#slasher!reader

You wondered if he would be able to. You’d been face to face with death so many times that it wouldn’t surprise you if Billy took a stab at you. Nobody had managed it so far, but you had seen the desperation in their eyes, the way that they tended to go absolutely feral in their last moments of life. You had seen more than a couple people who wanted nothing more than to turn the tables and murder you for a change.

Still, despite the possibility that Billy Loomis wanted to gut you like a fish, you weren’t too worried about him. You started up a boring daily routine with the hope that he would learn it and then use it to his advantage. You hoped that he would memorize your movements and then pop out at you one day, or come slithering through your window before you closed it at night. You hoped Billy would try something with you, because as you had watched him and he had watched you, you’d sort of…grown fond of him? Come to like him, almost? You were amused and curious, and you left him plenty of openings to come say hello.

And then the days dragged on and they turned into weeks, and you got sick of waiting. You took it upon yourself to address the elephant in the room, and all your weeks of boredom and domesticity and not murdering people were suddenly worth it just for the shocked look on his face. He really had no idea that you’d been watching him, and it was just as sad as it was adorable.

The next day at school, he was openly staring at you. You watched his head swivel as you walked past him and his friends, and you saw Stu Macher notice and look at you, too. Then, you heard his girlfriend hit his arm and yell at him for ogling you, and you chuckled to yourself.

Boys.

Billy hadn’t expected to find a note in his locker that day, but he knew who it was from the second he saw it.

Swing by tonight.

He knew it was from you, and he was equal parts pissed off and curious, because he still had no idea what your deal is, and he still had no idea if he wanted to kill you for fucking with him or fuck you for fucking with him.

So he did. He blew Stu off, and he climbed the usual tree by the usual window at the usual time. Instead of sitting on your bed or at your desk like usual, though, you were sitting on the window frame, one leg dangling along the side of the house as you leaned your head back and enjoyed the California night.

“You got my note,” you commented, cracking an eye open when you heard him.

“What the fuck is your deal?” He asked haughtily, climbing along the branch like a cautious animal.

“Are you mad at me, Billy?”

“Should I be?” He growled. “I’m not in the mood for any games. Tell me what your fucking problem is, or I’ll…I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” You raised an eyebrow. “Kill me?”

He stared at you in silence, almost shocked that you had said it so openly. “…yeah.”

“I doubt that, Billy Loomis.”

“Quit saying my name.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like it.” He lied.

You decided to change the subject.

“Have you actually killed anybody yet?” You asked, as casually as someone would ask about the weather.

Billy Loomis stared at you. “Excuse me?”

“You can tell me. I’m just curious.” You shrugged. “You seem like the type.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snapped, his hackles rising as he considered throttling you right then and there.

“Do you want to kill me right now?” Your voice was amused, and Billy didn’t know what to think of that. “You could try, if you want. We could see who wins.”

“…you’re insane.” He decided.

“Says the guy who’s been stalking me.”

“Why did you tell me to come over?” He growled. “Give me a real answer, or I’m fucking leaving.”

“Because I wanted to talk.” You hopped down from the window, landing barefoot on the plush carpet in your bedroom. “You can come in.”

He just stared.

“…or not. That’s fine too.” You rolled your eyes. “I just wanted to show you why you can trust me.”

Billy watched you. 

It was a trap. It had to be a trap. This was way too weird not to be. He didn’t know why someone would suspect him of anything, not when Cotton Weary was behind bars and nobody was the wiser about his and Stu’s little rendezvous with Sidney Prescott’s mother the year before, but this was way too suspicious.

“Come on,” you said, tossing your head. “It’s cool. I promise. You can stab me if it isn’t.”

“…you are the weirdest person I have ever fucking met.” He said, crawling along the branch until he could hop in through your window anyways. He had a knife in his pocket.

He figured he would be fine.

The smile you offered him was genuine. “Wow. I honestly thought it would be harder to get you in here.”

“Shut up and show me whatever the fuck you wanna show me,” he snapped.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” you smiled as you turned towards your bedroom door. “You’ve never seen the rest of the house have you?”

“…only the parts I could see you from.” He admitted, following you hesitantly.

You snorted a laugh. “So you’ve only seen the parts of the house that we want you to see.”

“…we?”

You reached back for his hand and he allowed you to grab it, his fingers cautiously intertwining with yours. “Yeah. Me and my family.”

He immediately stiffened, trying to pull away, but you held onto him. 

“Don’t worry. They’re all out having fun.” you said bitterly. “We’re the only ones home right now.”

Billy still didn’t trust you, but he stayed silent. He knew he could take you if it came down to a struggle, and if you started it, he’d even have a real self-defense excuse. 

You led him down the stairs and turned towards what looked like a hall closet. “So...this is pretty special, alright? I’m really not supposed to be showing anybody this, but I trust you. So don’t go telling everybody in town, got it?”

He gave you a skeptical, almost uninterested look. “Whatever. You gonna show me whatever it is or not?”

“So impatient,” you clucked your tongue, letting go of his hand and reaching into your pocket. You pulled out a key, slipping it into the keyhole and opening the door before taking a step to the side so he could get a good look.

What you revealed actually took Billy’s breath away. 

He was staring at a small closet, the walls painted a deep red and covered in...things. Newspaper clippings, weapons, weird, grotesque masks...and an odd assortment of other items, things that looked totally unrelated, things like necklaces and wallets and--was that a fucking finger?

“Yeahhhhh, that’s one of my brother’s trophies,” you said, noticing Billy’s eyes lingering on it. “He’s kinda...gross.”

He stared for another moment before turning to look at you. “What the hell is all this?”

You shrugged. “Mementos. Trophies. They’re from all over. We move around a lot, y’know?”

His eyes were wide as he began putting two and two together. “There’s no fucking way.”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently. 

“No fucking way this is real.”

“Don’t you watch scary movies?” you laughed. “I thought you were into this stuff. It’s kinda...the family business, I guess.”

Billy’s mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile. 

Okay.

He liked you, after all. 

“Can you, uh...” he cleared his throat, trying to keep his cool and not totally geek out. “Tell me about everything?”