John Tate (Halloween H20: 20 Years Later) x fem!reader
John discovers you're on dating apps. It breaks him a little.
Made it so Halloween H20 takes place in a modern timeline for the sake of using dating apps, but everything about the story is the same
You didn’t mean for it to happen.
That’s the thing you keep telling yourself when you swipe.
It’s not like you’re looking for anything serious—just something to fill the quiet. Something to distract you from the way your chest tightens every time John laughs at something you say, or the way his hand lingers a second too long when he passes you a coffee.
You tell yourself it’s harmless.
Because if you let yourself think about it too hard—about him—you’ll ruin everything.
You and John meet first week of uni.
Same lecture hall. Same confusion over the syllabus. Same sarcastic comments whispered under your breath that somehow turn into a shared grin, then a conversation, then… everything.
Late-night study sessions turn into ordering takeout and sitting on his dorm floor, backs against the bed, talking about everything but the things that matter. He tells you about growing up with a mum who worries too much. You tell him about the things you don’t usually tell people.
There’s always something unsaid, hovering between you.
Neither of you touches it.
Because once you do, there’s no going back.
John knows he’s in love with you long before he admits it to himself.
It creeps up on him slowly—quietly—until one day he realises there isn’t a version of his life that doesn’t have you in it.
He convinces himself you could do better. Someone easier. Someone less… complicated.
So he stays your best friend.
He finds out by accident.
You’re sitting next to him in the library, your knee bumping his under the table, both of you pretending to focus. Your phone lights up.
But your screen is right there—and the notification is impossible to miss.
Aiden: “You seem really cool. Wanna grab drinks this week?”
He tries to play it off. Tries to look away like he didn’t just feel something inside him crack.
“God, dating apps are exhausting.”
Like it doesn’t just shatter him.
“Dating apps?” he repeats, a little too sharp.
You blink at him. “Yeah… I mean, it’s just—something to try, I guess.”
“Right. Yeah. Makes sense.”
Because in his head, there was always this unspoken thing between you. Not real, not defined—but there. Something that meant maybe.
Now you’re out there looking for someone else.
That night, he can’t sleep.
He keeps replaying every moment—every laugh, every look, every almost-touch—wondering if he imagined all of it.
Or if he’s just been… convenient.
The next time he sees you, something’s different.
But you feel it immediately.
He’s still there—still John—but quieter. A little more distant. Like he’s pulling something back that you didn’t realise he’d been giving.
“Did I do something?” you ask eventually, catching him outside your lecture.
“You’re on dating apps,” he says.
And it lands heavier than you expect.
You stare at him. “Yeah… I told you that.”
“Right.” He lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I just—didn’t think you were actually… looking.”
“No, don’t do that,” you snap, frustration bubbling up. “Say what you mean, John.”
“It means,” he says finally, voice low, “I thought maybe you weren’t interested in that kind of thing right now.”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you already had someone.”
He shakes his head like he regrets saying it, but it’s too late now.
“No,” you step closer, pulse racing. “Who?”
Like he’s standing on the edge of something.
“You…?” your voice is barely there.
“Yeah,” he says, quieter now. “Stupid, right?”
It comes out immediately. Instinctively.
You shake your head, trying to steady yourself. “I thought—you didn’t… I mean, you never—”
“Because I didn’t think I had a chance,” he cuts in, a little sharper than he means to. “You’re—” He stops, exhales. “You’re everything. And I’m just…”
“John,” you whisper, stepping closer again. “I’m on those apps because I thought you didn’t want me.”
The silence between you shifts.
Becomes something fragile and dangerous and real.
“You thought that?” he asks, softer now.
“I figured… if you did, you would’ve said something by now.”
A small, almost disbelieving laugh leaves him.
For a second, neither of you moves.
“You can delete them,” he says, almost like a question. Not a demand. Not an expectation. Just… hope.
You pull out your phone, open the app, and delete it right there in front of him.
The look on his face is something you’ll never forget.
Something softer. Warmer.
And when he pulls you in, it’s not hesitant.
It’s like he’s been holding back for too long.
Like he’s finally allowed to have you.
Later, when his forehead rests against yours, he exhales quietly.
“I hated that,” he admits.
“The idea of someone else having you.”
You smile faintly. “You should’ve said something.”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “Working on that.”
You tilt your head, brushing your nose against his.
