(tw: death and murder and stuff and also toby being a submissive yandere freak!)
à· heâs WHIPPED! everyone at the mansion makes fun of him for being so obsessed with and in love with you
à· always needs to be touching you somehow. he usually has a hand on your waist, back, thigh, whatever. youâll never catch him with his hands to himself because heâs highkey an attention whore
à· he basically never shuts up. like heâs always got something to say, but itâs not in a bad way. heâs just a yapper who can and will keep you up all night talking about random stuff
à· the type to wear those obnoxious âi love my girlfriendâ shirts/hoodies (and if heâs feeling fancy, the âiâm with stupid â" ones)
à· he does anything and everything you tell him to with no need for a reward or even request half the time
à· since he canât feel pain, he loves letting you use him to your content (do with that what you will). like, he loves it when you mark him up with hickies
à· yandere asf! he gets jealous really easily, so whenever youâre ranting to him about your life and you bring up that one creepy guy at your work, you may or may not find a news article about his murder
à· he would keep a polariod of you either in his wallet or his car. maybe even both!
à· lowkey a crybaby, but itâs okay because itâs not too annoying
à· heâs not overly reserved or overly annoying, i feel like heâs somewhere in the middle. however he has his days where he doesnât talk a lot and just wants to be a lazy bum, but he also has days where all he wants is to be all up on you. and guess what? you never know which one youâre gonna get!
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Summary: Your boyfriend is a B, but his best friend's there to take your side.
Part 2 here
Author's Note: After a three-year hiatus, I finally found the inspiration to write againâthanks to this incredible fanfiction. It sparked something in me. I canât recommend it enough, so please show the creator some love. Their work is the reason Iâm writing again after all this time. This fic is inspired by their masterpiece, so I highly encourage you to check it out first!
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More often than not, you were a collateral victim in your boyfriend and his friendâs fights. Tim and Brian were too close for your liking, they had a great co-dependency going on way before you came in the picture. If Brain was in a bad mood, so was Tim. If you got in a fight with Tim, Brian was giving you the silent treatment as well as taking sides without hesitation.
It was more than you bargained for, not realising getting Tim as a boyfriend meant taking responsibility for his grown-ass best friend as well. But you managed. With each month that passed in your relationship it was getting easier for you, to the point it was almost natural to consider them both in every action you took.Â
Weirdly enough, you so much preferred for them to be mad at you instead of at each other. Whenever their balance wavered they started acting batshit crazy. Tim confessed some details about their âalternativeâ life after- what, a year in you relationship?Â
You didnât fully grasp what he meant by their âalter egosâ or their nighttime escapades, but you quickly realized you didnât want to. You had your suspicions, of course. You werenât blind. But as long as they didnât outright spell it out for you, you could continue living in blissful ignorance. It was easier that way, and you convinced yourself that you were okay with it.
But todayâtoday was different. Today, things had escalated to an entirely new level.
Tim was screaming at Brian, who was cloaked in that damned creepy hood that made him look so unsettling. Tim's anger seemed to grow by the second, and when âHoodieâ (as you suppose you should call him now) refused to react, it only fueled Timâs rage.
You tried to calm him down, talk to him or something- anything.
A strained, guttural laugh escaped Tim, trembling with anger. He started explining to you how you do not even begin to understand what has happened, how you should just shut up and not get involved- his voice full with disdain, every sentence designed to belittle and assert his supposed superiority.Â
Now you are not the one to get angry easily, but this time- this time something in you snapped. You were done being talked down to, done being made feel small or pathetic for just wanting some peace.
âNo wonder he would not bother to have your back when you act like such a prick.â
âOh, just shut up you bit-,â his words faltered as he caught himself mid-sentence, swallowing the insult faster than a politician trying to cover his tracks.
You cannot recreate what was spoken after that word for word, just that all hell broke loose. It was no longer a fight between Tim and Brian- no, it wasnât just them anymore. It was you and Hoodie against Tim. You were screaming and throwing your every angry complaint you had been holding in for far too long. And Hoodie- Hoodie of all people- was backing your every word, every statement. However, Hoodieâs remark is what really sealed and shipped Timâs whole spirit.
âI donât think Iâve ever seen a girl so frustrated with her boyfriend in my life, Masky. Can only imagine youâre lacking in some aspects.â
The words hit harder than anything you had said. They were cold, calculated, and aimed straight at the core of Timâs pride. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, Tim stood there, trembling with the weight of the accusation. His face twisted in disbelief, but the damage had already been done.
What followed between the two of them was pure madness. Shouting, shoving, items flying off shelvesâeverything seemed to spin out of control. Pushing, pulling, voices rising higher and higher, until the tension reached a breaking point. Timâs eyes flickered with something darker, something unstable, before he turned to grab his mask and stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it shook the walls.
Well, this has happened this morning. You realise you couldâve done things differently, not taking sides or waiting for their fight to end before starting your own. That was your mistake. But leaving you hurt and angry with only Hoodie to comfort you was his.
________________________________
You were on all fours on your boyfriends bed, face buried in his pillows. Hoodieâs gloved hand pushed down on your back arching it more- your ass rising higher.Â
Your clothes were littering the floor from the doorway to the edge of the bed, the cold air tickling your bare skin. Your eyes landed on the wardrobeâs mirror showing your helpless reflection with Hoodieâs tall frame behind you. He was completely dressed from his boots to the black mask that covered his face- he was glacial.Â
His left hand- formerly on your back-Â grabbed your hip harshly. He dragged the other painfully slow across your side- from ass, to waist and finally around your breast. You whimpered at the harsh feeling of his gloves palming your tits.Â
âSo sensitiveâŠâ he sighed. The nub was hardening against his touch making it easier for him to pinch or gently twist your nipple.Â
You inhaled sharply trying to steady yourself but being met with Timâs smell wasnât helping. âH-Hodie...â you whined.Â
His hands left your body and you heard his pants zipper opening. You tried to push yourself on your forearms, an instinct to turn around and see what you were dealing with, but before you could make a move a firm grip grabbed at the back of your neck. The sharp tug sent shivers down your spine as Hoodie yanked your head back. With a swift flick of his wrist, he let go of your nape only to have his fingers dart into your hair. His grip was certain and precise. âYouâre way to eager to get on another manâs cock.â Your face was shoved once again back into the mattress.Â
He was watching you excitedly as he brushed his tip across your folds- a groan escaping his lips when he felt how wet you already were. There was something primal about knowing you belonged to someone else yet he got to claim you as his right now.Â
âBe quiet now,â he instructed sliding his cock inside you. You tried your best, you swore you did but he was so- big. Your eyes rolled upwards and your fingers gripped tightly at the sheets as you tried your best not to scream. His cock pressed deeper and deeper inside your cunt, stretching you in ways you did not even imagine possible. âYou moan like a whore,â he growled with a final push. You felt your face blushing in shame- he talked to you in ways you would've never allowed your boyfriend, but on his lips those words felt so natural; almost like praises.
âShh, shh,â he murmured, the sound gentle but insistent. You were already panting and crying just by the size of him. He gave you a moment to adjust to him being balls deep inside your aching cunt but your whines wouldnât stop. He leaned over you, the rough material of his clothes scratching your soft skin. His hand reached to the side of your face, you thought he wanted to wipe away the tears that were sliding down your cheeks. He chuckled, his hand covering your mouth instead. âIâm gonna fuck you senseless, sweetheart.âÂ
________________________________
âFuck, fuck- fuck! Feels so- Agh!~âÂ
You were screaming so fucking loudly. Your head was bumping to the ruthless rhythm of Hoodieâs thrusts. His fingers left red marks all over your ass, your hips- he was tugging at your body merciless, squeezing and scratching every inch of skin he could find.Â
With trembling hands you tried your best to hold onto the bed frame as Hoodie was rutting into you from behind. His balls were hitting your swollen clit so hard- again and again and- âAm so close- so close, so close!â Jaw was hanging open, you were gasping for air.Â
âFucking whore,â Hoodie sighed grabbing your neck with one hand, the other searching for your open mouth. âBet he never fucked you this good, eh?â He gave a sinister chuckle as he shoved his fingers down your throat. You followed his cruel pull falling back on his torso. He was squeezing at the sides of you neck reminding you how little and vulnerable you are right now, âYou only breath right now- scream and cry- you only feel this good because I allow you to.â
You whine taking him even deeper, his cock slaming your walls faster. His fingers explored your mouth pressing down your tongue, his grip thightend.Â
âI could snap your neck right now, you know?â
You cry out loud in desperation, surrenedring control to him completely. Your eyes shut in anticipation, every muscle in you tightens-
âSay who you really belong to, who fucks you like a bitch in heat,â he snarls. âSay my name.â
And you do. Over and over again you do as your gummy walls squeeze around his length unbearably thight, waves of pleasure wash all over you. Hoodieâs hands allow you to gasp for air just for a second as they move under your arms grabbing you by the shoulders. His sudden body weight pushed you on your belly, fucking you deeper into the matress. His thrusts grow sloppy and desparate with no regard towards you- he was fucking you like a fleshlight.
âIâll pump you so full of cum, MY cum-â Muffled sounds rose from deep in his chest, you were able to hear his clenched teeth through the sharp breaths he took. âBreed you so good youâll be ruined- Fuck-â he whimpered. âRuined for Tim,â his thrusts are brutal and harsh and- so goddamn overwhelming.Â
His cum shots in hot strings, his member twitching inside your ruined cunt. His hands pull you closer and hips push further trying to get as deep as possible- deeper than Tim at least.Â
You felt bad for comparing but the way he feels on top of you, in you- he fucked you in ways your boyfriend never could. When you tried to shift he grabbed a fistful of your hair forcing your head back. With lazy motions he started fucking his cum deeper.
âI didnât tell you you could fucking move yet.â
//
This is my first fic since, what- 2021? Wow. Crazy.
I'll keep on writing my usual content as well, but creepypastas and gore-y stuff has always been something I wanted to write but never felt confident enough before. Anyways, feel free to request or send me any message, I came back from my hiatus! Never thought I'd say that lol.
Synopsis: âAfter a long, violent night in the woods, Toby returns to the only place that offers him a reprieve from the static in his head. Seeking a way to ground himself and drown out the sensory chaos of his life as a proxy, he turns to you for a physical intensity that only skin-to-skin contact can provide. Itâs messy, frantic, and rawâa desperate attempt to feel something human amidst the madness.
Trigger Warnings: Rough sexual content, blunt force/bruising, depictions of involuntary tics/spasms, scarring, and themes of sensory
Word Count: 500~â (Short Shot)
The static in the air wasn't just coming from the woods tonight; it was humming right under Tobyâs skin.
He stood in the doorway of your room, his frame silhouetted by the dim hallway light. The orange goggles were pushed up onto his forehead, and his mouth guard hung loosely around his neck, revealing the jagged, scarred tear in his cheek. His shins were bruised, and his knuckles were scraped raw, but his eyesâwide, dark, and flickering with an intensity that bordered on manicâwere fixed entirely on you.
