeniable edge of envy in her voice.

Sam rolled her eyes, adjusting the strap of her dress. “Yes, Tara, I have a date.”

“Oh, I know,” Tara grumbled, her arms tightening around her body. “It’s just… why do you get to go out with him? You’ve been talking about him all week. It’s disgusting.”

A laugh escaped Sam as she grabbed her purse. “Tara, don’t be jealous. It’s just one date.”

Tara’s boyfriend, who had been lounging on the couch in the living room, overheard the conversation and chimed in. “Aww, Tara, are you jealous that your sister’s going out with someone else? You’ve got me,” he joked, a playful smirk on his face.

Tara shot him a look. “Shut up,” she muttered, but her boyfriend only laughed harder.

Sam gave them both a parting wave and made her way downstairs, where Y/n was waiting. He stood by his car, dressed in a sharp black suit, holding a bouquet that took Sam completely by surprise.

“Wow,” she said, feeling her heart race. “You really went all out.”

Y/n smiled that easy, confident smile of his. “Only the best for you, Sam.”

As the evening unfolded, it became clear that Y/n wasn’t holding back. They dined at one of the city’s finest restaurants, a candlelit table in the corner offering a cozy atmosphere as soft music played in the background. The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, laughter breaking out over shared stories and memories.

Y/n made sure Sam never had to lift a finger—he poured her wine, ordered for her, and even pulled out her chair like a true gentleman. By the time they finished dessert, Sam was feeling thoroughly spoiled and more relaxed than she had in a long time.

After dinner, Y/n took her on a moonlit walk by the river, the cool night air swirling around them. He bought her ice cream, even though they were both too full, just because Sam mentioned offhand how much she loved it.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” Sam said as they sat on a bench overlooking the water. She was touched by how thoughtful he had been throughout the night.

Y/n shrugged, his smile soft. “I wanted to. You deserve to be treated like this.”

For a moment, Sam couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, she leaned against him, letting the warmth of his presence chase away the chill of the night.

Meanwhile, back at home, Tara sat on the couch, her arms still crossed in a defensive posture. Her boyfriend sat next to her, still grinning.

“You know, you really are jealous,” he teased, nudging her lightly. “It’s kinda cute.”

“I am not jealous,” Tara shot back, though the blush rising in her cheeks betrayed her. “I just… It’s weird seeing Sam like that, okay? She’s my big sister. She’s supposed to be tough, not all… soft and dreamy-eyed.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, throwing an arm around her. “Maybe you’re just used to being the center of attention, huh?”

Tara’s eyes narrowed at him, but she couldn’t hold back a small smile. “Don’t push it.”

He squeezed her shoulder and pressed a playful kiss to her temple. “Come on, Tara, admit it—you miss her.”

Tara sighed, leaning back into the couch. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But still… it’s weird.”

“Relax, she’ll be back soon, and you can interrogate her all about her fancy date. I’m sure you’ll get all the details,” her boyfriend teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Tara rolled her eyes but secretly she couldn’t wait to hear everything. Maybe she was a little jealous, but more than anything, she wanted to know that Sam was happy—and by the looks of it, she was.

————————-

Later that night, when Sam returned home, her cheeks were still flushed from the evening’s excitement. As soon as she stepped inside, Tara was right there, practically jumping up from the couch.

“Well? How was it?” Tara demanded, her arms now unfolding as she gave her sister an expectant look.

Sam grinned, eyes twinkling. “It was… amazing.”

Tara crossed her arms again, her lips pressed into a pout. “Ugh, you’re unbearable.”

Sam laughed and reached out to ruffle Tara’s hair. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.”

As Tara sulked, her boyfriend nudged her again, grinning. “Told you she’d love it.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

But even as she pretended to be annoyed, Sam could see the small smile pulling at the corners of Tara’s lips. Beneath the teasing and the jealousy, she knew Tara was happy for her.

And that made the night even more perfect.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at Tara’s obvious attempt to hide her curiosity. Tara’s faux annoyance melted into genuine interest, and Sam could feel her sister’s attention locked on her. It was something Sam loved about her—no matter how much she acted jealous, Tara always cared deeply.

“Alright, fine, I’ll give you details,” Sam said, sitting down beside Tara. “But you have to promise not to make a big deal out of it.”

Tara’s eyes lit up as she scooted closer. “No promises, but spill!”

Sam recounted the evening—about how Y/n had taken her to a beautiful restaurant, how he had been attentive and charming the entire time, and how the night had ended with a walk by the river. Tara hung onto every word, occasionally interrupting with a “Wait, he did that?” or “You’re seriously telling me he got you ice cream after dinner?”

When Sam mentioned how Y/n pulled out her chair, Tara made a face. “Okay, now I’m really jealous. I have to fight for attention and here you are getting treated like a princess.”

Her boyfriend, who had been listening with amusement, chimed in again. “Come on, Tara, don’t act like I haven’t taken you out. Remember last week when we—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tara interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But he didn’t get me flowers and ice cream. That’s a whole other level.”

Sam shook her head, laughing at their banter. It was always like this—Tara’s teasing was a shield for the way she felt, but underneath it all was the warmth of sisterhood that they both cherished.

“So… what’s the deal with him?” Tara asked, her voice softening as she leaned in, genuinely curious now. “Is it serious?”

Sam felt a flutter in her stomach, unsure how to answer. She had felt a connection with Y/n, no doubt about that, but it was still so new. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I think I like him, but… you know how things are. Life’s complicated.”

Tara frowned slightly. “Yeah, I get it. But Sam, you deserve to be happy. Don’t overthink it.”

Her boyfriend chimed in with a chuckle, “Says the queen of overthinking.”

Tara shot him a glare. “Don’t start.”

Sam smiled, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. It was nice to have Tara’s support, even when it came with a side of good-natured jealousy. She leaned back on the couch, letting the warmth of the room and the company of her loved ones wrap around her like a blanket.

But Tara wasn’t done yet.

“So, what about me? Do I get to meet him or what? I need to see if he passes the test.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “The test?”

“Duh! I have to make sure he’s good enough for you. And don’t think I’ll go easy on him just because he’s Sidney Prescott’s son.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Her boyfriend leaned in, nudging Tara again. “You’re just mad because you wanted to be spoiled like that.”

Tara sighed dramatically, throwing her arms up. “Maybe! I want the fancy dinner and the ice cream, okay? Is that so wrong?”

Sam and Tara’s boyfriend both laughed, but Sam could see the sincerity in her sister’s eyes. Tara’s protectiveness wasn’t just about jealousy; it was about making sure Sam was taken care of. It was something that had always been mutual between them. Tara might tease, but Sam knew she’d be the first one in line to defend her.

“Fine,” Sam said with a playful sigh. “You can meet him. But you better behave.”

Tara grinned triumphantly. “Oh, I’ll behave. Just enough to scare him.”

Her boyfriend raised an eyebrow. “Scare him? You? Nah, I think he’ll be more worried about you stealing Sam’s spotlight.”

Tara smirked. “He should be. I’m a force to be reckoned with.”

Sam shook her head, chuckling. “I don’t know how he’s going to handle both of us.”

As the night wore on, the three of them continued to talk and joke, with Tara stealing glances at Sam as if she were trying to unravel the mystery of her sister’s new romance. Beneath the teasing and the banter, there was something deeper—a sense that Sam was finally opening a new chapter in her life, and Tara, despite her jealousy, was right there beside her, ready to cheer her on.

Before long, the living room quieted, and Tara’s boyfriend stretched his arms, stifling a yawn. “Alright, I think it’s time to call it a night. Besides, Sam’s got more dates to plan with Mr. Perfect.”

Tara groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Now I’m going to have to hear about this all week.”

Sam grinned, leaning over to give her sister a quick hug. “You’ll live, Tara.”

Tara hugged her back, albeit begrudgingly. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget about me when you’re off being pampered by your prince charming.”

“I could never forget you,” Sam said softly, squeezing Tara’s shoulder.

Tara smiled, her jealousy melting into genuine affection. As Sam stood to head to bed, she heard Tara whisper to her boyfriend, “I hope he treats her right. She deserves it.”

And in that moment, Sam knew—no matter what happened with Y/n, no matter where her life took her—she would always have Tara by her side, teasing, protecting, and loving her in her unique way.

————————

Tara paced back and forth in the living room, her fingers drumming against her sides. Tonight was the night she was finally meeting Y/n Prescott, the guy who had completely swept Sam off her feet. And even though Sam had been gushing about how sweet and caring he was, Tara wasn’t sold yet.

Her boyfriend, lounging casually on the couch, watched her with amusement. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that.”

Tara shot him a glare. “I’m not pacing. I’m… preparing.”

He snorted. “Right. Preparing to grill this guy like he’s applying for a job.”

“Damn right,” Tara said, crossing her arms. “Nobody gets to just waltz in and date Sam without passing my test.��

Her boyfriend chuckled, clearly enjoying her protective big-sister act. “You do realize Sam’s a grown woman, right? She can handle herself.”

“I know that,” Tara said defensively. “But someone’s gotta make sure he’s not just all charm and no substance.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Tara’s stomach flipped. She glanced at her boyfriend, who gave her a mischievous grin. “Moment of truth.”

Tara inhaled deeply and marched to the door, pulling it open to reveal Y/n standing there. He was tall— very tall, well-dressed, and handsome in a polished, put-together way. He held a bouquet of fresh flowers in one hand, and his other was casually interlocked with Sam’s. Tara’s eyes narrowed as she took in the sight—this was the guy who had Sam all googly-eyed?

Beside Y/n, Sam was practically glowing. Her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling as she stood next to him.

“Hey,” Sam said, a bit too cheerfully. “Y/n, this is my sister, Tara. And that,” she nodded toward the living room, “is her boyfriend.”

Y/n extended a hand to Tara first, his smile polite and calm. “It’s nice to meet you, Tara. Sam talks about you all the time.”

Tara squinted at him, sizing him up as she took his hand. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you, too. You’ve set some high expectations, you know.”

Y/n chuckled lightly. “I hope I can live up to them.”

Tara raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Instead, she stepped aside, letting Y/n and Sam come in. Her boyfriend stood up, offering Y/n a nod and a casual handshake. “Nice to meet you, man. Good luck—you’ll need it,” he joked.

Y/n laughed, clearly understanding the lighthearted warning but not intimidated by it. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

As they moved into the living room, Tara watched carefully. Her eyes flicked between Sam and Y/n, looking for any sign that this guy wasn’t as perfect as Sam had been making him out to be. She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that it was all too good to be true.

