"You Always Were Too Smart..."

"You always were too smart..."

"...for your own good."

Scream 1996

Yandere! Billy Loomis X F!Reader

Synopsis: The Woodsboro massacre was a case that had been announced to be closed as soon as it was opened. The answer was obvious, right? There were two witnesses after all. Mr Prescott snapped, killed a bunch of kids, then shot himself in the head as a result of the nearing anniversary of his wife's death—two of your close friends confirmed it. Why, then, did you feel the need to meddle? Why couldn't you just mind your own goddamn business?!

Warnings: Mentions of death, Gore, Manipulation, Threat/Violence

"It just doesn't make any sense!"

None of it did. The witnesses, the evidence, the murders—it was just too big of a headache to deal with.

You didn't know why you were still doing it; still looking into this case even in the depths of midnight. It was closed, the chief said so himself—your two best friends were there, they saw what happened and recalled the events as such, their stories had even been perfectly aligned...

...almost too perfectly.

It was dumb—and you were probably being paranoid but—nothing felt right. If this was all Sidney's dad's doing then... why kill Casey Becker and Steve Orth? What did they have to do with him? You would've understood if they had attended Stu's party and were just caught in the crossfire but that wasn't the case, they were killed before the massacre—days before, in fact. Why? Why target them?

And—why would a murderer, who made sure all of his victims were dead, stab both Billy and Stu just perfectly so that he missed their vitals and didn't dig deep enough for them to actually be able to die of blood loss?—or, at least, not for a long while. Wouldn't he want to also make sure they were dead before offing himself?

The weapon too—why the hell did you only find a gun at the scene of the crime when there was evidence of a knife being used as well? If he didn't care enough to dispose of the gun he used to kill himself and others, why dispose of the knife?

None of it added up. None of it was making any sense.

"Fuck!"

Frustration coursed through you, crawling through your skin to visibly cause the bulging of your veins and urge your brows down further than ever before. The deep bags under your eyes weren't doing you any wonders either.

You were struggling and it showed.

Papers sat haphazardly strewn across the desk in front of you, each one depicting different inked up versions of the crime scene—from the body of Tatum Riley hanging by the driveway door, to the very gun that brought about the end of the accused 'murderer' himself. To the normal civilian, it would be hard to stomach—to you, it was just another Tuesday.

Except, this Tuesday seemed to really want to bash your head in.

With another aggravated huff through your lips, your hand shot out to the messy pile before sifting through it, trying to find something—anything—that would satisfy this god-awful itch in the back of your mind.

Then—a creak.

Your eyes shot up, muscles tensing as you scanned the shadows leaking through the corners of the room for the cause of the noise. One hand kept hovering above the sheets and the other slowly inched towards the drawer beneath you, fingers steadily winding around the knob before—

"Kid, what are you doing here?"

The flick of a switch came with the familiar voice that asked you that question; a voice that instantly caused your optics to widen and your back to suddenly go from lax to rigid as you clumsily fumbled around in your seat. "Sheriff!"

He grunted, voice gruff as he continued, "It's almost one, you have school tomorrow, why the hell are you still here?"

You parted your lips—ready to respond—when he squinted and scanned the desk, opening his own mouth to speak again before you could.

"Are those all from the casefile of the Woodsboro Massacre? Kid, that case is solved. It's done. The hell are you doing still in the station this late with those files?"

Your lips tugged down as your gaze trailed his own. "It just... it doesn't feel right, chief."

When he didn't respond, you chose to keep going.

"I mean, why would he kill his own daughter? I was close with Sid, I knew her and I knew how much her dad adored her—"

"That's the thing with psychos, Y/N, they—"

"He isn't just a psycho though!" That came out unnecessarily loud, and the chief seemed to think so too with the way his brow rose pointedly as soon as the words fell out, "Sorry, I... this case has been killing me all night. It just... it doesn't line up. If he really did snap, why target Casey Becker and Steve Orth days before the anniversary of his wife's death? Why specifically them? And why leave Billy and Stu with non-lethal wounds before killing himself?

