A calmer, more slice of life drabble for yall today, something soft and comforting I suppose. Creature's POV, nothing inappropriate this time, so enjoy <3
The air is still chilled, prickling my bare skin. Light barely begins to illuminate the bedroom, white walls welcoming in the blue-grey sunrise like the hug of an old friend.
It's quiet.
I'm up too early.
It takes me a few slow, deep breaths to wake myself up enough to get out of the bed, the duvet hardly draped over me and somewhat chilled from the lack of skin contact. The air is clean, smelling new but yet old and familiar, the early morning scent that always came with mornings like these.
Sitting up, I see Patrick is still asleep. His back is to me, holding onto a pillow, utterly at peace. It's a surprise for me, seeing him not awake, I've never woken up before him. I'm sure to keep him that way as I slip out of the bed, picking up my pale pink robe and wrapping it tightly around me.
Everything is calm, as if frozen in time, and my feet barely glance the ground, as every unbalanced movement sounds like a gunshot in the still air.
The ground, those pale white oak floors are chilled, and walking into the living room to stare out the balcony glass door takes my breath away. I can't help but step outside, easing the sliding screen open and stepping out onto the concrete. The sky is pale, clouds dusting it in pink and orange streaks like a Pollock piece. I have to sit down, folding my hands in my lap.
Mornings like this are the best, and worst of my sleeplessness. There's something about the way the air smells this early, that almost gives me hope. Short-lived, yet I cling to it.
I'm not even sure how long I sit, staring up, not making a sound.
Songbirds aren't plentiful in the city, but I hear them anyway, in the park a block down. It reminds me of home.
I pay no mind to the way my skin raises at the chillâI welcome it. This is all I need, all I want.
"Cold out, isn't it? You're up early." His voice comes from behind, soft, and... maybe amused. But sleepy.
There's no rush for me to respond to him, no reason for me to find a retort. In my own time, I turn my head to him, taking in everything as he comes to sit down beside meâ hair still messy, deep red swirled robe lazily draped over his shoulders, just boxers on underneath. A rare moment of seeing him without all the pretense.
"I like the cold. Makes me feel.... right." I say, my voice quiet and slow from the night's disuse.
He's beside me on the balcony bench, sitting close to me for once. He must be chilly, and I move in to lean against him to share my body's warmth, that which he secretly cherishes so much.
"Reminds you of being a kid, doesn't it?" Patrick asks, accepting my proximity, running a finger through my hair slowly. I give a nod, not saying a word.
"Me too. I... try not to think about it. I can't always escape it though." Its a side of him I haven't seen much. I cast my eyes up to his face, and he's not smiling. His face relaxed, staring up at the skyline. His throat bobs, swallowing compulsively.
"Did you like mornings?... as a kid?" I ask in return, shifting towards him more, my leg overlapping his.
He responds, coolly, but in a way I can tell he's a bit detached. "Hard to say. But you do, don't you."
His large hand caresses my shoulder, slowly, rubbing the fabric of my robe between his index finger and thumb. I nod.
The sun is higher up now, the streaks of pink now making way for yellow rays.
"Do you want me to make coffee?" Patrick questions, his voice soft.
I hesitate, just for a moment. "I.... I don't dr-"
"I know you don't, but... you like the smell of it. I'll brew some, if you want." Its not an offer I would ever expect from him. But I accept it, nonetheless.
"I'd love that..... thank you, Patrick." I murmur, to see his chest swell, his pride waking up with him.
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Dennis who is crazy touch starved and just. Does not notice. Heâs been cuddling pillows his whole life and wanting for something that he couldnât name, so he figured when he finally got with Jack and Robby that the feeling would go away. It, stubbornly, did not. Whatever itch it was remained unscratched.
Jack and Robby, oblivious to this, were trying to let Dennis ease into the relationship. The two of them had been together for years, and had kind of forgotten what it was like to be new to a relationship. So, if Dennis didnât explicitly ask, they didnât do a whole lot of physical touch. But, he rarely asked.
Robby was sitting on the couch with him one night, Dennis curled up against the arm of the plush fabric and his legs bend by Robbyâs side. Robbyâs hand brushed his knee, and his leg extended to lay across his lap. A little amused, Robby rubbed his leg and watched him absolutely melt into him.
