Scream, Queen!
Pairing: Ghostface! Eddie Munson x dark! black reader
Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Minors, ageless, blank, & non-updated blogs will be blocked immediately.
Word count: 4,571 words
Plot: You were one of the popular girls in high school. Now you’re back home for the summer and you and the queen bee are getting weird phone calls. But what if this is only the beginning of the horror?
Warnings: 18+ only, dead dove don’t eat. This fic features blood and violence (as fitting a Scream AU), including lots of stabbings, era-appropriate homophobic slurs and slut-shaming, cursing, blood kink, knife play, sexual scenes. Uses nickname ‘cherry’ throughout.
Notes: Set in the mid-90s. Gleefully inspired by Scream, Heathers, and Jawbreaker. For all the 90s black sidekicks who were tokenised and deserved revenge. Written for @cocoamoonmalfoy’s Jackolanterns in July event 2024!
“Like, I totally told him that I’d rather die than ever be seen in public with him! I mean, as if! Like, he’s cute enough to fuck or whatever, but c’mon. Can you honestly believe that he expected me to date him?! He’s a fucking hick!”
It was a hot August evening. You stared at your reflection in the mirror as you carefully tried on your new dark mulberry lipstick. Amanda continued talking as she painted her nails silver.
“At least college boys can take me out on real dates.” She lifted a slender arm and looked at her nails thoughtfully. “And it’s nice talking to them about classes and stuff. I’m starting to feel like a real person, not just, like, the popular girl, ya know?”
She suddenly looked up at you. You could see the scowl marring her doll-like features. “Ugh, are you joking? Did you go to art school and become a fucking goth? You look like a dyke. Try my lipgloss, it’s way prettier than that.”
You rolled your eyes. You hadn’t told her that you had a few flings with some cute punk girls during freshman year, you didn’t want her to freak out.
Amanda was your best friend, or used to be. She “discovered” you in high school and saw your potential. She remade you in her image, the Monster to her Frankenstein. Except you knew how to accessorise, and looked better in mini dresses. In the space of a month, you went from loser art kid to Amanda’s right hand, the most important of her flunkies. You became reborn as Cherry, because Amanda said that you looked “sweet as cherry pie.”
You loved her until it twisted into loathing and back again. You allowed yourself to be changed because it was easier to be popular. To be adored. You were the nice girl to Amanda’s self-appointed Queen Bitch. You kept some of your old friends while getting new ones. You were the perfect sidekick. Finding yourself back in Hawkins for summer break, you’d returned to old habits.
You cleaned off the lipstick and dutifully tried on the rose pink gloss, pouting at yourself. You turned around. “What do you think?”
“Oh my god, so cute! It goes with your slutty pjs!”
You stuck your tongue out at her. You were in a tank top and comfortable slightly too-short boy shorts. “Says the biggest slut I know. Every guy in town has seen your vagina.”
It was a slight exaggeration. She’d dated and fucked some of the popular boys in the school, but only your group knew of her penchant for the rougher guys of Hawkins. It gave her a thrill to sleep with guys who would horrify her yuppie fuck parents. She’d even tried to sleep with Eddie “the Freak” Munson in senior year, growing furious when he turned her down. Her ensuing hatred of him made him even more of an outcast.
Amanda giggled. “Aw, my kitten’s all grown up, she has claws! Don’t be such a prude, I can’t help that I’m hot and have an adoring public. Maybe you need to get fucked more. But not by those gross art school boys,” she added dismissively.
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “Whatever. Wanna go to the mall tomorrow? Mallory and Jenny won’t be working, we’re supposed to meet in front of Bebe.”
“God, I can’t believe they have to work all summer, like, how embarrassing.”
You hit her with a pillow. “Omigod, stop being a bitch! I have to work too, y’know!”
“Yeah, but not full-time in retail,” she responded with a shudder.
The doorbell rang, the sound travelling throughout the house. Amanda jumped up. “Finally, the fucking pizza’s here! I’m starving.”
You both moved downstairs to the grand foyer and collected the pizzas and soda, moving into the den.
