Ella

Hazbin men x f!reader

Characters : lucifer, vox, alastor

Warnings : mentions of val. Swearing i guess? I think this is actually one of my more tame posts but if you guys find anything i need to put in the warnings let me know in the comments :)

A/n : it was very difficult to characterise Alastor's part i'll be honest so I hope i did my guy justice. I'm deffo gonna start writing for human vox and alastor soon, because Alastor was so fine when he was alive bro. Also is anyone getting tired of just working constantly? Feels like i have had zero time to myself lately, shit sucks. My only interactions with people have been with coworkers and I hate all of their guts like bro let me have time to hang out with my actual friends type shift 🙏

▢ vox ᯤ

This man acts like he's above having a crush on you but the second you walk into his office he turns into 10% flustered glitching, 40% panic that he hides beneath jokes, and 50% smug peacocking.

His screen brightness auto-adjusts whenever you compliment him, the blue more vibrant. Like you literally light this man up

Competitive flirting!!! If you're chaotic, he's more chaotic. If you're witty, he's faster. If you lean in close, he presses his screen so close to your face you can feel the heat radiating off of it. Sometimes he'll slip up and he'll short-circuit, but he pretends it's just a glitch claiming smoothly - "that was intentional, sweetheart. Artistic effect, y'know?"

His love languages : Gift-giving + physical affection. He leaves tech gifts on your desk every morning - WON'T admit they're gifts, though - "They're not gifts you idiot. They're corporate perks. Completely professional."

Like Alastor once pointed out bluntly, Vox almost always is touching your shoulders. It's usual a weird power-play thing with others but with you? It's complete affection.

He'll come up behind you when you're working, shoulders immediately captured by his claws as he talks you through the email he had sent you. When yapping, he's absentmindedly just start massaging your shoulders. Like bro is not subtle with his feelings at all.

Adjusts your tie, picks off fluff or lint from your blazer, and guides you by the waist.

Talks shit about everyone else around you. This man is a fucking gossip gremlin. Loves that you match his energy as well -

"Im so goddamn sick of Katie's weird fuckin' flirting but she's one of my best news anchors so I can't do shit about it."

"She's literally drenched in perfume everytime she comes in here, Vox. Like - she'll walk passed my desk in the morning and it will fucking linger until the end of my shift. I work for 12 hours."

"Oh shit I'll install an air-freshener in your desk, sweetheart. that sounds like torture."

Pretends he doesnt crave your approval but starts malfunctioning when your praise him.

"Is that a new suit? You look hot."

The background of his face literally turns into hearts and he's quick to throw his arms across his face to hide it," Fuck - ignore that."

The most pettiest jealous man in hell. If one of the other Vees mentions you too fondly, he malfunctions.

Velvette : " I need Y/n to model for me-"

Vox : " WHY. YOU HAVE YOUR OWN STAFF FUCK OFF."

If Valentino flirts with you? Vox actually becomes visibly angry. He knows the nature with why Valentino flirts, so he'll always sweet talk the moth into shutting his trap and walking his ass away.

He purposefully calls you into his office to watch him do something impressive, always seeks your approval for the littlest things. Your approval was important to him.

"Look, sweetheart, I upgraded our entire network firewall in 10 seconds. I'm literally the shit."

"Sir, you could have just emailed thi-"

"Nope. I needed you as a witness. Now tell me that I'm the shit."

"... You're the shit."

"I fucking know, right?"

Will play music from his speakers when you walk into his office, or play soundbites of an audience clapping and cheering. He claims it's meant to "empower" you as a woman.

Becomes weirdly soft when he sees that you're visibly tired or stressed. One time you fell asleep at your desk and he stops his typing to just admire you for a moment, definitely not taking a photo from the webcam of his screen of your sleeping face, and then takes off his blazer to wrap around your shoulders. You wake up surrounded in the smell of his expensive cologne and him sitting at his desk, casually greeting you with a - "finally awake, sleeping beauty?" Isn't mad in the slightest.

He loves making you laugh. He tries so fucking hard. Not even subtle. When you laugh at something he says, he stands taller, voice drops and his screen brightens - he's basically preening. Then he promptly brags about making you laugh.

"Did you hear that, Val? She laughed at MY bit. MY comedic timing. Don't fucking talk to me like I'm not funny as shit."

"Ay, dios mío..."

▢ alastor ⌖

He does NOT fall easily. So the first flicker of interest towards you genuinely just irritates him more than anything. Why is it that you catch his attention more than the chaos of the hotel? It makes no sense to him.

He tries to observe you from afar like you're an oddly fascinating wildlife specimen. He's not sneaky about it in the slightest - he stares unabashedly and smiles sharpy like he's plotting your death, which, to be clear, he isn't.

Probably.

He likes to be a witness to your hobbies and routines. He enjoys knowing things that he's not supposed to know.

"Oh, you're having mint tea today? I thought your favourite was jasmine. Curious."

"Are you stalking me??"

His love languages : Words of affirmations + acts of service. He compliments you in old-fashioned, theatrical ways that make everyone else in the room uncomfortable, but you? You fire right back.

"My, my, you're looking positively radiant today, cher!"

"And you're looking like a man who rehearsed that line in the mirror."

"... Perhaps I did."

He likes when you challenge his compliments, or make him work harder to get a reaction. Like bro is delighted when you straight up reject his compliments.

He "coincidentally" handles tasks and chores before you get to them. Dishes? Done. A stuck window he saw you struggling with earlier? Fixed. A resident being too flirty and touchy with you? Silenced.

This guy loves making your life easier. When you notice what he's doing, he merely laughs like he's been caught in the middle of a murder he's proud of - "whatever do you mean, my dear? I only wish for your days to be smooth and your spirit unburdened!"

He'll engage in chores he normally finds beneath him just to hear you say," Wow... thanks, Al."

That single phrase could power him for a week.

Teasing is his favourite form of flirting. He loves someone who not only receives his taunt but also throws the knife back.

"You keep hovering around me, dear. Are you smitten?"

"Don't flatter yourself. The only thing I'm smitten with is cold hard cash."

"Ah! A fair point!"

He pushes your buttons deliberately, trying to see how far he can go before you snap or blush. But loves it when you land a good hit on him with your words, his cold dead heart would be thumping away like the wings of a butterfly if it could. It makes him lean in, grin sharp, voice dropping just for you - "Hmm... aren't you deliciously bold today."

You fluster him rarely. He flusters you constantly. It becomes his daily enrichment activity. He literally keeps mental score :

If you blush? +10 points.

If you stumble over your words? +50 points.

If you glare at him, trying to fight back a smile? He's just won at that point.

▢ lucifer 𖤐

He falls hard and embarassingly fast for you. One day you're organising his paperwork, the next he's privately composing sonnets about the way you handed him a pen.

He sticks his tongue out in concentration as he's writing in a sparkly diary - "Her grace... her poise... the divine elegance with which she passed me that pen.... I need her. Carnally."

He's the king of hell, and yet one (1) compliment from you and he crumbles like wet paper.

"Nice job today, Lu."

"Oh uh- thanks! You too!" He's internally imagining how he's going to propose to you and where you should go to for your honeymoon.

This man is PAINFULLY transparent. Bro isnt even trying to hide his crush. He gets all twitchy when you enter a room and he absentmindedly tap a love song on the handle of his cane. He glows around you, smile permanently etched onto his face.

His love languages : Physical affection + gift-giving. He finds excuses to be near you at all times. Standing too close? Absolutely. Touching your elbow to guide you? Constantly. Accidentally brushing your hand? Commonly.

He loves hugging you. LOVES. Oh, you're in a professional setting? Doesn't matter to him, he always requires a hug after such a tough and tiring meeting.

"Y/n, I require emotional refueling. Talking to Michael for a full hour has bummed me the fuck out."

His gifts are either wildly over the top or painfully sentimental. No in-between.

A diamond-encrusted pin of your favourite TV show character.

A hand-sketched portrait he stayed up all night drawing because he thought you looked particularly lovely that day.

A personalised planner that he's left little notes on every page for you.

He just loves seeing your face light up when he hands you something. He gives your little daily offerings. Fresh tea. A bouquet. A single shing trinket. Manifesting fireworks for you when you finish a task because you called them pretty one time.

"Just a token of appreciation for my radiant, brilliant assisstant keeping my kingdom from falling apart, y'know, no biggie."

He is shamelessly dramatic about how much he adores you. This man yearns like it's a full time job, one that he is fully committed to.

Stares longingly when you're focused on something else. Sighs wistfully when you leave the room.

Sometimes he'll drop the dramatics and lean in close, his voice silky sweet - " take a brake from work, yeah? I want your full attention."

Leaves you flustered from the random and sudden smooth flirting.

Six Years Ago

Life was a terrible thing.

