#billy shakes could not have predicted this

[ihni]

Billy Hargrove has been dead for little over two months when Steve opens the door to find him on the doorstep, dirty and pale and shaking. He stares at Steve with wide eyes – bluer than Steve remembers – before he collapses into a heap of dirty limbs halfway across the threshold. Steve pulls him inside, disposes of him in the couch in the living room, and naturally proceeds to freak the fuck out.

After some processing, he decides that he must be experiencing a very vivid dream – and honestly, it’s a welcome change after the usual nightmares – and since it’s merely a dream, he opens a bottle of his dad’s best whiskey, because where’s the harm, right?

An hour later finds Steve sitting on the floor with his back to an armchair, predictably drunk and watching Billy sleep. Or possibly being unconscious. It doesn’t really matter which, since it’s only a dream.

Turns out, though, that it’s not a dream – or if it is, it’s a damn weird one. Because Billy wakes up, and when he looks around the room and spots Steve there, he starts to cry, which. Is not something that Steve’s brain could ever dream up, alcohol-soaked or not. And Billy feels solid enough under Steve’s hand, when he awkwardly pats the other boy’s shaking shoulders.

The events that have taken place are eventually revealed, but make no sense to either of them. Apparently Billy woke up somewhere dark and cramped (the coffin, he doesn’t say, but Steve hears it anyway), promptly panicked, and … broke out, somehow. Dug himself out from the rain-soaked earth, and stumbled along the roads until he saw a house he recognized. Which was Steve’s house.

It’s impossible, Steve knows. Billy has been dead for months. Steve saw him die – had first row seats to the sight of him getting impaled by a monster made out of meat and bones – and coming back from the dead after all that is simply not possible. Yet here Billy is, sitting on the floor of Steve’s living room, not a mark on him.

(Literally. There are no marks, no scars. Just smooth skin where they both know he was speared through.)

They spend the rest of the night slowly making their way through Steve’s dad’s expensive whiskey.

In the morning, Billy says, voice hoarse; “I need you to drive me to California.”

Steve thinks of asking why. Thinks of Max, thinks of Billy’s parents, thinks of telling the Party or the police or at least some adult who would possibly know what to do. What he says, though, is “Okay.” The world swims, and he adds, belatedly, “Tomorrow, though. I’m too drunk to drive now.”

A snort is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep where he’s sitting.

~~~

Half the next day is spent nursing hangovers and realizing that nope, last night wasn’t a dream or an alcohol-induced hallucination. The other half is spent making preparations for the trip.

Now when Steve is sober, he revisits the idea to simply tell someone. Billy being back is a miracle, and there are people mourning him, people who has missed him –

Billy shuts that down hard and fast. “No one is mourning me here,” he says, voice gravel-rough. “If they act like they do, it’s because they’re feeling guilty. There’s nothing left for me here.” He licks his lips, and his next words are a whisper. “I never wanted to come here in the first place.”

And, like. If he really thinks about it, Steve realizes that they wouldn’t be able to keep Billy being back a secret if he stayed in Hawkins. And if they tell Max, or Billy’s family, then word would spread. The government would no doubt hear of it. There would be a high probability of Billy being taken in for tests, experimentation, whatever else.

He doesn’t deserve that, Steve thinks as he watches Billy emerge from the shower wearing borrowed clothes. Because Billy died saving them. Sacrificed himself for them, even when they’d done so little to try to save him. This? Driving Billy to California? It’s the least Steve can do for him.

~~~

They get on the road the next day. Steve has taken time off work blaming the death of an elderly aunt and a rare family gathering, and been as vague as he can get away with concerning how long he’ll be away. Early in the morning, they put their bags – Billy’s is a borrowed one, containing only Steve’s things since he has nothing of his own and understandably didn’t want to keep the clothes he had on when he was buried – in the trunk of the car, and get in.

Steve is driving. When they pass the “Leaving Hawkins” sign, Billy lets out an audible sigh and slumps down in his seat. Steve glances over at him, and Billy explains without being prompted; “I always hated this town. I can’t believe they fucking buried me here.”

His incredulousness over the fact draws a snort out of Steve.

~~~

It’s strange, how easy it is to get used to having Billy Hargrove next to him while in a confined space. Stranger yet, how well they get along considering their history. And even more strange, how different Billy seems now, when they’ve left Hawkins behind them.

Or perhaps it’s not strange at all – at least not in comparison to all the other weird stuff they’ve both seen and somehow lived through. In the great scheme of things, one young man coming back from the dead and wanting to go back home doesn’t even make the top ten list of weird shit.

Billy is surprisingly funny, and witty, and smart – and it is dazzling without the sharp edges. It takes Steve a while to recognize what is missing, and when he does, it makes him watch Billy with new eyes. Because Billy doesn’t seem to exist behind a layer of anger anymore. The tension is gone. The further they get from Hawkins, the easier Billy seems to breathe.

The change is remarkable. Makes Steve think that he probably never knew who Billy really was, before this.

He finds himself thinking that he is looking forward to getting to know the real Billy.

~~~

They take turns driving. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they sit in companionable silence, and sometimes whoever’s in the passenger seat naps while the other drives. They stop at gas stations to stock up on gas and snacks, and at diners for food. That first night, they drive straight through, but the next night they stop at a motel for some proper sleep in a bed.

They share a room, but lie in separate beds. They talk for hours in the dark before falling asleep.

“I never wanted to be buried underground,” Billy says, when they’re both on the edge of sleep. “They knew that.”

“What did you want, then?” Steve asks, never having considered an alternative.

“I wanted to get back to the ocean,” Billy says. “Have my ashes spread over the surface of the water and become one with the waves again.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. That he’s sorry that even Billy’s own family didn’t respect his final wishes? That it sucks that they buried his body in the dirt of a town he hated, leaving him to rot there forever when he never even wanted to come there in the first place?

“’One with the waves’ … That sounds beautiful,” he decides on. And then, as an aside, “I’ve never even seen the ocean.”

Steve can hear the smile in Billy’s voice when he speaks next. “You’re going to love it. It’s … everything.”

~~~

They get closer – to California, and to each other – and the closer they get, the less urgency Steve feels to get to their destination. Because what will happen when they get there? Steve can’t just leave Billy there without a means to support himself. Without a home, without a car, without money – without someone to take care of him. Steve can’t help it – he worries.

And then he looks at Billy’s smiling face next to him, and feels his worries being washed away.

He still finds himself taking the scenic route more often than not. Insisting on taking detours to see the sights. Claiming he’s too tired to drive unless he takes a break.

Billy smiles as if he knows what Steve is doing, but he doesn’t make a comment. Doesn’t complain. Seems to enjoy this little bubble they’re in together, in Steve’s car with the world passing them by outside.

It’s strange. But it’s nice, too. Steve kind of doesn’t want it to end.

~~~

The last night, they stop at a motel an hour or two from their destination. They could have kept on driving, but none of them seemed to want to. So they get a room, as usual. Steve pays, as usual. There are two beds, as usual.

Yet, when it’s time to sleep, Billy forgoes his own bed and goes to stand by Steve’s. There’s a question in the air between them, unasked.

Steve answers by peeling back the comforter in invitation. His mouth is dry and his heart is beating like a drum in his chest as Billy climbs in next to him.

They don’t speak much, that night. But they kiss. And they hold each other.

“I never wanted to come to Hawkins,” Billy whispers between kisses. “And I hated it there. But I met you, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”

