#NOT a meow meow he is not sympathetic AT ALL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

diejager · 9 months ago

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Tysm for blessing us with puppy girl reader <33

So I diiiiid see that your requests are open so I humbly request (on my knees fr) kitty girl reader head cannons???? Im partial to ghost or 141 but really whatever u want!!!! (muah)

Kitty hybrid!reader Headcanon

Pairing: Task Force 141 x cat hybrid!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON0-CON, hybrid, smut, brat!reader, creampie, training, punishment, tell me if I missed any. We: 1.4k

You were an impulsive act from the team, wanting a little pet that wouldn’t demand too much time and attention, that was a independent pet that would be affectionate enough to pet an play. A puppy would demand to much attention, slobbering and rutting their legs if they had the chance, but a cat, a hissy but sly mess seemed better fit for a family that was always on the move and that would leave for an extended time period on missions, would be the perfect match.

Price made the purchase, but Ghost worked to train you, always the cat person Price knew he was. Ghost picked you up from the pound, a little store for abandoned and forgotten hybrids without a home. That’s where Price decided to find a pet, Ghost was ironically unsurprised, knowing his Captain’s streak of finding strays and feral things. It was a quaint place with warm-coloured walls and a chirpy scenery, everything was simply too calm and too perfect to seem sad and depressed, but he’d seen some hybrids pout and cry in their corners, saddened for being unloved and left to rot alone.

He was expecting something sad or a ball of joy, but he wasn’t that surprised when the cat he went to pick up was a feisty one, glaring and hissing at him despite the neediness and affection you showed him when he scratched your chin. Chalk it up to Price to pick someone as bratty as the others in the team, he certainly had a type for strays. You fought him all the way back, hissing and baring your teeth at him, yet you turned around so quickly when he scratched and pet you in the right places, turning the wild cat into a docile kitty.

You weren’t hard to tame, you were easy to understand and quite the simpleton, simple needs and little expectations. All you needed was a warm bed, a quiet corner and a few spoils to keep you satisfied on the long run, nothing to extravagant or expensive like Ghost was awaiting. Perhaps it was your history of being left behind that made you ask for less, biding your time before you were abandoned again, ripped away from a life of slight luxury.

Now that Ghost had reassured you that this would be your permanent home, telling you to ask for more than the minimum, you truly let go of your apprehension. You were still the feisty, little gremlin they picked up, sly and mischievous, but you were quick to ask for attention, patting Gaz’s knee for kisses, scratching Soap’s leg for treats, crawling over Ghost’s lap for caresses and interrupted Price’s work for a quiet place to nap.

Both Gaz and Soap had a habit of spoiling you more than the others. When you wanted to be spoiled rotten with food, the person you went looking for was Soap, stalking the busy halls for the TF’s rec room, finding Soap lounging on the big couch watching whatever match of football played or movie that streamed. You pawed and meowed at him, forcefully taking your place on his lap and rubbing your face against his stomach.

Soap was a soft and sympathetic owner, easy to bend to your will if you so much as batted your lashes or asked sweetly for a treat. Perhaps it was the way your tail swayed so softly, your ass perked up tantalisingly teasing, that plump ass of yours calling his name to strike it red. Or maybe it’s the way you cry his name, lips pulled into a pout and brows pinched in irritation when you didn’t get what you wanted from Ghost of Price before you ran to him.

When you wanted to be pampered with adoration, you searched for Gaz, calling his name while you walked through the TF’s side, ears perked up to catch any sound or indication that you were on the right path. He was someone you liked to cuddle up to, feeling his hand run through your hair and scratch that itch you couldn’t get at the base of your tail —sensitive, but needed.

Gaz was a rather tender and caring owner, his soft laughter and comforting embrace lulling you to sleep in his lap, tail curled around his calf, arms clinging to his shoulders and face buried under his jaw, nuzzling and breathing in the vanilla and woody scent of his. You would cling onto him for hours on end without letting him move or work, the neglected pet that demanded attention and love. He couldn’t reject you without you pulling a face, teary eyes and flushed cheeks, your ears drooping down and tail depressingly hanging between your legs. And the moment your little fangs poked out from under your lip, biting your bottom one until it threatened to bleed, he’d already agreed to become your bed.

Price was stricter with you than anyone else, more so than Ghost - your handler - was. He had a hard and unmoving hand, mind shielded from your doe eyes and pout, steeled to a T to prevent you from getting your way with him, and his character perfected to accommodate you without spoiling you too much. You were his best girl, but that didn’t mean he’d treat you like a pampered princess, he picked you for your tenacity and feistiness, someone strong and independant.

Yet here you were, clawing and mewling at him, staring at him with teary eyes and a needy whine to have his attention on you. Fortunately, Price was a generous owner, occasionally letting you do as you wished, climbing onto his lap and somehow, you could nap on his lap and not fall off. If he was too busy to indulge you, he’d give you a harsh stare and order you to sleep on his couch where he left his jacket and a few soft blankets for you after he watched you shiver and whimper in your sleep. It stung his heart to watch his precious kitten shake and cry, suffer from his cold, lonely couch, so he got you whatever he thought you needed to feel cozy and comfortable when he was too busy.

When you wanted some quiet, but didn’t want to be alone, you looked out for Ghost, your handler was the calmest of the bunch, a source of peace and solace. If you were bored from bothering Price, tired of Gaz’s petting or full from Soap’s stuffing, you ran to him for sleep, not just a short nap. He was the man you often slept with at night, taking up half his bed and cuddling up to him. He often woke up with your face nuzzled up his neck, nails sunken into his shirt and tail curled around his arm, waist or thigh.

