#[manipulative stu]

[liverralonee]

stuart macher is my representation of an evil bisexual 🙏 the scream fandom needs to stop writing him as this innocent little boy HE IS EVIL!!!!!’

[mcondance]

listen…hear me out…i’m imagining stu falling for a real sweet girl but this girl is like yuck i know your reputation playboy and since he’s obsessed with the chase he’s really gunning for it maybe even calling her as ghostface, getting her scared just so stu can swoop in and be like awh poor baby here i’ll keep you safe <3 big mean ghostface can’t get ya when im around

we should form a collaboration. (this got so long anon. i blame you. 17+) this idea has my brain turning like it gets him going so bad to scare you and then be able to come back and be your savior. it appeases the side of him that likes the chase, and the side of him that likes being in control. i think they’re both linked to his need for dominance and his sadistic nature so this is a win win for him.

you know him through sidney’s boyfriend billy, but you’ve never said more than a couple of words to each other outside of the friend group. aware of his reputation, your answer to his question is easy.

you tell him no, that you wouldn’t touch him with a 3-and-a-half foot pole. (he responds in typical stu fashion. he slaps a hand over his chest, expressing how hurt he is by your rejection, a knowing smile etching across his face.)

and so begins the chase. you turn him down over and over again, inviting sidney to the dates he asks you on, saying that the movie he wants to see with you just isn’t your taste— even if he knows he heard you talking to sid about how you wanted to see it just the week before, stupid little excuses to avoid everything he asks you.

he doesn’t mind. your rejections of his advances let him feel the way he does when he’s shrouded in that fearful black cloak, coming up with more and more ways to get you.

he keeps his distance— ghostface, that is. stu doesn’t want to scare you yet. with occasional phone calls that he directs to more people than just you, he lets you off easy, makes it seem like it’s just random.

but he’s getting a little anxious, and he’s always been impatient. he wants you.

billy and sidney are out of town for the weekend. and you’re terrified, more and more people close to you have been turning up dead. you resort to asking stu to stay with you for the weekend.

if he gets you to fuck him while he’s “protecting” you from ghostface? god he’d feel so good. he never forgets his alter ego, the slasher that terrifies your sleepy little town, but playing as your loving, caring little “friend” is fun too. he thinks you’re kinda stupid, to let him stay over at your house under the guise of keeping you safe.

you’d changed into your house clothes when you both got to your house, telling him not to touch anything while you were gone. when you came out he was in a t shirt and shorts, and he looked awfully good.

you’d let him have some of your snacks, throwing a bag of hot chips at him and perching on the other end of the living room sofa. you’d turned on some long ass video essay, and he actually found it sort of interesting, quizzing you on what certain stuff meant before you got tired and wanted to sleep.

he thinks, maybe you do have a thing for him. why else would you let a freak like him stay over? whatever the case may be, he’s here. in your pretty pink and white bedroom, he almost scoffs at the softness of it all.

“‘s cute.”

“yeah. i put blankets and shit on the couch. you sleep there.”

his lanky body barely fits on the small chair, but he knows he won’t be there too long, so he doesn’t complain.

the blanket you gave him smells like you, and he basks in it. your room is silent, for a while. in the darkness, your mind gets to you and you’re so scared even with stu right there.

“stu,” you whisper.

“yeah?”

“can you come sleep over here? i’m scared.”

there it is.

“yeah, ‘f course.” he feigns genuine sympathy, though you’re smarter than that and no matter how hard he tries, there’s always a sliver of depravity peeking through his words.

you scoot from the middle of your bed to the one side, lifting the covers up to let stu take the other side. too terrified to even get smart with him, you welcome him into your bed.

what a terrible mistake you’ve made.

in the light streaming through your windows, he looks gorgeous, blue eyes gazing softly at your worried expression.

“hey,” he starts, reaching out to rest his hand on your shoulder. you don’t shrink away. you’re frozen. “i got you. promise i’ll keep you safe.”

he’s full of shit. but it works.

“can you just. . just hold me. don’t make it weird.” you scoot closer to him.

“i won’t. come ‘ere.”

shifting, you move until your back is pressed to his front. he wraps his arms around you, cradling you and your fragile psyche in the palm of his hand.

“d’you think he’ll try and come for me?” you ask him.

“i dunno. but i promise i’ll do everything i can t’keep you safe.”

god, he impresses himself sometimes.

“thank you.” you whisper, the words stuck in your throat.

“no problem.” you can feel him looking at you, can see him out of the corner of your eye.

with his arms wrapped around you, all the feelings you’ve gained for him over the past weeks come to a head. he’s warm behind you, and he’s holding you just tight enough.

you twist around to where you can see him, and if you were standing your knees would have buckled from his gaze.

“if i let you kiss me, would you promise not to make it weird?”

“promise.”

“okay,” you breathe. and you kiss him.

what a terrible, terrible mistake you’ve made.

it all goes so fast from there. one kiss turns into many and you’re turning around so you can face him all the way.

he’s got you on your back and his hand down your shorts before you know it. his lithe fingers toy with you, his mouth swallows every single one of your sounds, his body provides you comfort, a distraction from the murderer desecrating your safe town.

you come for him. you make a mess on his fingers, the ones he knows are soaked with blood. he could almost shout from how elated he is to have you wrapped around his fingers.

over you he moves, pulled by his collar on top of you and to your lips again. he wants to be smug about it, to note the lack of 3-and-a-half feet between you two, but he doesn’t.

instead, he kisses you like a normal boy would kiss a girl he liked. instead, he professes his protection when you make him promise again.

instead, he kisses you through the stretch of him entering you. “‘s okay, you got it. doin’ so good.” he could blow his load now, at the sight of you in pain and pleasure, at the sound of your hisses and deep breathes.

he slides home. inches deep inside you and even farther in your mind, he fucks both. he’s done this before, fucked a girl in a show of devotion that she’ll fawn over, a false bridge of vulnerability that he inwardly laughs at. it brings him satisfaction he can only get one other way.

you feel safe. safe as he pushes his hips against yours, his cock kissing and sliding against every electric spot inside you. his hand is warm on your cheek, cupping your face and the other is firm on your hip. you whine with each rock into you, body tingling, ears prickling as he groans in your ear. sounds he’s only ever heard on the other end of the phone.

with slow, calculated moves he makes you come again, and god it feels good. in the back of your mind you’re embarrassed, cause all it took was being afraid for your life and stu got you where you know he wanted you.

but stu’s been in this situation enough times to know what comes next, and how to prevent it. it’s easy, kissing you before you have the chance to keep thinking and fucking you to another orgasm.

it happens again the next night. battered and paranoid, you’re being played into his arms and you don’t even know it. you’re embarrassed about it, but in your clouded mind it feels genuine. it feels like stu really cares. at first it didn’t, but now that he’s still coming around even after he got you in bed, maybe he does care.

sidney comes home and stu goes back to his and billy's place. you think you can calm down with sidney back and stu and billy coming over occasionally. you let stu stay the night in your room sometimes, and he gets what he wants from you again.

your neighbor's killed. what the fuck, when will this end? this time, stu comes over, and he stays. you can't sleep a night without him. you think you're being targeted. the only time you feel peace is when stu's fucking your mind away. you’re reliant on him. in his absence all you feel is fear.

the phone calls continue, and stu’s there to answer them, telling whoever’s on the other end to go fuck themself. again, he plays you into his arms. “don’t think about him. think about me.” he tells you, guiding your face from the phone beside your bed to his, and he lets you close the gap. he likes letting you make the first move. it fills him with pride at his psychotic deception, the way he’s turned you into exactly what you said you’d never be.

he thinks about sneaking out to don the cloak, showing up at your doorstep just to see the horror in your eyes. he resigns to dialing your number when you’re out, calling you and listening to your voice as you realize who’s on the other line. he follows you out sometimes and watches your paranoid moves, blood coursing hot through his body every time you look over your shoulder.

at your house, he comforts you when you crumple into his arms, suggests that maybe, you shouldn’t go anywhere without him. you accept.

god, what have you become. if you’re not full of stu then you’re full of terror, and he takes pleasure being the bearer of both of these things. you belong to him, your thoughts, your body, your feelings, it all belongs to him.

he loves to hear you go over his and billy’s crimes over and over again, lives for the disgust and fear in your voice when you recount the murders. he could probably get off to it, to your sad little words. and at night, he revels in being the only one that can make you feel okay.

you’ve become the perfect victim, and he didn’t even have to flash his knife. maybe he’ll keep you around.

[peterpastrahmii]

slashers + male manipulator albums

did I slay

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

Prove It

pairing(s): billy loomis x yandere!reader x stu macher

summary: billy and stu know you're obsessed with them, so they make you prove your devotion.

warnings: obsession, stalking, manipulation, brainwashing, toxic behavior, murder, gore, and blood. stu and billy sort of use the reader.

i really enjoy writing yandere!reader. part 2?

You smile lovingly as you stalk Billy and Stu out the window. You knew that they were both Ghostface but made sure they didn’t know you were stalking them.

They often hung out at Stu’s Place as you noticed it was their thing to do. They were cute and you wished they were yours so badly.

You acted normal in public but weren’t so normal in reality. Your facade wasn't real, You figured, Nobody knew. How could they? Especially the people you were in love with. One day, they would be yours.

You were deeply in love, however, what you really felt was obsession. You stalked admired them for a while before heading home. You did this every day, You knew their routine. their school schedules, people might think you're crazy, but you were in love. Love made you crazy. they never understood because in your mind, the people who would call you crazy obviously never experienced love.