"Y-Youâre still awake," he murmured, his voice cracking with a sharp tic that sent his head jerking to the left.
"Waiting for you," you replied softly, sitting up in bed.
He crossed the room in three strides, the floorboards groaning under his combat boots. He didn't stop until he was looming over you, the scent of pine needles, metallic blood, and cold rain clinging to his hoodie. He looked like a frayed wire ready to snap, his fingers twitching rhythmically against his thighs.
"I can't... I can't stay still," he confessed, another jerk of his shoulder rattling his frame. "Everything f-feels too loud. Too much."
You reached out, your fingers brushing against the hem of his sweatshirt. "Then let it out here, Toby."
He didn't need a second invitation. He crawled onto the mattress, his movements awkward but frantic. He pinned you back against the pillows, his weight a grounding pressure that he desperately needed. Because he couldn't feel physical pain the way others did, he craved the intensity of contactâthe friction, the heat, the sheer force of being near someone.
His hands, cold from the night air, slid under your shirt, gripping your waist with a bruising strength. He didn't know his own power, but you didn't mind. You pulled him down, your lips meeting his in a messy, desperate collision.
He tasted like iron and peppermint. His tongue was insistent, hungry, clashing against yours with a lack of finesse that was made up for by raw, unadulterated need. A sharp click sounded in his neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss until you were both gasping for air.
"S-Slow down," you whispered against his scarred cheek.
"C-Can't," he hissed, his breath hitching. He began to tug at his clothes, his movements jerky and impatient. When his hoodie was finally tossed aside, the sight of his pale, scarred torso in the moonlight was breathtaking. He looked like a map of every battle heâd ever fought.
He stripped you with the same frantic energy, his eyes scanning every inch of your skin as if he were memorizing a sanctuary. When he finally pressed himself against you, skin-to-skin, a long, low shuddering breath escaped him. The tics didn't stopâthey never truly didâbut they softened, turning into small, rhythmic tremors as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"I feel... I feel you," he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.
He moved between your legs, his hands shaking as he guided himself into you. The first thrust was blunt and hard, forcing a cry from your throat that he caught with his mouth. He wasn't gentle; he didn't know how to be. He moved with a feverish pace, his body snapping and twitching in a chaotic rhythm that forced you to find your own balance within his storm.
Every time his muscles locked or his head jerked, it sent a new vibration through the connection, an electric friction that pushed you closer to the edge. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to feel the full weight of the monster and the boy at the same time.
Tobyâs eyes were blown wide, focusing on your face with a terrifying clarity. He watched your expression crumble, his own breath coming in ragged, whistling hitches. The static in his head was fading, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat and the wet slap of skin against skin.
"Y/N... Y-Y/N," he stuttered, his grip on your wrists tightening until it likely left marks.
He hit your center with a final, jarring thrust, his body stiffening as a violent tremor racked his spine. He cried out, a sound that was half-sob and half-triumph, spilling himself into you as his forehead dropped onto your shoulder.
For a long time, the only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized thrum of your breathing. Toby didn't pull away. He stayed heavy and warm on top of you, his cheek resting against yours. The tics had settled into a faint, occasional pulse in his jaw.
In the dark, for the first time all night, he was finally still.
A/N: A Little Lifeish Update
âHey everyone! Iâve been living in the world of Criminal Minds for a long time now (and donât worry, Iâm definitely not done with my Spencer Reid fics or my previous projects!), but Iâve been feeling the itch to branch out. I want to start expanding my writing into different fandoms and exploring some darker, grittier territoriesâlike the Creepypasta universe.
âIâm still working on my ongoing stories, but expect to see some variety on this page as I play around with new characters and dynamics. Thanks for sticking with me while I dive into some new hauntings!
A fuzzy interception of whatever local rock station comes through in static waves as you drive. The only lights out at this time of night are the distant homes of strangers as you drive down the interstate. Somewhere in the backseat a glass cup rattles incessantly in its box, clanking clumsily against your other dishes as you try and tune it out. You couldn't pull over and fix it even if you had the motivation to. Your car was piled so high in every crevice that you knew you wouldn't reach it or find it without unpacking everything.
Everything you owned was in this shit box of a car. Your dishes, your clothes in garbage bags, your childhood stuffed animal, your hobbies, your books, everything but what little furniture you did have. And of course your mattress... you'd have to buy a new one once you got there. Wherever "there" was...
You winced as you hit an unexpected bump, rattling the dishes in the back.
Are you sure about this?
It wasn't an easy decision, packing everything up and leaving like you did. But it also wasn't easy staying. Living in a house where the very air you breathed was suffocating. Walking on eggshells hoping for one more day of peace only to be mislead again. There was something evil in that house besides them, something contained within its very walls that seemed to contaminate everything within in. And at times it felt like it was seeping into you too. Blurring your morals and identity, corroding your sense of self until you were unsure what you believed anymore. Was he your lover? Or was he your tormentor? Can someone be both of these?
You wiped at your eyes harshly, eyes burning from the crying you couldn't help but do for these last ten hours of driving. He was going to come back home and see that you took it all and left. And then what?
He'll find you.
But how would he? You left no note, no indication that you were even planning on doing any of this. You told no one. This was between yourself and your own mind. It was safer that way to confide in no one. Even when you had in the past nothing changed. It never changed. It wouldn't change unless you left.
Are you sure about this?
You gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles before sucking in a shaking breath. Yes. You were sure about this. You had to be. Because if he found you- if you returned- he'd kill you.
The road was lonelier now, those distant houses of accompaniment long gone in the miles you trekked as you stared out into the vast darkness. Your headlight was yellow and clouded, the other busted from a deer the prior owner had hit and never bothered to replace. And neither did you clearly, still driving with limited vision and paranoid eyes for anymore animals that lay wait in the ditches.
You glanced down at your phone briefly.
Six Hours and forty five minutes to destination.
"Fuck..." You flipped your phone over in your lap and stared out at the never ending road. You sat silent for a long moment. This exhaustion might kill you if you don't find a spot to stop and get some food and coffee quick. The idea of stopping now made your insistence on leaving waiver. Would you be just as strong willed as you are now if you stopped the car? What would stop you from turning around and retreating, pretending this all didn't happen and going back to what was? If you stopped now, he still wouldn't know until morning that you were gone...
A faded billboard briefly illuminated by your single headlight revealed the word cafe. You watched it disappear back into the static blackness. You drove for several more minutes in silence, inter cut by the poor radio signal. When the exit came up, you turned your wheel and committed to it. Yes, you were stopping, but no, you were not revoking your rule. You were leaving. And you wouldn't come back.
The diner was dingy, that much was obvious. Faded yellow paint with chipped white trim along side a cracked outer sidewalk and pothole riddled parking lot. It was familiar in the way every dead end cafe and diner always looked back home. Somehow always looking on its last legs for the decades it managed to stayed open.
You parked your car a few dozen yards away from the entrance, scanning through the front glass inside. A few people sat at in a booth, quiet as they ate. Another few at the counter. You saw they had their own parking lot out back for the truckers, not surprised that even into this early hour there were still people needing some reprieve from the road.
Was it strange for a woman like you to come to a place like this? You thought suddenly as you watched the people inside. Men. They were just men in there. You didn't see the wait staff. Surely a woman working here would give you some sense of safety... Or were you over thinking this too much? What could even happen in a well lit diner? You cast a weary glance to your glove compartment, knowing the gun that was inside should bring you more comfort than that. You weren't stupid, you knew you'd need something for being on the road. But the idea of using it made you nervous nonetheless.
You sighed and flipped down your driver side mirror to adjust what hopeless updo for your hair you'd thrown together before you left. Your makeup was smudged from the crying so you wiped at it until the smears were then transferred to your sleeves. Great... Your eyes were swollen in the unmistakable show of grief. Your nose and eyes pink and stray hairs flying from your head. You looked a fucking mess. You stared for several more seconds before crawling out of the car and slamming the door.
Your legs were stiff as you stretched, fumbling with your keys and purse as you locked your car and headed inside the warm glow of the diner.
A chime cut through the soft jazz music over the radio behind the counter. No body responded. You glanced around yourself, looking for a sign to "seat yourself" when an older woman appeared behind the counter.
"Table for one?"
You nodded, taking in her black uniform and dirtied apron. Her blonde hair striped with greys as she pointed towards a row of booths to her left.
"Your pick, hon. I'll be with you in a moment." And before you could respond she disappeared behind double doors you could only assume lead to the kitchen.
Awkwardly you made your way over to your booth, sliding in and staring out the window into the dimly lit parking lot outside. Your car looked like it belonged here in this environment, with its busted up front bumper and rusted out fender. Past the parking lot a deepening dark row or trees and forest loomed ominously. You wondered how many deer and creatures lay in wait so close to this decrepit diner and yet separate in their own world. Of peace and quiet and dark seclusion. When you were a child you wished you could do that often. Run off and disappear. Be swallowed up by the woods and never return. Whether you were going to live within it or become a part of it you never cared, you just wanted to disappear. If you were honest with yourself you still wanted that. And maybe that's what you were trying to do now. Be swallowed up by these expansive highways and interstates and roads to never be seen again.
"Can I get you some coffee, hon?"
You jumped, spinning to face the waitress and her tightly drawn mouth as she stared down at you, sliding a menu your way. "S-sorry-" You mumbled, your voice hoarse from its lack of use. "Yeah, that would be great."
"No need to apologize, hon. Where you coming from?" Despite the way she held her expression her voice was meaningful and genuine. It took some tension off your back as you scrambled to spin up a lie.
"Well, that's quite a distance from here. You been driving all night, have you?"
Your appearance must've made this obvious as you let out a small huff of a laugh. "Yeah, all night and more."
"Well I'll get you a whole pot of coffee then." Here she pointed down at the menu with a red acrylic nail. "Take your time and find what you want."
"Thank you..."
You scanned the one sided menu with little interest as she walked away.
A buzzing vibrated against your leg. A cold wash crawled across your skin as you flipped your phone over with quick and rushed hands.
It kept buzzing as you stared down at the screen. His name lit up as the buzzing didn't stop. You set the phone down, careful not to intentionally hang it up as you closed your eyes for a brief moment. You hadn't blocked him yet, you couldn't find the strength to do it. You knew you should've done it as soon as you started packing but some part in the back of your mind wasn't sure about any of this. But you knew that the longer you waited the harder it would be. Especially when he'd inevitably start calling you. You just couldn't put together why he'd called so soon.
Finally the call ended, only for a small ping to light up your screen once again. Unable to not look, you turned the screen towards you.
"Answer me."
The chime of the doorway broke your fixated gaze as you glanced up while setting the phone down.
Three men entered, looking about just as rough as you were. One wore a dirtied brown jacket, the other two hoodies with the hoods up. One a dark brown hoodie, the other a dirty, faded orange. Their boots were caked in mud, dragging in a trail behind them as the last one of them awkwardly tried to shuffle around the dirt they'd drug in. He was seemingly making sure that his gaze was focused on the ground and nowhere else. You could see tufts of brunette hair sticking out in awkward juts from beyond the dark brown hood he had up. The waitress was far quicker with them than she was with you, pointing to your side of the diner as they all glanced in your direction. Quickly you ducked your gaze back down to the menu in your hands, just now noticing the stains that littered it. The last thing you needed to do right now was draw attention to yourself.
