Yandere Toons x Reader: An Anthology of Headcanons and Scenarios

Billy Lenz (Scenario - "Homme du Grenier") (Black Christmas 1974)

Warnings: Home Invasion, Stalking, Implied Death, Alcohol Use, Smoking, Toxic Mindsets.

A.N. - This takes place before the events of the film.

"Hey, they need you down at 6 Belmont Street. A sorority said they're having some kind of trouble with the phone lines." The hurried voice of a distracted boss rang in your ear, and the call went dead seconds later.

Listening to the droning dial tone was unnecessary, for the dark and windy street of which he spoke laid before you. While returning the telephone to its cradle was a simple task, taking the first step into the snowy outdoors required a hard day's worth of courage.

Most of the flora had become laden with ice and withered into a sickly brown for the winter. What survived was a measly combination of elderberries clinging to sagging branches and Black Gums struggling not to shed their final leaves.

The few conifers that bordered the snowy hills were narrow and appeared as though they would blow over in a strong wind.

Every visitor to the salted streets was bundled in a thick, fur-lined coat and hat.

The large tree in the centre of the park had branches like fingers, with curly sprouts of wood winding into the sky and then spreading apart from each other.

A Tudor-style house stood at the end of Belmont Street, surrounded by dead trees and tall bushes strewn with colourful lights. On one of the side windows on the bottom level was a blue wreath in the shape of a star, and the yellow curtains behind it were thin enough to allow you a glimpse of a fireplace.

Dangling in the middle of the front door was a round wreath aglow with red lights. It was tied to a red ribbon and sat on a hook just below the small, five-piece window on the top of the door.

A wooden fence surrounded the entire property, its pointed top reaching the stomachs of the average passers-by. The gate was hanging open and obscured beneath the scraggly branches of trees stripped of leaves by the cold of winter.

Weeds and brambles had overgrown the edges of the fence and had begun to climb it.

The sidewalk was buried so deep in snow that it was hardly distinguishable from the yard of the sorority house, with the fence acting as the sole divider. The snow ate up your winter boots like quicksand, and you raised them to shake off the white pellets after every other step.

The walkway to the house was a straight shot from the road and was paved with cobblestone. It took roughly ten seconds to walk at a leisurely pace and was bordered by two half walls of stone, both bearing a globular lamp.

Multiple pairs of footprints had disturbed the snow before yours did. Most of them were either approaching the doorway or leaving it, but there was one pair that meandered towards the east-facing wall of the house.

The wall was swamped with vines that winded like snakes, so much so that the plaster and wood underneath it would have been invisible if not for the bright lights of red and green. The impressive length of these scrawny vines led your eye to the dark window of an attic.

Perhaps the most surprising thing about it was that a part of you expected to see someone looking back; however, the shadows were too dense to give this thought any satisfaction.

A sorority girl met you at the entrance within a minute of your rat-a-tat at the front door. She introduced herself as Jess and grappled with the doorknob before jimmying it open, a grunt of frustration slipping past her lips.