#johnson ting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovincherries · 1 year

Text

Choose Me

Aaron Taylor-Johnson

IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ THE BACK STORY, THERE WILL BE A NOTE WHERE THE SMUT STARTS!

summary: you want Aaron to choose you, so you show him why you're worth choosing.

a/n: I'M BACKKKKKK this is probs gonna flop because i haven't written anything in so long, but i couldn't resist!!! this feels like a mess, i'm sorry i just had to get this idea out of my mind. Maybe I'll make a part two if this does well?

warnings: smut, cheating, light daddy kink, and very light, almost non-existent breeding kink.

word count:

I did get inspiration from @sgrantsgf, her writings heavily inspired my choice to make his wife a bitch!!!

You met him on the set of Bullet Train, you were his hair and makeup artist (not that he needed any makeup at all). He was so easy to talk to and so handsome. You couldn't resist his charm, not that you tried whatsoever. It was innocent flirting at first, him complimenting you on small things and you receiving it with a smile. Then, you became friends, him confiding in you with the problems in his marriage, his unhappiness in life, and that's when you knew whatever was going to happen with him was going to hurt you in the long run. You would confide in him too, with your dreams to travel, your hopes, and aspirations in life. He asked for your number soon, concealing his need to talk to you with the excuse that if there were ever an emergency, he would personally want to let you know that he wasn't coming. He would text you and call you whenever the nights became too lonely so far away from home, you relished in his late-night raspy voice, wishing it was so desperately next to you.

"It's late Aaron," you managed to whisper out, your own exhaustion peeking through your soft voice. Your bed felt especially lonely tonight as you two talked about whatever crossed your mind, it amazed you that you both always found something to talk about.

"I know love," his voice rasped out, "I just can't get enough of you."

Those were the type of comments that caused your heart to race out of your chest, with both excitement and a tinge of guilt. Guilt for falling for a married man, but when you thought of who he married, all the guilt left your mind.

"Then come to my room," you said before you could think about it, taking the implications of this phone call to be officially inappropriate. You could excuse everything else, pretend that it was just friendly conversation, but what you said was beyond that.

"Okay, I'll be there in five minutes," he said before abruptly hanging up. Any ounce of tiredness left your body at the sound of the phone call ending. You had to pinch yourself to make sure that what just happened was real, that it wasn't some crazy, sleep-induced hallucination.

Your body shot up from your hotel bed, rushing to go to the mirror. You looked at your messy hair and oversized pajamas with horror, you were so unprepared for him to agree to some meaningless flirty remark that you didn't even mean to make.

You did your best to comb your unruly hair, brushing your teeth just in case anything happened, which you secretly hoped that it would.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when you heard the fast pace knock on the door. Every square inch of your skin buzzing with excitement for what might come. You did your best to stop your hands from shaking as you opened the door, but you couldn't stop a small gasp from escaping your lips when you saw him standing there. His brown curls were unruly in the best way, and his blue eyes filled with an emotion you had never seen in them before.

smut starts here

"Hi," you spoke quietly, unable to look away from the masterpiece that he was. You opened the door to invite him to step in, fearing that anyone would see him come into your hotel room at 12:30 am. You knew the cast members spoke about the glances you gave each other, this would give them that much more of a reason to talk, to tell his wife what you two had been up to. You quickly shook the thought of repercussions out of your head, solely focusing your attention on him.

"Hey, love," he said, stepping in, a slight smirk finding itself on his face. He saw the heat rise on your cheeks, noticed how your breath picked up in pace after staring at him for a few moments, but most of all he noticed your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. He closed the door behind him as you looked up at him with your big, innocent, doe eyes. All he could think about were those eyes staring up at him as his cock was shoved in your mouth. He could not stop himself, his hand grazing your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes. His stare was intense, his blue eyes held a hunger in them.

"I'm surprised you came," you spoke, leaning into his electrifying touch. It wasn't till he pulled his hand away that you realized how much you liked it, how much you wanted his hands all over you.

"Don't be, I've been waiting for you to ask me for weeks," he said. Your thoughts raced; he wanted you just as much as you wanted him? It was unbelievable to you that he could want you in the same way. His face was slowly leaning down to yours, his nose nudging your own.

"Really?" You asked, your voice husky with something primal. His lips nudged yours, a soft gasp falling from your mouth as he backed you into the corner. His hands now tracing the curve of your waist, holding you merely inches from his body.

"Mhmm, thought I was about to have to beg for it," he whispered against your lips. You couldn't stand the teasing anymore; you connected your lips finally. All the late-night phone calls, all the innocent brushes, and all the not-so-innocent comments finally came to a head. The feeling of him pressing against you was like euphoria, his lips soft, but his kiss hard and needy. As soon as you pressed your lips into his, he pressed back and hard. Your hands left your side in a frenzy, all thoughts about his wife and kids leaving your head, lust being the only thing that remains. Your hands found his face, the rough stubble a stark contrast to your soft hands. His lips felt like home, warm, and inviting. His hands gripped your shirt tightly, bunching it up in a fist. The warmth of his body radiated against yours.

He pressed you against the wall, freeing his hands from your shirt, he lifted your leg and wrapped it around his hips. The stretch burned the muscle on your inner thighs, but you could not find it in you to care. You wanted him as close to you as possible, needed him to be close to you. You let out a gasp when you felt the outline of his cock against your folds, the size of it evident through his pants. His lips detached from yours, kissing his way down your jaw. The action sent tingles straight down your vagina, which was surely soaking at this point. You wouldn't be surprised if there were a wet spot on his boxers. His other hand grasped one of your breasts, hard, to the point it was almost painful, it should have been painful.