He was kind in his wrong way, letting you go scot free with many mistakes that he would reprimand others for doing: ripping his clothes, staring at his uncovered face, asking for kisses, demanding affection, and taking up his room like you owned it. You’re a little rascal, rubbing your face in all of his stuff and leaving stray furs stuck to his clothes, smothering him with your scent and body, taking up his bed, his sheets and his room as a means of showing off your possession. It amused him, your possessive nature of him and the rest, like the way he collared you in black lace to show people who you belonged to. That pretty neck of yours and the sweet voice that cried whenever he scuffed you too roughly was his.

You were a gem to live with, truly, but when you weren’t, you were a proper brat, one that needed to be punished. Needing a firm hand to put you back in your place with a hard fuck, ignoring your hiss and struggle while he pinned you to the couch. You might whine and fight him, but he knew you liked it - craved it - from the way your little cunt tightened around his cock, milking him dry of all his worth.

You don’t take well to punishment, clawing and biting at them until someone ties you up prettily, leaving you vulnerable and unable to stop him from exacting your lesson. You have to learn one way or another, they can’t leave you spoiled rotten and keep pampering you if you’re a bad pet.

Eventually, you’ll calm down and learn your lesson, tired out by four different cocks, holes filled and stretched out and cunt satiated. You were a cock and cum-drunk pet with your holes leaking cum, rolling down your ass and fur matted from being pulled on so much. You mewled tiredly and let them manhandle you as they saw fit, purring at every little touch of soft affection and easily moved to Ghost’s bed at night.

Hopefully, you’d listen to them when you woke up.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

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feefivefoe · 3 months ago

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I fear that they would figure me out too quickly. I am so easily manipulated by someone acting pathetic 😔😔

The whole little brother act by Damian would get to me sooner or later and I fear that although Tim is 19, I would feel bad if he came to me after a "nightmare" 😞😞

I just hope that they don't play dirty, because I would be COOKED 😭😭

No you're so valid. I too like to baby pathetic meow meows.

But in my head, reader has to be unempathetic and uncaring because you don't live long in a city like Gotham by being sympathetic.

Caring about people is for those who have the luxury of resources to share. Bleeding hearts get snuffed out. And while reader isn't clinging to life, they aren't going out of their way to get killed.

But unfortunately for folks like you, at least half of the batboys are willing to be pathetic if it means getting the upper hand.

Dick and Tim have no shame. Both of them will cry while clinging to you about just how WORRIED they were about you. And how SAD they are that you HATE them soooo much! Won't you give your dear brothers just a sliver of affection?

Dick will try to monopolize you at times by being physically clingy. The others are just so much more touch adverse, and his love language is physical touch! He's just so sad that he can't properly express how much he loves his siblings! Won't you let him give you the affection he had failed to give for so long? He has so much to make up for! 🥰🥰🥰

Tim is a little more adaptable. Rather than pushing you into the mold he makes, he molds himself to your sympathetic nature. Not only did he have a nightmare, but he just finds it so hard to sleep while he's thinking about all the bad things happening in Gotham...won't you let him sleep in your room? Being around his (now) favorite sibling helps keep his mind at rest! And he's so sleep deprived...don't you want your little brother to get some rest? 🥺🥺🥺

Damian and Jason are much more reluctant to join in. They have more pride than that. And while Jason might be willing if you were mad at him like you were the others...he's already your favorite, he doesn't need to stoop so low. If he does find your attention slipping, he might 'unintentionally' trauma dump about how his death felt, his final thoughts, how the pit makes him feel...inhuman. About how Bruce made him feel abandoned, just like he did to you. What better way to firmly strengthen his position than trauma bonding, right?

Damian takes the longest to come around. Sure, he's the baby. And sure, he kind of played into it by insisting on strengening your familial bond. But he isn't a child! (Damian, you literally are-)

While the others infantilize themselves in a way to get your favor, Damian does it by doing the opposite. Don't look at him as somebody who needs coddling! He's going to look after you, because you're the one who needs him, not the other way around. You live such a better life now that he found you and got the others to bring you home. He'd never admit it, but he's envious of the attention the others get, but isn't willing to throw away his pride to do the same. He does have an advantage by being the youngest. You can't help but naturally baby him a little! And the scowl and scolding he gives every time does nothing to deter you!

#neglected batfam #bat tag #yandere batfam #neglectful batfam #yandere batboys

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ldknightshade · 8 months ago

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how to write a morally grey character (and keep them from being a total bore)

so. your other characters have a ��clear” distinction of good and evil - that is, from your perspective, your other characters have a distinction of good and evil that aligns with your own and would generally be considered by societal standards to fall under one of two groups… but now you want to make a guy that breaks those boundaries.

look no further.

i. myths

first step is giving them a balance of good and bad traits

1. every character should have this???

