#Stu... he was clearly more deranged than Billy was.

[lexyscross]

How in the fuck did the Scream Hellfandom manage to see the 3 most deranged, murder-happy Ghostface killers (Stu, Amber, and Ethan) and warp them into UWU Babies 🥺™ who were pressured, manipulated, groomed into being a killer by the other/one of the other killer(s) or “just wanted so and so’s love”?

What fucking movies did they watch?? 🤨 Because it wasn’t the ones I saw!

Just let them be the crazy, silly little guys they are!

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Take my soul (need control) ❞

slashers dating slasher reader | erratic!slasher!male!reader | fluff, smut | graphic description of violence, brief mention of animal cruelty in Brahms H. section, mentions of nsfw things |

Amanda Young | Brahms Heelshire | Corey Cunningham | OG!Michael Myers | RZ!Michael Myers | poly!Ghostface (Stu Macher, Billy Loomis) | Sinclair brothers

as a preface, (Y/N) is implied to be erratic and unhinged as a slasher. their s/o's are the only ones who can calm them.

Amanda Young (Saw) -

You didn't fit in her future.

At least, that's what Amanda's initials thoughts are when you two stared down each other from across the parking lot, panting as you held your weapons.

She's heard of you through the news. The infamous (slasher name), the monster that lurks in the shadows and savagely crushes anyone who had the misfortune of wounding up as their victim.

Your methods were unlike hers. Not calculated, not planned, not meticulous - completely erratic, like a hurricane.

But she needs the man that one of you has knocked out in your scuffle. While you? You just saw him walking past you while he was making his way to his car and decided he'd die tonight. She stiffens and reaches back for the gun she brings for emergencies as you straighten up but finds herself bewildered as you begin laughing maniacally.

"Have 'im, Ms Piggy" She sees your grip loosen on your weapon and her fingers uncurl from the handle of the gun. "Ya' clearly need 'im more than I do" and just like that, you're gone. The only thing she hears is her own breathing and her racing heartbeat.

Amanda is feverish about finding you. She reads everything she can and scours wannabe psychos and sociopaths' blogs dedicated to your crimes. (slasher name) becomes an obsession.

When you meet again, you find 'Miss Piggy' eyeing the interiors of your home. She's unsure of what she feels as she imagines you moving about the space but she smiles when you begin chuckling like a hyena and reach for the knife you had on you.

"I need your help, (Y/N)"

"Will it be fun?"

Amanda's smiling under her mask. She's seen your research of her work. The newspaper clippings, paint (or blood) of your theories on the wall (among other 'deranged' scribbles) you were familiar with her.

"Wouldn't have asked if it wasn't".

Fun was an understatement. You were a wildcard, someone that could cost her this entire game but the carnage you spread was so beautiful...she wasn't sure if any device or game she sets up could compare.

You two end up working with each other more and more. Your unpredictability makes the FBI tear their hairs out - you were, ironically, the balance she needed in her scales.

When you two confess to each other, you're soaked in someone else's blood. She approaches you from behind, watching your shoulders and chest rise and fall.

You lick the blood from your lips, your smile stretching over your cheeks looking almost uncomfortable.

Her eyes flick to your lips then up to your eyes.

"Come 'ere, Miss Piggy" she leans in and you meet her halfway.

Most would argue that you would be the worst guy to be in a relationship with.

They're wrong.

Amanda knows the ins and outs of your twisted heart because you bare it to her as it beats for her in your palm.

She doesn't take advantage of it. Tests it? Sure, just to feel more secure, but never to the point where you doubt her love for her.

Amanda thinks your ingenuity and creative mind is her favourite part of you (among other things).

You've jokingly told her she could split your skull open to get those ideas fresh - she giggles and you gather her in your arms.

Amanda leaves the window of your bathroom unlocked. Just for you. She knows you need to 'hunt' sometimes and doesn't discourage it (though she makes sure you know her targets so you don't end up killing them). When you crawl back home, you make sure to shower first before you shuffle back into bed.

She tends to your wounds, scolding you only if she knows you could've avoided it in the first place. "More fun that way, 'Manda" she huffs "So you'd leave me forever just for more fun?"

She knows you're pretty screwed up in that brain box of yours, she's not above manipulating you to bend to her whims but she only ever does it out of love, (Y/N)!

She's highly protective of you. She'll ensure your identity is safe if there are any loose ends during your 'hunts'.

She can't lose you. You can't lose her. Both of you are monsters. Both of you belong together - can't live without the other.

If a victim manages to get an upper hand on either of you God help them.

The second one of you is in danger, the other only sees red.

You've literally taken several bullets for Amanda.

She was so gentle with you that night. Her kisses silent apologies. Seeing her cry as she looks down at you makes you move to sit - despite the pain and her protests. Her breath hitched as your tongue slithers in, Amanda's lips warmed by yours.

"You're hurt, (Y/N)" "Don't care, need you"

"You're hurt because of me!" her yell makes you tilt your head "I should've been more careful!" she continues.

"I want you, Amanda" you whine, cupping her weeping face in your hands. "I'll want you even if you hurt me, even if it kills me. Don't say no to me, Piggy?"

The nickname wins her over.

By the way, she calls you Froggy or Kermit (Kermy too!). It's cute.

(She buys green and pink items because they remind her of the two of you and you've gifted her two hearts that you'd cut in half, coloured pink and green and sowed together. She placed the gift on the desk she works on, it's displayed in a dome glass case and she fights back a smile every time she lays eyes on it)

The satisfaction she gets when victims scream as they spot you in the same room as them. Just so fucking proud of her killing machine.

When you go overboard, if the emotions get too overwhelming for you and you only think of how to get rid of the pain - Amanda grips the nape of your neck and pushes you onto your knees.

You bow because it's her. You breathe because it's her.

"(slasher name)" Your eye twitches, gaze still floating around the room but she knows she has your attention.

"You all there, Kermy?"

"I'm right here, Piggy".

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy) -

Initially, you'd taken the babysitting job as a cover to lay low. Things were getting heated in (insert wherever you're from) and this secluded manor was perfect.

The sight of the doll didn't make you falter. Hey, you got a few screws loose yourself so you didn't judge the Heelshires for how they cope.

Brahms was intrigued by you from the second he laid his eyes on you. The way you instantly gathered the doll in your arms without an ounce of judgement makes butterflies flutter.

He is elated to know that there's a chance you won't freak out if you see him.

He quickly finds out you're not exactly the Average Joe.

You brought the rat traps inside, he inches closer to the hole in the wall when you suddenly froze. The rat squeaks furiously and your non-dominant hand idly reaches for the drawers. Brahms did not expect you to pull out a meat tenderizer.

There's a mix of emotions in the boy as he skitters to his room. He laid awake that night, a part of him wondering if you were just like him and the other feeling guilt at the excitement.

His parents tried their best to nurture him into a decent man. Even if it didn't work, their voices still linger in his head but when he sees the tender way you cradle the porcelain extension of himself the next morning? Your voice sickly sweet, lips pressing into the cold temple of the doll?

Brahms craves you.

Malcolm, poor, stupid, Malcolm.

Brahms wasn't the only one that wanted him gone. The only reason you reciprocated his advances was to fulfil a different type of lust.

(Malcolm wasn't your type anyways.)

Brahms's nails nearly break as he digs them in the wood of the walls, breath labouring as anger consumes him. Malcolm was on top of you, unworthy hands gripping at you like you were some common whore.

He's moved from behind the walls to the closet when you're on top of him. The grip of the 'missing' meat tenderizer was so tight his hand was trembling.

Malcolm yells in pain and Brahm pauses as he watches you laugh in pure delight as you dig your thumbs inside Malcolm's eye sockets.

You turn to him, smile still etched on your features and Brahms gulps as you bring your thumb to your mouth to suck the blood and gore clean.

"Cute mask"

The kitchen utensil drops with a comical 'THUD!' while you two stare at each other.

Your relationship falls into a steady, domestic, pace much quicker than both of you anticipated. How could they not? The secluded land was beautiful when the weather wasn't so dreary. Even if it was, the grand fireplaces were extremely nice to cosy up next to. It's hard NOT to fall deeper and deeper into each other when everything was so romantic.

Malcolm's death was covered up thanks to the wild animals on the land. Brahms watches from the window as you whistle, beckoning the scavengers as you spread a few of Malcolm's innards around.

You tell him everything about your kills. Effectively burying his parent's voice in his head as you sink him deeper and deeper into your hell.

