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Scream - Blog Posts
♡ sugar, spice, and everything nice ♡
Roller derby AU (ง'̀-‘́)ง The Powerpuff Girls is what got me into drawing. It’s only right I make a proper fanart.
Drew Ghostface in honor of the new movie can't wait to see it
Chucky and Ghostface in a box❤️
Some slasher drawings❤️
MYGOD I can feel it in my bones
Ineffable
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Me when I see Kyle Gallner in a movie and I know it’s either gonna be shitty or amazing but Kyle Gallner’s in it so
more scream icons!
(and i did see a comment i got about my lack of billy loomis icons — i do have a reason for that, not a great one, but a solid reason for myself lol, billy loomis is my least favorite character. yes, he is very iconic, but idk he’s just never been ‘IT’ for me)
some scream icons!
(i don’t believe that’s the billy / stu ghostface, i think it’s from film 5 or 6 i’m not sure. & no they’re not all from the first film, im just a slut for roman bridger)
Im on a Scream kick thanks to @angrycryptidd’s recent posts lol
And I just got my little Ghostface doll in the mail, omg he’s so cute! They had diff versions of the mask but I’ve always been partial to the bloody one they used to sell back in the day. His mask also glows in the dark!
Now, who is under the mask? Billy or Stu?
Goofball!
___________________________________________
--Billy and Stu were on a disagreement, a playful one. Billy was being a jerk, so Stu decided to get a bit playful~--
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|Lee(s): Billy (Little bit of Stu)||Ler(s): Stu (Little bit of Billy)|
___________________________________________
AU: Dating/Cheating
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"Ok, that is absolutely wrong!" Billy said, flopping on Stu's couch. "Whatttt? Me? Wrong? I take that offensive~" Stu said, giggling. Stu walked out of the kitchen and placed a bowl full of popcorn on the table. "Good! Ya should! Because your brain is smooth... ✨️C L E A N.✨️" Billy said, snickering. Stu gasped playfully. "Brat! I am VERY smart!" "Four year old smart..." Billy muttered, looking away at the ground, smirking. "I heard that, y'know!" Stu smiled and raised an eyebrow, plopping right next to his boyfriend. "Oh nooo, you heard? Now I feel like a jerk~" Billy said in a teasy tone, looking at Stu with a raised eyebrow. "You are one..." Stu mumbled, picking up the TV remote. "Well..." Billy started to speak but paused upon realizing what Stu said. "Hey!! That's not nice~!" Bilky snickered. Stu looked at Billy and laughed. "Oh, and saying my brain is smooth IS?" Billy laid down on his back and looked up at Stu. "Yes, very much." Billy smirked smugly.
(HC: If Billy or Stu actually REALLY loved someone, the relationship would be fluffy and more silly and playful♥︎)
"You're a brat..." Stu chuckled and put the remote down on the end table. "Pff, says you!~" Billy chuckled and poked lightly around Stu's side. "Pfft-- Bihilly!!" Stu giggling slightly. "Yes, Stu?~," Billy teased, tickling Stu's side gently. "Naha!! No tihickles!!" Stu squealed and tried to push Billy's hand off. "Whyyyy? You know you love it~" "Shuhuhut up!!" "Tickle Tickle...~" "Bihilly!" "Oh, alright!" Billy chuckled and ceased his attack. "Little bihitch..." Stu chuckled and placed a hand on his head. "Yeah, yeah." Billy smiled smugly and checked his nails. "Ohoho... you little ass..." Stu chuckled a bit darkly as he repositioned himself so him and his body were facing Billy. He slipped his hands under Billy's arms and up to his armpits, pulling him so Billy was kinda laying on his lap. "Hey~" Stu smiled and looked innocent. "HiiIWAHH--"
Stu dug his fingers in Billy's armpits. Billy, being the stubborn little asshole he is, attempted to hold in his laughter. "D-Dirty mho-- mmph... moveee..." Billy covered his mouth as he squirmed slightly. "Yeah? What's wrong?~" Stu asked, lightly tickling Billy's pits. "It-- mmmhmhmhm..." Giggles slowly slipped out of Billy's mouth. "Should I change spots?~" "I don't knoooow...." Billy curled up a little, snickering a bit. "Yes?" Stu stopped for a second. "Whew... h-huh?" Billy looked up at the taller one. Stu slipped his hands out of Billy's pits and, without warning, SQUEEZED and lightly scratched at Billy's stomach. "BWAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STUUUU!!!" Billy SCREAMED and laughed like a madman. Billy kicked his feet and tried to pry his boyfriends hands off. "Wow! And I didn't even lift your shirt up~" Stu teased, poking in between Billy's ribs with one of his hands. "EEE-- NOHOHOHOHO!! YOU AHAHAHAHAHASSHOLE!!!" Billy curled up, still kicking his feet. "Me? Asshole? Oh, you're just ASKING for it~" "AHAHAHAM NAHAHAHAT!!" Billy squealed, making Stu giggle. "Ohhhh, yes you are!~" Stu chuckled, lifting up Billy's shirt a little and circling around Bill's button. "NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHERE!! OH MY GAHAHAHAHAHAD!! STU!!!" Billy screeched and laughed like CRAZY which only made Stu grin. "Oooh! Did I find a tickle spot?~ Yeah?~ Is your wittle button a spot?~ Yeah?~" Stu said in a mocking baby voice. Billy started to blush a deep red. He could FEEL the heat. "STUHUHUHU!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE I-- BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" Billy squeaked as tears started to form at the corner of his eyes. "Are you done being an ass?" "YEHEHEHEHES!! I'M SAHAHAHAHAHARRY!! OH-- OH MY GAD!!"