As they made their way over to your booth you concentrated on the menu in front of you. You swallowed as another ping sounded off from your phone but you didn't look. You needed to ignore it. Just for now.
"Move"
A gruff voice made you look up in front of you as the three seated themselves. The one who spoke was the first to walk in, slipping his jacket off as he had his back towards you while he sat down.
"Jack ass..." The one will tufts of hair said before sitting down across from him, followed by the other. You couldn't quite place it but the energy coming from these men was something that was different from the rest here tonight. You couldn't help yourself as you watched them with silent interest.
"Here's your coffee, hon."
You tensed up, resisting another embarrassing jump as you gave a small and hesitant smile.
"Thanks..."
Your behavior was suspicious no doubt, acting so fidgety, so on edge. But you couldn't help it. Your phone pinged again. With silent and quick fingers, you shut your phone down. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow...
"Find what you wanted to eat?"
You panicked, picking the top menu option after not using your time to properly read through it.
As she took your menu you held the cup of steaming coffee, the pot sitting on an old and ragged pot holder to keep from burning the cheap vinyl table. Not that it wouldn't of mattered, considering ghost markings of past waitress mistakes littered it regardless. You took a small sip, coaxing yourself to drink slowly instead of guzzling it like water. Your body and mind was exhausted, the stress only shutting you down further and further until you'd be past the point of no return. That is, if you didn't have the saving grace of coffee here.
"When are w-we getting t-there?"
You stared down into your cup, eaves dropping into the conversation happening a booth away as you added cream to cut the bitterness of the cheap coffee grounds.
"We get there when we get there." You recognized the voice coming from the one facing away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see his hair was messy, tussled and wild but nothing like what you suspected the other hooded man's hair to be. He was the one asking all the questions. How far of a drive it was, what route they were going to take, if they were making any more stops. Each question was met with a further hint of irritation and annoyance. And each question having an unmistakable slight stutter somewhere within it. At some point the waitress returned with their coffee to which the one asking questions gaze down intently at the table. There was a moment of silence between the three before she left once again with their orders.
"Toby, how about you just shut the fuck up and drink your coffee?"
The one who hadn't spoken yet, the one in the dirtied orange hoodie, gave a small huff of amusement. But he said nothing more.
You stared down intently at the swirling creamer and coffee, pretending to enjoy the view of the parking lot and haunting forest outside as you listened to them. They were traveling just like you. Strange, in a lot of ways, considering how they looked. But someone could easily say the same about you and your clearly unkempt appearance.
Toby started to grumble too low for you to hear before seemingly doing exactly what was demanded of him. There was a brief moment of silence before he started again.
"What if they're not t-there?"
"They will be." The stranger strained as he poured more coffee into his cup that he must've already drank in a hurry. "Stop bringing it up."
What if they're not there?
Were they meeting up with somebody? Taking a long road trip to see a friend or relative? It could most certainly be, but something about the way it was delivered, a hint of something sinister in the way he said "they will be". It seemed odd, the conversation as a whole. Had none of these questions been asked on this long car ride they'd surely been on? Or was it that they hadn't been on a long car ride at all? Maybe they were locals... strange locals who would come to their local run down diner on a weekday, early in the morning, to have breakfast... after walking through the woods...? Where else would you get so muddy?
With a sneaking glance, you steeled yourself in hesitancy and let curiosity win as you looked their way.
You had a proper look at them now, or at least the two that were facing you. The one on the left was the silent one, wearing that dirty orange hoodie that looked sun faded to a pale version of its former glory. He had his hood down now, his hair similarly tussled to the other two but kept within reason because of its length. He was handsome in a daunting way, a strong jawline with scruff and deep brown eyes that looked black in this dingy lighting. Despite his hoodie being so filthy, his face was unscathed. You watched as he took a sip of the coffee, suppressing a grimace at the bitterness and continuing to drink.
The other one, (Toby, as he was apparently called), dumped packets and packets of sugar into his drink. You could barely make out his face, it being shrouded by the hood he had tightly pulled over himself. You squinted, a sliver of light catching his face.
Eyes suddenly locked onto you from the depths of the hood. A jolt of shock shot through you as you sat rigid and frozen in place. Your grip tightened around your mug as you stared back at the penetrating gaze the two of you were locked in. Slowly a smile crept across his boyish face, white teeth grinning in a slow sinister crawl as you watched. A nauseating sensation came over you as you stared at that smile and then the prominent, horrid gash that accompanied it. His teeth were white and glimmering through it like a canine barring its teeth, a predator flashing its fangs to its prey. A horrid, overwhelming sensation began to grip you. A powerful sensation that you saw something that you shouldn't of, something you wished you'd minded your own business about. You watched as he went to say something.
"Here ya go-"
This time you did jump as the plate was set before you. You stared down at the eggs and toast with a racing heart and shuddering exhale. You were right, those men weren't like the rest here. They were something sinister... Something abnormal...
You barely managed to squeak out a "thank you" before she walked the rest of the plates she had to them. You stared down intently, barely shaking hand grabbing your coffee for a refill. You needed to eat and leave, quickly.
You picked at the sloppily made breakfast, grease pooling in the corner of your plate not helping your increasing nausea. Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and settling there like you'd swallowed a stone.
They ate quietly, the sounds of clinking forks the only thing to break the silence. You steadied yourself, trying to block out the gash in the man's face across from you and how many missed calls were probably piling up on your phone as you ate.
At some point you were done, the nerves getting the better of you as you flagged the waitress over. "Can I get the check, please?"
"Sure, hon. You need a box-"
"No- thank you..." You cut her off, offering a weak smile as you reached for your last few sips of coffee.
She paused suspiciously while she watched you.
"Miss, are you feeling alright? You are stopping somewhere tonight to sleep, I hope?" Her tone was very maternal, kind and worried despite the way her eyebrows were furrowed in irritation. "You're looking like a deer in headlights."
"Of course- I'll be fine. Thank you, I... appreciate it." You hoped you sounded sincere despite your awkward and jolted delivery. She stared down at you for a moment longer, her thoughts unreadable to you before she nodded and turned back for the check. You traced your finger over the power button on your phone, passing over it again and again before shoving it in your purse. It was staying off. No turning back now.
As you paid for your food you dumped a wad of crumpled bills that you half way attempted to straighten for the waitress. You were overly cautious to not draw a single glance towards the men next to you, not sure if you felt like you were imagining their eyes on you or not. But you weren't the one to find out if that was the case or not. Without another glance or pause, you got up and left the diner.
The parking lot felt darker than it did before. Stop imagining everything worse than it actually is... You dared not look out into the forest that lay behind your car as you unlocked your car, sat in your drivers seat, and all but slammed your door closed with finality. A sense of relief washed over instantly, this miserable little thing being your only sense of salvation and familiarity now. It probably would be your main and only source for a long time to come...
You put your key in ignition, turning it only to hear the slight whirring of the engine before it choked, sputtered, and died.
"What?" You hissed in complete shock as you tried it again, the same desperate sounds as you engine turned over again and again with no start. "Are you fucking kidding me?" You could feel the strain in the back of your throat from the frustration building. The type of anger and stress that built up into a cataclysm of tears and desperation if the situation didn't resolve itself. You knew you should've replaced this shitty ass battery months ago, but there's no reason it should've died...
You stared up at the now burnt out light surrounding your mirror you'd used to fix your makeup.
"You fucking idiot..." You could feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you gripped the steering wheel in a suddenly powerful wave of anger. You complete fucking idiot... You were now stranded in the middle of nowhere until morning at least. And then what were you going to do then? Who would you call? Who would come? You complete fucking idiot.
"Fuck!" You slammed a fist into the steering wheel, ignoring the searing pain that ripped through your hand and wrist before covering your face. You'd started crying before you could stop it. Maybe this was all a sign, God or whatever was in power was telling you that you made the wrong decision. Or maybe it was all just a sick fucking joke done to make whatever was above get a quick laugh at the girl who thought that she was stronger than she actually was. Maybe this was how you'd be put in your place.
A tap on your window made you gasp as you jolted upright. You stared wide eyed at the man outside. It was the man who'd had his back to you in the diner. He stood, one hand in pocket, the other still near your window as he glanced down at you. When he saw your face he put both hands up in a sign of peace, taking two steps back.
"Whoa, just seeing if you need some help?"
You let out a shaky breath, eyes still wide in fear as you stared out past him. A few feet away stood the one in orange. Behind him was the other one, his gash hidden away under the darkness of night and the hood that he still wore up. It was beyond suspicious. It was dangerous even, being out here with these three men who were already sinister to begin with.
You cast a quick glance over to the diner. It was only a few yards away... patrons were still inside. The waitress was too. They would hear you if something happened, wouldn't they? You thought of the gun then again, wishing you already had it on you. It was too late now to reach for it...
You cleared your throat, wiping away at your obvious tears in embarrassment before you cracked your door open ever so slightly. But by then you realized that if they were going to do anything to you, you'd already opened your door for them. So instead you committed and stepped out of the car.
"My battery died..." You tried not to sound so miserable and weak but you were doing more than just a poor job. You looked the part too, with your hair a mess and your face still wet with tears. It felt humiliating as you cast a weary glance towards the man who'd knocked on your window.
He stood tall, watching you with a quick, analyzing eye. His demeanor wasn't off putting per say but it was serious. A sort of "take charge" persona that emanated from him as he nodded his head in response. He had a strong nose, scruffy sideburns adorning his face. And he was clearly strong, built in the way a man who had done physical labor was. You could feel the mounting fear of "what if" creep back into your consciousness he glanced past you and to your less than perfect car. He could do whatever he wanted right now... could you stop it?
"You got jumper cables? If not we got some- we can jump it if you'd like?" His voice was still that same low, gruff voice he'd used inside, but without the clear irritation that was in it before. It wasn't inviting, not too kind sounding or too harsh. But he was clearly trying to tread lightly, at least you got the impression that he was. And you knew why. You were a crying woman, alone, looking desperate. You looked as much like the word pathetic as you could. Again, embarrassment colored your face as you swallowed down your pride and hesitation.
"That would be great, I... I didn't pack any..." You muttered this last part and then offered a small, weak smile of gratitude. You hoped that it would cover the obvious fear in your eyes. But something told you that he could practically smell it off of you. It was in the way he looked at you, a look in his eyes like he was watching a scared animal in a cage.
"Must've been the only thing you didn't pack." Here he motioned towards your heaps of items Tetris stacked in your cab. You offered a small, albeit nervous laugh and smile. "It's a good thing that you were here then..."
He hummed, glancing over you again in a brief moment of silence. "Sure thing. I'll have 'em bring the truck over."
