A Hockey Billy & Stu Fanfic but I get all the Hockey bits wrong (Stuilly)
Before the events of SCREAM, in an alternative universe where these two somehow tried Hockey.
Summary: Billy and Stu were never cut out for Hockey, but they want to leave the team with a BANG.
Warnings: THIS IS A CRACK FIC, IT'S SO STUPID.
Words: 2.1k
â This is lovingly dedicated to someone who might kill me for writing this, @the-a-archives!
It is always fun to look at a doofus in their natural habitat, but there was a special kind of endearment that Billy Loomis felt when looking at Stu Macher, the chaos ball himself, diving head into a silly plan that would only make himself (and possibly Billy) laugh.
There were no words spoken between them, really. Instead, there was just a nearly maniacal giggle from Stu that showed all his teeth and scrunched his face in an endearingly psychopathic way. Just the way Billy liked it, just that at this moment Billy had no idea what was going through his manâs mind. The heartthrob observed quietly however, attentive to what the hell Stu was doing with super glue and a bunch of hockey pucks.
Just⊠what the hellâŠ
âHang on tight, man. Youâll see. Itâs going to be a scream!â Stu excitedly whispered, unable to stop himself from raising the volume as he began to⊠glue the pucks together?
Now Billy Loomis was interested, squatting down a bit to look at it closer â lowering at the same speed in which his smile stretched on his face. This surely would be a scream. Perhaps not the kind of thrill Billy had been craving for some time, but a thrill to satiate that growing need for mischief until the time for his masterplan was right. This would do, indeed, something to occupy him and Stuâs mind.
How did we even get here?
âTOUCHDOWN, LOSER, HAHAHAHA!â A loud, shrill of a voice echoed across the ice, crawling under Billy Loomisâ skin and grating at his ears. It oozed cockiness, it dripped with obnoxiousness and Billy could feel his grip tightening on the hockey stick. The tool for the sport suddenly shifted to surely become a deadly weapon in his hands, certain to swing at anyoneâs head and not miss.
In his field of vision were the soon-to-be bystanders of todayâs massacre. Lots of hockey players sliding across the ice with the elegance and dexterity of footballers on a bad day, but just off to the sidelines laid Stu on the ice cold floor, absolutely flat like a cartoon and in full Hockey glam. He had been slammed against the fence and now laid almost motionless. Well, it may have been because Billyâs vision slowed the world down to a stand-still, or it could be because Stu really laid there motionless for what seemed to be embarrassingly long minutes. Oh, Billy felt his ear turn red with the need of revenge, having watched the cocky and confident player just slide away from Stu after knocking him down by mere luck. Billy knew Stu was fast enough to never get caught in the way of any player, so for this to happen Billy knew there had to be some luck involved!Â
But he canât get lucky two times, especially after scoring a full strike, three-pointer clean for his team to goad about later in the locker rooms.
Ah, it was like a beast suddenly took over Billyâs motor skills, driving him to run faster than ever across the icy field â becoming just a mere black and white blur dashing past the oblivious players who kept on playing their mundane little game, thinking he was shooting for a strategy. Billy had entirely different intentions at that moment, intentions that only became clear for the star player once he turned around to find Billy gunning it for him. Way too fast, with way too much rage.
Stu, on the other hand, could only recollect himself and stand up after a brief moment to contemplate whether this stupid sport was worth it or not. Sure, it was fun to get to smash a guy against a walk and kick the shit out of them (âaccidentallyâ), but was it really worth the âdisciplineâ and the âpassionâ and the fucking smug looks from guys who will certainly dedicate their entire life to tarping off everytime they score a three-point? Is it worth all the times the coach shouted at him and tried to humiliate him for his ego trip? No fucking way, not when this unfunny part could happen. Not when just hitting a player with the stick to the groin was something worthy of the âpenalty boxâ but this was left unpunished to the star quarterback of the team.
âPuck this,â Stu said, thinking he was really funny for the pun, but the moment his vision cleared and he stood up straight, he observed a chaotic scene unfolding before him.