Then, Jack had a similar experience. They were in the kitchen together, he he just needed Dennis to move over a bit so he could get into a drawer, so he guided him to the side with a hand on his back and hip. Dennis blinked up at him and leaned into his side, pressing their ribs together. Jack chuckled, âSorry, baby, just needed you to move.â Dennisâs cheeks flushed and he shuffled to the side. Jack was sure to run a hand over his spine a few more times that night.
It all culminated one night as the three were lying in bed together, trying to sleep. Dennis was kinda wiggly most nights, but tonight especially he just couldnât get himself comfortable. Jack patted his arm. âSugar, get comfy. Bedtime.â
Dennis gave an annoyed little whine and pushed his arm up into Jackâs hand. Experimentally, he wrapped his whole arm around Dennis, who snuggled into it.
âIs that what keeps you from tossing and turning?â Robby hummed. âCuddles?â He wrapped Dennis up in his arms too and watched the boy fall asleep within the minute.
From then on, they didnât hold back with the touching.
The smell of monomer and hibiscus tea filled the air as you sat side-by-side in the plush pedicure chairs. Your hands were resting on the manicure stations, and for the first time, your sets were perfectly coordinated. You had chosen a stunning, mid-length acrylic in a deep, midnight blue, accented with shimmering glitter lines that caught the overhead LED lights like constellations. Beside you, his large hands were resting on the towel, his nails freshly manicured and painted that same, flat midnight blueâno glitter, just the plain, bold color.â
He looked incredible. Even in the clinical lighting of the salon, he was so attractive. You found yourself staring, taking in the way his features seemed to spill over with a kind of effortless perfectionâthe crispness of his fresh fade, the sharp, dark line of his beard, and the way the blue polish made the smooth, brown tone of his skin look even deeper, even more radiant.â
He was leaning back, one hand occupied by the technician and the other scrolling through an article on his phone. He was so secure in himself, so grounded in his masculinity, that he didn't even blink at the curious glances from other patrons. He was a real manâthe kind who didn't need to perform toughness because he simply was tough. He was smart, always reading or learning something new, and he communicated with a clarity that made you feel safe. He was kind to the staff, cracking a small, respectful joke that had your nail tech giggling, and his consideration for you was a constant, steady thing in the background of your life.â
You loved him so much it felt like a physical weight in your chest.â
âAfter the salon, he took you to that bistro you loved. The afternoon was bright, and the anticipation was already starting to coil in your stomach. You watched him across the table as he ate, his dark blue nails a constant visual reminder that he was yours and would do whatever you wanted. He kept you laughing the entire time, telling a story about a work mishap with such a witty delivery that you nearly choked on your drink.â
He reached across the table, his thumbâpainted that beautiful blueâcatching a stray drop of sauce from the corner of your lip. He didn't just wipe it away; he lingered, his eyes dark and communicative, telling you exactly what he was thinking without saying a word.â
âYouâre so beautiful, baby,â he murmured, his voice a making the fine hairs on your arms stand up.â
After lunch, you went to the home goods store. This was your favorite part of being with himâthe domesticity. You walked through the aisles, and he was right there with you, picking out a new set of white towels and a heavy, weighted throw blanket for the bed. He was decisive, helping you choose the scents for the new candlesâvanilla and bourbonâand the way he talked about your home, the space you shared, made you feel at peace.â
Every time his blue-tipped hand brushed against yours while you reached for a vase or a set of glasses, a spark of heat shot up your arm. The anticipation was thick now, a heavy, sweet tension that sat low in your belly.â
By the time you made it back to the car, the sun was beginning its slow, honey-colored descent. The sky was a bruised palette of purple and orange, casting long, dramatic shadows across the leather interior. He started the engine but didn't pull out of the parking spot yet. Instead, he reached into the center console and pulled out a pre-roll.â
He lit it, the cherry glowing bright in the dimming light. He took a long, slow pull, the smoke curling around his head like a halo before he passed it to you. You took it, your blue glitter nails sparkling as you brought it to your lips, the earthy, sweet scent filling the small space of the car.â
The silence between you was comfortable, filled only by the distant sounds of the evening and the soft rhythm of your breathing. You leaned your head back against the headrest, the high starting to settle inâa warm, fuzzy cloak that made everything feel soft and surreal. You turned your head to the side, watching him.
