Billy Loomis X Reader X Stu Macher Novels & Stories

he explained. “Okay, great,” I replied, looking over the books. The romance was a bodice-ripper, I could tell by the cover. I reached for the mystery. Stumpy held it out of my reach. “Ah, ah, ah. You’ve got to pay the fee.” “Fee?” I echoed. “Give Stumpy a squeeze, and you can have the book,” Stumpy said. A squeeze? Cautiously, I opened my arms for a hug. Stumpy chuckled, reached out, and squeezed one of my breasts instead.

They went in through the old supply shed, past the altar littered with candles and bottle caps, down into the basement, where the air was three shades colder and the world felt stuck between minutes. Loam was waiting, of course, a grinning stickfigure of a man with nicotine stains on every finger. “You brought your doc.” “I’m not a doc,” Xander said, before Carolina could needle it. “I just fix machines.” “That’s all the saints ever did anyway,” Loam replied, gracious, with the air of someone thrilled by his own bad manners.