“So, what horror film do you have this time? Let me guess, one where the boring, old-fashioned virgin survives and all the cool teens are brutally murdered by some loser in a shitty mask?”
You shook your head, holding up a Blockbuster tape. “No slasher tonight! We’re gonna watch my favourite movie.”
Amanda angrily took a bite of pepperoni. “Bitch, no. Not again. We’ve watched it a million times!”
“C’mon, for old time’s sake?” You waved the tape in front of her. “Please? We can watch Empire Records after.”
“God, someone kill me.” She sighed when you batted your lashes at her. “Fine, asshole.”
Doing a little dance towards the television, you turned the vcr on and popped in the video. You jumped on the sofa and grabbed a slice of pizza as the warnings and trailers played. The familiar opening of Heathers soon began.
As the film descended into murder and mayhem, Amanda glanced at you. “You're such a freak for thinking Christian Slater is hot in this! He’s such a creep!”
You shrugged as you leaned back, tipsiness making you giggle. “Maybe I like a bad boy.”
She looked at you incredulously. “Says the girl who was a virgin until senior year. And you lost it to some loser in band. You’re such a goody fucking two-shoes.”
The phone rang, the sound sharp and ominous in the large room. You both jumped. You giggled nervously, pausing the film.
“Ugh, it’s probably my parents.” Amanda rolled her eyes, jogging to the kitchen. “Rawlings residence.”
She strolled back into the room with a chunky phone in land, miming shooting herself in the head. You laughed quietly.
“Yeah mom. No party. Me and Cherry are having a civilised night in, watching movies.”
“Hi Mrs Rawlins,” you called out helpfully. “Hope you’re enjoying your vacation!”
Amanda paced in front of the television, only stopping to tap her foot. She pulled a pigtail in annoyance. “Yes mom, I’ll remember to turn the alarm on. No, we’re not drinking. You don’t have to worry about me. Enjoy Hawai’i! Okay, love you, bye!”
She sat back down, throwing the phone aside. You turned the film back on. “Yes, my favourite line! I love my dead gay son!” You ate your last slice of pizza, now growing cold.
“I think my parents have some vodka stashed somewhere, I’m gonna-” her thought was interrupted by the phone ringing again.
“Mo-om! I said nothing was happening!” Amanda paused. “Mom? Hello? Anyone there?”
She hung up. “That was weird. I could hear breathing, but it was silent.”
“Huh. Probably a prank. Or a pervert.”
She looked at the phone, biting the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. Yeah, probably.”
The phone rang again. You and Amanda looked at each other. She let it ring, but it didn’t stop. She exhaled before picking it up. She answered with a shaky voice. “Um, hello?”
All she could hear was heavy breathing. Then a strange, gravelly voice. “Time’s up, prom queen.”
The call ended, the dial tone filling her ear. She shuddered, dropping the phone.
“Are you okay? Who was it?” Your voice was filled with concern.
“Um, yeah, I’m fine,” she lied. “You were right, just a pervert.”
You didn’t push it. “Should we watch this upstairs?”
“Yeah, but, uh-” She looked nervously at the large windows. “Let’s check the doors and alarms first. Can’t be too careful, right?”
———
Your new friends would have mocked you if they saw you being a mallrat. You wore a vintage mini dress, bright tights and Doc Martens, basically an art school uniform. You noticeably stood out from your friends.
There was something mildly comforting about falling into old habits, having milkshakes and fries at the food court, looking at clothes you’d outgrown. But, as the day went on, the more you realised that you’d changed. You realised with a jolt that this would probably be your last summer in Hawkins.
“Didja hear, the Munson freak disappeared right after we graduated? Some people say that he drowned in the lake and they’ve seen his ghost!” Jenny spoke with a breathless glee, delighted to share a bit of local gossip.
“Don’t be so fucking stupid, Jenny,” Amanda scoffed, flipping back her black hair. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. He was a fucking junkie, he probably od’d in a ditch somewhere.”
“Maybe he went to college?” you said softly, uncertainty filling your voice.