âThe sunset hit his profile perfectly. It highlighted the bridge of his nose, the fullness of his lips, and the way his throat moved when he swallowed. He looked like a god in this lightâstrong, intelligent, and utterly beautiful. You were staring, your heart in your eyes, unable to look away from the man who handled you with such care and fucked you with such devastating intensity.â
He felt the weight of your gaze. He didn't turn his head right away; he just let out a slow plume of smoke, his fingers tapping a slow beat against the steering wheel.â Finally, he turned. His hooded eyes met yours, dark and searching in the twilight. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouthâthe look of a man who knew he was loved and wasn't afraid to revel in it.
â"Why you lookin' at me like that?" he asked, his voice a deep, quiet drawl that seemed to curl in the very air between you.â
You didn't blink. You just let the smoke escape your lips in a slow, ghostly trail, your heart hammering against your ribs.â
"I don't know what you're talking about," you whispered, your voice thick and sweet with the lie.â
He huffed a soft laugh, his hand reaching over to cup the back of your neck, his thumbâmatching yoursâtracing the sensitive skin behind your ear.â
"Liar," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "We'll see how long you keep that energy when we get inside."
Just a silly little CreatureBate fic again, you know it, fluff, casual, some description of nonsexual nudity so read if you'd like!
I was bored, as usual. It'd been a while, so I figured I would give Abby a call. I stand in the entry hallway of my apartment, waiting for her to pick up, brick phone to my ear as I stare out. It's a hot day, late July.
She picks up on the second or third ring.
"Abby. Hey. Do you want to come over?" I ask, plain and simple. I hear her through the receiver, voice a slightly tinny whine.
"Ohhh Pat, I can't..." She says, though something in her tone, breathy and distant, says there's nothing terribly urgent keeping her. I know when she's just bluffing.
"Oh yeah? Why not? Come on, you." I probed, leaning against the wall, watching a pigeon land on the railing of my balcony.
She comes again, with the protesting little huff of air from her chest, "Because I don't wanna, I'm in bed, I'm all comfy, I'm not getting up now. It's sooooo hot out." I scoff at her, laughing under my breath.
"Seriously?"
"Uh, yea-uhh"
"Okay then, well.... why don't I just come over then instead?" I concede, shaking my head but grinning. She'll always get her way. I hear her laugh on the other side of the phone, acting dramatic as if giving in, though its probably exactly what she wants.
"Oh alrightttt, you can do that. But don't judge me too much, I haven't picked up in a bit."
I hang up on her, stepping out down the hall to her apartment. The door is unlocked, I'm not surprised, and I let myself in.
I've been in there before, but I'm always a little startled by the way she keeps her apartment. It's completely and utterly the opposite of my place. Though it has a similar layout, just with certain areas shifted, the way she decorates it.... She's the most maximalistic thing I've ever encountered. She might be a hoarder, if it weren't for everything being mildly organized. Large bookshelves of deep reddish wood, and cabinets, all full with books and strange objects, bones, shotglasses (which I think are a collection, not for drinking), and her massive record collection with a BSR turntable cabinet. Many of her albums, or at least the art covers, line the walls like picture frames, as well as several Patrick Nagel art prints, which I always stare at. Nearly no surface is left without some kind of decoration or item collection. She has miscellaneous coffee mugs around her house, filled with pens, pencils, exact-o box cutting knives, sharpies, lefty scissors, and other things. Her furniture is also mismatched. In the living room sits a massive reddish-black velvet L-shaped lounge couch, an ottoman in a dark brown color, and a circular mossy shag rug beneath it and a wooden glossed coffee table. I have no clue in the world where she got them from. I suspect thrifting.