However, you didn't know Stu and Billy knew you were obsessed with them. they knew when you would stalk them. they enjoyed how devoted you were, because they were obsessed with you. Only they were more subtle.

"Where were you, Y/N? Your Mother asked when she saw you come in. "Dinner is almost finished." "I went biking, You lie. Nobody could know your dark secret. Your Mother nodded, believing you. She believed you were a good kid, which you were, just slightly crazy.

When dinner was ready, You were in your usual spot. You secretly smirk feeling someone watch you. You liked having your own stalker. though, you never knew who they were. But you dreamed they were billy and stu.

You despised their girlfriends, Sidney and Tatum, for being their girlfriend instead of you. You were hurt whenever you saw them kiss or show PDA. It shouldve been you.

Once Dinner was over, You decided on going on a walk. Which would end up wifh you stalking your obsessions. You knew where they both lived. Knew everything about them, including them being killers. You didn't know their plan, though.

they knew you'd come back. You usually did. So when you did come, they decided they would reveal everything. Including the plan involving you.

When you hear Stu and Billy go over to you, You hide, before hearing Stu speak up, "Hiya Y/N, We know you're there. Come inside. through the door."

You gulp, they caught you. Would they no longer like you? You weren’t sure. But followed their order, knocking on the door, being led inside.

You sit down. “I’m sorry.. I… just… I am in love with you both! You blurt. Billy remains calm as he smirks, handing you a knife which made you confused.”we know. And we love it. We love you.”

Your eyes filled with excitement as Stu chuckled.”But there’s a catch.” “I don’t get it, You reply. You weren’t entirely sure what was going on. What was their plan for you?

Billy comes closer and your heart is racing as he caresses your cheek. You were grinning like there was no tomorrow.

Your grin was so big you could’ve crushed your jaw. "How devoted are you? Billy asked. You excitedly reply," Very. But Billy, why did i get handed this knife?"

Billy chuckled. "Prove it." You were shocked."W-What?" Stu laughed evilly. "Prove your devotion by killing our bitchy girlfriends! We know you hate them so much! Youve killed for us before, right?"

You nodded, You've killed many cheerleaders and girls who flirted with them before. You’ve never been caught. Because you frame others or played your cards right.

"then kill them. Make sure they suffer."

You decided on killing Sidney first. You despised her more for some reason. Even if you loved Stu and Billy equally. Sidney was so annoying, and shy. Plus, everyone knew her.

Fortunately for you, Sidney was by herself. Her Father was on business. You made sure the days leading up you did research so you could do this right. You broke in easily. How dumb was Sidney? Didn't she learn from her attack?

Now you knew why you hated Sidney more. she was attacked by them. By Stu and Billy, who were yours. Not hers.

You didn’t really bother to do much other than freak her out a little by making her hear noises. You wore a Ghostface costume but the difference was, you didn’t prepare by calling her.

Stupidly, Sidney says,”Who’s there?” She enters the hallway and even though she herself hated the dumb final girls in horror movies, she was acting like one yourself.

You lunge forward so she doesn’t expect you. And she hit the floor hard, she screamed and had fear on her face. You had her pinned down and without hesistation, began stabbing her multiple times.

Blood spattered onto your costume but that made you happier. You weren’t even done when she was dead. “That’s what you get, whore, You whisper then gut her insides.

To make it look more realistic, You hung her body up on the nearest tree. She was officially with her mother now. But you weren’t done. Tatum was next.

She was with some guy which made your blood boil but he left so you didn't worry about murdering him. You would make her pay for cheating on Stu. Quietly, You break in. She wasn't stupid, unlike Sidney.

"Come out, motherfucker! Tatum yells, so you pounce, however, she pushes you off of her quick, you roughly hit the floor. You were stupid when you grunted. She knew now you were female.

Now behind her, You successfully stab her once. She begins crying but remains strong while running for her life. You'd kill her eventually. When you finally pinned her down, She began begging for her life. Wondering why her.

You stab her more so she would die quick and shut up. You did the same like you did with Sidney. You walk out and take off your mask, running over and hugging Stu and Billy.

"Good girl, Y/N. You proved your devotion."

[admrlthundrbolt]

You Spin Me Round (Billy x Chubby Reader x Stu)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What happens when Billy and Stu realize that they've both had their eyes on Randy's sweet little twin?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guy, I'm back at it. I've wanted to write something for this murderous duo for a while now. Hope you enjoy the mischief.

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

Randy had always made it clear that his twin sister was off limits. Claiming that she was to sweet and pure for anyone to be with. And while he wasn’t wrong, that didn't stop Billy and Stu from fantasizing about her. She was so innocent and happy. The first person to offer you help, no matter the situation.

When Stu started failing Spanish you jumped to help him, even though you had chose to take French. Billy's mother leaving was the hardest thing he had ever been through, but there you were. On his doorstep the same night it happened, bag full of ice cream and movies. You held him while he cried himself to sleep that night. When he woke up the next morning, you were splayed across his chest. Your soft body wrapped up in his, he could have died happy in that moment.

Your gentle consideration was always there for them. That was what brought them to their current revelation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stu paced in the front den of his house. “I can’t believe that bitch would pull something like this.” Flopping onto the couch, he threw his head back and screamed.

Facing his friend, Billy frowned. Picking up the pillow between them, he shoved it into the other boy's face. “Could you stop that. It doesn't matter anyways, you said you didn't even like her.”

Yanking the pillow away, he glared at Billy. “That's not the point. I mean why would Casey leave me for that meathead Steve?“ He was about to go into another rant, until a knock came from the front door. He sent him a questioning look, then got up to see who it was.

Running a hand through his hair Billy let out a heavy sigh. When Stu didn’t return, he leaned over the back of the couch. Only to scramble out of his seat and to the door.

There you were, a sweet smile gracing your face. He tried not to get angry at the sight of Stu hugging you. He could feel the familiar ball of jealousy forming in his chest. As you pulled apart he noticed you were holding a large cloth bag. Looking away from his friend, you finally saw him.

With a small jump, your eyes went wide, then you lightly smack Stu's arm. “Why didn't you tell me Billy was here. I just about left my skin.” Even with your chiding words your words never took on a harsh tone. Your smile returned as you gave him a hug too.

“Sorry kitten, when you show up I forget about anything else.” Stu said, as he casually leaned against the now closed door.

Your round cheeks flushed at his flirting, though this wasn’t a new habit. But it was one that Billy had a growing animosity towards. How the other boy could nonchalantly hang off of you or throw compliments your way. It rubbed him the wrong way.

Grabbing the bag from your hands, he opened it. Where he saw a similar care package to the one you brought over to his house, ice cream and movies. It didn’t surprise him. Of course you’d come to Stu's aid after a break up. Could he expect anything different from an angel? “This your go to?”

With a shrug, you took the bag back, and headed to the kitchen. “I can’t think of anyone's mood that wouldn't be improved by ice cream and movies. Although pizza is always a good back up.“ You struggled to reach the bowls, what with them being on the top shelf. Just as your thoughts cursed Stu's tall lineage, you felt warmth on your back.

Stu was pressed against you, not yet wanting to admit how perfectly your plush body fit his own. The feeling of your backside huddled to his front was heaven. He would savor this moment for a bit longer, if he didn't feel he burn from Billy's glare. “Let me get that for you shorty.”

Turning around you looked up at him. You had known he was tall,but from this distance. It made you realize how much of a difference there was between the two of you. “Well we can't all have giant dna, now can we.”

Billy once again watched the casual display of affection. Deciding that it might be time to have a private discussion with Stu.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It seems like we share a common interest.” He thought it would be a simple way to start the conversation. But things were rarely easy to explain to Stu.

“No duh, we did kill Sidney's mom.“

The thought to punch his friend was a hard one to resist. “Not that. I meant (Y/N). We obviously both share feelings for her.”

A confused look swept across Stu's face. “Really, I didn’t think she'd be your type.”

“I thought the same thing about you, but it seems we were both wrong. So we need to decide were to go from here.“

He sunk lower into the couch as he pepared his answer. It was in this moment, among many others, that he was thankful his parents were rarely home. “What if we shared her.”

Billy was surprised at how much the idea was reasonable in his mind. He had thought this may end with him betraying Stu and stealing you away. With this option though, he could get you and keep his accomplice under thumb. This could work, under a few conditions.

So they spent the rest of the night discussing a way to continue killing. While also keeping the object of their desires safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why do you need to go to this party so badly. People are dying.” You knew your twin was obsessed with Sydney, but risking his life wasn't worth it.

He looked over at you with an annoyed squint. “It’s not just any party, it's a Stu party. You should know better than anyone what that means, unsupervised fun. I don’t understand why you wouldn't go.”

Rolling your eyes at his ignorance, even after all the horror movies. “They already suspect that a student is to blame. Why go to a house filled with potential murderers.”

Your logic was sound, but nothing was going to stop Randy from being there. If Sidney happened to show up, well that was a plus. First though, he had to reassure you that he would be fine. He didn't want to endure the wrath of your silent treatment again. “Listen, it’s at Stu's. We’ve been friends with him forever, I trust him. Could you ever picture that goofball having a mean bone in his body?”

You thought it over and he was right. You really couldn't imagine that Stu, let alone anyone in your friend group, would ever pull anything like this. You held your hands up in surrender. “Ok, I give. But you better check in with me.” You poked a finger into his chest. “Or I will come over there and drag you home. No matter who might see.“

Nodding, he remembered how easy it was to forget how fierce you could be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew you should have never let Randy go to that party. Your mind was buzzing with all the horrible possibilities, as you sped over to Stu's house. Though the only recurring hope was that all your friends were ok. If someone would just picked up the stupid phone!