"You're beautiful just like this, Brahmsy" he pants from beneath the mask and you place a kiss on those cold lips. "They won't understand like I do, we're meant to be like this so we can find each other" his pupils are so blown out as he stares up at you.

"You're my good boy, Brahms, forever and always. Okay?"

"Okay, (Y/N)". Your smile was sculpted by the king of hell himself and Brahm's eyes roll back as you move your hips.

Brahms feels vindicated and free. For once, guilt doesn't whisper accusingly in his shadow. Instead, there's you.

Your routines overlap his. Your hands pull him from the darkness. Your voice haunts him every second of every day.

The bodies pile up in the woods. The rats are scarce with the sudden spike of scavengers drawn to the Heelshire manor.

You love spoiling him with victims, love watching him release his creativity and curiosity. He's so good with his hands and all that raw strength? It's not an odd sight for you to make love in the showers after 'play time' was done.

He loves helping you freak the shit out of your victims, pretending to be the ghost in the walls and making them so paranoid they think they've gone crazy.

When they're dealt with, Brahms often makes snacks for the both of you.

Oh! He makes a mask for you. To show his love and for you to wear when you need it.

He doesn't like that you leave the manor. It causes BIG arguments. Vintage vases flying to the wall kind of arguments. But you were a bloodthirsty hound, you needed to stretch your legs.

He'll be sullen but he gets over it. This routine annoys the shit out of both of you though but over time, he learns you need it just as much as he needs his quiet times.

He welcomes you when you get home, lifting his mask to kiss you and you giggle as your hands slide up his wifebeater.

"Miss me, big boy?"

"Always" he pouts.

Corey Cunningham (Halloween Ends) -

Corey knew before you did.

You were just like him. The darkness spills from your eyes as you tell him how the front of your car got wrecked.

"A deer scared you?" he wipes his hands on the front of his uniform, turning to you as you nod and stroke the large dents and scratches on your hood. "Swerved into the woods, didn't hit a tree head-on - Thank God, right?" Corey nods.

He pretends not to see the splatter of blood and hoses down the hair and chunks of flesh from your tires.

Guessed you missed a spot, hm?

He's good at being undetected. People...people avoid him nowadays.

You don't have to ask around much to learn about the cute, outcasted, mechanic's past. You find it all a bit pathetic. These people were really that terrified of him over what sounded like an honest mistake?

Corey wonders why you've gone to Allen's family's abandoned house during his nightly routine of stalking you.

He watches you from the windows, knife in hand though with no real intent of using it...on you anyways. Blood had already stained the blade.

You pause at the sight of dried blood and gaze up the spiralling staircase. Much to his chagrin, you lay down and place your head right on the bloodstain.

Your laughter makes blood pool under the skin of his cheeks. Your hands splay out to your side and you're laughing so hard your sides hurt, Corey finds himself pressing a hand to the window and wishes he was right beside you.

The next day, Corey's parked right out of the supermarket just as you come out. He grins boyishly and you ask if he needs anything. He holds himself back from saying "you" and instead asks if you're free tonight.

You don't expect him to be so forward but you're intrigued. So you ask if he'll be the one to pick you up (considering your car is still in his garage) and Corey pretends to be interested as you write down your address as he imprints the sight of your semi-focused expression. He already knows where you live but you don't have to worry about that, (Y/N).

The night was perfect from the get-go. Your warmth pressed against his back as he drove the two of you to a bar that was further away than usual but was the only one he could go to without people whispering — you don't mind.

Then drinks got involved and suddenly you're dancing with him, some shitty pop song playing over shitty speakers but neither of you cared.

Then reality came crashing in. Someone had loudly — drunkenly — mentioned Corey's past. Everyone gives him looks and although he could care less he pretends to by pulling you out of the bar.

"Corey, wait" he's too drunk to drive and his hands are itching to feel blood so he pauses as you chuckle the command out. "Stay here, baby" The nickname makes his heart flutter and he nods as he leans against his bike. When you disappear back into the bar — probably left something, he thought — he curses and tries his hardest not to storm in and strangle the life out of that asshole who ruined his date and the closest bar he could go to without reproachful glares.

He contemplates the thought of moving away from Haddonfield with you when his phone rings. It's you. For a second, he thinks you're in trouble but when he answers you're breathless pants of glee tells him otherwise.

"Come to the back, Corey".

The sight that greets him is the asshole with a bleeding mouth and a broken nose. The burst veins in his eyes and the wooden plank that you held loosely in your arm paint a clear picture.

"Night's still young, baby" you muse as you make a faux swing that makes the man whimper from where he was sprawled on the ground. "I know you wanna" Your purr makes Corey shudder.

The Cheshire grin on your face is absolutely maniacal as Corey sheds his jacket and pulls out the pocket knife he kept in his back pocket.

The same one you'd felt against your thighs when you were riding his bike.

Haddonfield was lucky the two of you decided to spread your chaos elsewhere because the two of you were insatiable.

The fact that neither of you stayed in one city for too long also didn't help. You were basically doing an American-wide murder spree.

And Corey would not have it any other way.

You were just like him — wilder, sure, but you understood him in ways no one else had ever done.

"Fuck, baby" Corey has you on the bed of some engineer whose blood was currently being used as lube. The man's body was somewhere in the room but Corey barely gave a shit when you're looking down at him with that toothy grin that makes your eyes twinkle with bloodlust. "Mm, you feel so fuckin' good, Corey".

Somehow you two decide to settle down in a quiet town. Corey going under a different name as he works at a garage. Everybody around you thinks you guys are the sweetest couple — cooing at how young you are and sighing about young love.

They don't know that your weekend trips are spent with blood, guts, and sex. Two maniacs completely enamoured with one another.

"Baby, look" Corey eyes the silver band on your finger. Then the other one is on your palm as you extend it to him. You drop the chopped-off hand of the man the both of you had just killed and inched closer and closer.

"Pretty, hm?" he nods "Till death do us part" At that, he scoffs and pulls you in closer.

"Not even Death can keep us apart, (Y/N) (L/N)" he brushes the tip of your noses together and plants a bloody kiss but your giggle cuts it short.

"Don't you mean, (Y/N) Cunningham-(L/N)?" Corey's grin is nothing short of loving and he claims your lips again.

OG!Michael Myers (Halloween (1978 - 1982)) -

To be completely honest, the way you two met was a blur. Before you met Michael Myers your life had little to no meaning.

When he decided to break into your family home one night, he jump-starts everything. He had you pinned on the dining table, his mask already coated with the blood of your kin. Your feeble attempts at escaping his inhumanely strong grip leave you gasping for breath and you're sure that the building pressure in your head isn't a good sign.

But when you stare into Michael's eyes a sudden force tugs your lips apart into a bloody smile. Your laughter is nothing but strained gasps and squeaks and it makes Michael's grip falter enough for you to finally grasp the make-shift stake beside you (from the chair he'd thrown your way) and drive it into his shoulder.

Michael staggers and without missing a beat, you're lunging at him again. No fear, no hesitation, and frankly, no thoughts behind such a brash action.

The force of your body slamming into him throws his momentum off but he feels something in his chest suddenly beat as your shrill laughter fills his ears.

You, with your wild hair and wilder eyes...

Michael craved you.

He knocks you out.

Then, he watches you. From your recovery in the hospital to the 'safehouse' you were placed in. The detectives thought this could be their chance — to finally catch Michael Myers as he 'finishes you off'.

Michael knows you're done with your kill just from the shift in the air. He enters the safehouse and stares at the splatters of blood and bullet holes in the drywall. He follows the sounds of your laughter and finds you in the dining room in a familiar pose.

You have the detective pinned under you, fingers crushing his larynx as he weakly fights back against you. Michael waits politely, when you're done he moves to the back door and you wordlessly follow.

Eating rats was new but strangely enough the act of catching them was a great bonding activity. Your jokes about meeting the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles — and eating them — fly over Michael's head but his amused silence tells you he doesn't mind your babbles.

He learns fairly quickly that, unlike his silent, effortlessly, intimidating self, you're erratic, loud and pumped with energy when you're hunting.

He doesn't dislike it but it takes some getting used to.

You don't always go on hunts together but when you do he appreciates your gore-y creativity.

The Shape of Haddonfield now has Hellhound by his side — isn't that a cute nickname for yourself, (Y/N)?

While victims shit themselves at the sight of Michael, his stony demeanour is what makes him all the more Boogeyman-worthy. He feels inhuman. That both terrifies and comforts some — but you?