2. every trait works on a sliding scale; when amped up to 11, good traits can become bad ones

those who are morally grey are unpredictable

to YOU and those they interact with, maybe… if they do not have a clear moral code of their own, of course they’ll seem this way. but they’re actually quite predictable if you actually comprehend what their motives and values are.

example: Herbert West from Re-Animator’s only motivation is re-animation of the dead. this may be evil to some, noble to others… but is it unpredictable? not really. i think we all know not to trust this man around corpses.

example: Charles Foster Offdensen from Metalocalypse’s only motivation is ensuring the health, safety, and happiness of Dethklok. he goes incredible lengths (war crimes, literally) to do so; this is evil to some, noble to others… but it he unpredictable? not really. if Dethklok is in danger, then he has dropped everything to save them and is doing so as we speak.

they’re relatable / more human

see above examples. moral greyness is not inherently relatable; in some cases, it would be argued that they shouldn’t be. either way, their moral greyness does not make them any more or less human than any other character. their moral greyness makes them morally grey and that’s that.

you need to show them doing both good things and bad things

wrong. you need to show them doing things that align with their personal motivations and values. if your character wouldn’t do it, why force it? this goes both ways.

they need to be sympathetic / have understandable reasons

anyone saying this is afraid of making characters truly morally grey. sympathy is not something that defines morals, anyway; but regardless, sugarcoating their actions and motives by making them a poor little meow meow on purpose is… bullshit. if every morally grey character was sympathetic, fiction as a whole would be dull.

ii. values

this is the real meat of it. what does your character value? is it something practical, like revenge or power? or something wackier like the previously mentioned examples?

clearly define the values your character holds and how it shapes their goals.

iii. motivation / lengths

now… how hard does motivation hit them? how far do they go? where do they draw the line? is there a line for them?

would your character lie to meet their goals? cheat? steal? manipulate? maim? vandalize? kill?

even amongst those, is there specific lines they won’t cross? would your character go as far as killing, but draw the line at children and animals?

and amongst those lines… what would make them cross it? does your character value honesty, but would lie to protect someone? are they a pacifist… but believe followers of certain schools of thought deserve a baseball to kneecaps and won’t hesitate to act on that?

draw out the line for them and then examine their exceptions. this is what will make it seem to other characters that their morality is a roulette wheel; when, in actuality, there is a line of logic that your morally grey character is following.

#ldknightshade.txt #writing #on writing #creative writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #writing advice #writing help #writing tips #writing inspiration

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barrenclan · 5 months ago

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i think rainhaze is one of my favorites characters ever genuinely, issue 37 was AMAZING and i really loved how rainhazes arc finally ended. I feel rlly happy bc this was a very poingant way of putting that rabid dog down but also i mean. I am a little sad. I pity rainhaze but in a way you pity a cocroach or something... He had it coming, his death was soooo well executed!! rain and all of defiance see killing as a divine right, and seeing that turn on rainhaze was very cathartic.

The casual way he spoke about asphodels murder was genuinely sickening. As if it was all a favor to HER, instead of rainhazes cowardice and trauma and brainwashing and selfishness making him kill his niece im cold blood. The way his own death dragged on and on, how painful and terryfying and gruesome it was - this is what asphodelpaw went through. Her death was not like falling asleep and neither was his. It was scary and painful and cold. So cold.

The way this comic completely subverted audience expectations with rainhazes character is sooo so good... At first he was just a chilli dead guy. then he turned into a classic winter solider type - morally dubious but still symphatetic, a 'poor little meow meow' who was stuck in a horrible situation he had no way of leaving. and then he killed asphodelpaw in cold blood. That moment, when he chose to embrace the violence, the damned coward, was such a delicious and twisted reaveal - forcing the reader to reconsider the whole story and character from an entirely new perspective.

i think we as people well versed in fandom tend to woobify and water down characters like rainhaze and make them into 'poor little meow meows' - removing their agency in the situation entirely to make them more personable and toned down - and rain feels to me like a purposful dissection of that. he IS sympathetic, to a degree. the shit he want through was undeniably awful - and it broke him and molded him into a monster.

rainhazes character was always about choice, i think. about decisions you make and the decisions made for you, and how you respond to the latter... about the question of autonomy. where does your choices end and other peoples influence begin? and does it really matter, in the end? does it matter whether or not rainhaze did what he did out of his own will or under rangers influence? he still did it. even if he were sorry, and hes not, would that matter? he killed her. there is no bringing her back and he had to deal with the consequences himself. abandoned by his family and his tormentor alike.

his death was pathetic and slow and pitiful, and above all disturbing - just like rainhaze himself. i think thats the word that describes him best - pathetic. rest in pieces, you cold bastard. ill miss you.

sorry this is so long..... i tried to put my thoughts into words here and i still fell short, i hope at least some of it makes sense

So, so many people have wonderful, intricate and moving thoughts about Rainhaze in my inbox, and I want to share them all with you. So here is the first one.

Rainhaze really did make for a great deconstruction of the "poor little guy" trope that I was interested in exploring. Shellspring also did, to an extent, but with Rainhaze I wanted to get really deep into it. How much of this is his fault? What could he have done differently? Is his death cathartic, satisfying, triumphant, painful, tragic, or anything else? It was a lot of fun to write and I'm glad so many people seem to have enjoyed it.

#ask #rainhaze #analysis #currently i have about 240 asks so like. it may take a bit to get to them all understand #patfw spoilers

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blueandberryyy · 1 month ago

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Kindergarten Boyfriend

Prologue

childe x fem!reader

.•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨`•. ☆.•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨*•.

"Bye mom!" Y/N hugged her mom before running towards her class. Her classmates were waiting in a line outside the huge school, preparing to go in. It was fun to see her classmates in the morning. It helped her forget about home and her mom. Instead it helped her think about all the fun parts about school - like crafts, and drawing, and most of all her best friend, Ajax.

"Okay class!" The teacher clapped her hands, and the kids clapped in response. "Time to go inside!" Y/N smiled. She followed the kid in front of her, up the big front steps and through the heavy front doors. Inside the school there was a long hallway that seemed to go on forever. The walls were covered in tons of pictures. Some pictures had animals like zebras, while other pictures had pretty flowers, numbers and words. The Animals were her favorite though. They passed a giraffe picture, and then a squirrel, and then an octopus before stopping outside their class. On the wall next to the classroom door hung a bunch of drawings done by her classmates. Y/N waved at her drawing of two cats on the wall as she passed.