Stu chuckled and stopped tickling him. Billy let out breathless giggles as he curled in a ball. Stu smiled and wrapped his arms around Billy's waist, moving him closer so Billy was sitting on Stu's lap. "Heh... goofball..." Billy chuckled and placed his hands on Stu's. "I love you too~" Stu nuzzled and kissed Billy's neck. "Mmmmhmhmhmmm... yeah, yeah..."
♡~End~♡
ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴏᴏʀ
͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝖲𝗍𝗎 𝖬𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋 x fem!reader
╔═ A/N ═╗ Based on this request. I apologize if I got the characterization wrong. I just feel like the darker side to his character is never properly explored. As goofy as he was, he was also a serial killer lmao
✬ Summary ✬ Stu's your best friend, you know him as well as you know yourself. At least you thought so. A snoop through his closet leads to a terrifying discovery. Now, everywhere you turn, that haunting mask is right there waiting.
“God,” you toss the remote on the cushion beside you. It bounces off the oversized couch and flops to the floor. “There’s nothing on TV,” you lament, draping yourself dramatically over the cushions.
Stu snickers and kicks his legs over the arms of his chair, shrugging with a smug look. “I told you we should have stopped by the video store.” His gaze drifts back toward the TV, grimacing at the obnoxiously loud MTV episode you stopped on.
“Hell no, Randy’s working tonight,” you scold, sharp gaze snapping toward him. He’s got a stupid grin on his face, clearly having decided that his form of entertainment tonight is going to be pissing you off. “I don’t feel like having him critique me for an hour on my poor taste in movies.”
He snorts and reaches to take a large handful out of the popcorn on the coffee table between you. “Maybe if you didn’t just rent stupid chick flicks all the time, he wouldn’t.”
Stu doesn’t have time to duck as you chuck one of his mom’s overpriced throw pillows at him. “Don’t act like you don’t love Pretty in Pink.” The pillow knocks the popcorn out of his hand, scattering it across the ornate rug Mrs. Macher bought last week. If she saw the state you’d gotten the house in this weekend, that ever-pulsing vein in her head would burst. As it is, they’re never actually at the house, it’s an oasis for practically half the school during the weekends Stu decides to throw a party.
For the first time in a while, though, it’s just you and Stu. No one else is here to rile him up or force him to put on a show. He’s at his calmest when it’s just the two of you. Which, honestly, doesn’t mean much for him, but still.
“I do not,” he objects, stretching out his lanky body and getting to his feet.
You roll your head lazily to face him, giving him a knowing smirk. “Billy isn’t here, Stu. You don’t have to lie,” you assure him, holding out your arms as he stops in front of you. You already know what he wants, he’s got that specific gleam in his eye as he smiles down at you.
“I mean,” he shrugs, “it’s not bad,” he concedes. Without another word, he throws himself on top of you, even prepared for it, you still feel the breath rush out in one hefty wheeze. Another thing you don’t see as much when others are around, just how goddamn clingy he is.
Sure, with his multitude of girlfriends, he’s touchy. But this is something different entirely. He clings to you like he would burrow into your skin if he could. He’s been that way since you guys were kids. While the feeling of others touching you might set you on edge, Stu fits against you like your missing piece.
Hands drifting up to play with his hair, you settle yourself against the cushions while he goes back to channel surfing, pleased to have you as his pillow.
The TV drones on, a dull buzz in the background now that Stu has the volume down. With his head practically buried between your boobs and your legs wrapped around his waist, you snicker.
Frowning, he props his chin on your chest, staring up at you. “What?” He demands, hating to be left out of a joke.
“Nothing,” you shrug as much as you can with him steadily pancaking you. “Just wondering what your girlfriend would think of us like this.”
“Oh,” he sets his head back down and places your hands back on his head to continue playing with his hair. “We broke up,” he tells you, like it means absolutely nothing.
“Stu!” You slap his shoulder, and he winces dramatically. As if you could ever do real damage to him.
“Ow!” He whines, bracketing himself up on his elbows so he can look down at you. “What’s your problem tonight?”