You're entirely too human. Your glee, your rambles as you stab your victims, you're laughter full of excitement.

"Mikey" he glances your way as your fingers stroke up the neck of his mask. Here you were, sprawled all over Michael Myer's lap like a goddamn kitten. You lean up and kiss his rubbery lips, he hums as your tongue licks his mask and pushes you back just enough to lift his mask above his nose.

"Thank you, Mikey" you chuckle, letting him taste the romantic spaghetti dinner you two had helped yourselves to after murdering the old couple.

Their home was isolated enough, that both of you could enjoy living above ground for a few days.

"You taste so good, Mikey" The grip on your waist makes that addictively sweet laughter bubble in your throat.

RZ!Michael Myers (Halloween (2007 - 2009))-

You were the only good thing in his god-forsaken life.

The mental institution had made a big mistake in housing two monsters — especially when those monsters were always so drawn towards each other.

No matter what punishments they inflicted on either of you for sharing glances. It did little to stop this undeniable, instinctual, need to be close to one another.

Initially, the doctors had thought Michael's curiosity was a good sign. A sign that he was showing interest in making friends. Even if you were less than ideal in terms of 'fixing' him considering your own streak of homicide (that landed you in this shithole in the first place) but they were desperate.

So, they allowed controlled meetings. Michael's stare terrified others but you seemed to thrive under his attention.

Guards had reached out to pull you back as you climbed the table and got right up in Michael's face but he is as still as a statue as you carefully brush his long locks of blonde hair back.

"There you are, pretty boy" and with those words and your eyes that reflect back his darkened soul right back at him — Michael is smitten.

When he escapes, he finds you.

When he enacts his revenge, you're the shadow that devours any sacrificial lambs that managed to stray from his grasp.

Oh, he's all yours.

Michael swears that if you're not near him the air feels thinner.

He relishes in the way you mercilessly slaughter anyone in your way — he doesn't ask why you kill but knows that whatever the answer he'll support his batshit insane boyfriend.

"Is this for me?" he nods, showing you the new mask he'd created. You smile warmly, sitting across from him as you carefully place the mask on your face.

"How do I look, pretty boy?"

He places his large hand on your thighs and begins tapping. You encourage him with careful strokes to his bicep.

.--. .-. . - - -.--

Your grin makes his heart flutter. "Thank you, baby" and you reward your darling lover with a kiss which makes him grunt at the mask that blocks him from properly kissing you.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher (Scream (1996)) -

They had an inkling you were just like them.

Billy says it's the way your eyes become devoid of any light when you're angry. While Stu tells you it's the way you lick the blood from your split lip and smile as you lunge at the opposing team's captain.

(Y/N) (L/N), an athlete of their school.

Meanwhile, to his boyfriends, he's an absolutely merciless murderer.

Everyone sort of avoids you. Even your coach rarely gets in your face to yell at you the way he does at everyone else. It baffles people that Billy and Stu are your lovers.

For them though? It's the perfect match.

You're not Ghostface, however, (slasher name) is always spotted with Ghostface.

A maniac with brute strength that takes hits and stabs and even bullets without going down.

Those who did live to tell the tale of an encounter with (slasher name) and Ghostface mutter that hurting Ghostface? Was a big fucking mistake if (slasher name) is there to witness it.

You're the kind of guy to body slam someone out a second-storey window and just walk it off while the victim who cushioned your fall is wheezing their last breath.

Billy reprimands your unnecessary displays of brutality while Stu simply gushes about how cool it was. They both tend to your wounds, kissing and massaging anything that hurts.

Ghostface is equally as protective of you, make no mistake, even if they're not throwing a chair at a victim they will ensure you don't actually get yourself killed in your bloodlust.

Stu has pulled a gun and shot someone in the face when they threatened to do the same to you.

Billy rushes to the two of you upon hearing gunshots but groans in relief as he sees you making out with Stu mere inches away from the body.

"Hey! Earth to perverts! Time to scram!" Billy is pulled into the make-out session by you and he all but melts under your hold.

"Want you. Now" Stu laughs at your huffy tone but eagerly circles his hands around your waist while you pull Billy closer to your front.

Beauregard 'Bo' Sinclair (House of Wax) -

A new victim of Ambrose? That's what you are, right?

Wrong.

You'd been a solo traveller that coincidentally got grouped up with another group of travellers. You seemed normal enough, Bo thinks as he spots you making your way to his garage.

Cute and handsome, a darn shame you'd have to die but at least Vincent will immortalize your beauty.

He notices that you're not close with the others. When he asks, you explain your vehicles had broken down near each other so Lester rounded up all of you together.

You lean on the hood of the car he was clearly working on, jutting your hips and looking impressed. He shamelessly takes in the curve of your butt before putting on a charming Southern smile when you glance back at him.

"Good with your hands, hm?" Bo feels blood travel south but he just chuckles. The conversation is cut short by the others clearing their throats.

When he kills the group one by one, he immediately notices that you seem excited at the violence he spreads. You don't scream or yelp but you're helping him.

At first, he thinks you're just saving your ass from getting sliced down when you push someone in front of you. But while the others run, you're moaning as he's thrusting the blade repeatedly into the man's body.

He pants as you two make eye contact, gulping he pulls the blade out and offers it to you.

"Fuckin' finally" you coo, pressing a bloody kiss on his cheek before you slip to hunt the others down.

His brothers are definitely confused by his decision to let you stay as a real residence of Ambrose but after another group rolls in you prove your worth to them.

Between heated moments under the sheets and lip-locking with Bo, you confess that the reason you ended up at Ambrose was that the police were hot on your tail.

"It's fate," you say as you trace circles on his chest. "We were meant to meet, to be family" he would usually scoff at such a notion but the way you fit into his deranged life so easily...

"It's something", he gruffs out, watching as you take the lighter from his hand to light the cigarette between his lips. "Whatever it is, it brought you to me so"

"Aww, Bo, you gettin' sappy on me?" your teasing makes him threaten to shove the cigarette in your mouth but you just laugh it off.

"Love ya', Bo" he averts his eyes but mumbles.

"Love you too..."

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax) -

Instead of catching Bo's eyes, it's Vincent's heart that you grasp.

A solo traveller that somehow got roped in with another group, a victim of circumstance is what Vincent would have called you.

But instead, you've ruthlessly wormed your way inside his heart.

While the others ran like headless chickens when Bo started killing, you were dragged by another girl to hide in the Sinclairs' house. Stupid move on her end really, but you were curious about their headquarters of sorts. So you follow, breathing raggedly to sell this whole 'helpless victim' façade.

You find the basement. Despite the chills that run down your spine from the scent of death (and wax) you convince her it'd be a good place to hide.

Vincent hears her as she shakily steps into his lair. He thinks she's the only one but finds it odd that she looks desperately over his shoulder as he slices her head off with a pair of garden shears.

Until he feels a blade pressed right at the base of his spine.

"You're pretty strong" Your eyes twinkle from the corner of his and he goes rigid as you dig the tip of the blade deeper. You reach to brush locks of his hair behind his ear, a growl raises from his throat but you shush him.

Your lips brush on the shell of his ear.

"I'll bring more of them here, I want to watch while you turn them into pieces of art".

Bo is feeling an inkling of worry at the sudden lack of victims. He rushes to see if they've decided to overwhelm Vincent and finds you swinging your feet while Vincent is organizing the bodies of the group.

Bo is distrustful. He thinks you've seduced his twin and while that is true, you've no bad intentions like he thinks you do.

Vincent is painfully awkward compared to your nonchalant energy. But it works, the two of you just work.

He scolds you when you get new wounds from the victims fighting back but it's a bit hypocritical when he does the same.

Though he prefers wax figures, he did dabble in oil paints again as he attempts to recreate the scene he sees of you demolishing victims.

A watcher, a stalker; an artist.

Vincent usually stays in the basement but ever since you came? When the hunt is on, he's watching you. Imprinting the image of your body shaking with muffled laughter as you pull your jaws away from the bleeding neck of a victim, spitting out their vocal cords with a satisfied hum.

"Vinnie" your coo makes him flinch but he walks out from the shadows as you beckon him with your hand. Your boyfriend stands in front of you, reaching to wipe some blood away from your cheek but really the only thing he does is move it around.

"Was that pretty, Vinnie?" he huffs through his nose and lifts your chin up so you stain his waxy lips with warm blood.

He pulls away to sign, 'Always beautifull'.

Lester Sinclair (House of Wax) -

You rode with him on the way to Ambrose.