He began to suck on your neck lightly, hard enough to leave a light bruise. He was mumbling incoherently; you could only pick up bits and pieces of what he was saying.

"All mine," he said, lust deepening his voice, "want everyone to know." The words only heightened your excitement, even if they weren't true. Even if everyone couldn't know what you had, you couldn't find it in you to care at this moment. You only cared about him and what he was about to give you.

The sensation of his lips on your neck left you feeling restless, empty, only one thing could ease the burning in the pit of your stomach.

"Bed," you managed to mumble, "to-to the bed." Your voice begged, you sounded pitiful but you didn't care about that.

He lifted you up, carrying you to your bed. He put you down gently, his hips finding their home in between yours. He rutted into you, his cock rubbing against your clit despite the clothes. Your hands found their way to the hem of his shirt, seemingly on their own. You lifted it up, needing to be close to him. He pulled away from you for the first time since the kiss started, pulling his own shirt from his body. The sight of his torso was that of a Greek God, he was gorgeous.

"So pretty," the words fell from your lips before you could think about it. He laughed, which left you feeling embarrassed at what you said.

"I should be telling you that," he said, his fingers grazing your burning cheeks as you looked up to him. He leaned down to you again, his lips grazing your ear.

"I'm so hard for you," he groaned into your ear, "it aches." He grabbed your hand, letting it graze his cock. Your hands found the band of his sweatpants, pulling down the soft material to reveal his cock.

You gasped at the size, not expecting it to be so big. He laughed again at your reaction, but you were too focused on his size to begin to care about being embarrassed. You grasped it, slowly stroking his cock, your thumb grazing his sensitive tip. A gasp left his mouth as you smeared the pre-cum all over his cock. It was now your turn to laugh at his reaction, holding the power in your hands.

His hands found their way to the hem of your shirt now, lifting it over your head as your breasts bounced at freedom. You were now left in your small pajama shorts that left nothing to the imagination. You continued to stroke his cock and enjoyed watching him struggle to hold his composure. The veins in his neck flexed as you gripped his dick harder.

You leaned up closer to him, scattering light kisses all over his neck. You wanted to leave bruises like he did on you, but you knew you couldn't which only left a sour taste in your mouth.

"N-no more," he moaned out. Tearing your hands away from him, you feared that he didn't want to do this with you anymore. He stood up from the bed, his cock bouncing against his stomach as he did. He grasped your thin shorts and panties in his hands, tearing them away from your body quickly.

He stood there, staring at your completely naked body as you looked up at him. You crossed your legs and lightly held your breasts to try and hold onto some sort of modesty that was long gone. The burning of your cheeks only came back 5 times more intense now. His hungry stare seemed to crawl under your skin, leaving you clueless as to how you should feel.

He began to stroke his cock at the sight of you, a deep hunger on his face as he looked down at you.

"You think you could take me right now, y/n?" He asked, a sadistic hint behind the tone of his voice. You could feel the slickness between your folds, the agonizing lust that settled in the pit of your stomach. Without saying a word, you opened your legs to him, proving that you could. You brought your own hand down to your folds, beginning to circle your sensitive clit.

"Y-yes, Aaron," you moaned seductively. Your eyes shut tight at the intense feeling of your clit, your mind going blank from pleasure. It wasn't till you felt his presence above you, till he ripped his hands away from your clit, till he brought his lips to your fingers, licking the slick that was stuck to your fingers.

"So good," he moaned at the taste of you. His own hand now replacing where yours once was, circling your clit harshly.

"I think you could take me too," he said roughly grabbing his dick to slide in between your folds. The feeling of his hot cock against your smooth folds had you feeling insane. You jutted your hips against his in hopes that he would go where you wanted him to be.

"I want to take my time," he said softly, his hands grazing your body. It left you feeling mad at him for being so close, yet so far at the same time. You tried to move your hips once more, but he held them down. His cock sat in between your folds, not moving an inch as he admired you. He brought his lips down to your breast, sucking on your nipple. The sensation caused your hips to jut up, hips tip grazing your entrance. You whined out in need, need for him to be inside of you.

His lips on your breasts only caused you to need him more, need him inside of you.

"Please, please, please," you begged, not recognizing your own voice. You brought his head up to yours, attaching your lips to his, in hopes that he would listen to your plead. His tip was right at your entrance, and in his moment of weakness, you lifted your hips enough to where he sunk into you. You moaned at the feeling of him inside of you, ready for more. He pulled away from your lips, his forehead now resting against yours. He was trying so hard to control himself, to not hurt you.

You moaned in his ear; he couldn't hold himself back anymore. He plunged further inside of you with a determination you had never felt before. You had never been this full before. You gasped at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"S-so tight," he stuttered out as his hips moved, plunging in and out of you. All semblance of control long forgotten the only thing he could think of was the home that he found in between your legs. "Squeezing me so good," he moaned out.

The feeling of him inside of you was something you had never felt, it was perfect like you were made to have him inside of you. His pace quickened, like something you had never felt before. Your hands scratched his back, not knowing what to do with the pressure that was building in the pit of your stomach.

"Aaron," you moaned loudly, going insane for the pleasure he was giving you. He was now kissing your neck and grasping at your breasts, the pleasure was intense and over-stimulating. You had never, ever felt anything like it before,

Your hands found their way in his hair, a need to grab and hold onto something.

