My friends walk in your direction / Said "Don't you know [...]?"
Huh / When did you get hot?
Overview: You've been the awkward friend forever. Always lingering in the background of Stu and Billy's lives, never quite fitting in with their other friends. But when their current girlfriends are tired of worrying about your relationship with their boyfriends, they offer you a makeover. You just hadn't thought it would have made Billy and Stu so angry.
Apparently, doing your makeup isn't very final girl behavior. Whatever that means...
a/n: absolutely playing into the “taking down her hair makes her hot” trope rn. Also, the reader has curly hair. For the sake of the plot. (and because I’m tired of not living my curly-haired truth)
Also, X2 Sid and Tatum are a bit OOC. I was in love with Tatum when I was younger, but for this, I need her to be a bit of a bitch. It’s for the plot people, I don’t make the rules
wc: 7.2K
more at: Belle’s 3k Extravaganza
You can already see Stu grinning as he watches you run up to the fountain. Billy's there waiting beside him, flipping through a book you doubt he has any interest in. Your chest heaves as you come to a stop, hands propped on your knees as you try to catch your breath.
Stu snorts, “What’d you run here?” he taunts, with that stupid voice he always uses.
“Shut up,” you grumble, dropping your bag to the ground and pulling out a folder. “Here,” you toss it at him. It slaps against his chest, and he lets out a little grunt, just barely catching it before it slips to the water.
He leafs through the papers inside, though you know he never actually bothers to proofread. Bored waiting for him to be done, you hold out your palm. He glances at it with a dumb look, "What?”
“Seriously,” you tilt your head and let out a scoff. “Do you think I’m doing this because I love you?”
Stu rolls his eyes and fishes his wallet from his pocket. You let out a triumphant hum as he slaps the cash in your palm. Trying to step back, you don't get very far before his wrist is snapping out, fingers wrapping around your arm as he tugs you back toward him. You stumble between his spread legs, shooting him an unamused look.
He only grins at your ire. “Come on,” he urges. “You love me, you can say it.”
You roll your eyes, but dip down to meet his stare. “All right. I love you, Stu.” His grin falls as you add, “Thank you for being my benevolent little rich boy.” Billy snorts and Stu shoots him a look. It’s enough of a distraction for you to slip from his hold and pick up your bag.
Good timing, too, considering Tatum’s walking up with Sid and Randy. Tatum’s certainly chiller compared to his other girlfriends. You get along with her more than you ever did with Casey. But you can’t imagine anyone would be happy to see their boyfriend all handsy with his best friend. Even if handsy seems to be Stu’s default state.
“Ooh, another illicit deal, I see,” Tatum makes herself cozy, dropping right into Stu’s lap. You force out a stiff laugh and make yourself look away.
You’re just friends with Stu, same as Billy. Have been since you were kids. To them, you’ll always just be the strange neighbor kid who never seemed to get out of that socially awkward phase.
But how you look in their eyes doesn’t change the fact that puberty hit you first. It doesn’t change that you haven’t been able to look at either of them as just friends since you discovered the difference between boys and girls.
However, based on their caliber of girlfriends, they couldn’t make it any clearer that there isn’t a chance in hell of anything ever happening.
“That’s seriously pathetic, Stu,” Sid teases. She can't hide the undercurrent of disapproval in her voice. “How long are you going to let her get you through school?”
Stu’s sharp eyes cut to yours and you feel heat bloom under your skin. “Well? How long are you gonna carry me?”
Scoffing, you move to take your place beside Randy. He immediately offers you some of his food, which you take just to have something to do with your hands.
“However long you keep paying, rich boy.”
Tatum and the others laugh a little, but you feel like you got the question wrong from the look Stu’s sending you. You’re not sure what you could have possibly said that he would have approved of. But you don’t think you’ll ever fully understand him or Billy.
You doubt anyone ever will.
Tatum turns her attention away from you, instead speaking across her boyfriend to discuss some gossip with Sid. It’s typical that you’re left out of the loop.
Something about you seems to scream that you’re above petty girlhood experiences. Given the chance, you'd have more dirt on the people at this school than they would ever know. People trip up around the quiet kids, always seeming to forget they're there until it's too late.
But, as much as Tatum and Sid are nice to you, you’re still an outlier. Someone they think belongs more to the boys. While the boys seem to think you’d do better with the girls. There’s no safe middle ground for you to stand on. You’re sure that if you didn’t show up for lunch tomorrow, the only thing that would change is who Stu pays for his homework.
Running a hand over your hair, you let out a tired sigh as you leaf through your book. “You know,” Tatum’s voice startles you from your stupor. You glance up to find her eyes narrowed on your hair. “That puffed-up look has been done to death.” She pops a grape in her mouth with a sharp grin. “It’s not the eighties anymore, sweetie.”
Your eyes widen, hands shooting to your hair. Stu snickers, slapping Tatum’s hip, “That’s catty, even for you, babe.”
“Seriously,” Sid admonishes, shooting you a sorry smile. Billy’s eyes dart between you and her, but he doesn’t say a thing in your defense. Swallowing roughly, your gaze drops to your shoes. Self-consciousness drowns you so quick, you just want to run to the bathroom and hide out the rest of the day.
“What?” Tatum snickers. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant she could use some touch-ups.”
Your throat burns as your eyes flick toward the grassy courtyard. You’d prefer anything to facing them right now. Crying in front of the Stu and Billy is worse than chumming the waters before going diving.
“Christ, you’re the worst sometimes,” but Sid can’t hide the smile in her voice. She calls your name and you suck in a sharp breath before looking at her. “She’s sleeping over at mine tonight. Why don’t you come?”
“So you can give me some touch-ups?” you snap. Randy snickers at the perceived cat-fight, and you punch him in the arm.
“Innocent bystander,” he grimaces, shooting you a glare. You give him a sharp smile and shrug.
“Yeah,” Tatum agrees. “I think it’d do you some good to hang out with someone other than these bozos.” She doesn’t fail to include her boyfriend in the insult. Stu’s face drops behind her as he looks to Billy.
“Me?” he mouths, and Billy just glares at him.
“They’re totally holding you back, babe,” she pops another grape in her mouth and shrugs. “Your choice.”
“I can’t believe you let her talk to you like that,” Stu snickers, shoveling popcorn in his mouth as he sprawls across the loveseat.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, clutching the throw pillow closer to your chest. “What the hell was I supposed to say?”
Billy glances over his shoulder at you, his legs kicked over the arm of the seat across from Stu. “Maybe don’t roll over and let her treat you like a doormat.”
You roll your eyes and pick up a piece of popcorn. Tossing it, it bounces off of Stu’s nose while you lean back on the couch. “She’s your girlfriend, you could have said something.” Stu watches the popcorn fall to his mom’s new, ridiculously expensive rug and snorts.
“Yeah right, like I’m gonna get in the middle of a cat-fight.”
“Oh yeah,” Billy rolls his eyes as he flips through the channels. “I’m sure that’s your nightmare.”
Stu laughs and tosses a handful of candy at Billy. Clearly incensed by your idea of trashing his mother’s pristine living room. “Shut up, man.”
You drown out their bickering, more than used to it, as food begins to fly across the room. Reaching up, you fiddle with a strand of combed-out hair. “Do you think she was right?”
They pause, eyes darting back to you. They share a look that you don’t understand and it only worsens your mood. “What? That we’re holding you back?” Billy questions, voice tight with something dangerous.
“No,” you snip, tossing your pillow at him. He deflects it with an irritated look, narrowed eyes meeting yours. “That I’m a mess.”
“She didn’t say that,” Stu objects, a cruel tilt to his lips. “Just that you need some touch-ups.” Billy chuckles and Stu joins him. The pair turns back to the TV and that’s that. You’re dismissed.
Frowning, you get to your feet and grab your bag. “Where’re you going?” Billy asks, not even turning around.
“I’m gonna head home,” you tell them, something souring your stomach the longer you’re in their presence.
“We haven’t even gotten to the movie, yet,” Stu whines. You ignore him, rushing toward his front door and throwing it open. With your back turned, you miss the harsh look the boys share. The type that would have had you turning around and sitting right back down on the couch.
Heading through the door, you think over Tatum’s harsh words. Cruel, but maybe necessary. Checking your watch, you figure it’s not midnight yet, surely Sid’s invite must still stand.
Sid’s surprised as she opens her front door. “Oh,” she offers a polite smile as she greets you.
Tatum pops up behind her, an impressed grin on her face. “Didn’t think you were going to show. Isn’t this your movie night?”
You sigh, fingers flexing around your bag. “Yeah. But you had a point. Your delivery sucked. But you had a point.” Tatum mushes Sid to the side and beckons you into the house.
“I know I did,” she’s far too proud of herself as she leads you over to the couch. Sid hovers behind you both, clearly not expecting you and unsure what to do with herself.
Tatum seems far more comfortable as she takes your bag from you. “I had hope you’d see sense,” she croons, dropping onto the cushion beside you.
Your shoulders tense and you try not to grimace at how enthused she is at making you over. You hadn’t thought you were that bad. Clearly, she disagreed. Tatum rifles through some magazines before dropping one in your lap.
“I have plans for you." It sounds more like a threat as you stare down at the glammed out model in the magazine.
An hour later, Tatum’s coiling freshly washed strands of your hair around her fingers while Sid sits in front of you, brushing eyeshadow across your lids. “You really don’t look bad,” she reassures. “But, it’s confidence that sells a look.”
“If a little mascara gives you some confidence, who knows?” Tatum shrugs as she spirals more hair around her finger. “Maybe you’ll finally get a boyfriend.”
The longer this little "sleepover" has gone on, the more you’ve felt they had ulterior motives. Sure, slumber parties in chick flicks always look fun. Pillow fights, makeup sessions, and gossiping with one another. But that hasn’t been happening. The girls seem strangely tense.
You’re pretty sure they’re hoping this makeover session will finally get you your own guy, so they can stop worrying about your relationship with their boyfriends. You hadn’t taken Sid as the insecure type, apparently you were wrong.
Still, this was nicer than some of the exes Billy and Stu had acquired. At least they were helping you out. Rather than starting rumors that you slept around with the teachers.
Thank you, Casey Becker.
You hadn’t exactly been sorry when you’d heard what the town’s new killer had done to her and her asshole boyfriend.
Billy and Stu had called you twisted when you’d said that, but you’d seen the way they smiled. You wouldn’t be friends with them if there wasn’t something a little off-kilter about you.
“Someone should have taught you how to do this a while ago,” Tatum mutters, talking about the hair you’d hardly ever put much thought into. You had been taught how to deal with it, but it was never your top priority. Typically, you braided it and just lived in it for a while.