He's taken by your looks and feels a sense of pity and regrets that you'd be dead soon. Especially since you were the only one among the others that weren't a complete asshole to him.

"Ambrose, huh" he nods, tapping his steering wheel as his eyes flit between the road and you. "Must be pretty secluded, haven't even heard of it", he laughs and tells you it's because you aren't from around here.

"See ya'" he waves at you but you scan him from head to toe in a way that's not scrutinizing but lustful. He feels his cheeks warm, you nod to him as a goodbye before you turn to walk into the death trap that is Ambrose.

He's surprised to find you covered in blood and right outside his shack later that night. Jonesy growls near his heel but you were just sitting there on his porch, casually testing the weight of the hilt of a hatchet in your hands.

"Your brothers should use you more than a glorified Ferryman" he is confused but tense. His muscles are rigid like a snake coiling to bite.

Blood drips from the ends of your hair and nose, you place the hatchet down and crouch, beckoning Jonesy' with a sweet baby voice that has the poor pup confused between staying by Lester's side or sniffing you.

"I like Ambrose," you tell him, your eyes squished into an adorable crescent shape.

"Can I stay, Lester?"

His brothers aren't aware of you until at least a week. They were extremely distrustful of you, their baby brother was someone that they did not want to be harmed. Hence why he stays out of the nitty-gritty of it all.

When you show that you're just as protective of Lester, they approve of your relationship. Not that you would let their approval get in the way of your love for him anyways.

Your boyfriend has to get used to your sudden disappearances and reappearances.

And he has to learn how to stitch you up as well. He doesn't scold you though reminds you to be more careful but drinks up your stories of the victims being crushed under your foot.

Whoever manages to stray far enough from Ambrose to find Lester's shack will find themselves in an entirely different but just as torturous hell.

Jonesy enjoys the raw feed though.

"I gotta go" Lester laughs as you whine and drag him back to your side. "I gotta check if anyone's 'lost'" he reminds but you stubbornly shake your head.

"Can't leave me, I'm hurt and defenceless"

Yeah, Lester's seen you shove the end of a rake down someone's throat with a broken arm and a concussion all while laughing. You could protect yourself with the scrapes and boo-boos from the night before just fine.

Feeling yourself lose this battle, you press a kiss to the nape of his neck as he sits and it makes his breath hitch.

Your hands circle his waist and his head hangs low as you slip your fingers down the band of his underwear.

"Stay" you plead.

"Jesus H. Christ" he turns and you grin triumphantly as he kisses you.

[myimaginarywonderland]

Some of my unpopular scream opinions:

The best Ghostface writing wise was hands down Roman.

The best movies are the first two. One genuinely is written wonderfully and two has the most intriguing follow up. Two does not deserve the hate it gets because it shows a traumatized Sidney opening up again and getting hurt in the process while openly still being paranoid. It shows the effect of grief in all forms. It portrays a fascinating deranged character that feels no remorse and has somehow been killing without getting caught even before becoming ghost face as well as a lost mother.

I don't like Scream 4 and I strongly dislike Jill. This might be because of the way I hate the whole discourse and see wasted potential or because I just don't like Emma Roberts. It could also be because I think Jill just has a boring motive that isn't fun to explore because it feels so unrelatable.

I think 5 and 6 are bad movies and wouldn't be considered okay if it wasn't for the Scream name. Mostly 5 more so then 6.

I think Charlie was severely underused as a Ghost Face and underdeveloped as a character.

I absolutely despise the Sam/Billy related storyline because it doesn't make sense timewise or logically. We know at least 20 years have passed by Scream 4 because of Jill and Sidney's age, so Sam being what 18-20 in Scream 5 is ridiculous. Also Billy would have never risked the relationship to Sidney by screwing another girl at that time. His whole plan was build on that and I just hate the writing decision especially when the most obvious choice would have been to make someone related to Stu and open up the possibility of him coming back.

I also think Tara just adds nothing as a character really and feels flat. I feel like besides having her be Sam's obvious reasons for decisions there is nothing else her character gives the story other than standing in for purposes.

Chad is by far the most interesting character of the core 4 and it would have been so cool had they showed his connection to Ethan more or even developed him as a character but alas. Also stop with the plot armor. I would have loved more focus and then if he was genuinely killed off, that would have felt better than the whole he survives being ambushed and stabbed 50× twice card.

Going off that, I truly feel like the characters of Scream 5/6 feel more like plot devices than actual people. They just stand in for situation in the story rather than feeling like part of the whole story.

Scream 4 was a wasted opportunity of setting up a universe where Kirby and Robbie both survive and the newer movies focus on them. Kirby was the most connected to both killers and Robbie was clearly a Randy character that should have gotten another movie, maybe two. Besides Kirby/Jill, Robbie and Charlie was the most focus we had on a friendship and it felt like a waste to kill him off the way they did. Imagine them with Deputy Hicks as the focus in 5/6, with the Deputy being killed off the reason why they come back maybe, thinking someone is going after the survivors.

Roman should have lived more than any other Ghostface because he had the most potential. If we would have gotten Scream 3 end with Sidney believe he is dead but even the smallest hint that he wasn't that could have set up such a fascinating storyline were their relationship and characters could have been explored more. There was so much wasted potential there, I am so annoyed.

I feel like Scream 5 was less enjoyable because the killers were even more obvious than Scream 1. At least with Billy and Stu there was the suspense of only believing in on killer and seeing one of them as a red herring, hell even both of them, but 5 basically dropped and explained itself on the way. While I understand the parody of horror films is what made Scream so good, this entire movie felt so on the nose it was hard to enjoy the actual insane characters.

I don't think Tatum should have lived. Dewey and Sidney both losing her set up their future connection, it helped bring them closer and I wouldn't have it any other way. Dewey was a far more entertaining character that genuinely gave such a fun aspect to the storyline, I wouldn't have wanted to miss out on that.

On the same note, I wish they had killed Gale or at least stopped using her character. Didn't like her in Scream 1, didn't like her in Scream 2, didn't like her in Scream 3 and hate her and Deweys storyline in Scream 4. She just felt so stuck, no development and all that did happen was immediately thrown out in the next movie which I get (some people can't change) but she really just felt flat after the third movie and I wished they would have stopped using her or any of the older cast because those characters were treated with a lack of love.

Randy would have been great in Scream 3 as well as the final act of Scream 2. Imagine him and Mickey having a showdown. Imagine him when the Roman plot was revealed. So much wasted potential. Also he already had a much more interesting relationship to both Sidney and Dewey than Gale by only Scream 2.

I like that Scream 6 tried to do something new but I feel like the family thing was obvious. What I would have loved is if Wayne became bad and had been the killer later after genuinely losing Quinn and blaming the core 4 for it. Ethan would have been a much more interesting killer on his own or with an unexpected partner like Chad than he was in a family dynamic same as everyone else. Hell, even do the storyline but just with one less killer because 3 was too much for a showdown when we rarely had time to connect to the characters. I think Ethan is more interesting but I also would have loved if Wayne did it solo because he lost his son or if he and Quinn did it together but it just would have felt repetitive either way. Ethan with a core 4 member though that would have been so cool or even Quinn with a core 4 member/Annika would have been more interesting.

I truly think the best female Ghostface was Nancy because of how realistic it was. She had a goal that she somewhat accomplished or would have and she felt like a person rather than a prop. Even a bad mom sometimes steps up when their children are hurt and in that twisted family Sidney and her dad have been blamed for Sidney's mothers actions so much that her snapping just makes sense. Hiring someone to be the muscle? So smart and Mickey is obviously crazy enough to really not care. Her anger is limited as in comparison to what we see mostly as an untroubled rage or murder Lust. She kills to make right what she thinks has been done wrong and it just makes her almost relatable because she truly doesn't see how her actions are not justice or repairing of damage. To her she is doing what needs to be done and maybe even repairing her own broken heart in the process who knows.

[looooooooomis]

Chew On My Heart

a stu macher x fem!reader one shot requested by the lovely anon who wanted a pining Stu

pairing: Stu Macher x fem!reader word count: 5.6k (I'm sorry it’s so long I get carried away) warnings: s m u t (18+!!!!!!!!), longing, fluff, some angst I guess. you wanted a pining stu? here he is. 

masterlist HERE

I wanna be in your touch, sleep is so tough You're burning up my mind What would it feel like if you tore me apart? Come on chew on my heart Come on chew on my heart

Billy had been clear about sticking to the fucking plan and Stu, for the most part, was okay with it. More than okay with it, he was happy to oblige. Hell, he’d even come up with a few of his own ideas of just how they were going to go about that fateful night and how it was all going to point to Mister Prescott as the deranged serial killer.