Your ears burned with the girls’ laughter. Amanda looked at you pityingly, with a look you knew well. Silly Cherry, always the nice girl, so naïve.
“As if! Anyway, who cares about that creep? Something more important is happening. We’re having a girl’s night tonight at Cherry’s lakehouse. No one else is invited, we’re going to get drunk and have fun!”
You knew what your other friends did not. That Amanda was barraged by creepy calls and they hadn’t stopped. She was scared and needed a break somewhere safe.
You put on a big smile in solidarity. “It’s gonna be the best night ever!”
———
It was a good night. The lakehouse was nestled at the edge of the forest, away from the other holiday homes. This was your favourite place as a kid, with your dad taking you fishing during the summer, followed by picnics and long walks. During high school this became the secret getaway for you and your friends to have parties without arousing suspicion. Among other things.
You sang and danced along to blaring music videos without worrying about offending neighbours. You watched sappy rom-coms, dramatically quoting your favourite parts. You caught up on each other’s lives in-between cheap beer and shots, though you only drank a little. You didn’t want a morning hangover.
You revealed that you had a new boyfriend, smiling as your friends squealed in delight.
“Omigod, what’s he like?” Mallory asked, leaning forward. The alcohol made her freckled face flushed. Her straightened red hair was done in two messy space buns.
“He’s in a band,” you said giddily, giggling as they squealed again. “He’s tall, and kind of a dork, but in a cute way. He’s really sweet, he told me that he loved me.” You couldn’t help but feel soft all over again thinking about it.
“Is he older?” Amanda asked, a devious glint in her eye. You knew she wanted to hear something torrid, for you to say you were fucking some married, middle-aged rockstar.
“Not really. He’s only twenty,” you responded, shrugging. “He goes to my school.”
The disappointment in Amanda’s face was obvious. “Well, at least he’s in a band. You need at least one clichéd relationship in college,” she said dismissively.
When she turned away to pour another drink, your shoulders sagged. Jenny piped up meekly, “that’s, like, really cool. What’s his name?”
“Oh it’s-”
The phone rang. You looked up in surprise. Amanda looked at you nervously.
“Did anyone know we were coming here?” she said quietly.
You shook your head. “No. My parents are at my aunt’s place all weekend.”
The phone continued its insistent ringing, demanding that you pay attention to it. Jenny and Mallory continued drinking and chatting, unaware of the increased tension.
You got up and went to the phone, twirling the long cord around your fingers. “H-hello?”
“Hello princess.” The voice was raspy.
“Who is this?” you stuttered. Amanda looked fearfully at the phone..
“A friend. I heard you like scary movies. I was thinking about making my own. You and all your friends can star in it. A killer goes up to a lake house and kills all the popular girls inside.”
“This isn’t funny, I-I’m calling the cops.”
The voice laughed. “They won’t save you, princess. I’m already here.”
You whipped around before peering out the window. “Fuck you! This is a sick fucking prank.”
“Aw, you look so cute when you’re scared in your little pjs. I’ll make sure you scream nice and loud for me.”
You slammed the phone down, turning around. “We need to get out, now!”
The phone rang again. Your heart thumped in your chest.
“Don’t pick it up,” Amanda warned, while Jenny and Mallory uneasily asked what was going on.
You picked it up again, slowly lifting the handset. “Please, whoever you are, stop it.”
“Too late, the fun’s about to start.”
The line went dead. You frantically shouted ‘hello’ as you pressed the hook, but there was nothing but silence. He’d cut the line.
It was then that you all heard it. Movements in the hallway, coming towards you. The sound of something sharp dragging across the wooden panelling. A masked figure strolled into the room, their face hidden by a creepy ghost mask. They wore a long black robe and black gloves. A wicked looking blade was held aloft in their hand.
“Run!” Amanda screamed. You tried to open the front door, but it was blocked.
Amanda and Jenny ran upstairs. Mallory was too slow to react, panic making her limbs heavy. He was on her in moments, the blade sinking into her back. He was vicious, ignoring her screams as he made good on his threat.
She died reaching out to you.