The next morning, they wake up in each other’s arms.

~~~

“I’ll show you my home,” Billy says when they get back in the car after breakfast. Steve is back behind the wheel, because he wants a reason to keep his eyes on the road. If he watches Billy too much, he’ll do something stupid – like turn the car around and go back to Hawkins with Billy still in it, or perhaps decide not to go back to Hawkins at all, himself. Just, stay here with Billy, for a while longer.

It’s a fantasy that hurts, so he pushes it down. Concentrates on following Billy’s directions, and drive through a city bigger than one he’s ever been in.

(When he first spots the glittering blue between buildings, he gasps. So does Billy.)

They drive through the city, then out of it. Along a winding road with fewer and fewer buildings around, the ocean vast and terrifyingly endless to their right. Eventually Billy directs them down a gravel road that doesn’t have a sign and looks like it might lead onto private property. Steve would worry, would perhaps protest, if it wasn’t for the longing on Billy’s face.

They have to walk the last bit, Billy says. They get out of the car. It’s hours before noon, but it’s already warm. Steve’s in just a T-shirt, and for a second he his face to the sun to feel the warmth of it on his skin – before turning to Billy only to see him turned to the sun, too. Like a flower in bloom.

He looks golden, in this light.

After a short walk down a steep incline, they end up on a little beach. A tiny one, empty, with rocky outcrops on either side which makes it seem like they’re the only people on earth. The sand is fine and pale under their feet, the water lapping at the edges of it and then stretching out in front of them until it meets the horizon, far far away.

It’s beautiful. But it’s not exactly a house. And didn’t Billy say he’d show Steve his home?

“Mom used to take me here when I was a kid,” Billy says, kicking off his shoes. Steve does the same, and pulls off his socks as well. “We used to come here all the time.” Billy holds out his hand with a smile, and Steve takes it. They make their way to the water. “She’d watch me play in the water for hours, sitting on a towel, just listening to the waves and the seagulls.” The first step into the water is a shock – it’s cold, but not freezing. It almost feels alive. Steve takes a tentative step after Billy, bolstered by Billy’s widening smile. “I think taking me here was the most peaceful she ever got to be. It was for me, at least. The best times of my childhood.”

They stand there in the surf, feet in the water and holding hands, when Billy turns to Steve. His eyes are shining with unshed tears and his smile is wobbly as he places his hands on either sides of Steve’s face and leans in for the softest of kisses; their lips just barely brushing against each other.

“Thank you,” he says, and Steve’s heart skips a beat because it sounds like goodbye, “for not letting me stay buried in Indiana.”

He backs up a step. Brushes a tear from Steve’s cheek – that he hadn’t realized had fallen – and turns towards the endless sea. Takes a deep breath and starts walking.

Steve wants to reach out to stop him, wills himself to to say something, but he can’t. Somehow, he knows that this is where they were heading from the start. This is why they had to go here.

As Steve watches, Billy … dissolves. Like in a movie. One moment he is solid, and the next he’s … not. He turns to dust in front of Steve’s eyes, fine dust that glitters like gold in a sudden ray of sunlight. It – he – is spread out over the water, is carried over the clear surface by the gentle breeze.

Instead of being trapped in the ground inland, he becomes one with the waves again.

[sillygoosealert]

★Future predictions☆

Death, Marriage, idk angst?? Just Daisy being a silly billy Sukuna stuff

The King of Curses has you pinned underneath him, forcing you to take both of his cocks, one in each of your overly warm holes.

Making sure to keep your mouth occupied, he shoves his tongue into your mouth, filling it to the brim. Every inch of you is and will continue to be filled by him- that he would promise.

Not that he liked making promises. There isn't too much of a point to them. They provide a sense of security, but why would he give that to anyone who wasn't worthy of it- which is everyone.

Everyone but you, Sukuna thinks. For you, he would promise the world- if you would like that. That's something he wanted to promise, but he won't. Ever.

The Disgraced One could never promise to let you sleep in his bed, but Ryomen Sukuna could guarantee he won't let you leave afterward.

Right now, you're being crushed under his weight, gasping for air, as he doesn't do breaks after he's finished.

You begged him to be gentle for your first time doing- both of your holes, and he said he couldn't promise anything. This is one of the times he's glad he doesn't make promises, so when the inevitable happens, and Lord Sukuna does whatever he wants, no verbal agreement can be held against him.

It's foolish how much something as flexible as words can hold so much value for you.

It is also foolish how he gives in to your desires. Something he does in the moment and regrets soon after.

While your foreheads are touching and his breath is on your mouth, he rambles about how he truly feels about you. The words 'I love you' are said in his way.

"You will be my wife. I will give you the biggest ring and the nicest clothes.."

He likes to tell you these things to see your eyes widen and your heartbeat pick up.

Telling you, not asking, and not exactly promising. But saying what will happen.

When he puts you on top of him to curl up, he finds himself also falling asleep.

Waking up in the garden, he finds himself hand in hand with you. Eyes meet with his, filled with tears and shock.

A ring in his hand limp by his side.

"Will you marry me?"

Something he would never say if he had complete control of his body.

"Will you marry me?"

Is marriage something he could ever be content with?

"Will you marry me?"

The king of curses does not settle.

"Will you marry me?"

Ryomen Sukuna is staring at you while the words leave his lips.

"Will you marry me?"

Could Lord Sukuna truly love a mortal?

"Will you marry me?"

Would Sukuna be enough for you?

It doesn't matter what he thinks, because you're nodding your head vigorously as salty drops of water go down your cheeks.

"Promise me something, please." Promise? He's shaking his head yes without processing your words fully.

"Let me have the privilege of being your only wife. I am devoting my life to you, please, give me this, Sukuna."

Oh.

That might be something he could agree to.

You might be the only person, let alone a woman, that he would look into the eyes and make a genuine promise.

Very pretty, kind, soft eyes, on that note.

"You are the only woman I will call my own, I will promise you that."

"Are we ready for that?"

He's sliding the ring on your finger, cupping your face with another hand.

"We are. I will always be ready for you."

That might now be the full truth. The reality is he's so, so scared. This might not be the time. But now it's too late. It doesn't matter when he would prefer to do it. You're married now. Forever. Permanently.

"Does this mean we can have a cute little white fence and a pretty garden filled with daisies?"

He could do that.

"And a family?"

Hm..

"You aren't scared to have a child with me?"

"Why would I be?"

A good question with too many answers.

"Look at me, and tell me you aren't scared."

You look him in the eyes and open your mouth.

"I'm not scared of you."

Things blur and nothing makes sense.

And he wakes up.

There is no longer a ring on your finger.

You're sleeping beside him.

He did not overcome his fear of commitment.

You are not married.

There were no promises.

Nothing can be held against him.

But would it be so bad if there was?

Kinda rushes the seconded half, idk got mad and was just kinda over it lolz

[shalotttower]

Sweetcheeks

Title: Sweetcheeks

Fandom: Black Christmas (1974)

Summary: You've been getting these odd calls for several months now.

Word count: 2000+

Characters: Billy Lenz x Reader (female)

Notes: Yandere!Billy (I'm not sure if there's a point to specify it, seems like his normal state), stalking, voyeurism, explicit and degrading vocabulary, some regular Billy perversions, NSFW, noncon touching, implied noncon by the end.

You've been getting these calls from a stranger for several months, ever since you moved into the sorority house. When the phone rings, what you might hear is easy to predict: creepy panting accompanied by lewd remarks. There's a breathy, slightly raspy voice on the other end; Hello, sweetcheeks, whatcha got down them pants?

He calls you that, "sweetcheeks". Says your name as if it were the loveliest word ever. "Naughty girl," he croons, "let me lick your hot cunt". Nasty bitch. Angel. He has an extensive collection of nicknames, and keeps expanding it with every passing day. Some of them are quite creative, others made your skin crawl at first, but eventually you got used to his bizarre expressions.

He never gets tired of these calls.

The sorority girls named him the Moaner, because he does it quite a lot - moans. Moans and says obscene things, which make your face flush in a hot wave of pink.

"Did you think of me?" he asks.

Do you ever think of me?

"I could-" he groans those filthy words, and you want to wash your ears with soap, "fuck your brains out. Dirty whore. Your... mmm."

You slam the receiver down. It always happens when least expected. In the middle of a conversation with other girls, during study hours, when you're cooking or getting ready for bed, he calls. There's no pattern, so it's impossible to anticipate; normally you just answer the phone when there's no one else around or let others tell him to fuck off.

Today is almost the same as usual, with the only exception that you don't pick up.

What follows can't be described: the unbearable, insane trilling of the phone ringing without a pause. You don't want to go downstairs, there're finals, tests and assignments weighing heavily on you and no time to indulge the ever-breathing presence behind the line. So you don't. Luckily, a set of ear plugs from the local pharmacy helps a lot.

***

You don't bother answering for the whole week, yet despite your neglect he still calls as if desperate for something you can't place.

***

If only Billy could tell you how sweet you look when getting ready for bed. Through the attic floor cracks he sees every small detail of your routine, the room which is nice and smells of a woman - clean, soft with the hints of perfume, it makes him want to bury his face in your sheets.

If only Billy could tell you how exhilarating everything about you is. From the way you move through the day to the sound of your bare feet padding on the wooden floors in the evening. His favourite part is when you shake off your jeans; it's a clumsy movement which makes your ass wiggle.

Billy has a small box where he stores the pieces of your life. There's a receipt from the bakery, two pencils, a silver chain that broke off from your neck and he grabbed it like a treasure, a lip balm. You are all his, every bit of you in those little things you leave behind, even if you don't know it yet.

He knows so many things by now. What time you usually go to shower (late at night when all other girls are asleep), what you are going to wear in the morning (he saw you ironing a blue fluffy sweater and a checked skirt). He knows what's in each of your drawers, from cosmetics to panties, soft cotton that smells like laundry detergent.

The box is hidden carefully in the dusty corner of the attic. Sometimes he opens it, caressing the items you left so carelessly on the desk or bathroom counter - they burn his fingers.

You have a mole under your left breast, a beauty mark on your inner thigh. He also knows that you haven't been answering his calls for a week.

Engrossed in your books with sticky notes, you don't even pay attention to the ringing when he's trying so hard. Too bad Billy can't read, letters dance before his eyes, mocking him with their squiggly shapes; maybe he'd know what exactly is keeping you so occupied if he could. He heard some girls talking about upcoming finals but didn't understand what that meant.

Billy knows how to handle a girl who doesn't answer the phone, a naughty, mean girl who ignores him and gets under his skin like the itch he can't scratch, irritating, driving him crazy.

Patience is a virtue - that's what they told him in the looney house, but it must've been a lie. Patience won't bring you closer, he thinks, sitting cross-legged on the attic floor with a phone clutched in his palm. Patience won't help him touch you, lick your soft skin and hear you moan for him. In the cramped space smelling of old wood, dust and cobwebs, patience only leads to days crawling by like sluggish worms.

He knows how to handle the girl who doesn't answer his calls, but you do look tired, the shadows under your eyes are too heavy and prominent. Billy watches you rub your temples for the fourth time in an hour, yawning. He's seen this gesture before, saw you massaging the back of your head after reading for too long.

He likes watching you when you think no one's looking, because then you're most honest. Just you.

Maybe Billy will let you rest. Yes, maybe...But his hands itch so much. Itchy-itchy-itchy when he holds the phone. He wants to dial your number again, listen to your breathing and tell you something that will make your voice waver in confusion, just like that time when he asked what sounds you make when touching yourself.

He strokes the cord and imagines when you'll finally start picking up again. You'll say your name and ask, "Who's this?" and Billy will laugh, because you're silly, so silly and should've known it's him all along.

***

When did it begin to snow?

You remember the sun peeking from behind the clouds a few days ago and now there's nothing but whiteness outside. White paths, white street lights and white flakes melting on the glass windows. The kitchen feels quiet today, walls drip with the evening chill which crawls inside your veins; it's a week before Christmas and the radio is playing jolly songs about sleigh bells and presents.

Something's been off lately.

Another pair of your favorite socks is gone; you bought five, but three vanished without a trace. Maybe you lost them, maybe they got mixed up with others' laundry. Yet you distinctly remember washing the two and putting them away in the drawer. Usually you're not that forgetful, but perhaps it's finals stress shows.

You glance at the clock - past six - the sorority house is mostly empty, everyone's either in the library or went home for Christmas. The last few hours passed in decorating the living room area with tinsel and ornaments, you even put a wreath on the door. A festive mood is slowly seeping in, and all that's missing is a tree. You know that one should be in the attic, Allison told you there's a lot of stuff up there. The house is old, and whoever owned it in the past had a lot of things, from clothes and books to trinkets, all stored away in cardboard boxes and plastic containers.

Sturdy and narrow, the attic ladder is hanging down to the hallway, beckoning with its crooked wooden rungs. Allison mentioned some odd noises coming from there sometimes. Probably rodents. "Go take a look, girl," she laughed and made spooky sounds, wiggling her fingers. "But don't tell me if you find something nasty, I don't wanna know about it."

Your eyes wander over the ceiling and stop at a small trapdoor. There are rusty hooks holding it closed, and you wonder if it's safe to go up alone. It's probably dirty, a real mess, but the living room looks empty and unfinished without a Christmas tree.

Just a quick look. As long as there aren't spiders swarming the corners it'll be alright.

Everything's dark up there, nothing moves and the sound of your quiet breath is the only thing breaking the silence. You pull a flashlight out of your pocket. Flick. Nothing. Stacks of boxes crowd the space, pressing together, on the side of a particularly large container is scribbled: BOX 23. You look through the labels - toys, photographs, china, books - dozens and dozens of them, some haven't been opened for years.

Dirty. Stuffy-dusty, Billy's saliva gets sticky, leaving wet stains on his sleeves as he wipes his mouth. He can see you from where he's hiding. It's hard to breathe. Harder when you bend over to open a box with Christmas decorations; you've got nice thighs. Nice legs. It's so good to have you here, sweetcheeks, you won't leave soon, pretty kitty. Dumb bitch. Sweet angel. You really should've stayed downstairs, in the warmth and light of the fireplace, instead of crawling up here into the darkness.

Into him.

You go through the attic space looking for something, and Billy thinks that your soft slippers will be covered in dust after you're done poking around, all filthy, so messy. But it doesn't matter, Billy will clean you up later with his tongue, and you can sit on his blanket while he licks your hot cunt till you scream.

Billy knows exactly what kind of sounds you'll make.

He's heard them countless times already.

A sudden clank makes you jump. Your heart flutters, but there's nothing except for shadows dancing on the walls under the ray of your flashlight. Maybe a rat? Oh, there it is. A green plastic branch of a fake Christmas tree is sticking out from the nearest pile, just what you were looking for. You tug at it, trying to free it from the clutches of old furniture and junk, but the thing is stuck tight.

Billy wants to grab you. Wrap his arms around your waist, press his face to yours and whisper in your ear that you shouldn't worry about the Christmas tree anymore, because now you're going to stay forever and ever with him. He'll let you stroke his cheek and kiss him softly on the lips before carrying you down the ladder to celebrate together. Billy will take care of it, he's always liked Christmas; there was a time when everything was different, a man dressed up as Santa brought gifts, he even remembers what he got - a shiny red truck and a candy cane.

The flashlight slips from your grasp and rolls over the dusty floorboards. You curse, crouch down and reach for it though the hole between the boxes.

The trapdoor shuts close with a loud thud.

Your hand freezes.

There's a breath. Not yours, it tickles your fingertips and the skin of your palm like a feather; it shouldn't be there - you scramble away from the darkness. Or try to. Something warm catches your wrist in a vice grip, pulls and next you're tumbling forward, right through the hole with Christmas ornaments spilling everywhere.

"Nasty piggy," says someone's raspy voice, "why don'tcha pick up my calls anymore?"

In the dim yellow of your flashlight too far out of reach, you can barely see anything, only glimpses of dirty auburn hair, brown eyes and a green stretched jumper.

It's not a rat in the attic, you think. It's not a rat, he smells like a wet dog and has hot lips which press into your throat. His hands shake as they travel up your sides, touch your breasts through the sweater, squeeze, and then he moans.

You've been getting these calls for several months now, from a stranger who pants on the other end of the line and makes obscene remarks. And you know him by voice, the one who likes talking filth and making you blush every damn day.

"Santa brought presents," he whispers in your ear. A hand slides down between your legs and cups your mound through the fabric. "Merry Christmas, sweetcheeks."