Sam settled onto the couch next to Y/n, and immediately, Y/n’s hand found hers again, lacing their fingers together. It was a small, almost unconscious gesture, but Tara noticed the way Sam’s face softened. Y/n didn’t say much, but the way he looked at Sam—the quiet adoration in his eyes—made Tara pause. There was no pretense, no show. He genuinely cared for her.

Still, Tara wasn’t going to let her guard down just yet.

“So, Y/n,” Tara started, leaning forward a bit, “what exactly are your intentions with my sister?”

Sam groaned, shooting Tara a glare. “Tara, seriously?”

But Y/n just smiled. “My intentions?” He glanced at Sam before turning his attention back to Tara, his expression sincere. “I like Sam—a lot. I care about her, and I just want to make her happy. That’s all.”

Tara’s eyes narrowed again, but she couldn’t find anything in his words to pick apart. He was too calm, too composed.

As the conversation flowed, Y/n continued to be attentive to Sam in the smallest, most genuine ways. He listened when she spoke, leaning in slightly as if hanging on every word. When Sam laughed, he’d smile softly, clearly enjoying just seeing her happy. And when Sam shifted on the couch, Y/n instinctively reached for her hand again, pulling it into his lap as though it was second nature.

At one point, when Sam mentioned being cold,Y/n didn’t hesitate—he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without a word. The simple, thoughtful gesture caught Tara off guard. Sam smiled, her cheeks tinged pink as she snuggled into the jacket, glancing at Y/n with that same dreamy look Tara had teased her about.

Tara’s boyfriend, watching the scene unfold, leaned toward her and whispered, “Come on, Tara, admit it. He’s a good guy.”

Tara huffed, not ready to give in just yet. “Maybe. I’m still watching.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

For the rest of the evening, Y/n continued to win over Tara’s boyfriend with easy conversation, discussing movies and music, while Sam remained comfortably tucked beside him, a soft smile on her face. And as much as Tara hated to admit it, she couldn’t find a single reason to dislike him. He wasn’t just some charming smooth-talker. He was thoughtful, caring, and—most annoyingly—genuine.

By the time Y/n stood to leave, Tara had begrudgingly decided that maybe—maybe—he wasn’t so bad.

“Well,” Tara said, crossing her arms as she walked them to the door, “you’re not terrible.”

Y/n chuckled, taking it as the highest form of praise. “I’ll take that.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Tara, but there was an underlying gratitude in her expression. Tara might not have said it outright, but Sam could tell that her little sister had warmed up to Y/n, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

As Y/n opened the door to step out, he turned back to Sam, his hand reaching for hers once again. He pulled her in for a gentle, affectionate kiss on the forehead, making Sam’s heart flutter visibly in front of them.

Tara watched the whole thing, feeling a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, she was used to being Sam’s protector, used to being the one to keep an eye out for her. But seeing someone else care for her so deeply—seeing Sam genuinely happy—was something she couldn’t ignore.

After Y/n and Sam said their goodbyes, Tara stood at the door, arms still crossed, watching them walk off into the night. Her boyfriend came up beside her, nudging her lightly.

“So,” he said with a smirk, “still jealous?”

Tara sighed dramatically but smiled. “Fine. He’s okay. But if he breaks her heart, I’m breaking his face.”

Her boyfriend laughed, wrapping an arm around her. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

As they stood there, Tara felt a sense of peace wash over her. Maybe, just maybe, Sam had finally found someone who would treat her the way she deserved. Tara still wasn’t going to make it easy for Y/n, but for the first time, she could relax a little. Her sister was in good hands.

Bonus chapter:

It had been a long day and Tara was in no mood for anything but lounging on the couch and watching something mind-numbing on TV. Her boyfriend was on his way with snacks, and she was looking forward to unwinding. She had just slipped into her sweats when she noticed something odd— Sam's door was closed.

Normally, that wouldn't be a big deal, but Sam had mentioned that she'd be out for most of the day. Plus, she hadn't heard the front door open, so when did Sam come home? And more importantly, why was the door closed? Suspicious, Tara moved down the hallway, her eyes narrowing as she approached.

Maybe Sam was just resting or getting ready for a night out with Y/n. But something felt off. Tara paused, her ear pressed against the door. She couldn't hear much, just muffled voices. A normal person might have left it alone, but Tara was anything but normal when it came to protect her sister. She knocked, lightly at first.

"Sam?" she called out, her voice curious but casual.

There as no immediate answer. Instead, she heard a quick shuffle, followed by hushed voices. Tara's suspicion greww, her patience wearing thin.

"Sam, what are you doing in there?"

Still no response. Okay, something was definitely up.

Without thinking, Tara pushed the door open. And what she saw next was not what she had been expecting.

There, in the dimly lit room, she found Sam and Y/n-- Sam pressed up against the wall, her arms wrapped around his neck, and Y/n leaning into her, his hands firmly on her waist. They were kissing, deeply, passionately, and entirely unaware of Tara's presence.

Tara froze, her eyes widening, her brain struggling to catch up to what she was seeing. She was used to seeing Sam as her tough, no-nonsense sister, but this-- this was a side of her she had never expected to witness. And Y/n? Well, he looked way too comfortable with his hands on her sister for her liking.

The shock turned quickly to panic, and Tara let out an awkward, horrified, "OH, MY GOD."

Both Sam and Y/n jerked apart like they had been electrocuted. Sam's face turned beet red, her hair messy from their, well, activities, and Y/n looked like a deer caught in headlights, his hands slowly releasing their grip on Sam as he tried to process what had just happened.

"Tara!" Sam yelped, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment. "W-what the hell?"

Tara's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. She was still standing there, her brain short-circuiting. She had seen her sister and Y/n holding hands and kissing before, but this—this was a whole other level. Her protective instincts flared up, even though she knew logically that Sam as an adult and perfectly capable of making her own choices.

Y/n, meanwhile, awkwardly stepped back, trying to straighten his shirt while offering Tara a sheepish smile. "Uh, hey, Tara."

"Hey, Tara?" she echoed, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Hey, Tara?! What the— what the hell are you two doing?"

Sam groaned, running a hand through her messy hair. "It's not what it looks like."

Tara's eyes widened. "Really? Because it looks like you were—" She gestured wildly between them. "—this close to doing stuff I really, really don't want to think about right now!"

Y/n scratched the back of his neck, looking genuinely mortified. "We weren't...I mean, it's not..."

Tara shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "You shut up. You don't get to speak right now."

Sam's face was still red, but her irritation with Tara was starting to bubble to the surface. "Okay, can you please stop acting like I'm a teenager sneaking around? I'm a grown woman, Tara. And don't talk like that to Y/n."

Tara shook her head, still in disbelief. " Grown woman or not, I didn't need to see that!" She then looked at Y/n with narrowed eyes. "And you—what, you think just because you're all nice and charming, you can just... just—"

Y/n held his hands up in surrender. "Tara, seriously, I didn't mean--"

"Didn't mean what? Make out with my sister against the wall like some... like some teenage boy who can't keep his hands to himself?"

Sam groaned again, this time more in frustration than embarrassment. "Tara, stop! You're being ridiculous. We were just... kissing. It's a normal thing that couples do."

"Normal?!" Tara's voice cracked as she pointed between them again. "That was not just kissing, Sam! That was... I don't even know what was, but I was not ready for it!"

Her boyfriend, having just walked through the front door, came down the hall and appeared behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What did I just walk into?"

Tara spun around, flustered and still trying to process everything. "I walked in on them—" she gestured wildly again toward Sam and Y/n, "—practically attacking each other."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, Tara, it wasn't an attack."

Y/n, still looking like he wanted to disappear, shot Tara's boyfriend a pleading look. "This is...very awkward."

Tara's boyfriend snickered, shaking his head. "Man, you've got guts. Making out with Sam while Tara's home? You're braver than I thought."

Tara shot her boyfriend a glare, but he just grinned at her, completely unfazed. "What? I mean, he's got some nerve, I'll give him that."

Tara huffed and crossed her arms, turning her glare back to Y/n. "I can't believe this. I thought you were all nice and gentlemanly. Turns out you're just like the rest of them."

Sam's patience finally snapped. "Okay, enough. I don't need you playing the overprotective sister right now. I'm fine. Y/n's fine. We're both consenting adults. You don't need to freak out every time we're affectionate."

Tara blinked, her mouth opening to argue, but Sam's words stopped her, It wasn't that she didn't trust Y/n—it was just... weird. Seeing her big sister, her tough, guarded, independent sister, in such a vulnerable, intimate moment threw her off. She wasn't used to it, and it made her feel protective in a way that was probably unnecessary.

Tara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I just... I wasn't ready for this, okay? You're my sister, and I'm still getting used to you having someone like— like him around."

Sam's face softened, her irritation fading. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Tara's arm. "I get it. I felt the same when you started going out with your boyfriend. But I'm happy, Tara. Y/n makes me happy."

Tara looked at Y/n, who was still standing awkwardly in the corner, his face a mixture of embarrassment and concern. Despite everything, she could see it in his eyes-- the care, the respect, and the genuine affection he had for Sam. It wasn't an act. He did love her.

Tara sighed again, her posture relaxing. "Fine. But next time, lock the door, for crying out loud."

Y/n chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Noted."

Sam smiled softly at Tara. "Thanks."

Tara grumbled, not entirely over the shock, but willing to back off-- for now. "Yeah, yeah. Just... be more careful. I don't need to be scarred for life."

“Noted.”

#scream #sam carpenter #male reader #tara carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #fluff #sam carpenter x male reader

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s0da-b0y · 1 month ago

Text

STUILLY WEEK DAY 7, FINALE 🔪🔪🔪

Warning for blood, death, and mention of suicide

“The bloody massacre of Woodsboro is finally over. The two blood-lusting murderers, William Loomis and Stuart Macher, have both been killed. One, by blunt force trauma, electric shocks, and third degree burns. The other, by suicide. Major victim, Sidney Prescott, daughter of Maureen Prescott whom was murdered exactly one year ago on this very day, speaks up about what exactly Loomis’ last words were before before he shot himself, thinking she was dead.”

“Living without him is like hell on Earth. I’d rather have us being impaled on a flaming rod stabbing our fucking guts out together than not be with him at all. You ruined everything, Sidney.”

This writing is probably ass

@kikiteaa

#stuilly week 2024 #stuilly week #scream 1996 #billy loomis #stu macher #stuilly #scream #scream fanart #billy and stu #stu x billy #billy x stu #angst #Spotify

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sunkendreams · 10 months ago

Note

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

devil in disguise.