Inside the classroom, it’s bright and sunny. Next to the door, there’s a wall with cubbies. On the floor next to the cubbies there’s a huge rug that looks like puzzle pieces. The other side of the room has a bunch of desks for the students. In the corner, there’s calm music playing from the teachers desk. Y/N starts taking her backpack off, heading towards the cubbies. At the cubbies, she sees Ajax, a small red haired boy in a bright yellow shirt.

"Ajax! Hi!" She grinned at him. Ajax was Y/N's best friend. On the first day of school, their seats had been placed next to each other. That day, Y/N had noticed Ajax drawing a ship. It looked so big and had so many pirates on board. She immediately started talking to him, asking questions about the ship. Then, at recess, she followed him around, asking him all sorts of questions. Ajax hadn’t really talked much at first. Their teachers wondered if he would get annoyed by the young girl’s persistence. Pretty soon, though, he seemed to warm up to her. After a few days they were practically inseparable. They giggled during class, spent recesses making up fantastical games, and worked on crafts together. They quickly became best friends.

"Hi, Y/N!" Ajax waved and smiled, a piece of paper with a drawing clutched in one hand. “Look at what i drew!” He held out the paper proudly. Y/N studied it closely. It was a drawing of a black and white cat.

“Awww it’s a kitty!” Y/N exclaimed. “its a spotty kitty.” she cooed.

“i drew it for you!” Y/N’s eyes lit up. and Ajax’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.

“Really?” Y/N was beaming. Ajax nodded in response. She could keep the cat drawing? He was the best. They headed to their seats.

"Alright class, good morning!" Their teacher announced. They sat down and faced their teacher, ready for the day.

During free time later that day, Y/N and Ajax were unsurprisingly found sitting by the toy kitchen playing.

Y/N was sitting on the floor, bouncing a stuffed cat up and down. she was making loud meowing noises, while Ajax pretended to cook a meal for the hungry kitty.

"here you are, little kitty!" Ajax proudly produced a plate with toy lettuce. Y/N clapped her hands and meowed appreciatively. Then Y/N looked at the cat in her hands and sighed.

"I want a real kitty sooo bad. it's so unfair!" Ajax nodded, sympathetically. Y/N's desire for a cat was a common subject. Unfortunately, her parents were not giving in.

"If we were old, I'd get you a cat." Ajax sat across from her on the floor and smiled. Y/N perked up.

"You would??" Y/N was earnestly looking at him.

"duh! We could name it..." Ajax looked around for some sort of name for the cat before seeing the plate of food. "lettuce!".

"lettuce the cat!" Y/N giggled. It was such a silly name. After a second Ajax started laughing too. Once they calmed down, Y/N grew serious. "Okay... when we're old we'll get a cat."

"But will we still be friends when we're old?" Ajax asked, frowning. Y/N's heart sank. Would they still be friends? Some old people were friends but a lot of old people weren't friends. How could they for sure still be friends when they're older? Hmm… she knew some old people were still friends. Like her parents! They had known each other forever and were still friends. They were even married. She gasped. That’s it! Married people are together forever. Married people are best friends. Ajax is her best friend. It made perfect sense.

"I know! Let's get married!" Y/N announced excitedly. "Then we'd be best friends forever." Ajax frowned, thinking for a moment. He couldn’t think of a reason to say no. It made a lot of sense. He looked up, and smiled.

"Okay! We'll get married!" He agreed, happily. Y/N nodded solemnly.

"Pinky promise?" She held out her pinky towards him, expectantly. Ajax looked at her expression, completely serious, then down at her pinky, before reaching his own out.

"Pinky promise."

.•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨`•. ☆.•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨*•.

masterlist | next

a/n: ahhh first chapter! writing kindergartners is hard, and honestly i'm not super satisfied with this attempt, but i just need to start writing again. will be posting the characters profiles hopefully later today!

#genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smau #genshin smau #childe x you #childe x reader #childe x y/n #genshin x y/n #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #blueberrysfics

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themetalvirus · 7 months ago

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scourge isnt actually cool, hes just a bully and a freak who declares himself king of the world after beating up a few politicians. sonic's dad made him run away crying. hes pathetic and not in a particularly sympathetic way. he's the perfect blend of egotistical, powerful, prideful, stupid, and wretched. he's truly a great anti-sonic after ian flynn greened him. he's violent and yearns for power and does violence for fun and all his "friends" hate his guts and plot behind his back to kill him. hes such a good character and it makes me mad that people either focus on the bravado or the meow meow parts. hes a prideful guy with nothing worthwhile in his coward's heart. and that's why he's such a good villain. in my opinion

#exoticbutterstxt

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mamani-bento · 1 year ago

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weight (satoru gojo)

gojo x reader, 1.4k, gender not mentioned

established relationship, fluff + comfort

the poorest little meow meow

mamani-bento's masterlist!

there’s something about tiredness in gojo’s life. something about how the exhaustion of carrying a weight and a future, neither just his own, has followed him around for years, like a dutifully grotesque pet dog.

he uncomplainingly lets it pad at his heels for the longest time, twisting his sense of self-preservation into a similarly dark thing. he masks his loneliness with a wide grin and his weariness with a silly joke, but every day, his back breaks from carrying his heavy heart. gojo has always been a powerful man, but to bear this weight alone has left his emotional spine feeling perpetually hunched.