His hips are still lazily pressed against you, pressure increasing the longer he hovers above you. Swallowing thickly, you try to ignore the flush spreading through you. “You didn’t tell me you guys broke up.”
He rolls his eyes, glaring down at you. “I just did,” he points out sarcastically. You swat at his shoulder again, but this time, he catches your hand in his, lacing your fingers together with a smug grin as he keeps you trapped.
“You’re collecting these girls like they’re trading cards.” Despite his tight grip, you manage to slip out slightly from under him and prop yourself against the arm of the couch. “I don’t even remember the last one’s name.”
His face goes slack, lips parting as you see the cogs in his brain turning. He laughs and glances back at you with a dismissive shrug. “Neither do I. I just remember the tits.”
“Ugh,” you yank your hand out of his, ignoring his petulant frown. “You’re absolutely disgusting. What’s the point of even dating them?”
He slinks back against the other end of the couch. “I just said why,” he points to your chest with a grin, and you reflexively cross your arms. Stu tips his head back, dangling it over the edge as he stares up at the ceiling with a forlorn sigh. “I don’t get it,” he tosses his hands up, and you already know where this is going.
Head tipped back up, he narrows his eyes at you, “I don’t know why we don’t just date.”
You give him a deadpan look, arms still tight around your chest. “Dude,” you chide, “after what you just told me. Seriously?” When you were younger, him saying this used to set you alight. You’d get all dreamy-eyed, imagining what it would be like to be Stu’s girlfriend. Of course, you’d taken too long thinking about it, and by then, he’d already found a different girl to set his sights on. It had broken your heart, and their relationship had barely even lasted a week.
By now, you know better than to take anything he says seriously. Everything’s just one big joke to him. He’s so fickle you can’t trust that he would actually put effort into anything more blooming between you. You seem to be the only girl in his life that he actually thinks of as a person, going on a few dates with him isn’t worth screwing that up. Besides that, you’re not going to ruin the only friendship you’ve ever had that’s lasted more than two months.
Stu opens his mouth like he wants to say anything, but it snaps shut a moment later. His face sets into a glower, and you worry for a moment that you might have actually hurt his feelings. You’ve always thought the suggestion was just a sort of inside joke between the two of you. Though, he has been bringing it up more and more lately.
Your stomach flips unpleasantly, heart aching with guilt. It doesn’t last long, the feeling always remains fleeting. You’ve conditioned yourself for years to dismiss anything that might actually encourage you to pursue something with Stu. You love him, but you two would just be a spark waiting to light up.
“You’re staying the night, right?” Stu changes the subject, picking up the remote once more and not meeting your eye. Your lips part, and he cuts a glare toward you, “No girlfriend,” he stops you before you can even say anything. Your brows furrow, and he looks back to the TV. “No sleepovers if I’m dating,” he mocks the pitch of your voice, reminding you of the rule you'd enforced so long ago. Your lips fall in a flat, irritated line at his imitation of you.
“No girlfriend,” he reminds you, feigning indifference even though you can see right through him. Your plan was to go home, but you know him well enough by now. The set of his jaw, the stubborn way he won’t look at you, there’s no actual choice. You’re staying.
“Yeah,” you acquiesce with a low huff. “I’ll need to borrow some clothes.”
“You know where they are,” he tells you, still not meeting your eye. He’s never been this sensitive after you’ve rejected him before. What’s his problem? Eyes narrowed, you get to your feet, glaring at him the whole way up the stairs. He never loses the indifferent look, passive-aggressively turning the TV up.
Usually, you just grab some pants from the guest room. But with Autumn descending, it’s been getting colder, especially in Stu’s drafty old house. There’s a soft yellow sweater that you’ve always tried to steal from him, and he’s never let you get away with it.
Nabbing it would probably ease up the weird tension. He is a freak, he does love seeing you in his clothes. You figure it’s a solid plan and slip across the hallway, quietly opening his bedroom door.
As always, his room is a hot damn mess. The bed’s unmade, sheets completely untucked, and half of them sprawled across the floor. There’s a clearly well-loved nudie mag lying open on his nightstand, boobs bared boldly to the world. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and turn toward his closet.
Your brows furrow, head tilting at the closed door. As odd as it is, Stu never closes his closet. It’s just another tedious task to him. Besides, he likes to just ball all his clothes up and toss them in wildly. You know his family’s old maid threatened to quit if she had to clean his room ever again. But you wouldn’t believe that looking into the closet now.
It’s not just clean, it’s pristine. Clothes hung up, sorted by color and sleeve length. Jeans all neatly folded away. The box of old books and junk he had just lying about are tucked up on the top shelf. “What the hell?” You whisper, looking around like you just stepped into Narnia.
Hell, maybe it’s a portal to a bizarro dimension, it would make more sense than him cleaning up after himself. Whatever, you don’t have time to dwell on Stu’s oddities, you’d just be standing here forever if you did.