➾ pairing ; billy loomis x fem!reader.

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

FORMAT: one-shot — requested.

WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure you want this?”

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

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

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

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

You counted — Billy was only gone for three minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fortunately for you, you were safe — for now.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #billy loomis #ghostface fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #scream #scream fanfiction #billy loomis fic #sunkendreams masterlist

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hikakuriyyu · 2 months ago

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Tension. (part 4)

⁎ warnings: romantic slasher ? mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of AND !murder!, manipulation, kissing, female!reader.

⁎ summary: you fell for him. hard. the murders started, and you knew it was him. billy lured you into his dark and twisted intentions. it was so wrong. but it doesn't feel wrong... there was something stopping you. or someone.

⁎ author note: i hope your guys been enjoying the last few parts cuz thinking of a plot is pretty hard 😭. and its my birthday :D so nice, lol. here you go nena :).

You stood there, frozen, your mind racing. Everything felt like it was crashing down all at once. Billy was already outside, waiting for you, the clock ticking faster with every second. You knew what he expected, what he needed you to do to prove you were really in this with him. But killing Dewey? It wasn’t supposed to come to this. You didn't wanna do this.

You swallowed hard, staring at your ghostface costume lying on the bed, the mask staring right back at you. This was it. You knew that if you backed out now, Billy would never look at you the same. This was the moment. You had to show him you were serious. That you loved him.

With shaky hands, you grabbed the costume and slipped it on, the mask feeling heavier than it ever had before. Every step you took downstairs felt like the floor might cave in beneath you, but you kept going, gripping the knife tightly in your hand. Your heart pounded in your chest, but all you could think about was Billy.

This was for him. You were doing this for him.

You hide in a closet and wait for the right moment to come. ''You can do this...'' you thought to yourself. You were so nervous for the first time, maybe you still had sympathy in your heart. You hear a few footsteps coming and prepare yourself. The footsteps inch closer towards the closet. At the right moment you jump out and stab Dewey's neck, hoping that would kill him instantly. Dewey placed his hand on his neck, trying to stop it from bleeding out. You watched the scene unfold, instantly regretting what you had done. Dewey lets out a few chokes before he takes his last breath, body going rigid. You stayed there and looked at his lifeless body. He didn't deserve this...

You snapped yourself out of it and quickly ran to a near window and climbed out before anyone could see you. You ran to the fountain where Billy wanted to meet, hoping he'd be waiting for you there. You see his distressed face, thinking you maybe had gotten caught. He notices you and quickly walks up to you. ''Did you do it ? Is he dead ?'' he asked you eagerly. You look around, making sure no one was in sight before taking of the mask, nodding at his question. ''Yeah...'' you say with obvious guilt on your face. Billy cups your face and presses a soft kiss on your lips. ''Hey... don't worry. You did the right thing. If you didn't kill him we would've been caught by now. But we're free. Together.'' he says softly, brushing a few strands of hair out your face. You relax under his touch right away, thinking about it from a postive perspective. He's right. If you got caught, you wouldn't be able to be with Billy anymore. You couldn't bear separation.

You smile at his words softly before nodding. ''Yeah. I guess you're right.'' you say before looking at the ground. ''What now ?'' you ask, thinking about what's about to happen next. Billy smiled, taking your hand. ''Let's run away together. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.'' he said as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Were you dreaming ? ''Oh my God...'' you exclaimed, not taking your eyes off him. ''Let's go.'' he said as started walking, still hand-in-hand with you. This is the best and worst day of your life.

He walks you to his house, since he lived alone. You walk into Billy’s dimly lit home, the atmosphere heavy with a mix of fear, excitement and uncertainty. The house is eerily silent, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Billy locks the door behind you, his movements calm and collected, while you stand in the living room, fidgeting, unsure of what comes next.

Billy leans on the wall, crossing his arms, watching you closely. He could tell you were a little on edge. ''Relax. We're safe here.'' his voice is smooth, confident, as if the events of the night didn’t affect him at all. He pushes off the wall and walks over to you. You look at him, the guilt evident in your voice and body language. ''I actually killed Dewey... he didn't deserve it. He was so sweet. I took his life away.'' you say as you take off the ghostface costume, setting it down somewhere before you take a seat on his couch. His eyes narrowed as he followed you, sitting down next to you.

Billy smirks softly before putting his hand on your thigh. "And you did it for us. That’s what matters." He scoots closer, his tone shifting to something softer, almost affectionate. "Don’t you see it now ? You’re free. Free from all those people holding you back." he added. you nod slightly, still unsure, your mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Part of you is relieved to be with Billy, but the weight of your actions lingers in the back of you mind. You look away hesitantly. "Why did it have to be him, though ?'' you say, your voice breaking slightly.

Billy grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him, his expression darkening. "Deserve ? None of them deserve anything. They were all just in the way. You need to understand that. They were part of the game. Just like Sidney." his voice is low, almost a growl, but then his grip softens, his tone changing to something gentler, more... manipulative. "But now, there’s no one left to tear us apart. You and me… we can start over. Together."

Billy wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. You can feel the warmth of his body, the intensity in his touch, and despite the chaos inside you, you find yourrself melting into his embrace. There’s a strange comfort in his possessiveness, in the way he makes you feel like the center of his world. You lay your head on his shoulder softly. "And what now ? What do we do next ?" Billy smiles, stroking your hair as if soothing a child. "Now ? We disappear. We leave Woodsboro behind and go somewhere no one can find us. Just you and me. Doesn’t that sound perfect ?" he said.

There’s a pause, the idea of running away together sounding both thrilling and terrifying. You know what they’ve done can’t be undone, and there’s no turning back. But there’s still a nagging doubt, a hint of hesitation. "And what about... everything we’ve done ? What if they find us ?" you ask him. Billy pulls back slightly, looking down at you with that same smirk. "They won’t. We’ll be ghosts. And even if they do... we’ve come this far, haven’t we ? You trust me, don’t you ?"

His gaze locks onto yours, challenging you, daring you to question him. You hesitates but then nods, feeling the intensity of his control over her. Your trapped, but willingly so, tangled in your obsession with him. "I do. I trust you."

Billy leans in, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to your lips. It’s not just affection—it’s a claim, a reminder that he owns you now.

To Be Continued...

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natalieironside · 1 year ago

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If a character is a bastard, you have to make them an interesting bastard. That's what readers mean when they say they couldn't get into a work because they didn't "like" any of the characters; it's not that watching bad people do bad things is necessarily disagreeable, rather that it's very, very easy for it to be banal and boring.

This is how I feel about Gale Weathers in the Scream movies. I don't hate her because she's rude to the nice characters, I hate her because she just doesn't really have much going on. They could change nothing about the movies whatsoever but include one scene in one of the sequels where, say, we get a shot of Gale's bedroom and it's covered in a Pepe Silvia thumbtacks-and-yarn diorama with pictures of Sidney Prescott with all their eyes cut out and she would instantly become my favorite character because that's fucking interesting.

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cobaltperun · 7 months ago

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Lost (25) - We Belong Together

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 3.9k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-I only think of you, and it's breaking my heart, I'm trying to keep it together but I'm falling apart-

~X~ March 25th, 2027~X~

Ghostface grieved for his followers, for Ghost-Elephant and Ghost-Bull killed in an effort to capture Tara Carpenter, now L/N, to lure Samantha to their location. He finally had his twelve followers, he finally had everything he desired, and now he was left with only ten, they could be replaced, of course, but perhaps he was too trusting. The snake was in his ranks, and it betrayed him, while wearing the mark of a snake he so carefully painted on the white mask.

To make it more difficult to track them, he separated the cult into two groups, one led by Ghost-Bear, one led by Ghost-Dog.

Bear, Bird, Fish, Monkey, Bull, and Elephant in one group. Dog, Wolf, Lion, Shark, Rhino, and Snake in the other group, stationed around him. From the looks of it, the dog was more effective than the bear, and would soon enough receive the unmarked mask, as his second, as the one almost equal to him. But that would be left for later. He had a traitor to kill.

“I have been kind to you all,” he began, his voice changer on, as usual. “I’ve given you an opportunity to join me, based solely on our shared beliefs, yet one of you dared to betray me and now…” he pulled out a knife and violently stabbed it into the table. “Sidney Prescott lives! One of you made sure of that!” he yelled, causing everyone but Ghost-Dog, the unwavering, loyal follower, to flinch.

“Tell me who it is, and I’ll personally handle their punishment,” Ghost-Snake spoke, making Ghostface grit his teeth. The nerve of the traitor, to speak so eagerly in his presence.

He stood up, his robes flowing behind him and circled the table, the dim candlelight flickered as he walked by, some flames dying out as he stopped right behind Ghost-Snake. “I appreciate the offer,” he spoke calmly, abruptly yanking the mask off and pointing a knife at the back of the woman’s head. “Here is your punishment,” he fired before the woman he allowed into his cult even had the chance to speak. The blood stained the wooden table and his clothes and he cleaned the gun with the snake’s robes. “Dispose of her, let this be a lesson to all of you. Betrayal will not be tolerated.”

~X~

She had no way to tell the time; her phone was taken or left at the warehouse, and there were no windows in her room. The air was stale, the food barely enough to keep her alive and water wasn’t something she had easy access to either. If the Ghostface with bird on the mask wasn’t bringing her, or rather sneaking in, food and water for her, she was sure she would be only getting one meal a day. Tara was tired. So tired she barely had the energy to glare whenever the Ghostface that shot Danny brought her that one meal.

She was hopeful the first day, believing she just had to be patient, and that she would be saved, that you would come through those doors and get her out of here, but it didn’t happen.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t keep going. And she had long since given up on hoping she would be saved. You were alive, she knew that much, but you were captured as well. You would have gotten free long before Danny got killed if you could have. This was likely her end, and she could only apologize to you for dying here, alone, afraid, and worse than that, pregnant with your child. If only she could have given birth before this, at least that way you’d still have your child, as it was, she’d be leaving you alone.

And then she felt something warm between her legs.

It took her a few moments to move, to figure out the cause of the sudden warmth, her exhausted body not willing to comply to her wants.

But when she properly looked down at her fingers and saw the red spots on her fingers her heart began beating rapidly. Blood. She was bleeding. “Relax, relax, it can happen,” she tried to calm down, to not let the panic set in, to do anything just to stay calm. But her panic driven mind thought of how little she ate since you were arrested, how much stress she experienced, and she was more afraid than ever in her entire life. She thought she had accepted her death, she was sure of that, but she didn’t accept your child dying before her.