You screamed as you scrambled up the stairs, the killer close behind you. You saw Jenny in the hallway, looking at you in terror. You ran into your bedroom, but didn’t close the door fast enough. He was there in front of you, silent and terrifying. He locked the door before stalking towards you.
He pushed you on the carpeted floor, resting on top of you to keep you still. He raised the knife.
“Please don’t,” you begged. “Please! I’m good, I’m good, I’m good!”
“Scream for me, princess,” he ordered, his voice different, warmer. “Make it good.”
The knife came down, the sound sharp. You screamed, a ragged, haunting wail. The knife landed near your shoulder. You could hear Jenny’s movements stop, hear her muffled sobs. A fatal mistake.
The killer lifted his mask. The grinning face of your boyfriend greeted you. He kissed you happily as you wrapped yourself around him.
“That was really good, babe!” he enthused, his voice a whisper. “I can’t believe it’s working.”
“Only two more to go.”
He kissed you again. “Your ass looked so good when you ran away. Love you, cherrybomb. ”
You laughed quietly. “You perv. Love you too, Eddie.”
He got up and pulled down his mask. He pulled out another weapon from his black robe, a large hunting knife. He unlocked the door and disappeared. You waited. A scream pierced the air, this time from Jenny. You almost felt bad for her.
Eddie dragged her down the hall, towards the stairs. You walked out of your room, the other knife hidden in your waistband. Jenny clutched at her stomach as she tried to get up, but she couldn’t feel her legs.
“Oh no, poor Jenny Diaz,” you cooed, delight seeping into your voice. You stretched, revealing the knife.
She looked at you with confused betrayal, seeing that you were unharmed. “Why?” she whispered.
You knelt down, cradling her. “It’s nothing personal, honey. The sidekicks never make it in horror movies, and you’re Amanda’s fourth favourite.”
You took out the knife, holding the wooden hilt tightly in your hand. You drove it deep, holding her up. Jenny sagged against you, expelling a high-pitched cry. You felt a surge of power, like a vengeful god punishing the unworthy.
Eddie lifted his mask. She looked at him with unfocussed eyes. You whispered in her ear, the last thing she would ever hear. “My boyfriend’s name is Eddie Munson. Told ya he wasn’t dead.”
You stood and let her drop to the floor, pulling out the knife. Eddie unceremoniously pushed her body down the stairs.
He looked at you questioningly, and you nodded. He wiped the blood off his knife and put the mask back on. One more to go. The star of the show.
Calling Amanda’s name, you begged for help. Eventually she appeared at the landing of the loft.
“Stop yelling, you’ll get his atten- what the fuck is this?” She saw your bloody knife and the killer standing behind you.
“Surprise!” you said happily. “We’re going to kill you.”
She ran, but there was nowhere to go. Eddie blocked the stairs and jumping out the windows would lead to death or painful injury. Anger filled her face. “You were fucking in on this shit? Why? Why the fuck would you kill your friends!”
You strolled up to her, forcing her back. She fell backwards on the bed. “Think of this as me growing up and moving on. You weren’t my friend. You bullied me just like you bullied everyone else. Just like you tormented Eddie.”
Eddie lifted his mask, putting an arm around you. He glared at Amanda. “Aw babe, look at the prom queen cowering. Pathetic.”
Amanda looked at him in shock. “No, this is a nightmare, I don’t understand.”
“Eddie’s been my best friend since forever. He got me into horror movies.” You smiled as you looked at him. “When you made me over, I stayed friends with him. When you tried to sleep with him and tormented him, I went over to his place to apologise on your behalf, like I always did.”
He moved to you, squeezing your side. You continued. “I lost my virginity that night while we watched Friday the 13th. After that, we’d fuck whenever we could. We daydreamed and made plans. Eddie wasn’t good at school, but he was good at art and music. We’d go to school together and leave this shithole forever.”
Eddie rested his chin on your shoulder, smiling wickedly. “And then I offered a suggestion. What if we stopped the Queen Bitch’s reign of terror permanently?”