In your book, things were going pretty roughly. Was it destiny? Fate? Or maybe you were made to suffer, because of the mistakes you made in your past life. Another theory you had was that you had to pay for the terrible things your ancestors did. Your father, for a start, had been a terrible person. That much was out of question.

Your sister was on her best way to destroy the rest of the world.

Your brothers, they were more complicated. Viserys had been a lost cause, ever since he had been forced to flee. Of course life had taken a toll on him, but did that really make up for all the terrible things he did?

Rhaegar. Rhaegar had been…good, or so you thought. So you had heard.

You missed him. Actually, you missed them all. Without even knowing them.

You were the youngest, the babe of the family, if so you wish. But that didn’t help you much back in the day.

As problems come, this one came fast and unexpected. Your eldest brother died in battle, while your father got murdered by the man who swore to protect him. The same man you were now forced to wed.

Poor, little you. Too tiny and helpless, nothing more than a bundle of joy and youthfulness, when life took its toll on your family. Everyone else either made it out or got butchered.

Daenerys and Viserys were gone. Viserys made sure of it. And of course, he tried his best to keep you safe as well. But to take care of two little babes at once? When he, himself, was no more than a boy?

He set you down for no longer than a minute, desperate to find a way to get out of this godforsaken place. He only had two arms, and yet two little bundles to carry. Three mouths to feed. No milk in sight.

And when the men with the golden colored cloaks came, he had no choice.

It was too late for you anyway. And at least, you wouldn’t know what was going on. You were tiny and helpless. They would make it quick, right?

So, your brother scurried off, your sister in his arm, while you stayed on the concrete, writhing and crying, all cold and alone.

Poor, little you.

And even more so, because it was the Kingslayer himself who found you. They all had the same specific order.

Kill them all.

No matter the age, the size, the gender or how tiny and helpless they were.

He was supposed to kill you.

But when he picked your tiny form up, amethyst eyes full of tears and your little fists swinging through the air, he felt himself smile a sad smile.

A stubborn one. So fierce.

And in the end, he couldn’t do it. He knew, obviously, it might cost him his head. But no matter what or who he was, he wasn’t that.

He was not the right man to butcher a babe. And so he didn’t.

Sooner than later, you found yourself in the arms of the new king. Whatever it was that you possessed – maybe the fire in your big eyes? The innocence? – it gave him pause. To everyone’s great surprise, the new named king didn’t kill you.

If only he did. It would have spared you such heartbreak.

The next few years, you grew up in the Red Keep. Of course you were no one’s child. Expect for your hair color and the amethyst glint in your eyes, there was nothing Targaryen about you.

Aside from your stupid pride and your stubbornness.

You spent your days reading and watching the knights fight in the training yard. Your best chance for some company was your governess, but even that was an old woman, devoid of any emotion.

You were no one’s child.

And you name was given.

The king came from time to time to see how things were going. How you settled in in a world in which you didn’t belong. His children and his gruesome wife eyed you with disdain.

No, that was not true. The eldest one did, and the mother for sure.

The girl was curious and the boy was rather frightened. You loved to make a habit of scaring him. He was like a lost pup and for some reason you found it rather delightful how big his eyes got, whenever you attempted to lunge at him and stopped the last second.

The witch, how you liked to call her, would scold you and threaten you with all kinds of vile crimes, until her tiny, little brother came by and stopped her.

You hated her. You hated everyone.

And what you hated most was how no one spoke to you.

You were no one’s child and you were no one’s responsibility. In court, you saw children with their mothers. They picked them up and cradled them close, when they were weeping.

Weaklings, you thought. But it was not your heart that spoke there. It was your wounded pride and your loneliness.

Oh, how you wished to have a mother. A father. A sibling even. Someone to banter and to argue with, someone who wasn’t Joffrey. He was a twisted little rodent. Someone who cut open living rats, just to see their blood flow and the life leave their eyes as they hissed and cried. Someone who yanked on your hair and cried to his mother when you yanked at his.

Until the witch finally got her will. And you weren’t allowed near anyone. No one spoke to you, unless Tyrion came to fetch you some books. He pitied you, you could tell. How sad was that? Being pitied by the most pitied person in Westeros. Maybe that was the reason, you thought. He knew how it felt. But at least he was someone. You were no-one.

So you read. And you watched. Observed. Listened. But you never spoke.

Everyone was going about their own business, ignoring your existence as good as they could.

Sandor would glance at you with disdain whenever you threw a tantrum, and yet he’d be the one to pull you back, whenever you got into too much trouble.

There was that one time when you were in an especially bad mood. You felt there was no one the world who cared about you and what was far worse, you didn’t care about anyone either. What was there to live for in this godforsaken place?

You mustered up some courage, which wasn’t all too hard. You were a stubborn little wench.

Once the castle got surrounded by darkness, you snuck out of your chambers and blindly stepped your way through the halls. You knew the walls and every stone on the way, because all you did was observe. It wasn’t like you had other children around you to play with. All you had were your books and all the adults you had grown to despise. One more than the other and so on.

So that particular night, you were ready to leave this all behind, cornering the next hallway, when a firm voice stopped you. You froze instantly.

He was that one person you couldn’t quite decipher. You were almost sure, he had never spoken a single word to you. When you caught sight of him, he looked away immediately. It was like there was an invisible wall. And whenever you got too close to it, he pushed you back with all the fervor his constant ignorance and disdain could muster.

“Where do you think you are going?”

With the softest sigh, you turned back around. Your hair was a mess from all the tossing and turning and your eyes glassy by the way you hated life. This one, at least.

“I-“

“No, forget it. Follow me.”

You sighed again and with slow, hesitant steps followed the Kingslayer back to your chambers. He held the door open and ushered you inside. The guards nearby got the scolding of their life, but you? He didn’t regard with yet another glance. He disappeared back into the night and left you alone with your sadness.

You didn’t truly mind. You found, there was something unsettling about him. Of course you knew the rumors about him and his sister, the witch of Westeros. And if one paid close attention, you could see the lewd glanced they’d share from time to time.

It wasn’t that you cared about that per say. It was more that you couldn’t understand how anyone ever managed to love that heartless hag. Not even him. The knight who held no soul.

You were clever enough never to let anyone see your sadness outright. When it came to these people, the ones who fiercely ignored you, you had no feelings but anger and no traits but stubbornness.

It wasn’t until another night, few years later, when someone was kind to you. You couldn’t quite tell who it was, you just knew she was old, but her eyes were gentle. Much different from your governess’ or the dark lord who owned Casterly Rock and half of Westeros.

“Dear child. Forgive me the intrusion.”

You had eyed her suspiciously, half-expecting her to set your hair on fire by Cersei’s order. You had been no older than ten and three, when the old man approached your chambers.

“I used to work for your mother, you see.”

Now, that caught your interest.

“My mother? What do you know about my mother?”

The warmth in her smile had been enough to make you feel wistful and even more lonely.

“I know that she loved you very much. Which was also the reason, why she gave birth to you, despite all the high risks. She knew she would not make it, child. But she still had you.”

A low, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach later, she added: “I have something of hers. And I think you should have it, instead.”

Her visit had been short-lived, but her presence stayed with you. It changed the entire course of your life and probably, the whole future of Westeros.

It was a mirror. A pretty one, indeed, but simply a mirror. It felt odd in your hand. No one ever gave you any presents, except for Tyrion and his countless books. But this, it was different. The weight of the mirror in your hand made you feel somewhat comforted. It was your mothers. Your mothers.

She had loved you.

Someone had loved you.

Even if no one did now, it gave you endless comfort to know, that there once been someone who did.

After holding onto the mirror tightly for what felt like an eternity, you finally set it down and choked back your own tears. Was this how life was supposed to make you feel?

The next thing you remembered varied in your mind. It had been too much and too overwhelming to remember it clearly. It was just too odd. Your mind couldn’t comprehend and so it made up new scenarios and details whenever you thought back to it.

In some versions of the memory, you heard his voice first.

In other versions, you saw the soft glow that gleamed around the handle first, slowly stretching out over the cold surface.

Whatever it was, it was.

And suddenly you weren’t alone anymore.

“Princess.”

A voice so soft-spoken that you hardly recognized it. No, you were sure you were making up things. Maybe the mirror was indeed a cruel jest Cersei pulled on you. Maybe it was tinged in something, some substance, that made you lose your mind.

“Princess.” You heard again. Soft and gentle, like a caress.

You had no idea what a caress felt like.

When you heard him a third time, you were suddenly certain. It was indeed real. You stiffened when you realized the sound came from the mirror.

There was a tight knot in your stomach, as well as your throat.

“What?” You murmured. “What is this-“

You sat up carefully and glanced down to where the mirror was set, only to realize it wasn’t your own reflection you were seeing.

With a soft shriek, you recoiled and scurried over the bed, nearly falling to the ground. This wasn’t a trick, but you wished it was.