"y/n," he rasped out, "God y/n. Should've done this sooner, never felt like this in my life." He was so obviously pussy drunk on you, and you couldn't help but be proud of the way you made him feel.

"'M gonna cum in you, fill ya up," he moaned out, his words being cut short. The intensity of his thrusts only building the bubble in the bottom of your stomach, his praise only sending you further into oblivion.

"Please," you begged, for what? You didn't know. You wrapped your legs around him, wanting him closer, needing him closer to you. His hand reached down in between where you two met, he began playing with your clit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the pleasure he was giving you.

"Aaron, Aaron, Aaron," you chanted his name in praise of him. No one had ever made you feel this good, ever.

"Cum for me darling, squeeze me," he demanded, his quick pace matching his fingers. Your arousal was seeping onto the covers, a squelching noise coming from where you two were colliding.

You finished with spasms, the bubble in the bottom of your abdomen popping finally. You milked him, wanting him to find his own release too. Your body was limp in a daze as he held your hips up, still fucking into you. Your body was weak and sore from the power of his thrusts, your mind hazy with a finish like you had never had before.

"Finish in me," you moaned out at the sensitivity you were feeling, "please daddy," you begged without thinking of what you were saying, if he would even like it.

His pace picked up even more, if it was possible, letting out grunts and groans of effort as he used your body in the best possible way. You could beg for this feeling every day for the rest of your life,

He finished, thrusting into you, hard. You could've sworn he hit your cervix, pressing right up against it as he finished, both of you worn out by your orgasms.

"Did so good for me darling," he said, waking you up from your light sleep. "Gotta clean you up now."

He slowly withdrew from you, a whine and groan leaving your mouth from the soreness that was already forming. It was only now, with your head clear that you realized what you had done. You slept with a married man, albeit an unhappy one, but he was married nonetheless.

Your whole demeanor had changed, but you didn't want Aaron to see the regret on your face. There was no regret in doing what you had done, but rather, you had fallen in love with him and there was nothing you could do about it now.

taglist:

@kittenlittle24 @dellahalewrites @nananananannerman @psychedelic-70s @vampiregirl444 @chaoticdefendortree @butlersbabe @domaniquessidehoe @pumpkin3-1415 @softmullett @justjacesstuff @defintelynotbreathing @whatstruthgottodowithit @jetva @lunarlovingdreamer @bobbykennedyfan @datsavageavenger @anbanananna @in-love-with-will-byers @bamitzzsam @butlersluvbot @cb97slut @lizzylynch1 @yuxixuu @unmaskthewriter @madsb2300 @yenbennie @stitched-mouth @creativewriter2002 @paigemillz @noparcha @ilovesteveharrington @allierw @girlwholikesghosts @alligator-person @re3kin @fifty.shades.of.H @ur.angle000 @theliterarybeldam @blondemoments4l @babywhoresnop @kairoclerosis @peachyjaeminn @sparklehanii @bubblessugar28 @nini-2009 @worldmadeofmemories @seaweed-orchid @austinbutler17 @everythingisspokenfor @girlblogger2002 @lukanasky @prettyboyswow @gemstone9 @eddiemunsonsgffff @sunsetfreedom05 @cchl @butlerfilmz @yogotti11 @emersxn99 @hot-and-confused @thedepressedhippie @mr-aurum @slutforblueeyes @adoreyouusugar r @styles-canvas @hails-schae @claudia-aa @tubble-wubble @butlerfilmz @lilycherries123

#aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson smut #Aaron taylor-johnson blurb #smut #imagine #dirty imagine #fluff #imagine smut fluff #tangerine #lemon and tangerine #bullet train movie #lemon bullet train #bullet train tangerine #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #bullet train lemon #tangerine smut

1K notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 10 months

Note

Hi! You asked us if you should keep the tension or let the bubble pop and all I have to say is KEEP YHR TENSION. 1. It does seem more realistic bc it doesn’t seem like the reader is the kind of person who would do that to her friends, and 2. The casually intimacy they all display with the bubbling tension of something more constantly keeps me going on the hard days, I NEED IT‼️ Like desperately (im so normal about this fic and is in no way unhealthy attached to it, why’d you ask?🙂*eye twitch*/j kinda) this actually got me thinking I wonder if other people ever notice how casually intimate they are? Like Stu’s naturally touchy but the way he dotes on her and the way Billy is just different from normal Billy when he’s with her,like not even just Randy, tate, and sid like other people who have known them for a while but they aren’t friends, like aquatints I’d love to see that

I’m sorry this spiraled, anyways all im saying is i personally love the tension, I love this story and I love you and you’re brilliance *MWAH <3* sorry for any spelling mistakes I was kinda rushing

a/n this ask is so sweet!! <3 also love the chance to expand on the final girl universe!!

i love this ask especially bc i feel like billy and stu have gotten so relaxed around final girl fic y/n that she probably just thinks they're like that and doesn't pick up on anyone finding it different 😭

the fic under the cut is in the final girl fic universe but it isn't a part of the main fic so it can be read as a stand alone

i think all the context needed is in the ask :) anyway here are some moments that made the people around billy, stu, and y/n raise their eyebrows a little 😭

----

"Billy." That's all it takes to snap him out of sludgy version of auto pilot he lets take over on days like this. Days that drag on in their mundaneness in a way that makes it hard for him to keep up the version of himself he's crafted for public display.

He turns his head, a strange type of fondness pinching his chest a little harder than usual thanks to the fact that you've saved him from whatever the peaked-in-high-school-quarterback-in-the-making was droning on about. Some party Billy would dip out of at the last minute or a recap of his last game.