I walk through her apartment slowly, taking everything in. The various plants on the walls and in ceramic planters, skulls of various animals and gold rings and necklaces left all over the place, a lava lamp on a corner desk, several large lamps around the apartment which are off but I know emit a warm orange glowâshe never ever turns on the overhead lights except when she's in the kitchenâ her TV set... she's such a fucking hippie. Everything is reds and browns and cream. Even a bead curtain hanging in the entrance to the kitchen, which I roll my eyes at. I try to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she's still such a hippie.
And there, the door to her bedroom. The entire place is dark and I step in, removing my shoes before I go in âwhich I probably should have done at the door, since she hates when I wear shoes in the homeâ and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.
It's significantly colder in her bedroom than it is in my entire apartment, dark and cool, the only light is from a tv on her vanity across from her bed, which is a spectacle in and of itself. Unsurprising, considering who she is, the bed is a full size, four poster bed with the kinds of canopy and curtains in a sheer forest green color you'd expect to see in some kind of fantasy movie. It's covered in large pillows and mismatched soft blankets, like a nest. In the middle, is Abby.
She smirks at me, the smug little look that scrunches her nose, as she lay on her side.
"Look at you, all cozy. Its cold in here, you lucky thing." I say, my eyes glancing over her body. It's partially covered by blankets, from the waist down, her arms tucked in front of her soft ample chest in that dinosaur sort of position she always does when she's comfortable. I can tell she's at least not wearing a top. She rarely does in her own bed.
"Yeah, took you long enough, Pat. You coming or what?" She invites, moving herself backwards, lifting the blanket slightly. Of course, it's what I came here for, so I step forward, reaching to remove my Ralph Lauren tee-shirt before getting into the soft, chilled bed with her. She's watching MTV, but clearly not paying much attention to it. I slip in closer to her, till I'm sitting right beside the woman, enough to put my arm around her. It feels right, and I relax my shoulders.
"You know its only 80 Fahrenheit outside, right?" I tease her. "You have it like a meat freezer in here." Abby rolls her green eyes, turning her head up to look at me. Always the dramatic one.
"Uh, yeah, and thats like 20 degrees too hot out. I'm an Oregon girl, I melt in the heat. I prefer to stay like mold conditions, cold and dark." She laughs, leaning in to put her arms around my waist possessively. I shake my head, still messing with her.
"Yeah, I'm sure you do. It is comfortable in here though." I nod, settling in with her. There's something about being in a cold room with all the blankets, and her warm body against me that feels like it'll put me to sleep.
And I suppose I see no reason not to. I slump down into the pillows, shifting my weight onto her slightly, until my head is resting on her breasts. I like to do it, and I know it makes her smug whenever I seek comfortability there.
While I lay there, it gets harder and harder to keep my eyes open. Christopher Cross begins to play, no doubt the music video on the TV, the floating notes of Sailing making me drift off, completely at peace for once.
*sitting in the park bench with doves flying over them even dropping them flowers as there ultimate love influences there surroundings as even lonesome people find love and kiss the same as our taboo lovers*
Michael: *cups her cheek then rests his fingers onto her chin as he looks at her*
Michael: whos my wretched little raven~
Niiri: i am~
Michael: *pinching her cheeks* whos my loyal beloved partner~ *he coos*
Niiri: i am~
Michael: whos my favorite angel~ *affectionately makes kissing noises as he spoils her in his love*
Niiri: *niiri couldn't help but chuckle and blush so red even her hair stands up that hearts around her start floating up making bubble noises as it pops*
Michael:
" SO CUTE!!!~"
Michael: *in a cute aggression instinct Michael tumbled her to the bench as her entire face becomes smothered in Michaels parakeet kisses as he giggles and smiles so obsessively cute*
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Summary: Congrats, youâre a shinazugawa. your brother genya already fell victim to the tanjiro effect, and now itâs your turn. what happens when you lose a tooth on a mission and tanjiro shows up holding it like itâs a national treasure? chaos.
Fun fact: Did you know that Mx is a gender nutral version of Mister and Miss Warnings: tanjiro effect, cursing, small mention of blood
Tanjiro x Gn!y/n
Requests are open <3
So I found your tooth
A/n: Okay, wait, give me a chance so you know how tanjiro gives genya his tooth back so umm what abt this bt with y/n shinazugawa? Also, this will be pre posteed on thursday since I am getting four teeth pulled (T . T) word count: ~2.3kish (depending how much i ramble)
Lucky you.