She never accepted and she would never accept that!

~X~

How many weeks has it been already? Almost four weeks if the number of meals you were given was any indication. Damn it Sam… the fuck did you get yourself into, was the question you often asked no one in particular as you sat there, chained to the wall. Your thoughts once again drifted to Tara, and you clung to those thoughts desperately, knowing full well those thoughts were the only thing keeping you sane. Was she fine? If Sam did anything to her, or was in any way involved in something bad happening to Tara, you’d make her pay, you’d make her regret ever touching that damn mask.

You just hoped against all odds that Tara would stay out of danger, that Chad, Mindy and Anika would come back to keep her safe, to make sure she didn’t feel alone. You tried to get free, many times, but the chains around your arms just wouldn’t budge.

“I should have known only the leader would know where you were,” a voice, that damn voice came from the doors. You didn’t look up though, you had no desire to know who was speaking to you. “Silent treatment?”

You scoffed; you had nothing to say to Ghostface, and you would have rattled your chains if it wasn’t so useless to do so. They were still afraid of you, seeing as they just barely interacted with you.

“This isn’t like you, L/N,” the voice changer was turned off half-way through the sentence and your eyes widened as you recognized the voice. “You’re just going to rot here? While your wife is out there?” you clenched your fists when you heard that, rattling the chains holding you in place.

“What are you doing here, Golubeva?” you demanded, finally looking up to glare at the woman. What was she doing here and wearing that damn mask? It didn’t matter. If you had to kill one more former MMA fighter you’d do it.

“We have a common goal, L/N,” that made you settle down a bit, curious as to what she could possibly get from all of this mess.

“Explain,” you demanded as she took off the mask, she looked a bit older, but there was no doubt this was the woman you fought all those years ago for the title.

She sighed and began unlocking the chains on your feet. “My cousin is a Ghostface, I’d like to get him out of this. I don’t know how involved he really is, but if there is a way to save his life, I want to do that. And you, well, you vaguely know what’s at stake for you here,” you scoffed at that as she moved the chains to the side and moved on to the ones around your arms. Well, at least you were being freed and could get back to Tara now. After you properly made sure she was fine you’d figure out how to make the damn cult pay for putting Tara and you through all of this. Tara first though. Everything else.

“Vaguely?” you couldn’t help but ask once she was done setting you free. You got up, feeling a bit unsteady but overall fine. You could get up and move a few feet even while chained up, so you remained in shape, the insufficient food was an issue, but you powered through it like you used to before your fights.

“Your wife was captured,” Anya told you and you saw red. Slamming her into the wall and pressing your forearm against her neck.

Anya cursed in Russian and tried to push your arm back, but fueled by rage there was no way you’d be that easy to push away. “Where is she?” you pulled back a bit and slammed her back into the wall. “Where is Tara?!” you barely registered that Anya couldn’t breathe with how hard you were pressing on her neck, but you still somehow realized it and pulled your arm back as the blonde woman began coughing and gasping for air.

She raised her arm when you nearly attacked her again. “I get it. I’ll take you to her. Damn,” she rubbed her neck, but you were already pulling her outside.

~X~

Kirby had never seen this much fury in your eyes, you looked ready to rip someone apart as you stepped out of Anya’s car. “Y/N,” she greeted you in front of the safehouse, a small cabin in the woods.

“Kirby, where’s Tara?” you barely acknowledged anything else, you didn’t even shake her hand. Considering you just as easily could have gone ballistic on them for not keeping Tara safe she figured this was the best possible reaction.

“You can go and get her, but we need to go over the plan first,” Kirby pulled her arm back, knowing full-well you were too focused on rescuing Tara to care about anything else.

The rage flickered in your eyes and for a brief moment Kirby thought she’s be on the receiving end of your fist, but you just took a deep breath and went inside the cabin. “Fine, but be quick about it,” you paused, likely because you saw Chad and Mindy inside.

“Y/N!” the twins jumped to their feet and greeted you happily and just for a second you allowed them to hug you before once again focusing on Tara.

Kirby couldn’t say she disliked your dedication to Tara, it would certainly make this part easier. “Okay, here’s the plan Y/N,” she began.

~X~

The bleeding stopped, but her worry didn’t end. She needed to make sure your child was fine, she needed to get out of here, she needed to move. She had no time for tears. The doors opened and she glanced to see the Ghostface with bear on the mask coming in with a tray, a bare minimum of food, mainly bread and some canned meat and a glass of water on it. It didn’t even smell appetizing. Not that it mattered, he lowered his guard while lowering the food to the concrete floor.

Tara’s arms were left untied after the one with the bird cut the ropes. The woman argued she couldn’t escape as long as her legs were tied, and the other three Ghostfaces agreed. It certainly made eating easier. It also made it easy to hide that she untied her legs and just kept the rope loosely around her ankles a long time ago.

Ghostface set the tray down and while his head was down Tara moved. She lunged forward, grabbing the man under his left knee and pushing him to the ground in a move that you’d be proud of. She allowed a small smile to appear on her face, she didn’t watch you train for years for nothing. Before Ghostface could figure out what was happening she grabbed the rope and tied his arms behind his back and kicked him in the head for good measure. The groan he let out told her he was still conscious, and that she needed to be quick as she ran through the building, finally finding the exit, rushing outside and realizing it was the middle of the night, that she was in an empty street in a more industrial area than she hoped. She hoped she was kept somewhere where she could ask for help, somewhere where there was at least a shop or something, but she was in some kind of abandoned place filled with large buildings and no way of knowing where to go. She just knew she had to move, to get away from this building before Ghostface freed himself.

So, she ran, she ran ignoring the pain in her lungs, the difficulties breathing, and she refused to focus on the pain in her stomach. She only stopped when she felt like she was far enough to start walking instead of running. After all, running would likely make her easier to hear. The streetlight flickered as she leaned against the building, trying to catch her breath. From the looks of it, she managed to escape captors. Even if she wasn’t sure for how long she’d be safe.

“She couldn’t have gone far, spread out and find her! Do not kill her, we still need her alive!” she heard a voice she knew all too well shouting, commanding the group of pursuers that were after her. She took a few deep breaths, and hoped she could find her way out of the trap they prepared for her unharmed.

~X~

You ran through the industrial zone, not caring one bit about anyone seeing or hearing you. You were too late, when you rushed into the building Anya pointed you toward Tara was already gone, no one was there, no one was around it, but you saw red spots on the ground and a fallen tray with food and a broken glass lying next to it.

You ran, hoping you’d either find Tara before anyone else did, or that you’d find a Ghostface and kill them right away. Either of those two would work, as long as you could get to Tara before anyone could hurt her.

~X~

While she managed to evade her pursuers for at least an hour Tara was quickly losing strength, only fueled by her adrenaline and need to keep your child safe as she checked around another building for anyone nearby. She kept to the shadows, tried to find some kind of forest, or anything that could be used as a shortcut, but she had no luck so far. She placed her hand on her stomach, and pushed on, rounding the corner only to suddenly feel arms pulling her in.

She felt strong arms wrapping around her back and relaxed, recognizing you immediately by touch alone. “Y/N,” she didn’t even need to look at you, but she did because she wanted to, she looked you in the eyes for the first time in almost a month and her hands trembled as she grabbed onto you, afraid that you’d slip through her fingers like some exhaustion induced hallucination.

“It’s okay, Love, I got you,” you kissed the top of her head and Tara raised her head to kiss you. The kiss was hasty, of course, you hardly had any time to spare. “Are you okay?” you asked her.

Tara nodded. “Yeah, we both are,” relief washed over your face and she let you pick her up. She couldn’t tell you about the blood, not until you were safely out of this hell.

She couldn’t keep her eyes off you, off your face, the relief and love in your eyes, the slight tremble of your arms as you held her, not from her weight, but from the weight that dropped from your heart. And she allowed the exhaustion to take her over, she was safe once again, you were with her once again, and she fell asleep in your arms. You’d get her out of this hell.

“It’s okay, Love, you can sleep now, I’m with you,” your reassurance was more than enough for her. Once again, she felt safe.

~X~

Your eyes softened as you looked at Tara, at her peaceful, though tired face and sighed, relief flooding you, but you couldn’t relax, not until you made it out. You looked around, while you wanted to kill everyone involved, everyone who kept her here, you needed to keep her safe. You slipped into the shadows, listening carefully for any signs of presence anywhere near you, and began walking in the direction Tara came from. She made the right turn into your arms, but if she turned left, she would have reached the forest and that was where you were heading. Two miles through the forest and you’d reach the road, where Chad was waiting in a car.

Two hours on the road, and you’d get to a safehouse, one Kirby guaranteed was safe, one Mindy and Anika were currently making sure was safe. And then Tara could rest and properly recover.

Finally, with Tara in your arms you managed to clear your head enough to think about the entire situation. Kirby had a mole, the one with wolf on the mask, it was because of her that all of this was possible. She confirmed Sam was involved way before you were freed, and she contacted Anya before her cousin could, which set everything else in motion and here you were. With two confirmed allies in enemy ranks, and Sam you were still unsure of.

Did Sam do this to protect Tara? If Tara wasn’t captured you would believe that, but as it was, you had your doubts. You’d have to clear that up with Sam herself. Fifteen minutes later you reached the road and leaned Tara against you so you could take out your phone. Chad’s location popped up, less than half a mile down the road. Just a bit more and everything would be fine.

Tara hummed, blinking a few times, and leaning closer to you. “Y/N,” she muttered, reaching up and hugging you.

“You’re okay now, Love, you’re safe,” you leaned down, kissing her forehead.

“I was bleeding,” she suddenly said, her voice shaking and her grip on you tightening, and you froze. You didn’t see any wounds on her, any stains on her clothes. But she said she was bleeding, and there were drops of blood where she was held.

“What?” your throat got dry all of a sudden, the worst case scenario running through your mind. You looked down at her stomach and then back at her face to see her nodding. “It’ll be fine, okay? It can happen, right?” you asked, rushing toward the car, fear clutching your heart, fogging your mind so much you barely stopped by the car without running into it.

“We need to see the doctor,” Tara nodded, soothing you with her touch even as she panicked as well, and you nodded lowering her back to her feet and opening the doors for her.

“Drive to the hospital! Right now!” you yelled jumping in from the other side as Chad turned to check on Tara.

“Hospital?!” he started the car, panicking just from hearing the panic in your voice.