[blueberryarchive]

𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆.

୨ৎpairing: cowboy!jm x reader x preacher!jk

୨ৎword count: 5k

୨ৎgenre: smut, horror, angst

୨ৎtw: dead dove do not eat, mentions of death and gruesome details (human and animal), blood, mentions of arms and physical violence, cursing, smut (blood drinking and playing, period sex, rope play, degrading, dub-con, groping, penetration)

An Ewe and the Captive Bolt (a serie)

Today was his birthday, and for the first time in 28 years, the sky looked like a sheet full of spots. He felt ever since he saw Sirius and Canopus in the sky as two little white suns the night before, that this year was going to be different.

What Park didn't know was that what would be different was the pain he felt on the left side of his arm and his chest. The hot, thick blood soaked his shoulder and eye until it covered his eyelashes. The battered hat clutched in both dusty hands as he entered Carmen's diner, a child's shame on his tight lips.

The poor girl behind the counter dropped the key lime pie from her hands, creating even more noise in the place (which Jimin didn't appreciate being in such a state).

"Christ." She murmured, still static.

"Be a doll and bring me a glass of water, would ya'?" Jimin crawled to one of the seats, grunting as he felt his muscles burn.

The girl approached with a small towel and a terrified look.

"Never seen blood before?"

"No, sir." Her brown eyes were like two walnuts bouncing between Jimin's face and arms. She was adorable, her face round and her hair so curly that she reminded him of his sheep. If she hadn't been the sheriff's daughter, he said to himself every time he saw her.

"Are you hurt, sir? I can call my daddy and-"

"No need for that, sweetheart." He raised his hand. The last thing he needed was to have Montrell in his affairs. "It ain't my blood, it's my horse's"

Apparently, that seemed to affect the young woman more. Jimin was a little offended by her reaction.

"Why don't you bring me a piece of that delicious key lime pie you had in hand and two coffees."

There were more questions in her curved eyebrows, but she just nodded and walked away. Park took off his shirt, leaving a tank top underneath it, with the handkerchief that he kept in his jeans, he began to wet his hands and his face.

His fingers were still shaking from the adrenaline. The shrill sound of the car's tires driving away, the heated laughter cloistered behind the smoked windows, the last sharp sigh of his horse before Jimin ended his suffering. He had to find the bastards who ran over his horse. FH-6077, he read the plate in the distance before crossing the curve, and his brain couldn't stop humming the six digits like a prayer.

The sudden hand on his shoulder calmed the waters, the undoubtable smell of myrrh and tobacco from his companion.

"Happy birthday, buddy." His voice was gentle. If Jungkook ever went above a couple of those decibels, Jimin assumed he was going to die. Even seeing Park's bloody hat on the table and Park's bloodstained boots, he didn't flinch to ask.

Perhaps it was his ecclesiastical nature that gave him the confidence that at one time or another, others would fill the silence with their confessions. But Jimin could see in the father's noble eyes the desperation for an explanation.

"Sure." That was all he said. The girl approached the table with the pie and the coffee.

"Goodnight, Father John." She smiled widely.

"Night, Billie. How's your dad?"

"He really liked your mass today. I did too, I really liked the reading." Jimin noticed how the corners of Billie's lips twitched, contorting herself to try to look prettier for Father John. So obvious and adorable, but of course, Jeon would give nothing more than a shrug and the most predictable questions.

The difference is that Jungkook could fuck the sheriff's daughter. What father didn't want his daughter to be in the sacred hands of Father John?

Father Jeon (or John due to the Americanization of Jungkook's family) was tall, wide like a log, and robust like an unhorned bull. Attractive in every sense, but bland, shy until it hurts.

"'M glad, tell him I will visit Missus Davis next week."

"Do you have a smoke? I'm dying in here."

They both looked at Jimin who was just smiling with his mouth smeared with whipped cream.

"You can't smoke here, sir."

Jimin winked at her, grabbing the white stick that Jungkook handed him as he also sat down to end the unbearable flirting.

"I know, pumpkin. It'll be a quick one, I promise."

The girl didn't say anything else, and she walked away. Disappointment in her walnut eyes.

"I'll marry her in two months." Said Jungkook.

Jimin frowned. Jungkook curled his fingers, pointing for his friend to come closer and light the tip of the tobacco.

"Marry her? You can barely tolerate the poor girl."

"I love her." The father stated as he nodded slowly while he drank his coffee. "She's a good girl, I think she likes me, too."

"Are ya sure?" Jimin joked.

"Where's that bad hoss you've been riding since last month?"

Jimin's blood warmed again, the drags on his cigarette even longer.

"Fuckin' punks ran over 'im and broke his ribs. Had to do it." He pointed to the gun under his hat. The bloody clothes reminded him how clumsy he sure looked trying to pamper a horse that was already three steps away.

FH-6077.

"I'll find them tomorrow."

"I'll help you."

"What are you gonna do?"

They both looked at each other, the watery, electric current between them. Ideas undulated and braided between their cruel smiles.

"Haven't changed a bit, church boy." Smoke weaved into Jimin's blonde hair, his devilish smile vaporizing memories of his teenage pranks.

Jungkook drank the last of his coffee, his face falling back into the same bitter sadness that every father held as if he carried the weight of all the souls and sins of Rivermouth on his back. The silence was long afterward, the black night extended to the mountains, to the sky, to Park's own reflection in the glass. The round face with pronounced lips and rude, detailed eyes, sweet when they feel like it. The spitting image of his mother.

"I have some hippies coming to the ranch tomorrow."

Jungkook nodded, the pressure in the handle increasing, the clack of the cup being clenched by his teeth in a sip. Jimin knew he shouldn't have mentioned the hippies, but it was that ecclesiastical power. He knew that Jungkook hated the smell of pot, the long hair, and the colorful t-shirts, which reminded him of his father, previous father John.

God knows what Jungkook had to witness, the carbonic stench that emanated from that charred skeleton. The tongue pressed between two pieces of blackish board that used to be teeth. The fetid fat that ripped and curdled in the organs. There was not a day in which the poor man did not think about that before going to sleep and found himself face to face with the featureless face of his father, with the incinerated bowls pointed at the eyes of his son. Sitting in the chair under the cross that has sat on that wall since Jungkook's birth.

And Jungkook cried. He would close his eyes and every night, he would grab the skull and make it crunch under his thick hands. The body did not defend itself, it let its boy vent as if he were a sacred entity and knew that at the same time, the next day and every other day, he would appear again in that chair, and Jungkook would never be able to exhaust his anger against him.

"I have to go." It was the only thing he said leaving a ten dollar bill in the table. Park understood. "Go fetch a new hat from my house tomorrow, it's about time you threw that shit in the river."

"Hey."

Jungkook turned around. Jimin stopped smiling.

"Take it home in the morning, I'll make you breakfast before the rodeo."

Jeon looked at the floor with uneasy eyes.

"We'll see."

As he left the diner, the fresh wind conquered the father's soul. Nostalgia washed away his stony face and for the first time in years, he wanted to be a child again. Disappear with Jimin and sleep in the old hayfields of the abandoned Hillside.

He put on his black hat and started walking down the dark street, both hands in his pockets.

Today the smell of boiling fat was stronger than ever, the ghost of his father floated in the swirls of Rivermouth dust and, with it, the remains of the children who were later taken from that same cabin.

The white lace curtains let in the yellowish light of the first rays. The unmade bed, the smell of pine in the sheets.

In one corner of the bed, Park was dressing for the day, the muscles in his shoulder had swollen with the hours and makeshift cloths covered the open, bloody sores. Every so often, he hissed and swore under his breath.

The coffee began to gurgle in the kitchen as he finished putting on his boots, it was barely 6:30, but he already had the eggs frying and the beans hot in the pot. It seemed strange to him that his companion was not already sitting next to the window, Bible open and the first cigarette of the morning in his hand.

He turned off the stove just in time and poured himself a cup. Today he felt more domestic than ever, he had spent the night fixing every detail in the ranch, from the dust on his late mother's china to the rifles displayed in the hallway. To be frank, he spent the entire night cleaning every corner, maybe detailing every object in every room so that at the end of the weekend nothing would be missing, or the crash made him remember how little he's done in 28 damn years.

A porcelain jewelry box his mother had placed in one of the rooms was covered in a thin layer of gray dust; it was his mother's favorite piece. He hadn't opened it since the last time he stole a couple of pearls to buy his first rifle, the red stained his face with shame, and the only thing he could do as an apology was turn the house over with his own handkerchief and clean even the windows. He was surprised that the smell of lye and soap hadn't killed him.

Hearing one of his sheep bleating, he opened the window and decided to lower his chivalry a bit and smoke his first cigarette before Jungkook arrived. In the distance, he could see one of his ewes, fat and terribly woolly, walking slowly towards the barn. She was pregnant and Jimin knew that there were maybe 24 hours left, her skin was bulging, and her bleating was painful and whiny, she couldn't take it anymore.

The curtain caressed Jimin's face with the wind that was beginning to warm up, he took a drag of the cigarette and turned his body towards the kitchen. He felt a strange itch in his chest, the kind that bothers him when he senses a spirit floating near him. The greenish branches and the smell of sausages were mixed up with the subtle gallop of a skinny horse and the unexpected smell of myrrh.

He walked to the front door and opened it to find Jeon's promised hat. He sighed as he saw that not only was it one of his black deathly-looking hats, but he had also planted him at breakfast, sure to go see the grandmother of his very unexpected but predictable fiancée.

Long story short, Jimin had to eat four cowboys' breakfast and the whole pot of coffee, and the hat he would wear to the rodeo today didn't match his outfit at all. Dozing was the only thing he could do after loosening the buckle on his belt and putting the hat on his face.

The leather furniture was sinking under his body, the soft song of the river in the distance, and the birds pecking at his roof took him back to his childhood. Sleeping wherever he wanted without any purpose. He dreamed of the gallops of his first horse: Champ, a Tennesee Walking that had belonged to his grandfather, black as coal, glistening in the sun of his student days and running like a devil in a hurry. He dreamed that he was in public showing the animal to auction it.

"How do you encourage a horse to move forward, Sage?" A woman in the audience shouted.

"I don't know, kick his ass or something." Heavenly laughter coaxed him out of his lethargy.

His body sat on the furniture before he knew it, sweat covering his back, veins marked on the left side of his face. He ran with the unconscious weight of his body to the window, pushing the curtain aside with his finger until he saw the circular corral where his star horse, Arrow, was located, with a stranger on his back.

His fingers reached for the rifle lying on the rocking chair.

The blonde girl staggered on top of the animal while her thin fingers held his hair tightly. The horse's sleepy eyes moved from side to side, snorting as he searched for direction.

"Come on, horsie!" The girl snapped her teeth and laughed as the horse curved to one side. "Are you seeing, Hunter? It's moving."

Hunter was smiling foolishly, lying on the grass, his thin, wavy hair fluttering around his ears like a delicate flower. The dark glasses covered his wounded deer's eyes.

"You're such a cowgirl, my love." His voice was sarcastic.

And with a shot into the air, silence muted nature. He silenced the current, the clucking of the chickens that fluttered in the distance. Hunter, Sage, and Blondie turned to the cowboy who walked slowly across the grass towards them. A whistle from the stranger caused Arrow to raise his front paws until Blondie fell with a screech to the hard ground.

"Kitty!"

"Woah, cowboy." Jimin's silky voice approached, placing the buttplate of his rifle on his shoulder, aiming directly between Hunter's eyebrows. "Move slowly, ya wouldn't want to scare an alarmed man any further, now would ya?"

"I'm sorry, sir."

Blondie or Kitty or whatever her name was, rolled her red eyes.

"What the hell are you doing on my ranch?"

"Let's go, Hunter. I'm not going to talk to cornman." Sage was the tallest of them all, her shorts squeezed her thighs until they were overflowing, and her hair was long like a beach princess.

"Watch your fucking language around me, missy." Gritted Jimin removing the safety on the rifle.

"Sage, for once do you want to shut the fuck up."

Hunter raised his hands, sweat beginning to gather on his wrinkled forehead. His eyes shone as he heard the heels slowly approaching behind Jimin.

"Love." He exhaled.

"Is this part of southern charm, Mr. Park?" Coquettish, the dying accent of someone who once lived in these parts, daring, too much for her own good. But still, he lowered the gun, spitting on the ground.

When he turned around it was as if a pink burst of glitter and vanilla had slapped him from the stupor of sleep. The glasses were square and large, they covered almost her entire face, that was the first thing Jimin saw.

"Ma'am, are these your friends?"

"We are your visitors, cornman." Jimin ignored the Californian's irritating nasal whine as the sweet girl in front of him approached little by little with a smile. He felt the itch again, the one that senses a spirit floating nearby, this spirit was the nebulous memory of your face.

"Could you speak again, ma'am?"

"Sorry?" You laughed, and it was like birds were chirping in your throat. "You're Ari's son, right? I really liked the jams your grandmother used to make."

And oh, it couldn't be more obvious. It couldn't be more evident, not even because God had exploded your name in the sky. It was the stunning makeup and hair wax, it was the sequined heels and Patsy Cline songs reverberating from the old speakers. It was your name in the newspaper almost every week.

It was your sailor costume, the jam falling from your humiliated face, it was Jimin's hand caressing the bulge in his jeans that same night on top of the hay, imagining how you ate the strawberry jam that his mother made.

Now you called yourself Love, the name was as obvious as you were. Of course, your hippie name is Love.

"Miss Peaches '57." His voice was soft and trembling. Your eyes opened in surprise.

"Gods, I didn't even remember that title." You put your hand on your mouth, dressed as a Hollywood girl but your loving manners were indelible.

"Excuse me, where are my manners? Jimin Park." He raised his hand for you to place in yours, light and trusting. A chaste kiss to the back of your hand without stopping to see your eyes behind the orange glasses.

"You can call me Love."

"A sight to sore eyes, Love."

"Always." You responded. Jimin swallowed hard, trying to hide that nostalgic smile, 'pure in every way. With that same smile, he invited the four to go through their rooms, the tension subsiding fluidly with each laugh that came from your blessed lips.

It was as if you said one thing and the sun came a little closer, deorbiting out to your echoes, warming the room and Jimin's cheeks.

"Can you help me look for my suitcases?" You touched the shoulder of the cowboy who agreed and guided you to the front door. Like the good boy his mother raised, he opened the door for you, and outside stood a Packard Caribbean: long, yellow, and sleek as a sunflower.

"Nice ride."

"Thank you, it's from Hunter's dad. He gave it to him for his birthday. Isn't it a beauty?"

"Beautiful." His nose scrunched watching your stomach bulge down your cute little top, hard nipples contouring the pink fabric. You still were just good enough to eat.

Examining the car little by little, a detail began to emerge in his memory. Among them, glowing in the heat of that morning were the six digits from the night before: FH-6077.

When it came to religion Jimin didn't have many opinions.

As a kid his mother went to church every Sunday and took him. He saw the statues of Jesus suffering with indifferent eyes, he made his first communion only because they promised to give him a sip of wine with the host, he listened to the stories of death and plagues as if they were cartoons. 

God was a very complicated being, the more he thought about him, the heavier his body became.

To his surprise, God was nothing more than a sham, a wall between you and him. The host, that time Jungkook's father offered him, tasted like nothing and the wine went down his young throat tasteless.

"Body of Christ." You said, the music playing crisply on the record player Hunter had brought. The guitars repeated the same riff over and over, he hated it.

Jimin stuck his tongue out where you placed a small square of magazine paper no bigger than a fingernail. Jimin’s eyelashes fluttered, his knees throbbing as he knelt in front of you, your thumb brushing against his lips before sealing them.

"Amen," he sighed.

The host that you offered to his mortal body was as tasteless as the first, but only Jimin knew the euphoria that, like a hurricane's wind, announced the sweet path that awaited the cowboy.

Jimin was not a man who smoked more than five cigarettes a day, seven if it was a bad day. But your siren song in his ear convinced him to drown his morals in your dark waters, your hands took both sides of his tanned face and you threw him without warning to your sanctuary, towards the steepest rocks, to your glorious eyes. And damn, Park could drink the water from your pupils and die of poisoning.

"I missed you so much, I didn't know it until the moment I saw you." His lips said before thinking about it, narrow pupils lying on the grass next to you. You just laughed, it was the only thing you did and he just admired it.

At one point around noon, Jimin took the steering wheel of the Packard. Hunter, Sage, and Kitty were talking about a record, making strange sounds and asking the opinion of Jimin who was driving down the dusty road, making the engine roar so that you would scream next to him.

"Slow down!" You asked. He went faster, he didn't care.