You start in the yellow section of his closet, then drift toward the sweaters. And, of course, the only one you want isn’t anywhere to be found. It has to be buried somewhere in here, and you’re not giving up until that sweater is yours. You dig through his folded pile of jeans recklessly, hoping for a bright spot of yellow to be buried somewhere within them.
Tugging a little too hard on one of the stacks, something hard clatters against the wooden floor of his closet. “Ah, shit,” you hiss, shoving the jeans back and kneeling to try and spot whatever fell. Lowering your head to the ground, you peer under the hems of his shirts on the lower rack and squint into the shadows.
There’s a vague shape of something, and you reach toward it. Head tilted the other way, your arm stretches under the sweaters, blindly groping for whatever you sent tumbling. Your fingers snag on fabric, and you grin, thinking it’s the sweater you’ve been coveting.
Pulling it out, your smile stills, heart rapidly increasing speed until it feels like it’s going to beat out of your ribs. There’s a twisting pain in your stomach, anguish and immediate denial flooding through you as you stare down at the mask in your hands.
It’s just a cheap drugstore mask. Around Halloween, you could find it anywhere. You could easily dismiss it as something Stu bought as a fucked up joke. Were it not for the flaking copper on the chin of the howling mask. Your fingers tighten around it until you think it might crack.
Slowly, you tilt your head back toward the shirts. This wasn’t what fell. A part of you screams to just chuck the mask back and pretend you never saw it. You could go downstairs, continue your movie night with Stu, and pass out beside him on the couch. Lying to yourself would be so damn easy. It’s just a mask, half the guys in school bought one because they thought it was a fucking joke.
But your body isn’t interested in weak excuses. Bowing over, your hand swipes across the wood once more, wrapping around the object that fell. Before you even drag it out, you already know what you’re going to see. A pulsing pain spreads through your chest, eyes watering as you stare down at the knife in your hand.
A serrated hunting knife, to be exact. The same one Dewey said was used to kill Casey only a week ago. God, how had you not seen this? How could you have been so blind?
Stu had been the number one suspect, but Billy had been his alibi, no one could place him at the scene of the crime.
There has always been something twisted about Billy. It only got worse when his mom left. Maybe this was all his idea, maybe Stu was just dragged into this, but he doesn’t really want-
Your thoughts fade into a dull silence in the back of your mind. There’s no excuse. Stu has always been different, just slightly off. His jokes nearing the wrong side of dark. But you never would have thought him capable of something so brutal.
Footsteps sound up the stairs, and your brain shocks itself awake. Quickly, you toss the mask back under the clothes and shove the knife into the jeans. Wiping your eyes, you leap to your feet and rush out of the closet just as Stu barrels into his room.
The both of you pause, staring blankly at each other. You, a deer caught in a hunter’s snare. He, the drooling wolf, waiting to pounce.
Slowly, his eyes drift toward the closet, the light you left on, and the door you hadn’t had time to close. He turns back to you, and something twisted curls at the edges of his lips. Adrenaline shoots so fast through you it nearly knocks you off your feet.
“Looking for something?” His tone is light, barely audible, as he takes a step closer. It takes every ounce of self-control not to back away from him.
Something too strained to be a smile curls your lips up. “Um,” you lick your lips, swallowing down the dryness coating your tongue. You laugh nervously and take a step toward his bed. “Just that sweater I love.
He stalks towards you, and your eyes widen, heart fluttering in your chest. Just when you think he might run you over, he steps around you and heads toward his dresser. You turn, afraid to take your eyes off of him.
Peeking above the corner of a drawer is a yellow sleeve. He slips it out easily, holding it out to you with a grin that shows off all his teeth. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice cracking around the words as you snatch the sweater out of his hands.
“I made more popcorn,” he tells you, eyes wild as he stares down at you. “Halloween’s on.” It’s a simple invitation to a movie, but it feels like there’s a knife to your back. You have no choice but to step out of the room and head down the stairs. Every bit of you screams to act natural, to pretend that there’s nothing wrong.
How could you be? Your best friend, the boy you’re practically in love with, is slaughtering your friends. He’s running rampant through your town and killing girls just because they broke up with him.
Risking a glance over your shoulder, you see him already looking at you. The smile is gone, now he’s just watching you with this bemused expression, like he’s waiting for you to break and make a run for it.
You take a seat on the couch, lean against the pillows, and glue your eyes to the screen. Suddenly, Jamie Lee Curtis babysitting is the most interesting thing in the world to you. Stu takes his seat beside you, sinking into your side and wrapping his arms around your waist. Stiff as a board, you can’t find it in you to return the touch, too petrified by the thought of all the blood on his hands.
He doesn’t care for your trepidation, taking your arms and wrapping them around himself. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, lips brushing against the sensitive skin as he speaks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”
Avoiding Stu has been easier than you thought it would. Usually, he’s more persistent in making you hang out with him. Especially when your parents are both out of town at the same time. But he’s been suspiciously quiet since you prematurely ended your weekend stay last week.