The players were still, like completely, almost in awe, and â.
âOh fuck,â Stu dropped the pun, hearing the pathetic cries from the star player trying desperately trying to block Billyâs savage punches while everyone just stood there, unsure of what to do until the coach shouted at them to do something.
The point guard, pitchers, midfielders and goalkeepers dashed past Stu and tried to approach the situation with caution while Stu wonderedâŠ
Why is Billy beating the shit out of the star player with his bare fist?
The fucking Zamboni read âPassion Lives Hereâ across its carcass. This once-standard issue Zamboni sparkled uniquely with a fucking sticker written in fancy cursive that was too tacky to be taken seriously, modified like it was meant to go out on the street and show case this metal canvas to the commoners. Billy could not fucking believe it, neither could Stu and he was behind the wheel of said Zamboni.
The purring engine of the machine languidly filled the empty field, the bits of fresh blood and embarrassment cleaned and forgotten (by Billy and Stu, not by the bruised up Quarterback) but the penalty still fresh on their hearts. The duo were in charge of getting the damn field clean and other bullshit that is supposed to instill âdiscipline on them.â And why? Well, just because Billy decided to beat the shit out of their star player. In our eyes, justly! In their eyes, not so.
âReally man, you didnât have to do all of that,â Stu said almost seriously, his face neutral until he read the fucking sticker written in cursive. Passion Lives Here. He could barely drive straight at the look of it.
Billy, however, was hanging on from the side with that serious and cool look of his; he merely observed his boyfriend work this gargantuan machine. His knuckles started to sting but were already wrapped up and clean â and yet, he felt like he was cut short too soon. âI had to, the guy was laughing a little too much for my liking.â
Stu snickered, shrugging his shoulders a bit too exaggeratedly. âItâs whatever man, heâs a fucking loser,â Stu laughed. âFucker canât even use the right term. Itâs not a touchdown, itâs homerun.â
Silence, accompanied only by the low drone of the Zamboni. I can feel a pair of flaming eyes staring down at me. Itâs okay, dear reader. Itâs only wrong if you think itâs wrong. I personally think Iâm pretty right here.
Anyways.
To finally cut the silence short, Stu continued. âWhatever, man. I had an idea to fuck with these losers man and Iâm going through with it, itâs gonna be so fun.â
Billy looked up at Stu, curious and with an eyebrow raised. âWhat do you mean?â
Stu looked around mischievously and leaned in closer to Billy. âIâm thinking of quitting the team, tooâ.â
âI didnât quit, fuckrag. I was kicked outâ.â
Stu waved that away. âTomato potato, dude. Listen, I think before I do, we gotta do something to teach them a lesson.â
Billy looked at him, eyebrows raised. It almost read like Billy was asking a very pointed question that normally we would not understand. Let me translate it for you. He was asking: âA lesson involving knives, stabbing and a lot of blood?â
To this, Stu shook his head with a big, goofy grin. âNot that kind, just harmless good fun,â he paused, whipping the Zamboni around sloppily. âA good olâ prank, ever heard of those?â
âSo, the boring kind of lesson,â Billy said straight after, pretending to be uninterested. âIâll skip this one, thank you.â
But Stu didnât take it personally, knowing his heart would change once he knew what he planned. âOohh, what are you going to do? Pretend to love Sidney for a few hours?â Stu pressed, laughing and sticking his tongue out.
To which Billy promptly jabbed him in his rib, knowing it would only make him laugh more. âBetter than your silly prank.â
In between breathless laughter, Stu replied. âJust give it a chance, will ya?â
And a chance was all Billy needed to be convinced.Â
You see, Billy found something rather beautiful in the mundane pranks. Harmless, yes, which wasnât as fun, but still rather evil. And yet! It was socially accepted to be as mean as you could and not get in too much trouble. All you had to say was: âItâs just a joke.â
There they were, like two rascals seated together on the floor grabbing a bunch of pucks and gluing them together in this amalgamation of nightmares. However, this wasnât the only thing these two did. Standing over their monstrous creation of black miasma, Billy grabbed Stuâs shoulder and said: âI got more ideas.â
And more ideas they did get indeed.