The "truck" barely scraped by on the scale of "functionable", just like how your car was. Except by default it was better by the mere fact that it ran and yours currently did not. It was a patina chipped red single cab, the exhaust loud and echoing off the trees in this desolate location as the one in orange popped the hood.
"Where's your lever for your hood?" You whirled around to face him again, looking down at his hand already on your car door handle. You stared for a moment, faltering before clearing your throat. "Under the um.. to the left if you reach down low enough you can feel it-" As you were explaining he opened your door and and felt around. You watched in mounting uncomfortable silence. You absolutely could've just popped the hood yourself... And having a complete stranger rooting around in your car was by no means something you enjoyed or wanted. But you had a feeling you had little say in that matter.
Before another second passed the hood popped and the other one got to work. You had a quick jolt of fear run through you as you realized you didn't know where the other man was until you looked up into the cab. He was there, the one with the gash, behind the wheel, watching you. That same toothy grin with too many teeth grinning back at you.
You turned away, attempting to grab your door handle and get inside before a hand stopped you.
"No worries- I got it-" And before you could wager, he'd slipped into your driver seat and started to turn the key. You were completely out of the equation now entirely. It was fascinating, and jarring, how quickly they'd completely taken over the situation. Like this was some type of job that they'd all been tasked with and could work in perfect synchrony in any situation. It was fascinating, but also unnerving. They didn't seem to mind at all taking complete control over you and this "problem", despite being strangers and despite owing you nothing. Or maybe that was the point- to put your guard down and act like they were helping you instead of luring you or trapping you-
Your car suddenly turned over, the lights flickering on. You let go of a breath you didn't even know you were holding. Thank god... now I can get the hell out of here-
"Where you headed?"
You all but jerked your head over towards the last man who had yet of spoken out of the group. His voice was similar to the same man who'd offered their help, deep and gravely. Now he stood beside you, casting that same up and down look that the other one had given you. Analyzing you, but for what purpose you didn't know and you didn't care to find out. You swallowed, trying to rid yourself of the awful dryness that refused to leave you mouth.
"I'd prefer not to say..." You cringed inwardly at your own response. Anything would've been a better response than effectively admitting that these men were scaring you... But you were never very quick on your feet when it came to things like this.
A grin, slow and amused, spread across his face to reveal a small front tooth gap. "Smart girl." You swallowed again before giving a small laugh and turning your attention once more to the car. Please just leave, please just leave-
"You moving by yourself?"
You stared down at your feet, kicking a small rock near you as you ignored the prying eyes that watched you. You could feel them from not just his gaze, but from the one behind the wheel of truck too.
"I'm ... meeting a friend." You sounded so unconvincing you could've laughed at yourself if not for the situation you'd found yourself in.
He chuckled then. The sound made your skin crawl. "Oh? Moving in with them?"
"Yeah..." You said quietly, refusing to give any thing more. You wondered why he hadn't said a single word when inside the diner, but now was chatting with you like you were in the line at the grocery store. Maybe this was his way of trying to lighten the mood despite his very unorthodox way of going about it...
"Are you feeling alright, miss?" You cast a weary glance to him as he looked at you, an odd look in his eye as he stared you down. You swallowed, unnerved by the eye contact as you offered up a small smile. "Just tired is all, had a long day..." A pause. "I really appreciate you guys helping me out... thank you." You wished you sounded more sincere.
He smiled, a small grin that made you squirm. It didn't feel friendly. It was almost a sneer, a look of unnerving amusement as he looked down at you. "Sure thing, honey."
"It's all ready to go." You jumped as the other man stepped out of your car finally.
"Thank you so much-" You immediately turned away from the conversation, finding any reason to escape his odd line of questioning and that condescending look in his eyes. You gave a genuine smile of relief. "If you weren't able to help me I don't know how long I would've been stranded..."
"No worries, sweetheart." He muttered as he walked around to the hood and slammed it shut with finality. You watched as he spoke to the one in the drivers seat before throwing the cables into the bed of the truck with a clang.
"You don't need anything else from us tonight then?" He wiped his hands off on his jeans before fumbling in his jacket pocket to produce a packet of cigarettes. You shook your head. "No, thank you I really appreciate it."
He hummed, almost like he was barely paying attention to your gratitude as he fumbled around for a lighter. "Sure thing, sweetheart-" He then found one, lighting his cigarette, the end glowing in the darkness. You watched uncomfortably as you nodded before clearing your throat.
"Okay, well, thanks again." You then grabbed your handle, opening your door and going to shut it when he called out to you. "Drive safe." He said simply. You nodded once before getting in your car and driving away, ignoring the following eyes that watched you leave the parking lot and disappear down the highway.
-------
It wasn't long before you had to accept the fact that you weren't going to make it very far. First it was the fluttering of your eyelids as they grew heavier and heavier. When the loud music didn't help you rolled your windows down, blasting the cool night air through the cab but it did little to resist you from sleep. Only when you had closed your eyes and cross into the other lane did you realize that you needed to pull over. You were angry to admit it, but you needed to sleep, even for just an hour. Then you could get back on the road, find a place to rent, and sleep in an actual real bed... but until then, you were sleeping on the side of the highway tonight.
You'd wake with a start to the beeping of your alarm. You scrambled to find it, heart sinking as you saw the dozens and dozens of texts and phone calls littering your screen. You closed your eyes, shutting it off as you stared up at your car ceiling.
You got this. No turning back now.
Before you could dwell anymore on it, you were down the road again.
Trees lined the road you took, now off the highway and back onto country roads. Your phone told you that this was a faster route and you had your doubts but decided to trust the satellites above and follow blindly.
The road was cracked and jagged, unkempt and unforgiving on your lack of shocks as you bumped along. At this rate every dish you'd packed would be shattered glass...
Suddenly a deer darted out before you. You gasped, slamming on your breaks and veering off to the right, narrowly missing it as you came to a screeching halt.
"Jesus fucking Christ..." You muttered under your breath as you let go of a shaky breath. Just about lost my other headlight... You sighed, pushing back hair that you'd taken down long ago when you paused. Slowly you leaned forward, chest against steering wheel as you stared out ahead of you. There in the distance, dimly lit by your yellowed headlight was the tail end of someone's car in the ditch. The dome light was on, soft yellow glow like a beacon in the night. Your brow furrowed as you creeped your car along, straddling the ditch and the road until you came up to the car entirely.
It was inconspicuous on the surface, just a gray car parked crookedly in the ditch. If it was the season you could've easily assumed that it was a hunter who'd parked there to walk out to his stand. But it certainly wasn't the season. You stared longer. No headlights out from deer, no rumpled bumper... You glanced around it, seeing dirt and grass frayed up in tell tale signs of skid marks. Did they happen to have swerved just like you'd done for a deer and lost control?
You saw no one inside, just the dome light illuminating the empty interior, much to the stark contrast of your own car. You glanced behind you, the dark and ever expansive road stretching beyond with not a headlight in sight. No one was out here... and if someone was stuck out here who knows when the last time would be if they would get some help. Maybe their car was having issues and couldn't start and they had to walk somewhere to get someone?
You shook your head, tearing your gaze away from the car. No, this was not going to be your deal, you'll call the cops and have them take a look-
You stared down dumbly at your phone. No signal. SOS.
Slowly, you lifted your head back up to look at the car outside. With a mounting fear crawling up your throat, you grabbed your gun, opened your door and got out.
The night had significantly cooled down since you were in the diner parking lot. Goosebumps littered your arms as you held them, phone flashlight in hand as the measly beacon lit your path. Quickly, you checked to make sure one was in the chamber as you fingered the safety on multiple times to make sure, then stuffing it in the front of your pants. You started down towards the ditch, gasping as you slipped on the dewy grass and fell down it. Fuck...
You cleared your throat, looking past the car into the wood line before you. "Hello...?" Your voice felt hollow, swallowed up by the expansiveness around you as you tried again. "Hello? Is anyone out here?" Silent wind pushed through the pines as you stared with increasing worry down each end of the road. Maybe you were right and they had started walking down the road to find someone... Driving further on might mean you'll see them.
You went to turn, to head back up to the safety of your car that you were desperate to reach when you saw it. In a crevice between the start of the forest a license plate reflected back to you dimly. You stared in confusion and dread at the patina pickup shoved almost completely into the wood line, but not quite. Not enough to hide from someone like you walking around in the ditch that is.
What the hell are they doing out here...? You could feel dread tightening in your chest as you stared out into the haunting darkness of the wild. Something was off about those men... The questions the one had asked you, the mannerisms of the other. You struggled to swallow with your dry mouth as you remembered the smile of the man with the gash in his face. Or the odd line of questioning that befell you before leaving.
Before you in the inky blackness a single scream resounded. You froze eyes staring like a wild animal as you listened to it bounce off of the trees before being swallowed back up in the whispering wind and silence. Dread, unlike anything you'd felt before seared though your veins. You could feel the hairs of your body stand on end, feel the electric pull to run thrill through your legs. With little thought, you turned and ran up the slippery ditch and into the safety of your car.
You scrambled into your seat, hands now caked in dew and mud as you slammed the door shut and gripped the steering wheel. You started fumbling for your keys in a fearful rush when your hand brushed across the butt of the gun. You stopped, catching your breath as you stared blankly ahead of you.
That person was out there... that must've been them. And they needed help... and you had a gun... You took a shaky breath, desperate to calm your nerves as you closed your eyes. Whatever those men were doing out there, maybe they weren't bad people. They helped you after all, despite their odd behaviors. But something didn't feel right, something was wrong with it all entirely. You found your phone and stared at the lack of signal with clenched teeth.
You have a gun...
You gripped the handle, closing your eyes and sharply exhaling before opening your door once more and stepping back out into the cool night.
"This is so stupid-" You caught yourself before almost slipping down the ditch again as you held the gun firmly in both hands. You were wishing right now that you had a flashlight mount on it but situationally, you wished a lot more things were different. Like how you wished you didn't have to be the one to go out here and look for whoever was lost out here. Or if only your phone could catch a signal.
You stared silently out into the depths before you. You practiced controlled breaths, rocking from one foot to the other as you attempted to calm your nerves. Ever since you left nothing has gone right. Was this the universe telling you that you'd made a mistake? Or was this all your own undoing? Maybe it didn't matter right now and all that mattered is that someone needed help. You gripped your gun with steady hands. With finality, you crossed the threshold of the tree line and went inside.
-â-
Thanks so much to anyone who ends up giving this a shot <3 I've been writing a lot in my spare time and felt the need to just start up a smaller series here and see where it leads... I have a solid plan for this one and I hope y'all like a possessive, cruel, asshole, group of men because that's what you're gonna get lol
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Heres my quick rant abt Jack! I'm just writing ts as it comes to mind lol
TW - needles and injections!!!
This is the first part of a random fanfic I was thinking of! It is primarily gn!reader. And I was thinking your in a relationship with him đđ also please comment! It really helps!! And it also lets me know if y'all want more of this sorta content!