But, like most plans, there was bound to be some bumps along the way. Snags, of sorts, that they were forced to strategize around in order to make the night go accordingly. For the most part, they were easy enough to navigate and simple enough to overlook depending on how insignificant of a detail they were.

But, there was one snag that neither Billy nor Stu had anticipated. One snag that Stu in particular, couldn’t quite fathom.

You.

You weren’t supposed to fucking be there.

He’d asked you that morning, half asleep in class as you both suffered through your history teacher’s monotone voice, what your plans were tonight. You’d said you had to babysit one of the neighbours’ kids which was on the other side of town so just how the hell you’d managed to end up at Casey fucking Beckers house tonight of all nights was beyond him.

The second he saw you through the rear door window, smiling and laughing at something Casey had said, Stu felt sick. Physically ill. His entire body felt hot and the bile that rose up his throat at the vision of you sitting not twenty feet away from where he and Billy stood, dressed and quite literally ready to kill was all encompassing.

This couldn’t be happening.

No, he wouldn’t let it happen.

Not you. He refused.

Stu had known you from the time the pair of you were in fucking diapers. You were his next-door neighbour, his friend, his go-to pot smoking buddy when neither of you could sleep. He couldn’t recall how many times the pair of you had sat on your roof, overlooking Woodsboro whilst high as a goddamn kite. The life chats the two of you had in the wee hours of the morning, when the rest of the world was still asleep, the birthday parties, the family barbeques, the fact that your cat fenagled its way into his house more often than not because of how often the two of you were together.

You were the girl of his fucking dreams. You were it for Stu.

And you shouldn’t fucking be here!

“Bill,” Stu swallowed back the swell of nerves in his stomach as he watched you sift through the VHS’s lining Casey’s living room wall. “Wait just a second.”

“What the fuck is Y/N doing here?” Billy asked, seemingly thinking the same thing. He was by no means as close to you as Stu was, but he knew of Stu’s infatuation with you. He was probably the only person who did know and that included you.

“I don’t fucking know, man,” his eyes did a quick scan of the backyard before looking back at you, “she told me she’s babysitting the Glonchky’s kid tonight.”

Billy blinked. “Who the fuck is the Glonchky kid?”

“Our neighbour,” Stu explained quietly, “he’s, like, nine but he’s a real piece of shit.”

“So what is she doing here?” Billy reiterated, clearly frustrated.

“How the hell am I supposed to know, man?” Stu groused quietly. “What do you want me to do? Call her and ask why she’s at Casey fucking Becker’s house? How am I going to explain that? ‘Oh, just wondering if you could head home so I don’t have to gut you like a fish tonight, thanks a bunch!’.”

Billy’s nostrils flared, clearly not appreciating the sarcasm when they were seconds away from following through with what was Stu’s fucking plan to begin with. “You realize if we go through with this tonight, she’s officially on the list, Stu. We kill her just like we do Casey.”

“No,” Stu nearly growled, panicked. He was shaking his head repeatedly as he racked his brain for any semblance of a plan. “She’s not getting touched, Billy. She’s got nothing to do with any of this.”

“Well then what the fuck do you intend to do, dipshit? She’s here now and that creates a problem for us, doesn’t it?”

The anger in Stu’s chest swelled as he took in Billy’s words. There was no fucking way you were getting involved in this. God, he hadn’t even had the balls to ever tell you how he felt there was no way in hell he was going to be one of the reasons you ended up dead tonight.

No. He wouldn’t let it happen.

“Then we wait,” Stu finally said, knowing the reaction he was bound to get from Billy. Sure enough, Billy’s eyes widened as his shoulders fell in irritation. If he didn’t end up getting gutted tonight, it would be a miracle. “She’s it for me, man. We don’t touch her.”

“This was your plan, fuckwit,” Billy reminded him. The muscle in his cheek clenched in outrage. “You thought of this whole thing with Casey because she dumped you –”

Stu winced. “I mean, I think dump is a little harsh—”

“—And now you’re backing out? We’re here, man, we’re not backing out. We’re doing this tonight. So, either you figure out a way to get your little wet dream out of here or she’s fair game.”

Fair game.

The words repeated in his head over and over again and made him sick. You shouldn’t have fucking been here. Why, why, why the hell did you have to be here? With his stomach in knots, Stu eyed your gorgeous face from the shadows of the backyard before shaking his head. He needed to figure out a way for you to get out of here and fast.

But how?

If he showed up at the door of a girl who was about to be murdered solely to take you home for some dumb reason he’d come up with on a whim, he’d look suspicious as all hell. If he called, same thing. And if you left prior to anything happening, you could quickly become a suspect.

There was no way around it. It was a double-edged sword, damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

One way or another, you were going to be in the house tonight as everything went down and he fucking hated himself for it.

“We don’t hurt her,” Stu finally said, his voice octaves lower as his panic set in. When Billy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he elaborated. “She doesn’t get hurt in the sense of a fucking knife in her chest, Bill. I mean it.”

“Okay,” Billy agreed reluctantly. “She’s going to put up a fight, though. What then?”

Stu chewed on his lip as he racked his brain. “We knock her out.” He winched. “Gently.”

“Gently?” Billy asked. “You want me to knock her out gently? Should I bring her a pillow while I’m at it? Maybe some frozen peas for when she wakes up?”

“Shut-up, man,” Stu frowned. “You know what I mean. She doesn’t get hurt. Not—”

“Get down!” Billy snapped, pulling Stu’s arm down with him to hide behind one of the hedges in the Becker’s backyard.

Following the man in suit with confusion riddling his features, Stu was about to question why when he saw it.

Headlights.

A car was pulling into the driveway and both men craned their necks to see just who it was. If it was Steve, Casey’s boyfriend, the men could handle it. But when a group of their classmates, some cheerleaders, some football players, piled out of the Jeep, Billy and Stu knew their plan had been momentarily thwarted.

Slipping into the shadows, they tore off in the direction of Billy’s car, parked a few streets over, before tossing everything into the trunk. Stu supposed he should have been angry, annoyed at the very least, but try as he may to be upset about what had just happened, he couldn’t be.

You were safe.

Unharmed.

And despite their plans being foiled, that was all he cared about.

------------------

It was a little after midnight when Stu’s phone rang. He was half asleep, rubbing one out over an issue of Playboy and in no mood to answer a fucking call but something made him begrudgingly get up from his bed and scramble for the phone.

With a sigh and with his dick quite literally dangling there, torqued and ready to come, Stu licked his lips and squeezed his eyes in an attempt to wake up. “Whoever this is, this better be good.”

Quiet laughter filtered through the phone and Stu immediately stood up to his full height at the realization of just who it was on the other line.

You.

“Let me guess,” your cool voice rang out, “I either interrupted you on another failed date or you’re jerking off over that crusty issue of Playboy that you love so much.”

Stu glanced down at the precum glistening along the head of his cock and then towards the magazine splayed out on his bed before blowing out a quiet raspberry through his lips. “I was reading the bible, actually.”

“Right,” your laughter made his own small smile pull at his lips, “well, if you’re not too busy with your scriptures, do you think you could do me a huge solid?”

He’d do anything for you, so just why you thought you had to ask was beyond him.

“What do I get out of it?” Stu asked, only prolonging the inevitable.

You hummed in thought and he could picture you chewing on your lip as you thought it over. “I’ll buy you a Slurpee from 7/11 and another Playboy so you can throw out that crispy one you hide in your drawer.”

“How do you know I keep it in my drawer?” Stu asked, flopping himself down on the bed. He stroked his cock a few times solely from habit alone. “You spying on me?”

“Yeah,” you simply said, “so what do you say?”

Stu’s thumb mindlessly circled the head of his cock. “Yeah, yeah. What do you want?”

“I know it’s late, but is there anyway you could pick me up?”

Stu blinked in confusion and glanced at the time on his watch. He knew that, chances are, you were still at Casey’s house but not wanting to give himself away, he feigned ignorance. “You can’t walk three houses down from the Glochky’s?”

“Oh,” you snorted, “no, they cancelled on me tonight because Jeremy has the flu, so they stayed in and I went to Casey’s.” You explained. “But, honestly, she and Steve are practically fucking each other on the couch and everyone else is so hammered and I’m bored out of my mind. Problem is, Casey picked me up, so I don’t have my car to head home. Do you think you can find it in your heart to pick me up?”