He had long, straight hair that looked like it was made of silk, in the same color your own hair was tinged. His expression was soft, but there was something so off about him. His one eye was amethyst-colored like your own were, but the other one, you couldn’t tell. It was covered by a black eye-patch, his lips pressed into a straight line.

He was a pretty sight, indeed. Beautiful even. More handsome than any man, any knight you had ever seen.

But why was he there? Why was he at all?

“I can hear your breathing, princess.” God, his voice felt like a thousand little stabs, caused by the gentleness of a cloud. “Fear not. I wish to see you. ‘tis me, princess. I am your blood.”

After what felt like forever you slowly crawled back over the bed, but not yet enough to face him fully.

“What are you?” You heard yourself whisper in a voice that was your hardly your own.

What then happened was even more strange. His lips curved into a smile and it lit up his entire face. The dark, gloomy prince, who missed an eye, suddenly became something kind and gentle. It made you swallow.

“Not what, princess. Who. ‘tis me, your blood.” He repeated. “You may have heard of me. Aemond. Aemond Targaryen.”

That made you pause. And suddenly you felt nauseous.

Aemond Targaryen? The prince? The same prince who had died so long ago?

“What? You cannot be. Aemond Targaryen died and I am talking to a mirror, for the Gods’ sake! You can tell Cersei-“

“I am not sent by Cersei, princess.”

“Then who sent you?!” Your disbelief slowly turned into anger. Whatever trick this was, it felt cruel to you. You had no one after all. And to make fun of your parentage like this? It was simply cruel.

“No one sent me.” He sighed in a way that made you feel calmer than before, but also tired. “Let me see you, princess. I promise you, I will bring no harm your way.”

You fought and argued with yourself in your head. The clever thing would have been to discard the mirror and inform…Who would you even inform? No one spoke to you and no one would believe you. You would end up the mad girl. So, with a soft sigh of your own, you picked up the mirror, but you held it as far away from your body as you could. And then you faced him, very carefully.

He observed your reaction and his lip twitched in amusement.

“Look at that. The princess is fearless.”

You frowned at that. “I am no princess.”

His good eye shot open. “They poisoned your mind.” He murmured.

Your frown deepened. “Who?”

“The bad people.” He hummed softly. Everything about him was so…calm. “The lions.”

After a beat, he quietly asked: “Do you even know who you are?”

You had a rough idea about it, but you weren’t entirely sure. You knew your parentage held some kind of importance to some people, but that was in the past. You were left to fend for yourself, in a pit filled with lions, but no dragons in sight.

“I…”

He tsked softly.

The air was thin at this altitude, but it was nothing to you. Standing on the snow-dusted peak, your loincloth barely moved in the wind, a contrast to the thoughts swirling around you. Below, the world stretched in all directions, so vulnerable, so fragile.

"You've been here for too long, Nolan." Your voice was measured, but sharp enough to carve through the silence. Across from you, Nolan Grayson stood with his arms crossed, his expression impassive, but you knew better. He had always been good at masking his thoughts, but you had centuries of experience reading him. His stance, the way his fingers subtly tensed, told you everything.

"I don’t need a reminder," he replied, his voice laced with something close to amusement. "I assume you didn’t travel across the galaxy just to lecture me?" You took a step forward, tilting your head. "No. I came because your absence has been noted."

His brow twitched, just slightly. Even after all these years, Viltrumites hated the idea of being monitored. "They sent you?" You scoffed. "They don't know I'm here." Now, that got his attention. His eyes, those sharp, calculating things, narrowed as he studied you. “And why would you withhold that information?”

"Because I know you, Nolan. Better than they do." You folded your arms, mirroring his stance. "I know why you’re hesitating." For a moment, he said nothing. You let the silence stretch between you, let him wrestle with the implications. It wasn't hesitation from weakness. No, that wasn’t Nolan. But sentimentality? Attachment? Those were cracks in his foundation, and cracks were dangerous.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose. "You think I’ve gone soft?" He asked, your lips pursing momentarily in thought. "I think you’ve gone comfortable," you corrected, your gaze flicking toward the horizon where a city pulsed with artificial lights. "This planet is changing you. The longer you stay, the harder it will be to finish what you started."

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You sound like Thragg." That name sent a flicker of irritation crawling down your skin. "Thragg wouldn't have given you the courtesy of a conversation." His amusement faded. He knew that was true.

You took another step, closing the distance between you. "You need an anchor, Nolan. A reason to return to Viltrum when this mission is complete. And her—" your lip curled slightly as you referenced the human woman, Debbie, "—is not it." His eyes narrowed. "Careful."

"Don’t pretend you care," you retorted, undeterred. "A convenience? What is she to you, Nolan?" Silence. “She’s nothing compared to us—compared to what we are.” He began his admission, “But I allowed myself to pretend otherwise. A weakness. She is nothing more than that, and she never was.” His fingers twitched at his side, mulling over the betrayal in his words.

"You may think you've bought yourself time, but Earth won't make you stronger, and neither will playing house with a human," you continued. "But if you were to have a child with me—one who could be raised with the strength of our people, not poisoned by human frailty, you wouldn’t have to do this alone." Nolan’s jaw tensed. “Mark is already half-Viltrumite.” "Mark is half of something weak," you countered. "Would he ever be allowed to stand among our kind? Would you? You know the truth, Nolan, when the time comes, he will be an obstacle. She will be an obstacle." His silence was damning.

You let the weight of your words settle. Then, more softly, you added, "You’re too valuable to be cast aside, Nolan. But without proof of your commitment, they will find someone else to finish what you couldn’t." His eyes met yours again, and for the first time in years, you saw something shift behind them.

"You can still have what you came here for," you pressed, voice just above a whisper. "A family. A legacy. But one that ensures your survival when all of this—," you gestured to the planet below, "burns." For the first time that night, Nolan didn’t have an immediate response.

And that was the first sign that you were winning. The wind howled between you. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then— "I need time to think," Nolan said finally, his voice low, rough as he remained perturbed. "You need time to think," you echoed, tilting your head slightly. "Very well. But let me give you something worth thinking about, Nolan."

His eyes flicked to you, wary. He had always disliked being cornered, and yet, here he was, trapped by words instead of fists. You turned away from him slightly, eyes tracing the horizon, as if lost in thought. Then, your voice softened. Not weak. Never weak. But calculated. Controlled. "He needed time too," you murmured. Nolan’s brow furrowed. "Who?"

"My husband."

The words alone felt like steel being drawn across a whetstone—sharp, deliberate, preparing for something deeper. "You never spoke of him," Nolan said after a pause. "Because there was nothing to speak of," you replied. "Not anymore." You let the silence stretch, allowing the weight of your words to settle before continuing.

"He was strong, Nolan. Stronger than most. He had earned his place in the Empire a thousand times over. Conquered dozens of planets before we were even paired." Your voice remained even, but there was a restrained edge beneath it. "And yet, for all his strength, for all his victories, he died." Nolan's eyes darkened, watching you carefully. "How?"

You exhaled sharply through your nose, gaze still locked on the distant city below. "An inferior race." The words dripped with disgust, as if merely saying them left a foul taste in your mouth. "A species that should have never been a threat. But they were desperate. And desperation, as you know, makes lesser beings reckless."

Your fists clenched at your sides, but your voice remained steady. "They used weapons he hadn't accounted for. They didn't fight—they ambushed. A tactic born from fear, not strength. A coward's strategy. And he paid the price for underestimating them."

You turned back to Nolan now, expression tense. "I watched as they burned his body. As the remains of a Viltrumite were reduced to nothing by hands that should have never been capable of harming him." His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

And so, you pressed further.

"You understand now, don’t you?" you asked, voice low. "It doesn't matter how strong we are if we allow weakness to fester. If we allow ourselves to hesitate." A pause. "You think I’m hesitating?" Nolan’s voice was quieter this time, as if testing the words himself.

You gave him a pointed look. "I know you are. We have been friends for centuries."

For the first time since your arrival, he didn’t deny it.

A victorious chill crawled up your spine.

"I thought of you after he died," you admitted, stepping closer. "Among all the warriors of our kind, there are few I would have ever considered worthy. But you, Nolan... you have always been different." Something flickered in his eyes. It wasn’t pride, not yet, but it was something dangerously close.

"You are one of the strongest among us," you continued, voice soothing. "You were sent here because of that strength. But even the strong can fall, Nolan." Your words took a sharp turn, more insidious. "Do you think our kind will mourn you if that happens? Do you think they will even blink if you are slaughtered by an inferior race? You know what they will say?"

He didn’t answer. But you did.

"They will say you were not strong enough." The words hung between you, suffocating. Nolan’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides. You could feel the trepidation building within him, the conflict. Then, you leaned in just slightly, gaze unwavering. "But you are strong enough, aren’t you? Strong enough to ensure your legacy does not die on a planet of insects."