You're smiling at him, casual but warm. He can take your appearance in more openly now than he did this morning when you were rushing to class. You're in a tank top that's a little low cut, paired with a cardigan that seems thin for today's weather. You're also wearing a skirt that's short enough to make him wish he had insisted on picking you up this morning instead of letting you walk.

Maybe he could get you to agree to a ride home. He could suggest it casually, bring up the idea of getting something to eat after school. Today's your least favorite lunch day, so it'd be an even easier sell than usual.

"Hey," he finally says when you're close enough, keeping his tone indifferent.

You stop farther than usual, eyes darting towards the walking varsity letter. It's a shift in attention that has the potential to jab at him, but the stiffness in your demeanor keeps Billy from spiraling in that direction.

"Uh...guess what?" A rhetorical question, probably an attempt to keep yourself from seeming too excited in front of the intruder. "Ms. Johnson paired us up for group projects today and this time she was a lot less mean to me...so that's cool."

Billy can almost feel the details that he's not getting because you're not alone. It's enough to make his apathetic feelings about the unwanted third party take on a violent tinge.

He wants to hear you talk more than usual today because it forces him to be present. It makes the aggravating need for patience go down easier. "So no more cheeto fingers?"

For a brief second, Billy's feels the comment in his chest. A call back to a joke you had only made a few times awhile ago. There's a chance you won't remember. A chance he remembers more than--you laugh, it comes out quick and clearly takes you by surprise.

You clamp your mouth shut, eyes glancing to the left again. "No more cheeto fingers on my notes or on my final project. I got paired with Stephanie McDonald, who I don't know for sure won't do the same thing, but she gave me a hair tie during PE one time so she doesn't seem the type."

Billy makes a mental note of the name, not being able to recall anything specific about anyone named Stephanie, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know her. It's Woodsboro, even if he's never met her he'll be able to find out something if he needs to. "Classy."

You tilt your head, eyes briefly squinting in that way that means you're trying to decide if he's teasing you or not. "You might be making fun of me, but she didn't even let me give it back."

"Not making fun of you." He shakes his head once, keeping his expression innocent, silently promising that he could never.

"Nah, that seems nice." A new voice that has you angling your body closer to the lockers. Billy fights the instinct to glare, wondering why he didn't give the guy a reason to leave as soon as he saw you. "Johnson's AP history, right?"

You nod instinctually, a small dip of your chin Billy can't fully read. "Yeah."

Billy knows the guy well enough, but they're not exactly friends. The guy's name is somewhere in Billy's head. After a second of thinking, all he can come up with is that it probably starts with a D. Damian? Or is Damian the other football player that's in his math class and always nods at Billy in the hallway?

"Cool," varsity jacket says it in a way that makes the word feel void of its typical meaning. Billy isn't sure where he's going with it, can't remember if he's one of those self proclaimed jocks that use high school as a four year power trip or just a guy that likes football. "You tutor?" The guy tilts his head, Billy presses his nails into the skin of his palm to resist the urge to step closer to you. "'Cause I wouldn't mind learning a thing or two from you."

The blatant line is finished with a bit of a laugh. Billy wants to role his eyes--a cop out in case you reject him. A built in safety net that makes it seem like he's almost making fun of you so he can laugh off your reaction if you don't instantly drop to his feet.

Your eyebrows draw together and even though your lips are neutrally set, something about your eyes makes it feel like you're frowning. Anger or annoyance for the sake of someone else is rare, Billy doesn't know how to handle the spike of defensiveness he feels. He's used to passiveness, never caring about who's messed with.

"Ignore him," the words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, "He has a hard enough time keeping his GPA high enough to not get benched."

Billy doesn't know how factual that dig was, but the guy's face falls enough for Billy to assume his guess was accurate enough. The satisfaction of being right is nothing compared to what he feels when he looks at you.

Your lips are still pressed together, now in a way that's more amused than sad and your eyes are wide. The comment wasn't the kind of insult that Billy finds particularly cruel or hurtful but he knew you'd find it biting. Your reaction's enough to ease the tightening feeling in his chest without fully alleviating it. He needs to get you away before the guy says something else and more of Billy's control slips.

"You seen Stu?"

Billy knows the answer. "Yeah, this morning before homeroom." You stand a little straighter, one hand gripping the strap of your backpack. "His next class is next to mine, so I'll probably see him again in a second, why?"

"Good," he mumbles, reaching into his locker and grabbing a random notebook, "Can you give his notes back to him? He needs them back before fifth period and I missed him this morning."

Not true in the slightest, Billy knows Stu will go with it anyway. "Sure." You take the notebook, fingers brushing against his. "I'll go find him. See you later."

Billy nods as you turn away, "See you."

You're now gone. The guy who can't take a hint is still there. Maybe he's waiting for some kind of apology or explanation. Billy's turning on him does seem random considering that most of their conversation has revolved around Billy placidly agreeing to whatever. Instead of bringing anything up, varsity letter laughs. Billy raises his eyebrows, silently asking what that's about.

"Look, man, I get it, she's cute." That heavy feeling that Billy's always struggling to work with rises. The dark feeling twists its way around his lungs, making it hard to breathe without giving into impulse. "But she's so...nice and school...y." Cute, nice, and school-y. Those are the adjectives he's using to describe you. Billy was right to assume his grades are suffering. "It'd be like hooking up with a middle school try hard. Not worth whatever you're putting on."