Stu mulled over your words and thought back to just how fucking close he’d gotten at losing you tonight. Of course, you were none the wiser about it, but he knew. He knew just how close you’d unknowingly gotten to tragedy and the guilt that twisted inside of his stomach ate him up.

He’d gone eighteen years without telling you how he felt. Eighteen fucking years of being hopelessly in love with the girl next door and it had all almost gone to shit in the blink of an eye.

“Stu?” You asked, your voice confused. “You there?”

“Yeah,” he pushed out, long forgetting about his erection. Instead, he stood up to his full height, tugged his jeans up his body and zipped himself up. “Sorry, yeah. I’ll be there in, like, fifteen minutes.”

Your relieved sigh was all he heard as he grabbed his wallet off of his nightstand. “You’re my hero, you know that Stu Macher?”

“You owe me a nudie magazine, bitch.” Was all he said before hanging up.

Sure enough, he’d arrived back at Casey Becker’s house within fifteen minutes where he found you, sitting on the front porch wearing a massive cardigan with a white cropped tank, plaid skirt, and those goddamn black boots that drove him wild.

He loved your legs; your thighs, your calves, even your fucking ankles. He couldn’t even count how many times he thought of them swung over his shoulders as he drove his cock inside of you, making you beg and scream for him the way only you could. Honking twice to alert you of his presence, he watched your head snap up from your lap before a wide grin broke out across that pretty face.

Fuck, he had it bad for you.

Watching you walk through the high beams, Stu reached across the seat to unlock your door and smirked as you plopped down in his seat with an exasperated sigh. Despite it being after midnight, you looked incredible. But you always looked fucking incredible and he hated you for it. Even those nights where you were both stoned to shit, laughing at something on your roof with your hair a mess and your eyes beet red, you looked like something out of a fucking movie.

You were gorgeous to Stu Macher.

You were…everything.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” You hummed, slipping your seatbelt. Without missing a beat, just as you always did, you flipped through the stations of the radio before landing on one that was playing a song to your liking. “You want to get Slurpees tonight or wait until another day? I know it’s late and I know you were masturbating, so I don’t want to keep you from that.”

Stu rolled his eyes as he backed out of the driveway. The same driveway he’d walked along with Billy earlier that evening for an entirely different reason. He tried not to think of it too much as he pulled back onto the street to head back to your neighbourhood. He’d come too close to losing you tonight and he couldn’t, for his own sanity, focus on that.

“I’m up for a Slurpee,” he shrugged. “But the deal was Slurpee and a porn magazine. The two are mutually exclusive.”

“Right,” you grinned, “how could I forget?”

There was a 7/11 nearby, one the two of you had frequented far too often for your own good, and as Stu drove towards it, he could feel your eyes scraping along his profile as he pulled in. “Take a picture, creeper, it’ll last longer.”

“Wow,” you clucked, “good one.”

He stopped the car and lulled his head lazily to face your smirking face. “What’s that look?”

You shrugged and turned to face him head on. “Want to go to Pierce Lookout tonight?”

Pierce Lookout was Woodsboro’s version of Lover’s Lane and as the request tumbled out of your lips, Stu’s eyebrows shot up his head. Was he hearing you right? There was no fucking way. But then, you pulled a joint out of your purse and shot him a giant grin.

Okay, so that made more sense. You wanted to split a joint at the overlook not fuck each other stupid until the sun came up. He really needed to get his head out of the fucking gutter when it came to you.

“That’s what I’m talking about, baby,” he grabbed the joint and slid it behind his ear. “Where’d you nab this?”

“Steve Orth,” you slipped your seatbelt off and hopped out of the car before sticking your head in the open window of his car. “Blue raspberry and cherry mix?”

“Be still my beating heart,” Stu dramatically pat his chest. “Hurry up, though. I want to get this party started.”

He watched you skip off inside of the 7/11 and, in the time you were gone, Stu tried his damnedest to focus on anything but the erection currently pressing painfully against his jeans. There was just something about you in that fucking skirt and those damned boots that drove him crazy. It didn’t help that he’d literally blue-balled himself into oblivion to pick you up from Casey’s house.

“Focus, Stu,” he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the steering wheel to the point where the whites of his knuckles strained against his skin. “She’s your friend. She’s hot as fuck. But, she’s your frie—”

“Talking to yourself?” Your voice sliced into his reverie and made his eyes shoot open as you slid back into the car with two Slurpee’s in your hands. “I thought I was the crazy one between the two of us.”

“You are,” he snatched the drink out of your hands and took a large gulp. “Ready to smoke this little fella?”

Reaching across the console, you smacked his thigh. Dangerously close to his erection that he hoped to fuck you couldn’t see given the darkness around you. “Let’s go.”

The drive up to the Pierce Point was by no means long but it was doing Stu’s head in watching the glow of the streetlights light up those thighs as you happily sipped at your Slurpee. He really should have finished himself off before picking you up. For his own sanity, he should have pumped one out so that he could focus on literally anything else besides how good you looked tonight.

He might have liked you for years, but those feelings were relatively easy to control when he had a healthy masturbation schedule to stick to and had his wits about him. His danger periods around you were when he was extremely tired, on account of his defenses being down, or when he was horny because, again, his defenses were down. He could bury his feelings easy enough if he focused hard enough but when he was tired and/or horny, there was no telling what would come out of his fucking mouth.

And that was dangerous.

You looking this good was dangerous.

Focus, idiot!

In no time, Stu cut the engine as he pulled up to the best view of the town and as the two of you got out of the car to sit on its hood, Stu watched you pull a lighter out of your purse and snag the blunt from behind his ear.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you muttered, putting the joint between your lips to light it up. Stu watched the orange embers spark to life as you took a long drag of it before passing it off to him. “And thanks for this,” you gestured to the scene before you, “I needed to get out of my own head.”

“Something on your mind?” He asked, taking a long drag himself.

Your laugh sounded almost sad as it rolled off of your lips. “Yeah, I guess.” You shrugged. “But this is already helping.”

Stu was quiet for a few seconds as he handed off the blunt. “Anything you want to talk about?”

Your head lazily lulled to the side to face him before giving him a small smile. “Maybe once I’m a little more stoned.” Was all you said before taking another puff.

Stu eyed you curiously as he leaned back against his windshield. “That’s ominous.” You laughed and stole one final puff before joining him on his windshield. You were shoulder to shoulder as you peered up at the sky and as the weed began relax the pair of you, Stu was feeling weightless as he turned to focus on your side profile. “You high enough to talk about it yet?”

You rolled your eyes but that amused little smile never left your lips. You were too close, he knew that much. Your noses were only an inch or two away from one another as you searched his eyes for the words that seemed to fail you and Stu found himself wishing he hadn’t picked up the fucking joint.

His guards were already down on account of exhaustion and his blue balls, adding being high to the mix was just reckless.

“You ever wake up and realize how fast life passes us by?”

That was definitely not the answer Stu was expecting out of you but, all the same, he shrugged and took a puff. “Yeah, I mean, I guess?”

“Like one day, we’re kids. You’re throwing literal mud at my face in the woods behind my house and the next, we’re literal adults smoking weed on the hood of your car.” You shook your head and grabbed the now small spliff from between his fingers. “It’s just fucking wild.”

Stu coughed on some smoke. “Someone’s feeling sentimental tonight.”

“Yeah,” you mused, “I guess I am.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you took your last drag before handing the last of it off to Stu. “You ever think about where we’d be if we hadn’t decided to be just friends?”

Stu nearly dropped the fucking joint on his chest as those words sliced into the silence of the night. Was he that high? Was the weed laced with LSD? There was no possible way he’d just heard you right. With a small frown, Stu slowly – almost timidly – rolled his head back to face you with a stunned look on his face.

“What?”

You swallowed and licked your lips and for a brief moment, fear seemed to cross over your features before you covered it up with a breezy smile. “Nothing. Sorry. This weed is just…getting to me, I guess. Never mind.”

Stu sat up and flicked the joint on the ground. “No, what did you say?”

“Honestly, nothing. I’m high. I’m feeling sentimental. It’s a shit combination.” You tried to laugh it off as you rolled off of the hood. “Please forget I said anything.”

Stu was floored. And if you honestly thought he was going to drop it after spending almost his entire life fawning over you, you were dead wrong.

“No, that’s bullshit, Y/N, what did you mean by that?” He rolled off of the hood to stand in front of you. Placing his hands on either side of your thighs to corner you in, his eyes searched yours. “Talk to me.”