Silence.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "If we do this," Nolan said finally, voice low, measured. "It is not because I need your help. It is because it is logical." A slow grin tugged at the corner of your combined lips. "Of course."

He exhaled, running a hand down his chin, and for the first time, he looked… unsure. "I’ll contact you soon." The words left his mouth slow, deliberate. But even as he spoke, his gaze lingered on you for longer than it should have. There was no hesitation in his stance now, no rejection in his posture. Only consideration and calculation. He was already deciding. Already choosing, even if he refused to say it outright. And that was enough for now. "Take all the time you need." Then, with one final glance toward the city below, you added, "But not too much. We wouldn’t want you getting too... comfortable again."

And with that, you disappeared into the night, leaving Nolan alone in the skies with the weight of his thoughts.

"Don't. The explosion will just lead them to us." You say. Remy nodds, glancing at the corner before suddenly caging you against the wall of the alleyway. You try not to blush as he does so. Remy smirks at you, and you think your heart might just explode. You remind yourself that this is standard Remy behavior, but it doesn't stop your face from heating up. You can only hope it's too dark for him to see you properly.

"Well, there is another way we could fool those pigs." Remy says, quieter than before. You cock an eyebrow at him before looking back over in the direction of the alleyways opening, able to spot the cops as they begin to enter. In your peripheral, you see Remy running his fingers through his hair to flatten it. You open your mouth to ask him what he has in mind, but the sound of footsteps cut you off.

"-Well, if you're going to do something, you better do it quick!" You whisper back at him. Remy pushes you further against the cold brick, his hands drifting down to your waist as he leans over to wisper in your ear.

"Trust me, Cher. I'll take care of you." His words cause goosebumps to rise at the back of your neck, and you hardly have time to react before he's kissing you. Your eyes are blown wide, heart thumping wildly as you start to slowly relax into the kiss.

Unsurprisingly, Remy is a really, really good kisser. It's hard to focus while he's touching you like this, kissing you deeply like he loves you. He nips at your lip, and you gasp, having forgotten about everything else already. His tongue darts into you mouth, caressing the skin he finds there. You let out a small moan as one of his hands drifts lower, caressing your thigh and hiking your leg up just a bit. Your own hands slowly slide up his chest, drifting to his neck.

The heat in your chest is unbearable when Gambit separates from the kiss, a string of spit connecting your mouths before he wipes it away, nothing but affection on his eyes. You're panting for breath while he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then lower. Remy places wet kisses on your neck, sucking and biting as he tries to swallow you whole. You thread your hands through his soft hair as his does so, fully encouraging him to ravage you in whatever way he would like. One of his hands begins to slide under your shirt when a cough startles you out of your heated state.

Your first instinct is to turn towards the noise, but Gambit is quick to cup your cheek and pull you into another heated kiss before your head could move a centimeter. He keeps you occupied as his other hand fully caresses the skin beneath your shirt, squeezing and caressing your breast. You hear another exhausted sigh from the cops. You crack and eye open slightly, knowing they cant see you do so in the dark. One of them begins to raise his voice, but the other smacks him on the shoulder.

"Just another pair of drunks. We've got bigger things to worry about right now." The cop says. You could practically hear the other roll his eyes before they turn to and walk away. Gambit brings your attention back to him and only him when you feel a finger brush lightly against your nipple. You gasp, and Remy chuckles, playfully biting your lip as he pulls away. He's smirking as he looks at you, and you can only imagine what you look like right now.

"Looks like you enjoyed that." He teases, voice low and husky. You can't seem to pull your thought together properly when he's looking at you like that. You nervously look away, hands playing with his collar.

"And if I did?" You ask, glancing back at him to gage his reaction. He looks surprised at first, face morphing into a lovestruck smile before he tries to cover it up with a smirk. Didn't stop you from being able to see the heat rise to his cheeks, however.

She knew she should be more cautious but today was a good day. She was being discharged from the hospital under police protection tomorrow because soooo many people were chomping at the bit to know about the final girl. Flowers all over her hospital room, cards, even expensive gifts, paid for everything and news stations trying to get in contact with her.

You? Well, it was an easy decision. She still hadn't come right out and blamed you. Trying to play the innocent sweetie pie act a bit longer. Really milk it out. Wait till you got caught. However, as soon as she thought you might be a problem; she was gonna tell the police when they asked for yet another statement that now that her head was more clear and everything 'sank in'...Yes...Yes, it's shocking. YN must have been working with those two men to kill everyone. And they recruited Charlie? But that can't be!...Oh, but it is. Maybe that's why her Cousin and Uncle tried to kill YN years ago? Because she was actually the villian this whole time and they knew her secret. And YN attacked her and YN must have helped kill everyone this time too! The monster deserved to be behind bars boo hoo blah blah what a tragedy. Fake cry. Sniffle a bit.

People will eat that shit up. Especially once the authorities find you with those two. The manhunt for you was most definitely on; considering you escaped the hospital in the middle of the early morning with those two unnamed men after a Deputy was shot by them.

Jill had to not giggle or smirk too much; still in the public eye. The hunt for the 3 of you would be Legendary. Once they find you with those two, who the fuck would believe your side of the story anyways? Jill would be the sole survivor. Any nah sayers locked up or killed. This was in the fucking BAG! Soon, she'd be on the Ellen Show and Yahoo Mail articles and Facebook posts and Tweets and the ID Channel-

Her thoughts of grandeur were interrupted by a short forceful knock. She quickly went to get back in bed acting sore and sad.

"Don't bother rushing. I can see you standing from the window." A female voice rang out.

Jill faltered and had to stop herself from moving too fast. "Oh, it's my...Um, stitches. They want me to walk just not too much." She told the older woman as she entered without even asking.

Gale Riley Weathers whatever the hell her name was...Of course it was.

Gale nodded and closed the door behind her. Back to dressing in her old 'Reporter' style she probably had stuffed in the back her closet behind her robes and casual wear as Mrs. Riley. Stay at home 'writer' that hadn't wrote diddly shit in years.

Jill forced a smile upon her youthful face. After all, the nosey hag was the best in the biz and could get her one helluva a book deal. It's why Charlie spared her.

“Gale, what a surprise.” Jill put on that smile and soft voice, "How's your shoulder? Does it feel okay?"

Gale gave a wry smirk and a slight huff like chuckle. "...It's fine. Good enough for me to go home. Especially since you got a lot more damage and you're going home, right? I mean, if you can have that happen to you and be discharged soon then what a wimp I'd be to stay."

"Oh yeah, matching Shoulder stabs. Twinsies." She jokingly gave that carefree air-head teen act adults seemed to love from her. "And some bruises but nothing I can't handle. I mean, I got it bad but I don't think shoved off a landing and stabbed is anything to mess with...You're tough."

"Yeah." Gale nodded. "Yeah you're a scrapper yourself. Do what you need, do what you want, thrive not just survive...Kinda like looking in a mirror."

Jill forced a slight chuckle at that. The smile not reaching her eyes as a bit of silence stretched between them. Gale moved around the room, heels clacking against the hospital floor as she pondered something. "...Huh."

"Yes?"

She glanced over at the teen. "Nothing just...How funny. Us having matching superficial wounds. What are the odds?"

"Yeaahh....Yeah, pretty lucky." Jill nodded with a reluctant look.

"Almost too lucky." She gave with a wry smile that didn't reach her eyes either. “I swear, it seems like it was almost planned.”

Jill cautiously watched her as Gale acted aloof. ‘Reading’ labels on objects while talking. What was this old bitch getting at?

Gale mused aloud, "I mean, YN gets stabbed in the gut twice and those two, that we are not naming apparently, were shot and stabbed in many places and even almost gutted. Didn't think any of them would live...Trevor got his face peeled off...Coroner said alive while it happened just like YN's old boyfriend in ‘96-"

"I was there. Can we... Not talk about it?" Jill mumbled. "Just makes me uncomfortable. I mean, he was my first love and my…" She trailed off with a strained voice. Not too much, just enough.

Dewey would've been apologizing and comforting her for overstepping. Gale just stared.

The middle aged woman walked about the room a bit. Thinking before replying to the teen girl. "Sorry about that...I guess. But ya know… You'll have to answer to the cops and media about all this in a lot of detail. Over and over. You know how it is..." The silence etched on as Gale looked around while leaning on her good shoulder against the wall. "It's just really bizarre that me and you got wounds that weren't fatal. The final girl and the prize winning journalist that can help the final girl. Everyone else was butchered. Hung like a dead fish, burned, skinned, repeatedly stabbed, gutted, shot…Yet we both only got banged up and shoulder wounds... Daammmnn lucky."