Something about the way she says it reminds you of what she’d casually dropped at lunch. “What did you mean when you said Billy and Stu are holding me back?” Sid’s brush pauses on your cheek and Tatum’s hands still. You don’t have to look to know they’re sharing a silent conversation.
“It’s just something guys do,” Sid dismisses.
Your eyes narrow and she offers a tense smile. “Tatum?” You prod, knowing she doesn’t care about softening her words.
She lets out a little sigh and drops your hair. “Guys like having awkward girl friends. When they get dumped or go through a slump, she’s someone they can fall back on.”
“Like,” you pause, heart stuttering. “For sex?” Sid snorts at your blunt delivery and Tatum shrugs.
“Yeah, pretty much. They think if a girl’s lonely enough, she’ll sleep with anyone. It’s just a good way to keep a backup.”
“And you think that’s what they do with me?”
Sid’s eyes dart up to meet yours and you know she feels bad you’re having this conversation at all. “Sometimes. Sometimes they just like having someone around to make them feel better about themselves.”
Your heart drops to your feet and you don’t want to believe her. But something about what she says makes sense. Every time you complain about your clothes, hair, or anything too shallow or girly, the guys blow you off. They say stuff about not thinking you were into that vapid stuff.
Any chances you’ve had at a date, they’ll tell you shit about the guy you would never have guessed. Horrible things that make you uncomfortable and sick to your stomach. Half the time, you think they’re making it up, but you choose not to take the risk.
Every chance they get, they keep you all to themselves. And like an idiot, you’d just always thought that was because they wanted you the way you want them. Of course, Sid and Tatum would know better than you. They’re dating the boys after all. And it’s not so far out of character to assume Stu and Billy would be so malicious.
“Oh,” your stomach flips on itself and you blink watery eyes down at your hands. “Thanks for telling me,” you whisper. Tatum and Sid share a look over your shoulder. You see the guilt on Sid’s face, but you miss the wink Tatum sends her.
You follow what Sid and Tatum had taught you the night before, you don’t know which one you mess up worse, your hair or the makeup. You’ve missed first period by the time you finally make it out of the house. Meaning you manage to skirt around Billy and Stu right up until lunch.
Honestly, after what Sid and Tatum told you, no part of you actually wants to see them. But your boss at the video store is cutting your hours and you really need the cash Stu will give you for writing up his world civ essay.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you give yourself a little pep talk before forcing yourself to walk over to the fountain. Everyone’s there already, Sid and Tatum sprawled across their boyfriends. Meanwhile, Randy’s up and speaking with flailing arms. Like the court jester performing for the popular royals. It’s sickening what a cliche your friends have become when that’s what they’ve always made fun of.
“Watch the hands, Meeks,” you call out, nearly catching a slap to the face as he rants passionately about some horror flick you’ve never heard of.
He lets out a huff before turning to face you. Whatever argument he had dies on his tongue as he jerks back. You swallow roughly, hand reaching subconsciously toward your hair as he nearly pushes his nose against yours.
“Randy,” you whisper, mushing his face away. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
His thumb reaches up, swiping for your cheek, and you just manage to slap his hand back. “Is that glitter?” He questions, positively dumbfounded.
“It’s blush,” you snap, pushing him back. “Would you get out of here, you weirdo?” Shaking your head, you rifle through your backpack until you find the folder for Stu.
You try not to look at him as you walk up, chest tightening at the dead silence you’re now surrounded by. Stu grabs the folder, but his hand snakes up, grabbing at your wrist before you can back up.
“Huh,” he pulls you down, eyes roaming across your face. You glance at Tatum and she gives you an encouraging smile. “It is glitter.”
“Eyeshadow, doofus,” she swats his arm. “You did a good job,” she reassures you.
“Made me late for school,” you mutter, skin warming the longer Stu stares.
“Why?” Billy asks, before anyone can say anything else. Stu releases you at the sound of his voice and you stumble back.
“I don’t know,” forcing yourself to meet his eyes, you startle at the coldness staring back at you. “Maybe I wanted to look pretty.”
Stu snorts and cuts you a sharp look. “You didn’t need to do drag to look pretty,” he mocks. Your hand shoots up to your face. You hadn’t even done close to as much as Sid and Tatum had taught you.
“Stu,” Tatum snaps, shooting him a harsh look.
He lets out a chuckle and jerks back, “What?” He glances over at you, but the smile on his face isn’t genuine. “I was joking. It looks fine, dude.”
For some reason, you find yourself looking over at Billy. His jaw is tensed, eyes glaring down at the ground. He seems to feel your stare, gaze snapping up to meet yours. Biting your tongue, you swallow the burn in the back of your throat. “It looks good,” he finally admits, hardly sounding like he wants to compliment you.
You purse your lips and nod, barely wanting to be around them for another second. Clearly, the girls were right about their theory. “Really good,” Randy adds on, a goofy look on his face. You let out a sharp laugh and roll your eyes at him.
“I know it’s not your thing,” Tatum starts, sucking on her lollipop with a proud smile. “But you should come to Stu’s party tonight.”
You grimace and begin to shake your head. “Seriously,” Sid encourages. “You’ll have fun, for once.”
“What are you two planning, you little vixen?” Stu taunts, fingers pinching at Tatum’s sides. Your eyes narrow at the way he speaks through gritted teeth, voice tight.
Swallowing bile at Billy and Stu’s reactions, you straighten up, forcing your voice to be strong. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.” The girls shoot you odd looks and you shrug as you pluck your bag from the ground. “I’m covering for Randy at the store.”
Randy’s head shoots up, eyes glazed over with confusion. “You are?”
“God,” you roll your eyes. “Remind me how many times they’ve fired your ass.” With a smug grin, he holds up five fingers and winks.
“What a shame,” Stu clicks his tongue and he doesn’t even bother sounding disappointed. “We’ll miss you reminding everyone of curfew.”
Hurt tightens your chest as you let out a sharp scoff. “Fuck off, Macher.”
His nose wrinkles and he presses his hand to his chest. “Ouch,” he hisses.
Billy reaches over and swats his arm, clearly telling him to knock it off. But you know that look on Stu’s face. He’s pissed, about what, you never have a clue.
Deciding to spare yourself any more embarrassment, you turn around and head back to the school. You didn’t want to go to his stupid party. But it would’ve been nice if they had wanted you there. If they could have just shown you something, that meant what the girls told you was bullshit.
“How many times do I have to tell you to alphabetize by genre?” Your boss, Jason, tosses Halloween at you and storms off. The VHS smacks you square in the chest and you let out a sharp scoff. The fuck does that even mean?
“Seriously,” you jump as someone’s pointy chin digs into your shoulder. “How many times does he have to tell you,” Stu bemoans, stealing the tape from your hand. You cast your eyes back and catch his grin as he backs off from you.
“Don’t you have a party to be planning?” You snap, not bothering to keep the venom from your tone.
“Someone jealous she didn’t get an invite?” Billy comes up on the other side of you, sharp eyes alight with a rare teasing glint.
It’s like being circled by hyenas with the pair of them. They always corner their prey, backing them up until there’s nowhere to run. Currently, it’s keeping you locked in the horror section as they block both ends.
“No,” you cut your eyes to Stu, irritation only growing worse at his stupid grin. “But you didn’t have to be such a dick today,” you tell him, snatching the tape back so you can shelf it.
“Oh,” he croons, catching your wrist and tugging you back into his chest. “I think I hurt her feelings,” he mocks, pouting at Billy.
Billy raises his brows, leaning on the shelves as he shrugs. “Did he?”
“Is there a particular reason you guys are being such assholes to me, or are you just bored?” Billy’s eyes narrow as he offers a sharp smirk.
Stu lets his chin rest in the crook of your neck, ignoring how you try to wiggle out of his hold. “Is there a reason you decided to do this?” He asks, tugging at one of your curls. “I liked the whole puffed-out dandelion look.”
“Ugh,” a disgusted groan slips out as you elbow him in the side. His breath whooshes out of him and his arms finally loosen. “Why do you have such a hard-on about whether or not I style my hair?”
“You never cared before.” Billy frowns, eyeing you up and down. “All the best final girls don't give a shit about that stuff.”
Your eyes fall into slits as a bewildered scoff leaves you. “What geeky language are you even speaking?”
Stu barks out a sharp laugh, leaning forward until he's back in your field of view. “Says you,” he taunts.
Your head falls to the side as you shoot him an unimpressed glare. “Do you guys need something? Jason already hates me. I don’t feel like having you two getting me fired.”
“Jason?” Billy questions. “The asshole that was bitching about genres?”
“That’s the one,” you hum, turning back to your cart and the piles of tapes you have to deal with.
“Dude seems like he needs to get laid,” Stu points out, eyes tracking Jason as he paces through the store. Yelling at the first person he sees over some made-up bullshit.
“Yeah, he probably does. But I doubt anyone’s that desperate.”
“No,” he taunts, and your hackles raise at his tone. “Not even you?”
You slam the tape down harder than you mean to. The noise echoes through the store, the shelves rattling beneath Stu and Billy’s careless bodies. Stu’s brows raise with poorly concealed excitement. “Get something or get the fuck out,” you hiss at him.
Taking hold of your cart, you shove past him before he can think of anything else smart to say. Insulting others seems to be the only time he’s capable of coming up with any wit of his own.
Of course, that means you get to be on the receiving end nine times out of ten. You make a good target for them, apparently.
Billy swats Stu’s arm, shoving him back and trailing after you. Stu lets out a snotty huff, randomly grabbing one of the tapes from the shelves as Billy falls into your check-out line.
“He’s a moron,” he excuses.
“And a jackass,” you snap, barely lifting your gaze to meet his. “Did you pick something?” Billy reaches behind himself, slapping Stu in the chest and making the other boy toss Prom Night on the counter.
You ignore how Stu’s gaze bores into the side of your head, scanning the VHS and looking over the blocky green letters on your screen. “You owe ten bucks for an overdue movie,” you tell him.
“Ten bucks?” he scoffs, “What movie?”
Tilting your head, you scoff, he’s such a cliche. “Basic Instinct, got a little crush on Sharon Stone, Stuart?”
Stu’s nose wrinkles as he glares at you. “Stuart?” he huffs, “You sound like my mother.” Pushing Billy out of the way, he props his elbows on the counter, chin resting in his palms. “Can’t you do your best friend a favor?”
You drop down to his level, matching his posture with a saccharine smile. “Why would I do that?” You tease, voice pitched with faux innocence.