The purring of the car made Jimin's body pulse, his mouth was dry, his arm no longer hurt, and his lips prayed the license plate of the car, over and over again.

I'm going to find it, he told himself. And when I find him I'm going to make them suffer, as the tips of the horse's bones pierced its dark fur, neighing over his own stupid words trying to calm the wounded animal.

Faster, find it.

Like oil, the green branches of summer became watery and greasy in his vision, and the dust was stalactites that bathed the car in yellow.

"Good luck, cowboy." Kitty approached Jimin, somehow he had made it to the rodeo. The horns announced his name on all four corners and people shouted his last name like the idol he was.

Sage and Kitty kissed his cheeks before he climbed on top of Arrow, the weight of his body creating echoes every time he moved.

There was no one in that audience who saw Jimin on his horse who was not surprised by the agility with which the rope rose above his head and created fluid circles to catch the rough calf that writhed with the knot in its thick neck.

Jungkook saw from a distance how the cowboy's smile was so bright, how he rejoiced at the applause and the roses that were thrown at him. His movements were vehement, fiery, and impulsive like a devil without fear of death.

The hat Jungkook had given him had a small, withered pink carnation on it. He stood up as quickly as he could at the end of the show, but before he could talk to him he only saw Arrow galloping thunderously in the distance, one girl was wearing the gifted hat, she grabbed Jimin's waist and with the other, she gave whiskey to the cowboy. The copper thread falls to his chest and settles on his strap.

"The sight of him today was incredible, I had never seen 'im like that." Billie smiled behind Jungkook, her cheeks red, eyes covered with a fine lust that she probably didn't even recognize.

The firmament rose high above his eyes, there was no star that Jimin didn't feel the overwhelming sound of fire burning in his ears. His body was sweating on the grass, and the smell of nicotine was strong after smoking two cigarettes to settle his reverberating body. The high had passed and his body was a used towel.

He doesn't remember much of what happened, but the remnants of the hallucinogen's burn made him understand that he had the damn time of his life. A laugh left his lips, embarrassed by how easy it was to convince him to do that stupid thing. What Jungkook told him was true: you haven't changed at all, cowboy.

"How's my favorite rodeo king?" The angel landed above his head, you were wearing his hat and a flowered dress.

"Roughened up, I guess." Just like after a good fuck.

"Don't get hooked or you'll end up like Hunter." You combed your hair as you walked around him. "He can't last a day without it or else he starts hitting Kitty."

"Why don't you report it?" Jimin stood following your steps. After looking around him for a few seconds, he realized that he was in the rodeo arena, darkness bathed the stadium. The blue moon showed your silhouette walking over the horseshoe tracks.

"Because Kitty doesn't want to, they are going to get married in a few months. He promised to stop doing drugs when they did. It wouldn't be good for a kid."

There was a lightness in the promises the Californians made to others, they nodded seriously, but you could see the consequences in their evasive gaze.

Jimin nodded.

"Are you always so quiet?"

He nodded again, and they both laughed.

"'M better when I'm not ten feet deep in an LSD hangover, I can assure that."

"Yes, but..." Your silhouette approached his body, and you carried the energy of ten bulls on you. Your immortal look, you haven't changed anything. "I asked if you're always this quiet."

Jimin inhaled as he understood your question.

"When I'm in the stadium I'm more vocal." He again evaded the answer you were looking for so much. His chest beat boldly like the time he saw you covered in strawberries and sugar.

"You were a star this afternoon, your eyes were shining."

"Always."

You raised your eyebrow and scoffed. "Sure thing, sir."

Blood surged to Park's neck, his eyelids drooping, his pride tainting his flirtation. Enough of the games.

"Run." He murmured, saliva pooling in his throat.

You frowned with your typical smile.

"What?"

"I asked you to run." His body suddenly lunged and you became alarmed, raising your hands. "As fast and as far from this stadium as you can."

His pupils didn't move, his soft smile was confident. Your skin grew cold with each step, at first slow and suspicious, the darkness of the large arena was intimidating because it felt like you were not moving forward.

You heard how an object created hollow, sharp sounds in the air. It was his lasso.

"No." You muttered, running even faster.

And swoosh, you fell to the ground. The rope squeezed your neck, leaving your body in mid-air, your tongue came out and your eyes bulged from the sudden lack of air; the hat fell away from you. Your body was no longer yours, your stupid fingers tried to loosen the knot, but it was too late.

The boots approached, collecting the rope that was left over around his arm. The silhouette became part of your blurred vision.

"Stand up."

"I. Can't." Your lips emulated as you writhed like a worm in the dust.

"Lemme' help ya'." Jimin snatched the rope for you to stand up, your knees moved up to him where his fingers loosened the knot a little. "Breathe, little girl. We don't want an accident."

Saliva came out of your mouth in streams and fell to the floor. Jimin grabbed your chin and wiped it.

"Don't make a mess now."

"I'm sorry, sir." And now you sounded as helpless and stupid as Hunter did this morning. It was adorable.

You were afraid to look up, your eyes trained on the hat a few meters away from both of you.

"Tell me, pumpkin. How can two ugly sons of bitches like your parents have such a beautiful girl?" He laughed, dragging the rope to where his hat was, you walked behind him with careless steps. With a couple of blows, he blew the dust off his hat and looked at you again, searching for an answer you didn't even know how to articulate or if you should.

His hand wrapped the rope around his fingers until he had you as close as possible, the smell of tobacco hammered your temples, and your eyelids wrinkled to try to wake up. 

Great was the surprise when you felt a pair of dry lips resting on yours, his tongue daringly passed over your lips so that you would open, his moans softening your fear.

His saliva was bitter and lovely, his tongue running flat across the outside of your mouth until it reached your chin and the tip of your nose.

"Let's see, open your mouth, sugar. Don't be shy."

You obeyed as the knot tightened around your neck, moaning as his lips sucked on the tip of your tongue and bit your bottom lip.

"God have mercy." He sighed, squeezing your chin with his hand. "How can you taste so damn sweet."

You moaned as you felt his teeth nibble gently at your neck, his fingers piling the fabric of your dress around his fingers.

“Mm,” you squealed, walking away even when it didn’t suit you. "Can't."

"It's a good thing I didn't ask." Jimin brought you closer, caressing your neck again.

"I'm on my days." Shame sealing your thoughts, in your eyes the hope that just the thought of seeing the blood would disgust him.

Jimin raised his eyebrows and slowly kissed you again, this time with the softness of an apology.

"A cowboy doesn't mind a little dirt." He murmured, touching the soaked towel that covered your underwear, two fingers pushed aside and the burning of your pussy collided with his cold fingers drawing a moan from your hurt throat.

"A good cowboy loves to get dirty." He smiled, removing the two soaked fingers from the red viscosity to put it in his mouth with a frown on his eyebrows. "Mm." He grunted, swallowing slowly.

You were speechless, stupefied. Who was this demon?

"Have you ever ridden a bull before?" His blood-tainted lips said, the idea shocking your senses.

You denied it, and God knows that was the stupidest answer you could give.

The animal began to make a mechanical noise beneath both of them, the leather surface pressed your thighs against the mechanical bull that began to move slowly.

Jimin's bestial eyes did not take off from you, the last of the bottle of whiskey went down his throat in long gulps and pushed the glass into the distance causing a roar.

Your legs were above his defined thighs, the bleeding wound between your legs dirtying his jeans but the cowboy didn't seem to mind. The dress already forgotten outside the stadium playing area.

"We'll go slowly because it's your first time on top." His consideration was so minimal, considering the situation. But you were a woman whose details annihilated your logic.

To the front and sides and then a gentle turn, this is how the animal began. Jimin moved his center with the animal, the bulge in his pants rubbing against your pussy.

One of his hands approached the dripping hole and with four fingers collected the blood until it painted his hand.

“Ah,” he requested, sticking his tongue out and you followed suit. His fingers got smeared on his tongue and cheeks until they reached his neck. With his tongue he passed over his lips, like wine he drank you, like sweet he possessed you and rejoiced.

His tongue entered your space again, the strange and bitter taste of your own blood while with his fingers he removed the zipper of his jeans until he showed that he was not wearing underwear underneath him, his tall and throbbing cock moved under his fist.

"Climb on, doll. You're wet enough for me." He laughed taking your body to sit on top of him. You hugged him as tight as you could as the mechanical animal began to move faster.

"We're going to fall." You whimpered. "Hurts".

"Shh, shh. Let me medicate you, it'll stop hurtin' when I dick you properly." One spank and his fingers squeezed the skin of your ass tightly. "You just have to move with me."

To the front, to the sides, two turns. You just had to keep your legs elevated a little, Jimin's cock sliding smoothly in and out with each movement.

"Now you're getting it. Fuck." Jimin hissed, squeezing your waist with his forearm. "You're quite the cowgirl, Love."

You moaned, pressing your forehead to his. His eyes absorbed every curve, from your breasts to your red-painted thighs. You were an angel, a myth that devours men. Your songs of pleasure echoing on the aluzinc walls.

The animal began to attack, abrupt and deeper.

"Does it hurt?" You asked between moans, watching the fabrics covering Jimin's arm begin to dye again. Jimin denied, cuntdrunk.

You removed the knot of cloth from the wound on Jimin's arm, running your thin fingers over the bleeding muscle. Park hissed, and the walls of your pussy tightened.

More, you wanted more.

Your lips sucked on the sores until you felt the metallic taste in your throat, Jimin pressed your body against yours. One turn, two forwards, three up. Your poor body trembled with the desire for the game to end but your pussy still wanted your walls to expand until Jimin's cock was molded inside you forever.

"If I knew you were such a slut." Park grabbed your hair to pull you away from his arm.

"If I knew cowboys fucked so well." The bloody smile of both of you was devilishly erotic.

The bull stopped suddenly, you looked at the man standing on the other side of you, rifle in hand, hot tears burning his cheeks.

"Jungkook? Jeon!" It was the last thing you heard before you fell face first onto the inflated floor, blood flowing warm and your eyelids falling softly.

[suzukiblu]

currently having EMOTIONS abt your 'Billy adopts kon and it goes p good actually'. Billy's there just like oh man I'm rambling they're gonna think I'm so lame...meanwhile I as a reader (and presumably also Kon and possibly the other characters present??) are actually going 'oh my god. oh my god he's known Kon for like one singular minute and already arranged a flat according to his best predictions of Kon's needs/wants, gave Kon FIRST PICK OF BEDROOM, and has freely offered to learn how to cook AND how to drive for the sole purpose of taking better care of Kon'. like. oh my god. oh my god. Billy is so precious and I want to give him a hug. I hope Kon isn't too overwhelmed or suspicious due to Billy's enthusiasm tho lmao. (pls could there be..more? more Billy adopts kon, if possible?) anyway I love ur writing. thank you. idk how to ask from a sidelong but this is tryingahandinholdingapen btw :D

I gotchu, friend, lol. @tryingahandinholdingapen But yeah I love a good unreliable narrator, one way or the other it's just so fun peppering in all the bits of "the actual situation that the narrator is oblivious to", hahaha.

Rich people are weird, Billy decides, then sets the swiss rolls and zebra cakes and rest of the strawberry shortcakes on the counter in case Kid Flash is still hungry or Superboy wants any of them and closes the pantry. Batman’s just doing his best, he guesses. Though Billy hopes he knows how to coupon, if he’s always buying brand-name. 

Well, he’s Batman. It’d be weirder if he didn’t know how to coupon, Billy figures.

It looks like Superboy ate all of his snack cake while Billy and Kid Flash were in the pantry, at least, which Billy hopes means he liked it. He doesn’t know how much real food Superboy’s had, but Batman’d said he should be fine eating solid stuff and not just whatever he’d been getting in his cloning pod. Though Billy’d still asked if they could get some bottled smoothies and protein shakes and stuff like that to keep in the fridge, just in case. He figured those might be easier for him to eat and digest, if it came up. Or like, maybe appeal to him more, if nothing else? 

Billy has no idea, honestly, he’s just doing his best here. The wisdom of Solomon is pretty useful but it’s not really, like, that much of a parenting guide. 

He is not going to cut Superboy in half. Like, ever. Like he understands the idea of that story but also it is an insane and incredibly freaky story and he is just not invoking it, ever. Just no way.

“If it’s alright, Captain, we should get going. We’ve got a bit of a drive to get home,” Mrs. West says, then sighs as Kid Flash empties the boxes of swiss rolls and zebra cakes in lightning-fast succession, though he leaves the strawberry shortcakes alone. Billy checks in the fridge and offers him a couple of the more filling smoothies–peanut butter and banana should be more filling, anyway, even with a speedster’s appetite. He steals those from convenience stores sometimes, when he can. He can’t be Captain Marvel all the time. 

Well–maybe he could, he guesses. But he does miss being himself, sometimes.

“Thanks, man,” Kid Flash says eagerly, then immediately shotguns both smoothies. 

“Wally,” Mr. West says in exasperation as Mrs. West sighs again. “Don’t eat Captain Marvel out of house and home.” 

“It’s okay, we’ve got lots of food!” Billy promises cheerfully. “I work with Flash, I know how hungry he gets. I bet it’s way worse when you still have growth spurts to get through.” 

“It is so much worse,” Kid Flash mutters vehemently, eyeing the empty smoothie bottles in his hands accusingly. Billy gets him another peanut butter banana one on principle. He really doesn’t want Kid Flash to be that hungry. It’s . . . not a good feeling. 

“We appreciate it, Captain, really, but we’ve got snacks and a cooler in the car,” Mrs. West says. 

“Oh, good,” Billy says, relieved. Mr. and Mrs. West both give him strange, inscrutable looks, then glance back to Superboy. Billy wonders if he likes peanut butter banana smoothies. Though if he liked the snack cakes, there’s strawberry banana ones too, so that might be better? And strawberry kiwi, but that’s probably less filling. “Superboy, do you want a smoothie too?” 

“No,” Superboy says. Billy pauses again, then gets him a strawberry banana one and tosses it over. Superboy catches it, eyes it, and then opens it and takes a sip.

Okay, Billy thinks he’s getting the hang of this. But also they should probably talk about how “no” needs to actually mean “no”. Like, for Superboy he’s sure it’s just like that phase when toddlers want to say “no” to everything no matter what, but it’s still important for him to understand. Billy doesn’t want to accidentally upset him or overstep because Superboy doesn’t know how to really say “no” to something.

Yeah, they definitely need to talk about that, he decides.

[sleepingdeath-light]

the difficulties of a (not so) long distance relationship ; 18+

kinktober day eleven

pairing ; billy lenz x non binary amab!reader insert

fandom ; slashers / black christmas

masterlists ; fandom | kinktober | ao3

content ; dominant!reader, submissive!billy lenz, phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, likely very ooc!billy

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

Billy Lenz is a strange man. You love him, of course you do, but even you can’t deny how… eccentric he can be sometimes.

Right now you’re being subjected of one of Billy’s more enjoyable habits: his petulant insistance that you help him get off over the phone when you’re unable to climb up to the attic and help him in person. And, of course, being the oh-so-loving partner that you are, you’re all too happy to lend a hand — even if you do wish he’d stop calling the landline when your housemates are literally only a handful of feet away from you and could very easily walk into the hallway and catch you red-handed.

But the scolding can wait for another time, when you don’t have a needy, whiny boyfriend on the line waiting for your attention.

—————————————

‘Billy, baby, are you really that desperate that you can’t wait a few minutes?’ You tease, smiling against the receiver of the phone when you hear a shaky whimper through the speaker. ‘Need me that bad, huh honey?’

‘Mhm,’

‘So are you gonna be a good boy for me? Gonna be quick and quiet? Don’t want anyone else to hear us do we, baby?’

Another shaky gasp echos through the phone before he all but shouts his next words out, forcing you to pull the phone back a few inches to protect your hearing. ‘No! No! Billy will be good! Billy is good!’

‘Yeah?’ You laughed affectionately in response, fighting the urge to shake your head as you continued. ‘Well then, let’s make this quick and then I can come up and take care of you properly. How does that sound? Good?’

The only confirmation you get is the sound of Billy’s pants being shoved down to his knees and a throaty groan when, you assume, he finally wraps his hand around the base of his aching cock. And that’s more than enough for you to finally start giving him what he wants — after a cursory look around to make sure you won’t be interrupted, of course.

‘Are you touching yourself, sweetheart?’ He grunts his affirmation into the phone and you hum your approval. ‘Are you doing what I do, baby?’

‘Mhm,’ he affirmed in a gasp, ‘but your hand feels much — ah — nicer than Billy’s,’

‘I know, baby,’ you reassure breathily, before continuing in a lower tone, ‘maybe you need some more lubrication. Spit on your hand and use that to jerk off — can you do that for me, honey?’

Immediately you can hear him following your instruction, quickly followed by the lewd wet sound of him fisting his cock.

‘Good boy, Billy… fuck…’

