1978 -The Time Of Our Lives || Fear Street x Reader

The humid July air clung to me like a second skin, heavy with the scent of pine and something else… something unsettling, a faint metallic tang that always seemed to linger around Shadyside. Another summer at Camp Nightwing, another year of pretending everything was normal. My hand instinctively went to the small, hand-rolled stick tucked into my shirt pocket, a familiar comfort.

“Hey! Y/n, wait up!” Nick Goode’s voice, annoyingly cheerful, cut through the quiet. I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the Mess Hall. Cleaning duty. Just what I needed. As if dealing with Cindy’s perfectionism and Ziggy’s latest escapade wasn’t enough.

I pushed open the heavy Mess Hall door, the dim light inside a welcome respite from the glaring sun. Buckets, sponges, the usual arsenal. I was just about to turn on the faucet when Nick appeared, leaning casually against the doorframe, a picture of Sunnyvale privilege. He was too handsome for his own good, and too observant for mine.

“Do you need any help?” he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips.

I sighed, grabbing a sponge. “Nick, take a hint.” But even as I said it, I knew it was futile. He never took a hint. And honestly, maybe, just maybe, a small part of me didn’t want him to.