“We talked about it for months, it was a fun game. But then we graduated and moved on. At first we just stayed friends in our first semester. Opened our horizons. But we couldn’t deny our attraction anymore. We started dating.”
“Fell in love,” Eddie added. You kissed him sweetly, smiles on both your faces.
Amanda looked at you incredulously. “Aw, so sweet, crazy fucking psychos in love. What do you want, my congratulations?”
You pointed your knife at her in warning. “Uh-uh, being a bitch is what got you into this mess. Anyway. We were having fun being real people. But then summer came, you wanted to hang out again. And you were exactly the same, Amanda. Still a mean, bitchy slut. And when me and Eddie talked, our game started to become real. You needed to be stopped.”
“We’re doing a public service before we go back to college. Showing Hawkins that mean girls are human, and that what they do has consequences,” Eddie said proudly, his brown eyes filled with passion.
“You’re insane!” Amanda spat out.
You laughed. Guess you weren’t the stupid good girl after all. “And you’re dead.”
She looked in your eyes and realised it was true. She wasn’t getting out alive.
“I can’t believe you’d do this to me. You’re such a whore,” she screeched, her eyes filled with tears.
You looked down at her, a sneer curling your lips. “Yeah, well, you made me just like you, remember? Your sweet as pie Cherry. And now I’ll make sure your teenage bullshit has a bodycount.”
You held the blade assuredly, just like Eddie taught you. You brought it down across her throat. Crimson bloomed from the open wound, wending its way downward as it spilled onto her necklace and shirt. You imagined that her poisonous words were slowly draining out too.
She raised her hand up to her neck, trying to speak, to scream. But it was too late. Her wide eyes rolled back, the glossy pink of her lips stained red with blood. She painfully exhaled one last time, her body shuddering like a marionette in its death throes.
Then, all was still. The Queen Bitch of Hawkins was dead.
You knelt down, careful to avoid the pool of blood growing beneath her. You looked at her face, already clammy and pale. “Bye, Amanda. I’ll never forget you.”
Eddie laughed uncontrollably, dropping his mask. He crouched down to retrieve it, his brown eyes crinkling as he smiled in disbelief. “I can’t believe we did it! We killed the teen dream!”
You looked over at him. “I told you we could do it. We’re a dream team, baby. And now Amanda gets what she always wanted- to be famous.”
You both stood up and moved to each other. “You have blood on your face, babe,” Eddie said with a grin.
“Get it off?” you asked, imitating Amanda’s pout.
He held your face tenderly and licked the blood off your cheek and lips. The act left you dizzy. Hand in hand, you went back downstairs to the living room, stepping over Jenny’s body.
“You look so hot in your costume, Eddie.” You spoke softly, a strange shyness coming over you.
He smiled bashfully, scratching his cheek. “Yeah? Maybe we should do some role play one day. I’ll be the mean ol’ killer and you can be my final girl.”
You smiled mischievously. “I’d like that. But we have to finish this first.”
He nodded, his face serious. “Yeah. I’ll try not to hurt you too much, but it needs to be convincing. Sorry, cherrybomb.”
You caressed his cheek, and he pressed his forehead against yours. You kissed hungrily. You’d both crossed an uncrossable line and it was exhilarating.
You pulled away, your heart thudding and your cunt throbbing. Eddie looked at you with a dark, feral lust.
You silently passed him your knife and walked to your handbag, bending over as you grabbed your cell phone. The other girls left theirs at home, girls night rule. Eddie whistled in appreciation as he put the mask back on. You looked over your shoulder.
“Should I run?”
Eddie nodded slowly as he held up his knife. With a slow exhale, you ran to the kitchen, Eddie right behind you.
He tackled you to the ground, your phone spinning away from you. He pulled you up roughly to your knees, his erection pressed against your flimsy boy shorts. He cheekily copped a feel of your breasts, before his hand moved around your waist, holding you still against him.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice muffled behind the mask.
You nodded. “Do it.”
“Love you, babe. It’ll be ok, I promise. Now, breathe.” He stabbed you in your side, avoiding anything that would kill you instantly.