Skidding in frontbof the house, you barely missed the mailbox. Only taking the time to throw it into park, you rushed towards the house. Before you could put your hand on the knob, the door was yanked open. There stood Billy, supporting a hunched over Stu, both of them smeared with blood.

“Thank God your here. Sid's dad is going insane. We’ve got to get out of here.” Billy all but roared. He quickly shut the door before you could glance in. If you saw the carnage inside, it would be much more difficult to keep you in their side.

You shook your head. “I can’t leave without Randy.”

His hand gripped your arm harshly. “We’re it (Y/N), everyone else is dead.” He shifted his hold on Stu and thought for a swift way out. While he thought everyone, but Sidney's dad was dead, he couldn't be a hundred percent. Stu groaned and gripped his stab wound. “If we don’t hurry Stu is next.”

Your eyes widened, noticing how hurt your friend was. “Ok, the car is only in park.”

You all raced for the vehicle. You went to grab the drivers handle, only for Billy to call out for you. “I need you with him in the back. You’re the only one with first aid training.”

You want to remind him it was only from a summer job at the local public pool. But desperate times called for desperate measures. With his help you slid into the backseat with Stu. Applying even pressure on his wound, you could feel frustrated tears building in your eyes. How could you be so stupid! People you loved were dead and one of your only remaing friend could very well be dying in your arms.

As you blamed yourself for everything that was happening, Billy was celebrating. You were finally their’s. Stu was optional at this point, if he made it to a hospital, then they would get him help. No what really mattered was that Woodsboro was in the rearview mirror. Nothing could stop them now.

[lexyscross]

It isn't lost on me how the 3 most sadistic, deranged, and excited Ghostface killers (Stu, Amber, and Ethan) are the 3 whom the fandom babies the most and insist they were pressured or manipulated by their male partner. 🙄

[screamzbrainrot]

guys guys guys. i have a theory that the scene in stus attic where it shows all those hanging dolls is inspired by Deep Red (1975) 🤭

i showed this to my friend when we watched deep red and they thought it was far fetched and yeah it most likely is but … i could also argue the scene where casey is hanging is a reference to Suspiria (1977) which is also directed by Dario Argento but then i’d be called crazy so,,,

like yeah this scene in scream is pretty much foreshadowing that stu is one of the killers cause these dolls represent casey, and there was another doll tied to a chair that represents steve, and then maybe the other one was himbry? i don’t know but i’m just calling it like i see it and what i see is a reference to deep red so 🤷‍♀️

[plasticdazed]

Crimson Love

Warnings: Heavy angst, disturbing themes, blood, coercion, unhealthy power dynamics, blood drinking, and toxic behavior. 18+. Minors do not read or interact.

Description:

On the desolate shores of Plastic Beach, 2D finds himself trapped in a sinister game orchestrated by Murdoc. The pressures of recording the next Gorillaz album have left Murdoc mentally drained and on edge. As 2D loses his voice due to overuse, Murdoc's patience wears thin. Instead of his usual outbursts, Murdoc resorts to silent control, which terrifies 2D even more.

The waves crashed relentlessly against the shore, mirroring the turmoil within Plastic Beach's gloomy interior. In a dimly lit recording room, 2D stood hunched over the microphone, his voice hoarse and strained from countless takes. The pressure to deliver the perfect performance weighed heavily on him, but he knew better than to complain. He had learned the hard way that voicing any form of protest invited wrath he couldn't bear.

"2D, mate, you're sounding more like a bloody walrus than a singer. Get it together!" Murdoc's voice growled from behind the soundboard, his eyes fixed on the blue-haired vocalist.

"I-I'm trying, Muds," 2D stammered, his voice barely audible, "Just need a moment."

Murdoc scowled, his patience dwindling rapidly. "Moments are for the weak, you daft twit. We have a schedule to keep, and your laziness is holding us back."

Desperation clawed at 2D's heart as he pushed himself further, trying to appease the volatile man who held him captive. His voice cracked, and then something inside him snapped. Blood trickled from his lips, staining the microphone with crimson droplets.

The sight was shocking even to Murdoc, and for a moment, his face softened with concern before morphing into something darker. "What have you done to yourself now?" he growled, his pupils fixed on the singer’s bloodied lips.

2D clutched his throat, coughing violently, blood dripping through his fingers. Fear and pain danced in his eyes as he glanced at Murdoc, who seemed to be filled with something disturbingly akin to fascination.

"You've gone and ruined your voice, haven't you?" Murdoc's pupils dilated, his voice lowering to a dangerous tone. "But you know, 2D, you're mine, and everything that belongs to me is my responsibility."

Confused, yet aware of the twisted connection they shared, 2D nodded weakly. He knew better than to resist Murdoc's whims, and if Murdoc wanted his blood, then that was what he would give.

The bassist moved closer, licking the blood off 2D's lips with a macabre intensity. A shiver ran down 2D's spine as Murdoc dipped his tongue into his mouth, tasting the remnants of his strained throat.

In this strange, eerie moment, a chilling bond formed between them. Murdoc's lust for control merged with 2D's desperate desire for safety, and for a brief moment, they found an unsettling harmony.

Murdoc's grip on 2D's throat loosened, and he stared at the singer, a mix of triumph and satisfaction in his eyes. "There. You see? Even in your pitiful state, you're good for something," he mused darkly.

Despite the disturbing encounter, 2D couldn't help but feel a strange sense of connection with Murdoc. In this bleak and twisted place, they found a peculiar understanding, a macabre intimacy that neither would admit but couldn't deny.

Plastic Beach, with its haunting beauty, became the stage for a dark symphony of unspoken melodies. In the face of silent control and manipulated terror, 2D and Murdoc danced to a melody they never wished to hear, bound by their own demons, trapped in the web they both helped weave.

[gch1995]

Jedi Critical/Negativity tag!

In the tags list some things that suck about the Jedi Order in Star Wars. I’ll start!

[philtatosbuck]

sorry but it’s incredibly funny to me that the scream franchise cannot breed a single normal ship. and this is coming from someone who thinks the Scream 1 friend group was the worst & gayest friend group to ever exist, who also ships billy/stu and tatum/sidney and Fully believe sidney and billy was the worst case of bearding in the world. like i frankly... ignore movies 2-4 a lot because i’m just not interested in them tbh but just like. based on the first movie, the fifth movie and the sixth movie? billy/stu, sidney/tatum, tara/amber, ethan/chad, quinn/mindy (i actually don’t know if this one is that popular but i’ve seen it), etc, etc. it’s like. incredibly funny to me. i don’t care who ships what i think it’s soooo funny half the main characters are killers and half are victims with like a good mix also being victims. incredibly funny to me.

[billyloomisisarat]

me: stop trying to make billy x stu happen. they are both equally sick in the head like stop shipping it

me a few days later: ...maybe i shouldnt— rule out the possibility of billy being fully aware of stu's attraction to him and using that to control him even more—

[mcondance]

pretty when you cry black reader, typical stu violence

a wise man once said, about stu and his listening to you cry to him about ghostface, “he could probably get off to it, to your sad little words.”

he can get off to it.

what a paranoid mess you are, dialing his number to crumble into tears once again about how fucking terrified you are, how you can’t ever get comfortable, how unsettled you are. fat tears slide down your face. stu slides his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

he’s already hard, has been since he saw that you were calling. on the other line you sound fucking pathetic, blubbering about a murderer, about him, and the vile things he’s done, and it’s heaven to him.

it’s fucking divine as he wraps his hand around his cock and swipes his thumb over his tip, drooling pre-cum, using it as lube to stroke himself right as you sob something about feeling like you’re living in a nightmare.

“oh, babe,” he feigns, more from the pang your words sent to his dick than sympathy for you. all from it.

‘i just— i don’t know what to do, stu, i’m just so fucking scared.”

god, he can imagine you now, your head resting in your palm as your shoulders shake with the depravity of it all, the horrifying notion of being slain by the hooded killer stalking your town. and he shakes with pleasure, adrenaline and arousal running through his veins as he listens to your panicked thoughts.

you’ve composed yourself a little, now, able to quiet your sniffles, sniffles that make stu’s hand around his cock feel infinitely better, and speak to him again. if he closes his eyes he can see your wet face, the tears that stick to your eyelashes, how your nose crinkles and your body tenses and shakes.

“what if. . what if he gets me, stu. what if he-” you cut yourself off with another broken sob, a wave of terror washing over you as you imagine yourself becoming ghostface’s next victim.

becoming stu’s next victim. god he can just picture it, trying his hardest to stay silent with his hand jerking his cock, his hips bucking every time your cries leak from your side of the phone.

he hopes you can’t hear his hand moving on his cock on the other side of the phone, how he jerks himself to the chorus of your pitiful lamenting, to your unbridled fear of being caught by him.

you’d run and shriek: how beautiful you’d look darting from him, how the beads that adorn your hair would spin and twirl in the dim lighting, how you’d look back at his shrouded figure. . or maybe. . he’d get you in broad daylight, corner you in your home and watch red leak down your neck from the silver blade against it. with that playing in his head, he’s so close.