Slowly, you sat up on the hood and frowned. “I just meant, like, if we hadn’t decided to be friends and only friends, do you think you would have ever considered anything more?”

The silence that spawned from those words was loud and uncomfortable as Stu glowered across at you, completely stunned. “Are you being serious right now?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “See? You’re making it fucking awkward, this is why I wanted to dr—”

An astonished laugh cut you off before Stu’s large hands gripped your thighs. “No, see, you’re not allowed to cop-out of the answer now. I ask again: Are. You. Being. Serious?”

No trace of amusement marred his handsome face as you stared right back into those intense blue eyes.

“Yeah, I’m being serious.” You pushed out quietly.

Stu could have died on the spot. “Where is this coming from?”

You mulled over his words before lowering your gaze down to his hands that were still wrapped securely around your thighs. “You know David Klein?” You asked, snapping your eyes back up to his. Stu nodded. It was a douchey footballer that he’d seen at Casey’s earlier. “Yeah, well, when I was at Casey’s, we got to talking and we started making out at some point.”

“With David Klein?” Stu grimaced. “The guy’s a fucking prick.”

You shot him a look. “Can I finish my story, dipshit?” Stu rolled his eyes but remained silent. “Anyway, we started making out, and as he started touching me, I just thought to myself -as this guy’s hand is groping my fucking tit - that I didn’t want to be doing this with David Klein.” Something that looked an awful lot like desire flashed behind that stare of yours and Stu almost lost it when the next few words left your lips. “I wanted it to be you.”

Stu swallowed and opened his mouth with words that didn’t come. He must have stood there for a solid minute just opening and closing his mouth like a fucking fish out of water before shaking his head. “What?”

“Jesus, Stu,” you pushed him off of your thighs and frowned. “I’m not fucking repeating myself, asshole. I told you I wanted to drop it but, no, now it’s so fucking awkward.”

“No, no, no,” he griped, caging you in against the car again. “I have had the biggest hard-on for you since we were, like, twelve. You don’t get to just drop that bomb on me and say never mind, that’s not how this works.”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes widened at his revelation, nor did he miss the way they flickered down to his lips as he cornered you in against the hood of his car. “What?”

“Oh, now who’s shocked, huh?”

“Stu, what the fuck,” you moved to push him away but he was unwavering. “Don’t joke about shit like that.”

“Who’s joking, Y/N?” A crazed laugh slipped out of his mouth. “I’ve been fucking crazy about you for years and now you’re telling me that some asshole plays with your tits and you realize you wanted it to be me?”

“Okay, that’s taking it a little too literally, dickwad. The feelings have always been there, shit-for-brains, but tonight it just got to me, okay?” You huffed. “I’m probably near my period or something, just leave it alone.”

“No, we’re not blaming this on your fucking period.” He yanked you further down the hood of his car so that your skirt rode up your thighs and so that you felt his raging hard-on between your thighs. “Do you think about us being more than friends?”

You could feel his cock through his jeans, and you prayed to god he couldn’t feel the heat coursing through your center as you habitually wrapped your legs around his hips. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” He pushed his hips into you and the breathy moan he got out of your lips was almost enough to make him bust inside of his jeans. “Tell me.”

“All the time,” you admitted, feeling your entire body light up as you slowly began to rub yourself against his erection. “Have you really had a crush on me since we were twelve or are you just trying to get into my pants right now?”

Stu leaned in closer so that your noses bumped. His eyes, those blue fucking eyes, soaked you in as his forehead slowly fell against yours. “I’ve thought about doing this since I threw mud in your face at James Deltoff’s birthday party in seventh grade.”

“About doing what?” You asked and as your hands trailed up his arms.

His answer came in the form of a kiss, one that sent shockwaves throughout the pair of you as his hands cradled your face, pulling you as close as possible as he finally got to kiss you.

Touch you.

Hold you.

He’d thought of his moment for years and all of that preparation for it in his head paled in comparison to the real thing.

You fit so good against him. Your entire body moulded against his own in a way that only you could.

You were out there in the open, any single person could drive up to find the two of you making out on the hood of his car, but neither of you seemed to care. This was a moment that felt every bit as dire as it was. Years of buried feelings, surfacing.

Finally coming to fruition after all of this time.

Slipping his hand down your throat and chest, Stu groped you through your thin tank top before burying his chilled hand beneath your top. You weren’t wearing a bra, he could tell that from the moment you took a seat in the car, but as he rolled the pert buds of your nipples between his fingers, the moan he got out of you in return almost killed him.

“Was this what you wanted, baby?” He asked, kissing his way down your neck. “You wanted me touching you like this?”

“Mhmmm,” you hummed, still rubbing yourself against his jeans. His erection combined with the flap of his zipper seemed to hit your clit in such a way that it was slowly getting you off. “I pictured you sucking on them as you finger fucked me.”

Your wish was his command.

Without saying another word, Stu yanked your top down your chest so that your tits were exposed all the while sliding one hand beneath the material of your skirt. He gave a few short licks to each nipple before taking one inside of his mouth, sucking and lapping his tongue against it just as he slipped his fingers inside of your thong.

You were fucking sopping.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your breast, “so fucking wet for me, baby.” His thumb circled your clit as he slipped two fingers inside of that hot cunt.

“Just like that,” you moaned, throwing your head back in ecstasy. “Fuck, baby, don’t stop.” Groaning, you threaded your fingers through his hair and arched into his mouth. “Ugh, Stu,” you breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue lapped at your nipple.

He squeezed your clit and bit down on your nipple before flicking his eyes up to your face. “Look at me,” he whispered, sucking hard at your breast as you rode his hand. You managed to focus in on him as he released your nipple. “Sit on the hood. I’m going to eat you out.”

Opening your mouth with a retort, the words died in your throat as he knelt between your thighs, yanked down your thong and trailed one, long, sloppy kiss all the way from your ass to your sopping wet folds before finding your clit. A long, drawn-out curse escaped through your lips as you fell back against your palms, chest heaving.

You tasted so sweet. So much better than he could have ever dreamt up. And the way your entire body shook and trembled on account of his tongue made his cock throb.  

Stu’s tongue was methodical and languid against your clit as his fingers massaged and squeezed at your ass. He was holding you in place, holding you still, as you bucked into his mouth, desperate for more, desperate for him, but he wasn’t budging.

He was going to feel you come undone on his tongue. He needed to feel it.

“Come for me, baby,” he hummed, the reverb of his voice against your already sensitive clit sent shivers up and down your spine. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

You were going to come.

Any second now.

You felt that mind-numbing pleasure build up in your toes and up your legs and as he gave your clit one long, glorious suck, you let it overtake you. Your entire body shook as you bucked into his mouth. Stars danced behind your eyes, desperate and primal moans tore out of your throat.

He didn’t ease up at first. Simply continued to lick and suck and nip at your clit as you rode out your orgasm. He wanted to hear you scream, wanted to feel you tremble on account of his mouth all night long.

But, needing release himself as his cock painfully strained against his jeans, he slowly released your clit and kissed his was up your pelvis and stomach before leaning up to capture your lips again.

You could taste yourself on his lips as you kissed him and as you slid your hand along the erection in his jeans, you instinctually opened your thighs a little wider. Breathlessly, you pulled away from his lips and bumped your nose against. Those intense blue eyes opened only briefly before you reached down to give his dick a firm tug through his jeans. “Fuck me.”

You wasted no time in tugging the material down his legs and laughed as you watched him kick them off before sliding you closer to the edge of the hood where you all but ripped his own shirt off of his body. Before pushing into you, however, he seemed to still. Silently staring across at you with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, reaching for his face.

What’s wrong? It was laughable that you thought something could have possibly been wrong about any of this. He’d wanted you so badly for years, needed you more than he could ever voice.

And here you were.

Without the proper words for it, his answer came in the form of a kiss as he slid inside of you.

Gasping, your hands slithered from his face to his back where you scraped your long nails down the sensitive flesh.

Fuck, you felt so fucking good.

All at once, your bodies found a perfect rhythm. He was so close to you. Your foreheads touched, your noses bumped and every few seconds his lips would find yours, kissing you senselessly as he pumped into you.

Years of pent up emotion and feelings were all coming out and Stu swore, as his name tumbled out of your lips, that he’d never felt more peace in his life.

He’d almost lost you tonight and that thought alone had almost killed him. But after this? There was no possible fucking way he’d ever let a goddamn thing touch a hair on your head.