"I know I should be grateful that they're still alive considering they're my best friends and all..." you continued, tone solemn, "and I am! I really am! I just... I can't help but find this all too strange."

And as you hung your head down, your ears soon perked up to the sound of several more creaks slowly growing louder as they made their way over to your seated form. 

Then, a warmth blanketed your shoulder, causing your head to tilt up and your eyes to meet with a pair that seemed to slowly soften the longer you spent looking at them.

"Look, kid, you're a genius. That's why you work at this station. That's what you worked hard to prove to everyone here. Every cop in this town respects you—including me. If you say you think something's up with this case, then I believe you."

Your eyes lit up.

"Just... promise me you won't stay up this late investigating it. You can come down to the station as soon as school is over tomorrow but let me give you a ride home today."

You could do nothing but nod vigorously, too elated to form words as of that current moment. The nodding was enough though, and soon, you found yourself situated in the chief's car, buildings passing by in a flurry of colours as he drove over the bumps of the rocky road beneath you, gaze focused ahead.

With the incessant chatter of the radio echoing in the background, you almost couldn't hear your own thoughts. But, they were there. And they were just as unyielding in their fight for your attention.

Your skin crawled at the thought of Billy's expression if he ever found out about your doubt in his eye-witness account. Stu could brush it off easily but Billy... he was troubled, to say the least. He had a lot going on and you were one of the only people he trusted enough to share it all with; so to hear that you found him suspicious in any way would... well, it would crush him.

But, justice was justice. You pursued being a detective because it needed someone to deliver it with an iron fist. If that meant having to doubt the words of someone close to you then so be it. You worked so hard to get to where you were, you would be sure to honour it wholeheartedly.

"Here we are, kid." You blinked, turning to the officer beside you. "Get some rest, alright? See you tomorrow."

With a nod, you stepped out of the vehicle, and it didn't move an inch until you made it inside the house—staying there for a couple more seconds after the door closed before the wheels turned again as he started off once more.

And you didn't know if it was just because he was gone—his presence always being able to make you feel so much more safe than you did on a daily basis—but... a sudden chill ran down your spine, pricking your skin with a feeling you couldn't quite place your finger on but an unsettling one nonetheless.

You didn't quite get enough sleep that night.

But then again, when did you ever? Perhaps your paranoia was at an all time high because of insomnia—but, you digressed.

Besides, it was a new day and you had just arrived at school. You should focus—

—that was a lot easier said than done, though. Almost mindlessly staring into your open locker, you let your thoughts drift to the nefarious case for the umpteenth time. 

Stop it, Y/N. Save it for the station.

With a sigh, you slammed the door shut and almost jumped when you caught view of what seemed to suddenly appear by your side.

There, stood one of the very boys your mind couldn't seem to hold off on thinking about recently—leaning against the locker with his defined arms crossed over his chest and his parted bangs falling over his face to frame it perfectly, basically forcing you to notice the way his lips were slightly twitched up as he gazed back at you.

"Billy," you whispered.

"Y/N," he responded, lips twitching up just a bit more, "I was wondering if you wanted to come over later? Watch a movie with me? I was gonna watch with Stu but then his family had that last minute trip thing."

Instantly, you were brought back to your conversation with the chief yesterday and your gaze drifted off to the side as you spoke—albeit a bit hesitantly—"I don't know... I should really get down to the station..."

He frowned at that, one arm unfolding to reach for your own, landing on your bicep before his fingertips slowly trailed down, ghosting over the exposed skin to send tingles down your spine as his palm finally found yours, fingers interweaving not too long after.

"C'mon, you spend so much time at the station now—it's like you're more hung up on this case than me. I barely ever get to see you. I miss my favourite girl."