it fluctuates in effort and attention demanded from him. lighter in the early mornings, as he wakes up in your arms, blinking blearily at your sleepy but fond grin at his uncharacteristic sluggishness. lighter too on the weekends he gets off - slow sunday mornings that he spends putting together elaborate brunches that you pretend to help with (you chop a tomato and decide to shift to moral support after that); or the saturday nights outside with friends, your heated gaze catching his from across the bar, the promise of your body flush against his once you reach home curling low in his belly.

sometimes, he experiences flashes of time when he doesn't register the weight at all, leaving him reeling. brushing his teeth with you, reflections side-by-side as you pull funny faces at each other in the mirror. the fiery glow of the setting sun catching your smiling, upturned face at the beach, like calling to like. waking up to you, always waking up to you. these moments when his breath catches in his throat like a lump of something too-sweet that he's trying too hard to not choke on to register the ephemerally absent burden.

but there are other times - dark, terrible times - that the heaviness threatens to swallow him whole.

the last few hours have been a blur of activity. lingering adrenaline from the heady mission leaves gojo's body in a constantly draining, ugly streak, his energy dipping lower with every step he takes. he had waved away nanami's offer to drop him home, tired of being so on and looking forward to the quiet and solitary walk. now, as his legs trudge along on muscle memory alone and the strain in his eyes starts to feel like too much, he's wondering if he should have just accepted.

he finally reaches the front door, wondering if you're back home from work, every part of his being praying that you're on the other side of the wood. his keys click in the lock and he steps into the one place he can lay down the baggage.

he registers the sound of the television at the same time as you call out, "gojo? is that you?"

he doesn't bother with a verbal response, unceremoniously kicking his shoes off and entering the living room. he rounds the corner of the foyer and pauses, heart briefly unclenching in one of those stark instants.

your hair is a mess, half-dry from a shower and curling near the tops of your ears. you've been complaining that it's getting too long these days, difficult to manage. you're dressed for bed, soft and fraying cotton t-shirt and shorts with strawberries printed on them. the realisation that you had waited up for him has his insides feeling raw, all scraped and tender with your love.

at his entrance, your expression changes from curiosity to one of sympathetic understanding. he's never been able to hide his exhaustion around you. he's given up trying to long ago. you peel away the layers with the slightest glance and he's fully exposed before he ever realises what's happening.

without another word, he lets his bag slip off his shoulders and drop to the floor, and takes one, two, three steps to the couch where you're sat. it's a bit of a squeeze, and he has to keep his knees bent, but with some shifting on both of your parts and your amused huff, gojo manages to lie down on the three-seater with his head on your lap.

he burrows his face in the fabric of your t-shirt as a hand comes up to soothingly card through his hair. humming as your nails lightly scratch his scalp, he lets out a deep sigh, weight dropping with the smell of your shampoo, the comfort of your presence. neither of you say anything as he takes his time to come up for air, once he's fitted out with enough ammunition to face the outside again. the television maffles in the background.

when he turns back to face the ceiling, head securely cushioned by your thigh, you're looking down at him with a practiced discernment that leaves him feeling naked to himself. another slight puff of air leaves his lips as he lets his eyelids flutter closed.

"do you want to talk about it?" you softly ask, your soothing ministrations on his hair not slowing down.

gojo cracks a single eye open. thinks about it. decides that it's too much and gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. imperceptible to anybody but you, that is. "tired," he mumbles before resting his eyes again.

one of your palms comes to cup the back of his head, gently lifting as the other hand deftly undoes the knot on the blindfold. another weight that you effortlessly dismantle. the strip of cloth is placed on the arm of the couch next to you.

once his head is comfortable on your lap again, you easily slip your hand into his, resting interlocked fingers on his stomach. "have you eaten?" you ask next, thumb rubbing slowly across his skin, tracing love that simultaneously keeps him in one piece and shatters him into a thousand.

he nods. they had gotten sandwiches a few hours ago at a gas station on the way back.

"have you eaten enough?" you pointedly ask, as if reading his mind. you might as well be.

gojo remains silent. gives a small shake of his head.

thankfully, you don't go to remove him from his cozy position. he's quite content where he is now, cocooned in this bubble of affection you've created. instead, you lift his hand that's ensconced in your smaller one, his long fingers curling in your grip as you brush your lips across his knuckles.

the tenderness in your touch leaves him breathless, and he marvels, not for the first time, how he had survived for so many years without this. he's never known this sort of peace before - somebody to come home to, their lap to lay his head on, room in their heart for him to set up messy shop.

sometimes, he doesn't know what to do with it, honestly. can't quite figure out where to put his hands when you show such kindness, like he's somehow worthy of your love. he had a hard time letting you beat at the fog that he's lived with forever, but patiently, you kept bringing bigger sticks, just by being around him. he's better at it now. better at convincing himself in moments like these that this peace isn't a borrowed thing that'll disappear in the morning.

"is there any dinner left?" he asks softly. he'll let you take care of him. he deserves it. you think he deserves it, and he'll trust your judgment.

"mm-hmm. i'll heat it up when you're ready to eat."

he feels the drain of energy, yes, but also a load slowly getting lighter somewhere inside him. the dim yellow lighting of the room, the cushioned couch under his limp body, the sounds of the television regaled to the background, and you.

always, you.

he has a laundry list of things to do tomorrow - classes, mission report, demonstrations, debriefing, all the people he has to be loud for - but, he'll wake up in your arms. and you will give him that look as the sun streams into the quiet room, that fond grin as he works to get his brain up and running. and he will feel the weight similarly start to ease away, like a pavlovian condition he doesn't want to fight.

the thought is enough to give him the strength to lift his head from your lap. you cup his cheek with your free palm, looking at him like he isn't the strongest sorcerer, like he isn't contact person number one for the jujutsu world, like he's just a man who's tired, and it feels like stepping into a beam of sunlight that warms his frigid skin. not letting go of his hand, you rise, and he follows. for now, to the kitchen so he can get some food. but really, he'll always follow to the next morning, and the next and the next, where he gets to wake up to you.