------
Okay, wow. So youâre the famous Y/N Shinazugawa. Congrats, because after your brother Genya got hit with the Tanjiro effect, youâre the new target.
You and Genya were on your way to the Swordsmith Villageâyour katana needed fixing, his gun needed more bulletsâand for some godforsaken reason, Mister Himejima let you two go alone.
Well, not completely alone. You were both strapped to Kakushi like sacks of rice because the village had to stay secret. Your Kakushiâs name was Jinka, and she had the patience of a saintâthough you were doing your best to ruin that.
âOi, the hellâs takinâ so long? I canât see shit,â you barked, blindfold digging into your face, earplugs silencing everything except your own irritation.
âBe patient, please, Mx Shinazugawa,â Jinka said through gritted teeth.
âBe patient, my ass,â you shot back, kicking your heel against her side. âIf I die of boredom, itâs on you.â
Meanwhile, your brother had lucked out with a Kakushi named Gentoâa poor bastard currently huffing and puffing under Genyaâs weight.
âOi, Gento, donât trip,â Genya warned. âIf you faceplant, Iâll blow your brains out.â
âTry it, and youâll shoot your own spine, dumbass,â you yelled, earning a sharp âSilence!â From Jinka.
***
The mission before the village hadnât gone smoothly either. A demon ambushed you both, and while you and Genya finished it off, the thing landed a solid punch to your jaw mid-fight.
Crack!
You spat blood, snarled, and swore so loudly the birds fled the trees.
âShit! Shitshitshitââ
Something small flew from your mouth, but you didnât notice in the chaos. You were too busy screaming insults at the demon until you split its head from its shoulders.
Afterward, Genya gave you a look. âYour bleedinâ. Again.â
âYeah, no shit, Sherlock,â you spat, clutching your jaw. âThink it knocked a freakinâ tooth out.â
Genya barked a laugh. âHa! Ugly mug gets uglier.â
âSay that again, and Iâll knock your teeth out, asshat.â
By the time you reached the Swordsmith Village, the Kakushi dumped you like you were cursed objects. Genya stomped toward his gun supplier, and you slapped your chipped katana down at the forge.
âFix it. Fast,â you demanded. The swordsmith blinked like he wanted to throw you out but wisely didnât.
Thatâs when Kamado Tanjiro appearedâsmile as blinding as the damn sun, walking straight up to you like you werenât radiating âkick rocksâ energy.
âUm, Y/N Shinazugawa?â he asked politely, holding something wrapped in cloth. âI think I found this after the mission.â
You frowned, snatched the cloth, unwrapped itâ
And stared at your missing molar.
ââŠthe fuck?â
Genya, returning with his bullets, nearly doubled over laughing. âBwahaha! He picked up your tooth?!â
âShut it, dickhead!â you snapped, face burning. You whirled on Tanjiro. âThe hell is wrong with you? What are you, some kinda freakinâ tooth fairy wannabe?â
Tanjiro, unbothered, just smiled brighter. âNo, I just didnât want you to lose it. It might be important.â
âImportant? Itâs a tooth, dumbass!â you barked, shoving it into your pouch anyway.
Tanjiro tilted his head, eyes soft. âStill⊠it looked like it hurt.â
The words hit harder than the demonâs punch. For a split second, your chest went warm, like heâd cracked open armor you didnât even know you had.
Genya squinted between you two, horrified. âOh no. Oh, hell no. Not you, too. Donât tell me your catchinâ feelings for the kamado kid!â
âShut up, Genya!â you shouted, cheeks redder than flame-breath fire.
But when you risked another glance at Tanjiroâs shimmering eyes and kind smile, you knew your brother was right. You were screwed.
Maybe you should've lisended to sanemi breathing down your neck and telling you not to go near that damn Kamado kid. Technically, you did listen he came to you first anyway.
Writer's note: i hope this is what you wanted! Im so sorry if it sucks ass. I wasn't sure what to write as a situation so please let me know if it sucks!!ËÍâĄËÍ
WARNINGS: mentions of murder, mentions of suicide, horror themes, psychological torment, knife use, swearing, stalking, toxic dynamic, mild yandere behavior
Famous Woodsboro murderer Y/N decided to take a souvenir home after a killing-- oh how much they regret it (or do they?)