The anger grows in density, a physical force expanding in his chest in a way that borders on painful. Rationality attempts to lighten the pressure, reminding him that it's a good thing this guy doesn't want anything to do with you. Logic tries to convince him that his focus should be on hardening himself, on making this guy and everyone else think that you're just another friend to him and that he's fully committed to Sidney.

Billy shuts his locker, harder than he meant to. "Good thing she'd never fuck you then."

The last of his patience and civility has been scorched, leaving nothing but bitter ash in its place. Billy walks away, already trying to think of an excuse to find you and Stu.

----

Stu turns angles his head to the side, just enough to look at you without really looking. You're content, watching some trailer with a measured level of investment. He focuses on that as you absentmindedly extend a hand to grab a few pieces of popcorn from the bag that he's still holding.

You're happy, he's here with you, that should be enough. It's no one's fault that more people that both of you know are here than he expected. That's the hard part of Woodsboro, one slip in front of the wrong person and the rumor mill will have an exaggerated version of events spread to over half the school by the next day. The guy that glommed onto Stu the second he noticed him in the theatre definitely falls into the category of wrong person.

Jacob whatever-his-last-name-is is a try hard. He's been searching for some kind of in, some kind of leverage on anyone that seems even slightly cooler than him since middle school. This need to be bigger and better has forced him into a permanent act that even good old, 'high school stereotypes are bullshit' Randy finds off putting.

You hadn't looked particularly bothered when Jacob stood up and waved Stu over, forcing the two of you to sit closer to the center of the theatre than Stu wanted. After realizing that the screening he had expected to be empty on a Saturday afternoon was crowded, Stu wanted to sit towards the back. It was a strategic goal, it would have given him the permission to be a little more openly touchy.

Stu had to actively focus on not holding it against you. You didn't complain or give any indication of feeling ambushed because you're nice to a point of fault.

"What'd you think of that one?" Stu shrinks down in an attempt to make whispering to you easier.

Your eyes shift away from the screen and towards him. "Hm..." You're debating, analyzing, "Not as good as the one before, but it doesn't look bad." You reach forward, taking another piece of popcorn and popping it into your mouth. "You?"

Honestly, Stu had been more focused on you than the trailers, but this last one had felt like a flat attempt to balance out horror with something artsy. But the chance to get to you is more appealing than just bashing a movie with a title he can't remember. "This one is so much better than the last one."

You snap your head away from the screen. "No." He presses his lips together to keep from grinning. What do you mean 'no'? You asked for an opinion. "You just want to start an argument."

He lets out a breath that's meant to take the place of a laugh. Is he getting that predictable? That transparent? "I never want to fight with you." You narrow your eyes, skeptical. "If Billy was here, he'd agree with me."

Your lips pull together in what's almost a pout. For a second, you're quiet, one hand coming to your opposite arm, smoothing the exposed skin quickly, like you're trying to keep warm. "He wouldn't and you know it."

"Okay," Stu's voice is suspiciously innocent, "We'll call him when he gets back from that thing with his dad."

Stu knows that Billy's dad tends to keep him out until late on weekend trips to the boat. When it gets too late to fish, he likes to keep them out on the water, spewing bullshit about Billy's mom because Billy can't escape.

"What are we going to do? Describe the movies over the phone or...?"

He raises an eyebrow, shrugging and letting his shoulder bump into yours, "Sounds like you're scared."

You grin, adjusting in your seat to make it easier to cross your arms. "Fine. If it's gonna be like that, we'll call him."

You're cold. You have to be. "Told you to bring a jacket," he sighs, already unzipping his hoodie.

"I'm fine, it's--" Too late. The jacket's already off and only somewhat awkwardly being pushed onto your lap. You touch one of the sleeves, oblivious to the way Stu struggles to look at you. "C'mon, Stu, now you'll be cold."

It's said so softly, so earnestly, Stu has to fight the urge to squirm. He can never tell if the nervous energy he feels makes him want to draw you in closer or force you away.

He ignores the touch of warmth rushing to his face. "I'm good." Stu shakes his head once, almost dismissively. "Run hot," he mumbles, finally glancing at you before nudging you with his elbow, "You know that."

You roll your eyes, smiling more than you mean to as you shrug on the jacket. The fabric is warm and criminally soft. "Totally." He'd call you out on your sarcasm, but you're already pulling on the jacket. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

"Sure you don't want to pick up some twizzlers before the movie starts?" You pause for a second too long and Stu knows that the suggestion has hit. Your eyes had lingered on the red plastic while buying tickets even though you insisted you didn't want them after accepting the fact that Stu wasn't going to let you pay for anything.

Scratching the back of your wrist, you give in with a sigh. "Okay." You start reaching for your purse. "I'll grab some." Stu reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out some cash. "Stu."

"What?" He already knows where this is going. You're always trying to pay your own way. Every once in awhile, he lets you win just so that he can justify buying you something else. This is one of those things he probably should let go, but the additional shadow has already downed his mood. "I want them more than you do."

You sigh, pulling your purse onto your lap. "I have twizzler money."

"Oh, I'm sure, but my dad left me a bunch of cash before his latest trip and you're too pretty to buy your own twizzlers." Your resolve is cracking, like you often do whenever Stu mentions his parents. "C'mon, get me some milk duds, too."

Another sigh, the sound sharper as you let go of your purse. "You are so annoying." Stu smiles at the lack of bite in your tone as you stand, finally accepting the cash and putting it into the jacket's pocket.

"You love me, I keep you supplied in twizzlers."

You gasp, jaw dropping in offense. "Asshole."