“Just drive damn it!” you shouted as Tara leaned into your side, refusing to let go of you. “Baby will be fine, Love, you’ll both be fine,” you assured her and yourself as much as you could and hearing you say that Chad drove faster as Tara clung to you and you each placed a hand on her stomach. “You’ll be fine,” you whispered because you weren’t sure what you would do if the baby wasn’t fine.

~X~

The hospital wasn’t too far away, and you were in the hall with Chad, waiting for the doctors to come back and tell you if Tara and the baby were fine. The fact that you couldn’t be with her frustrated you and you gritted your teeth, feeling a lot like you did back when Tara was still unconscious after Amber first attacked her.

Chad patted you on the shoulder. “They’ll be fine, Y/N, Tara is strong and if the baby is anything like her, you have nothing to worry about,” he assured you.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. Your arms were crossed over your chest, and you squeezed your biceps so hard you nearly winced in pain. “I should have found a way to escape,” you couldn’t help but think that. That you should have been there for her, that you should have come back to her, and kept her from getting captured in the first place.

“You couldn’t. You were chained, weren’t you? You’re stupidly strong, but even you have limits. We should have come back, we should have been there for Tara,” he felt guilty as well, and a part of you did think that. They left Tara, even when they knew she only had Danny left. They weren’t there for her, not to fight the damn cult but to make sure Tara didn’t feel alone! They let her get captured, Kirby especially didn’t do nearly enough to prevent Tara’s kidnapping. And you were furious, and the one person you were the most furious with was Sam.

“You should have but,” you looked at him, anger not directed at him burning in your eyes. “Sam should have, none of this should have happened in the first place if she just-” you bit your lip, stopping yourself before you could finish the sentence. But it was clear to you. This wouldn’t have happened if Sam didn’t decide she could deal with the cult alone. If she was even trying to do that in the first place.

“Where is Sam anyway?” Chad dared to ask. “Is she really Ghostface now?”

You were about to answer, but you saw Tara coming out with the doctor next to her. “Tara,” you ran up to her and she hugged you the moment you reached her.

“We’re fine! All three of us,” she said, pulling you down to kiss you on the lips. You missed the feel of her lips, her touch, her body pressing against yours but all those sensations and happiness gave way to confusion.

“Three?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“We’re having twins, Baby,” she whispered, relaxing once again in your arms.

“Your babies are fine, the bleeding happens sometimes, but you were right to come and check,” the doctor told you and you nodded, thanking her.

“We can go now, right?” Tara asked, though she didn’t separate from you, she kept hugging you, not wanting to be separated from you any more than she absolutely needed to be.

The doctor nodded. “Just make sure you eat enough and have plenty of rest,” it was a bit of a warning, and you’d both take it to heart. Hell, you’d make a good, healthy meal for Tara the moment you came to the safehouse. You picked your wife up bridal style and turned around to see Chad with happy tears in his eyes, he heard everything.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” Tara said and reached out for him to take her hand.

“We don’t deserve that! We all came, Tara, and I’m so sorry, we should have been here from the start!” he sobbed, relieved that she was fine, and Tara didn’t say it, but there was no anger in her eyes, and just for that you wouldn’t blame them either.

Tara smiled, letting go of Chad’s hand and wrapping her arms around your neck and shoulders as she fell asleep in your arms.

A/N: What’s that? Reader appeared? About time!

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Taglist: @alexkolax

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #tara carpenter x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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sapphic-bats · 5 months ago

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Stu’s pretty sure there’s something wrong with Tatum.

He and Tate aren’t exactly the most celibate, and anyone with eyes or ears can detect that. They’re not exactly shy about their trysts.

It’s the same thing that’s amiss with him, that’s for sure.

Stu would never, not in a million years, admit that he likes guys. To anyone. Besides the obvious fact that Billy knows, they’ve been fucking around for a while now, and it’s really the only time fun felt serious. Permanent. It’s stupid, cliche, and fucking flowery, but he’s gotta at least be honest with himself, yeah?

He always liked it when girls got as zealous as guys did. When they peeked down shirts, ogled asses, and slept around. I mean, sure, Stu had slit a woman for being a slut, but he really couldn’t care less about why. It was for Billy, and that was the only reason he needed. He wasn’t paid to think, but he was compensated, needless to say. Just… not in the way most would pay a hitman, for example.

Stu knew about Bowie. He knew bisexuality was a thing. He knew all about San Fransisco, and who inhabited it as freely as they could. He really never gave a shit, until he started puberty, and boys looked about just as good as girls did, although Stu often explored the mystery of women and how they worked, rather than the familiar concepts of men.

But the weirdest thing was that, even if Billy seemed to shun the very prospect of girls, someone else didn’t. And it sort of made Stu feel idiotic that he didn’t realize it was possible.

For every perverted glance Stu shot down a girl’s shirt, Tatum had done the same. Tate, however, didn’t seem as blatantly disrespectful as most guys acted. She seemed to recognize that people had feelings, and as long as she was discreet and kept her words and hands to herself, she wouldn’t make a girl uncomfortable.

Tatum slapped Stu when he ogled a girl, but it wasn’t in the girlfriend way it should have been. She didn’t seem the jealous type, Tate was just… what’s the word? Right, a feminist.

But it should have been in the girlfriend way, feminist or not! Shouldn’t it have been?

So, when Stu keeps catching Tatum glancing Sidney Prescott up and down, and picks up on the weird, almost ex-like tension between her and Courtney Blanchett, he says nothing.

In turn, Tatum never mentions the fact that she knew what a stab-slash-knife wound looked like, being the sister of an officer, after all. She never mentions that she knows that Stu’s spent his free time with Billy on the days that he comes about those injuries. She never talks about that one time, on New Year’s Eve, when Stu and Billy changed their clothes on a whim before midnight.

So they don’t talk about it. They don’t, and the secrets die with them.

I’m finally reading Debaser by @sharpth1ng and I had this idea while reading Chapter 8.

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rougevingirl · 1 year ago

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❝tag list with wine❞

If you'd like to stay updated on all my horror and Scream oneshots/headcanons, simply fill out this form. Thank you, and wine kisses.

★ Here, beautiful and attractive girl

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neytirisheaven · 11 months ago

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i wish i knew you wanted me

warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, reader is insecure abt her body, gore, homicidal thoughts and actions, kinda ooc and rational billy but also he’s a dick at the beginning of the story, small mention of teen pregnancy, romanticizing murder, billy calls reader “doll”, billy has secret intentions, shitty and rushed ending that was barely proofread at all, slightly fluffy ending (?)

stu macher x fem!gf!reader word count: 8k

summary: you, being the third member of the ghostface trio, finally snap when it comes to your harbored feelings towards your best friend, stu

notes: TELL ME WHY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A FUCKING MONTH TO FINISH. anyway i hope you enjoy it even though i did not enjoy proofreading this one bit.. and also in another world, reader would be so so down bad for tatum and there’s no arguments!! but reader IS also a girls girl and the complete opposite of a girls girl at the exact same time so uhmm..

IN THE SMALL, humble town of Woodsboro, it wasn’t uncommon to hear of a murder here or there. It was something so normal, it was almost integrated into the community itself.

The only thing that always irked you about it was that they always referred to the murderers as “he”. It was always “he’s got another kill under his belt,” or “he’s gotten away with it once again!”

Who said girls couldn’t kill?

You sat with your back against the fountain, picking at the remnants of your half-eaten bologna sandwich—courtesy of Billy. He had stolen a few bites out of your crustless sandwich in class when you weren’t looking, and now you were left with a sorry excuse for what was supposed to be your only meal of the day.

You had started your unhealthy diet after Stu broke up with Casey Becker and began dating your best friend, Tatum Riley. It had been a subtle shift in your eating habits, but no one was quick to make connections nor accusations to the directly related events.

No one except Sidney.

And of course she was the one to point it out. Sidney Prescott, who had the perfect body and the perfect face and was the perfect person to fall in love with. She and Tatum were always the ones being sought after by the boys, but they only ever loved your other two best friends; you could see it in their eyes. Billy and Stu hated the other guys—they saw them as competition, and you could see it in their eyes.

But no one noticed how much you hated being ignored by Stu. You knew him first. You were the one to introduce him to your friends. You were the one whose family was practically his second family. You loved him first. No one could see it in your eyes, though.

If only they tried. If only they took the time to take one small glance at your fleeting gaze, and maybe, just maybe, would they be able to see the story hidden underneath your stare.

It was a deep betrayal felt on your end, seeing Stu and Tatum happy together. The latter knew how you felt about her new boyfriend—how you felt about him way before they met—even if you never explicitly admitted it to her face. At least, you thought she knew.

You tossed your sandwich back onto the resealable bag on the concrete floor, pulling your legs up to your chest. You tilted your head back to gaze up at your four best friends that perched on the flat platform of the fountain, meeting the eyes of Stu before anyone else’s.

He shot you his heart-throbbing grin, reaching his hand down to ruffle your hair. You groaned at the action, immediately bringing your hands up to your scalp and flattening your roots out. The boy only snickered at your reaction and threw his right leg over your head, letting his calf land against your chest and shoulder.

Another groan escaped your lips, but it came out as more of a whine than anything else. “Stu, get your goddamn leg off me!” You placed your hands against his foot and leg to try and shove it off, but all he did was press harder against you to keep his leg from budging.

“Nope,” Stu popped the ‘p’ like an immature middle school boy. He continued his conversation with Billy in a normal manner, wrapping a protective arm around Tatum and pulling her into him so that her back would be leaning against his side.

You took the time to tilt your head upwards and gaze at the blonde-haired girl, who currently had her hair tied into the two braids she always wore around. Her makeup was flawless—her glossy lip was something you knew you could never achieve, not even in another world.

The way she innocently (or not) sucked her cherry lollipop was something that made Stu weak in the knees, you knew it for sure. He always had a thing for blonde girls and lollipops.

And her body—well, she was hand-sculpted by the Greek Gods themselves, is all you had to say about her.

You could see Billy’s harsh gaze flicker from you to Tatum, then you to Stu, then Tatum to Stu, then back to you and Stu once more. You paid no mind to his wandering eyes, though, since your thoughts were too focused on the blonde girl and how she was so much more . . . perfect compared to you.

“Hello? You there?” Sidney’s voice broke you out of the chain your thoughts held you in, waving her hand in front of your face as she called your name multiple times. “Are you okay?”

Blinking your eyes, your head snapped in her direction, almost jolting up at the realization that you must’ve zoned out while thinking of all the ways your best friend trumped your traits. Stu’s leg slipped off your shoulder, causing him to shoot you a concerned glance as he left the conversation between him, Tatum and Billy. “Yeah, you all good?”