Y/N was finishing up a murder after an intense chase with the victim. They were one of the most infamous murderers in the Woodsboro community, known as Ghostface. While finishing up, they noticed a gaming console by the victim's television, with a game tape on the floor. Out of curiosity, they went to the tape and crouched down to see what game it was. The label read Legend of Zelda. They looked around. The owner of the game was dead, so technically there was no one to stop them from taking it home... They pocketed it and quickly left the residence.
When they arrived home, they showered and hid the costume and mask away in their closet. Y/N sat down in front of the television in their room and inserted the tape into the console. "It's like a reward... I get a new game for murder. Life is great," Y/N said as the game started. They played for a while. "Huh? Is this part of the game?" they wondered as Link suddenly burst into flames. It was weird, but this was their first time playing Legend of Zelda, so they werenât sure if this was supposed to happen. The music was also creepy--like it was reversed. Y/N couldn't deny it creeped them out. "What the hell? Is this supposed to be happening?" they murmured, staring at the screen with a nervous expression. They knew Legend of Zelda wasnât a horror game, so why did it have horror elements? Words appeared on the screen.
"Hello Y/N."
Y/Nâs eyes widened in shock and fear. How did this game know their name?? Their hands froze on the controller as they stared at the screen, paralyzed.
"Respond. Now."
They gulped. Sure, they might have been a murderer--but this was something that could creep even the scariest person out. "What...?" they said, timid and nervous. Y/N decided to turn off the game, but instead of the screen going black, new text appeared:
"You shouldnât have done that."
"Go away!!!" they yelled, fear evident in their voice. Then, BEN appeared on screen. They suddenly stopped yelling, tilting their head as they looked at the boy. "Who are you?" they asked, curiosity now mixing with their initial fear. BEN laughed, clearly sensing they were frightened. He reached out of the screen--Y/N gasped as the character (or rather, spirit) appeared in front of them in real life. "You can--wha--huh!?" Y/N stammered, momentarily forgetting their fear. "You look cute, but I liked it better when you were scared," BEN said with a laugh. Thinking his guard was down, they reached under the bed for the knife they had hidden there and attempted to stab him. But to their surprise, the entity teleported--reappearing beside them.
"You hide a knife under your bed? If you donât wanna be caught, I recommend cleaning it," he said mockingly, flashing a shitty grin. They looked down. Sure enough, blood was still on the blade from their earlier killing spree. "Who are you!?" Y/N snapped, frowning. "You kill people too?" BEN asked casually. Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, realizing he was dodging their questions--probably just to mess with them. "Why wonât you answer my--wait, wait, wait... too?!" Y/N exclaimed, just now catching what he had said. "You kill people too!?" BEN grinned. "You could say so" he laughed. Their confidence shattered. Being face to face with a teleporting killer? Not exactly comforting. "Uhm... I... please donât hurt me!!" Y/N begged, dropping their knife. "Iâm sorry I tried to attack you! I wonât do it again!!". BEN laughed again. "You look so cute when youâre begging. Might have to scare you more if this is how you react!" he said, flashing that shit-eating grin. "Donât worry. I donât wanna kill you--yet. Youâre my most interesting victim so far. A killer meeting a killer... so interesting~"
Y/N gulped, about to say something, but he suddenly disappeared. "Heâsâheâs gone?" they said, confused, looking around their room. "But whatâs his name!?" they added, frustrated.
Over the next few weeks, they began to question why they were even scared of BEN in the first place--because that asshole was now tormenting them everywhere!
Y/N would be watching TV--sudden static. Listening to the radio? Glitched and reversed music. Even in public, the boy sent creepy messages to their phone, just like the ones during the game. He was messing with them, mentally, and doing a pretty damn good job at it. They assumed it was all part of his twisted plan. Y/N was Grumbling while getting ready for another murder spree, Y/N muttered, "What the hell is his name?" Suddenly, their phone began spamming notifications. "Huh? Whatâs this?" they said, looking down. "BEN DROWNED." Over and over again. "BEN Drowned, huh? More basic than I thought," they shrugged. They picked up their old-school phone to call their next victim.