He laugh as you turn away, "Remember the milk duds."

You glare, passive aggressively setting your bag on his lap. Stu takes it, adjusting his hold on it comfortably as you walk down the aisle.

"That's a fun thing you've got going there."

Stu can feel himself immediately tense even though Jacob's comment should feel innocent enough. There's just something about the way he says it, the hint of an edge implying more. Stu should be bothered because Jacob's the kind of guy who could turn this into a story for Tatum because he wants to have something over Stu. Instead, Stu's feeling defensive over Jacob looking at you like that.

Stu shrugs, "It's just Y/n."

Jacob's eyes briefly leave the screen before refocusing. "That was friendly even by your standards."

Feeling even more defensive over you and the way he acts around you, Stu sits up straighter. "We're friends."

"Yeah," Jacob concedes, amusement in his voice that Stu doesn't quite get, "And she's turning you into a softie."

That hits him in a different way. Sure, Stu's nice to you, nicer than he is to some guy that doesn't get that no one likes him. Stu can also admit that he's touchy with you and likes taking any excuse to be close to you. But he's not soft about it.

"What?"

Jacob laughs, the sound restrained, like he's scared he'll forget where he is and give in fully. "You're cold, here's my jacket."

Stu scoffs. That wasn't--you're--whatever, it's not like Stu cares about what Jacob thinks. He'll do what he wants, treat you however he feels like. You're the only one that comes close to getting him outside of Billy, Jacob could never get that.

"Whatever, man." Stu mumbles, hoping that you'll come back before he can get too caught in his own head. The lack of aggression in his own comment surprised him and he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to keep it up.

Another preview begins to play on the screen and for a brief second, it feels like that might be the end of the conversation. "If my friends looked like that, I wouldn't mind acting like that either."

Stu tightens his grip on the arm rest. "Maybe if you didn't make everything a thing, you'd have some."

"You're the one holding her purse," Jacob mumbles, attention turning back to the screen as if that proved something.

Stu's knuckles strain white. There's nothing sensitive about the way he feels about you. It's not Stu's fault he can't pursue right now the way he wants to, and if this asshole knew half the stuff you let him get away with he wouldn't be so smug. "Fuck off."

Maybe the comment could have been played off if Stu's tone had been lighter, more relaxed. But he didn't. It landed with the same intensity a threat would, and Stu's not completely sure he didn't mean it that way.

Soft. Hard to call someone that's pulling out your insides soft. He'd have to wait for Billy to get back, talk the idea up to him and explain why someone they've tolerated on and off since middle school deserves a call. It'd be worth it, though, because should they really leave someone that talks about you like that? Why shouldn't Stu treat you in a way that's totally normal?

"Hey," you whisper, slipping back into your seat, "Guess who got the last box of milk duds." Stu's attention shifts to you, that bloody itch becoming a lot more bearable as you smile a him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he eases, "Commercials are just getting worse."

You stop tearing into the top of the box enough to look at Stu and wrinkle your nose. "I feel you." You shake out a few pieces of chocolate into your cupped palm. Stu expects you to take them, but you don't. You just extend both hands, the box and the candy you had gotten out. When Stu doesn't react, you prompt him, "Here."

Stu moves his hand, letting you spill them into his palm, the edge of your pinky briefly resting against his. The gesture is so gentle he almost feels like he's being suffocated by it. Stu takes his hand back silently. If you notice the change in his demeanor, you don't comment on it. Instead, you just take your bag back and hand him the unopened pack of twizzlers and box.

The latest commercial comes to an end and the screen fades to the start of the opening credits. "Okay," you whisper, "Last chance to predict if this movie's going to be good or not."

"I picked it," Stu says, moving his hand enough to have the milk duds roll into each other, "Why would I think that it's bad?" He's not acting normal enough, he can feel it. "Why would you come if you think it'd be bad?" A weak question, considering that Stu knows sometimes you purposefully watch the worst movies you can find for entertainment.

You don't point out that sometimes trashy movies are worth the suffering, you just shrug. "I don't know, I kinda just wanted to hang out with you."

Something in Stu's chest cracks. His face feels warmer than it did a second ago. He's not one to feel mushy or look into tone the way Billy does from time to time, but you had said it so innocently.

"Aw," he hums, finally coming back to himself, "You like me."

"Shut up," your response is immediate, "Movie's starting."

He leans down, placing a hand over the one you're laying on the arm rest. "You like me."

You roll your eyes, "Give me a twizzler."

----

He knew. Even when Stu was still insisting that they were capable of keeping it together enough to keep the circle of people small, Billy knew that the night would turn into a party.

Billy's annoyed and slowly becoming genuinely irritated thanks to the beer and pot mixing together on an empty stomach and the drowsiness that came for him with no warning. Everything feels louder now, heavier.

He shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose harder than he should. Another 20 minutes, half an hour tops, and he'll get Stu to start shutting it all down.

The only good thing about nights like these is that you crash with them. You always choose to sober up at Stu's even though your mom doesn't seem like a hard ass when it comes to drinking. You still don't want her or your practical step dad seeing you drunk and you can't help that other people are smoking, which is something you've made clear your mom would kill you over.

It'll take some time getting you into bed. Unless you're drunk enough, you'll offer to sleep on the couch, like the three of you haven't justified sleepovers before. Sometimes drunk you has a tendency to get a second wind out of nowhere. If you get all hyper on him then it'll take even longer.

"Billy!" He opens his eyes and you're there.

He smiles easily, watching as you walk towards him. "Hey."