“you gotta be safe, baby. keep your doors locked ‘n windows shut,” he attempts to comfort, in your eyes, and it makes him have to hold back a psychotically cognizant laugh, knowing he and billy can get in your home even if every door is locked and every window’s been checked twice. fucking freak is an expert at hiding his true feelings, though he can’t stop it from leaking through a little. but in your hysterical state, you don’t hear a thing.

he’s so fucking turned on it makes no sense, fucking his fist listening to you, jerking himself to your fear. he couldn’t not cum even if he wanted to. not with the way you sound crying for him.

you spill your innermost thoughts while he spills all over his hand, almost getting himself caught before he tucks his head into his sleeve, shivering with the force of his disgusting orgasm, thick white cum leaking from his tip while you just keep fucking crying, and god that makes it so much better, brings him to climax so beautifully. and when he comes down, still reeling from it all, he does what he does best. plays.

“i’m so sorry, baby.”

[killedbilly-slashed]

sid’s naivety is what really put her in so much jeopardy during the 1996 attack. even after the death of her mother, it was still there because she knew at some point she’d manage to come to acceptance of the loss with the support of her loved ones. never did she think her boyfriend and someone she has know since middle school would’ve been the cause behind it all. after the incident, she never allowed herself to ever be put in this situation again and constantly questioning motives as unfortunate as it is.

[phntmeii]

Slashers x Naïve!Sunshine!SO

Absolutely must protect SO at all costs. Keeps their SO away from their work so they stay innocent.

Jason Voorhees, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Completely infatuated with their SO. Their work centers around their SO, specifically against love interests or harmful people.

Billy Loomis, Brahms Heelshire, PostMichael!Corey Cunningham, Jennifer Check, Stu Macher

Doesn’t care to keep them away from their work. Takes their trusting personality as an opportunity to manipulate them as an alibi/helper.

Billy Lenz, Bo Sinclair, Freddy Krueger, Hannibal Lecter, Michael Myers, Patrick Bateman

[jadeslashes]

꩜﹒being stalked by them ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

includes: patrick bateman, charles lee ray, tiffany valentine, jason voorhees, michael myers, pinhead, jennifer check, freddy krueger, jackson rippner, stu macher, billy loomis.

warnings: includes nsfw, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. minors please dni.

tw: stalking, nsfw references, mention of dead animals [in jason voorhees’ section].

🪓﹒PATRICK BATEMAN ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

he's incredibly calm, collected and calculated about it

honestly most of the time you'd just think when you cross paths with him that he's just Some Attractive Guy

and any time he makes a comment about how you look, or even says something that you think he shouldn't know about you, you pass it off as just him being observant and charming

wouldn't be shocked if he had a couple pages of notes about you

and if you ever got a little too close to finding out what he was actually doing, he'd know to lay off a little (and if anything, insult you like he tends to do to throw you off the scent a bit)

every time he's watching you he's thinking about all the things he wants to do to you, he'd get lost in his own thoughts staring at you until you moved out of his sight

by the time he asks you to go on a formal date with him, you can tell he's a little strange, but you don't know how long he's been planning this exact date with you or how much he knows about you

🛠﹒CHARLES LEE RAY ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

he would be horribly possessive over you, anyone who comes too close has pretty much unknowingly held a gun to their own head

he's ruthless about it too, he doesn't care who they are or how close you were with them, they're getting killed off as soon as possible because his goal is for you to have no one but him to rely on

he'd be doing everything he possibly could to get you in a weakened mental state, so that you'd be more malleable and easier to manipulate

and if he can't be your one and only, he's just going to have to kill you too ig

🖤﹒TIFFANY VALENTINE ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

to be fair, she didn't expect herself to become infatuated with you

she hardly even realized how obsessed she'd become before she was already trying to figure out how to make you hers <3

however unlike most, she wouldn't stalk you before trying to talk to you and flirting with you

you'd be going on dates, spending time with her and getting to know her

and all the while she'd be collecting information, never wanting to be away from you because she's just that into you

🕸﹒JASON VOORHEES ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

he's the stalker you should be terrified for your life over, and he's not subtle

you won't know who he is, but you'll know that there's something wrong, someone watching you, someone playing these fucked up games with you

he'd leave dead animals in your yard from time to time, and do a lot of things to mess with your head, create anxiety until your every move is filled with complete dread of what you might find next or what might happen if you leave your house

and he's not stalking you with the intent of charming you and dating you, he's stalking you with the intent of taking you, eventually he just wouldn't be able to help himself, he'd need to have you <3

🔪﹒MICHAEL MYERS ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

he's your very typical, almost basic stalker

the hiding in the shadows type who's always watching you from their hiding spot unseen

is he watching you because he's planning to harm you or because he wants to learn about and observe you, maybe even protect you? who knows <3

he knows your schedule and knows where you'll be at any given point in the day pretty much all the time

he'd leave things for you in places where he knows you'll find them, he'll take things like your jewelry, books, or clothes and leave them somewhere else

i could see him having a small notebook full of notes about you scribbled in his messy handwriting too <3

i don't know if he'd ever make himself known to you, but he might eventually leave a trace, a hint of himself behind to give you a glimpse of who he is

⛓﹒PINHEAD ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

the moment you open the lament configuration, there's no getting rid of them

they can appear at will where they want to, and they'll use this to their advantage

no one escapes the cenobites, and you're certainly no exception <3

while the cenobites' main goal is usually to defile and tear apart people's souls, that's not quite pinhead's goal with you

they'd want to keep you around longer, make this torture last

and considering they are completely neutral and never have feelings of any kind towards their victims, you should feel pretty special for the hold you've managed to have on pinhead

you'd never be able to sleep knowing what you might wake up to in your room

and obviously you'd never be able to tell anyone, who's going to believe you when you tell them a cenobite is stalking you and trying to torture you for their own enjoyment? good luck trying to explain what a cenobite even is without sounding completely insane

there's absolutely no getting out of it, you're stuck playing this cat and mouse game with pinhead until they decide your time is up

🩸﹒JENNIFER CHECK ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

you would have absolutely no idea, i mean who would ever believe that jennifer check of all people was a stalker?

but little does anyone know, she stalks you extensively, she's literally obsessed with you

she knows all of your socials and lurks them often, knows your schedule, knows what car you drive, knows who all of your friends are

if she found out you were going to a party this saturday, you bet your ass she'd be there. if she heard you were going to the mall with your friends right this second, she'd drop everything and make annita go to the mall with her so she could try to find you

she's much smoother about it than most because she's not the silently stare at you type, she'll come up and talk to you outright

so when she starts to flirt with you and asks you to do things with her, you think she just likes you, you don't ever question for a minute how she knows so much about you or why she already knows where your house is or anything like that

also honestly? her jealousy is insane, the urge to get rid of anyone that got too close to you would be strong to the point she might not even be able to control it

💭﹒FREDDY KRUEGER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

obviously he shows up in your dreams constantly

however unlike with his other victims, his goal isn't necessarily to kill you

whenever he chases you in your dreams he taunts you with fear tactics and tricks

occasionally you'd wake up with little scratches from his blades, which would almost be his way of claiming you, letting you know that he's there, that he's real

and the fact that no one would believe you about your dream demon hurting you in the waking, physical world? that makes it even better for him, he loves to see how he's driving you insane

he'd appear in your dreams every night to the point that it'd become more comforting to you than nightmarish, maybe even eventually you'd stop running away from him

and by then, if you ever didn't dream about him it'd be discomforting, it'd almost upset you

which wasn't even his goal, but he's definitely very happy with the outcome

even the little scratches would start to be a comfort to you, because it means that he's there

🛩﹒JACKSON RIPPNER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

you probably vaguely know him actually

not super well, to you he's just a guy you pass when you walk around the park like you usually do on fridays, or the guy you see sometimes at the one grocery store you always go to

you've had conversations in passing with him, and you'd never have a clue how much he knows about you or how many times he's watched you unseen

he picks up on every little detail, things you might not even notice about yourself

and when he finally starts really talking to you, using his charm and flirting a little, you're absolutely astonished at how well you and him seem to click

and you have no clue that it's only because he's stalked you for god knows how long <3

🥩﹒STU MACHER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

he probably isn't very sly about it, i think you'd catch onto it pretty quickly

but just because he isn't slick doesn't mean it doesn't freak you out

whenever you go to school you're worried about seeing him, and somehow he always seems to be way closer to you than he should be

and he's such a starer, you could catch him staring and he wouldn't even stop or try to look away

and the worst part is that no matter how creeped out you get, no matter how many too-strange-to-be-a-coincidence things happen, no one believes you when you try to tell them

that's because he's just such a loud, charismatic guy that everyone seems to enjoy

and because of that, you're pretty much trapped

📞﹒BILLY LOOMIS ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

it all starts with those taunting, random phone calls

they'd start out few and far between

you'd just get a random phone call one night, have a very short, strange conversation with whoever was on the other line, then hang up and that'd be the end of it

until it happened again, and it was the same voice as the last time

each conversation, things would get more and more personal

and when you finally decided to hang up, not put up with this stranger's bullshit games anymore, that's when things would get real

that's when the phone calls would turn into him describing your clothing, the room you're in, and each move you make

he'd have you in total fear, under his complete control <3

[dilf-lover99]

6:52 | B.L. / S.M.

Pairings: Billy Loomis x Female Reader, Stu Macher x Female Reader

Summary: Reader is the daughter of an FBI profiler and childhood best friends with Billy and Stu. When a killer starts terrorizing her friends she has to choose between following her head or her heart.