You gazed up at him with doe eyes, your lips slightly parted in a manner that would make any other boy go mad for you. You hummed, “Mm-hmm, I’m fine.”

Your tone didn’t seem to satisfy Sidney enough, seeing as she took hold of your sleeve and tugged you upwards until you were pushing yourself off the ground. Stu’s gaze followed you as you began to rise up to your full height, his head now tilting upwards to look at you instead of the other way around.

“C’mon, let’s grab some snacks from the vending machines. I’m craving some chips,” the brunette placed a comforting hand on your lower back, leading you away from the friend group. “I’ll pay for whatever you wanna get.” She received a smile from you as you tugged your sleeves past your fingertips–like you always did when the weather was beginning to cool down–but got nothing more.

Before you could manage to take more than two steps, Stu placed his large hand into yours and gently pulled you back towards him, a genuine look laced into his concerned gaze. “Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t eat your sandwich at all. You can take my food instead, if you want.” As he spoke, he used his thumb to rub circles into the back of your hand, the mere contact of his skin touching yours being enough to send you into an internal frenzy. You could barely process his words when he stared up at you like a lost puppy, only wanting confirmation that you were okay. He only ever wanted to know if you were okay.

If he had one last wish before he died, it would be to make sure that you were okay for the rest of eternity. Because all he did was care about you. That’s why you started liking him in the first place.

But he had Tatum now, and he was happy, and you had to accept it sooner or later. So you only nodded your head and muttered an annoyed, “I’m fine, just didn’t wanna eat something that Billy’s already taken a bite out of.”

“Hasn’t stopped you from eating what you wanted in the past,” the aforementioned boy retorted with a scoff, rolling his eyes as he leaned back onto his hands.

You felt a sickening feeling begin to build up in your stomach and looked downwards, trying to keep the bile from building up in your throat. You knew his words weren’t meant to cause any harm, but you couldn’t help but take it to heart. “Yeah, I guess so.” You whispered lowly, pulling your sleeves even further past your fingertips.

You swiveled on your heel and fell back into step beside Sidney, who glanced at you with a pitiful look. You were too busy looking down at your feet to notice her gaze, but you spoke up as if you knew she was looking at you. “Before you ask again, no, I don’t really want anything from the vending machine. I have more money, though, if you feel like getting snacks for the others.”

The brunette pursed her lips at your words, debating between speaking more about your concerning eating habits or talking to you about what she wanted to discuss in the first place. “I won’t mention food or eating or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I wanted to talk about something else.” You hummed, and she continued. “Stu or Tatum?”

Those three words were enough to catch you off-guard, resulting in you stopping in your tracks. “What?”

“Stu or Tatum?” Sidney repeated her question. “You’re always staring—or glaring—I can’t really tell, at Tatum. It’s fine if you don’t wanna tell me, but I was just . . . curious. You started being more conscious about everything when they got together, and now all you do is mope in the corner whenever they’re around each other. So, it’s either you like Stu, or you like Tatum. Or maybe you like both of them.”

Your eyes were darting everywhere but Sidney’s eyes, your lack of eye-contact being enough to confirm that you did, indeed, like one of them. “I—“ You cleared your throat. “I think you might be reading this situation wrong, I don’t—I don’t like either of them.”

The brunette only gave you a pointed stare.

You lolled your head back with a hesitant sigh, bringing your hand up to rub the nape of your neck. With much reluctancy, you quietly admitted to your feelings for Stu, then resorted to a brisk walk towards the vending machines in an attempt to avoid the conversation that would come next.

You heard Sidney’s light footsteps catching up to you, her gentle hand resting on your bicep to get you to look at her. Your name slipped past her lips, and you didn’t even have to look at her to know that she pitied you.

When Billy found out, he pitied you, too. He masked it with teasing and jokes and laughter, but deep down, he felt bad for you. “It must suck knowing he doesn’t want you back,” he said to you once the shock died down.

It was the one thing he said that actually stuck with you.

“How long?” Your friend’s voice was still as quiet as she was caring, the warmth of her touch radiating onto you in a comforting manner.

You huffed. “Like, I don’t know. Couple months, years, maybe. I don’t really know when it started.”

“Years? Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sidney frowned pitifully and wrapped an arm around your shoulders as she ushered you to the vending machines. She continued asking you questions as she fed the large metal box her dollar bills, causing you to squirm uncomfortably and shift on your feet.

You weren’t uncomfortable because of her questions, but rather because you were coming to the realization that you barely knew any of the answers to her questions. You’ve felt your strong feelings towards Stu for longer than you can remember, but you couldn’t even begin to explain why you even liked him in the first place.

“I don’t really know, Sid,” you replied in response to her question. “I just started liking him. I’m not sure why, or how, but I did. There’s not—I can’t think of anything else to it.” You fiddled with your fingers as you spoke and watched your friend crouch down to grab the snacks she bought.

The girl only nodded to your reply and led you back to the friend group still sitting at the water fountain, where Stu and Tatum could never fail to break your heart.

After the conversation with Sidney, you were beginning to overthink every little detail in your relationship with Stu. He was touchy with you; was that why you liked him? He always listened to your thoughts; was that why you liked him? He never failed to defend you against Billy’s crude remarks; was that why you liked him? He remembered every food and drink order you’ve ever shown a bit of interest in; was that why you liked him? The thoughts flooded your brain into levels of overcapacity, and all it did was make your head hurt.

You were spending the afternoon with the two boys at your house, where your mother was absent due to her work trip to Canada, and your father was gone because he had to drive to Colorado for your brother’s region tournament.

“Empty house!” Billy cheered through the quiet hallways of your three-story house, his yells bouncing off the light gray walls.

You had originally sent him downstairs to grab a few snacks from the pantry, since you were busy tossing your textbooks and binder onto your soft mattress in a circle. It was practically routine whenever they came to your house; you would study and they would goof around, but it worked all in all, because you got to spend time with your closest friends.

“You should throw a party, you know. Don’t be such a nerd, doll.” The blond boy commented once he reached your room. He threw a few bags of chips at you, as well as Stu, who was sprawled out at the foot of your bed. “Your house is empty for at least a week. You might as well put it to use.”

You shook your head and continued writing notes as you refuted his suggestion. “You know I can’t, Billy. My parents got super pissed at me last time, ‘cause they found a broken, used condom on the floor of their closet. They grounded me for a month, then told the whole family I was pregnant and took me to Planned Parenthood.”

A few snickers came from the boys’ mouths.

“I mean, even if you did get pregnant,” Stu began, quickly correcting himself when you sent him a glare, “which you didn’t, at least you used a condom. Even if it broke.”

Even more laughs erupted from Billy’s mouth, not halting when you launched your pillow at his face. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit too, watching as your friends’ chuckles gradually turned into cackles, which then became a whole laughing fit.

“It’s not even that funny, idiots,” you mumbled to yourself. But even after commenting, you continued to laugh along with them, smiles littering your faces. Your eyes slowly traveled over to Stu, who had the widest grin on his face. His head was hanging off the bed, and he was scrunching his nose up while looking at Billy.

Your eyes seemed to light up with stars, reflecting the glowing aura of the boy you’d been admiring since forever. You always felt so carefree and boundless whenever you were with him, and this was a prime example. You could laugh about anything and everything, and he would never shame you for it. In fact, he would initiate the fit of laughter.

Your chuckles died down after a bit, leading you to focusing your attention back on your studies. You could sense Stu and Billy communicating to each other through their eyes, causing you to speak up before they could say any more. “Spit it out, Macher. What does he want you to do?”

“My sweet, amazing, loving, caring, one-of-a-kind best friend,” Stu began his spiel, “could you please throw a party tonight? Just a small one, it doesn’t even have to be half the school.” He inched closer to where you were on the bed, eventually finding a comfortable position with his head in your lap, preventing you from ignoring him and redirecting your attention to your textbooks any longer.

You stared down at him with a slightly amused expression, a smile beginning to tug on your lips. He was desperate. His cute antics were almost enough to take your mind off the fact that he would only ever see you as a best friend.

You considered it, “What do I get out of it if I do?”

“You get my undying love and affection for all of eternity,” he jokingly blew a kiss.

“Mm-hmm? And how would Tatum feel about that?” Did you just cockblock yourself?

Billy shot you a warning glance, cautioning you not to tread into open waters, where anything could happen. It was a risky move, setting yourself up for failure, but you were all but curious to see how your best friend would react. Not all your hope was lost. Not yet.

Stu pulled your hand onto his chest, where you could feel his beating heart, and you could swear it started beating faster when you locked eyes.

But no, this was wrong. He was still dating Tatum no matter how much you liked him, and the intensity of your feelings would never even graze close to being enough compared to Tatum’s—well, her everything.

Briefly looking away for a few seconds, your mind was already drifting away to another world where you would be in this same position, just you and Stu. With your palm over his heart and his hand over yours, maybe in that other world, he would be confessing his love for you. Maybe he would tell you how beautiful you are, how he loved everything about you, how he could never imagine being with anyone else. And maybe in that world, you would be happy. Happy with him.

Unfortunately for you, you weren’t in that world. You were in the world where he was dating Tatum and they were in love with each other, and all you will ever be able to do is watch from a distance as the only person you’ll ever love goes and falls for someone else.

“Tatum would understand,” Stu explained, seriousness masking his tone. “She would understand my love for you if it was for the greater good.” You could’ve sworn you saw his gaze flicker to your lips, even for just a second, but you managed to convince yourself that it was nothing.

You were also damn grateful your positions weren’t swapped right now, or else the rapid thumping of your heart would’ve given everything away.

“The greater good of the party.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?” Of-fucking-course it was a joke, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes and shoved Stu away from you. And to think you let your hopes get high, thinking Stu might’ve reciprocated just a sliver of the feelings you felt for him. “Oh, right, the party,” you stammered once your thoughts came flooding back to you.

You could think straight now, no distractions clouding your judgment. You began to hyperfixate on anything and everything; how Stu’s hair was slightly messy from rolling around on your bed; how your textbooks and notebook were long discarded, which you assumed happened whilst you were busy gawking over the physical and emotional intimacy you thought was occurring between the two of you; how your cheeks were most likely a bit flushed from not only the embarrassment, but the flustered feeling you experienced just a few seconds before your sudden drop from your emotional high; and how Billy was still standing there against the doorframe and had watched everything that just happened between his two best friends.

“It’s, uh,” you cleared your throat. “Sure. It’s fine, we can throw a party. Just, I don’t know, don’t invite the whole school. And tell them to throw their used condoms away.”