Stu’s got a genuine grin on his face as you play along; it takes everything in you not to return it. “What are you doing?” The moment’s broken as you jump back, Jason’s harsh voice ruining the fun.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you turn back to the monitor and pretend to type some nonsense into the system. “Nothing, just checking them out.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” your head whips up at the insinuation, but he barely spares you any attention. He turns toward the boys with a sneer, “Just because you're friends with her, doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay like everyone else. Have the movie back by tomorrow, or you’re banned.”
“Jason-” you object.
“You’re already on thin ice,” he snaps, pointing his fat finger in your face. You resist the urge to snap your teeth at him. “Don’t push me,” he warns, as if he were scary at all beyond you not having a paycheck next week.
Stu watches him walk away with furrowed brows and a sneer. “God, what a prick.”
“Yeah,” you mutter, “you’re telling me.” Feeling ever so slightly vindictive, you clear the charge from Stu’s account and toss him his tape. “Keep the movie, he’s an ass.”
Stu cares little for the other people waiting in line as he reaches across the counter and cups your cheeks. You let out a little squeak as he drags you closer, planting an obnoxiously loud kiss on your cheek.
“What are friends for?” He mocks, pushing back from you.
“Ugh,” you wipe at your face and glare at him.
“See you,” Billy says as he shakes his head, yanking up Stu’s sleeve and dragging him away before he can make an even bigger scene.
You watch them leave with a disbelieving laugh. Stu could be a dick, but at least he was fun. Unlike other people, Jason, who got off on making everyone as miserable as them. Despite your general disinterest in drunk crowds of teenagers, you’d rather be at Stu’s party than deal with him the rest of the night.
You, however, didn’t receive an invite. So, you turn back to your cart of tapes and force yourself to go back to restocking.
Around midnight, you finish closing up the registers and pick up a cleaning rag and some spray. You hum to yourself as you move to the windows, beginning to wipe them down.
Jason is hiding in the back. Shirking all his responsibilities on you as you close up tonight. Meaning you probably won’t be getting home until one at the earliest.
Muttering to yourself, you work on scrubbing out a particularly tough stain. Whatever it is clings to the fabric of your rag, each wipe seeming to spread it more. With a huff, you lean down to spray some more cleaner when a dark shape moves in the corner of your eye.
Frowning, you straighten back up. The window before you is fogged with whatever ruined the glass. Tilting your head past it, you find a screaming white mask staring back at you.
“Fuck,” you jump back with a gasp, rag slipping from your hand. The figure stares, head tilting slowly as he surveys you. You can only stare for a minute, heart trapped in your throat as your chest stutters. Visceral panic fills you, spikes through your blood until you feel lightheaded.
He takes a step forward and your body jolts back to life. Stumbling over yourself, you rush to the door, flipping the lock before he can get any closer.
Of course, you knew all about the Woodsboro killer. Casey Becker's murder was worse than even Sid’s mom. But it still seemed so far disconnected from you that you hadn’t really thought about it.
After all, why the hell would anyone want to kill you? You never did anything.
But he’s staring right at you now. Beneath that ridiculous mask are the eyes of a killer. And they're set on you.
Too afraid to take your eyes off him, you stumble back until your hip is smashing into the corner of the counter. A pained hiss slips past your lips as your hand gropes blindly for the phone. He almost seems amused as he watches you, relaxed and at ease as his head follows your clumsy movements.
Finally managing to wrap your hand around the landline, you hastily press it to your ear. The monotonous ringing on the other end is possibly one of the worst sounds you’ve ever heard.
The phone slips from your hand, cracking against the floor as you stare at him. His head tilts and he shakes it slowly, mocking you.
“Jason?” You shout, forcing your eyes off the killer in front of you. With a sharp breath, you push off from the counter and run to the back. The door to Jason’s office is cracked, light spilling out from within.
You shove through, eyes burning as you fight back your panic. “Jason, we have to call-"
Your voice trails off into nothing as you take in the scene before you. His fan buzzes in the corner of the office, a droning noise amongst a scene straight from a crappy slasher movie.
Blood drips from the open gash of his throat. It trails down his arms, pooling along his fingers until it splashes against the floor. The noise echoes through the quiet space as your breath trembles. You trip over yourself as you back out of the office, stomach clenching painfully the longer you look into the open flesh of his throat. His eyes have rolled back, hidden beneath his eyelids, as his body goes cold.
“Oh,” you let out a revolted moan. “God,” you clap your hand over your mouth, tripping as you run from the room.
He had already been in here. Somehow, that psycho killed your boss. Then, for some reason, he decided to wait around for you to notice him outside. He’d been smart enough to cut the phone line. Why is he playing with you now?
Racing back to the front, you find him right where you left him. Just outside the front door, head still tilted with amusement. “What the….”
He taps his knife against the window. Tap, tap, tap, slowly, he lifts his head, straightening up as he nods behind you. Just barely, you managed to turn in time to see the knife slashing toward you.
With a shrill scream, you dive to the side, terror filling you as you realize there are two of them. They don’t give you long to dwell on that. The second one dives for you while the one outside works on breaking the glass door.
Kicking your leg out, you manage to catch the one in front of you in the shin. He lets out a raspy groan, muffled by the mask, as he falls forward. Your hands grope along the floor, desperate for any sort of weapon. The best you have is a VHS. You don’t let that stop you from smacking the sharp corner into the temple of the man next to you. His hand flies up to his head, another pathetic groan leaving him.
You scramble to your feet just as the sound of glass shattering echoes through the store. A brick skips across the carpet, stopping just before your shoes. With a shaky breath, you look over to find the second man stepping slowly through the empty doorway.
His gaze flicks to yours and you let out a small whimper as the other one begins getting to his feet. “Shit,” you hiss, not sparing them another glance as you rush to the back. You can hear their footsteps quick behind you, just barely managing to slip into Jason’s office as they catch up.
You slam the door shut, body jolting roughly as they try to barrel through. With a groan, you shove your shoulder forward, shoes squeaking against linoleum as you force the door the rest of the way closed.
Panic-slick palms slip against the handle until you’re finally turning the lock. The door rattles violently as you step away, their bodies thudding against the wood as they try and batter their way through.
You don't waste any time, whipping around toward Jason’s computer and dialing into the modem. You work around your boss’s dead body, eyes burning at the smell of death and copper that floods his office. Your fingers fly across the keyboard, quick to connect to emergency services. You just manage to send your address when the door flies open behind you.
A scream rips from your throat as you jump around the desk. They both stand in the doorway, shoulders heaving as their muffled breaths fill the air. Your hands tremble at your sides as they split away from one another. The tallest lingers by the desk, the shorter one hovers in the doorway. They’ve cornered you, left you nowhere to run.
You back up as much as you can, wincing as your back connects with Jason’s metal filing cabinets. The shorter one lunges first. Your hand wraps around the handle of one of the cabinets and you wrench it forward, jumping back as it slams into the ground.
You manage to catch him off guard as he jerks back. You leap over the fallen cabinet and shove past him. A gloved hand wraps around your elbow, roughly shoving you forward.
Right into the tip of his blade.
A low moan escapes you, heart beating furiously against your chest as blood begins to weep from your stomach. Your eyes flutter shut at the sharp burst of pain. Fire lights up along your nerves.
When he begins to pull away, trying for another hit, you shove him back with all the strength you have left. He stumbles with a grunt, tripping over the cabinet and crashing into the other one.
You press your hands against your stomach, running from Jason’s office, and leaping through the shattered front door. You can only hear the crunch of your shoes against the broken glass. You can’t spare any attention to what might be following behind.
You don’t let yourself stop, pushing forward even as your lungs tighten until it hurts worse to breathe than it did to be stabbed. By the time your legs finally give out, lights are speeding down the road toward you. Doors slam and familiar voices call your name as you crash against the pavement, blood pooling from your hands and onto the asphalt below.
“I’m not the one who thought we should test her.”
Consciousness is slow to come back to you. Distantly, you can hear familiar hushed voices. “Well, I’m not the one who tried to fucking gut her.”
You hear what sounds like a slap and then a harsh, “Shut the fuck up!”
Your mind is fuzzy, dulled by the edges of pain and sleeping too long. You can hardly recognize the voices, let alone understand what they’re saying.
“You’re lucky she’s still alive.”
There’s a brief pause and then a low chuckle that makes shivers run up your spine. “What the hell were you going to do if she wasn’t?”
A strange sound slips from your lips, a groan, maybe. It’s hard to tell as your eyes adjust to the sterile lights of the hospital room.
Immediately, there’s a weight sat beside you, large hands covering your own. You blink slowly, forcing your eyes to focus as you take in your surroundings. “Stu?” You mutter, voice wrecked as your gaze dips from his concerned face to Billy’s stoic one.
Your head tilts, nose wrinkling as you notice they’re both wearing hospital gowns. Stu even has an IV hooked to his arm.
“What’s going on?” You try to straighten up, but your arms buckle out from under you. Stu reaches forward, gentle for once, as he helps you sit up.
Slowly, Billy makes his way to your side, perching just beside you, mirroring Stu. “How do you feel?” He asks, dodging your question.
You blink, struggling to take inventory of yourself. “Uh,” you shrug, frowning at the pain burning through your stomach. “Weird.”
“That’s the meds. They’ve got us on the same shit.” Stu lets go of your hands to lift his gown, showing a large, red-tinted bandage along his side.
“Jesus,” you reach out, fingers just brushing the edge. “What the hell happened to you two?”
“Sid’s dad,” Billy cuts in. Your head whips around to him so fast you’re surprised it doesn’t pop off. He offers a sardonic smirk as your jaw drops.
“Sorry, what?”
“Yeah, apparently the dude lost it,” Stu cuts in, eyes wide with something you don’t like. “Freaked out and just went on a bloody spree. He got us last night.” Billy reaches over and swats Stu’s arm. He lets out a little huff, “He got Tatum, too.”
“Stu-“
“And Sid.” Billy cuts you off before you can even start to console. Your eyes clench shut before shooting back open. This is way too much to be processing when you’ve just woken up from a drug-induced coma.
Your lips part, condolences ready on your tongue. But neither of them seems especially desperate for that. Stu’s got your hands in his, eyes watching every micro expression of yours like it's the most interesting thing in the world. Billy seems distant. Expected when your girlfriend is murdered by her father. But this is different, somehow.
There’s something he doesn’t want you to see.
“I,” your mind races with a hundred different thoughts before settling on one. “I don’t get it. Why'd he come after me?”
Stu scoffs, “Why'd he murder his daughter? Nothing about this will ever make sense.”
“Yeah, but-"
“We should let the doctor know you're awake.” Billy gets to his feet, cutting you off again. Stu lingers for a moment before reluctantly releasing your hands. Your eyes dart between them, not eager to just be left on your own again.