Jill looked uncomfortable at Gale probing as she retorted in a short tone of voice, "Well, we should be grateful to be so lucky. I mean my poor friends...My own Mom…God-" She pretended to hug her face to potentially cry. A tiny forced shaky sucking in of breath as her shoulders shook. “I just…I just can't believe they killed my mother-”

"Cut the shit.”

….

Jill stiffened as Gale coldly told her, “I'm not part of the media anymore. There's no cameras."

...

Jill stilled and looked up for a moment trying to keep the innocent act up. "Excuse...Me?" She drew out shakily.

Gale just stared her down with a raised brow, "Your eyebrows aren't turned up, you're forcing your eyes to water by not blinking this whole time then blinking rapidly, the waver in your voice needs work too and stop sniffling so soon. People don't sniffle till the snot is running down their faces. Interviewed a lot of people including guilty people…I know fake crying when I see it. No Oscar for you anytime soon."

“What are you saying?” Jill just stared at her. "...Are you seriously claiming a girl that lost her friends, mother and boyfriend is fake crying? Are you seriously insinuating that?...Gale?" She said her name with an edge.

"I only accuse or go after the truth. And you?...I feel like maybe you hit your head just a little too hard. You know, what with that giant scuffle that happened. Somehow a teen girl fought off two grown men and a teen boy and now YN too? 4 people at the same time, huh? Things aren't adding up. Especially after YN fled the hospital...Whaddya gonna tell the cops when they ask why?" Gale asked mockingly and folded her arms.

Jill sat on the edge of the bed, body tense and ready to pounce if need be. "I'm gonna tell them the truth. I visited YN and she attacked me and two men attacked me and I was lucky to escape with my life till Dewey showed up. What? You got a mic on, Gale?" Jill's voice dropped an octave to her real voice, not the fake sweet act. "Ohhh…I get it. You want me to say it was Billy Loomis and Stu Macher like Sheriff Riley is convinced? Is that it? Is this some kind of bribe to get your old namesake back by proving something? Or maybe so you and your husband don't look like crazy lunatics saying two dead murderers are alive after such a tragedy?" She mocked back haughtily. “That's sick to do to a victim, Gale. Very tactless.”

"...No." Gale mumbled. "One: I don't have a mic.”

“Sure you don't.”

“Two: of course not. Without them captured; that's career suicide for both of us. They'll label you as crazy or a conspiracy theorist as well as me. I'm not stupid, you lil shit." Gale huffed, "... But you do have to talk, you know. This 'Oh poor me. I'm just a weak fragile teen girl who was victimized.' crap isn't gonna cut it forever. You were in this hospital room when Dewey and I recognized them and by the way you looked…You did too. You weren't surprised it was them. You couldn't wait for Dewey to shoot them so they couldn't say a word.”

“I was stabbed. I just wanted them caught for what they did; I didn't care who they were…And if that meant killing them to spare others the same fate then so be it.” She replied tilting her head and narrowing her eyes in barely contained annoyance at this back and forth between the two.

Gale was quiet for a moment before adding, "They're gonna search your phone too."

Jill sighed with a shrug, "If they find it. I lost it. Need to get a new one. Old one went missing that night and never found it in all the chaos. Couldn't remember my passwords or anything either. My Mom handled all that and I forgot what she said it was. So a new account, card, phone and cloud storage too I guess…I'm really devastated about it. I had so many pictures of me, Olivia, Trevor and Kirby on there.”

Gale scoffed, “It's 2011 and you don't use an email?”

“I'm a kid and schools don't like us to even have phones in class let alone use them for anything constructive. You know, they're bad for our learning. My one teacher had to have a student help her with a password change on her computer…I didn't check any email or password often. Mom did almost everything for me. So, I just plan on getting a new one and having someone help show me. " Jill feigned innocence with such a shitty lie.

"...How convenient." Gale grumbled before she sighed heavily and shifted her stance. "So what?...Get rid of the phone evidence then try and get rid of anyone in your way? All your friends, your Mom, your accomplice. Is YN the enemy now? Had to get her outta the way to get the spotlight? Those two were a surprise to you too I'd say with how things played out and now you're running with it as extra measure to not get caught.” Gale smirked wryly in realization of something. “...You're not giving a real statement because you're buying time to see if they get YN or not."

Jill scoffed loudly, "Listen Lady, I don't know what you're talking about-"

Gale laughed in outrage and smacked her hip with her good arm, "Man, you are really trying to sell it!” She lost her mocking smile, “Seriously, I'm not a bleeding heart like my husband. And we both know…We both know-" She repeated, lowering her volume. "You were not visiting YN in the ICU when she wasn't even awake yet. You had to rip off all your monitors and sneak with all your injuries under cameras and away from nurses just because you were sooooo worried about her…Worried about her ratting you out, more like it. You had to get rid of her when you realized she wasn't dead."

Jill felt her body tense and a slight sweat breaking out on her skin. This goddamn bitch. She should've told Charlie to stab her in the fucking head.

"...I told you, I was worried. The killers were still alive." She clarified once more in a firm tone. “I was attacked by YN then by them. Okay? I was just checking on her. I was scared for her.”

"Oh! So, you snuck in just to see her and got close enough for YN to wake up from surgery trying to randomly hurt you?" Gale mocked. "Are you fucking kidding me? One minute you're worried, then you want her dead and claiming she's involved, now you're straddling the fence to buy time-"

"The bitch attacked me! I don't know why; She panicked or something and then those two showed up." Jill argued with her tone accidentally becoming defensive.

“Oh, but not at the house? You and her supposedly tried to save each other's lives and you held her hand just for her to try and kill you in the ICU when you went to her room when she was just out of surgery? Sneaking too?” Gale demanded. “I still am on the fence with those two involved now…But I know one thing; you're full of shit. You are way more involved than you're saying and we both know it. In fact…Dare I say, YN might be right about you that night.”

Bitch.

Jill sneered, "...I could have your career tanked for questioning a victim like this. AGAIN. All those tabloids dogging you like it's 2000. So how about you back off before you become a nobody.”

Gale stood up from the wall and glared at her, "I'll come back on top; I always do... I think we both know how you knew the type of wound I got without even speaking to me or my husband. We both know you did not leave your house before Ghostface attacked your Mom and two Detectives. We lost two good men on the force... I know you could care less about them when you're the one that stabbed them. And we both know who actually helped Charlie this whole time. It wasn't those idiots. It was you. You and him. He fucking stabbed me in a way that you could keep me alive for your stupid little book idea."

Jill gave a sharp laugh of outrage as her nerves got to her. "Ha! Oh, so the honor roll student, good girl killed people? Killed her wn Mom!? Her best friend's!? You're SICK! You are so fame hungry and sick- I can't believe this! Leave."

She went to press the call button. Fingers hovering over it just a second as Gale spoke.

"-You know they're gonna look through all those snuff films of these murders, right?" Gale quickly rushed out.

Jill scoffed while hitting the call light. "No shit."

"Oh?" Gale smirked haughtily. "So you know...That one of Olivia Morris was recorded from two different angles?"

"Yeah, Ghostface. Ghostface's. And a partner was probably those two creeps in the bushes or something while Charlie killed her. YN was across the street, you know, their accomplice. She almost got me killed on that staircase." She spat with a smartass smug smirk at Gale. Trying to frame everyone but herself at this point.

"Then why was that one video recorded from your bedroom?"

....

....Jill felt her heart plummet. Everything froze as her ears wrang and her palms tingled like the bed dropped out from under her.

“...What did you just say?” She asked in a hushed tone, brows furrowing.

“That second angle of the video was filmed from your bedroom window, Jill.” Gale coldly replied.

. "...What? T-That's insane-" She furiously shook her head with a nervous laugh.

Gale gave the same smartass smirk back to Jill in return. "See, there's no way that video came from anywhere but your bedroom window. You had a clear shot. Are you seriously going to claim it was Kirby? Especially when at one point you can see her left hand in the shot when the video was recorded from the left side of that glass? C'mon! You can hear your voices and she sounded more scared than you!... She didn't have that camera, Jill. Billy and Stu weren't in your room. And YN was actually trying to get into the house from outside to help your friend at the time…No one but you could've recorded that."

“I didn't-”

“You did. Police have it. Got it off a website these murders were posted on. I just saw it in evidence today. But rest assured, they have it.” She chuckled in smug amusement. “Good luck trying to do what Roman did. Police stations, especially during a murder case, are like fort knox to break into.”

“I didn't!” She yelled.

Gale chuckled, “Oh really? Hm. It got uploaded that night…Are you gonna say Charlie did it? You were injured at the hospital, so you never saw Charlie alone and now with your phone mysteriously gone?...How convenient." She drew out and tilted her head in satisfaction at how tense Jill was.

Jill stared with wide eyes, brows furrowed, breath quickening as Gale smirked at her.

…This goddamn bitch. Fucking cunt. Nosey piece of shit. Skinny ass old hag fucking-

The insults in Jill's head were endless as Gale figured it out.