Billy and Stu’s faces lit up at the sound of your approval, the two immediately scrambling around to begin preparing for the party.

“I’ll pick up Tatum and Sidney, and we can go on a quick food run while you and Billy start setting up and inviting people?” Stu spoke, his words coming out in the form of a question more than a statement. He grabbed his jacket from the corner of your headboard and slipped it over his shoulders, snatching his car keys from the surface of your desk and waving it around.

You nodded your head and ushered him to the front door, reminding him to get your favorite snacks and a new tub of disinfectant wipes before closing the door on him. As soon as you locked the door and turned around, you found Billy standing at the top of your staircase with an accusing eyebrow raised.

“Don’t give me that look, Bill.” You scoffed softly, shuffling into the kitchen. You didn’t wait for an answer from him as you began wiping down the countertops with the last few disinfectant wipes you had, putting the clean plates in the cabinets and the bread loaves back into the pantry.

The sound of his quiet footsteps echoed in your ears before you heard his voice once again, now much closer to you than before, “You’re being risky, doll. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? I’m being normal, if anything.”

Billy practically rolled his eyes into the back of his head at your rebuttal. “Don’t start things you can’t finish. You’re making a mess that I’m not willing to clean up.”

“Okay, I don’t understand why you care so much. And I never asked you to clean up my fucking messes, either! I can handle myself, so don’t involve yourself in business that doesn’t concern you.”

“Of course it concerns me!” He began to raise his voice just as you did yours. “You’re both my best friends and I don’t wanna see shit go down because you couldn’t keep your hands and words to yourself—“

“I couldn’t ‘keep my hands to myself’? Stu was the one that initiated everything that just happened between us!” “Barely anything happened between you, first of all. And it’s not like he didn’t give you a choice, doll. He did what he wanted to do, but you didn’t have to play along.” The blond boy took a few deep breaths as he attempted to calm himself, unusual to his typical characteristic of favoring chaos.

You followed his actions, not wanting to start a major argument with one of your best friends before a party you were to host. “Billy, I really don’t understand why you’re putting so much thought into this. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, especially not to you.”

“I–” he cut himself off, sighing. He squinted his eyes shut and rolled his head off to the side, as if what he was about to say was something that could physically hurt him. He pursed his lips with much reluctancy, taking a good look at your face as he weighed his options. His dark eyes scanned your face with a certain emotion you were never used to seeing from him, before he finally spoke up, “I care. I do this because I care about you, and I care about Stu, and I really don’t want anything to split us up. I’m not willing to choose sides.”

Your mouth fought to let out a “this isn’t like you,” but you ultimately decided against it when you saw the look on your friend’s face. He was being serious.

But it meant he had no hope for you and Stu. If he was saying the things he did—that he didn’t want anything to split the three of you up, that he wasn’t willing to choose sides—it meant he was completely sure you had no chance whatsoever.

There was no other explanation to it. Not in your eyes, at least.

So you took a long, long look at Billy. You looked at him for a while. You looked at how his expression gradually softened, how his eyebrows furrowed in a concerned manner. You gazed into the eyes that bore straight back into you, looking—no, waiting for an answer. And eventually, you decided to let it go.

“Fine,” you gave up. “Whatever. Just help me with the cleaning up, please?”

The boy nodded at your request and got to work, sweeping down the floors and making sure the house wasn’t a mess by the time people came to the party. After an hour, you both flopped onto the couch with exhausted huffs, allowing the fatigue to take over.

Billy slowly turned his head to look at you, and with half-lidded eyes, he mumbled, “Should we go call some people and invite them now?” He watched as you nodded tiredly and reached over your limp body to grab the landline phone from the side table, dialing a set of ten numbers into it before hearing the dial tone. The person on the other end picked up, causing him to feign energy.

He smiled as if the person could see his expression, exclaiming, “Corynn! Hi, how are you?” A response from the other end. “Wanna come to a party tonight?” Another response. “Great! I’ll give you the address,” he offered, reciting your address without any lack of memory. “See you there!” As soon as the call ended, his fake expression dropped, his gaze flitting to you as he muttered, “Hate that bitch. She cheated on me when we were dating, so I killed her little boy toy.”

“That’s where you went?” You furrowed your eyebrows, recalling back to the summer when your friend had randomly disappeared with the Ghostface costume, only to come back with his dagger and mask covered in blood. “I thought you killed that girl who was talking shit about me in Calculus.”

“Killed her too,” Billy added nonchalantly, dialing in a new number and holding the phone up to his ear once again. The back and forth calls happened for another thirty minutes or so, the blond boy calling every girl he kissed and telling them to tell their friends. He, of course, told a few of the guys he was acquainted with, and by the time Stu, Sidney and Tatum arrived at your house, at least half the school had heard about the party happening at your house.

Tatum walked into your house through the front door, a few grocery bags hanging from her arms as she announced, “I’ve gotten seven calls in the past fifteen minutes from people telling me about your party. Stu said it was just gonna be a small get-together.” She placed the bags of your favorite snacks down on the counter, calling for her boyfriend to put the food in the pantry where it belonged (everyone knew that only Stu and Billy knew every inch of your house and could navigate it with their eyes closed).

“Billy went a little crazy with the invites,” you whispered into her ear as you walked past her and out the front door, opting to help the others out with getting the remainder of the groceries. “Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

The blonde girl laughed at your words and followed you out, planting a kiss on Stu’s lips as he walked into the house with bags of alcohol in his arms. Sidney gave you a look, her gaze flickering back to the couple every so often as you made a few trips between the car and the kitchen. You grabbed your friends’ dresses from the front seat of the car, complimenting the clothes when you walked into your house.

Tatum and Stu were now in the corner of the kitchen flirting quietly, their excuse of putting the groceries away being seen through immediately.

“Whose fake ID did you use this time?” Billy questioned as he raked through the bag of alcoholic beverages, pulling out a few beers and putting them in the fridge. Sidney brought the last of the groceries in and responded to his question with little to no attention directed towards him, her focus now turned to the fact that you were calling her upstairs to your room to change into your dresses.

You ordered the boys to do the rest of the unpacking and setting up as you bounded up the stairs with your friend, telling Tatum to “come up whenever she was done making out with her boyfriend.” Sidney elbowed you in the side, giving you a look, but you only ignored her wordless sayings as you draped the dresses over your forearm and brought them into your room.

Placing them onto the edge of your bed, you grabbed Sidney’s dress and shoved it into her arms, telling her to change so you could see her dolled up and looking cute. She entered your closet and walked back out after a few minutes, flattening the sides of her dress.

Almost as if she timed it on purpose, Tatum walked into your room with a giddy smile, her lips slightly swollen from what you knew was a heavy makeout session with your best friend. Her eyes flickered to you, then to the brunette girl standing in her dress, and she almost let out a scream. “Sidney, you look amazing!” She then turned to you with the bright grin still plastered onto her face, telling you to go change, too.

You hesitantly walked into your closet, closing the door behind you as your eyes located the section in your closet for the dresses you owned. You didn’t own too many of them, but you had enough for each special occasion in the year. You brought your hand up to the dark red dress you had hung up, taking it off its hanger and bringing it up to your body.

Turning to the mirror you had in your closet, you looked deeply into your reflection as you analyzed the look, bringing your left hand up to play with your hair as you tried to imagine yourself wearing it to a party you were hosting.

The dress had mesh sleeves with rhinestones attached to every other connection point, and the low-cut, square neckline gave you a confident aura. The skirt came down to your mid-thigh and hugged you in all the right places, but you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit unnatural in it. You loved the way you looked in it–surprisingly and atypically–but you couldn’t help but shake the feeling that you wouldn’t “wow” the crowd.

When you walked out of your closet to find Tatum already in her champagne-colored dress, sitting on the edge of your bed and waiting for you, you finally realized that you would never “wow” the crowd whenever you were around her.

Her beautiful dress emphasized her curves and made her pop out, the glittery material sparkling with the slightest movements she made. The spaghetti straps paired with the low neckline looked perfect on her, and all of a sudden, you felt fat in your dress. The dress that made you feel powerful five seconds ago was now the same dress that you felt the fattest in. You immediately wrapped your arms around your waist at the sight of Tatum’s figure, cowering into yourself compared to the confident walk you exited your closet with.

“Guys, I don’t really know if this dress suits me,” you trailed off, looking everywhere but your friends’ eyes. Their jaws dropped as if they were offended by your statement–they were, because you looked amazing and you couldn’t see it–and protests immediately flew out of their mouths.

“What are you talking about? You look absolutely stunning in that dress!”

“It’s like it was tailored just for you! It suits you perfectly, don’t worry.”

“Really? Thanks, guys.” You trailed off, feeling shy under your friends’ gazes. Before you could say any more, the blonde girl hauled you and Sidney off to your bathroom, convincing the both of you to let her do your hair and makeup.

Meanwhile, Stu and Billy remained downstairs and continued to prepare for the party, the latter dropping a few hints here and there about your harbored feelings for the taller boy.

His opinions about you and Stu had changed during the short period of time he had been left alone with his friend, and in realizing that the two of you would definitely be happier together, he decided he would intervene in a manner that would never have been expected from him.

Billy was the type of guy to fuck around and not give a shit, no matter what the situation was. Why he was practically matchmaking his best friends and playing cupid, no one would be able to figure that out. Hell, he couldn’t even figure it out himself.

“I’m surprised she agreed to the party,” the blond boy commented in reference to you. “She would’ve never said yes if I asked her.”

Stu chuckled, “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m very clearly the favorite.” He leaned against the counter and took a knife from the knife block, examining how sharp the blade was. “You think she’d put the mask on for me? Get a little knife-crazy?” He twirled the knife around in his hands, his signature ‘crazy’ look beginning to form in his eyes.

Billy shrugged his shoulders, acting clueless about your true feelings as he played along with Stu’s ideas, “Maybe. Why?” He locked eyes with his best friend, a smirk already crawling onto his lips. “You thinkin’ about getting another one off the list?”

And with a mischievous grin, Stu cheered, “Hell yeah!”

Ever since the beginning of the party, you had been everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It had been an hour since people had first arrived, and you had shamelessly stuck to Billy’s side the whole time. He was grateful, secretly, since he didn’t have to falsely entertain girls until they became bored of him—you practically clung onto him like a koala to a tree.

Stu and Tatum had only managed to stick around with the two of you for a new record of fourteen whole minutes before they ran off someplace that would definitely need to be sanitized after. Sidney, too, spent a majority of the time alongside you, but even she got bored.