From the shameless sounds he’s making you can picture exactly what he must look like right now and it takes every ounce of self control in your body for you to not hang up the phone and run up to the attic to join him: you can see his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching as he works himself closer to climax; you can envision the delectable bobbing of his Adam’s Apple as he throws his head back and swallows and gasps through all of the delightful moans and groans and grunts you’re hearing; you can imagine how his cock, angry red and drooling, must look right now — curving up towards his clenching stomach as he fucks his own trembling fist; you can picture, clear as day, the trembling of his lips and the unfocused teary look in his hooded eyes as he begs and pleads for you to keep talking. Predictable. Desperate. Perfect.

And you tell him as such, praising and degrading him in just the way he likes as you talk him through to his climax.

‘Keep going, sweetheart,’

‘That’s it, good boy, let me hear you,’

‘Why don’t you play with your balls, sweet thing? You love it when I do that, maybe that’ll get you off faster,’

‘So desperate for me, I fucking love it,’

‘You close yet, baby? Gonna cum from my voice? You’re so shameless, I love you,’

‘Go faster, Billy,’

‘Think you can be a bit rougher with yourself, sweets? Good boy,’

‘Ah ah ah! Don’t be too loud or my roommates will hear you and know what’s going on. Unless you want everyone to know what a needy little pervert you are?’

‘Fuck you sound so hot right now,’

‘Is your hand over your mouth right now? Stop that. I wanna hear you, baby,’

And for his part, naturally, your Billy is as vocal as ever and makes no effort to hide exactly how much your words are affecting him: shameless moans, throaty groans, stuttered grunts, sobs, whimpers of your name and his favourite little pet name (‘piggy’, of course), pleas for something he never quite gets around to specifying, and repeated loud calls of ‘gonna cum’ and ‘close’ that have your dick hardening and aching in your pants. Frankly for how loud he sounded over the phone you’re shocked that you can’t hear him through the ceiling — but, then again, you know that this isn’t the first time he’s gotten himself off in the attic so you’re sure he’s found all sorts of ways to keep you all unaware of his activities up there.

From there it only takes one more sentence from you to have your sweet little Billy falling apart at the seams with your name and a string ‘thank you’s on his lips that manages to be as endearing as it is arousing.

‘Alright then, pretty boy, go ahead and cum for me,’

Yeah, Billy is a real handful sometimes. But, as you’ve found over the years, he’s more than worth the trouble.

[creepswrites]

RED CHRISTMAS | Billy Lenz

this story was one of my favorites to work on that never got as much attention as i had hoped so... here's hoping a rewrite will do it some good! as always, i'll link the original here if you want to go back and see what i've previously done for this story :) jsyk i will likely do something with billy x reader in this universe later if this rewrite does well!!

BILLY LENZ + SORORITY GIRLS

SUMMARY: Her sorority sisters always teased Jess for being an affectionate person. She was sympathetic and cared deeply about people. So seeing Billy cry felt wrong. Like it wasn't something he'd meant to do nor had he in a while, which broke her heart a little. She didn't know his past but if he had nobody looking for him, no idea how he got here, and acted out emotionally then…

Maybe he didn't have anybody at all.

WARNING: child abuse & neglect, graphic violence, talk of abortion

From within the shadows of the messy closet, Billy stood squeezed into the shadows. Green eyes bore holes into Claire Harrison, watching her every move as she packed her bags in preparation to leave for the holidays. Christmas was coming and many of the sorority girls had made plans to leave - Billy knew this, had heard them talking through the floor or on the phones. Sneaking in hadn't been difficult in the first place, not for him anyways. Attic windows were rarely locked. He'd only been here for a few days though, which meant the girls were still unpredictable. But that was fine. He could change that easily.

People were predictable when they were afraid.

His phone call earlier had really rattled them all, especially Claire. He'd been calling the sorority house for a few weeks but only just recently snuck in, a bold move he didn't normally go for. There hadn't been any rhyme or reason to choosing these girls though. Maybe parts of them reminded him of Agnes, of his mother, or of something entirely different. But here they were and here he was.

The little girl in the park had been an accident. Just an accident, he swears. She'd caught him sneaking around and he had to kill her or else he'd get into trouble. Billy didn't want to be in trouble. Mother would get angry and then she'd–

The sound of Claud's meowing had Billy jolting back to the moment, his breath hitching as Claire gravitated closer and closer to his hiding spot in the closet. His heart began to pound as she reached inside to grab one of her many dresses just as he lunged for the girl's throat. The two stumbled to the floor and the force of the landing knocked the wind out of the poor girl and she was knocked out cold. Billy stared at her, feeling his whole body shake as he crawled up her body to examine her face.

Plain but pretty. Brown hair, big sad eyes, and cheeks flushed from exertion. She reminded him of–

Billy sat back on his knees, his hands trembling violently as he buried his face in his hands, fingers sliding up to grip at his hair. Whimpering, he shook violently as he waited for the adrenaline to come down. With still-shaking arms, he lifted her up into his arms like she was something precious and fragile before creeping towards the door.

He could hear the girls downstairs chatting and laughing, which he took as his cue to escape. The attic door had been left open to make his transition easier. Billy was stronger than his lankier appearance let on, making it easy to lift the girl up into the attic and slide the door shut behind his feet.

The attic was dark, dusty, and quiet. Just the way he liked it. The wooden planks on the floor gave him tiny splinters for him to yank out with his teeth, cobwebs covered all the old boxes and props, and the window panes that somehow weren't cracked were cloudy from years without cleaning. It felt just like home.

A sole, wooden rocking chair had been set up by the old window, creaking as the slight draft swayed it back and forth. Billy sat Claire down in the chair, tying her torso and limbs to it. He wrapped a cloth around her mouth to prevent her from screaming if she awoke and did his best to ignore the way his hands shook. She definitely looked like how–

Mama had to be in her usual spot, Billy thought to himself as he began searching for the doll he'd stolen borrowed stolen from the little girl in the park borrowed. Right by the windowsill with Agnes, just like he remembered. Giggling to himself, he set the ratty, bloodstained doll in the girl's lap.

Despite her resemblances, Claire was softer and kinder than his mother had been. He'd heard the way she talked to her friends or her boyfriend. Warm and loving, accurate only to the version of his mother that Billy had invented in his mind. She was always sweet and good to Agnes, he remembered that clearly. He remembered sitting at her feet just like this, watching her rock the baby by the window as the snow fell.

But Billy always made her angry, always in her way somehow. He remembered the way her face would twist and contort whenever he so much as entered the same room as her. As though simply asking to share her space was an insult that Billy could never hope to apologize for. She would scream at him, cursing him for ever being born, and laugh when he began to cry.

She wasn't yelling now, Billy focused back on the little doll. He was in control now. His mother and sister were gone. He was in control now.

"Little baby bumpin', daddy's gone a-huntin', gone to fetch a rabbit skin to wrap his baby Agnes in…" His scratchy voice sang out into the dirty, dusty space. He pushed gently on the chair to rock it slowly and fixed his eyes to wear the girl's shoes scuffed at the floor. Mother never let him look at her, he reminded himself.

Hearing the muffled sounds of voices coming up the stairs, Billy lifted his head slowly. He listened to doors close, likely just the girls disappearing into their rooms, and crept towards the attic door. He knelt to press his ear to it, nervously humming and chittering to himself as he did.

Calling the sorority house had been stupid, Billy hissed in his mind. "Stupid, stupid Billy," he whimpered, banging his head once against the door, wincing when it rattled. He never should have done that, so impulsive and stupid, said Her voice in his head.

"Hello, Peter?" A soft voice trickled through the cracks of the door. Billy froze to listen better. "I just want to talk to you." The girl - Jess, he recognized - was talking to her boyfriend. Peter had only been over to the house once, on Billy's first night there, and he despised the man. So rude and repulsive to look at. Always talked down to the girls and thought himself the smartest in the room always. 

Billy opened the door just a crack to hear better. "Nothing's the matter, I just need to talk to you. In person. It's important." Jess said with a small sigh. Billy didn't need to see her face but he could picture her exhausted eye roll. Barb had been on the receiving end of that look one too many times. But he knew what Jess was talking about.

He'd already heard Jess talk to Phyl about the pregnancy.

A part of him wanted her to get the abortion too. Recalling his own childhood, remembering Agnes' life, he didn't want to see Jess turn into his mother. Though he could stand to see her annoying boyfriend meet his father's demise - dead in a river, body not recovered for three weeks. At that point, he and his mother had been halfway across Canada, away from it all.

Maybe it would do Jess some good to embody his mother just a little bit.

"Peter, it's important!" Jess insisted, frustration now evident in her town. "I'm not telling you over the phone because this needs to be in person, don't you get that?"

Billy didn't feel in his own body as he crept down the ladder, landing on the ugly carpeted floors with a soft thud.

"Peter-!" Billy heard the phone be slammed down as she angrily hung up. He crept towards the banister of the stairs, staying crouched down as he observed Jess wrap her arms around herself. She threw herself against the couch with an exasperated huff. "The nerve of that man…" She grumbled, arms crossed in frustration.

She noticed movement on the stairs and lifted her head, expecting to see one of her sisters.

Both Jess and Billy jolted in surprise when their eyes met. "Oh, are you from the party?" Jess asked, not noticing the way Billy's breathing picked up. "You should head home, it's late." She rubbed her tired eyes for a moment and then paused. "Unless, um, you're keeping one of the girls company?"

Normally she didn't mind whatever boys her sorority sisters invited but something about this guy staring was… honestly creeping her out. He looked dirty and startled but not outwardly dangerous at least. Lord knows they had enough on their plates with The Moaner calling every other night.

Billy hadn't moved nor blinked. She could see him and that made him real… Did she know about Mother in the chair upstairs? Did she know-?

"Hello?" Jess called softly, getting up off the couch and approaching the stairs slowly, like he was a startled animal. Her expression morphed from confusion to concern as Billy just nodded quickly, chewing on chapped lips like he was struggling not to smile.

Surely she knows, Billy whimpered quietly to himself as he began to yank hard on his hair. She's only asking to see if he'll lie and then she'll-

"Do you need help?" Jess's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts and his head snapped to the side to meet her concerned face. She was crouched beside him now, a look of quiet worry to her that reminded Billy of his social worker.

When had she come up the stairs?

"Help." He repeated, mimicking her tone effortlessly.

They both startled at that. Alarm bells were ringing in Jess's mind but she ignored them, reassuring herself that everything was fine. "Do you know where you are?" She asked gently, looking him over for head injuries.

Billy hated that look. He quelled the urge to dig his fingernails into her neck by digging them into the thick fabric of his sweater sleeves instead.

"No." He said through gritted teeth, eyes locked to the floor as he stood up in such a fluid motion that it reminded Jess of a cat.

He wasn't supposed to be found. He hissed, white-knuckling his hair and yanking with a muffled grunt, trying to ground himself. Why had he climbed down, what was he doing, everything was going to be ruined-

Jess shot up to take his wrists, clearly alarmed. "It's alright," she soothed, tugging on his sleeves gently in hopes he'd move his arms with her help. Billy watched her with wide, fearful eyes and it tugged on her heartstrings just how fearful the man looked. "I want to help."

For a second, Billy believed her. Jess seemed kind and concerned for him. His eyes flickered back and forth between her eyes as he let her guide his hands to his sides.

"Do you want something to drink? Maybe sitting down will help." Jess kept her hold on his wrist loose as she guided him down the stairs towards the kitchen, uncaring of the scratchy feeling of the strange man's sweater.

The kitchen wasn't anything phenomenal - plain but useful, currently decorated to the nines for Christmas like the rest of the house. It was a dingy white from years of use and the floor had been smoothed down in patches that were commonly used. The piping was poor and the dishwasher often broke. But it was functional.

Jess busied herself with making hot cocoa as her guest sat down in one of the old dining chairs near the doorway. His eyes bore holes into her in a way that made her skin crawl.

But he was interesting. The green turtleneck he wore reminded her of Peter a bit but the messy, dark brown curls set him apart. Green eyes were slightly obscured by hair and they darted aside whenever she attempted eye contact. He looked like he was covered in dirt and dust, like he'd been crawling through the attic.

Something about him made her feel equal parts sympathetic and afraid.

She sliced into the warm cinnamon coffee cake Barb had made and snagged one of the bountiful candy canes from a nearby jar. They'd been set out for the party but few people had actually taken one. For such a staple of Christmas, they weren't very popular. But Barb's cake was, as there were only a few slices left on the cake tray. She drummed her fingers anxiously while she waited for the hot chocolate to warm up in the microwave. As a last ditch effort, she began humming a soft melody to try and ease her nerves.

His gaze never left her. She could feel it the entire time.

Finally, everything was ready and she brought the assortment of treats to the little dining nook table where her impromptu guest sat, chewing anxiously at his knuckles as she approached. "Here you are," she joined him at the table while setting things down. "We have marshmallows and whipped cream if you want that too. I wasn't sure of your preferences."

Billy gave the food a once-over before deeming it safe. He'd seen her prepare it and it was unlikely that it would have been fed to guests if it was full of rat poison. His stomach churned slightly at the memory of his mother's cooking. So he took the offered fork with a shaking hand and began to dig in like a man starved. Which he was, technically.

Jess, meanwhile, watched with concern as he dug in. "Well, I didn't think Barb's baking was this good." She chuckled nervously. "Do you, um, know your name?" A part of her was very worried the man had some time of head injury or amnesia that was causing him to act this way - wild, out of control, whatever it was. It was too snowy out to take him anywhere but she'd brave the icy streets if this man needed medical care.

He froze and stared at her again though his gaze no longer unsettled her. But he seemed afraid of her, which troubled Jess. "...Billy." He stammered before busying himself with the cake again.

"Billy." She repeated. Billy liked the way her voice sounded - smooth and gentle, like a fireplace that warmed the whole house. "Well, it's nice to meet you Billy. I'm Jess."

Setting the fork down on the now-empty plate, Billy tilted his head curiously. "Jess," he mimicked her voice back.

She startled, giving him an amused smile. "Yes. And- And do you know how you got here, Billy?"

He stared at her blankly for a long, very awkward pause. The only sound was the soft rustling of plastic as Billy unwrapped the candy cane and stuck it in his mouth. "No." Which wasn't a total lie. He didn't know how he got here but he remembered the moment he realized where he was.

Jess nodded along, drumming her fingers again. A nervous tic Billy picked up and began to do as well against his leg beneath the table. Mirroring people was the best way to put them at ease, in his experience. It made him easier to relate to, easier to understand. People didn't look at him as weirdly when he reminded them of themselves.

"I see," Jess said with a troubled look on her face that made Billy's stomach churn. "Well, is there anyone I could call? Someone who may be looking for you?"

Again, his insides churned. "No." His voice was muffled around the candy cane, obscuring the way he mimicked her accent. Smooth, a nice cadence to it. She sounded like some of the ladies in his mother's TV shows from Europe. British, maybe?

Jess frowned and Billy's heart pounded. He'd given the wrong answer, said the wrong thing, now she would-

"Billy!" His mother's shriek grated on his ears. Agnes was sobbing uncontrollably in her arms, a poor two-month-old thing that was barely more than a bundle of blankets.

A twelve-year-old Billy stood in the center of the kitchen, head hung in shame. But his guilty look didn't calm her wrath nor did it earn him sympathy from his stepfather sitting in the living room just a few feet away. "Yes, mother?"

"I told you I don't have time for chores with Agnes around now! So why am I seeing dishes in the sink and a mess on the table?" She spat at him, trying and failing to soothe the wailing baby.

Billy frowned. "I-I didn't know, mother. L-last week you said-"

A harsh slap hit his face in record speed, leaving him whimpering and near tears. "I know damn well I didn't just hear backtalk from you, Lenz. Bane of my damn existence, why the hell can't you be more like your sister?!"

"Because she is a baby." Billy said plainly, keeping his eyes on the floor in a futile attempt to not anger her further.

He didn't know, at the time, that was the wrong thing to say.

"Billy?" Jess's voice shocked his system, making him yelp in surprise when she reached across the table and placed her hand over his. She was looking at him with worry again and it made him want to rip her face apart. "Are you okay?"

Billy lifted his head, blinking slowly. Her face appeared blurry for a moment and it wasn't until he blinked that he felt tears fall down his cheeks. No words came out and he didn't move an inch.

Jess did though. She rose from her chair while still holding his hand and got him to stand. Despite the height difference, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him.

The sensation made Billy want to throw up. Voices of his mother shrieked in his head to stab her, be done with her. Jess had clearly seen too much and now she had to be–!