A nurse tried coming in and Gale quickly blocked the door with a chair. Banging persisted as Jill gripped the bed sheet, teeth gritted as Gale smugly told her as quickly as she could in a hush whisper as close to Jill as possible, "That video came from your phone and even if you destroyed it; It's still in the phone records with the carrier you stupid ass moron! They can dig and dig and diiggg-"

Gale jerked back as Jill yelled, "And what would an old washed up Boomer like you know ANYTHING about tech? Huh?! You probably still call it the net and print out pictures of memes and shit off pinterest!"

"I got sources including tech geeks I talked to…And I'm fucking GenX!” She quickly rushed out without taking a breath. “This ‘old hag’ would've recorded the old fashion way on a camera recorder hidden in your friends room and uploaded it using a public computer at the library or at least a laptop with a DPV or VNP or whatever the fuck its called! Not my smartphone connected to everything about me and in my fucking room beside a witness that knows me, you dumbass!" She jeered back as the door slammed open and people rushed in.

Jill felt her heart had been hammering in time with the door banging. Eyes darting looking for something to bash Gale's head in. Seething with anger and fear as she was damn tempted to stab Gale with her fork on her tray and claim she had to defend herself somehow…Until witnesses barged in.

They questioned Gale as Jill felt her world crumbling around her...Everything she thought she was so clever at and it went up in smoke in an instant.

"And when we find YN! She'll fight you! Then this will have to go to court and WAY higher than Woodsboro PD will be involved, sweetheart. It'll all unravel…It's over, Jill!" Gale called over the security guard's shoulder that was shoving her to the exit.

A nurse came in to check over Jill as the teen trembled and breathed heavily. Panicking at the idea of them realizing that particular video's angle was shot in her bedroom. She hid that and got rid of her phone that they'll soon recover calls and text and videos from. She was so focused on getting the video to let people see the murders she never suspected...She never thought-

"Get out...Get out! Get the fuck out!" She screeched at nurses who looked bewildered but complied after Jill stood and threw a tray, "GET OUUTTT!!"

Once alone she started hyperventilating. Grasping her hair and hunched over. Not even feeling the stab Billy gave her on her back, the stitches and pain dulled by morphine and fear.

If they find you with those two? She had a chance. You being with two wanted killers and even if people thought they were dead it would overshadow her…Maybe.

...If they found you alone? And you told the cops the truth? Gale was right...Court. Her phone gone out of everyone else's still on their person; she'd be the main suspect. They'd go to her phone carrier with a waiver to go through records, even videos and calls and texts all deleted but still there on their end. She thought a VPN on the web was enough and deleting evidence then getting rid of the phone! Most of all? Nothing could get rid of evidence that it was recorded from her bedroom window looking at Olivia's room. Eye witnesses including YN and Mrs. Meeks knew she and Kirby were there when it happened. If they find you? It's over! She couldn't even kill Gale, no doubt FBI getting involved in this case if it goes to court. It went from the sole survivor's only word against a bunch of killers to now...It's fucking over.

"Shit..." She tensely gave her voice genuinely shaky now. No more acting "Shit, shit, shit, SHIT, SHHITT!!" She screamed, throwing her tray against the wall.

————————————

You stood in front of Billy's bedroom door. Feeling sick to your stomach…Seriously, you might throw up. Skin clammy and breathing shallow. Debating heavily should you or should you not? Your voice wavered in uncertainty as you forced out, “Stu?...Can I come in?”

“Go away.”

Honestly, his tone alone was enough to make you want to agree and leave him be. Stu proved clear back in 1996 that when this side of him came out; he was dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than Billy could ever be.

Your fingertips danced over the doorknob. Upperteeth skimming your body lip in trepidation before a sigh escaped you.

Despite his warning, you didn't listen.

Opening the door because you couldn't handle this silent treatment or the unsaid any longer. Not anymore. You had no one but him and Billy in this mess and despite what Stu says about ‘never seeing him again’ he WAS dangerous and he was quite the ‘sore loser’. Billy knew it. Hence his ‘We'll have to sleep with one eye open’ argument after Stu stormed away to the back of the trailer. And what can you say? You just couldn't go back to constantly looking over your shoulder especially over a misunderstanding you knew if he would just listen you could mend…Maybe.

So, you forced yourself to walk inside despite the fear. If he killed you; what else was there to lose? Best Friend dead, friend who was like an older brother to you hates you, can't see anyone, might never go home, the whole Country might soon hate you, you might go to prison…

“Stu.” You softly said his name and gingerly closed the press board style door behind you. He had a lamp on, rereading that letter that you saw he had ripped in half. It crinkled in his hands when you came in; his features twitching in irritation.

He didn't answer you. Just glared down at that paper. You lightly swallowed, trying to find any words you could without him attacking you or Billy getting involved again.

“Stu…We gotta talk. We have to.” You hesitantly mumbled, already getting a headache from this. “We just have to…Please?”

“About?” He mumbled back while not looking at you. His voice was uncharacteristically stern.

“Everything.”

He rolled his lips before smacking the paper. “...This is bullshit.”

You just nodded. “Yeeeaahh. Yeah, I call it bullshit too. Could've saved everyone trouble if he was more blunt.”

Stu scoffed, “So, you want him to admit it? Wow.” He said with a wry smirk on his lips.

You sighed, “Stu, please. That's not what I meant.” You rolled your eyes softly. He was already starting it.

“What do you mean then?” He demanded and tossed the ripped letter aside. “Because why would you keep this if it means nothing to you, huh?” He gave a bitter chuckle under his breath. “Why would you go to him over me? Why?!” He demanded, getting upset all over again. His emotions were like a raging tornado that threatens anything in its path once he gets worked up.

You stayed near the door and replied in a low voice, “I told you, you were passed out-”

“That's not what I meant and you know it!” He snapped. Sucking in a breath as he lowered his voice. “...I left my number there at your cabin for a decade and you didn't call me. Not once.”

Yeah, he had you there. You still argued, “I didn't call Billy either. And you never called me.”

“I was doing what you asked! I left you alone!”

You averted your gaze, “Yes, okay fine… I did want that…I wanted to be left alone at the time. By you and him.” You grimaced at the honest truth.

“WHY!?” He demanded with raised brows in outrage. “Why!? I was already at your house on and off so why the hell did it matter?”

“Stu. Because you're a killer.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, classic excuse.”

“Seriously, Stu! I did not want Randy or Dewey to accidentally see you. They came over randomly, you came over randomly, and I was just a huge ball of anxiety 24/7.”

“Oh please.” He huffed, “I evaded them seeing me for years before you told me to get lost. Nah, there was another reason. Probably some guy. Probably rat boy in there. And you're a rat too so how about you leave me be and both of you go off and have your backstabbing rat life together and get married in a sewer and have your ugly ass rat babies.”

He flopped back on the mattress acting like he was going to go to sleep. You frowned, feeling annoyed that he just didn't get it. Instead he was pouting like a child.

You warily sucked air through your nose and tried to stretch your neck. “Okay… Because I didn't want them hurt by you.”

He huffed with his eyes closed while putting his hands behind his head, “What are you on about, man? I haven't laid a finger on them since we were teens.”

“No but you were planning to. You thought about it and that was enough. You even thought about killing Randy in the barn when he found us days ago. I had to draw my gun out on you and Billy!…All these years later, Stu. And you still think about it when all else fails.” You retorted with a frown. “It's why I didn't want you around a decade ago.”

He shrugged with his eyes still closed, “Eh, but I didn't. And even in Hollywood years back, it was just an idea and you got your granny panties in a bunch over it for nothing. You chicks are all the same. Getting all worked up and holding grudges.”

You gave a mild glare as he was just irking you more and more. “Okay, new one. Because you didn't hesitate to scare the shit out of me in that motel the second things didn't go your way. And I didn't feel like being scared in my own damn house after that. THAT is another reason I went no contact. For my safety and my friends.”

That made him go from pretending to try and calmly chill to jerking up ready to snap your head off . “Hey, what the- YOU had a gun on ME first!” He pointed at you with venom in his voice.

Your eyes narrowed. “Because I felt threatened and you were gonna kill me if I stopped you from killing my friends.” You argued, old resentment resurfacing from a decade ago even if you tried to be calm but it was failing the more he talked.

Stu sneered, “You're nuts and freaking delusional, man! I was not. It was just a scare tactic. We were desperate and lacking sleep and turning on each other and you wanna act all innocent when you threatened me and him-” He pointed to the living room. “With a gun multiple times!”

“There should've been no tactics!” You exclaimed, failing miserably at trying to be calm. “And considering how you both were and how fast shit escalates with you two; what choice did I have?” You jerked your arm to the living room where they had just beat the shit out of each other hours ago. “I mean, damn! You both go from 0 to 100 in 3 seconds. I can't take a risk of thinking it's ‘just’ a scare tactic.”

