the thought of the shadyside killers being able to see what harm theyre causing has been super heavy on my noggin recently aka i have no other excuse for writing this for — fear street 1978, gender neutral reader x tommy slater
There was always this unspoken secret about Camp Nightwing, and the feeling that something was missing to the story. It was a known tale around Shadyside — the massacre that happened in 1978. People still talked about it and the other horror stories that surrounded their town.
But, still. Pieces weren’t exactly coming together, and no one could figure out why. But, she knew. C. Berman knew the truth.
So, when two kids and their possessed friend-slash-girlfriend stumbled into her house, frantically going on about the things they’d seen, she decided to tell them the truth.
“I’m not the only survivor,” she said. Her hands were already trembling, voice shaking with the memories that always flashed in her mind when she closed her eyes. Deena and Josh looked at each other then back to her. “I’m not the only one who escaped death that night.”
And then she began to tell them about you. Y/N Y/L/N — a Camp Nightwing survivor that was hidden away from the world.
—
“She just attacked you out of nowhere?” You were holding an ice pack to Thomas Slater’s head as he and Cindy Berman spoke to police. You paused your movements at his wince. “Sorry, I know it’s still tender.”
“S’okay, Y/N,” he opened his eyes slightly to smile at you. Tommy let out a sigh of relief — you looked down to see that Cindy had grabbed his hand. You bit your lip but moved your gaze when he spoke again. “I don’t know what happened. She just came out of nowhere, and…”
Tommy took in a shuddering breath, eyes fully open as he stared at the ground. Cindy took over for him then, telling the officer everything she witnessed. Confusion was prominent in her eyes as she recalled Nurse Lane’s attack.
You patted the ice pack onto Tommy’s head gently once more, attempting to soothe the ache you knew was present. He let out another sigh, leaning his head against your shoulder briefly as Nurse Lane was lead away from the scene.
“She said something that bothers me.” Tommy spoke up. Cindy’s mind was still wandering, but they were still holding hands — you tried your best to avoid looking at that. He sat up, looking at you now with a scared expression. “Said that I was going to die tonight.”
“Not on my watch, you won’t,” you argued. Your lips pursed into a pout automatically, eyebrows falling into a scowl at the words. “Thomas Slater is not allowed to die until I do. We made that promise when we were younger, remember?”
“Yeah,” he grinned, “yeah, I remember.” He squeezed Cindy’s hand as his eyes stayed on you. “I’m not breaking that promise anytime soon, don’t worry.”
You simply muttered out a, “better not,” as the bell for dinner rang. The three of you stood up, heading to the mess hall.
A flash of red hair caught your attention as you watched Ziggy Berman stomp away from the dining hall. You paused, exchanging looks with Tommy and Cindy. You nodded your head in her direction, “I’ll check on her, you two go ahead.”
“You sure?” Tommy asked immediately. He looked between you and Cindy, frowning at you briefly. “You don’t have to go alone.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’ll be fine. You two go eat and I’ll see you before the Color War. Got it?”
Cindy nodded, sending her thanks through a smile. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her sister — Cindy wanted nothing more. But, recently, she and Ziggy weren’t seeing eye-to-eye and argued every time they were together.
Sometimes, all Ziggy needed was someone to listen. And, that’s what you did — you listened to every complaint and whine she spewed out and left it at that. Sometimes you’d give her advice, but you didn’t lecture her like Cindy tended to.
Tommy unlatched his and Cindy’s hands, reaching out to pat you on the head. His pointer finger tapped your nose, a habit he picked up when you were both younger. Tommy smiled before saying softly, “see you soon.”
—
“It’s exhausting to watch you, you know.”
You paused, hand still on the door to Ziggy’s cabin as she stirred something in a bucket. You blinked as she looked up at you quickly with a smirk. She spoke up again, “with Tommy. It’s getting a little ridiculous at this point, Y/N.”