“We’ll stop by later,” Stu promises, the wheels of his IV drip squeaking as they both shuffle from your room. Your hand drifts to your stomach, mind growing consumed with the throbbing pain. Something isn’t right.
When you’re well enough that your meds can be cut back, you go off on your own to find the boys. You’re sick of being alone in your room. Terrified that every time you look through your window, that screaming mask will be staring back at you.
Sid’s dad is dead. Dewey and the others had reassured you a hundred times. But that didn't mean that Ghistface was dead. You saw him.
Saw them.
It wasn’t just one man behind the slaughter. But you hadn’t told Dewey that. Hadn’t told the sheriff. Not even the nosy ass reporter that kept sneaking her way past security.
No part of you had been able to reason away why you kept that information to yourself. There was no plausible excuse to protect the men who tried to kill you. Still, you can’t help but feel that if murder really had been their plan, you wouldn’t have gotten away that night.
Shuffling through the hospital halls, you keep an arm wrapped tight around your wound as you make your way to Stu’s room.
He seems miserably bored as he flips through channels on his TV. His face lights up when he sees you in the doorway. You chuckle as he tosses his remote away. Beckoning you closer as he pulls back his sheets.
Carefully, you help yourself into his bed, letting out a pained sigh as you try to get comfortable. “Where’s Billy?”
Stu shrugs, “I don’t know, probably using the bathroom. The meds they’ve got us on have me pissing like crazy.”
You let out a little snort and swat his arm. “You’re disgusting.”
Stu catches your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. His eyes bore into the scratchy hospital blanket, stare pensive. You think about offering to bring him something more comfortable when he speaks.
“Do you even like horror movies?”
Your brows furrow. Out of anything he could have said, that was probably the last thing you were expecting. “What?” You let out a disbelieving chuckle and he shrugs.
“We always force you through them on movie night. But I don’t think you’ve ever said you like them.”
You frown, picking at the threads of his fraying blanket. “I don’t know, what’s it matter?”
“Humor me,” he insists, tone unsettling. Looking back up, you nearly pull away. The vacant look in his eyes is disturbing.
“No,” you whisper, feeling like you’re telling him something you shouldn’t. “I don’t like them.”
“Why do you watch them?” He pushes, sitting up until his nose is nearly brushing yours. You would pull back if it didn’t feel like his stare had frozen you to the spot.
“I feel like if I don’t, you guys won’t want to hang out with me anymore.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Why are you asking me all this?” You whisper, eyes burning the longer Stu stares into them. He stays still for a moment, gaze running across yours. With a sharp bark of laughter, he falls back onto his pillows. You jump at the sudden movement and finally realize just how hard your heart is pounding against your ribs. His face cringes with pain as he tugs at his stitches.
“Wanna know my favorite trope?” He brushes past your question, armed with another series of his own. Fingers flexing under his tight grip, you try not to grimace. He doesn’t wait for you to answer.
“The final girl,” he whispers, waving one hand as if it’s some big reveal. “She never goes out. Never parties. Doesn’t care what she looks like,” his grip tightens infinitesimally around yours.
You want to tell him it hurts, but you can’t force the words from your tightened throat. “Always manages to outsmart the killers. She's always so perfect. Except,” he holds up one scolding finger with a sharp grin. “When she helps assholes like me cheat on his homework.”
You jerk back, flesh stinging like you’ve been burned. Stu lets you go, smile creeping ever wider. “What the hell are you saying?” You demand, voice cracking as you get to your feet.
“What’s the matter?” He asks, barely concealing his excitement as you back out of the room. “It’s just a joke,” he needles.
Your back slams into something firm and your breath catches in your throat. “I don’t think we ever asked,” Stu taunts with a chuckle.
Tilting your face back, you see Billy standing behind you, eyes dark and cold as they bore into yours.
WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat, noncon, kidnapping trope, dubcon, p in v smut, violence, knifeplay, bloodplay, cutting(light), blackmail, choking, humiliation, dom/sub trope, mentions of murder, death treats, dacryphilia, degradation, very degrading names!, veryy dark. seriously very dark take on noncon.
Happy October, everyone! I thought I'd post a story in honor of the spooky season for dark romance lovers. 🎃 Slow burn but heavy smut at the end!!! Let me know your thoughts on the writing/characters below <3
Two months. It's only been two months of me living here.
"We encourage everyone to stay at home tonight." The reporter's voice warbled from my old TV as my eyes stayed glued to the screen, unable to process the news.
"Sheriff Peterson has confirmed the news- three dead, and from the same type of attack."
A picture fills the screen- a man with a white ghost mask, staring into the camera from a shadowed alleyway.
"It is likely that he will claim more victims if he can." The noise seems to fade away as I lean back on my couch, the picture burning into my memory.
Two months of me living here, and a serial killer is out on the loose.
"Even if it's Halloween, it's guaranteed to be dangerous if you let your kids outside today, so make sure to buy candy now and...."
I stand up, leaving the living room and head to the kitchen to get a glass of water to calm my nerves. I still had to work the night shift today. The haunted house was the only place hiring college students in this small town, and I was positive that my uptight manager would fire me if I didn't clock in- killer or no killer.
I checked my watch. Shit. I had to be there in ten. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in my stomach, I grabbed my keys and left the house, slamming the door in a rush.
Despite it being Halloween evening, the haunted house was emptier than it had been this entire October, which makes sense, given the brutal and violent killer lurking within the 7,280 people in this town. The thought made me nauseous. There were still a couple teenagers here, though. I did my best to entertainingly scare them, but I don't think my low pigtails and clown makeup really scare anyone. The costume made me look like a child. A frilly white skirt and tights, matched with a striped pink and white long sleeve that was too small on me. I felt like...well, a clown.
Nobody was here now except a couple of my coworkers talking in hushed tones up front. I grabbed my phone, and scrolled through notifications, bored. My manager, my dad, my old high school friend... and an unknown number. I tapped on it casually.
unknown number: you're gonna die tonight
My phone dropped from my hand.
I grabbed it immediately, my heart hammering in my ribcage. I quickly tapped my fingers on the keyboard.
me: who is this??? is this a prank?
A few seconds after I sent the message, I watched the text change from "delivered" to "read". Text bubbles showed up and my breathing stopped.
unknown number: you'll be the prettiest dead girl
unknown number: i'm gonna taste your blood
I reread the last message. My body was frozen. I think someone was calling my name. I just kept staring at it.
unknown number: respond to me
unknown number: dumb bitch.
I stared at the messages for a minute, speechless. I could hear my coworker calling from afar for me to get back into character, but I couldn't stop staring at my phone.
unknown number: oh i'll make this so much worse for you
unknown number: i'm going to rip your insides open
That did it for me. I bolted to the restroom and dialed 911, grabbing the wall for support as the phone rang. And rang. And rang. Finally, there was a click. I sighed a breath of relief. "Hello!?"
"Nobody's saving you from this." The low voice, dark and furious, sent sudden chills down my spine.
"Wh-what?" I stuttered.
A soft chuckle emanated from the phone.
"Dumb bitch."
The call ended, and I stared at the screen. Oh my god. Oh my god.
BOOM BOOM BOOM. I let out a terrified scream. Something was hitting the bathroom door. I was gonna die. Here. Now.
"Get the fuck out! We have a line of people waiting to enter and you aren't here!" It was my manager's voice- he was hitting the door. I gasped, so thankful I could cry. I tentatively stood up and opened the door.
His face was red with anger, scrunched up and ugly. He jabbed a finger on my shoulder. "You take one more break tonight, and I'll fire your ass." I nodded silently, controlling my breathing. I just couldn't think about it. Those messages. Maybe it's just a prank. If it's just a prank, I'd regret leaving and getting fired. Yes, I just need to get through tonight. Just get through tonight.
It was 9pm, and I was still scared shitless. I knew what to do. Go to the police as soon as possible, and stay at the station until I knew I was no longer in danger. I looked around the house. Halloween music blared, and the place was filled with loud laughter and friendly shrieks. A lot of kids showed up around 8pm, and working helped me forget about the threats, for a little bit of time.
I saw a group of masked teenagers making their way towards me, and I prepared myself to chase them until they left the hallway. (I do not get paid enough for this.)
It wasn't until they were close to me that I saw it.
In a swarm of people with colorful Halloween outfits and masks- oranges, greens, purples- one stood out. The image burned into my memory from earlier.
A white Ghostface mask.
I let out an audible squeak, widening my eyes.
The man was taller than the rest of the group. He stopped walking, as the group of others advanced to me. I stared at him, unable to move my body. The killer tilted his head, slowly. I dropped my eyes to his hands.
The sharp, gleaming knife in one of them.
I let out a small scream, backing up slowly.
"Woah, is she pretending to be afraid of us?" A teenage boy asked. "That's like, super abstract."
Ghostface started walking forwards, and I whipped around, shrieking as I began to run to the exit.
My feet slammed on the ground as tears slipped down my face. I was going to die. I was going to die.
I was at the final part of the path, feeling my white face paint dripping off my skin from the tears. Click, click. I stared up in confusion at the blinking lights. The LEDs started flickering in orange and purple, blackening the room in random bursts. I was about to turn the corner, when the house went completely dark. I whimpered, still hearing friendly laughs and screams from afar, faintly.
I started running in a random direction, but I couldn't make out the next turn of the deserted hallway. Where was I? I stood still. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. My heavy breaths were the only noise around me.
Click. The purple and orange bright lights flashed on again.
And right in front of me stood the masked killer, holding up a freshly red knife.
I screamed, or attempted to, as his large gloved hand covered my mouth. In a second, he slammed me roughly into the wall, my head hitting the cobweb decorations. His hand pushed into my face hard, and lifted his bloodied knife to my throat, leaning in.
"You don't like following directions, do you?" His voice was low and amused. He grabbed my neck and yanked my head back again, a sharp pain hitting my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, my tears reaching his glove.
"Aww," he muttered, scraping the knife down the side of my face. "Dead girl's crying." HIs breath was heavy under the mask. He was wearing a long black shirt- it hugged his figure, and I registered how much bigger he was in comparison to me. Stronger, taller, with arms twice the size of mine. I wasn't getting out of this alive.
"You've been a bad girl," he continued, his voice lower than before. "Not responding to those texts." The bloody knife pressed down on my neck, hard. I could smell copper and nearly threw up in my mouth.
"Like you have a choice." A dry laugh came from his mask. The knife travelled to the middle of my neck, and I closed my eyes again, a sob escaping my throat. "You think you have a choice? Huh?" He let go of his grip on my mouth and grabbed my hair, jerking my head up to reach his eyeline.