“Oh cry me a river; it was a decade ago. Let it go.” He waved you off in annoyance. “And tonight is different. I've had it.”

You groaned and rubbed your face leaning back against the door. You both ran in circles verbally. Damn him. Doing this at this hour while you felt like shit. Seriously, was it the pills or just exhaustion?

You clicked your tongue and rolled your head back in exasperation. “...M’kay, back to my first and most important point. I didn't want to be caught. There. Billy did not get some special treatment either.” You grew serious trying to make him listen. “I didn't need or want my friends and family finding you at my house even if you didn't do anything. Or the cops of all things or the media. No one needed to know you lived and you were at my house. My secret needed to be kept a secret!"

He bitterly laughed, “Oh and look how good that turned out.” He jeered, giggling out the reply sadistically. “Randy was, ya know, just hanging out! Dewey is probably blubbering like a baby right now that you betrayed him too.” He grinned. “So what good did that do you?”

You felt a deep anger turning in your gut at his mockery of your best friend's death and the situation with Dewey. It was so fresh too. The wounds are still red and hurting to prove it. You wanted to throw something at him, scream at him but somehow you couldn't even move. The anger wasn't hot, it was cold. A chill over you at seeing him for who he was; a cold blooded killer.

“...Wow.” You gave in a lower tone with a heaviness in the air.

“Yeah, wow!” His tone was defensive in turn. He stared at you long and hard with an almost bored expression and shrugged. “Tough. It's the truth. Now, you have no one after all this time. Including me. You blew it more than Monica Lewinsky-”

“I know that, asshole!” You snapped, losing your patience and will to live through this the more you talked to him. “I know the irony. I didn't plan this. I didn't plan for you and Billy to be at that barn, and worst of all…Okay, the worst thing is-” You bitterly chuckled, shaking your head and voice catching.

“- Worst is that these two new killers had no idea you and Billy existed! You both could've stayed out of it completely and none of this would've happened.” You scoffed. No light in your eyes as you still wanted to cry over all this but barely held it together for your pride's sake. “My friend died because of a mistake that could have and should have been prevented. That's on me for life. Everything I tried to prevent blew up in my face. EVERY. DAMN. THING.” You smacked your hand with each syllable. Stu seemed unmoved as you ranted, “Seriously, every single thing that could have gone wrong, did! Are you happy? Is THIS what will make you smile back in your big mansion you claim you have? This gonna make it all better for you while you're with models and preparing for your next big gig or party or whatever?”

Stu raised a brow. A silence in the air for a moment before he mumbled. “You done?”

You stared at him. Pouring your heart out and he didn't care. You…You didn't…Damn, your brain was almost not working!

“...Fine.” Was all you said as you went to turn and he ordered.

“Stop.”

You stopped on command from leaving out of pure instinct at the tone he used.

“No, I'm-”

He cut you off. “I said, stop. You wanna talk? Don't run away the second the fire's on your ass instead of mine. You have bellyached about the same shit for years now it's my turn to be the victim for once. Sit.”

You turned to him in outrage, “I don't owe you shit after what you just said to me! It's…It's not the same thing. Randy and Dewey-” It died in your throat. You'd be venting, sobbing, pacing and heartbroken about this for quite some time. But you only had a select amount of time to clear this shit with Stu even if you both still parted ways permanently. At least he might not try to kill you years from now. You wanted to leave and never look back or even turn you all in but you shoved your fragile heart to the side right now. Either try and convince him for your safety down the road or live on edge for life. Cause vengeance and Stu was…A Casey Becker.

You paused and thought it over. Then nodded and rolled your lips in resignation. “Okay…Okay fine.” You gingerly went to the bed to sit at the edge.

Stu glared at you. “...I treated you well, YN. Better than any skank I've ever been with.”

You glared a bit, opening your mouth and he angrily shut you down. A rant of his own at what he knew you were gonna say.

“Before you say it; Screw Tatum. You knew her for a short part of our lives. Best friend my ass, you knew her for a few months.”

You went to open your mouth.

“I'm talking now. Shut it.”

God you wanted to smack him. You held back digging your nails into your palm with what you knew was a sour look on your face. You old injury from years back hurting as you fisted your hands.

“ I meant what I said. Tatum was a quick fling that didn't mean shit to me. I only dated her as a cover so me and Billy could kill Sidney. Billy's idea, not mine. She was cute with a nice rack so I played along. She didn't mean anything. You did. Alright? You were different…At least I thought.” He used a stern tone you rarely heard from him. “You were so much higher than any girl to me back then.” He raised his hand as if you were metaphorical on a pedestal before smacking his leg. “So much fucking higher, man.”

He leaned forward as you shrank back a bit. His blue eyes full of an emotion you couldn't read. “I gave you EVERYTHING…Everything, YN. My future, my plans, my freedom, my life, my friendship with Billy. I risked it all for you and you broke my fucking heart in half. I tried to save you and you stabbed me in the back. Then I tried to make up for everything after Windsor and you never forgave me after years of me thinking we were finally cool. Then, I had one slip up. Okay? One tiny fuck up and you cut me off like I'm chopped liver. Well, till you need me in our 30's for help…You're a using bitch. Always have been, always will be. You damn me but you're just as sick playing with a guy's heart just to save your own ass.”

You averted your eyes and didn't grip your fist so tightly. Feeling your palms sweating, feeling nauseous from what you inferred was anxiety, feeling bewildered at the emotion in his voice.

He huffed, shaking his head as if trying to find the words. His blue eyes seemed to bore into you as he gave in a hushed tone, “You…You told me you loved me. Do you know how fucked up that was? No girl told me she loves me. My own mother barely said it.” He hissed out. Pain in his voice you rarely got to hear. Always covered by a cocky attitude or perverted joke. “You wanna talk about fucked up? You played me like a fiddle and I forgave you for YEARS. Then you wanna play victim the second I get pissed? Fuck that and fuck you. I deserve to be pissed! FUCK YOU!”

You flinched at the boom in his voice at the last part. Angry Billy; What's new? Angry Stu and hurt Stu was a scary creature to deal with. You looked at him a bit differently as he spoke. What he said was hateful and nasty earlier but what do you expect from Stu Macher of all people? But this?...It made that note with his phone number you kept but never called all these years burn a hole in your chest. Your emotions are in turmoil with fear, anger, shock and hurt and…And guilt.

“Stu…I-” You fidgeted. “Look, I understand why you're hurt and angry.” The words felt uncomfortable to even say.

“Damn right I'm hurt.” Voice a low mumble in his throat; sounding almost like a growl of sorts as he glared daggers at you.

“But the big 3 words and why well…I mean, you were trying to kill me. I was…Kinda desperate?” You reluctantly gave while wincing as it stammered out.

Stu's eyes narrowed, “No excuse.” He grumbled.

“I mean…It's kind of a good excuse.” You tried to smirk and joke but It died in your throat at the glare he gave you. You sighed heavily. “C'mon. Give me a break, even a tiny inch here, Stu... Stu, we were kids! I was scared. You were trying to choke me to death. I was running for my life and trying to save everyone.”

“Did you love me?” He demanded.

“I…It probably wasn't love. Again I was a senior and scared but…I did care about you-”

“Bullshit.”

“I did.” You affirmed. “I don't know what I felt but I know I cared.”

But he just shook his head, “Oh cut the crap. You've never cared about me! You were scared of me or using me as a guard dog; no in-between.” He bitterly grumbled.

You rubbed your face trying to avoid any bruises or soreness from fighting Jill. “No I-...I guess… Yeah. Sometimes.” You reluctantly admitted with a heavy sigh. Your stomach was sinking and turning. “I'm sorry but sometimes I probably did.” You sighed out all the fight in you dissipating.

He stared.

Long and hard he stared at you before scoffing with a wry smirk, “There it is. That's all it was. I forced myself on your life and you were scared of me and just said whatever to save your ass!-” He didn't finish his sentence and flung a pillow in a fit. Thank god it was just a pillow. For now.

“That's not all, okay? I did care about you!” You tried to save yourself like a drowning woman at sea.

“Stop lying!” He yelled getting closer to you on the bed. You expected Billy to burst in at any moment with the volume your voices were reaching.

“I am not lying.” Pivoting on the bed to face him while scooting back. “Stu, you were my friend before you did what you did! Why can't you or asshole out there remember that?”

“Oh that makes it better? You only cared as a ‘friend’! You never cared past your guilty conscious and moral compass. I was your ‘friend’ because I put in the effort while you only knew me from Tatum.”

You groaned, “We had a class sitting beside each other; that's not true.”

“It is. And then you were my ‘friend’ to save your ass years later from me or from Billy or anyone else wanting to kill you.”

“No-”

He laughed in outrage, “Ohohoho, okay. So you cared huh? I loved you and you only cared? You never even cared that much!”