Jack was flipping through the proxies files with all their medical information. As jack had just.....acquired..... Some more medicine for flu shots and other vaccines. Most of the vaccines were up to date, he noted that Jeff would need his flu shot so he took a mental note and he reached your file and noticed you needed yours too. So he sterilized his Office which was like a doctors office and the worn leather bed that was in it to.
Time skip to later on that night
Jack made his way down the hallway to your room knocking twice on the door. Before walking inside his lovers room to see you laying on the bed scrolling on your phone "My love, I need you down in my office you need your vaccines" you tensed up at the thought of needles burying yourself deeper into the pillows of your bed. "But jaaaccccckkkkkkk, ill be fine without it!!" You insist with a pout while he made his way over to you. "Well you don't really have a choice darling so come on, I know how you feel about vaccines but they're important" jack stated his voice cool and professional as usual but there was a hint of warmth reserved for only you.
He gently took your tense hand and guided you down to his office.
This is only part one! I might add onto it if y'all want me to! But I'm writing a visual novel so I'm a bit busy. Don't mind the shitty punctuation and spelling lol
Hi, I was wondering if you could do a dark romance-y, kind of spicy Ticci Toby x fem Reader, where, after a risky escapade, aka "A job gone wrong", the Reader wakes up from her slumber and finds Toby leaning against the wall of her bedroom, one arm scraped, smeared with blood, and clothes torn. The Reader is quick to kneel and help him, carefully cleaning his wound, but he tilts his head, mask almost teasing, as if daring her to linger. Every brush of his fingers against the Reader's sends shivers through her body, but not just from the danger, but from the sharp, intoxicating heat building between both of them. When his hand slides to steady the Reader, pressing just a little too close for comfort, the subtle tension twists into something more, and the Reader realizes that the line between caring for him and wanting him is dangerously becoming blurred. But he lets out a low, rasping chuckle as he notices the Reader flustering, only making her pulse spike faster than normal, and suddenly, the night feels strangely charged with a thrilling, almost forbidden flame between them that neither wants to put out. Can the "Blood and Warmth" they feel spark something more?~ You can fill in the rest or expand on it if you want, perhaps even jazz it up a little? Put your level of spice that you are comfortable with.
Of course! And thank you for the request! It was super fun to write!
Ticci Toby X Reader - "Masochist"
Yeah so, this post was a lot longer than I meant. It was fun though!! Let me give some context because I feel I didn't explain it too well though.
This is my FIRST TIME writing a smut, so it may not have been too good. For the record, this is a "con noncon" type lemon. Give me feedback please!
Also! First time since 6th grade writing for Toby. I put emphasis on his bipolarness, so if you see his switched up a lot, that's why.
Details: cream pie, no protection, consensual nonconsenual, reader is a narcissist ngl, Toby has lots of mood swings
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night wasn't as peaceful as it used to be. Well, it never really was peaceful for Y/N.
It used to just be the anxiety every time heading back to her dorm room; no parents to look out for her, no friends attending the same college. Nowadays those friends aren't even around, each caught up with their own lives. The college was known for being a party campus- like the kind that appears on documentaries for the dangerous frat house initiations. The kind where girls walking alone at night are very likely to have a ânegative encounterâ with a man, and nothing be done about it.
She used to have that issue a lot. But, not anymore.
Nowadays, what keeps her up at night is knowing how easy it is for a serial killer to sneak inside her roomâ even if he is her type.
He doesn't really like the word âserial killerâ though. From what he told her, he has a âless-than-moral traveling jobâ- as if she's too stupid to recognize what bloody hatchets and stained clothes mean. Y/N really didn't mind, since he's applied his âworkâ to approved areas of her life. To say the least, her whispering a name is all it takes to leave parents haunted forever.
Suppose it makes her as morally grey as the predators on campus. Catcallers, bullies and pervasive men don't deserve to die technically, even if they are degenerate. But who cares, she tells herself, as long as she is still living. And it's not like she killed those 4 college kids personally.
But still, it scared her knowing that other serial killers, or âless-than-moral travelersâ, exist out there. Y/N was only lucky that Toby didnât just flat out kill her when they first met; let alone when he sneaks into her room to talk for an hour then disappear.
Who's to say that the next killer will be so merciful?
âOh my goshâŠâ
And at night, those feelings consumed her.
Her eyes fluttered open, meeting with the near pitch blackness of the room. Somehow her eyes saw demonic faces in the ceilingâ subconscious imaginations of what her killer might look like. Karma for mentioning names to Toby.
âInsomnia when I got a test tomorrowâŠâ she mumbled, forcing her restless eyes to shut.
She slowly sat up in bed, holding the covers close to stay warm. A small whimper slipped past her lips as her eyes fluttered open once more, still heavy with sleep.
Then she froze.
A shape lingered at the foot of her bedâ a familiar shape with a familiar height and build. Her chest tightened as her breath caught, a hitched gasp breaking the silence.
Familiarity can be comforting, but with him, it was nearly paralyzing.
His hood concealed his face, leaving only the faintest glimmer reflecting off those orange goggles. The sight made her blood run cold. She didnât need to see his face to know.
He was here.
âT-Toby?â She stuttered out, her cheeks heating up. âWhatâre youâŠâ she mumbled fearfully, the conclusions running through her mind. âWhat're you doing here at this time?â
She reached for the curtain pressed next to her bed and pulled it open, allowing for the moonlight to come in. Finally his form was totally visible, including the blood stains and tears on his clothes. And the two hatches set down on the end of her bed.
His lack of reply weighed heavily in the air.
Y/N gulped, chills running down her spine.
âTobyâŠâ she mumbled, shifting in the bed to lean in closer. Finally her eyes picked up on it. âToby are youâ are you bleeding?â
The faintest tightening of his expression told her all she needed to know.
âOh my,â she muttered worriedly, quickly stepping out of bed. âStay there,â she said, âor, sit down!â
Normally, if she directed him to do anything, he'd either play around or ignore her. But given his inability to feel pain or know the severity of his wound? Well, that changed things.
And as soon as she stepped away, he allowed himself to sit on the bed. As she came back in, his eyes remained fixated on the ground.
In her hand was a ziplock bag of medical supplies; things she bought recently in case something like this were to happen.
She got down on her knees in front of him, opening the ziplock bag. She bit her lip, her face heating up at the thought of being in this position. She almost wondered what he was thinking; actually, she really wanted to see how he felt about it.
âYou need to let in oxygen,â Y/N whispered, her voice unsteady as she awkwardly glanced up to meet his eyes.
Toby tilted his head, silent, before slowly loosening his fingers on the wound.
âNoâ your⊠your mask,â she stammered, fumbling the words as she pressed his gloved hand back over the wound. The first touch of him sent chills down her spineâ the sensation equally as petrifying as pleasurable. Her other hand hesitated, reaching upward.
He shifted back just out of reach, forcing her to lean closer. âMmâ Toby,â she said, sharper now, her tone firm despite the heat rising in her chest. Whether that was the heat of proximity, fear or limerence was unknown even to her. She leaned up, her chest pressed against his, trying to grip his mask.
When her fingers finally caught the edge of his mask, she tugged it down. The movement brought her close enough to feel his breath graze against her skin, and her face flushed instantly. She pulled her hand back too quickly, like pulling it away from fire.
Interesting, she thought, as her sight gazed over his blood splattered goggles, button nose, and the hole in his mouth. She tilted her head slightly, examining his perfectly white teeth. It was a cutely unique feature to admire. Apart from that, he had grown a little facial hair. It suited him.
Next, her fingers trembled as they found the hem of his hoodie. She lifted it carefully, grazing his skin all too intentionally. Warmth radiated from him, searing against her unsteady fingertips. Then came the recognition that he had no shirt underneath.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips.
Suddenly his free hand caught her wrist. Dark thoughts plagued her mind relentlessly; thoughts of should she act in a way he disapproved of. Darker thoughts of what the consequences of those actions would be. And the more shameful thoughts she hoped would come to fruition.
Finally, he spoke; a low, raspy tone that was hardly recognizable. âI ca-can- ca- can't let go of my arm, Y/N. I'll bleed out on your bed.â
And the touch of his hand on hers only made her senses grow wilder. She subtly moved her hips forward to ease the inner tension that was growing from being under his watchful, angered eye.
âI⊠I canât let you die, either,â Y/N whispered, her voice thin as she tried once more to slip her hand free. But even as a moment passed, his grip didnât loosen.
Her stomach sank further.
âHey, let... let go, you're hurting me,â she stammered, prying weakly at his fingers with a racing pulse. When her eyes finally met his, something in his expression shiftedâ softened maybe, if only slightly.
Another tense moment passedâ then, slowly, his fingers unraveled from her wrist.
She exhaled sharply, shooting him a quick glare before reaching again for his hoodie. With a firm tug she lifted it up and over, and this time Toby let her, even raising his arms in reluctant cooperation despite the blood trickling down his arm.
As the hoodie was tossed to the side, her returning look in his direction caused her breath to hitch. Her movements paused, as if they forgot what they were doing.
Thoughts of seeing things like this were what kept her up at night. As fucked up as lusting for a serial killer was, there was a reason she helped him so instantaneously.
I mean, as she's on her knees, it's impossible for Y/N not to look at the marks that decorated his skin. Tobyâs body was strong, as already known; his toned abs and arms protruding her eyes from being able to look elsewhere. Each scar was a mark of his immense ability as a fighter and killer. Something primal told her that it made him a good protector.
Y/N rolled her hips slightly, just enough to ease her mind screaming for more.
With the goggles, it was impossible to tell where he was looking. But she could feel his eyes boring into her as she finally reached up to examine his bleeding bicep, free hand grabbing and pressing a clean, damp towel against the wound.
Toby obviously wasn't stupid. Surely he considered how unnecessary the removal of his mask was. Then the removal of his hoodie, when he could simply roll his sleeve up.
Her fingers shook as they worked their magic, though her voice grew calmer as she broke the question: âWhat⊠exactly happened?â
âThis guy stabbed me with a fucking screwdriver. Wasn't even go-gon- gonna kill that fucker.â Tobyâs voice was unrelenting, the obvious shame and embarrassment surfacing through his words. âAsshole wanted to play Savior. Now thaâ that screwdriverâs nailing his hands together to a wall.â
A soft giggle left Y/Nâs lips as she pulled out an alcohol pad, rubbing the area as clean as possible before discarding it to the side. She pulled out bandage wrap.
Toby glanced down at her kneeling between his legs. A smug grin tugged at his lips, sharp and unsettling.
The shift was always so drasticâ angry one moment, entertained the next.
âYouâre pretty fucked up for laughinâ,â he drawled, tilting his head. His tone was mocking, but his words held amusement. âYâknow I could kill you the sec- second youâre done, right?â
Y/N froze in her movements, his arm half-wrapped. Her hands went still against his arm as her gaze flicked up toward the lenses of his goggles. Her lip pouted with a frown.
And Toby hadn't been so keen to see hopeless eyes beg before.
Suddenly he chuckled, his neck snapping with a tic. âRelax,â he cooed, his grin growing wider. His gloved hand pressed against her cheek, slowly rubbing back and forth.