I couldn't say anything. I just shook my head "no" frantically, sobbing shamelessly.
"Yeah," he responded darkly. "That's right, you stupid whore." He dropped the knife to my waist, slowly trailing it down to my hipbone. My crying got louder. I just wanted him to end it already.
"Almost too pretty to waste," he murmured, staring at my hips. I hiccupped, looking at him with delirious confusion. The eyes of the mask met my gaze and he instantly flipped me around, shoving my face into the wall and getting terrifyingly close. I could feel his hips on mine, warm and strong, as he tightly gripped both of my arms with one hand. I cried in protest, which made him slam my body into the wall again. "I love those little noises you're making," he rasped. "I hope you'll sound just like that when my knife's inside of you."
"Please," I whispered. I don't know what I was even asking him for. He probably killed everyone in the house except for me. Maybe I was begging for a quick death.
"Please, what?" His voice sounded cruel, and the area between his hips was starting to feel weirdly hard, but I couldn't focus on anything except the pounding in my head.
"Please...Mr. Ghostface," I said softly, sniffling. I wanted to somehow reason, maybe talk him into letting me go. "I don't wanna die-" my voice broke, and I started sobbing again.
"Aww. Poor baby." His voice was thick with venom. "Maybe you should've responded to those texts then. Fucking cunt," he hissed. His knife pressed deeply into my hip, and I whined. "You think you can get your way? Huh?" Instantly, he slid the knife on my hip, making a thin cut on my skin. "Don't worry, I'll put that pretty body to good use when I'm done with you," he murmured in my ear. I knocked my head back, wincing from the pain of the cut. He let my arms go, and I sunk to the ground, weeping as I curled into a small ball.
"Look at me." He was commanding, and I weakly obliged, blinking tears from my eyes to see him. A strange part of me felt safe as he towered over me, looking down at my small body like predator with prey. It was the end.
A question bubbled from my mouth, before I could stop it. "Did you kill everyone here?"
He tilted his head. Paused. "Only the ones that didn't run."
I looked down at the dripping knife in his hand. The one that was now coated with some of my blood.
"Why me?" My eyes were closing from how tired I was- how much everything hurt. But everything was slower now. I wasn't afraid anymore. Ghostface squatted in front of me. He chuckled lowly while casually twirling the knife. He didn't say anything for a long minute. He just watched me, took in the blood tripping from my hipbone, the redness of my skin, the wet tears on my face.
"Beg."
"What?" I mumble, opening my eyes fully.
He stood up, boots pressing into my thighs, and carefully positioned the tip of the knife under my throat, making me stare up at him. "Beg. I might not kill you if you beg." His body was unmoving, the mask still making him expressionless.
A chance. To live.
I dropped my eyes, my lip trembling. "Please let me-"
"On your knees."
I furrowed my brows. Just a few hours ago, I had dignity. "But-'"
He dug the knife harder into me. "I'll slit your throat right now. I'd like that."
My eyes got watery again, and I think he inhaled at that. I slowly got up to my knees, putting my hands in my lap.
He cocked his head again. "There we go. Good girl." A part of me felt intensely ashamed, but it was this option or a violent death. If I could just run, maybe...
"Please. Let me live." My words were thick in my mouth.
"You made me mad." He grabbed my hair nonchalantly, pulling at my scalp. "Ignoring me. I think you deserve to get hurt for that."
I tried to steady my heart. How do I deal with this psycho?
"You were a bad girl." He paused and jerked my head up again, making me stare at that awful mask. "Say it."
I couldn't hide my physical repulsion to the request. Who asks someone to do that?
A sudden, stinging pain on my cheek. He had slapped me. Hard. "I told you to say it." His voice was growing more irritated.
He was really strong. I couldn't think. Numbly, I whispered, "I was a bad girl."
"Tell me you deserve to be hurt."
I choked on a cry. He hit me across the face again, and felt the knife scrape my jaw. "You should really learn to answer faster, bitch," he taunted, letting the knife drag on the opened flesh.
"I deserve to be hurt," I panted, my entire body shaking.
"You do," he murmured, letting the knife slide away from me as he leaned back. "And how do you think I should hurt you?" There was an underlying meaning to his tone...like he was waiting for something.
The weapon was farther from me now...so was he. His body was off of mine, and there was a gap between us that I could squeeze through. I stared at the exit hallway on our right. There would never be a right time. But now was my only chance. Flushed with adrenaline, I pushed myself off the ground and bolted towards the hallway as fast as I could. My feet hit the floorboards in a rhythm, and I urged my weak body to go faster.
Of course, he knew what I was trying to do. I was his entertainment. He wouldn't let me go. A part of me knew that.
I was halfway there before I felt his grasp on my shoulders, violently forcing me to the ground. I felt a hand close around my throat, choking my neck tightly. I grabbed at the air, and he stabbed the knife in the floorboard, right next to my arm. "Dumb fucking bitch," he gritted through his teeth. I felt him grabbing the flesh of my thigh roughly as he laid on top of me. His muscular body engulfed me. I couldn't move, or breathe...
"So stupid," he laughed breathlessly. His voice turned mean as he slammed my head down on the floor. "You're so fucking stupid." I felt him adjust in a strange way, only to see that he took off his glove, letting his bare hand continue travelling my thigh. "You can't escape me."
My vision got blurry, and he released my neck, letting me take a gasp of air .The glove was shoved in my mouth, and I nearly gagged on it, taking greedy breaths from my nose.
"You chose your punishment, then," he groaned in my ear, scraping his fingernails on my skin as he massaged my ass.
How strange. I almost forgot that this monster was a... man. He was heavy on top of me, tracing the cuts on my body and squeezing so tightly I whimpered at his grasp.
"Can't run away now, slut," he hissed, grabbing my tights and ripping them apart. My body was pinned completely. He pulled down my underwear, making a ragged breathing sound. I heard him let out a small laugh of disbelief.
"God, you fucking whore," Ghostface breathed. "You always get this wet for serial killers?" He shoved two large fingers inside of me, and I let out a cry. It was true. My body was taking him easily, and as he hit a spongey part deep inside of me, I could hear lewd sounds coming from inside me. I shook my head desperately, tears flowing from my eyes. He grabbed the leather glove from my mouth and hurled it to the side, a moan escaping my lips.
"No?" He said, pushing into me with more force. "Sounds like you like it." He went faster, and I covered my mouth, biting back the sounds. He grabbed my wrist and shoved my arm down, pinning it to my side. His breath got faster as he fucked me with his hand, and I felt a horrible, rising sensation in my body. He stopped, as if he knew I was close, taking his hand and putting it on his own body. I felt him press up against me, the hardness of his erection in his sweatpants. I suddenly felt very nervous.
He flipped me over, pulling his shirt off in a way that kept the mask on. "Look at me." His voice was unrecognizable, heavy with lust. "I need to see it hurt you."
A sick, depraved part of me...maybe wanted it too. He was so strong, and warm, and smelled good...if you ignored the blood. Oh god, there was blood on his arms. Splatters of it. People I might've worked with. Teenagers I might've seen.
I punched his chest, grunting with each throw as I tried to shimmy out from under him. But all the humor or amusement he had when he was making me beg for my life seemed to be gone. Saying nothing, he grabbed my hands and kept them on top of my head. It was so terrifying. Staring into the eyes of a mask.
"Don't make me kill you," he seethed, reaching behind us and pulling the knife from the wood. "This'll make you behave, huh?" He held it to my throat, and I stilled my body, my chest heaving from fear.
He pulled down his pants and boxers, his large dick hard, leaking precum. I shifted away, breathing faster. I couldn't take that. Literally, physically, it would tear me apart.
"No, wait. No-" I whimpered. He leaned forward and shoved himself inside of me.
I suddenly remembered what he texted me.
"I'm going to rip your insides open."
I guess that was interpretative.
My cries of pain were matched with his shaky groans as he pushed his cock inside again, hitting a deep part of me. I felt the knife digging into my throat as he grabbed my breast from under the shirt, scratching my skin with his nails. "Fuck, you're so tight," he hissed, his entire body weighing over mine as he started thrusting. His head jerked upwards and I could see the brief outline of a sharp jawline. He slammed his hand down and grabbed my hip, pushing my body onto him. The knife moved on my skin as his thrusts quickened, and he tightened his grip on my hipbone.
"You're so lucky," he grunted. "So lucky you're such a pretty whore. You'd be dead if you weren't so useful." his slams into me got harder, and I screamed.
"Please. It really hurts," I whined. My eyes felt watery, but tearing up hurt my eye sockets at this point.
Ghostface started going faster at those words. "Oh, yeah? It hurts?"
I yelped as our skin smacked, his pace making me feel lightheaded. "Y-yes." I should know not to tell a sadist something hurts. He continued thrusting, relentlessly, stabbing the knife down in the floor again and using both of his hands to bruise my hips as he lifted me and deepened the position.
I wailed, covering my face with my hands.
"You gonna cry?"
I shook my head stubbornly, although I knew I felt warm tears leaking down my palms.
"Fucking baby." He grabbed my arms and pinned them again, slowing down. "Cry for me."
I turned my head, trying not to see him. Trying not to show him. With his other hand, he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him, doing that stupid head tilt again. "C'mon, baby. Cry."
My lips trembled and I closed my eyes. A sharp, painful slap on my face. "I told you to fucking cry," he said viciously, and I couldn't take it anymore. A sob broke out, and I felt the tears start rolling down my face uncontrollably. He nodded slowly, a small laugh coming from his mask. "Good girl." "Yeah," he murmured, slamming his hips into mine again. "Good girl."
His hips pistoned inside of me over and over again, as sobs ran my throat sore. He kept staring at my face, at the way I cried, and his thrusts got more sporadic. He dropped onto my body again, groaning in my ear. "I'll keep you for a little longer, dead girl." The cold plastic of the mask touched my cheek as he grabbed onto my waist, quickening the movement of his cock. His breath got quick, the slap of his hips loud and sloppy. "Oh, god," he gasped, speeding up until I saw black spots in the sky. "Fuck, you're such a perfect, fucking whore," he groaned, pushing down on me and moving my entire body to his pleasure. "I'm-" his head jerked back as he slammed into me one last time, moaning lowly.
I took a shaky breath, feeling the warm, oozing sensation inside of me. I was strangely relaxed. I was probably going to die now. He stayed like that for some time, warming me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I stayed still as I felt his body separate from mine, and the sound of fabric rustling.
I felt a gentle hand on my arm. I opened my eyes, and he was fully dressed. He wasn't saying anything.