Sighing, you rolled your eyes before stepping all the way into the cabin, shutting the door behind you. You sat beside her on the bed, peering down into the red substance in the bucket. You raised a brow, “Carrie?”
“She’s lucky I don’t have actual blood.” Is all Ziggy said. She glanced at you again, “and don’t change the subject. You can’t avoid this forever.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Zig.”
“Oh, please,” she rolled her eyes. Ziggy stilled her stirring so she could stare you down. She might’ve been younger, but the red-head was far more intimidating than you let her know. “You have the hots for Tommy and you always have.”
“Uh,” your throat felt parched. Maybe it was no secret — the little crush you had on your best friend — but it was still jarring to hear someone else mention it. “You know he’s dating your sister, right?”
“And?” Ziggy poured a different color of red into the bucket, making the pigment darker. “No one ever said they were in love, or whatever.”
“And who said I am?”
“In love?” Ziggy let out a snort at that, rolling her eyes again. They’re going to stuck like that one day, you thought in annoyance. I hope they do. She turned her attention back to you again, fully this time. “You look at Tommy like the world could stop at any minute and you wouldn’t notice. You’ve got it bad, Y/N.”
And maybe that was true. Maybe you were a little more than in love with Tommy Slater. A little too eager to be around your best friend. A little too attached to someone who had a girlfriend.
You couldn’t deny it, though — you never did. You always knew about your feelings but you never acted on them — probably never would.
“I hate you.” You said with a scowl.
Ziggy let out a harsh, barking laugh as she threw her head back. “Yeah, sure.”
“They’re good for each other,” you decided to say. Because they were — Tommy and Cindy were picture perfect and you’d do anything to keep him happy. You twirled your fingers around a stray string, not meeting Ziggy’s eyes. “And they like each other. He’s happy and that’s enough.”
Ziggy paused, elbows leaning on her knees as she sat hunched over the paint bucket. You still wouldn’t meet her eyes, but you could tell she was staring at you. “You’re a lot nicer than I am. I would’ve taken what I wanted with no thought.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not me and I’m not you.” You nudged her playfully before standing. You stretched, letting out a sigh as you patted your tummy. “I’m going to go have a late dinner. Catch you at Color War?”
“Maybe,” Ziggy called as you exited her cabin.
As you left, Nick Goode passed by you. A shiver ran through your spine as he glanced at you. Out of all of the Sunnyvaler’s, the Goodes always had a strange aura around them.
It felt evil.
—
A dark blue t-shirt was tucked into your high-waisted shorts, the words Shadyside in blocky, white letters. The socks you wore were a faded green, but they were mostly covered by your white shoes, so you didn’t really mind.
The woods were quiet as you traveled through them. As the sun settled, a small chill ran through the air. You found yourself wishing you’d brought your hoodie with you — the orange one you’d stolen from Tommy years ago. The thought of him made you smile before it faded into a frown — where’d he go, anyways?
Faintly, you thought you could hear the bell ringing at the mess hall. But, that couldn’t be right. That bell didn’t ring unless it was time for food, or an emergency.
Then you heard the screams.
Pausing, you stood quietly and as still as you could. Another scream rang around the woods followed by the sound of panicked, scattered footsteps. What the hell was happening?
Shuffles could be heard by you — staggering, heavy footsteps that seemed like they were coming right towards you. You didn’t move an inch, hoping it was just a wild animal that would zoom by you.
And then you could see a red flannel with a yellow tank-top underneath. The same yellow shirt you’d bought him for his birthday. You relaxed, the sigh you let out sounding strangely like his name. “Tommy.”
He staggered closer slowly, eyes vacant but held focused on you. That was when the moonlight caught the shine of the double-ended ax he held. The smile dropped from your face at the red that was splattered on his figure.
“Tommy?” You gulped. He charged, backing you into the tree behind you. Eyes — bluer than any sky you’d seen — were void and empty and barren. It hurt to see him like this, hurt to think of what could’ve happened to cause Tommy to break. “Jesus, fuck!”