She paused in her movements. Too scared to move. Struggling too hard to keep her internal thoughts from going crazy. Something about fear turned her on.
His voice died down to a low rumble as he continued: âas cliche as it sounds⊠you'd be dead if I ain't want you here.â
Y/N gulped. His hand slowly moved awayâ leaving a sense of yearning on her skin.
Without a word to say, Y/N shakily placed the supplies back in the bag, zipping it up and tossing it besides his discarded hoodie. Then with a shaky exhale, she rose to her feet. His gaze followed her as she stood, and as she backed up slightly.
âYouâre s- so quiet⊠mo-m-more than normal.â Toby's hand pressed against his patched wound slowly. His voice got deeper; cautious. â...Are you scared, Y/N?â
Saying yes or no could be detrimental in this scenario.
Then, he stood up next. Slow and twitchy.
Perhaps only a few inches of distance were between them. He wasn't too tall, but certainly staggering in comparison. His body was built so perfectly in its intimidation. Impulsively, she glanced down at his chest, before looking back up andâ
He slammed both hands against her face, thumbs digging into her cheekbones, and shook her head as he spoke. Pain shot through her skull, forcing tears to swell up.
âY- yâknow I've killed for you, right?â Toby's voice was low and practicedâ like someone whoâd learned to sound calm when enraged. A forced smile spread across his features. âDonât act stupid! Like you donât know why those kids died. I practicallyââ he hiccupped the wordsâ âfucken served you. Aâ and youâre scared of me?â
Her fingers curled on his wrists, nails digging in as if it would keep her balanced. âIâ Iâmââ She stuttered while trying to push back; his grip tightening without caution. Tears blurred the edges of his face, though his craze remained visible.
âI'll jâŠj-just kill you now,â He seethed angrily, no longer shaking her as he leaned in close. As his lips reached near her ear, he raspily whispered with a hitched breath. âKeep you looking this pretty and⊠scared,â he paused, lowering his voice more, â...forever.â
Despite the fucked up words he spoke so lovingly, it made something swell inside her. Something worse than fearâ uncontrollably aroused, and the wetness between her legs grew only wetter. âIâm not scared!â she sobbed louder than she meant to.
âOhâ oh yeah?â Toby pulled away from her ear, then squeezing her head upwards so his face leaned directly above hers.
âI'm not scared!â She sobbed again, hardly able to open her eyes through the tears. âI want you Toby! I want you toâ I wantâ!â She choked, unable to formulate the right words.
For a moment, the violence halted. Toby's grip around her head loosened up, inviting for Y/N to finally open her eyes.
His neck snapped once more, his whole body ticking with it. Finally, from the seconds-long stillness, her eyes allowed her to see something behind his goggles. His eyes boring into hers.
Suddenly his grip tightened once more, suddenly swinging her to the side. Y/N yelped as her back clashed onto the top of her mattress.
The springs groaned as Toby threw himself on top of her, his hands pinning hers down against the sheets. One leg still remained stretched out on the floor, while the other was on the bed, between her thighs.
Her face grew red as her breathing quickened, tears of shame running down her face.
âI know what you want, youââ Toby's neck twitched, ââyou whore.â
Suddenly his lips collided with hers. She gasped into the unexpected kiss, her body tensing against his. Their fingers intertwined, his grip uncomfortable tight.
âTobyâŠâ she begged into the kiss. He pulled away, eyes narrowed. âI'm notâŠâ Her voice was uncertain, worried that being a little too forceful in her reply would only make matters worse. âI'm not a whoreâŠâ
âOâof course not,â he replied sarcastically, his neck twitching. âYouâve only been touchinâ me like I can't see it. You just wanna fuck the killer, dâ don't you? Does it make ya feel powerful, babe?â
âBuâ But I've neverâ!â She stammered out, unable to spit the words out as another reddened layer of embarrassment spreading across her face. Not just from admitting her lack of experience at her age, but from admitting it at all.
Toby tsked, releasing one of his hands to pull off his goggles. His whole face was now on display. It made Y/N's heart flutter.
His eyes were such a beautiful brown. Even without humanity in them.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, narrowing her eyes. Her hips shifted instinctively, grinding against his knee. A shaky breath left her lips as a chill went down her spine.
â... neither have you,â she mumbled. Toby scoffed, rolling his pretty brown eyes. It took energy to hold in a giggle from his indirect admission of inexperience, despite the intensity from 5 seconds ago.
A moment passedâ just a few seconds where neither knew what to do. Y/N grinned her hips one more time, instinctively, the sheets of the bed shifted as she brought her legs up a little higher. Tobyâs eyes followed their movements, before he finally leaned back down.
And this time, much more gently, he planted another kiss. Y/N kissed back, her lips experimenting with its positions.
From angry, to playful, to enraged, to horny. Dangerously toxic.
The kiss grew deeper, more passionate as the moments passed. Toby licked at her lips, causing her to hesitantly open for his tongue to explore. She mimicked his actions, though it was clear he was unsure if what he was doing was correct. It probably didn't help that he couldn't feel what he was doing.
His knee pushed upwards, making Y/N gasp from the added pressure between her legs. The kiss broke, and Toby pulled away for a moment.
As the two caught their breath, they exchanged awkward glancesâ Toby's eyes peering more towards her pajama top then back at her.
She felt like she was on fire under his vision. But with weakened arms, she grabbed her top and pulled up, revealing her bare breasts.
He looked at her, uncertain. His face grew red, trying to avoid looking at her chest the best he could. Y/N frowned.
âDo you notâ,â Y/N muttered, beginning to pull her shirt back down. Suddenly his hands shot up, grabbing hers.
âN-Noââ he paused, neck snapping with a tick.
âNo?â Y/N replied, confused. Sadness nipped at her.
âN-No, I justââ he ticked once more, the apparent nervousness making his condition worse. He huffed with annoyance. Clearly actions speak way fucking better than words sometimes.
Within a moment, Toby pulled her shirt off then his hands latched onto her breasts, squeezing and playing. As his thumb flickered over her nipple, Y/N twitched slightlyâ sensitive to the new touch.
Toby looked between her face and his hands, feeling the bulge grow more and more painful against his jeans. He wished he could feel how soft her fresh skin was.
Thank God there's still sensation down there, he thought as he unzipped his jeans.
âY/NâŠâ his raspy voice broke the silence. âAre you s-sure you wanna do this?â
It's impossible to be entirely sure during one's first time. It's a big commitmentâ especially for a girl. Y/N was 19, already one of the only in her college to still be a virgin. Not necessarily to stay pure or whatever, but because she wasn't gonna give herself to just anyone. And to give her virginity to a killer was⊠scary.
So when he asked the question, something moved in her chest.
He cared to ask, at least.
â... If I⊠weâŠâ Y/N mumbled lowly, pausing to think of how to word it, â...are you gonna come back?â
Toby's neck snapping with a tick. He brought his hand to rub the back of his neck, before mumbling out a reply. âIâ It's already hard to see you as it is,â he paused, âb-bu-bu- but, if your willinâ, I have a plan.â
He leaned down, panting a kiss on her forehead. When he pulled away, a mischievous smile replaced his features. Y/N raised a brow in suspicion.
âHow âbout this: I'll take you with me, so we're always together!â
âAnd you'll never worry a-ab-b-bout anything ever again.â
A chill went down her spine.
One could never be too trusting. He could be lying. He could leave and never return. He could kill her. Leave her for dead. Or something freak accident with another killer.
âC'mon,â Toby pushed, repositioning so he was properly straddling her. Y/N gasped as he shifted, pressing his hardened bulge against her thin pajama pants. Her hands clung to his shoulders as he leaned in close, neck snapping. âB-Besides, whatcha got to lose? Friends? Family?â He laughed, his body shaking with it.
âUm, my future,â Y/N retorted, a frown growing on her face from the remark. Suddenly she gasped as Toby's hips pushed forward, his hand reaching down to her bottoms and slipping in. Her grip tightened on his shoulders as his cold fingers roamed, reaching her clit.
She whimpered, hips twitching. .
âYa like that?â Toby asked, breathy, his grin growing. âYou don't even know what ya wanna be. But I know you want love. Y-You want to be treated like this.â
Y/N moaned involuntarily, as his finger reached her hole and quickly slipped inside. Her body twitched, back arching as the new feeling erupted. Tobyâs free hand grabbed at her pajama bottoms, pulling them down a little more.
âB-But, I can't just leave behind myââ another moan cut her off, as his finger began pumping in and out roughly. She winced, tensing.
âWhat? Leave behind what? You don't got a-a-a li-life!â Toby laughed again, slipping it in another finger. âJust come with me, do as O sayâ look, you're tightening just at the thought.â
Her heart stung from that comment. But, it sort of confirmed her guess that he stalked her.
His brown eyes had craze in them now. Y/N's hands struggled to find comfort, nails beginning to dig into his senseless skin. Her legs flexed and back arched, her body overly pleasured by the distress of being threatened.
His fingers pulled out, leaving a cold, empty wetness inside her. She whimpered, frozenâ until he gripped the hem of her pajama pants and pulled them down roughly, throwing them to the side.
Y/N blushed, still insecure to show so much flesh. Next his thumbs traced the lace of her panties, before pressing into her clit. Y/N whimpered, propping herself up with her elbows to see.
âYou're sâsooo wet, Y/N⊠Imagine having this everyday,â he snickered, before finally removing her panties.
âTobyâŠâ Y/N muttered, instinctively pressing her legs closed, âwhat's gonna happen if⊠I go with you?â
He removed his jeans and boxers simultaneously, his hard cock springing free at last. Y/N gasped quietly, eyes widening at the size; it was thick, perhaps 6 or 7 inches long, with a cute pink mushroom top that leaked precum.
âWhatever you want, babe,â he replied snarkily, gripping her thighs, forcing them open. Y/N shivered at his cold touch, frowning. Uncertain.
But so fucking desperate, as her eyes remained locked onto his twitchy cock that hovered over her wet entrance.
He bent back down to kiss her, his cracked lips melting against hers. She could hardly kiss back.
He pulled away, pushing brown hair from his face, as his freehand gripping his cock to give it a few quick pumps. Y/N watched nervously as his foreskin moved up and down his tip, light hardly reflecting off the precum. Her mouth watered.
Her body was just begging to have it inside her. Juices dripped from her pussy, lubricating it for him. And as Toby pressed his tip against her hole, he rubbed it up and down.
âHow's this gonna f-fi- fit?â He asked himself with a snicker.
Y/N stared back, red in the face, fear in her eyes.
His cock throbbed harder.
He leaned down inches away from her ear, breathy and erratic. âOnce I put it in,â he ticked, âyou're agreeing to my terms and conditions. No more uni-university.â
As Y/N opened her mouth to speak, the air was knocked out.
âAhh!~â she moanedâ screamed out. His thick cock pierced through her tight walls roughly, like digging a hatchet into a stubborn log. Her nails deeper into his skin as she breathed heavily, tears wasting no time to trinkle down her face. âTobyâ T-Toby, please!~â
A soft moan escaped his lips as his head tilted back slightly, only half of his dick making it inside, her walls clenching onto him for dear life. He pulled back out slow and sensual, leaving Y/N in a heated mess as she gasped for air.