Warnings: death, blood, stabbing, violence, swearing, manipulation, kissing, major character death (deviation from cannon), mommy issues, reader is smart but a little naive, ending is open to interpretation

Word Count: 7.9k

a/n: happy halloween !! i know it's been a while but hopefully this long ass story makes up for it. please don't cancel me for this, i'm not immune to the charm of a 25 year old slasher film. let me know what you think !

Six minutes and fifty-two seconds.

According to some remarkably arbitrary article you skimmed through in a mediocre issue of Teen Beat, it takes the average person six minutes and fifty-two seconds to determine which movie they’re going to watch.

In six minutes and fifty-two seconds you can brew half a pot of particularly unpalatable coffee in your kitchen. You can listen to your favourite Jeff Buckley song with eight seconds to spare, or drain a teeming glass of water.

Six minutes and fifty-two seconds is also the precise duration of time in which you’ve managed to evade the knife-wielding psychopath who’s killing your friends for sport.

Six minutes and fifty-two seconds.

Now here you stand in Stu Macher’s kitchen, explicitly parallel to the masked executioner, dread trickling deliberately throughout your body, dancing delicately up the incurvation of your spine.

Panic and confusion mingle together earnestly inside as you notice the killer stop before you, scarcely within arm’s reach. He tilts his disguised head at you slowly, almost as though he’s confounded that an armed maniac has been chasing you around the Macher house for the last few minutes.

“Hey...” He murmurs with a strangely familiar resonance, “I’m not gonna hurt ‘ya, Doll.”

Your expeditious breathing slows to a halt. Your face, previously adorned in confusion, is now painted with discouragement as you place who the voice belongs to.

No, you didn’t want to be right. Not this time.

A second unmasked figure appears behind him, holding a horrified and misty-eyed Sydney Prescott in his gangly arms.

“Well,” he draws out with a blinding smile, voice dripping with lunacy, “How do ya like our big reveal, Sunshine?”

Six minutes and fifty-two seconds, you think to yourself indignantly, what a fucking joke.

You were decidedly not a morning person.

This is your first thought, a routinely reoccurring thought at that, as you move to swiftly silence the shrill reverberations of your alarm clock. There’s a distinct lack of routine to your mornings, though you consider it a win in itself being awake before school starts.

You gradually make your way downstairs, adorning an oversized Fresh Prince of Bel-Air t-shirt and the first clean pair of jeans you see, offhandedly reminding yourself to do your laundry.

The house is forebodingly silent, you should’ve long since become accustomed to that. Still you can’t help the acrimonious look you aim toward the note sitting on your kitchen counter, rereading it for the umpteenth time before grabbing yourself some breakfast.

Had to leave town for a case, left you some money for food. Call you when I can - Love Dad

At least he left a note this time you think to yourself despondently. 

You don’t blame him for not sticking around, god knows your mom couldn’t either. But at least when she left it was for good. She didn’t resurface every few weeks and pretend to know what was going on in your life, vowing to be more present if given the chance, only to leave the next time a murder happened in some backwater town five thousand miles away from the daughter she swore to stick around for. No, that was all your dad.

You used to admire him, ironically enough. Solving murders and catching the bad guys, he used to be your hero. You and your mom used to allocate hours each day waiting zealously by the phone to hear of his adventures. In the course of time your mom got tired of waiting for your dad to call, eventually she just got tired of him in general. She got tired of you in general.

You never faulted your dad for her desertion, how could you? She left him too. Though you did follow her lead in straying from your perch aside the phone. These days it never rang anyhow.

The sharp honking of a car horn redirects your attention from your melancholic reverie, you grab your bag and set the home alarm before locking the door behind you, grateful for the excuse to be anywhere but your empty house.

“Well don’t you look like a ray of sunshine this morning?” Stu’s voice sounds from the passenger seat of Billy’s car as you smoothly slide into the back.

“What’s ‘a matter? You’re not all freaked about the killer are you?” He questions, turning his lanky body around in the seat so that he’s facing you, his wide dopey grin now on full display.

Right, the killer.

It’s the only story currently circulating on the Woodsboro news, plastered on the cover of every tabloid, not to mention it’s virtually the only thing your friends seem to talk about since it happened.

Casey Becker and her boyfriend Steve Orth were brutally murdered, their remains remorselessly strung up like Christmas ornaments. It should have made you sick to your stomach. But after all the gory photos you’d seen hanging on the cork board in your dad’s office, you couldn’t help the twisted tinge of curiosity that swirled about in your brain. Who did this? Your FBI profiler dad, who specializes in capturing people that commit violent crimes, sure picked a great time to be out of state for work.

“No, but I’m super glad that you always find a way to bring it up. Very well adjusted of you.” You retort with a gentle smile, as you buckle your seatbelt, instantly feeling better at the mere sight of your two best friends.

“Ah, come on. You know we’d never let anything happen t’you. Right, Billy?” He nudges his elbow at Billy, awaiting his agreeance.

“Course not.” Billy states, his voice is gentle but his tone is stern, and you don’t miss the indicative look he flashes Stu. What’s all that about?

“O..kay then.” You make it a point to remember that look. It’s peculiarly akin to the look he gave Stu at the fountain the other morning.

“I didn’t kill anybody” Stu abruptly defended.

“No one’s saying you did.” Billy shot Stu an ominous look of warning. 

What the hell are those two idiots hiding? 

“My knights in shining armour, truly. However could I repay you?” You deadpan sarcastically, coming to the conclusion that there is definitely something going on. You’re always right about these things. Whatever it is, you’re going to figure it out eventually.

You’ve known Billy and Stu since elementary school, they can’t hide things from you. At least Stu can’t. His facade will shatter like glass if you look up at him with big eyes and an amiable smile. Billy on the other hand, had spent copious amounts of time with you sifting through your father’s research when you were kids, which gave him the invaluable knowledge of how to get away with lying. That and his prodigious poker face.

“Well- And I’m so glad you asked, there’s actually a super easy way to do that. Wouldn’t take too long either-” You don’t even need to look at Stu to know this is another one of his empty-headed innuendos for sex.

“Wouldn’t take too long is right. At least that’s what Tate told me. You might wanna work on that.” You tease, gently squeezing his arm in mock sympathy.

Billy lets out a modest chuckle of approval at your childish rebuttal, sending you a wink in the rear-view mirror when he catches your smile growing at the sound.

You try to ignore the hastening uptick of your pulse at the simple action. He has a girlfriend, you remind yourself remorsefully, he’s your best friend and that’s all.

“Oh really? Guess we’ll just have to wait and see about that, won’t we?” Stu’s resplendent crystal eyes hold an edge of irritation, but before you can discern the connotation of it, they’re overtaken by the playful mischief you’re certain is a permanent fixture in them.

“Speaking of this whole killer business,” You swiftly steer the subject back, aware of your best friends’ infatuation with the topic, “How’s Sid holding up?”

Of all your friends, the killings had the strongest emotional impact on Sidney. When taken into account that the same thing happened to her mom almost exactly a year ago, it’s something of a wonder that she’s showing up to school at all.

Though Cotton Weary was tried and convicted for the murder of Sidney’s mother, you and your dad always shared a covert belief that somebody else was to blame. When you combed through the evidence, albeit evidence you weren’t legally allowed to see, something felt off about it all. Your dad agreed, stating as much to the local police who were less than receptive of his findings. In essence, they told him to fuck off, that they’d closed the case without the help of the FBI.

You never wavered on your belief that the true perpetrator escaped undetected, and now with the same m.o. being used to kill Casey and Steve, you’re adamant that these cases are connected. Of course you’ve kept this ideology to yourself, not wishing to dredge up any more pain for Sid, the poor girl’s already been through more than her fair share of it.

“More frigid than usual I bet. If that’s even possible.” Stu jokes incautiously.

Billy swats Stu firmly in the chest, glancing at you in the mirror again as Stu lets out a minor yelp, “She’s not so good. I tried to make her feel better, but you know how I am with that sort of stuff” he says unhurriedly.

Unfortunately I do, you think to yourself. Of all the things you love about Billy, patience and understanding are not exactly the top contenders. You imagine his version of consoling Sid ended with her feeling worse.

“At least you tried. That counts for something.” You add optimistically, already preparing to check in with Sid the first chance you get.

“I’m not sure it does,” His eyes are surveying your every feature through the rearview mirror and you’re becoming acutely aware that he’s barely spared a glance at the road since he started driving, you being the sole focus of his attention, “Not with her anyway,” He mumbles out the last part but you manage to piece it together inquisitively.

If you were thinking with your emotions instead of your intellect, you’d have picked up on the nuance of his words and the uncharacteristic benevolence of his gaze. You’d have pieced together sooner that you actually had a chance with Billy Loomis.

The trajectory of your life, the lives of your friends, could have been exponentially juxtaposed if you had only continued to prioritize your mind above your heart.

“Fuck!” Oh god, oh god, oh fuck! Not the most eloquent thoughts in the world, but they’re about all you’ve got since you caught sight of the menacing masked figure jumping onto Sidney, armed with a particularly sharp-edged blade.

You’re vehemently regretting tagging along to what was initially intended to be a girls night with Tatum and Sid. 

“Safety in numbers,” Tatum smiled impishly, tugging on your arm in that way she does when she wants something bad enough, “Besides, your dad’s gone too! You and Sid would be much safer at my place.” She brought up a valid point. Although you weren’t as unnerved as your friends at the prospect of being murdered, your strong distaste for spending another night alone in your house was enough for you to give in to your friend’s wishes.

“Alright. I’ll come. But no cheesy rom-coms, we’re watching Seven.” You conceded sooner than Tatum expected. She had a whole speech about the sanctity of friendship planned, but she intended to save it for another time.