"Do you like scary movies?" they asked into the voice changer. The victim was their former school bully--someone who had humiliated them by getting one of her guy friends to fake-date Y/N for a bet. Y/N frowned as the line went to static. "You've gotta be kidding me! Is this BEN!?" they fumed, slamming the phone down.
"Whatever... Iâll just do it without the stupid call. Stupid BEN. Stupid everything!" they muttered.
He has a cute grin... No!! What the hell am I saying!? they thought while driving to the victimâs house. "Heâsâheâs stupid and mean and cruel!!" they tried to convince themselves. While driving, they stopped by a videogame store and traded the tape in, hoping it would put a end to fheir tormet--and maybe make them stop thinking of him
Â·Ë àŒâ· ÍÍÍÍê°âłAt the HouseËâ· ÍÍÍÍâłâ„
They heard a TV inside. The girl was home alone--sheâd bragged about it all week. Y/N lockpicked the back door and snuck in. Hiding in the house, they called her again. "What!?" she snapped while putting a videogame store bag on the floor, making Y/N roll their eyes. "Whatâs your favorite scary movie?" they asked with the voice changer. "My favorite--what!? Ugh, I donât know... Donât Breathe or whatever." She said sassily while pulling the game out of the bag and carelessly dropping it to the floor.
"Donât Breathe? What would you do if you were in the old man's situation?" Y/N asked. "Why are you asking me this?" she asked nervously.
"Look behind you," said the voice. She turned--and Y/N stood there, full Ghostface costume on. They lunged, but she bolted. A 30-minute chase ensued. In a large bedroom, the girl shoved a closet at them. Y/N gasped and dodged, crashing to the floor.
While they were stunned, the girl got on top of them and they wrestled. She suddenly ripped the mask off. "Y/N!? Oh my god!!" she shrieked, bursting into laughter. "You seriously tried to kill me!? Are you that upset!?" she laughed. Y/N burned with embarrassment. She had the upper hand--again. "Canât even kill right! You truly are useless at everything. Hahahaha!!!" she cackled. Y/N shoved her off and ran downstairs. As they fled out the door, they heard her yell: "Iâll tell everyone what a useless killer you are! Rot in jail, loser!!" Y/N swore they couldâve cried from frustration. Before they left, they saw Legend of Zelda by her TV. Had she bought the copy Y/N traded in? They hoped she had--so BEN could torment her.
Â·Ë àŒâ· ÍÍÍÍê°âłA Few Days LaterËâ· ÍÍÍÍâłâ„
Y/N was anxious. No cops. No sirens. No knocks.
They turned on the news during breakfast--and gasped.
"Teenage Girl Found Dead in Her HomeâApparent Suicide."
It was her. Their bully. "Suicide? Was she suicidal? She never seemed that way... always bragged about her perfect life," Y/N murmured. Karma. They giggled. Then--a knock on the door. Her heart dropped, she assumed it was cops. They opened it. The Legend of Zelda copy was on their doorstep. They took it in and rushed to the console. "Ben? Ben? Are you there?" they called out. BEN appeared on screen--then appeared in person, just like last time. He laughed sadistically. "That girl had a weak mind. Only took a few days of torment before she offed herself. Most victims last longer." Y/N looked confused--but touched, a blush spreading on their cheeks. "Why would you do that?" they asked softly. BEN scoffed. "I dont want my favorite victim to be stuck in jail! How will i see you then~?," he laughed. He did it... for them Their blush deepened. "and besides, i've grown a liking to you, so only i can torment you, i dont like others doing my job". He said. He then looked at her and said "Youâre so adorable when you blush. You're making it really hard to pick between tormenting you or helping you. Your fearful and blushing expressions are both so cute~". Y/N scoffed. "Shut up, idiot! My god, do you always ruin sweet moments?" BEN laughed. "I usually do!" They sighed. "I'll stab you" she pouted. BEN grinned and said "the human species will be extinct by the time you succeed" which made her huff.
He might be a pain in the assâbut damn, he was attractive.