The ice was filled with confused men trying to figure out what ancient demon did they piss off for this to happen. The moment the gates were open and the blades started to roll in, many of them face planted SQUARE on the cold ice, pathetically. The laughter erupted when the first fell in, then it intensified when the second one fell. Then more of them fell as they came in and suddenly there was not a lot of laughing. Those who had left their water bottles unattended by the side made a crucial mistake as they rolled off and laughed at their fallen teammates. Two shadows swiftly performed an evil little trick, replacing the fresh water with something best left to the imagination, ducking back out of anyoneâs sight before they could be seen. At the same time, a group of confused players, undeterred by the chaos of the fallen men who could not get up for some reason, grabbed the mass of pucks and tried to pry them off the best they could. It grabbed the attention of two who tried to brute force, then the others who just slammed it on the ground in hopes it could come apart like glass. Soon enough there was a bunch of doofuses hitting the mass of pucks with their sticks like dumb villagers trying to kill cockroaches, all the while someone unfortunate made the error to get a splash of water to quench the thirst brought on by the laughter, only to instantly spit it out against a teammate who did not take it as kindly. First a shove, then a fist, then absolute chaos.
Just picturing this, Billy and Stu would be satisfied seeing these dumbasses start shouting and fighting with each other, while some poor bastard has to be dragged out of the ice. But there was just something missing, something that would satiate that strange sadistic nature brewing within the dynamic duo.
With pockets full of itchy powder, Billy and Stu connected gazes one more time.
âYou ready, cowboy?â Stu said through his unstoppable laughter, bowing and offering the freshest packet of ultra itchy powder â the only one he could get from the store.Â
With a wicked smirk and a pleased look in his eyes, Billy grabbed it. Without a word uttered, Billy said everything he needed with a chaste, but passionate kiss to Stu. Sealed with a smile and him dashing off to slide into the icy field.
And of course, Stu with his impish grin and reinvigorated resolve, tailed right behind him.Â
The poor players had barely registered both Billy and Stu laughing from afar, only noting too late that they had dashed right past them and thrown itchy powder on the most distracted members. Some brave players tried to grab them, failing miserably and getting itchy powder right on their face, rendering them useless instantly.
âTouchdown, LOSERS!!â Stu laughed as he glided so effortlessly out of peopleâs grip, hearing that sweet sound of angry players calling them all kinds of slurs and insults, yet being unable to see where the hell they were headed.
Ah, sweet, sweet symphony of chaos that filled the rink that only got better as the coach appeared to yell his head off about what the hell was happening, threatening to kick Stu out of the team as if he cared.
They may have not made history as the best players, but they sureâ.
Billy opened his eyesâŠ
It was all a wicked dream.
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promoting my silly scream role swap au again because i finally updated after several months <3
summary:
Billy Loomis was sixteen- going on seventeen years old when his parents divorced and his mother abandoned him, leaving him mostly alone in a world that couldn't understand him, and feeling broken beyond repair.
Sidney Prescott was sixteen years old when she stood before the corpse of her mother's killer. Blood dripping down her front, a red glistening knife clasped firmly in one hand and a plastic mask in the other, with a smile on her lips.
(includes billy/stu, sid/tatum (murder gfs) as well as good ol gale/dewey, my beloveds)
snippet from the newest chapter (7) below
~~~
When noon had passed and the sun was slowly sinking from its peak in the sky, Billy found himself consumed entirely within his thoughts once more. His head felt heavy with the weight of the knowledge that he was currently the target of this masked killer, who could be stalking him right at that very moment, he wasnât so much scared as he was confused, recalling the phone call heâd had with his attempted murderer the evening prior, they had made it sound as if they knew him in a sense. It was that fact that had him more confused than anything.