"You can sleep on the couch for the evening," Jess said, unaware of Billy's internal turmoil. "In the morning we can talk about what to do. It's too cold out to think of going anywhere at any rate." She offered him a small smile as she stepped away and back into the living room like nothing had happened.

Her sorority sisters always teased Jess for being an affectionate person. She was sympathetic and cared deeply about people. So seeing Billy cry felt wrong. Like it wasn't something he'd meant to do nor had he in a while, which broke her heart a little. She didn't know his past but if he had nobody looking for him, no idea how he got here, and acted out emotionally then…

Maybe he didn't have anybody at all.

"I'll go grab some blankets and spare pillows from upstairs. Make yourself comfortable!" She called over her shoulder before ascending the stairs towards the little closet at the end of the hall. As she was retrieving the blankets, she felt a cold breeze brush against her and make her shiver. Looking up, she noticed the attic door was open. "Honestly, Barb and Phyll should've shut this when they were done getting decorations," she sighed loudly while closing the door. "We'll all catch colds leaving it open like that."

When she came back downstairs, Billy had made himself comfortable on the couch, staring blankly into the fire and only looking up when she'd called his name. "I brought you things," she said before passing him the aforementioned pillows and blankets. The candy cane was still in his mouth.

The sight was a little ridiculous, she smiled to herself while watching her strange guest make a little pillow and blanket nest in front of the fire with such tired eyes. Yet still so much energy untapped and withheld in them.

She reached out without thinking and brushed a lock of brown hair away from his face, making them both freeze to stare at each other, neither daring to move. Jess cleared her throat. "Um, if you'd like to shower, I may have some spare clothes ups-"

A knock at the door made Billy let out an ear piercing scream, like he'd been stabbed. The candy cane - now sharpened to a fine point - was brandished like a weapon as he stared at the door.

Jess had let out a surprised yelp herself in unison with Billy. "It's alright, it's alright," she soothed immediately while trying to breathe her heart rate back down. "It's probably just some late night carolers." Billy stared at her with a horrified look and she gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll go send them off, don't worry."

When she went to the window to peel back the curtains, she found a very familiar man standing there, only waiting another second before knocking again impatiently. "Peter?" Jess frowned before looking back at the couch. Billy had retreated into the kitchen, now stood tucked behind the doorway like a frightened child. "It's alright, it's just Peter. He won't bother you." Leave it to Peter to show up at the worst times, she thought to herself as she unlocked the door. First he tells her to wait until tomorrow evening and now he's suddenly very interested in what she has to say? Honestly, it felt like he loved that piano more than her sometimes.

After a bit of a jiggle of the tricky handle, it opened. "Jess! Leaving me to freeze out there? After I came all this way?" Peter huffed dramatically, shrugging off his jacket and pushing past Jess into the sorority house like he owned the place.

Jess crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "I didn't think you'd be coming. After all, you made it quite clear you needed rest for tomorrow."

"Well, you piqued my interest," Peter said with an insincere smile. "'sides, I can't sleep if something's on your mind. What's going on?" He frowned as he took her hands in his, swinging them lightly. Jess could tell when he must've noticed Billy based on the anger on his face. "Who's THIS?"

Jess glanced over her shoulder and Billy now stood in the doorway properly, sharpened candy cane gripped like a knife as he glared the other man down. If looks could kill, Peter would be ash at Jess's feet. "That's Billy," she sighed, "He's from the party we had earlier."

Peter huffed. "So what's he doing downstairs with you all alone?" His concern was grating and Jess just shut her eyes to mask her exasperation. "Jess, sweetie, if this man's bothering you, just say the word and I'll-"

"Pig bitch." Billy grumbled under his breath, barely audible.

But Peter spun on him instantly. "What did you say?"

"Nasty, filthy, PIGGY BITCH!" Billy shrieked at Peter before stuffing the candy cane back in his own mouth and retreating into the kitchen, clicking off the light to hide in the darkness.

Peter's threats were like white noise as Jess stared into the darkness of the kitchen. That voice. That phrase. Only one person she knew said that. The Moaner. The horrible, awful Moaner on the phone who had been calling them almost nonstop and he was in their house. Had been in the house for who knows how long. And she'd fed him and offered to let him spend the night?!

She felt like she was going to faint.

"Jess, do you need me to kick this guy out for you?" Peter looked down at her, horrified. "This guy's a psycho, clearly. Which one of your sisters even invited him?"

None. Because he wasn't a guest. But Jess didn't say that.

But now she had a choice to make: tell Peter about the phone calls, the Moaner, and how for the past week Billy had been calling their house and disturbing them all with his snorting and screaming and sexual innuendos. Or. Or she could tell him about the baby. Ignore Billy's antics for now and tell him she wasn't keeping the baby.

Jess took a slow, deep breath before taking a seat on the couch and continued weighing her options. If she said something about Billy, Peter may try to pick a fight with him. A fight she was uncertain he'd win. Her boyfriend wasn't exactly scrawny but if Billy intended to make good on his promise of killing them, then she wasn't sure about his odds. But something about Billy felt like a walking contradiction of himself at every turn. He screamed about how 'nasty' they all were yet cowards in fear when Jess offered him food. He yells bloody murder at a knock on the door but squeals like a pig over the phone.

The psychology major in her was suffocating her to learn more. It was like the perfect opportunity had fallen into her lap and she needed answers. Billy came here for a reason, surely, and he didn't seem intent on killing them. Was it a cry for help? Something more?

She had to know.

So Jess steeled herself and let out the breath she'd been holding. "I'm pregnant."

Peter's eyes went wide for a moment before a delighted grin spread on his face, making Jess's stomach sink. "Well, Jess, that's wonderful!" 

She shook her head. "No, it's not. I don't want it, Peter." She'd been afraid of this reaction, silently hoping he'd be as opposed to having it as she was. "I'm planning on getting an abortion soon."

Peter stared at her like she'd grown two heads. "What?"

Her arms crossed over her chest in attempts to mask how bad she was shaking. "I'm not keeping it."

A painfully long silence passed as Peter joined her on the couch, staring her down with a scornful look. "Jess," he said, voice eerily calm, "Listen to me very carefully. You are not going to abort that baby."

Jess turned to him with wide eyes. "Excuse me?"

"We'll get married and you'll keep the baby. It'll be perfect!" Peter smiled like he'd come up with the perfect answer. But all Jess felt was nausea.

"Peter, I don't want that. I have things I want to do, a degree I intend to earn, and things I want to do with my life. I don't want to play housewife for you with a baby I don't want and put all my plans aside." When she stood up to walk away, Peter grabbed her wrist tight. "Let me go-!"

"No, listen to me!" Peter practically snarled, voice oozing with malice as he glared her down. "You don't get to decide-"

"SHUT UP!" A shrill voice called from within the kitchen. It was the only warning before a glass cup smashed into the side of Peter's head, breaking into shards that scratched his cheek as they fell like a waterfall to the carpeted floor beneath their feet. Billy stumbled out from the darkness armed once again with the candy cane. He started babbling nonsense, running his hands through his hair and grinding his teeth as meaningless words fell from his mouth. "Shut your NASTY, disgusting, greedy mouth!" Billy hissed as he clutched the makeshift knife, growling like an animal as he tried to hold himself back.

He wanted Peter dead. Nasty, stupid Peter who wanted to ruin a poor girl's life with a disgusting, ugly brat. A mistake, a burden, another Billy Lenz.

Peter recoiled with a cry, clutching his face as blood oozed down his cheek. Jess checked him over for any other injuries before turning to Billy. "Billy, stop, you don't have to-!"

She didn't get the chance to say anything more, since Billy interrupted her with another eat-splitting shriek before he bolted for one of the throw pillows and began to stab into it with the candy cane over and over. Feathers flew everywhere and tears streamed down his face nonstop. He grit his teeth to keep himself from sobbing.

…

"Billy, don't!" His mother pleaded and sobbed as he struggled with her on the floor, rolling in the wrapping paper and ribbons that had been tossed aside once the gift was unwrapped. Blood already began dripping on the carpet from Billy's hands, staining the soft beige a dark red. "Billy, sweetie, it's alright-!"

Her hands were futile to stop him. He was clever now, sixteen this time and unable to stop his own crying. It wasn't his fault. She let out a grunt as Billy pressed the sharp tip of the candy cane closer and closer to her face. It wasn't his fault. Her gasp of horror as it hovered over her eyeball. It wasn't his fault. He closed his eyes and, with a bloody squelch and a cry of agony, he dug the candy cane into her skull. Hot blood got everywhere as it fountained out almost comically as her eyeball burst. 

When she stopped gurgling, he stumbled towards the kitchen to grab the frying pan, tossing aside the eggs and bacon that had been cooking on it just before he'd slammed his stepfather's face onto the hot stove. He limped back to the living room and stared the woman down with a deadpan face. She looked crumpled and ruined, like a bloody rag that hadn't been washed.

He raised the pan over his head like a baseball bat and swung down.

…

"Billy!" Jess called out, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling him away with a groan. "Billy, what's gotten into you?"

"He's a psycho, Jess!" Peter screamed, still clutching the cuts on his cheek. They weren't thick, more just grazed than anything, which was lucky. "He's a psycho and he's going to kill you!"

Billy flailed around, dropping the candy cane in the fray. "Stupid, ugly, DISGUSTING Billy!" He shrieked out in a high, nasally voice while trying to shake out of Jess's hold as she dragged him across the floor. His sobs wracked his body and made it hard to fight back.

Jess shook her head, lost in her confusion. She acted on instinct, kneeling beside Billy and pulling him in for a hug, letting him wail on her back with his fists and alternating between biting at her shoulder and trying to scratch at her. This, shockingly, wasn't new to her. She'd volunteered at a few special needs schools before and had worked an internship at a nearby hospital. This type of behavior made everything click in her head about how to help.

So she stayed there, running gentle fingers through matted hair and shushing him. "Easy, easy, it's okay," she soothed gently.

"Jess. the hell are you doing?! Get away from this guy, let's call the cops!" Peter roared and making Jess flinch.

"No, it's okay," she insisted, still holding onto Billy as he wailed on her. "It's okay Billy, you're okay now. Everything is going to be alright." She repeated over and over, smiling as the man began to settle in her arms, whimpering and sniffling.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Peter whispered in horror as Jess continued to pet him.

She really, truly, did not know.

…

"I'm pregnant!" Constance Lenz beamed at her boyfriend with all the joy of a little girl on Christmas. She and her boyfriend had been trying for ages now to have a child and finally they were successful. "The Lord wills it, blessing us with our own baby." She'd cooed, already fawning over her barely-showing stomach.

Meanwhile, the little eleven year old boy remained tucked away in the attic, ear pressed to the floor as his mother gushed about the existence of her first baby.

Her previous husband - Billy's father - had died of a "heart attack" not long after Billy turned six and the two had moved far away to "get away from the bad memories," or so his mother said. As if Billy hadn't been in the room, weeping as she smothered his father to death and fled to Canada in the night. 

At first, Billy hated her and the incoming baby. Yet another sign that he wasn't wanted, just a roadblock in her life that she'd remove one day like she'd removed his father.

But Agnes had been precious. Small and fussy and Billy had been enamored with her immediately. He began the risky move of sneaking out of the attic just to go visit her, careful of his dirty, splintered hands and dusty clothes. He'd sneak food and water and visits to his baby sister while she slept peacefully in her crib.

Mother insisted Billy stay away from her. "She's too good for you," she'd hiss whenever Billy was summoned to do chores while Agnes napped. "You'd be wise to make sure she never has to see your ugly face."

For years, Billy suffered the abuse while watching Agnes grow up loved and looked after. She had birthday parties and family vacations while Billy had spiders and cold winters.

One Christmas morning when Agnes had been five years old, Billy had had enough.

Of course, she'd never met him before. But he knew her. He watched her while she slept from inside her closet or from the cracks in the attic floor like a protective guardian and was so, so attached to her. She flourished while he suffered and his adoration of her made it all worth it.

He was completely forgotten now. Stripped of personhood, just a memory his mother had locked in the closet. By the time Agnes had been three she stopped even calling Billy down for things. It was like he wasn't there at all. Two years of isolation and neglect and it all finally snapped.

So there he was. Sixteen and staring down at his kid sister as she played with her toys by the Christmas tree. Their mother lay dead amongst the wrapping paper with her skull smashed to bits by the frying pan that lay cast aside. Her father sizzled away on the stove as he bled out from his neck, which Billy had jabbed with a candy cane before going to town on his back with knives.

Billy stared, his own hands still wet with blood when he approached her on shaking legs, trailing blood behind him while she played with pretty, frilly dolls.

Agnes looked up at him with a soft, youthful face that screwed up in confusion. She wouldn't recognize him, he knew that. Even if it made him want to stab her along with them all.

"Little baby bumpin', daddy's gone a-huntin', gone to fetch a rabbit skin, to wrap his baby Agnes in," he sang quietly while lifting her up into his arms, staining her little white dress with red-pink streaks. He took a seat in their mother's rocking chair with a manic little giggle, like he was breaking a rule by sitting there.

Agnes just slumped against him, still fiddling with her doll's hair. 

Billy stared ahead at nothing, just repeating the lullaby over and over. Tears fell silently down his cheeks as he clung to his baby sister like a lifeline.

The police found them like that. Cuddled together by the Christmas tree like it was a perfectly normal morning. "Agnes," Billy whispered in her ear as the police drew their guns, "Don't tell them what we did, Agnes."

...

Billy came back to the present moment to the soft sounds of Jess humming and stroking his hair in a nervous motion. He lifted his head and stared at her with bleary eyes. "Billy?" She asked when he finally looked at her. "Are you feeling better?"

He didn't say anything. Just slumped back down on her shoulder and bit hard into the thick wool of her sweater vest. "Mm-mm." Billy grunted.

"What did you say?" She asked, keeping her voice light.

"Agnes," Billy choked back another cry. His frantic babbling started up again but Jess was quick to soothe it down. "Little baby bumpin'..." Billy cooed quietly to himself.

"He's insane, Jess." Peter said unhelpfully. "Listen, I'm gonna call the cops and they can ship him back off to whatever asylum he came from." He scoffed as he looked down at the pair on the floor. "Lock him up and throw away the key as far as I'm concerned."

Billy's head shot up. "No!" He shrieked, turning to Jess with fearful eyes. "No! No! No!" He fought against Peter, who grabbed his shoulder to drag him away from his girlfriend.

"Peter-!" Jess protested, stumbling to stand to try and stop him.

Then, like angels descending upon them all, Barb and Phyllis came downstairs, still dressed in their nightgowns. Their mouths fell open in shock as they watched Peter and Billy wrestle to the floor and Jess dart over to stop Billy from absolutely wailing on him. "We, uh," Barb swallowed, "We interruptin' anything?"

Jess let out a sigh as she, once again, pulled Billy away. "I- See, it's-"

"Jess," Peter shot out before she could speak, "Is trying to play mother hen to this psycho!"

Barb looked Billy over with a thoughtful look before shrugging. "Eh, I dunno, any enemy of Peter's a friend of mine."

Exhaustion swept over Jess. What a world where the Moaner was in tears in her arms as she tried to keep him from beating up Peter like she was scruffing a misbehaving cat.

"Jess, what's going on?" Phyll, ever the voice of reason, piped up from beside Barb.

It was going to be a very, very long night.

[sykosomatic]

Can I get a male/ftm reader x billy and/or stu fic involving a costume party? Sfw or nsfw, you choose

oh of course!!!! this is perfect <3 ftm reader (and the lovely stu) because i haven’t gotten any requests for that yet! sfw, no foreseen warnings! hope you like! <3

•••••

you’d been dragged to the party by one of your friends, echoes of ‘it’ll be so much fun!’ ringing in your ears as you slipped your binder over your head and adjusted it. over that you’d decided to do what you assumed many other attendees of the party would be doing: slipping into a ghostface costume. in poor taste? maybe, but then nobody would ever recognize you, and if you did something embarrassing, there’d be no chance that they could pin it on you because there’d be a hundred other dopes dressed just like you.

little did you know, your all-time biggest crush ever had the exact same idea, but for a slightly different reason. stu macher was the life of the party as always when you arrived with your friend, who dipped out upon seeing their biggest crush ever, mister billy loomis. you sighed; typical. this was how high school costume parties went, that was for sure. you took a seat on the couch where the crowd had gathered to listen to stu speak, surrounded by a couple other people predictably dressed just like you.

gosh, he was so funny, wasn’t he? and so cute.. you could cry. heat built up in your face and you had to hurry off, the mask not nearly enough space between you to prevent you from melting into the couch cushions. you went out to the garage to get a drink, as someone had mentioned in passing that it was the ideal place to go for such a thing.