The pain was excruciating, your scream an agonised wail as you crumpled, curling into a ball. Eddie didn’t want to leave your side, he hated seeing you in pain.
You grunted, weakly pushing him. “Leave, now,” you choked out. “Stick to plan.”
“Ok. Ok ok ok,” he muttered in order to rouse himself. He got up and looked at you one last time before he ran. You heard the back door slam.
This would work. It would.
You staggered to your feet and grabbed your phone, clutching your side. With a small cry you lurched into the garage, locking the door behind you.
This was part of the plan. Your story had to have a believable narrative. You only hoped that you wouldn’t bleed out in the meantime. You pulled your dad’s tool cabinet in front of the door, sapping most of your strength.
You stumbled forward, towards the garage door. You sat with a heavy thud on cool cement. With shaky hands, you called the police station. A familiar voice answered.
“Uncle Hop?” you asked in a small voice, tears stinging your eyes. You wanted Eddie there beside you, to comfort you.
“Munchkin? What’s wrong?” Alarm filled Hopper’s voice. He was a friend of the family and had known you all your life. He was gruff, but kind. Knowing the chief of police was useful, especially now.
“At lake house. Someone broke in, started attacking us. Mallory’s -” you broke off.
“Are you hurt?” Hopper asked, waving over some officers. His heavy brow furrowed at your trembling voice.
“Stabbed me. Hid in garage. Blacked out. Dunno if they’re still here. I- I-I’m scared. Please help me.”
You could hear the screech of his chair as he stood up. “Don’t worry, munchkin, we’ll be there soon. Just hang on.”
You hung up the phone, letting it fall from your hand. You laid down on the floor, shutting your eyes, a smile on your face. Everything would be fine soon.
———
The Horror of Hawkings became national news. You became a short-lived celebrity, the only survivor of a serial killer’s grim rampage. They all believed your story, how could they not? You were the nice girl, the former cheerleader, the sidekick to the prom queen.
Doctors told you that you were lucky, that the knife almost pierced your liver. After weeks of recovery you left with a thin, dark scar. Eddie soon got a tattoo in the same spot, a realistic bleeding heart. You didn’t know why everyone made such a big deal of killers getting away with it, murder was, like, totally easy.
Eddie was waiting for you when you returned to school, ever the doting boyfriend. He helped you to heal and move on, as did your real friends. You were lucky to have such a supportive community. Your shared secret only brought you and Eddie closer together over the months. He was perfect. Perfect perfect perfect.
Everyone understood why you didn’t come back to Hawkins. It was just too painful. It was easier than expected to maintain the lie.
Another year passed in relationship bliss. You even moved into a warehouse together. You were in your cheap bed, enjoying a much needed moment of passion after a busy week. His band was properly taking off. There was talk of a possible contract. Your fame meant that your artwork was now worth something. Your horror influenced paintings were in galleries across the country. Wes Craven even bought a piece, which made you and Eddie cry with excitement. Life was good.
Eddie wore a shredded black muscle tee and dark kilt. His five o’clock shadow made him seem more mysterious.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice rough with want.
“Yeah.” You wore a trashy camp counsellor outfit that barely covered anything. You were his naughty final girl that decided to fuck the slasher instead of running away. You wore the dark lipstick that Amanda hated, though some of it was now smeared on Eddie’s mouth.
He’d go onstage later that night just like that, the taste of you still on his tongue.
Eddie put on that dreadful mask, still splattered with blood. His ringed hand went around your throat as he knelt between your open legs. His knife was cool against your trembling thigh, though it was only for show. Eddie would make sure you were never hurt again, and you’d do the same.
You spread your legs wider for him, showing him the effect he was having on you. Neither of you were wearing underwear.
He looked down at you, tilting his head like an animal noticing their prey. He buried the knife in the mattress, next to your head. Your eyes never left the mask. He entered you slowly, gasping at your welcoming heat.
His fingers closed further around your throat as you both moaned and panted. As he roughly fucked you, claiming you with every inch, he only said one thing in your ear, his voice a debauched purr.
“Be a good girl and scream for me.”