âS-so-sooo fuckinggg tight,â he moaned out, snickering again.
A slight amount of blood covered his tip as he pulled out. Proof he stole her first time from anyone else who may try to get her. Like claiming her body in a way.
âT-Tobyââ she gasped out in a heated, pained voice, âplease! I-I can't take itââ
He gripped his cock again, sliding the tip back inside, before thrusting his hips forward, making it only halfway in again.
Y/N let out a painful moan, pushing against his chest as he just thrusted and thrusted until he was all the way in. The pain was fucking vigorous as light blood dripped from her pussy and onto the bedsheets.
âFuck!~â he breathed out, his arms wrapping around her head as he began pumping, his pace uneven and barbaric. His fingers gripped her hair tightly, pulling at her scalp and forcing her head up.
The pain inside her was awfulâ her body too unprepared to take such a length. Tears spilled as moaned cries escaped her lips, her nails scratching and clawing at his back as a futile attempt to stop his pace. Her back arched and legs twitched, her muscles so tense that it hurt.
âToby!~ Toby, stop it!~â she moaned, but her cries fell on deaf ears. He continued pumping his needy cock into her wet insides, because despite her cries, he could feel it; the way she tightens around his cock when he ignores her, the way each cry makes her more sopping wet. She wanted to be fucked like this. Each passing second made the pain fade away, if only slightly, and replaced by pleasure. But the pain was a kind of pleasure of itself.
He suddenly sat up, one hand gripping her waist and the other on her shoulder. Like this, his pace grew more even, each thrust after another. His tip reached somethingâ somewhere new that made her body jolt every time his thick cock slammed against it. She moaned out of pleasure, loud and uncensored. Her hardened nipples tingled in pleasure.
Y/N closed her eyes, unable to watch; but Toby couldn't help but stare. The way her breasts jolted in tune with his movements, her thighs wrapped around his waist, and the tears complimenting her pretty face. He could see all the juices on his cock, the sound like music to his ears. He seethed, the hand on her shoulder moving to her throat.
She tried to gasp, but failed as his fingers tightened. His grip wasn't so strong as to suffocate her, but enough to restrict her airflow. Each moan grew choppier and vulgar with each thrust, making Toby snicker at her in between his own breathy moans.
A tense feeling of pleasure was building in her stomach, her muscles clenching against his cock more and more. Toby leaned in again, his back crooked as he kissed her passionately. The type of kiss from a lover, not a rapist. His hips slowed until he leaned back up.
His grip on her throat only tightened, as his thrusts got sloppier and sloppier. Y/N tried to gasp between her forced-out moans, as the sensation in her stomach grew stronger and stronger andâ
âAhh!~â she practically screamed out as her body reached its climax, clenching his thickened cock for dear life as her juices washed over it. Both his hands reached her waist, as he rocked his hips a few more times until finally releasing into her.
As his dick twitched against her walls with only a few humps left to give, quiet moans escaping his lips as his cum squirting out violently.
Sensations ran through their bodies as they (she, mostly) gasped for air, fat clumps of cum already trying to escape her pussy. After a few seconds, he slowly pulled outâ leaving a messy cream pie deep inside.
Moments passed before Toby got off her, grabbing his boxers and jeans, and pulling them on. Y/N slowly sat up, pulling her shaky, weak legs up to her chest in silence.
The sensations were overwhelming but slowly settling as reality hit.
As Toby pulled his hoodie back on, he glanced over at her. Still sitting there. He placed his goggles back over his eyes.
â...C'mon, time to go pack your things, babe,â he spoke, so casually, as if nothing ever happened.
Though all her old tears have dried, newer ones formed at the corners of her eyes. Real tears born from raw sadness.
Toby huffed, twitching. âWhat now?â
â...that's all?â She sniffled, eyes lowered as tears slipped out. âYou⊠inside me, no protection and⊠thatâs it? All done?â
Now he understood, guilt flooding his senses. Aftercare was a thing.
âAwww, Y/N baby,â he cooed, quickly getting into the bed beside her. He leaned in, kissing her cheek lovingly as his hand traveled to her thighs.
Reluctantly, she spread themâ the two watching his cum seep out thick and slow. He chuckled.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. It was strange how their bodies complimented each other perfectly in moments like these. His smell blessed her nose, and it was the first time she ever realized the smell. His neck nuzzled into her to perfectly, like it was a spot designed specifically for his head. And as their hands intertwined, their fingers seemed to fit together as perfectly as puzzle pieces.
âL-Let's get you cleaned up-â he twitched, body jolted against hers.
âThen I'll⊠get packed,â she mumbled, without a trace of worry.
Whoever they are, theyâre tall, and theyâre lean as a bean pole. Just simply leaning on a machine off to the edge of the room and observing- standing much too still for all the noise surrounding them.
Perturbed, you turn back to your game, but the motivation to sink your teeth back into the plot fails you. The steady clack of buttons becomes more habit than intention. With your eyes unfocused and your brain struggling to juggle everything at once, you get jump-scared by the black screen that reads,
YOU DIED. Â
. word count: 3.7k
. tags: slenderverse, horror romance, themes of abuse and loss, violence, good old fashioned creepypasta fic
. characters: eyeless jack, jeff the killer, BEN, slenderman, masky + hoodie (ments)
-ËËâââââ Today the arcade is alive.Â
Busier than youâd ever seen- with a warm body on nearly every game when you walk up to the entrance and step inside. Many are faces you donât recognize, but some of them you do. Three of them in particular perk up when you settle in: the same three jackasses that seemed to make it their mission to bother you in some way every chance they could.Â
Usually it was kept to a simple minimum, jeers and snickering amongst themselves. Other times when theyâd bear an ounce of too much confidence theyâd grow rowdier- at one point even grabbing your arm to garner your attention only to be met with no outward reaction. Somehow that seemed to piss them off even more. They took it as a challenge while you simply just wanted to be left alone.Â
Today they donât seem to be too full of sadism. One of them nudges the other in the arm as you walk by before they look back down at their video game, too focused on their score to worry about the likes of you at that moment. At your wits end, it's hard not to feel thankful. If you were being honest with yourself you werenât sure how much more energy you had in you to keep up with that game.Â
Although youâd slept great a few nights ago under the canopy of your fathers car roof, everything since had been quite the opposite. Long drawn days of overcast that never seemed to want to break. The house groaned and whined under its own pressure, and your body does the same.Â
When night comes, and dreams return to you, theyâre nothing like theyâd been before. Theyâre sharp at the edge- more vivid than you could imagine, and sometimes, when youâd wake up with sweat gathered at your temples, youâd swear you could hear the faint sounds of footsteps surrounding your room. Inside, outside. Through the grass or even tapping at your window when nothing's there. A low and constant line you walked unsure if you were truly awake or not.Â
The woods called to you the same way the moon calls to the tide; slow, and beckoning. Irresistibly. But you canât muster the courage to venture any deeper than you already had, so you shake that incessant draw off.Â
With the quarters youâd gotten back in change from groceries, you decide to spend your day at the only palace in town that doesnât feel outright haunted. Electronic music plays over the old speakers, LEDâs and 8-bit tunes coming in at all angles. If you werenât desperate to escape the constant thrum of your anxiety, youâd certainly be overstimulated.Â
You dive right in, too, picking out the first game that catches your eye. One round turns into two, and then three, and then five. Nearly a whole two hours later youâre working with your last quarter, welcoming the way all your senses drown out. All but one, anyways. Your innate ability to know when youâre being watched.Â
It was a skill (or maybe a curse) youâd picked up on since moving here. All the staring and the sizing up had taught you to be almost intricately aware of your surroundings, and right now, those alarm bells were ringing. Assuming it was the few who would often bother you, you shoulder that weight but refuse to feed the monster.Â
That is, until it grows so hungry you canât help but throw it a bone by tossing a glance over your shoulder. Thatâs when you notice someone staring you down from the far end of the arcade. But itâs not anyone you know.
Whoever they are, theyâre tall, and theyâre lean as a bean pole. Not playing anything, just simply leaning on a machine off to the edge of the room and observing. Standing much too still for all the noise surrounding them, too. With just the glimpse the only thing you really catch is their strikingly white hoody, and the fact that their jet-black hair is almost down to their midchest. A black mask covers the lower half of their face.
You spare another look.Â
Now you notice something else- bright, wide eyes. An unbroken stare that makes your skin crawl in the worst of ways. Perturbed, you turn back to your video game, but the motivation to sink your teeth back into the plot fails you. The steady clack of buttons becomes more habit than intention. With your eyes unfocused and your brain struggling to juggle everything at once, you get jumpscared by the big black screen that reads, YOU DIED. Â
Slowly you peek over your shoulder, expecting to see that same blown-wide expression. But where he once stood is empty now, vacant of that stranger youâd been so thrown off by. In front of you the screen flickers again and you wait in anticipation for the starting screen to pop back up so you could give it another shot, but it never comes. Streaks of color pop and flash, then a wave of static overtakes all else.Â
You take a step back and search for an employee, pausing only when the screen flickers again. This time itâs an image- something garish and frightening, that stops you like a deer in the headlights. Digital glitches torment the pixels but among them is what looks like a face. Itâs only half formed in the coding, with deep black eyes bearing red pupils. Pale skin with blonde hair and some sort of hat- you couldnât entirely tell. Regardless it was enough to punch the air from your lungs as you fumbled backwards.
This isnât part of the game, right?