You held your breath as the ax brushed against your throat. Terror rolled over you as you kept your gaze locked on Tommy’s, staring him down as he held the weapon to your neck.
The ax shook in his hold, his eyes glitching to a brighter color as a tear slipped down his cheek.
“Go,” he choked out. Fighting against himself, Thomas Slater dropped his arms so that you were no longer facing the ax. “You… have to leave.”
You trembled against the tree, the bark digging into your back as the tears of fear and dread slowly crept down your cheeks. “Tommy, what happened? What’s going on?”
It was dumb, you knew, to just stand there. But, you had to know — had to get answers. Your sweet, kind best friend wouldn’t just decide to go on a killing spree. Especially at the camp he adored.
“Go,” he repeated. Slowly, Tommy’s right hand raised. He tapped the tip of your nose with his pointer finger, smearing God knows who’s blood onto your face.
Even slower, he slid that same hand to cradle your cheek. Another tear left his eye as you choked on your own sobs. The last words Thomas Slater spoke to you echoed as you did as you were told and ran.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
—
You had ran from Camp Nightwing all the way back to Shadyside. Of course, you had to go to Sunnyvale to report the crime, but there was still a familiarity of being home.
Once white shoes were painted with red as they scraped against the concrete. You had stumbled onto a few dead bodies as you ran, the screams Tommy caused still echoing from the woods. It made you nauseous — knowing who was causing the camp’s terror.
Is Ziggy alive? You thought as you trudged on. Cindy? Alice? Is anyone still alive? Did anyone get away? What happens now? What about Tommy?
That one question repeated in your mind as the police station popped into view — what’s going to happen to Tommy?
You were there. You were there and you were present. But, nothing felt real. Not the ringing phones or the overlapping voices.
You couldn’t even tell if the tears sliding down your face continuously were real.
“...help you?” You blinked, coming back from the haze in your mind. An officer was standing in front of you now. “Can I help you?”
Finally lifting your head, you sniffled. The person in front of you gasped, seeing the splotches of red scattered across your face. Most of the blood was gone, anyways. Traces of tears had replaced it, but the gentle touch of Tommy still lingered.
“I’d like to report an accident.”
—
C. Berman — Ziggy, as she revealed — looked at the two teens as her story came to an end. Deena had a new perspective of the killers of Shadyside and more questions she wanted answers to.
It was Josh who broke the tense silence. “How do you know all this?”
Ziggy smiled lightly, staring down at the journal she held. She traced a picture of you and Tommy smiling at each other, tears briefly frosting her eyesight.
“They call on the anniversary. July 12th is the hardest day of the year for all of us,” she admitted. You’d be calling soon, she knew. Because Tommy’s birthday was soon and that was also a bad day for you. Ziggy sighed, “no one else remembers Y/N, though. But I think that’s a good thing. Allowed them to leave — to get away from this hellhole.”
Deena glanced into the bathroom where her ex-or-maybe-her-girlfriend was chained up. “He remembered them. He was possessed, under the curse, but Y/N brought him back. Even if it was just for a second.” She looked back to Ziggy, “how?”
Letting out a small laugh, Ziggy couldn’t help but smile through her tears. “Like I said, Y/N was head over heels for that boy.”
“And he felt the same?”
“How couldn’t he?” Ziggy’s smile grew remorseful. She often thought of what could’ve been — thought of what should’ve happened between you and Tommy. You deserved a happy life with him, more than anything. She looked down at the journal, “I’ll help you stop this. For Y/N and Tommy. For Cindy.”
Deena and Josh exchanged looks again before nodding. This was no longer just about Sam — this was personal. This was for Shadyside; for the ones like you and Tommy who weren’t allowed their happiness.
“For Y/N and Tommy.”[part two]
— im sad now bye