You stretch out an arm slowly, open palm gently pushing his arm. There's something sluggish about the movement and something else in the way you nearly miss him all together. Are you that drunk? Stu said he'd watch your drinks.

"Hay...is for horses," you state blankly, almost like some external force had possessed you to get the thought out coherently. And then you burst into a fit of tired giggles.

Billy presses his lips together. He knows you, knows how you get when you're not handling your alcohol. This isn't exactly that. It's more like you at the beginning of...

Ugh. You didn't--Stu didn't--With a sigh, Billy grabs your arm and glances around the room. Everyone's caught up in their world, and even though Sid's around here somewhere, there's nothing inherently suspicious about Billy checking on you. Especially while you're like this.

Still, better safe than sorry when Billy's not in the mood for self control. He tugs you forward, you follow as he leads you two to a nearby corner. You barely protest when Billy angles you so that your back's against the wall.

Billy squeezes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head so that you have to look him in the eye.

"Hey--" You mumble, protesting a second too late, "Oh, I just," you laugh, "--I said the horse thing."

Great. Your eyes are tinged red and considering the fact that Billy saw you take a few shots earlier...

He told you at the start of the night to pick one, and the easy decision for everyone had been for you to stick with alcohol. Drunk you can handle crowds and the general party atmosphere. High you is clingy and easily startled and usually more complicated to deal with.

Billy watches you intently. It only takes you a second to still in his hold, staring at him in a way that makes it harder to keep his edge. "You're high." It's not an accusation, it's a statement. "And drunk."

Your eyebrows pinch together briefly. It'd be easy to lie for the sake of it. "Not high," you defend weakly, "I smoked a little, but not--it wasn't that--I'm good. Not high."

He sighs, letting go of your face. "I told you to stick to one."

"You and Stu smoke and drink at the same time all the time." Billy just stares blankly. It's not a strong defense, but it's all you have. "'S'not a big deal."

Not a big deal now. Just wait until later when it's hitting you harder and tomorrow morning, when you're hungover. Then it'll be a big deal and it'll be his big deal.

"No?" You tilt your chin down in a barely there nod, trying to solidify your stance. "You do whatever you want now?"

You sigh, lips pulling downwards in a slight pout. "It's not like that."

"Who gave it to you?"

Your eyes won't meet his. "I don't--" You cut yourself off, still aware enough that trying to hide things at this point is the quickest way to make things take a turn for the worst right now. "Stu let me use his--a little--but it wasn't like that. It was only a little."

Yeah, considering how red your eyes are and how much slurring and concentration it took for you to get through that, Billy really doubts it was as little as you're trying to convince him. "You're going to feel sick tomorrow."

To be fully honest, you can see that, a tiny bit of off-ness already starting to pull at the edge of your current buzz. You also don't love the way the usual giddiness of alcohol is blending with the easy uncertainty of your high. But Billy doesn't need to know that right now.

"'M okay." True enough, since you're not actively spiraling, "But I believe you."

He hasn't eased and a part of you is now starting to feel bad. You know you're not the easiest person to deal with when you're like this, but you also don't think you've done anything particularly annoying. His sour mood is starting to make what's wrong about your buzz feel magnified. Yeah, Billy told you to stick to one thing but he didn't make it sound like it was a big deal to him.

You swallow once, ignoring how dry your mouth feels. "C'mon." Billy's still close, within grabbing distance. The second you realize that it'd be easy to touch him, you reach out and place a hand on his arm. "Don't be mad."

He tenses under your touch, but you don't move your hand away. "Thought we didn't listen to each other." You half-sigh-half-groan as you drop your forehead against Billy's chest. He doesn't push you off, which has to be a good sign.

Billy places a palm on your back, rubbing soothing circles against the fabric of your shirt. "Let's get some water."

That feels okay enough, so you straighten, nodding once. "Okay."

He keeps a hand on your back, leading you back towards the main area of the party and into the kitchen. You're quiet as you walk, instinctually following Billy without question.

"Hey, I was looking for you--" Stu cuts himself off as soon as he sees Billy's expression. "You guys good?"

You nod placidly, "'M good, he's--"

"You gave her some?"

Stu holds his hands up in defense, "She was begging for it."

Begging is definitely an exaggeration. You want to explain, to defend the situation and take just enough blame to keep the peace without making yourself look like the bad guy. The words jam themselves in your head, twisting until they're in such a knot that all you can manage to get out is, "Nuh-uh."

Stu turns to glare at you, "So when I'm the bad guy it's all 'please' and 'I thought we were best friends' and 'it'll be our secret' but the second it goes a little bad you run to Bill--"

"Didn't run," you defend, but it doesn't matter, it's like you didn't say anything.

"You told her not to tell me?"

"No." The single syllable is so urging you can almost imagine that the question sobered him up. "I didn't say that."

There's a weird wave of tension between them, so thick and tangible a small part of you can't believe that the rest of the party continued, unaffected. You get why Stu snapped back to normal so quickly. "Guys," you try, even though you have no idea where you're going with this, "I just--I asked--asked like a lot--but I didn't beg. And it's--" You squeeze your eyes shut, really wishing you had been better at hiding your high. "It's not worth fighting over." Squinting your eyes open, you cross your arms across your stomach, hoping it'll make you seem more awake. "I love you guys, 'm good, let's just chill out for a second."

Billy and Stu both blink, exchanging a look that you don't get. You know you wouldn't get it if you were sober, either. It's one of their moments, a silent exchange you can't imagine anyone else ever getting.