You managed to make it through the night. Though, while Stu dozed on top of you, you had been wide awake. Limbs stiff, eyes unblinking, the whole night had been spent on high alert. You’re not sure if he knows you know, or just suspects it. Either way, you should have turned him in by now.
The second you left his house, you should have gone straight to the sheriff. You know who's behind the Woodsboro murders. You know who the infamous Ghostface is, and have a suspicion who his other half might be. You could have stopped all this.
Casey and Steve would be avenged. If you had something, another person wouldn’t have been killed two days ago. You didn’t know him personally, you’d never even seen Stu or Billy interact with him. But this felt less like an attack on him and more like a threat for you.
Keep quiet, or you’ll be strung up by your intestines.
Triple checking all your doors and windows are locked, you head upstairs to your room. Prepared to camp out for another sleepless night. If you turned him in, you wouldn’t have to live with this paranoia anymore. Every corner you turn wouldn’t be prefaced with the idea that he might be waiting behind it. No matter how hard you try, you can’t pick up the phone and call the cops.
You lay back on your bed, listening to the radio in the hopes it might lull you to sleep. It never works, but you hold out hope. The shrill ring of your home phone echoes throughout your empty home. Sitting up on your elbows, you glare at your closed door like it might shut the damn thing up.
Abruptly, it cuts off. The empty halls of your home fall silent once more, the low droning of your radio barely audible above the blood rushing through your head. You hold your breath, eyes peeled on the door in front of you, waiting for… something.
The phone goes off again, and you jump, shooting off your bed and grabbing the bat by your nightstand. Slowly, you open your door, peeking your head out before you attempt to cross the hall to your parent’s room. There’s a phone in there, and you’re more comfortable up here than you are beside your glass patio doors downstairs.
You practically kick the door open, jumping inside the room like you’re prepared to bludgeon someone with your bat. The shadows are thick inside, but you don’t see a cloaked figure waiting for you within one. Feeling confident enough, you run toward your parent’s nightstand and grab the phone. Running back to your room as fast as you can and slamming the door closed behind you, you sink to the floor.
Thumb hovering over the button, you let out a shaky breath and answer. “Hello?” You try and instill confidence in your voice, but you can’t hide the tremor.
“Hey,” Billy’s voice croons on the other end, he says your name, and a shudder rolls down your spine.
“Billy?” His name is a hoarse croak as you feel your heart thud dully inside your chest. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you something.” He pauses, and you bite your lip, nails digging into your palms as you wait for him to speak. “I’ve always wondered,” there’s a click, and then a raspier, unfamiliar voice speaks, “what do your insides look like?”
Something slams against your front door, and you drop the phone with a shrill scream, jumping to your feet and whirling around. You hear Billy’s distorted cackle echo through the speaker before abruptly cutting off. On the floor, three low beeps sound out. Bending down, you pick up the bulky phone and press it to your ear. Nothing but white noise. You toss the phone on your bed and swallow down another scream. No service.
You’re all alone.
The startling realization of silence rushes over you, gooseflesh rises along your arms, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The banging downstairs has quieted and your house is once more silent. But it’s no longer the same vacant stillness it was before. There’s someone here, it’s an instinctive feeling. Long buried prey instincts warning you of a predator sniffing you out.
Creeping quietly across the floor, you avoid the creaky wood that would give your movements away and once more open the door. It seems foolish to put yourself so boldly out in the open. Being cornered in that room is no better. No matter what, it’s just you and him all alone out here.
You wonder, as you peek your head around the banister, if this is just Stu stalking you. Is Billy getting rid of a liability? Is it both of them?
One, you could handle on your own. But if it was the both of them, the only thing you could do was go down swinging. If you were going to die tonight, you weren’t going to let it be easy for either of them.
Your front door is wide open, an easy escape. There was no point in running. Either one of them is waiting outside for you, or they’ve cut the brakes on your car. You crouch, peering through the railings and silently making your way down the stairs. Try as you might, you don’t see signs that anyone has come inside.
Besides the door, there are no clues to give away where they might have gone. You don’t want to play the role of the bimbo in their sick fantasy. Despite the instinct to call out for someone, you swallow it down and continue through your home.
Beyond the stark terror of facing your own mortality, there is also the pain of being so thoroughly betrayed by Stu. You know the truth of what he is, of what Billy is. And you kept it quiet. You buried his dark secret like it was your own, protected him. This is how he repays you?
This is his answer after years of you loving him. How could he?
You stand in the middle of your living room, bat hanging limp by your side. The aching pain of grief and fear stills your body. The fight wanes inside you, debating whether or not prolonging this is worth it. The others all fought back, and they died bloody. Maybe if you just gave in, it would be quick, painless. Stu could at least grant you that.