you’d just opened the door to the garage and snuck in when you heard footsteps behind you. luckily you still had your mask on; or else whoever it was would see how much they’d startled you. beer bottle clasped in hand, you looked up to see it was none other than stu macher. you blushed deep under your mask, silent as he approached.

“strong silent type, huh?” he chuckled at you, grinning that grin. you managed to offer a shrug. he laughed again. “well, you seem pretty cool to me at least…” he said, taking a beer of his own out of the garage fridge. “hey, you wanna see something?” he asked, rifling under his dark costume to grab something out of his pants’ pocket. a walkie talkie, maybe? he put it up to his mouth with a wicked grin. “what’s your favorite scary movie?” he breathed into the device; it warped his voice into something spooky, making you shudder. “yeah, scary, huh?” he said proudly, tucking it back away. “don’t tell anybody, though, or else i’ll have to…” he crept up towards you, hands up in a flash to startle you by grabbing your shoulders and giving you a shake. “getcha!” he exclaimed, making you gasp in surprise, before giggling nervously. “oh, you’ve got a nice laugh,” he complemented off-handedly. his eyes caught the clock on the wall for a moment and he looked suddenly like he was in a rush. “shit.. hey, i’ll see you around, okay? don’t be a stranger!” he said as he whipped around, rushing off back into the house.

yeah… you totally had a giant crush on him.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

To celebrate the fact that I'll be updating all my fics in the next two weeks, here are some little sneak peeks of all of the future chapters

Enjoy! and I want to see your best predictions!

Ivy

He remembers his mother crying until she falls asleep. He remembers how his father played the piano as he sang. He remembers how your lips tasted the first time you kissed. He remembers his mother stroking his hair as she sobbed silently. He remembers that night in the bar when you walked away after Jake left. He could remember the feeling of his knuckles beating after he broke that kid's nose when he was ten. He remembers your broken moans. He remembers how you cried the night you left him. He remembers the way you laughed with Hangman that day after a dogfight. He remembers how when you disappeared, so did Jake. He recalls the way you were crying in the shower. He remembers how his knuckles beat when he punched the wall beside your face.

18

“Do we have a problem here?” Billy asked. Then his electric blue eyes fell on your wrist. “Why are your hands on my girl? Back off,” he bites.  Jason bit his inner cheek before finally letting you go. “Good boy,” you muttered as you quickly wrapped your arms around Billy’s waist while Billy placed his hand over your shoulder. 

Mamma Mia

“Please, don’t fuck on communal surfaces!” you scream from the counter as you shake your head, a slight smile on your face.  Jake’s laugh, though, it’s a little bit too loud to ignore. You raise your eyebrow at him, another strawberry, another batch of pancakes. Jake turns to see you, the way you’re staring at him. A slight blush creeps over his neck and onto his cheeks. Your eyes are serious but tender; there’s a certain sinlessness to your eyes, he can tell.  “What?” you asked.  Jake shrugged slightly. The same smirk you saw the day prior drawn on his face is softer than before, but you can detect the duplicitous nature of it. Your eyes wander his body for a second, the tan skin, the heat irradiating from the kitchen. Honey now, honey and an apple.  “Never heard that before,” he said.

Are we still friends?

“That isn’t the way to,” “Don’t you think I know that? I was angry and I fucked up!” you snapped at Maverick who simply nodded sarcastically at you.  “You can’t just,” Maverick started but suddenly stopped, he took a deep breath. “You have to think, Brat!” You scoffed. “You’ve always told me not to think,” you replied silently as you crossed your arms over your chest.  Maverick rolled his eyes briefly before he finally held your gaze again.

Would've Could've Should've

He knows what he’s doing—the way he wants to rile you up or humiliate you. You often aren’t sure of which one it is. He did it in Top Gun if you fought; he was doing it now. For a moment, maybe he’s right; you were making a big deal out of it. Perhaps you weren’t good at making choices.  “Sir,” Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin's voice makes your eyes roll automatically to the back of your head. A groan almost escapes your lips, but you refrain as you gaze on the screen.  “Hangman,” Beau calls on him.  You can almost hear that smirk on his face as he speaks. “Hoax here thought she could do a broken S maneuver,” he says confidently. “However, she failed to understand that the mig was on her tail,” he continues. “I mean, I get why she thought she could escape. Rookies mistake,”

You frown deeply as you whip your head around. “Bite me, Hangman,” you snap.

Cruel intentions

“Happy, call,”  But then you hear it, the deep and guttural growl.  You hold your breath as you manage to make the shape of it, only half of it visible, thanks to the green haze that comes from the corner.

Do I wanna know?

You stared at the umbral of the door quietly; the door was broken down, laying against your bed while you kneeled down. You were still hurting from your previous injuries, you’d done your best to take care of them but you couldn’t lie that you were in no shape if there was more than one person. You took a gun out of your bag and pointed it out at the door.  Suddenly, your eyes fell on him, and your heart dropped. 

[consoledacup]

Some of your season 6 predictions for everyone as individually and in their relationships

For predictions, I'm going to be pretty general, bc anytime I go more specific, I'm usually wrong. But here's what I see for each character...

JJ's going to continue on his path of vulnerability and sincerity. He'll still cause fun chaos and will earn his spot back on the team. A wish prediction is to see a queer storyline for him, but it feels like a pipe dream at this point.

Patience will be recovering from the stabbing. I don't know if she'll even be able to sing for awhile. So she might have to look into something else for a bit if she can. She could be paralyzed with fear. Or maybe learn more about the business side of her image?

For Coop, she'll continue to pursue her passion in law. Which I think is a great path for her! Guessing we'll see her with Laura a lot too. Patience's stabbing is gonna shake her up. So she's gonna be working thru that too.

The whole catalyst for the Catience breakup was Coop getting shot which was really interesting. Instead of that near death experience bringing them together, it tore them apart. Patience was fed up with Coop carrying, not just drama, but dangerous situations with her everywhere she went. So s6 will be so interesting. Because, as almost every fan has noted, Patience practically invited the stabbing. So the shoe's on the other foot. Patience became more self-involved and invited drama while Coop was embracing looking outside of herself this season. This near death experience will bring them back together. Coop's not gonna let her slip away this time after finding Patience in her current state.

Jaymee will continue to navigate her pregnancy with her lupus. I adore Jaymee and would love more screen time with her. There's gonna be a time where she won't be able to work at the restaurant, so I don't know if that'll give her time to look into online schooling or something else? I would love to see her friendship with Layla grow, too. They're usually paired together which I really like.

Asher will continue on his path to becoming a fantastic coach under Coach Montez's mentorship. He'll most likely prioritize Jaymee and the baby over everything so it might cause some conflict with his school commitments. He'll probably privately coach JJ too, but this time, his attention will be welcomed.

I think that Jaymee and Asher will have the baby. I'm not sure if they'll stay together, which is surprising, because I didn't feel that way before. But they've been having some interesting disconnect lately. But I think Jaymee will have the baby. Regardless, they're gonna be fantastic parents who will try their best. Whether they're together or co-parenting.

Laura will pursue teaching which is really cool for her. Teaching is tough, so those with the passion to do it should. I think we'll continue to see her friendship with Grace blossom and hopefully that means more Denise too bc I'm obsessed with her. Laura will be mourning Billy and figuring out this new chapter in her life without him.

Laura will also continue to hold onto family time with her kids. She might've visited Liv over the summer but maybe not. But her bond with Liv will continue to thrive. Jordayla's engagement is gonna have her concerned, but I think she'll be open to it a little more quickly because she knows what loss looks like. And maybe the people in her life deserve to move a little more unconventionally. So then she might be more involved in the wedding planning.

Spencer will continue rebuilding GAU's program with Kenny and Jordan. We're gonna see him smash it on the field and see a mentorship with him and Kenny. I wonder if we'll be clued in to his major at all? Didn't he mention something about psychology to Keisha? I love behavioral sciences, so I'm all for that if we see some of that. I hope we see more of him and his therapist too. He'll keep working thru his heartbreak of losing Billy.

Olivia will, thankfully, not return from London with the typical "study abroad pretentiousness." She's too thoughtful and self-aware for that. I'm very eager to see what she discovered about herself or learned abroad. Maybe we'll see her even more involved in the college community, and we'll definitely see her continue to grow as a journalist. I hope we see more of her and Davita bc I really love Davita. I'll take Davita with Spencer, too, idc. I'm still also uncertain if Olivia will fly back if she hears about Patience or will stay in London. She'll still be working through losing her dad but will find healing, too.

Spelivia will be in a delightful holding pattern until she gets back. It will give them time to really reflect on what they want from themselves and each other moving forward. But their confession at the airport removes the angst and anxiety of "but do they even love me back?" They have each other's hearts now, so they can focus on growing into themselves until her return. When she gets back, they'll be cautious at first but so, so happy. And they'll work on addressing things at the brink instead of letting them fester.

Jordan will keep killing it as a leader and QB1 at GAU. Would love to know his major? And we're gonna see a mentorship with him and Preach hopefully. He might visit Liv in London with Layla, he might not. And he's gonna continue to be the man of the house, regardless of where he winds up living. His relationship with Spencer will keep strengthening, too, along with his relationship with Olivia and Laura. His wedding is going to bring up a lot about his dad, and he'll be navigating that. But that could be where Preach steps in or maybe even JP?

Layla will have to address the consequences of Patience's stabbing. She'll wrestle with guilt for playing a part in elevating Patience and wonder if she should continue down her path of being a mogul. Or if she needs to rework some things to continue down the path in a more cautious way. I hope we see Gia again because I thought she brought a fresh dynamic to the studio. She'll probably have to deal with business consequences too because, you know, her artist was stabbed by a crazed fan. I think we might get scenes of her with JP and some with Laura and def with Olivia as she wedding plans. And I think she's going to have to walk thru some painful moments while missing her mother.

Jordayla will continue in their devotion to each other and their upcoming marriage. I think they're gonna expect mixed reactions from their families and Vortex, but they'll work through it together. And because they're getting married, we're going to see them navigate that in a practical way. Layla will keep learning how to balance work and her personal life. Same with Jordan. But they have fully realized and admitted that they are prepared for the commitment and will continue to lean into the love they have for each other. Since this is such a big step, we might see more elevated arguments, but they'll be worked thru with patience and understanding. And if one argument does break them up, they'll find their way back to each other quicker than later.

Sooo yeah! That's what I'm envisioning for these characters. Maybe a little bit of that was a wishlist, but I also did think about where we left off with all of these people in 520.

[nyxgnocchi]

𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

| 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐨

𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

  ༺ ♰ ༻

𝐈. 𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞

Amara narrowed her eyes, staring at the couple before her. Eyes focused on the tense shoulders, minute flinches when she got too close, the barely contained eye roll.

Billy fucking Loomis might have half of Woodsboro population convinced that he was a doting, loving and caring boyfriend to one fragile Sidney Prescott.

But Amara Hyun, in all her seventeen years, knew better. And that the supposed ‘it’ couple was no more than some fake relationship.

Well, fake for one of them at least.

Sidney looked relaxed in his arms, playing with his fingers, resting against his chest with a content smile.

In any other situation, she would be happy for the girl. Knowing how hard her life has been since the death of her mother, who had been so brutally murdered.

But as Billy moves away from Sidney in guise of picking up his burger to eat, Amara can only shake her head.

“Yo Mara, you zone out again” Stu’s goofy voice bringing her away from the couple, looking to her friend raising his brows, wiggling them much to her amusement.

“Hmm fine stu, just thinking of my next big investigation” she looks over to Billy and Sidney, giving them a quick once over before looking back to the blonde.

“Oh yeah? When’s the next big scoop” Everyone else looking to her, Randy stoping his conversation about the atrocity of the cinema world and it’s predictability.

Amara sneaks a look at the couple, Billy catching her eye and staring at her without a single change in his face. His usual deadpan expression, charcoal brown eyes almost mesmerising as they stare.

The Loomis boy all but quirks an eyebrow at Amara, no surprise that he had caught her staring. She expected it from someone like him.

“Thinking of doing an expose on fake relationships in the school. Seen a few too many and wouldn’t mind the drama that comes with it” she smirks at her friends when Sidney and Tatum whine about mean she was.

Randy throwing his two-piece in about she should do a piece on horror cinema, to which she tunes out, already used to his nerdy talks.

But Amara takes the most interest at how Billy sits up a little straighter, hand squeezing around his drink, almost crushing it. The way Stu doesn’t even jump into the teasing either, looking between Billy and herself.

Amara tilts her head slightly as she looks at Billy, facing him head on.

Neither speak, the world around them goes silent like theirs nobody else but the two of them.

Amara doesn’t know how to describe her relationship with Billy. Like everyone else in their friend group she had grown up in Woodsboro all her life.

She had been friends with Billy and Stu for just as long. Becoming friends with Sidney, Tatum and Randy when they hit middle school.

But Billy had always been a mystery, he kept a closed lid on who he was, you could never read him. You could guess, you could think you’ve understood him, but that was only because he chose what to show.

It made Amara insane, the same way a drug addict would scratch at their skin for their next hit, she wanted to figure out every single thought, emotion and miscellaneous idea that passes through the mind of Billy Loomis.

Amara smirked at her friend before standing and turning to everyone, packing her bags as she talked.

“As lovely as todays little outing was, mama is expecting me home soon, and I need to stop by the grocery store”

Her her bag hanging off her shoulder she turns to the rest of her friends, Sidney and Tatum standing to give her a goodbye hug.

“We need a girls night soon? Come to mine tomorrow, we can all go to school together on Monday” Sidney looked to both girls, Tatum nodding excitedly and Amara agreeing to go along.

“Course sounds like a swell idea. I’ll let my parents know”

She waves goodbye to Randy who doesn’t bother getting of his ass, turning back to Sidney as he continues to spiral about some new movie he had seen.

She rolls his eyes, well aware of his crush on the girl. Amara was sure that even Billy knew it, perhaps one of the reasons he was a little harsher with the Meeks boy.

Everyone knew, all but Sidney, oblivious to Randy feelings for her.

Arms wrap around her and lifts her off the ground, yelping as she’s brought against a warm and built chest. Vanilla and body spray invading her senses as she tilts her head back.

Blue eyes twinkling in the sun as Stu grins down at her.

Where Billy was closed off tighter than a high max prison. Stu was an open book, at least most of the time.

Their relationship had always been playful, a little flirty at times, which had only slightly simmered down since he started dating Tatum.

“Stu”

“Amara” he grins, holding her close to him, Amara all but relaxing in his hold.

“Gonna let go of me now?” Stu shakes his head, resting his head on her shoulder, Amara resting her hand on his head and petting his hair.

“Like a puppy aren’t you? Go fetch” Amara throws an imaginary ball in the direction of Billy and can’t help the laughter when Stu lets go of her.

And throws himself at the Loomis boy, who swears and shoves Stu off at him, everyone watching the two as they play wrestle.

“Alight ladies, I’ll see you tomorrow” Amara throws an air kiss at the group and begins walking towards the shop.

  ༺ ♰ ༻

Amara leans against the trolley, looking at the shopping list in one hand and throwing in the a few extra snacks for tomorrow nights sleepover with Sid and Tatum.

And as she walked through the shop, collecting what her Ma needed, she couldn’t help but think about one boy in particular.

She wouldn’t say she was attracted to Billy, sure he was very handsome, probably the best looking out of everyone at attended Woodsboro High.

But that deep grained itch to study everything about him was something she couldn’t ignore, constant studying her friend, watching his every move.

Someone would call her stalker or mentally ill. But nobody else would ever understand what she feels, how she craves forbidden knowledge.

The innate need to know about everything about everyone. To be five steps ahead whilst everyone is still trying to understand the rules.

Billy was her enigma. A puzzle she could not figure out, no matter how much time she spent on it, nothing could get through it.

And it made her crazy. It made her so damn crazy because of how obsessed she was with him.

Resting head on the trolley Amara can’t help but let out a groan, her mind moving faster than she wants.

“Fuck me”

“Only if you ask nicely”