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romanoffsbish · 2 years ago

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Meet the Fockers Bishop-Belova’s

Natasha Romanoff x (Dr.Doolittle)F!R

Bishova 🥰

Liho to the Rescue (Part 1)

Natasha has a mission, entrusting you and Liho with Yelena, Kate, and their dogs that couldn’t be more different, and you (un)fortunately get to spend a week getting to know all of them intimately.

"Lucky Bishop, you are embarrassing us in front of the guest, sit still."

"But Fanny! Look! No matter how fast I go, my tail never gets closer, it's crazy isn't it?!"

"They're so uncultured, this is why cats are the better option. Imagine being a dog person."

To the women before you exchanging familiar friendly greetings it is a normal occurrence, the dogs barking while the cat lazily meows atop of Natasha's shoulder. To you though, it's an interesting engagement that you almost feel bad for intruding on, but not enough to not laugh out loud, instantly drawing the attention of all the humans, and animals before you.

——

"Oh, let me introduce you all to my girlfriend," Natasha beams, gently tugging you forward and right into her side for a comforting hug, "This is Y/N." Yelena immediately gasps and steps forward, "The animal whisperer right?"

"Yes she is, I can no longer have my thoughts to myself," Liho groans, and you lean forward to glare at the feline, and he tilts his head back in challenge, "Yes, that's me, and if you're curious I offer interrogation services, it's how I found out that Liho ate Nat's hoop earrings."

"You promised!" Liho shimmies onto Nat's other shoulder and swats at you, "Yeah, and you just dissed me, served you right, jerk!"

"This is so cool! Tell me, what's Fanny thinking right now?" Yelena jumps in place, clapping her hands together in obvious excitement.

"Well, I don't invade their thoughts, so why don't you ask her, and I'll respond for her."

"Fanny, my truest love, what's on your mind?"

Your girlfriend and you bite back a laugh when seeing Kate's face scrunch up in offense as her aloof girlfriend drops to her knees and cups her pooches face, "Tell my new friend baby."

"Well, for starters, I wish for Lucky to stop breathing down my neck, it is bothersome," she barked curtly, "Then, I would like to go to the barn and chase the chickens to decompress."

"She's very, um, well," you paused, looking to your lover for help she simply couldn't offer you, "She'd like some personal space, and she wishes to chase the chickens to get it."

"Mention Lucky, she's too clingy!" she barked shortly in your direction, and you smiled sympathetically at the whimpering retriever, "She'd also like for me to mention that dear, sweet Lucky's a bit too clingy at times."

"Kate Bishop! I told you that Lucky was crowding her, didn't I?" she scolded, then gasped, "Oh my god, I'm a dog whisperer too!"

"Go ahead, chase the chickens moya lyubov'," she pecked the pooches wet nose, then rose back up to face all of your stunned faces, "What? You expected me to say no to her?"

Natasha turned to you with an apologetic smile, "I'm so sorry detka," she nuzzled her nose with yours and softly pressed her lips to yours, "I'll only be be gone for a week."

"Don't worry Natasha! She will be fine!" Yelena boasted, then your girlfriend shook her head as you were torn from her, "Now, we have fun!!"

Natasha blew your shocked form a kiss from the car, then she sent up a prayer to whatever higher power listening that you don't breakup with her at the end of this sure to be long week.

—

"How's it going moya lyubov'?" Natasha asked through the phone, and you shot her a smile, but it didn't reach your eyes, "I miss you Nat. It's so cold without you to snuggle up to."

"Aww baby," she cooed as she lifted the phone closer to her face, as if that equated to comfort, and in a way it did as you giggled softly at the sight of her nostrils, "You can cuddle Liho."

"No, she can't!"

You rolled your eyes, and Natasha smirked in understanding as she heard the cat plop onto the ground after you gently nudged it with your foot, "Can't you two just get along, for once?"

"We once did, then she betrayed me, and never gave me my can of tuna after doing so!"

"Blame Natasha! I tried to, but she said no tuna for naughty cats, and you just keep acting up!"

"He broke my limited edition nunchucks!" Natasha shouted, reaffirming your stance, and it seemed to soften the black cat a smidge.

"Hmph," Liho meowed angrily while plopping onto your chest, giving Natasha a view of his butt instead of you, "I want my damn tuna."

Natasha gasped, "Did he just swear?"

"Uh, I'm not even going to ask how you know."

"Easy, when you bicker he meows like that."

You chuckled softly, "Goodnight Natty, be safe please," you smiled at your awkwardly tilted phone before blowing her a kiss that she caught, "Always am, I can't leave you two behind, you'll likely kill each other if I did."

After you set your phone down on the bedside table you whispered softly, "I love you Nat."

"Why don't you say it to her instead of the air?"

"Because, I don't think she's there yet Liho, and the last thing I want is to scare her away."

"You're being dumb then, she's totally in love."

"Be nice, or you can sleep with the dogs."

Liho's defiance instantly faded, he nuzzled into your chest, and began to purr so loudly you couldn't hear your insecure thoughts, making your trip into the realm of unconscious fast.