âItâll be fun Billy, just like old times.â
Just like old times. Heâd been scratching his head all night, wondering what that could possibly mean. Of course he found no answers. He wasnât exactly a detective. Had he not been intimately involved in the case like he happened to be, he wouldnât think much of it, either the police would catch the murderer or they would kill a few more times, get bored and slip away unnoticed and eventually, become just another topic of Woodsboro gossip as the years passed by. But it couldnât be that simple, no, of course not.
The killer, whomever they were, had painted a very obvious target on his back. And not just his own, but Stuâs as well, considering they had attempted to frame him and failed. Billy wondered, still, what their goal had been there. If he was correct in assuming the killer in fact was a student like themselves, then they must have known that they were close. Creepy, really, heâd never thought heâd ever have a stalker in his life yet here he was. He wondered if the killer was watching him right now, lurking through the trees in the park, or perhaps from within a car, their eyes never leaving him, constantly vigilant of his every move.
Jesus, get it together. He couldnât afford to lose himself in total paranoia right now, he needed to be on guard but not so much that he actively lost his mind with the thought of being struck down at any time.
ââagain, buddy.â
Billy blinked, snapping himself out of his stupor. Stu was watching him expectantly, a crooked grin pulling at his lips as if amused. Admittedly, Billy hadnât heard him speak at all.
âWhat?â
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Billy Loomis and Stu Macher Barbenheimer Headcanons:
Stu wants to go see Barbie so badly, but he pretends he doesnât because of Billy.
Billy thinks Barbie is ridiculous, why would he want to go see a movie about a doll? He wants to see Oppenheimer, thatâs real cinema.
Billy books tickets for Oppenheimer opening night so Stu books tickets for the screening of Barbie right after.
âI think Barbieâs stupid too Billy, but itâs this whole thing. You canât see one without the other, everyone is doing it.â
Stu buys them both grey Barbie hoodies for the night, Billy grudgingly wears his under a jacket.
Stu fell asleep halfway through Oppenheimer and all he can remember are boobs.
Billy wonât admit that, while Oppenheimer was a great movie, he got a bit restless in the third act because he had already being sitting in the uncomfortable cinema chairs for 2 hours at that point.
Stu LOVES the fun of Barbie and how everyone is dressing up in pink. He makes sure to tell all the girls he thinks looks good that they do.
Stu is practially bouncing in his chair the whole movie, gripped by it.
He definitely is one of the loudest laughers in the theatre.
Billy laughs quietly to himself at the Kendom jokes.
Wonât admit that he actually thought the movie was okay.
Spends the next week with âI am Kenâ stuck in his head.
Stu orders an âI Am Kenoughâ jumper.
Seeâs the movie 2 more times in cinema
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Movies Make Ticklers More Creative (Billy/Stu)
Summary: A bad horror film leaves Stu seeking entertainment in other forms, at the expense of Billy. (Thank you to the person who suggested I use the film Ghoulies as the movie in this fic!! Here is a YouTube link to the tickle scene in this movie, it isâŠSomething for sure!! I havenât seen the whole movie btw, just that clip as well as reading a few articles about it, so sorry if Iâve gotten any of the lore wrong. Regardless, it has an 8% on Rotten Tomatoes, soâŠ)
As usual, Stuâs parents arenât home, and he is filling the silence with the sounds of beer cans cracking open, hands rustling in the bowl of popcorn, girlish screams from the television speakers, and Billyâs commentary from the couch beside him.
After making their way through all the classic horror films, the boys have resorted to watching whatever they can find, whether they end up being fantastic deep cuts, or they absolutely suck, but joking about it makes it worth the watch.
Tonightâs movie is proving to be the latter. Itâs a film called âGhouliesâ from â85, and itâsâŠWell, itâs keeping them entertained, for sure, but there is nothing disturbing (nor inspiring) about it. The scares are cheap, and the dialogue is atrocious.
Billy comments that the main chick, Donna, is kind of hot. Stu hums in agreement, but his heart isnât quite in it. When the guy takes her out by the lake, though, their interests are piqued. This should be the part where Donna loses her chance of becoming the final girl, where she loses her virginity to the first schmuck who tries, and both the teens die a terrible death for daring to engage in premarital sex.
Keep reading
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