Stu breaks the silence with a laugh. "She's way more out of it than I thought." You glare at that, not finding anything funny in what you said. You were nice, you diffused the tension. They're such assholes. And you always hate when they talk about you like you're not right there.

You glare. Maybe ditching them's still an option. They'd eventually accuse you of pouting, but there's a chance it'd be worth the future teasing. You could find Sid and Tate again, hang out until you calmed down.

"Aw," Stu hums, reaching for you, "She's pouting."

You push at the hand on your shoulder, too tired and distracted to be good at getting him off of you. "Am. Not." Stu squeezes harder. Normally, that'd just get you to fight back more openly, but now your stomach feels tight and things are starting to feel too warm. "Stu, knock it off--I'm nauseous."

Billy presses his hand against your back, the pressure comforting. "Give her a minute."

Stu lets go but makes a point of staying close. "You okay, sweetheart?"

Nodding slowly, you focus on feeling the words coming out of your mouth. "Yeah, yeah."

"You need to step out? Get some air?"

You shake your head once. You're okay, stable. "I'm good."

Billy's hand moves up and down your back gently. "You need to drink water."

The fighting risk is gone now. You should be completely happy, but the conflict rubbed you the wrong way and you're starting to feel like you might need space from them. "I kinda want to look for Sidney and Tatum."

"C'mon, cutie." Stu takes your hand gently, squeezing it softly. "Don't be like that." You're torn between arguing that you're not being like anything and telling them that they started it. "Do what you want, but no one's going to want to put up with you like this."

The comment stings more than it should. It's been mentioned before, that you're the the lightweight, the one that can't handle their substances and takes over without meaning to. Never cruelly, but it still hurts. "Mean."

"Not that mean," Stu pulls on your hand, "Because you love us."

You roll your eyes, hating past you for letting that come out. "Not right now."

Stu starts walking forward, you follow without complaining. "Don't say things you don't mean."

Billy's stays close as you walk, one hand on your back as you're guided to the kitchen. There are some people lingering around the fridge and the bar, but it's a lot less crowded than the main living room.

You stop at the island counter, moving to push yourself onto it with no warning. It takes Billy less than a second to pick up on what you want, he keeps a hand on your waist to stabilize you as you sit.

"Here." Stu hands you a glass filled with ice water.

You take a few long sips before setting it down next to you.

"Better?" It worked a little too well, and a part of you hates them for it. You reluctantly nod. "Told you."

More like Billy told you, but you're not opening that up again.

A small half-scoff-half-laugh snaps the three of you out of your bubble. Stu turns his head towards a semi-familiar blonde holding a beer bottle, "What?"

"Nothing." The voice is also familiar. A girl named Marley that used to hang around freshman year. "Just remembering the first time I got high and freaked out, you told me to get it together."

You crane your neck to look at the stranger, unsure if her comment's meant to attack Stu or you. "I'm not freaking out."

"Yeah," Stu defends, placing a comforting hand on your knee, "It's just water, Marley, if that's an issue, go be bitter somewhere else."

The girl scoffs, "Not bitter, just different."

You soften a little at that. Maybe she hadn't meant to come off as that hostile.

Stu shrugs, "I've grown." You watch the exchange curiously, wondering how well they know each other. There's a chance they met in kindergarten or on the first day of middle school or in some random sophomore class. Sometimes living in a small town that you didn't grow up in is the constant fear of becoming a third wheel in a matter of seconds. "In more ways than one."

Marley pretends to scoff, "Yeah, I'm out." She holds her hands up in a display of surrender before walking away.

"You know she used to be obsessed with me."

There's a 50-50 chance he's exaggerating. A more sober, more adjusted you would be able to make an educated guess, but right now you can't and for whatever reason that twists your stomach. You reach for your glass, taking a few sips to stabilize yourself.

"He's delusional," Billy corrects, voice so low you think you might be the only one that hears it. "She used to hang around, mainly for Sidney and Tatum, but never stuck." You nod absentmindedly. "No one else did before you."

The comment is small, muttered like saying it felt like pulling teeth. You smile regardless, way more warmed by it than you should be. Billy finally looks back at you. For a second, you let yourself openly watch him. A wave of casual drowsiness hits you with no warning, so you lean forward, resting your forehead against Billy's shoulder.

"You okay, angel?" Stu places a hand on your back. "Jealousy making you feel a little sick?"

You let out a breath that's almost a laugh as you force yourself to straighten. "You're right," you look at Billy, "He is delusional."

"Hey," Stu makes a point of poking you in the shoulder, "Don't be mean."

"You're right, I'm totally obsessed with you and--" A yawn breaks your sentence into two, "Close to bursting into jealous rage."

Stu's fingertips brush up and down your arm. "You're staying over, right?"

You nod, "Mhm, if that's okay."

He almost rolls his eyes. You're always prone to formality, always wanting to make sure that you're not bothering anyone. "I'd never kick you out of bed, sweetheart." You try to glare at him, but you're too tired to seem bothered. "You should go lay down for a little, I'm going to start kicking people out."

Hm. You are tired, but you never like being the first to go, the first to head upstairs and be left alone. You're about to protest, insist that you're fine when Billy speaks up, "I'll go, too." Billy straightens, holding out a hand to help you hop off the counter. "Over it."

You take his hand, getting off the counter with minimal complications. Billy moves an arm around your shoulder, deciding that that'd be the quickest way to help you get to the stairs.

#final girl fic #scream x reader #scream 1996 #stu macher x reader #stu macher #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #ghostface #poly! ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface x reader

168 notes · View notes