“You’ll have to convince Sid. You know how she feels about horror movies.”

“I also know how she feels about Brad Pitt,” You teased with a grin, earning an emphatic giggle from Tatum, “Besides, it’s a thriller not a horror. Randy would die just to roll over in his grave if he heard you right now.”

The plan was to go back to your houses separately and grab your things, Tatum would pick you each up on her way home from practice. The plan changed after you observed Sidney throughout the day. You could tell she was jittery and nervous, despite her fruitless attempts at covering it up, so you went straight to her house together after school. 

The two of you briskly passed out on opposite ends of the couch, only awoken by the piercing ring of Sid’s telephone. “Tate’s gonna be a while, she got held up at practice.” Sid relayed the message to you, gingerly rubbing the evidence of sleep from her eyes.

You nodded in understanding, moving from your previous position on the couch and deftly stretching the tender muscles in your back.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water. You want anything?” You asked Sid as the phone resumed ringing, she shook her head no with a comfortable smile and answered the call as you walked toward the kitchen and out of ear shot.

You moved around the kitchen with an air of familiarity, taking your time filling the glass. Your walk back to Sidney turned into a swift jog, confusion and mild alarm made their presence known on your face as you heard her yell “Fuck you, cretin!” into the phone with conviction.

“Sid- Hey, what’s going on?” You moved to comfort her frenzied form, taking over for her shaking hands you swiftly locked the chain on her front door.

“The killer- He… Oh my god!” Her frenetic speech died a merciless death on her lips as she heard the door of her hall closet swing open. Before either of you could register what was happening, the killer was on top of her.

“Fuck!” Sid yelps, flailing wildly in a desperate attempt to escape from the masked lunatic’s grip.

You froze for a moment back there, you aren’t proud of it. All the self-defence lessons and step-by-step protocols for how to survive in a dangerous situation seemed to have vanished from your mind. But now you can hear his voice in your head, stern but compassionately reassuring like it always was, “C’mon (y/n), this is life or death. As much as I wish I could, I can’t always be here with a gun and a vest to protect you. So come on, how are you gonna fight back?” You used to hate it when he did that. Why should a girl your age worry about those things?

Thanks Dad, you silently praise, guess you make the time we spend together count.

You snap out of it instantaneously, bringing down your half-empty glass of water over the killer’s head with considerable force, shattering it to pieces and stunning him long enough for you to send a brutal kick to his side, temporarily removing his looming figure from atop Sidney. You suppress a wince as you notice one particularly long shard of glass has embedded itself deeply into your palm, blood trickling evenly from the gash as you gingerly remove it.

You waste no time grabbing Sidney from the floor, pulling her along with haste as you reach the staircase and begin your ascent. “Wait- The front door is-” She starts before you cut her off, “It’s locked Sid. We don’t have time, he’s right behind us.” She turns to gage the distance and her eyes widen substantially as she sees just how correct you are. He’s right there.

In a matter of nanoseconds the killer grabs ahold of Sidney’s foot, giving it a solid tug. Her hand slips from yours as he drags her down the steps.

“Anything can be used as a weapon, especially when you combine it with the element of surprise.” Your dad’s voice rings through your ears once more as you stormily grab hold of a bulky framed painting from the wall and smash it down onto the killer’s head. He groans and trips back a half-step, just enough distance for you to pull Sidney back up, taking care to hold on extra tightly as you resume your course to her bedroom.

Hightailing it to her room, the two of you close the door behind you, Sidney rushing to alert the police as you make a half-assed attempt to barricade the door shut, working at warp-speed.

The door jolts violently behind you as the killer manages to squeeze his arm through, prompting Sid to bellow out a short scream of terror. You push back on the door with all your body weight, a triumphant smile fighting its way to the surface as you hear the vociferous groan of pain emitting from your pursuer. He pulls his arm back with haste, allowing the door to shut fully behind you.

It’s agonizingly silent. What’s he going to do now? He’s much stronger than you or Sidney, surely he could break down the door. Or stab it with his knife, stab you with his knife. You’re eagerly awaiting his next move. Sid, on the other hand, needs this to be the end of it. She manages to contact the police through her computer, and you can’t deny the pride you feel for her, carrying on despite the clearcut terror she’s just experienced.

You both turn toward the window on high alert, a noise informing you that you’re not alone. You grab the first thing within your reach, Sidney’s hairbrush, and hurl it with impressive force at the figure entering her bedroom. 

“Ow! Jesus (y/n)! What the hell’s goin’ on? I heard Sid screaming. The door was locked. Are you guys okay?” Billy questions, pulling himself through the window once he recovers from the hairbrush hit to his temple.

I heard Sid screaming.

How did he know it was Sid who screamed? And what exactly was he doing here anyway? 

No, you cut yourself off, there’s no way! It’s Billy, he wouldn’t…

Would he?

When you and your dad made the profile for Maureen’s killer, you determined that it had to be a young adult male between the ages of 16 to 24. You also theorized that he had to know Maureen, the level of rage present in her killing was too personal for a stranger to carry out. Your dad threw around the idea that maybe there were two killers, one with a hunger to be in control, the other just along for the thrill of the hunt. 

You remember the day you brought the profile up to Billy and Stu.

The three of you were watching some cheesy 80s slasher in Stu’s spacious living room, Stu’s arm around your waist as your head gently laid on Billy’s shoulder.

“My dad agrees with me you know?” You start, voice overtaking the synthetic screams of whichever big-breasted actress was getting slaughtered on screen, “That it wasn’t Cotton Weary. He actually thinks there were two of ‘em.” Billy and Stu both tense up, causing you to observe them from the corner of your eye.

There was a brief look of alarm on Stu’s face causing your eyebrows to furrow together in confusion. Perhaps you should have kept your reaction subdued, as Billy picked up on it instantaneously. He delicately grabbed ahold of your chin, the pads of his fingertips setting your skin ablaze beneath them, turning your face to his he muttered coldly, “Since when do you care what that asshole thinks?” 

Your gaze dropped from his, a frown taking over your lips. He’s right, in a way, but he doesn’t have to say it like that.

“Hey, come on Sunshine, turn that frown upside down, huh?” Stu was his usual sanguine self again in the blink of an eye, that beautiful broad grin already back in its rightful place on his lips, “Who needs him anyway? You got us.”

“Yeah,” You smiled back despite yourself, “Guess that makes me pretty lucky.”

For someone who loves talking about murder so much, he always manages to brazenly shut it down whenever you bring up the profile. The profile that he fits.

How did you never see it before?

“Sid,” You start slowly, taking a gentle step toward the girl who’s wrapped in her boyfriend’s embrace. You’re attempting this with the utmost care so as not to alarm Billy, in case he’s hiding the familiar blade on his person, “This cut on my hand is pretty deep,” It’s true, though you couldn’t care less about it, “Can you come help me with it, please.”

Shit.

Your voice broke on the last syllable and you’re definitive that he noticed.

Billy turns to you with a look of confusion, it’s almost as though he can read your mind. “Your hand?” He questions, not releasing Sid from his grip, “What happened to your hand?” He seems genuinely concerned and you’re beginning to doubt your own instincts. Until Sid pulls away from his grip, a soft thump resounding as something falls from Billy’s pocket.

A mobile phone. 

The kind of mobile phone a killer would have if he had just made a menacing, life-threatening phone call to his girlfriend.

Why did you have to be right?

Six minutes and fifty-two seconds. You don’t time it, but that’s how long it takes for you to change into your pyjamas, or in this case one of Dewey’s old t-shirts that less than flatteringly falls below your knees in an Ebenezer Scrooge sort of way, and get situated beside Tatum in one of her twin beds.

Despite the cataclysmic series of events you’ve just been through, you manage a loose smile as you watch Sidney ice her hand after landing a particularly impressive punch on Gale Weathers’ face. 

“The pain’s gonna fade in the morning but the pride’ll last. At least mine will, you’re kinda badass, Prescott.” You jest, attempting to quell the foreboding thoughts you’re sure are threatening to chew her up and swallow her whole.

“Ditto,” She motions to your injured hand, all bandaged up thanks to Dewey’s gentle insistence, “I’m sorry it happened, you shouldn’t have gotten hurt saving me.” She concludes, ever the saint.

“Sid, no. Okay? None of that should have happened in the first place.” And I should have seen it coming. You keep that one to yourself.

“Do you really think Billy did it?” Tatum questions from beside you.

“He was there, Tatum.” Sidney replies solemnly.

You zone out of the conversation, even after Sidney leaves the room. You can’t stop thinking about the look Billy gave you as they pushed him into the back of the police car. He was desperate, that much was obvious, but there was something else there too, it was almost like he was heartbroken.

Why would he look at you like that?

Maybe he was upset that you figured him out before he had the chance to gut you like a fish. Maybe it was because he knew Sid would never speak to him again.

Or maybe it was because he couldn’t fathom you believing this about him, you ponder remorsefully, maybe he was innocent.

You’re on edge, anyone with a functioning pair of eyes can see that. But it’s not for the reasons they’d think. You’re not scared of some masked psycho reaching out and slicing your throat. You’re perturbed at all of the eyes that are drawn to you like moths to a flame. 

You’d had enough of it before the first period bell even rang.

“How does it feel to be almost murdered?” An immensely insensitive reporter shouted, hovering the microphone unreasonably close to Sid’s face, onlookers gathered around you, awaiting her response with bated breath, “Keep holding that thing in her face and I’ll be happy to ask you the same question.” You threatened half-heartedly, gently maneuvering Sid and yourself through the crowd.