That was true. Not the part about him barely seeing you (well, that was true too but—), the part about you being more hung up on the case than him—and he was actually there in person. It had only been a few days but Billy and Stu had seemed to move on just fine—which was strange considering the fact that, y'know, both of their girlfriends were dead.

Maybe, if you said yes, you'd be able to ask some specific questions to Billy; see if he was hiding any details from you.

"Okay," slowly, you nodded, "Yeah, sure, I'll come over."

At that, his lids fell halfway down his eyes before he purred out—voice borderline seductive—"Perfect."

To any girl who was none the wiser, that would send pleasant shivers down their spine—the shivers running down your spine, though, were anything but pleasant.

The rest of the school day breezed by and all you could find yourself thinking about was the case and Billy—he was practically living rent-free in your head. Even as he showed up at your last class—leaning against the wall in that way that just screamed Billy Loomis—you found yourself too stuck in your thoughts about him to be able to pay attention to the real him.

And he noticed.

"Y/N? You good?"

You blinked, tilting your head to his form as he walked beside you, the light breeze blowing slightly against his beautiful brown locks. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He frowned, reaching the hand that had been brushing against your own this whole time further towards you before asking, "You sure?"

Lightly, and as subtly as you could, you pulled your hand away. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He tilted his head down towards where your hands would've met and you watched as his lips pulled taut, expression almost appearing... blank as he stared at the empty space before his gaze flitted back up and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, muttering out a gruff 'okay' as he did so.

The rest of the walk to his house was silent—the wind and mindless chatter of other teenagers being the only thing your ears could pick up on.

And as you made it to his door, your heart constricted a little—thoughts wandering back to the look on his face after you rejected his seek for touch. Billy wasn't usually a physical person, at least, not with anyone but you and his now-dead girlfriend.

Though, even with Sid, his touch seemed a little more tense and uncertain than with you. You noticed the way he barely hesitated to hold you; the way he almost seemed relieved when he did finally get to feel you—be it against him or just your presence in the room. 

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he had a crush on you. But he had a girlfriend already—one he asked out, no less—so that couldn't be the case. The only explanation was that he really valued you as a friend. And that thought pricked you so much more than it should've.

Perhaps... perhaps you were being too paranoid with your thinking. The case was done. Over. You should just lay it to rest before you ended up really hurting one of your best friends.

Yeah... yeah. You'd do just that. You were going to enjoy this day with Billy. No more getting caught up in cases that were already solved. Nope. It was time to be there for your best friend.

With that thought in mind, you reached out your hand, slowly intertwining your fingers with the tall boy's own as he opened the doors of his home—pausing for a moment to glance back at you with wide eyes before his lips stretched up more than you had ever seen before and he tugged on your arm.

It was the littlest of force but it was sudden enough to send you tumbling into his chest as his arms engulfed you wholy; entirely. You could practically feel that familiar sense of relief radiating off his form and you couldn't help the laugh that echoed off yours.

"God, I missed you," he mumbled into your hair and a small, gentle smile graced your lips.

"I missed you too."

You stood there for a few more moments, basking in each others presence for just a little longer before you decided to pull away—albeit being met with a little resistance from Billy's end but, you were eventually successful.

"Alright, c'mon, you big sap, let's go in and watch your favourite scary movie." 

He grinned at that, instantly moving to grab your hand again as he led you to his room—rushing through the clear, monotone halls before he arrived at his wooden door and opened it with a wide swing of his arm. 

Soon, you found yourself seated on his bed, feat kicking back and forth as you awaited his presence. He had gone to go retrieve the VHS containing his movie from the ground floor so it was just you sat in the confines of the room riddled to the brim with horror posters from all sorts of media.

For a jock, he sure was a nerd.

One particular thing stood out to you, though—a small, rectangular bit of paper clipped to a string. It illustrated a smaller version of both yourself and Billy, stood beside each other with large grins on your faces—carefree and bright in their nature; loving and tender.

He still had that?

Unable to stop yourself, you moved to get a closer look—

—only to almost stumble when your foot caught the edge of something that certainly wasn't the ground.