There’s a brief flash of movement in the reflection of your patio door. It’s slight, like a shifting shadow. Only one thing gives him away, the white, howling mask. Instinct overrides sensitivities, you whip around, bat flying. There’s a low groan as it smashes over his head.
Reaching up, he snatches it in his hand, using it to jerk you forward. You’re quick to let it go. Instead, you aim for his throat. Hands outstretched as you reach up, gripping his neck as tight as you can. There’s shock in his stuttered breaths, like he hadn’t thought you would fight back. You were beginning to doubt yourself, too.
Turns out you’re too stubborn to die.
The bat clacks loudly against the wood as he stumbles back into your mother’s glass coffee table. His legs kick up, tripping you and sending you stumbling into his chest. The both of you go plummeting backward, glass shattering around him and the wood crumpling like a tower of cards.
Jagged shards cut at your arms and bare legs, but you know he takes the brunt of it. Your grip on his throat is unrelenting, you pick his head up and slam it against the wood. He lets out a dazed groan, and you would laugh were you not trying to stop your best friend from killing you. He seems ridiculous, wearing this stupid cheap mask and moaning like a cartoon character with a bump on their head.
He bucks under you, hips pressing up against yours as he flips you both over. Pain rips through your back as the glass digs into your skin. Letting out a low whine, your hands slack on him for just a moment. It’s still long enough for him to get the upper hand.
He straddles your waist, pinning you below him with his weight as he kneels on your swinging arms. You’re utterly paralyzed, with no other choice but to stare up at him as tears stream, hot and slick, down your cheeks.
Stu rips his mask off, eyes wild as he grins down at you. “Damn, sweetheart,” he laughs, and it only makes you fight harder against him. Screaming through your teeth as you try to buck him off of you. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
He tosses the mask to the side and motions to the knife in his hand, “Surprise,” he practically sings the word, watching for your reaction. You bite your tongue, hiccuping on a sob as you stare up at him through blurry eyes. “Right,” he concedes, tilting his head, “you already knew.”
You can feel the blood pooling beneath you, the glass digging further into your shredded skin. It only makes this all the more unbearable. “Stop,” you beg, voice breaking as you struggle to hold back the tears. “I didn’t tell,” you shout at him. “Why are you doing this?” The tears break around the rage slipping through your voice as you glare up at him.
“What are you talking about?” He snaps, his amusement waning the harder you cry.
“Billy!” you shout the name out, just barely managing to wiggle one wrist free. He snatches it up instantly, the knife falling beside you as he leans over you, digging your hand into the glass above your head. “He said you wanted to see my insides,” there’s no controlling the sobs now. You don’t want to die. You don’t want Stu to be the one to kill you. Somehow, though, you think this would have hurt worse if it was Billy holding the knife.
Stu’s face falls before quickly twisting up into something angry. He backs off, easing his weight just enough for the press of glass to sting a little less. “No,” he utters, shaking his head. “No, that’s not the plan.”
Stu looks nearly manic as he stares down at you. Something unfurls inside you, years of friendship have you reaching up with your free hand. You don’t know what your plan is until he’s leaning into your touch, eyes never leaving yours.
His hand grips your waist, easing you into a sitting position. You want to curl up into a ball and go hide in a dark corner. You want to shove glass down his throat and run. The knife looks particularly appealing beside you.
But you do none of that. You let him tug you closer, hand tightening to the point of pain around your waist, but you don’t think he realizes, and you’re too afraid to point it out. “You’re our final girl, baby,” he practically fucking giggles, and you struggle not to flinch from the sound. “He was just fucking with you.”
“Yeah?” You snap, fingers trailing toward his hair and yanking until his face crinkles with pain. “Then what the fuck,” venom coats your tongue, voice low and deadly, “are you doing right now?”
He smiles, leaning into the way you rip at his hair. “Screwing around,” he laughs, and he sounds like a goddamn idiot. Scoffing, you release him, jerking out of his grip and ignoring the way it pulls at the wounds on your back.
“God,” you crumple into yourself, shoulders hunching forward as you hide your face behind your hands. “I can’t believe I ever thought you could love me. You’re sick, Stu,” you snap, holding back more tears.
Blood and glass surround you both, the shattered fragments of your friendship. Stu looks more hurt than when you strangled him. He reaches for you, and you jump back, shaking your head. ‘I was never going to kill you,” he swears. But what does the promise of a murderer mean to you?
“I don’t believe you,” voice a whisper, the tears spill over once more. He looks between you and the knife like he can’t decide what to do. You wait for it, for the snap before he just plunges the knife into your gut. Twisting it and dragging your death on.
Instead, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around yours and forcing you into his embrace. “Stop,” you claw weakly at his shoulders, snagging your nails in the cheap cloak. You shake your head, but the fight is over before it even begins. Your arms curl around his neck, and you sink into his familiar embrace.
His gloved hand skates over the wounds on your back, and you whine, arching away from his touch. He offers a whispered apology, but you don’t believe it. “Billy’s not going to touch you,” he swears. “I’m never going to hurt you.”