A worker sweeps idly a few feet away, close enough to wave a shaky palm to gather their attention.Â
âHey I think this oneâs messed up or something.â
The worker clears the gaps in a few strides and glances over your shoulder. A frown knits his expression at the sight before him. He presses a few buttons but the image stays locked in. If anything, it grows stronger now, the details coming through in brighter contrast. Red streaks of blood down the cheeks, a wicked smile twisting over its jowls.Â
âYeah, this has been happening all week,â The worker huffs, setting his broom to the side and working around the machine to unplug it entirely. âSome kind of glitch. Probably kids hacking it. They get a kick of this dumb shit.â
Though you nod like his answer quells your concerns, his explanation doesn't stick. Nor does it ebb away the fear wedging itself into your chest. So much so that it curbs any appetite for gaming you had for the rest of the day. When the worker offers you a refund on that machine, you just shake your head and turn for the exit.Â
Outside the air is heavy when you stop out, and fifteen minutes couldnât go by quick enough until the next ride came. Across the street at a diner you note a group of teenagers sitting around a table, laughing and chatting away. You donât mean to stare, but you canât help it, eyes trained forward and wondering what it would be like to be a part of something bigger than yourself.Â
To be somewhere with someone, anyone, who wanted you there. It hurts in your soul, aches in your heart.Â
In the reflection of the window, you notice that white hoodie again. You glance over to the side and there he, you realize, is. A bit closer this time, too, leaning against the brick of the arcade exterior and staring just as unashamedly. Itâs almost like he wants you to know it- keeping full contact, unblinking until you have to break it yourself and watch down at your feet. His presence is something intense, his stare something wrong and uncomfortable that digs marks under your skin.Â
You donât escape his line of fight until you board the bus, and by the time you settle in your seat and gaze through the window, heâs gone.Â
Itâs hard to keep an even breath anymore. Paranoia lays on you in piles, mounting by the day. It was easy to tell yourself this town was weird. Unsafe- whether because there was a lack of authority or because it truly attracted the weirdos you werenât sure. But it was a true undeniable fact. Every other interaction seemed to sear itself into your brain, breaking down the brick and mortar of your psyche. Youâre sure that the strange arcade thing would be in your dreams now too, a terrible vision etched into your brain.Â
When you get home the first thing you notice is that your fathers car is gone. Thereâs trenches in the gravel, divots where he spun the wheel and tore down the road. The second thing you notice is the front door is slightly ajar. While itâs entirely possible your father left it cracked in his mania, you feel nerves build up regardless, a chill worshipping the fear dragging up and down the length of your spine.Â
As if a stranger in your own home, you peek into the front entrance and stare down the dark hallway.Â
â....Dad?â
Ears met with nothing but silence. You take one tentative step inside, cringing at the deep set creak of the wooden floorboards. Still no response, but your heart rateâs picking up quicker than you can manage it. For a split second your mouth opens, but then you close it a mere moment later, afraid to make a noise.Â
No lights are on. An entire house of darkness, liquor, and ghosts. The nearest light is at the end of the hall near the archway of the living room, quite a far distance when your feet feel as though they're cemented to the floor in terror. But you take one fateful step- then another. When the switch is close enough you could graze the tips of your fingers over the cold plastic, you hear something at the other end of the house.Â
Somewhere in your fathers room, behind a shut door, you hear rustling.
Your mouth runs dry, frozen in place, fingers still just barely touching that switch but unable to just flick it upwards. Itâs impossible to take your eyes off his door, afraid that even thinking too loudly would have you dead.
With a voice just above a whisper, you manage, â...Hello?â
Another bout of something moving around. A clatter, something hard toppling to the ground and shattering. The sound tears you from your trance, fuels your fire enough to finally flick that light on, expecting that old bulb to bathe the hall in dingy yellow light.Â
To your horror, the light flickers on for a simple second, and then the bulb pops in a firework of glass. A beat of silence as your blood turns to ice.Â
Your fatherâs door swings open hard enough to crack the wall with the knob, and a blur of something far quicker than you dashes past in a rush on wind. You react violently- launching backwards and toppling over yourself, landing hard on the floor. An arsenal of sound assaults you all at once, all angles at the exact same time. A dozen pounding footsteps hauling down the hallway and the shape of a man thudding against the wall as he went. The front door is torn open with an equally as damaging crack, then from the floor, you watch that strange man dash out the entrance.Â
The floor becomes a pit of tar- inescapable. Hammering of your heat thrums in your ears, fear so electric it numbs your body into paralysis.
All you can do is simply stare at the front door, now wide open, and the figure disappearing out of sight down the drive. The only thing you manage when youâre back on your feet is slamming the door shut and locking it, ripping the handle back just to ensure itâs not budging anytime soon. It rattles heavy and firm on the frame, and only then do you stumble backwards and press a hand against your still thrashing heart.Â
You were sure you were going to die. In some way, it feels as though you did. All is locked into silence once more.Â
Devastating, terrifying silence. Your mind races and replays everything, analyzes all it can get, scrambling to make sense of it all and note down every detail.
Beige jacket and jeans. Simple enough. From the back of him as he ran you noted dark brown hair- but as for his faceâŠÂ
Heâd been wearing a mask. Naturally. The smaller details were impossible to make out as your brain short circuited, but you know for sure saw white.Â
Whatâs more disturbing is that nothing was even stolen. Not that there was much to take at all- for all you knew perhaps they thought this was an abandoned house until they meandered their way inside. In your fathers room, his nightstand had been knocked over, the photo of him and your mother shattered on the floor.Â
You lift the stand up and settle the picture back, finger dragging over the shards of glass. Momâs picture was intact, her bright beautiful smile taking you back to a time when you remembered what it felt like to love. Your fatherâs side, however, shattered into a trillion veins of breakage, the epicenter struck dead in the center of his chest.Â
The residue of the intruders' presence lingered long after heâd gone. And you sit at your couch, eyes trained forward, breath caught up in your chest like any moment now that door would come bulldozing down and reveal yet another holy terror. At this point your brain felt like it was melting- one thing after the other driving you to points of stress-induced tension you never thought possible. It was inescapable- this fucking town a prison. The weight of it all gathered on your sore shoulders and threatened to crush you under the impending doom.Â
Itâs hard to even move, every muscle in your body jelly in the wake of racing adrenaline crashing through your system. The panic subsiding only brought forth an all-consuming exhaustion in its purest form.Â
So you sit, and you simmer until your stomach grows too hungry to ignore. Even then it takes too long- your stomach damn near folding in on itself by the time you can bring yourself to move. Exposure taunts you when you do rise to your feet, the falling sun planting drawn shadows in all corners of your home. Dull yellow hides among the tops of the trees, casting only enough light through the windows to glint off the shattered bulb scattered on the hallway floor.Â
Moving from the living room is a rush of movement, taking shelter in your kitchen and ducking around the windows as you go. Anything to stay out of sight now, anything for even a second of uninterrupted reprieve. If you saw anything out in your yard or at the property line youâre sure your heart would give out entirely. The woods taunt you from afar. Like youâre some sort of toy- they wind you up, and they watch you go. As you eat warm-temperature beef stew fresh from the can, you imagine the apple tree, its branches heavy with fruit. A false sense of taste floods your tastebuds, makes the stew a bit more bearable on its way down. Â
Maybe when all this calms, and you donât feel like any moment will be your last, youâll find yourself under that beautiful tree once again, chowing down on the sweetest of apples without a care in the world.Â
But then you remember how the woods twist around that serene little bit of heaven. You remember the way shadows all became one between the trees. And you remember that blue mask. The dark, empty eyes that seemed to bore clean through you. Broad shoulders, but somehow more akin to a beast than man. They had let you live once- and that thought alone should terrify you. Instead what comes is stranger: allure.Â
-
Your father comes home in tandem with the sun's final goodbye. A glory of blazing red seared along the horizon, night peeking around the bend. If the headlights of his car beaming in through the windows hadn't announced his arrival, the way he slammed the front door shut hard enough to rattle the framework certainly would have. He cuts through the house down the hall like a blade of fury, slicing the quiet you festered in.Â
Youâre standing from the kitchen table, chair launching backwards as he storms into the room.Â
âSomethinsâ out there!â His voice is a harsh lament- half slurred, half unhinged. It echoes and rocks off the walls, shakes terror into the make-up of your bones. âI saw it- I saw somethinâ followinâ me through the trees!âÂ
The crossbow lingers hanging from the wall beside the pantry. He clears the distance of the floor, nearly knocking you over as he went, before he rips it off the wall and tears towards the window overtop the kitchen sink. He stares outside hard, as if waiting. Almost like you, you realize, daring something to show itself. Anxiously, you swallow hard, scooting further from him.Â
âWhat was following you?â
He isnât listening to you. Heâs probably not able to hear anything other than his ragged breaths and blood pumping through his system in adrenaline induced waves. For a brief moment you almost tell him about the stranger in your home but you stop yourself when he sneers something ugly.Â
Of course heâs always been a paranoid man. Always took things personally, always felt like life was out to get him, but this was something else entirely. It was as though he were coming unglued, fraying at all the ends and turning into this nervy mess. A dangerous nervy mess. If he knew thereâd been someone rummaging through his shit certainly heâd blow a fuse and who knew what would happen then.Â
The way he grips the crossbow like a lifeline fills you with a dread you can hardly stomach.Â
When he finally pulls himself from the window, and he can manage to harbor a thought beyond the unknown lurking in the woods, he actually looks at you. A chill ripples up your spine. A million alarms go off in your head. Heâs not himself- thereâs eyebags deeper than trenches beneath his waterlines. Thereâs a hollow vacancy to him, like looking at a shell. A stranger.Â
âDad? Hey. Whatâs wrong?â You murmur, as if trying to reason with a beast. He fists the handle of the crossbow so tightly it creaks under the pressure. Then, in less than a few long strides, he simply passes you by.
âIf I see anyone, anythinâ come near this house, Iâm shootinâ it dead.â
And then heâs turning, disappearing around the archway and taking slow steps down the hall to his room. Hinges complain as theyâre yanked open, a squeal that echoes down the hall. Before he clicks the door shut, you hear him cough something wretched. Wet and angry and chest-deep.Â
âYou hear me?â He shouts between awful wheezes. âDead!â
The door slams shut. You nod, even though he canât see it.Â
It takes a long while for the house to still after that.Â
Even though itâs so damn quiet you can hear wind through the rafters, and so vacant of life not even a fly buzzes at the corners of the windows, thereâs this palpable tension covering every surface. It eats away at your brain, digs a hole into your belly through your gut.Â
There comes a moment where you feel youâre allowed to move again. Rain greets you there in your room, tapping away against the glass of your window like fingers. Bed becomes the only place youâre able to breathe again, so you crawl in, and you canât help but stare out through the haze into the deep woods. Wondering just what your father had seen to have him so frantic.Â
Nothing shows itself. Never does, it seems. You only ever feel it. Or sometimes, as of late, you dream it. Tonight you stare up at the ceiling and let the rain fill the silence your father had left behind.Â
That same feeling comes back as it does every night, like youâre in the spotlight of eyes just far enough to go unseen.Â
Itâd be enough to drive anyone crazy. Cracks of thunder and lightning paint the sky in flashes of white, demanding your attention, tired as you may be. The second you turn your head to peek, you find yourself straining through the pops of light.Â
At the far edge of the woods stands a figure. Tall, slender. Motionless.Â
You sit up in a panic as the sky is blackened once more, a spike of adrenaline making your ears ring. Leaning forward, squinting through the darkness, you swear you can see it still- just standing there. A black figure with a white face. Cold washes up and down your spine in electric tingles and raises goosebumps in its path, like a cat with its hair on end.Â
Lightning beams a fork of light through the clouds and lights your backyard up once again.Â
The space where itâd once been sits empty, occupied by only shadows of the trees.Â
But even when itâs gone, you can still feel it. This pressure remains- like a pulse that wasnât even your own thrumming through your veins. Makes it hard to breathe almost, weight settling on your chest until youâre able to get your breathing under control. A part of you instantly tries to tell yourself it wasnât real.
You weren't sure how much more of this you could take- wondering what was real, what wasnât. There were times when youâd stand in your bedroom staring at nothing, unsure if you were even awake at all. Â
Across the house, a floorboard creaks, followed by your father spiraling into another coughing fit. It sounds through the walls, echoing every last sputtering breath.
.ty for reading <3 i hope you enjoyed! comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
.chapter 4 out on nov 15
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