The heart acoustic (Ghostface x reader)

𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜

You had pretty much gotten through the movie by hiding your eyes and covering your ears.  Sure it felt childish, but it helped keep the unwanted memories away.

"What happened to Tatum, Stu," a boy asked loud enough that you were able to hear.

"She probably got pissed at me and bailed," Stu excused.  "If she's not back soon, I'm getting (y/n) a beer myself."

You wanted to write that you really didn't want any alcohol, but your writing supplies were still confiscated, and you were still trapped in Stu's arms.  If Tatum came back and saw this, you'd have a shit ton of explaining to do.

"Hey, when do we get to see Jamie Lee's breasts?  I wanna see Jamie Lee's breasts," Stu whined.

"Breasts?  Not until 'Trading Places' in '83, Jamie was always the virgin in horror movies.  She never showed her tits until she went legits," Randy explained.

You wanted to question how you could be such good friends with someone who was this fucking obsessed with horror movies.  But, for some reason, the two of you just seemed to click.  Hopefully he wouldn't end up with his guts exposed like your dad or Casey.  Maybe it was just a curse to be around you?  It certainly seemed that way.

"That's why she always outsmarted the killer in the big chase scene at the end," Randy continued.  "Only virgins can do that.  Don't you know the rules?"

"What rules," Stu questioned.

"Jesus Christ, you don't know the rules?!"

"Have an aneurysm, why don't ya."

You heard the movie get paused, and hesitantly looked up.  Michael Myers was on screen with a knife, but nothing that really messed you up could be seen.  So, you took a deep breath, and took your chance to breathe without smelling stuffy old couch stuffing.

"There are certain rules you must abide by in order to successfully survive a horror movie," Randy began.  "For instance, number one.  You can never have sex."

People began groaning, clearly upset by what your friend was preaching.  He shouted 'big no-no' as people argued with him.

"I'd be a dead man," Stu muttered triumphantly.

"Number two," Randy continued loudly.  "You can never drink or do drugs!  Note the sin factor!  It's a sin!  It's an extension of number one!"

People began getting upset once more, but no one said anything.  It doesn't take much common sense to realize you're not at your best when you're intoxicated.  And if you're not on your A game, there's no way you'd defeat or get away from a serial murderer.

"Number three," Randy stated.  "Never ever under any circumstances say 'I'll be right back.'  'Cause you won't be back."

"Alright, I'm gonna get (y/n) that beer.  You want one," Stu asked Randy, finally releasing you as he stood up.

"Yeah, sure," Randy shrugged.

"I'll be rIGHT BACK," Stu screeched, holding up his arms and wiggling his fingers.

Randy pointed at him with a disappointed expression as Stu backed into a dark, shadow filled hallway.  You quickly grabbed your writing supplies while you had the chance, and Randy went and flopped down in the now empty seat that was next to you.

"You push the laws, and you end up dead," Randy deadpanned.  "I'll see you in the kitchen with a knife."

Sadly, if Randy sat down next to you because he wanted to hang out, he was in for some disappointment.  Now that you were free, you stood up and made your way back over to the staircase.  You took a seat and cracked open your notebook, and began to doodle.  You liked drawing, and it was entertaining for you right now.  But that didn't mean you were any good at it.

You were also hiding in case Stu decided that you needed to drink that beer, and tried to peer pressure you into it.  You refused to do that to yourself.

All of the sudden, people began rushing for the door, running outside for their cars.  They were all dragging their dates along, and you were pretty sure the entire fucking party just left Stu's property.  Last time you checked, these people didn't care all that much about the curfew.  You stood up and made your way into the living room, and made your way towards Randy.  Luckily, he had paused the movie as people were leaving.

'What's going on,' you asked.

"Principal Himbry got slashed," he told you.  "They're going to see the body."

'His body's on display?'

"Sort of.  It's hanging in the football field."

'Where's Stu and Tatum?  And did you see Sidney leave,' you quickly wrote.

How long ago did Himbry kick the bucket?  If the killer was on the prowl, suddenly those threes' disappearance was unsettling.  What if they had gotten murdered?!  God, you really did just bring death to everyone around you.

"Stu and Tatum are probably banging in the garage, and Sid probably just went home early," Randy told you.  "We've got nothing to be worried about."

'I want to go home now.'

"We should probably wait," Randy said.  "Stu'll probably wonder where everyone went.  We should at least tell him what happened before we go."

You nodded, and made your way back to the staircase so Randal could finish his film.  You began doodling again, trying to distract yourself from your nerves.

You were practically certain that the three of them were dead.  It would be very on brand for people who knew you longer than an hour.  Turns out, it didn't matter if you talked to these people or not.  They were bound to wind up six feet under tragically early either way.

Before you could truly relax your mind, there was a thump from upstairs.  You heard Sidney scream, and you shot to your feet, and bolted upstairs.  You had failed to defend your father and Casey.  Maybe you'd have better luck helping Sidney.

You were fucking sick of waiting around while killers came after the people you cared about.  This time, you were stepping in.  Maybe even fighting back.

You were gonna die one day anyway.  At least this way, you could say you actually did something with your life.

A/n: I'm watching the Scooby-Doo series from the '60s, and holy shit, Velma is on a whole new level.  I did the math after watching a scene, and SHE RAN THROUGH MULTIPLE ROOMS HOLDING 385 POUNDS LIKE IT WAS NOTHING.

I aspire to be like Velma.