“You already have.”
His arms only tighten around you, pulling you into his lap as you cry. You might not believe him, but he knows the truth of it. You’re his best friend. The only person besides Billy he’s ever actually cared about.
You are his perfect final girl, and he’s never going to let you go.
end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Scream, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
What do you think about Stu/Sid as a couple? Matthew Lillard and Neve Campbell dated for 3 years in real life.
I’ve been interested in that dynamic since I first watched the movie. I’m 90% at the end he talks about how he used to be into her. Honestly those two would be so much more interesting to me than Billy/Sid.
I don’t think it would work out well. He’s pretty touchy/sexual and Sid is the textbook definition of a prude. I doubt they would last very long and be more than a fun fling.
The fact that they dated makes a lot of sense bc I always thought there was chemistry there. I think that’s why poly!ghost face is such a big ship bc all three of them had great chemistry.
Calling any and all Ethan Landry writers, I have a request. I need, deeply in my soul, an Ethan Landry fic that is dark romance-esk. Like he's obsessed with reader in a stalker way where he follows her around, steals little things from her so he can always have a piece of her with him, and does everything to protect her during the ghost face killings.
Now I know what you're probably thinking, there are plenty of fics out there like that. I might have not found the right ones because all the ones I found involve Dub-con and or Non-con which is an instant no for me.
I do remember reading one a while ago that was like this but I don't remember where I read it, who wrote it, or what the tilde is. If you write, have written, or find one like this please lmk. It will heal my soul. Thank you 😘
(Why the fuck did I write this like an email?)
Masterlist
This will grow and include more fandoms and characters in the future.
School Spirits
Separate Masterlist
Includes Wally Clark, Rhonda Rosen, and Simon Elroy.
Prom Pact
Ben Plunkett
For the freaks
Study Date
Scream
Charlie Walker
NSFW Headcanons
Avatar
Spider Socorro
Headcanons
Zombies
Zed Necrodopolis
Freaky ahh headcanons
Characters that aren't on the list but I'd write for if requested:
Dan Copper
Ethan Landry
Billy Loomis
Brahms Heelshire
Thomas Hewitt
Jennifer Check
(My requests are open. I write for every character on here for Smut, Fluff, and Angst. Please note that I'm still trying to get the hang of writing and am better with headcanons. I have also never written for a male reader but I would be open to it. I do NOT write for actors or real life people only characters they play.)
Charlie Walker NSFW Headcanons
(So ummm I found this in my drafts and felt like it should see the light of day 😭 I don't remember writing this but I had a HUUUUGE Rory Culkin phase. Honesty it could have been way worse but the writings not terrible I just don't remember being such a little freak... thats a lie I 100% remember but I'm ashamed. 🥲)
Warnings: Smut obviously. an obsessive use of the word mommy. charlie being a subby little bitch boy. overstimulation. edging. dacryphilia. I think that's it.
Smut below the cut, beware.
He whimpers
I mean so much, all night it's just him whimpering and begging for his mommy
“Mommy please touch me, I need you”
Biggest munch ever, he gets so pussy drunk to it's not even funny
He's a crier
You can’t convince me otherwise, we will ball his eyes out after he cums. Especially if you edge him and finally let him cum. He’ll even thank you after with tears rolling down his face.
“Thank you mommy, thank you so much”
I just know this man is a perv. He steals your panties and thinks you don’t notice but it's kinda obvious when he leaves them in his room just out in the open.
He really likes being overstimulated
Just the thought that you love him so much that you would spend hours making him cum over and over again drives him crazy. He would also cry during this. Both from pleasure and pain, poor boy doesn't want you to stop but his body needs a break.
“please don’t stop, I need it so bad”
As you can tell he has a mommy kink
I don’t really have an explanation for this but I feel like he just loves it. The word comes out so naturally that it just feels right to call you his mommy.
UHM HELLO ?!? “i had econ!” at almost 2k notes ?!? omg thank yall so much wth !!
”I had econ!”
₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
ethan landry x reader
warnings: smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering, p in v, 18+ but yk i cant control what you read cuz i aint your ma 🤷🏻♀️
———
“where were you?! you disappear and my sister almost gets killed!” chad pulled ethan by the jacket and slammed him against a nearby vehicle
“i had econ!” ethan shouted as chad battered him with accusations of hurting his sister mindy.
ethans mind floods with flashbacks from earlier-
y/n tugged at ethans shirt as she deepened their kiss, desperate to get him to shed the item of clothing. he separated himself from her to pull his t-shirt off. he reconnected the kiss and picked her up. he toyed with the hem of her shorts while walking them towards his bedroom
he sat her on the bed and sat on his knees, not breaking the kiss. their tongues fought, sliding against the others lips to find entry. he pulled away to speak, “can i take these off?” he asked looking up at you through his eyebrows, waiting for approval while searching your face for any sign of unwanting. “fuck, please, yes.” you breathed out while nodding your head.