“Hey pretty lady,” Stu’s congenial voice sounds from behind you, firmly knocking this morning’s unpleasant memory from your cranium. He wraps his gangly arms around your middle and bends down a farcical distance to rest his chin upon your shoulder, “Star in any good horror movies lately?” He questions, letting out a chortle at his own words.

“You’re a really emotionally intelligent guy Stu. Anybody ever tell you that?” Your acerbic undertone isn’t lost on him for once as he registers your discomfort.

“Hey- That was- You know I’m just joking, I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re joking, you’re just not very funny.” 

Removing his hands from your body, too soon for your liking, you think, he throws himself dramatically against a row of lockers, hands on his heart as he groans in mock agony, “Take it back! Please, take it back!” 

He’s an idiot.

An idiot with perfectly carved dimples and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. And you want so desperately not to give in to his theatrics, but you can’t help it, not when those eyes are shining at you like the cascading glimmer of the moonlight. You’re smiling before you can stop yourself.

“Ahhh, there it is,” Stu’s voice still holds that ever-present joking tone, but his eyes are sincere, like he’s desperate for you to pick up on the emotion hiding beneath it all, “Can’t live without that smile. ‘M never gonna let you go.”

Your heartbeat rapidly increases in pace and you all but force yourself to look anywhere but his imprudently handsome face. Stop that, you internalize, best friends, nothing more.

“(y/n), hey. Can I talk to you for a sec?” You don’t need to redirect your gaze to pinpoint the source of the voice.

It’s Billy.

“See ya later, Sunshine.” Stu bids you farewell, placing a gentle lingering kiss on the apple of your cheek.

“I have to get to class.” You turn to walk from Billy, not in the mood to hear whatever tales of deception he’s concocted in the confines of his imagination.

“Just-” He reaches out for your arm, stopping dead in his tracks when you flinch away from his touch, “Give me ten minutes okay? If you hate me after that, then I’ll leave you alone for good.” The sorrow in his voice is enough to keep your feet firmly planted.

“You’ve got,” You spare a quick glimpse at the clock on the wall, mentally calculating how long it’ll be before you’re late to AP Chemistry, “Six minutes and fifty-two seconds. Take it or leave it.”

“Yeah, I’ll take it.” He attempts a smile but it falls faster than it formed.

“I’m not an idiot Billy. Or- Or maybe I am, because I didn’t see it sooner, but-”

“Don’t do that,” His voice resembles a whisper, his eyes are pleading but there’s also an edge in them that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck, “Don’t- You know me, right? We’ve been friends since we were kids. Look at me,” His fingers reach out for you, a near imperceptible smile twitching at the sides of his mouth when you don’t immediately recoil, “You know me. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” 

You know in your mind that there’s no reasonable explanation for how it all adds up. He fits the profile. But in your heart, you know he’s telling you the truth. The look in his eyes confirms his words, he wouldn’t hurt you.

Against your better judgement you lean into his touch, his hand finds its way to your cheek, drawing indistinguishable circles above your zygomatic bone with his thumb.

“What about Sid? Have you talked to her?” You feel his body tense up, though he does a good job of keeping his emotions unreadable.

“Yeah. We talked.”

“And?”

“And,” He breathes agitatedly, “We broke up.”

“You what? Well- Are you okay? Is she okay? Oh god, I should go find her.” You softly attempt to maneuver from his grip but his hold tightens slightly.

“She’s the one who dumped me, so I’m sure she’s fine.” 

“Does she still think-?”

“No. No, she knows I didn’t do it. But I guess it just wasn’t working out.” If he’s lying, he should make a career out of it. You’re studying every inch of his captivatingly handsome face, and you can’t find a hint of misrepresentation.

“It’s for the best really,” His honeyed gaze settles on your own eyes, your breath hitching noticeably as you take in their mahogany-toned opulence, “Otherwise I couldn’t do this.” His lips are on your own without a moments hesitation.

You know the only intelligent response is to pull away and race to AP Chem, pretending like it never happened. But today you’re letting your heart think for you. And it feels precariously marvellous. You kiss him back with more passion than you knew you were capable of mustering, the years of feelings you’ve hidden away, even from yourself, come spilling out from your lips and land delectably onto his.

Billy moves his unoccupied hand into your hair, giving it a gentle tug, expertly sliding his tongue into your mouth the moment your lips part to release a gentle moan. If this is what it feels like to prioritize your heart above your mind, you’re not entirely confident you’ll ever use your brain again.

The vociferous ringing of the warning bell unwillingly splits the two of you apart, though his forehead still rests contentedly against your own.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, Doll.” His eyes are looking at you with a plethora of unknown emotions and your heart is beating far too fast for you to decipher them.

“Worth the wait?” You question softly.

“Absolutely. Glad the wait’s almost over though.”

The wait’s almost over.

Maybe it was the warning bell, or your AP Chem teacher’s disdain for tardiness, or your ever-hastening heartbeat and affections for a certain brown-eyed boy, but you missed it.

The one and only slip-up he made all day and you were too lovestruck to notice.

Those six minutes and fifty-two seconds would cost you big time.

“Ahh, there’s my Sunshine. Perfect timing!” Stu swings a lanky arm over your shoulders as you catch up to him in the school parking lot. “I just finished spreading the good news,” He states with a cheeky grin, as if you should have any idea what he’s referring to.

“Oh, well are congratulations in order then? How far along are you?” You press a teasing hand to his stomach, grin growing as he sticks his tongue out at you, moving his hands to your sides and giving you a short tickle.

“Oh, ha-ha. She’s a real comedian today, huh?” He narrows his eyes in jest, “I’m talkin’ about the crazy killer get outta school free bash I’m throwin’ tonight. You’re coming of course,” He tells you rather than asks you, though you’ve never had much luck saying no to Stu.

“Another one of your million dollar ideas I presume? ‘Cause there’s nothing totally birdbrained about throwing a curfew-breaking rager with a masked psycho killer on the loose.” You’re not keen on the idea of showing up to some party with everything that’s been happening, not to mention what Sid must think of it all.

Not that you have a right to act all sanctimonious when it comes to Sidney’s feelings, her relationship with Billy was barely over before you had your tongue down his throat.

“Come on, Sunshine, it’ll all mean nothing without you there.” 

It’ll all mean nothing.

“What’ll mean nothing?” You question gently, careful to hide the inquisitive edge to your query.

Stu’s eyes widen sizeably as he clears his throat, “Just- Nothing. You’re- You’re coming right?”

After that? You’re definitely going. Tonight you’re figuring out once and for all what this boy’s been hiding from you.

You tried to stay away from Billy, honestly. But the second his eyes met yours in Stu’s living room, you knew it was a futile attempt.

The two of you expeditiously wandered upstairs into one of the many vacant bedrooms available in the Macher house, barely closing the door behind you before your lips were melding together.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this all day,” Billy hums against your lips, placing another searing kiss there before moving his way down to your neck. 

Engaging in a moment of passion at a party while an unidentified serial killer roams on the loose may not have been your finest moment but, unintelligently, that was the furthest thing from your mind. Billy’s hands were now sliding delectably slowly underneath the hem of your shirt as his lips continued their pursuit on your neck, that was the sole occupant of your thoughts.

At least it was, until you saw him.

Before you could verbalize the killer’s sudden materialization to Billy, it was too late.

The masked figure hastily removed Billy from your grip, his cold steely blade acrimoniously slashing Billy with ease, ostensibly the knife was even sharper than it looked. Billy’s blood splattered onto your face and you made the split second decision that, this time, a glass of water and a painting weren’t going to protect you.

“(y/n), I need you to remember this part, okay? No matter how scared or tired or hopeless you feel, if you can run, you run! Alright?” You’d heard your dad’s voice more in your head these past few days than you had out loud in months, but at that moment you were simply grateful you’d ever heard it at all.

You didn’t chance a single look behind you, expertly weaving your way through Stu’s house and out the back door. You didn’t glance back even after you’d escaped the house and almost crossed the property line.

Where did all the cars go?

If there were any other choice, you wouldn’t have ran back into the house. But your friends were nowhere to be found and, peculiarly, neither was the killer.

If he was out there looking for you, surely he’d never expect you to go back inside. All you had to do was reach the phone in the kitchen and call 911. The last sight you were prepared to see was the killer’s masked face parallel to your own.

“Well... How do ya like our big reveal, Sunshine?” Stu grins wickedly from behind Sidney.

The deep crimson remnants of the scene you thought you’d witnessed are still making their way down your face, trickling along your tepid skin like raindrops on a car window. You wipe them away fervently, the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you becoming more than you can bear.

It’s not even real blood.

“What is this?” You utter nauseously, gesturing to the foreign substance coating your face.

It’s probably the least important question you could be asking right now but you’ll admit the two of them have put on quite the performance. You’re sickened, but you’re curious.

Billy removes his mask, stepping closer to you and wiping a drop of the mystery liquid from your cheek, ignoring the way you flinch at his touch and placing the finger onto his tongue he lets out a low hum of approval, “’S’Corn syrup, Doll. Same stuff they used for pig’s blood in Carrie.”

Jesus.

Sid freed herself from Stu’s grip, him and Billy now distractedly gazing at you with distinguishable looks of pride. You gesture your head near-imperceptibly toward the entryway, a silent request for her to run while she has the chance. She hesitates, clearly apprehensive about leaving you to fend for yourself with two armed maniacs, but you need her to go. You can attempt your own escape when you know she’s safe.