He made me stand up, and he carefully pulled my tights up. I could still feel his...remains inside of me, making my underwear sticky. I slightly retched. While gripping my arm, he leaned down and grabbed the knife sticking out of the floor. I felt so tired. I think I could hear the sound of police sirens in the background.
I looked at the man in the mask again. He was so tall, and big. He didn't need a knife to kill me. Just his hands. I knew it was time. I wasn't useful to him anymore. Not alive, at least. I stared at the dried up blood on the knife.
He made a small, breathy sound. Like a laugh. "No. Not yet." His voice was like a purr he flipped me again, covering my face with his other hand. "I'm not getting rid of you yet."
Something about the way he covered my mouth and nose made me feel so sleepy. The way his glove smelled like some type of far away cologne. I blinked, slowly, hearing his breathing. Like a lullaby. I closed my eyes completely, letting the darkness take me.
The words echoed in my mind as I lost consciousness.
"I'm not getting rid of you yet."
Hope you guys liked it! Let me know if you guys want a Part 2
I wanna fuck ghostface so hard that he blacks out or passed out from the sheer feeling of pleasure and pain. 😭😭😭
Hell yeah. Same thoughts. 18+ TOP READER
Ghostface’s knees buckled, his legs consistently trembling while his hands scrambled around the mattress for purchase. The cheek of his mask was firmly planted against the sheets, finding himself unable to look back at you without interrupting himself.
“Oh God! Oh God—hnngh, right there!”
He punched out a moan, relishing in the way your thick cock ruthlessly carves an imprint on his slick-graced walls. His feet were on the ground, his upper half on the bed, and his ass raised to you. Your hands gripped his hips, forcibly prompting him to fuck himself back on your dick in time with your thrusts.
“Yeah? Right here?” You ask, pulling out enough to allow him to feel the threat of you leaving his entrance before you roughly bottom out and hit his sweet spot, earning yourself a high whine. One of your hands reach up, grasping his nape and pushing him down. Making him take it.
Ghostface can barely breathe, weak gasps barely managing to leave his agape mouth. You were fucking him like you hated him, his obscured face uncomfortably digging harder into the soft bedspread.
It hurt. Hurt so good.
Your hips were meeting with his backside with audible smacks, accompanied by a force that’ll surely cause him to become terribly sore. He clenches around your cock with a whimper, heat rushing to his gut, a climax rapidly approaching him.
It was dizzying. It was electrifying, and he was so horny. The killer groans out, long and broken, his mind momentarily numbing. He’s so close, his wet dick beginning to throb, and he can feel himself right—
Ghostface suddenly becomes limp, his hips subconsciously bucking forward as his pretty slit spits out his messy release.
slashers x afab reader | nsfw | what they are like in bed - headcanons
characters : michael myers, ghostface, thomas hewitt, brahms heelshire
cws : vaginal sex, penetration, choking, blood play, knife play, mommy kink, spanking, roleplay, cunnilingus, blow job, stalking, etc. etc. raunchy raunchy stuff here people.
a/n : another dose of headcanons, but this time with slashers! this is a little self indulgent but being snowed in for three plus days will do that to a person lol. anyhow, i hope you guys enjoy my silly little headcanons and feel free to send requests! enjoy babes xoxo
michael myers
this man has so much pent up sexual frustration it's nearly painful. however, he has no clue that he does in fact have certain needs that need to be met until he has sex for the first time. michael has never understood the hype. he's killed and maimed countless people in the middle of the dirty act but never thought to try it for himself. until he met you. then he had a better understanding of those sex crazed teens. suddenly all of the blood in his body seemed to rush to his dick every time he watched you get dressed from outside your window.
definitely took a while for him to actually come to you for sex. at first he would just watch you from outside, buried in the bushes and stroking himself. when he does ask you for sex the first time, it's painfully obvious he has no experience. there is no foreplay, no moments leading up to it. just rough brutal thrusts to go in and relieve some of that tension. it's going to take a good deal of pep talks and deep conversations to get michael to actually take his time with sex.
he's reluctant to try new things, but once you show him the joys of things like choking and blood play? he's all for it. what do you mean he can still get the thrill of a kill all while filling your pretty pussy? it doesn't take much convincing to get him hooked. however, he can easily get carried away with it, driving the tip of his blade just a little too deep- his fingers curling around your throat just a little too tight. it's a fine balance of fear and desire throughout sex with michael. and unfortunately for you, that little glint of terror that gleams in your eyes when he does go too far is something he lives for. he loves that feeling of helpless power.
his sex drive reaches its peak after a fresh kill. something about dripping blood across your pretty skin as he fucks you drives him wild. the adrenaline that courses through him after a hunt causes his stamina to also increase (buckle up babes, you have a lonnnggg night ahead). even after your legs have long stopped working, he's pumping you full. with his size and inhuman strength, he'll use your body like a rag doll. bending and twisting you around to however he sees fit.
•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ ••
ghostface
definitely one of the most experienced out of the slashers. he knows he's good and he's cocky about it. your relationship would likely start off very transactional. he gets to fuck you and you get to live to enjoy it (a good deal if you ask me). ghostface has a thing for inexperience. he likes the idea of being the one to corrupt you, to reduce you to his little plaything tailored specifically to his needs. he knows just how to get what he wants from you too. giving you just enough to keep dragging you along.
super into kinks. you will never catch this man having anything close to vanilla sex. he likes the shock factor of rough kinks, ones that make you go "did he really just ask me to do that?". so definitely expect the unexpected with him throughout sex. he'll draw his knife along your skin, leaving little beads of blood in its wake. try and resist him and it will only fuel that fire further. he loves watching you squirm, seeing that spark of fear rush through you.
loves seeing you suck his cock and gagging around it. power play is a big thing for ghostface, he enjoys seeing you reduced to a mess before him. it's such a turn on for him when you start crying during sex from the sheer pleasure alone. he will ask you to wear makeup just to watch the mascara run down your cheeks and your lipstick smear all from him. it's a possessive thing. he wants to feel like he owns your heart and your body.
he does have a very high sex drive, almost insatiable. sex isn't a quick thing for ghostface, it's a marathon. this mans stamina is unmatched and he will expect you to try and keep up with it. every round brings a new thrill. he's very big into roleplaying, keeping your adrenaline going through the entire process. he'll have you hide around the house, and god if he gets his hands on you...it's definitely an event you will remember. the more you fight back, the more he wants to shove his cock in your mouth to shut you up. he will have you ruined for anyone else after he's done with you.
•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ ••
thomas hewitt
has some of the least experience out of all the slashers. he grew up in a very conservative household where sex was considered taboo. now, he's definitely had his curious thoughts. eyes lingering too long on a victim, finding charlie's secret stash of raunchy magazines, etc. so sex isn't entirely foreign to him, it's just not something he is super comfortable expressing and acting on. and then he met you. suddenly those desires became very difficult to try and ignore. you would have to be the one to initiate first. no matter how many times you tell him about your attraction, he still has a level of insecurity.
your first time is surprisingly sweet. thomas was not born with the desire to hurt and kill, it was taught to him. he is very adamant about never laying a hand on you or anyone else in his family. (unless charlie says something that is deserving of it). your first time is filled with affectionate gazes and soft kisses along your bodies. he takes his time with you, allowing you to guide him and show him just how you like to be pleased.
definitely more of a giver than a receiver. sex to him is another way for him to show his commitment to you, he would do just about anything you asked him. he's hesitant to explore kinks, especially ones of a more violent nature. but if it gets your eyes rolling back and his name falling from your lips? he's willing to give it a try. he just wants to take care of you and your greedy little cunt.
his sex drive starts off slow, almost hesitant to come to you multiple times through the day and ask for it. the more comfortable he gets, the more it increases. soon he's bringing you down to the basement to sprawl you across the table and forget about his responsibilities for a little while. his fingertips are grazing over the curve of your ass every time he brushes past you. it's a steady increase in his need for you as time goes on.
•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ ••
brahms heelshire
this man is practically pouncing on you the moment you give him the okay. there is no hesitation there, just pent up desire. he worships the ground that you walk on and it shows in the way he fucks you. brahms is a switch, just desperate to be in you however he can. he does absolutely love it when you ride him though. he gets to see your pretty face and breasts bouncing as he plunges into you. it's an addicting sight. despite his lack of experience from being trapped in literal walls his entire life, his enthusiasm makes up for it.
he's desperate to please, to earn his keep in your bed. brahms will eat you out for literal days if he can, you have to practically force him away from your cunt once the overstimulation becomes too much. and after that, he's fucking you until the only thing you can think of is how good he feels. he does love it when you take control randomly, pinning him beneath you and using his body like you own it. he can't help but beg and whine and plead for you like this. the name "mommy" would definitely slip out randomly and after that? it would stick.
he's willing to try just about anything at least once. brahms is a simple man with simple desires, that being you. his favorite kinks however are the ones that involve different ways he can bring you pleasure. using various toys to bring pleasure to different parts of your body all at once, leaving territorial hickies along your skin, fucking you in front of a mirror so you can see how pretty you look like this.....he just wants to make you feel good!
his sex drive is rather intimidating. all it takes is you looking at him and he's ready to go three rounds. being trapped without much human contact will do that to a person. you'll definitely have to be the rational one telling him to take breaks and drink water. aftercare is very very important to him as he seeks comfort almost immediately after sex, looking for that reassurance that you aren't going anywhere.
Dbd Killers reaction to seeing you without underwear
Characters: Ghostface, Pyramid Head, Albert Wesker.
A/N: you are on a trial but you don't have underwear cause life sucks and the entity caught you on a bad moment. Somehow the killers saw it when you end up in front of them.
Masterlist
Ghostface
When he grabbed your foot to drag you to the floor and your shirt rolled up, he froze.
Your tits were in plain site and he got so excited he was glad that he had a mask on.
"My my girl, I didn't konw I could have this kind of a prize."
You took the chance to run off but he kept the rest of the trial running after you.
Now that he knows you can be a really good entertainment, he is not letting you go.
And if he can, he will rip your shirt with his knife.
Pyramid Head
When you fell right in front of him and your skirt rolled up, your ass and cunt were exposed to him.
He had seen naked woman before, mostly in Silent Hill, but this time it felt different.
You were alive and a separated one that he didn't know, and that was curious to him.
You were really scared cause he was not moving and you were certain that he was looking at you.
You put down your skirt and tried to run away.
From the rest of the trial, he kept using his sword and feet to make you fall with hopes of seeing your cunt again.
Albert Wesker
You were running from him and suddently one of his prototype arms wrapped around you.
You were trying to escape and suddently that slimy thing got under your shirt.