he pulled them off along with your underwear. he kissed the insides of your thighs, slowly inching closer to the wetness pooling between your legs. he reached your clit and attached his lips as he began to suck. he slid his fingers up and down in between your folds before slipping a finger in and began pumping. this action drew a moan from your throat. he took this as a sign to add another and speed up. he pumped faster and just as he felt you getting closer and squeezing his fingers, he pulled them out. you let out a sad whimper and cocked your head to the side. “why’d you stop?” you asked. “want you to cum on my cock, pretty girl.” he said as he began to unbutton his jeans. he pulled his boxers down to his knees and ran his pink tip that was leaking precum through your wet folds. he slowly inserted his dick into you, planting a hand onto your thigh to steady himself. he groaned loudly as he bottomed out. he began thrusting into you at a fast pace, not giving you time to adjust. you moaned out in pain and pleasure as he sped up. he was now pumping into you at an unimaginable speed. he ran his big hands over your breasts, playing with your nipples with his thumbs as he did so. you were letting out loud moans and you were sure the neighboring dorms could hear you, but right now you didnt care. he guided his hands down to your hips and began slamming his hips into yours as he felt himself inch closer to release. this made you to tip over the egde and release, the knot snapping in your stomach. your cum dripped down ethans cock as he continued to pound into you. the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so good and the sounds of your moans in his ear made him release inside of you, the hot liquid pooling and dripping out as he pulled himself out. he leaned down to kiss you—
“ethan!” chad shouted, pulling him out of his trance. “yeah, yeah sorry, uh zoned out there. you can ask y/n, she was sitting with me and helping me take lecture notes.” he said. fuck, he couldn’t wait for your class to end and see you at his dorm later.
”I had econ!”
₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
ethan landry x reader
warnings: smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering, p in v, 18+ but yk i cant control what you read cuz i aint your ma 🤷🏻♀️
———
“where were you?! you disappear and my sister almost gets killed!” chad pulled ethan by the jacket and slammed him against a nearby vehicle
“i had econ!” ethan shouted as chad battered him with accusations of hurting his sister mindy.
ethans mind floods with flashbacks from earlier-
y/n tugged at ethans shirt as she deepened their kiss, desperate to get him to shed the item of clothing. he separated himself from her to pull his t-shirt off. he reconnected the kiss and picked her up. he toyed with the hem of her shorts while walking them towards his bedroom
he sat her on the bed and sat on his knees, not breaking the kiss. their tongues fought, sliding against the others lips to find entry. he pulled away to speak, “can i take these off?” he asked looking up at you through his eyebrows, waiting for approval while searching your face for any sign of unwanting. “fuck, please, yes.” you breathed out while nodding your head.
he pulled them off along with your underwear. he kissed the insides of your thighs, slowly inching closer to the wetness pooling between your legs. he reached your clit and attached his lips as he began to suck. he slid his fingers up and down in between your folds before slipping a finger in and began pumping. this action drew a moan from your throat. he took this as a sign to add another and speed up. he pumped faster and just as he felt you getting closer and squeezing his fingers, he pulled them out. you let out a sad whimper and cocked your head to the side. “why’d you stop?” you asked. “want you to cum on my cock, pretty girl.” he said as he began to unbutton his jeans. he pulled his boxers down to his knees and ran his pink tip that was leaking precum through your wet folds. he slowly inserted his dick into you, planting a hand onto your thigh to steady himself. he groaned loudly as he bottomed out. he began thrusting into you at a fast pace, not giving you time to adjust. you moaned out in pain and pleasure as he sped up. he was now pumping into you at an unimaginable speed. he ran his big hands over your breasts, playing with your nipples with his thumbs as he did so. you were letting out loud moans and you were sure the neighboring dorms could hear you, but right now you didnt care. he guided his hands down to your hips and began slamming his hips into yours as he felt himself inch closer to release. this made you to tip over the egde and release, the knot snapping in your stomach. your cum dripped down ethans cock as he continued to pound into you. the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so good and the sounds of your moans in his ear made him release inside of you, the hot liquid pooling and dripping out as he pulled himself out. he leaned down to kiss you—
“ethan!” chad shouted, pulling him out of his trance. “yeah, yeah sorry, uh zoned out there. you can ask y/n, she was sitting with me and helping me take lecture notes.” he said. fuck, he couldn’t wait for your class to end and see you at his dorm later.
yall… 😭 ik i have requests but im writing a new ethan landry smut fic 🤞🏼
(coming today 👀)
send scream requests !! especially ethan landry, stu macher, billy loomis, and amber freeman
he so does . he prob has an account thats completely blank and reads what ppl say about him and his characters and reads the fanfics ..
Praying that Matthew Lillard doesn't know Tumblr. But at the same time I just know that he does
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