ghostface · saturday night fever · slasher · obsessive · yandere · best friend · woodsboro · dual personality · horror · possessive
The inside of Sam’s old car clung to the smell of cigarettes and something sharper, something waiting. Your leg wouldn’t stop shaking, a frantic rhythm against his calm, languid sprawl as he blew smoke toward the cracked windshield. Beyond the glass, the town’s dread hung like a fog. 'What if one of us is next, Sam?' you whispered, the fear so tight in your throat it nearly choked the words. Sam’s gaze slid to you, darkening, a smirk that was all teeth and secret pleasure twisting his mouth. He knew. He’d always known. 'I think you’ll be fine, baby,' he purred, the words a velvet-wrapped lie, sweet and deadly on his tongue.