You saw her walk away with a redheaded boy you recognized from your Literature class, and Billy was undoubtedly seething, but with one look at you, he was back at your side with an arm loosely wrapped around your waist.

The house was bustling with more people than you thought were invited, and although it made you the slightest bit uncomfortable, you found comfort in the normality of throwing a giant party filled with every upperclassmen from your highschool in your otherwise empty home. Being in a trio of psychopathic killers had its perks—like being able to get rid of whoever you wanted, per se—but it also sort of stripped you of the regular opportunities that came with being a normal high schooler. You had gotten so used to going out in your Ghostface mask with Stu and Billy that a typical night of senior parties seemed abnormal to you.

But now, in the comfort of your own home and the knowledge of your two best friends being in the vicinity with you, all three of the costumes that were hidden in the very back of your closet became a fleeting thought in your racing mind.

“Do you wanna get another drink? I’m gettin’ tired of the beers, doll,” Billy suggested, waiting for your nonverbal response before gently guiding you past the group of boys playing beer pong on your expensive dining room table and entering the kitchen filled with plastic cups and empty beer cans.

As you waited for your best friend to pour you his popular concoction of a random soda and two different alcoholic drinks, you heard a familiar voice call your name out from the other side of the kitchen.

Raising your head to look for the owner of the voice, you were met with the two figures of Tatum and Stu, their hair all disheveled and their lips swollen from all the kissing they must’ve done. It enraged you the slightest bit, but the alcohol in your system was making you drowsy enough to not care as much as you normally would’ve. Billy whispered a few provoking comments into your ear, trying to work you up to see what your reaction would be, but you only shoved him off and sent him an annoyed glance. You turned back to the couple and faked a wide, lopsided grin, “Yeah, Stu? You wanted a drink?”

The tall boy nodded with a matching smile, declaring, “You’ve always known me the best. You’re amazing, you know that?” He extended his hand out to receive the red solo cup from your hand, thanking you with a wink.

“I’m the best, I know.” You muttered, wiping your hands along the seam of your dress. You looked up at Tatum’s lovestruck face, gritting your teeth at the thought that it could’ve been you that Stu loved. But, reluctantly, you pushed the thought into the deep, dark depths of your mind and ushered the two lovebirds into the bustling living room. “You two go have fun!”

Billy stood right behind you, watching as they dawdled off to the edge of the stairs before quickly stumbling back over to you.

“My dearest best friend,” the brown-haired boy began once more, a wishful gaze plastered across his expression. “Do you mind if we . . . go up to your bedroom?”

Your fake smile immediately fell into a deep scowl. “No.”

“Please?” Tatum whined, practically hanging off of Stu’s arm. “C’mon, you know us! It’s not like we’re strangers or anything.”

“It’s still a no.”

“Why not?”

“No.”

“Why?” Stu repeated, more agitated.

A scoff escaped your lips. “You’re both drunk off your asses right now. I’m not letting any couple I know have sex in my bed, let alone a drunk-as-hell couple.”

You craned your neck to look at Billy in a silent attempt for backup. He just shrugged with a mischievous smirk. “It’s your room. Your call.”

“No, Stu. You can’t fuck in my room. End of conversation.” You said as you looked your friend straight in the eye.

Tatum still wasn’t convinced, “Just this one time? We’ll never ask you for this aga—”

And then you snapped. “For fuck’s sake, no means no, Tatum! I don’t care how sober you are or if you’ll ever ask for it again! God!” You ran your hands down your face as your chest heaved, your anger slowly bubbling up inside you. For weeks, you had successfully buried your crush on Stu into a place so difficult to get into, not even Billy could unlock it. But now, at the party that both Billy and Stu persuaded you to host, you were finally letting it out. You didn’t have to look back to know that the blond boy’s small smirk had now become a full-blown evil grin.

The girl flinched at your tone of voice and shrunk into her boyfriend’s side, nodding her head sadly as she slowly backed out of the kitchen. Stu, who was clearly more sober than his girlfriend, sent you a protective glare, almost telling you that he would talk to you about the outburst as soon as he got the chance to.

But you? You could’ve given less fucks. You were practically seething, getting angrier and angrier the more you looked at the two of them. Billy placed his hands on your shoulders and spun you around, forcing you to look him in the eye as he spoke to you.

“You saw that, right? Tatum tried to force you to let her and Stu have sex in your room, and when you spoke your mind, she got all sad. You know what that did. That made Stu real mad at you, huh, doll?” He looked at your livid expression before continuing. “What are you gonna do about it, hm? Are you gonna take care of it? Or are you just gonna let it go like you have been for the past few weeks?”

You said nothing.

“Do you want me to handle it?”

Again, you said nothing.

“Dolly, if you want something, you gotta answer me.”

Still nothing.

“Fine, let it go if you—”

“You want me to kill her, yeah? Want me to slit her fucking throat? I’ll fucking do it, Billy. That make you happy? Huh?” If someone had taken a good look at you, they would’ve seen your eyes darken and your jaw clench, your entire demeanor shifting from the cute, innocent girl to the mastermind behind all the Ghostface killings.

If Stu was the brawns of the operation and Billy was the brains, you might as well have been the whole operation in itself.

The mere sound of your gritty voice told Billy all he needed to know. He leaned closer to you, and with a smirk, he said, “Then go fucking do it.”

With anticipation, the boy followed you upstairs and to your room. You practically flung your closet door open and pulled one of the planks out of the floor, revealing your Ghostface costume, knife and mask.

“There she is,” he hummed.

You hastily threw everything on in a flurry of rage, alcohol and unhealthy coping mechanisms, turning the voice modulator on with an evil grin to match Billy’s. You both stared at each other for a few seconds before you spoke up, “Well? What are you waiting for? Go!” And then you climbed onto the roof just above the garage (which was off to the side of your house), waiting patiently.

The shingles of the roof were beginning to dig into the flesh of your thighs before you heard the heavy door open and close. You smirked. Quietly climbing down the roof and landing on the pads of your toes, you snuck into the large room through the open garage door, managing to go unnoticed. Then, you silently made your way over to the door leading into the house, as well as the pad that controlled the opening and closing of the garage door. There, kneeled down at the bottom of the refrigerator, was Tatum in her skimpy little dress—the one you were still so, so jealous of—as she grabbed a couple of beers.

You tilted your head at the back of her head and played around with your sharp knife, prodding your finger at the pointy tip of the blade. You heard the soft click of the lock from the other side of the door, which was followed by three light taps against the wooden material, assuring that Billy was on the other side standing guard.

And when the blonde girl turned around and looked straight at you, you knew it was showtime.

She rolled her eyes at first, still making her way towards you as if you weren’t the real Ghostface. “Oh, I’m so scared!” She mocked. “You’re not funny, Billy. I know it’s you.”

When you shook your head at her, you could see the slight confusion in her eyes.

“Stu?”

You shook your head once more.

She scoffed, but you could hear her shaky breath loud and clear. “This is a lame joke, guys. I’m not scared!” She was projecting her voice like anyone else could hear her, but in reality, the music was blasting much too loud for her meek words to be heard. “You can move now.”

But you didn’t budge.

Tatum was starting to get annoyed, and you could tell. It was amusing. “Oh, I get it. You wanna play psycho killer,” she said again, holding the beers in her arms as she continued. “Please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not a fucking dude.” And your blade sliced right through her stomach. Her blood-curdling scream only made your adrenaline pump even more, pulling the knife out of her flesh with a squelch. You watched pitifully as she tried to run towards the open garage door, but to her demise, you had already closed it shut. You bounded over to her in a few steps, pinning her to the garage floor as you dangled your dagger above her face.

Tatum tried to shove you off of her body multiple times, but she failed every single time. “Get off me!” She exclaimed, the beers now rolling to the side of the garage and forgotten in the heat of the moment. “Help! Someone! Please, help!”

“No one can hear you, dumbass.” You scoffed at her stupidity. “Any last words, little Tatum? Wanna say anything before I slit your throat? Figure out who I am?” The knife was pressed against the thin flesh of her neck, already beginning to draw blood from the pressure.

She still struggled against you. Through gritted teeth, she growled, “I don’t give a flying fuck who you are. Go to hell.”

“Oh, sweetie,” you smirked, pulling your mask off, “I’m already fucking there.”

Tatum’s eyes were blown wide at the revelation of your identity, her voice dying down, “How could you?”

“Don’t try and make me feel bad for you. You stole the love of my fucking life, Tatum. You knew I had feelings for him and you still went after him. Who the fuck does that?”

“Who the fuck slits their best friend’s throat?” She rebutted.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t turn this around on me. We are not best friends. You’re the reason I turned out like this. Best friends don’t do that. Fuck you.”

You dug the knife into her throat, swiping it across with a satisfying slice. Her last words were mutters of your name, and you couldn’t have felt prouder. You watched as the life slowly left her eyes, getting off of her body and sauntering over to the door. You rapped your knuckles against it three times, just like your best friend had done before, and within milliseconds, it had opened with a proud Billy standing right behind it.

“I heard everything,” he gloated. “I’m proud of you, doll. Sounded like a badass in there.” Before you could respond to him, you caught Stu’s figure bounding down the stairs in a hurry. A slight panic took over your body, and you immediately hid behind one of the storage boxes before he could see you.

The taller boy pushed Billy aside, and at the sight of his girlfriend’s lifeless body, he gawked, “Holy shit.”

The blond boy almost cackled, “Right? Didn’t think our little doll was capable of killing someone in such cold blood.”

Stu let out a surprised laugh, “She did this? Fuck, I might be in love.”

“Aw, don’t go falling in love with me now, Stu,” you came out of your hiding spot with an overwhelming amount of newfound confidence at the sound of Stu’s joking confession. “Thought you’d be a little more upset that I just killed your little girlfriend.”

He only shrugged, “Yeah, maybe. But it’s you. Makes it kinda hot, don’t you think?” You hummed to question his words. Pulling you closer to him by your waist, he threw the knife onto the ground and brought your arms up to wrap around his neck. “Killing your best friend’s girlfriend ‘cause he’s the love of your life, and all? I’d say that’s pretty hot.”

“You heard that?” Your cheeks burned knowing that Stu heard you call him the ‘love of your life’.

“‘Course I did.”

You blushed even harder, looking down at the concrete floor of the garage.

“And just so you know,” he spoke up again, lifting your chin up with his pointer finger and thumb to gain your attention, “you’re the love of my life, too.”

#stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #stu macher x y/n #scream 1996 #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface x y/n #scream

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