“Stop it, Stu!” You lashed out, finally yelling back. “I cared in High School even when I shouldn't. I really fucking did. When it was so wrong and sick and…Too much and...” You sighed and trailed off.

His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

You clamped up realizing you admitted a bit more than you were proud of. Always claiming to yourself and others you cared about them as friends only but…Who the fuck were you kidding? Even then? It was just too confusing and wrong and then the mix of hating them at the same time for what they did intermingled with that. Maybe not Billy as much until these confusing feelings with this letter happened but Stu had years of you getting to know him without the mask and talking and dinners at your cabin on and off or a chat on the phone…How could you not have some level of fucked up confusion over all that?

“Hey. Talk.” He snapped his fingers and intensely eyed you. “What? Are you trying to tell me… That you…What? You had a crush on me or something?” He taunted mockingly.

You felt your face scrunch up and looked away. “It's not the time for this, okay? I just lost everything. I'm just trying to clear the air about NOW not 15 years back.”

His taunting smirk receded and he looked at you in surprise. “...No, it's the perfect time. Now say it.”

“Stu.”

“Did you like me as more than a friend? I won't kill you, you have nothing left to lose now anyways, Billy will save you, we might all die or go to prison anyway so say it! Did you or did you not want me?” He pressured looking at you with desperate demanding eyes. A glimmer of what you would describe as hope under all that rage.

You didn't answer and he gripped your arms and shook you, “YN!”

“Ow, Stu-” You grimaced at him touching your arms that were fucked up from the last few days.

“I'm gonna hurt you more if you don't fess up! Fucking talk, woman!” He ordered but his action didn't match his words as he loosened his grip

You groaned inwardly and shot him an annoyed look. “...Yes. Okay, fine. fine! FINE!” You raised your voice each word and shoved him off you as you had his undivided attention.

You shakily ran a nervous hand over your head, unsure how to even come back from saying what you've known for years and hated yourself for. “I did. I had a crush on you…I'm not saying love, okay? That is a big word for people like us…I mean, you.” You swallowed. “But I did have a crush, I guess. I know it was probably obvious but clearly not if you thought it might've been just to save myself.”

“You did?” He looked taken aback before he scoffed clearly not trusting you as he leaned back. “Oh suurree. I bet you did on Billy too, huh?”

You frowned and looked away.

“No way.” He grumbled.

“Billy's name with mine; per usual.” He rolled his eyes.

You sighed realizing there was no point in hiding it. “...Well sorry, but it's true. I liked you both in your own way before you got with my friend or...Oh fuck. Before guys attacked me at my parents house.”

“Then why not get with me then?” He demanded eyeing you up and down skeptically. “Why hide it?”

You scoffed a humorless smirk on your face in exasperation. “It was the 90's! I was confused how I could crush on you and Billy at the same time and felt like a slut that you both were taken by my friends. I felt awful!...So, of course I just said it was a fleeting thing that would go away. I never wanted to admit it. I don't want to even admit it now.”

“Did it?” He pressed easing closer.

You rolled your eyes, “...I don't know, okay? Your asking questions that don't matter-”

“Oh, but they do.” He urged.

You rolled your eyes feeling sweaty yet chilled as he was up in your breathing space. “No it doesn't…” When he wouldn't stop staring you groaned and begrudgingly just started admitting it like pulling teeth. Feeling awful and lightheaded. “...Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn't. Okay? Sometimes the feelings came back then left just as quickly the second you open your mouth.”

He gave a look that was almost a stubborn pout at that. Like a kid not getting the answer he wanted. “Yeah yeah. Then you dated Randy two years later. Why not just be the friend group's bicycle, huh? Maybe all of Woodsboro could have a ride if you gave James of all guys a chance!” He bitterly insulted you. “The horror movie logic? I grew up and realized it doesn't exist. Even you can live.” He grumbled with a triumphant smirk

…But as he said it with that haughty smirk he glanced at you.

At the expression you had; you saw him frown. A slowly forming frown after the words left his mouth. The smirk and sadistic glee left his eyes a bit. He adjusted in his seat and cleared his throat looking down. Rolling his eyes whether at himself or you was undecided.

“Yeah. I'm not too shocked you think like that of me. Of any woman really.” You numbly replied. You felt your chest ache. “I guess I can admit it now. James was a piss poor distraction from how confused I felt and so I wouldn't be the spare tire in the group. As for Randy? Ray and I dated as a fling out of pure confusion. Make no mistake, I was happy for him and Karla. We were young and almost died and he was in a coma after college. We were confused kids. And truthfully? I guess it worked out because you and Billy would've found an excuse to kill whoever I was with. James or Randy. Derek was a distraction too…The one that got away. Got snuffed out, shockingly not by you two, was that Detective...Mark Kincaid was it if anyone had been it and he's dead. He's been dead over a decade.”

You saw the bitter jealousy in Stu at the truth. He tsked in irritation, “...Yeah he was just to save your ass. You knew him a few days and he wanted to bust me and Billy.” Stu grumbled with narrowed eyes the second you mentioned Mark's name.

"He was the only one that understood me without being crazy." You just coldly told him. “But no, that's what you want to think. That I can't care past using like you and Billy are. You're projecting your own personality onto me. I cared at that party or I would've killed you when you got knocked out or let Sidney. I would've turned you in. Shot you at my house. Shot you at the motel. I cared not to ever turn you in; YES! Out of fear but also out of your well being which is way more than a scumbag like you deserves. Seriously, you have tried to kill me, killed my friends, tried to assault me once, tried to kill me, saved my life, then was good to me for years, then tried to kill me again, then came here to save me, now you're insulting me and making me feel threatened again- It is a fucked up conundrum loving someone like you, Stu! Can't you understand that!?” You almost pleaded with that thick skull of his as it just blurted out.

“You are such a whiny victim wannabe, I don't know how I put up with you all these years. Constantly boo hooing! Poor YN, poor wittle YN so pathe-...” He froze as he realized what you said. “Wait…Wait, wait…”

“ME!?” You yelled, still heated. “You ate my food, crashed at my house, threatened me! Who the fuck?-”

His eyes were wide as he shushed you, “Wait, what did you say?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He looked at you in wonder, “You said you loved me.”

You looked bewildered. Flabbergasted…Mortified even. “I-I did not!”

“You did!” He urged scooting closer. “You said it's a Conundrum loving someone like me? What the fuck does that mean?” He searched your face and huffed. “What? That I'm too messed up to love?”

You stared back with wide eyes, kicking yourself. You usually had more skill than that then to just blurt something like that out. You sighed and looked at him reluctantly. “...Yes, I mean no I-” You softly addressed the elephant in the room. “Maybe if you weren't who you are I would've…I might've…” You trailed off voice shaky and unsure. You closed your eyes with a grunt of embarrassment. “Damn it, why are you like this!? You just have to press; That's you! You have to have your way or you kill or manipulate or insult! I don't owe you anything; this was just me trying to not have you fight Billy or kill me no-”

!!!

You didn't get it out as your eyes snapped open at feeling something bump against your face. Kinda hurt, actually. Your eyes widened as you tried to understand what the hell just happened before realizing you felt his lips…On yours and-

Stu Macher was fucking kissing you. Deeply. Passionately. Stu was kissing you on Billy's bed.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Authors Notes:

Okay, between life just being weird right now. Seriously, I wasn't even excited for Halloween and that is not me...

I had a tiny scene from Scream 4 show up on Tiktok of Jill recording Olivia's death and thought "Wow I didn't see that...Wow, that's stupid of her...Wow, this messes with my plot- OH FUCK!!"

And I redid like 20k words give or take because I had all of Scream 4 done ready to post till I saw that and I just couldn't ignore it PLUS writing my own books (It would be cool if yall bout them once I publish 👉👈... It would be neat of you guys and stuff.) plus life and trying to get a part time job and writing for clients bc a bitch got bills and just...FUCK!

So yeah. That is why this is so late and I've been MIA recently. Ily all for supporting me and your patience I am so sorry but Jill being that stupid in canon is too much to ignore and I lowkey like this plot better even if it's riskier.

while you wait for YUKI to return your call, you mindlessly scroll through social media and it takes you a few minutes to realize that some posts you’ve stumbled upon have a similar caption: national friendship day. you normally find the thing silly but today you’re bored so you think, why not? you quickly search your camera roll for a less flattering picture of your boyfriend before posting it with the caption: “in honor of national friendship day <333” before you can close the app, a notification pops up and seeing it’s from yuki, you tap on it right away. “thank you bestie <3,” he commented to which you immediately reply, “wow.” you’re about to dial his number again when he responds: “lol it’s true tho. ur my best friend :) i love u.” as you start typing the words back to him, hatsuharu chimes in, “i love you too yuki.” you clear your supposed reply to yuki, addressing your friend instead. “@sohmoo um???”