"You are very naughty, no bra on a survival game? no wonder why you runned so slow.
You tried to justify yourself even though you didn't need to and he dragged you next to him.
You are now centimeters apart and he is squeezing your body with his mutant arms.
He is inspecting all your features while almost crushing your ribs.
He would not take you to the hook, but he would take you to a branch and leave you there to come back later.
Synopsis: Dbd killers with a visually impaired reader.
Characters: Frank Morrison, Hillbilly, Albert Wesker, Deathslinger, Trickster, Knight, Chucky, Jason Voorhees, Pyramid Head, Ghostface, Huntress, Michael Myers.
!!Warnings: Gn reader, unhealthy relationships, murder, obsessive behavior, psychological manipulation, act not too deep!!
A.n: Ughh I feel like I completely fucked this up, it's my first time writing for dbd and even though my mood was getting in the way I was stubborn enough to finish it lol.
Frank Morrison
At first remembering what a complete asshole he is, he'll make fun of you. He'll take your white cane, perform stupid acrobatic tricks with it, and tell you to look at him. "Ah right, my dumbass. You're blind." at this point he can even make fun of himself and his jokes genuinely aren't funny.
You can be sure he'll turn your matches into hell. At some point the disrespect Frank shows you will start spreading to the others too. And when he finds out about it, sorry but he won't be pleased. "You fucking legged idiots aren't ashamed of messing with a blind person!?" he says while running up and driving his knife into someone's back without even looking at who they are. "Pick on someone your own size!"
Frank definitely doesn't consider himself to be in the same category as them. He's an egotistical meathead. Now he'll act as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.
"How many?" he held up two fingers right in front of your face and waited for an answer. "But Frank, I can't see—" He cut you off without a second thought. He was stubborn as a mule. "Yeah, but that doesn't stop you using your brain."
Frowning, you threw out a number without thinking much about it. "One?" There was silence between the two of you. Frank lowered the middle finger he had been showing you and grunted. "No, it was five."
What more is there to say? He's a complete asshole, but a lovable asshole.
Hillbilly
Oh, poor baby. His mind is going to be so thoroughly scrambled. Because of the life he's lived, he's never met a blind person before. At first he'll simply assume you’re clumsy and, without giving it much thought, try to kill you just like he does everyone else. But later during a sudden collision between the two of you, instead of screaming in fear, you reach out and touch whatever you ran into—Max's chest. Then with a small breath and hesitant uncertainty, you murmur "David?" and he just freezes.
His entire life, he'd been forced to endure disgusted stares crawling across his skin, he'd spent years fighting against screams that chased him as though they had a physical form of their own, but none of the pain he had ever experienced could have prepared him for this moment.
Not knowing what to do, he'll hurriedly leave. It won't take long for guilt to settle in after abandoning you there. He'll come back. Assuming you can't really get around on your own, he'll at least hope to guide you somewhere safe and keep you away from the carnage.
Of course, the moment he sees Leon—someone he already can't stand—holding your hand and leading you toward the generators, his mood will sour very quickly.
Deciding to leave you and Leon alone for a while, he'll turn his attention toward another survivor. Hoping to put an end to the battle between his heart and his mind, he'll keep dragging his chainsaw through bone.
Albert Wesker
Wesker wasn't stupid. During a chase, he knew exactly what the stick you were holding in the distance was when he caught sight of it from the corner of his eye. To be honest, he couldn’t help but feel a little curious in that moment. Was the Entity really cruel enough to bring a blind person here?
Still, this was Albert Wesker we were talking about. He never distinguished between the obstacles standing in the way of his victory. And you were no exception. Well, you were for a time...
You were far too kind. Not because you possessed a pure heart, but because you believed fighting with another person would gain you nothing. Perhaps that was why, despite the people who looked down on you and saw you as useless, you never used your blindness as a tool to turn your back on them. No, you caught even the smallest pained whimper like a hunter and continued helping others despite suffering yourself. And that fascinated him. He told himself it was nothing unusual. He had seen plenty of self sacrificing fools like that before, yet he could never stop himself from being drawn to you.
As he came to believe that you were remarkably intelligent and had interesting ideas, his interest in you became increasingly obvious. Which meant he would stop killing you. "Seven minutes...I'll give you only seven minutes." He said it while watching you study his face with eyes that couldn't see, unaware of the excitement shining within them after the familiarity built over such a long time.
If only you could have seen the savage hunger with which those bright eyes looked at you.
Caleb Quinn
One of Caleb's favorite things was targeting survivors from distances where he could truly show off his marksmanship. Naturally, that would make him notice you very quickly. When he aimed at you, instead of checking behind yourself, running and weaving back and forth like the others, he saw you trailing your hands along walls and finding your way through sound.
But the biggest thing that stopped Caleb was something else. The thing he knew best was the smell of helplessness.
He had faced strong opponents and exceptionally skilled ones, even the most dishonorable kinds, but never someone weak and without the chance to see. That went against his cowboy way too much. For a while he would simply watch you from afar, unsure of what to do with you.
Eventually, there would be times when he let you escape. There were moments when he not even allowed you to live during matches he was destined to lose. He tried not to cause unnecessary pain, and that applied not only to killing but to chases as well. While he hunted others directly with his rifle, he would usually take advantage of your condition and catch you with his hands instead.
He would never make you experience the pain of his harpoon even once, because shooting prey that couldn't properly run went against his cowboy pride.
Caleb never forgot what life had taken from him. Because of that, he wouldn't see your blindness as a 'flaw' but as 'one of life's dirty tricks played on you.' and with time, he would even start trying to have conversations with you.
Trickster
You're an insult to his existence. If someone were to come up and ask what he thought of you, he'd give a brief and straightforward answer. The Entity dragged this boring thing here to punish me.
To him, you're a loser. And as if not being able to see him wasn't enough, you're completely indifferent to his insults because you don't even know korean. "찌질이." When he throws one of his knives at you from a record breaking distance while you're running around with the help of your cane, he'll call out after you like that.
His voice is so low and wild that it sounds less like an insult and more like a term of endearment. Ji-woon shouldn't lie to himself, but he absolutely enjoys messing with you. And much like the affection he once accepted from his fans, he'll gradually begin admitting to himself that he likes your presence too.
"너 완전 루저야" (You're a complete loser) As he says it, he'll sign one of his favorite cassette tapes and tuck it into the side of your pants. Ah and if despite not understanding his strange behavior, you approach him politely instead of rudely...Ji-woon will melt. As this sick obsession of his grows over time, he'll begin writing music for you. During matches, he'll always leave you for last and constantly make sure the generators don't get finished so he can spend plenty of time with you.
Eventually, Ji-woon will remember that not being able to see his perfection doesn't stop you from feeling it, and after gently taking hold of your wrists and placing kisses against your palms that tickle your skin, he'll bow his head slightly before you and guide your hands up to his face.
The Knight
He definitely won't pity you. The moment he finds you he'll take care of you without hesitation, sooner he's rid of you, the better. But somehow, he'll occasionally find himself absentmindedly watching you.
Knight had seen far too many things before. The wounded, maimed, countless people clinging to life in agony despite missing limbs or having their faces completely shattered..He shouldn't have been affected by it and yet, here he was.
Drawn toward the scent of blood, you had reached out to him by following the sounds he made. One hand clung to his arm while you held a medkit in the other, looking at him with quiet concern. You were pathetic enough to mistake him for an injured teammate because of the smell of blood. "Let me help you."
With a grunt from beneath his helmet, he grabbed you by the arm, then shifted his hold to your waist. Ignoring your startled cry and the frightened struggling that came with your sudden realization, he carried you to the hatch.
If we ignore the part where he tossed you into the darkness like a sack of shit, it was actually gentlemanly.
Chucky
"Oh my God, is this shit a gift for me? It isn't even my birthday!" After killing everyone else, Chucky shouted that toward the sky as if someone up there was listening while enjoying the pleasure of finally meeting the new survivor. Damn it, he's going to make fun of you so much that at some point you might genuinely start praying for him to kill you.
"Don't stare at me like that! Although…you don't actually know where you're looking, do you?" Chucky laughed mockingly at you as you stood with your back to the generator, struggling to figure out what was happening around you. He would constantly compare your helplessness to that of a newborn baby, yet he generally wouldn't touch the cane you needed so badly. No, alright maybe he'd take it sometimes but he'd genuinely try not to interfere with it too much. "Well, you can't do anything without that shited thing either, can you? I'm the same way," he said while stroking the knife in his hand as though it were something seductive. "It's as inseparable from me as my dick."
Don't really question Chucky and his philosophy on life. As much of a little shit as he is, he'd definitely look after you too. I mean, come on he's tiny and you're blind! What a great match, right? Sometimes he'd try to play games with you, games that wouldn't hurt you, of course. Things like hide and seek. "My god, you were made for this game, trust me!" he said while punching your leg in an attempt to reassure you. Though what happened a few minutes later didn't really support his words. Taking full advantage of your blindness, he'd practically run circles around your fingertips. "I'm over here…no I'm over here! Look, follow my voice…oops, you walked into a wall! Now that's a classic!"
But the strangest thing is that he'd let you carry him. "RUN AT THAT ASSHOLE! RUNNNN!" To Chucky, you were the body he needed and he was the only eyes you could ever have. How romantic…right?
Jason Voorhees
He learned that you were blind in the worst possible way, at the worst possible time. Jason still carried the fragility and anger born from the bullying he had endured throughout his life deep within his bones. And when he saw the bullying directed at you, he didn't stop to think not even for a moment. He shouldn't have cared, yet despite the command of his mother still echoing in his ears, he immediately strode toward you and without giving the person who had shoved you to the ground a chance to react, grabbed them by the throat and lifted them into the air. Bringing his machete down upon their chest with ruthless force, he would shatter their ribcage.
Behind him, he had already forgotten about you, crawling away from the screams on the ground while crying in fear and searching for your cane. In that moment the only thing he was focused on was the sack of flesh in his hands. With every blow he struck, he remembered the faces of those who had gotten away after what they had done to him. One day he would leave this place, find every last one of them and punish them.
But for now...he let the body in his grasp fall to the ground with a disgusting thud, as though it were nothing. Taking muffled breaths behind his mask, he would finally turn toward you. Without thinking much about it he'd walk over, pick up your cane lying far away from where you were on the ground, then grab you by the arm and haul you to your feet as if you were a rag doll. Ignoring your screams and pleas, he'd place the cane back into your hand and walk away.
He was a victim too, but he would never allow that number to grow.
Pyramid Head
In a single word, he couldn't find anything about you that deserved punishment. The moment he met your eyes—eyes that didn't even know where to look or move in their fear—he lowered the massive sword in his hand.