A box—dull and beaten up. It was made up purely of cardboard which definitely wasn't doing it any wonders when it came to durability, that was for sure. The brown colour was quite unsightly to look at and the way some parts seemed almost... maroon was strange, to say the least.

Ever the investigator, you almost couldn't help the way your fingers naturally curved around the lid, slowly lifting the rough material up before shifting it to the side just in time to catch a familiar mask staring right back at you.

Mouth opened wide in an endless scream as soulless black eyes glared into your form—the sharp silver of a cutting blade coated in crimson laying beside it. It was almost too much to process at once.

And as you picked up the leather notepad sat beneath the dark robe under the mask, the gears slowly started turning in your head.

Flicking through the pages only further solidified your conclusion.

That mask belonged to Ghostface. That knife laying next to it was coated in blood. Unless there was some other murder that happened between now and the massacre, this was definitely the missing evidence from the crime scene. 

And it was all in Billy Loomis' room.

You had an inkling, but this... this was on a whole other level.

The notebook detailed different ways to rid yourself of evidence when committing a murder, each one being linked back to a particular horror movie—even going as far as to have quotes obsessively scribbled near them with timestamps and everything. It was insane.

But, by far, the craziest thing was that Billy—your Billy—committed all of this. And if Billy was in on it, then so was Stu.

They both had murdered your whole friendship group that night.

Your fingers shook as you slowly stood up, legs barely able to hold your weight with how weak that realisation rendered you. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed onto you, drenching you from head to toe with the cruelty of the world.

Then—a click.

Slowly, you turned, book slipping from between your fingers as your eyes landed on the figure at the doorway.

Instantly, your hands shot up.

Billy stood there—expression blank as his eyes seemed almost... lifeless—with one hand raised and fingers wrapped around a black L-shaped object.

Your muscles grew tense. "Billy..."

"Stu's a fucking idiot," scoffed he, "I told him to burn all that stuff but he insisted we keep it as some sort of memento mori—something to remember our success with."

He took a step forward. You took a step back.

"But let's be honest, Y/N, you would've found out eventually, right?" As he spoke, your gaze stayed trained onto the gun, watching as he flailed it around—pupils shaking and hysteria slowly but surely clouding his eyes. "You always were too smart for your own good."

Your heart was beating ten miles a minute, practically playing drums in your ears with how it loud it was as you continued to back away. "Billy, put the gun down."

"Y'know, Stu wanted to kill you... but I said no. Wanna know why?" He was now grinning from ear-to-ear. "'Cause I love you. I always have. Even as I was fucking that stupid whore Sidney that night, all I could think of was you."

You were running out of room to move back to. "Billy..."

"There! I confessed!" He suddenly rose his volume, and you winced a little. "Isn't that what you want?! A confession?! There's your fucking confession, Y/N!"

Getting kind of sick of all the ignoring, you spat back, "You know damn well that isn't the type of confession I want!"

"Well, maybe if your hadn't been such a snooping whore I wouldn't have to give you it!" 

Here. There. Everywhere. He kept pointing that thing around so carelessly while his finger stayed hovering over the trigger, just one jerk away from a misfire; one jerk away from your possible end.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I promise."

"Billy! Be careful with that damn thing!"

A slam.

"You know, Y/N, I wouldn't even have to use this if you minded your own goddamn business!"

Your back hit the wall, and the barrel was now pointing directly. at. you.

"So pretty for me," he whispered, voice having mellowed out so suddenly—so dementedly—you almost couldn't believe your ears as he closed in on you, practically pressing his body right up against yours, "My pretty girl."

The barrel of the gun was directly under your chin now, being used to tilt your head and lock your gaze with his own, crazed one.

"Such a clever girl, aren't you, dollface?" His praises came out steadily, voice low and husky as he continued to coo, "My clever little detective."

And as the world went black around you, you caught one more voice enter the room.

"Took ya long enough."