Natasha stared down at her phone with a sad smile, she'd accidentally pressed mute over end, and in turn she heard your confession.

It felt wrong, she knew she didn't mean to do it, but she has yet to hang up so she also didn't do the right thing. At this point you were snoring, an adorable sound she's grown used to. Honestly, it brought her comfort, and that was good because she was in a state of shock.

Natasha knew she loved you, it wasn't hard for her to breakdown the emotion, but she's never been on the receiving end of such a feeling. Romance hadn't even interested her until she first saw you, it was like everything she ever knew went right out the door the second your sweet voice broke through her steel walls.

With how easily she fell though, it was as if her walls were only made of paper for you. You cracked the code, and your reward was her battered heart, and you accepted it wholly. That much apparent now that you'd confessed in presumed secret that you loved her too.

Natasha whispered softly with a smile, "I love you too," before the line finally went dead.

"I knew it," Liho meowed tiredly atop of you, but fortunately you were too gone to hear.

—

The following morning you awoke when the sun peaked through the blinds, making Liho purr in thanks for the newfound warmth. It was a moment of total bliss, then the sounds of dogs excitedly barking led to you wincing once sharp claws penetrated through your thick sleep shirt and then the skin of your breasts.

"Stupid canines, do they not know how to keep their volume at a maximum of total silence?"

"Jesus, Liho are you sure you're three? You act like an elderly man with kids on his lawn."

"I do not get your inference, but I will say kids are annoying too, so I understand the man."

With a gentle touch you removed the cat from your chest, then you entered the bathroom to get your morning hygiene done, and while doing so you saw Natasha had texted you.

*Good morning krasivaya, I miss you, and I'm counting down the days until you're back in my arms. Have fun (if you can—again, I'm sorry), I will try to call you later, but I might end up being forced to go no contact.*

You frowned, but you understood that she had a job to do, but it wasn't long before you were smiling as she'd also sent you some photos. There was a selfie of her smiling, then you got to see the reason for her excitement as the next photo was of her with a stray calico kitten that you have an inkling you'll be meeting soon.

There was a final photo, and you audibly awed at the shot of you two on the couch, you were giggling and Natasha was holding onto you tightly from behind, with a par-visible grin as she pressed her face into your neck.

*Don't forget about me as you snuggle Liho*

—

When you finally ventured out of your room you made your way to the kitchen to find Kate alone while studying for some math course.

"You wouldn't happen to know how to find the x would you?" The raven haired girl asked you tiredly, and you chuckled softly, "Not really, I've always found it's best not to question them, but to instead leave them in the past."

Kate rolled her eyes playfully, then went to refocus on her paper but then her dog barked, catching her off guard, "What is it honey?"

"Well mama, you needs to get all like minded variables to the same side, then you'll get what she needs. Which would make x = 10 here."

Kate's eyes widened as you regurgitated Lucky's tip, she stared down at her dog in bewilderment, "Oh my gosh, my dogs a genius. We should call all the local news stations!"

"Kate, you guys live in the far away woods."

Kate deflated slightly, "You have a point."

After you collected your psyche, you moved about to get breakfast as well, then just as you were about to leave Kate stopped you with a hand in your face, "Wait! I just want you to know I knew how to do it, I'm smart too!"

“Don’t worry darling, I figured as much.”

——

A few days into your stay and you were feeling as if your only purpose was to service Yelena and her need to be in constant communication with Fanny, who was growing irritated by it.

"Ask her," you quietly groaned along with the poor dog who's head now burrowed beneath the pillow in her dog bed, a sign you'd think a well trained spy would catch, but she didn't.

"Tell her that she is worse than Lucky."

"You know, I think Fanny's tired."

"Y/N Y/L/N, I know my dog, she is not tired. We've not even taken our morning walk yet."

"I just want to know, does she prefer to take selfies with me or to live more in the moment."

"Tell her I'd actually like to live alone."

"She's very much all for living in the moment, now, if you'll excuse me I need to go pee."

As you passed the kitchen you saw Kate wearing a smile, "What did she really say?"

"Nothing the blonde’s heart can handle."

Kate nodded, "I figured as such, now go, hide in the study, Yelena hates books, she says they are just tiny, evil distractions, but actually, and don't tell her I told you, but she read Marley and Me and never went back in there again."

“That’s understandable… Welp, I’ll be going now, you’ll know exactly where to find me.”

——

The week you spent at the Bishop-Belova's was interesting to say the least, and unpleasant if you’re being honest. Finding yourself in the middle of an all out war sealed that in for you.

“Kate Bishop! Take your hand off of Y/N, she is mine!” Yelena yanked you away from her lover with all her might, and in doing so she nearly dislocated your shoulder, “My sisters girlfriend makes her mine before it makes her yours!”

“Yelena! She is her own person first, and you are making her miserable, it’s always: Fanny this, Fanny that, oh, what does Fanny think?” Kate shouted back, arms waving around like crazy, and you knew this was reaching way beyond yours and Fanny’s overall discomfort.

“What about me? What about my thoughts?”

Yelena’s brow’s scrunched, “I don’t need to hear them, I can read them on your face.”

“Oh, can you really now?” Kate arched a brow, and you watched as Yelena visibly froze up, and though this wasn’t your business you hated watching the poor girl struggle to understand.

“If I may,” Kate reluctantly nodded, so you gently touched Yelena’s arm, then leaned in to whisper, “She is feeling unappreciated, maybe you could take her out to a nice dinner.”

“Unappreciated? I appreciate her always!” Yelena shrieked in offense, “Who cleans her bow and arrows?” Kate frowned, “I do.”