And your hesitant "Hello?" in response to the deep, rasping breaths coming from him didn't help at all. You were completely unaware of the giant standing before you. He had come here to punish, yet all he could see in you was innocence.
Of course you would be terrified of him. He wasn't a caring or considerate giant. Him constantly grabbing you by the collar, holding your body to drag you somewhere, or forcing you into a seat after depositing you in a corner certainly didn't make things any easier. And that's not even mentioning the touches that left anything for privacy. Still you could see traces of kindness in him. Not only during your own matches with him—even in matches with two killers, he wouldn't allow his partner to lay a finger on you.
He was incredibly possessive. The sound of metal grinding, which once made your heart pound so hard it felt ready to burst from your chest, had become a source of comfort. It was a sign that he was there and while he was there, no one could hurt you. Even friends whose company you missed couldn't get close to you. You had learned a long time ago in the worst way possible, that he would never tolerate anyone making contact with you.
He was very possessive, and all that really meant was getting used to the scent of metal stained with blood and rust.
Ghostface
"Baby, you're holding the flashlight wrong." you quickly turned toward the voice and pointed the flashlight in that direction, but it was no use. Looking at the flashlight aimed directly at his chest, Danny let out a deep sigh. God, you were exhausting. But just as unique. "Hey sweetheart, if you want to blind the killer, you have to point the light at the right place! My face—" the moment you lifted the flashlight toward the sky, he couldn't help but laugh.
"Damn, please don't do that Mr. Blindborn! I can't take on Batman!"
Danny was someone who always found a way to entertain himself, but you were something else entirely. A different kind of flavor—one that melted away on the tongue and left you thirsty, yet somehow made you want more. Danny preferred having control no matter the situation. And what he liked about your blindness was how, sooner or later it could leave you dependent on someone. A lovely little sheep dependent on his guidance.
Of course, he killed you in the beginning. He savored every scream he managed to draw from you. He enjoyed making you hate him, making you fear him, making you become wary of the feeling of being watched that you had grown so used to. And in the end, somehow he made you come back to his arms. He paid no mind to your trembling or your struggles within the tight, warm embrace that surrounded you. He simply locked your bodies together as though the two of you had been lovers since the dawn of the world itself.
To him, this wasn't an unhealthy obsession. No, this was love itself—thing he had never thought he would get to experience. And Danny was starving for it.
Huntress
Ah, you poor baby...that was what flowed from the depths of Anna's mind the thoughts no one ever cared to wonder about—when she first saw you. It's difficult to say what Anna truly thought of you but one thing was certain, it wasn't healthy. Your first match was filled with the terror brought by her dreadful hatchet. Poor you, having only just recognized the sound of it voice, you looked like a dying fawn when the hatchet buried itself into your body.
And this triggered something in her, something powerful enough to overshadow even her desire to kill. You weren't something that needed to be removed—no, you needed to be protected. That was why life had brought you to this cruel, miserable pit. One truth of this place was that pain was inevitable, but whenever you were by Anna's side, she never allowed pain to come near you.
She took your face between her calloused hands, stroked your skin and brushed her fingers over the eyelids of those beautiful eyes that knew nothing of the world around them. She hummed the only lullabies her mother had left behind for her. It didn't matter if you couldn't understand them, her love recognized no language barrier.
Michael Myers
While chasing Laurie, he almost had a heart attack when you suddenly stepped out from around a corner—if that had even been possible. Without thinking, he would have turned you by the shoulder and driven his knife into you. But then he noticed. Michael was a very observant person; it was simply one of the advantages of being a hunter. He saw the dullness in your eyes, that lack of recognition, almost immediately.
It was a sight he had never seen before. Even people who knew nothing about him would look at him strangely or with concern. But not you. Not with the same indifference you carried.
He swiftly raised the knife until its tip hovered before your eye and waited. Yet the scream and expression of terror he wanted so badly never came. It sent a note of discomfort through his body. Michael wasn't used to not being feared. And he would never, the person hesitantly touched by someone trying to understand the owner of the hand gripping them tightly, letting out a startled breath. He shoved you away harshly.
Without caring that you had fallen, he left. But that would not be your last encounter. And the more often a blow lands, the more it wears away whatever stands before it.
Warnings: +18 content, possessiveness, manipulation, obsession, yandere tendencies in some, unhealthy relationships, dark content, canon-typical violence, all characters in this work are portrayed as 18 or older.
Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Brahms.
Michael Myers
7/10
He's not really that protective. Too wrapped up in his own business. However, if someone thinks hurting you is a good idea, they're very wrong. He doesn't like his toys to have other people's marks on them, so he'll defend you. He won't let anyone hurt you physically. However, he'll be a zero with emotional damage; if someone bothers you like that, you'll have to specifically ask him to do something against that person. He will do it if you ask him to, but he'll prioritize his own victims.
Chucky (Human Version)
5/10
Much more protective than his doll version. At this stage, Charles was much more impulsive, so if someone hurts you in the slightest, that person will get into quite a bit of trouble. If you complain about someone and they're not really a threat to you, he'll just belittle your concerns, but at least he'll accompany you to pay that person a visit, but his goal is entirely selfish. He doesn't do it for you; he does it because he wants to see you in action.
Billy Loomis
9/10
Extremely protective. He's all over you; he doesn't want anyone to ever hurt you. He'll do whatever it takes to make sure no one ever bothers you again. He keeps people away from you who could be a potential threat and keeps you away from people he doesn't like. He doesn't get all the points, as there will be a couple of times he won't defend you because he's mad at you and wants to show you that you're absolutely helpless without him. He'll let you suffer for a moment and come to your rescue. Your eyes of gratitude are priceless…
Stu Macher
7/10
Listen, he could do better. But he'll be pretty careless. He'll protect you if you're in danger, but if it's less serious situations, he'll overlook it, especially if it's at a party. However, if there's something that's stuck in his mind, he'll get rid of it as soon as possible and won't say anything to you. If you dare to ask him questions, he'll make you feel like you're a fool and change the subject. You learn not to ask him anything. If you specifically ask him to get rid of someone for you, he'll do it; you don't even have to explain why. But he'll expect more from you in return.
Patrick Bateman
10/10
Listen, he is, but for selfish purposes. First, you have to be valuable to him. Make him understand that you genuinely like him and can be the person he wants (you don't even have to be; you just have to follow his demands). Then, he'll protect you and show you that he's that man who can take care of you all the time, to the point that you can leave everything in his hands. If you let your guard down and give him his role as protector and provider, he'll be protective and take care of you. However, depending on him so much can't be all good.
Hannibal Lecter
6/10
He's protective about the typical topics. If someone wants to hurt you, he's there. If someone wants to hurt you in any way and in any field, he's there. However, he's not when he feels he can take advantage of your reaction. If someone does something bad to you and he feels that it will bring out your bad and dark side, he'll let it happen. He wants to see both sides of you, both the good and the bad. If you're not a person who shows both sides, he'll bring out the one that suits him. He'll play with your mind, make you dependent on him.
Vincent Sinclair
7/10
Pretty good, actually. New outsiders will arrive, and he'll get rid of anyone who plans to play with you in any way. He's quite protective of you and doesn't want to see you with any scratches. However, he'll do little to nothing if it's his brother. It's not that Bo wants to do something to you constantly, but if he's disobeyed, he likes to punish so that people continue to go down the right path. I don't think Vincent would defend you from something like that; the most he'll do is try to comfort you afterwards.
Jason Voorhees
10/10
They don't play with him, and they don't play with you. It's that simple. Everything is a threat to you, so he tries hard to keep you away from everyone. Literally everyone. His level of protection goes beyond obsession and possessiveness. It's absolutely not healthy what he does, but at least you can enjoy total peace of mind. No one bothers you, because there are no people who can do that. And if there are, they don't last long. Of course, you shouldn't talk about anyone and much less go to places that don't have his approval.
Leatherface
7/10
It's the same dynamic as with Vincent. He'll protect you if it's someone outside. He'll go crazy if they hurt you. If someone insults you, he'll get revenge. He won't let anyone get away with you in any way. But if it's his family, it'll be too hard for him, and even if he wanted to intervene, he won't. Your duty is to get along with his family and not bother them. If they start attacking you, he will not be able to defend you, as they will always be more important than anyone else. He will feel quite frustrated if they do not accept you.
Art the Clown
4/10
He's not protective at all. But he will kill them all. Yes, all of them. So probably among those victims there are people who hurt you, who you don't like, and who made you feel bad. But make no mistake, he's not doing it for you. He's doing it for himself and for his satisfaction. If you're in danger, he will kill the person who is hurting you, but I insist that it's not out of a protective instinct. He does it because he likes to see the suffering of others. If Vicky from the third movie insults you, he will laugh with her. But if he's not in the mood, he will look at her with annoyance. It all depends on his mood. Now, she can't hurt you. No. That's only allowed for him.
Jason Dean
10/10
Yes. It doesn't matter if they're together or not. He won't put you in danger, and all those who hurt you will suffer the consequences. The slightest taunt from a person could be fatal. Seriously, this guy is a real danger. You could tell him you're tired of someone, and you'll both be making a plan to get back at that person, and he'll go all the way with it. He'll expect you to be happy and content afterwards, to share his mood basically. If you're not, he won't do anything, but he'll be disappointed. And he'll show it.
Alex DeLarge
10/10
He is. But let me explain. He'll do this to make you dependent on him and see him as your only salvation. He'll be extremely manipulative, but it will still get you into his trap. You could literally be untouchable. He won't let other men hurt you or let his filthy hands touch what's his. He'll get revenge on anyone who thinks entering your home is a good idea. If a person bothers you in any way, no matter how small, he'll let them know what it means to mess with you. But make no mistake, Alex is controlling, and he'll expect you to obey him. In everything.
Kurt Kunkle
8/10
Pretty good actually. He got tired of no one seeing him, so he started freaking out. If someone disrespects you, he'll think they're disrespecting him, and he'll attack. If a person thinks touching you is okay, then Kurt will think it's a dig specifically at him. He'll think he's being told he's weak, insignificant, and invisible, and he'll start losing control. After that thing, he'll berate you a bit and blame you for stupid things. Praising him might work.
Brahms
10/10
Protective, obsessive, possessive. He literally has it all. He doesn't let you leave his house. He doesn't want anyone to take you away from him or hurt you. He's very strong, so if someone comes in, they'll never get out. You feel protected with him because really no one but him can hurt you. However, at the same time, it might get tiring how much insane protection he puts on you. He will see threats everywhere, until there comes a time when you don't talk to anyone close to you. You only have him.