You were it for Stu Macher. And he’d no sooner die himself before letting any harm come your way.

let me know if you like it x

[slasherscream]

Oh lord that last ask with the horror movie actress was so good, is it possible to ask for a continuation, if not thats all good. Also huge fan of your work!

A/N: thank you!! if it’s a continuation you want it’s a continuation you’ll get (glad you liked it enough to ask tbh cause it’s a fun one to write). here’s a link back to part one if you missed it.

     billy loomis x reader x stu macher ft. fem!reader who is a horror movie star …. part two

                                                     ——————– 

The very first thing Billy and Stu do once they leave school that day is go and do some research on you. How did they not know who you are? They know Randy wasn’t joking because of #1. your intense reaction and #2. they bullied him for a little more information.

Billy’s first assumption since he (the self-proclaimed master of the horror genre) doesn’t know anything about you is to assume you’re either a very shitty actress or been in really shitty movies. He’s mean so he’s leaning more towards you being a really shitty actress.

Stu’s kinda just excited to have met a “super hot babe” who is famous. Although the horror movie part of that is what double peaked his interest. 

They stop by the video store and Randy’s on shift. Sure enough there are a couple of your movies in stock and he obviously hands them over (even though he wanted to binge them all tonight… #Poor Randy).

They get their snacks and head to Stu’s house ready to be judgmental assholes of course. Billy’s probably already imagining killing you because one of the movie covers is super lame and if this is a total waste of his time someone is gonna pay for it. Stu is the type to watch crappy movies on purpose, however, so he’s fucking ready for anything.

They. Are. So. Fucking. Shocked.

Billy eat your fucking heart out. 

The first movie they pick is super shitty. It’s the very first one where you’re not a kid actually (yeah you’re a regular pro and have been in the game that long) but you        you’re a shining fucking star in it. Everything else about it is shit. The aesthetic. The score. The other actors. The villain. But you’re incredible. Its one saving grace.

If it had been anyone else’s debut movie it would’ve ended their career before it began. Instead it made you shine even brighter.

Every movie they watch after that gets better and better. You’re clearly now able to pick and choose your projects and you’re picking the cream of the fucking crop. 

In almost every movie you’re the final girl, the star of the show, and they absolutely think you deserve it. They’ve never been so into a movie marathon in their fucking lives. Excited screams. Cheering! Actually rooting for you and not whatever monster or deranged killer is after you. 

Then they get to the very last movie you made. It’s recent. Came out within the year, actually, and they both realize the reason they missed it coming out (and all its stellar reviews as it’s your most popular one yet) is because they’d just begun plotting the ghostface killings at the time. They were busy okay!

And yes they did have a small, totally pointless argument over whose fault it is that they missed out on all your fucking movies.

stu: how did you not see these, man? i thought you watched cult classics too!billy: shut the fuck up she’s baCK ON SCREEN - 

They lose their fucking minds when they read the summary for this movie. Because this time Hollywood’s favorite “fresh-blood sweetheart of horror” isn’t playing the helpless heroine. This time she’s the fucking killer. 

Stu physically screams out loud because he knows it’s about to go down and Billy is playing it cool even though “I’m the only other person here, Billy who the fuck are you pretending for?”

Stu won’t stop fucking hitting Billy’s shoulder like an excited teenage girl watching Twilight for the first time. You’re his fucking Edward Cullen and Jacob Black combined. He’s going to pass out if he gets any more excited and if Billy has a bruise on his arm he’s gonna “beat the shit out of you, Stu, swear to god-”

The look on your face during the movie sometimes when you’re covered in the blood of your victims from head-to-toe? Billy has fucking chills. He’s never been more in love or turned on in his life. He’s not ever gonna get scared by a horror movie at this point but if he was         yours would be the one to scare him. Holy fUCK he’s in love.

Every-time you get a brutal kill in Stu starts screaming, “That’s our girl! That’s our fucking girl!” He has already made up his mind on this subject, clearly.

There’s popcorn everywhere because Stu keeps spilling the bowl but Billy isn’t making him make anymore because neither of them are fucking eating at this point let’s get real. They’re fucking transfixed. 

When it’s all over           and that includes watching behind the scenes shit and the gag reels for every fucking movie           they turn to each other and they just start grinning.

Killing the horror movie actress that just moved to town? Ugh, that would be so predictable! Cliche, really! Do they look unoriginal to you? 

hONESTLY they and by that I mean Billy can’t even lie to themselves about why they’re not gonna kill or hurt you. This is love at first fucking scream, baby!

If there was a song playing during this fucking moment it’d be “One Way Or Another” because they’re definitely gonna fucking get ya’. 

The next day you walk into school and it’s a fucking circus. Someone heard Randy of course and now everyone wants to get close to the Hollywood Actress among them. You can see your dreams of a little normalcy slipping down the drain and even though everyone is being oooooh so nice to you (including people who before the reveal had been acting like you hadn’t existed or even been mean to you) you feel close to tears with frustration.

Then you’re yanked into an empty classroom by two sets of hands. You’re about to lose your fucking mind honestly and you turn around swinging your heavy ass math book without a second thought. You’re out for blood.

“Whoa! Put down the weapon of mass destruction, babe!” Stu, you recognize him and do stop swinging because you know these two are friends of Tatum and Sidney. 

As soon as you stop swinging the anger fades too and you’re left with nothing but that bitter feeling of disappointment. You start crying right then and there and it’s a special kind of humiliation. At least you can experience the shame of crying at school like a normal girl.

Both the boys are panicking although Billy is better at hiding it. He’s not even putting on a sympathetic face when he puts an arm around you, he’s actually very upset that you’re upset,  “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing! It’s dumb! I’m dumb!” Your attempted brush off does not make them go away like you wanted.

In fact now Stu is pulling your hands away from your face and staring down at you like a kicked puppy. He doesn’t let go of your hands and you don’t pull them away. As much as he’s a stranger you don’t have many friends and you do actually want comfort, “You’re not dumb. Why are you crying? If you’re crying over something it can’t be dumb!”

“I’m gonna sound like such a spoiled brat.”

“Try us.” Goes Billy wearing the most intense stare he’s ever had in his life (and that’s saying something).

“It’s just that …. It’s just that I moved all the way out here to get away from all the bullshit! I just wanted to try being normal for awhile! Go to school! Have normal friends! Be a normal teen! And now because of one dumb kid that’s all gone down the drain!" 

More waterworks are happening even as Stu’s trying frantically to wipe them away while absolutely refusing to let go of your hands.

They both kinda wanna kill Randy now since he’s kinda the reason you’re crying. But if he hadn’t been such a spaz they wouldn’t know how fucking incredible you are so they kinda owe him at the moment. The dork lives to see another day, they guess.

What’s really important to them right now is you, and making you feel better as soon as possible. You’re really breaking their hearts here. 

"Why don’t we get out of here?” Billy suggests smoothly, never one to waste time or a good opportunity. 

“What?” The tears come to a slow and it’s only now you start taking note of just how much these two strange boys are touching you. Billy is behind you, one arm around your waist and the other wrapped around your shoulders. Stu is leaning all the way over you both like some sort of benevolent, concerned giant with his hands still holding onto yours tightly. 

“Why don’t we get out of here! Great idea, Billy!” Stu crows with excitement. 

“Oh I see — lemme guess, the two of you want to spend some ’alone time’ with the big shot Hollywood actress, huh?” Your tone is harsh enough that it’d make weaker men cower. Billy and Stu are the type to rise to a challenge. 

“More like you seem to be good friends of Sidney and Tatum      ” Billy starts,

“      and any friend of theirs is a friend of ours!” Stu finishes, “They’d kill us if they knew we let you run around school crying your pretty, little eyes out.”

“It’s really not because I’m famous     ?” Your voice is so small and insecure it makes them frown. 

“What’s your name again? I forgot it.” Billy jokes and it actually startles a snort out of you even as you slide your way out of their arms.

You take a breath and wipe your face, hoping to make yourself a little bit presentable at least. Finally you turn to them and nod, “You know what? Yeah      yeah then, let’s get the hell out of here.”

You don’t have to tell them twice. They each grab a hand and practically drag you out of the building, you go along easily, laughing your head off all the way. Just the fact that he’s hearing your laughter without it being filtered through a television screen is enough to make Stu laugh too. Billy’s joy is more reserved but the smile on his face is undeniable and much softer than usual. 

This is gonna be the start of something beautiful. They’ll make sure of it.

                                                     ——————–