The familiar low and monotone voice speaks from behind her, much to close. A sharp tingle went down her back and she’s unable to keep her breath steady. Spice and vanilla invade her senses, curling around her like a blanket, her mind in a haze. His eyes burning into the back of her head.

Amara closes her eyes for a second, before spinning around meeting those mesmerising brown eyes.

  ༺ ♰ ༻

And welcome to the very first chapter of egregious! I recently watched the entire Scream franchise (in one sitting) and fell deeply, deeply in love.

I hope yall enjoy this, im also thinking of posting this one ao3! Not sure when or if I will.

Some little notes, Amara Hyun is my oc, but you can also read this as a yn if you prefer.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts!

— nyx

(1.26k words, unedited)

[alwaysthesitter]

@shatterxdsouls

“You really think so?” Steve wouldn’t really know if the town was impacting him or not; after all, he had been here since he was born. He didn’t know what the outside world was like. He was pretty positive that the outside world wasn’t filled with monsters and girls with super powers, but then again, he hadn’t really thought that Hawkins would be like that either so he couldn’t make a prediction. Unlike Billy, he didn’t have a place that he longed to go back to. This was home for him, as shitty as it was. He listened to what the other had to say, brown eyes glancing over and looking towards the younger male in slight shock.

“Wait....you’re serious?” Billy was a lot of things, but he had never seemed like a liar. And the other’s face really said it all - they could just up and leave this town. It wasn’t like his parents could stop him, since they were never around. It wasn’t like he really had anything going for him here anymore, ever since Billy had come into town and basically wrecked all his relationships.

“But....the kids...like I said...” He trailed off. He knew he couldn’t be their babysitter for the rest of their lives, and they were more than capable of taking care of themselves. Yet he felt a responsibility that he couldn’t shake, and that responsibility was going to keep him trapped in that town forever. “They need me, Billy.”

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 25 November 1954

Back to one song again, with another two-week jump that suggests to me that the charts have settled down into something kind of comfortable, just in time for Christmas to shake things up and knock songs like this out of the top 10.

No One But You - Billy Eckstine (peaked at No. 3)

I'd never heard of Billy Eckstine before this, but apparently he's quite a respected jazz singer, who sang with the likes of Sarah Vaughan. That said, the song here isn't very jazzy - more or a romantic ballad. And to be fair, with a title like "No One But You", that's pretty predictable.

We start with a bit of mandolin, it sounds like, which makes me feel like I'm either in Italy or possibly at the start of a Disney film? There's something sweet and kind of old-fashioned about it.

The lyrics, when they come, begin pretty unremarkable, spinning a soppy sort of tale about how "No one but you could take my heart / Before you came". The thing that sells them is the delivery, which I've warmed to the more I listen. At first I wasn't sold - Billy's style is distinctly operatic, which I normally don't love, but there's a warmth to it that convinces here. He comes off suave and smooth, just what you need to pull off a ballad like this.

It's also clever enough with its workding, with lines that twist around and split themselves up, with a turn after each line: "Now I find myself confessing / All the dreams I've been suppressing / All at once my lips are blessing / Your name". There are fiddly mid-line rhymes, too, for example in the line about how "Your hands are cool, your eyes are warm / Your smile is bliss / I'd be a fool to fear the storm that's in your kiss."

That last line also bring a nice note of malice - this isn't just about being head over heels in love, it's about the risk of it all, the chance that it might bring storms and destruction down on you, and how you don't care, either way. That's why we get Billy finally committing to his love with lines like: "Let your kiss destroy or save me, so shall it be". Very melodramatic, but also very romantic, and the "till life is through" wording also makes you think about marriage vows, with their "for better or for worse". Like I said, romantic.

Honestly, this song has grown on me a lot as I've been listening and writing this. I really didn't care for it first time round, and while it's probably not going to become a perennial favourite, I've come round on Billy's delivery and lyrics.

Favourite song of the dramatically romantic bunch: No One But You

[v1ctimplagued]

❛ well, someone's cranky today. ❜ from fran

memes. / always accepting.

　There wasn't a damn day his emotions weren't some rollercoaster of turbulence and uneasy waters, bobbing in and out of violence when it was required. It was something he couldn't quite shake even with time. He always managed to keep that hypervigilance with him and worst of all, he acted on it every single fucking time. Billy was nothing but not predictable, it seemed. Cranky was a kind way to put it.

"Aren't you a fuckin' genius?" She doesn't deserve it, hardly anyone did. And the one who did... well, Billy hadn't figured that one out yet. "I need your help." Naturally, he could have been kinder, less rude, and not a dipshit if he was going to ask a favor. But it was the same favor he had been asking her since he had met her and required of her particular skill set. "The same shit as before," A potion to help him keep it all locked under, to keep the bloodlust at bay, and for the memories to not flashback making Billy feel so out of control within himself. "Fuck, even sedating me might work at this point."

[lunarcovehq]

KADIR'S DISCOVERY - KADIR'S TASKS

Kadir couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something was off about the break in verdicts. Below are the tasks Kadir received from the main which led Kadir to finding out the real culprits were Theo and Kyle. For our members- some of you may remember, but Alex & Penn were both winners of our fun OOC predictions survey we conducted during a previous event. As a prize for winning, both Alex & Penn chose for their characters, Nico & Kadir, to be involved in major plot drops and the below is Kadir's prize for winning. We hope you both enjoy your inclusion in the overall plot and we plan on continuing to have these event prediction surveys in the future where other members have the chance to win fun prizes such as this.

TASK #1 -

Kadir couldn't shake the sinking sensation that something about the case of the break ins were off. There was too much evidence placed, almost strategically, behind and, after talking to Nico, Kadir discovered that Billie didn't fit the eye witness testimony. While Nico had pegged the culprit as being between 5'8 to 5'11, a height that Billie fell into, the initial thief was far broader than Billie's physique would suggest. They also had a distinct smell. The culprit smelled of a mix of sweat, polyester and body spray. The body spray was cheap (think drugstore brand) and was so overpowering that Nico wasn't be able to distinguish who the culprit was from their sweat. The body spray wasn't gender specific, so it could have been something anyone could have bought and over-sprayed. Maybe even to conceal their own scent intentionally? Or maybe they just didn't like to bathe and enjoyed smelling like a teenager who was disguising their BO? Either way, Kadir learned that the body spray is sold at local convenience store in LC and is called Blue Lightning.

Kadir has now, after much convincing, managed to obtain the full list of individuals who have bought this body spray. The list includes over half of the students at LC High as well as some recognizable names including Dilan Selvi, Caleb Wright, Mason Mahir, Kotaro Matsui, Kyle Kane, Kitty Hensley, Mateo Rivera, Jonah Rivas, & Reese Hawthorne. Now it is your turn to get interrogating. Feel free to go around talking to all of the suspects IC and ask them where they were the nights of the break ins. But, be careful as to not draw too much suspicion to yourself. You wouldn't want to let the true culprit know you are on to them.

TASK #2-

After interrogating all of the townsgoers who purchased Blue Lightning, Kadir couldn't shake the feeling that something about Kyle's alibi wasn't lining up. He tried to ignore it, doing his best to enjoy himself throughout the festivities. But, on the last day of the Ren Faire, he couldn't hold the sensation that something wasn't right here any longer. While the rest of the town was at the performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream, Kadir went searching for proof that Kyle had been the true thief and vandal all along. Only as he was making his way across town to the Sunset Drive-In, where Kyle worked, he caught the sight of Theo sneaking around. While everyone else was distracted at the play, Theo was headed back towards the Poison Room. Kadir tore off after him, but Kadir was too slow, arriving to the Coven's Headquarters a second after Theo had already torn off in the opposite direction with the Supreme's grimoire in hand. Kadir chased after Theo, speeding after him through the Pendulum Playhouse just as everyone was being ushered back to their seats after intermission. Only, just as Kadir was about to reach Theo, he felt his vision begin to fade in and out. He was hit with a spell that made him grow light headed and pass out.

TASK #3-

Congratulations, Kadir! You have successful discovered who the true culprits of the break ins were, being Kyle and Theo. Unfortunately, you were unable to stop Theo before Theo stole the grimoire and passed it on to the Catalyst. But, you can make it up to Billie, Anna and Rangi who were unfairly punished for crimes they didn't commit. Now that we are on break from the event, we ask you to please post all of the tasks you've received from the Main so far starting with the first task you ever received and go in order of tasks up until this one. After the discord event is over, a Council meeting will be held with you in attendance where you can discuss what the Council's next move will be moving forwards and how to apologize to the fae that were wronged along the way.

[wrestlingisfake]

AEW Fake Rankings, 6/17/2023

Let's take one last look at the lay of the land in AEW before the new Collision show shakes everything up.

Men's singles division - babyfaces

Kenny Omega (IWGP United States champion)

Adam Cole

Orange Cassidy (AEW international champion)

Wardlow (AEW TNT champion)

Ricky Starks

El Hijo del Vikingo* (AAA mega champion)

Roderick Strong

Mark Briscoe

Bandido

Komander

Men's singles division - heels

MJF (AEW men's world champion)

Bryan Danielson

Chris Jericho

Konosuke Takeshita

Sammy Guevara

Christian Cage

Daniel Garcia

Swerve Strickland

Powerhouse Hobbs

Kyle Fletcher

Unranked: Action Andretti, Ethan Page, Jake Hager

Jobbers: Caleb Crush*, Damon Ace*, Exodus Prime*, Frescomatic*, Jeaux Braxton*, Watson*

*Not listed on AEW's official roster

Aside from interpromotional matches being set up for Forbidden Door, the biggest storyline right now is the Elite (Kenny Omega, Matt and Nick Jackson, and Adam Page) versus the Blackpool Combat Club (Bryan Danielson, Jon Moxley, Claudio Castagnoli, and Wheeler Yuta). Konosuke Takeshita and Eddie Kingston are clearly going to be involved in that somehow, and the big dream scenario is for Omega to get backup from his old friend Kota Ibushi. There's no telling when this saga is going to end; the feud could easily run through the end of 2023. Anyone hoping that the returning CM Punk will do an angle with the Elite is going to wait for this to run its course first.

Other key programs brewing right now are: MJF vs. Adam Cole, Chris Jericho vs. Sammy Guevara, Wardlow vs. Luchasaurus, Orange Cassidy vs. Daniel Garcia. I'm not sure if Ricky Starks will continue feuding with Bullet Club Gold (Jay White and Juice Robinson), but for his sake I think he needs to get a little payback before they move on.

Collision promises to bring back a slew of absent talent, which should push a lot of these guys out of the (fake) rankings. That's probably not good news for guys like Roderick Strong or Swerve Strickland, who are just kinda there right now. Christian Cage's run as a top singles contender has run its course so if anyone's going to take a step down, it should be him. Briscoe, Bandido, Vikingo, and Komander are already more prominent on Ring of Honor than AEW as it stands, so pushing them further out of the AEW spotlight wouldn't hurt them at all.

Men's tag team division - babyfaces

FTR - Dax Harwood & Cash Wheeler (AEW tag team champions)

Darby Allin & Sting

Lucha Bros. - Rey Fenix & Penta El Zero Miedo (ROH tag team champions)

The Hardys - Matt Hardy & Jeff Hardy

JungleHOOK - Jack Perry & HOOK (FTW champion)

Dustin Rhodes & Keith Lee

Men's tag team division - heels

Bullet Club Gold - Jay White & Juice Robinson

The Gunns - Austin Gunn & Colten Gunn

Jay Lethal & Jeff Jarrett

Big Bill & Lee Moriarty

The babyface side is stacked and the heel side is a awfully weak. Bullet Club Gold is mainly a tag team because there's just two of them; once they expand I'm sure White and Robinson will go back to singles pursuits. I like the Gunns but they haven't earned the confidence of the fans as credible threats. Lethal and Jarrett have "they don't deserve to be booked this strong" heat, and they've come up empty on a zillion tag title shots. Bill and Moriarty have a cool dynamic as a team, but I think they're more likely to turn face than be pushed as top heel contenders.

I'll go ahead and predict it now--they randomly reunited the one-off Perry/HOOK team because Perry is totally going to turn on HOOK. Meanwhile, the Hardys have forced Ethan Page to be their butler or whatever, which will probably lead to more wacky undercard trios matches (like when Matt Hardy and Isiah Kassidy were Ethan's butlers). So overall there's no sense of direction in the division--no clear sense of who is going to step up and make a run for the tag title.

Men's trios division - babyfaces

Nick Jackson & Matt Jackson & Adam Page

Max Caster & Anthony Bowens & Billy Gunn

Chuck Taylor & Trent Beretta & Rocky Romero*

AR Fox & Blake Christian* & Metalik*

Men's trios division - heels

Jon Moxley & Claudio Castagnoli (ROH men's world champion) & Wheeler Yuta

Malakai Black & Brody King & Buddy Matthews (AEW trios champions)

Brian Cage & Bishop Kaun & Toa Liona (ROH trios champions)

Rush & Preston Vance & Dralistico*

Kip Sabian & The Butcher & The Blade

Varsity Athletes - Ari Daivari & Tony Nese & Josh Woods

Spanish Announce Project - Serpentico & Angelico & Luther

*Not listed on AEW's official roster

The trios division has the opposite problem, with plenty of heel acts and not enough face teams. I think the Acclaimed and Billy Gunn will keep chasing the House of Black for the belts. But I'm not convinced the other babyface trios will stick together--any of them might see two guys shift to standard tag team wrestling. Luckily AEW/ROH has enough talent to quickly repackage any three guys into a new trio. I mean, not enough to justify having two sets of trios belts. But it's still perhaps the strongest trios division I've ever seen in pro wrestling.

Women's singles division - babyfaces

Britt Baker

Kris Statlander (AEW TBS champion)

Willow Nightingale (NJPW STRONG women's champion)

Hikaru Shida

Skye Blue

Taya Valkyrie

Mercedes Martinez

Trish Adora*

Women's singles division - heels

Toni Storm (AEW women's world champion)

Jade Cargill

Saraya

Ruby Soho

Nyla Rose

Anna Jay

Marina Shafir

Emi Sakura

Lady Frost*

Jobbers: Danni Bee*, Genesis*

*Not listed on AEW's official roster

The feud between the Outcasts (Saraya, Storm, and Soho) against Britt Baker, Jamie Hayter, and various other faces has helped to get a lot more women on TV in the past couple of months. Statlander's shock win over Cargill is a shot in the arm too. (I hope Cargill pivots to new business soon; having Statlander feud with Valkyrie while Jade clobbers somebody else would further deepen the division.) Willow's unexpected STRONG title win is a surprise bonus; now they kinda have to push her whether they meant to or not.

New Japan Pro Wrestling personnel: Jeff Cobb, Katsuyori Shibata (ROH pure champion), Will Ospreay, Zack Sabre Jr. (NJPW World television champion)

Most of these guys are just dropping in for the build to Forbidden Door. Shibata is the head coach for New Japan's LA Dojo, though, so he's more of a semi-regular; he's sure to defend his belt at the next ROH pay-per-view in July. I get a strong feeling Nigel McGuinness will come out of retirement to chase Shibata all the way to Wembley Stadium in August, but time will tell.

No televised AEW matches in over 30 days: Alex Reynolds, Athena (ROH women's world champion), Christopher Daniels, Darius Martin, Diamante, Evil Uno, Griff Garrison, John Silver, Kiera Hogan, Matt Sydal, Nick Comoroto, Peter Avalon, Samoa Joe (ROH television champion), Shawn Dean, Sonny Kiss, Stu Grayson, Zack Clayton

Everyone here has been primarily wrestling for the ROH brand ever since Honor Club relaunched and Dark and Elevation ended. Joe is slated to be a key player on Collision, and I'm certain Athena will return to AEW television one of these days. As for the rest, it'll probably do them some good to be treated like big fish in a small pond for a while.

No televised AEW or ROH matches in over 30 days: Aaron Solo, Abadon, Andrade El Idolo, Angelo Parker, Anthony Ogogo, Brandon Cutler, Brian Pillman Jr., Brock Anderson, CM Punk, Colt Cabana, Eddie Kingston, Fuego del Sol, Harley Cameron, Julia Hart, Lance Archer, Lee Johnson, Leyla Hirsch, Luchasaurus, Madison Rayne, Matt Menard, Michael Nakazawa, Miro, Ortiz, PAC, Penelope Ford, QT Marshall, Rebel, Red Velvet, Riho, Satnam Singh, Scorpio Sky, Serena Deeb, Shawn Spears, Sonjay Dutt, Yuka Sakazaki

To the best of my knowledge, all of these performers are medically cleared and just waiting to be booked in matches. We already know a number of these names are set to return on Collision--notably Punk, Miro, Andrade, and Scorpio. It wouldn't surprise me at all if PAC, Archer, Ortiz, and Hirsch were included in that group, but there's no way to know. As for the rest, it'll be interesting to come back in a few months and see which of them are still on the bench.

Inactive

Danhausen (right shoulder - pectoralis tear)

Dante Martin (left leg - unspecified injury)

Isiah Kassidy (neck - unspecified injury)

Jamie Hayter (right shoulder - unspecified injury)

Kyle O'Reilly (neck - herniated disc)

Mark Davis (knee - meniscus tear)

Marq Quen (unspecified injury)

Parker Bordreaux (unspecified injury)

Santana (left knee - ACL tear)

Tay Melo (pregnancy)

The Bunny (head - unspecified injury)

Thunder Rosa (back - unspecified injury)

Trench (unspecified injury)

It's increasingly difficult to find injury updates on major league pro wrestlers unless they tweet about getting surgery. In many of these cases the performer could just be out for a few weeks or they might need a year to recover...or the injury could be a work while they simply take time off. Rosa could be back in the ring tonight on Collision or she could still be facing months of physical therapy. Santana has been posting videos hyping his return, but that doesn't mean it's going to happen soon. As usual, we'll just have to wait and see.