“Yeah, the wrong way, so I go back and fix it,” Yelena boasted, and you saw a lightbulb of sort flicker behind the archers now widened eyes.

“Yelena, please tell me you’re not the reason I almost took Clint out on a mission last week.”

Yelena smirked, “I can neither confirm nor deny, but I can say it wasn’t my intention, more so a happy little accident in favor of my glee.”

“What did you use? Grease?” Kate shrieked in wonder and the blonde tentatively nodded.

“Welp, I’m going to chase the chickens again,” Fanny barked out of nowhere, you watched as the fluffy Akita stretched its entire body before making the great escape. Lucky whimpered as his ‘friend’ left, “I’m going to chase Fanny.”

“When is Natasha returning for us?” Liho questioned stoically while jumping atop the table before you out of nowhere, “I’m not sure I can handle their bickering for much longer.”

“Oh, because we’re so much better?”

Liho tilted his head, the cat’s equivalent of a shoulder shrug, “At least with those I win.”

“You do not!”

“Do too!”

Natasha watched from the doorway as the pairs of you were readily going at it, she found the sight rather amusing really. That was until Liho pounced onto your back when you tried to walk away, meanwhile Yelena was in a chokehold because she didn’t know when best to do that.

Natasha suddenly cleared her throat, spurring Liho to dart down the hallway as a tactic of self preservation, and for the couple hosting you to straighten up, and run away upon seeing the unamused glare of the one who trusted them.

Once they were all gone you ran into your lover, but pulled back from her embrace just as a soft hissing came from beneath her hoodie.

“Natty?” she smiled bashfully, “Don’t get mad.”

With a gentle movement the redhead pulled her hoodie forward, allowing the kitten you recognized from the photos to peak its little head out so that it could silently observe you.

“Ugroza,” Natasha smiles widely as she tells you the newest additions name, “It fits her, it means menace; we’ll call her Roza for short.”

“Liho isn’t going to appreciate this,” you teased while moving to hug your lover much slower this time, with the now sleeping cat snuggled between your bodies, “He’ll get over it,” she shrugged her shoulders playfully, then she leaned in to kiss you with total tenderness.

“I missed you so much Natty,” you whispered as you nuzzled into the side of her neck that the cat wasn’t perched upon, “Don’t leave again.”

Natasha sighed, “I wish I never had to love, but the world needs saving, and you protecting.”

“I’m sorry you have to worry about me, I wish I wasn’t so helpless,” you lamented, and the redhead immediately moved to hug you tighter, “Helpless or not I’ll always worry Y/N, I never stop worrying about those that I love.”

Natasha smiled as you choked on air, the small breath released hitting her skin causing her to shiver lightly, “You love me?” you looked up at her with untrusting eyes, it hurt her, but she couldn’t blame you for being scared, because she herself was terrified, but you were worth it.

Worth facing the unfamiliar feelings, and for her to express them openly, “Of course I do.”

“I-I love you too,” you squealed, bringing her in for a kiss that hardly worked since the two of you couldn’t stop smiling long enough for your lips to really touch. “Like, I love you so much!”

“Yeah?” she chuckled softly as you nodded with a glee to rival her own, “I love you so much too detka, more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

“That’s rude! I’m so much better than her,” you harshly rolled your eyes, “Welcome back Liho.”

Liho climbed up your back, disregarding your many grunts of pain, and as he settled on your shoulder he zeroed in on the new feline.

“Who is this, and why is she cuddling with my mother?” he tensed on your shoulder, and you held back a giggle to avoid obtaining his wrath.

“Liho, meet Ugroza,” Natasha lifted her up, and the black cat lifted his nose upwards, “Fitting.”

Natasha looked to you for clarity, you simply shook your head with a smile and she mirrored your action before leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Since when do you understand Russian?” You mused while following your lover out to the car, “It is a common word mother uses, so I don’t know what it is, just that it’s not good.”

“At least you’re aware that you’re a menace.”

Natasha scooped Liho up from your chest to nuzzle him gently, “Don’t worry, mama loves you both, and you’re gonna love Roza too.”

After ensuring both felines were buckled in tight Natasha rounded the car to ensure the same for you. She tugged to test the belt’s security, causing a warmth to flood through you, it was such a simple thing, but the way she cared for your safety above all was telling. It worked wonders erasing any remaining doubt you had that she didn’t really love you.

“I love you Natty,” she smiled over at you from the drivers seat, her hand fell atop of yours on the gear shift, “I will never tire of hearing it,” she put the car in drive, then brought your now conjoined hands to her lips to lay a gentle kiss to your knuckles, “I love you most detka.”

“Thank you for kidnapping me a year ago,” you genuinely relayed, but you were also wearing a silly smirk that made Natasha cackle rather loudly, “Thank you for letting me darling.”

——

3,061 Words

I don’t normally ask, but someone somewhere mentioned a part to this R where she and Nat get trapped in a Jurassic Park crossover, and I’m curious if anyone would want that 👀

❤️ Kaitlyn 😂

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monmatch · 2 months ago

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My DnD character, Fomar (left) just found out his wife has been a changeling the entire time he's known her lol He's Eladrin so he's more sympathetic to fey bullshit, but that being said:

#dnd #dungeons & dragons #wizard #divination wizard #eladrin #elf #cos #curse of strahd #Fomar

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creepswrites · 2 months ago

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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.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher fanfiction #billy lenz #jess bradford #peter smythe #phyllis carlson #barbara coard #agnes lenz #claire harrison #black christmas 1974 #red christmas

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