“You had me fooled,” You start in a desperate effort to maintain their attention, “I mean, I had my doubts- But that whole fake death scene upstairs? You guys really sold it.” Sid discreetly makes her way to the entryway, stopping to look at you with a final questioning look on her weary face. 

Nodding your head near invisibly, you make the devastating mistake of sweeping your eyes over her frame to survey her injuries. It was quick, a nanosecond at most before your gaze was back in front of you, but it wasn’t quick enough to go unnoticed by Billy, who grabs ahold of his knife and has it pointed against Sid’s throat in a matter of seconds. 

Billy and Stu launch into a certifiably demented rant, their words exploding on Sidney in a particularly violent manner.

Why would they have it out for Sid specifically?

Oh.

Billy turns toward you and ends his dialogue without warning when he recognizes the look of understanding on your features.

“You killed her,” You breathe a near sigh of relief, finally understanding the bigger picture, “You killed Maureen and you’ve spent the last- Who fucking knows how long you’ve spent, just planning this- All to torture Sid.” It’s all making so much fucking sense and you can’t believe the amount of time it’s taken you to piece it all together, “You killed Casey Becker too, ‘cause she sits next to Sid in English. You knew she’d see that empty seat every day and be reminded of her mom. Psychological warfare…” 

Billy looks uncharacteristically proud watching you piece it all together, “Got it in one, (y/n).” 

“You’re- You’re sick! Why? Why the fuck would you do that?” Sidney struggles in Billy’s hold as he explains his motive behind her mother’s murder.

Mommy issues. Figures you’d have that in common.

Stu looks outwardly surprised at Billy’s reveal, indirectly confirming your dad’s two person theory. One killer with a personal connection to the victim and the other just in it for the thrill of the hunt. Dad’s gonna be so pissed he missed this, you regard inwardly.

“How are you gonna do it then?” You question the two unjustly handsome lunatics.

“Do what, Sweetheart?” Billy asks benevolently from beside Sid, still holding the tip of his blade to her neck.

“How are you gonna kill me?” You probe.

The question is a test. You’ve got a theory that they didn’t plan far enough ahead to remember that your dad will hunt them down to the ends of the earth after you die, especially since they haven’t seemed particularly keen on covering their trail. If you figured them out this quickly, your dad would have them behind bars in no time.

“What?” Billy asks, all previous traces of jubilance promptly removed from his face.

“How are you going to kill me?” You repeat tauntingly, if your best friends since elementary school were going to kill you like it was nothing, you were going to enjoy the thought of them spending the rest of their lives in florescent orange jumpsuits, “Spare me the gory details but, you do know what FBI stands for, right? Good luck getting away with it this time.” Thankfully, your voice manages to come out far more confident than you’re feeling inside.

Stu moves from beside you to in front of you, gently placing his sizeable hands on either side of your face. Has he always been this tall? Craning your neck to look up at him, the smug smile you managed to plaster on slides off and morphs into confusion as you notice the doleful look on his face. Why is he looking at you like you just kicked his puppy?

“You can’t really believe that,” His voice is so gentle, you could almost forget the sheer lunacy that was dripping from it moments ago, “What did I tell you, Sunshine? I’m never gonna let you go.” He’s looking at your lips like he wants to kiss them, and if you were under any other circumstance, there’d be nothing to keep you from it. He leans in and you almost move to do the same before you hear Sidney’s panicked voice calling out.

“Leave her alone! Please. If you want to kill me then fucking do it already, just let (y/n) go!”

Right, this is an active hostage situation.

Stu let his guard down to console you. Both of his hands on your head means he’s no longer holding the gun, but there’s no easy way to go about gaining control of it. You could kick him in the shins and hope he stays distracted long enough, but your dad’s voice runs through your mind once again, “You can’t reason with a psychopath (y/n), but sometimes you can play along with their fantasy to gain their trust.” You know this isn’t what he had in mind, but you’re running out of options.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean up on your toes and kiss Stu with fervour. It’s a good kiss, one of the best you’ve ever had, in fact. There’s a moment, just a split second while you’re reaching for the gun behind his back, that you wish it was for real. He pulls you in deeper and you try to convince yourself that you’re only kissing back to make it believable.

Finally you feel the cool metallic handle of the gun, gripping onto it firmly you muster up the strength to pull back from Stu’s embrace. Aiming the barrel between him and Billy, you can almost feel your heart crack at the look of betrayal painted upon Stu’s face.

No, you remind yourself sternly, they kill people. For fun. They’re not your best friends anymore, they’re murderers.

“Let her go.” You ignore the internal war waging between your heart and your mind.

“(y/n)…” Billy’s not as shocked as Stu. As a matter of fact, Billy’s not shocked at all. He knows you, almost better than you know yourself, “Put the gun down. You’re not gonna shoot us.” His voice is stern, his words a cross between a warning and a command.

He’s right, as usual. The one thing your dad could never get you to do was shoot a gun. You fucking hate those things.

“You’re right, I’m not gonna shoot you,” Your voice is even, but you know he picks up on the slight shake of your hands as you aim the gun toward his chest, “As long as you let her go.”

“That’s not gonna happen, Doll.” He shakes his head, frustration rapidly becoming anger “I’m not asking you again (y/n). Put it down. Now.”

“Or what?” You bluff in a last ditch attempt to maintain a facade of bravery.

Billy’s anger finally reaches its boiling point and he answers your question wordlessly.

It’s different than it looks in the movies. The blood doesn’t trickle out slowly and melodramatically. It spews out like a faucet and it never stops.

You drop the gun after that, rushing to sit at Sid’s side on the floor in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. It was a single deep slash, clean across her throat. The quiet gurgling sounds of blood filling her lungs finally subside after her last breath sounds, and your crimson stained hands remove themselves from her neck.

“Now, are you gonna start listening to me? Or do I have to do somethin’ like that again?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You know what’s wrong with him, with both of them. They’re psychopaths. But you can’t prevent the question from slipping past your lips, you’re desperate for some understanding as to what exactly is it is they intend to gain from their whole plan.

“What’s wrong with me? I told you to put the fuckin’ thing down!” Billy’s still angry, what’s new?  “Shit! That’s not how it was supposed to go.” His agitation fading slightly into discontent. Clearly he wanted to take his time killing Sid. At least you spared her some suffering.

“We gotta get out of here Billy. It’s only a matter of time before the cops show up.” Stu’s voice sounds, entirely indifferent to the scene he just witnessed.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” Billy runs his left hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration, his right hand latched firmly on the gun you dropped after he slit Sidney’s throat, “Shit! Alright, let’s go.” He gestures his head to the door, his eyes haven’t left you since your little standoff, making it clear that he’s talking to you.

“What?” Your voice is laced with perplexion. He can’t seriously expect you to walk out of there with them.

Right?

“C’mon, Sunshine. You already got him in a mood, don’t make it any worse.” Stu’s voice holds that ever present hint of amusement, as if this is just like old times, when you and Stu would make one too many jokes at Billy’s expense and he’d spend the rest of the day sulking.

“I’m not- You can’t actually think I’m going anywhere with you,” You chuckle in disbelief, “You just killed my best friends!” You don’t have explicit confirmation that Randy and Tatum are dead too, but considering the current state of affairs, it’s reasonably obvious.

“We’re your best friends, (y/n). We’re more than that, actually.” Billy kneels down in front of you on the kitchen floor. His anger has finally subsided, he’s speaking in a normal tone, the sticky crimson remnants on your hands serve as the only reminder of his previous outburst.

“That was before-”

“Oh come on, Doll,” He cuts you off, calloused fingers wiping the excess corn syrup from your face, “You ever wonder why the daughter of an FBI profiler couldn’t figure out there was something off with us?” His grin is wicked but his touch is gentle, almost comforting, “It’s ‘cause you didn’t want to see it. You didn’t want anything to get between us, because you feel the same way about us that we do about you.”

You want to tell him to fuck off. That he’s crazy and you have no idea what he’s talking about. But you can’t. Because he’s right, he’s right and he knows it.

Taking your silence as confirmation he continues, delicately tracing your cheek with his nimble fingers, “You love us,” Stu makes his way to your side, smiling with dimples on full display as Billy speaks, “And you can try and deny it, if you want to. But we all know the truth.”

“So what if I did?” You finally find your voice, it’s shakier than you’d like but it’s there, “If you know me as well as you think you do, then you know there’s no way in hell I’d go anywhere with you after this.”

“You wanna know how well I know you?” Billy’s voice is sharp, bitter, you’re getting under his skin again, “I know you, (y/n). I know you’re not afraid of masked killers, or watching your friend die,” He releases you from his grip, standing back to his full height as his words permeate your brain, “I know your worst fear.” He gestures for Stu to follow as he takes small leisurely steps toward the doorway, ignoring the look of confusion and panic on Stu’s face at the prospect of leaving there without you.

Stu reluctantly follows Billy toward the exit, not removing his eyes from your enervated form. When they finally reach the doorway Billy resumes his speech, a contemptuous tone lacing his voice, “Being left here all alone.” He says simply.

This is your own fault, really. Allowing someone to get so close to you, learn everything about you, use everything they’ve learned against you.

You could argue that he’s wrong, but he’s not.

You could go out fighting, but you don’t.

You could stay sitting on the floor until the police inevitably discover you, but you won’t.

Billy walks back over to you, offering you a hand with a mischievous glint present in his eyes, “So,” He starts devilishly, “What’s it gonna be, Doll?”